Noblesse Obligé [Ghostwolf and Thaedael]

Ghostwolf · Apr 29, 2014

It was one of the most important days in the Vorlancian social calendar. The day the elite and nobles of Vorlancia celebrated the passing out of the Officers of the newly raised regiments as part of the Imperial tithe, the return of the young nobles who had completed their tour with the PDF, and this year’s graduation of Schola students. Not only this, it was the day those who had survived many years of service in the Emperor’s name and had seen their Regiment retired returned to their homeworld or were sent to Vorlancia to train the new recruits and teach at the Schola. They would be celebrated, applauded, introduced and welcomed into the fold of the planet’s elite; the powerful, the important, the rich.

Those who fell into such categories were currently crowded onto a large viewing platform open to the air, overlooking an expansive landing pad. Both were situated two thirds of the way up a titanic, smooth, cylindrical white spire which stretched far into the sky from the sea below, on the highest of several levels which encircled the tower at differing heights, getting larger the lower they were situated. This was Omon, the capital spire and the tallest of five, encircled by the others. Together they made up Vandire, the largest population centre on the planet. This topmost level was home of only the most important members of Vorlancia society, including housing the grand and expansive estate of the Planetary Governor which the viewing platform and landing pad were part of.

Fortunately, the weather was pleasant for the occasion. The bright mid-afternoon sun beamed down from a pale blue sky spotted with fluffy patches of white. A refreshing breeze blew in from across the currently calm ocean that covered the majority of Vorlancia, the background salt mixing with the soft floral scents from the spire's many varied gardens. A flight of birds soared high above, using their large wingspans to ride on the thermals.

The Vorlancian nobles were waiting, their eyes watching both the sky and the horizon. They wore only the finest and most expensive clothing, not a thing out of fashion. The women in fine dresses, of suitable style and fabric for the weather and time of day, some languorously wielding fans while others wore wide brimmed hats. The men in dress uniforms, medals pinned to chests, or finely tailored suits shielded their eyes with their hands.

They had already watched the parade. The newly raised regiments had marched through the streets lined by cheering citizens in their thousands, pictcasters broadcasting the event across the planet for those who were unable to attend. Cavalry followed by infantry followed by armour, the officers riding in open topped Salamander command vehicles. They had sat through the Schola and Academy graduations, applauding at each name. They had congratulated brothers, cousins, and nephews, full of bravado after their brief military service ready to boast about their fantastical exploits. The regiment’s senior officers and graduates were already waiting within the Governor’s palace socialising with each other in one of the smaller halls while they waited, those who had served in the PDF had joined their families on the balcony.

But the best was yet to come, and that was what the people of Vorlancia were waiting for. The return of the Imperium’s finest, Vorlancia’s heroes, those who had served in one of the innumerable Imperial Guard regiments, had done their duty, had fought in the Emperor’s name to protect His subjects, and had lived to return. They would be celebrated, adored, like they deserved.

There! A small bright flash of light high in the sky. Another. And Another! Again, and again. A series of seven in all, each flash signalling a shuttle entering Vorlancia’s atmosphere, each shuttle holding one of the Imperium’s finest. The gathering let out a collective gasp at the sight, a collective gentle surge forward towards the walled edges of the viewing platform to better witness the spectacle they knew was coming.

They didn’t have to wait long. There, flying low over the surface of the water, leaving large trails of frothy waves in their wake, were the seven Aquila landers arranged in an arrowhead formation. They sped quickly towards Vandire, the image being broadcast to screens around the city by highflying pictcasters, before sharply banking up. They soared past each level of the spire, displaying the shape and pattern of their wings, which resembled their namesake. Another collective gasp as they were buffeted by wind in the flyby, women reaching up to hold onto their hats, the birds high above scattering. The landers began to level out, circling the great expanse of the Omon spire, showing Vandire to their passengers as much as showing the shuttles to the Vorlancians. Slowly they began to descend, merging into a single line as they neared the landing pads.

At odds with the aerial manoeuvres they had just demonstrated, the seven landers gently touched down. The Vorlancian elite watched with hushed voices, waiting to see who would emerge. Seven pairs of aides ran forth from within the palace towards the shuttles, waiting to attend. They were followed by a portly man, walking with the aid of a cane, dressed in blue finery with a white sash about his waist. The Governor’s Seneschal.

Once they had disembarked from their shuttles, he would be the first to greet the returning heroes. He would guide them into the palace, to wait inside one of the many drawing rooms where they could take refreshment and socialise, until the Vorlancian elite had moved from the viewing platform to the great hall and were ready to receive them. Here, they would be officially greeted and thanked by the Planetary Governor on the behalf of Vorlancia before the celebrations would begin in the ballroom.

Thaedael · Apr 29, 2014

RE: Noblesse Obligé

"Home, we are finally going home..." the voice could be barely heard over the whine of the engines, the intercom system crackling from the words of the pilot as he broke protocol and chattered to the crewman that sat in tandem behind him in the plexglax dome. The ship rocked a few more times, waking some of the passengers, those who were trained through decades of bloody service to the Emperor, those who learned to sleep at any given time that was presented to them, in any given place. The engines continued to whine, the humming reaching a louder pitch as the small atmospheric shuttle corrected it's course to fly into a ceremonial formation. All about them the structural interior of the ship groaned, the sound of stressed metal echoing around the interior passenger hold as it performed another quick correction to it's path. From the pilot's cockpit, light crept into the dark hold, washing out the dim red lighting that illuminated the interior, each of the red lights fading out from above the passenger's respective harnesses. Another maneuver, the ship jolting from side to side, before it finally entered the formation, rounding out the left-most tip of the flight wing. The last of the sleeping passengers groaned, waking to the sounds of their comrades shifting about against the harnesses that had held them uncomfortably so. The last leg of the journey was finally drawing to a close.

"Sir?" the voice was drowned out from the hive of activity that the other passengers were making. Some of them already unhooked the harnesses, the sound of spring loaded equipment shifting up and over their heads to click against the rusty metallic walls behind them. "Sir...?" the voice was a little bit louder, hesitant and unsure of what to do. Above their heads were the storage compartments of their equipment, the metal chain-linked bins rattling as the equipment shifted along the insides of them. From either side of these holds, lights begun to flicker, stark, white, sterile light. The long panels that lined either sides of the storage compartments flickered once more, a large clicking sound being heard as some of the energy from the twin turbines of the lander transferred into the lighting sub system, before finally reaching stability and allowing the lights to function.

"Good morning fine gentlemen of the Emperor..." the internal intercom system crackled to life as the pilot spoke directly to them from all four walls of the cramped interior, the sound amplified. "This is your pilot speaking...", the pilot's voice was cut off by the crewman that sat behind him.

"Give it a break Jace, they know who you are, let them prepare in peace."

A light chuckle broke out across the interior of the hold, before the pilot once more cleared his throat. "On behalf of the "Emperor Protects' shuttle service, we would like to welcome you to Vorlancia-", the compartment erupted into hollers and shouts of joy. "Settle down, folks." he laughed, the intercom crackling as it tried to carry his voice over. "We are looking at another fine day here on Vorlancia, the temperature is a warm twenty-five degrees with a humidity of eight-five percent!"

The first of the veterans were already on their feet, bracing themselves against unfolded seats with their legs, and holding on to the hand-loops above, most of them already looking through the now exposed windows. The armor plating of the windows finally locked into the open position, drowning the interior with natural lighting. "No shit, it's humid", spoke one of the grizzled vets, looking at the beads of precipitation forming between the two layers of the armored window. To their right, along the far horizon was the reflective sheen of the other six Aquilae they had entered the atmosphere with, the planet's fair sun casting an angelic halo of a reflection on the newly refurbished crafts. They were still pock-marked full of damage where rounds had landed against them un-detonated, scrapes and scratches were still visible against every leading edge of the craft. They were worn down, beaten, battered, only to receive a new lease on life, new paint jobs, a new opportunity to be used for something more. Much like the passengers that now looked out their very windows.

"Look at that beautiful ocean below" the crewman sitting in the dome said, his face pressed against the glass of the observation dome, the cool material against his face. "Didn't think I would ever live to see it again." he said with a bit of a chuckle, before choking up, tears welling in his eyes. "You can say that again" another of the veterans responded in kind.

The pilot spoke once more, "It looks like a smooth ride from here folks, the weather radar on the lead shuttle has indicated that there is a gentle afternoon breeze, and that there is some cloud cover. Take the time to stretch your legs and enjoy"

The sound of the intercom died out with a crackle, the light shifting from a bright green to a dark red, the hue staining the purity seals with an unsettling red that was all too reminiscent of blood. "Sir?" again the voice spoke. "Just man up and tap the sleeping geezer already" another spoke to him. "I don't..." he started again.

"Look, you made it this far in the service to the Imperium, fought through countless decades of bloody wars, fought things people don't even know existed. It's not like the man is going to kill you." the voice grew louder as it drew closer to the man they were talking about. "You know, just stand back, let me do this... some fearless chump you turned out to be."

Bright light flooded through the sleeping man's eyes, the glare of the sunlight reflecting form the wing across from where the man slept in his harness, his brain kicking into gear at the sudden disturbance. He heard the sound of metal moving, pressing down on something, before he released his hand. The man across from him looked at him in shock, a red mark in the shape of a hand print forming along the forearm he now rubbed with his right hand.

"Sir... we are finally home. The day came, it's finally true. We are home..." he continued to rub at the redness of his forearm, before turning to walk to a younger guardsman standing next to him, the owner of the timid voice. "Come on Vince, he takes a bit of time to kick-start when he hasn't had a good night's rest in weeks." he wrapped his arm around the carapace clad shoulder of the younger man, before making their way to the front of the shuttle.

The recently awoken man blinked a few more times, the pupils adjusting to the bright light of the interior, the glare of the sun bouncing off all the rusty metallic surfaces. His still outstretched hand left hanging open, before closing once more with a test movement. From it's position in the carapace clad armor across his arm, it looked normal. It moved, acted, and articulated like any other arm, but it was not his arm. He balled his fist once more, before letting his arm drop to the harness that slung around his neck, before moving it to the stowed position. With all the strength in his one good arm, he lifted himself up and out of the chair, the spring loaded seat snapping against the wall as he stumbled into a standing position, every joint cracking and protesting in movements.

All around him his men turned, looking at him, and snapping into standing positions, saluting him, a Hero of the Imperium. For all it was worth, it was a fancy title that described every single man and woman in the cramped compartment, all but himself. He had the fortune to lead these people, to survive because of these people. His people. All because of some minor action, in some major war, in some Emperor-forsaken part of the Imperium, all because of that... they were free to go home. Those that he passed as he shuffled towards the front of the shuttle turned, holding the salute as he passed, before he came upon Vince, and Jordan.

Hearing the sound of the ceramite reinforced boots of the Hero of the Imperium, Jordan and Vince both turned, snapping to attention and saluting him, Jordan's arm still bearing the red marks of their encounter. "Sir!" they both said in tandem, before being returned a salute. "You can call me by my name, Jordan. You have known me long enough."

"It's a formality Ilya, you know that. So long as you are in your formal regalia, and all honors presented, we must refer to you as such, especially now that you are a Hero of the Imperium. The nobles will not be so kind as to overlook our lack of formality when deferring to you." he said.

Ilya shook his head from side to side, before turning to look at the men and women gathered on either side of the aisle in the passenger hold, each of them looking at him with intent and pride, each still at attention and holding a salute to him. He returned it with his right hand, before talking. "At ease." his voice carried conviction, charisma, and a small trace of the indomitable will that had allowed him to live through the thick and thin of every battlefield, of every blood soak meter on every countless world he had to fight upon. All around him they stirred, taking a more relaxed pose. The faces continued to look at him, some smiling eagerly waiting to listen to his words, other's tired and weary from the long journey to return home, and others just relieved to be in the sky above their home planet.

"I know that I have the power to command you from here on out, regardless of what post I may hold upon returning home. Home to Vorlancia" he savored the name of his home world, the word transcending just the basic name of his planet, this blue paradise given form.

"However, I have no intention of doing this. You have served under my command well. You have served with distinction, and turned the lot of you into heroes. I may have been bestowed the formal title, but each and every one of you are the true heroes of this world. Many of you will go on to teach, others of you will move on to get your own commands. In every which way we choose to part from one another, you will each go on to accomplish more under the watch of the Emperor. My final commands to you, as your senior, are to have a good time tonight, and always hold your head up. You have earned the right to answer to no one, and to enjoy your second lease on life".

He looked once more at the assembled lot, a small fraction of what was left when he left the world all those decades ago. These assembled men and women, and those in adjoining shuttles to their right... "As you were" he said, before turning to Jordan behind him. He walked up to him before resting an arm on his shoulder. "Sorry about your arm..." he said under a hushed tone, so that only the two of them could hear him above the roar of the engine. "I am still getting used to the replacement bionic, they got rid of the old one saying that a hero should look the part, whatever the hell that means to them". He rubbed his real hand across the crook of his shoulder, before patting him and walking into the crew compartment of the ship, ducking below the bulkhead that separated them from the passengers.

"Jace", he said with a nod of his head.

"Yes, sir?" he responded in kind.

"Are you sure I can't convince you to join us in retirement?" he leaned against the raised component that fed up into the observing dome, looking over the pilot's back through the window of the cockpit, enjoying the view of the spire off on the horizon, a beacon of white light against the blues of the ocean.

"You know I can't sir. Not everyone in my unit was fortunate to be extended the privilege of retirement. It seems the Imperial Navy was hard pressed to just offer it to Scott and I"

"The needy bastards that lot is" Scott said from the dome, before slipping down from the high seat situated in the observation area.

"What about you Scott?" Ilya said in kind, looking at the grizzled Imperial Navy veteran.

"I can't, you see... I met this dame that flies one of them lightnings. Her and I have been hitting it off pretty good as of late and it looks like true love. I can't just go and give up on it" he chuckled.

"Always the hopeless romantic, I don't think I will ever learn to love a woman like you do" Ilya said with a smile. The two crewmen both laughed at the comment.

"Imagine that, Sir Ilya Garin, Hero of the Imperium, scourge of all Heretics, settling down and finding love." Jace said.

"The kind of woman you would fall in love with would surely be more terrifying than the kind of orders you have given us under the threat of death I am sure".

Again a short laughter, this time joined in by Ilya, "Just like you guys, I can't see it myself. Thanks for all the years of piloting our Valkyrie guys. Take care of the old girl when you get back, and go with the Emperor's grace"

He made the sign of the Aquila over his brass chest plate, before it being returned by Scott, who then moved forward to hug the man. Both Ilya's arms were left hanging to the sides, before he returned the gesture. "I am going to miss you too. Take care of yourself" Ilya said. He turned to face the pilot who was still strapped to his chair, piloting the vehicle on the final approach. "I am going to miss your shuttle-line impersonations too you know" he said to Jace, placing a hand on his shoulder.

They stood like that for a bit, before reality came back to them. "There is the spire ahead, we will be there in ten minutes or so." He looked through the cockpit at the spire ahead, before the gleaming sun shone off the the tallest of the spires, causing his reflection to be intensified in the glass. There was Jace, tears welling in his face, his emotions plain to see.

Then there was himself, a hollow shell of himself when he had left the planet all those years ago. Upon his head he wore a ceremonial cap, a high peaked cap of blue fabric with a black accent. Out from under this was his sandy blond hair, unruly and wavy from being left to grow out for the first time in nearly a decade. Framed by his hair on either side were high-set cheek bones, with eyes set in ghostly blues, a scar running along the line of one, tracing its way down his cheek and across his lips. As ghastly as it seemed, the wound did little to the eye, retaining all it's utility to himself. The stubble across his face grew in, luckily hiding much of the scar, and giving him the appearance of the grizzled vets that he studied about back at the academy. A small smirk came across his face as he studied himself in the reflection. He looked every bit the part of a hero he learned about, and felt just as empty as most had looked to. Upon his collar that protruded out from under his highly polished carapace armor were the golden aquilae he had earned, which he had thumbed over with his good hand, the one that still felt.

Yes, a hero indeed, clad in carapace armor of a storm trooper over fatigues of faded blues and grays. "You better get ready sir, we are going to land" Jace begun to spoke into the intercom, before preparing to do the once-over fly by of the crowds that begun to materialize like ants across the upper-most plateau of the spire.

They had all gotten seated once more, their bodies rattling against the harnesses where the metal arms clanked against their armor, the rest of the gathered troops clad in full Regalia for the event. The craft shook once more, as they performed one more fly by, before the sinking feeling formed at the pit of Ilya stomach from the sudden descent from the sky, before softly landing against the landing pad. "Thank you for choosing the "Emperor Protects" shuttle service. For those of you returning home, the pilot and crewman would like to welcome you home. Please gather the last of your belongings if you ever wish to see them again. Please consider using our services once again, and recommending them to your friends and fellows, all for the low, low price of enlisting in the Emperor's service."

Once more the room chuckled as the circulation system cut, and the lights powered down. The constant whining of engines finally died down, and everything became much sharper to the ear in the absence of their sound. "In all seriousness, it was a pleasure to have served along you guys. Have fun at the party, and be sure to down a few drinks for me." Jace said, almost crying now that his duties were finally done and his attention no longer taken by piloting the craft. Around them the sounds of the other crafts landing signaled the start of the band to begin playing, their instruments could be heard through the metal coffin of the passenger hold.

Finally, the seals broke, and the cabin depressurized, before the landing ramp unlocked, slamming into the landing pad to herald their arrival. A wash of hot air, a mid-day's breeze, and the smell of salt drowned out the cool interior that smelt worse than a grox farm. "The Emperor protects" was all that Scott managed, before the gathered soldiers left out from under the rear of the shuttle, the sun blinding them and the drowning sound of the crowds erupted into adulation.

Ghostwolf · May 2, 2014

There was silence as the shuttles touched down. The gathering of nobles waited eagerly, their attentions firmly fixed on the Aquilas, their collective breath held as the ramps slowly descended with a clatter. Then from within the darkness, out they came into the light of Vorlancia, feeling the sun’s rays on their skin, experiencing the background ocean scent of Vandire, setting foot on their homeworld for the first time in many years. The crowd roared into life, cheering the returning Vorlancians. The band burst into action, welcoming the arrivals with a jovial fast paced and trumpeting song as they disembarked and assembled themselves before the landers. Seven Officers, labelled Heroes of the Imperium, stood before their retinues, those chosen to act as honour guard and return with their officer to teach at the Schola or to form the experienced Officer core of future regiments. The buzzing pictcasters flew in closer, zooming in on the Heroes in turn and broadcasting their image across the planet, giving the population the first look at those who had done great deeds in the Emperor’s name and had lived to return home. The gathered nobles hustled and bustled against each other, trying to get a better look at those assembled on the landing pads. They called out names to each other as they spotted each one, “Look! There’s Captain Tarik, he fought in the Siege of Zangah!” having prior knowledge of who would be arriving and some of their exploits. Some of the lesser nobles had their attentions focused on the accompanying retinues, keeping an eye out for a potential suitor and future spouse, for they would make a good match for a second or third child of the family.

The playing of the band began to dwindle away as the Governor’s Seneschal approached and stopped in front of those assembled, the chatter on the viewing platform dying down. With a wide grin he looked at each hero and retinue in turn, before nodding approvingly to himself.

“Welcome, welcome!” his happy booming voice made even louder due the voxamp modified into his throat so that the observers on the platform could hear, his arms outstretched in greeting. “Gentlemen. Ladies. Welcome to Vorlancia.” The portly man spun, the band playing a short fanfare as he did. The Seneschal had a theatrical side, and he had clearly done this several times before. Facing the assembled Veterans he nodded to himself again, pleased. “My name is Iactus Cadmun, the Governor’s Seneschal and I shall be taking care of you very fine lucky people during your stay here. Now if you would like to follow me, we shall get you refreshed somewhere much more comfortable. In the meantime, the Governor and his chosen guests and friends” indicating the viewing platform “shall make their way to receive you.” With a flourish of his arm, he turned and made his way back towards the huge property as the band picked up their playing. “This way! After me!”

He led them into the Governor’s palace and through the winding interior to a large drawing room filled with plush furniture and extravagance, enough seating for everyone, a large trestle table of food and drink, and there were even attached restroom facilities. Once they were all gathered within the room, Iactus began to explain what would happen. “You shall be waiting here for a little while until they are ready to receive you. You shall be officially welcomed by the Governor, and then you will move onto the ballroom where you shall meet and mingle with the high society of Vorlancia. There shall be food and drink, only the finest! Ah, and music should you wish to dance. I’m sure you’re all fabulous dancers. Of course you shall spend the night here, and several days, experiencing the Governor’s hospitality, each with your own room. Then you shall be moved into fine properties of your own and begin your duties, however the Heroes are most welcome to stay at the Palace for as long as they please.” The Seneschal spoke every word wide smile upon his face, gesticulating enthusiastically. “But for now, I must leave you in the care of my very competent aides. I shall return in due time to collect you. Socialise. Eat. Drink. But not too much, otherwise you won’t want any of the fine foods on offer later.” He warned, wagging his finger before breaking into a booming laugh. With that Iactus left the veterans alone together.

