AN - I've had this idea in my head ever since Mass Effect 2 was released. I really wanted to explore how Thane met Irikah. I think the concept of Thane forcing Irikah to love him was really interesting, and I've been meaning to explore that aspect of their relationship. Please enjoy and review!
~Chestnut
The pedestal on which he stood was small. Washed out grey skies painted the horizon, where few clouds lingered and floated lazily on chill winds. His drink was becoming cold, he noticed, as his fingers graced the white porcelain. Beyond the small space where he sat were rows of geometric tin roofs and brightly coloured skycars. There was not enough space for him to do his exercises, but he would stretch, and perhaps take a walk down to the small park. The trees and shrubs were artificial, but the flowers remained untouched by machines and plastic. They were from Thessia; roses, and daisies? Along the small path he walked along every day were rows of pale dahlias and lilies whose petals brushed against his legs when he strode past them. Like a kiss, as if they were saying hello.
It was not Kahje, but it would have to do for now. There were no chimes with sea glass delicately woven into painted strings. No rocky fields of ocean grass and pebble beaches that hugged the crests of waves. Here it was mute and boring, as if someone had sucked the liveliness out of the people. The Asari seemed bored. There were no neon bars for them to inhabit - no poles to dance on and no one interesting enough to seduce. The culture here consisted of lavish inertness. It was like a renanisance painting in grayscale.
He was still young, he thought. Young enough to be naive yet old enough to be independant. Kahje had its interesting opurtunities and colourful characters, but the job he had taken up required that he stay in this suburban backwater architech's wet dream for a month. His rifle remained untouched in its case. His omnitool hadn't beeped in the last few days, and he was starting to feel like this would never end.
Thane sighed.
/ /
In only a few months, he was back on Kahje.
Although he didn't want to admit he missed the planet, it felt refreshing to be back on his home world. Admist his species he felt calmer than usual. Where he called home was a small house in Biodome Twelve, more commonly called 'Arevamut'. The word was old, from the language his peoples used before the Hanar came. It was the language one would find carved into the grand Temple of Amonkira on Rakhana: Large, swooping letters with strange accents and lines. It was a breezy language that felt good on the tongue, yet only a few people still used it. Old Drell.
His Master had greeted him kindly, glowing brightly with jovial amusement as Thane walked through the door. Everything seemed in place, and it smelled the same, too. He was allowed a few personal effects in his own private room, which consisted of a few small statues, holodiscs, and mementos of his time spent training when he was younger. His fingers found the small string of beads that rested on his bedside table. They were smooth and comfortable in his hand, and he was instantly transported back to when he had first received them.
Light dapples through the windows as Taiko stands before me. Tall, muscular and black he was intimidating. His golden eyes were kind, however, and he hands me a string of beads made from seaglass. They are the colour of rain kissed grass and are cold in my hand. 'Worry beads,' he says quietly. 'Every time you feel anxious, or worried, rub them between your hands. They feel calming, no?' I ask why he had given them to me, but Taiko laughs and merely gives me a playful bat on the shoulder.
Taiko. They had remained good friends even after their traning was completed. Where Thane focused more on stealth and the element of surprise, Taiko used his brute strength and wouldn't hesistate to completely sever a head from a body. They messaged each other from time to time, and occasionally met over a meal or a drink.
'Thane, I wish to speak to you.'
Fond memories were cut short as his Master strode into the room. Placing the beads back down on the nightstand, he turned to the floating pink alien and nodded gently. A few moments passed before any words were spoken.
'You have a new contract.'
'Already?' He walked out of his room and into the foyer. His Master floated behind him, and stopped beside a small shrine.
'Yes. This One received it only yesterday, before your arival. It is a contract to remove a representitive of Loranar Corporaton. This One has forwarded the contract to your omnitool.'
Thane nodded briefly and thanked his Master before returning to his room.
/ /
It was a rainy day in Biodome Arevamut.
