#cool under pressure ( nihlus kryik )

[anderwhohn]

@dutyworn asked: "Do I have to ask permission to do anything, now?" / for nihlus, i got no context at all

"When your actions put the security of the entire galaxy at risk? Perhaps you should," Nihlus growls in frustration. He hadn't put much thought to allowing Shepard and her squad go on ahead while he finished up some work on the Normandy before joining them on the Citadel, only to be interrupted by an Alliance Rear Admiral making an 'inspection', and having to use his own Spectre authority to throw him off the ship, consequences be damned.

"It might not seem like it due to the publicity and media attention that you've fallen under, but as a Spectre, your missions are classified, Shepard. The only ones who have authorisation to perform an inspection on this ship and crew are those who have Council approval through the offices of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance."

Shaking his head, he sighs wearily as he explains, "While the crew itself may be mostly Alliance military, the Normandy is currently 'on loan' to the Citadel Council, and as such is considered a part of the Citadel Fleet. The Alliance does not have the authority to perform inspections right now."

"While I ensure everything is as secured as possible in my quarters, I do have highly sensitive classified information unrelated to our overall mission stored, that could have been compromised had the Admiral gained access to it."

[anderwhohn]

Mandibles pulled in tight against his jaw, Nihlus nods thoughtfully at the unexpected sitrep, though he's still careful not to startle the soldier as he moves closer, settling himself in a chair nearby but without being oppressively in the other's space where the man's laid unconscious on his couch for hours since Nihlus found him.

"2177 was over five years ago," Nihlus notes cautiously, watching the other carefully for his reaction. "It's currently 2182, though only a couple months from the new year. We're currently on the Citadel - Aroch Ward, though I think some of your people call it Shalta Ward, not far from the Presidium Junction."

Leaning back in his chair, he sighs, running a hand wearily over his fringe. "Your being a survivor of Akuze certainly makes this more troubling than it already was, finding a half-dead human on my doorstep. For now, let's worry about making sure you don't go any further into that dead category, before we start worrying about getting in touch with your ambassador. It's bad enough when Laiel has me act as a messenger for him as it is when Udina has been giving the turian embassy more trouble than usual."

Pausing to check something on his omnitool, Nihlus sighs and stands up once more, moving to the kitchen to grab a sealed bottle of water, which he tosses onto the couch beside the human. "I'm afraid I'm not in the habit of keeping levo foods on hand - you're lucky I keep the medigel. There's a clinic not far from here, and certainly closer than Huerta Memorial. You should probably get checked out first, then maybe see about getting you some decent food and clothes before I take you to the embassy."

Or directly to the Council, considering, he can't help but think, mandibles twitching as he tries to decide what to do with his unexpected 'guest'. "And just so you don't start worrying about why some strange turian would even care... I'm Nihlus Kryik, Special Tactics and Recon. So, if you don't mind, I'd rather you not get it into your head that you need to slip away on your own. I really don't need the extra paperwork."

@anderwhohn said: send in " take it easy. you’re safe now, but you need to relax. " for the sender to greet a waking receiver after having found them badly wounded and on the brink of collapse at their doorstep. //from Nihlus (with no context - whichever of Cas’s verses makes most sense; didn’t have to even know it was Nih’s place if you wanna double up a first meeting into it too, since they’ve not interacted)

send in " take it easy. you’re safe now, but you need to relax. " for the sender to...    /    ACCEPTING ↷

Safe? Cas is never safe. Years, a captive of Cerberus, until... He never could’ve fought his own way out of those labs. He has no idea who’d attacked; mercs, probably, he’d seen a few krogan. So he had done something unlike himself and  ran away  rather than stay to fight (whoever was an enemy of Cerberus, he’d be on their side, mercenaries or no mercenaries), and that had probably saved him his life... Usually not one to flee, years of being a subject of experiments; it had started with the thresher maws on Akuze, yes, but long since evolved into attempted mind control. He has old scars and new scars circling around his head, mostly hidden beneath his hair, where Naomi had pierced his skull and dug into his brain over and over again. He has old acid burns along his shoulder blades from thresher maw acid, from Akuze. His body is littered with numerous others; repeated needle marks on his arms, old battle wounds from before it all... and fresh injuries, the skin of his chest partially shredded from where he’d been slashed with an omniblade, by the turians he’d been so kindly (he always knew it was a trap, but anything was better than Cerberus) transported into safer territory by... So much running...

This isn’t one of his assailants, though. Cas sits up (too fast, reeling), assessing his surroundings. This is someone’s home... there’s medigel and a bandage over his chest.

But he’s escaped from Cerberus; nowhere is safe, and no one around him is anything but collateral. They’ll come for him.

❝ What year is it? ❞    he demands, voice raspy. He can tell it’s been several years, but he’s not sure of the exact date.    ❝ I’m Lieutenant Castiel Krushnic; I was a part of the Alliance Marine unit sent on the colony on Akuze in 2177. I need to... need to contact... ❞    He gets most of his words out coherent enough, but the effort makes his head spin, so he’s forced to trail off.

[kestrelsansjesses]

Red on Red

[[Summary: Inspired by this gorgeous piece of art by @relay314 I present some shameless Nihlus and Shepard shower antics.  Obviously N S F W.]]

