Brotherhood Bar-Talks

[Rodent]

A cold wind blows into the bar, followed by a cold young man. His long black hair is neatly combed and arrayed on his shoulders, he is wearing a standard corsair uniform, and he has a short stubble of young age on his chin.

Acacio D'Souza sits down with a huff on one of the empty seats, and looks at the scene beyond the window. It's a lot different from his usual surroundings, the rocks and the oranges of the Omegas, and Hessian and corsairs intermingling in a old tortured dance that has lost all meaning.

He sits there for a while, and then leans back with his eyes closed, trying to absorb the change.