Small pockets of people lingered near shops and businesses, some standing idly under awnings, others running for cover as the rain poured in gentle, wet sheets. He was sitting under the large tree beside the book store, and from the corner of his eye he could make out his target.
Target is a human male. Greying hair, scar over left eye. My fingers glide over the words, and I learn more about this man. He works for a corporation known for dealing with black market weaponary that gets snuck under Citadel Security. Weapons that are unstable and often used with mercs and pirates. Why he is on Kahje is a mystery.
He was talking into an earpiece, and from where Thane was seated, he could make out the orange glow of an omnitool. There were two female Drell standing to his left, although they did not look acquainted. One was pale brown with brilliant cerulean markings, whilst the other was a muted shade of red. They talked quietly amongst one another, exchanging tidbits of gossip as they shared two halves of a pastry. They looked like students. Thane found his eye wandering to the girl with the brown skin. For some reason she seemed almost ethereal, and he found himself wanting to walk over to her and demand what her name was.
Focus.
Loading his rifle, he easily slinked to the back of a shop. It was an easy ascention to the top, and he found cover behind a stack of bins. Making a few last minor adjustments, he prayed to Amonkira and leaned into the scope. The laser found the back of the man's head easily. A clean shot. Back of the skull, instant death. With his finger now on the trigger, he made sure his aim was just right. It was like picking off a bright red varren in a mute field.
He swore under his breath as something, or someone moved infront of the laser beam. Adjusting the scope, he raised his brow ridge as the figure came into view. It was the female drell, and she was staring right at him through the scope, the dot from the laser wiggling around on her chest. The smell of spice entered his nostrils.
'Inch'pes haram yek',' she mouthed. He could not hear her from where he was, but he could see what she was saying clearly enough.
How dare you...
Her eyes were pulled into ferocious slits, and he sucked in a breath as a distant light illuminated her orange irises.
She would not move, and Thane was forced to lower his weapon. His target had moved off, but she still remained. She began to walk away, but he had to meet her, he had to know why a civilian would be willing to risk their own life for someone they didn't know. Grunting as he packed his rifle away, Thane easily jumped down to the ground floor.
'Wait!' He ran after her.
This is foolish, he thought, she could be a distraction, you could be killed.
She turned on her heels and crossed her arms. He was taken by her eyes. They were like the fat, orange discs of Rakhana that slid lazily over the desert skies until they sunk into heated dunes. Like the twin suns, her eyes burned with unkown truth. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet from her intense affixiation.
'Can I help you?' Her eyes still suggested anger, and he took a step back.
'I...' He didn't know where to start. 'Why did you that?' Her blue brow plates shifted to show a slight twinge of confusion. 'Put yourself in harm's way.'
'Because Amonkira states we shall not take the lives of the innocent.' She nictated, and he was forced to stare at her brilliant sunset eyes. 'What did that man do? What has he done to deserve death?'
Thane gently grazed the back of his neck with his hand.
'I do not know. My master ordered me to take the hit.'
Her expression did not change.
'Anhavatali.'
Unbelievable.
'My spirit does not will my body,' he began. 'I take no responsibility for my kills.'
Her lips parted slightly, and she sighed.
'You have much to learn,' she said quietly. Her muted brown skin grew slick with rain. 'Kalahira has blessed us again.' She looked at him fleetingly before she turned to walk away. Thane grabbed the sleeve of her dress.
'Sek! Von e dzer anuny?'
Wait! What's your name?
She turned her head around.
'I do not give my name to those who so easily and carelessly take lives.'
He watched her as she walked away into the distance, arms swaying gracefully by her sides. The back of her head was spotted with splashes of blue and brown, and he found himself oddly staring at the intricate pattern. It reminded him of a seabird's egg.
He wondered if he would ever see her again.
/ /
Thane was swimming. Or he could have been swimming, but in fact he was just floating. It was dark, and his body was weightless, suspended in chilly water. Wavering, heatless starlight lanced down through the darkness. He could have thrashed and panicked, but instead he just let herself hang there, arms out in a dead man's float. Whatever was coming next could come. He opened her eyes, bathing them in a moist healing chill. He closed them again. There was nothing to see.