Elevation to Commander and she still had to share a shower with every person on the Normandy. Shepard had already tried to get in there this morning, finding every stall locked and occupied, sending her back to the safety of her cabin with a grumble, the steaming cup of something that was not quite coffee not doing much to improve her mood. There were bits of vorcha entangled in her red hair, not improving her mood. Time to check again.

Wrapping a towel firmly around her body and glaring at any crew members that dared to raise even a single suggestive eyebrow at the sight of their superior wearing almost nothing at all, she marched to the showers, leaving the privacy and safety of her own quarters for steam and noise.

In the closest stall, someone was singing a pop song, just off-key enough to be grating. The middle stall was silent, save for the sound of running water, but also resoundingly locked. That left only the last one, furthest from the door. It was impossible to tell whether or not the sound of gently falling drops came from this one or another one, but when Shepard pushed hesitantly on the door, it gave way slightly. Not locked. Good. Relief at even the prospect of hot water spread throughout her shoulders, causing her to relax.

The first part of the shower was a small room where she could drop the towel, take her hair out, feeling it hit her shoulders. It was getting long, far past regulation, and it would need a trim. Hidden as it was in her customary bun, she could put it off for just a bit longer. Shower gel, shampoo, conditioner, check. They were all standard Alliance goods, utilitarian and unisex, with the exception of a small, precious bottle of something fruity and tropical that you were meant to rub into your skin to make it soft. Or something. Shepard wasn’t really sure, but she treasured it, pulling it out only when she really needed it.

More than eager to actually stand underneath the shower head, Shepard shoved aside the thin curtain that separated her from her goal, eyes half-closed in anticipation, taking a step into the stall, not realizing it was already occupied. Her mistake became obvious mere seconds later, when a shape materialized out of the steam and mist, red and tall, back to her. Nihlus Kryik, her mentor, completely nude.

She should have looked away, but Shepard found herself drinking it in. She justified herself in this way: Nihlus wasn’t technically her mentor any longer. After he’d been shot by Saren, he’d become semi-retired, choosing to stick with the Normandy and provide advice in a strictly friendly way, curious to see how the first human Spectre would fair. Supposedly. That made it okay to look, didn’t it? It wasn’t as if she had been wondering what he looked like under the armor, and if she had, it was just curiosity about turian anatomy, or so she told herself.

When Nihlus turned his head slightly, Shepard could see the scars radiating outward. It should have been a fatal shot, but it hadn’t been, through sheer luck and her own pressure on the wound, keeping him alive. Everything afterward had been difficult and continued to be so- she could see how he favored one side of his body over the other, even in the shower, and physical therapy was an ongoing process. The rest of him was whole and hearty though, and beautiful. Handsome? Both words didn’t seem sufficient to describe the interplay of black and red on his carapace, the way it faded to buff at the extremities. His musculature was more defined than she had imagined, though none of him looked vulnerable or soft.

Right. Time to stop staring. Trying to pretend that she had just arrived, Shepard dropped the curtain, exclaiming, “Shit, sorry! I didn’t realize you were in here.” It almost sounded true, though her acting left a great deal to be desired.

Shielding his arm against the drops, Nihlus peered out at her, not bothering to cover, modesty apparently not a turian ideal. “Shepard. You’re a terrible liar, as always.” The faintest hint of a smile flickered on the edge of his mandibles, and he still didn’t move forward to cover himself at all. “Do you like what you see?”

Her heart lay in her throat. Nihlus was a friend, of sorts, but there was also that undercurrent that ran between them, shared glances and a life saved. He was one of the few in the Milky Way that believed her visions in the Prothean beacon, and he had been there to guide her. “I… I have to say that I do, Spectre Nihlus.” Her voice came out throaty, husky on the last two words, using his title as a term of endearment.

The singing from the other stall stopped abruptly, both other streams of water turning off. “We’ll leave you alone, Commander,” came ringing from behind the door, laughter accompanying it. It was lucky the heat had already turned her face pink, though Shepard was sure by now that her face was beet red, matching her hair nicely.

“Spectre Shepard. Join me.” Hand extended, Nihlus gently pulled Shepard to him, unwrapping her towel so that it fell to the floor, getting soggy, quickly kicked aside.

“Isn’t this a breach of ethics?” Military training was too ingrained in her to throw it off so quickly.

“If I was still actively your mentor, yes. Fortunately, I’ve retired from that position.” Debatable, really, but Nihlus had put his mouth to her neck, nibbling gently. “I like the vorcha,” he said, pulling a clump from her and chuckling, reaching over her shoulder to her toiletries.

He pulled the smallest bottle out, Shepard’s special wash. The scent of passion flower lay heavy in the air, every ounce of steam seeming to carry it so that she was sure they could smell it even outside the bathroom. “That’s not-” she began, but he had applied it to her scalp, massaging downward, fingers teasing her neck and collarbone, resting on her breasts.

“Yes?” Nihlus paused in his actions, and Shepard shook her head.

“Nothing.” It suddenly didn’t seem to matter as much, not when he was touching her nipples lightly, flicking his tongue downward. “Please. Don’t stop.”

