Shore Leave | CA dominion of Sharb [Hex S-14]

[Samara Raine]

Sharb, Sharb System, Unknown Regions
Objective: 1 - Losca, the resort city
Mr. P's Steakhouse & Lounge
[member="Thorne"]


The appreciable looks that the admiral had given her subtly from the moment Brask'ari'sabosen walked off the lift to greet him in the lobby of their hotel up through now made the doctor feel pleasantly uncomfortable. Mitth'orn'eruod's dropping of the CMO's rank too upon salutations had not gone unnoticed, and to that the meaning... or perceived one.

Brask'ari'sabosen was glad she appeared to be not the only one interested in getting to know the other better past their respective roles they served within the Ascendancy. Both were considered accomplished Chiss in their chosen fields, had respectable family ties, but more so they believed in the ideals of the Red Flame; a centerpiece of the being a true Chiss.

The Admiral was undeniably handsome for a male Chiss with his chiseled facial features and seemingly honed physique hidden by his crisply worn clothing. He was considered the catch of the season. Brask'ari'sabosen wasn't actively looking for a suitor as many other female Chiss were doing in her age bracket... though if she didn't her father would or probably was in the process of acquiring one for her knowing Mitth'oru'sabosen. Arranged marriages as a power play and enduring lineage were a long held tradition within the Ascendancy between the Ruling Families.

Whether this outing began a mutually respectful friendship or something more intricate and meaningful would be an unknown for now... But, the man had passed the first test long ago at the House Palace upon the end of the Chiss Civil War with the way he had conducted himself, and relit the Red Flame for the People.

Crimson orbs gave Mitth'orn'eruod a pleased look from across the table as he had chosen the seafood house special for her, and a steak for himself. She could have easily enjoyed either meal, but good seafood was something that was plentiful back home and not so much while on tour with the CEDF. This would indeed be a treat, and more so because of the companionship.

"As you wish... "

A quick scan of the wine list was made with Brask'arisabosen's long, slender index finger running down over the options, then she handed back the leather bound list as was the same of the menu to the waiter.

"Yes, I will have a glass of Ven'nasi Chardonnay, and my companion will try your reserve Cabernet Sauvignon from the same winery served along with two glasses of water, please. Thank you," she ordered politely, then removed the glossed-metal holder around her linen napkin atop the set table for two and placed the covering over her lap.

As Miith'orn'eruod spoke of the beautiful night sky they were privileged to along the walk to the restaurant and his yearning to enjoy the visage outside the confines of the ice domes of Csilla, Brask'ari'sabosen reflected to herself she too felt the same way on the matter.

"I am in total agreement with you, Mitth'orn'eruod... The stars and their illumination are a thing to behold in their natural glory especially that in which we witnessed tonight in the skies above Sharb," Ari smiled, then she continued. "I regrettably have not had the fortune to visit your homeworld of Copero in all my travels of Chiss space over the years. I should like to though. My father has ties to House Miith distantly through his mother's side. How goes the rebuilding there after the Civil War? I do hope your family is fairing well?"

A momentary pause was taken as the waiter returned with their drinks along with a loaf of freshly baked bread presented on a wooden platter and a small ceramic bowl of soft, creamy butter to lavish upon the honey molasses wheat morsel. Brask'ari'sabosen picked up the crystal goblet of wine presented before her, smelled the bouquet, then took a sip of the pale yellow liquid. "Mm... Very good." A smiling nod let the waiter know it was acceptable.

Mitth'orn'eruod had been thoughtful to inquire about Sposia before the unavoidable interruption... The Sabosen was only too happy to share about the beloved world of her family origins. The native daughter would try to keep her pride measurable.

"Well, Sposia is much more temperate than the Ascendancy's capital world as we have four distinct seasons for our pleasure. My favorite is spring as the cherry blossoms emerge and the floral scent of renewal is evident in the fresh air. Our night sky is one to rival here, though I am biased I must admit," she grinned softly.

"Salvator City is the capital and it resides along the shores of the Great Sea of Sposia with a snow-capped mountain range at its back. It is quite picturesque, if I may say so. My family's estate is just outside the city proper built atop the cliffs facing westward. The sunsets can be very spectacular as the orange-yellow fireball cascades down upon the horizon with its last rays glistening across the water's edge. My father grows varietal grapes on the property as a side hobby, hence why I know what wines to have with our respective meals ordered. I hope you will enjoy the one I picked out for you as a full-bodied red pairs well with a flavorable steak such as the Krayt cut."

Again Brask'ari'sabosen fancied the man sitting across from her with a smile, perhaps a warmer one at that.