It was a glorious relief. The numbness of it was just magnificent. At the moment when it had been at its most intolerably painful, Kahje, normally so unrealiable and insensitive in these matters, had done him the favour of vanishing completely.
Granted, he would need air at some point. He would look into that in due course. As bad as things were, drowning would still be a hasty plan of action. For now all he wanted was to stay here forever, hanging neutrally buoyant in the amniotic void, neither in the world nor out of it, neither dead nor alive.
But an iron manacle was clamped around his wrist. It was the Drell woman, and she was pulling him up ruthlessly. She wouldn't let him be.
Thane awoke in a blunder of sheets and aggrevated pillows. Damn her.
His dreams were plagued with images of the phantom Drell. She would dance under shafts of moonlight, or sing to him from across a distant lake as still as glass. Her eyes, ever burning, haunted him. In this particular dream, she was sitting quietly under a shrouded tree, humming quietly to herself. When he drew near, she would only proceed to distance herself from him. When she turned her head to look at him, those eyes cut through his dream fog like a heated knife.
His heart was racing, and he had to take a minute before he finally caught his breath. He needed to find out who she was. He needed to ask for forgiveness. If she would not accept, he would force her. She had to accept it...she just had to. He would not be able to live a peaceful life if she refused.
His Master was especially furious with him about the missed shot, but Niyahir was approaching and Thane knew the Hanar would not want to disrupt his current air of benevolance. He went without food for a day, but this was not a new punishment for him.
Ena glares down at me, purple scales pulled taught across her angry face. I had accidentally knocked over her bowl of scented oil which she used for her morning prayers. The way the bowl splashed to the floor still striked terror in my heart. My punishment was three days without food.
It seemed like his next course of action was finding out where the enigmatic woman lived. He did not know where to start. He could search his contacts, ask around, maybe track down that other Drell with the red skin. But everything seemed impossible and it appeared like he would only be grasping at straws. Aggrevated, and at his wit's end, he decided to sneak off to the market down the street.
The market was small. Inside the air was cool and filtered. Per usual, Teef was sitting down beside the register, feet up on the counter and engrossed in a magazine. She didn't even notice him as he entered. Despite her eggshell skin he would have found her attractive if it weren't for her blatant alcoholism. He found it almost impossible to talk to her at times. He browsed the miniscule shelves and decided on a packet of nuts and dried fruit. It was all he could manage, everything else was too exotic and pricey.
'Hello, Krios,' she said. For once Thane found himself making eye contact. A rare occurance with Teef.
'Hello.' He transfered the credits to her register, and stuffed the packet into his coat pocket. And then there was that nagging feeling at the back of his neck. Maybe she would know where the woman lived. It was a longshot, but he had to try. 'I have a question to ask you-' He rested his arms down on the counter '-about someone.'
'Hmm?' She was reading Fornax. He would have chuckled if he weren't in such a serious mood.
'Do you happen to know a woman with brown skin and blue markings? Orange eyes?' He leaned against the counter and opened the packet. She tapped her finger against her chin and hummed quietly.
'Sounds familiar.' She closed her magazine, her slate-grey eyes studying him closely. 'Why, you fancy her or something?' Teef laughed. Thane crossed his arms over his chest and she quieted herself instantly. 'Ok, ok, I get it. Don't have to go all assassin mode on me.' She smacked the counter suddenly and Thane wanted to jump. 'Ah! I think I know who she is. She's in the same art class as me.'
'You? Art?' Thane was generally amused by this.
'Everyone has a hobby. Mine just doesn't center around killing people. Anyways, her name is Irikah. She lives in the four-hundred district. Don't know which house, though.' Teef opened the magazine. 'Now shoo, I'm busy.'
'Ever so charming.'
