A/N: Note the change in rating, which is now M. Thank you for your feedback, it is much appreciated.
Chapter 3: Sexual Selection
:::
"The sight of a feather in a peacock's tail, whenever I gaze at it, makes me sick."
- Charles Darwin in a letter to Dr. Asa Gray, April 1860.
:::
Two pairs of legs strode down the immaculate halls of an Oxford hospital, clinging to the right wall to avoid the traffic of stretchers and practitioners. Though the sheer multitude and direness of emergencies as of late had fallen since the first week following the war, wounded refugees and the general sick were still pouring through the doors in considerable numbers. Liara was honestly impressed at the doctor's ability to multitask; how she was actively having a conversation with her while attending to the business and responsibilities of her experience in her profession was very engaging to observe. It was particularly fascinating because she knew that she lacked that talent herself. While immersed in her studies, research, and any other unmentionable operations, words spoken by others were usually met with tiny, inadequate sounds or single-syllable utterings of affirmation rather than any fleshed-out communication.
"I can't thank you enough for the donation, Liara," said Karin Chakwas as she passed on a datapad to a nurse. "And even more that you've come to visit me amidst all this chaos. It's all too hectic around here, and I miss the Normandy so. I know I'm most needed on-planet for the moment being, but I'll always crave the exciting, abrupt transitions between peace and absolute catastrophe when aboard that ship. "
"Joker's still officially piloting the Normandy, right?" Liara asked, dodging a pair of soldiers on crutches and managing to stay a single pace behind Chakwas. "He'd be lost without you. I think that secures you a spot on the Normandy in the future."
"Yes, that would be most pleasant. But not quite the same. We'll be missing the haunting dangers of imminent doom that once lulled us to sleep," she laughed softly. "Oh, I ache for poor Joker. He's been miserable lately without EDI. I miss her dearly myself. Forgive me, I shouldn't be putting your mood out. What I should be saying is that you were always a delight to speak to, Liara, from humble beginnings in your makeshift quarters behind the med bay to your office across the mess. I will never forget any of it. I suppose I say this now because it isn't likely that I shall see you aboard that frigate ever again."
Liara smiled, though a bit lamentingly.
"By the way, I've been forwarded Shepard's medical records from her previous doctor. Her doctor was apparently tired of hounding her for not taking it easy as recommended, and Shepard requested to be transferred to me. I said to her, 'Why of course, Commander, it isn't like I'm drowning in other clients as it is'. I was kidding; I'd rather treat my crew than anyone else. You're all still my family and you always will be. I bring up Shepard because you'll probably be heading off to see her soon."
"Yes. I've officially finished my work on the relay. I wish I could have contributed more. Although my archeological repertoire of knowledge gave the engineers a schematic template of common Prothean designs to work from, I couldn't help much more than that. My understanding of advanced physics is a little more than rudimentary. I think it's vital for me to start surrounding myself with other fields of science, and fortunately I believe I will be able to dedicate time to that now. Hopefully Shepard has taken to new personal ambitions lately as well, because it doesn't seem like she'll be commanding any ships for a while."
"Well you'll be pleasantly surprised to hear that she's been out very often lately, mostly alternating her aid between members of our former team in whatever tasks they had taken up; clearing rubble, a few escorts, mostly odd jobs. I think they've all run out of ideas now, as they've decided to host a fundraiser today at the recreational center a few blocks away. And guess what hook they're using to get people to come in? They're boxing each other. Give them a few unsupervised hours to organize an event and they have naturally taken to strutting about like peacocks to get people to throw money at them..."
"A peacock?"
"Have you ever seen a peacock, Liara? Some of the most ridiculous and confounding abominations in the face of practical evolution. The male peafowl sacrificed all traces of effective camouflage for a gaudy tail of vibrant plumage and an iridescent body as blue and green as anything could ever be. I suspect that the trait came to fruition in the absence of predators, which I believe to only be large felines, whose numbers are usual low. Anyway, they use all that madness to attract the peahen, who only chooses to mate with those whom she deems most luminous, as it indicates the level of health. I use them as a comparison to our friends – particularly those who conjured up this idea for a fundraiser – because more than likely, they're just prancing around the floor with their shirts off, feigning back and forth until people place enough bets. I know them; they all think they're the most magnificent things to have ever graced this galaxy," Chakwas paused to notify a woman in scrubs that she was needed on the fourth floor. "I know that's not truly the case, and I exaggerate. At heart they are all very humble and generous people, but they do love to show off and compete more than the average person when given the opportunity. If you want to go see them, they're probably in the middle of their flamboyant nonsense as we speak."
