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outpost51 · 1 year

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WIP Whenever

hey remember how i got super excited about the snippet the other week, well i'm back with chapter 15 lmao leaving it open for anyone else that's also impatient and tagging: @sparatus @thetrashbagswasteland @teamdilf @princess-prawn @tabswrites @liv-is

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The line went silent and once more Talus was alone with nothing left to keep him company but his terrible thoughts and a worried varren. He took another swig from the bottle of whisky he’d been nursing for most of the night — or very early morning, he wasn’t sure anymore. It all bled together after his would-be daughter-in-law decided to take his two remaining sons away. Didn’t she have enough? Couldn’t her daddy’s money buy her another husband, another son? He’d worked for everything his whole goddamn life, and she’d just shown up all pretty in her gourmet — no, couture? Whatever. It was all made by some other rich fucks whose names he couldn’t pronounce.

‘Gaultius,’ Kadmos huffed, dusting some unseen dirt off his lapel. As if merely being around his trash twin was so unclean. ‘But that isn’t the point, Talus—’

‘Nah, the point’s you gotta appease your fuckin’ guilt for abandonin’ me an’ Ma—’

‘Ascina abandoned us for drugs before we’d even opened our eyes, Talus, it isn’t my fault you’ve chosen to keep yours shut!’

Talus tipped the bottle back again and found it as empty as his home. A startled yelp and a loud crash later, it laid in a thousand glittering pieces on the floor.

Much like him, but he was more of a crumpled, sobbing heap. A sad sack of shit, if one were so inclined.

He grabbed at the snout roughly attempting to push under his chin and reluctantly lifted his head from its resting place in his palms so Fishdog could waddle into his lap. It wasn’t Atria, with her endless questions and wild ideas. Or Linni, with his bright eyes that looked so much like his mother’s and held all the innocence he wish they held onto a little longer. Or Fira, with her generous laughs and the secret smiles she held just for him. But it was enough.

‘This don’t make us good,’ he told his estranged uncle from the passenger seat. As many times at Teker had glanced over at him, opened his mouth to speak, Talus was proud he went the whole flight to Cipritine and the whole drive to Valetoria’s place without looking at him once.

‘Didn’t expect it to,’ his uncle replied.

Val provided a good enough distraction for both of them, and his uncle’s fussing almost, almost convinced him to change his mind. That the wiry fuck wasn’t the same piece of shit that killed Ma.

Talus helped Valetoria to the rear cabin, just in case the bastard decided to take another mother away from her son. They hopped from his uncle’s ship to the one Temek had chartered without so much as a goodbye, and skipped off to Terminus space to find a minister to marry them.

At least Atria didn’t hate him. That brought his total count of two whole people in the galaxy that didn’t, if he counted Fishdog as people. Atria was alive, she didn’t hate him, and she had folks looking out for her. She was fine. He hugged Fishdog tighter.

“You’re right,” he slurred in response to the slow huff behind his mandible. “We gotta get ready so she don’t come home to… this.” He grimaced at the state of the living room and sighed when he realized the rest of the first floor looked much the same. Ignoring the shimmer of silver plates and blue-stained gossamer to his left, he stumbled to his feet on the third try, and to his credit, he only bumped into the same piece of furniture twice, thank you very much. His hand hit the switch for the outside light with a little more force than he anticipated, but it had long since gone numb. “Jus’ like her mama, that one,” he huffed. “Hates a messy house.”

The shimmer solidified more into a twisted, mangled thing and he forced himself to look away. She wasn’t real. If she was real, he would have to admit things he wasn’t ready to admit. Would never be ready to admit.

‘Fuck are you doin’ here?’ Tiberius was never the friendliest-looking of his uncles, and the addition of a metal jaw did nothing to help his image. ‘Someone finally give you what you deserved, eh?’

His uncle winced. Talus reached for the shotgun at his back. Maybe he’d finish the job, especially if the big bastard woke Linni. Good thing he’d sent Atria on an errand when he did. ‘I see a few years out in Terminus hasn’t changed you one bit. Where’s—’

‘Out. Like you should be.’

‘I’m not your enemy—’

‘An’ that’s why you’re walkin’ outta here alive.’

When he turned to grab the broom, he slipped on a wet spot that wasn’t there before, just barely managing to catch his fall with his face and sparing his poor arms the responsibility of doing their job. His vision flickered once, twice, and then he blissfully allowed the concussion to take him away from the rotting, purple-lacquered toeclaws stepping into view.

