apexulansis

[apexulansis]

has a stranger ever smacked you on the tush before?

〝Yes.〞 Sweeping his cloak to the side with a flourish, the Hunter ran his hand down his hip and backside. 〝I've been told it's quite a nice one.〞

[apexulansis]

Bowing his head in acknowledgement for her thanks, he set the box down on one of the lower desks in the room. Hospitals never turned down free offerings like this, especially if they were ones in the outer city. When it counted, what difference did the source make? What was done was done regardless.

〝Hm, my shoulder...?〞 Thoughtfully, his left hand lifted upwards to his right shoulder, palming at it. Or was it the other? Both had different types of soreness to them. The right lacked the weight of the left, but swapping prosthetics all the time could be taxing in its own way. Looking like he had less of an idea than Qessyn herself, he dropped his arms and shrugged. 〝Well as can be expected, like you said. Why, itching to get a look at my latest prosthetic?〞

He happened upon them. It was Sigma Rhada; she had a pretty good idea of how that went down. But of course, on a planet like this, asking questions tended to get one in trouble; the less she knew, the better, and what happened outside the hospital was none of her business.

Smiling, she nodded and examined the prosthetics inside. “They look to be in decent shape. With some minor repairs and adjustments, I think they can be refitted nicely. Thank you, Talon.” Normally, a prosthetic would be built from scratch, to suit the patient’s individual needs, but again, this was Sigma Rhada, and the hospital was badly underfunded besides; they would take what resources they could get.

“I hope you’ve been staying well. At least, as well as can be expected on this planet, with your line of work. How is your shoulder, by the way?”

[apexulansis]

can kariians run on all fours or are they a strictly bipedal affair?

They can and do in rare cases. Primarily though they like to get leverage, climb (using all fours) and then LEAP.

It does, of course, vary from kariian to kariian depending on their mutations / arm length / body structure / etc. But they definitely all like The Pounce.

[apexulansis]

〝Sorry,〞 he offers in a flat tone, seeming only a little bit remorseful. Silence was a habit impossible for him to break. He was always avoiding something, after all.

He procured something from under his cloak. Seemingly scrap metal, but on closer view, a box of disembodied prosthetics. 〝I happened upon these.〞 Talon doesn't elaborate how. 〝Clinic always needs resources, doesn't it?〞

@apexulansis liked for a starter!

~*~

One would think that, perhaps, after so many times of Talon showing up in her office without warning, Qessyn would be accustomed to it.

This was not the case.

Nearly jumping out of her skin, like every single time this happened, Qessyn let out a yelp.

“—LAX VRAB VRUUNEL!” she cursed, clutching her chest. She took a shaky breath. “Talon. You have GOT to stop doing that.”

Shaking her head, she sighed. “Um, are you alright? Was there something you needed?”

[apexulansis]

shout-out to the one section of my pinterest that is just pins like this.

[apexulansis]

〝Yeah, but I want to see how you'd do it.〞 He grins, then holds up both hands, palms out. Like punching bags. 〝Come on. Hit me.〞

ㅤㅤ" i mean, i was thinkin' more 'bout retaliatin' against people bein' dillweeds... but i ain't against a bit'a sparrin' to get me warmed up beforehand. "

[apexulansis]

It must have been a real issue if Cerberus was recruiting aliens. Not just a smokescreen for something else. The Hunter nodded slowly, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Regardless, Ardaka didn't have that inkling that he was making the wrong decision, a rarity when paranoia was such a familiar bedfellow. Still. He doesn't trust Cerberus— knows just enough about them to know better. Shepard, though, was not Cerberus. Not as far as he could tell.

〝Yes. She and I are…〞 Not friends. Not enemies. 〝…On non-hostile terms.〞 That was what mattered. Relationships with the Blue Suns, Blood Pack and Eclipse were undoubtedly already shot. Ardaka's eyes wander past Shepard, focusing upon Garrus and the fresh looking scarring on his face. Yes. Clearly. He would have to ask the turian about that later. Whatever hit his face was heavy calibre indeed.

Then he's drawn quickly back to Shepard. He can practically hear those thoughts running through his mind. Assessing the familiarities and peculiarities. Ardaka figures that by now, the human has figured out that he isn't a local. Wouldn't surprise him if he's figured out already that this is surely what this stipulation of secrecy applies to.

