We were conquers.
Location: Bastion, The Fel Redoubt
Tags:
Corvallis Tavlar
//: Arrived...
The forward message blinked rapidly before the aurebesh trickled off the small screen and the woman’s eyes raised to the towering pillars of steel. A smile graced her lips for a fleeting moment, clear skies had made for easy transport-security lingering behind her at post leaving her to approach alone. Three more days, she only regretted there was not more time to continue her tour let alone the fact only her youngest had time to visit. Her split gaze scoured the faint glassteel window as if she could pick out which one Corvallis stood behind, he was there somewhere but the Force was muddled here and a headache to wade through too many impressionable people. A giddy almost rile churned in the woman’s gut as she crossed the long concrete walk, heels clicking with each step.
A thin bag weighed down her side as she passed under the Redoubt’s final gateway, the system’s sun bathing the fortification; nigh almost too bright to look at. It had been a few standard years since last she had passed under it’s doors, to lay to rest the tools of her former trade. It didn’t hold the same imposing nature as Fort Gladius or even the War Center on Dantooine but Lyra Voikryt was hardly free of any bias. It was practically a hobby at this point. Though every inch of the fortress world had been paid by in blood thrice over on the streets and the comparison was in poor taste.
She vaguely missed it, or at least the routine of a post, and faintly so the Fort Imperator. Bastion was cleaner then Bescane, had been home for a time even.
Lyra recalled the open atrium and long halls Fel had escorted her down on occasion, somewhere in the mess of backrooms Corvallis' Knighting ceremony passed through her thoughts, she couldn't recall if she had retrieved the holo pictures though. The heavy framed door hissing shut behind her as she entered the main hall, the stretch of marble floor reflecting the artificial lights. White and silver arches decorated the architecture, draped with banners of gold streamlined but graceful and clean; clearly Imperial. Somewhere beyond the kiosk she had reported for routine debriefs administered by the Knight Waymar. She wasn’t sure what had become of the man and her brow pinched together, but she wondered what he might of made of her now. Something less tailored to violence, standing in what could have been her prison touting groceries in hand.
Domesticated.
The woman gagged almost immediately, lamenting silently as she kept herself occupied but a quiet snort followed-and she chuckled to herself finally. In someways she had become that, it went hand and hand with the silver in her hair. Her servo reached up to smooth out the lapel of her white coat, peering down at the wool. There was a stark absence at her side that she fended off and it came around to remind her as she stood aside from the thoroway, the military persona shed at first glance. Her digits picked at lint while her eyes shifted to her peripheral. It would be a good day, or so she told herself atleast. The woman paired it with a placid expression for the world to see, one of few things she had settled on was not torturing herself with fake pleasantries and manners. The quiet hum of bodies-faceless knights passed and squire scurried along with their task as she waited for her son to arrive.
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