#i got a thing for the Bass Rumble and also for biotics being sensitive to mass effect fields

[lorspolairepeluche]

WIP Whenever

@bladeverbena said “consider yourself tagged” when i mentioned that no one had tagged me yet so have some krogan headcanons/duke and wrex bonding

“Then away, boys, away — away for Rio…” Duke only knew a few verses of this one by heart, but the tempo matched the slow, rolling rhythm of the drive core and its echo along the biotic nodes on their spine. “Sing fare thee well, me Liverpool girl, and we’re bound for the Rio Grande.”

“What’re you yowling about?”

Duke flicked their omnitool — and the (honestly embarrassing) drawing of the Normandy — closed and leaned over the side of their current perch-slash-stack-of-crates. “Yowling? I was singing.”

“Sure didn’t sound like any singing I’ve ever heard,” Wrex grumbled, rubbing at where Duke guessed one of his ear-holes might be.

“Well, excuse me for not being a krogan contrabass.” Duke swung their legs over the side to see below better.

Wrex bristled, baring his teeth. “A krogan what?”

“Wait, that’s not an insult, I swear!” Duke held out their hands in a peace offering. “It’s a musical term. Contrabass is a low voice — a really low voice. Like yours. And — every other krogan I’ve ever heard, come to think of it.”

“Then what’s your pyjak squeak called?”

Duke had the distinct feeling he was humoring them in order to poke fun, but they answered anyway, as mock-dignified as they could: “I am what is called a soprano.”

“Uh-huh.” Wrex grinned.

Something struck Duke, and they leaned forward. “What kind of singing do krogan do, anyway?”

“Huh.” Wrex scratched his head. “Well, ours is more…y’know, about fighting. I don’t really know how to describe it.”

“Okay, well, um…” Duke flicked open their omnitool again, swiping away the Normandy doodle, and pulled up what little music they had stored on it. No, they doubted it sounded anything like human electronic music — krogan didn’t strike Duke as opera people (unless they were? That would be rad) — hmm. Honestly, shanties like “Rio Grande” actually seemed like the best bet. “Is it anything like this?”

“Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest — yo ho ho and a bottle of rum — drink and the devil have done for the rest — yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!” The voices were deep, some men’s choir back on Earth singing an ancient sea shanty.

Krogan expressions weren’t anything like humans’, given the forehead plate obscuring any eyebrows they might have had, but Duke could swear Wrex was frowning in concentration as he stepped closer to listen. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s kinda like it.”

The drive core suddenly gave off a pulse so strong that Duke didn’t just feel it in their spine. It vibrated its way along all their bones, and they turned in alarm toward the engineering bay before it happened again — a different pitch this time — and oh, that wasn’t coming from the drive core.

Wrex was giving a low hum, deep, deep in his chest, and Duke fumbled for the pause button. “Do that again.”

“Do what?” The sound was gone, and Duke frowned before Wrex realized, “Oh, the singing.”

It vibrated its way into Duke’s bones, down their spine, working in tandem with the drive core’s reverberation along their nodes to send shivers through Duke’s whole body. Across the cargo bay, Garrus and Ashley even stopped their work to look around for the source. “Holy shit,” Duke said. “That’s krogan singing?”