Talus woke some moments later a little dizzy, with a mysterious dull ache pulsing across the right side of his face. Deep, dark blue was smeared across the floor and something inside him panicked, ripping open still-fresh emotional scars — it was quelled when, through the syrupy haze of his higher brain processes, he realized the blood on the floor was his. Not hers. He’d slipped in whisky, he wasn’t on the Galatea, and he’d walked over broken glass in a thin slipper.

“Ah, that ain’t good,” he grumbled, probably too casual for a drake who’d just woken up bleeding on the floor. Nothing for it, he couldn’t feel it anyway. It’d scab over eventually, like his leg. Like his heart.

Teker had a lot of nerve stepping foot on their street, much less on their property.

‘Fuck’re you doin’ here?’ Talus slurred.

‘I called him, Talus.’ Camicidia stalked down the stairs in her fancy fucking shoes and her goddamn dressing gown, as if she’d made herself at home. ‘Keep your voice down, Atria’s upstairs.’

His jaw creaked. She was lucky he could barely see straight at the moment.

‘Where’s Fira?’

‘You keep her name outta your fuckin’—’

‘Shut up, Talus, fuck’s sake.’ Cami held up a credit chit. ‘It’s ten percent of takings, right?’

He hated the fucking pity in Teker’s eyes. Hated him. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ his uncle said — to Cami, not to him, the patriarch of the house, the owner of the house. Like he was some kind of incompetent invalid, and she was his guardian. ‘Think I could talk to Atria for a—’

‘Lil late to gun her mama down and take her away, Razor,’ Talus spat. ‘You keep her name outta your kin-killin’ mouth, too.’

It took five attempts to get off the ground, and he had to lean on the wall, but he finally managed to get the glass swept up. He blew out Atria’s candle first, then hesitated over Fira’s. It was always hard to extinguish her candle’s flame, to distance himself from the bastards that extinguished hers. He finally exhaled a shaky breath, and as the acrid smoke rose from the wick, another scent took its place. She flickered just outside his field of vision again. She was getting easier to ignore. So was the smell, sickly sweet vanilla and incense ash and the pervasive undercurrent of rot. He almost didn't gag.

#unreliable narrators are fun but pop pop is at rock bottom and i'm not done digging #do some of the references make sense out of context? no. i am still Excited tho #my fic #between a rock and a hard place #sneeps.txt

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tawkerr-archived · 5 years

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the fact that brightsonas dont exist yet honestly suprises me

#also like. a brightverse #the brightvoid #shitpost #fishdog speake #dr bright

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luca-moreno · 3 years

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after asteria

x (because Luc wouldn’t stfu)

The hallway of the phoenix troop deck is quiet and dim as Luca stands outside of Ben’s door. He hesitates briefly before he raises his fist to knock. Ben has this whole deck almost to himself now and Luca wonders if he might be lonely up here by himself, or maybe if he just preferred it that way.

“Ben? It’s m-” he calls through the door but it’s already opening before the words are even out of his mouth.

Oh. Phoenix hearing, right.

“Um. Hey. I.. um, I just wanted to come and say thank you,” Luca starts, shifting awkwardly. “For Asteria. And, um… after. When we got back to the ship. Kate said she said you got the shuttle home and you did that biotic teleport thing with me? Right into the medbay and, well-”

Ben shuffles back into his room, beckoning him in and Luca trails after him, still chattering.

“-number one, I didn’t know you could do that. Number two, it’s totally amazing by the way because I thought only Evie could do that and is that like another phoenix thing I didn’t know about or is it just a you thing I mean, either way it’s pretty amazing and oh, wow I’ve been a biotic passenger twice now and seriously who else gets to say that, right? Like, ordinary human I mean, not someone special like you guys. Oh, and number three, my pack, that was with me in the medbay and no one else would have known to do that, Ben– well, Evie might but she was…. Anyway, you even took my pack and that totally saved the mission you know, because Neeboo had the intel, yay and oh! Number four is... well, I can’t actually remember what number four was but I wanted to say thank you because you-“

A brown hand plants itself firmly over Luca’s mouth to cut off his rambling. Green eyes twinkle. “Stop.”

“Oh, um. Sorry,” Luca squeaks when Ben slowly draws his hand away. “I’m doing the thing again.”

Ben pats his shoulder. “It’s ok.”