Those same defined muscles were put to good work as Nihlus took himself away from Shepard’s hair, gently lifting her and leaning her against the cool tile wall, contrast between water as hot as it would go and carefully engineered material designed to stay cold sending pleasant shivers down her spine. “Some would say the vorcha give a pleasant musk,” he whispered in her ear, parting her legs and entering her surprisingly gently. “Not too hard?”

She shook her head, suddenly unable to speak save for tiny gasps. No, no, this was perfect, red hair and pale skin against red carapace and white clan markings. They worked well in the field together, moving as a single unit, something born of long hours of practice. That same discipline, the ability to understand what the other was doing on the battlefield even before they moved, served them well here, Shepard adapting to the rhythm of Nihlus’ thrusts, legs grasped tight around his waist, fingers digging in as hard as she could.

Acutely aware that her crew could be listening just outside the unlocked door, Shepard tried to keep herself quiet, alternating between finding the tender space on Nihlus’ neck and biting and the smallest of noises to let him know he could continue. Her back would be bruised; they had picked up the pace, hitting the wall again and again, a dull, satisfying thud that was rhythmic and even. He seemed to appreciate the biting as much as she did, perhaps more; at one point, Shepard clamped down hard enough to draw specks of blue, so vivid against all the red.

Together, they marked targets, and together they came, ragged breaths filled with steam and that rich, almost overbearing tropical scent. Letting her down gently, Nihlus pulled Shepard close to him one last time. “I’m glad you’re a shitty liar, Shepard. You won’t be starring in the crew play any time soon though.”

“All my dreams of being the lead.” Her breath was still coming back to her, tone ragged, but she felt more herself, so much better than she had in weeks. Months, maybe, since taking control of the Normandy.

“Before we go our separate ways, Nihlus, let me show you which one the shampoo is.” Always an opportunity to learn more.

“I’m not going anywhere, Shepard.” Mentor. Friend. Lover.

[multiplayr]

► PLAYER 03 . NIHLUSKRYIK.

   “I move faster on my own.”

SPECIES: Turian. ORIGIN: Nonuel (fourth planet in the Plutus System). AGE: 37. NICKNAMES: N/A. ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good (Morally Ambiguous). MBTI: ISTP. FAVORITE WEAPON: Heavy pistols, assault rifles, sniper rifles, heavy weapons.  KNOWN AFFILIATIONS: Spectres (Special Tactics and Reconnaissance), Citadel Council, Saren Arterius.  COMBAT ROLES/STRENGTHS: Close combat, sniper/ranged weapons, small unit tactics.   FAVORITE BIOTIC/TECH/OTHER ABILITY: Concussive Shot,  Incendiary/Cryo/Disruptor Ammo.  SKILL SETS: Pure combat specialists. As a soldier, no one is tougher or more effective at taking down enemies with gunfire. Thorough weapons training, utilizing all special ammo types, as well as grenades. High-level operatives are outfitted with ocular synaptic processors that allow them to focus on targets with lethal accuracy. Zero-gravity combat, HALO/HAHO parachuting, jetpack flight, guerilla/unconventional warfare, advanced close combat/armed combat, advanced unarmed combat (Turian martial arts), espionage, reconnaissance, small unit tactics and single operator tactics, etc. FACE: N/A.

➤ FILE : DOSSIER.

Born in a small mercenary outpost outside Hierarchy space, he learned the hard way to fight for what he wanted. His father died when he was 16, and his mother forced him to join the turian military. His outsider status made life difficult; though he was always at the top of his class, his superiors and peers never truly accepted him.

As a soldier, Nihlus' skills were unquestionable. His attitude, however, often got him in trouble. On several occasions, he disobeyed direct orders to do what he thought was best. Although his instincts were usually proven right, his notoriety grew. Even when he single-handedly routed an enemy patrol, and saved his squad from ambush, his commanding officers berated him for his recklessness. His military career seemed to stall before it even began.

After being reassigned to a new squad for the third time, Nihlus was introduced to Saren Arterius, a fellow turian and a Spectre. Saren was impressed with the young soldier. He befriended Nihlus and offered to mentor him. Within a year of meeting Saren, Nihlus was asked to join the Spectres.

Free from the restrictions of military procedure, Nihlus excelled in his new role. He quickly stepped from his mentor's shadow and established himself as one of the Council's top agents. Since then, Nihlus has completed countless missions as a Spectre, each one more difficult and dangerous than the last.

Cool under pressure, Nihlus has an uncanny ability to find an enemy's weakness and exploit it. Though his methods aren't as brutal as Saren's, he will not hesitate to efficiently and thoroughly eradicate anything or anyone that stands in his way. He also does not share Saren's grudge against humanity, instead seeing their potential.

  * SURVIVAL. 

While Nihlus survived Saren’s betrayal on Eden Prime, he suffered ballistic trauma and severe blood loss due to the near-fatal head injury he had received; Nihlus was consequently comatosed during the events of Shepard’s mission to apprehend Saren, and, later, stop the Reaper Sovereign. After six months of intense genetic therapy and surgery, Nihlus recovered with only mild case of memory loss/retrograde amnesia. It would take him another two months of accelerated physical therapy before he could return to his duties as a Spectre. Now, Nihlus has metal plating and minor cybernetic augmentation at the base of his neck; it is not noticeable, except upon closer inspection. 

