the holy sword.

“   𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴𝚁,  𝙼𝚈 𝙴𝙽𝙴𝙼𝙸𝙴𝚂 𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝙰𝙱𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙽𝙰𝙽𝚃.    [  . . .  ]    𝙱𝚄𝚃 𝙼𝚈 𝙵𝙰𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝚂𝚄𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙸𝙽𝚂 𝙼𝙴;  𝙸 𝚂𝙷𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙵𝙴𝙰𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙻𝙴𝙶𝙸𝙾𝙽.   ”

_______

# 𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐒    :        private cullen rutherford of the dragon age series.  established june 2021.  read carrd before following or interacting.  written by jaewon.  23,  mlm,  korean-american,  est.

IT  TEARS  HIM  APART  .  all  of  it  .  nothing  went  the  way  he  thought  it  should  ,  and  now  the  turian  paces  ,  wanders  ,  lurks  through  the  decks  of  the  normandy  and  tries  to  work  himself  into  a  state  fit  for  sleeping  .  none  of  it  helps  .  despite  how  the  turian  tries  to  turn  himself  into  a  tired  stupor  ,  his  efforts  go  fruitless  ,  WASTED  .  he  thinks  of  all  the  ways  it  could  have  gone  ,  the  thousands  of  countless  possibilities  .  other  things  he  could  have  said  .  other  things  shepard  could  have  done  .  was  it  really  right  of  them  to  try  and  spare  saleon’s  life  ?  let  him  go  ?  only  to  shoot  him  down  as  he  tries  to  fight  back  and  flee  ?  where  are  the  morals  in  that  ?  where  are  his  choices  ?  what  did  it  all  mean  ?  garrus  worries  he’s  just  wasted  time  ,  life  ,  spaces  ,  wasted  the  mental  capacity  for  something  greater  than  what  they  accomplished  …  and  now  he’s  here  ,  slipping  through  the  darkened  crew  deck  in  the  hopes  that  something  ,  𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎  ,  might  save  him  from  this  onslaught  .

— —  cullen  . cullen’s  there  ,  alone  ,  seated  at  one  of  the  tables  with  a  holovid  playing  .  as  garrus  hopes  to  ease  the  moment  ,  hide  his  anger  in  the  mindless  conversation  between  friends  ,  cullen  goes  and  asks  .  breaks  the  mirage  .  the  turian  rubs  his  neck  and  leans  into  the  touch  at  his  shoulder  (  cullen  seems  to  𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝  beside  him  ,  rising  from  his  seat  ,  lingering  at  garrus’s  side  )  .  after  a  low  HUM  vibrates  his  lungs  ,  garrus  finally  conjures  up  an  adequate  reply  .

❝  it’s  …  it’s  a  lot  .  ❞  adequate  ?  lackluster  .  garrus  huffs  at  his  own  incompetence  .  his  head  lowers  a  bit  ,  an  unusual  position  for  the  turian  .  shame  .  ❝  it  was  all  a  waste  .  𝚒  𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍  𝚑𝚒𝚖  𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚍  .  shepard  insisted  we  keep  him  alive  ,  make  him  stand  trial  ,  and  i  — —  ❞  garrus  rubs  his  left  mandible  ,  aimless  .  ❝  i  started  to  agree  ,  but  saleon  ran  .  we  killed  him  anyway  .  it  all  feels  so  pointless  .  ❞  at  last  ,  garrus  finds  cullen’s  gaze  .  cullen  .  the  human  he’s  liked  working  with  ,  the  human  he  bonds  with  ,  fights  with  ,  stays  with  .  he’d  be  lying  if  he  said  he  hadn’t  grown  attached  .  ❝  WHAT  A  WASTE  ,  ❞  he  says  .  is  he  referring  to  saleon  ,  or  to  himself  ?  that’s  for  cullen  to  decide  .

his comrade’s rage permeates through the air.  the feeling is not foreign to him,  although he’s never had the liberty of witnessing garrus under its spell.  rather,  there is a sort of mirror being cast,  a version of cullen which had died,  which he buried years prior.  unlike others,  namely gunnery chief williams or battlemaster wrex,  the anger held by garrus,  by cullen,  was not a wildfire,  not a supernova.  rather,  a frigid tension ices against cullen’s skin,  a distinct lack of warmth housed within garrus’ azure gaze.  even as their eyes met,  garrus’ attention was elsewhere.  it reminded him of the atlantic at night:  unforgiving,  vast,  beautiful,  lethal.    “  i...  understand.  i know that means little,  but i understand.  ”

cullen retracts his touch,  allowing garrus the safety of his own space once more.  still,  he invites his friend to relax,  striding towards a positioned kettle and preparing hot beverages for the both of them.  thankfully,  they kept an array of dextro-friendly teas on-board.    “  if given the choice,  i too would have elected to kill him.  i’ve found that allowing certain threats to fester only worsens the problem.  ”    there’s something all too pitiable about this,  watching a kind man flagellate himself for the horrors of another,  told he’s wrong for seeking justice,  branded an avenger.