“Is it?” Luca asks miserably. He hadn’t really meant to ask that out loud and he wrinkles his nose. “I know... I know I’m... a lot... sometimes. And.. um. Anyway! I brought you some stuff.”

He holds up the bag of snacks he’d brought with him, grateful to change the subject. It’s a stash for both Ben and Cerby (he refuses to acknowledge the head and whatever, it’s not like it has a digestive system anyway) and one extra little surprise he hopes will be enough to say what his tongue keeps determinedly trying to trip over.

Ben pats the side of his bunk in invitation and Luca suddenly recalls the last time he sat down there and all the things Ben had quietly told him.

It’s sort of, maybe, also a tiny part of why he was here.

He perches gingerly at Ben’s side as Ben rummages through the bag. It doesn’t really seem like enough. A guy saves your butt over and over and you bring him galactic scout cookies and fishdog food shack samples? Luca doesn’t really know a lot about romance or trying to woo someone, but he suspects he might be falling short somewhere there.

“Um. You like the pink ones, right?”

“Pink, blue,” Ben shrugs. “Green tastes weird.”

“That’s the burgat seasoning, but it’s probably best to steer clear of those one anyway. They say there’s no risk of internal parasites but you never know and I mean, I’m sure even a phoenix doesn’t want to mess with that. Oh, some of them might be out of date, so… um. Tread carefully? The Alliance doesn’t really have the reach Zeus does so we don’t get to be picky.”

Ben snickers at that last part but Luca basks in the warm flush he gets when Ben happily tears open a packet of crackers and offers one first to Luca then another to his hamster before settling back on the bunk. Awareness of Ben’s close proximity rolls over him, so does the longing he’s supposed to be keeping in check.

“I don’t really know how to do this,” Luca blurts suddenly. He gestures one hand weakly, although at what he’s not even sure. Ben blinks at him, halfway through tearing open another foil packet. “Um, friends,” Luca tries to clarify then immediately feels stupid because he didn’t plan on talking about this right now.

“Friends, yes.” Ben nods firmly, crunching away. “Always.” He signs the last word quickly for emphasis and smiles.

“No,” Luca says, shaking his head. He might as well get this off his chest and maybe then he can stop lying awake in his bunk staring at the ceiling and turning Ben’s words over in his head. “I mean yes, but also friends who might sometimes… um. Kiss. Because I want to kiss you again so bad but I know you’re still hurting and your heart is- and I- and um, look. No matter what, you’re not alone, okay. I just… I like being around you. Your energy. It’s strong. You’re strong, not just-“ Luca runs a hand over Ben’s bicep absently before snatching his hand back. “Inside, I mean. You have to be. And you catch me and I like that because you make me feel safe and um, I... So it’s not just because you’re pretty, because you really are-“

Luca chokes himself off, suddenly dizzy because he’s almost forgotten to breathe.

They’re both terrible with words, Luca thinks with dismay right then. He has too many, and Ben hasn’t got enough.

But... they have heat and hands and smooth skin and Luca hopes, maybe, when Ben’s ready, they could make their own language, even if it took a little time to learn it.

Luca opens his mouth to speak again but the room is suddenly plunged into darkness. The Berlin’s emergency lighting kicks in, red trim along the floor in lines that lead to the door. There is a briefly terrifying cold silence before the world brightens and returns to normal.

Luca blinks, wondering if maybe he did pass out, except that Ben is wearing the same mask of confusion on his face. Luca’s babbling tirade is mercifully forgotten.

“Um. What was that?”

#he needed to get that off his chest apparently #scooter roosevelt #post asteria #luca moreno #operation: bug in the machine #*throws into the void and runs away*

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kenshi-vakarian7 · 5 years

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MERweek2019 - Day 1 - Tall Tales

Event hosted by @cactuarkitty with fanfic prompts by @vorchagirl

Prompt - All relationships have those stories. You know the ones. Those famous stories. The good ones. Like the time Shepard took down the reaper on foot. Or Kaidan got involved in the Vorcha mafia. Or the time Vega got drunk and kissed Steve. What? It happened. It totally happened.

---

“The Shifty-Looking Cow Incident” aka How an unlikely friendship began.

Once again, to the surprise of absolutely no one, the Mako needed field repairs. Commander Amy Shepard went up and down one too many steep hills out of sheer stubbornness. Not for the first time, the tire on the front, right passenger side got loose from its axle. If it were up to Urdnot Wrex, he'd throw a grenade at it and watch the fiery explosion with impish glee. It would be heck of a lot more fun than playing guard duty a few yards away from the driver's side of the Mako. Shepard guarded the other side while Garrus Vakarian worked on the repairs.

