Chapter Summary
Our Turians go somewhere very Turian together, Nihlus tries to behave.
Chapter Notes
Lexicon: (Prepare for Turian cultural info dump!)
TCD - shorthand for the Turian closed dialect.
Stabata - a long, narrow, nine stringed instrument strummed with both hands. Due to its many resonance chambers, and the movable flanges within, it is capable of intricate sympathetic harmonics similar to Turian subvocals. (Credit: MizDirected)
"Loramici intratar rekescatius" - A traditional greeting for expected guests in the TCD. It is generally followed by the formal reply, "Espectat utamici tibitias agimetran". (Credit: MizDirected)
Ospiti - TCD for 'Guest(s)'. (Credit: MizDirected)
Torin -Male Turian of the age of majority (15). (Credit: MizDirected)
Tenia - A flowering herb used in scents and oil making. It represents resistance, the ability to block outside influences. (Credit: MizDirected) Disignatus - Minister or official who conducts traditional ceremonies. (Credit: MizDirected)
Tenianatus - The Garden Master of a traditional Turian bathhouse, simultaneously a musician, peacekeeper, gardener, and councilor for the troubled. (Credit: stolen words from MizDirected, remixed to make a new word.)
Solanaceae - Another word for the Nightshade family of flora. (Credit: Real World)
Atropa Belladonna - Also known as 'Deadly Nightshade', it is a highly toxic hallucinogenic. (Credit: Real World)
Mandragora - Also known as 'Mandrake', a plant both medicinal and poisonous. (Credit: Real World)
Cloves and Cardamom - Two of the quintessential spices in Masala Chai, an aromatic tea of Southeast Asia. (Credit: Real World)
Familia Notas - Turian facial markings. (Credit: MizDirected, though I've mussed the lore up a bit to suit.)
Chapter Soundtrack: Barcarolle by Kawai Eri (As Athena from Aria the Animation) (Just imagine some nice, subvocal-y string instruments with this when we walk into the bath house's courtyard.)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
*Chapter warning for casual social nudity in a non-sexual sense... Bath Houses, what else can you expect?*
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Garrus tugged his anti-grav lockbox behind him as he disembarked the Daedalus. Nihlus trailed along beside him carrying some of his guns. The Spectre was going to escort him through customs with his new, unregistered Lancer, and put a Spectre stamp of approval on his ownership papers when they passed through station security. Technically, he could file the paperwork himself and get away with it, being C-Sec and all, but this would be much faster. No time wasted lounging at the docks waiting for bureaucracy to get it's act together.
"Oh hey, by the way, I sent off the return paperwork to your HR lady."
"Yeah?"
"Mmhmm. You've got the next three days off, and then they'll expect you back."
"Why three days?"
"Uhhh 'cuz tomorrow Saren and I are doing resupply, the next day we're going to the bath house, and the day after is for recovering of course."
"Recovering from bathing?"
"No, Blue. From the night of partying!"
"I recall a mention of 'drinks', but I'm fairly certain there wasn't any 'partying' on the schedule. Does… Saren actually 'party'?" The last was said with clear subvocal disbelief, to which the shorter torin grinned sheepishly.
"Sometimes?"
"Uhuh."
"So anyway, take it easy tomorrow, I'll come nab you bright and early the next day, and then you'll have the day after to lament your life choices and kick out whoever you take home with you."
"I don't generally kick people out."
"You're too nice, Blue."
"It's not like they won't leave eventually on their own, and letting tarin stick around after is how I've gotten most of my girlfriends." Nihlus laughed his ass off at that one, as they custom's staff stared at the jovial Spectre in something like horror.
Laughing Spectres were apparently just as scary, if not more so, than serious ones. Who knew?
"Seriously? You looking to nest already?"
"What? No! Hell no."
"Then why are you letting 'em stay? The only kind that will stick around the day after are the kind looking to stay around much longer."
"I don't know what would give that impression..." Nihlus sighed wistfully at the socially incompetent sniper.