Sometime later, more than he suggested it would be, Iactus returned. “They are ready for you.” He led them from the drawing room through more of the palace, pointing out things of significance here and there. That painting was of the Governor’s grandfather, this was said to be a relic of one of the Imperial Saints. After a somewhat short walk, he led them to before a double door. Tall and wide, finely crafted and adorned with images of waves, guarded either side by men in ceremonial but functional armour, their faces hidden behind the visors of their helms.

Iactus paused in front of them, turning to smile at those lined up behind him. “You all have earned this. You all deserve it.” With a nod, he turned back from them and pushed open the doors, leading the party inside. A huge grand hall, filled with opulent décor. The elite of Vorlancia looked down into the hall from tiered seating on the balconies that lined the hall. On a raised dais at the end of the hall, in a plush chair carved from an exotic wood sat the Imperial Governor, flanked either side by more guards in ceremonial armour.

The Seneschal led them into the hall to stand before the Governor in their groups. Hushed conversations coming from the balconies as the nobles watched and observed, commenting. Once he had come to a stop, he bowed his head to the Governor and the chatter died down.

“My Lord Governor. Ladies and Gentlemen. I present to you the finest men and women Vorlancia has offered in service to His cause. The Heroes of the Imperium, and their honour guard.” A roar of applause instantly took up across the balconies, only dying once the Governor raised his hand to quiet them. With a nod, he stood from his seat. The Governor was a tall man and wiry, he held himself well in the heavily adorned dress uniform he wore, medals pinned upon his chest. A pure white sash was wrapped around his torso and waist, a white cloak with gold inlay flowed from his shoulders. He spoke with a gruff voice, easily projecting it so that everyone within the hall could hear it despite the occasional wheeze that issues from his lungs, the lingering effect of a xeno chemical weapon.

“Gentlemen. Ladies. Vorlancia welcomes you. Vorlancia celebrates you. Vorlancia owes you. Gentlemen, Ladies, I Septin Rayna, the designated Imperial Governor of this world thank you all on behalf of Vorlancia. You have done your duty. You have served the Emperor, and in doing so you have protected His people and his worlds. You have done, so that we do not have to. Vorlancia is in your debt.” The Governor spoke with practised precision, having said the words many times. “Vorlancia salutes you.” He snapped to attention, delivering a perfect salute. The action still embedded deep within his muscle memory.

“Now, tell us. Who exactly are these Heroes we give thanks to? Introduce yourself” The Governor questioned, clasping his hands behind his back. He listened to each one sound off, each name bringing a ripple of applause and hushed words from the balcony. When each name had been spoken, he nodded.

“Good. This is your reward, each and every one of you. Enjoy it to the full. You shall want for very little here in Omon and in Vandire. Today we celebrate your return, it shall be the first of many celebrations we have in your honour. Now, that’s enough formality. Let us move to the ballroom and begin enjoying ourselves, ey?” The Governor nodded with a smile, as again applause broke out from the balconies. A side door in the hall opened to an even larger room. “Gentlemen, Ladies.” He addressed those gathered in the hall before him, gesturing towards the ballroom “Would you please lead us in, we shall join you momentarily. Enjoy.”

Thaedael · May 3, 2014

The sound. The sound washed over the soldiers that had disembarked in an orderly fashion, an aura of reflected civic pride hung in the air around these revered veterans. The noise was deafening, made all the more apparent by the still-ringing ears of the veterans, where the majority of the sound was felt in the depths of their rib-cages, the music of the band, the speaking of crowds, and the gathered sounds of people from all over the spire, each resounding in their chest cavities. However loud the sound, it was not a war-torn ashen waste of a hive world lost to damnation, but the sounds of genuine relief, and joyous celebrations. Gone were the stench of blood, oil, dust, rubble, and despair, only to be replaced by the fragrance of a world that reveled in all the glory of the Emperor.

Each dismounted detachment of Imperial Storm Troopers stood in simple formations, in rank and file, in a direct line that could be traced from the opened ramps of the Aquila landers. Each lander had carried eight soldiers, how they had managed to fit an additional two in each, that would be a secret relegated to the archives of the inquisition under lock and key for the benefit of mankind. They were back-lit from the sun that rose further into the Vorlancian skyline, the sun feeding through the formations of soldiers, encasing them in blazing halos of light, as if they were the very Saints of old upon which the majority of their studies were founded from. They stood at attention, in disciplined fashion, putting on a show for the local population. It was this population whom, in times of recent, needed such beacons of hope, such strengths and ideals to aspire to. What could be a better example than seven Heroes of the Imperium coming home, let alone the additional storm troopers granted leave? Where a whole sub-sector may be graced by only one such individual every century, there were seven heroes here today, and their very existence a testament to the rigorous training that is undergone on their home planet.

Despite the commonalities in equipment and dress that the nobles had to the assembled guests of the governor, they stood in stark contrast from one another. Where as fine patina or freshly polished armor adorned the nobles, the veterans wore equipment that bore the fresh scars of war. Where as every edge, lip, and detail was embellished and highly refined, those of the soldiers were understated, dented, and scraped. Where the nobles wore fine silken clothes, and up to date fashion under the ceremonial chest plates or carapace armor, the soldiers wore the raid clothes for which they were famed for. This was not to say that the equipment was not well maintained, for despite all these things, they shone just as vibrantly. No, the main difference between the groups that were separated by the raised lip of the landing pad, were the honors bestowed upon them by the leaders of the campaigns.

Across each of their chest-plates of their carapace armor, were the painted honors that each of the soldiers had received, official medals forth-coming at the evening gala of the governor. Where as nobles may have just had a handful of ribbons and medals for completing simple tours of duties, each of these Storm Troopers were highly decorated. Even the most distinguished of the nobles, those that had gone on to lead successful careers through decades of faithful service to the Emperor, had fewer, and those that they did were of less merit. Then there were the seven Heroes themselves, the reason anyone showed up to this reception, they were in a league of their own.

The pict-casters hung in lazy orbit above the assembled crowd, flying in oblong flight paths as they showed the top of the spire flooded with a sea of people. A single pict-caster broke from the group, flying in low over the crowd, catching views of the gathered nobles, before lifting up off the crowd towards the assembled men. At the head of each group was one of the heroes whom which the crowd were cheering for, pointing to, and even calling by name, many having done research in the weeks leading up to their arrival. They wore much the same equipment, save for one difference; a golden chest-piece that replaced the breast-plate of their own carapace armor. Each was a master crafted piece of equipment, every bit as functional as it was ornamental, a sign of office, a sign of prestige, a sign of unrivaled military prowess. The pict-caster once more turned around from the previous pass, before circling each of the Heroes one at a time, before finally coming to Ilya.

Already the music begun to die down as it circled him, the last hero to be observed for the viewers at home, in the schools, or even the farms, of their planet, and those of neighboring planets. It circled around his boots, starting at the worn black leather boots that had been polished to so fine a sheen it looked metallic, which only helped blend in the dark metal plates that adorned it. They were scratched, chipped, and stained, but they were every bit a part of him. It slowly continued to circle around him, flying in tighter and tighter circles, his raid clothes were of the simple blues and grays that their company was known for, pressed into some parts by the black straps that kept the armor and slings in place. The crowd begun to hush down, but a few murmurs could be heard in appreciation of the golden plate that adorned his chest, a double headed Aquila like the others. It was, however, more ornamental than the other's, the likeliness of Saint Ilya, from who he took his name, was delicately sculpted into the armor from one side, with the silhouette of many storm troopers running across the plate laterally from under his gaze. He waved with his bionic hand at the pict-caster, giving a nod to the audience at home. The operator, content, flew it away, which heralded the start of the procession. The Seneschal approached.

"Welcome, welcome!" He afforded Ilya a glance, followed by a nod which he took to be a sign of respect. “Gentlemen. Ladies. Welcome to Vorlancia.” He had spun easily, as he spoke, his oratory skills impressive by Ilya's own account. "My name is Iactus Cadmun, the Governor’s Seneschal and I shall be taking care of you very fine lucky people during your stay here. Now if you would like to follow me, we shall get you refreshed somewhere much more comfortable. In the meantime, the Governor and his chosen guests and friends" indicating the viewing platform "shall make their way to receive you." The fanfare from the band begun to start again, a similar and nostalgic theme that was heard decades ago, when they themselves were presented to the citizens as a tithe to the Emperor.

Before long they were assembled once more, having been marched through the overly-ornate house of a planetary governor. Ilya was humbled, even the biggest of houses he had fought his way through, corridor by bloody corridor, room by room, was put to shame at the size and wealth of this household. Where as the others continued to walk about following the man, he was left cowed by the sight of the drawing room, standing with arms loose to either side as he stared up at the high vaulted ceilings of the room in awe.

"Don't just stand there like a slack-jawed idiot" came the not so re-assuring voice of his aide. Victoria, his most senior adjutant, was standing just inside the entrance, the rest of the group gathered at the furthest wall around the Seneschal as he continued to laugh with a booming voice, and explain the agenda.

"I haven't seen you look that stunned since..." she bit her lip instantly, realizing the mistake after it was already made. "Sorry, Sir".

"It's fine Victoria. I was just impressed by this place. I have always tried to imagine what the places we went to... what they might have looked like before we got there." he responded, his voice level.

She knew him to well however, and could read him inside and out, his expression, his body language, and tone of voice. While it may be true he was taken in by the sights, she knew he had just deflected her. Her eyes couldn't help but wander to his arm, his bionic arm, before sadly looking away.

"Let's hurry up, Sir" she managed, to say, with her back to him she rejoined the group, leaving Ilya to come at his own pace.

He continued to look at the ceiling, before finally looking down to his own body. He rubbed his bionic arm, remembering exactly what she referenced. Was it... was it so memorable an event to see him that stunned that every time since, where he may be pensive that she commented in such a way? He shook his head free of the thoughts, approaching the assembled troops.

"...any of the fine foods on offer later!" the man had finally finished talking to the assembled group. He gave out a booming laugh, before disappearing from the assembled men, leaving them breathing room.

"Anyone else feeling out of place yet?" one of the younger soldiers asked to the group. A collective chuckle was given out, an answer given without actually answering the question. "Thank god, I thought I was the only one" he laughed, before walking to the table upon which the spread of food was laid out.

They mingled with one another. This was the second time they have met since the end of the campaign. The usual pleasantries were exchanged, sly comments on the nature of their guide, all the way to the likes of the mansion in which they were abandoned in, all the more foreign to them like a battlefield was to the noble. At least there was no threat of being killed here, Emperor forbid.

"Sir?" again he was stirred from thought by Victoria.

"It's fine, you don't need to..."

"I am not here to apologize" she cut him off. She was one of the few people that would cut him off, one that could cut him off. She held out a fine plate, an assortment of delicacies placed in regular patterns around the plate that she had assembled for him. "We need you at your best after all" she managed, before walking off, not even giving him a chance to refuse.

"Now that we are all retiring, boy does she have you whipped" Jordan quipped in, walking in from the side of his field of vision, plate of his own full of food in a great mound. The front of his armor was already beginning to show food wear and tear. "Remember what I asked you on the first night she became your adjutant, what was that hell hole..."

"Ishitar IV?" Ilya responded.

"Yeah, that was a good four, one of the best fours we have ever been too" he smiled. "Have you thought about it? Since then I mean?" He asked.

"No" he responded with a short no, trying to dismiss the topic.

"Everything has changed Ilya, I mean Sir. Why don't you go after her, you could have a good..."

"Nothing has changed" he managed to say in a calm voice.

As if on cue to change the topic, doors from one side of the drawing room opened, the assembled staff of the Governor's palace walking in with various regalia and formal military attire. "Esteemed guests. We have brought your military uniforms for the event, feel free to change at your leisure. Tell us your name, we will then give you your formal attire for the evening, and we will take care of all your equipment making sure it is brought to your respective rooms" the head girl said. Already lines begun to form as plates were being put down.

"Nothing has changed" Ilya repeated.

"You have changed" Jordan responded, before putting down his plate to walk towards the staff. The statement was vehement, and heartfelt, Jordan always spoke from the heart, and they both knew it. He was the conscience of their crew.

Ilya put his plate down, walking towards the staff himself.

The eruption from the crowd had once more stirred his mind from the internal thoughts he had struggled with. All around him, people pointed, stared, and chattered among themselves, the ruling elite of the planet all gathered in the same room.

“Gentlemen. Ladies. Vorlancia welcomes you. Vorlancia celebrates you. Vorlancia owes you. Gentlemen, Ladies, I Septin Rayna, the designated Imperial Governor of this world thank you all on behalf of Vorlancia. You have done your duty. You have served the Emperor, and in doing so you have protected His people and his worlds. You have done, so that we do not have to. Vorlancia is in your debt. Vorlancia salutes you.” The man snapped a salute to the gathered soldiers, now dressed in their formal uniforms, each of them returning the salute to him.

“Now, tell us. Who exactly are these Heroes we give thanks to? Introduce yourself” The Governor questioned, clasping his hands behind his back. From the tiered balconies the nobles looked. Of the seven heroes, most knew, and could tell them apart from one another, but for the others, putting a face to the legend would be important for the coming events. Each pod of seven was once again given the spotlight, each in turn introducing themselves, up until once again, Ilya group went last.

"Bryce, Jordan."
"Gallant, Vincent."
"Mays, Victoria."
"Schroeder, Zacharias."
"Patterson, John."
"Garin, Ilya."

The crowd cheered in turn at each of the members of his hand picked retinue, before cheering and clapping for himself, before raw hands and sore throats gave way to the Governer again.

“Good. This is your reward, each and every one of you. Enjoy it to the full. You shall want for very little here in Omon and in Vandire. Today we celebrate your return, it shall be the first of many celebrations we have in your honour. Now, that’s enough formality. Let us move to the ballroom and begin enjoying ourselves, ey?” The Governor nodded with a smile, as again applause broke out from the balconies. A side door in the hall opened to an even larger room. “Gentlemen, Ladies.” He addressed those gathered in the hall before him, gesturing towards the ballroom “Would you please lead us in, we shall join you momentarily. Enjoy.”

"Did you hear THAT" Zach said to the others. "They applauded me, not you" he laughed giving Vincent a slap on the back. "It's about time I stepped out from under your shadow".

"Took you long enough, you would think I were a one hundred meter ork with a shadow as long as a building with the time it took you to crawl out from under my excellence" he said with a barbed tongue, that was just being playfully mocking.

"Behave children. They were applauding you, because you are going to be the play-thing of the nobles for the next few hours. Behave yourselves." Victoria cut in, trying to remind them why they were here in the first place. She walked in through the double doors of the audience room into the ballroom.

"But Moooooooooooom" John responded.

"Let them have their fun tonight, like everyone keeps saying to ad naseum, it's not like they haven't deserved the chance to have a good night" Ilya said, undercutting her authority. It was the first time he had ever done it, and everyone was taken aback.

"But... Sir" she interrupted.

"It's fine, you know they will behave themselves, just because you asked. They won't embarrass you too badly. Heads up, here they come." The first of the nobles begun to appear, walking down large circular staircases from the balconies above into the space.

Ghostwolf · May 4, 2014

Throughout the day, there was one person who watched with less enthusiasm than most. The parade was observed with disinterest, the graduation ceremony was met with indifference. They carried with them an air of barely hidden apathy. To them the day was tedious, bordering on the monotonous. For Elizabeth Rayna, the ceremonies had stopped being impressive years ago as she came into her teens. Each year they were the same. The long parade of men and women in the same uniforms, followed by the same vehicles, set to the same music. The dull graduations possessing no entertaining elements whatsoever, filled with names and handshakes, over and over for what seemed like forever. Even the celebrations that lasted into the evening and for the next few days were becoming tame and stale, the same noble faces each year, the new officers uptight, and the officers returning from their PDF duty braggarts and full of fantastical exploits. No, if it was up to Elizabeth she probably wouldn’t even attend, there were much better things she could be doing. She could hide herself away in one of the libraries and catch up on her reading. She could disguise herself as someone from the lower levels and spend the day drinking and dancing the day away in one of the taverns with the locals. Sadly, Elizabeth did not have that choice. She was the youngest daughter of Governor Septin Rayna, the only one out of three children to remain unmarried and due to that, among other reasons, was widely known as the “wild one” of the family. Her presence at these events was expected, if not required. She was supposed to set an example to the people of Vorlancia, to give them something to aspire to, although Elizabeth thought her perfect elder sister was much more suited to that task.

While Elizabeth had to attend, it did not mean she had to enjoy it, and she rarely did. It was not that she lacked pride in her planet and its people and the things they achieved, because she was very proud to be Vorlancian. It was just that after so many years of watching the same thing, witnessing the same ceremony every year of her life, watching the same thing, listening to the same words and music, it had grown old and become stale. However today something happened that occurred less often, a ceremony which was witnessed only every few years, the homecoming Vorlancia’s heroes. And so Elizabeth had turned out less reluctantly that day to watch the return of the “Heroes of the Imperium”, watching with only slightly more interest than she had during the rest of the day as the shuttles touched down. Elizabeth would admit that she didn’t quite understand the concept of the Heroes, to her it seemed like most of them had done what probably thousands of others had done, the only difference being they had survived. Was that worthy of such praise and recognition, that they had survived while millions of others had given their lives in His name? It wasn’t a question for Elizabeth to answer, better suited to some old philosopher sitting in an armchair with a nice full glass of amasec who most likely wouldn’t be forced to sit through these ceremonies. Elizabeth knew one thing for certain from her past experiences, these Heroes were often a dour lot for the most part and lacking a sense of humour while others were far too enthusiastic and excitable at being upon their homeworld once more, the company of both sorts became tiring after a while.

Wearing only the finest and most expensive clothing, made by the finest dressmakers of Vandire, Elizabeth waited for the shuttle ramps to descend in silence. An elegant empire-style gown with an asymmetrical skirt made of soft thin fabric suitable for the warm weather which left her arms and lower legs bare to the sun and allowed her stiletto heeled court shoes to be seen. The dress itself was powder blue in colour with white lace accents below her bust on the bodice and around the hem and square neckline just low enough to display the gentle slope of her breasts and hint at the valley between them. When the ramps descended the Governor’s daughter applauded like the rest of them but refrained from cheering or shouting like some of her peers, resisting the urge to cringe when the band began to play the same pieces of music they always played on such events. The Heroes and the retinues began to disembark from the transports, and Elizabeth observed those assembled with mild interest. The pictcasters began to display images of the returned onto the small holoscreens embedded into the barriers of the viewing platforms, allowing the nobles to get a better look at the newcomers, and Elizabeth took the opportunity to take a closer look as the pictcasters neared and zoomed in.

For the most part, they were the same as they had been on the past few occasions. Veterans in their battered and battle-worn equipment, their armour bearing medals and honours as they stood to attention on the landing pad before the eyes of the great and powerful of Vorlancia. Elizabeth was pleased to note that this time there were a few women among the retinues, and it appeared that one of the Heroes was even female. She was disturbed from her observation as a pictcaster flew over the nobles, focusing on Elizabeth. She smiled and nodded at it magnanimously as was expected and it flew off towards the assembled guardsmen and began focusing on each hero. It zoomed in on them one by one, their image appearing upon holoscreens across the planet along with their name and rank, the benefit of the wider Vorlancian people who were unlikely to know the arrivals yet. Of course Elizabeth didn’t either, she had neglected to research the returning heroes. She considered it pointless when it was likely she would only speak to them a few times over the coming days. Watching the screen, the Heroes seemed the same as they always did, even the woman. They were proud, some of them grim and stern, others showing a little more enthusiasm and excitement, but nothing that interesting or special, nothing that Elizabeth had not seen before. That was until the pictcaster showed the last Hero, he got her attention. Or rather his breastplate did. It was gold, gleaming in the sun, finely crafted and depicting an image of a Saint she didn’t recognise, watching over running soldiers. The image rose to his face, zooming out a little. Elizabeth’s blue eyes focused on the image of his. Unruly blonde hair, stubble growing in, and the scar on his face gave him a sort of ruggedly handsome appearance, one befitting the Hero title. He waved at the pictcaster, and Elizabeth found a smile spreading across her lips. She looked at the name on the holoscreen. Ilya Garin. She’d have to remember the name. This year’s celebrations might not be as boring after all.

