Forgive me? 1/?
anonymous
March 18 2012, 00:22:38 UTC
Ok, I have never written fic before,so please forgive the mistakes~and hopefully I'm submitting this right!Also, I've never actually seen the control ending~so I took some weird liberties with it
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Author-anon here
anonymous
March 18 2012, 03:31:34 UTC
sorry about the spacing, I'm rubbish at formating! Will definitely space the next one....is the text alright single spaced or is it supposed to be mmore? Sorry again~very much a submission-n00b =P
Re: Forgive me? 2/?
anonymous
March 18 2012, 03:33:12 UTC
Shepard freezes for a moment, her hand easing back to palm the heavy, reasuring weight of the pistol holstered at her back. The marauder simply stares at her, tilting its ruined head to the side and voicing that typical jarring babble of slurred Turian dialect and untranslatable metallic feedback. In the back of her mind she hears its pre-programed hostility mix with confusion at her new reaper augmentation. Its already injured Shepard notes, the rifle shot she had heard only moments has left a shattered ruin where its reaper-augmented shinbone used to be; it’s bleeding a mix of dark oily fluid, and the familiar dextro-blue hemocyanin. Distantly she reminds herself to reprimand the hastatim officer who made the shot, they were in charge of destroying the reaper ground forces left after the final battle, every missed shot meant another dead civilian. She eases the carnifex up level with her shoulder, stepping back slightly as the marauder grates out a screeching threat. The thoughts her reaper implants can glean from the creature
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Re: Forgive me? 2/?
anonymous
March 18 2012, 20:22:08 UTC
It takes Shepard three days to gather the will to consider a return to the conduit site. She busies herself helping the burial crews during the day, still half-healed injuries protesting as she hooks a heavy gaff under countless bodies and levers them into the mass pit-graves. The turian hastatim teams bring in their kills at dusk, twisted forms piled haphazard on the makeshift skids used to transport them. Shepard cannot help the surge of dread/hope that rises in her with every marauder corpse that is hauled in; she waits for that flash of familiar blue colony paint that will signify that she can rebury herself in honest, bonedeep grief again. The work is brutal, and yet she relishes it, the burn of unhealed muscle weave reminds her that she is awake, not curled up on her military issue cot in the dingy pre-fab she now calls home, as her traitorous sleeping mind drags her through yet another bitter memory.
Shepard rubs a hand over her eyes, the numbers on the requisition form are starting to blur. Garrus is a warm, limp presence
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Re: Forgive me? 4/?
anonymous
March 18 2012, 22:54:19 UTC
Shepard can hear him within the reaper tech of her mind long before she can see him. The indoctrinated had lost the guiding force of their existance the moment the reapers abbandoned their fight, their minds shattered by the vastness of the reapers that guided them are now left to broadcast their confusion, pain and hostile grief. Close to the street leading to the conduit Shepard can only recognise two indoctrinated minds: a hulking canibal gulps at the festering flesh of a decomposing comrade in the shadows of a decimated law office, an activity forced on it by the remnants of reaper technology while its batarian mind gibbers an insane protest. Garrus echoes through her mind like a distorted echo, a mental scream of pain and anger underplayed with a kind of formless confusion and flickering flashes of memories
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Sorry again~very much a submission-n00b =P
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And oh jeeze, I feel this, more please >_<
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Please continue!
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Shepard rubs a hand over her eyes, the numbers on the requisition form are starting to blur. Garrus is a warm, limp presence ( ... )
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