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The thought she might be rejected wasn’t considered until much later, long after she’d examined every other reason she might stop herself from speaking. The rule prohibiting a romantic relationship with a client did not apply, and there were no rules against connecting with another follower. There was no significant other to offend by inappropriate advances, or potential drama by having the same feelings as another person. There was no reason, what so ever, for why Aurelia should not express her feelings.

Yet, even when she attempted to pen the storm of praise crowding her mind down, the words froze and hung about her disjointed. Aurelia knew what she felt, it was undeniable, but she could never express it; give it life beyond her beating heart. All the training under the Consort, her years of practice of soothing others and finding the right way to say anything deserted her. That disgrace compounded her frustration after several attempts to rectify the situation, until she had to accept that what stilled the words and pulled them deeper within herself was nerves.

Nelyna was older, beautiful and much more experienced. What could Aurelia offer? She who was barely an adult? Her fledgling talents meant little when held next to others who changed the mood of a room with a word or who lifted hearts with the single meaningful glance. No matter what kind things a client might tell her, Aurelia never felt particularly special.

With a shuddering breath, Aurelia swung her bare feet out of the bed and began a wobbling path towards her coffee machine. She wasn’t yet convinced the walls of her apartment wouldn’t be ripped away like paper by a reaper, but she wouldn’t die trapped between sleep and wakefulness.  

After fumbling with a cup and the machine, the asari noticed the plain unassuming book sitting on the counter. With trembling reach, she touched the worn cover and spread her fingers across its face before drawing it close. Her mind connected it to both dream and waking world which made it the most concrete item around her. As she flipped it open and threw its pages, she found the quote that formed the theme of tonight’s nightmare.

That impossible sound that grated against the back of her mind, and how it silenced the cacophony of suffering across swaths of the known universe. Proud, brilliant and wonderful worlds reduced to rubble and all of its inhabitants rendered nothing but bodies decorating a ruined land. No cheerful greetings, days enjoying others presence, not even gasps of defiant rejection as everything burned down around them. Nothing but stagnant air cut by the movements of the aptly named reapers.

A cheerful chime came from the coffee machine and Aurelia absently took her cup with her off hand. Finding what gave the nightmare shape gave her enough understanding to ground her in reality, but the fear still swirled about her. A lack of that silence here did not negate its presence elsewhere nor prevent it from travelling closer. Her fingers traced over the letters and a strange thought came to Aurelia. She took a long sip of her coffee and placed the cup on the counter before turning to fetch a pen from a desk in another room.

It was a childish idea. The march of destruction would continue, the dreams may still invade her sleep and it would ruin the book. Aurelia was certain that if anyone found the result, they’d think judge her for the silly act. She may have to hold onto the book for as long as she lived, and only allow it to enter into the hands of a stranger. Let them wonder at that page and make conjectures about its purpose.

Aurelia tested the pen nib on her thumb, and returned to her coffee and the book when the ink formed a perfect line. After another ship, the fear still worked its way around her heart, and Aurelia placed the pen tip over the page. With a sigh, she realized that there was no point in drafting her words. Only she would know they existed, and drawing straight from her troubled heart may the least poetic but the most honest.

‘Goddess, let this pass as all other things do, with us alive and well enough to continue. May the cries of pain and suffering end, but not with our demise.’ The words looped together, turning to cage the printed line, ‘Grant our lives and the lives our descendants the chance to discover the natural end of an entire race so when the true end of our galaxy arrives it will disturb none.’

The pen lifted from the page and Aurelia studied the effect. It was wishful thinking spilled onto a page, but the tightness in her chest had eased. As a ward against reality, it would do nothing, but imaging the words as a shield might give her a few nights of sound rest. Setting aside the pen, Aurelia took the coffee cup in both hands and sipped it as she watched the ink sink into the page. Until the paper was bone dry, she mentally repeated what she wrote, turning the words over and over until her exhaustion tumbled them into one long sound.