A/N: Originally published to AO3 on 2017-04-02.

This is an experimental four-part fic about a young Aria, along with some equally youthful allies, entering conflict with enemies who have close connections to high places. In this part of Aria's life her name is most certainly not Aria, but the name is used nevertheless for ease of reading and to preserve the mystery about who she was born as.

APHELION

A finger tapped incessantly against the dashboard, broadcasting her slipping patience. It had been ten minutes since Ynara's reply, which promised imminent emergence from the house. Obviously she was held up by something, and knowing Ynara, it was either by her own tendency to fret in front of the mirror as the clock ticked their date away, or worse, by her overbearing mother who might have impeded her attempt to abscond to the car idling on the driveway. It was a fine vehicle with an executive black body and creamy white highlights, but its modish singularity ensured it would never be mistaken for another, and therefore its owner always identified at a glance. No lies about the company Ynara aspired to place herself in would ever make it past anyone endowed with the mere faculty of sight.

A frustrated exhale left Aria's lips. At this point she was nearly certain that Ynara's delay was inflicted by her mother, with whom she was inevitably arguing with. That was her girlfriend's greatest foible: entertaining arguments well past their proper resolution, and always believing in her own capacity to persuade the other side if only through the power of attrition. But they didn't have time for attrition tonight.

"Wonder what's keeping her," the mildly slurred voice of Pirwa reached her from the back row of seats, followed by the sound of creaking upholstery as attention was directed through the tinted windows and toward the house. "Try messaging her again?"

After some consideration, Aria drearily decided, "No. I think I'll have to go get her." She powered down the car with a few inputs on the control panel, shifted her posture to access her own pockets, and took a quick inventory of her personal items before opening the door. After closing it, she turned back toward the car and gestured for the remaining occupant to roll down her window. "Stay with the car," she said. "Don't come up to the house unless I say so. You look like shit."

Pirwa wryly gazed at her, feeling that her bearing adorned with many inharmonious black tattoos, a piercing or two along her crest, and a weathered black jacket pinned up with visibly infinite diverse metal ornaments, were abnormally tame features compared to those of some of their other friends. But Aria was right. Ambling up to Ynara's strict mother's doorstep, half-drunk off the flask in her hand, would do nothing to improve their case. "Fine," she agreed. "I'll just hop up to shotgun and put some music on. Knowing that old broad, we could be here a while."

"Whatever," Aria ceded. She pushed herself away from the car and began heading up the driveway. Upon stealing a skyward glance she cursed under her breath at what looked to be rain. A finger was placed on the doorbell; a subtle button at the peak of a thin, waist-high metal beam rising up from the porch's bed of well-tended succulents. She made to straighten out her light jacket's collar, but paused when she noticed voices from within the residence, seemingly invigorated by her request for entry. Before long the door swung open, but instead of being greeted by the sympathetic eyes of Ynara, Aria found herself confronting the hard stare of her mother Dishala—on the cusp of her matriarch years and more than experienced enough to spot the trouble brewing in the soul of someone like Aria.

"Get off of my porch," she coldly demanded, her enunciation deliberate and precise.

Aria held fast, steeled in defiance. Not another second had passed before Ynara appeared beside her mother, trying to pry her way into sight. "I just don't understand why you hate her so much!" she exclaimed. "What has she ever done to you, Mother? When has she ever caused either of us problems? You never had a problem with Juviana, even when she got into that big brawl with Mirea's stepson and broke his arm! You know why? It was because Juviana was a turian. You were so happy to see me dating another species that you only started complaining when we broke up!"

"That isn't the reason," Dishala hissed. "And you know it isn't. This isn't just another immature 'bad girl' foray of yours. I know her type. I know those tattoos. You're in well over your head."

"Current street style," said Aria, calm and confident.

"Don't you take me for a fool," the matron retorted. "I know damn well who you associate yourself with. I know damn well—"

"Mother!" Ynara interjected. "You constantly subject Aria to your raving and I'm just so sick of it. You always assume you know everything about her and insult her without even giving her a chance! I swear, if you don't let me go with her tonight… maybe I'll just start living with her instead. We could do anything we like, whenever we like, and you'd have no say."

The threat shattered Dishala's resolve. Apparently, that was the worst case scenario in her mind, and she acted appropriately. She fumed but held herself with erect, defiant propriety as she permitted Ynara past the frame of the door where she joined Aria and slipped a possessive arm around her waist. The gesture of closeness was reciprocated; Aria's blatant statement of victory that only infuriated the matron more. As the pair retreated from the porch, Dishala snapped at their departing backs, "Stay away from that disgusting club! So help me, Ynara, if I find out you've been there again…"

"Goodnight, Mother. I'll send a message if I'm not back before midnight."