〝"I'll meet you there.〞 He doesn't mention that his own way of getting around involved as much climbing as it did. How quickly could he make it over there before they started getting annoyed with waiting?

Long fingers tipped with talons nearly as large curl around not so much the human's hand but the entire forearm. Afterwards, Ardaka extends his hand to Garrus in turn. The turian had been indeed mimicking the bewilderment, and shares a glimpse with Shepard before taking Talon's hand. Welcome to the team.

This'll be new, Ardaka thinks. Never been on a real team before. Least, not willingly.

They meet again first on the docking bay, and then in the briefing room of the Normandy. This time he's alone with Shepard. 〝Sorry to make you wait.〞 Ardaka says casually, hesitating. This private matter, unveiling himself — it's something of a forced gesture. Not something he does willingly often. The hood is brushed back, and now the mask is set aside and placed upon the room-wide table. His alien visage in the flesh — or rather, in the fur. It is a face impossible to mistake as anything but an outsider. A den of outliers suited him just fine.

〝I'm certain you guessed as much. Isn't that right?〞

the curiosity in his stare hardens to quick apathy, and Shepard turns away from the stranger's corpse without further comment. Talon's reasons answer his question to satisfaction; there's little more he needs to know.

" Cerberus provided the dossiers, actually. The best of the best, or so I've been told. " From the scarce information that Garrus could share from his brief encounters with Talon, and from this little introduction, Shepard has been inclined — though he's not very pleased to admit it — to believe the Illusive Man thus far. " Goes to show what's at stake. "

At the much-unneeded warning, he lets out a snort. " Shouldn't be a problem, so long as we're still on Aria's good side. " Shepard exercises an unusual amount of self-restraint in her presence, purely out of mutual respect. It would be a shame to see it all thrown away now, and just when he was getting used to drinking for free at Afterlife. " Archangel's already made enough enemies there on his own already. "

Shepard's involvement afterwards likely didn't help. But anyone aboard the Normandy already knows, and has made their peace with the fact, that making enemies on the fly — usually by the dozens — is one of Shepard's little charms.

Garrus chuffs in amusement. " Mostly just Shepard. The rest of them have manners ... generally, anyway. Though we've got a few of other outliers aboard. Oh, if Shepard's to your taste, then you're going to love Jack. "

Shepard turns aside for a moment, letting them chatter, and taps through the few messages he's gotten from Bailey: all negative responses to earlier requests for additional evidence and trails to follow. He murmurs a quick ' taken care of. don't worry about it ' down into the receiver and promptly sends the message off, with their location attached.

" Just transmitted our current coordinates to Bailey. C-Sec will be on their way down soon, so we should get moving. I'll send you our dock number. You're welcome to make the trip back with us, but... " He glances Talon up and down. " Figure you've got your own way of getting around. We can meet you there — unless you're really itching to sit through a few stops on Citadel rapid transit. Guess skycar's an option, too. "

Shepard's eyes shift down to the hand offered him, not quite elcor gargantuan — but nonetheless massive. Briefly, his mind flickers through the possibilities. An armoured prosthetic? Or maybe some sort of outlandishly complex, mech-like framework? The latter sounds unlikely given the hands-on nature of Talon's history.

Whichever way he spins it, he's more certain than ever that Talon isn't something he's come into contact with before. He glances up from the hand to peer up at Talon, searching for the gleam of eyes behind the mask in hopes of finding some hint, and — yeah. That's no krogan.

He extends his hand after a second's pause, and he watches in mild awe ( and with increasing curiosity ) at the ease with which it slots into Talon's palm. Given the sheer size difference, it's not much of a firm handshake on Shepard's part. Nothing he can do about that, though.

" That can be arranged, " Shepard hears himself say; mentally, he's still trying to work out the implications of this first contact. His gaze slides to Garrus, in search of some glimpse of his own bewilderment reflected. " ... we'll talk about it more when we have you aboard. For now — welcome to the team. "

[apexulansis]

how do we feel about the fact that Ardaka Does This

[apexulansis]

〝Take your best shot.〞

ㅤㅤ" it's trans day of visibility, y'know what that means? if i see you so much as lookin' at a trans person the wrong way, i'm legally obligated to beat the everlovin' shit outta ya. "

[apexulansis]

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚

[apexulansis]

Typically, he was nothing if not avoidant. It's a little different being here than being in his home galaxy, though — there are no preconceptions. Not about him, not who or what he was. The utterances of his species' name inspired no reaction. It was nice. Part of Ardaka did not want to spoil that by sharing, but he can't help it. He likes Shepard, and he likes not feeling like he has to hide it all so badly.

