Mikhail and Nathan had been nearby, doing errands. The Pantoran hybrid still struggled travelling so far alone and the Kadnikov had agreed to accompany him. And if the festival was ongoing by the time they finished, then, well. Why not go?

Nathan felt somewhat bad for not being direct in his intentions. The errand had been real, and he had wanted company to not panic on the way. But… it was nice spending time with Mikhail. He enjoyed it, even if he was starting to actually consider the reactions their interactions had brought up. Which.. was minimal from what little he’d worked out, and there was a rising nerves that maybe he’d read into this incorrectly. Maybe. Zig didn’t seem to think so, so he’d let himself do this.

He stepped out ahead of Mikhail, peering at the pole in the distance. Lights sprinkled around flickered in a dance. It was lovely, the smell of food on the air with a slight undertone of the wines and beers also being served. Cocktails… he hadn’t really imbibed ever. Maybe it’d be the boost of strength he needed to get over this first hurdle? Zig said that Zuza had said.. or maybe Zuza just said it or- Nate waved at the side of his head, physically brushing off the overthinking and then quickly dropped his hand back down to his side.

<@160141735354171394>

Mikhail followed Nathan, staying just a few steps behind him so that he could scan their surroundings. It wasn’t something he needed to do, but from how Nathan described the trip, he felt something of a bodyguard to the Pantoran. Despite being much shorter and not exactly well trained in hand to hand combat. Still, he did what he could to remain diligent. His bright eyes taking in their surroundings carefully, and making a mental note of a few places of interest.

Maybe they could stop by them before they left?

His watchful gaze was only interrupted on the occasion that it fell upon his self appointed charge. From behind, the Arkanian didn’t feel like he was staring as much as he did when their eyes could meet. He took in the small details, they way Nathan’s blonde hair fell across his head and curled around his ears. There was something fascinating about the Pantoran, something he could never quite place. So, like usual, he stuffed the thoughts away just as his hands were stuffed into his jacket pockets. The air wasn’t freezing like he was used to, but he knew conservation of heat was the best course when in doubt of how long one might be out.

He closed the distance to Nathan, coming up on his side and gently bumping against him as someone pushed past the Arkanian which earned them a silent glare.

“This place is.. uniquely decorated.”

Syrena glided in towards the vibrant harvest festival, her silver eyes alight with glee at the sights of so many colorful artisan stalls and refreshments. A low-cut velvet black dress adorned her feminine physique, flowing around her form with each of her movements, with sheer sleeves of fine lace that held an intricate cobweb-like pattern on them. Shimmering black spider pins held loose curls of her cascading pale pink hair in place, and a light iridescent of sparkling silver dust accented the natural rosy hues of her skin.

She approached the bar and cast a warm smile towards the other female Zeltron donning pirate attire. “Ooh, I love your outfit!” She couldn’t help but exclaim happily, looking towards the rather adorable keepsake glasses that the beverages came in. “I’ll definitely be having one of these later…” She remarked to herself, though her attention quickly snapped back towards the levitating stroller that quietly drifted behind her.

It was finally time for Frenek to meet the little one. Syrena scooped up the bundle wrapped in soft silk blankets from the stroller, her melodic voice shifting to that of gentle coos. “It’s okay, little one, I’ve got you,” She whispered quietly to where she held the bundle.

<@1292362530299183208> <@645466919415054357>

With an upward yank of the steering mechanism, Frenek Mausma pulled in for a landing near the Arx Festival Grounds. The resulting thud reverberated through the empty bay of his brand new Mausmatic Deliveries™ Cargo Hauler. He winced—if this thing had been full of cargo, such a rough landing might have resulted in costly damages to some of the more delicate packages. That would be an added expense he couldn’t afford, especially now that he had quit his steady job and gone into business on his own. He made a mental note to recalibrate the steering controls later, or perhaps just to practice his landings again before his first job.

Frenek pulled out his datapad and checked his bank account compulsively for the third time that day. He still couldn’t get used to the sight (or lack thereof) of the missing 10,000 credits that the sheathipede-class hauler had set him back. Still, the promise of 100% share of profits and freedom to set his own schedule had been too enticing to resist. Not too mention the tax benefits. He stowed away the datapad and looked up through the cockpit’s dashboard, examining the festival grounds. In the middle-distance, a chef was carrying a large platter, sprawled atop which was a good-sized ronto with a shiny red fruit in its mouth. Frenek felt a fleeting kinship with the passing chef. He too had to eat what he killed now.

Mostly he was excited about what opportunities the future would hold. As he opened up the cockpit door and lowered himself to the ground, his datapad buzzed in the pocket of his leather jacket. He pulled it out one last time—another job, scheduled for next week. He smiled to himself, began to tuck the datapad back into his pocket, and hesitated. Instead, he opened the cockpit of his vehicle again (ahh, that new hauler smell) and locked the datapad into the glove compartment of his new vehicle. Now was the time to shift his focus toward matters of more personal importance. With a spring in his step, he started off toward the bar area, where he had a suspicion he would find the most personal of these matters.

Sure enough, through the scattered crowd, he spied the unmistakable cascade of pink hair of his closest confidant, Syrena Valkar—and adorned in a spectacular tight-fitting black dress, no less. Wow. His heart skipped a beat. As he maneuvered through the crowd, he couldn’t help but strategize as to what his play should be. Brag about the new ship? No—the new income? Or perhaps the new—but his thoughts were interrupted by something even more new—more personal—than anything he had thought was going on in his life at that moment.

Beside Syrena, who was presently occupied chatting up the bartender and fellow Zeltron, levitated a suspicious package of cargo. Frenek watched in disbelief as Syrena turned and scooped up the bundle, giving it her full attention. Frenek made a quick temporal calculation on his fingers. No—impossible. It couldn’t have been that night. But then, how to account for what he saw before him?

Nudges from passersby informed him that he had stopped mid-step amidst the crowd. Well, there’s no turning back now, he thought, smiling thinly as he he made the final cautious approach toward his companion.

<@607619766752116771>

Shifting her gaze away from the small bundle in her arms, a certain warmth lit her features as she spotted the familiar face of Frenek Mausma. “I see you have a new jacket… it suits you,” She couldn’t help but remark to his leather attire appreciatively. It was certainly quite the shift from the usual stained work clothes Syrena had grown used to seeing him in, through the years they’d known each other… And it was a nice change at that.

She took in a deep breath, as a certain sense of nervousness began to cloud her mind. Syrena glanced towards the small bundle in her arms, and then back up at Frenek… Just what would he think? She stepped a bit closer to him, preparing to deliver the news. Despite caring for one another, they hadn’t yet established what they were, and Syrena knew that this could very well change things between them permanently. “I…I have someone I want you to meet,” She began to say tentatively.

Very slowly, Syrena placed the small bundle into Frenek’s arms and gazed up at him, letting out a deep sigh. “I know… I know how you feel about such things. I know you don’t like them, and this wasn’t something I was expecting… It just happened,” She began to explain. Suddenly, a series of soft beeps came from the bundle, as it began to lightly stir within the blankets. A small, cone-shaped head popped up, gazing up at Frenek. “Hi! D-Dad?” The tiny droid began to ask, with a noticeable stutter. “Look… He needed me. His family was destroyed by the Vauzem forces… Right in his first months of being newly built. I know you don’t like droids, but… Look how tiny he is,” Syrena gently explained, with a soft smile towards the D-0 droid.

<@1292362530299183208>

Frenek’s jaw dropped under the weight of how many questions had piled on his tongue. After recovering his breath, he wrapped the droid vigorously in its swaddle of blankets in a desperate attempt to inject some privacy into the situation. “Did that… thing just call me Dad?” Even through the mound of blankets that separated them, Frenek could feel the metallic little cone-head rattling around frantically. “Syrena, you know I don’t do droids.” Not that he could envision this pathetic little thing replacing his job any time soon. And come to think of it… nobody could replace his job anymore. He was his own boss now. Maybe this wasn’t the absolute end of the world. And then there were Syrena’s expectant eyes.

With a deep sigh, Frenek knelt and placed the trembling mass of blankets on the ground. He gently unwrapped it until the cone of the D-O droid’s head emerged. “Listen, fella, let’s you and me get some things straight right here, right now. I’m not your dad. And I’m not gonna hold you like your m—like Syrena does. But if you can prove yourself useful, maybe by, I don’t know, translating some messages every once in a while, I might could learn to tolerate your presence. Sound like a deal?”

<@607619766752116771>

‘You have to wear something, Cyare. It’ll only be for a few hours, and then you can get back on the ship and come home.’

A figure clad in white body paint and doning white clothing and wings sat on top of one of the buildings. White, full-length contacts covered what were normally sanguine-colored eyes– eyes that were watching people milling on the ground below. She had told Erinyes that she had this, that she could come here and put on a brave face and do the whole Praetor thing… yet here she was, hiding from everyone, leaving her new boss to handle the weight of the event on her own.

Failure.

Body-paint covered shoulders slumped. Yeah. That about summed it up. The Chiss brought to her lips a cup of steaming caf that she had been holding in her hands. It helped chase away the chill that had began to settle in. While most people would find the weather fair, a nice balance between cold and heat, for someone who had spent the last two years living in the warmth of tropical Estle, the lack of heat only made her unfortunate choice of clothing that showed bare skin, well, even more unfortunate.

At least the body paint was covering up her scars. The visible ones, anyways.

Her selected perch was twofold. From up here she could keep an eye on the festivities– but also avoid Arconans, and the hard conversations that she refused to have before she left that still needed to be had.

Oh how different things were compared to last year at this same time.

“Ever changing,” she mumbled into her cup.

“Got a kid saying their parent is lost in the corn maze.”

“I’m on it.”

“Good, good, keep me apprised!”

“I will, Dad!”

A smile emerged on painted lips as Corazon Tenbriss Ya-ir watched his first and technically youngest daughter head off smoothly and with confidence in her gait for once, hurrying in the direction of the impressive maze they’d arranged. “Seven Parsecs” it was actually about five square kilometers of twists and turns. Not far was the most expansive petting zoo they’d arranged yet, with help from Lulaire’s farms and Archian’s rescue, including creatures distinctly not for petting but featured for viewing and education a safe distance away. And the bird show– a retirement surprise for Headmistress Archenskov that Ruka was distinctly avoiding by all means necessary.

Speaking of his husband, golden eyes tracked left and up, spying the Mirialan on his perch. Normally, Ruka would’ve been watching everyone and everything from up atop that spire, but these days, it would just be to be up high. The Pantoran bit his lip, glancing over across the grounds, to another building, where his senses pulled at him of the need of an extra three blankets and cocoa. But the fissure there was like their once broken countertop, and they would always respect her choices, even the ones that hurt.

Would Ruka be looking that way too, even when be couldn’t see anything but a blur?

Sighing softly, the noble Jedi refocused. Festivities were at hand, and Erinyes had put them – well, him, his family insisted, but them! – in charge of organizing and managing the whole affair while she saw to business.

“You mean while she peddles her kriffin’ booze and drinks half the stock,” Ruka had grumbled, but hushed when reminded how kind of a friend and ally the Zeltron had been these last several years, even if it wasn’t Ruka’s Zeltron.

So many people to miss. To mourn. To love but be unable to hold on to, for so many reasons.

But that was just another part of this, the thoughts of those gone but not forgotten. And the spooky things, of course. And food that was awful for the arteries but terribly delicious.

“Chin up,” Cora reminded himself, then turned to his son. Noga was half-minding communications for him, he and Leda his chief helpers besides all the staff and vendors.

“Anything else emergent?”

“One of the pressure cookers at tent…0023 exploded, I guess? But seems everyone is okay.”

“Oh, Ashla, I hope so.”

“I mean they was frying water.”

“…you can deep fry water?”

The teen shrugged.

“Well, one learns something new every day. Let’s see here…”

Meanwhile, up high, Ruka watched the proceedings in a motion blur. Occasionally, he’d sharpen his vision as easily as breathing in the Force, spying a scene or two. One involved a lady treating a droid like a baby in a bassinet, showing it to a man. He snorted at that and shook his head.

Siva would’ve approved of that droid. And Qyriea would’ve called it dumb.

Milky, paled violet eyes turned elsewhere, searching, though they darted back to check in case things escalated just in case.

Nathan started slightly at the contact, glancing over. The person shuffling away embarrassedly explained the circumstances and he chuckled ever so softly at. Especially on seeing Mikhail’s glare.

“Its not too dissimilar to some of Estle’s decorations, though a lot…. more variable.”

Which made sense, Arx was a hub more than anything else.

“I like it.” Nathan added on after a beat, “We could.. try some drinks maybe? Some food. Look at the stalls, you like the metal crafting ones usually.”

Mihoshi stepped from the shuttle and onto the fairgrounds. It had been some time since the Midsummer festival and she had enjoyed her time watching the other people who had arrived at such festivities. It was also the one time of the year she didn’t feel the need to hide behind layers of makeup, just the curtain of hair she used to hide the right side of her face.

She could feel the energy of the festival and smiled, making her way towards the bar. Having heard good things in he travels about the spirits - and spirits - that we always available, the small Proconsul only had one plan for this trip. To sample as many of the drinks as she could. She eyed the Zeltron and her companion cooing or otherwise talking to a…droid? Ah well, she did the same with Maneki. Taking a seat, she watched and waited until the Pirate Queen behind the bar had the chance to get to her.

“You went to Odan-Urr and are still becomin’ Ruka?”

The lilted voice of Zuza came from behind and just to the side of her. The Human hadn’t been trying to hide her approach, though with years of infiltration training behind her and the festival below, she wasn’t sure if Siv had picked up on her approach. She had a hand out, not reaching but ready to snap forward and make sure that Siv didn’t jump out of her skin to the point she was off of solid ground.

The Consul was dressed as.. a bird. A sparrow, specifically shed tell anyone being generic, but with the Headmaster’s retirement and the festival coming together, she had shoddy handmade wings, each secured at her wrists, shoulders and back. Faux feathers had been braided and twisted into her hair and drawn onto her face.

She too was mostly covered, Siv knowing the reason as well as most.

“Its warmer down there, yknow?”

“Drinks.” The Arkanian nodded and looked as if he was about to continue but he stopped, eyes seemingly inspecting the crowds of people gathering and milling about dressed up in a variety of costumes.

Kark.

Mikhail looked down at himself, dressed in his usual dark colors. The two of them had dressed up prior as pirates, but neither were prepared for an event like this. They hadn’t planned for this, Mikhail hadn’t planned for this. He would need clothes.

“I need a costume. Look at everyone” he tugged at his jacket with his pocketed hands, as if showing off dirty rags. Certainly he was not dressed for the occasion to his own liking.

Siv did indeed jump, but it was more akin to a flinch than anything. The mug in her hand did precariously splash, however. The Chiss Praetor took a deep breath to calm her heart before turning to give Zuza a soft but melancholic smile.

“Seems like I can’t escape the Ruka-fication even several sectors away.”

The joke was there but the tone was flat. The pure white contacts somewhat worked to hide the sadness in her eyes, but she knew Zuza would know. Zuza always knew. Just like Zuza had seen the cracks in her armor leading up to her breakdown far before anyone else had. It must be easy to see the signs when you’re careening in that direction yourself.

The Arconan-turned-Odanite looked back over the crowd, pushing a strand of white painted hair out of her face. She could spot Leda and Noga at a stall and knew that if she looked hard enough, she’d see Cora’s sport of soft blue hair. She was unsure if Foxen and Flyndt were here, but knowing them they probably picked somewhere quiet.

She spotted out the rest of the Arconans in attendance just as easily. She had been keeping a look out, not just to avoid but to make sure they stayed safe and had fun.

It was almost time to switch rooftops.

“Came up here to hide, hoping that the costume would help me blend in. I’m sure some people think I’m a prop. Shoulda known better than to think I could hide from everyone.”

She hesitated for a moment.

“I know they can feel me out there. I feel them brushing up against me in the force. Ruka, Cora, Bril… everyone else I abandoned… If I wasn’t part of the Emissaries I probably wouldn’t have even showed up.”

The urge to pick at her fingers was strong but she didn’t want to ruin Alex’s handiwork.

Zuza, assured Siv wouldn’t fall off the roof, dropped down to sit beside her friend, legs over the edge and swinging slightly in the breeze.

“I knew you were here but that’s because I still talk to Erinyes. I probably wouldn’t have spotted you if I hadn’t known you’d be somewhere.” Zuza’s voice was voice warm, gentle but without the saddened tones of pity. “And hey, ya didn’t abandon any of us. You just moved next door, and it wasn’ like you didn’t need it.”

She looked over the crowd, recognizing many faces. From Arcona it was easier, but even those across the brotherhood she could pick out people who’s names she knew. Friends, acquaintances. A community, in its own karked up ways.

“I’m not gonna ask ya to go down there. But, you shouldn’t be alone either.”