"Of course you don't, Blue. Oh hey, here is where I leave you. I have to help start the resupply or Saren will beat me. Toodles!" Garrus just shook his head and turned to head home.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Disturbingly enough, Nihlus did show up at his door with a livid mark across his face. The plate was cracked along his left cheek ridge, and the accompanying eye was partially swollen shut. The very tip of the matching mandible was broken off entirely. Garrus turned to Saren with a flat look, who just raised a brow at him blandly.
"No, no, it wasn't him. My own fault." He blinked an apologetic nod at Saren, who shrugged with disconcern.
"He tripped while carrying a cargo container, dropped the container, landed with his face to the edge." Garrus winced in sympathy.
"You still want to go to the bath house today? I could call and reschedule our reservation... You'd have to be really careful around that eye."
"Hell yeah I do. It's only a few hours old, and it'll be good as new by this afternoon anyways. Besides, people find scars attractive." He wasn't sure where the torin had gotten that impression, and just barely held back a quip about Krogan women that would've been awfully unkind to hear right before going out for a night. He had no intention of spoiling Nihlus' mood, he'd been talking about this little adventure all week in excitement.
"Alright then, let's go."
The walk to the rapid-transit station only took a few minutes, though it was a bit of a drive to the location itself on another ward. The traffic wasn't particularly great either, but they made it. The skycar came to a stop on the transit's landing pad, and rest of the way was made on foot. Garrus noticed that Saren was dedicated about checking his oncoming lines of sight and escape vectors, even among the usually pleasant streets of the Citadel's nicest district short of the presidium. Conversely, Nihlus was the one to stop a passing pickpocket who'd gone for Saren's credit chit. The carmine plated Spectre had pulled the duct rat away before the tiny Asari ever even got in range to 'accidentally run into' the other agent, spinning the kid around and pointing off in another direction with a cheerful, "Good try kid. Remember not to watch their pockets, look at feet 'kay?"
The C-Sec Officer pretended the whole thing never happened. Hadn't Pallin said something about not working while not on duty? Why yes, yes he had. Well then.
Saren paid the whole thing no mind. Hard eyed black ops agents, sure, but they both had a few soft spots on their plates. Nihlus had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that children were his, but it seemed like Saren might be on the same page, morally if not emotionally.
They took a sky bridge into another tower, and down along a glass and chrome walk way, coming upon the conspicuous Turian-style bath house with no warning. One minute it was modern architecture of metal and plastics, then they rounded a corner and suddenly everything in front of them was marble columns and hanging lamps, incense trays and gently rustling heraldry. Garrus chanced a glance at his companions to see if they were suitably impressed with his suggestion. He was rewarded with the sight of Nihlus' eyes widening in glee, and the barely perceptible increase in walking pace for the other ST&R agent.
"Ooooh shiiiit. These are some sweet digs, Blue."
"Language, Nihlus. Try to refrain from embarrassing yourself in the establishment."
"What he means to say is, 'We are going someplace nice. Do not talk to anyone, touch anything, and in particular do not sign anything.'" Garrus laughed at Nihlus' self-mockery. He really wasn't that bad, but it was an entertaining image, and his 'Saren' voice was entirely on the mark.
An elegantly dressed torin in white and lavender met them at the wide-open entry way, offering the traditional welcome for an expected guest.
"Loramici intratar rekescatius, Ospiti ot Vakarian." To which Saren offered a cordial nod, and Garrus responded formally.
"Espectat utamici, tibitias agimetran." He could hear Nihlus mumble the expected phrase after him uncertainly, and it occurred to him that the traditional phraseology and formal situation probably wasn't something the green eyed torin had a lot of experience with. It bubbled up as a vague hint of inexplicable guilt. Not to mention uncertainty as to why the decorated Spectre hadn't gone out to become acquainted with the finer aspects of life now that he was famous and entitled. He certainly deserved them...
The graceful host led them through a lobby of marble reliefs and jewel toned tapestries embroidered with the clan stories of the family that ran the bath house, down a long hall way brightly lit with actual flaming braziers that shone with white-gold light, and then into a richly appointed private room.
"May I provide anything else for you at this time, Ospiti?"
"No, I am provided all I could seek."
"Very well. I leave you now, but do not hesitate to ask for your wishes. Be at peace in this safe place."
"Thank you, we will."
