thearchangel: (And I can't save what's left of you)
[Garrus has been conscious nearing 24 hours now. And on his feet, for most of them.]

[This is not exactly unusual for someone coming from his circumstances, but, the reason is -- if not abnormal then, entirely unwelcome. And far too familiar.]

[For the second time in his life, he's woken up to find his commander, the woman he not only owes his life to, but that he idolizes, that he loves... is gone.]

[Needless to say, the entire keep has been scoured from top to bottom. The lakeshore. The forest trails they'd taken together, looking for deer. Everything he could access, he did. But her armor was gone. Her weapons. There'd been no note, nothing saying she'd gone out on an expedition as she had before. She wouldn't be that careless, given what happened the first time.]

[So it's entirely likely that unlucky members of the Keep's populace would run into the turian as he searches.]

[In the end, it turns up nothing.]

[And Garrus finds himself at the bar in the tower -- the place everything started, ironically enough.]

[The writing is short, curt, and hastily scrawled in the journal before he shoves it aside.]




Commander Shepard is MIA.

Send word if seen.


[After a thought, he scratches out the last part. False hope never helped anything.]
thearchangel: (The confusion and the aftermath)
[He doesn't dream. Typically, Garrus is just too dead tired to do anything like dream. He sleeps -- he wakes up. There's nothing memorable in between. It's not unpleasant. He doesn't regret it. It's just how things are.]

[Which makes it all the more strange that, tonight, the dream is so vivid, he could swear he is actually there. That it isn't a dream at all.]



CUT FOR ME3 SPOILERS )



[The walls of the Keep greet him when he wakes up, not the Presidium. There's a bed under his bony ass, not armor. It's dark. Quiet. And his heart is racing.]

[What... was that? Any of that?]


- - -

[Later in the night, he's put his armor back on, and taken up a vantage point in the chapel, the higher the better, staring down solemnly at the floors below. A bottle is in one hand.]

[While the other traces the harsh, brutal outlines of broken cartilage across the side of his face.]
thearchangel: (My favorite part of me.)
['Keeping to himself' was an understatement.]

[Garrus had, for all intents and purposes, dropped off the grid entirely. He was good at that. He'd done it once before -- and here, where there was nothing in the way of electronic paper trails, it was incredibly simple.]

[Just make sure you weren't seen, keep your journal shut, and there you go.]

[Ever since regaining his memories, he'd done just that. He was embarrassed, revolted. He'd failed his commander in the biggest way possible. He'd let Shepard down. Of all the things he'd done while crazed and infected, that was by far the worst. He couldn't face her. Not right now.]

[Right now, he's found his way to the thermal pools. To a turian, the heated water is probably one of the best things ever. He'd peeled off his armor, the clingy bits of fabric protection underneath, and just sank into the pools.]

[A good place to brood, and not freeze his alien balls off. Besides -- scales don't get wrinkly when they're in the water for too long.]

Written

Aug. 28th, 2011 11:13 pm
thearchangel: (GRRR ARGH RAGE)
Staff:

Turians don't like the cold. Did I ever mention that?


[Garrus has terrible handwriting. But there it is. He'll be in front of the fire, hating the world and indulging in a brief moment of sulking before picking back up again.]

8 - Action

Aug. 10th, 2011 01:07 am
thearchangel: (And not my ugly side)
[He's not worried.]

[Being worried would imply that the object of his concern couldn't take care of themselves. And nothing could be further from the truth. The other missing parties came back perfectly fine, there's no reason to assume the commander would be the sole exception.]

[But he hasn't stopped looking. Checking the place they crawled out of before -- the hole in the clothier's tower -- hunting through the keep for any place someone might be held, or something that might prove distracting. It's all futile, and somewhere along the line, he realizes he's out of the little wafers the keep's medic handed him.]

[And he... has been. For a while.]

[So he puts his plans on hold for the moment -- he'll trek his way out to the forest, and the secluded theatre later -- and makes his way to the infirmary.]

[He knocks, and waits.]



((ooc: Anyone can bump into him at any point! Before the infirmary, after, whenever!))
thearchangel: (Look at your drell.  Now back to me.)
... Well. Maybe there's a couple things about this place that aren't so bad. Then again, it could just be the new experience talking.

[A pause, and some shifting sounds.]

If this is what humans eat, I'm almost regretting my DNA. It's not half bad.



[Yes, we're not discussing the trial, or the aftermath. Others have already said enough on the subject. And he's busy stalking the responses.]

[But, for the moment, the turian can be found literally tearing into some of the dinner offerings -- meat, almost exclusively. Those sharp teeth and talons had to come from some ancient predator, after all.]

[He has his journal open beside him, and is watching the reaction posts closely, deeply involved -- harass him?]

August 2012

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