Login

DragoonArcanum · (This post was last modified: 03-14-2023, 12:17 AM by DragoonArcanum.)

"Countess, another drink?"
The Lady, clad in fine dress likely worth several times the pay of the servant whom addressed her, glanced side long at him and the platter of glasses, before nodding silently and taking one. Turning swiftly, her dress flowing like water around and behind her in its finery. She walked back inside from the balcony, joining the party in the main hall, and reentering the conversation previously abandoned for a moments air, though she paused but a moment to take in the splendour of the high stone walls and great stained glass windows once more. Sirius would appreciate these things, some day.
"So, i was thinking that i may join the Militar." "Non, madame, surely you jest." The man was finely clad as any in the hall. One of a hundred potential suitors, she mused, though that was not the purpose of this party. His face seemed indistinct, somehow."The war is going well." "Precisely, mes amis~! I feel seeing it all before the war ends should make a frightfully unique exprience!" She paused, taking a heavy breath, though she spoke her words lightheartedly, it seemed a terrible weight, having said them. Staring at one of the finely decorated pillars of the hall, the Countess noticed for the first time its almost metallic tinge. Perhaps a façade had come clean, though the plates of metal were - to her eye at least - woefully inadequate to withstand the weight of the ceiling.

With her ears just beginning to register the faint sound of computers and chatter, some kind of readiness check, the charging of a weapon? The ground tremored. Shaking drinks from platters, several fine glasses smashing on the floor, though nobody seemed to notice. "My lady, you are awfully strange. Give it five years, and the rest of Sirius will be in its place, Kusari fell with enough speed. I shan't imagine that Bretonnia is much longer for this world."
Yet, the words did not truly register. Things had become much louder, and she whirls for the source. Shouting, gunfire, a bright flash out of the viewport.
The roar approached so fast that she had little time to truly realise what was happening. The light through the stained glass grew bright, then blinding. The bulkhead plating twisted, the dying scream of the ship drowned by the screams from below.
The cathedral windows shattered, and the Countess screamed, as the fire engulfed her.

...then Fire

Éléanor Véronique d'Aubigny awoke, silently. Forcing herself upright, she stared into the darkness of her room, ignoring the lingering spots of light that bounced in her vision like the lights of a city viewed from above. Planting a hand on the cabin wall, she examined it with her dark adjusted eyes. Grey. Dirty. Riveted and welded together, not by master shipwrights, but by disparate and desperate men and women, of varied skills and too few resources.
She took comfort - pride, even - in that, however, the distance, the contrast, Ithaca, she felt, told no lies about itself. But there was no time for sulking. d'Aubigny stood, brushing her hair - once long and blonde, now haphazardly short cut, and a dirty caramel hue - from her eyes, and dressed, ignoring the tattered uniform and its memories, and donning her dirty flight suit and headset, tapping the side of it and tuning to a specific frequency, speaking as she packed a bag, stuffing it with rations, radiation protection measures, a half empty bottle of vodka, pack of energy drinks and some pastries for the road.
"Oui, sorry about the static. Yea, its me. Kurt? I'm taking the Eclipse out there now... Yea, yes, mes amis, i'll meet you there. Make sure to pack extra rad pills, oui?"

Notable Current and Former Faction Membership

Login
Username:
Password:	Lost Password?
	Remember me