Tali loving friends of mine, I bring you two tales that I hope you all will enjoy. Please, partake in these gifts of mine, and let me know what you all think.
Number 1:He charged along the twisting corridors of the Collector’s
“homeworld”, heart pounding and muscles aching, running for his life as the
base began to self destruct around him and crumble beneath his feet. They were
hot on his trail, their weapons threatening to tear him apart should he show a
moment’s hesitation, their leader’s voice pushing its way into his mind o
threaten and distract him. He paid it no mind, “Just a little further” he told
himself as the Normandy
came into view, ready to sweep him to safety. Debris shattered the path before
him, but nothing could deter him now, not when he was so close. He leapt with
all of his might.
He fell short. He wasn’t going to make it.
“Shyepard!” he heard a terrified voice cry out, drowning out
the gunfire around him and the voice in his head. He caught glimpse of an
outstretched hand, trembling and grasping manically for his, and grabbed on
like a vise, before hoisting himself up into the airlock next to his savior. He
looked to her, and could tell she was crying under her mask, a mix of steadily
fading terror and growing relief in her voice. “You… you bosh’tet, you’re lucky
I was h-“
She stopped short. A hole had ripped through her, not much
larger than a nickel, but it was enough. She collapsed forward into Shepard’s
arms, clutching at him, gasping in pain and surprise. She began to whisper
through her dying gasps, every word laced with pain “Shyepard, I-I… I love you…
I only regret not telling you sooner.” He embraced her, his mind racing as the
quarian faded in his arms, then finally responded.
“I’m sorry Tali. I don’t feel the same way.”
Her body began to quake against his, and he could hear her
breathless sobs, growing weaker and weaker as her final breaths escaped her.
Her grip loosened, her body going limp in his arms, that final pained sob
ringing in his ears.
And for the first time in his life, he was truly happy.
Number 2So this was the end, was it? After all she had been through,
every hardship she had overcome and every life she had saved, and this was her
reward. She shouldn’t have been surprised, she guessed; it wouldn’t have been a
suicide mission if no one had died, after all. But why her? And why like this?
And why did he…
Her eyes squeezed shut. She remembered the triumph she had
felt not three minutes ago, the relief in her commander’s face as that wicked
metal embryo fell, followed by the fear and confusion as the platform below
them began to capsize. She lost her footing first, followed quickly by that
loyalist ****. It was the first time in a while that she had been so glad to
see someone in mortal danger. For a brief moment, she wondered if Miranda had
fallen just to spite her. In any case, she knew that Shepard would grab for her
first, that he would pull her to safety and they’d escape together, hand in
hand. She flung her arm forward, trying her hardest to slow her descent as she
reached and grabbed for him.
He grabbed Miranda. Why did he grab Miranda? “No matter”,
she thought, “there is still time, he’ll reach for me next, right?” She could
no longer feel metal under her feet. “Right?” she thought again, more
frantically. She had left the platform. She clawed at the slick metal, trying
her hardest to give him just a few more seconds. “Shyepard!” she called, terror
filling her voice. “Please, you’ve never left me before… please give me
something. Throw me a rope, hold out your shotgun, let me grab Miranda, anything[/i], just don’t abandon me now
Shyepard!” she cried.
Nothing. He just watched. Was there even a hint of sorrow in
his eyes? She didn’t have enough time to tell. The platform began to right
itself without her. She was falling.
She landed on the skull of the human Reaper with a sickening
crunch. Pain flooded through her as her bones and mask cracked and shattered,
leaving her helpless, clinging onto life by a thread. As her mask shattered,
the first un-hindered scents she had ever smelled flooded into her nose; the
smell of blood, and the smell of death. The odors made her heave and vomit,
only worsening the surrounding air. Pain still wracked her body, and she wished
with all of her might that whatever thread was keeping her alive would hurry up
and break.
Shards of metal and rock began to rain down around her,
crashing into the thick metal. She hoped the falling bits would finish her off,
but had no such luck. Instead, small shards and rocks pelted her and sliced
into her already aching form, the larger chunks falling just far enough away to
deny her sweet release. She clenched her fists as best as she could and began
to weep, crying the most miserable cry she could muster.
After what felt like an eternity, she could hear a rumble
from deep within the base, and knew it would all be over soon. She whispered to
herself as she felt the heat overtake her, “Vell Tali… at least you’ll die a
hero.”
Three days later, her name was stricken from the Normandy’s crew roster. Two
days after that, Tali’Zorah vas Neema was charged for treason against the
quarian people. With no one to stand up for her defense, she was convicted, and
posthumously named a traitor, her name used as a warning to young quarians, her
and her father forever labeled as monsters.
Modifié par Brobodan, 13 février 2010 - 09:09 .