When Victus enters his office and home on the Citadel, there would be no sign of a certain turian, but a small box on the desk. A note was also attached to the box:
”I know it’s obvious I would get you something like this, but it felt meaningful to me. I remember you talked to me about what you missed about Palaven - and I clearly remember one was about the vineyards, the shores and the fields of nature. Remember the winery in the next town over, not too far from Cipritine? I went on a little hunt for this. Don’t drink it until the war’s over. We’ll share the bottle.
I miss you. Stay safe out there. Let me know when you get this.- Love, Gael.”
He pauses, hesitating. He notices the innocuous little box almost immediately – and his suspicions are confirmed as soon as he opens the lid with an almost reverent curiosity. The list of mysterious donors was, admittedly, not a large one. Only so many had the security clearance necessary to leave an otherwise unmarked box in the Primarch’s Citadel workplace and residence – mandatory screenings aside.
Adrien’s mandibles click together, breaking the quiet of the otherwise silent apartment block. He runs a thumb over the familiar label. Spirits, she paid good attention to even the littlest details. It was why she was a good commander, and a superb adviser. He smiled to himself, and uttered softly this solemn promise.
“—I will.”
- Grins without shame, making sure the old baggy shirt she wore was rolled up and out of the way from any globs of paint. Dipping the roller into the can and onto the paint tray, wiping off excess on the edge; then begins to coat the wall in the color. From a dingy, dirty dark grey to a subtle, soft warm tone of the spectrum. She liked it. -
” Maybe you should get me more flowers
to liven up the place. The ones you got me
are still fresh and alive, you know… “
{ His mandibles twitch, acknowledging her banter }
“Are they?" He wouldn’t admit it, but it meant a great deal to him. The implications of her tending his flowers said more than words could. "You know, you have a lot of gall to ask for more favors when I’m in your apartment, slaving away with you."
{ He slides the roller down the wall as he speaks }
"Some recompense would be nice." He smirks.
”Well. I do enjoy neutral colors. Anything
too bold, or too vibrant might throw my
meditation off in this room. Plus, it’ll be
easier to match furniture colors with this
being the walls. Feels more homey.”- Chuckles at his expression, picking up the bag and placing it on the ground in the middle of the now spread out room. She already had the furniture covered up in tarps to the side to prevent getting paint on them. A smile towards his way - rolling up her sleeves. -
{ He dips the roller into the can, gobs of undiluted paint oozing;; }
“–Yeah. It’s neutral. But it won’t be sterile when you uncover the furniture and add more plants in here. Primer’s up. First move’s all yours." It was her apartment. She should do the honors.
- She holds the bag up of equipment she just bought;
the tarp, brushes, rollers, painter’s tape, etc. Approaching
to him gesture him inside the unlocked home grinning
past the stretch of her mandibles. -“Puce is a nice color, but I’m glad you talked me out
of it before I bought it. I do love that warm-grey you
found.”
{ He furrows his plates, just so ; mandibles twitching to indicate dry amusement }
“Oh? It was inspired by the clinical tungsten of turian cruisers. I thought the grey would really evoke the image of your steel bunk wall. Play on the nostalgia from staring at it for hours between Relay jumps.” He deadpanned.
{ He’s already waiting for her at the door,
leaning against it casually,
cans of paint at his feet. }
“You have the brushes and rollers? Good. Puce is not your color. Puce isn’t anyone’s color.”
"₩ [ I'M LEAPING FOR IT. ]"
“Gael—ha. A damn good turian. A better one than me. It was her dossier that first brought her to my attention, plus her service on Fedorian’s detail. She’s still guilty, I think, for his death, and no measure of success with a new Primarch could fill that void. It’s hard to deal with the death of your squad like that. Menae was hell, but she came through it. Sometimes I wish she could see it.
She’s a biotic, too, and it’s made her strong. It’s brought her challenges, turian as she is. She’s been forced to reevaluate her perspective on the the galaxy, and to endure the burden of her talents. Together, we’ve already begun the implementation of the biotic reintegration program. It’s a helluva time to start a project this massive in scale — but time isn’t on our side anymore.
I admire her. She’s got her flaws, yeah, but she forgives me, mine. She’s kinder than I am, but just as patient. More, in some regards. I rely on her more than she realizes; she keeps me afloat. I’d drown in this war without the chance to come up for air, and she gives me that. Above all, I suppose, she represents the hope in my life like no one else could. someday, perhaps, she’ll realize that, too.”
Chills begin to form across her skin where his breath travels, tilting her head up to rub their crest more heavier along his plates; touching their noses about. Then smiling wide. “..A shame a few hours. Was hoping a weekend.. But no matter, actually. I have a present for you, like promised.”
That is when she breaks it, playfully brushing her breath with an exhale to his skin - moving to her bag where she propped her jacket to the chair. Shuffling through it. “So… I finally found something you’ll like. I noticed you like bourbon, a lot. Hm?” Looks over at him with a grin. “And after a tedious, week’s worth of a search… I found aged Cipritine bourbon. Still good, uncorked. For you when we win the war, and get our homes back.” Revealing the dark purple bottle and intricate details of the wine’s logo hand-painted. One made out of one thousand, serial numbered. Placing it down on the table next to her.
”…And I got you new gloves for your uniform. I noticed they were beginning to wear and fade in color.” Smiles. “A shame I cannot find anything more intimate. I’m not sure if you are a picky person.” Chuckles, holding out the small wrapped gift for him.
He bowed his head as he turned over the gifts in his hands, equal measure interest and a showing of utter appreciation. He was surprised, honestly, by the gifts. This was damn good bourbon, aged and with a spice that would remind him of him. He turned the label over and over in his palm, a faint smile lifting his plates. “We’ll pop this open under the skies of the homeworld.”
Adrien set the bottle aside, and unwrapped the second package with reverence. Perhaps it was a tad formal of him, but he’d expected nothing of this thought and caliber. He laid out the gloves over his knee, and now he truly did smile.
“Spirits, look how crisp these are. I feel like a damn academy cadet, proud of my first stripes in the legionnaire." He shook his head, allowing a little laugh to escape him. "How many decades ago that was. Thank you for this. It allows me to feel the military man again. It’ll remind me – and my colleagues – that I’m no damn politician. It’s a small gesture…but these things count for something." He leaned over to kiss her cheek, plucking away his old gloves by the talon in favor of their replacements.
So imperatorvictus has been a tad overwhelmed from college and all, so I really wanted to make them feel better other than gentle cute rps with these two dummies.
I was going to paint it, but I didn’t want to ruin it.
Feel better waifu I’m so proud of you. (/ ; 3; )/ ❤