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Chapter 10

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Slow, Deep Breaths

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Shepard waited in the richly carpeted antechamber, staring at the dark and knotted natural wood of a door which led out, via a long corridor, to the hall where their guests were no doubt already seated. The asari hired to dress Liara- they had some traditional name for the role which she couldn'trecall- had passed by her a few moments ago, and had assured her, when she had stopped them to ask, that Liara would be down in just a moment.

She shuffled her feet uncomfortably; her boots were new, and the leather was stiff and unforgiving. She regretted not breaking them in in advance- she didn't want to finish her wedding day with blisters.

Now they had been separately dressed- well, Shepard had dressed herself, asari wedding attire was not expected of alien partners- they were to meet up here, at the door, and proceed together to the place where the priest and guests waited. We were really supposed to prepare in a separate building from where the ceremony takes place and walk between them in silence, but some concessions had to be made for practicality... Shepard shook her head in amused disbelief. Why did she remember so much of what Liara had been telling her about asari weddings? Liara had been enthusing about all the ceremonies and superstitions since Shepard had proposed, and Shepard had politely nodded along in the way she had learned to under those circumstances. She had a great deal of affection for Liara's outbursts of nerdy eccentricity, and hadn't wanted to let on that she was struggling to follow. But apparently she had absorbed more than she had thought. She chuckled to herself. Must be a joining thing- I'll be digging up old ruins next...

"Are you telling yourself jokes, now?"

Shepard turned to answer the voice from the stairs, but her voice caught in her throat and stuck there as a kind of slow wheeze, as if she'd had the breath knocked out of her. Descending the steps, on bare feet criss-crossed with paint, was Liara. She looked... oh, there were no words.

She wore a gown of intricate stone beadwork combined with finely woven leather ribbons, which in accordance with tradition had been dyed, stitched and lacquered by hand in shades of white, silver, and the dark indigo of a stormy night sky. Her underskirts were of some shimmering black fabric, which had an asari name Shepard had forgotten. Her throat and wrists were encased in many necklaces and bracelets of silver, set with violet gems which glistened like a thousand drops of blood. Further paint had been applied to her cheeks and the backs of her hands, silvery spiderwebs...

Liara jabbed her. "Shepard. Say something."

Shepard blushed and swallowed. "Um... wow."

Liara gave her a sly smile. "That's better, you were starting to scare me. I feel absurd in this thing."

"Well, you don't look absurd", Shepard reassured her. "But now I'm starting to feel under-dressed."

"You look like the woman who saved the galaxy, Shepard. To most people, that is impressive enough." Liara played with her skirts awkwardly. "Do I really look okay?"

"Liara, you look absolutely... perfect. Beautiful."

Liara went a little purple. "Thanks..." She adjusted an ornately worked metal coronet at the back of her scalp, which supported little streams of what Shepard had thought was dark lace but was actually more beadwork, glittering like fine sand where it caught the light. "Well, if I look good to you, and you look good to me, I suppose that's the most important thing."

Shepard nodded. She couldn't really argue with that.

"You look very dashing."

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "Thanks, but I think 'dashing' is just guys."

"Then how does one tell a woman she looks good in uniform?"

Shepard grinned. "Oh, there are ways."

Liara carefully placed her hands on Shepard's cheeks, and oh-so-gently stroked her face with her fingers. "I have to be very careful, so... no sudden moves. If we smudge the paints before the ceremony is over, it is a terrible omen."

Shepard looked at her sceptically from between her palms. "Do asari believe in omens?"

Liara sniffed. "Of course not, that would be stupid. But it is part of the wedding experience."

They both smiled, and for a minute they just stood there, happily regarding each other, Liara holding Shepard's face in her decorated hands.

"So," Shepard began, "I guess this is the last chance we have to speak before... before the big moment."

"Shepard, I'm terrified."

"I know, honey. Your hands are trembling." Shepard closed her eyes and breathed in and out a few times. She raised her own hands and looked at them. "I'm scared too."

Liara withdrew her hands and checked them carefully for smudges. "It isn't being married. I was afraid of that at one time, I'm barely in my second century, but I'd made my peace with it before you even asked me. Actually, I'd thought about asking you myself, once you were better. But, getting married. The priestess, the witnesses. The grand event. I want it, but at the same time..."

Shepard sighed and scratched her head. "We've fought giant robots, in space. Thresher Maws. You name it. By rights nothing should scare us anymore. But here we are, and... stage-fright."

Liara shrugged, slowly and carefully for fear of shaking off a bangle. "You can get used to physical danger. Husks never bicker and whine over seating arrangements, or gossip about whether your dress makes you look fat."

"It doesn't!"

"It was just an example, but thank you."

There was a bleep from the comm tag on Shepard's wrist. Shepard glanced at the device.

"Everything is in place, they're just waiting for us now. Ready to knock 'em dead?"

Liara pushed the door open. "I'm going to assume that means impress them..."