The host left them to their whims, and Garrus turned to the table that held three neatly laid out bathing robes. He began to disrobe, folding his clothing into a pile as he removed it. His thoughts returned to Nihlus' trepidation. He didn't think it was a matter of money for the Spectre, rather the lack of... insider knowledge to the various courts of the influential and high tiered. -... and didn't he feel like a asshole for thinking like that?- Surely the Spectre was a high tier, he must have begun to get invitations to events, establishments, dinner parties... How could an agent of the Galactic Council not be considered... then again, it wasn't an official Hierarchy position, so possibly Nihlus was still lower in the rankings?
Unnoticed, Saren glanced at the other grey-plated torin in askance as his crest blades caught the light when he shook his head in vain trying to loosen the tangle of thoughts. He was raised to act within the tier system, using it as a guide for behavior, but he personally had never had real respect for those higher up that hadn't proven it, nor felt that those below him deserved anything less than his best efforts on their behalf. The C-Sec Officer was perhaps the farthest from 'class-ist' that one could be. Fringe-world home colony or not, unofficial rank or not, he felt that it was deserved, no... expected for Nihlus' dedicated service in a dangerous position to a higher cause to be rewarded. It bothered him, and he wasn't one to let things go.
Garrus decided he would see to it that Nihlus had the opportunity to travel in higher circles, simple as that. The wise cracking, ever smiling Spectre brought out something protective in him. Maybe it had been the... thing... that had happened toward the end of the fight on Nodacrux. Nihlus had turned into someone else, flipped like a switch at the sight of the Salarian boy falling to the ground lifeless. Garrus would prefer that to never happen again.
"You know Blue, you look really different without the visor. I can see both your eyes, it's weird."
"My face is weird?"
"Yup."
"Yours is creepy." Nihlus stopped with his shirt half off and exclaimed at him, hands on hips.
"Wait, what? No it's not!"
"Yep, super creepy." The carmine plated Spectre threw his pants at the offensive officer, who casually tossed them away unbothered.
"No!"
"Okay, fine. Your face isn't creepy if mine isn't weird." His companions joined him in exchanging clothing for bath robes, collecting the complimentary grooming kits, and heading for the door at the far side of the spacious room.
" ...that's fair. I guess." Nihlus said 'guess' like they were Volus merchants and Garrus was robbing him of all profit on a trade. The sniper just winked at him, pleased that they were having a good time thus far.
They exited the room into a massive indoor courtyard, filled with flowers in bloom and hanging lanterns. The large green space had been sculpted to have gently rolling hills and a variety of semi-private spots to lounge on low-sitting settee. A Tenianatus, the Master of the Garden, sat peacefully on the side of a fountain strumming a gentle melody on a stabata in counter point to the quiet rush of water from the plant-encircled fountains that dotted the landscape. Carefully laid canals no deeper then a handspan carried trickling water from font to font, the bottom of which were wavering patterns of brightly colored stones pressed together. The light caught the stones and the moving water, projecting a sparkling multi-colored wavering onto the white marble ceiling.
Nihlus let out a low whistle of appreciation, and Garrus smiled at him broadly.
"Okay, that's it, it's official. Blue gets to pick our vacation spots from now on. Hot d-" Saren covered his mouth with a hand.
"Nihlus."
Nihlus pulled his hand away, and trilled a quiet apology.
"Sorry, sorry. I'll try to... I'll stop. Don't be mad?"
"I am not mad, I simply require you to... rise to the occasion." Saren gave his former protégé a stern look.
"I'll do my best, I've just... I haven't been to anywhere like this before."
"... perhaps it was remiss of me not to include a training segment on social situations during our mentorship." Saren began to walk out into the sunlight. "Consider this to be remedial work. Step one is to not use any informal language, if you can help it. Stick to the closed dialect whenever possible."
Nihlus rumbled an overdone, serious purr of acknowledgement. The silvery Spectre let out a snort, good mood seemingly restored.
They crossed the lovingly crafted indoor gardens in a slow walk, nodding politely at other Turians they passed by who were sun bathing in the artificially Palaven-bright sunlight, half-clothed and sleepy. It was a place of peace after all, not even clans that had been mortal enemies in ancient times would kick up a fight in a bath house.
