Armand Temi
Orphan
Fearing retribution of some kind, Sylvia and Marcus finally slipped out of the Sullust estate, passing stumbling pilots and Alliance bureaucrats alike as they made their way out of the Charity Ball. The volcanic planet was not the most hospitable for walking around so choices were limited in where they could go.
A hotel, her barracks or his ship.
While Sylvia didn’t mind repeating the experience they’d had in a Soceras hotel, the lingering memory always causing a welcome blush to appear on her face, it would be nice to go somewhere else. Likewise her barracks were cramped, she had a roommate, and it was more a loose college dormitory than a strict military environment, though security at the barracks was extremely tight. Still, fellow pilots smuggled in “friends” all of the time.
The redhead pilot suggested Marcus’s ship, a small but sturdy freighter in which to peel off from the party and either hang out or even take a trip. Rogue Fifteen never minded a completely 360-degree view of the stars, after all.
Running her manicured hand along the side of the freighter, red nails clicking against the hull, Sylvia asked, “Corellian?”
She may not have known how to say "Gotal'ur kar'taylir darasuum at ni" in Mando’a, but she knew her starships, the make, model and even materials with which they were built. And this particular ship made sense for Marcus's line of work as Corellian engineering sold the most varied modular freighters on the market.
“Where should we go next?” she asked, waiting for Marcus to lower the ramp. His answer could have been “let’s stay on the ship,” and that would have been fine with the Alliance pilot, but perhaps he wanted to take her somewhere. If Sylvia could have a fantasy night, she’d steer the two of them off to Point Modie on Maramere where they could explore the sea and sand of the beautiful resort world.
[member="Marcus Lok"]
A hotel, her barracks or his ship.
While Sylvia didn’t mind repeating the experience they’d had in a Soceras hotel, the lingering memory always causing a welcome blush to appear on her face, it would be nice to go somewhere else. Likewise her barracks were cramped, she had a roommate, and it was more a loose college dormitory than a strict military environment, though security at the barracks was extremely tight. Still, fellow pilots smuggled in “friends” all of the time.
The redhead pilot suggested Marcus’s ship, a small but sturdy freighter in which to peel off from the party and either hang out or even take a trip. Rogue Fifteen never minded a completely 360-degree view of the stars, after all.
Running her manicured hand along the side of the freighter, red nails clicking against the hull, Sylvia asked, “Corellian?”
She may not have known how to say "Gotal'ur kar'taylir darasuum at ni" in Mando’a, but she knew her starships, the make, model and even materials with which they were built. And this particular ship made sense for Marcus's line of work as Corellian engineering sold the most varied modular freighters on the market.
“Where should we go next?” she asked, waiting for Marcus to lower the ramp. His answer could have been “let’s stay on the ship,” and that would have been fine with the Alliance pilot, but perhaps he wanted to take her somewhere. If Sylvia could have a fantasy night, she’d steer the two of them off to Point Modie on Maramere where they could explore the sea and sand of the beautiful resort world.
[member="Marcus Lok"]