/ /
The four-hundred district was a three minute ride from his current district. He could walk, but he wanted to get there before it got dark. The shuttle was mostly deserted besides a couple who sat idly by the doors. The female was a quiet shade of green, whilst the male was a startling shade of yellow. They whispered words to each other and exchanged a soft stroke of the arm or leg, and Thane found himself oddly starring at the display.
It was still raining when he stepped out of the shuttle. The couple giggled and swayed and scurried away into some dark alley. He wondered where they were going. He tucked the flowers into his jacket and walked through the narrow corridors of the four-hundred district.
The darkness was absolute. Oily and black, it was more than an atmosphere. It was the accumulation of Kahje itself. The stars did not dare to reveal themselves, or if they did, the darkness refused to relent for them. Under the starless sky, the air felt more alive. The night's voice was silk. It sung, savoring the electricity of the day. Violence partook in the chorus. Thane listened as he walked, eyes on the sky. He counted the black stars in the distance. They were the stars' antitheses.
He thought of what he would say to her. It re-played in his head over and over: The possible scenarios, the dialogue. Every detail was refined until it was a smooth and reflective as a piece of glass. What if she slammed the door in his face? What if she did not say anything? Thane shook his head.
Finally, he found it.
The house was small and plainly decorated with a few symbols denoting her familie's name and which hanar they served under. There was a light on inside; could she be home? Thane felt his heart flutter as his knuckles rapped on the door.
It seemed like an eternity before the door opened, and when it did, he was blessed with the face of Arashu herself.
Her eyes seemed impossibly large as she studied his face. She seemed startled.
'What are you doing here?' She asked. Her voice was soft.
'I came to ask for your forgiveness.' He handed her the small bundle of desert flowers: Rakhana Mill Grass. 'You said I have much to learn,' he began. 'Could you perhaps teach me?' She nictated. Thane knelt to the ground, head hanging loose and resting on his chest. He studied the patterns on her skirt.
'Come inside,' she said softly. Thane nodded.
Her home was small. There was a book case, an art easel with an unfinished painting, a small neat bundle of paints, and a kitchen. She beckoned for him to sit. He sat down and folded his hands on his lap. He watched her, his eyes intent, as she found a small clay cylinder to put the flowers in.
'You are an artist?' He asked. Irikah nodded and filled the container with water.
'I paint memories.'
He looked at the painting; studied its dark blues and glowing speckles of aqua. Shimmers of pale pink and yellow formed strange and abstract shapes.
'What memory are you painting here?' He asked. Irikah placed the flowers down on the table and looked to the canvas.
'My first time seeing the Hanar in water,' she said. He nodded. Thane noticed she accomplished the task of showing the grace and agility of the Hanar. The abstract shapes made sense to him now. It was her own private conversation she was constantly having with herself displayed on canvas. She did not intervene when he unrolled the delicate fabric which held her paints.
'Oil paints. These are from Earth?'
She nodded and opened a tube that read 'Prussian Blue'.
'The old masters of Earth used oil paints. Leonardo da Vinci, Michaelangelo, Raphael. They would buy the pigment and mix it with linseed oil.' She squeezed a small amount out, just enough so that the colour collected near the opening of the container. The hue surprised him: A rich dark blue. It reminded him of the colour underneath her eyes. Irikah replaced the cap on the paint and placed her hand on her chest. 'Would you like some tea?'
Thane nodded. 'Yes, thank you.'
She plugged in the kettle and set a cup down infront of him. It was clay, and decorated with red and blue paint. He wondered if she had painted them. She brought out a small, waxy paper bag (almost identical to the ones children would collect candy in for Nyahir), and spooned in a dark green mixture. When the water boiled, she filled his mug. He sniffed it tentatively before drank. The aroma was thick and woody, like evergreens and spice.
'My mother made this blend,' Irikah said inbetween sips. 'The leaves and herbs were selectively grown on Rakhana, in small gardens protected by shade. They didn't need a lot of water, but we needed water for the tea. I guess it all worked out in the end.' She took another sip. 'I find it fascinating that these plants on their own have no particular meaning to me, but when they come together my senses are instantly ignited with the memories of my childhood. I wonder how that works?'
