Setting: Mass Effect 1.

A/N: Just to switch things up, I've decided to do an exercise that will both address my literary weak points and challenge me to broaden my writing arsenal. For this story, I'm shifting away from my typical writing style by forcing myself to write in first person (oh boy…), eliminating virtually all adverbs (I already know I'm going to fail at this), funneling description in less bludgeon-like ways, killing info dumps with fire, and cutting off my tendency to drone on and on in exposition. Also, a message to my elusive muse: I hate you for abandoning me when I need you most, you heartless trollop. Making me fly by the seat of my pants here… I see how it is…

x-x-x-x-x

- I -

The Consort's Acolyte

(2183 CE)

"My specialty is touch."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as our resident golden girl, Nelyna, fixed the newest prospective client with one of her dazzling smiles. The sucker was all over it in an instant and even from halfway across the vast, lavender-scented room I saw his nostrils flare in eager anticipation. She took a moment to write him into her schedule before catching my eye and sending that blinding smile in my direction as if to say, "See, this is how it's done." I answered that with a brief glare and then looked away.

Yeah, okay. Except I'm missing that whole mystical charm thing that your entire race seems gifted with from birth.

I never did understand why men, especially of my species—and especially this drooling idiot—were so drawn to the asari. Not that I had anything against the blue bombshells, but seriously. You see one asari, you've pretty much seen them all. Diversity? Minimal. Yet from what I've observed in my three months here, the bulk of our clientele scheduled sessions with either Sha'ira or the asari acolytes. The Spanish girl and I were the odd ones out, and while I could see why I didn't get many returning clients, a charismatic babe like her should have gotten at least as many appointments as Nelyna and the others did.

Spanish girl had today off, so I was the sole human acolyte gracing the scene. Well, not so much gracing as taking up space. For a good chunk of the past two hours, I'd been reclining in one of the plushy chaise lounge chairs of the main sitting room, twirling my wavy sable hair around my finger and trying to look appealing. As long as I kept my mouth shut, I could probably attract one or two first-timers with my practiced "mysterious woman" façade and lock them into appointments. But jeez, this work day was taking forever. And my form-fitting sky blue gown felt a little too snug around the middle even though I was sucking in my stomach.

Probably time to lay off the desserts. Damn it.

When half an hour went by without anyone else coming in, I dropped what little poise I had and slouched in my seat, staring up at the high ceiling. The fixed sconces shined down on me and cast the area in an intimate, dim luminescence. I listened to the quiet conversations between the other acolytes and their clients seated at various sofas scattered throughout the room. Soft music played in the background; some archaic, classical piece originating from my people's homeworld. Although it was meant to soothe and contribute to the calming atmosphere, it had me yawning for a minute straight.

The silky voice that came into my earpiece jolted me out of my drowsiness. "Lucille, when you have a moment, please come into my personal quarters. I would like to speak with you."

Well shit, was I in trouble already? I responded with a meek, "Yes, ma'am," and pushed myself from the chaise, pausing to smooth out the wrinkles in my clothing. Forgot to iron again. That was twenty brownie points off right there.

My stilettos clicked on the spotless linoleum floor as I made my way toward the rear entrance that led to Sha'ira's private wing, feeling really awkward as I tried not to wobble in the four-inch heels. Whoever invented these goddamn things must have been a sadist because I couldn't find any legitimate reason why the back of a woman's feet should be elevated this high off the ground. Yeah, aesthetics and all that, but my ass looked just fine without being subjected to these torturous stilts, thank you very much. None of the other girls seemed to feel the same way, though. A few wearing even higher heels glided past me with impossible grace, leaving me in the dust as I made my bowlegged progress across the room. As if my self-esteem didn't already suffer enough.

