Private The Holly and the Ivy | Closed

[Reima Vitalis]

South Suffolk - Aegis
The Renascent Republic
2 Days Until Life Day​

The sleepy little train station bore a bottle-green sign with serifed gold letters identifying it proudly as South Suffolk Station. The station shared its name with the small village that stretched out from it, the terminus of the magtrain line that connected the continent, with all roads -- and magtrain rails -- leading to New Sterandel, the capital city of the Republic, and the hub of all commerce, culture, and political power on Aegis. South Suffolk was at the opposite end of the continent from New Sterandel, likely by design. A trivial journey by magtrain, though Reima Vitalis was still slightly irked as she emerged from the first class coach that an exception could not be made to allow them to land at the private spaceport near Suffolk House. The palace-cum-fortress was ostensibly the seat of her stepfather's duchy, though it functioned as the place where the royal family gathered for holidays (when they were on speaking terms).

Winter had settled lightly over South Suffolk. The town was coastal, so snow was reasonably rare but not uncommon. The stone buildings of the town were attractively frosted, and the weak afternoon sun filtering through the marine layer was doing little to address it. It reminded Reima of Life Day in Herevan, when the family bundled up and went to church at the Temple of the Balance in the village and that, she assumed, was rather the point.

Reima half-turned to look for Wedge. The couple had been the sole occupants of the first class carriage; the rest of the train had been sparsely populated enough that by the time the magtrain had eased to a stop at South Suffolk Station there were only four other people getting off where Reima could see what she thought was a young family -- mother, father, two children of indeterminant gender thanks to the fact that they were bundled from eyes to toes in enough winterwear that they looked like little pigs-in-blankets -- emerging from a train car which in the old days would have been called second class but these days was called the main cabin. "Did you lose something?" she asked him, leaning her perfectly-coiffed head into the cabin, a playful note in her voice. A felt fedora, the same hunter green as her exquisitely-tailored coat, sat at a jaunty little angle atop her hair, pinned in place against the cold breeze. Already the chill in the winter afternoon had given her cheeks an attractive rosy glimmer, her nose nearly shining.

Already she could see the porters unloading the luggage. Reima had overpacked, she feared, with two large trunks and some cases for accessories and hats, but it was better to have it and not need it than vice versa. Reima wondered idly whether Wedge found her entirely ridiculous; she couldn't blame him if he did. Something about her mother set Reima on edge, her natural neuroses taking a lethal edge where Her Majesty was concerned. She was only a little anxious about Wedge; the truth was she thought he was precisely the type of man her mother would admire. He reminded Reima of her 'uncle' Pierce -- really, her mother's first cousin -- who had been a fixture in her life from her birth until his death during the Ssi-Ruuvi siege of Bakura. Pierce was an aristocrat, but never as grand as his cousin, never as proper, and much more of an enjoyer of joie de vivre, with a certain libertine bent.

But most of all, and most relevant to his comparison with Wedge, one hell of a pilot.

And the reason she felt he would be fine was that it was Wedge. He was always fine. He had already taken a rhetorical hatchet to the Galactic Alliance Federal Assembly, of which her mother was a member. His sun did not rise and set on whether some privileged aristocrat approved of him. It was one of the things Reima most admired about him, and the one she wished the most she could adapt.

Reima pulled her leather gloves out of her pocket and worked her hands into first one, then the other. When Wedge emerged from the coach, her hand would slide into his effortlessly, as if it had been made to fit. Her other hand slipped into her handbag to find a few bills to tip the porters. She looked up at Wedge, eyes narrowing a little as she studied his face. "Are you warm enough? I don't know if winter on Anaxes would prepare someone for winter here. It's almost mild compared to Herevan." Natasi had been kind enough to send cars to collect them: a chauffeured sedan for the pair and a sort of van for the luggage. They arrived just as the porters had finished loading up their luggage. Reima pressed some folded bills into the head porter's hand with her thanks and then climbed into the back of the sedan.

"It's probably too late to turn around now," Reima murmured to Wedge. She leaned over to kiss his cheek fondly. "Probably."

