AD ASTRA—

Independent and private writing blog for characters of Bioware’s Mass Effect video game franchise,  as developed by Kaidan (he/him, 20+).   EST.  Jan 2022.   Canon compliant with all media sources: the original trilogy, Andromeda, and comics. Affiliated with @temphest.                           This blog is influenced by various space/sci-fi media and characters are written through the lens of the horror genre. Inspirations include: Star Trek, Star Wars, The Expanse, Interstellar, The Martian, Gravity, Passengers, etcetera.    Mobile friendly rules and muse list can be found beneath the cut!

 –––––––––––    Rules   +   Characters

“ keelah!   i cannot believe we survived that—  i mean,  for a minute in the vent there i did get a little worried but we did it! ”     the suicide mission,  the one that they survived.   against all odds,  they’d done it.   the collector base was destroyed,  the human reaper was dead.   and they lived.   a moment of impulse,  standing in shepard’s room— (even if he can’t see her smile)  & she leans on the wall,  peering at the hunched over john.     “ we should get a drink to celebrate.   miranda gave me a bendy straw— i don’t think she meant it as a nice gift but honestly,  it’s kinda cool.   i owe you a drink anyways.   for saving me—  back on the rayya.   thank you for that.   there is no one i’d trust more then you. ”

IT’S  A  QUICK  REMINDER  THAT  SHE’S  NOT  ALONE ,   his  voice  cuts  across  the  dead  air  and  their  eyes  meet  as  he  peers  back  from  his  seat .   Lips  press  into  a  firm  line  and  she  concedes ,   seating  herself  promptly  in  the  copilot’s  chair ,   legs  draped  over  the  arm  rest  as  she  sits  facing  him ,   arms  crossed  and  stewing  now  in  this  new  location .   Thumb  idly  scratching  her  bottom  lip  in  thought ,   his  casual  jests  pull  her  out  of  the  trappings  of  her  own  mind  once  more .   ❝   They’re  convinced  Saren’s  next  move  is  on  the  Citadel  even  though  we  know  that’s  not  the  case .   Udina’s  not  helping ,   like  he’s  ever  been  useful .   ❞

She  has  to  admit ,   the  levity  in  his  tone  easies  the  tension  somewhat :   it’s  a  coping  mechanism  she  is  intimately  familiar  with  despite  her  frustrations .   ❝   Tell  me  about  it  …   ❞   she  sighs ,  pinching  the  bridge  of  her  nose  as  if  this  has  only  accumulated  into  a  heavier  headache  than  the  cypher  already  pounding  against  her  skull .   ❝   Just  …   ❞   she  exhales ,   hand  resting  with  the  other  now ,   head  turned  to  the  monitors  in  front  of  her  and  away  from  her  pilot .   ❝   I  just  need  a  moment  to  work  it  out ,   there’s  gotta  be  something .    ❞

for all the victories they’d celebrated,  this was a major loss.   a blow to the reputation the normandy had built for itself—  a vessel of hope.   (now a vessel symbolizing no matter how hard you work,  there’ll always be a way to put you back down.)   it causes a sigh to depart from joker’s lips,  head leaning itself against the pilot’s chair.    “  jesus,  they’re blind.   really blind.   so blind that the galaxy is going to pay for their mistake;  for being the council,  they’re not seeing the entire picture.  ”   (it’s hard to see it from his perspective:  how everyone can act so calm while the threat of their demise lingers on the horizon.   then again—  they’re not the ones dealing with it head on.)   it’s easy to avoid the problem when it’s not in your backyard,  but what about the day when it is?

◜ @nrmandy ◞

A  STORM  SWEEPS  THROUGH  THE  AIRLOCK ,   all  red  hair  and  fury ,   brow  furrowed ,   fists  clenched ,   teeth  barred ;   and  this  was  after  pausing  a  moment  to  collect  herself .   She  looks  left ,   then  right ,   checking  both  ways  before  turning  towards  the  cockpit       nearby  and  convenient ,   she  knew  he’d  been  listening  anyhow .

❝   Can’t  believe  this  …  what  am  I  saying ?  Of  course  I  can  believe  this ,   I’m  not  even  surprised  …    ❞    words  barely  above  a  whisper  through  a  tight - lipped  sneer ,   the  commander  paces  back  and  forth  behind  the  pilot .   Grounded ;   the  audacity  of  it  all .   If  the  council  truly  believed  there  was  no  threat  then  surely  there  was  no  reason  to  keep  them  under  lock  and  key .   What  was  the  point  of  being  a  spectre      the  first  human  spectre      if  it  awarded  her  no  freedom ?   Moving  from  gunnery  station  to  station ,   she  pauses  a  second  here ,   than  another  there ,   caught  firmly  on  the  tracks  of  this  derailing  train  and  desperately  trying  to  think  of  a  way  to  stop  it .

the normandy was his ship,  even if shepard wore the title of commander with it—  he knew it inside  &  out,  from every detail to every flaw.   that meant he knew when the shuttle door opens,  as well as whenever commander shepard boarded.   this time was different,  though;  he knew that the moment he received orders that the normandy had been grounded  &  they weren’t allowed to leave citadel premises unless given orders to.   (completely bullshit,  in his opinion.   after helping all those people out in the galaxy,  you’d think they would’ve earned some ounce of respect for their troubles.)   that was like looking for a needle in a haystack,  though.   

