[b][h3]Shortly After the End of the Galactic War[/h3][/b]
[sub]Featuring Isabella de Lobasla[/sub]

Cheers. Flags. Four planes screeched overhead, blue, white, green and gold smoke billowing out behind them in long trails. Isabella stood on an open-topped skimmer in her full regalia, the light glinting off the medals on her breast and the sword at her hip. Behind her hovered or marched those who had won the war- a victorious army receiving their rightful commendations. 

The idea of a Triumph was nothing new of course, but the last time a formal one had been declared was after the end of the War of Counter Aggression, now remembered only by some of the oldest among the Gran Republic. The new war, although undoubtably necessary for galactic security, had not necessarily been met by rapturous applause by all of the Gran Republic- even with the honour and glory associated with war, rare was the mother who wouldn't rather see her child safe at home than returned in a box with military honours. The Senate needed an event to remind people why war was glorious, and this Triumph was just that.

The procession twisted through Esperanza's streets, the Admiral standing, shoulders squared, gaze steely, as if a statue rather than a living person. She was an idol- something to be appreciated from afar, revered, yet placed apart from the common plebeian who had never seen the battlefield. Finally, they reached the Cortes Generales, olive trees shimmying in the breeze and the misted water that they greedily drank up.

The skimmer slowed, and then settled onto the ground, and Isabella finally was able to descend, stretching herself as much as she could while still displaying decorum, before straightening out as camera drones descended onto her. Before her, in the wide pathway that led up to the halls of governance, stood the three most important men of the Republic. Presidente Agustín del Aquila, Almirante-da-Armada Ximeno de Araba, and Chancellor of Azulvista Federico De Lobasla. Her father.

She strode forward confidently, all internal feelings crushed down under the overwhelming sense of duty that had flooded through her. Agustín nodded at her, stone faced yet with a slight quirk at the corner of his lips, one hand extended. She shook his hand firmly, the Presidente thanking her for her service to the nation, before indicating for her to turn to Ximeno. The Almirante-da-Armada raised up an intricately-crafted golden chaplet, and when Isabella inclined her head down, he set it neatly down on her head, the weight of it sinking down through her scalp. Lastly, she turned to her father- the only man of the trio to be showing visible motion, a beaming smile across his face. 

"You look magnificent you know." Her father reached out to take her hand, holding it gently. His other hand reached up, brushing a strand of hair back behind her ear, then resting against her cheek. "Your mother would be so proud of you. I hope you know that Bella."

"I know papa. I know." Emotion welled up in her gut, only for her to quickly swallow it down. She reluctantly took a step back, turning once more to Agustín as he stepped forward to address the rest of the procession, reaching up to his lapel to tap the activation for a microphone.

"Citizens! Soldiers! Heroes!" A cheer rose up from the crowd - both from the soldiers and the spectators. "Here, we recognise those that have fought, struggled and died for our glorious Republic. We have shown to the galaxy that we are no paper tiger- putting up a front of strength and cowering behind it. No! We have shown ourselves to have every bit the fortitude and prowess that took us through our long history! Today the galaxy knows, well and truly, that Azulvista will not bend or bow to dictators and oppressors, but instead stiffen ourselves and overcome, and when we have finished our work, return in glory!"

Isabella always found it astonishing how despite his years, Agustín never once faltered when publicly speaking. She was sure he had practiced this speech - anything less would have been downright irresponsible, but to hear how his voice only grew in strength and surety, the crowd hanging on to each sentence and each word... She felt like she should be taking notes.

"I am sure however you do not wish to hear me ramble on for too long," a polite chuckle rolled through the crowd. "But before you all disperse, to enjoy the holiday, the games and the festivities, I would like to commend the woman who led us from our Gateway to the doors of Dercy itself. A true hero of the Gran Republic of Azulvista, a shining example for patricians and plebeians alike... Isabella Maria Rodriguez de Lobasla!" He reached down to her clenched fist and drew it up into the air, as if he was a tournament judge rather than the president of the Gran Republic, but as the roar of the crowd rolled over her, she found it hard to appreciate the sheer bizarreness of the scene.