"I couldn't help but notice your response to my mention of jazz earlier on the transport... What genre of music do you prefer?" she inquired curiously, then the battle surgeon reached for the bread knife and began slicing the loaf with precise cuts; allowing her dinner companion to take the first one should he care to.

 

[Matt the Radar Tech]

THE WHITE LION BAR

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Objective 2: Bar crawl!
[member=Thadrinn] | [member="Dezoti"] | [member="Desmond C'artyom"] | [member="Vhirr’bel'laminis"] | [member="Alezan"] | [member="Zsuzsa"]

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Vrott'ryen'uortoqh remained quiet, a tall looming figure behind Prusde'zoti'lore, as the drinking challenge began. Shots, no less. The area around the pair began to get crowded as marines from the 9th began to surround them. Given his position and loyalties, Vrott'ryen'uortoqh obviously wanted to see his Captain wipe the floor with the marine, who's name the commando hadn't managed to catch. Still, as the shots began to go down, the soldiers cheering and hollering, there was certainly a rumbling approach of trouble. Barbs and insults were being thrown around, claims and insults, numerous soldiers who were already into their alcohol taking the game quite seriously...

"Uh oh."

When the marine commented on Prusde'zoti'lore's pretty dress and high heels, was when Vrott'ryen'uortoqh knew things were about to reach a new level. That seemed to open the floodgates for a range of insults and taunts to start sounding off. Vrott'ryen'uortoqh growled, his crimson eyes narrowed, as a nearby marine made a comment about his Captain's plans for the next morning in his bed. Another claimed all commandos wore dresses, which was followed up by jeering about whether black ops even did pushups anymore, or if they had real working marines to lift them instead...

This could turn south really quickly.

Clutching his glass tightly in hand, the long-haired Chiss looked at the faces around. There was definitely trouble on the rise, and given the state of the crowd, it was only a matter of time.

 

[Sentiri]

Objective: 1 (digest)​

Location: city limits, Losca City, Sharb​

Allies: a soothing after-dinner tea to aid digestion​

If this is how I go out, Sentiri mused, forehead resting in the palm of her hand, I think I'd be alright with that.

The woman had never eaten so much in her entire life. Three plates at a time had come from the kitchen as what the droid had described as a "chef's tasting menu." Each round of plates had a general theme centered around certain flavors or pairings of flavors. Salt, sweet, spice, sour, savory, and every combination imaginable. Though the meal had been performed far more subtly than the observant operative could have possibly imagined.

The first round had focused mostly on aromatics. The amount of food on each plate was rather small, and each were covered by a small, glass, translucent bowl. When uncovered, a blast of steam, smoke, and then steam again wafted into the air. The smells were intoxicating and Sentiri's appetite had been set aflame. Since there was not much to consume on any of these plates, the first course had come and went with her curiosity piqued and a primal need for something more filling.

After another six courses of varying themes, flavors, and ornate visual designs, Sentiri had no choice but to inform the droid that she could not possibly go further. Her limit had been reached, no matter how delicious the next round could possibly be. The droid, or whomever was speaking through the droid, had said nothing. The machination floated away back towards the kitchen and left Sentiri feeling unsure whether it had done so out of pity or self-satisfaction, as if it had achieved some great culinary spectacle in the Chiss woman's digestive demise.

"Small plates." K'pah. So deceptive. Sentiri had come to the realization that her initial instincts had been correct. The lackadaisical description did nothing to adequately paint a picture of what a potential patron would be consuming. The experience had been a multi-course tour de force. None of those plates could have served as a full meal. Their proportions had been too precise to have expanded. Only with multiple courses could a diner truly gain any kind of satisfaction. And had Sentiri been served the first course of three plates and not been allowed at least another course of grain or protein, the aromatics would have been one of the most exquisite forms of torture she had ever experienced.

Her head remained in her hand for what seemed like quite some time. She hardly even noticed when someone took the empty seat opposite from her at her table. But she did notice a faint scent in her relative proximity. The smell didn't make her want to toss up what would surely be the most expensive vomit of her life, so she lifted her head to see a Chiss woman holding a small clay cup in her hand. A covered clay pot and matching cup rested on the table, the cup already full.

"Care for some tea?" the woman questioned slyly, a small, satisfied smile crossing her lips.

 

[Dezoti]

Location: Outside a Dive Bar
Objective: Get Drunk
Objective 2
Nearby: [member="Thadrinn"] [member="Tryenu"] [member="Zsuzsa"] [member="Vhirr'bel'laminis"] [member="Zsuzsa"] [member="Alezan"] [member="Farcarus"]

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Dezoti burst out into a giggle at Zsuzsa's challenge as she finished her shot. An honest, pure laugh that had her having a problem putting the glass down. Grant it, she wasn't actually drunk. Maybe tipsy at this point, but the Commando had a rather high tolerance. She continued to laugh as she reached for another shot until she realized that the Marine meant the challenge.