It was ironic her saying that, considering she’d spent the last week more or less alone if you didn’t count political meetings. Diy was great, but the two of them were busy and often handling different tasks.

“..yeah they are dressed up.” Nathan mused for a moment, before noticing the urgency in the tugging. He was confused for a moment but.. well. Mikhail always seemed to somehow be dressed perfectly for wherever he was showing up. It made sense that that was a thing.

The Pantoran smiled, gently nudging Mikhail with an elbow and gesturing deeper in the stalls, “They’ll be selling them somewhere. They always do. We can get you something.”

“It feels like I did.”

Siv brought her cup of caf back to her lips and sipped at it again, hoping it would ease the burning in her throat.

“And I know, I know, we’ve talked about this-“ Sivall sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, the best she could do without ruining the white caked there to look like plaster. “It still… the feeling is there. It feels wrong. After everything I’ve karked up, everything I’ve done… It just feels wrong.”

The Chiss woman released the grip on her nose.

“I keep hurting the people that love me, Zuzu…”

The tiny droid tilted its cone head up at the human before him expectantly. “U-useful?” The D-0 droid questioned as it was placed on the ground, its singular wheel spinning frantically. Immediately, Syrena instinctively shifted to comfort the small being. “All in good time, you don’t have to put too many expectations on yourself right away… Just whatever you feel comfortable with. I get it, I’m new here too,” She said quietly, though this particular advice was halfway for herself as well. Not that Syrena ever bothered taking her own advice. The D-0 droid looked up at Frenek with a nod. “Alright, n-no Dad… Papa!” It exclaimed instead.

Syrena’s gaze next shifted towards the crowds, as she was able to sense the distant presences of those familiar and those whom were not— At least, not yet. “We should… Use this time to connect with others. Start making a name for ourselves… Whatever that may be,” Syrena said to him with an affirmative nod. “Oh look, let’s see…” Spotting the Proconsul from her peripheral vision, a slight smile came to her face. “Miho is here! And others… I believe some of them are from the other clan, Arcona.”

He tried to look elsewhere. He did.

But it was like hearing his kids shouting for him, like they were screaming, “Papi!”

VACMI! this one shouted, a thundering reverberation through the Force; a silent, tiny, tiny whimper, the barest she’d allow, too trained to silent crying, too beaten into showing nothing at all of her pain. Months and months and a whimper in their arms was the most she could allow herself, and that much was so hard won, so good of her.

He could feel it, the way she tried to keep away. How she didn’t want the bond, didn’t want to be seen. The words she whispered fell from his scarred lips so easily an echo, because they were so alike, in so many ways.

“I keep hurting the people that love me.”

But the Mirialan wasn’t speaking to anyone. Nobody could hear him up here, and the extra chill of thinner air snatched them away in the wind that carried bright blossoms and spiced smells engineered by their family’s influence on the festivities. He ducked his head as the world blurred again, not because he let go of the Dark that gave him his sight back even for a moment, but because his vision swam too much. His face was too hot. Breathing hurt.

One, two, three, four…

But he couldn’t do it, hiccuping before two.

Zuza sighed, steaming the air in front of her face for a scant moment before it was taken with the wind.

“Yeah, probably. But would you have done it any different? And I don’t mean going back and changin’ reactions to things that you couldn’t have known about. Cause, that’s not fair on you to act as if that’s not the fault of.. whatever put you there.” She waved a hand, unsticking herself from that overexplanation. “When it came to stuff where you knew everything goin’ on, would you really have changed what you did? Cause.. you’ve done really well, from what I’ve seen.”

She shrugged, her feathers rustling. One was threatening to fall loose, as she stared across and over the crowd.

Mikhail looked up at Nathan as he was nudged, his face quite serious despite the minor infraction of not wearing a costume. He nodded a few times, attention shifting to the distance like usual when he was thinking. “I hope they have something that fits.”

He didn’t bother bringing up the worry he had of the price of said potential costume. As always with the Arkanian, credits were tight. It didn’t help that his “allowance” was coming in a few days late. He had no doubt as to who was behind it, and just as many options when it came to dealing with it. His jaw clenched, frustration only rising. He tried to shake it out as he moved away from Nathan’s side in the direction of the stalls.

“I’m sure they will.” Nathan commented, the pair walking amongst the crowd with Nathan a step or so behind Mikhail’s focussed direction. He kept close. Sometimes Nate was a bit embarrassed that the Arkanian had become an anxiety-support, always there for him when he needed that security in company to travel. Yet, despite the last several months.. nearing year of this Mikhail hadn’t commented on it once.

As they approached the stall, rife with cheaply made and well-made costumes of varying sizes, themes and spookiness Nathan spoke up again, “What are you thinking of being?”

Frenek smiled at Syrena. He found it amusing that she felt the need to “make a name for herself,” when it seemed to him that her reputation preceded her. Did a name like hers not make itself?

Following Syrena’s silver gaze, Frenek found Mihoshi sitting across the bar. Just what he needed—an opportunity to escape his interaction with Syrena’s clingy new D-O droid! (Still, of the two possibilities for what could have been exhumed from that swaddle of hers, the droid was decidedly the less… personal.)

Frenek rose and sauntered over to Mihoshi, claiming an adjacent barstool. “Fancy seeing you here, ma’am,” he said. “That was some night back at House Hoth, wasn’t it?” He turned with a half-wave to the bartender as she passed, hoping for a glass of the autumnal harvest beverage.

He turned his attention back to Mihoshi. “Listen, I seem to have found myself in a whole lot of situations lately where I felt outside my comfort zone. Blaster fire whizzing around. Explosions. Until a few months ago I thought I was only cut out for delivery work. I’m beginning to wonder if I might be in over my head.” He paused, searching Mihoshi’s face for signs that he was coming across too vulnerable. “I understand you know a thing or two about combat. I was hoping you might be able to teach me..?” He trailed off, maintaining eye contact in spite of his impulse to redirect the conversation toward the bartender. Asking for help turned out to be even harder than he thought it would be.

<@607619766752116771> <@227653769842655233>

Mihoshi gave a smile to the lovely barkeep that was like watching the sun rise and thought for a moment. “Something autumnal first. We’ll do spooky after.”

She turned toward Frenek an eyebrow raising slowly as she listened. With each sentence it was clear this one was quite unaccustomed to asking for help or for having long conversations. “I know a thing or two, yes. It won’t be easy,” she gave him a measuring glance from head to toe. “But, I’ve helped much worse. Besides, it could be fun.”

“For me, at least.” She added as an afterthought. <@645466919415054357> <@1292362530299183208>

Syrena nodded, watching fondly with a soft smile as Frenek went towards whom she could only presume was to be his new teacher, the Proconsul herself. She was happy for him– happy for them, that they’d finally found a place for themselves within Odan-Urr.

Syrena paused for a moment, her posture growing more rigid as a flurry of memories passed through her mind…. The concept of freedom was still one that was oftentimes foreign to Syrena, given her history, and her freedom was something that she would never take for granted. Hearing the soft peals of laughter from children at the festival, and seeing the joy of the various patrons as they enjoyed the array of delectable cuisines… Syrena half couldn’t believe that these simple pleasures were things she had missed out on for the majority of her life.

Scenting the delicious spiced warmth of a freshly prepared beverage nearby, it was enough to distract her from her thoughts. Syrena let out a deep breath, knowing it wouldn’t do her any good to dwell on the past. Closing her eyes, she began to focus on the present moment and the rest of her surroundings, on the melodious threads of life belonging to each individual. A certain, almost melancholic presence stood out to Syrena, like that of a foggy autumnal evening, one that was equally familiar. “Sivall..?” She murmured softly, and a bit unsurely, instinctively tilting her head towards that direction.

If her Teacher truly was here somewhere, then Syrena was able to infer that she most likely had other matters she was currently attending to. She shifted her attention towards the bar, where Frenek and Mihoshi were sitting, and where she had scented the absolutely delectable aroma of a sweet liqueur. Gazing up at the other female Zeltron, one in a lovely Pirate Queen costume, Syrena cast her a warm smile. “I’ll take some of that as well, please! Unless you have another beverage in mind, Bartender’s choice.”

<@645466919415054357> <@264959101384130560>

As the Pirate Queen poured her autumnal concoction, Frenek allowed Mihoshi’s words to settle in. He couldn’t help but entertain a suspicion that what for Mihoshi was fun, for him might be… less than worthy of cozy autumn spirits.

“I reckon I’ll take the spooky drink,” Frenek stammered to the bartender as the harvest maple breve floated over to Mihoshi.

“Well,” continued Frenek, looking back at Mihoshi, “what would you say are your biggest strengths? That is, what kinds of skills should I be looking forward to learning under your tutelage?”

<@227653769842655233>

Mihoshi took a sip of her drink and hmmed softly, enjoying the flavors of the beverage. The spiced gourd was set off by the rich sweetness of the maple and even the pumpkin glass was perfectly matched with the drink. With a smile, she nodded at Erinyes. “It’s quite wonderful, my Queen. A beverage fit to be served by one such as yourself.”

The small Proconsul grinned to herself as though she thought she was hilarious as she turned back towards Frenek. “ What I can teach you? Well, I’m passingly fair in terms of espionage and infiltration. I suppose you could do well to learn those sorts of skills.” She took another drink, her violet eyes flicking beyond him towards Syrena. “I’m also a fair hand with blades and other various weapons. Did you adopt a droid?”

Mihoshi shook her head with a smile. “I’m the same way but with animals. I tend to collect them or they follow me home for one reason or another. I’m sure the High Councillor will start yelling about it soon.”

<@645466919415054357> <@1292362530299183208>

Mikhail took a few moments to browse, naturally listing in the direction of the fancier outfits. “I don’t know…” his hand brushed past a few options, catching on each one long enough to let him examine it before moving to the next.

“I may need your assistance.” He settled, frowning at the options infront of them.

Nathan stepped up beside him, glancing at the ones he’d just looked at. They were… weird.

Most of these were but he supposed that was the point.

Nathan went through another grouping, ensuring to only look at things that ought to fit Mikhail. After a minute of quiet investigation he pulled out a elegant, if cheaply made, black cape with red lining and gold details on the shoulders. It came with red contacts, sharp canine teeth covers and gloves that made it look as if thr hand beneath had claws.

“What about this? Vampire costume” Nathan lifted it from the rack, “We could get you some face paint too.”

The Odanite turned back to Erinyes as she spoke, her head tilted as though it helped her weigh the words. Speed run? They had to rave to get their drinks? Or was it a race to the bottom of each glass? Miho shrugged and stared at the obnoxiously neon green concoction that floated to her Clanmates. The bubbles made the smaller woman more than a little interested for the moment before she gestured at the drinks. “I think that’s going to be my next one.”

She took another sip from her hot beverage before her with a delighted grin. The liqueur warmed her all the way down in amazingly pleasant ways. “I promise I won’t try to do headstands.”

Mihoshi turned and watched the other patrons, disinterestedly interested in everyone around her.

Of course, if there was one thing that could draw Ruka from any sort of moment of feeling himself, it was someone else in need– particularly someone a little unsteady, more than a little unused to freedom, unsure of their steps and their simple humanity… someone already connected to the one he was connected to. It was as some of their teachers, texts,and fellows had philosophized over the years, comparing the Force to one thing or another, including a branching river or a great tree from which everything was connected.

Ruka and Siva, though apart, were still knitted together by the threads of light and shadow that was unabated and unconditional love. And through the tentative bonding of a new master and apprentice, there was the Zeltron woman babying that droid below, tugging at him like the thinnest red string looped around his pinky finger.

And besides, Erinyes was down there. He should make sure nobody was getting absolutely trashed already.

Wiping his face on his shoulder, the Mirialan pulled his mask out of his cloak pocket and fitted it over his eyes. It had lenses in it, the same prescription as his glasses, and the paint matched that on his face underneath.

Corazon was forever and always too good for him or the world.

<@607619766752116771>

Standing easily on his spire perch, the Mirialan master took a single step forward and dropped silently, straight down to the ground, a rush of ghostly black and white fabric. He landed with barely a thump at the base of the building some six stories below, not much a jaunt for him, and started walking into the crowd to wind back towards the bar he’d spotted, shoulders hunching slightly now that he was back among people – Erinyes liked to call how he existed “standing still faster.” Clearing an initial throng, lips pulling upwards as children passed running on sugar high feet to some of the attractions, the former Proconsul approached his former colleague, hovering slightly to the side as the General mixed drinks and the current Proconsul of Odan-Urr chatted with the man who was apparently the droid’s “daddy.”

Well. It wasn’t the kinkiest programming he’d ever seen, he reflected, as he reflected on Turel’s old droid, GRINDR. Didn’t mean his nose didn’t wrinkle and his brows didn’t draw in an expression of mild disapproval.

“Everyone doing okay, Ten– Erinyes?” he asked, loud enough to be heard over the faire noise, looking to the mysterious Zeltron more than the one he knew.

Sivall sat for a moment, thinking about Zuza’s question. Would she have done anything differently? There were a few things, sure— like everything that happened on Tekpantli. But undoing the bad would also undo the bits of good that came with it.

Despite her best efforts to resist the urge, the Odanite began to pick at the paint on her fingers.

“No… I don’t think I would…”

Sivall looked to her friend, her expression carrying a heavy sadness.

“Does that make me a bad person? That even though I hurt people getting here, I wouldn’t want to change it? I’m doing good work in Odan-Urr, and I’m doing good work with Erinyes…”

Contact-covered eyes snapped to the crowd as a familiar silhouette donning a hoodie made his way through the milling bodies to— Syrena. Concern clawed its way, icy and sharp, up her spine. Surely it was a coincidence, right? It was Ruka, after all, even if he did know the Zeltron was connected to her, he wouldn’t say anything.

Pain filling cloudy lavender eyes. ‘Is it me? Why do they keep leaving?’ ‘Of course no one would want to stick around you.’ Pain, searing hot yet cold, blocking air, preventing him from getting a breath.

Her hands had abandoned the cup in her lap, the liquid inside having started to cool. Her thoughts travelled back to all the times she had disappointed Ruka— what if he told her student? What if he let on how broken she was? Would Syrena request a replacement? Would she have messed up already, despite having just started her new life.

She forced her eyes to tear away so she could listen to Zuza’s response past the pounding in her ears. It was Ruka. Ruka wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.

“Well, I’m the same. And I wouldn’t change what I’ve done. And I got the schutta slap about it and everything.” Zuza swung her legs, noting the anxious ticks of her friend.

“If you’re bad then, kark-” she laughed though the smile it came with didn’t reach her eyes, “Well. You get what I’m sayin’. And sometimes you can do the best thing possible and still hurt people. That doesn’t mean it isn’t good anymore. Just as doing a bad thing and it happening to help someone doesn’t stop it from being bad.”

Her eyes were still down over the crowd, “They don’t hate you. Only you are doin’ that.”

The Mirialan squinted at the offered items, then at Erinyes, in a way that suggested mild offense but also appreciation – the type of indignation of one usually hellbent on taking care of others caught out being taken care of preemptively.

“Thanks,” he murmured, floating the items over with hardly a thought and removing his hands from his deep robe pockets to receive them. “I’m sure they’ve already scarfed it down, ay. ‘least the kids. Cor’s probably eatin’ with plastic silverware.” He smiled at that, genuinely, and somehow the burrito seemed to disappear in seconds. Even years on, Ruka ate rapidly in sharp, large bites, in only the way a lifetime of gnawing, empty hollows under the ribs and only being able to guess when the next meal would be while scraping together creds to make sure the kids didn’t lose more weight could create. His cloudy eyes clocked left, to the other three, as he took a sip of spiceberry juice. “Yo, how are you all? Enjoying the festival? Got questions? I’m an organizer. Me and my husband and the General here.”

Again, his stare lingered on the Zeltron.

“Thank you kindly,” Frenek smiled, as the Pirate Queen delivered the spooky green drink to him. Frenek turned back to Miho, listening intently. At her question as to whether or not he had adopted a droid, he practically choked on his drink. “Syrena adopted a droid. No, Syrena found a droid. I was not part of that decision—no way, no how.”

As Miho continued on about the espionage and infiltration skills she would be teaching him, his mind wandered to his previous mission, during which he had grappled onto the undercarriage of a speeder as it hit a ramp, rode it through the air, and somersaulted onto a high wall. Stealth was not exactly his strong suit. “I reckon I can be flexible,” he answered, and raised his glass to Miho in token of thanks.

<@227653769842655233>

Syrena turned to her fellow Odanite at the question regarding the small droid. With a soft smile, she gave a light nod. “I… suppose I did. I’m thinking of calling him Dex. Maybe it will be…. healing, for me to have something to take care of,” She stated gently, carefully omitting certain details regarding her past. “Creatures, you say? Ooh, do you have a Ginntho by chance? I simply find them fascinating! And rather adorable,” Syrena couldn’t help but exclaim, gesturing towards the shimmering arachnid pin of one that she currently wore in her light pink hair. After all, this spider-like creature had been what had inspired her outfit for the night.