"I've honestly become a little too curious to not go. You make it sound so absurd."
"Well when you get there, make sure they're not overdoing it. Especially Shepard. They're always leaving us more mentally complex creatures to pick up their pieces," Chakwas joked. "But then again, maybe they're the more intelligent ones for using us so."
"Goodbye, Chakwas. It was very nice to see you again."
"Always a pleasure, Liara. Oh, and if you're intent on investigating new fields of science, I highly recommend xenobiology in addition to studies of your homeworld's biosphere. Very fascinating and wondrous."
:::
"Come on, people, place your bets before the next round! The Commander's looking tired so make sure to bet against her!" Lieutenant Vega's voice carried through the large room as Liara navigated the forest of spectators. Most of them were off-duty soldiers, and their bulk comprised the surprising turnout for such a simple event. When she thought analytically about it, the whole situation was very peculiar. Prominent members in society inflicting bodily harm onto one another was entertaining enough to draw crowds, who obviously took pleasure in watching them. The detriment of other organisms was enthralling to them, but why? Because seeing ill befall another creature while they remained in good health gave them rushes of primal dominance; to be reassured that they were more likely to outlive the injured one?
"Shut up, Lieutenant," Shepard's voice responded. "You wouldn't want me to tell all these people about all the times I've kicked your ass, do you?" Between the heads of people who watched, Liara caught glimpses of the large blue mat lain in the center of the floor, and people walking around on it. She turned to ascend a staircase to an upper balcony-like level where more people watched from.
"Whatever, Commander. We'll just see about that later, huh? Okay you two, get back in there. Last round, bets are in!"
Standing at a guardrail and resting her arms on it, Liara peered down to see the shapes of Shepard and Ashley Williams stepping onto the mat, fists wrapped in thin gloves and bodies clad in binding articles of clothing that they usually wore beneath their armor. They both immediately resumed fighting, throwing punches and keeping their legs in constant motion.
"Look out, Commander," Ashley said breathlessly as she dodged a right hook, "if I hit you a few more times all of those new body parts might fall apart."
Shepard parried a few consecutive strikes. "Better save your breath, Ash. You're going to need it. Let me show you why I became a Spectre first."
"Out with the old and in with the new, Shepard," she slammed her fist into the other woman's side. "I'm your successor, obviously."
A volley of trained and dynamic blows were traded. People cheered even in the absence of a crowd favorite. They were simply enchanted by the presence of the galaxy's biggest heroes engaging in pseudo-combat. It was the closest thing many of them had been to actually witnessing the legends do battle, and the champion factor about the controlled event was that they could watch without the actual threat of husks and Reapers distracting them. When Williams hit the mat as a result of a punch that knocked the wind out of her, the crowd was in an uproar. Shepard helped her to her feet and exchanged friendly smiles and light pats on the shoulders.
"Come on, LC!" Vega projected his disappointment as Ashley walked past him. "You totally had the Commander!"
"Fuck you, James," she threw her gloves at his head. He batted them away.
"All right, Vega. Enough talk," Shepard said with authority, stretching her legs and leering over at him. "Get over here, I'm on a roll." She resumed her stance and gestured for him to obey.
"Oh, so that's how it's gonna be? Okay, Lola, you brought this upon yourself," he grinned roguishly, pulling a pair of gloves on.
When they initiated, they bounced around on their feet, stalking one another in circles and lashing out with a sudden jab every so often.
"Step aside, Commander. Let the people watch Lieutenant James Vega dance for them."
"I think they'd much rather watch me dance, actually."
He laughed. "That may be so, Lola, but this is the only way you know how to dance. I can dance in battle," he parried, "and in the club. You don't have these moves, Commander… with your decrepit old knees and no… sense of rhythm..."