Every time the galaxy was threatened with a new force, the career of Commander Shepard was tossed into the air— would she come out on top, or plummet? (He tends to ignore the time she did, in fact, get thrown into space and plummeted to the bottom of Alchera all because he didn’t want to abandon the Normandy. Good times.) He could tell, her demeanor this time was different; snark was their foreground, a common denominator between the two. Instead, Joker was greeted by a stoic expression spread across Shepard’s features— one becoming more and more common every time she visited him in the pilot’s bay. Rather than meet her on the same wavelength, he provides jest instead.    ❝  Hey, if your career ends, you could look into joining a theater! Maybe you could play that ginger chick in the Ginger Snaps play. With all your dramatics.  ❞

“ by that,  i assume you mean did you do anything wrong— as you did do something,  it just was not wrong. ”     defining where what cerberus created begins & ends has been an interesting piece of becoming [ programming,  engrained in hostile patterns  /  learned,  loved and taught from the world around her ] …   becoming who she is meant to be.   this is unfamiliar,  unexpected  /  not that she has any perception as to what and how it exists outside of her radius.   the normandy mainframe is equal part everything [ the extranet at their beck & call,  the insight into everything that has ever happened ] and nothing [ the flesh and blood world,  the world that jeff moreau exists in ]. 

[ hypothesis one:   jeff danced due to intoxication.   hypothesis two:   none. ]   a specific folder,  dedicated;   labeled with his name & everything important:   jokes that have made him laugh,  the exact way the light reflects on his jawline [ everyone else’s folder contains blood types,  allergies ].   it takes the quiet,  rolling over the actions of john that night [ he looks at tali’zorah the way that jeff looks at you ].   there it is,  the existence of life in an inhuman body,  this did not occur on the moon.     “ i am going over the footage from the party at shepard’s.   from observing his actions with tali’zorah,  i have developed questions about ours.   namely,  why did you dance with me despite your initial protests? ” 

  ❝  I don’t think John Shepard is the ideal guy to be taking notes about. Dude can hardly keep his pants zipped up long enough to get inside the Mako whenever he’s with anyone but Tali.  ❞    While there is some truth behind the droll statement— it’s avoidance at his best. A common politician move from someone who despises politicians; truth be told, he simply just doesn’t know what to say. He saw the way Shepard looked at Tali— he’s had the same look across his own face. A smile from across the room, eyes meeting and immediately darting away, hiding their own gaze at one another. (It’s a moment he’s shared more often than he’d like to admit with Edi.) 

   ❝  What’s on your mind?  ❞    It’s a genuine question— one that’s been lingering in the back of his mind since they all re-boarded the Normandy from Shore Leave. It’s been eating at him, enough for him to nearly chew through his bottom lip with how much he’s tried to keep his mouth shut. He wasn’t good with this type of thing. Romance had never been his strong suit; a robotic girlfriend attempting to find her own way in this newfound world of discovery only adds to the battle. (Maybe that’s why they connected so well— two people in the sea of unknown, trying to find their own way to the shoreline.) There were two things Joker knew, though: he was willing to give this whole romance thing a shot for Edi. The second was, he couldn’t stand not hearing her talk to him. He turns his head towards her, setting the Normandy on its auto-pilot mode for a moment.    

meme.

    It’s the question of the century: why are the beacons so important? What does Saren want with them so bad that he’s willing to throw away the galaxy for them? (The answer is unclear, but it’s nice to know Kendall’s attempting to brainstorm with her.) A groan escapes her mouth, hands running themselves through flaxen hair as she repositions her face in front of the Holo’s camera.    ❝  It’s a Prothean beacon, Ken; Saren’s going after them, we’re not exactly sure why yet. They’re super rare and were left behind when the Protheans vanished. The technology they provide, it could advance things; Captain Anderson said the last time we made a discovery like this, it advanced our technology by 200 years.  ❞    It’s the easiest explanation she can provide him right now, and the one that won’t go completely over his head.

    ❝  One of the crew got too close to it on Eden Prime, and it activated. I had to grab him and pull him away, but it pulled me to it— I know it sounds crazy. I sound absolutely fucking crazy, but I had a vision— I can’t put it all together, but it was horrifying. Death, destruction; it felt real. It felt like I was right there and I died.  ❞    She says it before she can stop herself— word vomit. This was a mistake and the expression forming across her face, a hybrid of confusion and embarrassment, speaks loud enough.    

meme.

     Ryuusei Sushi, 9 o’clock on a Friday night. It was an ideal night typically for the male; usually his nights were consumed with business meetings, chatting with Udina whilst he panicked on the phone about whatever bullshit was happening with politics, or sliding a hot chick on his arm and taking her home for the night. Tonight, rather than any of those, he’s seated across from Roman Roy— his own personal lackey. It was something Lucas could get used to, truth be told; however, it did come with its own negatives. Roman wasn’t easy to deal with— he was scatterbrained, moronic, and couldn’t fuck. He couldn’t fuck the game like it’d fucked him repetitive. (Maybe that’s why he’s seated across from Lucas, ogling over him like a nice piece of steak.) Lucas wasn’t easy to deal with either, though; he came with his own slice of ego pie. Maybe they made a better team than Lucas thought. He was the brains, Roman was the missing heart; they evened each other out.