Her silvery gaze next shifted to the other fellow Zeltron, a Pirate Queen. She caught the drink in one hand, letting out a content sigh as she tasted the fruity sourness that the sparkling neon green beverage held. “Oh, this is just lovely. Ten out of ten,” Syrena couldn’t help but comment with an approving nod. Perhaps a concoction like this was just what she needed to ease her nerves. However, Syrena planned on maintaining a sense of carefulness to not overdo it, as she had many times in the past, which was mainly due not having access to luxury goods for most of her life.

<@227653769842655233> <@645466919415054357>

With her thoughts drifting once again, out of her peripheral vision Syrena caught a glimpse of movement, a blur of black and white rapidly descending towards the ground. This was more than enough to garner her attention and peak her curiosity. As he began to approach where they sat, instinctively Syrena sat up a bit straighter, as per her usual habits that had been ingrained into her through the years of wanting to make a good first impression.

Despite the fact that she had not met the Mirialan before, she found herself unable to shake off the feeling that he must be someone of significance. “Hello, I am Syrena Valkar. What is your name?” Syrena began to say politely, rising from her seat to give the graceful form of a curtsey. “Oh! You must be from… Arcona? I have met several from the Clan so far, pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

In the next moment, Syrena froze, her silvery gaze growing distant for a moment. Through the woven strands of the force, she suddenly sensed something, or rather, someone. Followed by the sensation of pain. However, Syrena’s ability to sense the exact specifics behind these emotions were greatly dulled both by the mingling personalities of the various festival crowds, and by her lack of experience in this area.

It was still enough to cause the Zeltron female to jolt up, hand unintentionally knocking over her remaining drink in the process. Syrena’s gaze shifted towards Dex, the tiny droid, and she breathed a quiet sigh of relief seeing that he had since moved back into the floating bassinet and was well out of range of the spill. “Ah… Forgive me, I don’t know what got into me. I’ll just go clean this up. Don’t worry, it’ll be sparkling and brand new by the time I’m finished,” Syrena quickly stated instinctively, silver eyes looking for a mop. It would seem some of her old habits, instilled into her by certain aspects of her former life, were taking much longer to die than she originally thought possible.

<@244244163002892288> <@264959101384130560>

“Ay, ay, you’re okay, no trouble at all, yeah? S’ just a spill, and we outside. Here, if you worried…”

The Mirialan didn’t so much as twitch a finger, merely looking at the spill. At once the very liquid floated up and ferried itself to the bar’s waste sink, dumping down, droplets and froth and cubes alike. The glass was set with dirty dishware, and instead, napkins levitated to her hand. “You okay, ay, uh, Miss Valkar? I’m…I guess I’m from Arcona, yeah. I mean, I’m from Kiast, actually, but I been workin’ with the Arconans and living on Selen, so…”

He trailed off, feeling that warring tug. He sighed.

“Look, sorry, I ain’t tryna be pushy, please, I promise I’ll respect any answer, but can I ask you something? It’s…I sense something. And I think I know what, but I don’t wanna be no bother, ma'am.”

Mikhail’s lips pursed in thought. The contacts probably wouldn’t work, but the cape was good. The teeth would be interesting, but doable.

It was just.. too plain. His hands rested on his hips as he scanned the nearby options. Eventually, he settled on a morph suit with flexible fake skeleton bones connected to it. Along with that, he picked up a long dark academia suit jacket. “I think.. these will work. Give me a few minutes?”

It hurt to pay for all three costumes, but pain was part of the process to looking good, wasn’t it? At least, that’s what he told himself when he stepped into a changing stall and pulled his trusty emergency suture/sewing kit from his jacket.

“Sure!” Nathan had watched the cogs work, happy to settle back and wait for Mikhail to re-appear although… he did spot the face paints. Not that he much felt like changing clothes, comfortably warm and covered in his travel gear, but maybe a bit of face paint would at least help with fitting in.

Or something.

He purchased a few face paints from the stall’s attendent, and found a mirror to sit cross legged in front of, periodically glancing to anyone coming in and trying to not feel embarrassed as he worked on the idea. Painting dots for “shading” and a few lines along his cheeks, lining his face with a mix of dark blue, black and yellow to give the appearance of someone from one of Zig’s holobook stories. It wasn’t much nor was it really that well done, but it was quick enough to do while Mikhail prepared himself and at least would.. not just be him being the odd one out.

The female Chiss was slowly wandering around, careful not to bump into people. She felt silly for dressing up, but at the same time she imagined Appius would be proud of showing herself outside more often. Aylin had been going around for days to get items for her outfit and seemed all to happy about dressing her up in a witchy outfit and wide brimmed hat. She softly chuckled to herself when she thought back about her first ‘halloween’ outfit and was glad it wasn’t as revealing as that version.

Her white eyes scanned the crowd trying to find people she knew.

As the Chiss walked about, her ‘obviously looking for something/someone’-ness caught a pair of navy eyes. A young Mirialan woman trotted over, datapad-cum-clipboard underarm and badge on her neck with the symbol of the Emissary office and an identifying nametag. Her voluminous cloak was white as Ankira’s eyes, and her face was painted in bright colors with floral patterns outlining the bones of her skull structures.

“Heya, ay,” she greeted. “Welcome to the festival! You look like you’re looking for something, yeah? Can I help? My name’s Leda, I’m a volunteer.”

“Oh, hello. I’m Ankira… I was just looking for people I would recognize,” the Chiss answered. “I’m not really used to… Uh… Gathering like this, but Aylin insisted to go.”

She breathed a sigh of relief as the spilt drink was cleaned and the counter left sparkling once again, thankful that no one seemed to mind. The vibrant scenery and the spiced autumnal aromas were enough to bring back a sense of calm to the Zeltron female. Silver gaze shifting to the Mirialan, Syrena nodded. “Ask me something? Ah, yes, of course,” She said in a polite tone.

However, it was clear Syrena already found herself starting to get distracted, as there came the steady thump of the beat of music from somewhere nearby. And she found herself unable to resist it’s call. “Hope y'all wore your dancin’ boots!” Syrena said with a slight grin, already heading that direction.

Though she hadn’t anticipated needing to use the only dagger she brought in except for when it came to enjoying a good meal, in this case, she sliced off the excess of flowing fabric of her dress to make her attire better suited for dancing. After exchanging her stilettos for a pair of outer rim-style brown leather boots and a brimmed hat to match, she made her way to the dance floor.

The heel of her boots tapped in a lively rhythm as the upbeat twang of a mandolin filled the area. Syrena joined the line dance, weaving and stomping in sync to the beat, followed by several fast twirls alongside the others. After repeating the steps to the beat of the song, Syrena spun in a pirouette, tossing her brimmed hat up into the air and catching it in one hand.

The girl’s smile grew warmer, a little more genuine. “I gotcha. We never used to go to none nothing like this, ay? Now we help run them. It’s nice sometimes to have a friend or somebody who will be like, extroverted for you, make you go to stuff. Sometimes.”

The Mirialan gestured with her datapad around.

“I dunno if anyone you know is here, but I can show you around until you find something you like, ay?”

“…okay, bye, ay, I guess…” Ruka muttered as right after the Zeltron agreed, she went running off to change into boots and a hat – and where those came from, who knew, he’d learned long ago not to ask fashion questions thanks to the love of his life and his husband’s ability to pack a whole extra outfit in a purse somehow – and dance. His thick, scar broken brows furrowed hard, a frown fully on his lips now, and he glanced awkwardly between the remaining man and Erinyes, reaching to pick at the additional food she’d placed out even though he felt sick. Food was present; couldn’t waste it.

“Was it somethin’ I said? Kriff…”

<@645466919415054357> <@1292362530299183208>

It took a few minutes, longer than Mikhail had planned, but eventually the Arkanian stepped from the stall. He had taken the few costume bits and disassembled them, only to recombine them into one costume. Some holes were cut to fit flexible bone, different layers were sewn together, and the overall ensemble looked less Stereotypical than it would have otherwise. Mikhail, quite happy with his work, quickly approached Nathan. Under one arm was a bag of his other clothes and the scraps of costume that weren’t used. He was holding the claw gloves that came with the original vampire costume, and held them out to the ex-praetor.

“I need ashishtansh with theesh” he frowned, then worked his tongue around his mouth, refitting the fanged mouthpiece that poked from his lips as he spoke. “A.. ash.. help?”

Eyebrows furrowed over blue crystalline orbs that stared up at Nathan.

That seemed to smooth the Mirialan’s scowl somewhat, and he nodded to her, scarred lips making a twitchy smile.

“Yeah, ay, ‘course. Know we’re happy to and all that kriff. Ashla and Bogan know Cor loves it, and the kids are getting pretty into it too… they’ve really taken to the like, helping people stuff. Shouldn’t really call 'em kids so much these days, but it’s hard not to.”

Cloudy eyes glanced over her expansive drink menu, a snort coming at a few of the names, even if his nose stayed wrinkled at the alcohol. He sipped his juicy juice.

Nathan hadn’t done a brilliant job of his make up but he was a little more on theme when he looked over to Mikhail on the Arkanian’s approach. He was glad for it, as he felt his cheeks flush immediately. The modifications were great but the costume overall really suited Mikhail.

Assista- oH! Nathan clicked into reality as Mikhail held the gloves out toward him. “Yes, of course.”

He took them, flustered but letting Mikhail raise a hand and slipping the glove over each of his fingers, before tugging it down over the wrist. Nate had worked with the medics enough to not fumble it or risk damaging the fabric, nor to get it stuck on a nail or whatever else. He repeated it again, quiet and slowing down as he pulled it down over Mikhail’s hand.

This was intimate. Not in a way that’d make Zig laugh if she saw it in a movie, but it… A surge of emotions rended their way through Nathan’s mind in a split second, insecurity mixed with logical facts. Worry over not being enough replaced with the fact Mikhail had been by his side for months. Had asked Nathan to help him with make-up, to do this now. They’d barely been friends before his kidnapping yet Mikhail had been on the front to investigate and rescue. It could be just friendship, but, dammit what if it wasn’t?

In what Nathan hoped wasn’t about to ruin everything, the Pantoran finished slipping the glove onto Mikhail’s hand, then raised it and pressed a gentle but unmistakable kiss to his knuckles. He lingered a moment before gently lowering and releasing the hand. As much as he wanted to make eye contact, the thrumming of blood in his ears, purpling his cheeks even through the lines of make up, kept his gaze angled down as he let Mikhail… well.

He didn’t know what Mikhail would do.

“I’m not sure who would be visiting, Aylin said there would be a few familiar ‘faces’” she said as she looked towards the dancing.

“What do people usually do during this celebration? I’m not familiar with it that much, to be honest.”

Whenever Erinyes would eventually check her datapad between drinks and compliments of parenting, she would notice she had received a new message from a certain comm code. The above conversations contained a multitude of detailed information exchange about galactic produce suppliers, strong correctopinions on various wines, a request for assistance with allegedly kidnapped governors, and travel itineraries, along with a variety of topics on food and fashion. Most recently the sender had been ripping apart an outfit she offered for critique, and sending back shots of sketches for a corseted dress…

Now, though, was a different image. This one was of a kitchen space, with counters covered in bright molds filled with equally bright colors. The tiny jellies were arranged with the vicious efficiency of a droid factory creating an army during the height of the Clone Wars. There were nearly as many as a droid army, too. Clearly this was quite the large scale operation.

🦈: Superior “spooky” party preparation underway. How goes your sorrier soiree? 🦈: There will be a batch flavored as Dark Elixir set aside for you.

Siv didn’t respond for a long time. Long enough that Zuza knew she wouldn’t get a reply on that question today. And sure enough-

“You should go enjoy the festivities Zu.”

The tears had faded somewhat, the pain hadn’t but Zuza could tell from the tone well enough that there was no more she could do. Not today. It was small steps, each taken on a narrow bridge that required a careful watch. Too many taken too quickly, and all would be lost.

Maybe that was dramatic. But still, Zuza made sure to give her hand a squeeze, before getting up and beginning to make her way down off of the roof. Not in the typical way, feathers fluttered in the wnid as Arcona’s Consul dropped from window sil to window sil, lightfooted enough to leave nothing but a foot print if there was ample dirt.

And, just like that, she made it back to the ground.

It wasn’t like flying, but nothing could capture the freedom of being able to cross a street in the air. The thought sent a shard of ice straight through her stomach, and she harried her steps toward the nearest food stall. Or drinks. Drinks, actually, that sounded great. Erinyes was there, Ruka standing near her. He wouldn’t approve of the drinks but kark it, she hadn’t had one in months.

At the stall Zuza had no hesistation in ordering the Kraytsblood Cocktail. She swayed as she waited, her make-shift tail feathers brush back and forth against her legs.

The Arkanian Wiggled his fingers as each glove was slid on, testing the fit. He didn’t notice as Nathan continued to hold his hand, only picking up on the unusual movement towards his face. A slight confused expression darted across his face before he noticed what was as happening. The realization froze him in place, the only movement coming as he cupped the hand that was kissed with his other as if he was holding a bird prone to flitting away.

What was that?

The Arkanian raised his gaze to Nathan, who was staring intently towards the ground. He could see heat rise across the Pantoran’s face, even through the makeup, the shifting of thermals was obvious. But Mikhail’s attention was drawn to the specifics. The corners of Nathan’s lips, the way his eyebrows shifted, the contoured shape of his face that the cartoony makeup exemplified.

He was handsome.

And he had just kissed Mikhail’s hand.

The Arkanian’s brain flooded with information, emotions and thoughts all tearing into each other like a cannibalistic frenzy of ripper fish.

Why?

The simple question went unanswered by the parade of hypotheses that marched straight into a black hole of doubt. Nathan’s reaction killed any semblance of it being a joke. The careful motion was akin to something one would do for a royal, a princess or overly self important king. Was that how Nathan Viewed him? Wait - which one?

Was the Pantoran playing a character? Was he being shown faux fealty because of his costume?

Mikhail raised his attention again then to Nathan, his mouth opening to speak before closing. He blinked the confusion away as he finally went to speak again. “If I am to be your Liegsh, you should fetch drinksh for ush.” His own skin was pink now, the usual shaded ear and band across the nose quite obvious. He seemed to hesitate before speaking again, his eyes drifting down to his own hand that he still held before he dropped it and looked back up to Nathan with his own shy smile creeping onto his lips. “Continue to Lavish me with preshensh and I will be a merciful Liegsh.”

Ruka looked a mix between abashed and proud as hell at Erinyes’ compliments, squinting at her flask in a near mirror of how leda had on that occasion – or rather, vice versa. But at least this was a party and her own festival and not a tour of the Praxeum.

The young woman, teenager, kid, their daughter, had sideways glared the Zeltron for all of an hour before she finally snapped. “Ay! It ain’t even afternoon, you are on a tour , of a school and temple, with four sober guests and a bunch of underage or probably sober students everywhere! A tour you’re crashing. How bout you show a little respect, ay? Least wait til a meal to sit down, or excuse yourself to the fresher to be more subtle.”

And there’d been more in Mirialan, but that wasn’t necessary for the message.

He and Cora had apologized, of course, whether or not they agreed, just because it was polite when your kid told someone off, even if that telling off was an important lecture about boundaries, but Erinyes had brushed it off. And put the flask away for a bit.

“Yeah, they’re… they’re really great.” Ruka wiped at his eyes. He was opening his mouth to reply further when a huge flurry of feathers and movement slammed into the bar next to him at speed. He choked on a screech and jerked back, tripping into a stool and down in a tumble at the appearance of a person-sized avian demon.

Only it started ordering a cocktail in Zuza’s voice.

Ow.

<@432543120635461643>

Maybe it was the fact that there was, again, a person-sized sickly demented bird demon right there landing on them. Maybe it was the sound of a lightsaber activating, and then the light and motion of its movement. Maybe it was being telekinetically gripped himself and left trapped.

Regardless, the words being vomited didn’t really matter next to all his battle instincts screaming and the pure adrenal fear that accompanied knowing that to any bird their skulls were indistinguishable from seeds at an atomic level. Regardless, the Master of the Dark Side was inhaling the Force in a heartbeat and pushing the unholy monster away from them all.

And so his Consul and friend was suddenly yeeting in an arc over the festival at mach speed before a drink could get into her hands.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAA

-# aaaaaaaa

Mihoshi jolted momentarily as the thing crashed into the bar, spilling the remains of her pumpkin candy drink. The snap-hiss of a lightsaber was quite quickly followed by the sounds of a launched creature. The small Kyataran turned and looked at the Mirialian and just blinked for a moment.

