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#Marcian Fedorian
crassussativum · 3 years
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Sentinel: Chapter 7
Eros:
It smelled of smoke and rain inside the Temple. Scents associated with grief and sadness for most turians, for Eros they brought forth a feeling of spiritual safety and order. It was the smell of Palavenian pine when it burned on the pyres for the dead. The smoke guided the recently freed Spirit from the mortal coil to the less tangible afterlife and to the collective Spirit of Palaven where all things became whole. 
He loosened his grip on Ignatius’ hand as they passed together over the stone threshold and the smoke stung his eyes. But inside the Temple the weight of his grief eased, the burden lifted by the Spirits that always lingered here. Past Valluvian priests like himself, those that had witnessed Spirits or simply felt them more strongly than the average turian, they stayed within the Temple to help the transition of new Spirits and to bring what comfort they could to the living. Eros had always felt weightless here, like he was floating, like he was a Spirit himself. It was foolish, Eros knew, but it made him smile.
Ignatius smiled softly down at him. His mate wasn’t as religious a man as he was but he understood the soul’s call for it and for that Eros was grateful. He was grateful the Spirits had led Ignatius to him. If the Blackwatch hadn’t arrived on that colony when they had, Eros was certain he would have perished with the rest of his unit. He had been dying after an incendiary round had pierced his hardsuit. After it had burned through all the man-made material and begun to burn through him, Eros had begged the Spirits for any mercy from the agony. Even death if it meant the pain would stop. They had sent him a giant in matte black armor.
That Ignatius had stayed for more than just his rescue had been surprising but throughout his recovery, Eros had realized the Spirits had brought him into Ignatius’ life as much as the other way around. Blackwatch assignments had turned him world weary and cynical and finding Eros had restored his purpose to something more than just that of a skilled combatant. Support, companionship and then love had followed close behind.
Eros gave his hand a squeeze and returned that warm smile. Together they found Terronos’ alter and knelt before it. Eros folded his dark blue robes beneath himself and into his lap, then he lowered his head and closed his eyes. He didn’t need the image projected on the wall to see the face of his fallen friend, it was still clear in his mind’s eye. Square features and green star-burst markings that framed sharp golden eyes above a slow smile that had begun to droop on one side as the corpalis syndrome had arrived with its first signs... Shaking hands had followed and when Terronos had been unable to hold things without noticeable difficulty, they had known something was wrong. Loss of dexterity wasn’t uncommon with advancing age, nor were fading memories, but the inability to form new memories, to lose entire conversations the moment they left the mouth...
Eros didn’t want to remember Terronos that way and he struggled not to but the memory was persistent. He wished he could forget those final weeks of losing his friend piece by piece as corpalis had begun to ravage him. The disease had acted much the same as its chosen victims, it had been an overwhelming force of warfare on the body and mind, unstoppable and without mercy. As much as it hurt, Eros knew Terronos had made the correct choice to join the Spirits when he had, before he had lost even the ability to blink.
Ignatius squeezed his hand again tightly, their fingers laced together. Eros heard him clear his throat and swallow. His voice was quiet and cracked at the edges as he spoke to the Spirit of the former Primarch. It was a while before Eros found his own voice beneath the lump of emotion and joined him. 
The Primarch:
The twins were sleeping as they always did, snuggled together with tangled limbs and foreplates just barely touching. Vesimir was positive they had spent their time in the womb much the same way, sharing space and breath and Spirit. It brought him endless comfort to know they would always have each other, and Cato, once he was gone. Cicero, he knew would struggle to fit in with his inability to vocalize in an audible range heard by species other than turians, but Marcian would help him. Together they would find a way to adapt as he had taught them to. 
Vesimir pressed a kiss to each little fringe and tucked the blanket around them both. Their night-light was on and projecting ocean waves on the ceiling. If he thought hard enough he could almost hear them crashing against the shores. He yearned for the ocean as he had for few things in his life and no facsimile of sound or image compared but he was pleased the little toy gave the ocean back to his boys. 
