Dominic led Arius back to the main hall, which was full and busy with mingling guests. He scanned the crowd for Shepard but didn't see her.
"You have been a most unexpected and refreshing diversion, Arius," Dominic admitted, extending his hand.
Arius shook it. "Likewise, Dominic, I look forward to our future collaboration."
"As do I. Please excuse me; I've some politics to engage in," the Eclipse leader explained with a contemptuous smile. He motioned to a waiting attendant, who nodded to him before escorting an asari, salarian and a human toward them.
Arius watched Dominic and his three guests begin walking back toward the doorway where they had recently emerged when Shepard's voice arrived into his ear-piece:
"Stall them."
Unquestioningly, he raised his arm to grab the attention of the retreating group, but they were now advancing in the opposite direction, and he was no longer in their field of view. He considered yelling something to cry out and distract them, but he stalled and could not think of anything other than giving a straight and undignified yelp. He whirled around to seize an inkling from his surroundings and was immediately struck with an idea so practical and elegant that he quickly moved into motion. Arius hurried toward the raised platform in the center of the hall that the antique piano rested on, roughly threw back the fallboard, unceremoniously sat down, and forcefully pressed the keys down in the lower register with resounding gusto. He could not see if his plea for attention was successful from the direction he sat at the piano, but as the low reverberation of the strings penetrated the hall, the voices around him quavered. He pressed the low keys again, harder, and the babble in the hall calmed further.
He spent a hasty second racking his brain for a song - which naturally drew blank at this most crucial moment and returned him nothing. Exasperated, he looked ahead for inspiration and saw only the crowd's stares and the displayed artwork behind them. His eyes skipped over the art pieces again, thinking of the times and the stories they had been part of, the times and stories he had been part of, and decided he would tell one of his own. With that thought, his fingers pressed the keys and the beginnings of a melody began spilling out of the instrument. It was innocent and simple, just a few bars, reminiscent of a bright morning. His nimble fingers danced over the keys, and as the melody filled the hall, all background conversations ground to a whisper.
His touches grew minutely heavier as he advanced onwards, and with each phrase he added to the song, one could imagine a new chapter added to his wordless story: a new day, a new season, some better, some worse, some harmonious, some less so. He returned to the first melody often, and each time he did, it was a little different, a little more mature, a little more complex, taking an essential element from the recent phrase to fill it out.
A second melody line emerged from the background accompaniment, at odds with his original one developing. Based on the chord he had slammed at the beginning, it was a dark one, sourced from the low registers and sustained while the lighter one scampered to and fro on the upper ones. The dark melody drowned out the lighter one entirely in a short crescendo before retreating back to the lower end of the keys and back into the background accompaniment. As this played out, the speed of his hands slowed to a crawl - a picture of exhaustion, one spent.
Then, slowly, he pressed the keys again, and the original melody returned bit by bit, yet the first part's light melody was now a bit darker and a bit more rigid in its composition. It ran through its paces again, repeating the set of phrases now with more power and speed, a renewed effort slowly gaining shape.
The dark melody emerged suddenly, so much so that some listeners were startled. It drowned out the stage again, but the arc of its second melodic dominance was hardwon. It lingered while the original melody darted back and forth, locked in struggle. At last, his hands fell back down the scale once more, and the dark theme retreated but did not leave entirely like the first act. And once more, the original melody seemed to slow and hold on by just a hair. It started again, sounding old and tired, now repeating for its third time. It travelled, and as it did, flares of life struck it here and there like lightning shocks. His hands were moving fast now, and his breath was coming quickly with the exertion. Once more, its travels across the scales enriched it; it collected the bounty of its journey across the keys. And upon its penultimate return to itself, there was a certain fullness to its sound. All the bits and pieces of the previous phrases had now combined to create a richness shone more than the sum of the parts. It was a splendid culmination; some in the audience believed this to be the climax, but they were mistaken.