"Oh, you're serious. Ten push-ups, really? Is that what you Marines consider a challenge?" The woman brushed back her hair as she grinned more and dropped down, doing a set of ten with relative ease before standing back up. "But hey, never say a Commando isn't accommodating of handicaps."

 

[Samara Raine]

Objective 2 - Drink off
Locras, Seedy District, White Lion Bar

[member="Alezan"] | [member="Farcarus"] | [member="Dezoti"] | [member="Thadrinn"] | [member="Tryenu"]​

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The LT was feeling pretty good right now, not drunk though... more on the heavy tipsy side. She had enjoyed a couple drinks owed to her before the challenge had begun. There was still room in the tank for a bit more before reaching overload and lights out.


Flaz'suz'safis just smirked at the captain's comment. Wimpy marines?!... pfft, like that was even a possibility especially in the 9th Battalion. The Niners were the hard core of the Marine Corps. Obviously the commandos needed to be reeducated in that fact as their training was severely lacking.

"Well, I didn't want to be incentive to the Commando's delicate state... I mean, what if you chipped your nail polish? By the way, that is a pretty shade of pink," Suz quipped back to Prusde'zoti'lore, which got a good chuckle from the Marines standing at her back.

Another shot was poured for her, then downed with a throaty gulp; the glass turned upside down next to all the others. Flaz'suz'safis then dropped to the floor and did ten quick secession, perfectly planed pushups... and no less on her knuckles rather than just on her hands like the glamour girl.

 

[Thadrinn]

Objective 2​

Locra, Seedy District, White Lion Bar​

[member="Dezoti"] | [member="Tryenu"] | [member="Farcarus"] | [member="Alezan"] | [member="Zsuzsa"]​

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After following the Captain into the White Lion, Mitth'adrin'nvtae's posture and attitude had shifted suddenly, changing to be in sharp contrast to what it had been just minutes before as soon as he stepped over the threshold. The noise coupled with the crush of bodies pounded against the walls of the Commando's mind, shifting and mutating into something louder and deadlier. Instead of the sounds of boisterous drinkers and individuals enjoying their free time, he was greeted with the sound of artillery and death, the sounds of war and battle. Instead of the pressure and heat from numerous bargoers, he was greeted with the pressure of expectation and worry, the irritating feeling his body being covered in blood and dirt, and the desperate need to find shelter, to find a place to hide. Instead of a bar, he was greeted with a nightmare.

Dropping back behind Prusde'zoti'lore, Mitth'adrin'nvtae watched with a tense gaze as she joined the injured Vrott'ryen'ortogh, the bold and arrogant smirk of Thadrinn falling from his lips, transforming slowly into a broken grin, one heavy with pain, sadness, and a tense unease. Slipping into the crowd, his unique form managed to avoid the attention of his fellow Commandos from the bone-breaking training they had all endured, he slowly made his way over to one side of the bar, fading into the background despite being a single rock of solitude in an atmosphere of revelry.

Letting the rushing sounds wash over him, head bowed and staring at the fisted hands, clenched hard enough that blue skin bled pale, pressing against his stomach, as to stop himself from being sick through the sheer pressure he was exerting on himself, Mitth'adrin'nvtae fought to keep his breathing steady. Focusing on the scents surrounding him, of sweat and heat and drink, as well as the visual of his hands, he tried to force himself away from the edge of the abyss, trying desperately to drag his mind back from the darkness it was trying to dive head first in to. Slowly, he managed just that, hearing voices rather than battle, conversations rather than screams of pain.

However, not even that would work well for long. For, as he stared at his clenched fists, fighting to keep his breathing steady, his vision began to swim and shift before his eyes. Choking back a sob, his resolve breaking suddenly and without warning, Mitth'adrin'nvtae found himself staring at azure soaked crimson, blood coating his hands, dried under his nails and seeping into the creased of his fingers and palms. Blood of his allies, blood of his family. Those that he had failed to save. Their blood constantly marring his soul, proving how broken he was. More choked sobs fell from his lips as he continued to stare, the pained noises falling beneath the notice of all around him as he remained along and isolated by his own design.

The sadness he was feeling slowly shifted into a burning flame of anger. Anger at himself, anger at the karking Empire that had stolen so much from his people and made him into what was now. Something to hate, something to pity, something to be disgusted by. He was broken. The man known as Mitth'adrin'nvta was broken, and there was nothing he could to change that.

