Shepard watched Nihlus stalk away with the Councilors. She was concerned. He looked like shit. His eyes were foggy, his voice lacked its usual strength, and his movements were sluggish. Two days had passed since Eden Prime; he wasn’t getting any better and attending the hearing had probably drained him of his last reserves. He excused himself from the company and went behind a door. The restroom.
Garrus stood in front of the Council Chambers for a long time after Nihlus had disappeared within. His omni was open, and Dad’s picture was staring at him from the contact list, with that signature frown furrowing his thick browplates. It wasn’t difficult to imagine the heart-warming greeting that would open the conversation – “What do you need now?” Or maybe a “Can it wait? I’m in the middle of something important.”
Well, shit. It’s true: Valern is the name of the salarian councilor, and the turian councilor is named Sparatus. Never mind that abomination. Why, oh why didn’t Bioware tell us this before? Would it have been so damn difficult to just come out and say so on the forums or whatever? Bah. Massive retcons in sight. I think I mention the turian councilor in every goddamn story I have out there.
I know I said there would be weekly updates and breaking this promise is breaking my heart. But I’ve reached the point where I’m reduced to preparing chapters a day or two before posting, which puts my beloved beta readers and myself under too much pressure and is certainly doing no favors for the text. I chose to do this now because I’m hoping that most readers will be too absorbed in playing Mass Effect 3 to even notice. Yes, I will be playing it as well during the break. I will also try to finish and post at least two short stories that had been put on hold a long, long time ago in favor of this one.
The story continues on either the next Sunday (March 18), or the one after. To get a notification, subscribe to my rss, or my twitter, or add Ghost in the Machine to your story alerts at FFN.
Thank you for your time, interest and patience.
This week I’ve dug out some short Elder Scrolls ficlets, and some Garrus/Shepard love stories:
Fruit from Palaven – this one has a special place in my heart, being the first Mass Effect fic that I managed to finish. It’s a good story, all things considered, especially the fact that I hadn’t written for years prior to taking this plunge into fanfiction. It’s an intro into the ingame romance with Garrus.
A Game of Cards – an indirect sequel for Fruit from Palaven, this story is one of the few where I tried to engage a larger group of characters in a meaningful interaction. It’s also a stage for my critique of certain tropes within the fandom that I find distasteful.
First Kiss – what it says on the label. Garrus and Shepard, and their first kiss.
And now for something completely different:
Rural Witchcraft – or, as the working title went, “Glaber Heights” (Glaber is the name of a character from Spartacus, and at the time of writing I was reading Wuthering Heights, go figure). This is a piece of… regional lore, I suppose, for High Rock, that I submitted, among many other short texts, to Temple Zero. It’s just drabble, but it happens to be one of my favorite snippets.
Inverse Riddles – or, in its original version, “The proper way to converse with a Breton sorcerer.” Same as above, only this one I never actually submitted because I thought it too lame. Now I think it’s kind of cute.
And, that’s about it. At this pace, I’ll put up everything I have in… a year?
Kidding.
Shepard came over to talk about the weapon upgrades. His favorite subject, really, and Garrus had been listening very carefully in the beginning. But the longer she spoke, the fewer words got through to him. The idea that it was a translator glitch occurred to him but he dismissed it quickly. He understood the words. Those that he could catch.
“Great job… secondary cannons, so… efficiency up to… just love to hear… like purring.”
The lips, the lips were the culprit. They were a constant source of distraction, moving, as they were, in such a fascinating manner. He’d spoken with hundreds of humans before but never quite noticed how limber, mobile and flexible the lips could be, under certain light. From certain angles. In certain magnification levels when studied through his visor. He had done his homework. Humans needed to coordinate hundreds of muscles to form facial expressions and perform the seemingly effortless act of speaking. It sounded profoundly exhausting, but Shepard could do it for hours unending. Perhaps lips had the sort of muscles that never tired, kind of like his…
Continue reading First Kiss