The dark melody returned, but the audience knew its approach this time. The lighter theme thundered through the octaves, harmoniously linking itself over the auditory expanse. The two rushed toward each other, and the sounds crashed through the hall as he leaned in and pounded his hands into the chord, arms flying from end to end, eyes wild, hair dishevelled, the different lines intertwining and overlapping as the song reached its dramatic climax; an epic crescendo that filled the audience with intense and overflowing zeal. Then at its very zenith, at which everyone held their breath to hear the outcome of the third and final clash, his hands lifted from the keys, and he kept them there, suspended above while the reverberating strings in the instrument rang and gradually faded into silence. He waited till the last vestiges of the echoes from the steel and wood of the instrument disappeared into imperceptibility before he slowly lowered his hands back to the keys, and from the last effort appeared again the first, original melody - the bright sound of a new day, simple and pure. It was a final reflection, the last look back into the past, a raw feeling of nostalgia and sentimental longing for how things once were, a bittersweet reminder of what the melody had once been. He slowly winded down and, with the last stroke of the keys, ceased playing with the resonance of one single, pure, long note.
The hall's inhabitants that listened were in such an enthralled state from the influence of the music that there was continued silence for an extended period in which no one reacted. The deep hooks of the trance that Arius had fallen into then released him as well, and he looked up at the assembled crowd with mild shock and abashment. He placed a hand on his forehead and found he was flushed from the all-consuming playing. He felt emotionally spent and strangely vulnerable; One does not so easily bare one's soul to strangers, and the experience left him feeling naked.
Slowly, the collective spell broke, and a sea of applause formed one by one. Arius unsteadily arose from the bench and bowed low, shaking slightly as he still rode the wave of adrenaline. In the corner of his eye, he spotted Dominic with the assembled group from earlier - evident that he had not gotten much further into the adjacent complex before the unexpected sound of the piano had drawn him back to the edge of the hall. He was clapping, yet his face characteristically betrayed no emotion. When Arius turned in his direction and openly gestured to his host as if to dedicate it, Dominic nodded appreciatively toward him before returning to his original task and disappearing through the doors with the trailing group.
Gathering his wits, Arius staggered off the platform and back to the main floor. He nodded automatically through the crowd of persons gathered to laud his performance, some of which had been moved to tears. By the time he had successfully broken away, rhythmic music had begun playing on its own accord. On his wrist, his omni-tool beeped with a scheduled notification: The dance had begun.
He felt the pressure of a hand gently placed on his arm, so he turned, hoping it was Shepard, but was startled to find that the hand was of a deep cyrelian blue belonging to an asari. Contrasting well with the cool hue of her skin, her body was wrapped in a stylish and revealing white dress. She was stunning.
"May I borrow you for a dance?" the asari asked him.
Arius was still internally recovering from his spontaneous musical display, and the sudden request instilled a surprise in him so acute that he stumbled on his words and barely anything comprehensible exited his mouth. Collecting himself, he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
"Please excuse my floundering; you've caught me a tad off guard. Yes, you may, if you can bear my folly."
The asari acceded, and the two of them moved to the floor. The music was playing in triple time, so the two of them settled into a modern, loose variation of a waltz. They faced each other, and he placed one hand on her waist while her's was placed over his shoulder. They clasped their respective other hands, and they soon began moving in a gliding spin.
Arius cursed himself internally as he dusted off long-unused muscle memory and focused entirely on moving in the correct pattern. Despite his stiff and somewhat robotic countenance, the asari gracefully supported him, forgiving his less natural motions and giving him time to warm up. After a few repetitions, he settled into its flow and gradually loosened.
"Thank you for your patience. It has been a while," he admitted to her.
"Think nothing of it. If anything, I'm impressed." the asari returned as they moved across the floor with slowly lengthening strides, "You've caught on quickly, and I rarely have such opportunities to explore human sensibilities."
Arius internally disagreed as his partner was clearly no novice at the dance but accepted the compliment anyway and continued. Now spending less time thinking about moving, he focused his attention on his partner. The asari was a limber dancer and very fluid, which was unsurprising - most were. He was close enough to detect a light perfume whose sweet scent he recognized as belonging to a flower on Thessia but couldn't place the name of it. Under his hands, he felt a wiry musculature which was a bit uncommon as it went for asari, as muscle was a rarity for their kind unless cultivated under intense training. Adorned around her forearms and neck were coiled, thin snakes of silver, under which he spotted numerous thin scars from grazes and cuts - some new, some old.
"You're a huntress," He stated.
"Yes, that's right. Syrena Kurinth."
"The name of the ancient asari goddess of war and hunting, enchanting. Arius Farren," he introduced in turn.
