Ariadne Van'Shelaq
Little Miss Grumpy
Porcelain & Steel
The Chronicles of the Princess and the Piranha
Herds of jagged stone and gnarled durasteel wafted through the empty expanse of space, littering the endless dusk with a labyrinth of obstacles that barely grazed past a silent black corvette. Weaving its way through the neglected debris, the ship slipped through the ravaged asteroid belt like a Nexu in the night, melting into the generous pockets of shadows that the surrounding chaos offered. Inconspicuousness was what Ariadne wanted anyway, the simple fact that she’d evaded a rather large swarm of ships, Republican vessels no doubt, granted the perpetually apathetic woman a moment of sweet satisfaction. There they were amidst armies conquering worlds, harboring various illicit items of worth that might have struck any republic officer’s fancy if the dark corvette showed up on the fleet’s radar. Copious vats of Black Spice and other questionable goods were snuggled within the cold dark breast of the ‘Nightingale’, worth more than the vessel that contained it all.
Thankfully, Ariadne knew how to avoid trouble and with the deftness of a spider she traversed the fringes of the galaxy in silence and quiet contemplation. Her web was the whispers of the men and women from her cabal, carrying her from one planet to the next, away from any who hoped to pursue her trail. Normally, such a thing would have never happened but after a certain incident on that godforsaken planet filled with tacky daytime holos and lousy politicians the dark haired Baroness couldn't risk being tailed. A fact that often ruined whatever moment of contentment she found herself in.
"You know what, kark that princess!" Ne'ban the ship's mechanic groaned, the heat of his breath pluming from heavy chapped lips that dropped near his prickly chin. Another individual who saw little good in Ariadne's most recent crew member. "If we aren't allowed to sleep with her then can we at least have her cook for us? Oh and her voice hurts my ears..." The man grumbled, scratching the underside of his second chin with the tip of a spanner. Ariadne wrinkled her nose at the sight. Why had she even bothered coming down here, especially when she knew her mechanic's stance on their captive royal.
"She's not going to be here long. Stop complaining." The pale skinned baroness retorted bluntly, drumming crimson nails against a polished work bench. It was something that she had to continually remind her crew. The one known as Elleryn was just a pretty add-on to whichever unlucky individual purchased the next batch of spice. It was an odd predicament the young woman found herself in, having to deal with such an overt nuisance as the dainty little thing she was given back on Xasuri.
"Ma'am, I'd like to respectfully second Ne'ban's opinion." A voice sung through a nearby screen, the smirking face of the corvette's pilot flashing through the glowing holo. Amba Goz' only felt such sentiment after his suggestions at wooing the princess were immediately buffeted by the easily unamused captain.
"Stop listening to my conversations and get us to Csilla." Ariadne mumbled, not even bothering to look at the grinning pilot.
"At least gag her!"
"Oh you would like that wouldn't you?"
"We both know you'd like that more."
"I second that..."
"Shut it. Both of you. Amba, get us to Csilla now. Ne'ban, just do your job."
"And the pri-"
"I'll deal with the princess." Ariadne snarled, already walking away from the grinning face of her pilot and the unsightly chins of her mechanic. For a moment she was actually relieved she'd be heading for the company of another female. Alas, such a thought only lasted for a second before she reminded herself of who exactly it was she was about to walk in on. Descending the stairs into the hangar beneath the engine room, the pale skinned half Firrerreon clicked her tongue before unceremoniously rapping her nails against the door to the princess' little room. It was an unspoken ritual that started only a few days into her captive's imprisonment, a gesture that granted the surly princess some meager warning of who it was standing outside her room.
Why she even bothered she did not know, nor did she care to explore the reason behind such a gesture.
"Get dressed. You're coming with me."
The Chronicles of the Princess and the Piranha
Herds of jagged stone and gnarled durasteel wafted through the empty expanse of space, littering the endless dusk with a labyrinth of obstacles that barely grazed past a silent black corvette. Weaving its way through the neglected debris, the ship slipped through the ravaged asteroid belt like a Nexu in the night, melting into the generous pockets of shadows that the surrounding chaos offered. Inconspicuousness was what Ariadne wanted anyway, the simple fact that she’d evaded a rather large swarm of ships, Republican vessels no doubt, granted the perpetually apathetic woman a moment of sweet satisfaction. There they were amidst armies conquering worlds, harboring various illicit items of worth that might have struck any republic officer’s fancy if the dark corvette showed up on the fleet’s radar. Copious vats of Black Spice and other questionable goods were snuggled within the cold dark breast of the ‘Nightingale’, worth more than the vessel that contained it all.
Thankfully, Ariadne knew how to avoid trouble and with the deftness of a spider she traversed the fringes of the galaxy in silence and quiet contemplation. Her web was the whispers of the men and women from her cabal, carrying her from one planet to the next, away from any who hoped to pursue her trail. Normally, such a thing would have never happened but after a certain incident on that godforsaken planet filled with tacky daytime holos and lousy politicians the dark haired Baroness couldn't risk being tailed. A fact that often ruined whatever moment of contentment she found herself in.
"You know what, kark that princess!" Ne'ban the ship's mechanic groaned, the heat of his breath pluming from heavy chapped lips that dropped near his prickly chin. Another individual who saw little good in Ariadne's most recent crew member. "If we aren't allowed to sleep with her then can we at least have her cook for us? Oh and her voice hurts my ears..." The man grumbled, scratching the underside of his second chin with the tip of a spanner. Ariadne wrinkled her nose at the sight. Why had she even bothered coming down here, especially when she knew her mechanic's stance on their captive royal.
"She's not going to be here long. Stop complaining." The pale skinned baroness retorted bluntly, drumming crimson nails against a polished work bench. It was something that she had to continually remind her crew. The one known as Elleryn was just a pretty add-on to whichever unlucky individual purchased the next batch of spice. It was an odd predicament the young woman found herself in, having to deal with such an overt nuisance as the dainty little thing she was given back on Xasuri.
"Ma'am, I'd like to respectfully second Ne'ban's opinion." A voice sung through a nearby screen, the smirking face of the corvette's pilot flashing through the glowing holo. Amba Goz' only felt such sentiment after his suggestions at wooing the princess were immediately buffeted by the easily unamused captain.
"Stop listening to my conversations and get us to Csilla." Ariadne mumbled, not even bothering to look at the grinning pilot.
"At least gag her!"
"Oh you would like that wouldn't you?"
"We both know you'd like that more."
"I second that..."
"Shut it. Both of you. Amba, get us to Csilla now. Ne'ban, just do your job."
"And the pri-"
"I'll deal with the princess." Ariadne snarled, already walking away from the grinning face of her pilot and the unsightly chins of her mechanic. For a moment she was actually relieved she'd be heading for the company of another female. Alas, such a thought only lasted for a second before she reminded herself of who exactly it was she was about to walk in on. Descending the stairs into the hangar beneath the engine room, the pale skinned half Firrerreon clicked her tongue before unceremoniously rapping her nails against the door to the princess' little room. It was an unspoken ritual that started only a few days into her captive's imprisonment, a gesture that granted the surly princess some meager warning of who it was standing outside her room.
Why she even bothered she did not know, nor did she care to explore the reason behind such a gesture.
"Get dressed. You're coming with me."