Vesimir re-activated the security console as he left their room, trusting it to alert him and the Sentinels should the door be opened before the morning. He still wasn’t used to having their room so far away from his own but Cicero and Marcian had made a big to-do out of getting to pick their own room and he only wanted to make them happy. Where their room on Parthia had faced the ocean and the rising sun of the south, the room here faced the main garden and the northern setting sun. It was an old superstition, but Vesimir would have been more comfortable had they chosen a southern facing room as he had. 
Cato had chosen an eastern facing room with large windows and a balcony for better natural lighting. For his art, Vesimir knew, so he could see color as it was meant to be seen. He smiled for himself, some day he fully expected Cato to ask for ocular implants to see every spectrum of color. He would allow it, of course. There was serenity in art and Cato had as turbulent a nature as Parthia’s seas.
His mother would be proud of him. She had been wild too, a wandering Spirit full of wonder and joy at every new experience whatever it might be. Vesimir ached at her memory. The twins couldn’t remember her and in truth, they hadn’t even gotten the chance to meet her, it had all happened so fast. There were moments, shameful moments, when Vesimir envied them that. More often, he felt a crushing sorrow for what they had lost, what he and Cato had lost. He still remembered the struggle of explaining to Cato the arrival home of the two infants without their mother. So overcome to the point of numbness with grief that he had done nothing but stand there as his first son had collapsed into tears. Vesimir thanked the Spirits daily for the family next door -Philia and her parents- that had supported them through Marcilinaes’ death.
He wondered if she and Cato had made up yet, not seeing her when they’d boarded the shuttle to leave Parthia had been a shock and his son hadn’t mentioned her since. Vesimir sighed to himself and ran a hand back over his long fringe. He shouldn’t worry, children often had spats that seemed big in the moment and were later proven quite small. The two would make up and before long Cato would be asking for Philia to visit Palaven.
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crassussativum · 3 years
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Day 8: Lost
Parthia
The twins were asleep in the bassinet, wrapped around each other with their tiny foreplates touching and Cato had finally passed out on the bed behind him. Vesimir thought he should take a picture, their mother would have wanted the tangible memory of the first night with all their children together. He didn’t move, he couldn’t. What if he sank into the floor? What if he floated away from it? What if he woke them? He couldn’t handle any more crying. Cato had been inconsolable for hours.
Vesimir’s face was wet. Soaked. He’d given up trying to wipe away the tears when they just kept coming. What was he supposed to do with a child and two infants all on his own? He had taken leave for Marci’s pregnancy and the birth but eventually he would have to return to the Havincaw. What then? What would he do with his children then? This wasn’t supposed to have happened, it shouldn’t have happened.
Call them Marcian and Cicero. Take... take care of them. Take care of Cato. They’ll need you...
Vesimir did his best to muffle his sobs. They sounded like earthquakes. His Spirit splintered like land giving way. He clasped his hands tightly over his mouth, pinned his trembling mandibles to his jaw and held his breath. Hoped it would stifle the sounds like choking a flame of oxygen. His vision turned a watery gray at the edges and he had to breathe again. The Spirits shouldn’t have taken her away. Why had they taken her away when he loved her as he did, when they needed her as they did? Why-
Cato had woken, keening, and crawled into his lap, arms tight around him. Vesimir buried his face against his son’s fringe and they cried together.
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crassussativum · 3 years
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May I get OC Ask 15 for all of the Fedorians please?
15: What is the first thing people notice about them?
^_^
For the Primarch, (Vesimir) I think people first notice how soft spoken he is. He's very careful with his word choice and always speak with a gentle, reassuring tone.
Cato I think it's his big, brown soulful eyes.
Cicero and Marcian, I think that it's they're identical twins and that they haven't grown into how big their eyes and mandibles are yet. And in Cicero's case that he's verbally mute but still has full range of his subvocals.
