Fear not for the future, weep not for the past

[DragoonArcanum]

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Éléanor had sat in the cockpit of her fighter for a few moments more than any of the hanger crew were comfortable with. Taking a minute to catch her breath and pack her flight helmet, before hopping out and landing on the deck.
She wasn't really sure how this was going to pan out... At the minimum it was going to earn her a death sentence across all of Gallia. And as for the Bretonians, well, it was unlikely they would all be as diplomatic as mistranslating Archibald, and a grudge built on planetary genocide would be a hard foundation to argue against.
Regardless of all that. It was the best chance to make a difference, at least, in the way she hoped.

In person, d'Aubigny was above average in height, and carried urself with the sort of entitled confidence one might expect from someone raised in a blue blooded household, though as before, her clothes and heavy jacket are merely a Sirian brand imitation of some Gallic styles. With her flight gloves removed, the array of scars across her palms and fingers become obvious for anyone paying attention, marks indicative of shrapnel injuries, familiar to this with a history in the military.

d'Aubigny let out a breath, and smiled diplomatically to whatever liaison would be around to take her to the meeting.

Éléanor Véronique d'Aubigny. I believe i'm expected, and it won't do to keep such busy people waiting now, will it?

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