Faction Joyful and Triumphant [FO + Friends]

[Isobel Nakano]

Isobel stood in stark silence, absorbing the wall of sound that came from The Major . Her dark eyes narrowed a little as she tried to absorb everything she was being told. When Shepard's answer had concluded, Isobel blinked placidly at her from behind her fashionable sunglasses, instantly suspicious. She was being trolled, obviously. No one just came out with that kind of deranged rant -- right? She lifted her cup, sipping at the hot chocolate, playing for time. No, she decided. Shepard was not punishing her for asking an impertinent question or for showing concern, although some might, Isobel herself included, have taken offense at the implication from someone she didn't know well.

Shepard was the genuine article, Isobel thought, hard to find in their line of work.

She leaned against the railing overlooking a frozen pond in the park, her eyes searching and her voice non-judgmental. She, too, had a problem with love, after all. "When you say you love her," she began diplomatically. "What are we talking about, here? Mrs. and Mrs. Supreme Leader Fortan?" She had to cover a giggle with a cough at this thought, a morose Sybil Shepard doodling the moniker over and over in a notebook like a besotted teen. "You know the kinds, it became fashionable to discuss them a few years back. The sexual passion of erotic love, love for your neighbor, the loyal love of friendship, the love for family?"

She shifted against the railing, reaching up to take off her sunglasses; darkness was falling now, and it was becoming idiotic to keep them on, however fashionable. Isobel reached into her handbag and withdrew the glasses case, carefully placing the glasses in their place before closing the case and returning it to her handbag. Finally, she turned her attention back to Shepard. "I don't mean to tell you your business, but some of those are going to be better to feel towards the leader of our nation than others, if you know what I mean." She raised an eyebrow. "She must feel some kind of way about you, though," Isobel said with a smirk.

By way of explanation, after a sip of hot chocolate, she went on: "I've never met her, you know, but I've heard stories, and I sort of have a sense of the woman. Not prone to emotional displays, either her own or others' in her presence. It sounds like what you're describing would have mortified her, and yet from what you say she was very complimentary and maternal -- almost? -- to you. That's not nothing." She set the drink down and drew her cigarette case from her bag. "Mind if I smoke? Help yourself if you like." She flipped it open and held it out, offering Shepard first choice. "Nothing sinister, just good Atrician t'bacc."

 

[The Major]

Isobel Nakano​

An indeterminate flash of intensity charred from Sybil’s eyes, perhaps due to anger, frustration, futility, or the realization of a harsh truth. More accurately, it was a fine mixture that usually exploded like a thermal detonator when combined within a headcase like herself. In any case it wasn’t Isobel that needed the blasting, not today, and not by Sybil. But it was easy to tell what pulled the pin in that ragtag psyche: the words ‘Mrs. and Mrs. Fortan.'

It was worse than a ridiculous joke.

“I said, ‘Loved,’ not ‘love.’ I have no intentions to hold unto something so stupid it makes me want to get my head frozen in carbonite and then smashed with a beskar hammer. And as for the color of ‘it.’ Pick the stupidest hue out of all the things you just said. Yes. That. Can you imagine the epitaph on that burial niche? ‘Lonely woman did it all for her love.’ I’d laugh if I knew how.” The deranged shock of auburn exhaled long and slow, fizzling out in self defeat. Going cheap tonight would prove safer. Shepard continued unto Agent Nakano’s next phase of conversation.

“Oh, she’s true royalty.” Said Sybil, mist in her eyes solidifying into ice to match that of the frozen pond before them. “Not a person you waste the time of; not a person to harass with tedious, emotional, fufu garbage. A person truly in quality beyond —above any quality I could have given a hundred lifetimes. I embarrass her honor by even speaking about these things, but who knows: maybe this screed just broke some law and now you can report me to the proper channels. A friendly lobotomy or direct injection to the brain would be a cheap way out of any of this. Anyway, it helps just to get these feelings out in the air for someone to hear.

“Feelings made to form, fall, and be lost to time.

“Like snow melting in spring’s heat.”

She tossed her empty cup over to a bin, where it bounced on the rim and rolled to a settle on the snow.

The Major gently took a proffered cigarette, as though her clumsy hands could break Isobel’s should they crash together.

“You got a flame?”​

 

[Matt the Radar Tech]

Life Day Celebration
Avalonia, Dosuun

Mitth'orn'eruod listened as the words came from Brask'ari'sabosen's mouth, further proof she was alive and well in front of his eyes, though his logical mind had not tried delude him otherwise. She was here. She was alive. Years of regret, sense of loss and compartmentalized emotion threatened to snake toward the surface, but Mitth'orn'eruod was a military commander who had had to deal with incredible amounts of stress in the field... so this situation was one he could handle, though he did admit that it came from another part of himself he wasn't used to dealing with.

Emotional conflict, certainly not something I am used to.

Nonetheless, Mitth'orn'eruod maintained eye contact as Brask'ari'sabosen spoke. She seemed calm, even went so far as to assure the other Chiss somewhat, and explained some of the reason as to why her status was unknown to him. It turned out Brask'ari'sabosen had been captured by the enemy and taken away to their homeworld, where imprisonment had occurred. That caused a twitch to the edge of Mitth'orn'eruod's mouth, as he processed the information, and tried not to dwell on what kind of atrocity his companion might have had to endure. Though, her final words about the burden were unfounded, to which Mitth'orn'eruod spoke up.

"No, that is not your fault, nor mine," He said simply with an inhale. "We both lacked the situation to provide the other with information about one another. You were held captive by the enemy, and I was out of the sector dealing with that same enemy on several fleet lines. And then... I was out of contact completely, in the Unknown Regions, beyond all communication ranges. There was nothing to be done, no other logical happenstance could have changed the circumstances."

For a moment, Mitth'orn'eruod remained quiet, as he considered. He frowned, a rare show of emotion on his part, as he spoke again.

"I... am remorseful of your capture, and how you may have been treated. I am glad you seem well, you appear - what I mean to say is that you look to have come through your ordeal well. You look very well." Inwardly, Mitth'orn'eruod sighed to himself. He had never been good at interpersonal communication, largely due to his career in the military and the focus it had on his life growing up. Were it a subordinate, he would have been far more concise. "And you are correct. I am not long returned from the Unknown Regions, and due to working alongside the First Order for those years, have opted to continue to serve in their military. I have not had opportunity to see how the Ascendancy fare, though from what little public sources I can find, it seems a turbulent time. As usual. Which is unfortunate but not unexpected... what with the Chiss being as they are."

With a glance around, as a choir began to sing, Mitth'orn'eruod leaned forward and raised his eyebrows to Brask'ari'sabosen.

"Brask'ari'sabosen... there is a small cafe not far from where I am staying currently," Mitth'orn'eruod said in a low voice, as he looked into her red eyes with his own. His expression was more calm now, but there was definitely a presence of curiosity and surprise in his mannerisms, compared to his past self. "Perhaps we can go there? Have a chance to speak. There is... a lot of unknown elucidation between us, which I would like to quantify and understand. Please. If you would, it is not far."

He hoped Brask'ari'sabosen would be willing to follow. There was much to discuss, so many unanswered questions, and a conversation of that nature wouldn't do to be had among the sentients who celebrated all around them. So when Brask'ari'sabosen did, it was both a relief and unease, as he had no idea what to expect from learning more from his thought-to-be-dead companion. Still, Mitth'orn'eruod led the way toward the cafe, as the pair escaped the crowded streets and singing and celebrations...

_______________

Karisa​