It was a place you could bare your throat.
The far wall from the guest rooms was convex, pushing out in a semi-circle into the gardens, and had a huge pair of doors at the entrance. The entryway was lavishly carved stone of whorling spins and flower like geometric explosions. It had been the only closed doorway they'd encountered since their room, the whole structure designed to be open and sprawling. They entered and the air began to grow heavier with humidity. A wide brazier lit corridor stretched out into a series of variously sized semi-private enclosures lined with hundreds of tiny pearl-like pebbles. Each had touch panels to engage a privacy screen or music if desired, and the insides had comfortable looking low-stools, ground level water controls, a drain, and flexible shower heads.
Garrus led them to a larger one, built to accommodate a group of six, figuring that Saren would want more space to himself, and that Nihlus was less likely to accidentally run into anything with the slightly reduced vision on his injured side. He didn't miss the older Spectre glancing longingly at a solo enclosure, or the younger one grinning with a suspicious sparkle in his eyes at the more cramped two person divots. He snorted quietly to himself, not wanting to know. Of course, Saren hit the privacy screen on their area right away.
It was quiet, but not an awkward quiet, as they each set up a spot for themselves, bath robes set aside, low stools acquired, and grooming kits opened. Nihlus immediately started opening each and every bottle to smell them all. Most were scentless, standard products of high quality, but a few of the many bottles and jars provided had smells that were flowery or spicy, fresh or citrusy.
"Mmmmmm, smell this one. I just want to eat it." Garrus leaned over for a whiff, a pleasant smell of cloves and cardamom rose in the air. It was rather edible smelling. Saren breathed in from over in his personal space bubble, and nodded thoughtfully.
"It does smell appreciable, however I would advice not eating it. I believe there is a bit of Solanaceae in it."
"Sola-what-now?" Garrus laughed, he knew this one.
"Solanaceae, the Nightshade family of plants. Many of them are highly toxic... my sister was named after them actually. We always joke that she can't exchange the bite-style bond marks with her someday-mate because she'd poison them." Nihlus raised a finger to make a point.
"Ahhh Nightshades! I do know them by that name. Actually, there is a super fun mix of Atropa Belladonna and Mandragora that has juuuuust enough punch to make someone do anything you say for a few hours before falling asleep and remembering nothing."
"That's your definition of super fun?" That was worrisome.
"I was being sarcastic, come on. Shooting people, dancing, and blowing things up are more my speed. That compound is incredibly helpful in Spectre work though. No muss, no murder, no fuss. Less torture for intel." Shooting people, dancing, explosives. Well, that was closer to par for the course.
"You aren't allowed to use that on me, I just hope you know. My vengeance would be swift and terrible." Nihlus smiled a secret, playful grin at him.
"That's the point, Blue. You wouldn't know I'd used it on you. I could have had my way with you on your C-Sec desk, and you'd neverrr knowww." Garrus' subvocals rolled with mock horror as Nihlus' trilled that out in a sing-song voice.
"You can be outright disturbing sometimes, you know that?" Bright laughter filled their little space as they went about rising off the dust and beginning to rub gritty salt scrubs into the nooks and crannies of plates and hide.
"I'm just teasing. I've used the stuff, maybe, fifteen times. Not exactly something one does to their... uh... friends." Garrus' subvocals came back with 'Friends only as long as you don't rape me.' in a teasing rumble. The reply of which was a bar of soft soap tossed at his head. It got him right in the fringe, sticking there impaled. He pulled at it, looking up at Nihlus in betrayal. The carmine plated Spectre fell off his low-stool laughing.
After an initial wash they each began their personal grooming rituals, though Nihlus took a few minutes to remember how to breathe.
Saren filed all twelve talons to a razor edge, taking the time to trim cuticles and rub in sealant along the cracks and splits that naturally occurred. He followed with a brief rasping of his crest in a side mirror, sharpening them just a hint, paying careful attention to his Valluvian horns and their long curve. The detective could tell that the younger Spectre was specifically not paying any attention to his former mentor's grooming choices, showing a determined attempt at politeness even though he'd used the same topic to tease and manipulate Saren's mild hint of vanity before.
Well, he really was trying.
