With a slinking muscular grace she took her place at the head of the 13th Legion. Adorning her petite frame, she was dressed head to toe in a black uniform. Although she was in dress code, there were more than a few things off. The tongues of her boots flopped out because the laces weren't tied, small fingers poked out of her gloves because she had cut them off, and her cap was worn sideways on top of a serious case of bed head. If there was anything on her body that appeared to be in place, it would be the golden lightfoil hilt she wore on her right side.

Her amber eyes met the hostile gazes of the Legion that was now hers to command, each face was more hateful than the next. The 13th was no ordinary Legion, she heard stories of their exploits while at the Academy. At first she thought they were bedtime stories, but as she stood before them she realized just how wrong she was. Acting on instinct, she did the unexpected. She smiled. And when Fajra smiled, she used her eyes - those dark, hazel eyes. It was the kind of smile you might try to immitate, posing in the refresher mirror like an idiot. The magnetic, 'you can't stop looking at me, can you?' smile supermodels spend years perfecting. Well, Fajra smiled that way without even trying.

The confused silence that filled her entrance, was soon replaced by an outburst of laughter coming from the 13th. "You're not Merav, so who the hell are you?" asked a soldier in the frontline. "I don't know how to put this, but I'm kind of a big deal" Merav responded with a straight face. With her left hand, she made a fluttering motion toward her rank insignia. "I am Commander Fajra Merav" she said, adding extra emphasis on the 'am.'