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High Spirits (Open to Rebel Allies)

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Character
Jaminere had been rough, but it was also a success.

In truth, much of those gathered here had not expected the operation to succeed. There were too many unknown variables to have been truly confident in a victory, so when it came, the rebels were particularly jubilant. Any pretense of keeping the operation's results under wraps before the team returned to Ruusan was lost the moment their message had reached the rest of the galaxy.

So it was that fireworks lit up the skies the moment the rebel ships touched down at the Graywall, sounds of deafening music boomed from the castle below, and drunken soldiers came stumbling up to the freshly landed vessels in search of their comrades.

Cedric didn't mind their happiness. With the wounded having been treated aboard the Chimaera before making planetfall, there wasn't all that much to worry about now that they were home. With a quiet sigh of relief, Cedric stepped down onto the battlements of his ancestral home.

It seemed as if the ancient castle had morphed into party central overnight. Men and women danced openly in the courtyard. Music played from a handful of rudimentary loud speakers of all kinds that had been stashed away throughout the majority of the castle. The barracks themselves were alight with flashing neon lights and other things drunken sentients tended to enjoy looking at. Overhead, starfighters dropped payloads of fireworks into the night sky, setting the air above ablaze with vibrant light of every color.

It even looked like a makeshift bar had been formed out of a speeder bus and its small compatriots that had been parked on the central lawn.

"Well, they certainly know how to celebrate," the knight snickered. He'd left his damaged armor to be repaired with one of the smiths, and was clad in little more than sweatpants and a black T-shirt. It seemed few of the rebels actually recognized him without his armor, given the way in which most of them ignored him.

Without a moment's hesitation, the Jedi Knight made his way straight for the bar.
 
Taking his helmet off, the loud music could be heard even through the cockpit and canopy of his StealthX, the party was definitely started. Chuckling to himself a bit, the Master opened the cockpit for the first time in many hours and realized just how bad the smell was inside of it. Since he had been inside the cockpit for a full twenty-four hours before the operation even began, then the sweat he had been drenched in, only now noticing mixed with the air, and he knew he needed to bathe. However, first celebrations were due, mostly for the morale of the Rebellion.

Undoing his vac-suit a bit, it was clear he was drenched in his own sweat, he walked over to the bar where the Jedi Knight that lead the Alliance stood. Holding up a single gloved hand to the bartender he would say “A Mandalorian Ale for me, and some blue milk for my friend!” Avoim would then clap Cedric on the back hard, a smile on his face. “Well, Master Grayson, that was a mission well done.” Avoim subtly was telling the Knight that he was worthy of advancement and in his eyes, was already a Jedi Master.

He knew that would likely make the man quite happy, probably happy enough to forget the Blue Milk comment…
 
"Here you are, old boy. Living yet another night, hopefully might see the sunrise tomorrow. Ugh..."
Ras downed a shot of liquor, what it was he had no idea, just as long as it got him feeling numb. He dressed in a slightly tattered, defaced uniform from his days in the First Order. All patches, rank, any kind of dignified earning was torn away and burnt to ash. Ras didn't want to be reminded of something he no longer aligned his values with. All the countless missions of seizing towns, villages, any kind of settlement that could be a blemish on the shiny neo-Imperial face that was the First Order. That's what it took.
And it also took from him, robbed him of his humanity. He commanded groups of men to meet their demise, watched families burn. There was a particular moment that echoed from the depths of memory, one beautiful sunrise accompanied by the howls and cries of a pit full of natives. They tried crawling out, but a squad of flamethrower units kept blanketing them.
They had spent hours digging their own mass grave. After a certain point, there were no discernible bodies - only a congealed mass of skin and bone.
Ras wanted so badly to forget.
Waving the bartender over half-heartedly, he ordered a few more shots. His harsh Imperial accent mixed with a rising belligerence as he attempted to spout anecdotal stories of his youth.
"Aye... my father wasn't worth spit... eh... what was your name... eh... bah!"
"S-sir, I must tend to the others-"
"NONSENSE! Sit and have a drink, let me-"
The bartender managed to pull away from the older gentleman with a sad, glazed look in his eyes. Ras let out a deep sigh before downing another glass.
"Kark it."
The agent let his mind wander back into the darker recesses of itself. His eyes fixated on nothing as he looked down at his table. He should be celebrating with his newfound allies, but something just didn't sit right with him.
It hadn't for a long time.
 
