Concern

[cogs]

| | Ovidius Satyris
_{Send me a sign, turn back the clock.
Give me some time.
I need to break out, make a new name.}

It was painful.

Everything around him was so calm and a dull thrum of voices going about their daily business saturated the Presidium. It was all very common, very civilian, and oh so exasperating. Everything was fine and dandy in the Citadel, no one seemed to realize the dangers that now loomed over them at every waking moment. Something the citizens of a supposed utopia would never consider: Ovidius Satyris was not with his fleet. Anything could go wrong at this very moment without their Chief Engineer there to keep a close eye on the whole lot.

It could be disastrous, catastrophic, even. The dreadnoughts need to be tended to, and the smaller ships, well they are a whole different story, and… Felixa’s hand interrupted his thoughts. It lay over her older brother’s, what he supposed was supposed to be a comforting notion. She always seemed to have this sympathy when she looked at him, some pity for Ovidius that was ever in those green eyes. Ovidius’s head turned back downward, his little sister trying to calm him with useless words again. That look always killed him. It always sparked some sort of guilt, some sort of pain that he was only aware of while not with his equipment.

He should have never left the fleet. As important as his family was, his duty overrode everything else. Fingers clasped together and eyes closed, he sighed. They sat on an overlook, a table between them and cars floating by. The park like surroundings were not that all comforting to him as they were to his sister. Apparently she came here to wind down from her position at C-Sec, and might have assumed it would soothe him as well. Ovidius appreciated his little sister, he really did, but it was just so dreadful. Doing nothing just seemed like being helpless. His restlessness would be the death of him one day, but for now it kept him alive.

Keeping busy was the only way to keep his being’s foundations from collapsing in on themselves, and he paid for it. His vice was not uncommon, and nor was he. Yet he sacrificed so much for it. Ovid’s gaze flickered back to Felixa. She was saying something about meeting her back at her apartment. The older brother managed a nod, and off she went. So he was left alone again with his thoughts.

Ovidius leaned back, the black plating on his fingers clacked together and rested on the tabletop. Green hues fixated on the taxis passing by. He here now, and nothing could really be done. Not unless he managed to chart a ship to take him to who-knows-where the fleet was by now. Ovid discarded the idea and took a moment to just observe. As pretty as the vivid scenery was, and as nice as the people were, he felt rather...alone. Trapped in what they called," paradise", with only that lingering thought to keep him company.

A sigh escaped his teeth.

There was no work to be done to distract him, not even an old contact he knew of to converse with. His head swiveled from the taxis to the people passing by. The turians he saw dressed casually. Tsk. He hadn’t worn garments like that since his years of arrogance and idiocy. A time where he was a very different person. One who did not care for the values he held now. Ovidius kept in his armor, white and gray with monochrome accenting. Simple, minimalistic. Precise and clean. Just like him.

That thought calmed him. He had trained those under him well. They could handle it, right? The learn from example, right? Right. Oh that wasn’t a very reassuring answer. One day he should learn to stop asking himself these questions. It just got him more and more stressed. His attention turned back to traffic. Idle and unassuming. They all had their own agenda, somewhere to be, somewhere to go.

Civilian life.

What was that like again?

[The Illusive Man]

Glabbius Caius

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Glabbius loved his job in C-Sec when he was still in it yet he enjoyed the military life so much more. It felt good for him to clean the scum of the Citadel off its many streets and wards but something always felt...incomplete. He had wanted to go back to Palaven long ago, after he retired from C-Sec yet his own fear of the judging looks his father would give him. If his son was still planetside, then Glab could never face those judging looks of the son he abandoned as a small child. For all the hardness and rigidness Glabbius possessed, for all the combat he had seen on Shanxi and for all the criminal scum he cleaned off the streets Glabbius still felt like he amounted to nothing.

He failed as a father, he failed to save his wife from the sickness that took her. Even if he was not the cause of her illness, he still took the blame. Their life together was taken far too quicky and it left him an emotional wreck. For Spirits sake, Tatina was his, as the humans call it (wierdly) 'friend with benefits'. Glab couldn't even keep a stable relationship because of how much his personal life sucked.

