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Ary the Grey

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Aleria took a moment to adjust to the ship's running lights. The fluorescence was a bit brighter than the hit or miss of Nar Shaddaa's crazy neons. She tapped the toe of her hard soled boot on the deck plating of the frigate and smiled a little to herself. Her left hand found the carved steel of her left hilt and her mechanical hand scraped against the metal of its partner.  This is the first battle I'm going to be a part of. I'll finally put all these skills to use.

 

She took a few measured breaths before letting her hands drop to her sides and continuing toward the bridge. Aleria had heard through former Knight Roene that the Jedi were going to attempt to rescue the Imperial Remnant Head of State. And, considering the massive losses they'd suffered, Aleria figured the Jedi, the Galactic Alliance, and the Imperial Remnant needed all the help they could get. She didn't really know that a few of her plates would come loose on her way to Nar Shaddaa. Nor did she have proper authorization to enter the frigate. But she assumed, by virtue of being a Jedi Knight, that she'd be okay. At least, she hoped as much. 

 

Her expression was steel and her posture was professional without seeming stiff. Her direction was intentional and even when she took a few wrong turns she took care not to betray the bewilderment she felt. When she finally made it to the bridge, she nodded politely to the guards and passed them, coming to stand before a shorter, younger-looking woman. The woman's kind face held depth. Her green eyes hid forests of trauma that wouldn't easily be traversed. Nor would Aleria wish to venture into them without consent. But something told her that this woman was not to be dealt with lightly. 

 

Aleria knelt in front of the woman and bent her head low to look at the dull gray steel beneath her feet. 

 

"Commander Sarna. Though we haven't met, my name is Aleria Thorne, knight of the Jedi Order, and I wish to serve in the coming battle. Will you have me?" 

 

Aleria's kneel was a little awkward because she'd never really done something like this before. But she knew that kneeling was a way of showing respect. So the gesture would have to do for the time being. 

Edited by Aleria Thorne

 

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Aleria's lips formed a crooked smile in answer to the awkwardness of her gesture but resumed her jovial expression before any potential shame stuck to her face. She brushed her fake acrylic follicles out of her mechanical eye and took Commander Sarna’s prosthetic hand in her own in a genial shake. Aleria nodded politely to the two men as they were introduced and offered each of them as warm a smile as she could muster. Sometimes she wondered how odd the smile looked when half of her face was metal, but her idle musings weren’t enough to quell her exuberance.

 

When Commander Sanderson was introduced, Aleria patiently removed her prosthetic from Sandy’s hands and gave her another smile. “It was a pleasure meeting you Commander Sarna and your friends as well. I feel my talents are better suited on the field rather than on the sidelines - though I admit to having very little experience. I look forward to seeing you again very soon.”

 

With another quiet nod, Aleria took her leave of the trio and made her way over to Commander Sanderson to await further instruction.

 

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A small prick sent the hairs on the back of Aleria's neck to standing. She instinctively tightened the grip of her left hand, but her face was stone - If there was one thing the Jedi taught her more than anything else, it was how to properly show indifference with nothing but a facial expression. The way that Sanderson said the word 'teenage' made her think that the older officer chafed at having to work alongside a young woman regardless of her level of experience. Which Aleria considered ironic given the current Imperial Head of State. Sandy was polite, forward, and incredibly experienced given the myriad of stories hidden beneath her young exterior.

 

It was a rash judgment to be sure, but Aleria took a mental note of it for later. For now, she needed him.

 

The Commander's gaze combed over her, focusing on her bearing and the scars she wore; she could see it in the imperious glint of his eyes. It was misleading given her lack of field work. But her prosthetics often provided leverage with people that thought fighting and manual labor were too rough for a woman. Ignoring the muscles and the physique, it takes a hefty-looking metal arm and a mechanical eye for people like that to take you seriously. 

 

"I would like to be a part of the boarding parties, yes. I was told you were the one to contact. Do I need to report to some place in specific or do I follow you when the time comes?"

 

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