There are two holes in his skull, a line cut clear through his temples. The staff said his survival was a miracle. When asked if anyone of them knew what had happened, they said he’d been in an accident.
He doesn’t try and ask them for much of anything after that.
He sits through the days, sits through the check-ups, sits through the final, cheerfully optimistic speech from the doctor and nurse telling him he was fully recovered. They walk him through the paperwork and he waits in the waiting room for a nurse to fetch him some species-appropriate painkillers in case he feels any more pain.
None of the staff say anything about it. Something stops Lantar from trying to ask.
Why was he crying? Why was he crying? He doesn’t know why he’s crying, only that he can’t seem to stop. Maybe they just didn’t know what a crying Turian sounded like, humans didn’t have the ears for that note- but they must have noticed the way his voice wobbled and cracked every time he spoke.
… Right?
Lantar is on the hospital steps now, staring up at bright blue skies, vast, alien and unfamiliar.
He’s... never seen a sky before.
Into the Woods
There’s a scream from the woods and Lantar knows it’s human.
He stares at the edge of the trees, the sound still ringing in his hears. He sees the way the people around him flinch and knows, deep in his bones, that it’d not been a hallucination. And yet-
No one moves to try and help.
Someone tells him it was probably just an animal and Lantar exhales a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. The moment he feels everyone turn back to their daily activities however, he slips away.
Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong, wrong, wrong and it settles in the pit of his guts like lead. He has to know, he needs to know-
The woods are dark and he can barely see, his eyes weren’t made for gloom. There’s a scent under the sharp, clean-cut smell of pine trees, however. Nothing he can pinpoint, nothing he can recognize. There are footprints in the dirt that he can barely make out in the shadows. When he tries to follow them, tries to follow the scent, they take him in circles over and over and over-
It’s nearly half an hour later that he finds himself staring at the distant fence, the feeling of wrongness overcoming him again, stronger now.
He doesn’t move. And he won’t immediately notice anyone who approaches him.
Lantar Sidonis | Mass Effect 2
He’s been crying ever since he woke up.
There are two holes in his skull, a line cut clear through his temples. The staff said his survival was a miracle. When asked if anyone of them knew what had happened, they said he’d been in an accident.
He doesn’t try and ask them for much of anything after that.
He sits through the days, sits through the check-ups, sits through the final, cheerfully optimistic speech from the doctor and nurse telling him he was fully recovered. They walk him through the paperwork and he waits in the waiting room for a nurse to fetch him some species-appropriate painkillers in case he feels any more pain.
None of the staff say anything about it. Something stops Lantar from trying to ask.
Why was he crying? Why was he crying? He doesn’t know why he’s crying, only that he can’t seem to stop. Maybe they just didn’t know what a crying Turian sounded like, humans didn’t have the ears for that note- but they must have noticed the way his voice wobbled and cracked every time he spoke.
… Right?
Lantar is on the hospital steps now, staring up at bright blue skies, vast, alien and unfamiliar.
He’s... never seen a sky before.
Into the Woods
There’s a scream from the woods and Lantar knows it’s human.
He stares at the edge of the trees, the sound still ringing in his hears. He sees the way the people around him flinch and knows, deep in his bones, that it’d not been a hallucination. And yet-
No one moves to try and help.
Someone tells him it was probably just an animal and Lantar exhales a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. The moment he feels everyone turn back to their daily activities however, he slips away.
Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong, wrong, wrong and it settles in the pit of his guts like lead. He has to know, he needs to know-
The woods are dark and he can barely see, his eyes weren’t made for gloom. There’s a scent under the sharp, clean-cut smell of pine trees, however. Nothing he can pinpoint, nothing he can recognize. There are footprints in the dirt that he can barely make out in the shadows. When he tries to follow them, tries to follow the scent, they take him in circles over and over and over-
It’s nearly half an hour later that he finds himself staring at the distant fence, the feeling of wrongness overcoming him again, stronger now.
He doesn’t move. And he won’t immediately notice anyone who approaches him.