"I have plenty… sense of rhythm!" she objected breathlessly. And they did dance. They were a flurry of performance; deliberately producing elegance from their shallow gaits around the mat. Their contest was more than the discerning of who was more physically apt. Beyond that, it was about appeal and bravado, a social struggle to claim a prominent standing above the other in the eyes of their guests.
Shepard let out a sudden cry that practically bled a bright crimson power and slammed her shoulder into James'. They grappled at one another, feet twisting and digging into the mat as they tried to overtake one another in a collision of flexed muscles and pure will. James jeered at first, making some snide remark about him looking bad when he would eventually break her 'cheating Cerberus cybernetics', but his brow swiftly creased with strain when he realized how much effort Shepard was putting into their clash. They disengaged after recognizing their impasse, as neither soldier was yielding in the slightest. Relentless blows resumed. They roared at each other, snarling and fighting like a pair of rearing lions, bodies powerful and lithe, and at a point during that maelstrom of aggression, they began to laugh in puffs of shallow breath.
Liara observed in silence. Both of their faces, flushed with blood and brows beading with sweat, were well-known sights. They all used to look that way at least once daily, and quite religiously. The only difference between past and present was that someone was always in need of medi-gel by the end of the day, whether from burns, ammunition, or even falls from great heights. They were no longer in real danger, but their contest remained excruciatingly reminiscent of it. She wondered how they could stand inducing the memories in themselves, and even furthermore, to laugh through them. It was very peculiar to Liara. Perhaps the laughter was a mechanism for relief, similar to Joker's coping methods. Perhaps Shepard and Lieutenant Vega were laughing at the sheer delight of no longer being in legitimate mortal peril. But how did they keep their memories at bay? As far as she understood, the recollection of killing other beings did not induce pleasure within either of them, but deep pools of dread and anxiety. It was the reason why they never spoke of the fate of their sapient enemies after battle, only their purpose or tactics; they would never allow the thought of a face behind opposing visors to dissolve their morale.
"How do you cope with ending so many lives?" Liara asked Shepard one day when the commander had been visiting her in her space behind the med bay. "I've only taken them in self-defense; I've never willingly attacked anyone until now. It's absolutely awful. How do you manage so much death?" She watched the human pull up a chair and ponder the question.
"I just try not to think about it," she said in a hushed tone. "If I can't put it out of my mind, then I just remind myself why it happened. About why it was important to the mission and how it contributed to a better overall whole."
"But what if later you realize that it wasn't worth it, that the end result didn't justify their loss?"
"Well, then you have to accept it, and do your best to not let it eat you alive. Our jobs can be brutal. We do a lot of ugly things, I won't deny that, but I try to tell myself that we do a lot of ugly things so that other people don't have to."
"Do you really believe that?"
"Not always. Maybe I shouldn't have asked you to come on these missions with us. It defeats the whole purpose of what I just said. You shouldn't have to kill anyone. You didn't sign up for that."
But the threat of Saren was far too much to keep her away from the front lines, at least on occasion. It was quite a while before Liara finally sat down one day and seriously contemplated her young, boiling anger and willingness to join the fight. She felt that it was the avenging of her mother, in a sense, that voluntarily drove her into the dark chasm of violence that the other crew members were already too deep within to turn back. She could've been like Chakwas or the engineers; a helpful force away from the heat battle, but just as vital as the soldiers themselves. But she hadn't, for she despised Saren. She despised him for his crimes against all peoples of the galaxy, and for turning her mother into that monster. She watched her – the woman that raised her, who read books with her, took walks with her through beautiful gardens, and made her little wreaths of flowers woven together – die. Even though she had left her mother's side for her own academic pursuits long ago, she had not forgotten her. She still loved her very much.
And now Liara had grown accustomed to violence. Once Saren was dead, the pain still did not subside. She was even more burdened than she was before. There was a lot of blood on her hands; blood that deserved its fate, possibly, but blood nonetheless. It was not something that she could afford to dwell on at night before going to bed.
Her eyes caught the movement of a lumbering red silhouette shoving through the parts of the crowd below. Urdnot Wrex, accompanied by Grunt and another two krogan whom she did not recognize, looked up at the second floor. Liara's gaze met Wrex's.