________________________________________

“Look! There she is!” A voice said lowly, its owner sitting next to Elizabeth leaned in closer to her. They were sat in the tiered balconies, Elizabeth’s position affording them the best view as the Heroes and their retinues entered the hall.
“Your father wouldn’t approve.”
“Oh, to the Warp with my father.”
“Clara!” Elizabeth chastised, feigning surprise at her friends attitude and choice of words.
“Oh come on Lizzy, like the entire court does not know what he gets up to.”
“Even so.”The pair returned their attentions to those walking into the hall, slowly beginning to assemble and form up.
“She seems the uptight reserved sort, but I’d soon sort that out.”
“You don’t even know if she’s that way inclined.”
“There’s only one way to find out, and you know I love a challenge.” Elizabeth laughed softly at her friend, shaking her head in disbelief, her long blonde hair falling loosely about her shoulders. Clara joined in herself, the pair giggling. “Do none of them catch your eye Lizzy?”
“No, not really. They’re always the same, too easy and too eager to please. Or too grumpy. And you know as well as I that some of them can barely talk to a woman, never mind know what to do with one. Besides, it seems like you have already chosen the one that might prove any fun.” Elizabeth smiled at her friend as she looked at glanced at her sideways. “Still, no doubt my father will have someone singled out as the latest attempt at providing me with a suitable match for me to marry. If not him, Iactus will have.”
“I would have thought they’d have given up on that by now.”
“Yes, so would I.”
“Given how you’ve responded in the past, and your…antics.”
“Yes Clara, no need to go on about it.” She sighed. The two sat quietly for a moment.
“So, are you not going to have a little fun this evening?” Clara questioned.
“Well, Father has warned me that I must be on my best behaviour this year, especially as so many have returned. More chance of finding a suitable suitor for me, you see. He doesn’t want me to embarrass him. He is still trying to fulfil that deal with the Warburtons as well, and there is word that the eldest Jameson boy may have his eye on me” Elizabeth explained, exasperated.
“Isn’t he the one they say is…”
“Yes” she interrupted.
“Ah.”
“Anyway as I was saying, best behaviour. One must not disgrace Father. Although that’s not to say I won’t socialise, and enjoy myself a little during the next few days.
“You know Lizzy, you shouldn’t get their hopes up like you do.”
“I could say the same for you, my dear Clara.” Elizabeth winked at her friend, they smiled at each other and both laughed just as the Seneschal began to speak.

________________________________________

“Mays, Victoria.”
“That’s her Lizzie.” Clara whispered, informing her friend who nodded in response.“We neeeed to go talk to her. Please” Elizabeth sighed, rolling her eyes dramatically.
“Pleeaase.”
“Shhh!” A voice came from behind shushing them. They both turned to look, meeting his disapproving look with their own.
“Garin, Ilya.”
“Okay, we can go talk to her.”
“I thought you said you weren’t interested in any of them.”
Elizabeth looked at Clara, giving her a wry smile.
“We’ll see.”

________________________________________

The Ballroom had filled by the time they were making their way down the stairs, arm in arm. Light hair and dark, blue dress and pale yellow. Both were casting their gaze of the floor, assessing the scene of assembled people. They stood in small groups, most of the noble ladies and gentlemen already picked their targets, talking to the returned veterans, the graduates, and the new officers. Elizabeth’s father was talking to one of the Heroes, a tall fellow with a bionic eye. They reached the foot of the stairs and began making their way around the room.
“Look, there’s my father” Clara pointed out, indicating with a tilt of her head. “Talking to that fine lady.” Elizabeth followed her gaze, he was indeed talking to the female hero.
“Does it not bother your mother?”
“I don’t think she cares, if she even knows. It’s hard to drag her away from the bottles these days.” The pair exchanged a soft smile with each other.
They worked the room, making their way past the groups, returning smiles and pleasantries when they came. It was noticeable that most of the Veterans held plates in their hand, Elizabeth had to smile at that. She let Clara lead her, as she sought out the woman she had her eye on, catching snippets of conversation as they passed.
“I’ve just completed my tour with the PDF.”
“Oh really? That must have been awfully dangerous, you are lucky to be alive. Tell me sir, have you ever seen an Ork?” That had the pair exchanging a look and a small laugh. They both knew what the youth of the world could be like, it was refreshing to see them put down a little.

“It’s teeth was as big as knives, and it had cut me open from ‘ere to ‘ere.” The group of women around the Stormtrooper gasped collectively as he regaled them with his adventures. “But something little like that wouldn’t stop me, oh no. So I punched it and I kicked it and I punched it. Then the boss pulled me off, and got me to the medicae. Cause I was bleedin’ all over the uniform you know.”

“…Fires 600 rounds per minute. HE bolts. Tears them up.”
“But I thought it could only fire 350, at the most.”
“Mate, if you fired 350 you is dead. Anything less than 450 you’re dead. You need to strip it down, remove those inhibitors, don’t let the Commissar catch you, and switch to longer belts. Your buddies are relying on you. Set her down, line her up nice, and don’t let up. Keep the pressure on.”

“There, Elizabeth! She’s over there.” Clara pointed out, quickly changing their direction so the pair was heading towards the woman. As they neared, Elizabeth noticed she was stood next to Ilya Garin, and the patriarch of the Nicholls family and his daughter had just finished speaking to them. Elizabeth smiled to herself as they crossed the floor towards them, her eyes drifting around the room as she did. They found those belonging to her elder brother, he was stood with his wife who was engaged in deep conversation with other socialites. Their eyes met and her brother dramatically mouthed “Help me”, Elizabeth laughed softly to herself and rolled her eyes at him.

Then Elizabeth and Clara were approaching Ilya and Victoria, the distance between them closing. Standing before them, Elizabeth and Clara smiled at the pair before curtsying softly.
“Sir, Ma’am. I am Elizabeth Rayna, this is my dear friend Clara Lucero. We are very pleased to make your acquaintance and welcome you back to Vorlancia.” She was well-spoken, her voice soft and silvery, easy on the ear.
“Hello.” Clara added, already glancing and smiling at the woman.
Elizabeth’s eyes were fixed on Ilya, taking in the sight of him, the way he had that rugged veteran look about him, which he was. With her heels, he only stood a few inches taller than her.
“I hope you are enjoying your return so far?” She questioned politely.

Thaedael · May 5, 2014

The high vaulted ceilings of the ballroom did little to put the veterans at ease, the space only amplifying the sound and grandiose nature of such an event. Ilya's group was no different, each of them having been received into such a gathering on merit alone, and not birthright. While the other honor guards had begun to dissolve their cliques, individually mixing and mingling with the different nobles and soldiers with whom they were more natural with, his were gathered around himself in a loose formation. The plan to cover one another, however, seemed to have back fired, as they were surrounded by the highest concentration of nobles and returning military men of noble descent. It was as a result of their close proximity to one another, that whole narratives could be woven, each member in turn taking the time to answer questions or chime in on an event or memory that they had. The soft music from the band lent a stronger atmosphere to the stories they told, which lacked any embellishment. The six veterans stood taller than the surrounding crowd, all of them cutting impressive forms against the backdrop of those who approached them. About them moved the servers of the governor's palace, upon each of their hands large trays of delicacies were laid out, always making sure that the valued guests were well taken care of, and that no plate ever ran empty, despite protests or reservations from any of the veterans. As such, the six of them stood, hands full with plate and drink, as they recounted the stories and memories of the different campaigns.

It was because they were storm troopers that a lot of the questions and stories were teased out of this cadre of veterans, for it was not by birthright or merit that one was enrolled in such training. Every one of them present was an orphan of a servant of the Imperium, one who had laid their life down in the line of service, whether it be a soldier, or a victim of war. Upon being taken as a ward of the Imperium, they were brought to the Schola Progenium, where an unwavering love for the Emperor, the Imperium, and all mankind was indoctrinated into their very fiber of being. They were educated, trained, and taught to fill the most important roles in the crumbling society of humanity. Those that showed promise were enrolled into training to become storm troopers, the elite arm of the Imperial Navy. With strong bodies, and even stronger mind and willpower, they were gruelingly sifted through tougher and tougher regimes until the cream of the crop was all that remained. Clad in carapace armor, armed with hotshot hellguns, they were then formed into vast regiments of Storm Troopers. However it was rare that such a formation would remain fighting intact, for they were part of the navy and were attached to campaigns or other units as needed, and equipped to fulfill the roles required of them.

They were not trained to survive a lifetime. They were not needed to survive a lifetime. Upon their backs and sacrifices was the Imperium to endure. Each one of them would carry this duty unto death, each one of them would embrace it as the highest of honors. Yet here they were, six of but a larger group that never returned. It was because of this that there was so much attention, and so many questions. As time went on faces rotated in and out, an ever constant whirling of people coming and going as the group begun to slowly break into smaller pieces, leaving each-other to fend for themselves as they were engulfed in a sea of nobles.

His face was beaded with sweat, the dark reddish hair matted down under his formal uniform cap, the blue beret hanging heavily upon his brow. His green eyes were drawn tight as he turned to face the only other member of the honor guard to have managed to stay within an arm's reach.

"I honestly don't know how much longer I can keep telling the same story."

Zacharias looked completely out of his element, perhaps it was the way in which he held himself, constantly shifting about in his uniform, or perhaps it was the fountain of sweat that continued to bead along the strands of his red hair, before dripping down his forehead, stinging his eyes.

"I can't even keep smiling, my face hurts. Our faces were not made to smile and pander to the wants and needs of these people."

He continued to keep his voice down, lest he offend any of the nobles whom which their good grace allowed himself to gorge on the fine foods, and the never-empty tumbler of armasec he had in the other hand.

Vince drew in closer, a smile on his face, until he was so close that his face was covered by the shoulder of his senior.

"You said you wanted to be recognized and step out from under my..." Vince said, all the while with a scowl forming on his face.

"No I didn't" he hissed under his breath.

A passing noble woman stopped to look at them, before looking away, and hurrying off in another direction towards one of the... less occupied member of the retinue.

"No I didn't... That was what you said" he whispered, this time being more cautious to keep it between the two.

"Well if you want to have the honors, you got to look the part. After all, hook up with one of these fine ladies, and you will be set for life. We just need to tell them one of your funny stories -"

"Don't you even think it!" Zach would have none of these, shooting glaring green eyes into the darker amber eyes of Vince.

Vince didn't give two feths about what Zach thought, his eyes defying his own, a look of "Is that a dare?" coming across his face, a smirk forming at the sides of his mouth. As if on cue, a waitress from the staff came by, picking the plate and glass from the man, leaving him free to clasp his formal gloved hands against one another, before turning to the crowd of younger ladies that had been attending to them throughout the opening moments of the balls.

"So, ladies" he said with a smile, before bowing once more. "Who wants to hear about the time Zach here got stuck in a sleeping bag, and had to fight in a warzone in such a state?" he said with a giant shit-face grin.

Zach's face remained composed, but for the slightly rise eyebrow, and the tick at the side of his mouth that flickered for but a moment.

"So here we are, on this planet half way across the segmentum, and it was this cold winter night..."

The nobles gathered closer, some of the gentlemen gesturing for others to join them.

"Just look at him" Jordan laughed to one of the gentlemen that had managed to corner him by the music stage upon which the Governor's entertainment were performing. Even from such a distance, Zach's face was a distinct red, suffering from what seemed to be the brunt of another story that had the surrounding crowds laughing to the story and gestures of Vince.

"You wouldn't think it, but both of those men are some of the most reliable people in the world. Even Vince seems to be put off by such a setting." he said.

The man that accompanied him nodded his head in agreement. "I take it that the bright-red one is reliving some rather embarrassing moments, isn't he?"

"Yes, quite. Judging by the way my colleague over there is jumping, I presume it is the story of the time Zach got stuck in a sleeping bag and got captured by the renegades. Instead of murdering him, they though it would be wise to try and coerce some intelligence out of him."

"Is that so? However did he survive?" the older man said, before sipping from a high rimmed glass, a deep blue liqueur swirling inside.

"Well, to learn about that, you better go listen. I can't do the story any justice compared to Vince" Jordan said, sensing the opportunity to duck out from under the man.

"Well, it was a pleasure talking to you, but I must say that curiosity has gotten a hold of me. I wish for us to speak again in the near future, and please consider my offer." With that, the noblemen was off but with a bow of the head.

"Finally..." Jordan muttered under his breath, before turning around. He barely took a step before bumping into a person that he did not see. On the floor before him was a young child, only in her early teens by his estimate. The kid took it on the chin before getting up.

"What happened to your leg?" she asked, sensing right away that not all was as it seemed with him.

Jordan knelt down to the kid, dusting her off and making sure that she was alright, before answering.

"I got hurt a long time ago, and now I have this cool robot leg" he said, trying to diffuse the situation without scaring the little kid. He lifted the pant leg of his formal uniform, the dark navy fabric giving way to a sliver of silver bionics. The little kid's face was aglow in wonderment.

"How did you get hurt?" she asked in return, before placing a hand on it to feel it.

An older lady came rushing through a part in the crowd, before picking up the child in a sweeping motion, holding her tight to her bosom.

"Honey, we don't go asking people that kind of question" she said lightly, in a tone that suggested the child had done something wrong.

"No it's quite alright, you see, I..."

"...Ilya?" John simply stated. He had managed to get herded to the edge of the ballroom, under the large arches that held the tiered balconies above his head. He was sitting in a fine velvet chair, his leg crossed against the crook of his opposite knee. He cut a stunning image the way he sat with the oldest of the gentlemen, armasec in hand, cigar in the other.

He looked around to the various people, his one good eye ablaze in emotions and thoughts. The golden colored eye traced the faces around him, trying to discern how genuine of a question it had been. He brought the back of one gloved hand, rubbing at the brown beard at his chin, the cleft of his chin moving side to side as he did so in thought.

"Words don't really do justice to such a man. He would never admit to it, but he is a very tenacious man, a very..." he stopped to think, trying to put two decades of experience into words for those that didn't know him.

"It's hard to describe him. He can be your best friend, and your worst friend. He looks after you, that's a given, but he is also the one to give you the hard missions. It's nothing personal, but it comes with the territory."

The others looked at him in stunned silence, a look of disappointment on their faces.

"He commands with authority, he keeps his calm, and he does what he has to get done. He keeps himself alive, and by extension, he keeps us alive. It was the only way so many of us got out of..."

One of the girls leaned closer towards him, almost falling out of her chair.

"In the last campaign, he made an..." he thought of a way to put it in a politically correct way. "He made a judgement call, and it worked. It's a miracle so many of us even made it out alive. Look at Jordan over there" he said, pointing with the hand that held the cigar, the ashes falling upon the marble floor of the ballroom.

"Made it out with just a lost leg. It may seem like such a high price to pay, but Ilya? He would tell you it's just a damn leg, that each and everyone of us..."

"...losing a bit of yourself there, Ilya?" Victoria's voice came in a gentle tone, friendly as it had always been. She had held herself well, being the one that was at most ease in the group. She placed a hand on Ilya's shoulder, rubbing at it to break him from his day dream. "They are gone now, you can breath."

She cut a stunning figure in her uniform. She looked out from under the blue beret she wore upon her head, her short cropped black hair flowing out from under the fabric of the cap in an asymmetrical bob that favored her left side. Her hair was still short, having been non-existent but a year ago when they had been pulled from the field. While short, it lent itself very well to her facial symmetry, where high-set cheek bones only accented the hair style. She was positively aglow, her purple eyes catching the light from the many crystal chandeliers that hung above the pair. A simple smile was upon her face, and her cheeks a hint of rose.

She leaned forward, the uniform clinging gently to her petite chest. "You know, I think all this Hero of the Imperium stuff is getting to your head. You have been zoning out way too much lately" she said with genuine concern on her face. "It's like you are losing a part of yourself every day that goes on."

He brought a glass of iced water to his forehead, leaning it against his temple to sooth the shooting sensation of a headache that continued to pound at his temples, the whole day being one elongated display for the nobles. It was his duty to live up the expectations, but the carefully constructed facade of his appearance was beginning to show wear. Victoria took her right hand, pulling the ceremonial white glove off of it, before placing it in a chest pocket. Moving her hand, she place it upon his hand that held the glass, slowly moving it across to the other temple. He looked at her through the scarred eye that was now exposed.

"You are still here, you are still you. Stop losing yourself in your own mind, or you will never come out again."

She took her hand off of his, before placing it at the tip of the scar on his forehead, before tracing down the lines of his face to his chin.

"Victoria... there is something I want to talk to you about." he said. Her pulse quickened at his words, reading right away that something was on his mind, her heart pounding against her chest.

"Yes, sir?" she responded, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer. Part of her wanted it to be true.

"It will have to wait, we have guests on your six." He pulled away from her, allowing Victoria space to turn to face the guests that were incoming, two noble ladies by the looks of it.

"Will this day ever end?" Victoria said, almost pouting.

"Must be impotant people" Ilya said in a low tone as to not be heard. "Look at the way the heads are turning towards them, and how the crowd is actively parting about them".

The two women made themselves known, walking towards the two veterans that had caught their eye.

“Sir, Ma’am. I am Elizabeth Rayna, this is my dear friend Clara Lucero. We are very pleased to make your acquaintance and welcome you back to Vorlancia.” She was as beautiful as her voice was golden, easy on eyes, ears, and the heart. She stood shorter than Ilya, but by a length, though her height was augmented by heels.

“Hello.” Clara added, already glancing and smiling at the woman. The look of annoyance disappeared from Victoria's face as she tried to put the interruption past them.

“I hope you are enjoying your return so far?” said the noble again.

"Ilya Garin, and this is my aide Victoria Mays. Pleasure to make your acquaintance my lady" he said, before taking a bow. From this position he took her hand, giving it a kiss upon the back side, before straightening up and repeating the process again with Clara. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance as well".

"Greetings" Victoria said bowing to the other two ladies, before taking their hands into her own, repeating the same process. The four of them stood off to one side of the main dancing area, protected by the curvature of one of the large wooden staircases that lead to the second floor above.

"The fine nobles of Vorlancia have been much too kind to receive us in such a way. We have been treated beyond what we needed, and we are eternally grateful to your" he said.

He stood a little bit straighter, one hand on his glass of water, the other tucked into the side of one pants leg. Unlike the other veterans, he was still required to wear the ornamental chest piece, and the shifting of his arm brought reflections about the gathered people.

"And you, my lady, do you find the reception to your liking?" he asked.

Ghostwolf · May 10, 2014

As the Hero of the Imperium introduced himself and his aide, Elizabeth inclined her head towards them in greeting. As he bowed before her, she took the opportunity to quickly look him up and down appreciatively, taking in the sight of him. He cut an impressive figure in his uniform, looking every bit worthy of his title. Up close she could see the true extent of his scarring. It was worse than it originally appeared when she saw him on the holoscreen, running down the length of his face and somewhat hidden between the stubble that was growing in. Still, rather than being repulsed by it, Elizabeth found she rather liked it. It did very little to detract from his appearance ,instead adding to it, giving him that rugged, grizzled veteran look causing his outward appearance to portray his experience. She wanted to touch it, to find out how he earned it. She thought about feeing his rough stubble against her fingers, running her hands through his messy hair. Yes, from appearances, Ilya Garin might just be what Elizabeth needed to liven things up a bit. Yet out of everything, it was his eyes that drew her attention. There was something about them that captivated her, something different.

Full lips, painted a soft shimmering shade of pink, formed into a coy smile as he took her hand, pressing his lips to the skin, no doubt able to smell the subtle sweet fragrance that cloaked her. It was an action she was used to but she was slightly taken aback in this instance, surprised. It was an unexpected display of protocol to come from such a man. In the past, the Heroes and returning Veterans she had met had all been salutes, short sharp responses and stern words, or they stammered to get the simplest sentence out in her presence. A hint of colour began to bloom upon the pale skin of her cheeks as Elizabeth’s eyes met his as he straightened up.

He repeated the action with Clara who stood at Elizabeth’s side. Her dark hair was gathered over her shoulder, a pale yellow a-line dress with a pleated skirt brushed her curves teasingly, her figure fuller than Elizabeth’s. Silver threading and sequins adorned the bodice in spiral patterns, drawing attention to her considerable bust, while the neckline was low enough to show a great deal of tantalising décolletage, her breasts lifted high with a deep valley between them. She stood with her torso angled slightly towards the Aide, as if displaying her assets to the veteran. As Ilya bowed and took her hand, Clara nodded and smiled at him, taking the opportunity to give Elizabeth a look she knew to be one of approval.

Then it was Victoria’s turn to greet the nobles, starting with Elizabeth. She inclined her head politely, giving the woman a warm smile. She seemed to be at ease in the setting, certainly the most from the retinue that accompanied Ilya, if not the most relaxed veteran in the whole room. As Elizabeth looked at the woman, she almost felt a pang of jealousy that Clara had set eyes upon her first. She was rather beautiful, especially in the form hugging uniform and the way her hair accentuated the features of her face.

Then the Aide repeated the action, and Clara couldn’t help but grin slightly as the woman kissed her hand. Elizabeth knew what her friend would be thinking, or she could have a good guess at least. She would no doubt be thinking of better places the woman could put her lips. With that grin on her face, Clara was like a wolf. A predator tracking down her prey, stalking it and getting close, waiting to pounce. Elizabeth knew how her friend worked, for she was not much different herself. Clara would rush things however; eager to get the end result she wanted. Elizabeth was the more subtle of the pair, she was patient, she could wait for it to play out, enjoy the chase until the time was right, but in the end she always got what she wanted.

