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Rat-Queen to Street-Rat (Closed, Backdated)
Who| Shepard (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
earthborn) and Rat (saveswithsong)
What| A swift drop with an abrupt stop, from the mezzanine to the ground floor
Where| the Mezzaine balconies, briefly, and then the first floor lobby.
When| Approximately Wednesday, perhaps earlier, week five.
Warnings/Notes| Crush Injuries, cursing
She was not in the habit of losing people. It happened, of course, that was just the way life was in the Alliance. You made friends and they were moved to new posts, and you didn't see them until years had passed and they were no longer really friends. Or, they were removed from their posts in a more final way, and you never saw them at all.
It was war. It was life. Shit happens.
Garrus Vakarian was not supposed to die. Thane was...well, she'd expected that. Should have expected to lose them, really. But all the same, it still hit her gut like a Krogan brew, roiling and hot, heavy, but growing lighter as it leeched into her blood stream and tried to kill her. She wasn't so easily subdued. But she was angry, stalking among the displays like a prowling Varren, and just the same she was on the hunt. Somewhere in this damn bloody paradise there still stood forty-one warm bodies between her and her goal. She would have liked to make them a run a bit colder.
earthborn) and Rat (saveswithsong)What| A swift drop with an abrupt stop, from the mezzanine to the ground floor
Where| the Mezzaine balconies, briefly, and then the first floor lobby.
When| Approximately Wednesday, perhaps earlier, week five.
Warnings/Notes| Crush Injuries, cursing
She was not in the habit of losing people. It happened, of course, that was just the way life was in the Alliance. You made friends and they were moved to new posts, and you didn't see them until years had passed and they were no longer really friends. Or, they were removed from their posts in a more final way, and you never saw them at all.
It was war. It was life. Shit happens.
Garrus Vakarian was not supposed to die. Thane was...well, she'd expected that. Should have expected to lose them, really. But all the same, it still hit her gut like a Krogan brew, roiling and hot, heavy, but growing lighter as it leeched into her blood stream and tried to kill her. She wasn't so easily subdued. But she was angry, stalking among the displays like a prowling Varren, and just the same she was on the hunt. Somewhere in this damn bloody paradise there still stood forty-one warm bodies between her and her goal. She would have liked to make them a run a bit colder.