As for the clever red torin's bathing habits... he was less careful, mostly just buffing away uneven plate and adding sealant haphazardly to the most cracked or pitted edges. He did even out his mandible tips, as thankfully they'd grow back in their own time. The symmetry made him look a little less beat up. Nihlus ignored his talons entirely, opting to spend far more time messing around with the scented products. Garrus was fairly certain he'd gone through the entire jar of spicy salts that he'd liked, and dug around for his own, sliding it over to the humming figure. It tapped the dark brown hide of his heel, and he looked down, chirping joyfully and offering a wide smile in return. Damn that torin was attractive...
The sniper purposefully refocused on his bathing, telling himself not to eye up his companions, regardless of the fantastic shape they were in. Yet, he couldn't entirely help but catch a glance at Saren out of the corner of his eye; suddenly never being able to un-know that yes, the man was silver and grey everywhere. Unusual for a Turian... he berated himself for his inappropriate thoughts. It was not even socially acceptable to be so much as flirtatious in here until after bathing, even for bonded pairs. Garrus had no intent to be flirtatious at all... he realized that it was an excellent thing they were going out that night. He could really use some stress relief. It was probably why his hormones were being obnoxious.
Nihlus had rinsed the last salt scrub away and was going for another pass on a particularly rough patch of hide, though he was using a fair bit more then was needed.
"You know you can keep the extras, right?" Nihlus had been just about to take another handful of the goop, hearing this however, he opted to take much less and re-close the lid, stuffing the jar into his collar like a thief might tuck away loot. Garrus turned away from the theatrics with a snort.
Since they were in no hurry, and Nihlus' pace was lackadaisical at best, Garrus took the time to neaten the line of his own fringe, but held back from taking the rasp to his more sensitive crest blades. He didn't particularly care if they were sharp, and they looked even enough. He didn't feel the need to mention that he hated the feel of the rasp on them, it left his nerves lightly buzzing in discomfort for hours. Leaving his talons alone for a cosmetologist to do, mostly out of sheer laziness and a little bit because they'd rub his hands and forearms while the sealing polymers dried.
His bathing rituals came to a sudden halt when his hand picked up the compound to remove his slightly faded and dinged markings. They were getting worn down, and it was a good opportunity to have them redone. He could do his familia notas himself in a pinch, but he was an artist with a sniper rifle not a paint brush, and preferred for them to look cleanly done. On the other hand, he'd never bathed with a barefaced Turian before, and Garrus didn't want to have them redone in front of Saren. It seemed... cruel?
"It is fine, Vakarian." He looked up to see Saren still at the mirror, watching him. Did the Spectre miss anything?
"I didn't... I don't want to be rude. I... can't say I've ever..." He tried to fall back on the formal societal rules for an explanation, but couldn't find the right words. He did not want to say anything that remotely insinuated, even vaguely, that he didn't normally lower himself to bathe withbarefaces, and would you please explain the appropriate procedure for such a thing? He swallowed and tried again, determined not to be... he respected Saren immensely... Suddenly the words came to him.
"I know I've said this before, but to reiterate, I respect you more then anyone else I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. Under no circumstances do I want it to seem like I think poorly or less of you because our social circumstances are so different. I want to get my notas touched up, but I won't do it if it offends you in any way. I would rather strip them now and repaint them when I got home, if that's the case." An offer to walk from bathhouse to home, barefaced beside him. Not entirely inside the realm of acceptable behavior, but the most honest olive branch he could offer while still respecting his own clan to a permissible degree.
Saren went still in the reflection, a nearly invisible drop of his mandible height gave away his surprise at the words. Good, hopefully the Spectre believed his sincerity. A few heart beats passed as their eyes held in the mirror, then the electric gaze returned to dead center as rasping continued.
"It would be a shame to waste the opportunity to have them redone properly."
"...alright. Thank you."
It was quiet for a while after that.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Chapter End Notes
Mind canon: The tiny, fragile tips to mandibles regrow easily. There is no way everyone and their mother doesn't break those things off in boot camp at least once.
Fanfic Recommendation: The Care Feeding of Spectres (35,926 words) by Aelia Douglass (FemShep/Turian Janitor OC) (Yes, you read that correctly.)