Chapter 13: The Sand & Sea
Morning came with the welcomed smells and sounds of brewing tea. Liara roused peacefully and stretched her arms above her head, though her brain kept trying to alarm her of something. She felt as though she was being watched. She turned to look in the direction of the source, smacked with confusion over the scene. Shepard had balanced on the hind legs of a chair, leaning against the wall as she leafed through pages of what seemed to be one of the archaeologist's thesis papers. Her other published pieces laid scattered about the bedroom.
One lonesome page was set aside on her night table. When she pushed herself up on her elbow to check it out of curiosity, Shepard rocked back on all fours and covered the page - of what Liara could only deduce as some kind of list - with the thesis paper.
"Good morning, Dr. T'Soni," Shepard greeted with a sleepy smile.
Exhaustion hung heavily with more definitive dark purple-blue bags under the soldier's eyes. How many nights have passed since her last decent rest?
"She'll dismiss my concern even if I raise the issue," Liara inwardly lamented.
So she played along - for the moment - as she smiled back.
"Good morning, Shepard."
She pushed up further to sit against her headboard, pinching her blanket to her chest before she realized she was still in her normal attire.
"Had I not gone to bed myself, last night? I can't quite remember..."
"I've tea brewing in the kitchen," Shepard announced as she rose. "I'll get you a cup. How are you feeling, by the way? Do you have a headache?"
The soldier hadn't waited for answers as she left on her newfound mission. Liara stole this opportunity to sate her curiosity over the list, peeking under her thesis papers as she rose her voice to be heard.
"I'm feeling well. No headache. Why?"
The first point on the list was great cause for concern, especially when it held absolutely no correlation with the rest of the items.
"Riot shields, water-proof bag, shower caddy and bath robe?"
"Your bruise has settled in." Shepard's nearing voice caused panic. The rest of the list became hidden from view again, and just in time as the soldier climbed the stairs with that forehead subtly pinched the way it always did when she was concerned, even if her tone was devoid of it. "But at least it appears to be only that, then. Here."
The papers were all taken away to be replaced by a steaming cup. Shepard retrieved her list and gestured with it.
"Before we return to the Normandy, I have some things I'd like to purchase. I believe I know where to go for most of them so I should be back in an hour at most. I'll write down my personal frequency for you, message me if you need anything."
"You're going alone?"
"Yes. I figured you'd want some solitude in your final moments here, and some of my items may cause you discomfort to be purchased with me."
"Probably the riot shields." Liara took her tea and sipped at it, eyes fluttering shut from the comforting taste - likely the last she'd get in a long time. "Okay. Thank you, Commander."
Goddess, that title felt and sounded so strange now that she knew it was going to be how she was to defer to Lucy.
"...Lucy. She doesn't know that I know."
Liara watched the soldier leave after the frequency was scribbled down on a scrap piece of paper, the rigidity in her posture and muscles almost as if set in stone with her military ways. There was a strong urge in that moment to call out, to confess her knowledge with that single utterance of the human's given name, but cowardice suffocated her and she instead drowned herself in her tea. A heavy sigh fell out of her when she heard the entrance-way door slide open and then shut.
"Lucy," she whispered to herself, testing the foreign name on her tongue. "Lucy Fair Shepard. Three names?"
A strange human custom. Were she ever to confess, what would she use, if she were permitted to? If the soldier didn't run away? It was something to look forward to, but she still retained her sense that time was of the essence in continuing to forge and nurture this bond between them, to be the pioneer Shepard needed in navigating this uncharted territory she was cautious of.
"Lucy-Luce. I can see her never relaxing in my proximity ever again, were I to ever tease her by sweetening her name."
Liara smiled to herself as she stared into her tea. She swirled it gently and took a sip, before she reached over to inspect the paper left for her. On the back, half a word existed - probably leftover from the list. She turned it around and studied the frequency. Her heart twisted when the pattern made itself almost too painstakingly clear, if someone possessed certain knowledge.
