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| - Mora Cyntia Gasparilla had left her large and loving family without remorse, ready to tackle whatever adventures lay ahead. She'd dreamed of foreign lands, traveling and exploring, for years before finally enlisting in the Navy. It was no surprise to her farming family that she wound up a Sailor, for Cyntia had always loved the sea and anything associated with it. It had not only provided a ticket to travel but also gotten her medical training, a useful skill. Much as she adored her family, Cyntia had always known she needed more than life on the farm, and it was her life goal to find out what more meant.
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| abstract
| - Mora Cyntia Gasparilla had left her large and loving family without remorse, ready to tackle whatever adventures lay ahead. She'd dreamed of foreign lands, traveling and exploring, for years before finally enlisting in the Navy. It was no surprise to her farming family that she wound up a Sailor, for Cyntia had always loved the sea and anything associated with it. It had not only provided a ticket to travel but also gotten her medical training, a useful skill. Much as she adored her family, Cyntia had always known she needed more than life on the farm, and it was her life goal to find out what more meant. To her great consternation, her first assignment was at the naval base in Boralus, the capital city of Kul Tiras, within one day's travel to her family's farm. It wasn't awful, though, as she went out to sea about half the year and was able to still spend some time with her family and friends. Someday, she'd get a new assignment but for now it was the sweet torture of "pay your dues - be patient." She was working on that daily, actively. One day she would become the epitome of patience, if she just set her mind to it hard enough. On a particularly non-spectacular day, Cyntia was dreaming about her future adventures, wondering if her life would ever truly begin, when her roommate, Aida, insisted she go out. Too many nights at home had left her a bit of a social recluse. She knew she needed to get out on occasion, and suddenly going into the city seemed like the only thing to do. Off they went, two women ready to howl at the moon. After dinner and blocks of arm-linked singing through the brightly lit streets, the girls ended up down on the waterfront and toppled happily into one of Aida's favorite clubs where live jazz music was playing. Cyntia had always loved music, and this kind of rolling harmony-driven improv set her blood aflame. Something about the way the music pulsed in her veins filled her insides with longing for something she could not define. Happily situated at a table, the two women collected stares and laughingly brushed advances aside. So many men, all wanting to take them home. Not a single one in Cyntia's experiences wanted to know her mind, or what her hopes and dreams were. They were looking for a trophy to drag around on their arms, showing off to their friends, "Look at my catch of the Night! Aren't I a manly man?!" Cyntia got up and danced a few times, often firmly leading hands off her. The music continued to please her enough to keep her there for more, until one half-drunken man did not want to take no for an answer. Cyntia, having been trained in defending herself through the Navy, had never really had to put it to use in an actual situation. Tonight she had no dagger on her, and her flashing eyes did little to dissuade the idiot that "No meant No!" Instead it seemed to fuel his fire for her. He leered at her, gripping her upper arm and trying to steer her out the front door. She started yelling at him then, hoping to attract attention. Some people looked their way, but he was acting like she was his woman and they were merely having a domestic dispute. Aida had excused herself to the restroom, and Cyntia kept looking wildly around for help. She tried kicking him but he must have been too numb to feel it as pain. He sneered menacingly at her and laughed out loud. Furious at herself for being too overpowered to fight back, she half sobbed the word, "No" over and over, hearing herself sound weak and desperate. Why no one would stop him was beyond her comprehension. It was not like they were alone where her cries went unheard. It was disgust not fear that welled up in her the emotion that drives any survival instinct. Not even caring if it angered him further, she hurled her body against his so he would turn to look at her and when he did so, she spat with all her might into his gloating face. Having cleared the crowd and made it outside, he flung her then to the street. As she stumbled to get up he tore at her blouse, ripping it, his hand gripping her arm strong enough to bruise it. It was then she heard the voice calling out and realized her eyes were blurred with tears, unable to see the interrupter clearly. She sensed more than saw a hand reach out to grasp her assailant's wrist. The voice was now close and calm and quietly demanding, "Let her go, Sergeant." She looked into the calm voice to see the most amazing gentle eyes hold her gaze, reassuring her for a split second before the backhand came out of nowhere. The force of the blow knocked her to the ground again, and this time she stayed there, stunned, her head throbbing and face stinging in hot pain.
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