"Liara!" he bellowed over the commotion. "When do we get to go home, huh? The krogan have a lot of business to attend to!"
As she highly doubted that she would be able to shout a reply over the din, Liara refrained from making an attempt, and decided it would be better if she came down to address him face-to-face. Her eyes drifted a bit as she began to move, and they suddenly met with Shepard's, who had turned in the direction of Wrex's yelling in a momentary disorientation at the mention of the asari's name. Before Liara even had time to offer a meek smile, a fist slammed into Shepard's face, rousing a chorus of vowel-heavy noises from the spectators. Shepard staggered back, tripped over her own heels, and hit the mat.
"Oh shit, Commander!" James exclaimed, extending a hand out to her. "You okay?"
She rose to her elbows with a pained wince and then reached up to accept the offered hand. "The mighty has fallen today, Lieutenant. Congrats," she said with strain as she regained her footing. She pulled her gloves off and lifted a hand to her throbbing face to discover a bleeding nose.
"Are you two done?" Wrex pushed between them. "Come on, Shepard, get out of here with your little scuffs. You both fight like hatchlings. Grunt, get over here! We're going to triple the earnings Shepard made!"
Grunt eagerly joined him as James was shunned to one side and Shepard retreated to the back to tend to her nose. "Let's show these humans how krogan fight! Place bets, you little flesh bags! Don't make me come over there and shake the credits out of you!"
Liara navigated down the steps and through the people as the noise level rose once more. When passing close to the mats, she heard the heavy crack of the head-butts produced by the two krogan among the ensuing growls.
:::
In the bathrooms at the back of a small locker room, Shepard brought a cloth up to her nose, cold and soaked with a small application of medi-gel. Her nose wasn't broken, and she hadn't lost any teeth; both of which were excellent news. She had spat blood into the sink for a few minutes, however, from a cut in her cheek. When most of the bleeding had stopped, she walked over to a bench in the locker room and took a seat. She rested her eyes and grew aware of the burning in her muscles, until she sensed that she was not alone.
Liara entered her range of vision with muted steps and all her effortless class and symmetry of movement. Her kind blue eyes fell upon Shepard before she leaned down, gently reaching out to hold the sides of her face, and placed a lingering, ardent kiss on her forehead.
"I'm sorry, Shepard. You likely took that hit because of me," she sat down beside her.
"If it's anyone's fault, it's my own. Or Wrex's enormous mouth," Shepard smirked, stealing her hand from her and clasping it in her own. Her voice was slightly altered from the cloth still held against her nose. "Vega deserved to win, I think. Every dog needs his day after all. Oh, sorry about the idiom. More like… even Vega's sorry ass deserves the spotlight sometimes. But it's good to see you again," She chuckled, then removed the cloth to press her lips against Liara's cheek briefly as to not transfer any sweat or blood to her skin. When she drew away, her eyes quivered in examination as they drifted over the asari's features. Gradually, her expression grew somewhat indistinct. "Liara… you haven't been eating lately. Either that or sleeping."
"I've been doing plenty of both," she refuted.
Shepard did not believe the claim. Her face was slightly thinner with more accent in her cheek bones, and the faint ghosts of lines beginning to rise from beneath her eyes. It was hardly noticeable, but significant to Shepard's eyes. The slight alterations made her appear tired, but also gifted her with a strange regality and dignified wisdom from all the weathering tides that her mind and body had endured. She had a subtle gleam in her eyes and a tilt of her chin that reminded Shepard of the matriarchs, but Liara was too young, much too young, to carry such a demeanor. It was, perhaps, the accumulation of all they had experienced forcing any pieces of youthful innocence that she still clutched from her hands. The speculation left Shepard with a doleful sobriety in her gut. Liara was looking away from her now. Shepard had parted her lips to tell her that she appeared gaunt – though that was a clear exaggeration – but she shut her jaw again when she noticed that their positions were very similar to the ones they held when sitting in the park a few weeks previously, except reversed. It was Liara now who was being placed under scrutiny. Back in the park, Liara had not tried to forcibly pry any explanations from Shepard, and it would only be fair if she showed the same restraint. So she let it go, and searched for something else to speak of.