The introductions were done, and the Hero responded to her question.
“Good! I am pleased to hear that. The Governor and his friends do like to pride themselves on their hospitality. Do not be afraid to speak up if there is anything you need or would like that has not been provided. Someone will see to it” she spoke cheerily, her voice well mannered and clearly one belonging to the upper class, her eyes moving between Ilya and his Aide as she addressed both of them.

Then the Hero asked Elizabeth a question of his own. She thought for a moment, her lips pursed and parted slightly and her head rocked side to side gently as she formulated her opinion.
“Hm, yes, it’s acceptable, much better than some of those in the past. Although, I have to admit I find the whole thing a little…” she paused to search for a polite word. “Tiresome these days. I’ve witnessed so many, you see.”
“Oh, I don’t. I always find something that interests me.” Clara interrupted, taking that opportunity to look at Victoria.
“Well yes, there is always something to be enjoyed” Elizabeth nodded in agreement with her friend, smiling warmly at Ilya. “But for the most part, they are the same. It is the same ceremonies, the parade and the graduation, and then this reception. The same music is played, the same food is served, and the same people of Vorlancia attend. It just gets old after a while. I know I’m one of very few to share that opinion. But you understand what I mean, don’t you?”

A loud laugh drew her attention away from Ilya for a moment, the booming amusement of Iactus which had several guests looking in his direction as he listened to a tale. As she glanced around the room, her eyes met her father’s within the crowd. Upon seeing who she was speaking too, he gave her a reassuring smile and nodded approvingly. She was doing well so far, and there was no harm in playing along for now. She inclined her head towards her father, smiling politely, before turning her attention back to Ilya. The light on his breastplate caught her attention before she looked up at him from under long dark lashes.

“Your breastplate is a fine piece of craftsmanship Sir, but forgive me, I do not recognise the Saint? I’m afraid I was one to neglect my lessons as her child” Elizabeth asked him curiously, inclining her head in question.

Thaedael · May 11, 2014

Out of all the guests that had surrounded them time and time again, there were none that could match the beauty and hospitality of the two women that stood before Ilya Garin and Victoria Mays. Each of the nobles and their extended families basked in the reflected glory of the homecoming, and around distinguished soldiers did many gather. This was made more clear by the masses of swirling fabrics as more nobles came and went around the seven renown heroes, the crowd hitting a critical mass of bodies that pressed up against one another in an effort to see them. It was even more true when the daughter of the planetary governor took interest in one particular hero.

"It just gets old after a while. I know I’m one of very few to share that opinion. But you understand what I mean, don’t you?", she said, lips catching glimmers of light from the low-hanging chandelier above. To Ilya, it was clear as day exactly what she meant, and to his relief he was glad to feel that someone on the side opposite of the veterans was feeling much the same. He had returned from duty under much fanfare, to much the same songs and crowds and traditions. A sincere smile begun to form at the side of his face, a sliver of the man below the facade.

He cleared his throat gently, ready to speak, before the attention of the collected crowd was drawn to Iactus, his laughter stirring up the crowd as people responded with the turning of heads and hushed whispers. Victoria shook her head side to side, annoyed at the situation, a nervous tick at the corner of her eye as she closed them, furrows on her forehead forming. She was an Intelligence Officer to the Imperial Navy, attached to the Storm Troopers, she was trained to always be in the know, to be hyper aware of her situation and her surroundings so that combat could be better co-ordinateed with support from other units under her command. Rubbing at her forehead with her hand, she begun to ease up, remembering that the whole reason for being here was to allow the nobles to have their fun, and for the soldiers to appreciate the return home. She just wish she didn't know what was going on, despite being on the other side of the room.

"Pardon me my ladies, there is a small matter I must attend to. I need to remind my subordinates that while we are indeed here to have fun, we are not inclined to allow them to sully the reputation of the Imperial Navy. I beg your pardon, I will return shortly"

She gave a small nod to each before parting the crowd about her, making a bee-line towards the center of the trouble spot. "It's that damn sleeping bag story again." she muttered under her breath.

The laughter finally begun to ease up, the climax of the story just beginning. Iactus was finally able to regain composure and bring his booming laughter down. The gathered nobles and veterans were clearly amused, the after-glow of laughter present on many of their faces, redness from laughing and smiles from ear to ear. Vince once more begun, circling around Zach as he told the story with grandiose gestures, as if performing on stage to the finest of aristocrats.

"At this point..." he says, still trying to regain his own composure, laughter still fresh in his voice, tears from laughing so hard forming at the corner of his eyes.

"I thought the idiot went off and got himself killed in the middle of the night." he continues to walk in a semi circle, playing it up to the crowd around him, Zach sitting in the center of attention, redder than the Trukks of an Evil Sunz Waaagh.

"How was I to know the guy would get himself kidnapped. Unlike the rest of us that slept in cover, in rubble, or in holes, he slept in the middle of the open train station, completely open to all."

"I am telling you, I must have rolled down from the ledge in my sleep" Zach says, adamant in defense of his actions.

"Regardless, the man get's himself kidnapped. Now, you already heard a bit about what he had to say, but let me continue..."

Vince saw Victoria making a bee line for them, and thought quick on his feet, using the crowd to his advantage. "... by introducing you to Victoria Mays, the wonderful lady who found and saved our hopeless hero over here". He bowed down to her, dramatically, shifting the center of attention to her.

All around her people looked at her expectantly, begging her to continue the story. "Come on, just put me out of my misery, break it up already". The victim of the story pleaded to her in hushed tones, trying to get Victoria to end it.

"Remember when you ate my celebration rations on the ship?" she asked gently, making sure only Vince, Zach and herself could hear. Zach looked up at her, red in the face, and full of terror, the look of one about to get executed by a commissar for failing in his duties.

"I get this message coming in from Ilya Garin" she said, pointing with one gloved finger to the hero on the other side of the room. "He tells me one of his subordinates has gone missing, and that he fears the compromise of the mission is going to happen. The cultist of this planet are in possession of the most torturous methods of extracting information from mankind'

Vince backs up, wrapping an arm around Zach, and gently rocking him side to side, a shit-eating grin from ear to ear as he takes pleasure in his public humiliation.

"What they say about Vorlancian aggression is every bit as true in the field as it is said here tonight. Imagine the look upon my face, when I come to meet Storm Troopers from your world for the first time."

She turned looking at the crowd. She held herself well, but she was out of her element.

"He is battered, bloodied, and with chipped teeth. He is face down atop of one of the last cultist, his body constricted by a sleeping bag... head-butting the man all the while, even though the idiot knocked himself out doing it"

“Your breastplate is a fine piece of craftsmanship Sir, but forgive me, I do not recognise the Saint? I’m afraid I was one to neglect my lessons as her child” The question snapped Ilya back to the two ladies that had remained at his side.

He looked at Elizabeth, before turning to Clara, noticing the way she had looked at Victoria as she walked away, mistaking it for disappointment.

"One minute my lady" he responds to Elizabeth, before turning to address Clara.

"I do sincerely apologize Mrs. Lucero, Officer Mays has never been one to sit still and exchange pleasantries. For the majority of us, mingling with the nobles is to be expected, and we are at ease with it"

He had lied, and he knew it, but his face did little to show this betrayal of their confidence in him. The majority of the returning soldiers had been trained on the planet, and were at some point or another exposed to the nobles. While it did not necessarily make them at ease with the nobles, they had at least some exposure to the process. All but Victoria. She was from a different system all together, a hive world rife with crime and hatred.

"However, Officer Mays is not from Vorlancia, and is prone to forgetting her mannerisms. She does not slight you, for she is making sure that specialist Gallant doesn't get too out of hand. After all, it wouldn't be good hearing the true exploits of our finest soldiers in such a light now, would it?" He had a warm smile on his face.

"You would do best to chase her down, and corner her somewhere more quiet. That is the best way in dealing with her." He spoke with experience before once more turning around to face Elizabeth. She was the woman whom had been looking him up and down since arriving, and whom showed an interest in him. He knew it was what he stood for, and not he himself, but of all those he held an audience with, it was her and her alone that seemed to have any sincerity to her.

"My lady, it does not surprise me in the least that such a saint has gone unrecognized by you. He has gone unrecognized by all whom laid eyes upon him tonight."

The breast plate was as much an honor as it was a burden of conscious to him. To be likened to the saint after whom he was named was a mixed blessing, for he was remembered for good and bad.

"He was a saint of little renown beyond our own world, and one often pushed to the edges of idolization. He was the Imperial Saint Iyla Laurent Garin, the People's Shepard." he paused, tracing along the face of the saint as he spoke, an action he had done many times since receiving the piece.

"He was known for saving the lives of the citizens of the Imperium, no matter the cost."

Ghostwolf · May 12, 2014

People had slowly begun to gather around them, the room filled with small groups of intermingled nobles and military personnel, conversing with each other, telling stories and tall tales, building contacts and laying the foundations for various deals. Elizabeth was aware of it happening around their little group, nobles getting closer and starting to surround them, taking an interest in what they were talking about, who the Governor’s daughter was talking to. They were keeping their distance for now, not pressing in too close, but half listening to her conversation while engaging in their own.

Elizabeth just to say caught it as she finished her question, witnessing the smile that was just starting to play at the corner of his lips, a symbol of recognition and acknowledgement of her words. That he understood how she felt about the ceremonies, and that he felt the same. She responded with a soft smile of her own, awaiting his response but they were interrupted by the raucous laughter of the Senschal.

While Elizabeth was focused on the source of Iactus’ laughter, after she had briefly glanced over to see what was going on, Clara had returned her attention to the uniformed Aide, watching the woman from the corner of her eye. She noticed her annoyance, the way she shook her head, the way Victoria’s brows furrowed as she closed her eyes which of course Clara found to be a rather cute expression and more than a little endearing. She found herself smiling a little as she watched the Officer as she rubbed her forehead, exasperated.

"Pardon me my ladies, there is a small matter I must attend to. I need to remind my subordinates that while we are indeed here to have fun, we are not inclined to allow them to sully the reputation of the Imperial Navy. I beg your pardon, I will return shortly"

Victoria spoke up, causing Clara to turn to look at the woman fully and drawing Elizabeth’s attention back to her own group, informing the women that she would be leaving their presence to speak to the members of Ilya’s retinue who were currently at the centre of the large gathering’s attention. Unable to hide her mild disappointment Clara frowned, her lips pouting slightly.

“No, of course, that’s understandable. We mustn’t have that.” Clara replied followed by a nod of her own and a soft smile, with Elizabeth mirroring the action. Clara watched the Aide depart, it would seem she would have to wait a little longer to try her luck and see if the woman would succumb to her charm, Although she was mildy disappointed she could no longer converse and admire the woman from up close Clara was ever the opportunist, taking the chance to cast her eyes over Victoria’s body, appreciating her rear as she walked away.

"I do sincerely apologize Mrs. Lucero, Officer Mays has never been one to sit still and exchange pleasantries. For the majority of us, mingling with the nobles is to be expected, and we are at ease with it" The Hero’s apology drew her eyes away from watching the departing woman navigating through the tight packed groups.

“There’s no need to apologise, none at all. As you say, some are more at ease in these situations than others. I’m sure she’ll pick it up the more time she is exposed to them.” Clara gave the man a friendly understanding smile. If she got her way, she intended to introduce and expose the Aide to a lot of things.

"However, Officer Mays is not from Vorlancia, and is prone to forgetting her mannerisms. She does not slight you, for she is making sure that specialist Gallant doesn't get too out of hand. After all, it wouldn't be good hearing the true exploits of our finest soldiers in such a light now, would it?"

“Really, is that so? I’m not sure I would have ever noticed. Then it is even more forgivable, even though there is no slight forgive in the first place. Pleasantries and protocol and such mean little to Elizabeth and I, it just tends to be unnecessary and get in the way of things.”

“Yes, at times it does, I agree. For example, I don’t think it would be too bad to hear such things in that way. Instead I think it would be good to hear as close to the truth about what serving in the Guard is like. Us nobles of Vorlancia tend to have a very rose-tinted view of what war amongst the star is like, I think hearing the true reality might be good for some of us.”

“Now now Lizzie, let’s not get political right now. Especially not today.”

“Yes of course. Sorry Clara you’re right. Best to save that for another time” Elizabeth apologised, thinking of her Father’s warnings and pleas for her to behave. “Apologies Sir,” she said as she closed her eyes and shook her head gently, “It’s a habit of mine, I forget my surroundings and the company I am with.” Elizabeth was known for having quite strong views vastly different to the majority of the Vorlancian elite and speaking her mind had caused trouble and negative consequences more than a few times. At this time, in this place, with nobles gathered around to hear was not a wise place to share her opinions.

"You would do best to chase her down, and corner her somewhere more quiet. That is the best way in dealing with her."

“Well, I think I shall attempt to do that then. My good Sir, Elizabeth, please excuse me,” she smiled sincerely to them both, before directing her words to her friend. “I shall speak to you later.” Elizabeth recognised the tone and the curl at the corner of her smile as one which said “Have fun, I want to hear all the details later”. With that Clara curtsied her goodbye to them both, and turned to manoeuvre her way through the groups of people, responding to their pleasantries as she passed, a forced brittle smile upon her lips.

________________________________________

Clara made her way through the satellite groups orbiting the larger one at the middle of the room, making her way closer to the front of those gathered with soft smiles, sweet words, and fluttering eyelashes. One of the men from Ilya’s retinue was telling a story and circling his friend dramatically, while he stood there red faced from embarrassment. Victoria stood beside them, taking up the mantle of the tale as it was passed to her. It was nearing the end of the story, and Clara stood side by side with fellow nobles, the newly raised officers, and those who had returned from the PDF as they listened in with amusement, aspiration, and jealousy. Every eye was on the trio, waiting, while Clara was focused solely on Victoria. She could sense the woman was uncomfortable, a little awkward with the role she had been given. She would have to take her out of this setting; somewhere the Aide was more comfortable where she could be more herself.

The end of the story came, and the circle burst into laughter. Clara chuckled, politely raising her hand to cover her mouth as she did so, laughing from behind it but not as heartily as those she stood with. Perhaps it would have been more amusing if she listened from the start, but nevertheless it seemed like a story that had been told on several occasions, and the laughter was soon followed by applause. Clara joined in, her eyes fixed on Victoria, an amused smile on her lips.
________________________________________

"My lady, it does not surprise me in the least that such a saint has gone unrecognized by you. He has gone unrecognized by all whom laid eyes upon him tonight."

Elizabeth frowned; her full lips pouted slightly, a look of disappointment spreading across her features. “Then that is a great shame. Forgive me Sir, and forgive us. I’m afraid we are often ignorant of many things those of us who sit atop this ivory tower,” she smiled apologetically, sorrowfully. “And please, call me Beth. There needs to be no formality with me.”

"He was a saint of little renown beyond our own world, and one often pushed to the edges of idolization. He was the Imperial Saint Iyla Laurent Garin, the People's Shepard. He was known for saving the lives of the citizens of the Imperium, no matter the cost."

Her blue eyes lowered to look over his breastplate again; taking in the craftsmanship and watching the Hero brush his fingers over the Saint. She remained silent for a moment, just admiring the work, taking in the scene that was depicted.

“He sounds like a great man, deserving of his Sainthood. He is your namesake?” She questioned, finally pulling her eyes away and back to his face. “One that I’m sure you done proud and more than lived up to.” She smiled softly at him, her expression one of sincerity mixed with hints of sorrow. She imagined that to be named after such a Saint could be a hardship, forever mindful of their great deeds, forever using them as a comparison, trying to do their name justice.

And Elizabeth had the feeling that the Ilya before her had done just that, he had followed the actions and matched the reputation of his namesake too well.

Thaedael · May 13, 2014

The two of them stood across from one another in an almost intimate distance from each other, the space afforded to them only marginally better now that Clara had gone off under his suggestion. It was not his intention to have been left alone with any of the nobles, especially not one that commanded as much respect as the lady before him. He was left to fend for himself, his aide away from his side, the one that had kept him anchored no matter the situation since she entered under his wing decades ago. However, this was not a war zone, and the people before him only had the best of intentions, as far as scheming and rubbing elbows with one another went. Though he couldn't help but notice how they circled around him like a carrion bird circled above a battlefield. Were it not for the individual tending to him already, he was sure they would be upon him in an instant. In this analogy, she would be the angel of mercy, the medicae that would tell him whether he would live to die another day, or be put to rest on this nameless field, his duty completed. He shook that analogy from his head, replacing the scarred landscape of a bombarded city park with that of the nobles around him in vibrant swirling colors. An uneasy smile came to rest upon his face, the action trying to deter others from perceiving what he felt was inner torment, before he focused once more. He had been spacing out too much, it was exactly like he had always said... he was losing bits of himself, the scars only now beginning to ache under healed wounds.

"Yes my, lady." he said, answering her question in kind. "Beth" he added in, referring to her by her first name.

It was good to do away with such formalities. Outside of battle, outside the ivory tower of this spire, she would have been his equal, a man and a woman together conversing as if it were the most natural of things to do. However, she was a noble, and he, a decorated soldier, and such pleasantries were now frowned upon, the very actions of having a simple talk having repercussions and being open to interpretations. There would be subtexts, and webs within webs, a simple talk being construed to any hidden political agenda, every action: a political intrigue. He was a strategist, and could appreciate the complexity of her world, but that made it no less intimidating to him. To him, it was a simple talk, and from the way she spoke freely of her mind, to him it appeared to be just as genuine a talk from her, a sincere interest in his person. However, it was easy to see the way that she commanded attention from everyone around her, that already an agenda was at play. Just who was she?

"Yes. I was named after the great saint. My mother..." he stopped trying to figure out how to give the origin of his name a better story than what actually happened, or in other words, trying to find a way to put it into context while keeping out the unpleasant details.

"My mother was an educated woman, hailing from Vorlancia. She was a beautiful lady then, much like yourself, and had fallen in love with a handsome young man from the Imperial Navy on leave here on Vorlancia."

He stopped, realizing that he was probably boring her with the trivialities of how he got his name, as opposed to having just said yes. Around him people drew closer, the unbearable heat pooling off their bodies as they pressed around him , leaving only but a small space between the two.

"They fell in love, much the way you would expect people in more romantic times would. He would go to her, serenading her with his instruments below her university's window at night. Truly a story befitting of a fairy-tale told to children before bed. However, it was not always to be this way, for he had returned to the service when his leave was completed..."

The battle had been fierce, and all about them the corpses laid fresh, their blood pooling around the metal floors of the ship's bridge. The consoles were left smashed, their metal frames buckled in upon the weight of explosions and impacts of greater force. All about them the green glass of instruments laid scattered, cracking under the armored feet of the Inquisitorial Storm Troopers that had boarded the infantry transport ship. The sirens continued to wail, their haunting tone echoing about the metal graveyard the bridge had become, the spinning orange lights giving an already more visceral look to the horror that laid before them.

"By His throne..." one of the medicae muttered under her breath, looking away from the carnage on the bridge. She couldn't bear to look at the carnage before her, the after effects of a Chaos Space Marine boarding leaving the room tainted. About them the maddening scrawls of the language of the dark gods were written in the blood of the recently massacred. They lined the three walls of the bridge, starting at eye level down to the floor, all but the main wall where windows once were. In their place was the shielding that had slid into place automatically after the room had been vented into space.

The very written words themselves caused the eye to hurt, tracing upon lines and symmetry that were impossible, yet possible, causing one's mind to invert upon itself. The medicae had been warned to not look at anything that was tainted in such a way, let alone any potential corpses of cultists or chaos marines that had been left on board. One of the medicae fell to the filth of the floor, convulsing and speaking in tongues that were dark and ominous, before his life was taken from him, brain matter splattered against the floor as he was executed by a hell pistol from the lead Storm Trooper. The other medicae cried out in terror at the action, but were held by restraint by the remaining inquisitorial storm troopers.

The lead man in the group walked forward, across his chest an Inquisitorial seal hanging low upon a golden chain, a sign of his affiliation to the Inquisitor that had demanded the boarding party. The soldiers garbed in deep crimson armor parted, allowing the man through to the middle of the room. It was his objective to find out the implications that such an attack had, if there were any at all, before scuttling the naval troop transport.

"It would appear there is little to go by." the man stated with hatred on his words. "The heretics left no clue as to their design." He spoke into a hidden com-bead in the neck of his carapace armor. "Our duty here is done, cleanse the remaining offensive materials, gather what data you can, and scuttle the ship" he ordered the gathered Inquisitorial Storm Troopers.

There was no need to tell them twice, and already teams moved in, pairs of data specialists entering cognitive banks with hand-held dark age technology to tear at their data banks, while others thumbed on the ignition to portable melta guns and flamers, the hiss of super heating material and pilot flames igniting. One such pair kicked open a door to the captain's quarters, before hearing the whimpered crying of a lady before them. "Sir, we have a live one" the storm trooper had called across to the room, halting the acolyte of the Inquisitor. He turned, annoyance on his face.