"M21.70. Mindoir was attacked by the batarians in 2170. Did she actually willingly choose this frequency, or is this another cruel twist of fate for her?"
It was almost blasphemous to consider the possibility that Shepard chose this, but it is a personal frequency, rather than one assigned by the Alliance. What a... What could she even call this decision? Peculiar? Intriguing? It certainly piqued her curiosity again, making her wonder just how the soldier had consolidated her past experiences, and what perspective she held now over it.
"From what I know, I could see her explaining what happened, but she would have no emotional connection to it. So why choose this frequency? Is this her trying to establish that bridge to what's locked away inside of her?"
Psychoanalyzing the human has been proving itself to become a part-time job. Liara couldn't help it, couldn't help wanting to know every little thought and feeling the soldier had. It was all both interesting and inspiring, the way Shepard could still carry herself - carry on despite everything she has survived. It was yet another question to be withheld for the right moment in the future. Hopefully.
Her thoughts were disturbed by the flash of her own omni-tool, alight on the back of her wrist as it pinged her for a video call. Confused and still in the slow process of shaking off the remnants of sleep, she answered it. She came face to face with a stone-faced soldier.
"Dr. T'Soni," Shepard asked with the utmost seriousness. "What is your favourite colour?"
"My - what?"
Such a simple question, and yet she was disarmed of an answer.
"I... I do not know. Why?"
"You don't know?" Shepard's eyebrows pinched endearingly. "Even I know mine. That's not a good sign, Dr. T'Soni. Everyone has a favourite colour, you should have one too."
Was she seriously being scolded for not having a favourite colour? She had more important things to concern herself over, in life.
"Then again, with Lucy saying 'even I know mine', that is indeed not a good sign. However..."
She still didn't know. She shrugged.
"I will have to think on it, Commander. I'll look around my apartment and-"
"I need an answer now. Can't you pick one now? Deliberate later."
Liara smiled, amused. "It wouldn't quite be my favourite colour if I were to change my mind later, now would it?"
"Sate your pleasure for debate later too. Pick one."
Patience didn't seem to be Shepard's strong suit when she was on a personal mission, and it was a source of great entertainment for the archaeologist. She would have fun with this another time, though, and spoil the Commander just this once. The daredevil within decided to sneak in a hint too.
"Blonde, I suppose. Blonde like the sand at the beach we were at."
Shepard's mouth slackened just the tiniest bit. She glanced over her shoulder, and Liara tried to scrutinize the details of the revealed background. The soldier's pinched eyebrows returned at full force.
"They don't have that colour. Pick another."
"But Commander, a favourite colour entails having only one chosen-"
"I'm so done. I'm choosing for you."
Shepard abruptly ended the call, and Liara laughed. She couldn't erase her smile even when she tried. Never would she have ever caused this level of trouble for anybody else - or so she thought of herself that way, especially with the prospect of an intimate relationship. There was something about teasing such a stoic human that made it far too amusing of an opportunity to pass up, though. She had the sense that Shepard enjoyed it deep down too.
"That's the story I am going to go with, anyways," Liara mused with her smile growing sly. "So, besides all of that, should I ask her how she knows my personal frequency? I think these matters are better left unanswered, at this point. I do not quite desire to know just how much of my personal information has been hacked by the galaxy."
After she finished her tea, Liara relinquished her warm nook in bed in favour of changing into fresh clothes before the soldier returned. She went to the kitchen and was faced with yet another horrifying nightmare. Instead of using her stove like a normal person, it was made evident that the improvised torch was used - and consequently the bottom of her kettle was charred black.
There was no way that pyromaniac of a human wasn't chuckling heinously while she had 'brewed' this tea.
"This was my favourite kettle," Liara mourned as she ran a loving finger down the curved neck of the tea pot. It survived so many harrowing expeditions in the past, and this was how it died?
"Note to self: don't emotionally invest in belongings near Lucy's vicinity."