But he kept that bottled in, like any sensible turian would and focused on his work. Ever since he retired from C-Sec though, he felt the growing feeling of utter boredom. The gun range at the one C-Sec outpoast gave him some target practice and it felt good to be holding his sniper rifle, the gun that served him well on Shanxi against the humans. Yet even then it wasn't enough to curb the growing boredom he felt with each passing day.

Since he had been in the turian military formally still while in C-Sec, he was considered a 'lifer' in the turian military. There wasn't much use for soldiers in a time of relative peace and he still held the crippling fear of returning to the home planet and being judged by his father. So here Glabbius stayed, in the quiet and beautiful Presidium.

Glabbius liked to take walks around the Citadel, mostly going to the upper and lower wards before ending his trek in the Presidium where his apartment was located. He was crossing through a park like area when he spotted another turian looking at the flying cars and taxis that constantly zoomed by. The turian was in armor that looked well clean and not too flashy and Glab looked down at his own casual clothing of a dark blue and gold color accents. His own arm was at his apartment but he had seen little near to wear it now since he was not in active duty or in C-Sec.

The turian looked familiar. Many people (usually humans) think that turians look very similar to one another. While they all shared the same facial pattern, their face paint marked them all differently depending on what colony or city you were from. This turian's face paint was white and it looked like someone Glabbius had met before. That scar looked familiar too...

Deciding that it would be good to talk to another turian, Glabbius walked up closer to the turian's table and cleared his throat politely. "Excuse me, but you look familiar. Did you serve on Shanxi or...maybe in C-Sec? Sorry to have bothered you if not." Glab had to have met this turian at either of those places, or maybe he just saw this other turian on the Citadel and just now remembered him.

[cogs]

| | Ovidius Satyris
_{Let's open our eyes to the brand new day.}

Cruising and patrolling. What a life Ovidius missed. The Sixth Fleet spent its time patrolling the space around the Citadel, a supposed “peacekeeping” fleet. Ovidius’s eyes concentrating on the space above. His crew was out there somewhere, and needless to say, he was feeling a little more than abandoned. He found no joy in the gorgeous landscape. His place was with the engines. As immaculate and stunning as any architecture on the Citadel he had seen so far. However his thoughts could not loiter long. Someone was addressing him, and it was only polite to answer.

The turian stood, one arm folded behind him, and the other extended in greeting,” Lieutenant Commander, Ovidius Satryis of the Sixth Fleet. On Shanxi, I served on the 79th.”
He addressed him as any officer would another, his tone strictly formal. Although at the mention of Shanxi, Ovid paused, studying the other turian as carefully. Another military man, like himself, although he could not place him exactly. His face markings were a bit striking, and bright blue eyes were a bit uncommon. Features like that should be distinguishable from the gray of turian faces, but Ovidius could not find it within himself to name the stranger accurately. Although, if he did serve on Shanxi, they could have met at some point or another during the war. Familiarity was rare these days for Ovid, if only due to his borderline isolation. The most frequent people he saw were his CO and the crew mates that he worked alongside with. Rarely, did he ever meet many others.

Most of the crew of the 6th came and went. Going where they were needed or to where they felt they ought to be. Ovidius might have felt the same way if not for his experience and age. War and violence were romanticized in the vids his sister showed him. Conceivably, that is what developed his distaste for the extranet and all of its lies. Even the “humorous” vids, Ovidius found no amusement in. It was a septic tank of absurdity, in his opinion.

Although the real absurdity lay within Ovid. Often he told himself he did not remember many of his crew from the 79th on Shanxi, instead he remembered the heat on his mandible just before a bomb went off in his face. It was much easier to remember it that way, but to remember an injury in place of the fallen would be too easy. In truth, he could name and place all of his crew mate’s faces. The dead ones, anyways. It was heartbreaking to think of, and nothing he would like to contemplate over for too long. He could already feel himself sinking again. An explosion that left him with a nasty scar was enough. It was enough.

Ovid gestured to the empty seat across from him,” If you please.”