Each mask he wore, the personas he could assume at a moment notice, all that they were made out of were shattered fragments of a whole. A thousand reflections dancing across a broken mirror, still trying to pretend so desperately that the glass was still able to function but failing miserably in their attempts. That's what he was, the too many to count reflections trying to be one once more. And he hated it, he hated so much. Thadrinn - a mask of the disgraced and disrespectful son of House Mitth, a disguise among the Chiss and a way for him to openly disdain. Knives - a mask of an honourable Commando and sniper, someone who had survived through the pain of the Civil War to temporarily assume the 2IC position of the 51st Commandos. Even Mitth'adrin'nvtae, the supposed true self, was nothing more than a fake, a way for him to fool himself. But, he was not even successful.

The truth of the matter was, he no longer had any idea who he was, and he hated it. Hated how much damage had been done to him by that bloody war. Hated how it had stripped him of everything he had been and left him with nothing but fragile illusions. Hated how it made him pretend to be alive, when, beneath it all, he was useless and simply trying desperately to fake it, to pretend that he didn't believe that he should have lived while others of his squad, his family, had died.

A mirror pretending to be unbroken.

Suddenly, everything was too much. The noise and the press of bodies had already been nearly too much to handle, but, now, with the sudden burning of hate, self-directed and outward-directed alike, it was too much. He felt like he was going to burn up from the inside out, simple combust into flames and fade away into ash and dust. He needed that hate to be out of him, needed it to be quenched for just a while longer, just until he could retreat into privacy. He needed to feel alive, to trick himself into believing that he was fine, that he was Mitth'adrin'nvtae.

Snapping his head up, crimson gaze burning, his eyes scanned across the room, taking in the tension building between his Captain and, from the look and sound of things, one of the Marines also on shore leave and also visiting the White Lion. Not even pausing to think nor reconsider what he was about to do, the husk of a Commando prowled forwards, breaking the stealth he had been hiding with and heading directly towards one of the Marines standing near to Prusde'zoti'lore. As he did so, he ignored the people around him, uncaring of the shoulders he brushed past and the angry muttering that fell upon his back before the disturbed patrons went back to their drink. His focus was consumed with quenching the fire that threatened to consume him, after all.

Finally drawing close enough to his target, he reached up to tap his fellow Chiss on the shoulder, waiting for the Marine to turn and face him before speaking. When the Marine did so, he was blind to the individual's features, all he saw, as he muttered four words, was a way for him to expel the heat of anger.

"I'm sorry about this."

Throwing himself at the Marine, the two of them tumbled backwards to the background noise of shouts and exclamations of shock as well as anger alike. Feeling a table break beneath the bulk of both of them, he smiled a savage smirk, more animal than sentient, before landing a soldier punch across the Marine's jaw. The returning strike made him smirk all the wider before he fell into bestial instincts, leaping up from his down target to attack the second marine that was coming towards him, though he was tackled by a third Marine before he could even bring his fist up to ready a punch.

Beneath the pain of feeling another table breaking beneath him, the feeling of glass digging into his back as it was sent shattering across the floor, Mitth'adrin'nvtae smiled as yet another bar fight in a long line of bar fights began within the White Lion.

This was just what he needed to trick himself into feeling alive.

 

[Matt the Radar Tech]

THE WHITE LION BAR
Objective 2: Bar crawl!
[member=Zsuzsa] | [member="Alezan"]

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Chaf'arcar'usorn groaned as he saw the altercation begin across the way. The Captain had his glass raised halfway to his mouth, when he heard the crash of the table, the roar of those nearby, and the complete and utter chaos that began. Downing the drink, Chaf'arcar'usorn saw more commandos - judging by the fact they were facing up against marines, and were unknown to him - get involved, though the marine numbers were higher. Still, Chaf'arcar'usorn had seen what commandos could do, so he didn't think it was too big a hindrance to the situation. Slamming the glass down on the bar, the Captain turned, cupped his mouth with his hands and shouted:

"Only fists, no weapons! That's an order!"

The last thing they all needed was serious injury, which resulted in reports, and Chaf'arcar'usorn knew that this freight hauler couldn't be stopped. The best he could do was keep it from escalating too much, aiming at avoiding the need for medic response. Still, it was the White Lion, and every patron knew that brawls were a regular occasion, much to the owner's chagrin. Be that as it may, Chaf'arcar'usorn took a punch to the side of the face, which dazed him and sent the Captain sliding down the bar propped on one elbow. He saw his assailant and immediately rushed him, tackling the apparent commando over a chair and to the ground, both Chiss punching one another with grunts and shouts...

