revenant leader
MESS HALL, CONCORD-CLASS STAR DEFENDER Reclaimer (TEMP ASSIGNMENT)
0700 HOURS
MEAL-TIME
REVENANT ELEVEN
Tags:
Qellene Tyliame
Today was busier than most days. Hustle and bustle accompanied chatter across the cavernous mess-hall, vents and all ran across the ceiling, giving the hall a sense of mechanical austereness. Around twenty long tables complete with benches lined the room, personell dotted around them, low, dim lighting setting a calm cantina-like ambience. A range of personnel with varying different roles mixed and matched around this time, usually enjoying a gossip, pilots and soldiers arguing over who had the most difficult role and vice versa with the naval crewbeings.
Mylo hadn't been here for long, but he had been here long enough to understand the workings of places such as these. It was just the same as in the Academy. The crew of the Reclaimer hadn't had any permanent assignments which might have fostered that distinct sense of boredom that many pilots and naval crew felt, especially during a war. Reports from the frontlines didn't help things either, the legend of the vile, murderous Brotherhood had grown greatly, especially among the Military who were still shaken from the attack on Coruscant.
Mylo sat and silently ate from a tray of subpar fried Endorian yip-tip, accompanied by a protein bar and a cup of blue milk. His table was nestled into a small corner, with flickering lighting. He tugged at his slightly baggy green jumpsuit, with his helmet sat on the table directly in front of his tray, the opening where his face would usually be seeming like it was staring at him. He recognised some notable figures off to his right on a table not too far from him as his squadronmates in Revenant. They talked as they ate, two B-Wing pilots whom shared an uncanny resemblance argued fiercly, a soldier clad in dirty, worn armour vainly attempting to diffuse the situation.
For the past few days he'd decided to eat alone. While he had met everyone and didn't consider himself a loner, he didn't believe he had earned the respect to eat with them, as if he'd been there since the start. And anyways, he sometimes enjoyed the relative solitude. Mylo ran a hand through his messy black hair, perhaps standing out slightly due to his fresh-faced youth. The Reclaimer had always been considered a ship for veterans.
It had been around a month or so since he'd stood into the main hall of the Flight Academy on Hosnian Prime, trying not to beam with pride as the Flight Commandant went droned the Passing Out speech and graduation honours in a monotone, slightly bored manner which was the subject of much ridicule amongst the Graduating Class. The Humbariner pilot forcefully reminded himself that this wasn't the Academy anymore. He kept his gaze on his squadron, being careful not to have them notice him too much.
0700 HOURS
MEAL-TIME
REVENANT ELEVEN
Tags:
Qellene Tyliame
Mylo hadn't been here for long, but he had been here long enough to understand the workings of places such as these. It was just the same as in the Academy. The crew of the Reclaimer hadn't had any permanent assignments which might have fostered that distinct sense of boredom that many pilots and naval crew felt, especially during a war. Reports from the frontlines didn't help things either, the legend of the vile, murderous Brotherhood had grown greatly, especially among the Military who were still shaken from the attack on Coruscant.
Mylo sat and silently ate from a tray of subpar fried Endorian yip-tip, accompanied by a protein bar and a cup of blue milk. His table was nestled into a small corner, with flickering lighting. He tugged at his slightly baggy green jumpsuit, with his helmet sat on the table directly in front of his tray, the opening where his face would usually be seeming like it was staring at him. He recognised some notable figures off to his right on a table not too far from him as his squadronmates in Revenant. They talked as they ate, two B-Wing pilots whom shared an uncanny resemblance argued fiercly, a soldier clad in dirty, worn armour vainly attempting to diffuse the situation.
For the past few days he'd decided to eat alone. While he had met everyone and didn't consider himself a loner, he didn't believe he had earned the respect to eat with them, as if he'd been there since the start. And anyways, he sometimes enjoyed the relative solitude. Mylo ran a hand through his messy black hair, perhaps standing out slightly due to his fresh-faced youth. The Reclaimer had always been considered a ship for veterans.
It had been around a month or so since he'd stood into the main hall of the Flight Academy on Hosnian Prime, trying not to beam with pride as the Flight Commandant went droned the Passing Out speech and graduation honours in a monotone, slightly bored manner which was the subject of much ridicule amongst the Graduating Class. The Humbariner pilot forcefully reminded himself that this wasn't the Academy anymore. He kept his gaze on his squadron, being careful not to have them notice him too much.
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