“Is it usually this exciting? And any chance for one of those green ones to settle the nerves?”

Across the festival, Corazon looked up sharply as something – someone?! – flew overhead. His jaw dropped, and he knew that yell anywhere, especially from belting out, “IF I COULD MAKE MYSELF BELIEVE” two sangrias into karaoke.

“Pipa?!” he gasped, dropping his clipboard datapad.

Lulaire blinked as she saw the flying and heard the screaming.

“Huh. Well, I’ll be. At least she wasn’t no puffer pig.” She mindlessly scratched Cotton on the head as it purred against her chest.

When puffer pigs fly….

Ruka squawked as he was sat down and his brain caught up with his actions. His head whipped around fast enough that his locs flew.

“ZUZA! Kriff!”

But oh, she was coming back, thank Ashla and Bogan.

Meanwhile, Cora watched her reverse, or at least a bird??? Reverse? And touched his forehead.

It wasn’t that hot, but perhaps he was having a bit of a heat flash. He should get more water.

“Oh, dear…” The Pantoran stopped to gracefully pick up his datapad and went back to negotiating with a toddler about how many candies they could have compared to their sibling.

-# AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAA

aaaaaaaa?

With Zuza safe and sound and served on her stool, and tea a blur in front of him, Ruka gripped at his own temple as if suffering whiplash and cringed, bowing his head. “Ay, ay, Zu, I’m so sorry. You okay?!”

(Notably, though she was a blur to him a foot or two away, he still wasn’t looking right at her when he apologized. BIRD.)

<@432543120635461643>

Zuza had a hell of a 5 seconds. Initially it had been fear of being thrown, switching into a rush of adrenaline and partially fearful laughter and then utterly confused, mostly screaming because she didn’t knowt to know what else to do when being ping ponged across the fairground. Then she was back in her stool, the feathers of her costume comically ruffled in various different directions.

“Uh, oh yeah I’m good. I wouldn’t exactly mind if we did tha’ again so long as ya told me first.” Zuza answered, blinking several times but enthusiastically taking the cocktail, “I- uh- OH KARK YOURE SCARED OF BIRDS I FORGOT!-” Zuza managed to panic while sitting down, not having a way fix this but now understanding why she judt had a far less controlled and enjoyable experience flying.

Still awesome.

Ruka winced at both the close volume and also being called out. Like yeah okay but IT WAS A REASONABLE FEAR THANK YOU. “Because they’re evil,” he hiss-muttered, and then, pinching the bridge of his nose, “and ‘course you wouldn’t mind, you junkie…maybe some time special. For you birthday.”

He sipped his green tea after blowing on it, surly and ruffled like Zuza’s feathers.

Zuza snort laughed, already one step from it from Ruka calling her a junkie and actually considering that. Not that she wouldn’t but oh jeez she didnf expect him to agree- So as Erinyes asked thst it drew a peal of laughter from the Consul.

“Karkin stars guys-” she breathed in-between giggles, managing to get that but but needing to focus down on her drink not spilling all over the place for a minute.

“Sorry- should’ve said something before i- hooooooo kriffin ‘eck.”

Mihoshi watched the shenanigans as they unfolded, listening to all the different voices as she took a sip of her electrically green drink. One eye squeezed shut as the sour hit the back of her throat causing her to cough slightly. The sweet and sour sensation of the drink was something she didn’t entirely expect as she set the cauldron down on the counter and gave it the side-eye. It wasn’t bad, in fact, it was actually very tasty. But, the sour punch in her mouth had been more than a little unnerving at first.

Ruka’s face pinched at the flirting as if he was the one with a sour punch in his mouth. But it was fine. This was fine.

“Where you droppin’ in from anyway?” he groused, glancing up. The feeling of his ‘oldest’ daughter nagged, and the question he hadn’t gotten to ask Syrena before she went dancing. A pause, to shot a more ashamed look at Miho and Frenek. “Ay, sorry about the…mess.”

Miho shook her head with a happy little smile. “I’m not worried about it. I’ve seen much worse of a mess after getting done with work.”

She picked up the cauldron and took another sip, her face showing again she wasn’t entirely used to sour things just yet. “Besides, this is the most fun I’ve had in a while that didn’t end with dead bodies.”

Ruka’s expression suddenly dropped, the hard line of his scarred mouth and flinty, milky chips to once clear amethyst eyes. His posture straightened, knuckles flexing on his teacup. “Oh. So you’re the kind that finds murder fun.”

‘Least you’ll get on with Zuza, part of him thought with bitterness, remembering the flash of her smirk and wild eyes under two burning suns.

He was about two seconds from excusing himself, waiting for Syrena or no.

The small human tilted her head to the side and thought about it. “Finds it fun? No, not particularly. But being an assassin my trade…” Miho shrugged slightly with a wan little smile. “It helps to keep you sane if you enjoy your work.”

She took another sip, her face reacting less and less each time. “Besides, if it’s any consolation, I don’t let them suffer if I can help it. Clean kills or no kills. And no children.”

It clearly didn’t help console much, by the way the Mirialan seemed unmoved beyond a grunt of acknowledgement, not with the whole “helps if you enjoy your work” thing.

Zuza sloooooowly drank from her drink, the adrenaline fading and watching these two talk, glancing to Erinyes.

“Zig would agree with you, by the way.”

Mihoshi shrugged again almost sadly as she took another sip of her drink. It wasn’t her fault she had been trained as a killer since she had been left behind on that planet. The years of trained had eroded away all of the kindness and spirit the once cheerful girl-child had. She didn’t mourn the loss anymore, didn’t wonder any more if that had warped her beyond recognition. She was who and what she was and Miho was alright in that.

Zuza flashed a grin, “You say that like you have.”

Her tone was light, amused as she sipped the cocktail, feigning innocence in her expression.

Siv’s view of the whole situation, from up high, was incredibly silly in hind sight once the danger of her non-force using friend splatting onto the ground like a tomato had passed.

She would have saved Zuza herself, if it werent for the fact that Ruka tumbling over and then just slingshotting the Arconan consul like she was a cockroach had forced the sip of caf that was in her mouth at the time out of her nose at mach 6.

She was still sputtering and coughing as Zuza was fetched from the air and her screams died down.

She would have reminded her that Ruka was scared of birds had she known she was going that way. A little pang triggered in her heart— she missed moments like this. Arcona had been incredibly hectic at times, but she adored the crazy antics that came with it.

The silence stretched, that sad shrug all that came next, and Ruka began to feel like an asshole. He sighed and offered up, “Anyway…ay…sorry. Anyway, what’s your deal on the Brotherhood?”

Miho blinked and looked up at Ruka, a smile returning to her face. “My deal?” She thought for a moment, not entirely sure what the answer would be to the question. “Like, what I do here?”

The Mirialan nodded. “I mean, you said…your job,” he grimaced, his feelings for the assassin genre clear, but soldiered on through socializing, “but like, you got family here? You in a Clan? You from one of the systems? Stuff like that. If you’re here on Arx, then…”

Mihoshi tilted her head to the side again, considering how to answer the Mirialian. He didn’t seem like he was someone she needed to be concerned about. Not like the ones who had butchered her family in the past, but some discretion was never a bad thing. “I had family here a long time ago. About twenty years or so. It’s hard to tell. As it stands, after I was taken as a slave, I was trained to be their knife in the dark. When I wasn’t working, they had be in carbon.”

She gestures around herself with a smile , taking in Frenek and the departed Syrena in the gesture. “For now, I am their Proconsul. Their War Councillor. Leader of the Empire’s military arm. Mihoshi Keibatsu at your service.” It had probably been long enough that no one would really remember her family name and this man seemed likeable enough.

Nathan had been hopeful when Mikhail went quiet. Maybe the message had gone through but- oh.

He smiled though it didn’t quite reach his yellow eyes. “I’d.. much rather get one together.” A beat passed and he softened, chuckling ever so slightly, “My liege.”

The Pantoran held his arm out to Mikhail, as if to guide him to the drink stalls. If Nate didn’t pass out along the way from how quickly his heart was beating. The flush to his face wasn’t getting any better as the miscommunication set in and embarrassment flooded his entire being.

Reiden let out a sigh as he dismounted his speeder upon arrival at the festival grounds. Leaves crunched underfoot and the scent of fall filled his nostrils, as did the aromas of various food offerings. It was a welcome change of pace. He had needed a break after being assigned the task of reviewing the files of various assets and ensuring that they were up to date. His Inquisitorius work varied widely for what he was tasked with. He didn’t like the more administrative things, but someone had to do it. This time, he was lucky in that his attention to detail was an asset, and somehow he had managed to work through it, a little bit at a time.

Nevertheless, now was a time to unwind. To let his hair down, so to speak. The semi-regular festivals that the Emissary had put on were always fun to check out, and hopefully this time would be no different. He glanced around and spotted the drink tents in the distance. A smile crossed his lips as he began to make his way over.

I think a good drink is just what I need right now, he told himself.

Mikhail slipped his arm under than across Nathan’s. He accepted the gesture willingly, half hugging the Pantoran’s arm to his torso. The distance between them was as close as the bone structure sticking out of his costume would allow, which was new to Mikhail but not unwelcome. Certainly not when moving through a crowded area.

It was practical, right?

Still, his face was warm with rose tint as he tried to speak past his fake teeth “Drinksh then, together.” he affirmed

Revs pulled his speederbike in next to some of the ones that were already parked at the festival. He looked around taking in the flashing lights, the smells of the different foods, and the happy sounds coming the fair goers.

He hopped off and lite a cigarette. First thing was first at all fair. Find beer and nachos.

Zuza coughed into her drink, barely saving the beverage from being wasted and promptly laughing. “Well, I’m sure you have her code- stars Erinyes.”

A somewhat familiar yet not familiar face approached from the distance. She didn’t know the name but it was hard to spend so much time here and not pick up on faces. Zuza waved to the newcomer, smiling and calling out, “Hey friend!”

He was on his own, so why not?

Nathan wasn’t sure if he wanted to curl up in a ball or not but he’d had long enough to handle that emotion and keep it contained barring the flaring heat in his face. The make up was good thankfully.

The pair wandered over toward the drinks tents, taking their time. By the time they got there, it had been long enough for Nathan to begin to regret agreeing to drinks. He could back out but some of them genuinely looked good and… well. No. He wasn’t going to not do it just because Mikhail probably didn’t actually like him back that way. They were still friends. Yeah. Yeah!

Shame his heart didn’t pick up on that and felt like it was about to explode in his chest by the time they reached the drinks tents.

Ashla and Bogan. He really couldn’t not think about Siva tonight – or any other night or day, but that was just how it was, being a parent; you didn’t ever not think of your kid. But the similarities smacked him in the face now as surely as one of Zuza’s feathers three minutes ago.

“I…” Kriff. He again nearly smudged all the paint on his face, rubbing at it, but stopped. “I’m sorry. For what happened to you. And what I said. Common enough kinda story around here I should know by now to keep my frangin’ mouth shut, ay.” Granted, slavery and all the horrible childhoods in the world weren’t an excuse for murder or for enjoying violence or hurting others, but that was beside the point right now. “Proconsul, ay? Of Odan-Urr, if you’re us ok Ng the Councillor title. We just missed each other. I’m Ruka Tenbriss Ya-ir. I, uh, I was Proconsul of Arcona, for a little bit, but I’m from Kiast, so…yeah. Nice to meet you and all that, Lady Keibatsu.”

He glanced at Erinyes’ raised brows, then back again, trying to recall why the name sounded familiar. A cold trickled down his spine, like being flayed all over again.

Keibatsu.

Like…Ashen?

She smiled, a soft genuine smile as she shrugged. “I came to terms with my circumstances a long, long time ago. You have a lot of time to think when you’re frozen.” Hearing the man’s name made the smile even wider. “Ya-ir? Like…”

Her face scrunched up quite adorably as she thought. That name had been on some kind of paperwork not that long ago. The thoughts chased each other across her face for a moment before her smile turned wry and she shook her head. “Nope. Already gone. But, anyway. You’re also from Kiast? I don’t get to spend much time there unfortunately, but I do try to spend some time on Daleem at least checking in on both of the Governors.”

She held a hand out in greeting, apology and acceptance, towards Ruka. “The pleasure is all mine, Ruka. And please, just Miho. What was a reality in the past is no longer since…” She smiled and shook her head. “Since then.”

Revs walked his way across the fair grounds looking all the different rides and games. He watched as kids tried to win stuffed toys at rigged ring toss. Teenagers trying to see who could climb spinning rope ladders the fastest without falling off. All of it reminded him of being a kid with his parents and sister. Maybe next time he will bring them with him he thought to himself.

The Miralula walked up to food tent and ordered some fully loaded nachos and a large beer in a novelty glass.

As they walked and waited, Mikhail found himself leaning more and more into Nathan. It was not something he seemed to notice really, but a distant part of his brain did make note of the Pantoran’s bicep as his hand found its way there to rest. He swallowed and cleared his throat as they stepped up to the tent to place an order.

“I will have.. a Harvesht Maple Brefe” He frowned again at the failure to form words properly with the teeth in, his grip even tightening on Nathan’s arm for a moment

“I’ll have the um…” Nathan stared at the title of the one he wanted for longer than he meant. Why was it named that?! He forcibly cleared his throat, “The pink skinned party girl? Please.”

It wasn’t helping it was hard to focus with Mikhail’s hand delicately placed on his arm and the warmth of the other man slooooowly more and more pressing into his hip. Now the signals were missed and Nathan incredibly desired some kind of help. A little porg on his shoulder or in his pocket that saw what was going on from both sides od the table and could guide him.

The drinks were served quickly, and the pair moved out of the way. Nathan looked into the pink concoction, uncertain.

The Arkanian could help but smile at the name of Nathan’s drink. Meanwhile, he clutched the pumpkin cup in the hand that was looped through Nathan’s arm. He sipped it carefully, quite enjoying the warmth the spiked syrupy drink incurred. After a satisfying drink, he looked up towards Nathan. It was the first time he had actually looked up at the Pantoran being this close to him and was stunned for a moment by how close they actually were. His crystal eyes shifted to Nathan’s lips before rising again to meet any potential gaze. “Doesh it tashte like a pink shkinned party girl?” He said after his hesitation, quite a bit of humor in his voice.

Nathan was took a tentative sip, wincing as he drew away. It didnt taste entirely of alcohol but woah. A second sip led to him actually trying a proper drink of it as Mikhail spoke. Golden eyes glanced sideways, the lavender in his cheeks deepening somehow more.

“I- wouldn’t know.” Nate paused, looking down at it and then at Mikhail. The crystalline structure and pattern on his skin and his eyes. A beat passed, “I think I’d prefer blue.”

And then he died inside.

He coughed, forcibily dragging his gaze away and feeling very warm around the collar as, for the sake of something to do, he drank more of the slightly burny mixture.

-# Why does Zig encourage me to talk to people, I’m awful at it by the Force and whatever else, jeez, oh dear oh-

The words took a moment to process, but whatever mess of a conclusion he would have come to was interrupted by the coughing. His eyebrows furrowed but as Nathan drank more, he seemed to relax. Only then did he recall what was originally said which caused more color to tint his nose. “Blue.. ish… nicshe. More… appetizshing. Than pink at leasht.” He rushed to follow up the last bit, and similarly took a long sip himself from his pumpkin mug, thankful for the straw it came with. He couldn’t imagine the mess he’d make without it.

“…reality in the past?” he quoted, confused, but shrugging it off. “Alright, ay, Miho. If you’re with the Odanties, then you might know Siva? Er. Or…Sivall. She’s goin’ by, still, I think. And Wulfram Armis. She…” He had no idea if the Chiss would want to be known as his daughter to this woman. “They were both my…subordinates.”

“Zuza!” That was Cora, coming up through the crowd, having followed the flight path. “Oh, Stars, you’re alright! Angel, what happened?” the Pantorsn came to Ruka’s side and instantly fit arm in arm with him. “She flew, I swear…oh. Oh. Oh, Angel.”

Ruka ducked his head.

Reiden paused ever so briefly mid-stride as he got to the tent, hearing a woman’s voice. It was attached to a small figure in some kind of bird costume. The sight was an amusing one, but it was that time of year, and all cultures were different. Even so, he felt a slight confusion.

Friend? Me? Well that must be the case, she’s looking my way…unless there’s someone behind me? Worst case, I say hi and make a mistake, no big deal.

He walked over, raising a hand slightly in greeting, smiling. The face beneath the costume did look familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it, like it was just out of reach. Maybe someone he had seen but never met? And someone had once told him a stranger was a friend you haven’t met yet. And it was a festival, the perfect time to make more friends anyway.

“Hi! It looks like this festival is another success.”