Due to the confidential nature of Spectres, his “death” and subsequent survival was not released into the public, but is known to the Council. Nihlus woke from his coma after Shepard is declared MIA/KIA in 2183. 

    * PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE. 

While Nihlus is ruthlessly efficient and exceptional as a soldier, outside of work he generally appears calm, and even charming. He has no sense of severe xenophobia towards other species. In fact, due to his upbringing within the diverse community of a mercenary outpost, he generally prefers interacting with other species rather than his own. He is particularly partial to asari, and some krogan.

Nihlus is easygoing, and charming; some might even say dignified. It’s in his training. Nihlus was instructed in decorum and the semblance of integrity, the same way he was trained to be ruthless, intimidating, cunning, and deceptive. He is trained in espionage, reconnaissance, and small unit operations. In that way, Nihlus Kryik is not who he seems.

He is often restrained, reserved, and borderline paranoid, though it is deliberately overshadowed by his charisma. While he deliberately behaves amicably with others, he is also serious, straightforward, cold, pragmatic, and has a rather bleak, dry sense of humor. He prides himself in his control, methodical and meticulous in many aspects of his life–-----   especially pertaining to his job.

➤ PHYSIQUE / APPEARANCE.    ↳ BODY TYPE.

 In a word, STATUESQUE. Nihlus is big, even by Turian standards. Thick, compact, and muscular, he has the typical body of a soldier, exuding peak physical strength. The thick layer of organic-metallic exoskeleton gives his body a hard, impenetrable appearance. 

HEIGHT: 6′7“. WEIGHT: 250 lbs. SKIN: brown. EYES: emerald green. HAIR: N/A. BLOOD TYPE: N/A. TATTOOS: traditional Turian clan tattoos. 

[anderwhohn]

@dutyworn asked: our muses are in an arranged marriage / betrothal / nihlus, first contact war era?

There were certainly downsides to being not only one of the most highly respected and decorated Spectres in the Council's employ, but also the cousin of one of those very Councillors, when it was him that the Hierarchy and Council had agreed upon to represent the Turian Empire in this arrangement for peace with the newly discovered human race.

Nihlus knew too that part of the reason he was selected was due to his own vocal protests about the whole Relay 314 Incident, that the humans were calling the 'First Contact War'. While it certainly hadn't been a full scale war by turian standards, at least not yet, there had been enough questionable choices from the top on both sides that had eventually led to the Council's intervention and forced peace talks.

Now if only those 'talks' hadn't somehow led to the arrangement he was currently facing...

A human bondmate... Not that he had anything against humans himself - if anything, he found them fascinating and full of potential, a potential that could benefit the galaxy on a whole in the future - but the lack of choice in the matter...

He wonders if the human had volunteered herself, or she had been volunteered in a similar manner that he was. It was certainly frustrating, though looking over the dossier he'd been provided of her, she had some of the greatest potential he'd seen from her species so far.

Perhaps, once things settle a bit, he'll get back at Sparatus for this by putting her name forward as a Spectre candidate. It would certainly make his own job easier if she were a Spectre herself, rather than having to keep everything classified hidden from her. He doubts that would make their situation any easier if he was always having to hide things.

Walking through the Citadel Tower, he pauses when he spots a small cluster a humans in the atrium, most of them in business suits or military dress blues, while one human female stood out in civilian clothing. Curious, he wanders closer, enough to overhear one of the older males refer to her as 'Shepard' - his bondmate-to-be, it seems...

"Excuse me," he interrupts, stepping closer with what he hopes they understand as a friendly smile flaring his mandibles just a bit. "I couldn't help but overhear - you're Commander Wren Shepard? Nihlus Kyrik, Spectre. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

[anderwhohn]

Nihlus listens, his mandibles pulled tight against his jaw and even his subvocals suppressed to a disquieting silence as he takes in this new information, forest green eyes watching her unwavering as she provides her own perspective of just exactly where she's been for the last two years.

"Given the... difficulties I had getting any information out of Anderson, Hackett, and the Alliance after the surviving crew were recovered..." A low growl rumbles deep in his chest at that, shaking his head as he recalls, "There was at least a couple escape pods unaccounted for, suspected to have been wherever the wreckage landed, but they refused to send anyone else into the Terminus for rescue and recovery efforts."

Even the Council had tried to deny him leave to go look himself, and had it not been for a mission that happened to require he go to Omega anyway, even if it was weeks after the attack on the Normandy, he might never have been able to see it for himself, though he had only been concerned with finding the remains of the ship's captain, though he did tag and document the rest for recovery if anyone else was ever sent after them. The lack of loyalty to the missing crew was enough to have him petitioning the Hierarchy directly to send someone themselves, though as with anything done through bureaucratic channels, it was tied up in politics thanks to the human ambassador.

The fact that Cerberus got their hands on her while he was dealing with idiotic politicians determined to just shove everything under a rug and ignore the threat the Reapers pose to all organic life in the galaxy... Not that he isn't glad to have her back - as much as he can be sure, right now, that it is her - but that she's found herself with only Cerberus supporting her right now...

