The Things We Say
"You seek my counsel often of late, Saren." Benezia noted. She sat beneath Thessian flame trees, outside the compound that marked her religious commune. It was but an hour's drive outside the great city of Armali, not far for any who wished to visit, which was fortunate, for her followers were many.
"I have business on Thessia," He explained. He was standing with his back against the red back of the tree behind her. Even here, in her tranquil siari complex, he never let his guard down. Benezia remembered when he used to sit beside her, but he was younger then.
"You have business on the Citadel as well," She noted, "Sha'ira would be willing to hear you." She sat on the stone bench surrounding a small asari-made pond. Thessian sunfish danced beneath the water. She remembered when she used to dangle her feet amongst them, but she was younger then.
"I want the wisdom of a Matriarch, not a consort." He snarled the word, such that it sounded vile and beneath him. Perhaps it was. Aethyta would have thought so.
"I doubt you've come for a lecture on how worship of Athame does not conflict with siari philosophy." Benezia noted. He'd stayed throughout her entire sermon, quietly brooding in the back of the amphitheater. Their eyes had met more than once.
"The afterlife doesn't concern me," He shifted his feet, kicking up a patch of fresh sharblu grass. He created destruction wherever he went. It was an intriguing paradox. "This life does."
"Speak your mind, Saren." She wouldn't have had to press, in their earlier days, when she had met him as an investor and her as an executive secretary of Binary Helix. He'd trusted her with his funds, and later with his views.
He shifted his feet again, more grass met its end. It was a shame. It was such a lovely color. "All your lectures of peace and progress, but not one of how far you're willing to go to obtain it."
Benezia pushed herself up with a grace that came from a millennium of practice. She turned to face him with her hands behind her back. "This is not a conversation to have in public."
"This isn't a conversation to have anywhere." He countered. "There's change coming. Change that only happens once, even in your lifetime." It would have been an insult to another race, but asari revered age for its wisdom, and would have taken it as a compliment. Benezia took it as neither; Saren meant it only for the number. "If it's unavoidable, why resist it? Why not embrace it?"
"You speak in circles," He looked anxious, but he didn't pace. Saren never paced. "Trust me with your question and I will trust you with my answer."
"No. I need to know how far you're willing to go, for your beliefs, for your followers, for your survival." He crossed arms over his armor. Always prepared for battle, even when there was no one around to fight. "Asking for your counsel is not the same as asking for your help."
Benezia stopped short. He'd never asked for help before, from anyone, as far as she was aware. His conviction might have made her falter, but she knew what she believed in, what she stood for. "Idle words are a sign of an idle mind. You could not come to me for wisdom if I spoke them."
"There's a… presence the galaxy's forgotten. Your siari teaches we're all part of a greater whole, and there's no point in fighting what you're a part of. But people are going to fight it, regardless. Like biotics, like anything they don't understand. And like any change, there need to be people to enforce it."
"What kind of presence?"
"A powerful one."
"What kind of change?"
"Survival."
"If you need the answer before you can voice the question, perhaps you should not be asking." Benezia was torn. He obviously took it seriously, but he hadn't told her what it was. He sounded as if he spoke of war on a galactic scale. Warring for peace. Another intriguing paradox.
"I shouldn't be, but I am. I'm leaving Thessia soon, I need your answer before I go."
"To a question you cannot ask."
"If you're as wise as you claim, you won't need me to." He shoved himself away from the tree, scrapping off bark with his talons and rending the trunk with scars. "Think on it. I'll be back tomorrow." He went to leave, back to where his transport was parked some ways off, the only one left who'd listened to the sermon but didn't live in the compound itself.
Benezia called out to stop him, trailing after with light, graceful steps that did not mar the grass. "Saren, of all you could ask, why us?"
"You understand what it is to give up personal freedoms, to live with what is needed, not wanted. But mostly, from the first of your lectures I listened to: When faced with an enemy you do not understand, seek to understand them, so they are no longer your enemy." His words were kind, but his eyes were cold and hard. Devoid of compassion. It was a shame. They were such a lovely color.
