[ The location was carefully chosen. A good ways away from any densely populated areas was a small public garden in the midst of Kauto's tall, lush forests. A pavilion stood off to the edge of it, the path to it bridging over a small stream.
It's there, in the shadow of the structure that Nihlus watches his old mentor and killer arrive. Watches him pace, the planet's bright daylight illuminating the familiar armor so bright that it almost drowned out the blue glow of cybernetics woven into Saren's frame.
None of it felt real. A year of waiting and dreading and hoping and finally letting go- and now, suddenly, he's here. Just when Nihlus was beginning to rebuild.
Heartbeat in his throat, he carefully, pushes off the support beam he'd been leaning against, stepping into view. He can feel Shepard's eyes on him from somewhere in the trees as he makes his way down, the thunk of Hierarchy-issue boots on the wooden path, deliberate.
Nihlus isn't in any armor. In fact, he doesn't seem armed at all. The man is decked out in civilian wear: black jacket, plain grey tunic and pants.
Gloves to hide his bionic arm.
If things took a turn for the worse... well, there was a lot of cards up his sleeve that the older Spectre didn't know about.
He quietly prays he doesn't have to use any of them. ]
Saren.
[ Despite himself, Nihlus can't keep the tremor out of his voice. He slows to a stop a good distance away, hands in plain view, trying to stem the trembling that threatened to take over his shoulders. ]
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It's there, in the shadow of the structure that Nihlus watches his old mentor and killer arrive. Watches him pace, the planet's bright daylight illuminating the familiar armor so bright that it almost drowned out the blue glow of cybernetics woven into Saren's frame.
None of it felt real. A year of waiting and dreading and hoping and finally letting go- and now, suddenly, he's here. Just when Nihlus was beginning to rebuild.
Heartbeat in his throat, he carefully, pushes off the support beam he'd been leaning against, stepping into view. He can feel Shepard's eyes on him from somewhere in the trees as he makes his way down, the thunk of Hierarchy-issue boots on the wooden path, deliberate.
Nihlus isn't in any armor. In fact, he doesn't seem armed at all. The man is decked out in civilian wear: black jacket, plain grey tunic and pants.
Gloves to hide his bionic arm.
If things took a turn for the worse... well, there was a lot of cards up his sleeve that the older Spectre didn't know about.
He quietly prays he doesn't have to use any of them. ]
Saren.
[ Despite himself, Nihlus can't keep the tremor out of his voice. He slows to a stop a good distance away, hands in plain view, trying to stem the trembling that threatened to take over his shoulders. ]
It's... really you.