Meanwhile, Leda gave Ankira a friendly nudge and smile. “Lots of things! We have tons of activities, cos we wanna make sure there something for everyone, right? There’s food, drinks, games, rides, a maze, the petting zoo, fortune telling, hair braiding, face painting, crafts, music, dancing…” The teen started to list off, guiding them towards where Lady – yeah, right – Erinyes was set up. It was as good a starting place as any if Ankira didn’t find anything else intriguing. “How’s any of that?”

They came into sight soon of the drink tents, where many people milled about, including her parents.

Nathan squeaked. This wasn’t fair!

He forcibly drank more, trying to cover the fact he made that noise. Mikhail- did Mikhail know what he just said? This was not a good drink to drink like this. Nathan coughed, raising his other arm to catch it while doing his best to not drop the damned cup.

“Maybe they, have a uh- a blue drink? Maybe.”

Zuza’s smile widened on the person greeting her. Success! There was always something special and fun about meeting a new person, no matter how many times shed done it.

“Yeah absolutely. They’ve kicked it out the park this year.” And.. almost her. Hehe. “You were here last year too? I missed it, was helping run our own one back home.”

“Another Brotherhood Event?” Forge dipped his head as if he needed to look over a pair of spectacles. The trip from the Fallen Spear to the festivities wouldn’t take too much longer, and the droid had….questions. “I was under the assumption that you didn’t care over much for these social excursions?” He straightened up, inspecting the man’s warcoat for dust before crossing his arms in front of him, expectantly.

Muz tilted his head at the droid, eyes unblinking. There was a reason to be here, even if that reason hadn’t made itself abundantly clear yet. Leena’s suspicions clawed at his mind, at his heart. Potential danced with possibility in the recesses of his mind too feral to bow to discipline and caution. He breathed deeply, holding on to the breath longer than necessary before slowly releasing it. At the very least, some old friends were to be here, and that was a welcome reprieve from the travails of late. Turning toward the door as the airlocks hissed, He watched as the Chamberlain adjusted his own jacket and sash, then stepped to his side, exacting in his proscribed position. The colors of autumn and the scents of warm spices assailed his senses. The glut of people ahead itched at his tolerances, yet beneath that… beneath the cloud of a thousand people’s emotional miasma… there was something else. The reason, whatever it may be.

Muz stood there at the top of the transport ramp for a moment, absorbing the situation, forcing himself to relax. “We’ll start with a drink.”

Miho snapped her fingers with a smile, the name clicking in place now. Recent census reports. “Yes, Sivall! And Wulfram is my own predecessor.”

She took a drink from the small cauldron in her hand, happy to have that little mystery solved. “Both are fairly wonderful people by all account. I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting of meeting Sivall yet though, but others have told me about her.”

“She’s–” Ruka’s throat worked, and Cora, catching on to the conversation, looked like he might cry for a second before his perfect and pleasant noble face was back on. He hugged his husband’s arm tightly, a wordless support, and the Mirialan choke before going on.

“Wonderful don’t cover it. She’s amazing. She’s everything. You’re – real lucky to have her.”

<@264959101384130560>

The small Human nodded with a grin. “All of my children are wonderful. I’m going to make a point of putting myself in Sivall’s way.”

She finished up the drink and set the cauldron down on the bar with a soft thunk. “You know you’re welcome whenever to visit. Being from Kiast, you know the way there. I’m sure she might like a visit from people close enough to have the same name.”

She turned towards the Pirate Queen with a grin. “May I have another drink? Whatever you think is the best one.”

<@645466919415054357> <@244244163002892288>

Mikhail looked up at Nathan with some concern, worried that he might have started choking. His free hand raised to the Pantoran’s bicep again, touching gently before Nathan spoke and assuaged Mikhail of most worries. “Yesh.. it’sh.. Ferran’sh Rime. Froshted drink, there ish a wine I like that’sh shimilar. If you were ok to drink more. Maybe we shplit it sho we aren’t drinking too much?”

“I should probably, uhm, finish this one first. But yeah that’d be great. To share it-” Nathan laughed nervously.

“I haven’t drank, before. So. We’ll see how well I do.”

It was like Mihoshi had taken one of her assassin’s knives and stabbed both men in the kidneys, then twisted, just to really scrape at the bones of the hip and spine. Ruka’s face actually said as much, while Cora’s expression, more controlled, was belied but the flashfire of pain in the Force. But much like the Pantoran’s original sad look, both were hurriedly muted, replaced by a lower, more familiar ache; this was a fresh wound, but of a kind suffered many times before and practiced at being managed. Apply pressure, staunch the bleeding, clean, wrap tightly. Tiny blue hands. Kiss it better like a scraped knee. Breathe for me, one, two, three, four.

Corazon took over with beautiful stride while Ruka choked down a sound and turned his face into his tea, composing himself. “Oh, yes, we’re visiting soon enough! We go every Life Day to see our extended families. My parents and sisters still live on Kiast, at our family’s old estate, and my Master, Turel Sorenn, as well as Lady Vorsa and their daughter Nayru.” He touched his chest and bowed with royal demure. “Forgive me for the delay in introductions, it is terribly rude of me. I am Corazon Tenbriss Ya-ir, a Knight of the Lotus and former summiteer along with my husband here. And you are Lady Mihoshi Keibatsu, no? The current Odantie Proconsul and one of the Keibatsu clan of Kyataru. Are you perhaps acquainted with Lord Ashen? I was informed his ship has arrived.”

The Jedi’s smile was brilliant.

Someone who seemed to know. A flash across her face, there and gone again. The old horrors, the old fears of being found. Hidden quickly, Miho smiled and shrugged her shoulders in a gesture that meant everything and nothing. “Perhaps once, long ago. But, yes. I am the Odanite Proconsul. As for this…Lord Ashen? I do not think so?”

It seemed odd to Mihoshi that this Pantoran, Corazon, would mention someone specifically and make note of their arrival. “Are they from Kyataru? The name would say otherwise.” Why would they mention him specifically? Outwardly, the small Human maintained her soft, happy nature. Inside, her mind screamed at her to run, run, run. Or, the darkness inside her whispered, maybe the time to run was past and it was time to do what she had become good at.

Mikhail smiled, then gently squeezed the arm he still held reassuringly. “Then only half a blue drink for you. Shlow and shteady to shtart off.” He finished with a long sip of the rest of his drink, polishing off the more syrupy dregs of the pumpkin mug. He then tugged the Pantoran along back to the tent for the order, and willingly held onto it after it was supplied.

“Do not rush that one, I can hold thish for ush.” His eyes shifted to gaze around the festival then, curious about what next they should do.

Corazon seemed surprised, pink pastel eyebrows raising, making the colorful skull and flowers on his face stretch. “You don’t know Lord Ashen? Darth Muz Ashen? We should exchange comm codes, I could send you my notes in brief…to operate as a leader in the Brotherhood requires quite a bit of history, I have found, and he is a very notable figure in its landscape, socially, politically, economically…”

“Tyrannically,” Ruka muttered as he got himself back together, earning him a squeeze of his hand that was a little more warning to be polite.

“As a Grand Master may be described.”

The Mirialan sighed. “Seemed… helpful, though, on Kasiya. Helped us save people.”

“Indeed. But, pardon, to answer your original query, my Lady, he is a fellow Keibatsu. Likely the most prominent. His chamberlain and I were just chatting to make sure we have the proper whiskeys on hand somewhere that could be fetched, though I’m sure they’ve come stocked themselves…speaking of, Erin, dearest, Lord Ashen is here.”

Though the Zeltron likely knew already too, it was worth telling her in case she hadn’t yet seen his messages. Noga said he was “blowing up” their organizer group chat with constant updates about the festival.

<@645466919415054357>

He shook his head, “Not last year. But I managed to come for the ones in the spring and summer. I happened to be on Arx for business and had some free time, so I thought I’d check it out. And I’m glad I did. So I’ve come back as time allowed, and luckily there haven’t been any conflicts! Or at least nothing that couldn’t be rescheduled or canceled.”

Mikhail was already done, wha- Nathan looked down at his glass, still around a third full. But yes, slow and steady. Hed seen enough drinking on the Voidbreaker to know it can quickly get out of hand.

The squeeze and drag or the drink was maintaining the flush to his face, though it was proving the quality of the make up so there was that.

Mikhail looked around so Nathan followed suit, peering over faces familiar and strange. Zuza was barely visible a few tents ocer, which was always amusing to see and he smiled ever so slightly.

There was a lot going on.

Its a shame his mind wouldn’t quiet long enough to appreciate it and instead was focussed on the periodic shift of grip mikhail had on his bicep.

The small woman scoffed, her face showed clear disbelief. “Musashi? Grand Master?” Her laugh was bitter as she shook her head, the scars on her right side catching the light as the raven hair covering it slid behind her shoulder.

“Sure, I imagine that The Lion would have made for a great Grand Master. But, I doubt that highly.”

The soft, bitter laugh as she kept shaking her head. “Next you’ll tell me my brother made it back home and took our rightful place again.”

Their faces flashed in her mind once again. Musashi and his eyes burned black, Nekura still getting used to the eye patch, Shinichi’s constant cold fury. Nothing more than a jest aimed at her, the lost girl from the backwoods.

“I was orphaned entirely on K'hamar'a. Otherwise they would have come back for me.” Any friendliness she had exhibited before melted away like ice in summer.

“foods and drinks are always nice,” she said with a smile. “I never tried fortune telling. Do you believe in that?”

“Sweet!” Zuza smiled, turning in place to look over over the crowd. “This is the first one I’ve been able to attend this year, I’ve definitely missed it. Did they have any good trinket stalls in the summer one, usually those pop back up in the next festival.”

She sipped her drink, though the sip was a Zuza sip. Thus most of the drink was gone already despite not many sips having occurred.

“I’m Zuza by the bye, good to meet ya.” She held her other hand toward the stranger, intent to shake.

There was too many heartbeats in this place. Too many dreams, too many fears. He drew his focus back, scouring the weave for patterns he recognized. The strands burned brightly, potential lighting his way as he stepped through the crowd. There. He muted the rest, throwing a blanket of will over the sense. He took a steady pace, measured, the path calculated and uninterrupted. Less could be said for Forge, who seemed to get caught up with the awkward dance of broken pathfinding with strangers every few feet. The droid fell behind, eyes glimmering in the bar as he visually tracked him. Unbothered, Muz stepped through the din, ever closer to his target. A friendly face, a glass of something exceptional, and perhaps a bit of direction in the chaos.

He saw her from a few feet away, watching as her eyes glided across the room, across him. Recognition bloomed in her face, a face that creased into a smile for a brief moment, then shifted to concern abruptly as her eyes darted to the side, then returned to he usual smile. Muz stopped, watching the Zeltron’s reaction, weighing it in his mind. There was no song, the silent dirge that the Force sang to him when the worlds went violent. The room felt light, people nursing drinks and carrying on with mirth and memory. His brow curled inward, his head turning ever so slightly as he considered.

“This is not where I figured you would stop.” Forge was at his elbow again, pausing to adjust his sash. “Unless you’d prefer I get a libation for you.”

“No.” He blinked slowly, taking a step forward, the depth of his voice resonating across everyone nearby out of habit, before he recognized and corrected. “Thank you.” He stepped closer to the Emissary, dipping his head a degree as he stopped and let a smile creep up the corner of his mouth. He tilted his head, black eyes sliding across purple ones. He knew those. Twenty five years of blood spun between his ears, drowning out everything but unbidden memory.

Muz blinked.

Ruka, who would not shut up, thanks, snorted out his green tea and began a hacking fit. Cora, blushing furiously at such a comment under the face paint, patted his back and touched the Force to try and help ease his husband’s poor diaphragm.

“Lord Ashen!” As a fellow responsible for this festival thanks very much person, he tried to salvage whatever under all the Stars was going on, “How pleasant to see you again, and under less chilling circumstances. The Force is smiling on us, we were just discussing your reputation, and here you are.”

“Yeah, they had a nice assortment of things. Although I usually just window shop myself. Good weather, good food and drinks, too.”

Another pause at her name. Zuza? Gears started turning in his head at the name that was vaguely familiar. They slowly fell into place. Arconan Consul. Surely other jobs as well, but that one stuck out.

You meet all types at these things.

He grasped her hand and shook it, a grin on his face. “I’m Reiden. Nice to meet you, Zuza.”

Hot, hostile, and angry, violet eyes watched Corazon and then Ruka before she placed a hand over the drink, extinguishing the fire. Following that, Miho took a healthy drink - one probably too large for someone her size - and set the glass down again. A large mouthful that quickly exited at high speed as she somehow managed to rocket to her feet, spill the rest of the drink all over the bar and turn slowly. What little color the pale woman had draining, likely to a puddle on the floor. “Wha….”

Deer in the search lights, Miho looked first at Erinyes and then at the man standing on this side of the bar. Violet eyes no longer just hostile but also lost.

“Is it…?”

Luckily, the Arkanian was not a stranger to frosted drinks, so it did not bother him to hold the cold cup as he gently lead Nathan around. He sipped from the blue drink, then nodded in affirmation. “Blue ish tashty. Like I thought.” He still held onto it, giving Nathan plenty of time to finish his own. Eventually Mikhail tilted his head, temple brushing Nathan’s arm as he stood on tiptoes to peer over a ground.

“Fortune telling… funny. Might be intereshting?” He offered the idea to Nathan, letting him be the guide if he so wanted to head there first

“Ayyy…” Leda wobbled her hand back and forth flat. “Kinda. We believe in, like, is karma, right? What you do, you are, and you put that into the world, and it make you own fate. But also, we seen my Papi and one of our sisters see things, in the future. In the Force. It’s real. But there’s also lots of like other beliefs we heard of that do it different, y'know? So yes and no. It’s fun either way, though…or it can be, when it’s not…” A shadow passed over her painted face. “Very bad.”

She shook her head, tight coils of hair bouncing.

“Anyway, this kind is neat. We can grab you some food and head over if you want?” she invited.

Nathan sipped again, brain short circuiting at that. It hadn’t finished short circuiting from before. He felt warm, really warm. The air smelled like spice berry, and- Oh jeez that was Mikhail’s hair. It smelled nice.

It took several seconds before the Pantoran responded to the query, clearing his throat and looking in the direction of the fortune teller. “Oh, uh. I… It could be fun, at least to see what they say? It’s possible in the Force so it can’t be that much of a… false. Hood.” Nathan sighed at himself, taking another burning drink from the glass. Only a few more of those and he’d be able to try the frosted one that was blue. Blue is tasty.

He’d never get that out of his head.

Realistically he was more purple than blue right now with how hard he was damned blushing.

“I dooo like the drinks. Erinyes always comes out with some great kist.” Her grin remained as they shook hands, settling back into place once they released. “Good to meet ya Reiden. You.. sound familiar for some reason, been around for a while?”

Zoom kicked in and she bounced in place witha small “OH!” after which Zuza held up the Krayt’s Blood cocktail, or whatever it was called. “You should try one of these if you haven’t already and aren’t pilotin’ home.”

With a nod, Mikhail started walking them towards the fancy looking tent. He was equally tugging on Nathan as he was holding him, the chill of the glass settling into his fingers and not helping the not-so-warm night keep his temperature up. He took his time with the walk, giving Nathan plenty of opportunity to finish is drink, occasionally he would point at another stall in the distance, indicating some level of interest. It was tingly, the sensation of the drink slowly eased into him and pleseantly distracted from his own flood of thoughts. He was barely paying attention to most of what he said about the other stalls, idle chatter coming as comfortably as it could through the fake teeth.

He still sipped the drink, careful not to take it past the halfwaypoint as the neared the Fortune teller

“I suppose you could say that. Found the Brotherhood years ago, though I sort of came and went every now and then in the first few years. Had jobs lined up and felt something pulling me away, so I went on some…adventures, let’s say. But the Scholae Empire put out a call for aid, and I responded. I’ve been back ever since, about 8 years now, I think. Between the Inquisitorius, Shroud Syndicate, and the Envoy Corps, I’m kept busy, although luckily not too busy. Still get to enjoy free time and events like this!”

He glanced at the drink, and those that some of the others held. “I’m always up for trying a good drink. Erinyes is very good at what she does and these festivals usually have a good selection. Fortunately flying won’t be a problem! I can manage a speeder, and probably a jetpack, too. I leave the rest up to people that actually know what they’re doing. Or droid brains!”

Reiden raised an eyebrow and happily took the floating concoction and turned to face the bar, raising it to Erinyes with a smile before taking a sip. The flavors melded together nicely. The sourness was present but not overly powerful, nor was the alcohol content. Although he knew that sometimes the latter could be deceiving. It definitely reminded him of the season and the miniature cauldron was a nice touch.

As he and Zuza were talking, he had both felt a powerful presence and heard Erinyes’ comment. He suppressed a faint chill. He had never met the former Grandmaster, but he had heard stories. Were he anywhere else, he would be worried about possible repercussions. Then again, surely Erinyes wouldn’t say such a thing unless the two of them knew each other. Right?

