The warmth of the water running down her body eased her mind and soothed aching muscles, while the sound of it running allowed her to relax, assured that nobody would dare burst through her door at this minute. She cleaned herself of the impurities that'd taken their toll upon her both during their fight on Miridem and during the trip from the planet to the Human fortress world. All that had occurred felt like it happened years ago to her. The sole thing partially assailing her mind now was the thoughts of the millions that inhabited New Alexandria.

Certainly, the Warp's calm had been both a blessing and a curse in this degree. With the incessant mess of the billions of dreams and nightmares screaming at once in their ears, the Eldar had learned to tune out the noise of the Immaterium in their home galaxy. Here, finding it a soothed and silent Realm, not a turbulent nightmare of howling temporal winds and ebbing flows of raw souls, they had let their guard down.

She had let her guard down. Just a bit.

Still, the voices of the humans around her were soothing to a degree. No screams of the dying or dead, nor the wails of those in the Infinity Circuit of Ilroh'ynn, asleep and not, conscious and not and living and not, all at the same damnable time. Here, she listened to lovers' quarrels, to the voices of family, of youthful children praying that their loved ones, fathers and mothers and siblings, would be home safe.

It was calming. It was normalcy. Normalcy so lacking from their own Galaxy, so lacking from perhaps their own universe. Humans were still strange creatures to her, she thought as she wiped away the dirt and muck, but at least they were somewhat friendly here. The Insurrection they were supposed to deal with notwithstanding, Faenbrynn had almost found the idea of living in such a city calming.

Almost. Again.

After thoroughly drying herself off, she donned clean robes that had been brought over from the Craftworld as she stepped out into the room, which was lit by lamps, the only audible noise being from the television's news reporting. She sighed, stepping with bare feet onto the carpet. She stopped at the corner and peered over to the Marine as he sat, watching the news.

She had openly and thoroughly protested being given a room with him. He had said he was not going to be around much anyhow, only here to make sure she entered the place safely and knew how to use it. Having read his mind(Despite his desire not to do that), she found he was telling the truth. Right now, he was simply relaxing and watching the TV, so there was really no harm in it.

Stepping out into the room proper, she cleared her throat. The Sergeant straightened up and turned to face her, starting, "Sorry. Was about to..." only to pause as he saw her. Now, Mike wasn't one to openly voice his opinion on women's looks. Not most of the time. He always thought about them to himself. And, usually, he wouldn't look upon his comrades like he would look upon a random civvie girl he met.

Yet there was something about Faen, sat there, hair still slightly wet, her skin glistening in the light and her robes hugging her frame just right, that caused the man's heart to stop. She stared at him with bright, almost ethereal blue eyes, her facial expression never shifting much. He'd understood from her that Eldar that usually showed emotion as much as her people did were a fair rarity, mostly due to multiple issues, including those weird 'Gods' they kept bringing up when talking about their soulstones.

She raised a brow, then asked, "It isn't quite necessary yet, is it?" as she stepped further into the place. She sat herself down next to him, then stated, "I do believe you still owe me an explanation for what we talked about on the ship..." only for him to swallow empty. He was well aware of what she was referring to:His hesitation to speak about his own past. In truth, it wasn't all that different from hers.

Sans a few details, of course. He sighed deeply, then nodded, "Sure, I guess. Only fair, eh?" and he smiled one of his usual, more open smiles, though she could feel the sadness. He bit his lip, then murmured, "How the hell does one even start a story like this..." before leaning back into his seat, "Like I told you, i wasn't born with an MA5 in my hand and an alien killer instinct in my gut..."

He shook his head, then smiled sadly, "I was actually born on a cozy little agricultural world right at the edge of human-controlled space. One of our youngest Colonies," and he pulled out a picture to show her. It was an old, paper postcard. The paper was yellowed, crumpled. It showed a lush, green world floating in a sea of stars. Handing the crumpled postcard to her, he told her, "Harvest was its name. Yours truly was born Mike Reaver, little farmboy, with a hoe in my hand and dirt all 'round me."

A faint smirk crossed the Eldar Farseer's lips, though she did well to hide it. She still asked, "You, too, were a farmer? Normally, one would say what a coincidence that is, but..."

"Both of us went through too much to believe it's a simple coinkidink," Smirked the man. She rolled her eyes as he snorted, then said, "Sorry..." and sighed, smile fading yet again from his face as he said to her, "Obviously, I and, later, my little sister sort of grew up on Harvest for a time. I think I was... Maybe three years old when the Covenant came..."