Thane nodded. 'Thy memory be a dwelling place,' he said queitly.
'The purpose of your visit,' she began. 'You want me to teach you...?'
'The other day. When I was about to take that hit.' He showed the undersides of his wrists. 'You intervened.'
'Yes.'
'You told me I have much to learn.' That seemed to be enough for she closed her softly curved lips.
'I know the way that drell assassinate. They pray to Amonkira before taking a life, they pray to Arashu during the death, and they pray to Kalahira after the death. But Amonkira does not permit us to kill the innocent. Arashu does not permit us to pray for the wicked. Kalahira does not permit us to pray for the wicked who will cross the ocean.'
'There is no such thing as innocence. Only degrees of guilt.' He folded his hands under his chin.
'But without innocence one cannot be guilty.' Irikah studied him closely. 'Do you see the beauty in life? Do you understand that every waking moment is precious? That we must cherish the life we have been given?' Before he could answer, she sat down again. 'You must not, because you are so willing to take the lives of others: Wicked or not.'
He was incredulous. He couldn't hold it back anymore. All the grief and guilt he'd been salting away so carefully was coming back to him as anger. The ice was cracking. The pond was boiling. He was reminded now that because of her he wasn't able to complete his assassination. Thane was beginning to see the other side of the story.
'My Master punished me when I returned home.' He traced his finger around the lip of his cup. 'No food for a day. Seems hardly something to pine over, but it was still a punishment none the less.'
'You are worried about a day without food when those you have killed now have an eternity of death?' She shook her head. 'Is that really the best you could do?'
As if realising what she had said, she dropped her eyes to the floor. Sweet, caring Irikah had returned.
'I am sorry.'
'You're sorry.' The woman was unbelievable. 'Good. Show me how sorry you are. Let's go back to my district and I can finish that contract. Take me back.'
'No,' she said. 'We can't go back.'
'What do you mean, no? We can go back! We can and we will!'
He was talking to her louder and louder, staring at her, as if by talking and staring he could force her into doing what he needed her to do. She had to! And if talking wouldn't do, he could make her. She was a small woman, and apart from that emptiness he was willing to bet that he was twice the philanthropist she'd ever be.
She was shaking her head.
'You have to understand.' She didn't back away. She spoke softly, as if she could soothe him, placate him into forgetting what she'd done. 'I'm you, I am not a god. I am you only sane. I see what you do not see. Don't you get it? We are all the same.'
Suddenly she did look very tired, as her eyes lost their focus, as if she were seeing into some other world, one she would never let go. It made it hard for him to keep up his high-pressure rage. It kept bleeding away even as he stoked it.
Suddenly, she nictated.
A wounded bird is on the beach, its wings crippled and legs bent. I pick the bird up, trying to see if I can fix it some how, but there is nothing I can do. The bird is helpless, and in its eyes I am all powerful. I hold this being's life in my hands, and I am the observer of the gods' circle. There is a small flicker of darkness as the bird passes, and I quietly pray to Kalahira. The bird gently floats away on an ebbing shore.
All of his anger and guilt had washed away as she recited her memory to him. Thane had finally recalled why he had come here in the first place. Forgiveness.
'I...I am sorry, for earlier. For snapping.' He took one of her hands in his own, cool and slim, and squeezed. 'I am still learning.' He studied her face. 'Do you forgive me?'
She removed her hand from his, and looked at him seriously for a moment. He wanted to look away from her gaze.
'I cannot forgive you until you learn, truly learn, what it is like to know the beauty of life.' She got up briefly, placing their mugs in the sink. 'Physical or metaphysical, there is always something meaningful in every day. You must learn that there is more beyond the life of an assassin.'
'How will you show me?' He asked. 'Show me how to see the beauty in life?'
Irikah was silent for a few brief seconds before she answered.
'Come with me,' she said. Thane nodded.