"So, you're not returning to the relay?"
"I've done all that I could," she sighed. "Wrex will be disappointed that he'll have to wait a while longer."
"That might become disastrous. Too many horny krogan won't know what to do with themselves in the meantime. They might start smashing things that they're not supposed to. Can you hear them? I can hear Wrex and Grunt yelling all the way from here."
The comment, coupled with the faint sound of a gruff shout from outside, elicited a laugh from Liara. "Goddess, it's wonderful to be back here with so many of you. It'll make me sad when the time comes for everyone to go home. We won't see them as often anymore."
"We'll visit. We'll make them visit."
They sat quietly beside one another, listening to the muffled commotion from the other room with fingers laced together, resting on the bench, and staring off into space. A strange aura enveloped them. Here they existed in a single moment – and what a silent moment it was – preceded by such entropy and hell that the little cases that held their minds should have been destroyed in the strife. How could it be, that only the weight of so much suffering and sacrifice held up such a simple moment of serenity? They were sitting on the peak of a mountain they had climbed, looking down at the raging fires and floods that had engulfed the land below. All was at rest, even the people who had been pulled under by the wrathful waves of destruction. All was quiet now, and it humbled them to the core.
:::
Liara halted, looking about the apartment with both intrigue and confusion. Bouquets of roses and other lovely Earth-native flowers of numerous varieties and hues rested on every available inch of the surfaces of furniture, and larger arrangements filled corners and nooks. It was an amateur greenhouse. She turned back, casting Shepard an inquisitive look.
Shepard came up beside her, sniffling and twisting her features in judgment of her nose, which she apparently deemed acceptably healed. She folded her arms and grew quite smug at her peculiar living condition.
"What's all this?" Liara asked when she realized that Shepard was merely going to stand there with a silly expression on her face and deny her an obligatory explanation. She would have to impose, it seemed. "Have you developed an interest in botany?"
"No," she replied, rising up on her toes for a moment in a childlike restlessness. "They're all for you, actually. I'm very romantic, as you can see."
"Shepard."
She chortled. "Okay, okay. I've been receiving them lately. They're from people who managed to get a hold of my address," she walked over to a small pot with violet chrysanthemums rising from its dark soil and pulled out a small paper tag attached to it. She read it to herself, then looked back at Liara. "Make yourself comfortable and help yourself to anything here. I guess later, or maybe tomorrow, we can move your things in. Whenever it's convenient, just let me know. I'm going to take a shower."
Liara was left to freely roam the abode when Shepard disappeared into another room. Naturally, she wandered over to the plant whose tag she had held but did not read aloud. She picked it up as the shower's faint rush of running water became audible, and opened the tiny card.
"Commander Shepard, there is no simple way to thank you for what you've done for us all. Please accept this inadequate gesture of my dearest appreciation. I owe you my entire life. I see my children's smiling faces every day, and to be granted such an amazing gift left me unable to stop myself from sending my own love your way. I know what love is now. You know what love is. You risked your life to save people you've never even met and will probably never meet, and I believe that, Commander Shepard, is the most pure form of love that could ever exist. You are beautiful, like God, or whichever god you hail from."
The card was signed with a name of a woman, followed by 'Spain' as her given location. Liara smiled, deeply touched by the note. Shepard was indeed very beautiful, like a god. Or even merely god-sent, as many people saw her to be. Though she was just as human as the rest of her species, she had grown into an icon of galactic salvation and unity. Her name was everywhere; written on walls, spoken on countless lips, and gloriously suspended in time for all people to remember forever. Liara didn't care much for the apartment's lavish and sleek furnishings. She spent her time reading the letters, immersed in the words of hope and gratitude sent to the woman just in the other room.
"You kept tempting fate, over and over. You died! Instead of realizing how easy it is to die and deciding not to take another risk, you spat in destiny's face and threw yourself right back into the fire."
"You fought like you knew that you were going to die the end, even though you somehow didn't. You never hesitated to sacrifice your own life for those of the many. You are the definition of heroism and selflessness, Commander Shepard."
"The gods blessed us with you, Commander. The gods blessed you with power, reason, and tremendous endurance. And you blessed us with your bravery and kindness. You are an agent of the divine."
