Private Spring Cleaning

[Tyrias Aran]

Luna was old enough to retire. Tyrias didn't agree. The other woman certainly could, and might even enjoy it, but it wasn't her style. Luna spent all her time working and fighting with little spent on anything else. Attractive to a Chiss, no? Well, one wouldn't deride such devotion, but the complete lack of a social life was not what the Ascendancy demanded. If she couldn't manage to take a day off, imagine trying to get Luna to take year after year off. Retirement was furthest from her thoughts even if she claimed to be 'old enough.'

As for the battle scars... Well, a Chiss was schooled in composure and the art of hiding one's thoughts. Injuries happened in battle, but lasting afflictions were not desirable. Alluring as they may be to some, they were a vulnerability. One often surmountable with modern medicine, but not always desirable -- as evidence by Luna not pursuing such an avenue.

"I have noticed 'Flags' are ways non-Chiss try to succinctly describe what they believe in, ignoring the overwhelming number of sentients behind it with countless and nuanced interpretations of those beliefs." Tyrias turned to look over at Luna. "The only 'Flag' that matters is your own, Luna. The Dauntless' Flag. Whatever happens next, always remember that."

Of course this wasn't a problem among the Chiss. They were a very solid bloc. There were minor differences, but not nearly the sort of conflicting ideals and strife that ran rampant outside of the Ascendancy. True, Tyrias hadn't grown up and spent a lot of time among her own people, so her view might be wishful thinking and biased, but it was what she'd been told and witnessed as a youth. Neither were 'right,' though the way of the Chiss was by far more efficient.

As Tyrias retrieved her blade, her red eyes turned to follow the arm of the hand that'd lighted upon her shoulder. Physical reassurance? In the base? A miracle. If only it weren't so difficult to get Luna to loosen up -- take off the uniform time to time. "Curious." The athletic woman slowly stood to her feet after three names were dropped. "They would be inclined to make use of the Dauntless... Provided their ends don't conflict with your own." Tyrias wasn't predisposed to favor Jedi or Sith in the grand scheme of things. One was less inclined toward massacres, and the other was more prone to betrayal, but those were generalizations. Much like holding firmly to any particular Flag. Convenient, but not altogether descriptive. A little less ambiguous when you sought the Empress of the Empire's involvement, however.

Luna produced a device containing a map of the castle, which drew Tyrias' attention momentarily. The tip of a blade pointed to the left. "Let's see what awaits us upstairs. Hopefully not a collapsed ceiling."

Tag: Luna Terrik

 

[Luna Terrik]

H O M E​

Location: Illyira - Plainlands
Time: 1100 Hours
Dress: Can’t clean in armor, Tactical Recon Handgun
Objective: Clean – renovate – create a home
Tags: | Tyrias Aran | Mitra Fay | Rook Heimdal | Tiria Reinhart | Tien Ulinesque | Typhan Berrezz | Subject 73 Red |

Who would’ve thought such a time as hunting down squatters in a run down castle on a world that not many people cared about would become such a good one to discuss psychology with her partner?

It was fascinating to hear just how the chiss viewed certain parts of the galaxy outside of their own. Of course, they had their own flag to “fight” under, but weren’t burdened by a diversity within their borders. Or maybe they did, Luna didn’t exactly know for sure. She had never visited chiss space, though with much more time on her hands, it was more than certainly something she wanted to go off and do with the blue woman eventually.

“Flags are….and interesting concept. They exist in the same vein as borders or even empires. Their power comes from those that are under such things believing that they exist. If they stopped believing that they had power over them, there would be a collapse from the interior.” She paused, long enough to look over to where the alien stood and shrugged lightly. “I’ve actually taken the time to speak with a few of the intelligence agents about such a concept. In theory, this is how rebellions would crop up in the future. You just…were able to convince people that the power over them was literally manifested by themselves.”

Of course, that was just a theory. Actually convincing enough of a population to think that way would present more problems than it was worth. A fun concept to think of, regardless, and one that had presented plenty of good conversations between herself and other intelligence operatives to pass the time.

She nodded lightly at Tyrias’ sentiment as to not being used in the correct way by these government’s she had contacted. Starting toward the stairs that would lead them up the stairs, she spoke in a low tone, only barely loud enough for the other to hear. “I will not have my people misused….thrown away, again. They are mine, and the fights we chose to take on will benefit us. No longer do we fight for empty promises that will never be fulfilled.” There was a venom, and anger behind her voice that could easily be mistaken for a passion that was not there. It was obvious the pain of past events had not yet worked their way out of the former marshal’s mind.

Thankfully, a distraction in the form of, just as Tyrias had predicted, a slightly collapsed ceiling a few feet away from the top of the stairs. It was only partially collapsed, with most of the hallway still accessible, albeit having to squeeze by the rubble. “Hm…I might need to get some tools and wood up here tonight..try and patch this up before a storm rolls by.” She wasn’t particularly good with her hands or building things, but patching a roof couldn’t be the hardest task to take on…right?