[The Illusive Man]

Glabbius Caius

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Glabbius extended his own hand to shake the offered one, folding his other arm behind his back to mirror the other turian. Might as well be nice and formal about it. Hm, Ovidius served on ships during Shanxi while Glabbius fought on the ground. They couldn't possibly have met then, but the facial markings looked so familiar. "Major Glabbius Caius. I served as infantry on Shanxi, sniper." One thing Glabbius was proud of was his sniping skills. Sure, he wasn't the best ever, but he was a damn good shot. His headshots during Shanxi were top marks and it was probably the only thing he had been proud of during his self-imposed exile to the Citadel. Everything else seemed bland and painful in his life.

Glab's facial markings were as striking as his bright blue eyes. The city in which he was born of course had the markings he did and his father had bright blue eyes, like his father before him. Raliven had gotten his mother's brown eyes. Maybe that was part of the pain Glab felt back then, looking into the eyes his wife gave their child. Tore his insides practically to pieces.

Glab lost a few friends on Shanxi to the humans and he's always harbored a dislike for the new race in the galaxy after fighting them on Shanxi. He did have to admire their tenacity, but the turian tenacity had theirs beat. He also didn't like how they thought they could push their way into everything. He disliked how young, upstart punks could come in and act like they owned the place. Humans were still wet around the ears after Shanxi and the Blitz, they had a long way to go before Glab liked them. And even that was a generous prediction.

Glab sat down in the offered seat across from Ovidius, brushing off the non-existant dust on his pants while he got comfortable. "Were you on ships the whole time during Relay 314 or did you ever go groundside?"

[cogs]

| | Ovidius Satyris
_{You stare politely right on through.}

“Pleasure, Major.”
Ovidius took his seat with a nod. His fingers laced together and placed neatly on the table. As rigid in his posture as he was in his nature, you might say. Caius. A name he had became acquainted with after the fact. From the rumors circulating the flotilla, he was a great marksman. If the gossip was true. He remembered waking up in an infirmary days later, when certain names were whispered from ear to ear. Although his own lay among those spoken, he figured it was for nothing good.

After waking up to the end of the war, he assumed as much. Ovid didn’t even look into it. He simply threw himself into his work and never got out. It was a nice, simple life. Perfect for him, and something he had convinced himself he was happy with. Whether that was a lie he told himself or something that became true over time, Ovidius did not know.

His fingers broke formation, and he touched the scar tissue on his face. He was lucky he didn’t lose an eye or part of his mandible. To be disfigured like that….it would drive him mad. Sure, battle scars, but part of his face would be missing. Could he deal with that? Okay stop freaking out for half a second. Yes, he would eventually. Enough of that,” Yes. I hit ground side with my remaining crew”, Ovid responded,” And then you know how it went from there.”

Ovidius chuckled, his hand falling back to the other.
“I’m glad I finally got to meet the ever-so-famous Caius, nineteen and a top sniper, if what they said was true. I wouldn’t know, myself…

[/b]”
He trailed, hues wondering back to the side,” Took a frag to the side in the midst of it.”

Interesting that Glabbius shared Ovid’s sentiments about humans. On the other hand, perhaps it was actually more common among turians to share a general abhorrence for the brand new aliens. If only at first. Ovidius, eventually, came to blame himself for the death of his crewmates. However, the blame for deaths on groundside belonged all to the humans. What a strange race they were. They had no special place in the turian’s thoughts, but they became more fascinating as the turian studied them. To know the enemy is to defeat them, after all.

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[The Illusive Man]

"You can call me Glabbius if you want. Whatever is your preference." It wasn't that Glab didn't appreciate his rank or being called as such by someone. He still believed in the rights of the military but he hadn't been called by a formal rank in...years. In more recent days it was 'Officer Caius', and even now that name was tainted by his own brand of white whale, Saliya, the one perp who got away. She had called him that when they ran into eachother on the lower wards and he had been so overjoyed to see her. The memory caused his mandibles to twitch faintly but he pushed the thought aside. He was with company.

Ovidius' posture was very rigid but one could always think that was a possibility in a turian's personality. Glabbius was more relaxed with his own posture with an arm on the table and his other arm resting casually on his leg. His back was striaght though so maybe it wasn't all together very 'relaxed'. "Yes, I know how it went from there. Humans have their tenacity, I'll give them that." The humans eventually surrendered their base but not without losses on both sides. Glab didn't care for the human loses (even if he admired how the lot didn't back down) and was more concerned about his own race's loss.