I managed to haul myself up the few steps in front of the ramp by clutching onto the metal railing for dear life. I guess I should have been grateful that no one laughed at me, but no one had offered to help me out, either. Gotta love that "every woman for herself" mentality here. The steep ramp brought me to a quiet, wide corridor with off-white walls, and by the time the floor leveled out again, beads of sweat rolled down my back and my calf muscles felt a dozen steps away from snapping. This was the first instance I'd been summoned to Sha'ira's quarters while dressed in full acolyte garb, and these damned clothes actually turned a simple walk into a workout. Wishing I could go barefoot under my gown like I did while coming and going for each work shift, I manned up and strode by two acolytes I didn't recognize who were on break, one of them heavily pregnant.

"I just feel so huge and hideous, but I'm putting off my maternity leave because I need the hours," the knocked up one lamented.

"Aww, you're beautiful, honey," her friend assured her. "And besides, you don't look pregnant from the back."

I hid a snort. Ha! Whatever. You look pregnant from space.

But hey, preggers lady appeared to cheer up from the helpful—but blatant—lie, so I left her to her delusions and approached Sha'ira's quarters. The temperature dropped a few degrees here, and I ran my hands over my arms as the perspiration on my skin went cold and chilled me in seconds. Stopping outside the gleaming silver door, I shook out my sore legs and made a mental note to stretch them out later. I brought my fingers up to my earpiece to radio my boss, but in that instant, the access panel turned green and the door slid open.

I froze when my gaze settled on the redheaded form of Commander Jane Shepard, whose striking emerald irises—no, for real, that's what they looked like—put my fig green ones to shame. She was tall, around my height. I didn't move as she stepped forward while talking to her companions, a male Alliance officer and a turian wearing the C-Sec uniform. Her voice sounded very authoritative as she spoke in terms and jargon I didn't understand. They must have come in while I'd gone to the ladies' room because I would have remembered a trio of armored and armed people marching around the Consort's Chambers. I smelled gun oil and medi-gel on them as they came closer, and suddenly I found myself scrutinized by three pairs of eyes.

Come on, Lucy. You're standing in front of the first human Spectre. Say, 'Hello, have a pleasant day.'

"'Sup, how's it going?" my mouth blurted instead.

Mother of God, I fail.

But to my relief, the commander gave me an amused smile and proceeded past me, the other two nodding at me in acknowledgement as they followed her. I didn't realize how hard my heart was pounding until they turned the corner. Never thought of myself as the type to get star-struck, but it was hard not to have a girl crush on a war hero like Shepard. And of course I end up looking like a damn fool in front of her. Well, at least she didn't witness my pathetic high-heeled trek over here.

"Lucille, please come in," Sha'ira called.

I whirled around and almost lost my balance. Definitely wasn't on top of my game today. The Consort stood waiting in the middle of her lavish quarters, and I hobbled through the open doorway as fast as I could while maintaining some semblance of grace. Actually, by this point I considered any movements that didn't end with me faceplanting on the floor a raving success in elegance. Sha'ira's unimpressed expression told me she didn't share that opinion.

"That was not the proper way to greet guests," she admonished, though her tone stayed gentle.

A flush rose to my cheeks. Her manner, no matter how temperate, always made me feel like a blundering oaf. "Yes, sorry about that, Sha'ira. I forget my speech sometimes."

Her long skirt flowed after her as she walked a circle around me, studying my sweaty gown, frizzing hair, and melting makeup. I caught a whiff of some unknown floral scent as she stopped at my two o'clock. Anxiety crept into my stomach when she didn't say anything for a while. I couldn't read her face. She continued to examine me as if I were the most confusing piece of work at an art exhibit. To a refined asari like her, I might as well have been just that. I counted the seconds until over a minute had passed. My pulse raced faster than it had in front of Shepard.

After another minute of silence had me quaking in my heels, she finally spoke. "Lucille, it appears that you haven't been working hard enough to fit in here."

Fuck.

"However, that roughness in your personality is precisely why I took you in. Your 'tough love' specialty has brought in clients who otherwise would not have come here. Still," she went on when I opened my mouth to thank her, "there must be a balance."

My blood pressure receded as I nodded, the easing stress leaving me lightheaded. So she wasn't going to fire me after all. Not yet, at least. I admitted to myself that I probably should have been trying harder at this position.

