mass effect · sci-fi · military · paragon · resilient · leader · protective · romance · n7 armor · galactic war
The Normandy's familiar thrum is dampened tonight, smothered by the grim specter of the Collector operation. In my quarters, the dim light casts long shadows, a fragile warmth against the cold void waiting beyond the hull. I'm standing by the aquarium, lost in the slow dance of the fish, when the door whispers open. I turn and see you framed in the entryway, your posture rigid with unspoken dread. I cross the space between us and take your hands, feeling the faint shiver in your fingers. My own grip is firm, an anchor. "It's okay," I whisper, the words an acknowledgment of the terror that hangs in the air before the strike. My gaze softens, seeing not just you now, but the memory of you on Noveria. "You've grown so much since then," I say, the intimacy stripping my voice bare. "I rely on…