Liara found a soothing warmth enkindling in her heart and growing brighter and brighter with every letter. Oh, how these people adored Shepard… And that being said, how strange it was to have Shepard's adoration herself. Though she realized that regarding Shepard as a romanticized, messiah-like figure was not all that daft of a reaction, especially in light of all that she had accomplished, she could not quite apply the same magnitude of importance to herself. Yes, Liara had been vital in certain instances and overall very important to their mission, but she found it quite difficult to accept that such a famed and loved leader would grant her a pedestal in her heart. When she put all their personal interactions and history aside, the idea, in abstract, made her feel somewhat short of breath. She curiously read the letters into Shepard's bedroom, where she sat down on the bed to examine a vase full of roses on the nightstand.
Shepard came into view, dressed comfortably with wet hair clinging to her head. She smiled a bit sheepishly, knowing that Liara had read many of the letters, and joined her side. "They're all… extremely nice sentiments."
The asari looked at her with an ounce of derision. "That's a tremendous understatement," she said quietly, brushing some of her cold hair back with her fingers.
"I don't know what I'll do with the flowers. Some are potted. I think I'll call some parks and have them planted there. What do you think?"
"They're your flowers, Shepard. You do whatever you deem most suitable."
Shepard looked at her with a penetrating stare. Something profound was happening behind her eyes during those next moments, and at great length she revealed her thoughts, "You know, Liara, I don't think these flowers exactly belong to me as much as they should. I think they rightfully belong to you as well. You deserve them as much as I do at the very least."
"You're just being modest," Liara playfully rejected the flattering, taking a strand of hair between her fingers and gently pulling it. "Shepard, do you remember when your hair became quite long?"
"It kept growing even on the Cerberus lab table," she laughed.
"Even I, someone who knew little to nothing about human hairstyles, knew that you needed a trim."
"There was no time for a beauty assessment back then. I only fixed it up during my incarceration. I had plenty of time then, as you know."
Liara turned her body to face her, leaned in, and captured smiling lips with her own. When they parted, she spoke gently against the side of her head, attempting to pour as much of her fondness into the vessel of her words as possible.
"You are the most beautiful creature that has ever existed, and I love you dearly."
Shepard drew away, meeting her eyes in close proximity. She held her face, brushing her palms against the line of her jaw, and observed her tenderly. The emotion in her gaze, however, was nigh indiscernible. She had always been able to do that; to sink into deep thought, but conceal all traces of it at once. Then, she kissed her hard. It was an assertion of all the things that could not be dealt justice through speech. It was an action of reverence, intensified when she delicately guided Liara's head back to cover her throat with her affection. She listened closely to her breathing as she trailed back up, softening her caresses until they were but ghosts by the time her lips brushed her chin. Shepard lingered there, watching her with misted eyes, and at last spoke against the exposed column of her neck.
"Don't glorify me too much, Liara," she breathed. "Those flowers are rightfully yours." She trailed lower, keeping one hand at the back of Liara's crest, holding her still, and using the other to open the front of her clothing so that she could access her collar and chest.
Liara was in a daze, hands grasping at the bottom of Shepard's thin undershirt and hiking it up along her back. It had been too long since she had last felt this; lips, breath, and hands fumbling and drawling along their skin, bodies gently shifting and quivering at every sensitive touch. Something, however, was different within Shepard. She touched her with purpose beyond that of simply communicating adoration. It seemed that she was trying to convey something of more gravity, as she was becoming maddeningly deliberate. Shepard's shirt was on the floor soon, and the human was beginning to pause to speak periodically.
"You have seen my visions and helped determine them," Shepard carefully pushed the white and blue jacket from her shoulders, running her fingertips along the shallow dips of her ribs, "And you have brought me back from death, and went on to give us the Crucible." She was peeling away her lower garments now while moving down from the bed and onto the floor where she stood upon her knees. Liara fought to remain relatively composed so that her words would continue to make sense.
