Victoria's Personal Logs

October 21, 2189
I don't want to disappoint anyone-- it's the last thing I want, so I'm not quitting. However, I realized that if it weren't for Greene not coming with me, I'd leave the Alliance.
I want to be home, relaxing, when the world ends, not fighting. And something tells me that the world will end in this war.

October 24, 2189
I will not die without bearing Adande's name. I don't care for a fancy wedding anymore-- I care that we're married. I'm going to set up a small reception as soon as possible-- maybe not even dressed or suits or courts, just the priest guy.

I'm retiring at 22, and I'm married to Commander Adande Greene (and I'm a fucking celebrity because of it now), and we won the war. I'm the luckiest woman alive.

OOC: This entry would have been posted on the night of the war being won. Once the date is known, I'll add it and remove this comment for immersion.

It's odd living without a mission. I'm not concerned about a rogue Spectre's mental well-being and how it affects the galaxy or genocidal squids. Whenever we use our weapons, it's on a date to a shooting range, and our poor bodyguards have to fight off reporters. God, bodyguards. Our two personal guards have such lively, young worries. Alex, the blonde one, is really manic. When we were training them, Adande laid down the rules for pulling weapons, and Alex took a quote directly from the fucking law and specified what grounds a weapon is to pulled on, and then the sub-rules that Phazon set in place. Of course, Adande promptly reminded him that he was a Spectre and that none of that shit mattered when he was legally assigned to protecting his life. He's also tried bringing us food and drinks and stuff while we're out, which is kind and shows that he's dedicated, but he needs to focus on security and security alone. He should have met Muldoon and taken some pointers on his paranoia. The other bodyguard Logan, however, doesn't put enough in. He's got the job right -- he's held off paparazzi and organized when we went out in public perfectly, but his attitude is shit. He doesn't talk much, and when he does, it could be described as constantly playing the devil's advocate. You can tell, though, that he is hopelessly in love with Alex because I think the only reason he does his job correctly is because he can do it next to Alex. They're total opposites and they're perfect for each other and they met at my wedding and they're gonna get married too.
I remember thinking about when I would dream of a life with no conflict, no cots, no gunfire lullabies; when I would dream of the life I am living now. I am endlessly grateful for the absense of mission or occupation. Most women would accustom to a life of cleaning and cooking, but I don't even do that. We have fucking maids. My job now is to blow him. I suppose I don't have a job at all.