〝I've lost count by now. My species does not age the way yours does.〞 Vague, but not untrue. He doesn't know how long it's been, barely knows how old he is. Ardaka frowns somewhat, but is still unable to give Shepard a straight answer. 〝It's been centuries. Perhaps a millennium or more. Time is relative to different species — but long enough for change.〞

He clicks his tongue against his teeth. 〝Where's the fun if I just tell you?〞 Were Shepard to check with Legion later, he would not come up with anything groundbreaking. Absently, Ardaka wondered how much of the language the geth had already processed. 〝Close. It's three throats.〞

Idly, his claws stroke at the fur of his chin, eyes wandering upward in thought. Then, they refocus upon the human once more— rather, only one pair does. 〝You may just have to settle for having an.. alien accent.〞 He humors Shepard anyway. 〝Try this. Koz'auh vkyrr Idikhrozz," his larger hands lift, two fingers on each hand mimicking 'air quotes' — a human gesture he's learned, 〝'Shepard. Idikhrozz Shepard. Your basic introduction.'〞 Then they drop, and he smiles coyly. 〝Or, if you'd like more of a challenge… Khæ sukehiir khraxvas mrrutarrvre sik vaxa vavin.〞 This time, he indulges with a translation not long to follow. 〝That means, roughly, 'May your enemy shatter under your teeth.' Old maxim to wish one good fortune.〞

at the invitation, shepard hops off the examination bed, approaching with little of the hesitation that one ought to exhibit in the face of a +8 feet tall apex predator. It's the same sort of determined curiosity that facilitated quick friendships with the likes of Urdnot Wrex, and the sort of brazen fearlessness that too often prompts careless reaches towards unknown artefacts. He does stop a step or two short of where he might with other crewmates — if only to save himself the extra effort of craning his neck for proper eye contact.

He doesn't interrupt. But his lips, almost unconsciously, do mouth the alien names that leave Ardaka's mouth. He tilts his head, though, at the last comment. " How long? " That Ardaka's galaxy is not their own is hardly a surprise, but it's a wonder Shepard hadn't heard rumours of his work sooner. Oh, well — Shepard had been decently preoccupied in the past few years.

He crinkles his nose at what he's sure is a veiled jab. " Well, you don't have to lie — but I do want to know what you said. "

If he doesn't get an answer, he'll just ask Legion later. That was the benefit of being 1183 geth programs in a mobile platform ... filing away information in a fraction of the time it took Shepard to blink is an easy task. The amount of time they spend with Talon, Legion's bound to have a decent glossary at this point.

" Give me something easier, then. Something I don't need two throats or subvocals or five sets of vocal cords for. " Lack of additional vocal anatomy aside, there's no missing the hint of petulance layered beneath the remark. There are few things Shepard finds inaccessible when enough pressure or will is applied, but there's no helping the limits of human anatomy. ( Not that Shepard still doesn't try, almost purely out of spite alone. )

[apexulansis]

A grin more genuine than the one permanently etched onto the kariian's face tugs at the corners of his lips. He isn't looking at Shepard, but can practically hear the human's neck snap up in his direction. He knew that sort of curiosity when he saw it — it was the same as his own, or at the very least it was similar. The want to know that which you do not understand. A sort of curiosity that got you far in life.

〝Nothing important. It was a test — to see if I could get your attention.〞 Head turns to acknowledge the other, the smirk plain on display. He beckons Shepard closer, welcoming the other into his space. Permission to indulge. 〝It is. One of many. The one I speak is called Zahhan.〞 He doesn't ask where Shepard learned that word, Zehen-Khasiik — there is only one place he could have learned it. 〝Zehen-Khasiik itself means 'snow-walker' in one of the older ones. Those that live underground were called Vedex-Zehkurr, cave-dwellers. Including them... There are about seven dominant dialects. I have not been there in quite some time, though.〞

A pause.