At least, for the time being, the rest of her things would be safe here while she would be boarded on the Normandy. Unless Shepard planned to make a personal trip here just to destroy more innocent objects to appease her inner villain. Liara sorrowfully cleaned the kitchen and tried to hide the torch in the darkest corner, going so far as to biotically warp the source of light and bend the metal until it no longer illuminated that corner. A hunger pang drew her eyes back to the perishable goods on the counter that conveniently sat above the disposal cabinet. She chuckled to herself as she opened a can and suffered through a bowl of it.
"It'll be my last time for a while."
This thought began to plague her more often, and her heart would twist just a little bit more each time. When her stomach plummeted with realization, she fought to stave off her tears. She strolled about her apartment one last time, now taking pictures of the evidence a human left during her stay here. The torch even earned a spot in the album, followed by the melted sieve and the charred tea pot. Those too were evidence to enact revenge on Shepard, someday.
The final blow was dealt when Liara entered her bathroom, heart-wrenched and shocked over the sight of her glass doors completely removed from the shower stall. There was a makeshift border around the tiles, probably to contain the water so that eventually it would go down the drain rather than all over her floor.
"W-what... What is the meaning of this...?"
Oh, the meaning, she knew. She knew where this was going, where she didn't want it to go, where the soldier intended things to go whether it started here or the Normandy.
No way in any universe or parallel universe would Liara be caught following along. She locked the bathroom door and wrestled out of her clothes as quickly as possible - this way she could defend herself by saying she had already taken a shower. Hopefully the soldier would lean onto the pragmatic thinking that taking a second shower would be a waste of both time and resources.
And so, Liara raced the fastest she had ever been to wash herself.
"Mother would be stunned."
She softly smiled to herself, ignoring the pang of sorrow that drilled in her heart. It was replaced by panic when she swore she heard a faint call of her name. The shower was off and the towels flew furiously, uncaring of the mess she was leaving on the floor as she rushed to don her clothes with a fury. She didn't trust that 'locked' door - and with good reason, as she watched the mechanism somehow be overloaded for synthetic fingers to curl around. She crossed her arms and returned the soldier's look when they came face to face at the door.
"At least try to knock before you break and enter," Liara chastised lightheartedly.
"There will be no knocking on the Normandy," Shepard rebuffed.
"I'm beginning to think you just want to catch me off guard."
The blurt came without thinking, and the archaeologist blushed at how flirty she had sounded too. She couldn't gauge the reaction before her however. She didn't deny the disappointment that came with the way Shepard shrugged after an awkward lengthy moment of staring. The soldier gestured towards the bedroom before she turned and left.
"I've bought you some things that I believe will help with the issue you'll have. I've been planning this all night and have thought about everything I think a civilian would need." Shepard set aside a few bags. "Here, these are for you."
"This is what you went shopping for?" Liara idly asked as she strolled over, somewhat caught in a daze over the gesture.
"Yeah. Most of it is to help you assimilate with military culture while retaining civilian comforts. I never packed much in my foot locker, so I will make the exception to the rule by saying this is what will be in my foot locker."
"O-oh..."
She leaned over to peer in a bag and reached inside to pull it out. It appeared to be a bath robe that was incredibly soft, but also incredibly ugly. The faded blush pink looked like something that had gone through the mud and wash several times, too deeply stained to return to it's original vibrant colour. She had to fall back on practice and rely on her quick-draw smile when Shepard seemed to fidget by shifting beside her.
"Do you like it? I thought it matches your personality and would look... Complimentary with your skin colour."
"This is supposed to match my personality?"
Oh, the horror. Liara wasn't sure how to feel about that. This was positively the ugliest thing she'd ever seen. Was that how the Commander saw her? Felt about her? What a horrific blow to confidence. Hopefully this wasn't at all the case. Perhaps this colour boasted some kind of tactical advantage - that was more believable.
"Here, try it on. I guessed your size. Now will be a good time to find out if it fits, before we board the Normandy."