Wedge Draav | Natasi Fortan | George Vitalis​

 

[Wedge Draav]

Quiet, contemplative, and- perfect.
​

Life Day.

For Wedge's large family, a blue-collar family at that, it was a tumultuous event, wrought with headaches of planning, seating arrangements, food, and of course, travel plans once the children got older. For Wedge, however, he hadn't been home in quite some time. The Alliance kept him away, and the frequent wars and battles meant that even if he was able to come home-

Well, sometimes he didn't feel like facing his family after fighting a war for three months. They understood, or sometimes, they didn't bother to question him on the lie. Wedge was more focused on the magtrain than Reima's worrying or posturing- though he stopped to smile at the love of his life. She was wind-kissed and rosy cheeked. She was beautiful in every which way, inside and out. He stopped looking at her for a moment, enjoying the magtrain. And more importantly, First Class.

Wedge Draav, even with all his Alliance Officer money, had never been in First Class, for anything. Ever. Not on his own, at least. Not privately. Sure, the Alliance Officer accommodations were sometimes, if ever, nice. But he'd never been in a fancy ride like this, decadent and classy. Reima grew up with it, so Wedge wasn't even comprehending the family until Reima said something.

Two kids? He looked over at Reima, flicking his eyes up and down at her. Two kids was a pipe dream. He was going to- he raised his eyebrows at her, then the kids. A subtle undertone, a smirk. A playful look. He said a lot to her without saying anything. Like how he wanted to make a few kids with her before having them.

Plus, Reima would make a great mom, despite her reservations. The train stopped, and a flurry of movement that Wedge wasn't used to happened. Anaxes was by no means cold in the winter. The winter wasn't so much a winter- the planet was mostly plains, and only at the poles was there any serious snow- besides, the shipyards in space, Wedge didn't spend a terribly large amount of time planet-side as a child until he was older, and even then, he was near a spaceport- and rather in the middle of the planet.

With all that being said, Wedge was pressed up against the glass. He had only known mildly cold winds during a planet's "winter". He had never seen snow on Life Day, much less frost on the window. He turned to Reima, his mind finally processing what she said.

"Found it, actually."

He said happily, turning back to the window as the Magtrain came to a stop. And then the hustle and bustle- but not much by him. Used to luggage being in a bag or plasteel box, the idea of someone else handling his luggage. It was foreign, alien even. Perhaps that's why they looked at him oddly, watching the Porters. Perhaps there was some part of him that wanted to pull away from Reima, and help load his luggage- modest compared to his lady's. But he stood, watching as another facet of Reima's family came into view:

They didn't pick them up from the station, but they sent someone to. It felt cold to Wedge. Lacking the embrace of home. He looked around the Sedan, the doubt, reserves and quiet contemplation melting away when she kissed him. He smiled when she did, turning to face her.

"Can't be that bad." His eyes went from Reima to the window. Wedge seemed out of place, uncomfortable. If Reima wasn't there he'd be bouncing his leg, a nervous tick of his. He rubbed his chin, watching the outside world before turning back to Reima.

"All this- this. Is a lot for me to understand, wrap my head around. Not that it's bad, or you're bad for growin' up like it. Can't help it, I know, but-"
He felt comfortable telling her how he felt. A rarity among pilots, and more importantly, among Wedge.

"Pretty lady, this is a whole lot of shit for me to get used to."

Reima Vitalis

​

 

[Reima Vitalis]

Reima rolled her neck a little, her soft chestnut waves brushing over her shoulder, working out some of the tension in her neck and shoulder. She reached over instinctively, her gloved hand on his leg just above his knee. "It is a lot," she concurred with him. She wanted to tell him that it was a lot for her, too, but she felt it was important that he have some sort of anchoring point for this visit -- a place to look if he was ever uncertain or feeling overwhelmed by it all. She could do that for him. It was the least she could do.

It had been different when she was growing up. She was a toddler when her mother died over Dosuun; she didn't remember any of the Life Days that had come before that, nor the few that came after before she was sent away to school. By then it was too dangerous for her to be on Galidraan, with the resistance scapegoating her parents' families for their role in negotiating Galidraan's position in the Sith Empire. Mostly alone at a cold boarding school hadn't been quite as glamorous as all this.