Somehow Lyra managed to sneak off from the doctors, they hand their hands full so it made sense to some degree, but even then, she was low on blood, she just seemed to be good at getting out of places she did not want to be in. Lyra was a handful sober, but now she had major blood loss and was on more painkillers than you could count on one hand. This was not going to end well and nobody knew it. Lyra was simply giddy with childlike excitment, she had no idea what she was doing but she was sure as hell gonna have fun doing it.

In the final moments of the mission Lyra had been shot in the leg, and was forced to complete her objective while bleeding profusely, after blowing her pursuers into orbit with a det pack she had to sit in a puddle of her own blood for 15 minutes until Evac could arrive, essentially meaning she lost a large amount of blood. All she had to help was an adrenalin shot she kept for just that kind of situation, and all that did was to keep her alert and to dull the sharp pain in her leg.

Finally making it onto the planet she limped her way around in a black tank top and some sweat pants, the left leg rolled up revealing the somewhat bloody bandages that covered her wound. She looked pale as a ghost from the blood loss. She looked like she might as well have been dead, atleast to somebody drunk enough.

Lyra looked over the bar patrons before spotting the man who had saved her by firing blindly into a hallway. Her super high, blood starved brain concocted a silly scheme, she always thought screwing with drunk people was hilarious, today was no exception.

She approached the man, [member="Ras Val'kor"], from behind before standing behind him staring. The other bar patrons noticed and looked at her rather concerned, then she spoke.

"You failed. You tried so hard, but you failed. All you had to do was save me." She said shaking her head.

She might have been high as all hell but she was still a wonderful actor.

"I died because of you. Now you will pay the price."

She had become the Ghost of Lyra's Past, some silly name she stole from a Life Day book, she hoped she could atleast get a reaction out of the poor drunk man, that would light up her day.
 

Delsin Kessler

Active Member
Writer
A transport ship dropped from the atmosphere and landed with some trouble near Graywall. Well he stole it, but it was to save some rebels stuck on the Spaceport. What he saw got him pump up until the moments where he was on the pilot sit. His second skin droids had no battery left and were on the floor beside him. The ship landed and the crew start leaving, without saying a word. They were the ones who placed bombs in the Spaceport, the killers who follow the word of a Jedi. Solon felt dizzy, with his body feeling heavier than usual.

At least he knew he had the stomach for it, he was just tired. He picked every Second Skin droid and attach each one into his arms. The vibroblade was still on his back. A couple of guards stop him on his way out, but they recognize their comrades, so they let him pass. Something that happened to newbies Solon thought. He needed a transport to carry him, but it would arrive until a few hours. That would be his sleeping window. At least he saved some allies in his way out.

"You were the one helping me in the planet?" said approaching the pilot of the stealth ship "You are a hell of a pilot. I got my ship destroyed, but managed to avoid death" the celebration was getting started. Solon asked for a glass of rum. His plan was to fix his droids but it didnt matter, he raised his glass towards Cedric "For a good leader"

@[member='Cedric Grayson'] @[member='Avoim Oeymo'] @[member='Ras Val'kor'],@[member='Lyra Sarn']
 

Ari Vox

I thought this was America, huh?!
Character
[member="Cedric Grayson"], [member="Avoim Oeymo"], [member="Ras Val'kor"], [member="Lyra Sarn"], [member="Solonariwan Tolfusin"]

Had they really won?

The Mandalorian's head was swimming as she stepped down off the shuttle a few paces behind Cedric. Around them, jubilation, but within her own troubled mind were the demons that had been brought forth by the tendrils of the dark side. Doubt, pain, worry, all of these and more gave her features a wash of melancholy and though she'd opted to leave her armour with Rawlins, the droid trailing just behind her, she still felt it's weight and the heavy burden of their combat as it pulled at the lithe frame of her body.

Fireworks detonating high above the roaring crowds set Ari's nerves on edge, but years of dealing with these very same issues had left her knowing how to keep it all under wraps, and her cool hazel eyes surveyed the scene with little enthusiasm. A bar nearby that had been hastily put together around a large speeder bus seemed to be the go-to for the returning rebel fighters, their own heavy figures and weary expressions seeking something from the beverages afforded. Absolution? Ari felt it was less than that but something akin, many had fought fiercely and now sought relief and respite in lieu of another battle somewhere in the distant stars.

