The Keeper
She is like stolen treasure, past lost within the scriptures of old warriors, a relic sitting upon the mantle of my mother's living quarters, on display, but do not touch. It is not for touching, but for remembering. A soldier's sword, a shield, a helm, a lover's necklace, a beggar's shoe. She is everything to everyone, yet nothing on this physical plane. She is a wisp, a dream, a laugh, a high pitched tone following the wind. It flows around me, whispers, caresses. I am the light, I am the darkness. I am...
She has such pale skin. White, incandescent, smooth and soft like porcelain, clear glass so fragile, cracks under the slightest touch. I am shooed away, prevented from pursuing. She is a forbidden fruit, the forbidden fruit. But I step forward anyways, I follow her shadow, watch her back, her long hair and long form, her gun. I reach and I reach until under fingertips, the smooth glass cracks. It cracks and shatters and falls to the ground and cries and moans and groans and twists and turns and arches and gasps and she is everything and I am nothing.
But after, when she moves against me, her small nose pressed tightly up against my neck, hot breath tickling. Her soft whispers warm me, though she does not move her lips. I understand the secrets and lullabies between us, they are quiet but powerful, the drumming of a battle, the laugh of a child. She sits up and looks down at me; I trace her scars from long ago fights, but also the scratches and bitemarks and red that I have inflicted upon such fragile skin. She smiles. I have died happy, content, fulfilled. She laughs at my 'cheesy romantic side' but added that although I very well do have reach, she had no idea I would have reached so far as to effect her 'here' - a tiny, white, smooth finger points right at her bare chest.
I wish I could tell her how I feel, how her presence in my life has taken over what I previously thought was myself, has overridden every single choice I have made, and will make, has invaded my dreams and waking hours, has crawled into my skin and refused to leave. But my silence brings more understanding, unspoken words satisfying her in more ways than possible. But Shepard is different, always has been, always will be.
She is the guardian of all worlds, the mother of all species, the lover of every soul, and the keeper of my heart.
She is everything, and I - I am her nothing.