ᴀʀᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇʟ

@yeomandr​

          OF ALL THE THINGS SHE COULD HAVE ASKED, Garrus wouldn’t have ever pinned her for asking this. It strikes him out of nowhere he can’t quite help the way his mandibles flex with the loss for words. There was a lot he could assume of the crew. Being with Cereberus he could only assume that they at least knew how to point a gun, but he didn’t expect the lot of them to be fighters. That was why Shepard had brought the rest of the alien crew along. They were here to take the fights so the crew didn’t have to. 

@garrvs​ / garrus vakarian

      𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 done nothing to ease the angry, red lines framing his face and dotting his eyes. It belies the rare streak of fondness with which his eyes settle on Garrus — but having landed under Cerberus’ wing and failing at coping with his own death make frustration hard to pass up. Not even Chakwas’ fussing could help him now. Aiden shakes off the thought upon approach, fixing his eyes on the new scar decorating Garrus’ face as he closes in. It’d only been a day since they last spoke in the briefing room, but still he asks:  ❛  How’s the wound? Any better?  ❜

  “Hey, I try. Lot harder than a fully staffed ship,” The Commander cracks a joke, although she does reminisce about being on the Normandy, about being constantly on the move. Recovery is never easy and her injuries had damn near killed her, again, this time. 

   Her three beat pace echoes against the bare walls; Shepard’s still adjusting to needing the aid to walk but the benefit of such a small apartment has her at the kitchen in a matter of seconds, reaching for the glasses in the cupboard. She checks twice to make sure they’re clean before pouring them an equal amount to start. It’s been ages since she’s tasted ice brandy, let alone anything alcoholic. With medications and her inclination to over-indulge, it’s simply been off the menu entirely. 

  “Oh, you know, learning to walk again, hitting on my nurses. Living the good life,” She chuckles, slowly bringing one glass at a time to the sofa before finally easing herself to sit beside him. “I imagine Palaven’s looking better than the last time I saw it, huh?” Offering her glass to clink it against Garrus’, Shepard offers a smile – their respective homeworlds had certainly taken a beating. 

          IT’S BEEN A WHILE since Garrus had allowed himself to sit for a moment. Rebuilding Palaven has controlled his days and nights for so long he’d lost track of them, of the days that turned to weeks then months. There’s always too much to do, too much to rebuild or mourn. They might have won but there’s still a lot of heartache throughout the galaxy and he’s seen it first hand back home. It’s a stretch for him to take time for himself, but seeing Shepard feels right. A little like old times. 

        THERE IS AN UNSEEN WEIGHT that is lifted off of Shepard’s shoulders when Garrus effortlessly changes the subject. Call her Atlas, for she carried the weight of the world on her back — whether she liked it or not. The fate of the galaxy depending on her… it was almost crazy to think how a  ❛ shakedown run ❜  on Eden Prime led to all this. Lead to her death and subsequent revival… Shepard isn’t even paying attention as she’s dismantling her weapon despite her gaze lowering back down to it.   

        ❝ Yeah, James wanted a round two for our dance. ❞   Her first spar with allowed her to learn more about the Lieutenant, about his background and what he had gone through. It also cemented the nickname that was given to her. Lola. Gaze flicks up, hands continuing to work—she could do this in her sleep. A quirk of the brow, a subtle curl at the corners of her lips that dared to tease a smirk.   ❝ Oh yeah? Might as well start a betting pool while you’re at it. ❞

          THE WAY HE HANDLES HIS WEAPON IS A PRACTICED ART. Garrus’ fingers easily twist and grip, pulling off components and modules to break it down to parts to clean and prep for the next fight they found themselves in. If he wanted he could just as easily do all of this in his sleep, muscle memory guiding his hands. But he likes to have somethign to do as he speaks, something to keep his mind from wandering off to why Shepard had gotten so sharp. 

CREATE YOUR MUSES HEART.

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