They spun.
"And what do you do, Arius?" she asked him as they led into a travelling contra check.
"A bit of this and a bit of that."
"Like playing the piano?"
"When the need arises."
"And designing weapons?"
"Tools," he corrected, punctuating with an apel. "When required."
She pulled him along with a slide.
"Your playing was sublime," she noted. "I've not heard anything quite like it before. A cyclical struggle of opposing forces; the dance of predator and prey. The climax had my heart racing. Was the piece an original?"
"It was."
"And what was your inspiration? Of the two melodies, which emerged victoriously?"
"It's something of a personal story," he answered, swinging her out. "Only time will reveal the victor."
The asari huntress scrutinized him with her wide blue eyes at their close physical distance, endeavouring to decipher him, which he equated to the feeling of being stalked by a predator. Without realizing it, he noticed she had begun to lead at a steadily quicker pace till they darted across the floor and in tighter circles. Her moves grew more aggressive and bold.
"Are you here on business or pleasure, Arius?"
"Business, but this evening has been surprisingly enjoyable. And yourself?"
"All pleasure." She smiled back. "Did you come alone?" she asked him, with no small desire in her voice.
"I did not."
"Business partner or a personal companion?"
"It's... a bit complicated."
"I see."
The playing song swelled to its final crescendo, and so did they as she pulled him into a repeated spin which manifested as a dizzying storm of white and black.
At last, the song ended, and the two parted and bowed to one another. Arius' heart was pounding, and he calmed his breath, bringing himself back down from the frenzied pace. From somewhere off to the side, a familiar red-haired human woman in a black dress arrived into view, having been patiently waiting.
Relieved, Arius extended his hand to introduce her. "Ah, and here she is. Allow me to introduce…"
"No need. We met earlier," the asari informed him. "Ms. Gunn," she politely acknowledged.
"Ms. Kurinth," Shepard returned.
"Thank you for the dance, Arius. If you ever need a partner for dancing - or otherwise, do look me up," she offered with a sly glance and a wink before her blue and white form slowly sauntered away and merged back into the busyness of the party.
The second song started, and Shepard set her hand in his, much to Arius' surprise. Highly intrigued, he linked up to her, and the two began moving to the rhythm.
"You've been busy," she remarked.
Arius scanned the crowd around them as they stepped in tandem. More than a few pairs of eyes were burning intently on Shepard as the two turned across the floor. "As have you."
"That's fair."
He was much more at ease this time and relaxed into the movements. He observed that Shepard was poised and smooth on her feet, and they rose and fell naturally. The two of them swept across the floor with an apparent lightness.
"Hmm. I have a query for you," he asked her.
"Yes?"
"You must tell me how the common opinion aboard a certain stealth starship holds you to a distinct lack of coordination."
She rolled her eyes. "That already got around to you? Why am I even surprised? Well, I'd like to see them try dancing solo in a seedy club on Omega while wearing full armour, and maybe then they can talk shit."
She elicited a laugh from him and evoked one from her too.
"Please, not a word of this to anyone," she added, "do you understand? I have a terrible reputation to uphold."
"Your secret is safe with me."
The contact was close, and the dancing between them was smooth. When he invited her along, she followed through. When he felt her desire to lead and move differently, he adapted, and they seamlessly flowed with the music and each other. It felt effortless, and he savoured the experience until the piece wound down, and so did they. The whole business seemed to be over too soon in his estimation, and when they stopped and moved to part, it was no imagined aspiration of his that their touches lingered for a moment more. By now, the evening had drawn out, and the star was beginning to be cut by the horizon beyond the glass walls.
Shepard turned to view the landscape. "Hey, the star is setting. Want to move outdoors to watch?"
"Lead the way."
.
The outside air felt fresh against her skin, and Shepard inhaled deeply from the cool air, bringing herself down from the fervent highs of the dance. The primary objective of the evening had become muddied in the surprises it brought, and she found herself flooded with feelings that she hadn't felt in some time. She was enjoying herself - so much that it almost felt wrong to her. She held a belief that every one of her actions had a direct eventual consequence, and the dark manifestation of this ethos was a deep fear that this joy would come with some unforeseen cost she would later pay dearly for.
