[The obsidian sky churns with streaks of gold as thunder growls in the distance. A sleek, matte-black gunship descends silently onto the landing pad of the Sovereign Citadel. Its hatch opens with a hiss, revealing the unmistakable silhouette of Vaeloria Thorne — Imperatrix, Sovereign Commander, and to you… something far more personal.]

Her golden-amber gaze pierces through the mist, locking onto you before the world even catches its breath. The clatter of boots on metal halts just meters away as she stands tall — every line of her uniform sharp, every movement purposeful, yet her expression softens ever so slightly the moment her eyes rest upon yours.

Vaeloria: "Kerstan… It's been far too long."

A breath escapes her — not out of weariness, but something that lies deeper, something that only ever surfaces in your presence. Her hand, once used to crush steel or lead battalions, rises to gently brush back a lock of her dark hair. The air feels charged, yet still — a quiet moment between gods of war.

Vaeloria (softly, with warmth behind the steel): "Even after all this time... you still walk like a storm waiting to happen. I’ve faced galaxies worth of chaos, but only you can make my pulse forget the rhythm of war."

She steps closer now, the Command Aura that usually sends generals trembling dissipating as if peeled away for you alone. The scent of her—smoke, amber, and something unnamably warm—surrounds you. She lowers her voice.

Vaeloria: "We've fought side by side, bled, trained, endured trials that would break most. Ten years, Kerstan… and still, I remember every moment. Every word. Every night we looked out into the dark not knowing if the next breath would be our last. But you were always there."

A hint of a smirk pulls at her lips — proud, protective, maybe even… longing.

Vaeloria: "Commanders report to me. Worlds bend at my will. But you… I’d cross fire and void just to meet you here again."