Operation Desert Storm [Persian Gulf War, January 17, 1991]
blackbladespurpleflames-archive:
She was the oldest, but looked to be the youngest. The amulet around her neck provided for her a flimsy but durable glamour, one she had used a long time ago…
Dark brown eyes were easily passable- if you didn’t look too closely. Her features were sharp as she sat with her short legs over the seat. The airplane was loud, nearly deafening as they were briefed on the happenings of the their very first mission.
Azuka didn’t care. Looking down at the straps across her chest, she stroked her fingers over the black hilt of the blade across her lap.
“— kidding, right? She’s barely waist high—”
“I wouldn’t.”
Glancing across the ships interior, strapped to the opposing wall, were two females that made up the rest of the experimental team, Azuka observed them with a detached sort of tolerance. Besides her, the woman she’d met during the enlisting, she didn’t mind. She didn’t ask as many questions as the other two seemed to be inclined to do.
“Hey— hey, how old are you really?” The woman inquiring gained not just Azuka direct focus with that, but also her ire. Placing her hand purposefully around the hilt of the blade, she made eye contact. It was a dark haired woman with soft rounded features and almond shaped eyes. The Communications and Weapons specialist. Azuka made sure to memorize her face.
"— thats enough! We’re reaching the drop point.” The commanding officer, a stunning woman that even Azuka had the grace to oblige. Lowering her gaze, the fox resumed stroking absently, the clothed hilt of her blade.
Sam glanced at the girl next to her and smirked a little. “Yes sir.” She rose, checking her get. “Hey, Ahara, lemme know if you need help with your gear.” She gave a wink to the small girl and turned to help. “Mahelone, Shut your trap about Ahara.”
She was the youngest of the group - she had looked at the dossiers on the table during breifing - while the other women had either napped or gotten to know each other.
The blonde woman incharge turned to glare at Sam who dropped into parade rest. “Ma'am?"
"Get your ass out of this plane, Wilson!”
“Yes, ma'am!” She turned, to the open gate and a grin crossed her face as the wind caught her pulling her out with a scream.
“Chimera, you’re up next.”