Shepard plucked the bath robe out of the archaeologist's hands and helped herself, thrusting the sleeves onto a despondent soul. Liara succumbed to her fate and tried to hold onto the heart-swelling endearment of the gesture, touched by the thoughtfulness of this soldier trying so hard just to help her feel comfortable during an uncomfortable change.
When they were face to face, with a serious-faced soldier tying the belt a little too snugly as if it were a uniform, Liara couldn't help but peer deeply in Shepard's eyes. She was caught gawking soon enough, and had caught the gawker when they continued to stare at each other. It was broken when the soldier suddenly stepped back, a terse smile as she nodded in regards to her combing over the bath robe.
"Yeah, I think that fits good. Looks good on you too, Dr. T'Soni."
"Don't make me look in a mirror." Liara inwardly prayed.
Unfortunately, the Goddess wasn't listening today. The archaeologist was thrust in front of one soon enough, with Shepard holding onto her shoulders from behind. But a thorough look was almost enough to change her mind - a thorough look at the soldier's face, that was. Liara abandoned her self-consciousness and ran her hands down the length of the robe, before she glanced over her shoulder with a more readily genuine smile. She swiftly undid the belt and tied it in a more casual and comfortable fashion. A robe was not a military uniform after all.
"I like it. Thank you, Shepard. This is very thoughtful of you."
It seemed to rattle the soldier for some reason, who's eyes suddenly darted off before her body followed. She moved a little more mechanically. She stopped for a moment with a sigh.
"You're... Welcome. I'm relieved you like it. To be honest, I was unnerved by the idea of you hating it."
"Mm hm. There's me never confessing yet another thing ever again. I am supposed to be unearthing secrets, not stashing them."
"This is a water-proof bag where you can store your clothes in here. That way after your shower, you can dry yourself off and get dressed in one of the bathroom stalls if you feel uncomfortable to trek around the locker room." Shepard turned a bag upside down to spill out the contents. "There's sandals here - I guessed your size but they look like the ones you wore to the beach. Sometimes, uh, soldiers we... Aren't good at taking care of ourselves. So these will help prevent you from catching any fungal infections. This here is a little caddy that you can hook on the shower head and put your bathing products on."
The list droned on and on. Liara couldn't afford to take her eyes off the soldier's face. She would figure out what she had gotten later, on the Normandy. Right now, studying was of the utmost importance. She smiled when she noticed eyes flickering to her just as often, the one-sided conversation slowly coming to a halt as words drifted. Shepard seemed to tense over it though, and it showed more visibly in her question.
"What are you looking at me like that for? Are these products not satisfactory, Dr. T'Soni?"
"Oh, they very much are. I appreciate it all greatly." Liara braved a few steps closer. "They will all help me, you don't have to worry about anything, Shepard. Did you get anything for yourself?"
That seemed to thaw the soldier from her frozen state.
"Yeah, but I don't know when I'll use it. I don't actually need it."
Shepard pulled something soft out of a different bag. Another bath robe - a pale blue one at that. Hope swelled in Liara's chest, and she just couldn't help herself with the correlation made in her mind. After all, there was someone in Lucy's vicinity who happened to be blue.
"Is this your favourite colour, Commander?"
"No."
"Oh. Well then."
That hope was blown to tiny pieces, and disappointment crashed down on her like a tidal wave. A tidal wave indeed, the soldier was, as she had turned with an endearing smile not yet seen before.
"They didn't have my favourite colour either. Blue."
Liara made her point by looking at the bath robe. It was blue. Shepard chuckled.
"No. Blue like the sea at the beach we were at."
"Oh. Well then."
There was an underlying something here, but the human made it notoriously difficult to read her with her blank expressions - and no trace of subtleties to boot. If she was stashing secrets as well, she was remarkably talented at it. Liara held on to her hope, but so too did fear silence her bravery in what she wanted to confess with what was recently growing inside her heart. That hope grew exponentially as she watched the soldier don her bath robe. She chuckled when Shepard looked down at the belt with confusion.