Glab let out a huff of laughter, mandibles moving out from the movement, "I was pretty good at sniping during Shanxi, but I wouldn't put all your credits on stories. You know how people overembelish things. I was pretty damn good though, still am." He didn't know of his confirmed headshot count during the war, but he assumed it had been high. Maybe thirty or so, he had other kills too but they were body shots. Couldn't really keep count when you were in the thick of things like that.

He looked over the scar on Ovidius' face and nodded slightly, "At least you came away with some scars and didn't come home with you missing half your face. You on the Citadel for some shore leave, still in a flotilla?"

[cogs]

| | Ovidius Satyris
_{He's no longer with us, but he left this dusty room.}

That was true. Missing half of his face? Ovid cringed at the thought. All the same though, Ovidius hadn’t looked himself good in the eye for years. Mirrors were common, sure, but he never paid too close attention. There was no need to, really. He just always managed to not to stay on that side of his face for too long. It was just so damn ugly. After decades of living with it, sure. He got used to it. It started not to bother him. Nevertheless, as with all baggage, it lingered in his mind. Like a dirty sock’s stench you just couldn’t shake. What could he say? It was a dark time in his life.

Ovidius nodded,” Yes, I am lucky in that respect… I wear these with pride.”
The other turian closed his eyes for a moment, contemplating the subsequent question. His fingers were still clasped together, like an attentive soldier, but his head tilted down,” Yes. I am on shore leave, for the time being.” Ovid did not mean for his answers to come off curtly, and if they did, well, it was just his nature. There wasn’t really much else to say. His family wanted to see some proof of their son alive, he understood that much. However, the whole ordeal was still worse than forced shore leave. Atleast he had control over where he went and what he did. Quiet tea times with his former mentor were always enjoyable. When they were available, anyways.

“Excuse my brusqueness, Glabbius. I touched down only a few hours ago, and I am less than pleased with leaving my ship.”
He tried to explain,” I’m not sure if I have complete faith in the new engineers.”
He managed a low chuckle, playing it off as some “youngin’s are punks” joke. Green hues turned upward to the holographic sky before focusing back onto his company. It was clear he was uneasy. Ovid had spent much, if not all of his adult life on a ship. Space stations were familiar to him, the Citadel should be chief among them. Yet he felt so out of place. Thousands of people , yet never had he felt so secluded, and that’s mister married to his job speaking.

Ovidius preferred the close community of turian ships, and had grown quite accustomed to the hum drum of everyday militaristic life. Now he was thrown into a place of no such restrictions, and he felt like…oh, what do those humans say? “A fish out of water”, that was it. Someone else might enjoy such freedom, away from the strictness of a hard way to live. Yet Ovid had come to cling to that aspect for comfort. What a outsider he felt like, even with the major sitting across from him.

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[The Illusive Man]

ooc- sorry this took so long to reply to! D:

Glabbius Caius

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Glabbius nods slightly with the comment about Ovid wearing his scars with pride. He himself did not have any large scars; just small little ones under his clothing on his body that one wouldn't notice at first glance. Ovid was very lucky to not have lost sight in his eye. Glab watched as the other turian tilted his head down as if in deep thought before letting out a brisque answer for the question of shore leave. Glab merely blinked at the crisp answer, but otherwise didn't act off-put by the responce.

Turians were not know for their jovial nature and the crisp responce wasn't odd for Glabbius to hear. While he tried to put on a face of being approachable and nice to strangers, he was very cold and harsh most of the time. "Of course, totally understandable with only arriving a few hours ago. Need time to adjust and relax, you know." Glab said understandly, "Heh, I may not have a lot of faith in young people new at their jobs, but I'm sure they left the ship in capable hands to make up for your leave."

Glabbius disliked young up-starts who tried to act like they knew everything but in actuality knew shit. However, with ships concerned, the turian military couldn't be so thick as to let non-qualified people repair and manage a ship if not properly trained. "What is it like on a ship? I've never served real time on a warship to grasp what it can be like."