Certified Perfection
Time was fickle, time was cruel, but still she persisted. For years she had wandered the galaxy in search of the next job and meal, her home her chariot across a galaxy unyielding. It was when she arrived in Confederate space, on the doorstep of the dominion of Darth Metus, that she came face to face with the choice that would profoundly change her career; and her life.
That was a different twist of tale in itself.
Pulling herself away from the control console of the Vekarr's Pride, heaving a sigh in the absence of both June and Skiss, the young brunette turned her attention from her thoughts to more important matters. Namely the repairs, upkeep and improvements of both the ship and her weapons. As she picked up the box of tools sitting by the pilot's chair, and the rifle standing near the entrance to the cargo bay, the expression on her face told her desires.
In spite of this, with her hands working away at the barrel of her rifle, her thoughts wandered to the blonde she knew was likely to once again steal her time with her unending stream of questions. While her mind described it openly in such a manner, there was little to deny that there were other ways she would describe the blonde outside of the inquisitive manner she often knew her for.
Tilting her head towards the rifle, closing her eyes and heaving out a breath through her nostrils, the half epicanthix once again tore herself away from her thoughts and threw herself into the work at hand.
There was no sense lingering on thoughts that would only drown her in unsavory and inactive manner.
That was a different twist of tale in itself.
Pulling herself away from the control console of the Vekarr's Pride, heaving a sigh in the absence of both June and Skiss, the young brunette turned her attention from her thoughts to more important matters. Namely the repairs, upkeep and improvements of both the ship and her weapons. As she picked up the box of tools sitting by the pilot's chair, and the rifle standing near the entrance to the cargo bay, the expression on her face told her desires.
In spite of this, with her hands working away at the barrel of her rifle, her thoughts wandered to the blonde she knew was likely to once again steal her time with her unending stream of questions. While her mind described it openly in such a manner, there was little to deny that there were other ways she would describe the blonde outside of the inquisitive manner she often knew her for.
Tilting her head towards the rifle, closing her eyes and heaving out a breath through her nostrils, the half epicanthix once again tore herself away from her thoughts and threw herself into the work at hand.
There was no sense lingering on thoughts that would only drown her in unsavory and inactive manner.