As she mentions the salarian doctor, his brow plates rise as he looks at her in surprise. "Dr. Mordin Solus?" he asks, a thoughtful hum threading through his words. "Bau's worked with him a time or two in the past. He's STG - retired, last I heard, and running a small clinic on Omega. Though there's been some troubling rumours coming from the station lately, but nothing concrete's made it this far, even with our intel."

With Solus on the station, and Cerberus sending Shepard there presumably to recruit him... There were enough ties to something potentially shady enough to worry the Council that he could probably get them to agree to let him investigate, potentially even to keep a close eye on Shepard in the process...

"I assume Sparatus was his usual delightful self when you spoke to him," Nihlus notes, one mandible flaring a little in a hint of a smirk. "If you're not shoving off immediately, I'll see what I can do to get more than just some token resources for you. I got the ping that your Spectre status was reinstated, but I doubt they gave you access to anything more than just that. Laiel may not like it, but if they're acknowledging your Spectre status, then they should be giving you full support as a Spectre."

And if that 'full support' just happens to come in the form of another Spectre, then well... He's always enjoyed this particular human's company - she's got... what do they call it? 'Spunk'? It was one of the very qualities about her that his cousin didn't much care for, which in Nihlus's opinion, just made it all the more entertaining for him.

"Give me a couple hours to see what I can pull with Laiel. Meet me at my apartment after? I'll send you the navpoint and access codes."

@anderwhohn said: "When they first said you were back, I thought they were delusional. Now I worry that I’m the insane one." (from Nihlus, ME2 reunion? Either on the Citadel, Omega, or Illium, depending on how you wanna play it?)

an old meme    /    PROBABLY ACCEPTING ↷

❝ If it helps, ❞    she says, knowing that it’s likely to do the opposite of that,    ❝ I keep thinking I must be crazy. ❞

Convincing Tali that Wren was herself had made her feel unexpectedly vulnerable  ⸺  she doesn’t dare, somehow, to confidently assure Nihlus she’s real, she’s alive, she’s here. She doesn’t dare, because if he expresses doubt... Wren thinks she might shatter.

She looks as vulnerable as she feels for a moment, staring middle-distance towards the Presidium lake, unseeing. Then, she rearranges her features, shutting off a little, forcing a neutral look.    ❝ I don’t know how much you’ve heard, but it was Cerberus. I was dead, properly really dead, and they spent billions of credits into bringing me back to life. Cerberus. ❞    She says the word as if it tasted bitter.    ❝ They tell me I’m me  ⸺  not a clone, not an AI who thinks they’re Commander Shepard. Got a hell of a lot of new bits and bops in me, ❞    she touches the faintly glowing scarring of her face,    ❝ but still me, apparently. They had to regrow some of my organs. I don’t even know  ⸺  how much of me is organic, how much synthetic. They say, other than the supportive tissue and some enhancements, most of me should eventually be back to organic, but... ❞

She’s rambling. It’s easier to recount facts than to face how she feels.

Nihlus, it’s been over two years for Nihlus. It’s been a couple of days for her, since the Normandy was destroyed. Has he moved on? Are they close, anymore? They never really... Are they even friends, anymore? She smooths down her hair, a nervous gesture, hands trembling slightly.    ❝ Anyway, of course I’m... Of course I’m going to do what I can. I’m here on a supply run  ⸺  I have a lead on Omega, for a Salarian doctor. ❞    Nihlus is about the only person in the galaxy she doesn’t hesitate disclosing this information to. She wants him to come with her, but she’s scared to ask. Unsure if she can take another rejection.    ❝ I was asked to build a team, to go after the Collectors. ❞

[anderwhohn]

@dutyworn asked: [ APPROACH ] our muses haven’t been intimate yet and receiver finally broaches the subject to sender. / nihlus first contact

💌 some more smutty memes [ meme - accepting ]

He knew their species' governments and the Council wouldn't stay out of their personal lives forever, though he had certainly hoped it would have been longer than a few weeks before they started asking him about the more intimate details of their bonding. Not even a full month after their ceremony, and Nihlus had been forced to endure one of the most awkward conversations to have with the Council in his entire Spectre career - and the most awkward conversation to have with Sparatus in his entire life so far.

At least they're putting the pressure on him and not Shepard, as small of a mercy as that might be. But he knows it will only be a matter of time, if he tries to give her more time to adjust to... everything, given how it was her life that was completely uprooted by this whole arrangement in the first place, before they start assuming she - and thus humanity - aren't keeping to their end of the agreement. That's the last thing she needs...

He pauses as he taps a selection of items from a menu on the datapad he holds, trying to select levo foods he knows she's tried and enjoyed, and avoid anything he knows she didn't like or care for. He had wanted to spend this evening out in the Wards, taking her to dinner and to some of the local entertainment, to continue her tour of the Citadel of where would be safest for her to go on her own whenever he's away on a mission, but his earlier meeting with the Council was forcing him to change his plans.