She had remained on the floor, covered in what he presumed to have been the blood of the victims in the adjoining bridge. She was on the floor, clutching the gold plated idol of a saint he recognized well, the Shepard of the people, a popular saint for navy officers that operated transports such as this. She was crying to herself, her knuckles white at the idol she grasped in tight hands, her face pale, lips blue and hypothermic.

"What happened here?" he demanded, not caring for her state of being. Lives were at risk here. "What did they do to you" he shouted.

She broke into tears further, wailing loudly at the forced recollection of what had happened on the bridge.

"I was visiting my husband from the planet he had been stationed at when they attacked" she cried out. "We had been told to get as many of the soldiers and civilians off the planet as we could, the world was at siege by the crimson tide. We made good on our escape, breaking through the lines of the enemy fleet, before breaking through to the warp. That's where it all went wrong. We were assaulted by... what could only be described as demons in the warp."

The acolyte was shocked, and agitated. Interrupting the story of the woman, he spoke into his voice bead again. "It is confirmed, they were jumping from another world under attack by the Crimson Tide. Access the navigator's cognitor banks, find out what vector they took through the immaterium."

"We had to leave the warp, and we hailed to all nearby friendlies on all channels of communications, but it was too late. They had caught up with our convoy, and made short work of the lighter cruisers that had made the jump with us. The Pride of Crestfallen had taken a severe pounding from the main ship of the enemy fleet, before engaging it's warp drives to over-load and collapse space around it, taking with it several scores of the lighter ships as well as damaging a few of the larger ones. Then came the boarding..."

The woman coughed, red blood bubbling at the corner of her mouth. Arterial blood, probably from the lung, she didn't have long to live he gaged. She had slumped against the edge of the bed, revealing the girth of her stomach, the woman was clearly pregnant.

"Get the medicae in here quickly." He shouted into the bridge from the doorway with due haste. They had rushed in, carrying equipment and escorted by Storm Troopers. Before long they were taking her pulse, and that of the child she was burdened with.

"Will he be alright?" she asked to him, pleading with her eyes.

"By the good graces of the Emperor, he shall" he lied to her, comforting her in her remaining moments.

The medicae had finished their initial assessment in a manner of minutes, leaving the room empty but for the weeping girl, and the sounds of their instruments. "The baby is in distress but otherwise is fine. The mother on the other hand..." he nodded his head from side to side, meaning that she didn't have long to live.

"Then do as you must, save the child" the man ordered.

The mother nodded, understanding full well what they intended to do. The remaining medicae had filled into the room, moving the woman onto the bed, the only intact surface of the whole area. She had held onto his hand, the caesarean section being performed on her without having putting under, her voice screaming as they cut, terrible wails echoing out the room and putting even the veteran soldiers on edge at her pain, stern looks across their faces as they tried to continue their assigned tasks.

"What will you name him." he asked, trying to show compassion in the last moments. He had long since ran out of compassion in the service to the Inquisitor, understanding full well the horrors of the universe and of his fellow man. It was but a dying woman's wish to have something to cling unto, to be symbolic of the good faith in humanity, and it was this which he fulfilled.

"We hadn't come up with a name yet..." she screamed again, before catching her breath. "Its why I came to see him. How I wanted to hold him so..." she said, fighting with her consciousness.

Ilya Garin. It was his name, and to only this name he would answer. His face was drawn into a serious contemplating look, the crowd looking on to him in hushed silence. He had told the story as it happened, glossing over the brutal nature of the engagement, and the truth of Daemons which was to be kept from the public's mind.

He had memorized the file by the earliest age he learned to read, having read the report that the acolyte had submitted to the Schola Progenium so many times as a child that it was still fresh in his mind to this day. His mother had died, leaving him unnamed, his father long lost in ways that were still not known to him today. He had not known their love or care, nor would he ever.

It was by his father's actions in coordinating the evacuation process, in his stubborn refusal to give in to the tide of chaos, and through his actions alone during the intense battle that had last only twenty minutes in space, that he was given the chance to at a real life. A life in the service to the Imperium, and his Emperor. His father never received recognition for his actions, the majority of the story censored from all but the internal machines of the Ordo Hereticus and their allied Ecclesiarchy. He was that honor, having been named after the saint in honor of the lives his father saved, but tens of thousands in the hundreds of thousands that had made the initial escape.

"My mother had come to see him, to give news that she was pregnant with his child" he said with a stern face.

The story he told was sobering, and many of the nobles had drawn quiet, the area immediately around him silenced by the tale as he continued to tell it. A lot of the returning soldiers came from the Schola Preogenium, but with it, the price of admission was one of blood and duty, for only orphans were sent there, a sullen reminder of the price of their freedom.

"She hadn't even named me yet, not even knowing my gender, because she wanted to hold unto that last little bit of surprise when he met him for the last time. She had died during the operation, a look of relief upon her face as the man consoled her, telling her of the heroic actions her husband had done. She still hadn't named me, and never would have the chance, in one hand she clutched his hand, the other a statue of a golden saint you see upon my breast today, before taking her last breath." he pounded at the the breast plate gently with the back of his bionic hand, a light chiming noise.

"She was a historian, much like many that inhabit the spires these days on Vorlancia, and had always taken interest in the study of Saints. It was probably this fascination with them that lead her to love my father. It was with this love of glories past she had brought a golden statuette of the saint with her to ward his trips with safety. It was because of his actions, and her education that I was named after the saint."

He stopped, taking a moment to relax his throat, having talked for nearly twenty minutes on the whole affair.

"It is not easy to be taken from everything you never had a chance to experience, and being placed into the Schola Progenium. You are gathered with people from different races, creeds, and planets, the only thing in common being the lack of parents. You are taught to love the Imperium, with unwavering dedication, unwavering affection. It is through this love that bonds are forged, where characters built, and faith tempered into an unyielding sword." he sounded much like the propganda he was fed as a kid. Try as he might, it was every bit as true as when it was told to him, and like when he was a kid, many of the gathered nobles disregarded the hardships of what it meant to become the things they had become. The majority of them only did the grueling basic training that was required of the Planetary Defense Force.

"It is even harder to be trained in the ways that many of us here tonight have been graced with being taught. For they are designed to break your body and mind, you strength and resolve. For the privileged of paying back our education we are taught to lay down our lives in the defense of our ideals, no price too high for the very soul that the Schola had given us. A sense of purpose, a sense of resolve, and the training to do so."

He finally drew back to Elizabeth before him. It was impossible to have an intimate conversation with her without someone in the crowd having butted in, or asked him to repeat himself and the like, and so the initial question had spiraled out of control to the point he decided to address them all with the story of how he got his name.

"There were times when I thought I would die. There were times where I wished I would die. Being taught to fight while blind folded in an environment where gravity changes. Being made to swim in an oxygen deprived room. These are hardships that prepare the body. Being told about heroes of old. Educated about saints. These were lessons that prepared the mind. Fighting each-other as a team, unwavering loyalty in one another, these prepare the soul. I had to deal with all of this while dealing with the name of a Saint, one from our own world mind you" he laughed out loud to the gathered crowd, his laughter not being returned from the sobered crowd.

"They had special attention for me, trying that much harder, pushing me that much more. Fitting isn't it, for it appeared to work had it not? Being instilled with a strong sense of justice and love for the Imperium, it was no wonder that I had repeated the very same tragedies of those before me, my father and my namesake."

He had used a an interesting word. Tragedy. The word echoed in his mind, realizing that he should have used a different word to continue to look the part, but this was what it truly was. Like those before him, he expended the lives of his men to save many more. Was no price too high to save a life? He had sold the lives of those under his life at a high price, saving many more than he had lost, but was it all for naught.

"Have I done the name proud? I can only pray that history will see me that way." For I do not, he thought to himself. About him people begun to chatter once more as his story came to an end, leaving the two in awkward silence again. He was lost in his own thoughts, the massacre at the hive world of Fair Frozen fresh in his mind, his bionic arm aching in quiet sympathy to the limb and lives lost there.

His headache had finally abated from the silence the crowd had graced him with, leaving his head free to swim in doubts and memories of the last battle, the one that had been names as the Hero Maker by the nobles in this room upon their return, for all seven of them had been honored for it. Had he done the his namesake proud?

"I..." he said, talking to Elizabeth, and to Elizabeth alone. "I need to excuse myself, my lady" he said, before parting the crowd about him, before heading off towards a hallway that lead off from the main ballroom. The path stood upon, people shifting about and dispersing as the hero left, leaving a clear path for him to follow him to a more secluded part of the governor's estate.

The applause was loud about the three of them, the crowd cheering and laughing all the while tears of laughter formed freshly on many faces. Zach was thoroughly embarrassed, but her version of the story did not leave Vince unscathed either, both of them red in the face as the girls laughed and hollered. However, it only made them all the more popular, leaving them surrounded in their own personal harems of girls as Victoria made her way out from the crowd. Many of the men followed her, but she paid no heed, intent on going back to Ilya Garin. There was no other man for her, she only wanted him, and with her second lease on life, it would take an army of men to stop her from getting what she wanted. That was her goal in the coming days at the governor's house. Heading in the direction from whence she originally came, she was confronted with the smile and applaud of Clara, who smiled directly at her, and her alone.

"I beg your pardon. I got suckered into playing their game" she said, a sense of humor surrounding the girl that was not present when she was with Ilya earlier. "I am glad to make your presence was more my lady. Shall we go and meet with our friends?" She asked, extending an arm for her to take, forming a simple loop in which she could feed her arm through walking arm in arm.

Ghostwolf · May 14, 2014

As the smile crossed the Hero’s face, one that Elizabeth looked somewhat forced if she was being honest, after he had appeared to be lost elsewhere for a moment, she returned it with one of her own, patient and reassuring. A thankful, approving nod followed when he referred to her by name rather than title. She watched him pause, thinking for what to say, the crowd circling them and pushing in a little closer to hear the great Ilya Garin tell his first tale, to tell the story of the origin of his name. He began to speak, setting the scene, and Elizabeth smiled sweetly as he referred to her as beautiful, mouthing a quiet thank you in response.

As he paused, Elizabeth moved closer to him, ushered nearer by the crowd pushing in about them. She inclined her head, looking up at him with interest in her big blue eyes. The Hero intrigued the young woman, she wanted to get to know him, to know more about him, and so although she was not usually keen on stories of love and romance, she was prepared to listen to his. A gentle smile on her full lips, Elizabeth idly with the ends of her hair as the crowd hushed, and they waited for Ilya to continue the story of his name.

They were not expecting the story they were told, they were not prepared. For the most part they stood quiet, listening and unmoving. Some of the nobles occasioned butted in, asking for clarification or for Ilya to repeat something, but those interruptions did nothing to detract from the story Ilya was telling. By the end, they all stood silent. Some of the women in the crowed were crying softly, silently dabbing at the tears that fell from the eyes with fine monogrammed handkerchiefs supplied by the men they stood with, their faces equally solemn, their mouths drawn into tight lines.

Elizabeth’s eyes never left his face as he told his story, reciting it from memory, as if it was a script for a great dramatic tragedy he had memorised long ago. Elizabeth thought that it was likely he had, she doubted anyone at the Schola had personally told him this story and so he must have read it, learnt it from somewhere. For almost twenty minutes she looked up at him. She had watched the expression change on his face, hardening as he recalled the tale. Then again as it finished, as he paused, resting his voice, before beginning again, explaining further what life at the Schola was like.

As he spoke, the Hero seemed appreciative, thankful, of what the Schola had done for him. Reciting words that no doubt had been fed to him over and over as he was growing up, why he was lucky to be there, what he would get out of it. But Elizabeth picked up an edge to his words that the others in the crowd did not, she had almost missed it herself. That the privileged of Vorlancia had no true idea of what being a student of the Schola meant, what the orphans of the Imperium were put through in His name, what was still left to come.

She was taken aback as he finally returned his attention to her, a small gasp escaping between her lips as she was faced with the sudden intensity of his gaze. Elizabeth stood before Ilya, her face solemn, lips turned down into a slight frown, as she looked up at him with sad eyes. They stood at the centre of a silent crowd, the anomaly within the mirth of the ballroom. His words turned introspective, retrospective, talking of the past challenges his face as his tone became almost bitter.

Elizabeth was slowly beginning to understand, to get a sense of the hardship those who had returned to Vorlancia had experienced, what Ilya had experienced, in His name and for the betterment of the Imperium. Tragedy. What had he gone through? What had he done, what had he sacrificed to be here today, who had he sacrificed? She couldn’t even begin to imagine, she didn’t want to imagine.

"Have I done the name proud? I can only pray that history will see me that way." It seemed for a moment as if he was asking the question directly to her, demanding an answer, asking for her reassurance that he had. Until she realised that he was asking himself, asking Vorlancia. He fell silent, and the crowd began to increase in volume again as they started to talk amongst themselves, moving away and giving the two some space, removing the pressure.

Elizabeth stood silent, watching the Hero before her. The sad, reflective expression upon her features not because of his words, but because she was starting to understand just a little of what he had been through. What the majority of Vorlancia were ignorant to. The far-away look had returned to his eyes, he was elsewhere, on some Emperor forsaken planet far away from the extravagant ballroom. All was not well with the man, Elizabeth was sure of it. He seemed haunted, by what she could not yet tell or know. His past, the friends he had lost, the things he had seen, the things he had done. It could be all of them. The Governor’s daughter did not know what to say. She wanted to take him in her arms, hold him tightly, and tell him that those things were long gone. Today was not meant to go like this, she was supposed to enjoy herself while not embarrassing her father, she was not meant to have her heart touched and her eyes opened.

“I need to excuse myself, my lady"

“Wait, Il-“ she started, but he was already gone, moving through the crowd. Elizabeth paused for a moment, unsure of what to do, her closed had pressed to her chest. She looked over to where Clara had went, but she could not see her for the groups of tightly packed people involved in conversation. With a mildly irritated sigh, she set off after him, making her way through the pockets of nobles and their guests.

“Ah Lady Elizabeth, I was wondering if I could intro-”
“Not now Sir” cutting off sharply the elderly man and his son she swiftly passed. She had to catch up with Ilya.

________________________________

Clara noticed that the Aide seemed to have a following of men once the story was finished and the crowd had began to disperse, but she was not one to be put off by that as Victoria approached her, and spoke.

“Oh, I understand. It happens, besides we both know that men need a woman’s help every now and then” she smiled as she spoke, taking in the improved mood of the Veteran. Clara glanced at the arm Victoria had extended before smiling once more and taking it with her own, positioning it so it barely brushed against the side of her breast, before resting the hand of her unlinked arm on Victoria’s, bringing them closer together.

“A marvellous idea” she nodded, leading them away from the circle where Zach and Vince were still surrounded. She began to manoeuvre them through the crowds, the small tightly packed groups of people, heading back to where she had left Elizabeth and Ilya. As they walked, Clara could feel and see the eyes on her as she walked arm in arm with Victoria. Here and there they watched her, both men and women. Some eyes had belonged to those she had past experience and engagements with, others were still hoping for their chance. All were gazing at her longingly, and eying Victoria jealously. Clara found a smirk making its way to her lips. The pleasure of company was very much desired by the upper class of Vorlancia, in more ways than one. The only daughter of Lucas Lucero, the founder and owner of one of the largest business and trading empires in the system, Clara would inherit quite a fortune, and that made the woman a fantastic marriage prospect. However, her attention tonight was focused solely on the woman beside her, ignoring the looks and stares the two were receiving as they made their way through the crowded ballroom.

By the time they had returned to where she had left Elizabeth and Ilya, after stopping to exchange a few small words and pleasantries with some very select people, the Governor’s daughter and the Hero were gone.

“Well, I’m sure I left them here. I’m afraid I’m always misplacing things” she joked, throwing Victoria a small smile. “They can’t have gone far.”

________________________________

When she eventually caught up with him, he was standing on one of the open balconies that spread out from one of main hallways and looked out over the sea of Vorlancia, the plaza of the level below them visible, a sea of ivory buildings. The afternoon was turning into evening, the earlier bright sun of the afternoon beginning to fall while on the horizon the sky began to darken and cloud gathered. She stood watching him for a moment as he stood in the open air, looking out over the world seemingly lost in thought.

She approached slowly, announcing her arrival, “Sir?” She moved closer, saying his name softly as she drew level with him on the balcony “Ilya?”

Thaedael · May 15, 2014

Victoria was glad that she was able to walk arm-in-arm with Clara, using her as a tactical screen to cover her retreat from the gathering of men who wanted to talk to her. She had grown disinterested in them early, those that had served as officers and other prestigious ranks because of their birthright and not merit alone. They had made bold claims, and spread stories that were fundamentally false, improbable, or with such garnishes upon them that it had insulted her to the very core, especially after having served under and with men who had given their lives in the name of the Emperor. As for the nobles, she knew not of how to deal with them, only having been taught the most basic of etiquette by Ilya Garin on the long journey towards his home planet. Ilya... how he taught her to dance, or even eat properly, spending almost every free moment with her as he taught her the ways of his home planet. She blushed at the thought of him again, before the tug at her arm was once more bringing her to reality.

Upon her arm hung the beauty that intimidated her. She grew up on a hiveworld, in the lower spire, where crime was a way of life. She did not know that people could live in such a way. Their clothes, their hairstyle, their make-up, it was all as foreign to her as the xenos were to the nobles. The woman to her side, who held her arm ever so close to her breast, made her realize just how unwomanly she had been throughout the years of service in the Imperial Navy. Clara had held an upright posture, much like herself, however she held it naturally, and with ease, that made her seem all the more graceful. Victoria? It was as stiff as being at attention on a military parade. The way Clara moved caused her dress to sensually move, her hips swaying as she went, a womanly Je ne sais quoi aura about her. One that turned heads from side to side as they parted the crowd, which Victoria attributed to her appearance and personality, and not for the fact that it was Victoria coupled with her that made them look on with envy. She on the other hand, looked martial. The way she moved was stiff, disciplined, lacking in any personality or femininity.

She wore a formal military uniform, much like the rest that had returned home on the Aquila landers earlier. A simple black vest, with imperial eagles for buttons. Across her shoulders, rank chevrons, and across her chest: honors. Simple white gloves, black slacks, and polished leather shoes. Where as Clara's magnificent breasts were pushed up and together to accent her bust, Victoria's were small, and hidden under a uniform that pressed down upon them, diminishing them so that only the medals across her chest were accented, to which she had many.

After much pleasantries in which she nodded, or followed the lead of the girl she chaperoned, (which in reality was actually an inverse in roles in all but appearances), they had finally made their way back to where Ilya and Elizabeth last were, only to notice that they had disappeared. Victoria wanted to blame their slow meandering route they had taken, but thought better of it, instead looking to Clara with a smile.

"The fun in losing things, my Lady, is finding them again. You have an excellent intelligence officer at your literal arm. I specialize in finding people." She brushed a glove hand over Clara's free arm that had hung at her side for most of the early evening, reassuring her.

"Though I am parched, and could go for a drink first. I am sure he is finally having a good time, finding pieces of himself again. No need to go and distract him from it" she said. Her outward smile was supposed to be perfect, pleasurable and charismatic even, however inside she battled with herself. She knew it wasn't the case, and that he was actually losing pieces of himself. He had been more distant, and shutting them all out from his mind ever since that incident. She shook her head. He had ordered her to have fun, and with Clara, fun was indeed to be had.

"Lead the way my lady."

The hallway had opened up onto many more doors and windows, with no clear indication as to where he was headed. It was suffocating, it was drowning him. Their expectations, his own expectations. On the battlefield, there was no time for self doubt, no time for inflection, no time to care. Every free moment since they had left their last engagement, he had time to think. Thinking was his enemy. He wanted to be sick to his stomach, he wanted to rip of his arm. He wanted to stop caring, and enter a state of emotionless oblivion. He found a view from a pair of double french doors, their large glass windows opening upon a balcony which overlooked much of the spire. Fresh air, that's what his body needed.

Elizabeth had found him. He had stood against the fine stone edging of the grand balcony, one of many that lined this side of the governor's palace, stretching out as far as the ends of both sides of the palace from either side of him, with others above and below in a tiered manner. He had his shined boots fed through two of the vertical stone slats that kept the railing up, leaning against the railing, and over looking the city he had grown up in, admiring how it had changed, and how calming it was.

"Elizabeth" he said, nodding with his back to her still. Atop the railing were his discarded gloves, the ends of themselves tucked inside one another, and left to hang slightly over the edge. Against the base of the railing where his foot rested, was the breastplate, left discarded and standing upright, it's form glittering in the softer light of the sunset.

He didn't know what to say, he didn't have anything to say. The only thing that came to his mind were things unfitting for a lady of her caliber to hear.

"I beg your pardon for leaving without proper goodbyes. I just needed some space."

He finally pulled his leg down from where it stood before turning to face her. The low sitting sun on the horizon illuminated him from behind, changing the way he was lit. Unlike in the grand ballroom where he looked every part the man they all thought him to be he, he looked reflective, full of sorrow, and every bit as vulnerable as a person lost in the world.

