[center][h1][color=silver]Erinia Sylric[/color][/h1][/center]

The Elga woman had been sitting in her room, re-examining her wounds after the end of the firefight with the enemy had concluded to ensure she hadn't re-opened anything. She wasn't a medic, yes, but one had to learn much when in battle and surviving in hostile conditions over the centuries as well. Indeed, though, it had been centuries. Five centuries that had spelled out the birth and effective death of an Empire, the rebirth of another, the emergence of new ideologies and new wars, and so forth. From a human perspective, she could imagine the scope and scale of it all being frankly and uterlyy dizzying just trying to comprehend it. From an Elga perspective, well, perhaps it came down to one's perspective on how to live life as to how such a life as hers might be viewed. 

Ah, but she had digressed. 

[color=silver]"Hmm."[/color]

Even so Erinia mulled a bit in her mind, even as she re-buttoned the top button on her shirt and stood up from her cabin's bed to stretch for a moment. It had almost been tempting to take a nap after the day's events, but all the same she'd kept herself professional well enough thus far as well she supposed. Her fellow occupants of this zeppelin would likely be doing something or another, and in the long run it'd perhaps pay off to try to socialize a bit more for once. Of course seeking out where the vessel was being piloted from could be another way to check in on any possible further word coming to them from the Empire as well. 

Given the gold onboard, the ongoing war, and the like, it wasn't too farfetched to think that the most straight-laced sorts aboard the vessel would want to preserve as much as possible for the conflict. Maybe hire out mercenaries, pay new soldiers, purchase weapons, actually pay those aboard this vessel who'd pitched in a helping hand and avoid more issues regarding that matter, etc. But if things were going badly enough? Well, maybe that gold would better belong out of possible Calarian Communalist or Fifth Columnite hands at the very least. Hmm. It made her think even more about how it could all go down, but first and foremost in the immediate sense she had to look after her own life and at those immediately around her before anything else. 

With a light click, the handle of her cabin's door turned and opened up for her before she stepped out into the hallway and took a look about herself. From there, she momentarily paused....and then all it would take is beginning to follow the sounds of music and congregated voices from afar to trace them back to the source. Yet from here it wouldn't take long to run into some in the halls with whispers and a few rumors going about, chief among those to her years being that a certain someone had actual healing magic, before she'd manage to arrive where the partying was still seemingly ongoing.

...And indeed, a sight to behold it was to her own arrival to the ad-hoc venue as well.  

Trails of cigar smoke hung in the air, like puffs of wafting perfume drifting across the air, while the clink of alcohol was audible and visible as the scent of it was partly masked in the aroma of the cigar smoke itself. As her eyes drifted across things, hints of smiles as people talked and the movement of bodies across the open part of the floor to the tune of the music in the background was a familiar sight. Even with all they'd been through thus far, and the unknown yet to come, and yet people never seemed to change despite the era or the age in that they wished to seize the good moments and on occasion dance the time away more pleasantly before things went awry again later. Ah. But it was a welcome familiarity in her eyes, tugging the left corner of Erinia's mouth up ever so slightly in the noticeable sense as she leaned back against a wall and watched on at the scene before her. 

Perhaps it was this sort of fammiliarty and comfort it provided that pushed many of her ancestors to pursue the same old nomadic lives even now. To see the changes in the land without things being too much the same all of the time, and yet keep things...familiar. Consistent. Predictable. Things that in a very long life one might come to value after so much time, and yet do so at the risk to becoming lost from the reality of the world around them in her mind. Hmm. But tonight wasn't for mulling over things too much, now was it? 

Stepping up to the bar and behind it, a few strands of brown hair lingering about the sides of her face as she leaned back on the bar with her arms crossed, Erinia sought out a good bottle of drink. In particular, her height would grant her some advantage as a bottle of older-looking, amber-colored liquid seemed to call to her. Or, rather, that it sat out of reach of some of the others it seemed. Haha. Perhaps she'd get something nice, given the more luxurious nature of this military craft, after hearing beforehand that the upper brass kept some rather fine spirits aboard. Hmm~ Though she'd have to judge that for herself, of course, given she'd tried many a drink over the centuries....and within better moderation than most in her mind as well for that matter! 

Grabbing a spare glass, she then walked out from behind the bar and sat down to pour herself a shot. Nothing too much, just enough to get the flavor and look mildly busy on the side while holding a glass and sticking the corked-up bottle on the counter right next to herself. From there it was only a moment before she swigged down the shot, swirling it around a little before swallowing the alcohol right down. Afterwards, a small smile seemingly tugged again at the left corner of her mouth somewhat as she looked back at the bottle itself.  

[color=silver]"Ah, a fair bit of burn with some satisfying smokiness. Bold yet somewhat rich as well. Warmth lingers a little at the end. A rather odd whiskey if I'd say so, the men in my old unit from a few years ago would have savored this one for a while just to talk about it to others later. Ha. Or at least Peterson, that fool of a man having the oddest possible tastes in everything."[/color]

She quietly spoke to herself for a moment, a warmer smile coming to her lips before the smile that in kind would slowly fade as she sat thinking before it abruptly collapsed as she let out a small sigh. Yes, they'd have enjoyed this one for being so peculiar and likely rare a taste to be found in Inbur. Tasted more like something she'd have found back in Brendahl, though looking at the label belied the origins of the bottle as being from likely just that place anyways. 

From here, her eyes would linger about the room once more seeking something...different for the time being. Yes. That'd be preferrable, wouldn't it, at a time like this? In that vein, her vision would ultmately land upon a certain someone sitting off and away in a seat of her own to the side for now. A certain 'mitten' that had word about her spreading about the zeppelin it seemed. A curious, if not devout, scholar from what she'd gathered from their time around each other thus far. But she hadn't seen magic in a rather long time to be sure, though was  yet still old enough to remember the price a magic user might fetch among the nomadic Elga lords. 

Walking over to there Mitubaal sat, regardless of her own thinking for the moment, the Elga woman would politely take her seat next to her. 

[color=silver]"How do you fare this fine evening, Miss Vasiliou?"[/color]

A simple icebreaker. An attempt to drum up a conversation of sorts. Whatever it was, it was hopefully better than sitting idly by drinking an array of spirits from the bar like some drunkard thinking back on the lives of the dead for far too long.

[@Bingelly]