As the two strode blithely down the gentle slope of the driveway, Aria turned to her date to pose a sly question against her temple, "So, when are you moving in?" She kissed her cheek. Ynara looked so lovely, stylish, and mature in her evening dress and thin coat, yet keeping Aria's fancies wholesome and temperate. Either way, Aria could scarcely keep her eyes off of her.

Ynara smiled. "You know I wouldn't suddenly invite myself like that. I only said it to get away from her. But, if you're offering… maybe it's something we can start talking about."

When they reached the car, Aria retrieved her arm from her girlfriend's waist to rap her knuckles against the passenger side's window. Muffled music thudded from within. Faintly, Aria could make out the silhouette of Pirwa lifting her flask to her lips before capping it, turning off the music, and fumbling with the door handle for a moment before she was able to stagger out.

"Pirwa?" Her presence surprised Ynara.

"Nice to see you, Ynara," she flatly said while relegating herself to the back seats. After climbing in inelegantly Aria closed the door for her and started rounding the car to the driver's side, but Ynara stopped her by gripping her wrist and reeling her in.

"Please tell me you're just giving her a ride home," she whispered mere centimeters from Aria's face. Her brow was drawn with concern.

Aria briefly pressed her lips into a thin line as she stole a glance away, forcing herself to confess the truth. "She's coming with us," she replied upon meeting her eyes again.

"Aria, are you serious? You told me this was our date—just us."

"Something came up. We're only going meet up with some people for a few minutes. Then I'll take you anywhere you like, and we'll do anything you want. Just us."

Ynara eyed her skeptically for a moment before deciding to let it slide. She released Aria, permitting them both to take their seats. With the doors shut, Aria passed her hand over the ignition, lifted the car from the driveway, and brought up the computer's interface to name their destination. Autopilot proceeded to carry them there, freeing Aria's hands so she could lay one on Ynara's knee, but it only remained there for several seconds before Ynara peeled it away and laced their fingers together instead. As they soared beyond the relatively affluent residential district and into the heart of the city proper, small droplets of rainwater began tapping against the windshield and quickly streaking away from their velocity. The curved towers rising around them in a metallic canyon glistened with rebounded violets, blues, and striking yellows; and tonight, Kurinth's comforting glow was obscured by the thickening cloud cover.

"I'm sorry my mother is always so rude to you, Aria," Ynara breached the silence. She stroked her hand with her thumb. "I don't know how you're able to keep composed whenever you're face-to-face. But I'm glad you do. It helps me believe that someday she'll finally come around."

"That'll be the day," Pirwa dryly remarked.

Ignoring the pessimism from the back seat, Aria responded, "There are a lot of people out there who aren't too fond of me. I figure, as soon as you let it get under your skin they've nearly won. Besides, Dishala's just being protective, so at least her motivation is sound. I think I can fork over a little respect for that."

"Oh, there's definitely more to it," said Ynara. "I was dead serious when I brought up my ex. Half of my mother's problem with you is that you're asari. I mean, she's aware that I can barely stand to date outside our race. With Juviana, I liked her personality, liked going out and having fun, but… I just remember how kissing her was a chore to me. Turians are so… flinty. Spiny and rough. And then you have to worry about all those allergic reactions if you're not careful. It's a complete hassle. I want something soft." She briefly lifted Aria's hand to her lips, but kept her line of sight directed at the streaks of water running briskly down the window as her mind turned. "She makes me feel like there's something wrong with me. What if there is?"

"That's ridiculous," Aria scoffed.

"Yeah," Pirwa agreed. "If there's something wrong with you, that means there was something wrong with every damn asari who ever lived before we met the salarians. Think of it as just being old school."

"I do, for the most part. But what if I'm just racist?"

After a few seconds over which Aria gradually comprehended Ynara's words, she hissed "What?" and regarded her in vexation.

"Not wanting to be with someone solely because they're of a certain race. Isn't that textbook racism, when you think about it?" Ynara asked. Her tone had become uncharacteristically dire.

"Not when it's a different species," Pirwa replied, leaning forward to temporarily increase her proximity to the front seats and the discussion taking place there. "It's only by crazy chance that we can reproduce with aliens. And no one thinks they're racist when they aren't interested in being alien-fuckers. Why should we be held to a different standard?"