Hope for the best, be prepared for the worst, he reminded himself.

On the other hand, he didn’t know much about Lord Ashen, let alone that he had a sister. He chose to file that piece of information away. Not that he thought it was important, but he was just naturally curious and liked learning various things. His eyes settled on the small woman that the Emissary had been talking to, the one that was presumably the sister. She looked somehow familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on why, although this was even more of a vague thought than when Zuza had greeted him.

He took another sip of his drink, wondering - and maybe slightly fearing - how things might play out from here.

“Sounds like a good idea to me. I love some good hetikles and I’m getting a bit hungry. After that we can look for that Fortune telling. Perhaps I could learn something from it… or find someone,” Ankira said as her voice trailed off a bit. She hoped she might find clues about were Appius and her kids were and how to get her eyesight back.

“But first food and drinks.”

“Thaaat would be why I know of you but not really. I dont know too many folks over in your guys’ empire.” Zuza nodded sagely at the realization, “But! I bet I’ve seen your face on mission files or something, I try to keep up with the Envoy Corps when I’m not busy myself. I’m over at Arcona so, not the easiest to get to places and back quick if I’m needed somewhere.” She chuckled.

And then Reiden would note her picking up on Muz in the same moment he did, head perking up in the direction of the Grandmaster but without fear or even insecurity.

Her smile remained firm, eyes bright and she looked around, “Well kist, Muz is here somewhere.”

Unfortunately, tippy toes didn’t give Zuza any additional visuals on the potential location of the man. Too many people, but he was close. So, she relaxed back, enjoying a hefty, cup finishing, glug of cocktail and placed it onto the edge of a counter.

“He’s cool.”

The entire world held still, voices wobbling without discernable words, underwater echoes of intent warbling out of reach of his comprehension. Her face flickered, memory slicing the image in his eyes, interposing the last time he saw her and how she was now. Caked in azure blood, wild eyed and smiling, the foul stench of war burning through his nostrils. She slipped his hand and darted away, her blades carving a trail of indiscriminate carnage as she throttled through corpse and k'hamer'an alike. He bellowed after her, the Force screaming the song of despair in his ears so loud he couldn’t make out any words. They had started their orbital bombardment. He grit his teeth, spinning to see his brother with his mouth agape. He shifted his weight lower, giving him a nod as he coiled pressure behind his muscles, leaping after her. The cool air buffeted hot ears, swirling through his hair as if they were serpents. He rocketed upward and over, black eyes scrambling through the wreckage and ruin, looking for her.

Then the stillness.

The world erupted, just outside of his reach, frozen in the air. His lip curled as he winced from the plasma, eyes shifting back to see Nekura’s outstretched hand, commanding the universe to spare him, against his will. The curses flew freely from his mouth, wrath unbound and untempered as he pressed against his brother’s will, seeking the fire, beyond.

Whatever was beyond.

He didn’t care any longer. A lifetime of fear, of restraint, of loneliness, burned his heart. The moment that he had found belonging again, it was wrenched away by someone else’s war. For a moment, they hadfound each other, found a sort of happiness, a rare commodity in an unfeeling universe. It wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t. He felt himself moving backward, the itch at his palms begging to be filled with ripped flesh, a weapon, his own blood, he didn’t much care anymore.

“She’s gone, brother.” Nekura pulled his arm back, the strain beading at his brow with the sweat as another blast of fury splashed from the stars. The blast shook the ground, cast tremors in their chests. The dust of the battlefield had lines of clean skin traced from his good eye to his chin as he held the emotion at bay, as fuel like they had been taught on Lyspair. “Not you, too.” He looked up, the redness around his eye pleading wordlessly as another blast shook them.

Muz set his jaw as his boots touched ground again. His hand found solace in the hilt of his saber, fingers crackling as he tightened his grip, trying to feel for her, feel beyond the fire and fear, the dying and the destroyed. A glimmer of something teased him, the hope a promise that he could not forgive. He turned again, stepping forward and bracing himself to leap as another volley cascaded down. Manji’s hand grabbed his wrist. The words weren’t needed.

Muz collapsed with him.

The next thing he remembered was the stark grey of an old imperial era ship, his hands around the throat of a man. He blinked. Was it a gunner or a pilot? He had never understood the symbols on their uniforms. It didn’t matter to him. He bruted his way into the man’s mind, showing him what he had seen, her bright eyes shining in mischevious glee before turning and bolting away, a blur of steel and dark hair. Knuckles cracked as his head throbbed, his heart pounding so hard that he could see his body move with each pulse. The dull crack reached his ears before the man’s death rattle.

“Knight Ashen.” The voice growled behind him. Muz released the dead, turning to see the dark robes, forgetting his name. Jonuss, Janos, it didn’t matter now. His blade sprang to his hand, the violet scream of his weapon erupting on the bridge of the destroyer.

“Who gave the order?” Muz stepped toward him, his saber snarling for him. Nekura moved to the side, his own silvery blade snapping to life. The man smiled at them. If this was to end in combat, the Equite would relish the opportunity.

“The Dark Council.” He smirked, his hilt tossed from hand to hand. “The Iron Throne.”

Muz spat, a line of virulent curses streaming from his mouth, the words dancing between languages as he stepped forward, the Force swimming between the intertwined worlds of emotion and reality. An eyebrow raised in amusement, at the audacity of it. Who was he to curse the Throne? Muz turned, spitting a final time, looking at his brother. Words were not needed. They had to return, to find her, to bring her home, one way or the other. No matter the pain.

Muz blinked.

Was this real? Like himself, she hadn’t aged. He reached a hand out slowly, watching her flinch. What terrors had she seen, what hells had she traveled alone? he felt his eyes leak as he stopped his hand, watching her as she looked back at him.

Nathan had finished the drink before the reached the fortune tellers tent, finding a notated drop-off to leave it and freeing his hands of the pink drink. He already felt quite warm. Which was odd because it was cold and he wasn’t really dressed for it.

Mikhail’s chatter was welcome, nodding and offering small replies as they small talked their way around the festival grounds. It was comfortable, despite the uncertainty of Nathan’s emotions. Once his cup had been emptied, Mikhail handed him the glass of blue.

Golden eyes peered at it, then Mikhail and the crystals and the way they reflected the light. It was beautiful… Crap he was staring. Stop that. Nate blinked, looking at the drink and tentatively tasting it.

It was still alcohol. But it wasnt.. bad? It didn’t burn as much which was nice.

“You have good taste.” Nathan commented, absentmindedly while still processing the drink.

With painful slowness, the young woman seemed to collect herself. The smile she had worn previously gone like a whisper in the wind. In its place, cold arrogance. She looked upon the face that had changed only slightly, the black eyes that had helped to keep her, in some way, balanced over the long years of isolation. A second homecoming? A second chance? Her heart visibly hardened. Her brutal childhood after that place, the vicious life she was forced to endure (and eventually thrive in), all of it narrowed down to their last moments together. Of the happiness they had forged together in exile.

And then she endured her own exile. Freedom was still a new thing to her and the memories of what had become of that little girl seemed to burn through her mind.

Miho blinked several times, watching as deep emotions registered on the man’s face as he had reached for her. She took a step back, her voice soft. “No.”

So many years stood between them now. She had seen planets burn, had taken the last breath of so many. Could she still see this man with the same eyes? Still offer a hand caked in the blood of so many? He had been raised as a warrior. She had been made a killer. Would he understand? The depths of depravity she had endured for the illusion of freedom still haunted her own nightmares.

It had been so long. Could she have a family again? The look he had said it was there in the offing, could she take it?

A single tear escaped from an angry violet eye.

“Is it really you?” Memories of seeing the sky erupt, memories of engines leaving orbit. Being well and truly alone for so long. “Are they…?”

She couldn’t bring herself to finish the question, the anger beginning to fade from her eyes to be replaced with a profound sadness. Miho righted the goblet on the counter and looked at the man again.

“Are you really here?”

“Yeah, you guys are pretty much on the opposite side of the galaxy. But I’ve met some Arconans throughout the year. Nice people, they know what they’re doing on a mission. And I hear you have some great beaches that I’ve always wanted to check out some day!”

Cool? I don’t think I’ve ever heard that word and Muz’s name in the same sentence before. But I guess that makes sense, I don’t actually know anything about the man.

“The former Grandmaster?” His brain finally managed to shift gears. “I never met him before. But I guess he’s just a normal person like everyone else.”

Except insanely powerful…

He wasn’t what she remembered. He couldn’t be. Too much had happened since. There wasn’t enough blood to bathe in, he would never be clean. That loss haunted him, seeing her laugh and slip away from him on repeat every time he closed his eyes. Nekura and himself worked their hands raw in the hot ruin that remained after the bombardment. Finding no body, they refused to accept the loss.

How many years had they scoured the galaxy, chasing stories of purple eyes and strange accents? In their scramble, they had found others that had been lost, scattered to the winds by Eojin’s folly. They had accumulated power, building an army and going to the home they had lost, righting that injustice at Kuroshin. He had walked up the blade of the warlord that killed their father, sawing his head off with his own jaw purely on the chance that her ghost was watching them and would smile.

Hope was a promise that he could not forgive.

If she was truly gone, he would avenge her. In his drive to stop the wasteful wars, he would be an avatar of it. He made himself irreplacable to Mandaala and Trevarus, then to Cotelin and Sarin. It got him ever closer to the Throne he had cursed that day. Cruelty threatened to warp him as he delved deeper, honing his skills, seeking the power to achieve his vengaence. Her vengaence. It had to be, he needed to make it safe for his son, his brothers, his wife.

Eventually, the spheres moved, and the Curse was his to bear. Some called him the Lord of the Krath, the very same Krath that started the war on K'hamer'a. The irony was not lost on him. He embraced it, a vicious reminder of all he had given of himself, of what he had tried to remake in a new mold. He had pushed the Brotherhood through the old Sith Worlds, a grueling war without end that he had hoped would unite them, that would redirect them to a common enemy. The wrath of the Sith, their love for the winnowing was too much, and the conquest devolved into infighting, loss. Desperate, he made himself the thing that they would unite against, burning the throne world and the graveyard alike, becoming …something else in the process. Even that failed, a civil war sprouting up in the shadow of Antei’s destruction.

He returned home a failure, a vestige of the thing he hated most.

And now, it had finally changed. He had saved Arconans as they supported civilians on a Taldryan world. He had fought alongside Plagueians and Odanites as they sought common objectives. He had drank with Sadows and Scholae. It was a victory that roiled the tongue, for he heard the whispers. The stories they told at the academy about a ‘policy of fire’ that never existed. The loathing and the fear of those who knew only what he had become.

He had earned every bit of it.

He looked at her and nodded slowly.

And maybe now it could be true.

It was a matter of feet. That was the gulf that separated the siblings who simply watched one another.

It was a matter of feet that held them at bay. The once carefree Miho whose happiness was only matched by her creativity. The stoic, strong Muz that had helped teach her after he found her again. Family torn apart before that suffered the same fate again. Could it be different?

A matter of feet. Colt-shy and wary of the man, Miho retook that step towards him she had retreated moments before. “I’m…not who I was then.”

Her voice was sad as she shook her head, hiding the scarred side of her face again. “I don’t know if I can be.”

A matter of feet was all that kept hope from being reality. A hope she had wept over in the darkness. Frozen in carbonite as she dreamed nightmares she couldn’t wake from.

Another step, every instinct told her to run. That this couldn’t be real. It was a trap. The shades of her family were almost a physical weight on the small woman. Could she back some of what she lost?

A matter of feet was all it was.

Slowly, tentatively she held a hand out towards him in a mute form of supplication, desperation warring with hope in her eyes. “If…that’s okay?”

She remembered being free with her affections to this man, his rare smiles giving her all the encouragement she ever needed. His training being the foundation that had kept her alive for so long on her own. His voice one of the few things that had kept her moving. Kept her learning, kept her thriving. He towered over her, watched her as she looked up at him and gave a shy, worried smile. Everything she had done, everything that had happened could stay in the past.

Revs slid the creds for the food onto the counter despite being told they were free. He understood how busy they were and there was no point in holding that against them. He watched the scene unfold before him for a few minutes hoping that that his experience of being punched in the nose after saying he would bang someone’s sister would unfold to someone else for a change but eventually got tired of waiting. He downed the nachos and beer, ordered another drink and set off to explore the festival to find some trouble to get into.

Those crystal orbs had been peering up right back at Nathan’s golden eyes. He didn’t much catch the fact that they were staring at each other, too concerned by how he’d like the drink, as well as keeping the world around the Pantoran from spinning through his focus.

As he sipped and gave him opinion, Mikhail gave his arm a slight squeeze and another tug towards the tent. He had a strange half smile, strangely happy that Nathan enjoyed the drink as well. That same smile quirked his lips up as he poked his head into the fancy tent first, the stepped into it with Nathan close behind him.

He looked down at her. It was as if twenty years gone was but three weeks. No lines at the corner of her eyes, the scars of time absent but for what lurked within. After all of this, it was too easy.

Decades ago, he felt Ashia’s hand trace across his shoulder to his back as he talked to the Autochthonian, the touch meant to sooth but hid so much more as she kept walking past. Silent but for the snap of her boots on the deck, he knew. He stared, forcing himself to remember that moment, the pattern of her heart, the scent of her hair, the seas in her eyes. He felt her mask herself as best she could. He knew it for what it was, but let it play out on her terms. He understood why. She had seen him, what was beneath the scars. He did not deserve her, nor the child she couldn’t tell him about.

“It’s time.” Years later, Caerick set down the glass, watching him with wary eyes. “Set aside the past, embrace your future.” The man uncrossed his legs, leaning forward with an almost rakish smirk. “Power makes enemies. Protect them with distance.” His suit was rumpled in ways too precise to be unplanned, the mark at his brow seeming to pulse with power. He had denied him then, but Trevarus’ words wormed their way into his head, echoing louder every time one of his was hurt. When Shin'ichi was greivously wounded. When Sanjuro was taken. Every time that he wasn’t there to stop it, every time he had chosen duty instead. Every time that he chose wrong.

Sarin stood across from him, watching the runes he had carved into Muz’s flesh start to bleed. Muz bit back the agony, the mental shift swallowing the pain, converting it into something else. Something useful. “I didn’t fall.” He slowly spoke, once the room was clear, the ritual of his rise to Shadow Hand completed. “I chose.” The images poured from the Grand Master into him, the scenes of gore and misery showing him what the man had done to his own family, his own children. How he let that pain drive him, amplify his rage. “Either you do it, or someone else does. We don’t get the luxury of love.”

“People like us?” Cotelin chuckled later, a thin stream of black blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, spattering against the sands of Korriban, ten years ago. “We don’t get happy endings.” He looked up at him, that flash of a smile only he could give in that situation. Muz had let the saber power down, reaching out a hand. The howl of another rang in their ears, and his muscles reacted by rote to a threat his conscious mind never saw coming. Death bloomed at his behest, whether he had wanted it or not.

He had earned his reputation.

It was too easy. She hadn’t aged, the pattern was too fresh. The hurt, the blood, the fear. A dozen surgeons and a strandcast could have crafted bait as perfect as this. There was no shortage of those who would want him broken, removed from the field. The research could have been easy, a matter of public record back home. Hells, there was even a statue of her. He had made it too easy. He listened to her words, watched the flight itching behind her eyes. The logical part of him screamed. It was probably a trap. It had to be. There was no other way.

“People like us.” Muz’s lips barely moved. “We don’t get happy endings.”

He reached out and took her hand, drawing her toward him, into an embrace that had been missed for a lifetime.

“We have to make them.”

Reiden turned to face the Zeltron, pushing down any thoughts he had about what she’d announced and the fact that a former Grandmaster was here.

“Erinyes, it’s good to see you. It looks like you’ve got another success on your hands with this festival.” He smiled and raised his cauldron, “I’m good for now, still have plenty left, but I’ll definitely be trying out more of the menu. You never disappoint with the selection being offered.”

Her arms wrapped around his waist slowly, her face buried in the soft fabric of his shirt. Happy endings? Yes. They had to be made. You didn’t just get one. Not when you had their stories. A soft sound came from Miho as she shook slightly. The time away seemed to fall away as she listened to the soft voice above her, words that were given weight because of who said them. Precious gifts just like all of the others.

For years, she had dreamed of finding them. For years after, she dreamt of avenging them. Happy? Yes. For the first time in a long time, that deep, deep well of rage she operated from stilled. She unwound herself from his arms and gave away a smile that would make the sunrise envious.

“Come sit with me, brother.” She gestured to the bar and the waiting drinks. “Just…sit. We can worry about the rest later.”

She looked at Erinyes, her smile turning a little wicked. “And tell me how you know the pink pirate queen.” As a change of topic, it might not be the best one, but it would give her the chance to step back and breathe.