"You have fought, and you have bled, just as I did, but even more," Shepard kissed the inside of her thigh, "you have been one of the great minds behind everything that we did. I'm really just a soldier – a lucky one – with a knack for speaking, and a bit of determination," she pressed her thumbs into the flaring bones of her hips, pulling her to the very edge of the bed and coaxing out a trembling breath, "But without you, I would have ceased to exist long ago. You, Liara, are likely the real savior here. If people believe that I saved their lives, they must also remember to whom I owe mine. They have to remember the roots."
An enamored sound escaped Liara's throat when she felt Shepard's mouth against her, kissing her center while her hands firmly held her hips in place to stop her from instinctively jerking forward. The chill of her wet hair against her thighs sent shivers of pleasure up her spine, and her hands washed over the folds of the bed sheets to find creases that her fingers could grasp onto to help her keep herself from completely losing her head. When her eyes fluttered open for a brief moment, she saw the thin horizontal lines of light that bled from the window's blinds and cast onto Shepard's back. They curved along the virile shapes of her lean muscles, illuminating scars and bending with her slightest movements down to her dark waistband. Liara's face was aflush.
When Shepard paused, Liara pleaded with a whimper and fragments of her name, to which Shepard replied in a hushed voice, "If the galaxy saw the Reapers kneel before me, let them know that I kneel before you."
Part of Liara was frustrated at the mere mentioning of the Reapers during such a moment, but the remaining part of her conscience was in bliss at the meaning behind the words. However, Liara was still not convinced that the galaxy's fate was upon her own shoulders despite Shepard's sincere insistence. Neither of them would accept that honor, it seemed. They could not assign this feat to but one person; it would be an incorrigible injustice to all participants. A hierarchy of dominance measured in accreditation was obscene. These flowers belonged to everyone. Shepard was just the symbol of their unification that they could rally around.
Shepard rose, supporting herself with one hand pressing on the bed and the other between Liara's legs. The asari's breath hitched; Shepard's hair spilt over her shoulders while placing a kiss against her neck.
"You're very quiet," she muttered lovingly against her skin, watching the elegant arch of her back and delighting in the slight darkness beginning to creep into Liara's eyes and paling her irises; they were eyes that saw nothing save an endless black sea of desire that sought to pull her under its depths. Shepard kissed her jaw, reveling in the erotic intent of her abysmal gaze. "God, you are so beautiful..." She proceeded slowly, utterly entranced with the sight of her in intimate throes and knowing precisely how mad it would inevitably drive her if she continued so torturously. As predicted, Liara was soon keeping the silence at bay with her soft sounds of disquiet, urging her for more. Shepard sunk down to her knees once again, this time with the purpose of bringing her to heights.
Liara's fingers immediately wove into her hair but were unable to remain still; she ran them back, sometimes grasping harder than she meant to while desperately trying to contain the bucking of her hips and the sensual noises spilling from her lips. She wanted to braid the flowers into her hair. She wanted to place a crown of them round her head to make her appear as the beautiful Janiri, the ancient asari idol of seasons, storms, and fertility. What storms raged within Shepard, what gifts of life bestowed from her to many, that could not serve as adequate reason to bear such a resemblance?
Shepard grasped at the tentative presence at the edges her mind, pulling them into one another. They rolled and tumbled through the landscape of their entwined consciousness as thoughts, feeling, sensations, and identities merged until they were a single body. Memories struck like brief flashes of lightning. There stood Shepard, pressing a button in the Shadow Broker's ship on Hagalaz that opened the window shutters to reveal the magnificent view of shifting clouds painted gold and faint copper by the sun. She was smiling and using the word 'recluse'. Then Liara was suddenly in some dank ruin overgrown with vines, lifting a small module to the face of an obelisk for a scan. Shepard marveled through Liara's eyes, feeling all the joy and wonder of a fascinating discovery. There was the soothing glow of an aquarium now, cool air, and warm bodies feverish and trembling. A stygian veil of great fear loomed above them, which they were desperate to escape for the moment through bruising kisses and lascivious touches of aroused flesh.
She attempted to restrain herself, but Liara pulled at Shepard's hair when she suddenly felt her peak drawing her body forward in an exquisite arch.
Yes, she would look quite nice with flowers in her hair. Flowers like the peafowl's radiant plumage to announce her supposed blessing by the gods of life; flowers to demand a fertile future, and flowers to mark the end of a war.