The front of his uniform was drenched in sweat where the ceremonial breastplate had been, the formal uniform below open by a few buttons at the collar of his neck down to his chest. Defined muscles glistened with sweat beads, a few visible scars across his pectoral muscles. It wasn't the only thing that caught the light of the sun, for the hand of his bionic arm was exposed, and caught the light as he shifted it up to his face, pulling hair up and off his head, the beret having long since been tossed to the side of the balcony.

"It is a pleasure to meet with one that would speak her mind so freely again." He took her hand once more, before bowing to kiss it.

Ghostwolf · May 15, 2014

As they had worked the room moving through the tightly packed groups in their effort to reach where Ilya and Elizabeth once stood, and a little so Clara could show off Victoria to the gathered noblemen and women if she was being honest, displaying the Aide as the one whose company she had chosen for the duration of the reception and a little longer she hoped, Clara had noticed the stiffness within the woman. Victoria’s movements lacked the inherent femininity and grace that Clara’s own did, they were disciplined and precise, each action measured. Efficient was the word that came to mind. Through the way she behaved and interacted with the nobles they had spoken to, Clara could tell the woman was tense and unease, unfamiliar with the situation and surroundings she had been placed in. No, it would be better if Clara got her away from the masses of people within the ballroom, took her away somewhere a little more quiet where they could talk and get to know each more.

But for now they stood together in the ballroom, at the spot which had last been occupied by Ilya and Elizabeth. Victoria stood before Clara in her uniform, a woman in clothing more befitting a man, tailored down to her size and to be small and tight to fit her. Hugging her form but not in a way that accentuated her figure the way Clara’s dress did. It hid and disguised her body well beneath it, the delights Clara longed to see, while she displayed her own openly, her curves emphasised and enhanced by what she wore.

"The fun in losing things, my Lady, is finding them again. You have an excellent intelligence officer at your literal arm. I specialize in finding people."

Her eyes gazed down at Victoria’s hand as she felt the woman’s touch on her arm before returning the Aide’s smile with one of her own, her lips parted slightly to display a hint of her teeth in a warming smile, the white in contrast to the deep rich red that were painted upon the plump petals.

“Well then, perhaps it is best we put you to use,” Clara’s eyes flitting down to Victoria’s smiling lips as she spoke, “in helping me find someone who is meant to be keeping us all well hydrated. I swear that when you don’t want a drink, there are hundreds of them ready and waiting to serve you, but when you are as dry as Tallarn there isn’t a single one in sight” Clara joked, her smile growing.

Arm in arm, they set off again into the mass of bodies but it was not long before they came across what they were looking for. A serving girl, perhaps sixteen or so, wearing her uniform for the reception which consisted of a pastel pink dress which barely reached midthigh showing off her shapely legs and displayed a good deal of cleavage emphasised by the tight bodice. When she noticed them approaching, she turned towards the women holding out a silver tray laden with various beverages.

“My Lady, Miss” the girl addressed, offering a slight curtsey.
“By the Throne girl, who makes you wear that? They may as well have you naked” Clara questioned, taking in the girl as she reached out and picked up a tall fluted glass, a golden effervescent liquid within, from the silver tray, the colour mirroring that which was painted onto the tip of her shaped nails to match the detailing of her dress.
“I-I believe Seneschal Cadmun approved the designs my Lady” the girl replied, unsure of Clara’s questioning.
“That explains it.” Clara nodded, smiling reassuringly at the girl. She waited until Victoria had selected a drink of her own, curtseyed again and then hurried away.

As they stood together, little space between them due to the sheer amount of bodies gathered, Clara used the moment to cast her gaze her around the room, taking in what was going on. As she did so she raised her glass, parting her full lips as she pressed the rim to the plump lower petal, and tilted the glass, allowing the bubbling liquid to pour into her mouth. There was something teasingly seductive about the slow measured action, and her eyes returned to settle on Victoria as he performed it. Lowering the glass, she closed her lips and swallowed the mouthful. She nodded, making a noise of approval.

“Not bad” she smiled at Victoria as she swirled the glass. “Now we have our drinks, shall we try to slip away for a while? It’s getting somewhat crowded in here for me, and a little too warm. I think it’s this dress.” She laughed, running her free hand over the bodice which hugged her curves tightly. Okay, it may have not been the truth, but hopefully it would allow them sometime alone together somewhere quiet.

“You can think of it as escorting a Lady to ensure her wellness if you like” she smiled, jokingly.

_____________________________

The Hero acknowledged her once she called his name with her own, his back still to Elizabeth as he did so. She noticed he had relieved himself of some of his uniform, her eyes taking in the scene upon his breastplate once more as it shined in the light as it rested against the railing. He spoke again, and finally turned to her, pulling her attention away from the Saint. She shook her head, her face holding an expression of understanding.

“There is no need to apologise Sir, especially not to me” she smiled softly, reassuringly. He no longer looked the noble Hero he had when he first arrived, he looked like a man who had seen too much, done too much, who needed comforting and grounding. His uniform was darkened by sweat, and her gaze darted down to where it lay open, taking in the sight of his muscled chest marked with scars. She was curious about them, feeling a strange desire to touch them, but she was even more curious about the glistening his hand gave off as he brushed his hair away from his face. If his gloves had remained on, she would have never known that he it was bionic.

She smiled softly, sweetly at him as he bowed and kissed her hand once more, and she responded by bowing her head to him, taking the skirt of her dress in her hand and performing a low curtsey. It was only fitting she showed the same respect to one who had done and sacrificed so much. She held it for a moment, her pert breasts below his eyelevel presenting the opportunity for him to glimpse down her bodice should he choose, before rising again.

“The pleasure is all mine Sir. I have the position and the opportunity to form my own thoughts and opinions, while I possess the power and the means to do so, it is only right that I share them. Too many of those within that ballroom follow each other blindly and lack the ability to make up their own mind.”

As he released her hand, she moved to be beside him, little distance between their bodies and she rested against the edge of the balcony herself, her arms folded under her bust as she leaned against it and looked out over Vorlancia, the level below, two of the sparkling towers of Vandire that were viewable from this angle, and the ocean that reached as far as the eye could see. The wind had begun to pick up, the sea breeze gently blowing and stirring her golden hair. She turned her gaze towards the horizon. The darkness of the distant sky seeming to match Ilya’s mood.

“Hm. A storm is brewing,” Elizabeth frowned, “I fear the celebrations over the next few days shall be marred by bad weather. It will be a shame if your homecoming is greeted by rain.” She turned her head to look at him with her big blue eyes, moving in such a way to flick her hair away from her face. The way she was stood with one heeled foot on the small step and between the slats of the railing emphasised her smooth shapely legs which seemed to shine slightly in the light, an appealing curve to her back forcing her firm rear out slightly, and her bust lifted by her arms underneath it. One of her hands played idly with the discarded gloves, careful not to knock them over the edge.

“Do you know what you will be doing after the celebrations? Have you been tasked with anything?” Elizabeth asked curiously as she looked at him. She hoped if he had it would be here in Vandire, better yet if it was on Omon, so she could spend more time in his company. Perhaps she would see if he wished to visit one of the planets few landmasses, she doubted

Thaedael · May 16, 2014

Clara was a witty woman that had kept Victoria entertained in between the quick encounters they had with nobles along the path. It didn't take long for Victoria to notice how important the girl at her arm truly was, since the beginning heads turned in her direction, and thus Victoria decided that she must have been equally, if not more, important than the woman she had arrived with. She laughed at the referencing of Tallarn, responding in kind with a slight chuckle that was cute to hear. "It is the same with many things in life. When your soldiers don't need extraction, there are a hundred armored personal carriers on the downlow waiting. But the minute you need one..." she laughed. With much laughter, and sideways glances at one another, they finally came upon the girl in a pink dress, complete with silver serving tray.

The young girl in pink was much more womanly than Victoria was as well, but her body language was one that she could understand. The young girl having been just as stiff in the presence of these intimidating people in a dress that barely covered her up, as Victoria was stiff in an outfit that made her feel like she stuck out too much. With her free hand, she grabbed a tall glass tumbler full of Amasec, a few rocks of ice floating gently in the amber liquid, from the slight swirl that the action of picking up the glass gave the contents. "I say Lady Clara, we should put in a commendation for a medal for this fine lady who saved us from the wastelands of Tallarn." Letting go from Clara's arm for a bit, she moved closer to the girl, before kneeling down to her, a soft gloved hand touching upon the younger girl's shoulder. "Thank you very much" she said with a smile, probably the only person to have done it today.

Once more she was arm-in-arm again with Clara, the noble happily sipping away at her drink, content and giving a nod of approval to it. "Now we have our drinks, shall we try to slip away for a while? It’s getting somewhat crowded in here for me, and a little too warm. I think it’s this dress."

"I don't know how you nobles are able to do it, putting so much of your body on display. Even that girl showed more skin than me at that age" she said with respect. "If you wish to retire from the ballroom, I may very well join you, for your benefit as well as my own." She too grew tired of how many people were around, and the constant bombardment of questions. At least by having paired up with the noble, they had cut the amount of questions the two of them would have received if they had traveled along, especially with no men on their arms to deflect those that believed they had a chance.

He nodded his head in respect to how she had responded to his apology, both with dignity to accept, and compassion to deflect it. She was as every bit sincere in how she held herself, both in body language and movement, as she was while talking. She had looked at his exposed chest, he could see her beautiful eyes tracing the lines across his chest, but she did not look away as most should have done. There was more to this woman than met the eye, and he intended to learn more of her. Especially if he was to spend the next few days in her presence.

He had kissed her hand once more, as etiquette had demanded of him, to which she responded in kind with a curtsy, the two of them going through the archaic gestures that had governed the lives of the nobles since their birth, for what was several generations. The way all the dresses had been cut and sewn, left little to cover their modesty, their cleavage having been pushed together and deepened by the tight bodices they wore, and it was against his will that his eyes traced the valley of her flesh as she performed her curtsy.

"The pleasure is all mine Sir. I have the position and the opportunity to form my own thoughts and opinions, while I possess the power and the means to do so, it is only right that I share them. Too many of those within that ballroom follow each other blindly and lack the ability to make up their own mind."

Now that she had resumed her standing position, he broke away his eyes from the abundant display of her cleavage, giving her his utmost attention, his eyes locked unto hers. She had spoken truth, but a dangerous truth. One that went against the grain of all that the nobles did and thought, one that went against social norms. To have been able to say what she thought without having been disregarded by others, such as Clara he recalled, meant she was in a position of extreme power and thus was able to do so. The fact that she had confessed to it, meant there was a handful of positions available to which he could narrow it down. It was fascinating to see someone of progressive nature amid the the age-old traditions that laid unchanged at the core of the ruling elite.

She had gently walked past him, causing him to spin as she gracefully went to where he had stood but moments before, she was as natural as if she owned the balcony, as familiar as if she had watched the city below with all her life. The way she carried herself, the way she spoke, and now: the way she moved. It was clear to him who she was now. How she had aged beautifully since his time of being a child, for the last time he had saw her, she was but a child. She was the governor's daughter, the girl that they would all watch on the pict-casters throughout the hive on holidays, special events, and even their graduation.

She had held her arms crossed under her bust, leaning against the railing, golden hair blowing away from her face as she looked upon the ocean, a look of what he assumed to be sorrow and quiet reflection. One that almost matched his mood, as did the weather for that matter.

"Hm. A storm is brewing,” Elizabeth had spoken to him, “I fear the celebrations over the next few days shall be marred by bad weather. It will be a shame if your homecoming is greeted by rain."

She was very close to him, and he drew closer, feeding his foot back into the slat as it had been before, leaning over the railing of the balcony once more, the pair of them looking out towards the ocean once more.

“Do you know what you will be doing after the celebrations? Have you been tasked with anything?” She asked cautiously.

His hair whipped back and forth at the coming breeze, his mind in deep thought as to how to answer her.

"I know all I ever talk about are my times as a soldier, or how I relate everything to experiences in the field. However, Beth, trust me when I say this, to no better weather could I have returned. I have always loved rain since I was a kid, it's cooling touch, it's soft embrace." he stopped speaking for a minute, enjoying the cool winds upon his face that the building storm continued to bring towards the palace of the governor. The sky begun to darken, the sunset now going below the dark ridge of the clouds, the storm having built fast on the horizon, which was a common occurrence on their home world.

"It's something I came to miss on planets where rain does not occur. It was something I came to love love even more, on planets where it washed away the traces of war. After rain, the smells of a battlefield were washed away, or lessened if it was a horrible battle. It was like the planets themselves wept for the sadness that had befallen them, blessing the land once more to a new life. I choose to believe, that Vorlancia herself is welcoming us home, by weeping for her lost children, and blessing our new life that will start, cleansing away all that bad that has happened to us, or at least dampening it."

He turned to face her. Her golden hair continued to fly about, some of the strands getting caught in her face. He lifted his hand good hand gently, pulling some of the strands gently off her face, brushing against her fragrant and smooth skin. Content it was out of her face again, he leaned his back against the railing his body facing towards the way they had came, but his face focusing on hers.

"As for what I will do. I honestly don't know. I had planned on being dead a long time ago. I never thought about what to do after, because after never happens. They will probably ask me to teach, having given me a fine share of postings to choose from. I would like to stay on Omon if the opportunity presents itself, but we will see."

Ghostwolf · May 16, 2014

Clara was warming to the woman, as she seemed to be relaxing somewhat and showing more of her personality the longer she spent in Clara’s company, becoming more of an individual than just another soldier. Dare she think it, was she having a good influence on the Aide so far? Emperor forbid. Although Clara was especially pleasantly surprised with how she had spoken toand interacted with the serving girl. Victoria speaking to her in a way, and saying things, that would never have crossed Clara’s mind. While she smiled and laughed at the Clara’s reference of their earlier joke, she would never have thought to thank the serving girl, being so familiar with the idea of them, having grown up with them and a sense of entitlement.

Upon hearing that Victoria would accompany her away from the ballroom, to somewhere a little less crowded and more peaceful, Clara nodded and smiled sweetly at the woman, and arm in arm began to lead her away from the ballroom towards one of the large double exit doors navigating around the groups engaged in conversation, before responding to her.

“Sir Ilya mentioned that you were not born on this world, and so it is perhaps not so strange that is the case” she smiled as she glanced at the woman on her arm. “I suppose from a young age Vorlancians, especially us nobles, are taught to flaunt and use what we have. Be it our wealth, orur mind, our artistic talent, our martial prowess, or our bodies.” Nearing the door now, she paused, and as she listed each one she gently turned Victoria so that she could indicate to someone in the crowd. Her own father illustrated the wealth, an old gentlemen with a large moustache sat in an armchair while he nursed a glass and talked to one of the veterans for the mind, a tall svelte woman wearing a long gown of shining green for the talent, and one of the heroes for martial prowess. Finally for the body, she indicated herself with an exaggerated flourish of her hand while wearing a joking smile. With that, she turned Victoria away from the ballroom and led her out into the stretching hallway, continuing as they began to make their way down it.

“Besides, why should I deny Vorlance the chance to admire my beauty and the gifts I have been given” she grinned as she joked. Clara clearly knew that she was attractive, but she was not vain or narcissistic. She knew she had a body that men and women desired or admired, and as she had grown she had learned how to use it. That was the way of Vorlance, if you wanted to succeed and survive; you had to use the gifts and the abilities you had been given, especially amongst the upper class. “If you ever have the opportunity and the inclination, you should try it. I’m sure that uniform does far too good a job at hiding a lovely figure beneath it.” Clara smiled sincerely, eyeing the woman. Indeed it was one that she wanted to see herself. “And I know one or two designers that I’m sure would love to dress you.” Her smile turned into another grin, adding an overly dramatic flair to her words as she spoke, looking to the sky as she put on an accent and drew out her words, lampooning the mannerisms of some of Vorlancia’s more eccentric fashionists, before she giggled at her own impression.

After a minute or so or walking, Clara paused to look at a closed white door with a finely wrought golden handle. “Ah this should do for now” she smiled at the woman before releasing her arm, moving to open the door for her and indicating for her to enter. Inside was drawing room, smaller than the one the Veterans had been kept waiting and less opulent, but it was still large and extravagant to most standards. It would serve nonetheless.

____________

Elizabeth watched him as he moved closer to her and leaned against the railing himself, their bodies close together. She had witnessed what appeared to be a small flicker of recognition cross his face, as he seemed to realise who she was. It seemed likely to her that they had probably met at one point, at his graduation perhaps, but that was a long time ago. Elizabeth would have been a young child then and now she was a woman grown, and Ilya was not the man he would have been then. Elizabeth would not have known or recognised him; she had met so many people over the years. She moved her gaze outwards once more, both of them looking out of the water watching the approaching storm and the darkening skies.

As he began to speak, she turned her head slightly to watch him. Even like this, not the idealistic picture of the Hero that he first appeared, solemn and reflective, Beth found him attractive. Appreciating the way the wind blew at his messy hair as he spoke passionately, her eyes focused on the way his lips moved.

“I understand what you mean” she nodding. “Almost as if the rain can wash away what has happened, wash away the person you were, so you could start afresh” she continued, quiet and contemplative. “I would have never thought of it that way though, never looked at this storm like that. It is a better way of seeing it, and perhaps you are right.” She smiled softly at Ilya, already looking at him as he turned to face her. She watched as he reached his hand out towards her, the hand that was still flesh and blood, and she closed her eyes for a long moment as he brushed the troublesome hair away from her face, appreciating the fleeting touch of his fingers on her skin, her head inclining towards him slightly. Her eyes opening as he began to speak again.

She nodded, understanding. “I see. I do hope so Sir, I am sure many of this world would benefit from your wisdom and experience. I feel the men and women who go off to fight amongst the starts would be better off and more prepared thanks to your teaching.” Beth paused for a moment. “I would like it if you were able to stay on Omon, it would do me well to have someone likeminded to converse with. And I’m sure you are most welcome to stay here at the Palace as long as you like.” With a smile, she looked back out at the ocean and the storm which had got even closer.

“I too enjoy the rain. Although it is rare I get to feel it upon my skin. Sadly most of my clothing is suited to calmer weather, and is unlikely to stand up to it.” She took the skirt of her dress between her fingers and rubbed it, indicating the silky thin fabric and baring some of her thigh to Ilya before letting go. “And I think my Father worries that I may fall ill if I am outside in it for too long. So most of the time I must settle for watching it fall from within the safety of my Solar. Usually accompanied by a good book” she told him, giving him a glimpse into her life.

Thaedael · May 17, 2014

Victoria had nodded in appreciation, before entering the drawing room that Clara had led her to. The familiarity in which she knew her way around the large rooms of the governor's palace led Victoria to the conclusion that she was very familiar with the large estate, and that she was either invited to it very often, or was a friend of the family. Regardless, the two of them were now away from the crowds, allowing Victoria to clear her mind of all the etiquette, sounds, and aromas of the nobles, putting her at ease. Her shoulders lumped noticeably down, the weight of the spire off her shoulders, before she turned on heel to face Clara who had followed in behind her.

"I do not think I would do your offer justice, my lady." she had stated with a serious look upon her face. "I have never dreamed of wearing a dress, and I am afraid this experience has done little to change my mind on the matter. If the goal of your outfits are to draw attention to your assets, I feel like mine are of little value." she was not referring to her breasts, for she was comfortable with the small bust she had, a reality of having malnutrition as a kid, and being fit the majority of her adult life in the forces of the Imperial Navy. It was related to the fact that showing off as much skin as these ladies had, would inevitably lead to the display of war wounds across her body, one that would only draw more attention in upon herself, one that was unfitting of her temperament around nobles.

"However, my lady, if you were to continue to insist upon such a thing, I wouldn't be adverse in humoring you one of these days, for it is the least I could do for the hospitality you have shown me today." she had let out a warm smile, before finding her way towards one of the long chairs in the drawing room. She sat down, keeping herself very much on the edge of the chair, her spine straight up. She was still uptight in posture, though it was a lot less rigid than it had been the majority of the evening.

She had a fun time tonight, in spite of her social awkwardness, having had a chance to mingle with the ruling elite, enjoy fine food and drink, as well as learn more about the homeworld of the men she had served with over the last few decades. It was not her own world, but she could feel more at ease blending in here, and to come into a position of prestige came with it's perks. She smiled back to Clara, suspecting that the woman would be part of a network of friend she would make in the future.

"I believe I would be the type to display martial prowess" She smiled, a hint of pride on her voice. She begun pulling off the formal white gloves, before tucking one end inside the other, and folding them gently, placing them away into a leg pocket.

The first of the rain drops had landed against him as he talked to the lady before him. All about him he could feel the wind against him, the soft embrace of the their planet running shivers up and down his spine as he was confronted by the beauty before him, a ruffle of her dress from the way she held the fabric, and the way the wind moved about her. She was soft spoken, and now she appeared well read, a glimpse into her life for the first time since they had begun to talk. She was open in her thoughts and mannerisms, but she had opened up to him about her private life, showing that they had formed a sort of bridge upon which to talk.

