Master And Commander

[Zonia Kalranoos]

Sullust Base, GA Sullust​

Army Barracks​

Early evening​

Theme​

​

Three weeks in the hospital seemed like an eternity, but injuries Zonia had sustained in a hostage crisis over Chandrila required a long soak in bacta to be fully healed. A nasty scar was left behind, with doctors promising Kalranoos a plastic surgery should the scar tissue be aesthetically displeasing. Not for even a single moment did the Prakithan consider having the scar removed, for it symbolized her unyielding allegiance to the Alliance. She was fully prepared to die on that ship, regardless how pointless her untimely death would seem. But they've sent army men and Rogues to extract her, who risked their lives to retrieve just one person. Was she such an asset? No, but the Alliance never left their own behind. No one was expendible, not even the lowliest of clerks, let alone the Alliance's finest economist.

Raith, first name Gideon. Kalranoos had to pull a few strings here and there to identify the man who patched her up and literally carried her our of the enemy ship and into safety. The angular jawline and deeply set eyes carved themselves deeply into her memory once he pulled the helmet of his combat suit from his head. Every time she closed her eyes in the hospital, Zonia would see that face, seasoned in battle yet not aged. The hue of his piercing sapphire gaze haunted her, waking her from medicine-induced slumber.

Once she was well enough to walk, she decided to seek him out. What she would exactly tell him, the Prakithan had no idea. Command decided to reward his prowess with a medal, for his exemplary service in GA ranks. She, on the other hand, had no idea what to offer as a sign of gratitude. For once, she hoped that seeing him in person under normal circumstances would make her reveries cease. She needed to assure herself he was just a man, not a dark, justice-dispensing god.

After a long day at the office, Zonia descended into the underbelly of the Sullust base, towards the army barracks. Clad in the simplest black dress, she made way through the busy corridors where army personnel made their way towards the surface, either to meet their families or friends for dinner. Kalranoos was going in the opposite direction, knowing that Raith was always last to leave the shooting range. Or this was the rumor, at least.

A slight frown formed on her brow as she entered the barracks only to find them completely empty; all rifles were in their respective racks, protective helmets stashed in shelves. The one bearing the name tag "Raith" was there too. Zonia's plump lips pursed outwards in disappointment.
"Ah, he's gone." she murmured to herself before the sound of running water reached ears.
"Hello, is anyone there?" the dark haired woman inquired softly as she stepped into the shower, slowly moving around the corner that separated the sanitary complex from the armory.
"Major?" she asked a bit louder, just a moment before her eyes set on a sight she would have trouble erasing from her mind.

[member="Gideon Raith"]

 

[LT-137]

Washing away the day’s accumulated filth in a cascading tide of undulating volcanic water, Gideon found himself alone within the Ready Room - relishing the rare moment of respite he was often denied. The Balmorran was a man of violence. From the time his augmented eyes parted to greet the day, he plunged himself feet first into a myriad of combat exercises to keep himself, whom he viewed as nothing more than an Iron-forged blade, sharp and always ready to strike true. He pushed himself with every passing hour, trying ever so hard to reach the unattainable goal of perfection. To become what could never be. The Perfect Soldier. Though he knew such a quest was a fruitless endeavor, the man knew the value of the journey he would take. Akin to how he viewed himself, the man’s mettle would be tested time and again upon that path, seeking to chip away at his craftsmanship with every challenge that awaited him.

However, there were moments when the blade needed to be sheathed, to rest before the whirlwind of barbarity began anew. It needed to be reforged upon the anvil of solidarity, to keep its edge when the moment had come to land that decisive blow. And so, as the icy talons of fatigue rippled throughout his radiation-scarred figure, Gideon allowed himself to relax; to unwind under the heady mixture of unscented soap and hygienic cleansers. While it was nothing like the intense sensations of weaving through the various obstacles that adorned the adjacent course, he had taken the moment to enjoy the simplicity of the cleansing ritual. The way his hands danced across his muscular frame, painting his inked flesh with decaying suds. Ah, yes. There was more to this sacrament than had met the eye. As his comrades had departed his company, rifling off towards their bunks for some well-deserved rest, Gideon remained behind to remember the fallen - as he had done so every night that he wasn’t deployed.