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crassussativum · 3 years
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Day 18: Kinship
Sentinel: Estate of the Primarch
The twins liked to be outside and since they had arrived, Eros spent most of his mornings sitting on the veranda with his tea watching them wade through the flowers in the garden. Marcian, it seemed, was enamored with all the colors while Cicero liked to touch and sniff the petals. It had become routine, watching over the little boys every morning while Ignatius and the Primarch discussed itineraries just inside the doors.
Eros smiled as Cicero picked a flower and offered it to his brother with wide spread mandibles and a high trill. Marcian stuck it in his fringe and the two boys darted away to peruse another patch. A shift of his head and he could see the Primarch watching too. He was a good fit for Palaven and his children had brought joy back to the Estate as well as a calm Spirit. Eros felt more at ease than he had in weeks.
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crassussativum · 3 years
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Sentinel: Chapter 6
Ignatius:
Ignatius threw his feet up on the banister and slanted a playful grin in his mate’s direction. Eros leaned next to his feet and smiled longingly at the little boys playing together with a pile of toys in a patch of sun. It was a good look for him and it pulled at a dream Ignatius had for both of them, someday, just like this but their own children playing together.
“You know,” He drawled, poking Eros lightly with his foot. “This is good practice.”
“What is?” Eros hummed, tones distracted.
“Watching over those boys.” Ignatius said. “It’s good practice for the future.”
Eros didn’t say anything and Ignatius spotted the minute in and out shift of his mandibles, the way he drew in on himself. He should have approached the subject with more tact or just kept his mouth shut and let Eros imagine on his own. He hadn’t been in the mood for dreams lately and Ignatius should have remembered that. He pulled his feet down and shrank back into his seat. Eros, sensing his mood as mates did -and better than him, apparently- looked over his shoulder.
“I was only joking,” Ignatius said quietly and flashed his throat in a brief apology.
“You weren’t.” He said in return, sliding away from the banister and into his lap, brushing their foreplates together. “But it’s okay.”
Ignatius wrapped around him and took in his scent off his fringe, a hand beneath it to hold him close. “I wasn’t trying to upset you.” He whispered. 
“I know that you weren’t.” Eros whispered in return and brushed their foreplates together again. “It seems much upsets me as of late.”
Ignatius stroked over his mate’s fringe. He knew why; everyone mourned differently. While he had thrown himself into work, Eros had spent days locked in the Temple with the other priests. “All of Palaven suffers his loss.” He said gently. “And it hasn’t been long since Primarch Terronos sat here on this porch with us or with you specifically. You don’t need to rush mourning him just because Primarch Fedorian took his place so quickly.”
“I know,” Eros sighed and laid his head on Ignatius’ shoulder. “I don’t feel like I’m rushing getting over the loss, but these past weeks have felt like only days. I can still feel the heat of the pyre, Ignatius. I can still smell the pine as he burned. Having the new Primarch here, his children, the other Sentinels, it feels as though the world has moved on and left me standing in place.”
“So stand in place.” He said lightly when all that had sunk in. Eros was far more philosophical than he was, more introspective and it was one of the things that had drawn him in. “The world will come back around for you. And I’ll always be by your side.”
Eros smiled wanly at him but still with love. “I trust that you always will be.”
Ignatius kissed his fringe and traced the Noverian markings on his face affectionately. “Why don’t you visit the Temple again today? Spend some time in the company of Spirits? Maybe... maybe speak to his?”
“I think that I will. Would you join me?”
He wanted to, Eros needed his attention more than the Primarch did at the moment, but there was still much he was personally responsible for and he couldn’t just leave without notice even if he wanted to. And he did want to. “I can’t until tonight.”
“Then we’ll go tonight.” Eros told him, nuzzling his fringe under his jaw. “It would be good for you to speak with the Spirits too.”
“It... it would be.” Ignatius said at length and sounded out his own feelings of grief, holding his mate close to himself. He purred quietly as Eros reached up to pet his fringe.
“Are you standing still, too?”
“For moments at a time.” He confessed. “Vesimir is... so different. His methods, his reasoning, even his simple presence. I’m not aware of him in a room the way I was Terronos. He’s so... unassuming and approachable. He’s like the oceans of his homeworld; calm.”
