imperatorvictus spotted you

twisted-and-cynical-turian:

Not an answer he was expecting. Nevertheless, he would just stare at the man for a moment, remain uncertain about things and otherwise just sort of keep silent. Granted it wouldn’t last long, but with his patchy and loose fitting clothing, the man looked less like a turian and more like a lump of walking rags.

“Cryno…Cryno Gailian.” he spoke, watching for a  moment and stating to stand up. “Barely much of a turian anymore.”

      Victus took his time before answering, amber eyes drawing in the figure before him with unapologetic boldness.  He was not about to accept such a statement of self-defeat.  He would not.  Could not.  His old creed – almost a mantra – surfaced, unbidden, to his mind.

                     { Victory…at any cost… }

   He quickly quelled it.  “Your blood still runs blue, doesn’t it?  You’re a turian, Gailian.  Do your people proud and act like one.”

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