Hours ago, they landed on this green, stormy planet called Ontarom for a mission which included a fire fight (the highlight of Wrex's day so far). After that business was done, Shepard and her team decided to explore the surrounding area for resources (practical but boring, something everyone on the team agreed on).

Well, that was what they were doing until the Mako had to be repaired. From where he stood, Wrex could hear the turian working on the axle, and the krogan let out a low growl out of boredom.

This better be quick, Wrex grumbled in his head after ten minutes of standing around – which was more like an eternity. Or else I'm gonna fall asleep out here. At that thought, he nearly laughed at the idea of Shepard and Garrus (especially the turian) being forced to drag a sleeping, 800-pound krogan back into the Mako with no biotics to speak of. That would definitely make his day... well, besides the fire fight from earlier of course.

Out of boredom, Wrex reached for a compartment in his armor that hid his credit chit. He figured it wouldn't hurt to count his money for the second time today, especially after his recent win at the Quasar machine from their last stop on the Citadel.

Except when he reached his hand into the compartment, nothing was there!

“What the-” he uttered, feeling bewildered. He quickly doubled checked the compartment. Sure enough, his credit chit, including his Quasar winnings, was gone! He then checked other parts of his armor. Maybe he placed it in another compartment of his armor, but all he found was a paperclip and a piece of lint (and he didn’t even want to know how either of them got in there).

Might be in the Mako, Wrex suddenly thought. He began to head to the rover's driver side and opened the door as soon as he was within reach. He then jumped in with a little more force than usual.

“Wrex, what the hell are you doing?!” Garrus yelled out in annoyance as the Mako shifted under Wrex's weight.

“Looking for my damn credit chit,” Wrex grumbled as he pulled the drivers set back to see if it fell under there. Nope, not there either.

“I didn't see your chit when I went in there to get my tools earlier,” Garrus mentioned.

Those words made Wrex suspicious as he glared at Garrus through the passenger side window. “And you know this how?”

“...Because I didn't see it?”

“...Or maybe you took it for yourself.”

Garrus's mandibles flared with both shock and anger over the accusation. “What? NO! Why the hell would I take your damn credit chit?”

“Why wouldn't anyone?” Wrex mentioned as he stepped out of the Mako and back onto the ground. He slammed the door behind him (causing the vehicle to sway a bit) and walked around the rover to where Garrus stood. “There were enough credits to feed myself three lunches and four dinners at Fishdog Foodshack! As you can imagine, that's a lot, even for a krogan.”

“I swear on the spirits, Wrex, I did not take your credit chit,” Garrus tried to reason.

“Well if it's not in my pockets, or in the Mako, or on the grass, then where is it?”

“How should I know?!” Garrus yelled, now annoyed with Wrex. “For all you know, you might've dropped it back at the facility we fought in earlier!”

“Not possible,” Wrex said. “I checked my pockets while we were checking for resources.”

“Why would you even bother to bring your credit chit to a mission on a mostly abandoned planet anyway?”

“And why would I leave it back on the Normandy for just anyone to take?” Wrex reasoned.

“We have lockers, you know!” Garrus pointed out.

“My best shotgun already takes up enough room as it is!”

“That's a dumb excuse!”

“Better than letting anyone mess it up while I'm not around!”

Just as Wrex said that, Garrus happened to turn his head as he noticed something. Wrex didn't bother to look as he was still arguing with the stubborn turian.

“Wrex-”

“What?!” Wrex bellowed.

Garrus glared at him and didn't say another word, but he did lift a hand and pointed a single talon towards a particular direction. It was clear that Garrus wanted him to see something. With a roll of his eyes and a grunt, Wrex turned his head to see whatever it was that Garrus was pointing at.

In that moment, a thresher maw could've sneaked up on Wrex and swallowed him whole, because what got his full attention mere yards away was nothing short of ridiculous.

The mammal he saw nearby was, as humans called them, a space cow (despite being more of a cross between a deer and an ant eater with two extra limbs that served as arms), which was known for having, as humans also called them, a shifty-looking face. All this time, neither Wrex nor Garrus ever noticed the animal's presence until Garrus spotted it. Were they really that stealthy that even a krogan couldn't pick up on it with their superior hearing?

