Alis'ans'amey
Dec 21st, 2015, 02:07:37 PM
There were plenty who questioned Alis'ans'amey's assignment to the Resistance Headquarters on D'Qar. Her mother, depending on who you asked, was famous as either one of the most skilled fighter pilots in the galaxy, or back in the day as a spoiled socialite who was constantly in the media spotlight. Sansa, by her core name, was said to be very much her mother's daughter, and (in no small thanks to her mother's influence), had been assigned to fly for the Resistance. She was only seventeen, but Sheena, her mother, had insisted that her piloting skills were top notch, and Sansa had seemed willing. She had inherited her mother's vanity and love of all things 'girly', but unlike her mother she had shied from the spotlight, preferring a private life. Something that on paper made her seem a better candidate for the Resistance than her mother had ever been for the Rebel Alliance.
Unfortunately, upon her arrival on D'Qar, it had turned out that while Sheena's time in the spotlight had turned her in to a cheerful, helpful individual who, despite her incredible wealth and girly nature always believed in being kind and helping others, her daughter had only ever had to worry about her own selfish desires. The girl was, in other words, spoiled rotten. Not only did Sansa inherit all of Sheena's worse girly traits, including wearing more make-up than most girls wore in six months every day, often looking so glamorous she looked like she was heading for a red carpet premier, even when she was in uniform, always wearing glitzy heavy jewellery, again even in uniform, insisting on a custom pink flight suit, wearing it with high heels no matter how often she got told she couldn't and wearing such an incredible amount of perfume her starfighter was no longer on the rotation for other pilots as nobody could stand to sit in it thanks to the overpowering scent (and indeed, nobody would stand near her at attention either). She had, at least, won her request for a private room after complaining and whining non-stop, but that was mostly because nobody could stand the overpowering perfume to share with her. And yet, her mother had been similarly vain and managed to win everybody over with her generous attitude and kind nature, but Sansa was too self centered. She was snobby, often looking down on the other girls in her squadron (despite the fact she was so spoiled she was pretty much helpless out of a starfighter and they were all highly capable), she was whiny, and she would complain all the time about every small thing that didn't fit her luxurious lifestyle. She was simply not suited to being on a Resistance base.
She would probably have been promptly shipped back to her mother with a note attached asking for her to stay the heck away had she not also been put in the simulators, where she had scored as high as some of the Alliance's best aces on her first try. At seventeen, it was nearly unheard of. The girl was clearly an amazing pilot. Her mother had raised her well in that respect, at least, it seemed. She had been taught from a very young age and really excelled. So, regardless of the fact she made the entire base smell like a department store perfume counter, despite the fact a day didn't go by without her throwing a tantrum, and despite the fact she had the physical capabilities of a four year old child out of her starfighter, they kept her around thanks to her skill. Although they had given her the callsign 'Diva' as a small victory against her.
She was, at this particular moment, click clacking her way across the hanger in her high heel boots, despite her flight suit, holding out her hands daintily to her side in a sign of girly disgust.
"Oh my GOD!" She complained in her whiny spoiled voice. "I was almost sick this morning! If we have to share a shower room like... like some kind of... servants then I expect it to be clean! Whoever left hair in the plughole should be fired out a proton torpedo tube! We're meant to be fighting evil here, not becoming it! Ew! Ew! EW!"
Unfortunately, upon her arrival on D'Qar, it had turned out that while Sheena's time in the spotlight had turned her in to a cheerful, helpful individual who, despite her incredible wealth and girly nature always believed in being kind and helping others, her daughter had only ever had to worry about her own selfish desires. The girl was, in other words, spoiled rotten. Not only did Sansa inherit all of Sheena's worse girly traits, including wearing more make-up than most girls wore in six months every day, often looking so glamorous she looked like she was heading for a red carpet premier, even when she was in uniform, always wearing glitzy heavy jewellery, again even in uniform, insisting on a custom pink flight suit, wearing it with high heels no matter how often she got told she couldn't and wearing such an incredible amount of perfume her starfighter was no longer on the rotation for other pilots as nobody could stand to sit in it thanks to the overpowering scent (and indeed, nobody would stand near her at attention either). She had, at least, won her request for a private room after complaining and whining non-stop, but that was mostly because nobody could stand the overpowering perfume to share with her. And yet, her mother had been similarly vain and managed to win everybody over with her generous attitude and kind nature, but Sansa was too self centered. She was snobby, often looking down on the other girls in her squadron (despite the fact she was so spoiled she was pretty much helpless out of a starfighter and they were all highly capable), she was whiny, and she would complain all the time about every small thing that didn't fit her luxurious lifestyle. She was simply not suited to being on a Resistance base.
She would probably have been promptly shipped back to her mother with a note attached asking for her to stay the heck away had she not also been put in the simulators, where she had scored as high as some of the Alliance's best aces on her first try. At seventeen, it was nearly unheard of. The girl was clearly an amazing pilot. Her mother had raised her well in that respect, at least, it seemed. She had been taught from a very young age and really excelled. So, regardless of the fact she made the entire base smell like a department store perfume counter, despite the fact a day didn't go by without her throwing a tantrum, and despite the fact she had the physical capabilities of a four year old child out of her starfighter, they kept her around thanks to her skill. Although they had given her the callsign 'Diva' as a small victory against her.
She was, at this particular moment, click clacking her way across the hanger in her high heel boots, despite her flight suit, holding out her hands daintily to her side in a sign of girly disgust.
"Oh my GOD!" She complained in her whiny spoiled voice. "I was almost sick this morning! If we have to share a shower room like... like some kind of... servants then I expect it to be clean! Whoever left hair in the plughole should be fired out a proton torpedo tube! We're meant to be fighting evil here, not becoming it! Ew! Ew! EW!"