Geneviève Lasedri
Fascists hate her!
Indeed, Corellia was known for its more independent ways and boisterous people, and the scarred face of the commander bore testament to that, if her accent did not give her away. It was more of an untamed, flagrant intonation, while Lasedri's was a purebred dialect, forged on this Core world and weened on flowery and political nonsense. And while Gen might be known to raise her nose at the less proper accentuation, today she wanted nothing more than to be smothered with it. And who knew what wild was in store from a Corellian banshee like this one? "Give me..." she sighed after the next release, curiosity well beyond piqued. All had been wonderful enough as it was, and she practically purred in delight with each wandering touch from Ticon. She felt beautiful for once.
She gladly accepted the handhold, though her fingers only timidly curled between the other's at first. It was a gesture she had not experienced since before her teens, and every knew one in this set of moments had brought her down further and further into a state of ignorance towards the galaxy at large, and her entire focus on the kisses of a woman she had only just met within the hour. To let sensation overwhelm her like this was uncharacteristic, and Geneviève could not care any less about whatever was supposed to be going on. It was time to be selfish. "I've had eight years to talk about things like clone armies," she countered, casually laying the hilt of her visitor's weapon in a flowering pot of plants as they passed through the doorway. Out of sight and out of mind. "It can wait."
Geneviève's Chandrilan suite was not exactly big, but she liked a simple and quiet place out here, where she could muse and pretend the war was not about to destroy the home she hated to confess that she truly loved. And it was the perfect place to birth some form of love--or obsession, at least. With careful grace that was unheard of, the Prime Minister escorted her guest by their locked hands and brought her to her bedroom; their bedroom, if she had any say in the matter. "It's no good having such a big bed all to oneself, anyway." She closed the door behind them with a hushed swing and clenched her fingers tighter into their places between Keira's
And now she waited for Keira's guidance.
[member="Keira Ticon"]
She gladly accepted the handhold, though her fingers only timidly curled between the other's at first. It was a gesture she had not experienced since before her teens, and every knew one in this set of moments had brought her down further and further into a state of ignorance towards the galaxy at large, and her entire focus on the kisses of a woman she had only just met within the hour. To let sensation overwhelm her like this was uncharacteristic, and Geneviève could not care any less about whatever was supposed to be going on. It was time to be selfish. "I've had eight years to talk about things like clone armies," she countered, casually laying the hilt of her visitor's weapon in a flowering pot of plants as they passed through the doorway. Out of sight and out of mind. "It can wait."
Geneviève's Chandrilan suite was not exactly big, but she liked a simple and quiet place out here, where she could muse and pretend the war was not about to destroy the home she hated to confess that she truly loved. And it was the perfect place to birth some form of love--or obsession, at least. With careful grace that was unheard of, the Prime Minister escorted her guest by their locked hands and brought her to her bedroom; their bedroom, if she had any say in the matter. "It's no good having such a big bed all to oneself, anyway." She closed the door behind them with a hushed swing and clenched her fingers tighter into their places between Keira's
And now she waited for Keira's guidance.
[member="Keira Ticon"]