what really spurred this train of thought was reading about how cullen...  really is anti-templar with some of his war table missions.  like,  he literally begs the inquisitor to avoid creating more templars,  including themselves.  i don’t like conflating cult ideology with religion because that’s an absolute reach but i do have to say,  the templar order’s tenets are so grossly inhumane.  charges are separated from their parents,  only allowed to interact with those also a part of the chantry,  they can’t have any earthly wants,  they have to literally give everything up in order to appease the chantry.  like,  no wonder so many templars have this skewed view of the world,  of magic:  it’s all they’re taught,  some from infancy,  and they’re just so stunted as developed individuals.

several moments pass before he hears the footsteps of another,  golden eyes darting over instinctively to a familiar silhouette.  he breathes a quiet sigh,  attention diverted from his holovid,  craned upwards towards his turian friend.  there are few words for the fellow ghosts wandering the ship,  unable to find solace in their dreams.    “  garrus,  you gave me quite the scare.  you can’t sneak up on an unarmed man.  ”    he greets his friend with a smile,  the scar adorning his lips curling with an amicable expression.  though,  the momentary glee dissipates quickly.  his nightmares tonight reminded him of their mission just hours prior:  test subjects running wildly,  violently spewing poisonous acid,  all at the hands of one nefarious salarian.  if cullen was affected so vividly,  he could only imagine how garrus would feel at this moment.  he rises now,  a hand gingerly coming to garrus’ shoulder.

“  are you  -  are you all right ?  that last firefight was quite...  heavy.  ”

his question is blunt,  unwieldy.  his lack of tact is palpable,  an aspect he was aware of yet could not help.  still,  he cannot help but ask:  there had to be a reason for garrus to be out here.  certainly not a midnight appetite,  otherwise he would have seen the turian more oft around the mess at this hour.  no,  something lurked below the surface.  reportedly,  saleon had a way of burrowing under the skin.  it seemed in death,  garrus was his final victim.  for a moment,  cullen’s tongue recoils.    “  forgive me if that’s an idiotic question.  if you do not wish to speak of it,  i understand.  ”

his mother often told him he should sleep more,  perhaps invest in melatonin or gin,  whatever was more accessible.  the rose of his eye,  cullen loved her dearly,  but after having tried both,  he knew from experience that neither would cure the insatiable beast that was insomnia.  perhaps the mental stimulants were taking their toll,  though now wasn’t really the time to risk withdrawal,  not with millions of lives at risk.  the threat of the collectors,  the reapers,  the geth,  it all felt like an opera in its rising action,  all before the climax and great fall.  it felt as if everything around them was collapsing,  slowly,  all around them.

again,  the melodramatics.  how long had it been since he had slept ?  he lost count after forty hours.  yet,  here he was in the mess,  spending another night after a mission on his omni-tool.  on this night,  he sought comfort in nostalgia,  rewatching a musical number he enjoyed.

he wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep.  cullen had only awoken after several moments,  gently rising at the feeling of one gliding through his hair.  eyes flutter awake,  the soldier rising with a quiet groan,  greeted by a familiar face,  a smirk.  cullen returns it with an exhausted,  but warm,  expression.  she’s a welcome sight,  at least,  compared to the denizens of cerberus,  namely operative lawson whose office he had crashed right outside of.

“  my apologies,  commander.  i’m here  -  ”    as if on cue,  cullen’s mouth opens widely,  a hand cupping to cover it as a meager yawn escapes.  his whole body feels this one,  chest puffing up,  limbs outstretched for several moments,  before relaxing once more.    “  ...and ready for duty.  ”

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐊 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐁𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 ,  but he does not dare hide its glory.   ❝   commander ,  am i supposed to take that as a compliment or an insult?   ❞   

      “  that’s  why  they  hired  me             my  sense  of  humor.  ”  a  pause  before  a  quick  ,  cheeky  grin.  “  seriously  though  ,  why  the  sudden  curiosity?  it’s  not  like  there’s  any  sort  of  method  to  my  madness.  ”  true  enough.  though  therein  lies  a  single  thread  through  all  of  her  aforementioned  choices  :  is  it  the  RIGHT  thing?  would  it  make  her  moms  proud?  would  it  make  her  squadmates  happy  to  fight  beside  her?  you  can’t  please  everyone  :  that’s  the  first  lesson  she  ever  got  from  anderson.  someone  ,  somewhere  will  be  angry  you  made  the  choice  you  did  (  a  message  hammered  home  by  the  council  time  and  again.  )  

