[color=red][b]Alyia[/b][/color]

With its distinctive metallic report of mechanisms swinging free the entrance to the bridge opened once more, admitting the next member of the Spartan squad onto the command deck. Her armored footsteps, reverberating on the deck plating, followed shortly thereafter as Alyia strode onto the bridge proper.

She was clad in her own suit of the advanced Mjolnir combat armor which the rest of the Spartans had arrived in, both similar and yet markedly different from those worn by her comrades-in-arms. In the Marines armor was interchangeable, and nearly disposable in some cases. In full battle dress one soldier was indistinguishable from the next, it offered a sort of solidarity among those in the Corps; they all fought together under a common banner. Every one of them had been through the same regimented training, so everyone one of them earned the armor. When it came down to it, that meant every single marine knew they could rely on one another as much as they could rely on their own flesh and blood. 

And while Alyia was no longer a jarhead, past lives had a way of sticking around. It was... [i]different[/i] for Spartans. Individual talent was fostered, their differences are what made them strong, and even stronger while working together as whole. The Mjolnir armor she wore now, neck to toe with matching helmet tucked under one arm, was proof of that. Uniquely colored and even more uniquely designed, it was nonetheless recognizable as part of the whole because of it. Of course, there were far more important differences than just the fact that their armor did not match.

Her armor in the marines had been [i]heavy[/i], not a fact that any would begrudge after it saved their lives, Mjolnir was heavier and yet it felt like it weighed nothing. She knew consciously that part of it was the armor itself, and part her own greatly enhanced capabilities, but it was difficult to shake the feeling of vulnerability from the apparent lack of heft to it. A good weapon kicked and good armor made you work for it.

Now no weapons kicked so much, and the armor [i]helped[/i] her work.

It was different.

"[color=red]Reporting in,[/color]" Alyia announced, as she slid in place next to Kathrine. While not as heavy as it once was, her accented still ever so slightly colored her words as she spoke. Her gaze flicked from the others nearby before finally settling on the captain himself.