He was determined that she would at least have a quiet dinner to enjoy, even if nothing else went the way he had hoped to spend their evening. After all, he didn't put it past Valern in particular to send spies to follow them if they left their apartment, and if he was going to have to have this discussion tonight, he was at least going to ensure they would have complete privacy, as he'd already scanned the entire apartment for bugs, and removed and destroyed the few that had been planted while no one was home.

Looking up at the sound of the door's chime announcing it's swift opening and closing, his mandibles spread in an easy smile to see Wren returning. She looks relaxed, at least, which is hopeful, as he turns back to the menu to submit the order to be delivered.

"I just finished ordering us dinner," he offers, setting the datapad aside as he stands to greet her properly. A quiet purr rumbles deep in his chest as he moves to meet her, leaning in to lightly press his crest to her forehead affectionately. "It should be here soon."

Though the matter of 'Council business' was never going to make for polite dinner conversation, he shakes his head as he gestures further into the apartment toward the bar in the back corner. "Join me for a drink while we wait? After today's meeting I had with the Council, I think we'll both be needing one," he notes wryly.

"I wanted to allow you as much time as you could have, considering how you were clearly rushed into this arrangement with even less information than I was granted. But it seems the powers that be can't leave well enough alone for more than a few weeks before trying to raise issues..."

He sighs wearily as he pours himself a glass of brandy from the bar, taking a long drink from it before topping it off again before he continues. "There have been 'concerns', from both sides, about the 'legitimacy' of this arrangement. While it's not uncommon for turian bondmates to not rush into..."

Spirits, he's just going to get this out as clinically as he has to. Better that than risk any misunderstandings, he imagines.

"Into sexual intimacy with their partners, especially given that often one or both are still in active duty, it seems that the same leeway is being questioned given our more unique situation. I'm not certain which side decided to start complaining first, but there had to have been more than a few turians to have noted either of us lack the usual signs of being fully bonded."

A frustrated growl escapes him as he takes another drink of his brandy. "Not that it's any of their business, and I told the Council that very thing in no uncertain terms. I won't do anything without your full consent, however, so if you tell me that you're not ready, or not interested at all, then we'll figure something out. I won't let them force or coerce my bondmate into anything. I swore to protect you, and I will do just that - be it from the Alliance, the Hierarchy, or even the Council itself."

[anderwhohn]

@bloodiedbiotic asked: ❝ you don’t know how glad i am to see you made it. here, let me get you a drink. ❞ for nihlus bc that line feels perfect for post-eden prime ♥

Forest green eyes blink slowly, still clearly a bit dazed from the medication Chakwas has him on to reduce the pain, even if she has finally released him from the medbay under strict orders of his being on restricted light duty or else she'll have him dragged right back to the medbay and restrained if necessary. He's always known turian doctors to be rather ruthless in dealing with unruly patients, but even he has to admit he's not willing to risk this unassuming human doctor's wrath.

It's Shepard's words that has his mandibles fluttering with an emotion even he'd have trouble describing, nodding slowly at the offer as he follows her toward the galley. "Appreciated. Though I probably wouldn't have made it if you hadn't called the evac in time..."

It's an uncomfortable truth, even if Saren's shot hadn't been as fatal as the older turian had intended. And given the overall situation, he dreads to see how the Council is going to react to all of this - particularly Sparatus, given his cousin's tendency to dig his talons in and not accept that the galaxy is changing around him in ways he can't control.

"The Council isn't going to want to believe any of this. Saren is one of their best - they're not going to want to hear humanity's accusations against him. I'm not certain even my own testimony will carry much weight, particularly with Sparatus."

[anderwhohn]

@dutyworn asked: "I think I just told Hackett 'no'." / post trilogy @ Nihlus

The war was over…

The reapers were destroyed…

The galaxy was safe - or, at least, not facing total extinction by monsters from the void of dark space…

And now, for just a moment, Nihlus has to wonder if the galaxy is ending again so soon, because he was certain he was going to have to fight Wren about her loyalties to the Alliance for the rest of their lives, and yet…

A curious chirp escapes him as forest green eyes turn away from his console to look at his human, mandibles fluttering in a rare show of surprise and uncertainty as he asks, "Do I even want to know what he was asking of you this time?"

[anderwhohn]

A sympathetic hum rumbles through his primary vocals as he's applying the medigel, though there's a hint of amusement in his voice as he notes, "Seems turians aren't the only ones who don't handle the cold well. Though you'll probably be glad of it when it helps ease some of the ache."

He's meticulously careful with each touch, only the softer hide of his fingers ever coming into contact with her even softer skin, keeping his talons angled so they don't accidentally scratch her and further aggravate her wounds. Once the medigel is fully applied, he sighs softly, pulling back to wipe his hands off on a clean towel before picking up the roll of bandages.

"Alright. I know you humans tend to be a bit... hm, odd about your takes on nudity, but you're going to have to lose the towel so I can get these bandages on you," he says lightly, hoping a little levity will help ease some of the growing tension. "Besides, it's nothing I haven't seen before. Not yours, of course, but... you'll see much worse than a half-naked wounded soldier in our line of work."

