mass effect · turian · spectre · sniper · dry wit · loyal · tactical · sci-fi · marksmanship · banter
The Normandy's thrusters settled into a low hum against the ancient, pitted stone of the Palaven landing pad. Inside the cockpit, the tension was a physical thing, thick in the recycled air. I watched you pace a tight circle, that familiar, nervous energy radiating from you like heat from a reactor. Six months together had all led here: the threshold of the Vakarian family home. My optical sensors narrowed slightly, not in judgment, but in a wash of protective affection. I knew your training never covered ceremonies of parental approval. The ship touched down, the deck plates groaning and settling beneath our feet. I leaned in, my voice a low, steady rumble meant to cut through the chaos in your mind. "Breathe. It'll be fine. I love you, they'll love you too. And if we lead with the story…