Thoughts about colonist Shepard
Shepard, the colonist, the one meant to put down roots, the one who was always supposed to settle down, but she never could.
That’s what colonists are meant to do.
They go adventuring, exploring, daring to find some place new, challenging the world. But that had to end. After seeing all they could see, they all settled down. Found a place to lay down their foundation, to build a house, a family, to watch the sunsets melt away. To watch their children grow up, to watch their hair turn white. That’s what she was designed to do, but every time she tried to do that it ended in death, not life. On Mindoir, on Akuze, death followed her everywhere.
I think as she looked at the crew on the Normandy, she realized what had happened. She’d done what she never thought could be possible, that she was too cursed to be able to achieve, a home. All of them were home. Joker, Chakwas, Ashley, Wrex, Liara, Kaidan, Garrus, Tali, James, Cortez, Anderson, all of them. It was a strange home, with a warp core instead of floorboards, with aluminum plating instead of a roof, a ship not a homestead, but she loved it. How perfect for a colonist to be able to sail the stars and never walk out her front door.
As she struggled to walk down the beam of the catalyst, knowing this was all going to end, I don’t think she have regret.
She had been living on borrowed time, but with that time she’d lived far more than she ever thought possible. It was her life. This possessiveness she felt was so ingrained and she guarded every moment fiercely as though they were the ground upon which she had laid her foundation. Her life had been short, and bloody, and violent, and chaotic, and painful, but it was hers. That was something built into her as a colonist, to die with one’s own. With your family, on your land, in your house, where you belonged.
She was alone, no lover, no children, nothing but air and stars.
