Shepard isn't sure exactly what happened. Some kind of explosion, feedback, or attack, and then some Free Cities idiot had fired his gun in response, and then... The same thing as always; a crowd of people abruptly transformed into a herd of stupid, panicky animals.
In the chaos, the transition from whirlwind to ocean water would have been almost seamless, if not for the ocean's fervent chill. She hits the water at speed and is immediately a dozen feet under with a mouthful of saltwater. Training takes over: Shepard drops her jacket before taking the first stroke, the sodden deadweight a useless burden, and only wishes she had fewer laced on her boots, which are worse. He head breaks the surface and she gasps an inhale just in time to spot a flailing talon, and a vanishing crest. She'd know him anywhere, by any sign.]
Garrus!?
[Shepard dives, kicking mightily after the struggling shadow of a Turian. He's wild, panicked, drowning, and she takes a solid hit before she can grab him and thrust them both back upwards towards the air. He's heavy, and nothing like hydrodynamic, but panic gives her more strength, and when she manages to get them both to the surface the sunlight is almost oppressively bright by comparison.]
Gar— [She can't keep her head fully clear, but it's enough for a breath. She focuses on keeping him high enough to breathe, treading water stubbornly in her waterlogged boots] Garrus! Talk to me!
[Dead or alive, she'd rather drown than let him go, but if he's conscious then he can make this easier.]
no subject
Shepard isn't sure exactly what happened. Some kind of explosion, feedback, or attack, and then some Free Cities idiot had fired his gun in response, and then... The same thing as always; a crowd of people abruptly transformed into a herd of stupid, panicky animals.
In the chaos, the transition from whirlwind to ocean water would have been almost seamless, if not for the ocean's fervent chill. She hits the water at speed and is immediately a dozen feet under with a mouthful of saltwater. Training takes over: Shepard drops her jacket before taking the first stroke, the sodden deadweight a useless burden, and only wishes she had fewer laced on her boots, which are worse. He head breaks the surface and she gasps an inhale just in time to spot a flailing talon, and a vanishing crest. She'd know him anywhere, by any sign.]
Garrus!?
[Shepard dives, kicking mightily after the struggling shadow of a Turian. He's wild, panicked, drowning, and she takes a solid hit before she can grab him and thrust them both back upwards towards the air. He's heavy, and nothing like hydrodynamic, but panic gives her more strength, and when she manages to get them both to the surface the sunlight is almost oppressively bright by comparison.]
Gar— [She can't keep her head fully clear, but it's enough for a breath. She focuses on keeping him high enough to breathe, treading water stubbornly in her waterlogged boots] Garrus! Talk to me!
[Dead or alive, she'd rather drown than let him go, but if he's conscious then he can make this easier.]
Garrus!