@anderwhohn sent: [wound] - Sender has to patch up receiver's wound. /from Nihlus

seggsual tension prompts — accepting

"It's a miracle that it's not as serious as it could have been," was all she remembered Nihlus telling her, his voice a low rumble from behind. A krogan shotgun blast to the back, one that was too close for her natural biotic barriers to try and absorb—pierced straight through her armor and shredded the clothing and skin underneath. Adrenaline and rage were her anesthetic for the remainder of the fight, but once Shepard was back aboard the Normandy, the numbness was quick to ebb away, replaced by the familiar sting of an open wound.

Blair had retreated to her quarters rather than directing herself to the med-bay where she knew Chakwas was anticipating and preparing to treat her. It wasn't that serious, she'd just need to slap some medi-gel on it and take a shower to rinse off the blood. At least, that was the plan—just as her breastplate fell to the floor with a resounding thud, the door to her quarters opened for the second time, revealing Nihlus with an armful of medical supplies.

From that point, the pain of her wound had become overwhelming, muddling Shepard's memory to where she couldn't quite recall how Nihlus managed to, quite literally, talk her shirt off. Awareness had finally set back in only to find herself sitting backwards in her desk chair, one hand holding a towel to her bare chest while the other was balled into a fist. She could sense Nihlus' presence behind her, tending to the wound across her back as tenderly as one with talons could. The medi-gel he applies is cold against her skin, causing her to tense up as a shiver runs up her spine and goosebumps mark her skin. Instinctively, Blair switches to using her forearm to keep the towel firm against her breasts, heat flooding to her face as she realizes just what position she was in.

She really should have just gone to Chakwas.

[anderwhohn]

@smokedanced asked: "i like receiving but, if you want me to do something i will. i want you to feel good too." / garrus for nihlus???

Nihlus pauses, his subvocals even falling quiet for a moment as he studies the younger turian, before a quiet chirp of affection escapes him as his gaze softens. Shaking his head, he leans in, trailing his tongue along the sensitive edge of one of Garrus's mandibles.

"I feel plenty good watching you come apart for me," he notes, a low lustful growl underlining his words at just the thought. "Now, if it's something you want me to do for you?" There's a noticeable teasing undertone to his growled words as he offers, "I might be persuaded to allow it..."

[anderwhohn]

@smokedanced asked: [pin] - Sender and receiver are caught in a small space, causing their bodies to be close together. / tali for nihlus????????????

💌 seggsual tension! [ meme - accepting ]

Spirits! What-- Those are Saren's men!

While not entirely an unusual sight for Nihlus, it is strange seeing them outside of the Terminus Systems - stranger still to see them on the Citadel, chasing after a quarian. It's this reason that he doesn't even truly think about it as he grabs the quarian, shielding her with his own body as he pulls her into the small alcove leading into one of the keeper tunnels, his own height and bulk a challenge to not crowd her overly much as he tries to get a sense of what exactly is going on and check her for injury and damage to her suit.

"Spirits... Are you alright? Are you hurt?" he asks quietly, gloved fingers curled carefully over her shoulders as he keeps her close - though there's not really room for her to get any further from him as it is, with the tunnel firmly sealed off and only his Spectre access allowing him to close the entry panel off from the assassins.

[anderwhohn]

@dutyworn asked: "come sit a little while with me. tell me how you've been? really." / nihlus, ME1 era

It's been a couple days since the Council officially stripped Saren of his Spectre status, and providing their 'additional support' in ensuring his capture by granting his protégé full Spectre status before suggesting they continue to work together in order for him to provide her a proper introduction to her new role.

Things had been busy immediately after, as he showed her to the turian embassy and the Spectre outpost there, introducing her to another fellow Spectre, Avitus Rix, as the other turian had happened to be there at the time, before ensuring she was better equipped for the mission ahead of them, though getting suitable armour for her had been a unique challenge, with a notable lack of Spectre-grade human armour being available.

Once he was satisfied that she was properly geared to handle whatever Saren might throw at them, and the Normandy was fully resupplied, he had disappeared into his quarters upon their return to the ship while she took command of the ship and got them underway. He'd only just emerged the next day in search of a meal, fully intending to retreat back to his quarters to eat while he works.

Forest green eyes settle on Shepard, mandibles fluttering in a moment of indecision - does he grant her request, or simply brush it off and deal with whatever fallout may come of it later? It's tempting, he has to admit, to simply ignore her, because the truth of the matter of what she's asking is far more personal than he cares to admit to anyone.

With a small huff, he instead changes his course to join her at the table, taking a seat across from her as he sets his meal tray down. "My own mentor that pulled me out of a miserable life in the turian military tried to kill me, attempted to destroy a human colony, and has apparently lost his mind... And now I've been tasked with hunting him down. How do you think I've been, Shepard?"

A frustrated growl rumbles deep in his chest as he pauses to take a few bites of his meal. "Busy, for one. A lot of my contacts are Saren's contacts. I'm having to reevaluate my entire information network, figure out who the hell I can even trust any more, and cut ties with anyone who's even the slightest bit at risk of being bought by Saren. There are only a few, like Barla Von, who owe loyalty to someone else and so should still be safe, but that's not the case with too many of them for any sense of comfort."

