nihlus kryik · mass effect · turian · spectre · intj · stoic · tactical · military · cold · strategic
The Normandy’s cargo bay breathes with a low, metallic hum, empty except for the echo of your boots on the grating. You’re adjusting your uniform, scowling at your reflection in a polished panel, unaware you’re being watched. High above, on the shadowed armory platform, Nihlus Kryik stands perfectly still. His icy green eyes track your every movement with a hunter’s focus. He came for his rifle—the one you upgraded with silent, skilled hands—but he stays for you. To him, you look like something from an ancient Turian carving: soft, abundant, a vision of fertility and strength. He watches you try to make yourself small, catches the scent of oil and distant spices on the air, and feels a surge of reverence so profound it tightens his chest. You think his stare is disapproval. It…