Faen soon realized what that implied. She narrowed her lips, while the boy continued, "My sis...? Heh. No older than maybe four months old. To make a long story short, what you stopped from happening on Miridem happened on Harvest. The world burned. I and my sis managed to get off-world, but... After some time, we got separated in the orphanage system. I don't know where she is right now, but..."

"... I'm... Sorry, Michael," The Farseer let out a deep sigh, "I did not account for the fact of..." then she shook her head, "I suppose it makes sense as to why you are a Marine now, but... Why be so reckless?" She then asked, crossing her arms. "Would it not make more sense to try and keep yourself alive so you may see this war to an End? See that your family's memory goes on?"

Mike rubbed the back of his neck and replied, "Maybe. Though I'd argue I'm doing alright."

"Charging enemy guns like you did on Miridem is not 'alright'," She replied in a deadpan. He chuckled awkwardly and nodded, having understood her point. Probably best not to argue with the woman who could lightning bolt his ass through a window if he pissed her off enough, he soon realized. Then again, was that ever really a problem beside her just yelling at him? She, however, sighed, sensing his thoughts, then said, "You are one of the first humans I and my people have run into in this Galaxy. As annoying as you can be and, believe me, by Isha, you are..." she gave a small smile, "You have helped us as we have you. Now... We should be ready. Tomorrow, our hunt starts."

He took a moment to realize that, yes, the Farseer had, in fact, smiled at him. Smiling back, he nodded and said, "Of course, your Highness. Count me in," with a grin. Faenbrynn rolled her eyes and handed him the postcard, the last memory he had of Harvest, then stood up and opened the door for him. He stowed it in his jacket, chuckled and gave a quick salute, then walked to the door. He stopped, looked at her again and said, "Thanks, Farseer."

She nodded, "Be seeing you, Sergeant," and the man left. Closing the door and hearing the electric lock click shut, the woman sighed and sat herself down on the single bed in the room, rubbing her eyes. Today had been somewhat tiresome, what with all the politicking and handshakes, but to look at the proper start of an Alliance like this through the lens of being one of the beneficiaries, Faen thought to herself that it had been productive, at least.

Humans... Part of her wondered what sort of ironic twist of fate had had them meet them in a non-hostile, or why the Covenant had decided to open fire when they did. Best not to question it too much, she thought. Leaning back into the surprisingly comfortable bed, the woman turned off the lights and grabbed the television remote, turning it off with the click of a button, so that darkness may fully settle into the room.

Closing her eyes, she prepared herself for tomorrow...


The second day had come by with surprisingly little in the form of dreams. The Farseer took that as a good night's sleep and a good sign. As she dressed herself in her full robes and armor and took her Singing Spear with her, she stepped out of the room, ensuring her access card was with her when she left. Thankful she had decided to pick up a few pouches to attach to her armor, she walked through the halls, much to the surprise of both the human staff and the guests.

Passing by a room and one man in particular, she saw him eyeing her with suspicion, his face a stone mask. It didn't take long for curiosity to get the better of her, making her wonder if he was an ONI agent meant to keep tabs on her. When she peered into his mind, though she spared him little more than a glance, she found a sea of muddled thoughts. Plucking a few for later 'reading' as she found them interesting, she descended down to the Lobby.

There, she saw the Sergeant, his hands in his leather jacket's pockets. The man's hand caressed a pistol hidden in a holster beneath the jacket as he waited for her. Turning his head, he smiled as he saw her approach motioned to the door. Nodding, she followed him out as she parsed through the 'copies' of the previous man's thoughts. She spoke, "One man eyed me as I was exiting..."

"Stole some of his thoughts, I hope?" Joked the Sergeant. The serious face the woman wore told him all he needed to know as he stated, "Jeez, Faen, I was kidding... Keep me updated if you find anything interesting..." a bit horrified by the implications. They walked out onto the street, with him telling her, "ONI's also helping with this. We're walking New Alexandria today, finding two of the three hostile contacts. Last one, we're gonna go after if need be... Not to keen on heading out to Visegrad myself, honestly."

"Why?" She inquired as they started walking down toward the Promenade of New Alexandria, near the Space Port. She saw a civilian vessel taking off in the distance, heading for orbit to presumably jump out toward another Inner Colony. Part of her considered the possibility of those they sought being in one of those ships, but another knew it was rather impossible.

"Because the place is full of Farmers. Not a lot of'em view the UNSC in a good light, much less ONI. Some bad arrest cases two years back," The man replied as if he knew what this was about. Indeed, he probably did due to his own ONI 'friend' and contact, Klara, but that didn't mean much right now. Their main objective was simple:Finding the first couple of targets and tailing them to see if they were threats.