"I don't know…" Uncertainty weighed heavily on Ynara's voice. "I know I shouldn't have, but last week I read something my mother gave me. Called Opening your Heart to our Neighbors. It was a manual about training yourself to be attracted to aliens, for those who aren't. There was even a chapter about sex. Oh, I hated it. Then the author talked about having children, how mating with aliens amplifies genetic recombination and tends to produce the healthiest offspring, and how it's our duty to give our future children the best possible odds."

"You burn that shit, Ynara," Aria said, possessed by a sudden fury that surprised her girlfriend. "You take everything that bitch gave you that even insinuates eugenics and you trash it."

"Aria, I know my mother can be horrible but I don't want you calling her a bitch. Only I can do that."

"Fine—whatever. But I'm serious." Aria gave a short, agitated sigh. "Look, I'm not trying to be harsh. But if you convince yourself to be something you're not, you'll regret it. I can tell you now: if you go out, conform, bond and have babies with some alien chump you don't even like touching, they'll be a fucking cuckold for the rest of their life while you go off looking for intimacy at the clubs and bars you already frequent now. And there you'll brood about how much happier you would've been if you had bonded with someone who fulfills you."

"Aria…"

"What?"

"You're going to make me cry."

Aria turned at once to face Ynara, who had lifted her free hand to touch her eyes with the back of her wrist. Remorse fluxed instinctually in her blood and she squeezed her hand tighter. "I just don't want you to cave when people put pressure on you to live how they want you to," she said quietly. "It's one thing to lie to other people about who you are, but something else entirely to lie about who you are to yourself. It'll make you miserable. You don't deserve that." She unlocked her glovebox, sifted past her lighter, pocket knife, and a sturdy leather case, to produce for Ynara a cloth handkerchief.

"You're always so sure of yourself," said Ynara. She lightly dabbed at her eyes. "You always seem to know exactly where you're going, what you're doing, and what you want… I'm so jealous of that. Meanwhile I still question whether we really are the rowdy, inbreeding chauvinistic youth they accuse us of being, and hate myself for it."

"I'd say about half of that is correct, actually," Pirwa offered. "No shame in giving credit where it's due." Her comment seemed effective in that it brought a small exhale of laughter to Ynara's lips.

"Right," Aria said, tossing a glance over her shoulder to momentarily smirk at Pirwa. "And in your case I suppose the 'inbred' part carries most of the statement's truth?"

"Fuck you, Aria."

. . .

Before long they had reached their destination. It was a club in the dense downtown of one of the smaller Ianthian isles, above whose entrance was fixed a neon sign reading in magenta asari script: Aphelion. After leaving the car in a parking structure across the street, the trio hiked out across the pedestrian bridge suspended over the city's lower stratified levels and toward the queue. They did not join the queue, however; Aria led them directly to the bouncer, who amicably acknowledged Aria by name and admitted her party without hesitation after grasping hands with her in pleasant greeting.

The interior of Aphelion was multi-tiered and awash in light of rotating hue, and music driving the activity of the dance floor at the back echoed incorruptibly all the way to the front glass doors. Spotting an alien amongst the crowds was a considerable challenge, where those few present usually appeared in larger groups of friends who had undoubtedly vouched for their unobtrusive intentions. Otherwise, the patrons were almost exclusively asari, as was the racial makeup of the pair they approached at the bar behind which numerous shelves of liquor were enticingly illuminated by icy blue-white. They welcomed Aria and her party with enthusiasm before making room on the seats.

There was Hovi, a disreputable but superficially professional individual dressed in a gray herringbone blazer a half-size too big for her stature, which was of slightly shorter than average height. Hovi stood facing them with her elbows propped on the bar in a stance of objectionable superiority. She was accompanied by the much taller and lankier Eshia, whose attire was less overtly confrontational than Pirwa's but as equally somber in hue and worn to ruggedness. Eshia's features were painted by aggressive, angular red designs that nearly distracted from the crooked bridge of a previously-broken nose, but at certain angles, seemed to only draw attention to it. They hailed the bartender and enjoyed another round of drinks together.

"Aria texted me earlier," Eshia explained to Ynara after leaning in and raising her voice a bit to contend with the music. "She said to not be surprised if you were late. Something about your mother?"

"It's a long story," replied Ynara. "She just hates Aria, is all. Thinks she's big trouble. Maybe that's true sometimes—" She raised an hand, fitted a few fingers beneath Aria's chin, and directed her girlfriend into facing her before she left a teasing kiss on her lips. "—but she's more good than she is bad for me. Did she tell you that we met here?"