Not only did that thought throw him off, but Wrex soon spotted a very familiar item in one of the cow's hands – his credit chit! He really did drop it somewhere on the ground! How it happened didn't matter. He was about to run after the cow and get his chit back, but one thing managed to stop him before he moved...

With his own eyes, Wrex saw the cow actually take Shepard's own credit chit from one of her gear pouches! What was even more insane was that Shepard – the Commander Shepard – didn't even notice it happening as she continued to remain on lookout!

Only then did Wrex truly understand how the cow got his chit in the first place. That sneaky little pyjak!

Wrex turned to Garrus, who clearly saw what the krogan saw by how wide his eyes were and the way his mandibles flared and dropped. They turned their heads again to look at the cow just as it added the newly stolen chit to the 'pile' in its other hand – with Shepard still unaware of what was going on mere inches behind her. Then their looked at each other again with bewilderment.

A split second later, it happened. A krogan and a turian - natural enemies for years ever since the start of the genophage – both lost it and howled with laughter at the same time.

This went on for a few seconds before Garrus tried to speak in between “Oh spirits – aahaha! – Y – did you s – aaahahaha!”

“It's so ridiculous!” Wrex managed to say. “And – dammit, it got me, too!” he added before he howled again. At this point, he wasn't even angry about being pick pocketed anymore, even if his chit was worth three lunches and four dinners at Fishdog Foodshack.

Then they both happened to look up – and actually made eye contact with the cow. The mammal stared at them momentarily, its eyes wide with terror as it realized that it was caught red handed. And then it actually began to scurry away from the group. Not run – scurry!

They both lost it even more right there. Garrus nearly keeled over while Wrex fell back against the Mako before he actually grabbed hold of Garrus's shoulder. The turian didn't even try to brush his hand away – or he just didn't notice at all.

Of course, their fits of laughter caught Shepard's attention and she turned to look at them both. She did spot the cow then as it continued to scurry away, but paid it no mind otherwise. Neither Wrex nor Garrus every noticed the wary gaze she gave them both, especially since neither of them really got along until now.

“What's so funny over there?” Shepard asked aloud.

They both stopped laughing and became serious in an instant. “Nothing,” they both said in unison, though Garrus cleared his throat right after. Shepard gave them both a peculiar gaze before she shrugged her shoulders and turned her back to them.

“Should we tell her?” Wrex ended up asking with a grin, and low enough that only the turian heard him.

Garrus's mandibles flared again, this time with amusement. “Mmm... maybe in a minute. Just wait until the rest of the crew hears about this.”

“Ha! They would love this story, wouldn't they?”“”

“Yeah. ...Did we just become friends?”

Wrex snorted with amusement. “You wish, turian.”

Garrus’s mandibles flared even more. “Ah, probably for the best. I’d hate to make you look like an amateur when it comes to which one of us is the best shot.”

Wrex grinned. “If that ever happened, I’d just feed you to a thresher maw.”

Wrex wasn’t about to admit it out loud of course, but it was true... he and Garrus really did get along for the first time since they joined forces with Shepard. Neither of them knew at that time that this moment was the beginning of what would become an lifetime friendship.

---

*And yes, Wrex did get his credit chit back, because of course he wasn’t going to let that shifty-looking cow get away with it. That’ll be a story to be told for another day (just not for MERweek2019).

#merweek #merweek2019 #kv7 ocs #mass effect #urdnot wrex #garrus vakarian #amy shepard #fanfic

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autodiscothings · 6 years

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Drell Headcanons

I write a lot about drell, thanks to a fondness of Kolyat Krios.

Here is a copy/paste of my Google Docs of things I have slipped into Disconnect universe, which is set 6 years after the War (Destroy ending; Thane saved the Councillor in ME3.)

This is work in progress, and ongoing.

SOCIETY

Most cultures from Rakhana are Matrilineal and Matriarchal. Women ruled the roost, and at the time of the first Compact agreement, men only just had the ability to vote in most societies.

Males are considered the most beautiful and are more brightly coloured of the species. Despite being physically stronger, traditionally they still deferred to women. The Illuminated Primacy exploited this; they used asari to help establish the biodome societies, and to help negotiate the Compact agreements.

There’s a cultural expectation to “come home” and have children. It doesn’t have to be a heteronormative family structure of 2.4 and a fishdog, but drell are expected to “remember” their legacy and contribute to the survival of their people. It’s a weight that hangs on many young drell, even if they leave Kahje- a rare feat to begin with.

