Xun entered through the rust stained hatch of the broken submersible she called home. A destroyed shell from an age gone by. Built to last it had been used in 12 battles before retiring here. Defensible in case of attack, while roomy enough for living space; it provided a semipermanent shelter. She was not pretty, but she was home.

Pitch dark inside, Xun was forced to knock on the wall as she navigated the ship. The soft glow of her equipment barely piercing six inches in front of her face. Penatua hadn't lit the lamps. Hardly a difference for him however, having parted with his sight nearly a decade before.

Stumbling over chairs, Xun found the lamp she had thrown askance that morning. Leaning against the wall she brought her lighter to bare against the wick of the lamp. Like lovers parted for an age, the flame greedily jumped to the wick, casting a vivid glow about the room.

A cluttered living space reflected back against the lamp. Xun's cleanliness betrayed by a mountain of dishes and dirty linens strewn about. Penatua rarely left his room, his lack of sight had turned him into a recluse.

Penatua had cared for Xun since she was little. Xun didn't know if Penatua was her father, in fact he hardly mentioned the past at all. The only time he did was when he regaled her with stories of his time in the army. A ranger for the UR, his skill was unparalleled.

Xun admired him for the care he gave her. Everything she had ever learned had been passed down from him. He had spent long hours with Xun in her youth, hours spent training, practicing, and coaching her. Under his tutelage she had become an expert martial artist and thief.

Penatua had never approved of Xun's desire to be a thief. He had passed on those skills to her with the quite vocal intention of having her pursue a scouting role in the United Republic military. However Xun had a penchant for the thieving work and had fallen in love after her first robbery. She abhorred the military and its regulation. Xun was adventurous at heart and wasn't bound by a consistent sleep schedule, let alone an oath of service.

Xun dropped heavily onto a bench arty the kitchen table. Looking down at herself, the new brides and cuts blended in, her body a canvas painted with a history of her brutal lifestyle. While Xun wasn't clumsy, any grace she did possess was hard won.

Beneath the soft glow of the light it was hard to see the scratches littering her ochre skin. Despite being of draft age for only a few years, the weathering in her face spoke of years beyond. While she didn't live harshly, her continuous training was a heavy stressor on her body. Her eyes, normally the color of glacial ice were red with irritation and bloodshot. Hair normally bound in a ponytail was left wild and frayed.

Xun collected her things and left the galley for her quarters. Dropping all of her things at the entrance, she gingerly stepped over the minefield of her bedroom floor. Upon reaching her bed she collapsed into the welcoming embrace of much needed sleep.