"Here. May I?"
Liara stepped forward and waited until she got a nod, stealing glances to watch the watcher. It was intriguing on it's own to be the witness to this subtle transformation of a professional killer reach out in curiosity to see what it's like to be human rather than a robot. In this case, the human just looked like a fish out of water, running her hands down the front of the soft plushy robe. When she lifted her eyes, her head, there was a different magnetic attraction pulling and tempting Liara. She tore herself away just as she found herself rising on her toes and played it off as if she was bouncing and rocking on her heels, spinning the bottom of her robe with an exaggerated whirl in front of the mirror. She didn't have the bravery to look and see if she was caught for her true intentions.
Awkward silence rapidly filled the void between them. Shepard quietly came up behind the archaeologist and stared through the mirror's reflection. She was unreadable again, no marvel nor question in her expression.
"I have to say, it's slightly unnerving..."
Instead of an expression to read, she had a thousand things slamming her at once for a simple gesture: arms wrapping around just below her breasts. Shepard rested her forehead on the archaeologist's shoulder.
"You did this to me last night," the soldier murmured with a hint of conflict and confusion in her tone, as if she was racing to demystify a puzzle. "Do you remember?"
"I-" Liara cleared the lump encroached in her throat. She croaked pathetically and decided not to speak, shaking her head instead.
"I didn't know what to do," Shepard confessed. "But it felt... Pleasant. Is this pleasant for you too?"
"This is a thousand other words more than just 'pleasant'."
Still, she didn't trust her voice to be there, and nodded as her answer.
"Well, I suppose this is not quite what you did. Your arms were up higher on my shoulders." Shepard adjusted herself and lifted her head. "Like this."
"Yes. Still not making a difference for me, Luce."
Liara was paralyzed, stuck on those eyes in the mirror. And then she was immediately thawed when the soldier seemed to make an annoyed scowl at the blush pink robe.
"I refuse to be defeated. I'll find a sand-coloured robe someday, I promise. Then we'll be the sand and sea duo."
"Oh, if only you knew the real reason I'd want such a pairing..." Liara at least mustered a smile despite her veiled intentions. "I would love that."
And she loved what such a simple confession did to those eyes in the mirror.
One second Shepard was soaking in the sights of the city behind them, and the next second her boot touched the Normandy's airlock, sparking a transformation before Liara's eyes. She found the contrast wildly amusing: the Commander's stern business-mode accompanied by the fact that she still wore the blue plush robe.
Never before had Liara worked so hard to engrave facial expressions to memory, trying to contain herself with each slack-jawed marine they passed by on the ship. The speed and precision of an authority's gait was difficult to keep up with, especially when she wanted nothing more than double over in laughter over this blasphemous seriousness of this all.
"I think I am the only one not shocked that Lucy is doing this. She still carries herself with such fervour and strength. I have to hold on. I don't think it will be acceptable to laugh in front of her crew."
Discipline was put to the test, each round getting harder and harder. The contents in all the shopping bags Shepard had carried jostled feverishly. The synthetic arm was looped through the handles of a couple riot shields - probably the most jarring aspect of this picture unfolding before Liara. A plush-robed warrior still ready for battle. As they made it down to the mess hall, Liara had recognized one marine among a small group seated at the table: Ashley Williams.
"What was her rank again? A chief of some sort. Oh, Goddess, this is going to be tougher than I thought... Do I salute now? I forgot to ask Lucy. Do I salute to her too, now?"
Panic was beginning to settle in with each question suddenly realized, only to be jarred out of existence when Ashley's robust laughter thundered and rebounded off the walls in the mess hall. It died suddenly when the Commander loomed over her, and Ashley was struggling to silence the little chuckles that skipped out of her.
"What do you find funny, Gunnery Chief Williams?" Shepard demanded, her menacing tone causing fear to viciously recoil through the archaeologist's stomach.
