[h3]Polina Laye[/h3][i]Farisian Maid[/i]

[hr]
Polina regarded the tray of macarons with a critical eye. Bringing the confections to level with her face, she frowned as she found the desserts lacking, the sheen of its coat a notch or two duller than what passed as acceptable to her standards. The galley of the airship, while well-appointed by the standards of what could expect for a craft of its size, could only be so well equipped, especially for a trip on such short notice and she recognized that fact, however much it galled her. 

Taking sets of preprepared silken pouches, she emptied the tray of colorful confections into the containers before tying their drawstrings together and carefully placing them into a woven handbasket to later distribute. 

For Polina, this was not the first time she would be going into battle. This was something that she always found profoundly ironic, considering her entire raison d’etre for being a maid had been fleeing conflict. It had been almost ten years since that fateful day, though, and she had found her purpose since. She could count herself as a veteran maid, but as a battlemaid, she still had things to learn despite her splendid education. When you lived in a state that didn’t see an inkling of conflict during your entire span of service there, there was only so much experience you could gain outside of special assignments given by your mistress. Fending off suitors and crazies didn’t much count, though she considered it a personal failing that she hadn’t been able to prevent the assassination of the Grand Prince. 

She was still apprehensive about her tour of duty with the Violet Garden. It would do her well in treading new ground, and she was ostensibly among friends to learn and rely on. Yet the mutual pact of trust was not yet there, and likely would not ever be there unless circumstances changed. It was a far cry from her experience at home, but that too was why she was here. Depending on what she learned, the two mistresses she now served would either forge a new friendship that was more than just the simple platitudes it was now, or the relationship would be forever lost with a wall firmly in place between mutual reconciliation.

She was a well-rounded maid with a very good set of skills that just wanted to meet new people, but she hated playing the spy. Yet from what her mistress had told her, what was going on in the Maison d’Violette could have wider implications. 

Such was the cost of living in [i]interesting times.[/i]

In the meantime, though, she would feed her new maidenly comrades sweets and prepare for battle. As the voice of the Kyrsan veteran barked over the intercom, she slung her rifle over her shoulder after taking it up from its place against the wall. Even with a basket of macarons in her hand, she was combat-ready— she always kept her sword openly at her side, as were her more concealed weapons closer to her body. 
With a spring in her step, she stepped out onto the deck to hand out her confections—even if she didn’t fully trust everybody yet, she would still feed them sweets and be fed the same in return, ‘accidents’ be damned.