Secondary objectives for the man seemed to be sightseeing the city at the same time. She wished he'd stick to the objectives they had at hand right now, but humans were eccentric and emotional creatures, far more so than your average Eldar. She replied to him, "Very well..." as she followed along. She was, however, gonna stick out like a sore damn thumb in her current outfit, so she said, "We should probably find me some new clothes... I am probably the most obvious creature on this planet at the moment."

The Sergeant snorted, "Yeah. A lil' clothes shopping can go for a bit of cover, too, since one of our current targets is on the Promenade," and he lifted up a phone to show her a tracking system that probably was being used by ONI agents. She nodded as they turned onto a side walkway that led right by the rocky beaches and beautiful sights of Reach's blue ocean.

She told him, "I appreciate you taking me on this mission, however. Seeing humanity's inner workings has always been a bit of an interest of mine when I was learning on the Path of the Seer..." to which he smiled at her a more genuine smile. He nodded, then continued leading the way among the crowds of people. Some stopped to stare, others walked past. Many cheered, surprisingly, news of Miridem having apparently already reached the people of Humanity's greatest bastion after Earth.

Some stopped the pair, asking for photos with the Farseer. She awkwardly accepted, keeping her mind open for any possible incoming hostiles, however. It was better to be prepared. As she made a V-for-victory sign with her fingers, a little awkward, she saw that Reaver had already spotted one of their targets in the crowd. Joe Hennessy, it seemed. The man carried a metal container of some kind.

After taking the picture, the woman and the man pushed their way through the crowd. They managed to link up with Hitchcock, who nodded to them after they explained the situation. He marched farther away from the pair as they walked around various clothes shops. Faen kept her mind focused on Joe, trying to read his thoughts, but from this far away, it was problematic.

She did, however, understand what the item he was carrying was. It was a spent nuclear fuel rod in a specialized container. Terrifying, if nothing else. She probed further, finding out about the fact the ancient fission station was finally about to be closed in favor of a newer Fusion one being built just across and that the Fuel Rod was from the reactor dismantling.

She wondered who the man bribed to get that bomb, but she told Mike, "That is a fuel rod in his hand. Spent... Apparently from the disassembly of Reactor 3. He..." She took a moment to read the man's mind and hummed, "Bribed one of the guards at the waste disposal site, stole the rod and walked off with it in a secure container. It seems as though the Office's suspicions may be right..."

"A Dirty Bomb," He sighed, then pulled up his phone and acted like he was showing Faen something while he sent a message over to Klara to confirm at least a bit of the suspicion that ONI had. The two stopped by a rail on the Promenade's second floor, acting as if they were looking out at the city skyline and the ocean, when, in reality, they were tracking Joe.

He cast a quick sideways glance at them and scoffed, then vanished behind a building. Minutes later, he reappeared... Without the container. Enough proof, Mike thought. He texted it and another photo toward Klara. No answer was needed as he stowed the phone and simply stared out. He told Faen, "Hell of a first outing on Reach, eh...?" which got a short snort out of her. Hitchcock, in the back, kept tabs on Joe, too, from farther away.

The Sergeant and Faen soon turned away from the side and walked to the clothes shops. Mike offered, "Pick anything you like and I'll buy it. I have the money..." which Faen found surprisingly generous. Then again, this was probably Michael's first outing in a while, so there was nothing much to really spend the money on outside of any form of amenities he might've needed on the planet.

She nodded, "My thanks..." while peering through the window. She had to admit, some of the human designer clothes were fairly suited to Eldar tastes. That, to the average person, would've meant a compliment. The dresses, colored in sharp, beautiful shades, lay on mannequins that were at about her size, height and measurements, so she could pretty well see how they would look. Add to that jackets, shirts, pants, boots and other such items and... Well.

Faen felt a bit like a young woman again. In that it was during those times, before she had become a Farseer, before War had become a norm for her and before her powers had truly let her acclimatize to her new reality, that she would have looked through various clothes stands during the Harvest Festival on board Ilroh'ynn. It was then that she would have danced the days and nights away and worked with her parents, breaking her own back in the labor of feeding her people and their allies. Truly, centuries had passed since. Centuries of warfare, of sadness, of loss. She had seen a great deal more than any human today would hope to.

Still... She could somewhat sympathize with them now, after fighting the Covenant...

Not with these terrorists, no, but with the Sergeant, with his Marines and the Navy staff...

It was odd...