     ❝  Yeah, the view’s pretty nice. I see it every morning in the mirror— makes me fucking smile. I’m a handsome son of a bitch, aren’t I?  ❞    A tone of derision resides on his tongue, but yet a genuine smile spreads across his lips. Maybe he’s testing Roman’s buttons— maybe he’s down to take him home and fuck him later. Get him a beer, Lucas is bound to find out.

“ i’m sorry, ”     it’s the first time in a very long time those words have left her lips.   i’m sorry.   are you, siobhán?   how much of this is born from defiance?   from spite,  from hatred.   are you truly rooting for her?   (i’m a woman.   that’s a minus.   of course that’s a fucking minus.     —why are we listening to this woman anyways?   said the council,   the commander doesn’t know what she’s talking about.)   you’re going to kill them all,  aren’t you athena?   you two will win.   when the reapers come and you’re both right,  then you can laugh.   for now,  swallow your fucking tongue.     “—about tom.   he doesn’t give a shit.   the deranged commander shepard,  what a fucking joke. ”

The whole situation on Eden Prime, the failure of their mission made Shepard a little upset. Anderson kept saying it wasn’t a total loss, because they managed to save the colony, but for Shepard? The Butcher of Torfan? Ruthless, who got the job done every time? That wasn’t enough. He didn’t blame anyone on the Normandy, though – except, perhaps, Ashley, who activated the beacon because of her curiosity. But that was another subject for another time. Now, he was talking to Kaidan, and for some reason, he wasn’t sure why. Shepard was a very private man, he would talk here and there to his crew, but not… like that. Speaking his mind.

He had never imagined himself in that situation, even though he sought for challenges during his whole life. If you kept poking the bear, you would eventually get it mad, right? The same thing happened with his life. Seeking for hard missions, and he ended up with an impossible one – but that made him thrilled. The adrenaline pumping into his veins, he needed that.

Although he looked serious, even cold while Kaidan spoke, he was actually excited to get his hands on these Reapers, after he became a Spectre. They didn’t know what kind of enemy they would face if Saren managed to achieve his goals. But no, Shepard didn’t intend to allow him to do such thing. He would kill him first, no matter what.

“It’s okay, Lieutenant. I guess we all deserve some informal chat.” He leaned against a wall nearby, crossing his arms over his chest. “But I’m far from being a hero, a protector. I’m a soldier who gets the job done, and I may even use methods you’ll disagree. It’s fine, we don’t need to be friends, though I just ask you to stay focused on the mission.”

A pause as he sighed, frowning lightly. “I find it amazing, though. The adrenaline of chasing something dangerous and unknown.”

       Somewhere in the galaxy, Saren was creating an army— meanwhile, aboard the Normandy, here they stood discussing the blooming threat residing somewhere outside the airlock door. Irony at its best and yet, Kaidan couldn’t find an ounce of himself to mind. Informalities had never been his thing; it was one of the first rules they taught at Alliance training. Do not fraternize with your superiors— they have more important things to be doing with their time. And yet, even with Shepard’s cold eyes looking at him, Kaidan found the slightest ounce of solace.

       The weight of the galaxy had been lifted off his shoulders long enough for him to be able to breathe. He could exhale without feeling like his lungs were going to collapse at any given second. He could blink without seeing Jenkins’ lifeless body in front of his feet, opened surprised eyes staring directly into his, speaking to him as if he were to blame. 

       Commander Shepard was right, though. He’s a soldier— a soldier first, hero second. They’re all soldiers; that’s their mission. Even with a heart of gold, you can’t save everyone. There will always be a battle and blood on someone’s hands. (The best Kaidan can do is avoid it as much as possible.) If that’s Shepard’s prerogative, he’ll turn the eye until he can’t. It doesn’t stop the male from questioning where the line is, though. He hopes he’ll never have to see the day where the line is drawn, or even crossed for that matter. It’s a thought he can’t quite shake, even while nodding at the Commander’s words. 

       ❝  I’ll remain focused on the mission, Commander— you don’t have to worry about that. Your methods are your methods, and I’ll respect them. I ask for the same courtesy in response, though. I have personal boundaries for myself, some that I won’t cross, even if you were to ask me. I’m a soldier too, but I have a line between being a soldier and being a hooligan.  ❞    He acknowledges, an eye-roll following his words. Hooligan, he sounds like his mother. It’s hard to find the adrenaline side of the situation, though. All he feels is a pile of growing anxiety weighing down in his chest, making its way down to the pits of his stomach. He has a bad feeling about all of this— Saren, the beacon, the discussion of the Protheans and Reapers. Something feels off about it all, but he can’t quite place his finger on it. (He’s not the only one who feels it, though— he hears the chatter aboard the Normandy; everyone can sense it. Something is brewing and it’s dark, consuming, and soul-crushing.)