“And full of depth,” Eros smiled small. “I believe he’s a man that’s always thinking. He’ll be good for all of Palaven.”
Ignatius smiled back at him. “I think he will be, too.” He kissed Eros softly. “He can’t go wrong with a Spirit Carer like you on his staff.”
He laughed warmly. “He did well to keep you on staff, too.”
“I’m grateful.” He said with feeling. “That said, I need to check in with Mavic and see how he’s getting on with things. And with Crassus.”
Eros nodded his understanding. “I’ll keep my eyes on the children while you do.”
Ignatius kissed him again. “Play in the sun with them.” He suggested with a smile.
“I think that I will.” Eros gave him a tight hug before sliding out of his lap. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Crassus:
Mavic was heavier than first impression had told him he would be. Crassus still had no trouble slinging him around the mats. It was a little stress relief for both of them, a little testing of Mavic’s fighting ability and a little just having fun. And Crassus found himself genuinely having fun. Mavic would slam into the mats, roll to his feet and come back for more over and over. His taunts were delivered more playfully than cruelly and while he wasn’t all that strong or precise in his attacks, he was quick and inventive in his approach.
Still, Crassus threw him to the ground again and again, laughing whenever Mavic did and trading jokes with him. All too soon it dissolved from standard sparring to wild grappling. Mavic was hard to get a grip on then and even with his bigger size, at first Crassus struggled to pin him down. Finally he managed to trap Mavic’s hands in one of his and take away his ability to kick by kneeling between his legs. They were both breathing hard by then.
“By the Spirits, do you yield yet?” Crassus demanded, his mandibles slanted in a grin.
Mavic squirmed and laughed beneath him. “Fuck you’re heavy.”
“Am I crushing you?” He pressed more firmly to keep the smaller turian from wiggling away.
“Mmm but I like it.” He winked and smiled widely.
Crassus felt heat beginning to pool at that smile. “Do you?”
Mavic arched up as much as he could and purred. “Scoot a lil’ closer and find out.” 
“I think I’m plenty close enough.” He drawled.
The smaller turian laughed again and it was full of all the heat Crassus could feel building between them. He smirked and held Mavic’s hands steady with one of his own as his other started an adventure down his chest, loosening the buttons of his uniform shirt as he went. Those orange colony tattoos were stark on Mavic’s gunmetal colored skin.
“See, here I was thinkin’ you weren’t pickin’ up what I was puttin’ down, but you were huh?”
Crassus arched a brow at him, hand paused above his belt and the tattoos that just peeked out of the pants.”You haven’t been subtle.”
“Keep goin’ and you’ll see how not subtle I am.”
He chuckled at him and got his fingers around the belt-buckle as Mavic started to purr louder. It was a nice sound, one he hoped to hear more of.
“Gentlemen,” Ignatius’ voice rang out.
Mavic blushed all the way to his mandible hinges and deftly slipped his hands free. Crassus flicked his mandibles at the practiced move and rocked back to his feet, pulling the smaller turian up with him.
“Sir.” They said in unison.
“I don’t think I really need to tell you in detail how inappropriate what I just saw is. If for your chosen location alone.” Ignatius frowned at them. “Spirits forbid one of the children were to walk in at the wrong moment.”
“That’d be hard to explain.” Mavic chuckled as he buttoned up his shirt.
Crassus winced.
Ignatius glared. “Sentinel Virim,” He said lowly. “You’re dismissed. Walk the grounds. Cool off.”
“Er... Yessir.” His mandibles fluttered and he glanced up at Crassus. “See you later, big guy?”
Ingrained deference for authority had him looking at Ignatius for his reaction to that invitation, it wasn’t a positive one. “Maybe.”
Mavic sagged a little where he stood, his mandibles hanging loose for all of a second before he pulled them up again. “Yeah, fair ‘nough.” He murmured and then made his way quickly from the gym.