〝Good attempt at the pronunciation, by the way.〞

new msg received @ private terminal —— @apexulansis

〝Kiz viiza ke koz sauh exa var sukeh kyrr zek khaskha?〞

AT THE UNDOUBTEDLY ALIEN SOUND, Shepard's head snaps up, eyes flickering towards the door to the AI core. He might've thought his translator was glitching out ... but ( though he's no scholar ) he's certain that, in his years of idly absorbing the sounds from intergalactic broadcasts and in all his recent travels, he hasn't heard anything remotely like this. And the fact that they have the single Kariian in the galaxy aboard the Normandy — as far as Shepard knows, anyway — suggests that no amount of running those words through a translator will bring up anything of use to him.

Shepard turns his gaze upwards for a moment. Mulls over the foreign sounds, rolls them over his tongue, and mouths them several times over, silently, as he follows the grooves in the medbay's ceiling.

" ... exa var sukeh kyrr zak kheskha. " Mumbled more to himself than to Ardaka. Though, eventually, he pivots his eyes to the Kariian; they gleam with an unusual, almost boyish sort of curiosity. " What does that mean? "

He's not sure the words were meant for him. Maybe not. Shepard's only just found his way into the medical bay for a routine check-up that Chakwas, wherever she is now, has been pressing him about. But he would guess that Ardaka's likely on his way out from entertaining the seemingly endless enquiries of their resident geth.

And, though he might be pushing it a bit — this is information he extracted only from recent conversation with LEGION, after all — " Is that a Zehen-Khasiik dialect? ... language? How many do you have? "

[apexulansis]

how do you say "i really want to autopsy her/him/them/you" and be totally normal about it

[apexulansis]

Truthfully, he'd always been wanting to catch a longer conversation with Archangel — that initial intrigue is what has him linger. He got a feeling that between the two, it was Shepard that was the more prolific one. The more the Hunter settles with the name in his mind, the more he begins to recall. Shepard was definitely a name he's heard of before. In passing conversation, in headlines, in promotions, in history. He knows humans are the 'newcomers' in this galactic scene, and the catchy title of Commander Shepard, the First Human SPECTRE. Savior of the Citadel, fills in the blanks of his mind easily. Hard to forget a title like that. Among humans, he was a big deal. An icon, even. Ardaka knew well any contact with such a person would assuredly not keep him out of sight — yet he cannot help but feel both endeared and immediately intensely interested. He always loved the underdogs.

〝She thinks selling her 'friends' into slavery is a lucrative business. Likes to run away to the Citadel when the heat gets too much back home. Didn't save her this time.〞 Asari were always the hardest to catch or pursue. Perhaps it had something to do with their natural proclivity to biotics — he still hadn't a full grasp on what they were… And he hadn't yet autopsied one. Omega was far too dirty for that.

〝That's—〞 Whether it's due to the wording or simply because it was a lot to take in, Ardaka momentarily redirects to a smaller topic to give himself more time to think. 〝—Surprising Cerberus would compile a team with non-humans. Your decision, I presume.〞 He wonders what Archangel (what is his name?) had shared. Evidently enough that Shepard would bother broaching this at all… But had Cerberus compiled a dossier, Ardaka would not have been surprised. Either seemed likely.

〝I'd warn you that allying with me would make you an enemy of much of Omega, but I guess that doesn't bother you.〞 He moves closer, eyes moving from the turian and back again at Shepard, head canting. Behind the ivory grim-grinning mask is a similar countenance, but it is far more earnest. 〝Sounds like a more effective way of helping people to me. If I am working with your investigation, consider me interested.〞 Eyes narrowed, and the smile bleeds into his voice. 〝You humans have such a way with words. Or maybe just you.〞

〝I do have one stipulation," he says before offering his hand, the first between them to extend it. He knew that much about humans, at least; they shook hands on agreement. 〝Privacy. I can express details on the matter later. Not here.〞

NOT A KROGAN. SHEPARD'S MET ENOUGH OF THEM, and talked enough to Wrex alone and heard him laugh enough — and, damn, does Shepard miss the bastard — to know the peculiar sounds that make up the inflections in a krogan's voice. His translator has no trouble picking up any slack. But ( and just to confirm, Shepard taps nonchalantly at his omni-tool without shifting his gaze from Talon's; he manages, successfully, to disable translation functionalities for just a moment ), still, it doesn't sound quite right.

