<div style="text-align: center"><i><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'">“Like the magnolia tree,<br/>
<i>She bends with the wind,</i><br/>
<i>Trials and tribulation may weather her…”</i></span></i>​</div><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><br/>
Crimson bathed the room and the stars filling the cabin window demanded attention. Once they were close enough and the light was too bright to accept anything other than awestruck staring from the four inhabitants of the Asura, she had looked up from the tablet she was using to follow the ship’s pathway to the outpost. Fingertips drummed on the durable metal console from which the tablet’s holoscreen projected, her musings not only on the beautiful scenery before them, but the very reason she had boarded a shipping vessel such as the Asura.<br/>
<br/>
She had been taking notes of her surroundings, an old habit that would not be needed again until she returned home, but was now completely entranced by the sight of the white dwarf slowly siphoning the red one. How long could the red dwarf last, she wondered? How much of its energy, how much attention, could it give before it could give no more? Would the white dwarf ever stop? Would it ever be satisfied? It was that question floating through her mind that caused her to wrinkle her nose. She was projecting her daddy issues on stars. But how could she not? He was the very reason she was aboard the Asura.<br/>
</span><br/><div style="text-align: center"><i><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'">"Yet, after the storm her beauty blooms,</span></i><br/>
<span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><i>See her standing there, like steel…”</i><br/>
</span>​</div><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'">“Aw, hell, Mags. Y’know your daddy gets hisself into these messes all th'time,” her thickly accented uncle had mused before shrugging and toying with the zipper of his muddy coveralls. Descendents of some long forgotten state of a nearly forgotten planet, an accent still twanged in some of the older members of the Reynolds clan. They drawled their words, slurred some syllables together, and were rarely in a hurry to speak their minds quickly. Not only was it indicative to her family, but to a planet known for its poor health, governing, and morals. She had not inherited the Reynolds accent, having been sent off for school at a young age by a distant mother, but had always been charmed by it. Certain words tickled her tongue with a twinge of the accent, but overall no one knew she hailed from Marros.<br/>
<br/>
“What did Domhall say in the transmission?” had been her question while cramming her newly unpacked belongings back into her pack.<br/>
<br/>
“Well, h’said it was bad and we should g’head and think he ain’t comin’ back,” Dirk Reynolds had reluctantly told his niece before reaching out to touch her shoulder, “Dom says that if y’wanna come, don’t let anyone know why and bring as much money as you can.” After pausing to frown and scratch the back of his head, Dirk shrugged again, “I don’t got much to give ya, but what I have I want you to take. Dom said for you to get to Vergos, find a ship, and get to the outpost.”<br/>
<br/>
The instructions had been clear enough, but her uncle had had little more for her to go off. It hadn’t mattered. She had traded her casual clothing for more stately attire, visited a friend to give her false credentials so people wouldn’t know her true surname, and had picked up one of the lowly jobs as a cargo attendant. They were shit jobs, she knew it, but because no one wanted to get paid badly to traipse across the galaxy in a cargo ship just to make sure the supplies were organized, properly distributed signed for at each stop, she had been hired immediately. It had been easy enough, was far below her pay grade, and Magnolia Reynolds had ended up on the first ship on its way to the outpost.<br/>
</span><br/><div style="text-align: center"><i><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'">“With her roots forever buried,</span></i><br/>
<span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><i>Deep in her Marroan soil.”</i><br/>
</span>​</div><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'">The crew was not difficult to get along with and she had learned quickly that she liked the Asura more than several other ships she’d been passenger upon. Still, with only three men aboard and horror stories placed in her mind by her dear younger brother, she had remained armed and somewhat distant throughout the flight. None of them appeared to be big talkers other than Curtis, that or they did so without her around, but that was fine with her. With a view like the one they had, she supposed talking was not all that important. All the same, minor chitchat was fine with her and she had mostly listened while working on her tablet.<br/>
<br/>
A thigh holster over her black thermal pants kept her weapon near, but she was relaxed in her seat and uninterested in it. No, her forest green gaze was locked on the star duet filling the window until Curtis suddenly pulled her into the casual conversation and those eyes instead drifted to him. Pale lips curved into a friendly smile before she shook her head. “No, I haven’t,” she answered while her non-drumming hand reached to push her wavy, pale brown hair back from her face. Not more than thirty, she had a youthful appearance, one that tended to work to her advantage in her line of work. Easily and often underestimated, she was, and quick to take advantage.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t suppose that’s a very common occurrence out here, is it?” Maggie asked, “Also, I noticed on my map that there are at least a couple planets orbiting these two. How do you think that works? They just orbit the star with the greater gravity?” She wasn’t a star expert, that was for sure, but if she was to be pulled into the conversation, she was going to contribute.<br/>
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