[right][b]Haven[/b]
[sup][b]MIDDAY[/b][/sup]
[/right]
[center][img]https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/hollowknight/images/2/26/Weaversong.png/revision/latest?cb=20171028131632[/img][/center]
Speaking with: [@Sep]
Mentions: [@Enalais]

Aranea’s dismay at the arrival of the occupation dome matched the rest of the bar, tinged slightly with a morbid amusement at the empire’s dramatic timing in relation to the hermit’s line of questioning. She was pulled out of the subsequent rapidly suffocating dread, her mind racing to workout just how fucked she was by this new authoritarian arrival, by the hermit’s talk of resistance. She visibly flinched back from him as if the very suggestion had stung her, her eyes wide as she looked down at the man as if her were mad, before she quickly composed herself and leaned in close to try and hush him, her arms unnervingly scuttling her closer till they where nearly face too face, at which point she whispered to him.
“keep it down before...” 
but it was far to late as his question had been overheard by, among others, a gruff looking human sitting alone nearby who was more than happy to answer the question for her.

She turned and examine this latest newcomer to her regular haunt as he spoke, judging him to be a recent arrival to the desert world. Unlike the hermit, who’s skin and clothes looked as if they had been marred by the relentless sun and sand for the best part of his life if she was any judge, he looked like he had either stepped right of a ship and into the bar or he had meticulously kept himself spotless like some of the stuck up imp officers did. She didn't take him for the type to care about appearances however, as the mans scarred face and a stature told a tale of a hard life doing dangerous work, in that respect at least he fit right with the rest of the locals, so she deduced that he was probably a new arrival to their little hell-world.

After the off-worlder had finished his interjection she turned back towards the hermit and in a low voice she muttered to him that “The man’s mostly right, the republic’s shown its true colors and separatists are dead. As for the sympathisers however, I’d be more concerned about snitches than thugs round these parts if I were you.” she warned before adding grimly ”Hope is lost to the galaxy my friend. I suggest you learn that quick, before you get yourself killed” 

With that said she righted herself, and proceeded to down the drink that she had been served in one gulp at the same time as she paid for it. She was used to the barkeep’s brew at this point and almost managed to enjoy the burning sensation it brought. Almost. It took the edge off regardless and that was all that mattered.