"She means well," Reima murmured to Wedge, squeezing his leg. "The train -- the car -- it's not to intimidate us. This is really her trying to make us comfortable. I suspect if she'd had her way, we would have landed at the house instead of all this rigamarole, but there are some things about which even a Supreme Leader must compromise." She sighed and nestled into him, shifting her hand to draw his arm over her shoulder, wrapping him around her trim frame like a glorious mink. Her head settled in the crook of his shoulder. Almost like they were on the couch in his flat or hers.

What a lovely thought that was, however fleeting. Wedge Draav, some Atrisian takeaway, a bottle of plum wine, some holo, and --

Outside the windows, the little town's buildings had gone from from tightly clustered, to spaced out, to sparse, and then they were gone. And before too long, ahead of them in the distance the many chimneys and spires of Suffolk House appeared over treetops. The speeder crossed through a wooded area and onto the coastal moors, where the house itself came into view. It looked old, but of course nothing on Aegis was that old. The building had been designed by Natasi and her now-husband, the Duke of Suffolk, the latter's influence ensuring that the place was a nigh-impenetrable fortress, though it was to anyone looking merely a comfortable if slightly sprawling country pile.

The speeder slowed as it crossed the rolling bridge and maneuvered through the gate into the circular drive, taking a wide swing so that it stopped parallel to the great stone porch, where two slender brunettes were emerging into the cool afternoon sun; Natasi wore a dark burgundy coat and George in tweeds. "Oh -- George was able to make it after all," Reima said pleasantly. "Well -- it will be nice for you not to be outnumbered. You'll like him." She straightened as the chauffer opened the door and scooted out, waiting for Wedge to join her before crunching across the gravel drive. They'd barely left the car and already there were footmen unloading the luggage, everything running like a well-oiled machine. Reima had barely had a moment to bob a shallow curtsy to her mother before Natasi's arms were around her; the open display of affection was something of a surprise. The two women exchanged kisses on either cheek before Reima introduced Wedge.

"Mother, George -- may I present Captain Wedge Draav of Revenant Squadron?" Reima gestured to her companion. The my romantic companion part went unspoken to spare Reima and Wedge their blushes.

Natasi released Reima's arm and extended a slender hand to the Captain. "Captain. How do you do? We haven't formally met, but I was present for your testimony to the Senate after Coruscant. I was very impressed," the Supreme Leader said, clasping his hand with both of hers in yet another gesture that some would consider uncharacteristically warm. The smile on her lips reached her dark eyes, twinkling as if to indicate that the two shared some secret connection from that session -- probably Natasi's not-particularly-veiled distaste for the jumped up general who had also been present. "George, say hello to Captain Draav."

"Hello, Captain Draav," said George genially, who, while waiting his turn to offer the pilot a handshake in greeting, had exchanged kisses with his sister and a brief embrace. "Not letting this one get you into trouble, I hope." He jutted his chin towards his sister.

"We ought to get you out of the cold," Natasi said solicitously, gesturing broadly towards the broad double front door to the manor. "There's hot tea and brandy in the drawing room. George, darling, take Captain Draav through." The two women brought up the rear, while George Vitalis guided Wedge in. A swarm of footmen, led by the butler, came to take coats and hats and gloves now that they were inside.

"I'll give you and Reima a proper tour later," said George. "I keep forgetting she's never been here either." He shook his head as if to clear it as he led the way into the large drawing room, which was ringed on three sides by what appeared to be a balcony overlooking it. On the fourth side, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the gardens. "Good journey, Captain? Something to drink?"

Reima, who had been confirming the room assignments with her mother in the doorway, caught Wedge's eye and gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile as she crossed the room to take his hand before settling into a comfortable brown leather sofa, shifting to make space for him to sit if he wanted.

Wedge Draav | Natasi Fortan | George Vitalis​

 

[Wedge Draav]

Reima Vitalis


He felt warm, welcomed. But he didn't belong here. Did he? He belonged with her, that was for sure. The rest of it..?​

"I woulda thought that the word Supreme Leader could you know- pull some Supreme Leader strings."

