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The sea outside Palaven's capital saw very few visitors. Harsh cliffs led down to a gray shore, still more pebbles than sand. The water itself was always unseasonably cold, which kept away tourists, although it was a pleasing sight outside a starship window. A mineral in the water intensified the reflection from the sky, making it look like liquid silver in the right light. Each bright crash of the waves beneath the sun could be compared to looking into a forge, the very heart of Palaven itself.
Benezia hadn't come for the shining waters, beautiful as they were. Her interest lay in an altar at the very center, carved from a huge stone that had become part of the sea by happenstance. The edges had long been worn smooth by the perpetual crest and fall of the waves, but the inscription the turians had carved upon its face remained.
It had been a tradition for thousands of years for turian families to gather at one shore and float small ships towards the altar when sailors were sent away from the capital, one that continued when the Hierarchy mastered spaceflight. One for each spirit, in honor of the storms their ancestors survived.
The ships were always fragile but practical, made of something that would fall prey to the constant push of the water and decay once it fell to the bottom of the sea. An entire armada sank beneath the waves without a trace, but Benezia had caught sight of a single broken sail caught on one side of the altar. Someone had been left earlier in the day and cast their offering; a wife, a child, perhaps a father.
Footsteps came from a soft stride behind her, nearly gliding silently over the rocks. Benezia knew it wasn't an attempt to startle her, simply second nature after centuries of training. Shiala had always carried herself with barely a whisper, some latent presence muting the creak of leather and the weight of the rifle strapped against her back.
The mantle of a true warrior rested on those straight-set shoulders, even with that uniform stripped away. Benezia felt a light flush of heat rise up her nape at the knowledge that the thought had come so easy, that even among serene shores her eyes were drawn to the matron. Shiala was a balance in times of strife, able to intercede before she was even aware she was stumbling.
There were a few deliberate scrapes of boots on stone, Shiala announcing her approach. Benezia turned her head just slightly, catching the commando's eye as Shiala came to a halt beside her. A ghost of a smile followed, somewhere in between them.
"Liara's playing with the admiral's children." The matron said, gaze cast out over the water. "One of the acolytes taught them how to weave bracelets out of that harsh grass that grows here."
"He was kind to house us when I spoke at the summit. The public show of respect touched as many minds as my words."
Benezia let out a slow, soft breath. The politeness still instinctively came first, the diplomacy before family.
"Was Liara happy to have playmates?" She asked.
"Ones her own size?" A small smile curved Shiala's mouth. "Yes, very. One of them promised to teach her Rachni versus Krogan later."
Benezia's lips pursed. "As long as she doesn't hurt herself."
"She's being looked after."
That the words were matched with the gentle brush of Shiala's hand made Benezia's catch, allowing a moment of relief. Then the matron's fingers were entwined with hers and she felt the press of something solid against her palm. Shiala's thumb slowly caressed over the pulse in her wrist, the casual intimacy making Benezia's grip tighten on the object.
Her hand slowly turned skyward until she could glance down and see what was in her grasp. A golden teardrop of beryl was set in the silver of a necklace, shining like Shiala had just pulled it from the water at her feet. Benezia let the chain slip through her fingers, exploring the texture of the slender metal strands.
"Where is it from?"
She doesn't ask what it's for; the words for that don't quite mesh. The transition from bodyguard to acolyte to lover had been in such careful steps she could trace where one began and another ended. Faith didn't overcome; it strengthened it. Desire could be found closer than one expected, even in the face of loss. There had never been a burden, an impetus on Shiala's part when she had left Aethyta. They simply never had, but then they were.
"I had it made here. The precious stones out of Palaven's ground are still known across the galaxy, but the silver is Thessian."
"You carried it from home?" Benezia nearly cursed herself for the question. Shiala carried everything, wherever they traveled.
"You love yellow." The matron's words were always politely soft, but direct. Even centuries around priestesses couldn't change that. "And the stone was here. It would be a shame to give it to you without letting you have a way to wear it."
In that moment, Benezia could have simply let the necklace fall into the sea. It was weightless, like her body. A breeze off the water brought her back to herself some moments later, the soft press of Shiala's hand against her cheek feeling warm and real.
"You're freezing." The matron said. "We should go back inside."
"Liara will ask where I got this." Benezia said. It wasn't a protest against the gift, only fact. Even just shy of a decade, her daughter's curiosity and ability to observe seemed to be infinite.
"What will you tell her?" Shiala asked, taking the necklace from the matriarch's palm.
She undid the clasp with practiced fingers, drawing the chain around Benezia's slender throat before closing it once more. The stone settled just below the older asari's collarbones, the point of the teardrop resting right against the niche between them.
"That bracelets aren't the only thing that matters."
Just then, the tide began to come in, salty foam stopping just short of their feet.