"Fething White Lion... hgh!"

 

[Sentiri]

Objective: 1 (digest, find a new definition for "relax")​

Location: city limits, Losca City, Sharb​

Allies: tea, confidence​

Sentiri noticed the smock that the woman wore and immediately knew who was sitting across from her. The woman was probably just middle-aged for a Chiss, a few streaks of silver lined her long, straight hair pulled into a loose ponytail that lay over her left shoulder. Those streaks easily could have come with the stress of a long career rather than age. The woman's skin still had a youthful smoothness but a careful observation of the chef's hands exhibited a rough and calloused surface. The Intelligence agent calculated just how much effort went into preparing such a meal, let alone the meals of everyone should the restaurant be packed and her respect for the woman grew. Sentiri's one surprise was not to see a man in the chair as she had assumed that the low voice produced by the droid had been the chef's.

"Lovely. My thanks." She took a small sip of the warm liquid. Her throat and abdomen seemed to relax and the growing stomach ache from her binge seemed to subside. Even if only momentary, she was thankful for the reprieve. "My thanks, too, for the meal. Never had anything like that. Exquisite."

The woman's small but satisfied smile grew to a smirk. "My pleasure. It isn't often I have such a zealous customer."

Looking around the small sitting area the restaurant offered to clientele, Sentiri noticed the wood-paneled room otherwise empty, save for the serving droid which was busy flipping chairs onto empty tables, sweeping off counters, tables, and floors, and otherwise preparing the restaurant's other closing procedures. Sentiri was unsure whether she should be embarrassed, flattered, or insulted by the chef's comment. With no one save the droid around to hear their conversation, the operative decided to interpret the chef's words another way entirely. "The discomfort is worth it. Glad to have left my taste buds in your capable hands. I admire those who work with passion."

The chef's brow lifted and her eyes glinted for a moment and she steered the conversation elsewhere. "I saw you arrive last night when we were closing. Are you in town for the Defense Force ceremony?" Sentiri only nodded in response. The Intelligence agent couldn't tell the woman which station she served, but the large influx of military in the city made for an easy cover. And the cover made telling a simple, if not informative, truth possible. After all, there were still dissidents about from the recently deposed Ruling Families who were unhappy with the change of law. Sentiri didn't gather that in the way this woman responded, but then one could never tell among those who were well trained. The operative knew this woman was well trained, but the chef's hands were definitely meant for cooking as evidenced by her outstanding results on Sentiri's palate.

"Well then, neighbor," the woman said. "Do you think your stomach can handle a little wine? Or have you hit your limit for the evening?" As if on cue, the droid floated by with a bottle of Csillan Green, made from hydroponically-grown fruit on the Chiss homeworld. Before Sentiri could even speak, the woman chimed in again. "Oh, and don't worry about the bill. Consider it as thanks for our independence... and a promise that I have a few more passions to share than food."

A sheepish smile crossed Sentiri's face as she gave another small nod. As the agent followed the chef upstairs to Sentiri's rented room, she wondered idly if her friend would approve with the direction her vacation was going. Go with the flow, eh, Marzena?

 

[Matt the Radar Tech]

UNKNOWN REGIONS​

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Mr. P's Steakhouse & Lounge; Losca City.​

Objective 1: Losca, the resort city.​

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Mitth'orn'eruod listened to Brask'ari'sabosen order the beverages, trusting her decision. It was wine, after all, so there was little to be apprehensive about. When the topic of Copero came up, the Admiral frowned despite himself, and considered what he knew. Up until now, others had been handling most of the work associated with rebuilding the city, as well as beginning the process of replacing the large portion of shipyard that was destroyed. Reports had been shared, Mitth'orn'eruod had personally visited the planet to see things for himself just days ago, but he had found nothing of his home or family from that.

"My immediate family were, sadly, killed in the attack," Mitth'orn'eruod said simply, his crimson eyes narrowed as he verbalized the fact. "From what reports and destruction I've seen, the Confederacy were liberal in their application of collateral damage. My family building was brought to ruin, my siblings and mother killed in the explosions and fires, while my father is said to have perished on the destroyed shipyard in orbit. I suppose I am an orphan, though House Mitth still continues through distant family members... I also seem to have inherited the ownership of the shipyards, as the only remaining claimant to my father's position."

The tone the Admiral used was quite monotonic, almost unfeeling, but deep down there was a boiling rage carefully contained within him. Thankfully, the waiter returned with some wine and bread, which shifted the conversation to brighter things. Now was not the time to be lamenting the loss of family, not when so much had to be done, and Mitth'orn'eruod was finally able to allow other topics to draw his attention. The wine was tasted, Mitth'orn'eruod nodding again, as he appreciated the smooth taste.

