As the shattered frame of the final reaper burns up in the flames of re-entry, the camera fades.
It appears over an arid plane, vegitation is prevelant, the air clean azure blue, clear, manicured by centuries of precise care.
We see the ground vibrate, a deep shadow is cast across the grainy surface, then another, then another. As the theme plays we see a wave of ships breeching atmosphere and descending rapidly but with the grace of a flock of doves.
As the huge assembly descends one shuttle peels away, towards a mesa dotted with distinctive alien flora.
Two figures exit, one is framed with lines of purple and white, curving around the distinctive frame of a quarian. The other, battered yet standing strong, carries an equally destinctive mark, the N7.
As Shepard and tali look out they see the first wave of craft from the flotilla making planet fall on a world that has known no stewards but synthetics for centuries...but which had never left the minds of even those quarians that had never seen its surface.
The figures turn towards each other, words are shared, both verbal and not, there is a glimmer of reflective light behind the lens of Tali's helmet.
Raising his hands Shepard pulls the N-7 helmet from his shoulders, feeling the touch of another alien breeze. Turning out towards the fleet, with a strong and triumphant determination Tali does the same.
The faceplate falls for the ground and for the first time the Quarian's face feels the touch of a natural breeze, the taste of a familiar air she had never know, it's caress against her tears of joy.
There are no words...
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If you're going to reveal the Quarians, at least do it with some taste.
Modifié par Teivel, 05 février 2010 - 10:18 .
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