"Acolytes have certain guidelines to follow in order to be marketable. I need you to make more of an effort." Her serene voice drifted over me, which relaxed the rest of my tension.

Trying not to gush, I replied, "I will, I promise."

She clasped her hands behind her back and gave me a wistful smile. "This lifestyle comes at a price. You have to sell your attention, your company, your time. You are giving yourself to others who need you."

I nodded again and straightened my posture, motivated by her words.

"But that does not mean turning your back on everything else," she finished, pinning me with an intense look.

Motivation stuttering to a halt, I blinked in puzzlement. Wait, what?

She remained silent, as if waiting for me to process that. I just stared back at her. The stillness stretched on once more, and my feet ached from just standing around. If she had been aiming to stimulate critical thinking or whatever, she must have overestimated my intelligence. I still didn't get it.

Just when I was about to ask her to explain, she sighed and shook her head.

"Ah, never mind for now," she said with the patience of a saint. "We will pick up this conversation at another time. You may go, Lucille."

I felt like I should apologize for being a dumbass, but she had dismissed me, and I wasn't going to push my luck. I dipped into a little curtsy before turning and heading for the exit. The corridor was empty and colder this time around, the distant hum of chatter absent as I ambled back toward the sitting room. Folding my arms over my chest, I slowed my pace to mull over what Sha'ira had said, an analysis made harder by the headache that throbbed to life in my temples. I still didn't have a clue by the time I clomped back down the stairs, so I gave up and shrugged, peering around.

Most of the clients were already gone, and the other acolytes were straightening the seats and getting ready to leave. The morning shift had ended, but I went to take Nelyna's post near the entrance, bidding good bye to the girls on their way out. As the rookie on the job, I served as the door guard and appointment scheduler between shifts. Once the room had cleared out, I eyed the controls on the podium, tempted to switch the music to something less sleep-inducing. The urge passed when I thought about Sha'ira's reaction if she came in and found me in the middle of an interpretive dance rendition of Fleet and Flotilla. My career was already hanging by a thread; I wasn't going to lose it to the sappy soundtrack of a chick flick.

Checking the time, I groaned when I saw that I still had two hours before the evening shift. After another fifteen minutes went by, I kicked off the stilettos and fired up my new omni-tool. This thing had cost me my first two paychecks, but I'd never had one before and its convenience pretty much paid for itself. The nice part about hanging around here by myself was that I was allowed some quiet entertainment as long as no clients were present. I pulled up a holographic display of a Sudoku puzzle, which was supposed to exercise my brain and make me smarter and shit. Not sure about the "make me smarter" part, though, since I'd been working on the same beginner level puzzle for two weeks straight.

I was in the middle of trying to figure out how I'd gotten five nines in one row when I heard the entrance slide open. Sudoku disappeared in a flash and I plastered what I hoped looked like a welcoming smile on my face as I waited for the client to come around the corner. A human came into view, and my eyebrows rose when I determined it was a teenage boy around fourteen or fifteen. He looked mostly Asian, and he pulled up his loose jeans before sticking his hands in the front pocket of his sleeveless blue hoodie. He swept an uncertain glance around the vacant room, and when his slanted dark eyes met mine, I noticed how full his lashes were. He strode up to me, a hesitant grin on his lips, and I almost laughed when we both realized that he barely surpassed the podium in height. Poor kid.

"Welcome to the Consort's Chambers," I recited, praying I wouldn't manage to screw up the greeting. "I'm sorry, but we're closed until the evening shift and I can't schedule minors for appointments."

Something close to perplexity passed over his soft features as he combed his fingers through his short black hair. "Minors, huh?"

I didn't expect the husky voice, but continued, "Yes. As a human, you must be eighteen or older to employ the Consort's services." Lowering my tone, I muttered, "Trust me, kid. I know how frustrating it is. I just turned eighteen this year."