Crassus watched him go, shoulders stiff. He should have said yes... Later, tonight maybe, he’d find Mavic’s room and-
“Sentinel Crassus.”
He faced Ignatius. “Yes, Sir, our behavior was inappropriate and you’re right, our location was poorly chosen.”
Ignatius thinned his mandibles. “The Primarch might not mind fraternization within his units but I-”
“If I may, Sir.” Crassus interrupted. “You’re here with your mate as are several of the staff. I believe that’s past the point of simple fraternization.”
The huge Palavenian twitched his mandibles in annoyance at him. “Be that as it may, I expect you both to conduct yourselves as befits your positions and rank.”
He had to roll his shoulders loose. “As a bareface, I was under the impression I carried no rank. Were Mavic not here, he would be classified as a civilian. And if I may be so bold-”
“You’re already off to a good start.”
“-I don’t get attention from men like him.” 
Ignatius shifted to stand with his hands on his hips, expression still annoyed. “Men like Mavic?”
“Gorgeous men.” Crassus worked his mandibles along his jaw. He was off to a good start of being bold today, heated by his play with Mavic and agitated with the interruption. “What do you see when you look at me, Sentinel Voynik?”
He arched a brow at him. “Another Sentinel.”
Crassus fought the sudden urge to bare his teeth. It was just a platitude, an answer one gave to be tactful. He was sick of tactful people. “You see the scars on my face where my color was burned away and a pattern left behind from a separatist colony. You see eight feet of brute strength and damage. No, Sir, I don’t get attention from men like Mavic, I get it from men like myself and worse.”
Ignatius was frowning at him again but it wasn’t a look of disappointment this time. “I see another Sentinel when I look at you.” He said again. “And a heavy weight on your Spirit. Men like Mavic, Crassus, will chew you up and spit you out and then move on to the next.”
“I don’t think Mavic is like that.”
“He might not be.” The huge Palavenian shrugged.
Crassus gave half a shrug of his own. “In either case, he and I will behave with more decorum.”
“As your superior, that’s all I ask.” His expression softened again. “And that you find time to speak with Eros. He’s here for the Spiritual well-being of the entire estate, not just the Primarch and myself. He’ll keep your confidence, Crassus.”
“...I’ll consider it, Sentinel Voynik, thank you.” In truth, he wasn’t sure how he felt about talking to a Valluvian priest, let alone one mated to his superior. 
Cato:
“Have you seen his smile yet?”
“He smiles at my brothers.” Cato said.
Mavic obviously wasn’t really listening to him. He was stretched out in the grass with his arms under his head and one knee perched over the other with that foot wiggling in the air. It was the perfect composition and Cato drew him now while he was distracted talking on and on about Crassus.
“It’s like the best smile. Changes his face all up. He’s good lookin’ like that.”
Cato hummed and wished Mavic would stop wiggling his foot. It was hard to get the lines right when his subject kept moving but he couldn’t say anything because then Mavic would knew what he was doing and then Cato wouldn’t be able to draw him. That was just how it worked so he waited for the man to quit and then started drawing again.
“His laugh is fuckin’ killer, too. You heard it?”
“No,” He said, working quickly while Mavic was still for a second.
“It sounds like thunder rollin’ over the hills of my homeworld.”
Cato flared his mandibles at him. “Like thunder?” He deadpanned. That was just ridiculous. 
Mavic chuckled quietly. “It’s dumb, yeah? But that’s what it reminds me of.” 
“If you say so.” He erased one line and drew in another. “Are you like... crushing on him?” Adults had crushes, right? Cato wasn’t sure how that worked once you grew up. Spirits, he wasn’t sure how it worked now.
“What?” Mavic blinked over at him. “Nah.”
He shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “Well he’s all you’ve talked about  today.”
The small Sentinel scratched under a mandible. “Well... I reckon I do then, huh?”
“Really?” Cato balanced his sketchbook on his knees, pencil between the pages so he didn’t lose his place. “I thought... he made you nervous too?”