"Yes, this is nice. Thank you."

Mitth'orn'eruod listened as Brask'ari'sabosen spoke of her homeworld, nodding politely, every word and inflection taken in. That was part of being Chiss, seeing and hearing more than was presented, studying and observing. Micro-expressions passed on everyone's faces, no matter how hard they tried to hide them, and Mitth'orn'eruod was well-versed in the technique. He had to be, as it - among other things - was integral to exceeding within the Chiss society. Another skill was utilizing his infrared-capable vision to catch minute changes in blood throughout the face of those he watched. There was an enjoyment in Brask'ari'sabosen's, perhaps pride, which was understandable, and Mitth'orn'eruod commended her on such self control; even being used to dealing with highly disciplined military leaders, she was very difficult to read, which likely was from dealing with her own father and family.

"Salvator City sounds quite pleasant. If I recall, there is kolto in one of the seas on the planet? Is that the same your family lives near?" Mitth'orn'eruod asked, one eyebrow raised. "I've never seen the great sea personally, but I've heard it's quite the sight to behold. Perhaps one day."

The question about music was interesting, causing Mitth'orn'eruod to ease back in his chair to ponder.

"I suppose my preference would be orchestral, but I have little issue dabbling in other genres or different species' tunes," He continued, swirling the glass, as he looked up to see the waiter returning once again. "I enjoy music that provides a structured and harmonic pacing, where the crescendo matches the flourishes and direction the composer is taking the listener. Jazz, in my opinion, is a bit more free-form and prone to tangents of musical whimsy. Not that it's an issue, it's just not something I enjoy from my music."

Mitth'orn'eruod smiled, as the plates were placed before the pair, the Admiral eyeing off the steak. It had been a long time since he had indulged in such a way, so he was looking forward to such an opportunity to release some of that control. That said, he also didn't want to make a fool of himself, so he was being quite reserved around Brask'ari'sabosen, but was willing to share some interesting elements of his life in return for hers. It was only fair.

"Since we're covering some common topics, what types of activities or hobbies are you interested in, Brask'ari'sabosen?"

Picking up his utensils, Mitth'orn'eruod sliced off a small piece of the steak, enjoying the aroma and pink flesh within. Cooked to perfection. He was not surprised.

 

[Samara Raine]

Sharb, Sharb System, Unknown Regions
Objective: 1 - Losca, the resort city
Mr. P's Steakhouse & Lounge
[member="Thorne"]

Brask'sari'sabosen listened thoughtfully to the Admiral respond to her inquiry regarding his homeworld and family status. It pained the Sabosen deeply to hear of Mitth'orn'eruod's personal losses. Ari knew how she felt when her own mother had been killed by the Vagaari in their inhumane manner; the pain, anger, the need to exact revenge, then the acceptance... No, she would never totally accept what happened to Brask'eri'sabosen, but being pragmatic one needed to put it behind them and simply move on. Her father still had not though, continuing to pine over his late wife to this day. How could one be so callous when the two were lovers, but more so soul mates; a rarity if ever in Chiss society.

The CMO in all honestly couldn't imagine the amount of grief he was going through having lost his entire immediate family. It had to be eating Mitth'orn'eruod up inside and/or fueling his unrelenting drive even more. The compassionate soul the doctor was wanted to comfort him if only in a small way, but knew better than to placate the stoic Chiss or to offer any empathy other than the standard platitudes. It was not their way to be more endearing, sadly.

"My condolences, Mitth'orn'eruod. It is a terrible loss for you, and the Ascendency."

At least the man had his inheritance of the shipyards to reflect upon. Brask'ari'sabosen in her heart knew he would make House Mitth a ruling family to behold again one day. She could almost bet on it.

It pleased her to know he thought the wine chosen for him was adequate; helping to build confidence in Brask'ari'sabosen's ability to impress upon the male Chiss her keen tastes.

When Mitth'orn'eruod continued to speak of Sposia, she was only to glad to reply. "The Kolto beds are near the equator, not too far to the south of the continent where Salvator City is located on the southern part of the western coast. House Sabosen would be honored to have a son of the Mitth family in such good standing to visit our homeworld," she nodded graciously the open invitation as it was her right to do so being the ambassador for the noble Chiss family under Aristocra Sev'ero'sabosen's purview of course.

And, no doubt her father would be pleased as well to extend hospitalities to one of his kin, distant as they may be. Syndic Mitth'oru'sabosen regarded the upcoming leader of the Chiss highly. The young man's actions so far had spoke volumes to his character and integrity. Unless that changed, he would continue to support him from his own position of power within the major Ruling House and influence upon the Council of Families.

