Setting
The Migrant Fleet is rarely welcoming to outsiders, as any risk to the Fleet is a risk to the quarian species. Quarians rarely leave except to go on Pilgrimage; ships sometimes leave on an individual basis to pursue their own goals, on missions that can last days or years, but usually return eventually. As Tali'Zorah nar Rayya describes her culture: "Home is a state of mind."
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Vael stirred his glass of brandy tipsily, the small amount he drank had hit him like a freight ship. He swerved drunkenly in his seat. "Otherwise... *hic* The first time someone claims we screwed *hic* them over..." he then made a soft explosion sound and swiveled around in his chair.
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Calen laughed a little as Vael acted the way he did, graned the alcohol was hitting him too. He took another drink and poured some more brandy in the cup.
"Whatever happens, we need to stick together. Rather not end up like Vael so elikent... elekuen... as Vael put it." Calen said not able to get the words out properly.
~Arika'Rynn~
Arika fell asleep in the room while she was watching the patient. He hadn't had any issues since she patched his throat up. She had been listening to folk music from the days before the Geth and fell asleep to the soft Kellish hymns that spoke of ancient myths and great days of the Quarian people.
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Calen got up and slowely went to check on Vael. His vitals indicated he was near alcohol poisoning, Calen gave him water and sat down next to Lara.
"So, what do you think of this whole thing? I mean, leaving the fleet. It's pretty sudden." Calen asked her while drinking the rest of his cup. He filled it with water and began drinking some to sober up a little.
~Arika'Rynn~
Arika woke up after about an hour and walked out of the room after checking his vitals. She looked at the time and it appeared shift change was soon. She continued on her rounds listening to her folk music.
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