Sic transit gloria mundi
[member="Holly Starstorm"]
Countess Siobhan Kerrigan had journalists had always had an interesting relationship that provided a good deal of entertainment value. For one, there was a certain reporter whom she had punched on live television because of her "disingenuous assertions". That had been fun and earned her punishment from [member="Tegaea Alcori"], her lover and boss at the time. That had been during Sio's career as Sword of the Protectorate. Shortly after she had become the Butcher of Roche. Or Hero, depending on who you were asking. The later years had...civilised Siobhan a bit. So, yes, these days journalists did not have to worry about being punched most of the time. After all, she was a mother and had to set an example to her daughters. Think of the children!
And so here she was sitting on a comfy couch in her shiny hotel suite on Etti Four located in the best part of town, waiting for a journalist to arrive. Harmony was fussing over her long dark brown mane, which had a tendency of being as unruly as its owner, while Siobhan checked herself out in a nice compact mirror. Not a hair out of place, her makeup was perfect. However, she was far from unblemished, for harsh lines and vicious scars were etched into her features. After all, before she became a Countess on the space elf homeworld and co-owner of Firemane Industries along with her wife, she had been a hardened warrior and gotten where she was by being a battering ram and wading through seas of Sith and Bando Gora blood.
"Stop fussing, you look perfect, Mistress. Oh, and I was told to tell you to remember not to punch journalists anymore for making disingenuous assertions. And if you really feel like hitting on her, maybe you should save that for after she stops recording. Think of the children!" Harmony, her dark skinned 'attendant' from Dahomey, snarked. Servant girls were always at their best when they were misbehaving.
Siobhan just shook her head in response. All the servant girls in her life had a tendency to troll her. "Very funny, laugh it up, Harmony. I can control myself just fine. Where do people get this idea that I hit anyone who annoys and hit on anything that's pretty and female?" she declared with an air of exasperation.
"Well...Mistress, do you really want me to answer that question?" Harmony asked aloud. Apparently it was troll Sio day. "Have you read the notes Maerys gave you?" the attendant checked. Maerys Medea was Siobhan's Eldorai PA, sort of like a cross between a sexy librarian and Sir Humphrey from Yes, Chancellor. Unfortunately for the Countess, she was completely unreceptive to her charms.
"Yes, yes, I have not made up my mind whether I'll stick to them," Siobhan said a bit flippantly, though she did put aside the mirror and pick up the datapad with the Force, levitating it into her grasp so that she could have a last look at it. For the occasion Siobhan had dressed in an elegant skirtsuit that screamed sexy fashionista. Her brown hair was worn in curls. Putting the datapad aside she briefly looked at her desk, which had holopics of Tegaea Alcori and their two adoptive daughters, Galina and Natoline. "Ok. I'm ready. Stick to respectable topics, don't mention the Order of the Torch, gush about wifey and the girls. This should be fun."
Countess Siobhan Kerrigan had journalists had always had an interesting relationship that provided a good deal of entertainment value. For one, there was a certain reporter whom she had punched on live television because of her "disingenuous assertions". That had been fun and earned her punishment from [member="Tegaea Alcori"], her lover and boss at the time. That had been during Sio's career as Sword of the Protectorate. Shortly after she had become the Butcher of Roche. Or Hero, depending on who you were asking. The later years had...civilised Siobhan a bit. So, yes, these days journalists did not have to worry about being punched most of the time. After all, she was a mother and had to set an example to her daughters. Think of the children!
And so here she was sitting on a comfy couch in her shiny hotel suite on Etti Four located in the best part of town, waiting for a journalist to arrive. Harmony was fussing over her long dark brown mane, which had a tendency of being as unruly as its owner, while Siobhan checked herself out in a nice compact mirror. Not a hair out of place, her makeup was perfect. However, she was far from unblemished, for harsh lines and vicious scars were etched into her features. After all, before she became a Countess on the space elf homeworld and co-owner of Firemane Industries along with her wife, she had been a hardened warrior and gotten where she was by being a battering ram and wading through seas of Sith and Bando Gora blood.
"Stop fussing, you look perfect, Mistress. Oh, and I was told to tell you to remember not to punch journalists anymore for making disingenuous assertions. And if you really feel like hitting on her, maybe you should save that for after she stops recording. Think of the children!" Harmony, her dark skinned 'attendant' from Dahomey, snarked. Servant girls were always at their best when they were misbehaving.
Siobhan just shook her head in response. All the servant girls in her life had a tendency to troll her. "Very funny, laugh it up, Harmony. I can control myself just fine. Where do people get this idea that I hit anyone who annoys and hit on anything that's pretty and female?" she declared with an air of exasperation.
"Well...Mistress, do you really want me to answer that question?" Harmony asked aloud. Apparently it was troll Sio day. "Have you read the notes Maerys gave you?" the attendant checked. Maerys Medea was Siobhan's Eldorai PA, sort of like a cross between a sexy librarian and Sir Humphrey from Yes, Chancellor. Unfortunately for the Countess, she was completely unreceptive to her charms.
"Yes, yes, I have not made up my mind whether I'll stick to them," Siobhan said a bit flippantly, though she did put aside the mirror and pick up the datapad with the Force, levitating it into her grasp so that she could have a last look at it. For the occasion Siobhan had dressed in an elegant skirtsuit that screamed sexy fashionista. Her brown hair was worn in curls. Putting the datapad aside she briefly looked at her desk, which had holopics of Tegaea Alcori and their two adoptive daughters, Galina and Natoline. "Ok. I'm ready. Stick to respectable topics, don't mention the Order of the Torch, gush about wifey and the girls. This should be fun."