      “  you  looking  for  a  promotion  ,  rutherford?  ”

“  respectfully not.  i’d much rather avoid speaking with the council.  or any politicians,  for that matter.  ”    it was an arduous task to stand in the breadth of such a figure,  one whose actions would undoubtedly be immortalized,  without feeling her presence.  claire was like the sun:  bright,  radiant,  overwhelming.  in truth,  perhaps he had initially approached her under such a guise.  cullen notes it down internally,  doing away with the formalities,  the airs.  surprisingly,  it seemed that the commander,  the first human spectre,  preferred that.  though,  at least her barbs were lighthearted,  drawing a slight smile from him,  even at his own expense.

similar to the other squadmates in mass effect 1,  save for the initial human companions and liara,  i planned for cullen to have an optional loyalty mission that would determine his disposition towards shepard in mass effect 2.  below,  i’ll go into his mass effect 1 verse in a bit more detail.

❝  LUCKY  FOR  YOU  ,  i  think  the  normandy  is  well-equipped  with  enough  medigel  to  handle  all  your  injuries  .  HOPEFULLY  .  unless  you  try  setting  a  record  or  something  for  most  medigel  used  in  battle  — —  dr.  chakwas  might  get  mad  ,  and  that’s  on  you  .  don’t  come  to  me  for  a  defense  .  ❞  garrus  realizes  he’s  trying  to  lighten  the  mood  ,  soften  the  space  between  them  with  a  few  jokes  and  teasing  remarks  .  it’s  not  his  typical  behavior  (  for  the  most  part  ,  the  turian  seems  to  take  himself  way  too  seriously  at  times  )  ,  but  for  now  ,  alone  with  his  teammate  ,  the  kidding  around  seems  appropriate  .  supposedly  it  builds  𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙾𝚁𝚃  ,  and  they’re  going  to  need  a  lot  of  it  to  get  through  this  mission  .  it’s  something  saren  doesn’t  have  on  his  side  ,  unions  of  harmony  ,  alliance  ,  friendship  — —  positive  and  uplifting  connections  built  from  trust  and  hard  work  .  saren  has  compliance  ,  ruthless  coercion  .  indoctrination  .  garrus  will  take  the  jokes  and  the  small  talk  over  any  of  that  .

❝  some  days  might  be  generous  .  i’m  always  trying  to  figure  out  your  human  expressions  .  and  your  mannerisms  .  humans  tend  to  be  far  more  fickle  than  turians  .  your  skills  in  decision-making  vary  quite  a  bit  .  ❞  garrus  glances  at  his  omni-tool  at  the  notification  and  stands  from  the  cot  .  ❝  ALL  RIGHT  ,  rutherford  ,  let’s  get  you  moving  .  i  don’t  know  how  your  armor  fits  on  your  body  ,  so  i’ll  just  …  ❞  garrus  makes  a  confused  sound  ,  mandibles  widening  into  a  slight  turian  smile  .  ❝  hand  things  to  you  and  you  put  them  on  .  or  just  tell  me  if  you  need  help  securing  anything  ,  i  guess  .  i  don’t  understand  how  you  walk  on  your  strange-looking  legs  ,  so  i  might  not  be  helpful  clasping  armor  back  on  .  ❞  he  tosses  his  eyes  over  at  the  small  collection  of  guns  laying  in  a  group  together  — —  the  supposed  arsenal  cullen  chooses  to  carry  .  another  small  laugh  .  ❝  that  …  is  a  lot  .  i’ll  be  honest  .  will  you  be  okay  walking  back  to  the  normandy  with  me  ?  or  do  you  need  carried  ?  ❞

“  vary a bit ?  i’d wager that we’re the most unpredictable force the galaxy’s yet seen.  and i don’t mean that as a compliment to humanity.  ”    god,  this sounded rather terrible,  didn’t it ?  cullen truly did love his people.  he loved earth,  he loved their customs and numerous cultures,  he loved the languages,  the cuisines,  the architecture,  the sights.  he loved that people in london were so different from those in tokyo,  sydney,  las vegas,  and punta cana.  but in his experience,  the best and worst people he had ever met were human.  that variance gave way towards self-serving inclinations,  violence beget by selfishness,  an ugliness humanity had not yet outgrown.  perhaps he’d learn of the other species in due time,  see what made them tick and where their faults laid.  if anything,  he was lucky to have that chance,  traveling around the galaxy,  serving with others.

in front of them,  the pair alone whilst standing atop this shielded bridge,  is a city of steel.  they’re like metal fingers,  reaching towards the twin moons,  windows awash with an array of colors.  immersing himself even further into turian culture,  with garrus as his liaison to such an expanse,  granted cullen with a rather unique set of experiences.  not many humans could say they gazed upon the capital of palaven,  clutching the hand of a cherished other within their respective enviro-suits.  at least here,  they could remove their helmets while indoors.