So she too took her place at the bar, a simple ice water giving her all the rest she would afford. Alcohol was something she'd chosen to abstain from long ago, denying herself the release that it gave the men and women who surrounded her. Adorned in a heavy woven sweater that looked to be verging on tatters and a pair of ripped and also failing jeans, the Mandalorian was characteristically lacking in fashion sense, though it hardly seemed to matter in any way for the horde of high smelling, high idealistic rebels that now joined her. Nearby, one of the bartenders seemed about to cut off one of the rebels, his words nearly silent in response to the rising agitation of the patron he'd served.

"NONSENSE! Sit and have a drink, let me-" Shouted the man, his sudden outburst quashed before he'd even made a real effort, and the bartender swiftly removed himself to the farthest end of the bar that he could get to. With lucid and watchful eyes Ari observed the drunk a few feet away. His appearance was not dissimilar to her own, minus their much different attire, and she wondered where his role had taken him in the Rebellion of Jaminere.

Not too long, of course, the thought was more of a distraction to her own engrossing moral quandaries.
 

Jaster Awaud

Elder of Clan Awaud
Character
A Fel Imperial Dropship descended from the sky, it was marked with the emblem and IFF Transponder of the UTC but it was transparently from the Imperium. They did not have time to get it looking like a re-purposed transport, as they needed to get to the surface as fast as possible. As the Ramp fell, several Stormtroopers in bits and pieces of Black Armor, all of them without their helmets and injured badly were rushed off to the Rebel Hospital. The last one carried off in a stretcher was a Imperial Knight in his bright red armor and cape, his right hand cut off completely. Their mission was somewhat of a success as well, keep the Sith focused on them and keep them busy, but what was the price of such a success.

The heavy stomps of the footfall in his Mandalorain Armor fell as he walked into the bar. Beside him were two Fel Officers who looked tired, covered in dust and ash rubbed against their faces, they sat at a table and just stared blankly at one another. Those two were what was left of Echo Platoon, mission was to capture an AA position and hold it till pulled out. They saw the worst of it, and no one back at the Imperium would know their sacrifice. Jaster slammed his body into a seat at the bar and took off his helmet, at that time the trapped air hissed as the change in pressure could be heard.

As the helmet was taken off he placed his head on the table and noticed [member="Cedric Grayson"] on the other side, "Next time, your the distraction and I take the fun mission."

The bartender walked up and tapped on the bar, "What will it be sir?"

He did not even lift up his head, "Starshine Sunrise, bottle" He placed a Credic Holo-Chip on the bar and added, "All Fel Drinks on me."

[member="Solonariwan Tofusin"] [member="Lyra Sarn"] [member="Ras Val'kor"] [member="Avoim Oeymo"] [member="Ursula Toher"] [member="Jerrun Fel"]
 
Victory was never free. Tithes of blood were demanded by even the most lenient of Gods.

At least the drinks were. They helped soothe the ache of strained muscles, put the mind at ease, and drowned a soul's burdens if only until the next morning; a morning of mourning it would be. The ground-pounders hooped and hollered for close friends that had managed to survive the hellish combat of Jaminere, though they were the most youthful out of the bunch. Older sergeants and vets of other conflicts had arranged themselves haphazardly, foaming mugs clutched in every hand he saw.

Their eyes were tired.

Lok joined their unorganized ranks with hardly a smile lighting his features. Words of thanks and encouragement were liberally distributed among he and the other Crimson Aces that had decided to partake in lively gathering. Air support was always a blessing but those boys with boots on the ground always saw things far worse than he did. Explosions here and there, maybe a spaced corpse. Lok still had no idea how they put up with the visceral gore and nightmarish combat planetside.

They were better men than he.

After another swig of the cold brew, he let his gaze wander aimlessly.

[member="Jaster of Clan Awaud"], [member="Ari Vox"], [member="Solonariwan Tofusin"], [member="Lyra Sarn"], [member="Ras Val'kor"], [member="Avoim Oeymo"], [member="Cedric Grayson"]
 

Darth Animus

Well-Known Member
Writer
Victory. The word sounded hollow and tasted bitter on his tongue. The rebellion on Jaminere had been a bloody, vicious affair. No quarter had been offered by either side, with all combat ending in victory, or death. The Sith had been driven from Jaminere for the time being, but not without great cost. As fireworks went off overhead to celebrate the end of the fighting, and people cheered and danced in the streets, Jerrun sat quietly in the back of the bar, staring at his lightsaber resting on the table. To either side of him, a few other Imperial Knights were seated around the Imperial prince, talking and drinking among themselves. Despite the apparent welcome the Fel Imperium had among the rebel factions, Jerrun and his personal forces kept a distance.