"Don't," Aria advised, turning back to her glass to fit her fingertips over the rim.

"I was with friends," she continued. "They're far more accepting of me than my mother. Anyway, a few months ago we were over in the booths having some dinner, and I see this impossibly good-looking creature gazing over at us from the bar. She had this smolder that got me fixated. If someone had shot me in the chest I wouldn't have known the difference. When my friends noticed who I was staring at, they started making a scene, of course. Waving at her, gesturing her over. I was mortified. Especially when she did come over, because that's when she said to me, 'It's unacceptable that I don't know the name of the most attractive person in the building. I thought I knew everyone who was anyone. Seeing you makes me think—maybe I've been deluding myself.'"

While Eshia laughed, Aria amusedly asked Ynara, "You actually remember all that?"

"Well, yes. If you ever leave me for another girl I need to ask her if you said the same to her. That way she'll give you hell for a day or two."

Her cleverness earned much of Aria's attention as they drew closer and each held an arm about the other's waist. The affectionate pose was short-lived, however. The bartender approached the five, stopped in front of Aria, and tapped her knuckles on the bar to steal her focus. Aria looked up in time to hear the words, "The manager wants a word, round back. Says you know the way?"

Aria nodded once before addressing the confused Ynara. She retrieved her arm and contritely kissed her hand before explaining that she had another friend to speak to, arguably the reason why she had to rescind their date's exclusivity in the first place. Reluctantly, Ynara let her go. She was left to spectate the obnoxiously conversing Hovi and Pirwa.

"I'm serious," Pirwa was telling her. "Some asari have trouble conceiving and it's been proven that having sex—intimate massages and stuff—helps stimulate reproductive nerve tissue, dilates it and whatnot. It's in all the scientific papers, I swear. Anyway, that's the kind of doctor I want to be after I go to school. I'm going to help all those pretty future moms have babies."

"Shut up, you drunk pervert piece of shit," Hovi glared. "The only thing they'd let a quack like you do in a hospital is clean out bedpans."

"Oh yeah? Actually, I'll probably end up testing reflexes like this, bitch—" She swiftly scooped up a handful of complementary nuts and assaulted Hovi's face with them.

Somehow Ynara survived them until Aria returned, but she was not there to stay. Only leaving the rationally-compromised Pirwa behind to entertain the dismayed and irritated Ynara, Aria stole away both Hovi and Eshia, led them through the employee-only areas, and out of a back door leading to an alley in which the surrounding businesses deposited trash for municipal pickup.

They stood beneath an awning to shield themselves from the rain. Cigarettes were offered to cut the tension, but only one was lit. Aria had lost her pleasant mood and replaced it with disquieting austerity, alluding to what could only be unsavory news. For a time they watched her stare pensively at the scattered puddles, where reflections of street sconces and neon rippled wildly on the surfaces as water collected, and said nothing as twisting plumes of steam rose from pavement warmed in the early summer sun of cloudless midday.

"The manager showed me a picture," Aria began, sounding abnormally divested for such grave subject matter. "Of Talyra T'Pelas. Taken a few days ago."

"T'Pelas?" Hovi echoed. "That runner girl, right?" A few crumbs still clung to her front, evidence of her bickering about nothing with Pirwa.

Aria nodded, slowly and without removing her gaze from the puddles. "That runner girl," she confirmed. After drawing on her cigarette, she elaborated. "The picture showed her talking to Gaila Atesi. Passing something to her."

"Shit…" Eshia breathed. "It was really them? You're sure?"

Aria nodded again, shallowly this time. "She knows she's not supposed to be talking to Atesi. She knows what it means to us. There's only one reason why she'd talk to her."

"She's snitching on us," Hovi needlessly supplied, peering out at the rain as if the weather were the odious phenomenon responsible for her horror. "To fucking crooked cops… For what? Take us out of the action, monopolize the streets? She's crazy if she thinks this move will elevate her any amount."

"Or she got sloppy," said Aria. "Got caught, wants a plea bargain. The off-the-books sort. Or… maybe she's found some long-term profit in the idea of leveling competition. Easier to price gouge. Bigger cuts for everyone involved. At least, that's the logic."

"But Atesi's still a fucking cop," said Hovi. "Someday she'll be done with them. She'll make the big bust all herself and retire to the cushy life while her scum rots in prison. Goddess, how can T'Pelas be so damn stupid?" She curtly pushed back the tails of her open blazer to rest her hands on either side of her belt, into which her black high-collared shirt was tucked.

