[And it had been electric, almost calling them, to step into the crater. Thinking back...]
The whole delegation got swallowed up by the crater. [And the natives among them were shredded by it, just like every other Abraxas-born fool who ever set foot in it.] It expanded too fast for them to escape.
[And if it was too fast to escape, no clear report would have made it hope. Which means that the people back home would be free to make up whatever story they wanted about what happened there... to suit whatever purposes they liked.]
In that future world, Free Cities got kinda... Turian. [Expansionist, militaristic, with not a small whiff of dictatorship.] Might be this is the trigger. Marlo's already been doing whatever it takes to take and keep power— and if this ain't a state of emergency, what the hell is? Fuckin' politicians.
[She's so, so tired. Shepard closes her eyes and tilts her head sideways until it can rest against the jutting edge of his sterum, or keelbone, or whatever Turians call it. Comforting, is what it is; the hard-edged solidity of him, cool and soothing against her fevered cheek.]
no subject
[And it had been electric, almost calling them, to step into the crater. Thinking back...]
The whole delegation got swallowed up by the crater. [And the natives among them were shredded by it, just like every other Abraxas-born fool who ever set foot in it.] It expanded too fast for them to escape.
[And if it was too fast to escape, no clear report would have made it hope. Which means that the people back home would be free to make up whatever story they wanted about what happened there... to suit whatever purposes they liked.]
In that future world, Free Cities got kinda... Turian. [Expansionist, militaristic, with not a small whiff of dictatorship.] Might be this is the trigger. Marlo's already been doing whatever it takes to take and keep power— and if this ain't a state of emergency, what the hell is? Fuckin' politicians.
[She's so, so tired. Shepard closes her eyes and tilts her head sideways until it can rest against the jutting edge of his sterum, or keelbone, or whatever Turians call it. Comforting, is what it is; the hard-edged solidity of him, cool and soothing against her fevered cheek.]
Above my damn paygrade now, glad to say.