Private Celebration of home

[Diarch Rellik]

The laughter and music of the hall still echoed when Rellik reached out and took her arm, his touch gentle but sure. "Come with me," he said, voice quiet, carrying none of the formality from earlier but a hint of mischief. They slipped out through one of the side corridors, the hum of Aurora Station softening around them. Passing a rack of officer's coats, Rellik tugged the military cap from his head and tossed it onto the corner of a console without a glance back.

The hangar greeted them with low light and the polished hull of his shuttle waiting near the bay doors. He guided her up the ramp, pausing only long enough to open the cockpit door for her. "Up front," he said with a faint smile. "I don't want to ruin any surprises."

Once she settled in, Rellik turned away, boots echoing down the corridor to the back of the ship. When he returned, his jacket was undone, a few buttons loosened at the collar, the rigid lines of uniform fading away to a relaxed demeanor.

In one hand, he held a chilled bottle of wine, condensation glinting against the dim cabin lights. The other two wine glasses paired against each other.

He leaned against the cockpit doorway, the faint hum of the engines filling the silence. "Figured we did not need to stop our celebration on our way down to Bastion. I have a gift for you tonight in my chambers within the spire to celebrate your promotion."

Iandre Athlea

 

[Iandre Athlea]

The echoes of music lingered long after they'd left the gathering, fading into the steady hum of the station. True to her word, Iandre followed Rellik without hesitation when he suggested they leave. Her part in the event was done, and she was content to slip away with him into the quiet.

When he tossed his hat aside, she let out a soft, amused laugh. "You'll regret that later," she teased, brushing her fingers against the brim of her own. She wasn't about to part with hers.

Their steps carried them through the corridor until they reached his shuttle. The faint vibration of the docking bay thrummed beneath their boots as they boarded. He led her to the cockpit and asked her to wait, earning a curious tilt of her head. She complied, though the faintest spark of anticipation crossed her features. Watching him go, she turned toward the viewport. The lights of the bay reflected softly in her grey eyes—sterile and bright, yet somehow distant.

When Rellik returned, the glint of two glasses and a bottle of wine in his hands drew an unguarded smile from her. "A gift and wine? You're spoiling me," she said lightly, her tone carrying that quiet warmth she rarely showed in public.

"You look good like this," she added after a pause, her gaze holding his. "Relaxed. Yourself. And I don't think we need to stop celebrating just yet. Care to share the wine?"

Unless he stopped her, she rose from the pilot's seat and crossed the short distance between them. Taking one of the glasses from his hand, her fingers brushed his—a subtle, deliberate contact that lingered for just a heartbeat too long. The soft lighting of the cabin painted her features in gold and shadow, the usual restraint in her expression tempered by something gentler.

For someone so used to structure and command, these quiet moments with him always managed to disarm her. Around Rellik, her guard lowered in ways she couldn't quite explain. The silence between them wasn't awkward or uncertain—it was comforting. Real.

As the shuttle's hum filled the air, Iandre let herself breathe him in—this stillness, this warmth. The galaxy outside might have been distant and cold, but here, in this fleeting quiet, she felt something close to peace.

Diarch Rellik