"We still have some flexibility," said Eshia. "T'Pelas doesn't know our real names, doesn't know our faces, and doesn't even know that we know her. She just knows some dead drops."

"And that means Atesi knows some dead drops," Hovi grumbled. "Now our operation comes screeching to a halt. We need to let all the other runners know to lay low immediately."

"Already taken care of," said Aria. "A warning was sent out through the anonymous channel a long time ago. The manager was patient in letting us know because we're the ones who are going to handle things. Handling takes preparation."

Hovi nodded in contemptuous understanding while tapping her foot against the ground, producing a rhythmic click with her toe of her expensive shoe. Then she shook her head as if belatedly finding the position they had been forced into abysmally unjust. "Why do we gotta handle T'Pelas? What kind of resources does corporate think we have? What do they expect us to do, buy her back?"

"You can't buy loyalty," Aria replied. "It'll go to the highest bidder sooner or later and we'll be back to square one."

"Then what do we do?" asked Eshia. She fidgeted with the leather sleeve of her jacket. "Aria? You got a plan?"

"Yeah, I've got a plan," said Aria. She tossed her cigarette out into the curtain of rain, watching the burning flicker of orange go dark as she stuffed her hands into the pockets of her pants and glared icily at nothing in particular. "We put T'Pelas out of business for good."

"You don't mean…" Hovi hesitantly began. The darkness congregating in Aria's expression revealed her intentions, and they were most certainly drastic. "No way, Aria. Fuck that. It's one thing to get locked up over dealing, but murder? I don't fuck with that life."

"I'm not going to prison period," firmly stated Aria. "She needs to be silenced and I don't care how. Hell, I have an unregistered dhaka in my glovebox. Semi-automatic. I know her address and usual haunts, and I can get access to perchloric within a few days if we need it."

Hovi's complexion went several shades paler. "Holy shit, Aria, slow down," she said. "Perchloric? Are you insane? That shit explodes if you're not careful with it! You know what—no. No way are we even considering this. That is not part of my job description. There's gotta be another way, you two. I'm no killer, okay? Think harder. What if we just scare her? Send a message, you know? You said you know where she lives—so how about we go trash her living situation? If it freaks her out enough maybe she'll turn useful down the road. Give us the word from the precinct every now and then."

"I've got bats and paint," Eshia instantly offered, just as eager to exit discourse about murder as Hovi. "Can't rent a cab because we'll be on record, but we can take one of our cars, park a block away, start hopping gates, and lay ruin to T'Pelas's property. How about it? She'll know someone's out to get her by morning if we don't wake her up with all the racket."

"She lives in a condominium, so we'll have to be quick," said Aria. "But… I think we can work with this. Best improvement over my plan is we're not in charge of cleanup." Seeing their hard, incredulous stares, Aria added as if surprised at their severity, "Just a joke. You were right about something important, Hovi. Don't waste resources. If we can turn T'Pelas into a mole, she might become an even bigger asset than she was previously. Hopefully that's all it'll take—a little encouragement from us."

"Nice!" Hovi clapped and rubbed her hands together with excitement. "We'll load up Eshia's junker, right? Aria's ride is too flashy for this kinda op. We're gonna need some outfits, too. Masks, hoodies, gloves. I can supply those. When do you want to head out?"

"How about we meet at Eshia's place half past two?" Aria proposed.

"Sounds good," Eshia agreed. "I'll have the car ready to go."

. . .

Discreetly they parted ways, but not before Hovi uttered a final curse of, "Fuck, should've just sold candy bars. Light bulbs or some shit." She and Eshia left Aphelion to begin their preparations while Aria returned to save Ynara from hearing more of the long, pointless tale Pirwa was weaving at the bar. Ynara accepted her offer to buy her dinner to compensate for her inattentiveness, but before they left the bar to slip into a booth, Aria harshly demanded that Pirwa sober up and call a cab home. With so many plans in place for the night, Aria didn't have the mindset for babysitting and couldn't be bothered to drive her anywhere. Pirwa whined but acquiesced.