“He did.” Mavic said at length and Cato saw his mandibles flutter. “But then he smiled at me and... yeah, it’s just a good smile, y’know? The kind that makes your stomach all twitchy like there’s critters flyin’ ‘round in there.”
That definitely sounded like a crush to Cato but maybe it was different for adults.
“And, y’know, I was sparrin’ with him earlier and I’m pretty sure he was gonna-” his mandibles fluttered wildly “-er, kiss me but then Sentinel Voynik showed up up and sent me to walk the grounds.”
“Sounds like maybe he likes you too.” Cato said uncertainly. It was hard to imagine Crassus liking anyone like that when he was so stern and mean looking.
“I mean at least a lil’, right?” Mavic laughed in a low register that made him blush. “So lil’ match-maker, you got a sweetheart of your own back home?”
“I...um...” He immediately thought of Philia but it hadn’t been like that. “I don’t know?”
“You dunno?” Mavic rolled over onto his side and grinned at him. “Y’know you’re gonna be as good-lookin’ as your dad when you get older, yeah? Gonna have quite a few suitors then I bet.”
Cato stared at him aghast. What did that even mean? “I thought... I thought of Philia.”
“And she is...?”
“My best friend.” Cato told him, sounding out the confusing feelings of his thoughts going right to her. “We grew up together, same daycare and everything. And I thought we were gonna enlist here together and then go explore the galaxy when we got older but... but then dad became the Primarch and she hasn’t talked to me.”
The small Sentinel had sat up while he was talking and now he leaned back on his hands with his ankles crossed in front of him. It was more perfect composition but Cato didn’t feel like drawing anymore. “Why hasn’t she talked to you?”
“I don’t really know,” He trilled sadly, picking at the pages of his sketchbook. “I didn’t want to leave Parthia or her ‘cause she’s my best friend and I told her that. And I told her the plan about really growing up together but she just said I’d leave and I’d never see her again. And she hugged me, she’d never hugged me before. And we were both crying and Philia never cries. She didn’t even cry when she broke her arm. But she cried and then she didn’t come say bye at the shuttle, not even to my brothers and she loves my brothers. And she won’t answer my texts or calls and... and it hurts. It hurts so bad, Mavic.”
Mavic’s mandibles hung a little loose and he cooed a comforting note. “I’m sorry, kid. That... yeah, that just sucks. It’s hard when friendships fall apart and it hurts a lot for a long time.”
Cato rubbed his eyes, found them wet and used his sleeve to dry them. “I just don’t get why she’d do this.” He said. “I mean, we’d never even gotten in a fight before. We always liked the same things or didn’t like the same things. That’s why we were friends... My mom and her mom were friends too... and... and I just don’t get it.”
“Look, Cato,” Mavic rubbed a hand across his fringe over and over. “Maybe you should talk to you dad ‘bout it? Y’all known each other since baby years, yeah? Maybe he can help you make sense of it all.”
“Dad doesn’t have time for me now.” He whined. “He’s so busy and it’s all big important things.”
“Cato, kid,” The Sentinel smiled at him. “You’re a big important thing to your dad, trust me on that. He’ll make time if you need him to.”
Cato nagged at the talons of one hand. “I... I know he will.”
“Go talk to him, yeah?” Mavic said, standing and brushing himself off. “I’m, er, still supposed to be patrollin’.”
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crassussativum · 3 years
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Sentinel: Chapter 1
Mavic: The Citadel
Mavic was halfway into a bottle of horosk and a new bed partner when the news came in rapid fire chirps to both their omnitools. He sat against the headboard of his bed with a man he barely knew, the both of them drunk and disoriented, and listened to the reports coming out of Palaven. The Primarch had chosen to join the Spirits before the corpalis syndrome could destroy him. His successor had already been named and within the week the final ceremony for Primarch Terronos would take place at Temple Palaven and then Admiral Fedorian would take up the mantle. 