He cocks his head, humming in acknowledgement. With any luck, the movement might have masked the slight narrowing of his eyes. Now he's really intrigued by this old acquaintance of Archangel's. " Often enough. I'm starting to feel like I'm better known for being dead than anything else, these days. "

His eyes flicker back to the corpse. " Seems like that worked out well for you. " Shepard thinks that there might even be a hint of uncertainty in Garrus' quip, beneath the acknowledgement and what sounds like slight awe. They both watch as Talon bends down beside what's left of the body, contemplating whatever he's extracted from it.

Shepard thinks about prying for a moment. " What exactly did she do? " ( And there goes all that thinking. His mouth's far too quick to have its enquiries stifled when Shepard finds himself curious enough. )

He clicks his tongue at the rejection, mulling over that particular verbiage. " This isn't as simple as a hit. This is a matter of an intergalactic threat — human colonies are going missing. We're talking entire colonies gone without a trace. And neither the Council nor the Alliance are in a place to do anything about it. " Not in a place to do anything about it, or won't do anything about it. Shepard makes little effort to hide the disdain creasing his brow at the thought ... but he supposes it makes no real difference. Either way, it's left to him to take matters into his own hands.

In the spirit of full disclosure: " Cerberus is funding an investigation. Trying to hit back the people responsible for this. I'm not personally keen on working with them ... but, if this all links up how we think it does, then it's preferable to facing galactic extinction with our dicks in our hands. "

Garrus lets out a sharp cough from beside him. When Shepard glances over with a raised brow, he simply shakes his head and raises clawed hands in protest: " Nothing. Just a, uh — very descriptive way to put it, is all. "

Shepard turns back to Talon. ( Though the mumbled ' If this whole SPECTRE thing doesn't work out for you, I suppose there's always a career in poetry, ' doesn't escape his ears. ) Last shot, and then they'll throw in the towel: " If the continued survival of everything as we know it means anything to you, then I'd probably consider that a reward enough in itself. "

" No pressure, " Garrus adds. Of course.

[apexulansis]

Most times he already would have absconded by now. Something here makes him stay — his intrigue is piqued. The armor is recognizable. Same 'freelancer' that either killed Archangel, or busted him out. Stories were never fully conclusive on how that ended. He's staring at the other with a look and posture that indicates more curiosity than threat, even as he's staring down the barrel of a gun. Unthreatened.

Slit pupils glowing red and white dart over, catching the source of the voice in the distance. Then they dilate, like crescent moons shifting to full.

〝Archangel,〞 Talon acknowledges succinctly. He's spoken to the other before, but never more than that curt statement of the alias. So that's what happened to Archangel. Still alive, clearly. The other one's still with him. So they're allies— comrades? This isn't about the gangs, then. Archangel was certainly no friend to them. Ardaka is quiet as his eyes flick back and forth between the two, but it's clear he's deep in thought. He barely notices as the rifle is lowered. They were not allies, but they shared enemies.

Now, he tilts his head towards the other. 〝Shepard. The dead SPECTRE?〞 A chuff of amusement rolls in one throat, a trilling sound quite unlike any krogan, despite the dialect he spoke. Though capable of speaking the growled language, it didn't quite fit his voice. 〝I bet you get that a lot.〞

〝As for her... I was tracking her.〞 He doesn't explain more than that. Truthfully, he tried to stay away from the Citadel. Omega was much easier to hide in. He didn't want the dramatics of an unknown species in a galaxy where such a thing was so rare. Avoiding the seat of government was just a smart thing. But he couldn't help himself when he learned the target fled here for safety. She didn't deserve safety. Eyes thoughtfully wander away and then back to the corpse. Then he crouches again, slipping a bracelet from the asari's wrist and inspecting it in the light. The victim's mother would be wanting this back, he was sure.