Again, a few drops begun to fall about them. On either side of them the couples that had made their way to witness the sunset begun to filter out, the wind whipping up and down the face of the governor's palace and causing them to retreat to the warmth and safety inside, all but Ilya and Elizabeth.

"I too would like to stay and teach upon this spire, and to be able to keep you in good company. However, regardless of where I go, a woman of such power as yourself would be more than able, and welcomed might I add, in visiting me, no matter where the post occurs."

The rain begun to come down harder now, the sound of it beating against the windows and the stone of the balcony becoming more audible.

"I would like to enjoy the rain a bit longer, do not feel obliged to keep me company if your dress is not thus suited." he said with a court nod.

Ghostwolf · May 17, 2014

Following Victoria into the drawing room, Clara noticed the almost immediate change in the woman’s posture, losing more of that rigidity she possessed as she appeared to relax even more. Shutting the doors of their sanctuary behind them, Clara closed off the outside world of the reception leaving the two women alone in the quiet solitude of the smaller room. She turned to Victoria just as she began to speak, listening as she invited the woman further into the room to seating arranged at the centre.

“Do not put yourself down Victoria,” shaking her head. “The body of every woman has something to offer. Even yours.” She smiled, trying to reassure the woman. Clara did not pick up on the real reason the Officer wished to hide her body away, instead coming to the not unreasonable conclusion that it was likely to do with an issue of self-confidence.

“Oh no!” She shook her head more vigorously than the last, her hair resettling itself about her shoulders. “I do not presume to insist that you do so, you are your own person, it was simply a suggestion. I understand that you may be reluctant. I was born into this position, one where I am continuously judged upon my appearance. I must always look my best and wear on the finest clothing. Some call me a trend setter.” She sighed slightly and rolled her eyes at that, obviously not too keen on that label. “I enjoy it for the most part, the fine gowns, the attention, but even I can get a little tired of it at times. So, I understand how it can seem somewhat strange or intimidating to one not used to it” Clara explained, nodding.

She moved to seat herself on one of the settees within the room, it was carved with ornate curves and scroll like embellishments from a dark exotic wood, while the upholstery was plus and soft, a cream with floral patterning picked out in pale pink. She sat back, relaxing into it and lifted the skirt of her dress enough so that she could cross one leg over the other before letting it fall.

“There is no need to thank me in anyway,” but Clara could think of a few ways she wouldn’t mind. She took a sip from the fine glass flute she held casually with grace in her hand before continuing. “You have done your duty for the Imperium, Throne knows what horrors you have faced, and although you are not born of this world, you have done Vorlancia proud. My hospitality is the very least I could do for you” she continued, giving the woman a friendly smile. Although Clara would do much more if she asked.

“But, one day in the future, if you do ever decide you would like to wear a fine gown or similar, for your own pleasure or mine, I promise you that I shall endeavour to make sure it is beautiful and flattering, and made to any specifications you require.” Her smile grew wider as she promised, watching the woman seat herself on one the chairs of similar design in front of her. The difference in their posture noticeable.

“Yes, I should think so” Clara nodded, returning the woman’s smile and noting the change in her voice. Her eyes watched the woman removing her gloves, revealing her hands. “After all, the medals you wear upon your chest demonstrate that”, indicating towards them with her free hand. “However, you mentioned that you were an Intelligence Officer. That also requires a fine mind does it not? There is often more to people than can be first seen, or even that they themselves realise.” Clara certainly wanted to find out what more Victoria had to offer. Yes, she would like to befriend the woman, and bed her, but it would also be useful to know what other talents she possessed, so that Clara could utilise them if she ever needed to.

The room illuminated suddenly, the lights flickering into brighter life automatically as the sky darkened outside, both at the onset of the evening and due to the approach of the storm. Clara let her attention drift to the large window in the room for a moment, just as the rain began to patter against it.

_______________________

As the storm neared Omon, approaching closer every second, the other guests at the reception retreated back into the safety of the palace away from the rain, while only Elizabeth and Ilya remained outside alone. The wind had begun to pick up, blower Elizabeth’s blonde hair about her face freely, whipping and tugging at her dress. Despite the darkening skies, the clouds starting to loom overhead, Elizabeth’s attention remained fixed on Ilya as the first rain drops began to fall. Damp spots began to appear upon her dress where the large heavy droplets fell, turning the powder blue of the fabric a darker shade.

“Then I think I shall do that Sir. Visit you. And often might I add. So much so that I imagine you soon get sick of me.” She laughed softly, a pleasant musical sounding noise amidst that of the increasing intensity of the storm. The rain fell harder, but Elizabeth made to effort to move inside, simply remaining stood of the balcony beside Ilya, watching as the rain fell upon him. She did so even after he gave her permission to head back inside. She shook her head.

“Oh, I have plenty of dresses that I can wear on any number of occasions. It is not often that I get to experience the rain upon my skin, and enjoy it in the company of such a fine gentleman.” She smiled sincerely at him, before she turned her gaze out towards the ocean. Then she closed her eyes, and tilted her head back, savouring the feel of the downpour upon her face.

Thankfully, the conservative amount of makeup she wore remained in place due to it being waterproof, however the rest of her was not equally protected. Her hair began to stick to the skin of her cheeks and neck, and to her bared chest and shoulders, losing its loose curls. The skin of her arms, chest, and shoulders, and the leg resting between the railings began to glisten softly from where the rain began to coat it, catching the light glowing from inside the palace as the darkness closed in. Water ran from her hair in droplets from where it touched her skin, gravity drawing it slowly downwards as it followed the contours of her body towards her cleavage. The dress she wore began to soak, clinging to the curves and shape of her body even more so before, darkening and beginning to become ever so slightly translucent where it adhered to her skin due to how thin the material was, although the lack of bright intense lighting hid most of what lay beneath. The combination of the cold air and the rain had drawn Elizabeth’s nipples taught, the beading just to say noticeable as they pressed against the sodden bodice of her dress.

Despite this, a grin remained on Beth’s face and her eyes closed. She let out another laugh, before running her hands through her hair, drawing it away from her face. Eventually she opened her eyes, her blues looking at Ilya as he stood in the rain with her. It continued to fall, the wind blowing, and she resisted the urge to move closer and press herself against him, so that they could share their warmth and remain outside longer, enduring the storm.

Thaedael · May 17, 2014

They sat across from one another, the brightness of the room reflecting off every square inch of the lavishly furnished room, the lighting catching on the polished marble of the floors and high columns, the brass and metals of the different furniture, and the dark woods. Against the large windows did the rain sound, echoing inside the larger room that the two women shared each other's company in. The ambient temperature of the palace begun to drop, the areas having all been cooled to a satisfactory temperature while the sun was still out in full force, causing the sudden lack of natural light to be all the more noticeable against exposed skin.

"Don't get me wrong my lady, it has nothing to do with a lack of self confidence." she had said with a confident, cocky even, smile that had showed her own self-worth. While it was true that she was out of her element with nobles, and that she was unaccustomed to their culture, it was not because she had found herself lacking in self-confidence. It was just that she liked to be prepared, to have things in her control. It was this eternal drive for having things in her control that had made her good at her own job, especially when combined with her ability to control her self doubt.

"These medals are but formalities of the Imperial Navy and your peers, to me they are as worthless as the rubble of a ruined city, or the equipment of the Imperial Guard. The real marks of honor, are how many of the people I kept alive" she let out a giant beaming smile, from ear to ear, her lips parted and showing well kept teeth.

"Fools like Vince and Zach, those embarrassing fools are the trophy. Ilya, well he is the feather in my cap" she smiled at the thought of him as well, before gathering her emotions in check once more.

"If you really want, I would take you up on that offer to be fitted to a fine dress. You only need say when"

He had chuckled at her comment, taking it at face value, noticing that the woman before him had struggled just as much as he had for a normal life like everyone else. How they managed to end up in circumstances beyond their own control was nothing more than fate, than happenstance, and it was that same fate that had allowed them to share their company in the rain against their own judgement. She had looked him directly in the eye, her hair beginning to mat down, much like his own.

It perhaps was not the best of ideas to expose the governor's daughter to such elements of Vorlancia weather, but the cooling sensation of the rain was what he needed to regain the composure on the facade of his persona that had begun to erode through out the evening, giving him a chance to once more fee like the human being he was at the core of all that he had been built up to become. Just like the facade of his own reputation was stripped bare, all the customs of Elizabeth's own society begun to be erased to, the curls of her hair, the modesty of her fabric, and eventually, her make-up too. He looked at her, her natural beauty stronger than the face she had presented to him from when they both met.

"If this is too much, I can accompany you inside." He extended a hand, offering it to her.

Ghostwolf · May 18, 2014

Clara continued to gaze out of the window, watching as the rain began to harder and faster against the glass. She could feel the room begin to cool, the drop in temperature noticeable on her skin, and she barely suppressed a shiver. Victoria’s voice drew her attention away from the darkness outside and back into the room, eyes fixing on the woman sat across from her. The officer seemed more open as she spoke this time, less stern and stiff, the smile on her face causing Clara to respond with one of her own.

“Well that is good to know” Clara replied, nodding. Victoria said that of course, but Clara wondered how open the woman would be to disrobing in front of her

The noble observed the officer as she stated that she did not value the medals she was given, which surprised Clara somewhat. She had thought the receipt of medals and honours meant a great deal to all those serving in the Emperor’s name, but it seemed not. Lizzie would like this one. Clara couldn’t help but smile along with the woman, Victoria’s grin as she stated what she thought of as her real reward was infectious.

“You have done well, more than well” Clara smiled and nodded. “For I’m sure for every one of them that has accompanied you here this evening, there are many more that did not.”Clara relaxed further into the soft cushion of the settee, taking another sip from her glass.

“Really? Very well then, if you are sure. I will try to arrange a mutually acceptable time for us to meet with a dressmaker, either on one of the quieter days of the celebrations or afterwards.” Clara nodded assertively, her mind set, but giving the woman a friendly smile. Images were already flicking through Clara’s mind of various outfits she’d like to see Victoria in.

“Which reminds me, do you know what you will be doing or where you will be living yet? Do they tell you that much? So I know where I can find you should I need to.”

_____________________

The skies continued to empty above them, the rain falling down upon the two of them. The sound of it drowned out all noise from within the palace, but for the slightest murmur of the collected voices within the ballroom, the faint melody of music barely reaching their ears as the band continued to play for the guests inside.

Elizabeth watched him, the Vorlancian proclaimed Hero, taking in the rain drenched sight of him. He seemed calmer, more together, but she knew that they way he was viewed by his homeworld, and as she once did, was not the real Ilya. The man before her now, soaked from the rain, was the real Ilya Garin, and he reached his hand out towards her.

She took his larger hand with her own, but she shook her head in response to his question. “No, not just yet. A little while longer.” She manoeuvred her small hand around his, and she placed their hands upon the wet railing; Beth’s resting over Ilya’s. “I’m not ready to go back inside, to face them all again. To have to put on airs and graces, smiling and trying to be civil, pretending to like them all. As if I am the same as them.” As she spoke, the finely manicured fingers of her hand moved to slip between his, intertwining slightly as if to anchor her to this moment.

With her spare hand, she gathered her wet hair and drew it over the shoulder furthest away from Ilya, moving it away from her face and baring her neck and one glistening shoulder to him, the strap that was hidden from the rain soon damp now it was exposed. Light shadows had appeared under her eyes from where the rain had finally caused her mascara to run, the sodden material of her dress clinging tightly to the curves of her bust, hips, and rear.

She smiled softly at him, before turning her gaze back outwards towards the ocean. The spires surrounding Omon barely visible in the downpour but for the dim lights that shined distantly.

Thaedael · May 18, 2014

The pause was once more punctuated by the rain landing against the window, the wind rattling the window in it's frame, the sill vibrating ever so lightly. The storm outside had drawn her purple eyes to the view outside, the sites of the spire below her beginning to light up, each dwelling, manufacturom, school and the like, each flickering into life like a candle in the wind. The way the bright lights reflected in her eyes gave her a sparkle of mysticism, making her seem all that more intelligent, the purple hues betraying the intelligence behind them.

"They want me to teach in Omon" her voice was calm, steady, and light as it rolled out of her pursed lips. "They want me to hold a teaching position at the Ecclesiarchy, teaching women how to perform military intelligence. On my down time, outside of my duties as a teacher, they would expect me to give insights into current naval engagements that our planetary defense force are currently engaged in."

The room was silent once more, her mind still drawn to the sights of the hive as her eyes traced the landscape. The spires and cities off on the distance of the horizon were no more, hidden behind the rolling storm clouds that had made their way towards the governor's palace from the direction the sunset had been in. It looked like the storm would be a bad one, but she was at ease, having spent her life in worse conditions, in places worse than a Governor's palace which surely was equipped for the weather of it's own planet.

She broke off her gaze from the window, realizing she must make bad company if she did not keep Clara engaged, and thus she turned her head to the woman before her once more, smiling as she did so, trying to come across as a sociable person. She wanted nothing more than to be out of here, to be out of uniform and relaxed. However, it is not the reason they were invited to the palace. They were invited to be paraded around, and asked questions, and for that she was more than willing to spend a few days for, since she now had a life outside the service as a result of their actions combined with the public's interest in branding them as heroes. However, it was the assumptions they made, that had bothered her, even Clara slipping up in what was said. Yes, she had done well in saving as many as she did, however, as Clara had so deftly pointing out, many more did not make it. How in the Emperor's name did she think that would make Victoria feel better. The pit of her stomach sank, the taste of her amasec becoming unpalatable as she placed the drink on finely polished wooden coaster. She wanted to excuse herself, but thought better of it. After all, Clara did not seem to be the obnoxious type, and probably did not realize the weight of her words in dealing with the situation.

"I have always believed I would never look good in a dress, but I am sure the dress makers of the nobles themselves would see to it that I yet become a proper lady. If you were to give them that chance, I am sure they would enjoy the challenge, as well as the pay it commands. For you see, they would need to cover me up more than you yourself, and the fabrics would need to be thrice as much" she nodded her head to herself, imagining the dresses she would wear. Little came to her mind, unfamiliar with the shapes and forms that one would wear.

She looked once more over Clara, appreciating the form she was not afraid to hide, the silver threading and sequins that hugged her bodice in spirals were like guidelines to the eyes, drawing her attention to the bust, of which hers was large. She wondered what kind of visual cues the dress makers would put upon her dress. What assets of hers they would flaunt.

She had surprised him once more, the way she spoke to him with familiarity, the familiarity of her feelings that weighed her down, the soft warmth of her hands against his own. It was all so familiar, like the smell of the ocean, the cooling winds, or even the rain of the Vorlancia. It was natural. He wanted to comfort her, to console her, and in so doing, comfort himself, to console himself. With fingers entwined between one another, he gently squeezed with his hand, rubbing his own inter-laden fingers, her hands still upon his. Still holding her hand gently, Ilya turned to her, understanding painted across his face.

"I know you speak your words out of frustration, out of being cornered away from your true self. You have no idea how much at ease it places me in. I thought I was alone. Surely in knowing that someone else understands you Beth, you to are at ease, as I am now."

He took his free hand, helping her adjust her hair, gently brushing away the last of the free strands that had clung to her now exposed shoulder. She was soaked through, the airy layers of the dress having been forced flat and sheer by the weather, hanging on her every curve as his rain-soaked uniform had hung on every hardened edge of his body. It was as if nature itself stripped them of all meaning, down to their vary nature as man and woman. With understanding still hanging of his brow as the rain hung off their form, he traced her gaze to the spires below, the lights of the spire beginning to flicker on one by one, the site from the balcony becoming more impressive.

"I..." he begun, before he stopped, hesitation rife on his voice as he spoke. She had shared with him moments of her personal life, life behind the facade of her public image. He wanted to talk to her about himself, about himself, the real Ilya. He continued to run his fingers against those of her own, her hand keeping his in place firmly below it's gentle grip. He moved closer, pressing his shoulder against her own so that they barely touched, the warmth of his body against the coolness of her skin.

"I grew up on this spire. Well, further down obviously" he said with a bit of a nervous laugh. She knew that, so why did he clarify? "On days that it had rained, much like tonight, I used to sit in the open window sill of the school, and look up to the stars above. Before they beat sense and discipline into me that is. I would look up to the spire above, to the houses of the nobles clustered around the palace, and my mind would wander to the sights and sounds they must hear from below. I would imagine myself as a bird, floating gently on the thermals lazily looking upon the city below, and the people below busy about their day."

He paused, taking in the sights before him. "I am glad to see the view wasn't disappointing. The climb to the top was difficult none the less, but for this view, it was worth it."

He had somehow made it home, and seeing home below him only made the moment all the more real. He was finally home. The rain beaded off his brown, running down his face, mixing with the tears of his eyes, the rain thankfully keeping the emotions hidden to himself.

He continued to stand with her, hand in hand, sharing the moment, time itself frozen.

Ghostwolf · May 19, 2014

The two women sat across from each other in the drawing room, hidden away from the rest of the Palace and the guests and all the noise that came with it. The room was quiet but for their conversation and the sound of the rain falling outside and the wind rattling at the window. The bright lights within the room seemed to make Clara’s skin glow, making the sequins and silver threading of her dress glitter and shine even more so than usual.

“They do?” Clara smiled at the woman. “I’m sure there is no one better suited to the job. Your students will certainly appreciate having you as a teacher, with your knowledge and experience.” If Victoria had been one of Clara’s tutors, it was certain that she would have paid much more attention to her lessons. But as it stood, Clara would really teach the Officer a few things herself.

Victoria’s gaze moved to the window, looking at the sights that lay just outside shrouded in mist and storm clouds which continued to deliver the rain they carried. If the storm continued for long, it was a possibility that some of the lower levels on the other spires of Vandire would start to flood, but there was no risk of that on Omon. Clara’s attention was fixed on Victoria however, her eyes taking in the sight of the woman, watching her, appreciating the way the cut of her hair complimented her cheek bones, the colour complimenting her eyes. Eyes that met Clara’s as the Officer turned her head to face her. Purple, a colour that was not natural to Vorlancia. She absently wondered how common they were on whichever world Victoria hailed from. Victoria smiled at her, and Clara could not help but return it, taking another small sip from the glass she held delicately.

Then she noticed the flicker in Victoria’s expression, her face dropping momentarily, the way she set down the tumbler of Amasec she had been holding. Her heart skipped a beat as she realised the woman had misunderstood her words, had misconstrued the meaning. She sat up and leant forward, placing a hand gently on the woman’s leg, looking at her apologetically.

“Oh no my darling. I was unclear, forgive me. I mean that you have saved the lives of many. So much more than those who were granted retirement by the Munitorum, and returned here to Vorlancia with you.” Clara smiled softly at the woman, the last thing she wanted to do was upset her, but the damage was done. She gave Victoria’s leg a gentle squeeze, a friendly action, before sitting back on the settee.

“A dress does not make a lady Victoria, nor would I or anyone that matters want you to be. Nor should you want to be. You are who are you are.” Clara wouldn’t be half as interested in her if she was just another lady, another noble. She soon grew tired of them, too easy and too eager to please. “The life of nobility has its benefits, there is no denying, but it also comes with its own unique problems and struggles. Although, nothing compared to what you have faced, I’m sure.” She smiled appreciatively, nodding in thanks to the woman for everything she had done for the Imperium and everything she had been through.

She noticed Vic’s eyes move over her, passing over her bust momentarily, and she shifted, arching her back ever so slightly to emphasise her chest even more.

“I refuse to rest until you are in possession of a fine dress that is everything you desire and flatters your beauty just right.” Clara smiled at the woman softly, slipping in the compliment. She observed Victoria as she sat in the chair, admiring her. Thinking on what she would look best in, what would emphasise her beauty, highlight her best assets. But it was difficult with the true form of her body hidden away under the uniform she wore. It would be much easier she could see her without it. Clara had to fight the smirk that wanted to crawl across her lips as she thought about what Victoria would look like wearing nothing at all.

“Have you never worn dresses? Not even as a child?”

___________

Elizabeth’s small hand rested gently over Ilya’s as they weathered the storm together, the Hero and the Noble, the storm sheltering them from outsiders as they shared this private moment together. Her eyes were fixed on his, and she felt a fluttering in her stomach as he squeezed her hand, stroking it with his fingers. It felt right to her, their hands fit as if they were made to be together in this moment. The rain and wind allowing them to share their feelings, as if the storm would wash and blow their words away once they were done. Allowing them to be the people they really were.

“I am.” She nodded, smiling at him, her own expression of sad joy and realisation. She was no longer alone on Vorlancia, there was someone who seemed to truly understand her. “Clara, she is a good friend, and she sometimes understands, but not always, not fully. Unlike you.”

