Sunset ^beta

UNX-001 “Brigand” Test Chronicle

Chronicle Date Code (FROM-1): 293912

Chronicler: Trial Commissar Aatto Jarvi-Stormyweather

Mood

Aboard: In good cheer, possibly due to the nature of United Fronts goals.

Myself: Content.

Meals

Breakfast: N/A

Lunch: Sandwich (cheese?)

Dinner: N/A

Events

My day began simply and without much to comment upon. Although my apartment when I worked under the Volkisch was much larger, the officers’ quarters aboard the Brigand are more than satisfactory. In fact, an empty bunk alongside me often makes my morning routine feel emptier than it should. I headed for the morning shower and attempted to strike up a conversation with Chief Petty Officer Geninov, although she seemed more interested in finishing her shower and hurrying to work. I was quite lucky to be interrupted as I was entering the shower by Master- our schedules are aligning more and more these days, something I can’t see as anything but a boon. Further existence in her presence and being able to make myself of use to her are worthy uses for my life.

My King’s appearance was, as always, remarkable. Though she seemed a bit bleary due to the early morning, she attempted to compose herself and granted me a smile that I could consider intimate and fond. Upon responding in kind, I gave a compliment about how her bedhead was yet another side of her I’d never seen before, and that I cherished such glances into new aspects of her and the deepening of our relationship. She grew a bit flustered, and attempted to fix her hair, something I found charming and offered to assist. This attempt seemed to further vex my Master, perhaps due to my nudity while making such a proposition. Shortly, however, she left it alone and joined me for the shower.

To put my feelings about the body of my Master into words makes me feel insufficient. More and more things make me feel that way recently. I shall endeavor to do my best. Her skin in such a lovely tone, and I must admit to the difficulties of drawing my eyes from her shoulders once we were under the water. She’s recently confided in me her desire to get a haircut, but I find the way her hair splayed over her back while wet eye catching. It served as a lovely contrast to the softness of her figure and provoked a desire in me to run my hands through her hair. I knew this was trouble her, however, and restrained myself to merely gazing.

I know Murati would be uncomfortable with my extended staring, but once again I feel that words fail me. To describe the way her movements, as simple as running a bar of soap across her inner thigh makes her figure twist and push- its erotic. Motion never figured strongly into crushes I’ve had in the past, but the feelings Master evokes in me feel heightened by her every word and deed. There’s a composure and confidence she carries that makes her acts feel intentional and meaningful (even when she’s far less composed than she lets on, another point of charm for her). Of course, my eyes following the motion of her palm over her inner thigh could only lead one place. In the interest of brevity, I shall merely state that my offer of an assistance in cleaning Master’s body were greeted with much more strenuous objections.

However, perhaps to distract or limit such requests, my King engaged me more conversationally while I washed my hair. She had an interest in my readings and was approving of Commissar Bashara’s teaching style. I had a few questions that I put forward for the sake of a clearer understanding of communism as an ideology which seemed to invigorate Murati. Sometimes she’ll say things that provoke… odd feelings within me. It feels unusual to be thought of so intently, and with such care and focus. I will avoid describing the complexities here due to my shortcomings in understanding my own feelings.

Leaving the shower, the both of us dried off uneventfully. I was more than happy to keep her company on the walk back to the officers’ quarters, although we did take a brief recess to get dressed for the day’s work. There’s some enthusiast fiction I’ve read that speaks to the intimacy of helping a noble lady disrobe or assisting in dressing her, and the image of my hands being responsible for helping dress my Master keeps me company in the quiet of my quarters. There was no time for such things now, though. I wished to dress quickly and be of service to my Master as soon as possible.

Hurrying to my Master’s quarters to meet her, I chanced upon an intimate moment between her and Specialist Maharapratham as they were heading to their different posts for the day. Murati seemed embarrassed, although Maharapratham was happy enough to see me. She teased my Master a bit about not being too strict or harsh on me- my response and my Master’s came out at the same time, which seemed to delight the Specialist further. After some more goodbyes, Master and I made our way to the bridge for another day.

The morning shift was mostly uneventful. Several of the bridge crew had built a rapport, and my Master confided in me about not quite being capable of reading the line for when they ought to be chastised for being distracted from their work. I assured her that I would be happy to wield the authority to keep some of the more colorful officers in line but weighed in that it’s good for morale to keep the mood light and to acquire her own captain-like character. This seemed to satisfy her, and she thanked me quite thoroughly. My King has a way with words that makes the assuredness of her belief send shivers down my spine.

Eventually, I struck up a short conversation with Chief Petty Officer al-Suhar. Her hearing is a great boon to the bridge and was more than happy to answer a few short questions about Union audio protocol. Other than that, my Master had a few simple calls with Daphne aboard the Rostock. An uneventful morning that helped further increase my Master’s comfort in a position of power and status worthy of her.

When the time came for lunch, I offered to hold the bridge and get something to eat later, but Murati wouldn’t hear it and insisted on accompanying me, and Semyonova further agreed that it was important to take breaks and eat. Their concern was touching and a bit unexpected, but I’ve been learning more about communists’ attachment to workplace regulations. I thanked them both and accompanied my Master to lunch. Murati seemed dissatisfied with only taking a sandwich from the cart for lunch, which encouraged me to ask for a bite of her food. To my surprise, she lifted her own fork up, and I acceded to try the bean and pepper mix she offered. My relationship to food is complicated, but in that moment, I felt that it was delicious. However, I was distracted from my Master’s feeding me by the sound of a fork dropping- a purple haired elf on the crew seemed to have seen the action and appeared rather flustered.