She found the carefree smile on Ashley's face a terribly concerning sign that one stood at the brink of insanity.
"Nothing ma'am," she countered smoothly, gesturing to the plush robe. "That looks really good on you, Commander."
That seemed to catch Shepard off guard. She looked down at herself, setting down her shopping bags to run a hand down the plush softness. Her tone softened like the robe.
"You think so too? I think the colour is very pleasing to the eye. Does it suit me?"
"What... Am I witnessing here?"
This complete 180 transformation seemed to catch everybody but Ashley off guard, and her smile only grew into a triumphant smirk.
"I think it suits you perfectly, Commander. You should wear this more often, especially up at the CiC."
From the side, Liara had a sneak peek of Shepard's eyes safeguarded behind her sunglasses - and there seemed to be a pleading scream in those eyes upon that idea. She actually appeared to be considering it, and Liara wasn't sure if she should interject to say that even she had realized when one was just teasing. That was saying a lot with how oblivious she could be sometimes. A small measure of relief welled up in her when the soldier shook her head sternly, settling back in that commanding posture that she wore so well.
"Don't tempt me, Chief Williams."
"Oh you bet I'm going to keep tempting you now, Commander. Where's my robe, huh? I think we should all get robes." Ashley's wicked smile now aimed it's crosshairs at the archaeologist. "I'll bet Dr. T'Soni has one hiding in those bags. Gotta make it fair, Commander, it's not good for morale to play favourites."
Another preposterous idea that seemed to be considered. Shepard rose a brow, her eyes unreadable behind her sunglasses, as she looked over at Liara.
"That's not a bad idea. Before we depart from Thessia, I will calculate my budget and see how many I am able to purchase. Begin interviewing every female on the crew to see what colours they would like. The available options are: blush-pink, pale-blue, luminescent-purple, and forest-green. I will assign Lieutenant Alenko to brainstorm what the men will want."
"W-wait, you want me to ask everybody on the ship right now?"
"Affirmative, Chief Williams. Haul out. You have exactly 62 minutes before I call for a debriefing in the comm room and begin preparations for departure. I will retrieve the gear afterwards."
Whether or not Shepard was actually serious about this - and it was safe to say that she was - seemed to backfire horribly on the poor marine who was only just teasing.
"Note to self: never bluff with Lucy. I don't think she's aware what bluffing is."
Shepard strutted off to her quarters, leaving all marines to gawk in disbelief. Liara kept her smile to herself and silently followed, unsure of what else she was supposed to do right now, and let her amusement out of it's cage when they were in the privacy of the Commander's room. She couldn't, however, stay silent about the validity of Ashley's request.
"I do not think Chief Williams was serious about retrieving robes for your crew, Commander."
Shepard didn't miss a beat as she unloaded her shopping bags and riot shields beside her desk. She shrugged as she went straight for her bed, combing through her night stand to retrieve medication. She popped a pill without hesitation and barely managed to take her boots and sunglasses off before she crashed into her pillow, face down.
"I know," came the sleepy muffled response. "I'm the fisher, can't bait me."
"Ah, so she was aware of the bluff. But then...?" Liara quietly took a stool and rolled over to the side of the bed, curious of how this human actually looks like when she sleeps. "You're still going to purchase robes for your crew? Is that... A necessary purchase?"
"It is."
No further insight was given.
"May I ask why, Commander?"
Shepard slightly turned her head so that an eye poked out from the pillow's shield, tiredly dancing.
"You may."
Liara suppressed a huff. "So why is it a necessary purchase?"
That eye disappeared again. The voice drifted, lethargy commanding the tone. "Because it's for you."
"F-for me?"