“Shit,” Mavic muttered as the news repeated, sharing what remained of the horosk with the man in his bed. He knew intimately what corpalis could do to a person. In the Primarch’s shoes, he’d have chosen the gentler way out too, but... “Shit.”
The man next to him trilled lowly and handed the bottle back. “It’s a shame,” He said. “I mean, there’s treatments for corpalis. He could have lived another several years.”
Mavic ached for a cigarette, pausing with the bottle to his mouth. “Those treatments just drag it out.” He rasped and cleared his throat of rising memories. 
“You don’t know that,” He got an affronted look. “Medical science is always improving and there’s nothing the salarians can’t figure out.”
He was tempted to gnaw at a talon but he hadn’t given up one bad habit to start another. “Not sayin’ it’s not, just that corpalis will still kill you. Fast or slow is up to you.”
The man in his bed waited for him to drink and then took the bottle for himself. “It’s... just such an awful choice to have to make. In the end all you do is pass the pain on to someone else.”
Mavic took the bottle back and downed the rest in one swallow. He knew all about passing on the pain, too. But this man he barely knew didn’t get to hear that story, drunk or not. “So we gonna fuck still or do you wanna get another bottle?”
“Another bottle, Spirits.”
It had been insensitive to ask, not everyone coped the way he did, and fuck, a smoke would be nice. “Yeah, me too.”
A week passed and were it not for every turian on the Citadel wearing the colors of mourning, Mavic would have forgotten about the Primarch’s death. He didn’t make a habit of watching the news that came out of Palaven or any of the big colony worlds other than his own. It just wasn’t important to him anymore. At the end of his mandatory tour, Mavic had shifted to the reserves by choice and moved to the Citadel. The four years since then, he’d been in school to fine tune his engineering skills. In another few years, he planned to move back to Carthaan and work with dad as an equal. Of course, the next priority message that came through his omnitool completely derailed that plan.
Mavic Linnaeus Virim: Report to Hierarchy Command in Cipritine, Palaven for Reassignment. Effective Immediately.
Crassus: Invictus
Crassus had blood in his mouth and on his hands. Therian, with the Citadel silver tattooed across his face, fought dirty. He was a combative cheat that used every dirty trick to get the upper hand by any means. Sharp talons, thrown debris and nasty words... Crassus had invited him into the ring to teach him some manners. Such as minding his own business. 
When all was said and done- he with various talon wounds and Therian with a broken nose- Crassus stepped from the ring and cleaned his hands without a word amidst congratulations from his unit-mates. The victory and praise meant nothing to him when he knew he’d likely fight the next transfer to Invictus and probably for the same reasons.
Spirits, why did anyone come to Invictus willingly? Either some massively over-sized carnivorous plant ate you. Or an insect carrying some hereto unknown disease killed you. Or, most commonly, the Hierarchy sent you here to rot when bad choices stagnated your career. Crassus had had the misfortune to be born on Invictus and had never made the effort to leave. He’d managed not to get himself eaten by the plants or outright killed by the bugs. His career though, that had stagnated. By the Spirits, it had putrefied. Fucking Invictus and its sweltering, swampy climate. A shithole of of a planet a step above Tuchanka. Crassus would rather try his luck against hordes of krogan than a single slimy tree on his homeworld. 
Crassus took a breath and pushed the indignation down deep where it belonged. He’d made the choice- the right one- and he’d live with it come hell or high water. One of which he was already in and the monsoons were only a season away. 
“Crassus.”
He turned away from the distasteful landscaped and quirked a questioning mandible at the base’s CO, another transfer he’d invited into the ring and defeated. The man held out a datapad. 
“It’s for you. From the Primarch.”
Cato: Parthia
“I just don’t...” Cato shifted and nuzzled his face into his shoulder to wipe the tears away. His sleeves were already useless on that front. “I don’t get why we have to go now. In two years we were gonna go anyway.”
“He’s the Primarch now.” Philia told him, her mandibles pulling in a little sharply and in her tones, he heard that he should be proud of his father.