Jerrun looked up as [member="Jaster of Clan Awaud"] walked in, the Grand Moff heading straight for the bar. On any other day, Jerrun would gladly go and speak with his fathers most trusted adviser and supporter, now he only wanted silence. He had seen enough innocent men, women and children cut down over the course of the fighting to sour his usual gregarious attitude, and enough comrades fall to the Sith to come to regret ever setting foot on Jaminere. He believed in peace and freedom, and he had no love for the Sith, but surely a less costly method could have been undertaken here, or at the very least, a strategy put in place to limit the number of casualties. As it was, the fighting seemed to have been random and uncoordinated for a majority of the conflict.

Grabbing the drink before him, Jerrun finished what little was left before waving for a refill from the bar. It was going to be a long day.

[member="Ari Vox"] [member="Solonariwan Tofusin"] [member="Lyra Sarn"] [member="Ras Val'kor"] [member="Avoim Oeymo"] [member="Cedric Grayson"]
 

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The atmosphere at the bar was mixed.

Cedric felt their emotions as much as saw them on display. Some of the cohort had already gotten drunk enough to ignore their demons, but many of the others remained haunted. For some, the conflict on Jaminere had been their first time seeing the kind of violence war brings out first hand. The knight could understand the kind of despair that would follow - in his earlier days, he had spent many night lying awake at night debating the morality of his own actions. That reflection had allowed him to grow, but at the time he had regarded it as a curse.

A hand on his shoulder stirred Cedric from his private thoughts.

"I'm afraid I'm only a knight Master Avoim," Cedric replied, the master's meaning going right over his head. "Don't know if I'd be ready to call myself a master anyway. Not sure if I have the wisdom for such a title." He paused, lofting a brow as [member="Solonariwan Tofusin"] spoke. The knight cracked a wry grin, "Moreso to our pilots, who kept several thousand tie fighters from descending on us during the operation," the knight fired back through a grin, his voice filled with the kind of gratitude that one could not dispute was genuine.

He cast another look around. He saw [member="Lok Jorunn"] and [member="Ari Vox"] brooding over the events that had transpired. He saw the Fels enjoying what little they could after suffering heavy losses holding the Sith forces at bay. He saw a people that celebrated and saw victory, but soldiers that had taken it all as a defeat.

I understand that feeling.

The knight drew in a sharp breath, took his glass of Balmoraan Bluesky from the bar (the bartender had been smart enough to take Avoim's request as a jest and give the knight his favorite drink), and rose from his seat. Most people would have simply been ignored, but Cedric's position as an organizer of all this business afforded him some level of authority. With a wave of the knight's hand, the music that blasted from a speaker nearby was lowered to a background volume.

"Hey," his gaze shifted from one operator to the next. "I'm not going to give you guys a speech, I'm just going to tell you all how it is," the light liqour buzz stowed away any inhibitions Cedric might have had about gathering the bar's attention.

"We lost a lot of people," Cedric said honestly, "But they knew what they were getting into. Every man and woman that went to Jaminere was a volunteer, and those that died there died as heroes," he took another sip from his drink. "We took out a Super Star Destroyer's eyes. We helped start a planetwide rebellion. We took one of the Sith Empire's most powerful comm hubs, and used it to transmit our own message of hope. I know that all still might sound hollow to you, but every soul that perished fighting alongside us died for a purpose. We accomplished the impossible; this was a victory."

The silence hung in the air for a moment. It was only after Cedric realized that his little speech, for that was what it was, might have been unwanted. "...And free drinks for the next half hour. Georgie, head to the cellars below and fetch me my liquor." One of the bartenders complied.

[member="Jerrun Fel"], [member="Lok Jorunn"], [member="Jaster of Clan Awaud"], [member="Ari Vox"], [member="Solonariwan Tofusin"], [member="Lyra Sarn"], [member="Ras Val'kor"], [member="Avoim Oeymo"]
 

Delsin Kessler

Active Member
Writer
He raise his glass to Cedric, and took a zip. At least it was better to be here, where he could maintain peace. Solon walk towards @[member='Ras Val'kor'] , pulling a chair and sitting beside him with his glass "I will hear your story" said resting his back "Name is Solon Tofusin. Engineer" he wouldn´t reason with the guy, as there was no point on doing so with someone that drunk. But he knew that the after battle stress could bring down anyone. He was currently overwhelm with his.

