Ce sujet est fermé
Kikaimegami wrote...
Ah, yes.NCLanceman wrote...
Didn't someone determine that you were that one quarian giving Legion a flower in that one piece of fan art way back when?
I'm the quarian with the huge knockers.
That's me.
A small geth reconstruction team works it's way through the rubble, beams of light eminating from the illuminators built into their heads. The mechanical whirring of gears is all that pierces the haunted silence of the old apartment complex, choking dust and ash dance in the hollow wind, as the tireless workers continue to repair and clean the homes of their former masters.
A geth unit makes it's way down the hallway and into another room, and, opening the door, shines it's ghostly light into the shadows of the small structure. Scanning for damage, the unit's gaze comes to stop over the form of a small creator body. The geth makes it's way to what had once been a quarian child, her tiny frame now crushed under the heavy rubble that littered the small room.
Tenderly, the lone geth's hands worked over the rubble, gently removing the rocks and glass from the dead girl's body. Free of her stone prison, the geth tenderly pulls the small form into it's robotic arms, cradling the fragile remains in much the same way one would expect a mother would hold her newborn child. The geth reaches for her hand and gently touches it, as if hoping to wake her from her cold slumber. There is no response.
The geth makes it's way outside, down several roads and to a nearby field, where other workers can be seen carrying creator bodies, laying them out across the fields in rows that seem to stretch forever. With cautious care, the geth platform places the small child's corpse down next to a much older quarian, elongating the already considerable column of dead flesh.
Placing her hands on top of her chest, and straightening her feet, the geth unit's hardrive experiences a powerspike as it's operating system tries to disseminate the new data coursing through it's processor, the same data that always temporarily corrupts the geth operating system when a unit lays another body to rest. The glitch causes the geth to twitch it's neck, a faulty synapse that results in unexpected movement. The geth places it's hands over the girl's own, and in a ritual that has occured billions of times before, that will continue for billions more, the geth recites a passage from the Scroll of Ancestors.
Turning to leave, the glitch sends another synapse, this time to the geth's audio projector, the corruption in it's operating code forcing a single phrase out into the cold, dead world around it.
"We're sorry."
Retour en haut
BOOBIES!!!!