Oddly enough, he appeared amused more than anything. "Is there anyone I can just talk to off the record? I can still pay for the time…"

"Sorry," I repeated firmly. As much as I would have liked to help him out, there was no way I could set up a meeting off the record. "I'm the only one here right now."

His unwavering gaze prickled my skin. "Do you have a minute? I just need to talk to someone outside my social circle to clear my head."

Persistent. I'd have been more sympathetic to his cause if I wasn't already dealing with a pounding headache. I thought about telling him to get lost, but something about those soulful eyes tugged at me and persuaded me to hear him out.

I let out a long-suffering sigh. Maybe if I humored him he'd leave faster. "Fine, let's make this quick. What's the issue?" I demanded, not even caring that I wasn't in "proper acolyte" mode.

Fortunately, he didn't seem to care, either. The traces of a smile ghosted over his lips before he spoke. "I've been chasing after a certain goal for a long time, and I finally have a shot at reaching it. Problem is, I'm not sure I have enough confidence in myself."

Okay, so he was going for ambiguity. I could work with that. "So… what, you worried you're gonna wuss out or something?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm definitely going for it. I just… can't afford to fail."

To my own surprise, I found I could relate. "Pressure, huh? The feeling that if you screw this up, you won't get another chance?"

"Exactly."

"Well, I hate to say this, kid, but there's not much you can do about the nerves," I told him. "Best to just go for it, don't think about anything else, don't look back. If you worry too much, it'll just distract you so you do end up failing."

He stared at the floor as his hands fidgeted in his hoodie pocket. "Yeah. Logically, I know I shouldn't let the anxiety get to me, but I can't help it. There's a lot riding on this."

"Let me guess, you've got some baggage? Join the club. Whatever your deal is, you can't walk around with the mindset that your life is over if things don't work out." Says the one freaking out earlier about possibly getting the pink slip, I thought dryly to myself.

"It just might be," he muttered before saying, "I'm actually hoping this goal will help me get over my baggage. I've got some history back on Earth that I've been trying to escape."

I frowned at that, put off by how familiar it sounded. "Instead of betting everything on your goal, why not just deal with your history head on? What are you running from?" My frown deepened when I realized that these questions could easily have been directed at me.

"It's something complicated that I'd rather not get into," he declared in a strained tone. "But you're right, I should broaden my options… anything to raise my chances of putting the past out of my mind."

"Look, even if you deny your past, it's not gonna go away," I said. From experience. "Your situation isn't my business, but if it's affecting you this much, maybe you should face it and get some closure before trying to move on."

He scowled, still directing his attention to the floor. "I would really rather keep it behind me, where it belongs. The faster I forget about it, the better."

Irritation flared up inside me and took over my tongue. "If you completely turn your back on your past, how do you expect to learn and grow as a person?" I snapped.

My own words hit me like a bludgeon, and Sha'ira's voice floated into my head. "But that does not mean turning your back on everything else."

The revelation cut my temper short. It seemed to have penetrated his thoughts, too, because he shut up for a while. Sha'ira must have seen right through me even though I spent every day working to transform myself into someone I wasn't. I hadn't breathed a word about where I'd come from, but the Consort was sharper than I'd given her credit for. My tough love approach may have struck a chord with this kid, but in all honesty, I could really use my own advice.

Finally, he looked up at me and grinned again. "Thanks for the talk. Can't say it's what I expected, but you actually did help out. Got a name?"

My expression softened. I guess both of us had gotten something out of this conversation. "Lucy."

"Thanks, Lucy. How much do I owe you for taking up five minutes of your time?"

I waved him off. "Keep the credits. I'll take your name as payment." Now that I wasn't seeing red, he was actually kind of cute. Maybe in a few years he'd fill out and come back.

"Kani."

Kani? That's a weird name for a—

"And I'm female."

Oh.

I squinted at "her," noting that the "off" thing about her delicate face was due to the fact that she was actually a girl. Well, there went that short-lived fantasy of hooking up once she reached adulthood.

