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Movement of the Stars#01 Motion
As the ship thrums into life all around her, Shepard revels in the subtle sense of motion; for a moment, she understands the movement of the stars.
Jacob feels the gel pack settle onto his burning forehead, and when he looks up and sees Miranda's face, not Chakwas', all he can do is smile.
Lynne Shepard is shoved toward the alien, his four eyes narrowing in scrutiny as the human recruiter grunts, "She's puny, but she's got the temper of an angry varrenthe Reds could use one like her."
Tali's steps resonate throughout the suddenly quiet Flotilla, but she keeps her bright eyes trained on Shepard's backshe won't make her final moments here important ones.
He said "She deserves a better man than I," but as the words formed on his lips Jacob had to shove aside something that felt suspiciously like lying.
She recalls the softness of their tiny features, the way she would trace fo
Angels WeptAshley Williams stepped out of the elevator on the SSV Normandy while tying her hair into a regulation bun. She hadnt been able to sleep, but at two thirty six in the morning AST, there was only so much to occupy her time. After cleaning her guns again, and re-organizing her locker, she had resigned to go to the mess. No one would be up anyway and maybe a glass of milk would help her sleep.
She wasnt sure how milk and sleep were correlated, but after a restless evening like hers, she was willing to try anything.
What she didnt expect was to turn the corner and see Commander Shepard.
Ashley froze. At first, out of fear of being caught. The crew was on a strict sleep schedule to keep everyone at their most energized. She wasnt supposed to be wandering the mess in the middle of the night. She felt her body freeze a second time at the thought of how strange it was to see Shepard by herself. If the commander was out of her quarters a crew of at least three people at
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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