Confusion smacked the archaeologist, but it didn't seem as though she would get her answers any time soon, left alone to speculate when she heard the softest snore. For one so vigilant and cautious to succumb to sleep this quickly spoke volumes of how exhausted she truly was, stalling for an extra minute longer. Liara selfishly entertained the idea that the soldier had even felt comfortable enough to fall asleep with her around, despite all the threats she always checked in every shadow and corner. Liara leaned forward and gently slipped her fingers past hair, to where she imagined an ear would be, and traced the curve to tuck the hair behind it in order to get a better view of the sleeping face. The movement disturbed Shepard for a moment, her features twitching, but ultimately stayed soundly asleep.
Glittering and red demanded Liara's attention in her peripheral vision, and she glanced over at the mess that was left here from the last time. Her heart wrenched at the memory, the haunting phantoms that dwelled in the soldier's eyes when they traversed to a dark place a thousand yards away. She left as quietly as she could and went back to the mess hall to inquire the marines where she could find protective gloves for the glass, a dust pan and a wet cloth. They helped retrieve it for her instead of giving directions - though she wagered it was due to not yet having orders and permissions as to what an alien like her was permitted on this ship.
"Lucy said I wasn't her subordinate, but I am still part of the crew. Nobody else knows that though. I should stay with her until she makes her announcements during her debriefing. Will she allow me to accompany her for that? I would imagine it will be about whatever was found in mother's home... But she didn't let me stay with her during her chat with the Chancellor."
It wasn't immediately important, and she was confident Shepard wouldn't just leave her totally in the dark. She renewed her focus on her new task and returned to the Commander's quarters, carefully cleaning up the shattered glass. She washed down the parts of the wall and tile that were sticky from the wine, glancing over when she heard a noise stir in the soldier's direction. Shepard's face was construed in discomfort, her features gradually pinching harder. Liara took off her gloves and set the cleaning supplies in the corner before she took her seat on the stool. She carefully squeezed the Commander's shoulder.
"It's alright," she whispered, not certain if she should wake someone who dearly needed the sleep.
Liara steeled herself as she leaned down and rested her elbows on the edge of the bed to be closer, ignoring the ache in her back from the awkward position. She decided it was safe to confess one of her little secrets upon waiting and watching to determine that Shepard remained asleep - the pain in her features was a telling sign.
"You're safe, Lucy. You're in a place where no one can hurt you right now."
She stopped for a moment, brainstorming what else to say, where to carry this. One look at the pale-blue robe was all she needed, and she smiled.
"You're at the beach, with the stars above your head. You can see your breaths as the chilly air wraps around you. The waves are calm, the sand is cool. The moon is bright and the sounds of insects buzz all around you."
Liara briefly closed her eyes as she had imagined herself back in the place they were in a few nights ago. She missed it dearly already.
"You're knee-deep in the water." She smirked a little and opened her eyes. "The fish are taunting you to catch them, Lucy."
Shepard's stirring slowed and her eyebrows released from their pinching torment. The crease lines of her forehead relaxed, and her mouth slightly slackened. The corner of her lips quirked up in a small determined smile, the way she had whenever she was reeling in a difficult biotic fish. It fuelled the next idea.
"Your fishing line sails in the air, you wiggle the bait and wait for the tension on the hook. You catch a fish," her smirk grew, "But it biotics itself off your hook and warps it in revenge. It doesn't deter you. Nothing does. You try again and again and again, until you finally catch your prize: the fish."
"The fish isn't the prize," Shepard argued sleepily, but her words slurred intensely. She still seemed unconscious, but at least it was validation she heard even in her dark place.
What had been the most pleasant surprise wasn't that, however, but the curiosity that piqued from what Lucy actually cherished whenever she'd fish.
"The sea is. It's a blessing. Once it casts it's spell, it holds one in it's net of wonder forever. I want to sail the sea instead of the stars, someday."
Something compelled Liara to come closer, and she cautiously rested her forehead against the side of Lucy's head. There was something inexplicably tender drawn out from the depths of her soul, and she desperately prayed that the soldier could hear that more than anything else.
"And you will. I will make sure of that. May your blessings be countless like the grains of sand, Siame."