Had he a lover he couldn’t remember her name. Her love died off, replaced in a slowly building affection towards the latest shipment of shiny, spotless metal. Tinkering bits and sparkling bolts made sure her eyes remained the common shade of dull copper, watching the masterpiece come alive as fresh blood smears the floor fading any memory her shrill voice could bring. A sweet taste of war brimmed from his mouth.  Whoever she was death didn’t hold her favour, competing against bloodlust, war, glory; she is a lost cause. Had he a lover, perhaps, he only found love in her buying his time.  

“Come,” It was strange, Garrus mused. starring down at his gun. He followed the two Krogan in front of him flanked by EDI and  Lieutenant-Commander Ashley Williams. In the human female’s arms was cradled the most precious, physical representation of the one thing he painfully missed—Shepard’s helmet.  They walked steadily, without speaking into a dark bunker in the off skirts near the male encampments. 

One Tomkah was enough to transport them all despite it being slightly cramped and  it was strange, as the bunker lead deeper and deeper than any of the encampments did, the metal walls fading, blending into the hard rock. Beautiful carvings , mimicking those old ruins he embarked on in an old forgotten battle. A distant memory.

Skulls practically made up the ceiling, aligned in formation towards the pit of blackness consuming their path. The lighting was dim anyway, and it proved difficult to figure out the exact colour the skulls bared. Yellow perhaps, bits and pieces of black, orange here and there. It was as if those shades followed the Krogan, marking them eternally. Garrus wouldn’t bother mentioning it startled him since the Krogan were a surprising race. 

Read More 

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Just thought maybe some of you would be interested in one of the biggest writing projects of the summer for me as part of the Mass Effect Big Bang 2012, of which participating in the Mass Effect roleplay community inspired me to try, especially the mun of Urdnot Wrex. This project is actually how I formed several of my headcanons for mister Wreaver-face and its filled with lots of Krogan angst! 

Otherwise I shall catch you guys later~ owo

Hero was a harsh word, bitter sweet and cursed. People favored heroes, people looked up to heroes, people expected better of them. When he heard a whisper of his brothers name mingled into the same sentence—fear a Krogan but don’t dare not fret should he be a savior—the glass resting between his talons was crushed with so much force blood gushed. Hardly a pity nobody else gave a damn. Krogans weren’t heroes, so they talked; they dreaded what oncoming storm Wrex was calling fourth. Wreav wanted to forget the name, forget the image. He couldn’t have hated his brother more. 

ooc 

[Hey guys. Sorry I’ve disappeared again owo. I’ve been having a lot of bad anxiety lately so I’ve been sticking to my main blog and just, kinda not rping even on things like skype and msn. There’s no guarantee’s I’ll be on regularly for awhile but I’m working on getting myself comfortable again. I’ll start on maybe writing some drabbles here and there.

Anyway, I’m not dead? oWo.] 

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Send me a symbol and I’ll write something. 

regalknight:

✉ For a letter my muse sends to yours.

☁ For fluff of our muses on a rainy day.

♚ For the wedding vows my muse says to yours.

☣ For a post-apocalyptic drabble of our muses.

☤ For a trip to the hospital.

✈ For a vacation our muses take.

♭ For my muse serenading yours.

❅ For a fluffy snow day.

[Sorry you have to deal with that bby, some anons just don’t know better it seems :c]

[Thankies. I’m mostly just confused on how some are like, yea Krogan. I’ma harass that. I wouldn’t xD And out of the other characters and account’s I’ve had prior this is my first encounter with dem especially crazy anons.]