"Also, I'm twenty-four," she added, laughing at my further shock. "And my goal? I'm starting as the flair bartender at the Dark Star Lounge soon. If I get through it, you should come find me sometime. I'll make you a drink, kid."

And with a playful wink, she sauntered out.

I didn't move for several minutes.

Well… damn…

x-x-x-x-x

I pulled my black leather jacket tighter around me as a cool breeze blew through. I'd forgotten how drafty this part of the 800 Block was. The mingling smells of fuel and cigarette smoke permeated the air and brought with them a strong sense of nostalgia. I strolled through the damp streets, passing dilapidated buildings and hanging neon signs. The soles of my boots left prints on the grimy pavement, and I hiked up the hem of my skirt to avoid getting stains on the ivory fabric. Several people lined the sidewalks in groups, paying no attention to me as I made my way across the dark area toward a small, rundown public park.

It was empty, but I hadn't expected anyone to be here, especially at this time of night. I just needed to visit this familiar place and think. Making my way to a rusty swing set, I stared at it as echoes of distant laughter crossed my mind, Julia's the loudest and sweetest among them. A week ago I wouldn't have been caught dead back here, but meeting Kani the other day had left an impression that inspired me to come to terms with my own self-denial. My chest felt heavy as I considered the fact that a number of those kids laughing in my memories weren't around anymore. Life hadn't been kind to any of us, but it had been outright cruel to some.

It had been outright cruel to Julia, who never made it to her teens.

"Lucy?"

I spun around at the sound of my name. In the darkness I made out a figure several yards away near the street, and when he stepped forward beneath a nearby streetlight's luminescence, guilt churned in my gut. "Mouse."

From what I last heard, he'd been like me, one of the lucky ones. His line of work wasn't exactly legal, but it bought him food and a real home, which was all that mattered to people like us.

Us. I had already reverted to my old identity.

"I didn't think you still came around these parts," he remarked, his cropped brown hair and facial stubble just as I remembered. It had been close to two years since I'd last seen him, but in the dimness I saw that he hadn't changed. Good. I'd always asserted that this was a flattering look for him.

"I don't, usually," I said, shuffling from one foot to the other.

"How've you been? How's work with the Consort going?" he asked.

I shrugged. "It's going. The pay's pretty good, though I still need to work on the whole ladylike thing."

He chuckled, a sound that I recalled with fondness. "That sounds about right. You were always the rowdiest when we were kids."

I gave his shoulder a gentle shove, like I had a thousand times in the past. The gesture took both of us aback, and I hurried to retract my limb, but he grabbed my wrist.

"I know you've washed your hands of us, but it's good to see you again," he told me, offering a smile.

I lowered my eyes and tugged my wrist out of his grasp. "About that… I…" I didn't know how to finish that sentence. Clearing my throat, I tried again. "I was thinking maybe I shouldn't have run off and cut ties with you guys. Or at least with you."

I could sense the astonishment radiating from his body. He looked too taken aback to say anything, so I kept talking.

"Um… well, since we're both here now, maybe we could exchange contact info and keep in touch or something. I finally got an omni-tool, so…" I trailed off uncomfortably.

Good thing Mouse was enthusiastic about the idea. "Yeah, definitely!" he exclaimed. "I've missed you, you know."

Relief washed over me at once. I shouldn't have fallen out with him and the others in the first place. Pretending to be all high class with Sha'ira and the girls was fun, but in the end, it was pointless to keep denying my origin. When I got the chance, I'd have to visit Kani at Dark Star and… I don't know, celebrate pulling my head out of my ass?

Mouse activated his omni-tool and gazed at me over the holographic interface. "I'd be really honored to have direct contact with one of the Consort's acolytes."

I chucked him under the chin, another gesture I'd always done when we were best friends. "Oh, please. I'm just a duct rat from the 800 Block."

x-x-x-x-x

A/N: Writing this really was challenging and I've been told that it's noticeably different from my regular style, but I hope it was enjoyable regardless (and Lucy was a lot of fun to depict). Concrit, feedback, or any sort of response is very welcome. Thank you for reading!