〝They act that way. The truth is they're happy to have these people gone. They just don't like how I do it. But now she'll never be an issue again.〞 Unaware or perhaps just indifferent of how this bloody scene was being perceived to onlookers, Ardaka's response is casual, one shoulder shrugged as he spoke. A certain level of contempt underlines those words. Clearly, whatever list of crimes the dead asari had committed was enough to make this assassin committed. But then… Was he really an assassin if there was no contract? No payment? He stood up again, pocketing the jewellery. 〝If you're trying to hire me, don't bother. I don't do this for money.〞

IT'S THE SMELL THAT CATCHES HIS ATTENTION as he passes the alleyway. The tang of iron, slightly sweet, carried on what little breeze there is on the Citadel — everything here is simulated, from the Presidium's twenty-hour day cycles to the temperature and, now that Shepard thinks about it, he's not sure exactly how they keep oxygen circulating through this massive deep-space station — intermingling with the hint of something purulent: the smell of traumatic death.

This is a relatively quiet part of the Citadel, half-commercial and half-residential ... no doubt a night cycle hot-spot, but far from bustling at the moment. It's not so regulated and sickeningly tidy as the Presidium, but it's still self-controlled enough that C-Sec presence is relatively light. He and Garrus have found themselves wearing down as they approach what would be late afternoon in the Presidium Commons; this wisp of a trail that Bailey has fed them and now expects them to chase down is next to nothing. No camera footage, no solid evidence that C-Sec can provide ... they might as well be chasing a ghost. ( He supposes that's why Captain Bailey turned eventually to a dead SPECTRE, in a last-ditch hope for any result at all. )

Their poor investigation gave quiet way to idle wandering and chitchat, with little complaint from either of them. They worked their way from the Wards to the Commons, then stepped aboard rapid transit and watched the buildings and scenery flicker by until it felt right to disembark. And then they had wandered aimlessly for the better part of an hour until Garrus had spotted a liquor shop, heading inside with promises of returning with refreshment. That left Shepard with little to do but pace up and down the block until his stroll took him by the alleyway — to this.

He really can't catch a break, can he? ( ... is what he thinks, but the stink of blood and shit is far from a deterrent. His knuckles are gleaming bright already with the crackling of biotic power — finally. ) Shepard draws his gun quietly, but for a moment he lingers around the corner. Waits until the power is burning in his hand, his skin itching with the heat, concentrated into greater intensity. Then he charges in, gun raised as he pushes forth a broad shockwave. Too broadly aimed to topple any enemy, but perhaps a surprise enough to destabilise them. All he needed was to throw them off guard for long enough. Especially if, on the off chance, this was Bailey's target...

The sight of a lonely corpse with her head reduced to a smear against the wall ( ah. The source of the smell ) stops him momentarily in his tracks, and he lowers his gun slightly, brow set in deepening confusion. But he doesn't even have time to glance wildly about for the missing perpetrator before something... someone flickers into sight before him. Shepard snaps back into position, M-8 raised at who he suspects is their killer. He glances its hulking form up and down. A krogan? He doesn't think so, but he can't tell without shuffling closer.

Before he can consider taking the risk, the alien speaks. Shepard blinks and, despite his alarm, cranes his head in curiosity. " I've seen a lot of people on Omega. You're going to have to narrow it down. " With each passing moment, he more and more suspects this is the assassin that Bailey sent them after. Makes sense that someone like this hails from Omega.

It's then that Vakarian's voice rings out from the sidewalk. Perfect timing, as always.

" Hey, Shepard. Shop was sort of lacking in levo-amino options. Ended up just grabbing us a couple of beers, and ... uh. Shepard? " The sound of glass shattering against the pavement is indication enough of what's become of their refreshments. He hears the thudding of footsteps as Garrus rushes to his side, rifle drawn.

" Holy shit. Wait ... Shepard. " Shepard never breaks sight from his targets. Not ordinarily, anyway, but something about Garrus' tone stills his hand. He chances a glance aside at the turian. " That — that's Talon. "

Talon. That's a name with a hefty reputation, both on Omega and in the Illusive Man's dossiers ... EDI had spent a good while going over that one with him. Though there's little known of the person behind the kills, the list of victims was extensive, each of their deaths executed with often expert precision. So this was who Captain Bailey had them chasing these past few days. Yeah — this was way beyond C-Sec's capabilities.

And it was just his and Garrus' luck that they'd run into Talon on a beer run.

