Respite

[Marcus Tritum]

Fabian walked in silence for a moment. The deaths of the rebel Felacatians still hung large in his mind's eye. He knew little of their cause, nor what sort of oppression they claimed to face. He knew only how they died: proud, heads high. Unbent before Imperial might, 'til the very end.

Despite the fact that they had been planning to kill all the guests at the ball, Fabian could not shake a sense of admiration and odd melancholia.

[member="Anya Malvern"] accompanied him. The sudden executions seemed to have had an affect on her, though he could not tell what exactly save for the subtle shift in her demeanor.

His boots clicked lightly as they tread over a walkway. A breeze stirred up, buffeting his clothes with cloying gusts. He smoothed his uniform out upon reaching the skyscraper's bar, which had a magnificent view from the veranda of the city below.

"What will you be having, Madame Inquisitor?"

 

[Anya Malvern]

[member="Fabian"]

The death of the rebels was....confusing for her, so proud even to the last breath and even as they fell she caught a smile upon their faces. It made her question herself a bit...could she kill someone so proud even unto death? She really didn't know

She was happy for the lieutenant to join her, she rather rnit brood over any emotions at all, having someone there for some reason helped her let go of these emotions mostly by way of word

That cool breeze blew through her hair as she gave a smirk and took a breath smoothing the dress then her hair as she smiled to Fabian and then spoke

Nabooian wine please, and we can drop the formalities for the moment. I u understand such is instilled being a imperial but let's us relax and not be so uptight

 

[Marcus Tritum]

"Of course, madame," Fabian froze slightly, then chuckled, lips twitching into a smile. "Apologies, habit. Anya?"

Dispensing with formalism did prove somewhat anathema for a man like Fabian, but he thought he could manage. Perhaps after a few glasses...

The officer approached the bar.

"Yes?" asked the man behind the counter, whose eyes took in the Imperial uniform without comment.

"Whyren's Reserve and a Naboo wine."

Either the bartender simply did not enjoy talking, or he did not enjoy talking to Imperials. "Tab?"

"Tab."

Fabian watched him pour the drinks, then took a glass in each hand and led the way over to a curving booth near the veranda, with a view of the city below. He slid into his seat and offered Anya her wine.

[member="Anya Malvern"]

 

[Anya Malvern]

[member="Fabian"]

hahaha it's quite fine Fabian, and yes anya will do

She looked put to the city, the view she could see was marvelous, the city laid out believe a picture in the motion. Speeders moving to and from places different light and sounds decorated it...sje closed her eyes again and took a breath hoping the world kept the peace like this...

She then heard a bit of chatter nearby, something about these damned imps always wanting their claws on whatever they could grab...anya sighed as she her head, she had to partly agree but also disagree...tje Empire had brought order to many places that did not have it...sire some were strict but sometimes you had to be...

Feeling Fabian returning she turned and took the glass as she bowed her head before taking a sip of the fine wine and smiled at the taste

thank you Fabian, a drink like this after these events is greatly needed

 

[Marcus Tritum]

The naval officer nodded and took a sip of Whyren's. The amber liquid left a trail of fire down his throat before settling into a warm glow in his stomach. He smiled, relaxing slightly into his seat.

Calm, green eyes watched [member="Anya Malvern"] do the same. The memory of the sudden violence faded from the forefront of their thoughts. Fabian studied her, eyes playing over her scars.

"Do they hurt?"

 

[Anya Malvern]

[member="Fabian"]

25, yet she looked like she'd seen a lifetime of war with cuts and bruises over her skin. She didn't make a effort to hide any of them for she believed that they told anyone she was already tried in fire and born from flames of war...

sometimes, often if I sleep I feel them....the worst is my eye when the damn cat took it..

She placed a hand on the patch feeling that empty socket as she sighed and shook her head as she took another drink

how about yours lieutenant?