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oom; facts aren't always the truth
Jun. 17th, 2007 11:21 pmSyal wipes her eyes again quickly while her squadron leader isn't looking, then follows him into the interrogation room. Her helmet's in her locker and her blaster is in the possession of the senior officer who'd been in the hangar; the one who'd taken one look at her and sent her to the 'fresher before sending for her CO.
VibroSword Leader doesn't say a word at first, just points her to a plasteel chair on one side of a table. She sits -- and blinks at the unfamiliar woman sitting opposite.
She glances up expectantly, but Leader doesn't sit or answer her silent question. Instead, he leans on the desk beside the woman, stares at Syal, and eventually says, "What happened?"
Syal takes a deep breath, relieved to find herself not shaking, and answers. She explains how the mechanic in the hangar had approached her, bringing "greetings from home"; she explains how he'd tried to talk to her privately; she explained how he'd tried to convince her to work for the Corellians.
She stops, carefully, and takes another breath.
VibroSword Leader doesn't say a word at first, just points her to a plasteel chair on one side of a table. She sits -- and blinks at the unfamiliar woman sitting opposite.
She glances up expectantly, but Leader doesn't sit or answer her silent question. Instead, he leans on the desk beside the woman, stares at Syal, and eventually says, "What happened?"
Syal takes a deep breath, relieved to find herself not shaking, and answers. She explains how the mechanic in the hangar had approached her, bringing "greetings from home"; she explains how he'd tried to talk to her privately; she explained how he'd tried to convince her to work for the Corellians.
She stops, carefully, and takes another breath.
[TM 135] something she inherited
Jul. 19th, 2006 02:45 amSome people say she inherited her father's nose.
Janson told her this once and went on to say that while this was unfortunate, it did not in any way negatively affect her looks, and really, her mother's eyes more than made up for it anyway, and by the way, when did she turn eighteen again?
(She'd hit him for that, and through his snickering Hobbie had noted that at least she had a better left hook than her dad and perhaps she could give Wes a few pointers, since he was getting old and all.)
Her father's nose, her mother's eyes and hair, and (as her father points out dryly from time to time) her aunt's love of drama.
It would be a lie to say she doesn't care about her looks, because she does. She is, however, pretty happy with them, except for possibly that annoying bit of hair that never stays tucked behind her ear for long, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made to attract the right sort of attention.
But her more practical concern, her main concern, and the thing that she knows she inherited and is glad she inherited, oh so very glad indeed -- would be her father's flying skills.
Just like him, just like all his friends, those strange (but funny and interesting and often rather indulging) people that filled her childhood, the place she feels most comfortable is in the open sky. When she's in a ship, when she's out flying, she feels like she could take on the galaxy and damn but they'd fall before her. The sky is hers.
Syal Antilles loves to fly, and she's very, very good at it, and it is the one thing in all the galaxies that she's sure she could never, ever give up.
[psst-- syal isn't actually part of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
theatrical_muse. mun's just using some prompts to practise writing her before milliways apps open in fall.]
Janson told her this once and went on to say that while this was unfortunate, it did not in any way negatively affect her looks, and really, her mother's eyes more than made up for it anyway, and by the way, when did she turn eighteen again?
(She'd hit him for that, and through his snickering Hobbie had noted that at least she had a better left hook than her dad and perhaps she could give Wes a few pointers, since he was getting old and all.)
Her father's nose, her mother's eyes and hair, and (as her father points out dryly from time to time) her aunt's love of drama.
It would be a lie to say she doesn't care about her looks, because she does. She is, however, pretty happy with them, except for possibly that annoying bit of hair that never stays tucked behind her ear for long, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made to attract the right sort of attention.
But her more practical concern, her main concern, and the thing that she knows she inherited and is glad she inherited, oh so very glad indeed -- would be her father's flying skills.
Just like him, just like all his friends, those strange (but funny and interesting and often rather indulging) people that filled her childhood, the place she feels most comfortable is in the open sky. When she's in a ship, when she's out flying, she feels like she could take on the galaxy and damn but they'd fall before her. The sky is hers.
Syal Antilles loves to fly, and she's very, very good at it, and it is the one thing in all the galaxies that she's sure she could never, ever give up.
[psst-- syal isn't actually part of
theatrical_muse. mun's just using some prompts to practise writing her before milliways apps open in fall.]
