Charred, twisted wreckage, blood gleaming sapphire against scorched armor and the otherwise ivory colored hue of his carapace. This had not been the first occasion falling from the sky in a screeching, gnarled metal cage, and it would not be the last. But there is a list he meticulously runs through in his head -- flexing mandibles, slowly, ensuring they remain operational, and then working along limbs and muscle, the braided material of the grafted geth arm, the poisonous blue of enhanced optics.
Good. Mobility isn’t crossed off the list. Medigel is a temporary fix for the metal jutting from his side, azure liquid running down armor in sickly lines, but it will do. What he does not comprehend is --
The humans. It’s as if some entity has reached into their minds and wiped them. Even more primitive than he recalls, carrying stenches that cause the ridges along his nose to bunch. And they attack him on sight. The planet as well -- metal spires fallen into disrepair and ruin, abandoned giants along the horizon, moss and vine clinging to them and slowly devouring them. It isn’t until the next day of scavenging for parts for his ship that he hears a disturbance, and the barrel of the blaster at his side is pointed at -- a girl, human, red haired, wide eyed. A tiresome reminder of a meddling human he knows.