When Aria settled in with Ynara, they sat abreast and not across from one another as they browsed the menu projected from a tablet mounted in the table. Aria looped an arm about her waist and bade Ynara to order whatever she wanted, trying to thaw her lasting irritation at being neglected. Her success was gradual. By the time their food had arrived Ynara had become fairly well-disposed to her again, perhaps cheered up by a hot meal more than Aria's determination. They shared a platter of marinated, beautifully marbled meat sliced thinly and fried in oil along with fresh vegetables, and another plate of miniature grilled sandwiches stuffed with minced and seasoned lunch meat—Ynara's long-time favorite.

Leaving a morsel poised on the end of her utensil, Ynara postponed her dining to say, "Pirwa told me that you're going to apprentice under Matriarch Visela. She said she's already selected you to be one of her new students. I hear she only takes on ten at a time and there's maidens all over the planet trying to get her attention. Is it true?"

Aria closed her eyes to exhale at Pirwa's indiscretion, but nodded. "It's true."

"I know you've talked about wanting to be a huntress in the past, but, I thought you were going to stay on the wait list for school. Weren't you going to study business?"

"I thought about it," said Aria. "But I'm too restless." She tried to eject herself from the conversation by filling her mouth with another bite, but there would be no simple escape.

"You'll be leaving," Ynara persisted. "For years."

"Yeah," answered Aria after swallowing. "I'm supposed to leave in six months."

Ynara grew intensely introspective for a moment before concluding, "I don't want to guilt you or discourage you, because a big decision like this… I can see it's extremely important to you. But I have to ask—will you still keep in contact? Or… is this a new beginning for you?"

"I'll keep in contact," Aria reassured her. Beneath the table she found Ynara's hand resting in her lap and grasped hold of it. "The training is supposed to be rigorous but it isn't as though I'll be under communication embargo. I can still talk to whoever I please."

She seemed relieved to know that Aria's imminent departure would not necessary terminate their relationship. "I hear Visela's as religious as she is selective. Are you going to pray with her and the other apprentices every morning and evening?" Ynara smiled.

"If it makes me the best damn commando in the hemisphere, then I don't see why not." Charming nonchalance bled from her tone.

That made Ynara laugh, finding the image of a pious Aria completely comical. "So how were you selected? What's her process like, what was she looking for? What made you stand out?" She leaned into her.

"Well," Aria began, "she just told applicants to impress her. So Pirwa helped me make a short vid—jumped across a few tower rooftops and stopped a car doing two-fifty." She shrugged, but no modesty was conveyed. "Idiotic stunts we used to pull when we were in our thirties. I like to think I've always had noticeable aptitude. I was pleased to see the matriarch agree."

"Or maybe she thought it wise to contain you for being a danger to society..."

Aria smiled with moderate pride. "What about you, Ynara? While I'm gone, what'll you be doing? University, right? Still planning on being a curator?"

"Probably," she replied. "That, or maybe I'll teach history at a university somewhere. It's hard, deciding. Sometimes I wonder how so many people can bear sticking with one field or profession. There's just so much to do and see, to be. I hope I never end up entrenched somewhere in mundanity like my mother, repeating the same day over and over, never possessed by the urge to venture beyond the closest supermarket. Is that a weird fear to have?"

"No, not at all," said Aria. With her spare hand she gripped Ynara's knee, filling her palms with as much of her girlfriend as possible without displaying prurience, and continued, "I feel precisely the same."

She might have elaborated, or spun her words to imply that she felt such capriciousness for all matters save Ynara, had not a body stepped into the path of the multi-colored beams that once set their table wonderfully alight. Perturbed, Aria's gaze lifted to a find a familiar face beholding them with an amiable expression; a gentle smile whose insincerity could be keenly perceived through a brittle shell of solicitude. While Aria's eyes widened upon identifying who had approached them, Ynara remained oblivious and merely inquisitive, thinking her to be another friend of Aria's. And she seemed to be correct, as far as she was led to understand.

"Hello. I'm terribly sorry to intrude on your dinner," said the asari. "I was just so curious I had to introduce myself, seeing as you're obviously close to Aria. Me and her, we used to be good friends. If she's taken a liking to you, then you must be something really special."

"Well I'm always happy to meet Aria's friends. I'm Ynara," said she, reaching out to grasp the stranger's hand in greeting. "Ynara Rausi. Pleased to meet you."

"Talyra T'Pelas," said Ynara's new acquaintance. "Ynara… what a dreamy name. I'll definitely remember it."

Ynara issued a polite smile but glanced back at Aria in perplexity, unable to figure why she was suddenly grasping her twice as hard as before, or why she stared at Talyra as if she were a hideous phantom; fixedly, with wild reproach trembling in her irises, like a branch in a gale about to snap.