Prompt: plunge (or: in which Thane's idea of death is romanticized)
Follows: affected (sometime after: "jump-kasumi")
He needs not the twenty-four hours to decide, takes them all the same. With a single call to his Broker the knotted ends of his goodbyes unravel just enough to keep them workable. He has long since gathered his few possessions. Left with time he contemplates the echoes created in Shepard's wake. Bodies rhythmically tumble aground. Sure footfalls on metalwork. She is the embodiment of a tidal storm, all furious motion and devastation. She is churning settlement, destroying boundaries of shore line and sea. Human sweat is salt, is brine. It is a monetary forgery that could overwrite the truth.