“Hetikles? What’s those? My favorites is iytapi, got a booth over there, Papi makes the best ones,” Leda enthused, still encouraging and leading the way to the biggest bar tent where her parents sat – and with Zuza, hmph – and a bunch of others, oblivious to the family drama or the strength in the Force of those present. “Here’s where Lady Erinyes,” she didn’t like the title but it was polite, and their Dad had tried hard with teaching them noble stuff, “is working right now. That’s my Papi and Dad, that’s the Arconan Consul, not sure who she’s talking to, he’s one of the old Grand Masters…I think that’s the newest Odan-Urr Pro-con? I dunno the whole thing just changed a lot. Dad would know.”

They arrived at the bar where there was some space, in view of Reiden and Co. Her parents of course immediately noted her, and turned some attention that way, though both had been very warily watching the reunion just like Erinyes in tense preparation.

“Ay, hey, sweetheart,” Ruka said. He seemed more solid, just for his youngest (yet oldest) daughter’s presence. As though a switch flipped, he was still, not standing still at mach speed, but on, strong and contained like the deep and mastered well of the Dark Side he was. “How’s it going?”

“Good, got the kids sorted out at the zoo. This is Ankira, we’re just touring until we find something fun. Going to get food then try the fortune teller.”

“That does sound fun! Greetings, Lady Ankira.” Cora stood from his stool and gave a noble half bow. “I am Corazon Tenbriss Ya-ir. Nice to meet you.”

Ruka merely raised his tea in greeting. “Ruka, hey. Might be a second before a drink, but we can figure you food somewhere.”

<@645466919415054357> <@232396983854301187> <@432543120635461643>

As Mikhail and Nathan peered into the tent, they found another festival-goer just leaving, another pair of people giggling to themselves. They exchanged glances, hushed and giggling more, and then went off into the faire.

Inside the interior was dark and smokey with incense, cloth and various strings of things – beads? Metal shards? Glass? – strung around and dangling from the sloping ceiling. Underneath the smells of the incense, which were thick and hot in the stuffy air, was a strong undercurrent of alcohol and spices. A low table took up the center of the space, cushions placed around it. On one side was a broad, solid figure, like a small boulder. The pale, greenish-white skin seemed hard and rocky, and a blocky face littered in spots of red, yellow, and violet seemed to be like nodes of crystal jutting from rock. Yellow eyes gleamed back from the albinic Dowutin’s face, alighting on the boys with a brimstone fire that flickered from the candle lamps placed around.

“Come in, come in, come in,” they invited three times, voice slightly gravely yet almost singing the words. “Boys of blue, two by two, hand in hand so true, no? Come.”

<@160141735354171394> <@432543120635461643>

“Yeah everyone from your guys’ end of the galaxy has been great.” Zuza agreed, smiling though.. the mood shift was notable as she glanced toward Muz staring at… she hadn’t caught the violet eyed woman’s name.

She smiled at Reiden talking to Erinyes, nodding to the new join into the group when gestured at but admittedly more focussed on the incredibly emotionally charged scene before her. Even with such weak sense, Zuza could tell both were brimming with so much.

A smile returned upon the hug.

Good emotion, overall, at least.

Nathan peered around the space, ducking his head to avoid brushing against the various dangling decorations strung above them.

The lighting was dramatic. Nathan was suddenly nervous. What if this was a real seer? Did he actually want to know his future? His grip on Mikhail tightened somewhat, tipsiness removing the anxiety about being too cuddly especially when faced with…

Rhyming.

What?

“Uhm, thank you?” Nathan replied, blinking a few times before releasing Mikhail and settling at the other side of the table from the fortune teller.

<@160141735354171394>

Mikhail likewise squeezed Nathan’s arm as the interior was revealed in all its color. He stayed still as Nathan pulled away, his grip offering only small resistance to the Pantoran’s departure. The ensemble before him was more intense than he was anticipating, causing goosebumps to raise across his now empty arms.

The Arkanian approached cautiously, old stories and tales of warning nipping at the edges of his hazy mind.

“берегись ведьмы”

He settled himself into position next to Nathan, frowning slightly. He swallows and looks to the Dowutin “we.. are here for forshune telling” foiled again by the teeth, his lips tightened.

<@432543120635461643>

He took a moment to let his mind catch up, to settle the panic that ran rampant through the back of his mind. Those contingencies and paranoia were paid for in blood, and they were hard scattered. Eyes darted around for a moment, taking stock of those around. They had made a slight scene it seemed. Or someone had, and they were just there in the middle of it.

Taking his sister’s cue, he slipped into one of the barstools, a hand inadvertantly maneuvering behind him to arrange his warcoat so as to not hinder movement.

“…pirate?” He looked at Erinyes. “Since when?”

Lulaire sighed as she looked around. Where could Cotton had gone to!?

Cotton’s golden eyes were almost completely gone, replaced by the voids of the massive pupils

Target. Acquired.

Beautiful feathers adorned this perfect prey. The young tuggle’s body was so low on the ground, many people nearly stepped on Cotton.

But it didn’t matter.

Because tonight, she was going to feast. In a fast white blur, the tuggle leapt and engulfed’s Zuza’s arm in it’s mouth, but there was no intense pain or anything, just slob, slob, and more slob.

“BORDOK’S DUNG!” Lulaire shouted as she finally caught up with Cotton. “Bury my biscuits! Cotton! I am so sorry, here lemme,” Her arms went around the midriff of Cotton who suddenly became liquid instead of solid, hung over Lulaire’s arm, and released Zuza’s from her grip, “I- ARE YOU SLOBBIN’!?” There was a puddle forming and Cotton coughed, a single soaked feather emitted.

<@232396983854301187> <@432543120635461643>

The commotion caused Corazon to turn, and then upon noticing Cotton, squeal at a decibel previously unknown to man. He squeezed Ruka’s arm in a sudden vice grip as he ballet- jumped in place, bouncing in excitement and cooing and tears in his eyes. “OHMYASHLAhe'ssocutewhoisthis?” <@216702440140046336>

Zuza had not noticed the incoming slobber monster and squeaked in surprise at her arm DISAPPEADING into the jaws of-

Cotton.

“WOOAAAH, hey what are you-” only slobber. Zuza had had expected teeth but just held the critter up when, no. Nothing happened. Weird.

Lulaire appeared and, especially considering the rant ongoing, Zuza laughed, bright as she took a few steps away from the crowd to wave the worst of the drool off of her arm.

“You’re fine, she’s fine. Took one of my feathers, though I’m not worried about taking that back. Is-”

There was a pool of slobber forming.

“Is.. she ok?”

Mihoshi shrugged at her brother, one eyebrow raising. “I just met her.”

She nudged him with an elbow, a mischievous glint in her purple eyes. “She seems to know you pretty well. Well enough to admit she wants something fairly specific.”

Before she continued the thought, she winked at him with a grin. Miho turned to watch Erinyes, her head tilted to the side. “I think it’s just a costume though, brother.”

Now that she had said it, she watched the sexy pirate queen working behind the bar not entire sure she was right. “Is it a costume? Maybe you should ask her.”

She picked up the drink in front her her and sniffed it carefully. The small blaze atop it had gone out on its own, leaving behind a delicious autumn-y aroma. She gave his own drink the side-eye, wondering what it was.

“They’re a good bunch, although some can be a little rough around the edges. Then again, that can be said for many. I’m glad to hear they’ve been good to you,” he replied.

He had watched the former Grandmaster and the small woman embrace. He assumed that must have been the sister Erinyes referred to earlier. He sipped his drink and smiled. It was good they found each other. If the scene was any indication, it had been a very long time. Deciding it was better to allow them some privacy, he stared at the green color liquid of his drink.

The scene touched a place deep in his heart. At the same time, he ached, wondering what that must feel like. The closest thing he had to family after his parents was a good friend that was gone. Years later he had met another friend who became like a brother. He thought of the stylized wolf head stamped onto the grip of his blaster, representing being accepted as the man’s family, and how he referred to him as ‘brother’ in his language. It had been a good change for him, and luckily that friend was still around.

Any further rumination was cut off as a blur of white approached. Warning sounded in his mind before, but lacking in the intensity that would indicate true harm. Still, it was a surprise, and he could only blink as the scene unfolded, too caught off guard. Then his brain caught up and he shook his head, laughing softly.

I bet it was that costume this creature was attracted to, he thought, amused.

The Dowutin gave a smile, revealing extremely white teeth.

“What else would you be here for, crystal-eater?” Those saffron eyes penetrated blue ones, then flicked to Nathan’s yellow. “Certainly not blood to drink, but perhaps still the vitality of a young man?”

With the words came sharp movement, and suddenly there were Sabaac cards in their stoney hands, looking almost flimsy in comparison. Despite the bulky-seeming digits, the fortune teller’s fingers flew, shuffling and then fanning the cards out, face down, towards both men.

“Three each,” she instructed. “Place each face up. The first and the second beside. The third above them, in between. The fourth below. The fifth to the left, the sixth to the right.”

<@432543120635461643>

Nathan glanced sideways to Mikhail, before meeting the Dowutin’s eye in the moment it flicked over. Vitality… what. Nathan’s gaze dropped, tilting his face away as the flush returned with strength. It raised enough to watch the display of cards being shuffled through fingers that didn’t seem to obey physics in terms of how swift and fluid they were despite the digit’s make up. And then the spread.

“Do.. we need to pick them in any order or?”

The fortune teller shook their head and Nathan drew three cards, as much to have it done with as anything else. He laid them out in line with the first half of the instructions, looking at the cards with a light frown. It wasn’t that it meant anything bad to the Pantoran. More so, that it meant absolutely nothing.

Once done Nate placed his hands in his lap, lacing his fingers together to wait for Mikhail to do the same.

<@160141735354171394>

Mikhail was hesitant, but as Nathan grabbed the first three and laid them out he followed suit. He gingerly took three cards, calculating where to grab them from in the most unpredictable way. He laid them out as well next to those Nathan chose, following the pattern that the Dowutin described. Similar to the Pantoran, Mikhail frowned at the results. He did not have much of an idea what he was looking at.

<@432543120635461643>

The Chiss chuckled softly, “Just make sure it is so spicy that you burn your nose or as close as you can get.”

She followed Leda along and frowned when people were starting to glow brighter to her Force sight, she nearly had to squint not to get blinded when watching a few of them. When she heard the names of Erinyes and Reiden she smiled.

“Hello Erin,” she greeted, “and Reiden, a name I haven’t heard in a while.”

“Huh? Ya, she musta done realized that you be human, not food, so she probably daydreamin’ about a massive bird feast and … makin’ a mess.” There was a very high pitch noise as Lulaire turned to see where it was coming from, seeing an overexcited Pantoran at Cotton.

Cotton’s ears flattened and whined at the squeal and stopped drooling as she climbed into Lulaire’s overalls and hid it.

Lulaire now looked like she has stolen a loaf of bread and hid it underneath her clothing. A Chiss and young female had joined them and one of them introducing themselves to Reiden.

“Welp,” Lulaire wasn’t really one for crowds, “I shoulda be going, sorry about that mess and er- a missin’ feather.”

Muz relaxed somewhat, his shoulders lowering somewhat as he lifted the glass in front of him, the contents the color of dark wood. Some manner of whisky, he assumed. He took a sniff, finding the scent fairly woodsy as well, hiding behind substantial stonefruit and smoothing sweetness. And alcohol. A lot of alcohol. And eyebrow went up as he tentatively took a sip, then set the glass down in front of Miho, offering her a chance to try it.

It hadn’t occurred to him that so many people there were in fancy dress. He had just assumed that between the various critters and creatures of the galaxy, thatthe stylings were, well…. more or less traditional for them all. That, and he had been preoccupied for the last few moments. Now that he had a moment to really look around, he saw the carved foam and petroplas ‘weapons’ and ‘armor’, and things came into clearer focus. He chuckled, a deep resonating sound that was all but lost beneath the din.

He looked over at her again, his mind wanting to race through the last few decades of events, to explain, to wonder, to understand where she was, what had happened, why she still looked fifteen. Her eyes had drifted back to Erinyes, then back to him, and her words up to him. “Erinyes was my combat master when…”

The look that his sister gave him was equal parts amusement and mocking. He shook his head a degree, his eyes narrowing. “I am certain we never…” He paused, looking at her for a moment.“Wait. Why would you think…”

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. She just clucked her tongue, looked at Erinyes, then back at him and pursed her lips. She was his type, after all. Long red hair, aggressive, effective, found joy in combat, enjoyed life. He stopped, his perception catching up to him, half a growl lending gravel behind his words.

“Frelling pheremones.”

He glared at <@645466919415054357> for a moment accusingly, then turned back to Miho, his face softening at the thought. “No. I found her again.”

Muz nodded in Erinyes direction, eyes widening slightly at Miho in vindication. He gestured at the glass with an open hand. Waiting for her to at least give it a sniff, he watched her for a reaction.

“Did you get a chance to do anything with the casks I sent you?” He spake at Erinyes as she bustled past. They had discussed different aging accelerants months ago… was it before she ascended tot he Council? Either was, they were both intensely curious what she could do with good rice wine from his home.

Miho grinned impishly at Muz, her eyes alight with life she hadn’t felt in decades. It was so easy to just…fit now. She watched Erinyes as she moved around, greeting and tending on new patrons and old.

The young woman turned back to Muz with an impish gleam in her eyes. The smell of almost pure alcohol came from the tumbler he set in front of her with enough bite to it that even the scent burned her throat. “No, thank you, brother. You can keep that one.”

She had raised an eyebrow at the ‘fruitier than a shuura’ (not entirely sure what a shuura was) and filed it away for future knowledge.

Miho picked up her drink and took a sip with a smile. “So, just friends then?” She gave her brother a look from the corner of her eye. “Good to know.”

Ruka could’ve choked on the smell of Muz’s glass even at their distance. He stopped his own breathing as the woman Leda had brought greeted Erinyes and Reiden, Muz and Mihoshi drinking and chatting, Zuza making friends. Cora looked so disappointed as Lulaire bustled the little otter thing away, and he reached over to hug the Pantoran.

“Seems like it’s getting busy,” he mumbled, thinking he should help Erinyes but having no requisite bar skills.

The Dowutin continued to watch the pair with riveting attention as they moved to draw their cards, placing them down as instructed. Some revealed facing one direction, others inverted. Once all were arranged, the alien not so subtly tapped a basket just to the side that held credits, and then gestured back to the Sabaac cards.

“Fate reveals its turning wheels, but would you still seek to know, seeing now a glimpse?”

Staring back at the boys, if either of them was at all familiar with Sabaac, were an arrangement of cards: Moderation, the Star, Demise, Endurance, and the first and second Evil One. The longer they looked at the cards, the more it became evident the normal stylized suits and faces weren’t normal. In fact, the figures looked like them. On the Demise card, two figures faced one another from opposite angles, painterly and laid amidst deathly white flowers, one blue-skinned and golden-haired, the other pale and raven-locked. From the Star, white on a field of black, shone beams of blue and gold. It happened on each one.

<@432543120635461643> <@160141735354171394>

Revs wandered around drinking his beer, just enjoying the atmosphere for awhile, when he passes by the obstacle course. The Miralula laughed as he watched people twist and fall, and try again. Screw it he thought. Setting his drink down on the ground beside the gate he walked up to give it a try.

Mikhail realized why he had been frowning. There was something wrong with the cards. Or more specifically, they were too accurate. He rubbed his arms and glanced at Nathan, gauging his reaction to seeing… them. At the basket tapping he withdrew a few cred sticks. Painfully, he slipped five creds to the Pantoran, the rest of his liquid assets were slipped back into a near empty pocket. It was something to worry about another time though, right now, he kept his eyes on this strange witch. The glint of blades, the strange shape and lack of Dowutin features was adding to the uncanny setting.

Reiden heard his name and looked over. Clearly, it was someone that he knew. The costume threw him off for half a beat, but then recognition sank in and he smiled.

“Ankira! What a nice costume you have. It’s been a long time, how have you been?”

“Well… That depends on how you ‘look’ at it. Lots of things have happened and changed. How have you been?”

She glanced towards Erin, “Make it your strongest drink.”

<@645466919415054357> <@232396983854301187>

Nathan had had his initial ???? Drawn away by the tap of the basket and Mikhail handing him 5 creds. Confused, slightly, but unquestioning Nathan added a.. he didnt count amount to his palm and slipped them into the basket.

Then placed his attention back onto cards.

And then noticed the uncanny similarities between the cards and himself and Mikhail.

“How are they doing that?” Nathan asked slowly, nervously. It was unnerving at best, “The. Well.”

He glanced sideways, noting a similarly unsure expression on Mikhail.