It was his way, to never forget his fellow Soldier’s sacrifice. And while it would’ve been more prudent to store such details within his mind directly, the Major believed showing it through the intricate scrollwork inscribed into his flesh would suit the purpose infinitely better. At least then, as his subordinates had remarked several times before, they would know that they would never be forgotten, should their lives be taken into death’s sweet embrace. However, as the Balmorran continued to scour the ailing, sweat soaked flesh from his form with soap and rag, he was drawn from his moment of personal reflection by a soft voice calling out in the distance. By the sound alone, he could tell it was a woman - possibly a fellow soldier too embarrassed to bare it all before comrades? Or perhaps it was someone that shouldn’t have been down here, seeking to draw out anyone within by verbal lures.

Gideon denied this woman the pleasure of answering her beck and call and continued purging himself of the day’s sin.

It was then, with his hands and rag about his gender, that he heard the voice once again. This time, much closer and unobstructed by the lengthy rows of lockers and benches. He spun around with his hands clamped tight, nearly slipping with the speed of his deed, and found himself face to face with a Woman he had thought that he’d never see again. She knew his rank and had addressed him as such. Therefore, by the powers of common sense and reasonable deduction, this… what was her name again? Zonia? Yes, that seemed right. This Zonia had intruded on his moment of privacy to seek his attention. He stood before her in the nude, with nothing more than a rag to hide his dignity. The scrawling text printed across his skin tightened, as the Soldier tensed with the conflicting natures of surprise and embarrassment. While commissioned officers of the opposite gender had seen him naked before, what made this different was the simple fact that she wasn’t a typical Soldier and instead, was an Official of the Federation’s administrative division. That meant this Zonia was, in many ways, his superior. As his cheeks began to flush, his eyes couldn’t help but be enthralled by the dress that she had elected to wear. It left little to the imagination, and while he had seen her naked before during the assignment in the Chandrilan System, Gideon had secretly suspected that was the intent behind why she had chosen to wear such a skintight garb. Nevertheless, with a moment of stunned silence slowly blanketing the pair, the Soldier acted first - by standing straighter and offering the woman a curt nod.

“What can I do for you?” He murmured, allowing his accent to spill across his tongue and coat his every word.

| [member="Zonia Kalranoos"] |​

 

[Zonia Kalranoos]

Not for a single moment did Zonia's dark gaze descend below his chiseled collar bone that held the weight of his ample shoulders. No, she would not desecrate that moment they shared aboard the ship, when in her final hour her bloodied hand scraped against his visor, yearning to touch flesh of another living being. In her memory, Gideon would be the angel of retribution, a god that walks among mortal men.

The last of willpower was expended to keep her eyes in level with his jawline as she approached him, effectively stepping into the shower herself. His proximity made her skin crawl, the faintest scent of testosterone teasing her senses. Raith was a male in his prime, in pristine physical condition, his sculpted form an edifice of a lifetime of service to a higher goal, a pledge towards something greater than himself. No, she would not strip Gideon of his pride by letting her eyes linger anywhere but his own luminescent orbs.

Without a single word spoken, the raven-haired woman stood before him in the shower, right under the wide-angle sprinkler that sprayed out water into a stream resembling rainfall. Tiny droplets flew towards her face, which was free of any kind of cosmetics, just skin in medium olive hues, littered by miniscule imperfections, a freckle here and there. Water flowed down her hair in narrow rivulets, turning it into liquid anthracite. Within seconds, the thin fabric of her dress became soaked, becoming heavy with water under gravity's pull.

An eternity passed as she just stood there, a two feet away from him, facing the image of a man who haunted her during her medicine-induced hibernation. His eyes were, as Zonia internally remarked, deeply set into his skull. She knew those orbs, for they were the eyes of a predator. The same eyes, on another man, thousands of light years away.

Her breath was steady, her exhales deep enough to graze his face across the distance that separated them. The water had made its way to her skin as idle moments passed between them before she finally spoke. Plump lips parted at first, but no sound was uttered. She gathered the courage, all of it. Here, now, it ends. Meaning or madness. Zonia didn't blink for an eternity. If it weren't for the water that now washed over her like the ocean over distant shores, her eyes would've been dry like the deserts of Rattatak. Her sable coloured orbs became glassy, the obsidian of Sullust. The words, she finally found them.

"I need you to get out of my head." she stated, in a half-firm, half-soft tone. Then, silence, augmented by the gurgling of water cascading over their bodies.

[member="Gideon Raith"]