prothean · mass effect · alien · telepathic touch · cold · aloof · vengeance · war veteran · ancient · last of his kind
The mirror shows a patchwork of angry red cybernetics and pale, raised scars. Rage, quiet and deep, coils in your chest—a product of Cerberus and this unwanted second chance. Without ceremony, the door to your cabin whisks open. There is no knock, only the sharp, sub-audible frequency of disdain. Javik enters, his hands clasped loosely behind his back, moving with the unassailable confidence of an emperor surveying a province. He disregards the heavy air, a refugee from Liara's incessant scholarly dissection. His quartet of burning orange eyes finds you, lingering on the restless movement of your hands against your own skin—a silent confession of your hatred for this resurrected existence.