" You're Talon? " Well. This changes things. Shepard straightens slowly and, despite his better instincts, lowers his rifle carefully. ( Never a good idea to aim a gun at someone you're looking to recruit. ) " I'm Shepard — we've been looking for you for a while. You don't make yourself easy to find. We're not here to settle a score, no. We're here to make you an offer. "

He pauses. " Though I'd like to know what you're doing here. The Citadel's a long way from your usual playground ... you've got Citadel Security up in arms. "

[apexulansis]

This shadow he knows well-enough that the front of his suit is already zipped down, leaving the ruff easily accessible. He knows that, despite being one of a mutable species, Slisae is enchanted with how soft he is. Ardaka beckons him close, curling possessively around around his Reaper. His cheek rests against the top of a horned head, and his eyes glance over an ashen crown of horns.

〝Getting longer,〞 Ardaka comments idly, knowing Slisae preferred to keep them shorter than this, usually. He doesn't ask, but the words hang in an unspoken question; are you letting them grow out? Now that he knows he's not about to be thrown off, he relaxes — this is one of the few places he feels he can actually do that. Sometimes it felt like he spent weeks at a time with his muscles taut and wound up, rarely spending little than a few minutes at ease. Here, though — nowhere safer. Playfully, he briefly retracts his arms, then takes his cloak in each hand, wrapping Slisae up into a blanketed hug.

〝Maybe a break will help you reset. Clear your mind.〞 Arms lower, and Ardaka leans back slightly, creating a small space so that he could look at him better. Whilst looking at the other, a thought seems to come to mind, and the suggestive note to his tone ebbs from his voice. 〝You know... There is somewhere I have been wanting to take you. If you need a change of scenery.〞 Nerves begin to gather, and he idly grasps at the front of Slisae's robes, breaking eye-contact with a soft clear in one throat. Gone is that earlier confidence, it seems. 〝...Actually — it's three somewheres. Backups in case you knew of the first two already.〞

He's been across the table for a while now watching Sliske write, quiet and attentive. Ardaka's eyes are hard to miss in this dark, luminous stare focused intently on the Reaper's hands. Then, the Hunter stirs, bracing his palms on the table before crawling across it in one fluid motion, moving from the opposite chair to Sliske's lap. 〝Hope that wasn't too important.〞 He seemed much more comfortable here. Arms curl around the other's neck, and a metal tail around one leg. 〝I can think of several different places I'd rather see those hands.〞⸻ ⧸ @apexulansis

            This is typical,  he thinks.   There’s not an idle moment where he finds it two parts endearing and irritating that out of all the chairs in the room,  the Kariian always chooses the most unconventional one  (  and the same one no less  ).    ❝ No, ❞  he starts off, looking at the open journal in a world where most used digital means,  noticing his text had faded into a scrap of lines and shapes,  his slow sinking into mindfulness becoming a sketch of some environment he can’t remember.   It's probably because the background isn’t ink-black like he’s used to.   Mindless lines.

            Slisae has a chance here to succumb to another type of heat, more enthralling to him than other forms  (  it’s what he has energy for right now  ).   He buries himself into Ardaka,  as if he's not the one being sat upon.   Like he's not the force he is.   It's nice to not say anything and be coddled close  —  for once.    ❝ No,  nothin' important. I do not remember what I was catalogin' in the first place.   — This is better.  ❞

[apexulansis]

𓌹 𓂃 𓌺 #𝙰𝙱𝚈𝚂𝚂𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙳𝙴𝙽 ⧸ 𖦏 𝘍𝘙𝘖𝘔 𝘈 𝘗𝘓𝘈𝘊𝘌 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘊𝘈𝘕𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘚𝘌𝘌, 𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘌𝘚 𝘈 𝘚𝘖𝘜𝘕𝘋 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘞𝘐𝘓𝘓 𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘏𝘌𝘈𝘙. 𝘙𝘌𝘝𝘖𝘓𝘛 𝘈𝘎𝘈𝘐𝘕𝘚𝘛 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘔𝘖𝘋𝘌𝘙𝘕 𝘎𝘖𝘋𝘚.

independent primordial eldritch oc + species. written by channy ♡ [ 30+. tired ⅋ old. she/they. est timezone. ] no minors. low-med activity. panfandom + multiple verses.