He grinned a bit at his own joke, before he looked over Reima. This was possibly their last moment together, quietly. He squeezed her leg, savoring the isolation they had, limited as it was. He had a habit- closing his eyes for a moment after taking in a moment. Like his eyes were a camera, and closing the shutter to leave the imprint on his mind. He forced himself to remember every single detail about the moment, about where his hand was, how she smelled, how her clothes wrinkled, the weight of her hands on him. The softness of her features, the flare of her makeup, the pristine skin she had. He opened his eyes.

He had a new happy place every time he was with her, alone. He would go to it, in the dire moments. Finding serenity in the chaos of a dogfight, or the reason to tough it out and push himself when the time came to it. He'd done it before, other places, other times in his life. Quiet, serene moments. But now he had someone to go back to, not just himself or a happy memory. He had a memory to go back to.

Wedge couldn't help himself, leaning over to Reima. He made a rather.... crude and unbecoming remark of what he might have allegedly done to the Supreme Leader's daughter, and that despite the fancy house and cars, she was-

He grinned, stepping away from Reima's ear, looking up at the imposing manor as it drew nearer. His eyes were immediately darting to and fro as they stopped, and even more so when they exited the vehicle onto the gravel. Helpers, tweed, the grounds, the building- he couldn't help but stare. He stood still, basking in it all. An incomprehensible level of wealth entered his mind, power beyond his comprehension for a moment. Reima of course, had never lied to him about where she came from or what she grew up with. It was never a secret, never a lie. It was just that Wedge understood, but did not comprehend the scope of what she was talking about.

Now that he was here, it was hard to not... be impressed. Be dumbfounded. Wedge turned from his stares to look at Natasi. His eyes went small. She was every bit the... Supreme Leader that Reima said she was, and all the nasty things he read across the net said. He waited patiently, smiling when she referred to him by his full title and rank. Commander, indeed. But here? He just wanted to be Wedge.

"Pleasure to meet you, ma'am. In better circumstances this time, at least." He couldn't help but smile (that damn handsome grin of his) at the remembrance of telling off the entire Senate. Unfortunately, Wedge was right, and the Empire had pushed back the Alliance- though Wedge and most of Revenant wasn't present at Tython. It may have been secretly by design, though Wedge would never admit it out loud to anyone. He would never purposefully assign his squadron elsewhere to avoid a disastrous battle- right? He leaned into Natasi's ear, whispering quietly, his tone playful, jovial, polite. For a man of his 'station' in life, he could rub elbows with the whos-who of the galaxy quite easily. "Promise I won't curse around here."

Wedge turned to George. He wrapped the man's hand in a firm handshake.

"Nice to meet you finally, George. Reima speaks highly of you."

He was lead inside, swarmed by a host of staff once more. He removed his coat upon entering, and one of the footmen seemed surprised, caught off-guard by him doing it himself unaided, as they were accustomed to. He held the folded coat out to them, which was lead away to some unknown chamber, some giant closet, or perhaps fed to the coat monster. He had no real idea. Wedge and company were lead into a drawing room- something that Wedge had only read about being a feature of houses. He stepped in, awestruck by the sheer size and scope of the room. He glanced upwards, looking at all the balconies. He paced around the room for a moment, dumbfounded once more.

George's voice broke the silence. He definitely wanted a drink. Felt appropriate.

"Yeah- yes, please. I'll take a drink. George, lemme tell you- not flying somewhere yourself is always a bit odd. That, and flying comfortably and not stuck in a frigate or cruiser." He lamented, rubbing his chin, done looking around the room after speaking. He took his place next to Reima, and without so much of a thought-

Put his arm on the back of the sofa, and by extension, her.

"Quite a home you have here- sorry for the... stares. Just lovely to look at. Wanna take it all in, while I'm here." He said to Natasi, never feeling the need to apologize for being himself to Reima. But he didn't want to appear too odd to Natasi. No, Wedge Draav did not need Natasi's approval, or George's, or anyone else other than Reima's in the house for sure. But he'd like to have it.