[member='Cedric Grayson'] [member='Ari Vox'] [member='Lyra Sarn'] [member='Lok Jorunn']
 
Avoim shook his head as the man spoke about not being wise enough for the title of a Jedi Master and let out a small chuckle. “You are quite ready for the role of a Master, trust me, I would know.” Avoim then grabbed the drink he had ordered and took a long sip of it. Walking away to mingle with others a bit, nodding to the pilot who commented about his skills in piloting as well even though he had crashed his ship whilst Avoim was able to keep his StealthX in the air. It was not too long after that Cedric had started in on his speech.

Listening intently, Avoim knew that his choice was correct. After the man had declared the next half hour free drinks time, Avoim ordered a few more Mandalorian Ales and slapped Cedric on the back, making sure to point to the bartender where to line them up. “Cedric, you have a choice my friend: Accept being a Jedi Master or drink these…seven glasses of Mandalorian ale faster than I can.” Smiling at the man Avoim held up one of his seven glasses, ready for either choice to be made, this was a party after all.

[member="Cedric Grayson"] [member="Solonariwan Tofusin"]
 
[member="Lyra Sarn"] | [member="Ari Vox"]
"I died because of you. Now you will pay the price."
Ras spun himself around, coming out of his seat as he was prepared to use his own drinking glass as a blunt weapon. His face was pale, drained as if he nearly saw - heard a ghost. Instead he was met with the visage of the woman he had assisted in events prior to the celebration. "Hm... funny, aren't we?"
Ras sighed in frustration, shaking his head quite visibly in disappointment.
"No respect for the dead, not even the bodies left breathing. For what? Humor that, Ms. Comedian."
The grizzled agent tapped his index finger on the side of his glass. His mind a bastardized boat, and the vastness of his emotions a swallowing, mischievous ocean. Alcohol surely didn't help.
"This is why I leave myself to my own company. Because of people like you."
 

Ari Vox

I thought this was America, huh?!
Character
As more and more fatigued, weary, and defeated looking rebels joined the fray the Mandalorian felt she'd given herself enough time to wallow. Around her, the music lowered and Cedric could be heard speaking, his words a dull ring in her head that went through one side and fell out the other. It was not from lack of effort on either of their parts, but she'd simply lived through enough and had to give enough pep talks to know what he was meaning to say.

'What we've done is done, it was necessary then and it is necessary now and will be necessary for the future. Live now, fight and die later,' She could've summed it up in just as many words. With an audible sigh she rose to her feet and moved towards the patron she'd noticed just moments before, becoming aware as she moved through the crowded area that a number of heavily fatigued and battleworn Fel soldiers had appeared. The poor bastards had really taken a beating. She'd left her water at the bar, and stepped in beside a trio of Fel warriors, their armour looking worse for wear and their faces weary with the sheer exhaustion at what they had been through.

"Congratulations," She said to the three of them, her eyes passing across them with passive understanding and her expression set firm even with the jovial nature of the scenario. "You and your kind stole the day," With a gesture to the nearest barman she placed a credit holochip on the bartop and nodded at the men. "Your next rounds on me, name's Ari," A hand reached out from her form, intending to shake with any and all in the traditional Mandalorian manner.

[member="Jaster of Clan Awaud"]
 

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Cedric blinked at Avoim.

"A promotion?" The knight gave Avoim a confused stare. "Master, while I truly do appreciate the value you place in me, I don't think I'm ready for that title. I don't have the experience nor the wisdom for it. I've never trained a padawan to knighthood; half the time I feel I doubt myself too much to even be a Jedi Knight."

Cedric's words were honest. "I...Well, I had hoped that perhaps one day I might become a Jedi Master once the wars were over and we might finally see peace. I always regarded it as a fool's thoughts." He continued, his brow furrowing as Avoim gave his counter offer.

"Seven?" He stared at Avoim, then at the drinks.

[member="Avoim Oeymo"]
 
Avoim shook his head a bit, sighing as he stared at the Knight. “Listen Cedric, you are worthy of the title, your actions on Jaminere prove it, the fact that we were able to do so much for them and with minimal losses on our part proves it. As for training a Padawan to Knighthood, that is merely a formality from what I understand of the old Jedi Orders.” Avoim would then down one of the Mandalorian Ales with a hiss of pleasured pain, the kind you get from a good alcoholic drink that has a certain level of bitterness to it.

I promise you Cedric, you’re worthy of the title now, why wait for some nebulous period of wars being ended. I’ve looked through the history books that remain, it seems this galaxy is fated to always be in conflict, at best we’d have a short period of rebuilding before some conflict erupts, so take the promotion and be happy!” Avoim then used the Force to lift one of Cedric’s glasses up to right in front of the man’s face. “Drink and celebrate!” Avoim then took another sip of the ale himself. “And yes, there are seven of these drinks, I’ve had one think you can beat me? I’ll let you catch up if you want!

