#shipverse au || well used to tragedy ( spectre | shepard )

[anderwhohn]

"When aren't you a pain in my ass, Pipsqueak?" Izzy retorts sharply, her hands clenching at her side as dark energy curls around her fingers. It always has been harder for her to keep a grip on her biotics when she's angry, and now is no exception, even as she tries not to let it get out of hand.

Though the second that Wren tries to touch her, Izzy wrenches herself away, taking several steps back with a snarl in warning, the deadly aura flickering at her fingers briefly flaring all over her body before she manages to contain it again. "Don't," she growls, for a moment looking desperate for an outlet, for anything other than her kid sister to focus on her anger on. "You know not to fucking touch me when I'm..."

Shaking her head, she turns away, near stalking with the predatory grace her steps seem to take when her emotions get too high, threatening to get the best of her. There's not much in the cabin, not even in terms of space to pace, and it leaves her feeling caged.

"What do you want me to say, Wren? That I'm not absolutely fucking terrified by this shit that damn beacon injected in my head? That I don't want to murder Udina and the fucking Council with my bare hands for refusing to even take the threat Saren poses seriously, much less the whole threat of galactic extinction at the hands of the Reapers? That if Hackett calls with one more fucking errand that any jarhead grunt could handle that I'm not going to have Joker take us to Arcturus Station so I can drag the Admiral to an airlock and shoot him out of it?"

"The Alliance wanted to get rid of me, but I was too valuable to Cat-6, so they handed me over the Council to make me their problem instead. Only now, they think they can still use me to do their fucking dirty work despite my being on the Citadel's payroll. That last call? He wants me to fucking 'negotiate' with some jumped up crime lord - which, let's be real here, means he's pointing me in that direction in hopes that I'll kill the bastard."

Reaching up, she rubs at her forehead, scowling at the biotics still clinging to her hands. She knows she needs to learn better control, but she sure as hell isn't going to ask for help from either Alenko or T'Soni - not with the way they both seem more interested in getting in her pants more than anything else. Maybe Wrex... He's had centuries of practice with his, after all. But... later. Definitely later.

"It's like Finch and Belmont all over again," she finally admits, glancing back toward her sister. "Every gang around 10th Street knew that if 'Nova' was sent out to 'negotiate' with someone, that there wasn't going to be much left of them by morning. I hated it then, and I hate it more now. This shit isn't why I agreed to go through that fucking hell for ICT. Or why I didn't tell Nihlus to go to hell when he dropped that whole Spectre candidate recommendation on me out of nowhere..."

❝ No, ❞    Wren says, calmly yet firmly, hands resting on her hips as she seeks eye-contact with her older sibling.    ❝ No, I specifically feel like being a pain in your ass right now, Izzy. ❞    Too much softness and Wren feels she risks Izzy further pushing her away. Too much firmness might do the same. It’s a fine line to tread, but she’s determined to do so.

There are plenty enough reasons for Izzy to not be fine. Ever since her becoming a Spectre, ever since everything started going towards chaos, it’s been one thing after another. And, for the most part, none of it is something Wren can fix. It pains her, to see more and more trauma and baggage piling up on Izzy’s shoulders. And most people... simply expect her to carry it without complaint.

❝ Talk to me, ❞    Wren offers, gentler, reaching a hand to touch Izzy’s shoulder.    ❝ It’s just me. I know you’re not fine, and I’m hardly going to judge you for it, so just... don’t pretend. Not with me. Because if you do, well. Not that easy to get rid of me. ❞