Still smiling, she blinked slowly, inclining her head towards him in thanks as she helped her shift her wet hair, his fingers grazing the skin of her shoulder as he brushed the stray strands away causing a small shiver to run up the length of her spine, setting more droplets of rain rolling down her chest. Her eyes moved to the spires, followed shortly by his, and she listened to him speak, glancing at him from the corner of her eye occasionally as he shared details of his childhood with her. He continued to stroke her fingers with his own, as if the action reassured him and helped him speak. She didn’t mind, and he moved closer to her, their shoulders touching barely, yet Beth could feel the warmth he gave off even through his soaked uniform. She smiled softly as he told his story. He paused, and Beth turned her head to face him, looking up at him with her expressive eyes, her lips parted slightly.

“You made it; you’re here now, with me. That’s all that matters.” She smiled softly, reassuringly at him.

She decided to be bold. She let go of his hand for a moment, removing her fingers from his as she stepped closer to him, and slipped between where he stood and the railing, their bodies close together, to feel more of his warmth and share her own. His body shielded hers from the rain and the wind which seemed to blow from every direction as the storm continued. She let out a gentle breath she didn’t even realise she had been holding, misting slightly in the cold air, and took his hand in hers again and placing it on the railing as it had been.

“It’s beautiful though, isn’t it? Rain or sun, no matter the weather. This view is all I’ve ever known, looking at out at every day. But despite that, despite living here all of my life, it still takes my breath away sometimes. I still notice new things.”

There was a flash, followed quickly by a boom of thunder, and Beth instinctively shrunk back, pressing herself gently back against Ilya. Her soft womanly body against his, both of them drenched. She made no effort to move away from him, content to stay where she was, their bodies touching and sharing their warmth.

“I think it will be better now I know someone who will appreciate the beauty just as much as I, to share it with. You’ll visit wont you? To admire the view?” she asked him curiously, only slightly meaning herself.

Thaedael · May 20, 2014

The question had been honest, sincere even, but it did not stop Victoria from cracking a hard smile before breaking out into laughter, tears beading up in the corner of her eyes as she did so. That was a good one, had she ever worn a dress in her life? It was expected, few people knew of her past, and even fewer knew of her childhood.

"I beg your pardon my lady, I know I should not be behaving in such a manner in front of a woman that commands as much respect as you" she continued to chuckle slightly, her mind finally bringing her laughter in check. She wiped beads of tears out of the corner of her eyes with finely kept fingers, blinking long fluttering lashes a few times before the last of her tears were dried away.

"I grew up on a hive world so far removed from this one, that it is a surprise we share the same Imperium. So far removed, that it squashes all notions of the word culture away from my mind in comparison to this one."

The mood made light once more, and all misunderstandings made clear now, she was content to take a sip of the Amasec, wetting her palate once more.

"I have never worn a dress in my adult life, and doubly so as a child. I grew up as far down in the under-hive as possible on my home. So far below the rest of the city that I had never seen the sky until the day I joined the Imperial Guard. I was left wanting much as a child, food, water, money, doctors, protection, the list is long, and a dress was never on my mind."

She placed the tumbler full of the amber liquid back on the coaster once more, before straightening her back.

"That isn't to say I won't indulge myself now that I am on a planet such sa this. Don't let the others here, but I may even indulge twice as much, and in more areas than one."

“You made it; you’re here now, with me. That’s all that matters.” She had turned to face him, smiling as she did so.

It was an intimate moment, one that showed a sliver of their naked souls to one another amid the falling rain drops. They were alone. Not a single soul left on any of the tiered balconies, the people having long since retreated under the cover of light and warmth under grand awnings, into the embrace of the Governor's Palace once more. All but the two of them. The rain continued to pound at the white facade of the building, grand spouts of rain water rolling off balconies in great beads, or from large storm gutters that funneled the water down grooves in the facade. It was peaceful, man-made waterfalls gracing the sides of the spire that the building was built into, the water catching the various lit windows and doorways as is continued downward from the heavens. The sound of the water flowing was calming, lending to the moment the most ambient of sounds despite the wind that gusted against them. They were matted down, her fabric sheer with the water, the wind barely registering a ruffle in the fabric that was once afloat on the air itself. His uniform as well, the dyes of the uniform running, dark navy streaks flowing off of him before beading into dark blue drops, dripping to the stone balcony below.

She was gentle, pulling her fingers from his hand, causing him to instinctively squeeze at the air, his hand rigid from the coolness that the air forced upon him, the gloves having long since been discarded to the side. The gloves had disappeared, probably falling to their fate off the side of the spire. She grew bolder yet, coming in between himself and the railing he had been leaning on, before pulling herself against it. The way she leaned accented her form, the fabric holding on to the distinct curves of her rear, a sight he very much enjoyed, the dress giving way to more and more of her form than the dress makers had probably intended. She once more drew his hand over hers, causing her shoulder to graze against the inside of his arm, forcing him to lean against her all the more. He shifted his position to accommodate her movement, stepping in closer so that their bodies were all but touching, before bringing his opposite arm around her other side, before taking her free hand. There they stood, both her hands on the railing, both their hands intertwined with one another.

The ambient temperature had continued to drop, causing her to speak with a misty breath into the air, "It’s beautiful though, isn’t it? Rain or sun, no matter the weather. This view is all I’ve ever known, looking at out at every day. But despite that, despite living here all of my life, it still takes my breath away sometimes. I still notice new things."

She spoke with an appreciation of the view he had not expected. She spoke of disdain midst the nobles, or her annoyance at tradition she was forced to witness one too many times. He did not expect for her to have any appreciation for the sight below, his own mind having assumed that she would have grown bored of it long ago. He let out a small chuckle of laughter, only cut off by the wincing of his eyes at the flash of light that had reflected against every glistening surface of the city before a resounding crash of thunder pounded in his eardrums.

She shied away from the railing a bit, before coming to rest against him, the wet fabric of her backside and skin sticking to the wet uniform that clad his front. She stood connected to him, his heart pounding in his chest at the sudden burst of adrenaline from the thunder, causing his war conditioned mind to be prepared. He breathed in and out, the warmth of his fast breathing brushing against the back of her neck. Yet it did not slow, the readiness of adrenaline giving way to the excitement of having her against him.

“I think it will be better now I know someone who will appreciate the beauty just as much as I, to share it with. You’ll visit wont you? To admire the view?"

She had continued to rest against him, making no effort to move, the coolness of her body pressed against his chest, the faster beating of his heart causing him to warm slightly in face of the storm. What should he do? He wanted to resist the urge of bringing her closer, wrapping his arms around her. Would she have been alright with that? Or should he be more traditional, and place his hands on her hips? Or, in her current state, should he do the gentlemanly duty of bringing her in.

"Just like this" he blurted out, not realizing he had spoken aloud. "I want to stay just like this a while longer." he managed to recover, still stumbling in his wording. "I want to continue to enjoy this view, to always continue enjoying this view. Regardless of where I go, if you visit me, I will repay the kindness in full, and visit you. A view such as this. This is something to treasure."

He held himself against her in guilt, feeling like he took advantage of her in the rain, the way she held against him for warmth. He was broken, damaged goods. He could not be the man for her. She was too innocent, too pure to be exposed to the likes of him.

"Beth... I have a confession to make" he simply stated. His mind was reeling as he tried to make heads of what was coming to mind.

"Can I stand like this forever? Can I be the person I once was? Beth, I fear I came back a different person. That I will never be able to piece myself back together. I will surely continue to become undone, and I will hurt you in the process..." he said

He held on to her hands tighter, before resting his chin in the crook of her shoulder, his head against the side of hers.

There were those that looked on with curiosity from some of the windows at the two of them, wandering if this was going somewhere. Many had their eyes on the rebellious daughter of the Governor, and much to the Governor's chagrin, she had never managed to connect with a man of power.

Ghostwolf · May 20, 2014

The laughter was met with a bemused smile, a quizzical look upon Clara’s face. She said nothing as she watched Victoria, the sudden outbreak of mirth catching the woman by surprise. It was so different from the stoicism and rigidity that Victoria had worn and demonstrated throughout most of the time they had spent in each other’s company. Clara couldn’t help but smile however, the joy emphasising Victoria’s beauty. She would have to make her smile and laugh more often, even though she wasn’t sure exactly what the Officer found so funny it brought her to tears. Her attention was drawn to the woman’s eyelashes as she fluttered them, and subsequently her intelligent purple eyes.

Clara waved her hand nonchalantly, dismissing Victoria’s apology. “There is no need dear. You can behave in any way you like around me,” throwing the woman a friendly smile. “Besides,” she continued, “I often think it is these that command the respect rather than myself.” She grinned, almost wolfishly, showing her teeth between the red of her lips as her free hand moved up her bodice and cupped one of her large breasts. She gave a small laugh of her own, before removing her hand and sat back to listen to Clara’s explanation, an expression of interest and curiosity upon her face. She watched her take a sip of Amasec, her eyes focusing on the woman’s lips as the pressed to the tumbler.

Victoria gave her a glimpse into what her life was like as a child, and Clara could barely imagine it. She knew nothing other than the privileged life she had, never wanting for anything. She had seen the sky every day she had lived, her very home was amongst it, so high that the spire was often wreathed in clouds. A world where they sky was never seen, where there was such need, and people lacked what seemed to her very basic things, Clara could barely comprehend it. She made the decision there and then that she would help Victoria as much as she could, ensure she had everything she wanted and desired as much as she could, so that she could experience all the pleasures Vorlancia had to offer and she could see what life should really be like.

Clara gave a gentle laugh. “Oh really, is that so?” she smiled at Victoria. “There is certainly nothing wrong with indulgence. It is always good to treat oneself, and there is no one more deserving of that than yourself. I shall ensure you shall have the finest dress imaginable, but do you have anything else particularly in mind? Perhaps I may be able to help or assist with that in some way too.” Clara would be more than willing to help Victoria indulge in a number of things if she so wished. If she asked. If she begged. The noblewoman fought against a smirk at the thought. Of course, it also meant that Clara herself would be indulging just as much. There was nothing she would like more than to indulge in the woman sat before her.

_______

Beth stood in Ilya’s shadow, his arms on either side of her and his hands upon hers on the railing, her back against his chest, his body protecting hers from the weather that had already done its damage upon their hair, their clothing, and the faces they had worn within the ballroom. They stood together, talking, baring their true selves. She felt his breath upon her neck, setting to life the nerves there and causing a small shiver to run through her. It was warm and fast following the thunder, but it did not seem to slow, and Beth gave his fingers a reassuring squeeze as if attempting to calm him down. She could faintly feel the quick beat of his heart, had the sound of the thunder triggered him, set him on edge, or was it due to her being so close to him.

She turned her head towards him slightly as she spoke in an effort to hear him better over the noise of the rain and wind. Smiling, she gave his hand a gentle squeeze, rubbing her fingers against his.

“We can stay like this as long as you want. As long as you need” she said reassuringly, a soft smile playing upon her lips. “Although, I do not recommend we stay out here forever, for we may both end up with colds if we stay out for too long. And my father may not let you visit my chambers if I’m ill” she continued, trying to use a little humour in an attempt to lighten the mood slightly, to make him smile, but it seemed to have little effect. “But I promise you, I will visit you wherever you are, and you are welcome to visit me wherever I am, whenever you are able. To share the view. While we cannot stand here together, sharing this one forever, I shall treasure the moment always.” She smiled softly at him.

He continued, and she remained quiet as she listened to his worries. She felt his hands tighten their hold on hers, his head resting on her shoulder. Elizabeth turned her own slightly, so that their cheeks were touching slightly, and she was able to just barely look him in the eyes. She shushed him, and she stroked his thumb softly with her own.

“Shh now. I never knew you before tonight. I do not know what you were like before, who you were. I only know you as you are now, as you stand with me. I would like to get to know you more, including whatever that entails. You say you will become undone, I will be there to help put you back together. You worry that you will hurt me.” She shook her head. “That is for me to worry about, I am a far stronger person than I look, and maybe, I am a sucker for punishment.” She smiled softly as she looked into his eyes, her words sincere and intended to be reassuring. She had just met someone who she could be herself around, she would not let go of him so soon, and she would not let him destroy himself. She needed him.

Her breath misted in the air, escaping from her barely parted lips. Ilya’s did the same, drawing her eyes down to his lips for a moment and a thought crossed her mind. One that was inappropriate considering the tender moment they were sharing together as they bared their souls. One that concerned how they were positioned, her back pressed against his chest, her rear against him. His hands over hers, holding them down against the railing. The way she was angled forward as he leaned over her, his breath teasing her skin and his lips so close to hers. It sent a thrill down her spine to the pit of her stomach, and caused Beth to shift her weight, rubbing and pressing her legs together for a moment, making her firm backside push back against Ilya even more as she wiggled slightly. He would only have to lift up her dress, push aside or pull down her underwear and… She forced the thought away, trying to fight blush that had begun to creep across her cold pale cheeks. Now was not the time for that. Behave Elizabeth! Get your mind out of the gutter. It was the last thing she should be thinking about, and certainly Ilya would not thank her for thinking of such things right at this moment. He needed her right now.

She drew her gaze away from his lips, and noticed that from some of the windows, people watched the two of them. No doubt come to see what the Governor’s wild daughter was getting up to this time, what trouble she was causing. But right now, Elizabeth didn’t care. She only cared about Ilya.

Thaedael · May 21, 2014

The hour continued to grow late, a small brass clock chiming the hour of night from the mantle-piece of the singular fireplace tucked away in a corner of the grand drawing room that the two shared. Victoria was having a good time, glad to have found the one noble that seemed to genuinely have a good time, and not have a stick up her ass in how they interacted with one another. She was also risqué in the way she talked and acted, not afraid of displaying her... rather striking attributes as she talked.

"I don't know if you would even be able to afford indulging my every whim" she said with a smile, before leaning into the back of the chair. She was feeling good, relaxed, enjoying small draws of the amber fluid from the glass she returned to time and time again, nursing the finely aged Amasec until it was all but gone.

"The list is as silly as it is long, and I assure you, it would take all the nobles to fund such an endeavor, a monumental effort of coordination. I think I will cal it the Victoria's Indulgence Campaign of Vorlancia."

"First, I would love a home to call my own. It doesn't have to be massive like this palace, but it better be more than a room and bathroom. It has to have a kitchen."

"I want to learn to cook food like what was served here tonight. All of it, all the food. I want to cook and eat my way through what this segmentum has to offer. I also want to find a man, get married, and have a million kids. Not one kid short of a million you hear. I also want..."

She continued to talk down the list of things she wanted, as varied as they were imaginative, childish, whimsical, and silly.

Ilya continued to stand against the lady that commanded his full attention, the woman that tugged at every part of his mind, personality, heart, and if he still had one after all these years: his soul. She was standing in the shadow of his body, his body wrapped around her in such away that the light spilling out across the balcony didn't make it to her. As if she had to suffer the shadows to be with him. A small shiver ran down her spine, he could feel it against his chest. Was she cold, or was it from his soft touches, he could not tell.

"Shh now. I never knew you before tonight. I do not know what you were like before, who you were. I only know you as you are now, as you stand with me. I would like to get to know you more, including whatever that entails. You say you will become undone, I will be there to help put you back together. You worry that you will hurt me."

Beth gently shook her head side to side, her matted hair following the motions, droplets falling off the edge.

“That is for me to worry about, I am a far stronger person than I look, and maybe, I am a sucker for punishment.”

She traced his lips with her eyes, thoughts rolling across her face, clear for him to see, her face drawing slightly closer, before deciding against it, and pulling away. She had turned away, the attention of all the nobles standing in the various windows having probably forced her hand against her true wishes. Instead, she continued to stand here, like she promised, as long as he needed. Needed for what, he thought to himself. She had shifted against him once more, the way she felt against him, the warmth and compassion she showed him, the way her hands felt right in his, how every word she said was what he wanted and needed to hear.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, gently spinning her in place so that she faced towards him, her front towards his. Gently he took her hands, one by one, carefully placing them on either side of his hips, before gently pulling her chin up away from where her eyes that had watched the placement of her own hands. Gently, he continued to guide her chin up, before kissing her.

Ghostwolf · May 21, 2014

The clock chimed, and Clara glanced at it briefly. The time was approaching where the reception would end, which would be signalled by the band within the ballroom playing the Vorlancian anthem accompanied by Palace staff passing on the message that the reception was coming to an end, and the festivities of the day would be over. The nobles would disperse to return to their homes or to the chambers they were staying at within the Palace. The Veterans and the newly raised Officers would be free to continue socialising with each other within one of the larger drawing rooms, or retire to where they would be staying. Clara did not want that time to come, just yet anyway. She was enjoying Victoria’s company too much at the moment to have to retire and say goodbye to the woman for the evening. Although Clara intended to spend as much time with the woman over the next few days as she could.

Clara gave a small laugh of amusement, smiling at Victoria as she mentioned the cost of her indulgence. “Oh, perhaps.” She did not see the need to explain to the woman just how wealthy her family were just yet. She was too pleased to see Victoria opening up and starting to relax, leaning back in her hair, to interrupt and correct her.

“A fine name!” Clara commented, inclining her glass towards Victoria in appreciation before taking a sip of the fruity bubbling liquid. She watched Victoria drinking from the tumbler of Amasec, causing Clara to glance down at her own glass. They would both be empty soon, and that meant having to leave the safety and solitude of the drawing room to seek out more. If Victoria desired, that is. What Clara desired was right in front of her eyes.

“Well, that is a desire that is understandable, and one that should be more than achievable. It is certainly something I shall be able to help you with.” Clara smiled sweetly at the woman. “I shall contact the relevant people and set things in motion for you first thing tomorrow. I will make sure they know that the inclusion of a kitchen is of paramount importance. I will even accompany you o the viewings if you so wish?”

“Oh, really? Well I’m sure we can sort something out so you can achieve that goal” Although Clara didn’t quite understand it, surely it would be preferable to have someone to do your cooking for you, Yes, occasionally cooking for one’s self could be fun and interesting, but all the time? The eating was something more much understandable.

Clara watched the woman with a smile and an expression of interest and amusement as she continued with her list, speaking excitedly about how she was going to indulge herself, what she desired. When Victoria mentioned finding a man and marrying him, Clara’s expression did not change, having become a master of hiding her thoughts and expressions, stopping them from showing upon her face. A necessity amongst the nobility of Vorlancia. Yes, she had mentioned a man, but that could soon change. Especially if Clara had her way, and it wasn’t often that she did not. She wondered absently if Victoria had ever been with another woman, had ever thought about it,

“A million, oh my!” she exclaimed, exaggerating her mock surprise before laughing softly. “Finding a man to father your children shouldn’t prove too difficult for someone like yourself,” another implied compliment slipped in, “and there are certainly plenty of men here tonight to choose from.”

________________

His hand on her shoulder drew Elizabeth’s attention back to Ilya, and she let him turn her so that they were facing each other, the railing against her back. He stood before her, sheltering her from the storm, from some of the watching eyes. Taking her hands into his own, her gaze followed the movement as he placed her small dainty hands upon his hips. His clothing was wet, and she could feel a hint of the hardness of his body that lay hidden beneath his uniform, the running dye already beginning to paint her palms.

A finger moved under her chin, tilting her head up. Her gazed moved to meet his eyes with her own, deep pools of blue watching him. The way he looked at her, she knew what was coming, she welcomed it.

Even so, she stiffened slightly, her eyes widening as his lips touched against hers. Her heart seemed to stop for a moment, her breath catching in her lungs. She pulled back ever so slightly, but not enough as to break contact with his lips. A little unsure, a little surprised. Was this what he wanted? Was this right? She didn’t know. His lips were against hers, and that was what she wanted. She relaxed, melting against him, her eyes becoming half-lidded as she kissed him back, slowly moving her soft lips against his. Their bodies were touching, the way she was stood causing Beth’s back to arch as her head was tilted up to kiss Ilya, gently pressing her breasts against his chest. She closed her eyes, a fluttering in her stomach causing her hands to tighten where they rested on his hips, and she kissed him more fervently.

After a few moments she stopped, her breathing deepened, and her lips cured into a smile as they still barely brushed against his. A small sweet giggle escaped her, it was cute, almost as if she was embarrassed. They had just kissed on a balcony in the rain, like one of the clichéd romance novels she had quickly grown out of in her teens. There was certainly some truth in them however, her heart thumping in her chest, her cheeks flushed and her lips parted as she breathed. She opened her eyes, finding his own and looking at him. She laid on his lips a series of quick little pecks, gauging his reaction. One of her hands moved from his hip, travelling up his uniform, the dye of which had run onto her dress. She ran her hand upwards, feeling the hardness of his muscles that lay beneath in contrast to her soft curves, stilling against his chest and balling in the wet fabric.

“Ilya…” she breathed, unsure of what she wanted to say, what she wanted to express. Instead she settled for seizing his lips once more in a passionate kiss. He did not know what he had unleashed. She vaguely remembered that they were being watched, but she didn’t care. To the Warp with what they thought. She was lost in Ilya, the feel of his lips against hers. She was dead to anything else.

“Elizabeth! Come inside at once girl!” But the booming voice of the Governor’s Seneschal could wake the dead.

Noblesse Obligé [Ghostwolf and Thaedael]

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