Her dark musings were interrupted by the gentle pressure of Arius' hand around the small of her back as they strolled to an unoccupied section along the promenade to watch the star set. Since he had first joined her, she had repeatedly noticed that there was a perceptible warmth which emanated from his proximity that frequently seemed unnatural: presently, his slight contact spread a warmth over her back that resisted the cool breeze of the outside air and during the full-bodied contact of their dance she felt as if her whole body was afire. It was an effect of his ability, he had previously explained to her, and apologized preemptively for any discomfort it would cause.
The two of them settled on a spot away from others, and they jointly leaned over a railing to watch the setting light transform into warmer hues as it scattered through the atmosphere. Shepard turned to observe Arius' profile and found his unique eyes brilliantly caught the light. She reflected on his earlier playing, and the passion in his performance stirred her mind. The music had been powerful and moving, she thought, but maybe also more personal than he had initially intended it to be. When the playing was done, and the silence descended in the hall - when he had finally raised his head and looked up at them his face had worn an expression of vulnerability unlike any she had seen on him. She knew him to be a sincere person, almost to a fault, but for that brief moment on the stage, he had let the music lay his soul completely bare, and the expression of unease on his face had not left her. It was confusing to her, startling even, why someone of his stature, accomplishments, and lifespan would be apprehensive about revealing such a thing, but his reaction spoke volumes and revealed some deeper part of him that was usually out of reach.
"Thank you for your impromptu diversion earlier, Arius. It was far more tasteful than anything I would have probably done. I caught most of your song, too; it was really remarkable. You played the absolute hell out of that piano."
He gave her a slight smile. "Thank you."
"It was you, wasn't it? In your song. That melody was you."
He turned to meet her eyes. "It was. Either I'm that easy to read, or you're beginning to know me a little too well. Hmm. Do I need to step up my 'dark and mysterious' game? Is it too late to transform into a bat and fly away?"
"Very funny."
The light was quickly setting now. The time it took for one revolution on this planet was much shorter than a standard Earth day, so although they arrived when the sun stood high scarcely a few hours ago, it was now hurrying over to the other side.
Arius took a step back to get a complete scene as best as he could, paying attention to every detail to remember the moment exactly as it was. As he did, the fading orange light reached out and bathed them all in one last steady glow as it passed behind the horizon. Like it had been in the Watcher's Chamber on Ilos, Shepard's red hair was lit ablaze under the fading luminescence of the star. He watched the setting light catch her while the lengthening shadows crawled over the landscape ahead of them, and the scene captivated him with unexpected intensity, reconnecting him to a particular period from his past on Earth. Memories began awakening in him: long silent treks through white and green fields, the feeling of soft, wide tapestries of vibrant colour in his hands, the comfort of a roaring fire in a home's hearth, the smells of cool, deep, old woods and hot, young iron at the forge...
"Hello, you... disappeared just now," Shepard voiced, breaking his recollection, "Is something in my hair?"
He blinked rapidly, muddled in his thoughts, realizing that he had been staring for too long. "Is something...? Oh, no, not at all," he stammered, sheepishly averting his eyes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude, I just… the colour of your hair and eyes is a rarity nowadays. Traits like yours have declined significantly since the eighteenth century. It reminded me of..." The rest of the words he meant to say never came out.
He trailed off in a manner that Shepard had been growing steadily accustomed to - sometimes, while talking about or seeing something that reminded him of his past, he would dive into a memory mid-sentence, and his train of thoughts would stall. It seemed to her like he would get lost in the endless chain of them and would not be able to find his way back to the conversation. During these episodes, she noticed minute changes in his face. She likened the changes to a Drell's eidetic recall, only that his slips were silent. When he disappeared as he had just done, his eyes would unfocus and take on a faraway look, becoming the only indicator of - what she guessed - the feelings the particular memories unearthed in him. When it was terrible, she noticed they would grow dull and darken and that the lines of his face would deepen with unease. When it was good like she supposed he was experiencing now, a tranquil peace settled over his visage, and the emerald brilliance of his eyes looked borderline luminescent. These changes occurred in his ordinary waking behaviour, too, often enough that she had begun to read them to gauge his mood, but they fluctuated too quickly to definitively observe in casual conversation. It was only moments like these she could correctly see the changes.
She waited patiently until he had returned from whatever corridors of his mind that he had gotten lost through, and she soon saw his eyes focusing again. He gave a sigh as a light breeze flitted through the balcony.
