Specter

cousinslavellan:

The last thing Shepard expects when she moves into the apartment is a snarky Turian ghost, but that’s what she gets.

Also on AO3 here!

“Are you sure you don’t
need anything? Even just a hand moving?”

“I’m fine, Kaiden. I
don’t have much to move.”

“But-”

“I said I’m fine.”
she snaps, then “I’m sorry, but really, I’m fine. I just need some time away.”

“Alright, Shepard.”

---

The apartment building
is a small, inconspicuous building on a sidestreet of a small town whose name
she doesn’t disclose to anyone but Anderson – the sides are weathered stone,
showing wear but no vandalism, aged but well kept.

The apartment itself is
small – a pre-furnished single bedroom with no separation between the kitchen
and living space, just enough room for one person. The furnishings were left by
the previous occupant, she’s told – a Turian, going by the curvature of the bed
– who had left the things there and never returned for them.

It doesn’t bother her.
She’s a Marine; she’s slept on much worse things than a Turian bed.

A week passes
uneventfully. She bumps into some of her neighbors – an Asari and a Quarian, a
Krogan and a Salarian – but never interacts more than necessary, careful to
keep conversations short and to the point.

Then things start to
move. Small things, at first. Her pen straightened and her journal flipped
shut. Her datapads piled neatly.

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