#;shepard

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20. Pulse Point

‘ I swear, I’m alive. ‘

                    Words like cool, familiar spring water against her cheeks, with sentiment that has reverberated down the narrow corridor of her existence like haphazardly tossedpebble.  Instinctive response sees these battle-worn hands CLOSE as suggested, fingertips biting deep crescents into the lines of her palms.  SHE DOES, you know – she does all this, for in her dreams there is no respite.  Dogged flames from ghost planets haunt the back of her eyelids ; they paint fantasy landscape in various shades of UNFORGIVING RED.  Here, there is blood – there, the cruel flicker of violent ruby eyes.  There are mirrors in her dreamsscraped over with the tide of death that she has heralded – all theseSACRIFICES committed beneath her passive watch.  Passive, yes, except for the brutal mound of her closed fists.  They fight on, regardless of her own state of despair.  They save her GRACE ; implement hope.  

                    SHE EXHALES.  Fingers release.  When glance intertwines, she offers forth asaluting tilt of head ; a gesture of respect, for she understands.  She appreciates the reminder.

                                                            “I always do.”

                                                   ⊱♕ 𝓠𝓾𝒆𝒆𝓷  𝑦𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔢 ♕⊰

     She tilts her head in equal  respect  for to do anything less would be      inappropriate.  She’s not seen it first hand, but enough terror has been      inflicted upon her so she may just  imagine  what it may be like.  She is      not faced a reaper by herself, but she’s faced thugs Shepard caught on      a daily basis enough times to know the dread that could crawl up one’s      spine and make a nice little home there. Eating up your insides while no      one else knew the suffering.  She shakes it off like routine now, washes      it away with a scalding hot shower, a reminder to always stay vigilant.      Taking upon herself the   H E R C U L E A N  task of protecting an      entire galaxy  was not a burden most of their kind wanted to live with--      but she was different.  There was that war-ridden dog ready to pounce      the grenade, shield it with herself so she may save others.

        You had to have some kind of a built in respect for people like that.         Fingers clench tightly into a closed fist, nails digging into flesh until it         tingled from pain.  Nerves shot & wounded body pumping itself full         of adrenaline.