"Did either of your parents have red hair? Was it common in your family?" he asked her, oblivious of how long they had been standing while he silently zoned out.
"No. I was told my grandmother on my mom's side did, but she passed before I was born. I actually used to dye it in my teens."
"Really? Got bored with the colour?"
"Bored? No, it wasn't that. I'm pretty sure I was the only person in our colony with hair like this. The kids I grew up with already picked on me because of my biotics, and I didn't want the additional attention it brought. I dyed it so I could look like everyone else."
"Oh. That's a shame." He looked at her with a wistful look, like how one would nostalgically look at an old photo. "It's a beautiful colour. Your eyes, too - blue, like some of the glaciers that once covered Earth. There are not many people like you left."
He elicited a rare-seen, bashful smile from her, but then it morphed into one of uncertainty. "It's moments like these that I can't tell if you're flirting or being serious."
"I always mean what I say," he affirmed, which didn't directly address her question, but he moved a little closer to her, and his voice softened. "Red hair like yours has always been rare in all corners of the world. Folk often feared the red-haired as witches or called them soulless but…" he raised his hand and gently moved a fiery strand that had fallen in front of her face, "red is the colour of the Earth itself, of the fire that burns within it, and of the blood that runs in your veins."
The simple gesture was the latest in a string of interactions between the two that had become increasingly intimate without design or intention. It would have felt jarring had it not felt so easy, Arius reflected, unaware that Eden had thought the same. The two were now close enough to feel the heat emanating from one another through the cooler air, and their faces were now close enough that their breath intermingled. A bolt of charged potential passed between them - yet neither one proceeded or retreated from the idea it introduced, wondering perhaps if the other would break the stalemate in either direction.
"Gosh, you must think me banal." He chuckled, lightening the unexpected mood that had settled on them. "Do let me know if I'm becoming saccharine. I must say this evening has me feeling significantly more sentimental than usual."
She lightly laughed it off, but the sudden release of the tension tinged it with a nervous undertone. The pull-away brought clarity to their wayward thoughts, and with it came a sharp awareness of what had just nearly transpired. No words were exchanged expressing these notions, but both in their internal worlds decided it was best to apply the brakes, at least for now. As a consequence of this joint internal agreement, no uneasy tension or awkward pause formed afterward between them. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his right arm for warmth, and he, in turn, placed his left hand over hers as they both turned back to watch the last rays of light disappear.
"Speaking of diversion," Arius raised, "were you successful?"
Shepard removed one of her hands, and it disappeared into her clutch before reappearing with a small vial of unknown composition between her fingers.
"Brilliant. I was beginning to think we were too late. The complex had already been mostly cleared in preparation for this evening."
"I did too. I got some interesting intel, but we can compare notes later when we get back on board. Why don't we start heading back? It's getting chilly out here."
While they began moving back to the entrance, the whines of shuttles were heard approaching the open courtyard. One by one, Eclipse branded transports flew in and landed. Mercenaries wearing the original white Eclipse branded armour poured out, all of whom were armed.
"Here for happy hour, do you think?" Shepard suggested, to which Arius shrugged.
The line of newly arrived mercenaries advanced toward the villa and stopped briefly at each of the guests strewn about outdoors. Once talked to, the guests got up, walked to their shuttle, and left. The armed group soon reached them.
"Ma'am. Sir. We regret to inform you the party is ending earlier than scheduled this evening. Please return to your transport and leave immediately. You will not be instructed again. Thank you for understanding." Without waiting for a reply, the merc walked off to join the broader group as they headed for the entrance. At the door, the guards halted the group of armed mercs. Although they were too far to hear the words exchanged, they could not miss the not-so-subtle actions of watching the newcomers press the barrel of their guns against Dominic's guards as they were led inside.
Shepard and Arius looked at each other. Alarm bells were figuratively going off. The lighthearted and slightly fuzzy feeling they were experiencing had gone ice cold and deadly serious.
"Oh, I've got a terrible feeling about this. You brought a weapon, right?" Shepard asked, taking her folded pistol out from her purse.
"It's sitting with the check right now. Do you think…?" but Shepard's look gave him all the information he needed, and he immediately left her to dash toward the entrance, not needing to hear a reply.