Cato had to wipe his eyes again. When had he and Philia ever argued about anything? “I know,” He sighed and picked at his talons. “I know, I still don’t want to leave here.” He glanced over at her. “Or you.”
“You said it yourself. You were gonna leave in two years anyway.”
His mandibles fluttered and he dunked his head. “Yeah but... but I thought, in two years, we’d be enlisting together.” 
Philia fluttered her mandibles back at him. “Cato...”
“We’d enlist on Palaven,” He continued. “And go through basic together and then when that was done, we’d transfer to one of the bureaus. Maybe the information or education branches, I hadn’t decided. Anyway we’d serve our fifteen and then go into the reserves, right? Then we’d buy a ship and just go explore the galaxy together until we found somewhere to settle down and then we’d raise a-”
“Cato.” 
He met her eyes at the firm tone, his plans for their future dying on his tongue. “W-what?” And suddenly his throat was unbearably tight.
“None of that’s gonna happen.” Philia said softly. “You’re gonna go to Palaven with your dad and the twins and I’m probably never gonna see you again.”
“Don’t say that, Philia.” Cato whined, staring at her with his mandibles hanging loose. “Spirits, I’m gonna call you every day and I’ll visit as much as I can and you’ll visit too and we... we...”
She looked at him all sadly and he could see the shimmer of unshed tears in her eyes that matched the color of their colony paint. Purple; bright, bright purple. In their whole lives, Cato had never seen her cry. Spirits, he realized this was goodbye. Cato turned his head sharply and faced Parthia’s planet-wide ocean. So blue that he couldn’t tell where sea ended and sky began. He was saying goodbye to this too, it could be years before he came back.
“Just don’t forget about me,” He said tightly, not daring to reach for her hand like he’d wanted to. It was pointless now and he was done crying.  “I’ll be in Cipritine if you ever need me. For anything, okay?”
Philia hugged him. Like she wasn’t a crier, she wasn’t a hugger either. Cato squeezed her tightly, head down on her shoulder as the change of tides at their feet caught his attention. He didn’t know what he’d miss more. The ocean that stretched for miles and miles and miles more, that sang to him, that was in his blood, or his best friend.
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crassussativum · 3 years
Text
Day 10: Variant
Parthia
“-it’s not uncommon with twins for one or both to be born with some kind of defect.”
Vesimir watched Cicero pick up a varren plush and snuggled it with a happy trill. Maybe... maybe they’d stop on the way home and buy one. No, two. Marcian would want one as well. Would Cato? He had a collection at home, didn’t he? He could just ask them, they were waiting in another room with his attendee. 
“General Fedorian?”
“Yes, I’m sorry.” He said, eyes glued to his son but speaking to the doctor. There was nothing wrong with his son, he was perfect as he was. “A defect, you said? I don’t think I understand.”
“Typically we see heterochromia or syndactyly of the toes or fingers. Sometimes we see extra or fewer chambers of the heart. Rarely do we see anything life-threatening these days.”
Life-threatening? Was there something wrong with Cicero that he just couldn’t see? It was only the yearly check-up, it wasn’t supposed to be anything dire. Vesimir forced himself to pay attention to the doctor, heart in his throat and chest tight. There couldn’t be something wrong with one of his children, the Spirits weren’t so cruel to take his mate and their child away.
“And Cicero has a defect?”
“We weren’t able to spot it before he’d grown a little,” The doctor told him. “Cicero doesn’t have primary vocal cords, only the secondary.”
Vesimir hated that he’d almost expected something more, had dreaded something more. His shoulders sagged in relief. “He just can’t speak?”
“Essentially.” The doctor nodded. “He’s purely subtonal. He’ll be able to sound his words with his secondary vocals and he should even learn the universal sign language, but he’s incapable of spoken word.” 
Vesimir inclined his head. Hardly life-threatening, life-changing maybe, but he could work with it. There would only be more he’d have to teach the boys. “He’s healthy otherwise?”
“Perfectly so. As are Cato and Marcian. You’re doing well with them, General Fedorian.” 
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