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

 

[Diarch Rellik]

Rellik watched the reflection of the cabin lights slide across her features. The gold traced along her cheek, softened against her eyes, and he simply enjoyed it. When her fingers brushed his, the faintest spark of warmth passed through his hand. Rellik steadied the bottle before it could slip, a quiet grin forming despite himself.

"To you." He uncorked the bottle, the soft hiss breaking the calm, and poured. As he handed her the glass, his own still in hand. The rims touched with a muted clink.

He leaned against her as he walked beside to the cockpit, his shoulders loosening as the first stars of Bastion's upper atmosphere came into view. "You know," he added, "I like it when we are both in uniform. It is a good look."

Turning his gaze toward her again, the faint light painted the gold in his eyes. "Finish your drink," he said, a smile returning. "I'll take us down to the Crucible." He sat down and began manually piloting the ship to the landing pad.

Iandre Athlea

 

[Iandre Athlea]

The glass was cool in her hand, the reflection of the stars bending across its surface. Iandre turned it once between her fingers before meeting his gaze, a faint curve touching her lips.

"To the Diarchy, the Lilaste Order" she said softly, then after a heartbeat, her voice dropped, warmer. "And to us."

She took a slow sip, the faint burn grounding her. When he brushed against her shoulder on the way forward, she didn't move away. Instead, her hand found his arm briefly—light, deliberate—before falling back to her side.

"You always say that as if you forget how well it suits you too," she murmured, following him toward the cockpit. The sight of him at the controls, calm and in his element, eased something quiet in her chest.

She leaned lightly against the frame of the viewport, watching the stars stretch into the familiar glow of Bastion's orbit. "I'll finish it," she said, holding up the glass slightly, amusement flickering through her tone. "But only if you promise not to crash while trying to impress me."

The light caught in her eyes as the Crucible came into view, soft gold reflecting against blue. For a moment, the soldier, the Diarch, the Jedi—all fell away, and there was only Iandre beside him, quiet and entirely at ease.

Diarch Rellik