Their meals were brought out from the kitchen and set before them by the waiter. Brask'ari'sabosen too picked up her utensils. The seasoned salmon filet served on an alder plank with a side of garlic mashed potatoes and grilled spears of asparagus... well the delicious aroma made Brask'air'sabosen's mouth water and stomach growl ever so softly. Yes, she was hungry having not eaten since rising early that morning to get a good run in before catching a transport to the Tenasas where the promotional ceremony was to be held. It had been a long day, but rewarding to say the least so far.

"I'm an avid lover of the arts, and I am a classically trained keybedist for my part. I too look to great orchestra and solo pieces for their complexities as you noted. I enjoy reading. I subscribe to many professional journals in my field, and when time permits I like to delve into historical books on ancient civilizations. There is much to be learned from that knowledge," Ari answered with a small smile, then added almost in afterthought.

"Also, running is my way of keeping in shape and mind centered... And you, Mitth'orn'eruod. What piques your interests?" she asked in kind, then took a small bite of her main entree. Oh my, it was so good indeed.

 

[Dezoti]

Location: Outside a Dive Bar
Objective: Get Drunk
Objective 2
Nearby: [member="Thadrinn"] [member="Tryenu"] [member="Zsuzsa"] [member="Vhirr'bel'laminis"] [member="Zsuzsa"] [member="Alezan"] [member="Farcarus"]

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"What's really impressive is I can do so much more without breaking a nail." Dezoti had just downed another drink when she heard the table crash behind her. She knew immediately what it was, more specifically who, and didn't bother to look over her shoulder. Thadrinn had thrown the first punch. Never let it be said the Captain of the 21st didn't support her troops.

Slamming down the glass the high heeled Diva shrugged her shoulders to the marine she had been drinking with, and brought around a fist right for her chin. "Show em what for, 21st!"

 

[Matt the Radar Tech]

UNKNOWN REGIONS​

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Mr. P's Steakhouse & Lounge; Losca City.​

Objective 1: Losca, the resort city.​

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Mitth'orn'eruod was interested by Brask'ari'sabosen's explanation of the kolto beds, having always appreciated that resource for the Chiss. It was one of several natural sources the CEDF had to utilize for various means, in this case healing a soldier. It was a benefit of expanding territories, which is why every species aimed to do so. The more one controlled or had access to, the better they were for it. That said, Brask'ari'sabosen added that House Sabosen would be honored to have him visit, to which the Admiral nodded in thanks.

I will consider it, Mitth'orn'eruod thought to himself, as he continued eating his steak. I do admit, having the opportunity to see some of the sights, and be introduced to a Syndic, would be opportune.

There was some mild surprise that Brask'ari'sabosen was a skilled keybedist, which Mitth'orn'eruod could appreciate. The interests and hobbies she mentioned were interesting, also, showing a high degree of creativity and intelligence. Both were preferable attributes. Brask'ari'sabosen was also keen on physical activity, which was obvious by her figure, but Mitth'orn'eruod was pleased to know it. The Admiral took another sip of the wine, agreeing that the combination of smooth oak and medium-rare steak was ideal, before looking back to his companion as she asked about his interests...

"I admit most of my interests pertain to my occupation in the military, namely analyzing vessel systems, working with technicians and engineers on improvements and designs, and other things of that nature," Mitth'orn'eruod said as he pondered, glancing upward to think. "In terms of personal time, I like to engage in regular intensive physical activity. Running, stamina conditioning, weightlifting, some personal defense training here and there. While I am by no means a fitness-centric individual, I do believe that a strong foundation of mind and body will produce the greatest results in my endeavors... so I ensure to maintain my prime for as long as possible, solely to continue performing my career at peak efficiency."

Mitth'orn'eruod had to admit his personal life sounded quite boring thus far, so he continued adding...

"Other activities are quite similar to your own, really. Listening to music, reading and furthering my knowledge awareness, studying species from around the galaxy. I have always found the pursuit of understanding a new species, seeing into the meaning behind their culture and behaviors, as a method of advantage due to my military upbringing," The Admiral smiled, as he offered a shrug. "I have come to enjoy the pastime, however, so despite the applications to my work, it is also a hobby of sorts. I do such research willingly, that is. It's not required by CEDF standards."