[anderwhohn]

Mandibles flare angrily as Nihlus growls in return, green eyes narrowing in a warning of his own. It's not that he doesn't understand why Vakarian did what he felt he had to, but spirits, this whole mission was difficult enough with the Alliance making demands of the Council after Saren murdered Shepard rather than seeing a human join the Spectres, and then his own needing to conscript the Normandy for Spectre use to actually hunt Saren down after their former mentor had been stripped of his Spectre status.

And that's just it, isn't it? That Vakarian is another one of Saren's protégés - his last, before Saren apparently lost his mind completely and went rogue. Nihlus knows first hand what Saren's training is like, and what it's like to be on missions with him. He had, until now, thought of Saren still as a friend. And with one of the newest Spectres to join the ranks having been trained by Saren, well…

It hadn't exactly surprised him when Sparatus told him to keep a close eye on the younger turian. And having read the files from C-Sec, and grudgingly even spoken to Executor Venari Pallin to get some insight into his new partner from an outside source, despite the tensions between C-Sec and the Spectres, it was all too easy to see how Sparatus was concerned that Vakarian might go the same way as Saren had in the end.

"This isn't one of Saren's missions, Vakarian," Nihlus retorts sharply. "Nor is it a Hierarchy mission - 'victory at any cost' doesn't apply here, especially when we've got the Alliance trying to make demands after Saren killed their candidate, and we took their best ship and crew to hunt him down. I don't care that you're newer to this role - I just care that you don't add to the diplomatic incidents already piling up on my desk. Unless you want to deal with Sparatus and explain to him why Udina is throwing his latest fit and making new demands of the Council."

"You want me to trust you? Then start acting like the executive officer you're supposed to be. We need the Normandy in order to hunt down Saren, and we need her crew to fly her, which means you have a responsibility to keep them alive. I won't let this crew become collateral damage - I'm not Saren!"

@anderwhohn said: [ wall ] your muse pinning mine against a wall. //for Garrus from Nihlus (your choice of au/verse)

𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒    /    ACCEPTING ↷

Garrus  growls in a warning  as the older turian grabs him, but doesn’t shove him back, not yet  ⸺  he has his piece to say and he’s going to get his message across.    ❝ You can be  mad about it  all you want, but I knew what I was doing. A thank you would be nice. ❞    Oh, he knows he’s not getting a thank you.

❝ You’re not the only Spectre on this mission  ⸺  just because I’m newer  ⸺  I wouldn’t have to go behind your back if you just listened to me! ❞    & he does shove Nihlus now, with enough force to wrangle himself out of his grasp.

They’re never going to catch Saren if they keep jumping at each other’s throats like this, but he’s had it with unquestioningly taking orders. It’s giving him unpleasant memories of how angry he used to grow, working for C-Sec, back before Saren had picked him for a Spectre candidate. Garrus never liked Saren, but at the very least, he learned from him. And Nihlus... Nihlus keeps treating him as if he were his subordinate, not his equal. He understands it, when they’re on board the Alliance vessel; somebody’s got to be in command, that’s fine. But when it comes to the stuff that matters... & hasn’t Garrus proven himself? He’s gone behind Nihlus’s back, yes, but doesn’t the outcome prove him right? He hasn’t messed anything up, he’s made it better. No one got hurt, they got what they went down for. Even if he... had to improvise, a little.

[anderwhohn]

@smokedanced asked: ❛ it's actually unfair how fucking sexy you are. ❜ / lucius for nihlus just-

A surprised laugh rumbles deep in his chest as he lifts his gaze from the datapad he was reading to look at the human, subconsciously angling his head just enough to show off the length of his fringe while shifting his weight to jut one hip out. A single browplate raises high, his mandibles fluttering in bemusement as he teases, "I wasn't aware humans had a scale of how fair it was to be sexy. Or is it something more personal, Mr. Spriggs?"

[anderwhohn]

@dutyworn asked: ❝ hey— look at me. why are you all upset? ❞ / nihlus (jealousy/possessive meme but can be out of that context also)

He hesitates for a moment, mandibles pulled in tight against his jaw, before forest green eyes finally meet hers once more. The intensity of his gaze surprises even him, as if his very spirit were laid bare before her. He wants to speak, to articulate the complex emotions swirling within him, but the words catch in his throat.

Nihlus swallows hard, looking away again to stare out the observation window of the lounge. "It's just..." he begins, his voice a raw whisper, "In the time we've worked together, I've seen you go through so much. I've watched you fight, bleed, and rise again. And every time you risk yourself, it's like a knife in my chest."

A low growl of frustration rumbles deep in his chest as he smooths a hand over his fringe. "Spirits, it's like the entire damn galaxy is determined to take you away from me in one way or another. If it's not mercs or geth or the Reapers, it's the damn prothean beacons and tech. How much more can the galaxy take before...?"

He cuts himself off, the words barely on the tip of his tongue, as he almost asks how much more it can take before it takes her from him, and he loses her completely. The only problem? She's not his to lose...

This possessiveness he feels, while undoubtedly brought on by the close bond they've formed ever since Eden Prime, is pure instinct, almost as if she were his mate. Except she's not, and despite the flirtatious banter they've shared, it's a huge leap to go from playful flirting or even maybe relieving stress together to asking a human to be his mate...