I made sure to thank my King intimately for the bite, although it seemed to begin troubling her shortly after she went back to eating. I wish I was capable of easing Murati’s fears in these moments, but I felt as though any contribution I could make would only make things worse. I hope she becomes more comfortable when wielding her charms and talents in the future.

On our way back from lunch, Murati took a moment to have a private conversation in a hall with me. This took the form of her arm braced against the wall while she spoke in a soft voice. If I may admit to a failure in my role as her adjutant- I found it quite hard to focus on what she was saying at first, pinned against the wall in such an intimate position. My gaze was entirely distracted by the motion of her lips, the way she leaned a bit further in with a bashful expression on her face. I believe I may have made some sort of noise that alarmed my Master, causing her to lose her train of thought. The expression she made- it made me want to keep pushing her buttons, to find out the sounds that my Master reacted to the most, which expressions and desires they’d provoke within her and what she’d do to me to draw out more and more.

Upon gathering myself enough to ask for her to continue, I managed to grasp it was an apology for her over-familiarity in feeding me earlier during lunch. I made a joke that this was an interesting way of bringing it up, which my Master seemed to not understand. So, I responded in earnest, leaning closer myself- I expressed that it had been a kind act that expanded my palette, and that I felt deeply moved by Murati’s interest in my health and wellbeing. Murati’s response was cut short by yet another interruption from the elven member of the crew. She let out a gasp upon seeing us, and scurried off in the direction she’d come from, which seemed to trouble my Master.

Upon reminding her our lunch break was nearly over; she shook off the concern and accompanied me back to the bridge. Nothing of note had occurred while we were eating, and my Master settled back in to continue as acting captain.

The bridge remained peaceful and relaxed for an extended period. In a break, I decided to tackle Commissar Bashara’s task of writing an attempt at a chronicle. Writing my thoughts is difficult for me and writing them in such a way that carries the weight of an entire crew’s lives feels daunting. I wanted to ask my Master for her contributions or advice, but figured this exercise was best approached on my own. Please be honest in your critiques, Commissar.

COMMISSAR BASHARA’S NOTES: Where should I even begin? Aatto: this is an extremely unprofessional and unsatisfactory attempt for one of a commissar’s most important duties. The chronicle’s existence as a method for preserving the day-to-day of officers and crew is something I must have failed to impress upon you, please restrain yourself from using overly personal nicknames and descriptions of Murati in the chronicle. The pornographic tone is irreverent and misplaced, and such outpourings of emotion would be better suited for hobbyist writing- perhaps alongside Fernanda.

However, you have a respectable ability for conveying the daily thoughts and mannerisms of those who catch your interest. If you attempt to widen your interests beyond Murati, I believe your future attempts at chronicling will be much more commendable. In addition, your own less sexually troubled feelings are not things that excuses must be made for- to work your way through such emotions and reaching a better understanding of yourself is something I consider to be a useful element of the chronicle. Also, please be sure to eat more than sandwiches between shifts in the future- no one on this ship wants you to deprive yourself.

Aaliyah set down the tablet in her lap, sighing and rubbing at the bridge of her nose. “Ugh…”

Ulyana stirred at her side, shifting up and letting the blanket slide to her stomach, exposing the captain’s firm, eye-catching shoulders in her sleeveless pajama top. “What is it? Having trouble with the chronicle?”

“No- well, yes. But not mine. Aatto’s education is proving to be a bit of a headache. I still have to finish writing some notes on her prose, but there’s some fundamental changes that she must make.” Aaliyah spoke, frustrated tone coming out as she leaned back, relaxing on Ulyana’s bunk for a short break in the evening.

Recently, she’d found some comfort in being closer to her captain off hours, while she was reading or writing- the requirements of the United Front meant more time spent intimately discussing plans and goals, but this went beyond that. Ulyana’s presence was increasingly something that relaxed Aaliyah and made it easier to work, even when the captain couldn’t actively contribute. And so, for a few short hours, the pair often laid close together in Ulyana’s bed. The captain would read, listen to music or view old play recordings- all of which helped Aaliyah feel even closer and more comfortable alongside her.

Ulyana’s hand lifted to gently put a few fingers onto Aaliyah’s hand, a serious expression on her face. “She’s trying her best, but it’s going to be quite the process. Take… Homa, for example. Homa’s someone who must learn to become free from existing at the mercies of capital. Aatto’s former position as Rottenführer is already a barrier to leap- and she’s aiming much higher.”

All of this built to Ulyana further leaning closer, her blonde hair falling loose over her shoulders, millimeters from Aaliyah’s face, staring directly into the Shimii’s orange eyes.

“But Aaliyah, there’s no one I believe in more. You’re everything I think Aatto needs- both to look up to as a model commissar and as a reliable teacher to guide her towards further understanding of the cause she’s devoted herself to.”

The intimacy made Aaliyah’s ears twitch, cheeks flushing lightly, momentarily speechless at the intensity of the feelings expressed- a desire to lean in, to destroy those millimeters, to bridge that gap swelling in her breast… Before Ulyana slumped back in bed, composed and her hair handsomely disheveled as she shared an encouraging smile with Aaliyah. A soft breath left Aaliyah’s lips, the warmth lingering at her cheeks.

“Well. Thank you, Ulyana. That means more than you could know.”

Slowly taking the tablet back into her hand, with a soft smile on her face, she opened Aatto’s report again to leave further critiques and notes upon the trial commissar’s efforts. It was an earnest attempt, and despite her frustrations with Aatto’s… fixations, she grit her teeth and resolved to make a commissar of her yet.