[hr]

[b]Twelve Hours Later[/b]

Isabella was shattered. The Triumph had only officially finished six hours ago, and from there she'd had all of forty-five minutes to get herself cleaned up, changed out of her military uniform and into a formal dress, then be ferried from her apartment in Esperanza to the Palacio where Agustín lived for a state banquet. Elsewhere she knew there had been almost non-stop celebration- she'd tuned out the fireworks hours ago, and the aerodyne that had carried her here had passed over crowds of people toing and froing to sporting events, cultural celebrations and saints knew what else. 

"So, Almirante," she was jolted out of her stupor by a question directed towards her, this one fielded by... She blinked a few times, trying to recall their name, then gave up. Someone from the Senate probably. "What will you be doing now that you've become the hero of the hour? Staying the course in the Navy, or perhaps coming to spend more time planetside? Politics calling you yet?"

Isabella took a slug from her wine glass to buy a little more time, then forced a smile up and onto her face. "Well, that all depends. The Home Fleet's been a little battered recently, and the [i]Escudo[/i] could do with some time in the shipyards. Besides, it seems clear to me that I'm expected to hang around at least a little while. Can't have me jetting off right after all these celebrations, no?" 

A polite chuckle from her conversation partner. "Of course, of course. There is also the matter of a family I suppose! You're of the age to begin thinking of such, are you not?"

"Ah, well, but I'm already pretty firmly married to the [i]Escudo[/i] as it is! Seventeen years in the Navy and I've spent half of them aboard her, can you really blame me?" A few others gave the expected response, but there was an undercurrent of concern in the room. [i]Of course.[/i] The admiral thought to herself. [i]You hit thirty and suddenly everyone's obsessed with when you're going to start having kids.[/i]

"Well, that is at it may be, but-" Thankfully, the statement was cut off as yet another course was wheeled into the room. Stifling a yawn, she hefted up her knife and fork, and continued on with the pageantry.

[hr]

[b]Three Days Later[/b]

She'd had to go halfway across the damn planet to get away from the crowds and the constant questions. A friend of her from back when she was in training - a Duque's daughter much like her by the name of Emeralda who had actually had her military career postponed so she could pursue promising prospects as an Olympian. Of course, she was thirty-one now and the chances of her winning another gold were looking slimmer and slimmer, but she'd got what she needed from it, and made a pretty penny off endorsements and media showings alike. And then, she'd offered Isabella a no-questions asked getaway in her father's duchy. Sure, they were in their thirties, but it wasn't like Patricians like them really got to party away their twenties, so it'd have to do.

That's why she was here, in a crowded club, thoughts lost in the maelstrom of moving, grinding humanity. Her heart thumped in time to the pounding of the bass, her hair spinning out around her, loosed from its usual practical ponytail, and for once she was dressed in something other than formal clothes or a military uniform, LED's matching the strobe lights.

The song began to fade out, and for a moment the energy in the room deflated. Opening her eyes slowly, a grin split Isabella's face as she began to work her way over to the bar... But something felt wrong. She blinked a few times, the hairs on the back of her neck beginning to stand up as the crowed began to whoop and whistle, and - 

She was elsewhere. That wasn’t bass, it was the pounding of artillery, and the drunken hollering was now suddenly something much more sinister. Strobe lights flickered and spun about her, the smoke machines in the club gone from innocent atmosphere generation to the hissing of chemical weapons unleashing their payload. Her heart began to thud, harder and harder, louder and louder, and when the bartender asked for her order, the words stuck in her throat. She held a finger up, then began to push her way through the crowd, slowly at first, then faster and faster, until she practically fell through the exit and out into the bracing cold of the night.

The bouncer looked at her with a quirked eyebrow. "If you're gonna huck, the toi-" She waved a hand dismissively towards him, trying to gulp in air as quickly as possible.

"No? Too much in there or what?" He chuckled a little, eyes scanning the street.

"S...Sure. You could say that." She began to rummage through her handbag, hands shaking with every movement. Cigarettes. Lighter. She stuck the filter between her lips, then tried to spark up a flame, only to find that she couldn't quite seem to manage it. "Could... Could you light me?" She reached over, cigarette quivering in her hand as the bouncer brought his own lighter's flame down to the tip. "Gracias," she managed to mumble out, before sucking in far too much in one go.

[i]Fuck.[/i]