[member="Cedric Grayson"]
 
[member="Lyra Sarn"] | [member="Solonariwan Tofusin"]

Already annoyed with the current interaction at hand, Ras gave a momentary glance towards the self-proclaimed engineer. These people were nothing like the men he commanded, he thought to himself. True they had served valiantly in the field of combat, but nothing could ever quell the innermost pride of the veteran. While he did not agree with the actions of the First Order, he could not forget the ones who had his back. The men and women that made their impression on his life with their determination and fortitude.
These people had hope and guts, was that all it took? Perhaps Ras had been living in a shell for too long. But for now he would remain ignorant to the freedoms of the underdog society. His mindset had not yet adjusted to the liberties of the Rebel Alliance, although he felt he could compromise on the betterment of the galaxy as a whole.
Ras was no hero; rather, he was a moral degenerate and a dying sack of skin. His life was not the most appealing, nor the most comfortable. Every day he woke to pain, and every day he would medicate himself until he felt numb. Certain medical procedures had bought him a bit of time, but the inevitably - the toll of his affliction was still a very likely possibility.
Simply deciding to turn and walk away from the situation, Ras did just that. He needed to clear his head anyway.
 

Jaster Awaud

Elder of Clan Awaud
Character
The troopers jumped a little at the appearance of [member="Ari Vox"], they were in the worst spot behind enemy lines for at least 5 hours. Without them, the enemy would have bombed the transmission tower before the message was sent out. And for that they lost their whole platoon and traumatized by the whole event. However, as troopers they put on a face and smiled at the women, she seemed to have lifted their spirits with a welcoming greeting.

Jaster sat across from her where she greeted the troopers. He was glad to see the Rebels willing to approach and appreciate his soldiers willingness to help. A Fel Stormtrooper were not soldiers meant to rule or police a planet, they were defenders against chaos. These soldiers believed in the Rebellion and volunteered to join this campaign against the Sith as their policy against the waves of chaos only helped those at the top. Soldiers, civilians, and all sentient beings lived in a world of fear and tyrannical rule all in the name of order and forced peace. These soldiers could not stand by, and so they lost their comrades and friends in the waves of those brainwashed by the ideals that their way was the only concrete way to prevent chaos.

The Mandalorian stood up from his seat and grasped the women's hand by the wrist. "Greetings Ari, Jaster of Clan Awaud, Commander of these soldier," he released her arm and sat back down, as well as continued to place his head on the table. "Tough battle that was, could sleep all the way back to the Unknown Region."
 

Zair Xanatos

Fluffy Puppy
Writer
The music was loud and the crowd seemed to grow more and more by the second, the celebration continued with no end in sight. Michelle stood there in her uniform her dark blue eyes scan the area she could see people dancing, drinking and in general having a really good time. She had to admit this was the biggest party she's been to though she never really went to a lot of them when she was young.. in fact, her father probably did more partying then she did in his teens. She grimaced a little remembering her father brought back bad memories particularly his death, she brought her right hand up to rub her forehead this wasn't the time remember something like that.. it happen long ago.. she wished that it was that easy..to forget if only her nightmares would let her.

Michelle made her way to one of the makeshift bar, trying her best to dodge weave her way through the crowd of happy go lucky Alliance members. She wished she could be as excited as they were. She knew they had a victory but she wasn't apart of it she just joined few days after there battle in hopes to join their army, this was there's to enjoy this was their victory she was just here to partake in some free drinks and food.. and some more drink like the free whiskey. What she was going to do after well she wasn't sure, she wanted to go through a briefing but was told to enjoy the celebration instead so maybe after few drinks she was going to find room? Before she could reach the bar a man half button Alliance uniform smiled drunkenly at her "Hey! Wana dance?!" Michelle let out a little groan thankfully the music covered it up and the man couldn't hear it, she managed to give the man a smile "Sorry, not now maybe later." with that she continued to walk to the bar.

It wasn't that she didn't want to dance with the guy it was just she didn't know how to, she was sure as heck not going to embarrass herself in front of everyone for her first impression. Finally reaching the bard she motioned for the bartender "Whiskey.." the bartender nod and walked away. She tried her best not to laugh to herself, she couldn't help but imagine her father lecturing her about how drinking Whiskey wasn't very ladylike.
 
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