The dinner continued, both sharing the odd polite conversation topic, the other responding. By the end of the evening, both had likely learned a lot more about one another. And unlike most of the stiff official meet and greets, this time had been a bit more personal and revealing, with Mitth'orn'eruod having shared some details about himself he hadn't with anyone else outside of immediate family. It had been pleasant, he surmised, with Mitth'orn'eruod enjoying Brask'ari'sabosen's company and finding her conversation interesting. Still, the day had been long, the meal filling, and Mitth'orn'eruod kindly declined dessert as he had some pressing matters to attend to in his hotel room; namely beginning the long process of familiarizing himself with his new rank and station...

"The meal was delightful, thank you," Mitth'orn'eruod said as he stood from the table, again pulling out his companion's chair in turn. "Are you returning to the hotel, Brask'ari'sabosen? I can accompany you, as it's also my intended destination for the evening..."

 

[Samara Raine]

Sharb, Sharb System, Unknown Regions
Objective: 1 - Losca, the resort city
Mr. P's Steakhouse & Lounge
[member="Thorne"]

Brask'ari'sabosen took a sip of water to cleanse her palate after eating such a fine meal, then dabbed the corners of her mouth with the linen napkin before placing it aside her more or less empty plate. Chiss had such high metabolism rates that one could indulge in a few extra calories on occasion and not worry too much about weight gain especially if they were as active as she and he apparently.

Miith'orn'eruod was even more an intriguing man than thought of before. The doctor had gain much from their dinner conversation. She was both impressed and enlightened to the point of wanting to engage with him again if time permitted during their shore leave.

Gathering her clutch purse along with slipping the hand-pained scarf around her shoulders like a shawl once more as it had been off for the dinner, Brask'ari'sabosen nodded a sweet thanks as the Admiral pulled out the chair for her. "It was indeed lovely, and your company as so," she offered with a small smile.

"That would be welcomed, and yes I am as I promised myself I would get through at least two medical journals before I turn in tonight," she answered, then began walking through the restaurant to the entrance, stopping momentarily when Brask'ari'sabosen saw the maitre d'.

"Excuse me, sir... I was curious as to what the P stands for in the establishment's name?" the question was broached, and the answer in return was...

"Well Madam... You see the owner and chef worked in the Known Regions before coming to Sharb. His Chiss name, Pruzz'omal'nisitthe, is so long and complicated for Non-Chiss and expensive to put on signs and menus alike that he shortened it to just Mr. P," he explained with a nod, hoping that it was adequate, then the man was on his busy way back to the kitchen. The restaurant had filled up while they were eating. Good thing the two dined early.

She smiled to herself contentedly as the they exited the building into the crisp night air and the stars twinkling brightly in the sky above... Oh what a beautiful ending to such a wonderful day out with a gentleman no less, Ari thought. "You know that does makes perfect sense as I used to go by Dr. K while living on Dosuun with the Imperials. I am ever glad though to be back home now amongst my own people. Thank you again Mitth'orn'eruod for accompanying me to dinner. It has made for a great start to this week."

 

[Samara Raine]

Objective 2 - Bar crawl > brawl!
Locras, Seedy District, White Lion Bar
[member="Alezan"] | [member="Farcarus"] | [member="Dezoti"] | [member="Thadrinn"] | [member="Tryenu"]

The bar suddenly exploded into a ruckus as a spectating Commando lost it and started a fight with one of the Niners, which caused a chain reaction of course. Even Captain Chaf'arcar'usorn, the CO of the 9th Battalion Marines, was not immune from the fists flying around. This is what happens with you get two different divisions drinking all together who needed to let off steam in the first place. Kaboom!

Flaz'suz'safis was distracted by a nearby collapse of a table with the weight of two offenders going after each other crashing right through it. The half-soused marine lieutenant didn't see the sneaky punch thrown by Prusde'zoti'lore.

The shot to Flaz'suz'safis' chin was deflected at the last second by raising her arm up though the Chiss commando landed the hit nonetheless just a hair less potent, thank the Force. It was enough to cause the female Niner to stumble back and bite down hard on her lip though. "Ktah!" She winced swearing, then shook the blow off, wiping the appearing blood with her arm sleeve. A narrowed pair of glowing red eyes settled in on the glamour girl in the pretty white dress.

Grabbing a dark-berry based mixed drink sitting unattended on the bar, Flaz'suz'safis tossed it in the direction where Prusde'zoti'lore was standing just a short distance away in a spilling action. Oh that was going to stain....

"Oops, " Suz smirked rather unapologetically, then quickly got lost to the ongoing fight. Yeah it was cheap, but effective hopefully in demoralizing the uppity black ops captain. Not smart, but whatcha gonna do? At least the LT didn't hit a superior officer.

After a few minutes, well who knows how long really as time flies when having fun, someone shouted over the fully engaged brawling crowd.

"MPs... Stand down. Now!"