Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Ancient Symbols, Modern Eras.

Within the oddly familiar structure of Sesweena Hall, the Fleet Admiral Astarii Saren had found herself enjoying an intoxicating herbal blend of fruit and spices, brewed to perfection by one of the locals. The billowing tails of steam had enthralled her augmented gaze as they drifted, lazily, towards the bulbous ceiling above, before dissipating as the residual heat was swept into the atmospheric recyclers. There was an accented simplicity to the tea before her but was easily betrayed as the boiled emulsion touched one’s palate. The blend had resulted in an almost honey yellow color but tasted more of lemon with hints of ground cinnamon. Naturally, after having two cups, she had elected to purchase several packaged bags for her command staff to try once the Hapan had rejoined them. It wouldn’t be for some time, but as her Korunnai adjunct had mentioned, it was the thought that count.

Having been drawn to this world by invitation, Astarii had seen fit to return the gesture in kind - though on more neutral ground as befitting both the nature of the conversation and the possible contract that would follow. She needed Incom’s fighters to flesh out the Federation's might. While it would’ve been more prudent to have such a meeting within the Administrative facility, like she did days prior when discussing the next generation A-wing prototypes, the Fleet Admiral had fancied the view this spot on the rotunda had provided of the Orrineswa river. Like before, she was clad in her ceremonial dress uniform but had the chest toggles loosened so that she could breathe easier whilst she sat and waited for her guest to arrive. Her adjunct’s stylus had been returned, and the bun she had previously wrapt around such a device was no more. Instead, she wore her hair in a braided tail that stretched down past her right shoulder, almost mimicking a storied figure of legend with how similar the woven pattern was.

Besides the billowing cup of tea and the pot from whence it was poured, the table was populated by a single crystalline data slate and a light pen. She had entertained the thought of placing her combat blade on top of the table in addition to the spartan contents, but Astarii wasn’t sure how the man would appreciate her dark sense of humor. Signing contracts in blood were barbaric, but at least they held some weight in comparison to the idealistic methodology of this turbulent era.

It was there that she would wait, sipping her tea until the invited guest had arrived, casually glancing at the roaring river mouth and relishing the simplicity of the view.

| [member="Kelly Perris"] |
 

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