It was the second wave of their Industrial Revolution (aeroplane and car level, think 1900s for humans) that began to destroy their planet.

CULTURE

Kahje has an annual poetry and art competition, a lot of poems about water and oceans are to be expected. Music and art and culture is now heavily shaped by water, and new instruments had to be invented to cope with the humidity.

Drell have a large personal space bubble, and if living with other species will cover themselves up to the point of wearing gloves. Speaking of, drell only shake hands when a deal has been done and finalised or ideas have been exchanged, the fused fingers are lightly touched on a wrist’s pulse point, nothing is “shook.”

Gestures are not universal for all; while a human might raise their hand to want to speak, a drell cups their hand in front of them. Swearing is flicking fingers up a neck frill to a chin, just as a middle finger would be to a human.

Music is of course varied, but the most popular style is tonal based with round melodies/lyrics that change constantly.

FOOD, DRINK, ETC

FIsh is now a huge part of their diet thanks to Kahje, and has been embraced by the people with enthusiasm. Orishen are a kind of steamed fish dumpling popular with street vendors, and a national dish.

Drell are omnivorous, but not heavy meat eaters. Eggs and a farmed grub were a preferred source of protein on Rahkana, to the point of a group of First Compact drell getting in trouble with the hanar for “stealing” eggs of the local bird population of Kahje when they first came over.

Se’aus is a form of tobacco similar to Scandinavian snus. Along with a type of sugar similar to aloe sap, se’aus is responsible for the first Rahkana industrial revolution, and started wars over land and property. Se’aus is still somewhat popular, especially among construction workers and the working class.

An’fre oil is used instead of soap and water back on Rakhana. Some drell still use it, but it’s seen as a bit like Old Spice and lavender- a very Traditional smell. It is also used for incredibly disgusting candy.

Weeping Heart was brought out by an asari company in 2175, it’s now only 30% drell owned. Models are employed to wear stripper outfits and serve shots of the stuff to handsy patrons in bars and clubs. It’s a surprisingly well paid job.

MEMORY AND LANGUAGE

For a species who remembers, of course they divide different ways of remembering, and it affects the language. A few examples:

*Tu’mar- where you remember everything you see because you know it is a special event- and you’re desperate to experience it all before the moment goes.

*Tu’sea- where details seem small and inconsequential at the time, but later on reveal themselves as important.

Tu’amo- where a meeting/moment is so perfect, why bother recreating it? Used mainly to describe meeting a person once and never seeing them again, those perfect stranger encounters.

*Tu’we- usually used at the end of arguments, and means “we agree to disagree,” because you both remember things differently.

*Tu’fira- lost in another. Everything you do reminds you of them.

Eidetic memory is only spoken out loud by those who spend too long by themselves. No drell calls it solipsism either; only a certain philosophical, ah, type would.

Drell memory does not mean “photographic.” You can still be thick as varren shit if you’re born drell; if you spend your entire mathematics lesson distracted by the ass in front of you, all you’re going to remember is ass.

The concept of a memorial service is baffling to drell. They honour their dead by existing, no need to hold a special ceremony. Loved ones reassure dying drell that they will never be forgotten, and that they will always live on in their memories.

MODERN POLITICS

Capitalism is king for Kahje and the Illuminated Primacy; despite the Compact, socialism is a somewhat dirty word.

Only a million drell exist in the universe. There are a handful of communities still on Rakhana, living in the pollution and ruins, but they’re ignored by both the Council and Kahje pre-War. It has been a “dead” world for over 70 years now.

Zakera Ward holds the highest population of drell outside of Kahje and her colonies, and only 0.0008% of the Citadel’s population are made up of drell citizens across all the Wards. Only ten drell class themselves as living as an Independent on the Citadel. (Kolyat Krios is one.)

Independent drell means literally that; drell who have formally registered themselves as free of Kahje and her Compact agreement. They cannot vote in the Illuminated Primacy, apply for benefits, or access healthcare if they do. They can however still vote for drell representatives of their registered dome.

Post War, however, both the press and the Council have taken notice of the Compact more...

RELIGION

There are more Gods that the three Thane mentions, mainly because drell become patrons of Gods specific to them. A former assassin bent on redemption will choose a hunter god, a death goddess and the goddess of motherhood and protection. A doctor might choose the god of science for example, or a gambler the trickster goddess of enchantment.

#mass effect #drellweek2018 #drell #Kolyat Krios #if this makes sense to you hurrah #my brain is noodles atm

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