Samara had lived a very long, very eventful life.
The Asari as a whole tend to do that. Even the ones that join up with paramilitary groups that jettison around in space shooting at things like Reapers, Geth, and intergalactic gangsters. Samara could have died on her very next mission, and she still would have been alive for longer than anyone else on this ship—and that included the collective Geth consciousness of Legion, and the other similarly long-lived races that had pledged to fight alongside Commander Shephard.
But she could have lived another hundred, another thousand years if such a thing were possible, and she never would have been able to forget the horrors that she had bore witness to. Not just the sorts of things that come with upholding the Justicar Code, and not merely the business as usual that tormented the likes of the crew of the Normandy SR-2. But things that nobody, regardless of how long their lives were, could have ever hoped to forget.
Things like the death of her daughter Mirala—or, as she had taken to calling herself, Morinth.
"Find peace in the embrace of the Goddess."
Those had been her last words to her daughter as she scrambled in her own home, trying hopelessly to avoid the biotic fury of her mother as she and Commander Shephard hunted her down and...
And...
Samara sighed, her head sinking low as she fell from her meditative trance, and gave up the ghost.
There wasn't going to be any greater enlightenment for her for a good, long while.
Despite the fact that Morinth was an utterly unrepentant Ardat-Yakshi, a demon of the night wind in the Asari language, surely Samara was allowed to explore her guilt? Regardless of her code, she was still a mother who had lost her child. And by her own hand. After hunting her down, treating her like a predatory animal that needed to be euthanized.
Regardless of her code—
"Regardless of my code." Samara scoffed aloud to the otherwise empty room, "Listen to me."
In a rare break in character brought upon by the mourning of her daughter and the conflicting feelings that she felt with her duty as an Asari Justicar, as well as a member of this crew, Samara felt her will waver in allowing herself to feel guilt for the death of Mira—
Morinth.
For the death of Morinth.
As her toned, muscular bottom descended upon the floor of her quarters, Samara felt as though a great disservice had been done in the name of justice. She had two other daughters, and both of them had been able to find peace in a convent despite their genetic malfunction. Despite their curse. Despite what she had cursed them with...
"Stop it." she ordered herself, her striking blue eyes opening sharply to see the starry abyss, "Stop it, now."
But was it really that simple? To just command away the death of her child?
Her inability to sit still, or so much as center herself ever since said as much to the opposite.
"There is no point in me sitting here, attempting to find peace where it eludes me." Samara sniffed proudly to the empty room, "I will..."
find peace in the embrace of the Goddess.
"...venture to find it elsewhere."
The sliding door to her quarter opened with a quiet hiss, and Samara ventured out into the greater depths of the cavernous ship with greater willingness than she ever had before that fateful docking on Omega. In due time, she might have distracted herself long enough to find some solace. Or at the very least, a small break from her self-imposed exile...
The sliding door to her quarter opened with a quiet hiss, and Samara ventured out.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author