When the Galaxy Ends [ Omega Protectorate & Omega Pyre ]

[Cira]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

It's funny how scent has a way of plucking memories from a distance past and making you relive them. Almost with uncanny accuracy too. The sense of smell was by far the most poignant sense that could encapsulate the emotions and sensations one felt in years past. Comfort. Fear. Joy. Anger. Grief.

It was his scent that would hit her more than the action itself. Enough for her to tense slightly, swiveling her head to cast a look off her shoulder at him. Wide bright gold eyes would sear upon his form, latch upon the valleys and scarred ravines of his face, the rivers of ink of his veins, the bottomless orbs of his eyes.

Silent. Steady. There.

Always there.

His cloak would grant him a means to disappear, to blend into his surroundings. Quiet. Still. Always observing. It had taken her almost a year to finally figure out how to use it. To move with the same predatory rippling grace and blend into the shadows. It had started out as a joke. As a way to beat him. Snub him.

Funny. It didn't end that way.

It didn't end that way at all.

Her mouth went dry, and she licked her lips. Thoughts ran a dozen klicks per second. A sharp breath, a rise and fall of her shoulders and chest. Then the embers of her eyes drifted away. Give, take. Like waves upon her shore.

"How large of a fleet? The Spirit isn't something that just disappears..."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

[member="Cira"]

"The Spirit was supposed to be donated to the Levantine Astronautical Academy, but with their governmental merger I'm not sure what will become of that." He frowns, "I said the Leviathan, though." He corrects, locking gaze with her for a few moments before looking away.

"And enough that we have an easy time getting this done quickly. Several hundred ships, probably."

 

[Cira]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

"Not exactly what I meant," Cira would add, glancing back at him. Twin throbs of ethereal gold would lock upon the broad form of the man beside her.

"It does not matter in the end." she would add, her right hand lifting to press at the bridge of her nose. There was so much to do. So little time. Or was that just her mind playing games, feeding on doubts? That was possible. Then there was the question... of what would she do now? By all intents and purposes, she was the owner of Omega Pyre. Yet she was by no means mentally stable to do anything with it or the company.

Her time of leading an organization, even Omega Pyre, was long gone. Kreelan now ran things as Prex. Without the role of the Lady Protector or Prex... then what was she to do? What was her place?

"Time will tell. We can only change along with it."

That was all that there was left.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

A hand rose, settling itself with a firm grip on the woman's shoulder. Fingertips sunk into flesh covered by fabric and cloth, power imparting strength through touch. His lips settled themselves into a thin line, brow furrowing together to impart the import of what he was about to say. "We change with each other." He remarks quietly, firming the grip a bit. "I've got your six."

Because he always had.

[member="Cira"]