“  if these are our last moments of peace,  i’m glad to be here.  with you.  even if we’re just tourists gawking at turian architecture.  ”

garrus chuckles,  mandibles moving to form a smile,  before he moves forward.  cullen’s grown used to this motion:  the taller turian inches closer,  neck craning downwards as he eliminates the distance between he and his human partner.  soft lips press gently against plate,  a proper kiss that belonged in any romantic holovid.  it was certainly less passionate,  less hungry,  than their first,  garrus pinning him against the walls of the gun battery.

he fights for all living creatures,  human or not,  but recently,  cullen had become selfish.  his motivations remained stalwart but there was another bursting through the earth,  taking roots and forming a garden.  at its heart,  he saw himself and garrus watching the sunrise upon a lonely farm on the english countryside.  the sky is a brilliant blue,  wildflowers dotting the sun-kissed grasslands.  it’s a selfish dream,  especially as the reapers encroached upon their doorstep.  but every kiss,  every brush of their hands,  every night spent together,  it all made him ever so eager for that reality.

“  are you a fan of museums ?  i believe i saw a promising one near here...  ”

“  as we all are.  as i am.  i have no regrets as i follow you into this fire.  ”    there is a moment of silence following the statement.  it’s solemn,  final,  but nothing cullen hasn’t already witnessed from shepard.  their quest to stop saren just two years prior taught him such:  there was no running,  not for any of them.  the ghosts of virmire,  the rachni hive,  and now the risk of certain doom for this collection of souls aboard the normandy,  she never stopped.  it was daunting,  still inspiring,  but absolutely daunting.

in truth,  perhaps a year ago,  he couldn’t have imagined leaving the alliance behind,  especially for an organization like cerberus.  he regularly urged shepard to help others,  outwardly more empathetic than a few other of their more ruthless team members,  aiming to use their powers for the greater good.  while he was still technically an alliance officer,  working deep cover in the terminus systems,  his guns fired at the enemies of cerberus,  his crew was cerberus,  his commander reported to cerberus.  it was a hefty burden for any one woman to bear.

“  just...  if you need advice,  an ear,  or an extra gun,  you know where to find me.  ”

Shepard glances up from her mashed potatoes (or the dehydrated, powder form of the real thing, anyway) into inquiring eyes. The corner of her lips quirks into a wry grin, points her spork in his direction as if she’s about to impart priceless wisdom. “I have this corkboard in my cabin – I close my eyes and throw a dart.”

“  thank you,  garrus.  i appreciate the vote of confidence.  ”    he replies instantaneously,  words delivered rather softly with a grateful nod.  it’s a rather tame reply offered in front of the crew,  gathered in the normandy’s meeting room for their pre-assault preparations.  they were shepard’s odd collection of guns pointed towards the collectors,  but even more so,  they were all individuals with desires,  with hopes,  with dreams.  this fight,  even with the very real possibility of certain death,  meant that the rest of the galaxy could hold onto those sentiments,  if only for a short while longer.  chosen as the first strike team’s leader,  it’s...  daunting to fill shepard’s boots,  the lone alliance officer serving aboard a cerberus vessel.

shepard continues on,  choosing a tech expert,  giving a rousing speech,  and then exiting first.  garrus and cullen linger behind,  the door shutting behind miranda who’s the last to leave before them.  now in private,  cullen moves like water,  reaching for garrus’  hand.  at this point,  there is nothing left unspoken between them,  no shadows clouding their actions,  what they each want:  their’s is a dance unfinished,  a yearning requited,  and if they were lucky,  many more moon cycles between them.  both armored hands comfortably clasp around the turian’s,  golden eyes locked onto blue.  it’s a quiet thing,  to love,  and it’s completely new to him.  it terrifies him.  every firefight,  his eyes are first on garrus’ shields,  then his own.  it was utter nonsense,  yet he’d fight like hell to keep this wick aflame,  flickering about until god himself smothered it out.

“  and with you by my side,  i know i won’t fail.  ”