<@160141735354171394>

The Dowutin seemed rather stoney when Mikhail made his contribution, narrowing that he didn’t reach himself, though it was a countenance that softened as though under eons of salt waters when his purse/pocket fell back down with barely a sound. And after Nathan added on, those citrine eyes practically sparkled.

Or did they actually sparkle?

And were the card images moving?

“Magic, generous little cornflower,” the fortune teller addressed the Pantoran, a glee to their tone. Their hand, dappled with those red, gold, and purple scales, waved over the cards, and the first seemed to animate. Two figures were small amidst a background of piles of riches from which they turned away, reaching instead for what seemed to be books.

“With the self, we begin. Moderation standing upright as your characters. Wealth follows you both, but you do not cede to its song. You are scholars. In moments where there is anxiety or great stress, you have been able to remain calm throughout. Your vision has always been clear, your patience fast, your minds your solace even when the world was rife around you.” Her unblinking eyes slid from one to the other and back again, a hypnotic clock. “You possess integrity and temperance, striving for balance and peace in your lives…but all is not so easy, is it?”

<@160141735354171394>

Nathan’s knee bounced, barely avoiding brushing against Mikhail’s. Magic?

Well, no kist as Zig would say. Hed never seen anything like this before though.

He was about to protest tbe idea of remaining calm yet, it wasn’t wrong. Zig had asked him to hydro-explosion through the hull of the Voidbreaker and.. well. He didnt just manage it but it helped the battle efforts too. He stared down at the card, a gentle frown on his face.

It was still.. kind of generic but considering this person hadn’t even seen them before, already weirdly accurate.

As the images shifted, Mikhail’s hand found Nathan’s bouncing knee. He didn’t grip it in a manner of stopping the bouncing but more in shock at the slips of inanimate suddenly becoming animated. He swallowed, other hand gripping the chair he was seated in like the whole room was close to tilting.

He remained silent, his frown hiding the tips of his plastic fangs. He didn’t know what to say.

<@432543120635461643>

Golden eyes followed the hand hands like anything else, and a grin was muffled. Confidently, they went on, explaining the next card, the one that showed both boys laying in repose.

But as they watched, the bustles of white flowers slowly bled with color. The tiny Nathan began to decay, skeletal, while the tiny Mikhail was swallowed by something blue, as if consumed or drowning.

“Demise,” she proclaimed, soft yet solemn as a grave. Then, a smile, and the images in the card changed again. The two painted men rose up and began dancing around each other in circles. “Death. Everyone always assumes the worst of this card, but it is oftimes a bounty of fortune. Death is not an end. It is a new beginning. Pick of your pithy sentiments; one door closing, another opening. Curious, though it is, that the subject of rebirth and cycles should show in antagony of your moderate selves. Perhaps therein lies the problem? You are too cautious. You take too few risks. I wager friends pulled teeth to get you to come here. Too afraid of losing what you have, are we? Or too afraid of wanting what you don’t yet possess?”

They looked pointedly at palm on knee.

“Round and round you go, poppets, but you cannot stay the same forever, safe as it may feel. The time may come to take a chance…if you are so motivated.”

They quickly tapped the uppermost card, the Star.

“Happiness, success, optimism, vitality, joy, confidence, truth; these are what you show most, your surface selves, your given motivations, that which you tell yourself is your purpose in helping other people…perhaps one more obviously than the other.” A wink. “But both still. People are drawn to you because they are capable of seeing the warm and beautiful energy which you bring into their lives. You are also in a position in which you are capable of sharing your qualities as well as achievements with others…not everyone is so lucky. Your lives are rich.”

<@160141735354171394> <@432543120635461643>

The fourth card. If the boys had been paying attention, they might have thought this one had changed directions, but it was hard to be sure. The second Endurance card shone, haloing their figures in light.

“Yet there is more. Your secret selves, your deeper instincts and intents. You have both known great hardship and pain in your time. You have endured and for it become stronger. You show bravery and inner strength and fortitude during moments of danger and distress that you have overcome, and you serve others even at cost to yourselves.”

Somewhere in the baby aisle on the Shame Corner, Jax Erinos Settgré sneezed.

Ankira arches one if her brows, her white eyes scanning Erin.

“There is a drink you don’t enjoy drinking? I thought you liked everything,” she asked with a chuckle. “I’m sure Aylin knows of an explosive way to get rid of it, if you wanted ”

Nathan almost missed the continued explanation, his ears turning lavender and his knee stilling within a minute.

Mikhail’s hand was warm.

The fortune telling.. weirdly positive but… well. It was a lot to think about. Serve others, well, that didn’t even begin to cover it. His past. Nathan’s gaze remained low on the cards, missing the winks and knowing glances.

How do you begin when you never learned how. He looked down at Mikhail’s hand, brow furrowing. And slowly placed his hand on top of the Arkanian’s. Still listening, mildly troubled, as he looked back at the animated figures on the cards falling into and blossoming from decay.

<@160141735354171394>

“I’ve been well. Keeping myself busy when I can. Between work for the Scholae Empire, the Brotherhood, and some side jobs here and there, there’s fortunately no shortage of options, should I need them. Although I do make it a point to have free time as well. I can’t actually work all the time, no matter how much my credit account would like it,” he added with a laugh.

He sipped his drink, draining the remaining contents, before setting the empty miniature cauldron on the bar top. A pause to watch Erinyes at work again. She had clearly done this kind of thing before. At one point in his life, he had been attracted to such a job, but the fates had other plans in mind for him and he never had the opportunity to give it a try. Perhaps in the future or in his free time he could learn? Time would tell.

Mikhail’s eyes were drawn from the Seer’s to the warmth that had covered his hand. He hadn’t even noticed that he had gripped Nathan like he did. He stared down at their hands for a moment before his gaze raised to the Pantoran’s. He quickly turns his face away, now heavily reddened to focus on the table.

He wasn’t quite seeing the table, he was looking past it. His eyes darted back and forth in small jittery movements. He was thinking, as best as his hazy mind could. Whether he was listening or not wasn’t clear.

Leda, seemingly satisfied her charge had found someone she knew, as her original goal, looked over to the Zeltron. Her navy eyes were a heavy look that narrowed before flicking to her Papi consideringly.

“The stuff in the purple bottle we get, Leds,” Ruka encouraged, and she brightened somewhat; though she maybe looked surprisingly unhappy about it. (Or at least about being happy in Erinyes’ direction.)

“Ay, uh…yeah, that would be good. Thanks, Miss Tenéma.” sorryErinidkwherethemarkisandi'mnotlookingagain

Ankira took her drink and nodded a thanks to Erin before turning towards Reiden.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. Can’t stay all business all the time… Losing my husband and kids made me realize that even more…”

She took a sip of her drink and enjoyed the taste and the burning trail it left behind. It was different, but quite enjoyable.

“What are you looking of doing here? I heard there was a fortune teller here. I might go check that one out.”

Well at least one of them was getting it. But the other wasn’t really paying attention by now and that was mildly insulting.

Still.

“So at last we come to the past; your pasts. And your futures. The Evil One rules both.” She spoke softly now, rhythmic, a hush. The cards seemed to pulse with her words, a heartbeat of darkness, the tent growing dimmer and smaller. “In your pasts lie entrapment, emptiness and a lack of fulfillment in your lives, plagued by addiction, materialism, lack of control, selfishness, self-sabotage…yet the Evil One of your futures is not devil but emperor. A ruler. A choice yet to come. A warning. Inverted this way can caution of many things.. tyranny, domination, rigidity , stubbornness; a sign of abused authoritative power, that the call from the crown to do what is best for the people is forgotten, and only fear for the loss of control remains, thus creating suffering. Whether these are demons within you or around you…only you can know that.”

Golden eyes, just about ignored by the audience, went to the credit basket, then back.

“But just because such repression weighed your steps before does not mean you cannot rise to challenge it now. You can be the kings of your own future, invert your fate. Claim what you like. Stand tall by your virtues.”

Blue and gold figures rose, growing to shine and push back oppressive shapes and shadows. The haze seemed to clear, until all at once, it all winked out. Simple cards laid on the table, still and plain as any deck from a rickety bar along a hyperlane fuel stop. The suspiciously small Dowutin sat across from them, blinking with a pleasant and stiff smile.

“Do you still have questions, little cornflower? Or you, quiet boy?”

<@432543120635461643> <@160141735354171394>

Black eyes cascaded over blue, red and purple, pausing to consider. The colors and their coordinating references were terrifyingly obvious to anyone who had joined before… he paused, brushing the thought aside and let a smile creep up his face. Of course, tradition dictated which he would have to try first. Reaching forward, he dragged one of the lightninged herbal draughts his way, then lifted it for the scent.

“I know someone would be enthralled that you named something after her.” Muz pressed the word into their heads more than he spoke, his low voice all but lost in the busy bar. “Yet whatever you added aside from the triumvirate, I would never guess.”

He let the smile bloom fully across his face as he lifted it the rest of the way for a taste. It danced along the tongue, complex flavors layering over each other, each vying for attention in turn as time allowed the taste to evolve. He set the vessel down, nodding at her gratefully.

“You’ve outdone yourself again.” He passed the violet toward his sister, and debated silently on the next.

Miho eyed the purple drink before she shrugged and lifted the tumbler to her lips, the floral smell had deceived the small woman causing her to wheeze more than slightly and jam an elbow into her brother’s side as she said some highly unflattering words in their native language.

Nathan wasn’t sure what to make of the prediction of the past and future. It.. was a mix. The past was all accurate across the two of them, though from what he knew some certainly applied to one or the other of the pair. Mostly.. well. He couldn’t remember being addicted, having the materials to be materialistic nor self sabotaging though.. that was the most questionable one out of the immediate nos. It was uncanny, this whole experience.

A choice to come, or a warning. Both, perhaps. The suggestion of rising above the past made it feel like a weight dropped deep into his stomach. What virtues? All he had was what he agreed to when he started practising medicine but that wasn’t anything.. specific. Nathan squeezed Mikhail’s hand, not really thinking about it, more doing so for comfort in a moment of stress. It.. was nice.

The animated versions of themselves on the cards disappeared and it clicked that it was probably a simple Force Illusion. That was comforting, though the cards and their meanings themselves still weighed heavily.

“How…” Nathan started before shaking his head, “I’m not sure how to know what to do. It sounds really daunting, the way you put it. Or.. how to.. do it.” His voice steadily got quieter as he continued speaking, staring at the once again plain cards to avoid anyone’s eye or the hands held together below.

<@160141735354171394>

Leda took the bottle and cups with another quiet thank you. She was quiet as she watched Erinyes mix and serve, a combination of bitterness, judgement, and wary intrigue of the chemistry and the colors happening. She poured a cup and drank quietly, sipping.

Meanwhile, Cora and Ruka had smiled and thanked her back. They seemed content to retreat now, as everyone seemed content and engaged.

“If you need anything, ping me, as they say,” Corazon said, ready to head off to the next thing.

“We’ll be right there,” Ruka assured.

Revs took off in a sprint as soon as the bell rang. The obstacle course wasn’t much different than the ones Marick used to make him run during his training days. The Assassin scaled the wall quickly, and managed to make his way through the tires with ease.

As he got to the rope ladder, Revs jumped and grabbed on to the rungs. His momentum caused the the ladder to start spinning in circles causing the Miraluka to pause as until stopped. Forcing down his still spinning stomach, he climbed the rungs as fast as he could without falling off as it jerked from side to side. He jumped off at the end and started another sprint to the bridge.

As he approached the bridge Revs could make out that the planks were spaced out just enough to force the person crossing to make longer strides or fall. The bottom of the pit was full of giant foam cushions. Revs managed to hop from plank to plank with relative ease until he made it across.

Jumping from the bridge he threw his hands over his head and let out a victory cry which was cut off by a heave as he pushed down the beer and nachos that were now trying to come up.

Walking back to the starting point, he picked up his beer and took a swig to wash the foul taste out of his mouth. “So did I win anything?!” He yelled to the attendant.

His grip tightened slightly as the cards faded into their mundane visages and he looked up at the Dowutin with a frown. The speech was.. Reassuring, but still suspicious. Mikhail felt off about quite a few things. Many things. Everything.

He wobbled slightly in his seat, tugging on Nathan’s knee a bit to keep himself straight.

Huh?

His attention snapped back up to the Witch, eyebrows knitted as color spread across his pale skin. He didn’t say anything, there was not much that came to his mind that seemed… speakable. He worried any attempt at the moment would cause mumbled gibberish to fall from his tongue, no doubt hampered even further by his fake teeth.

<@244244163002892288>

“Oh,honey, petal, cornflower,” the Dowutin’s voice changed, sounding much more feminine and pitying for a moment. They gauged both boys with a look, seeing Nathan stare down and meeting Mikhail’s suspicious stare for a moment before seeming to dismiss him as too flabbergasted. Finally they reached to their hip and pulled free the flask Mikhail had noticed, taking a swallow before offering it over.

Their other hand made the cards disappear as they spoke again.

“How to face any future is a constant query, wrought with fear and uncertainty, but such is the price we all pay when finally we are free.”

<@432543120635461643> <@160141735354171394>

Muz winced, perhaps exagerating the pain from his sister’s pointed elbow, then chuckling. It had been entirely too long.

An eyebrow raised at Erinyes’ statement. The ancestors of most places did not seem to care much for poetry when naming things, often choosing the simplest and most direct explanation in leiu of telling a story. There was an efficiency there, and he had to appreciate that. Still, his head spinning from the revelation and discovery, he found his mind treading paths of poetry and stories long forgotten. It was a meloncholic sort of happy, he supposed. Tempered in loss.

He lifted the azure drink, felt the chill across his hand, the spice that reached his nose, then played across his tongue and cooled it’s way down his gullet. Tempered in loss. It echoed in his head, reminding him of pyrrhic victories, power gained, yet spent on impossibilities, on futilities. His head swam forward with too many things, casting doubts on a future without end, his place in it. Tempered in loss. His life, thus far.

Because he allowed it so.

Muz shook his head, refusing the emotion to take further root, chasing it off with equal parts force of will and clarity of purpose. Those victories were victories yet, his conquests remained conquered, the prices paid in full, past tense. Naught to be gained by ruminating on them and wondering if it was worth it. No, now was a season for something else. Something better. Like his reputation, he had earned that, and woe be to any who would stand between. Himself included. Muz leaned forward, whispering into the Zeltron’s vicinity with words only she could understand.

A round on me.

Nathan took the flask, innocently not registering what it would be. He hesitated, taking a glug and having A Reaction. He managed to swallow, barely avoiding coughing it across the table. He handed the flask back to the fortune teller, struggling to not perish. But the words still resonated. The fear was payment for a future.

He wasn’t sure but thst made more sense and Nathan nodded, still frowning and a wee bit struggling. By that, very much so, somewhat struggling to breathe.

it burned

Miho eyed the glass with a grin. “I like mint just fine.” She accepted the tumbler and took a much smaller sip this time as opposed to the purple one.

The shiver than ran down her body wasn’t exaggerated, but was impressive. She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the bite of it as it slid down her throat.

A slight cough as she turned her head a little. “Much more enjoyable than the last one.”

Miho exhaled a small puff of chilled vapor with a grin. The cold beverage was definitely going on the list of learning how to make.

She took another sip and handed the tumbler back to Erinyes, a smile on her face. “I do think I would prefer something a little warmer though. I’m going to get chilled and need something to warm me up later.”

The creature’s lips twitched as they watched Nathan’s eyes water and his body convulse, and they took another drink themselves before offering more specifically to Mikhail

<@160141735354171394>

Mikhail’s hand withdrew from his knee as Nathan convulsed from the drink. He seemed as if he was about to stand before Nathan handed it back and started to settle, while struggling. Realization seemed to simmer in the Arkanian’s eyes that kept him from standing, but that glimmer turned to one of slight anger as they met the Dowutin again. He took the flask and gave it a waft, cautiously sniffing it before he eyed Nathan again, looking for any signs other than a surprisingly hard alcohol.

<@432543120635461643>

As far as Mikhail could tell, he was just smelling rectified alcohol– some impure mixture that belonged in a durasteel container labeled with caution and for cleaning engines. The Dowutin raised an eyebrow at him – had they had eyebrows before?

“Drink or don’t, mate,” they said. And then a smile. “Or shall I predict thee to partake, and thus drive you away, away, away, running from any word of destiny?”

Nathan wheezed

Reva walked over to the prize stall. And looked at the shelves of trinkets and toys. The Miraluka couldn’t actually see anything other than the outlines of the shapes, so he just pointed at a random thing on the shelf and told the attendant that one! After being handed a large soft toy he rolled it around in his hands looking at it. It had a body like a cat with a lizard like tail and what revs assumed was dreadlocks he decided he was gonna call it Rasta.

The Assassin downed what was left of his beer and decided on getting a refill. Putting his new prize on top of his shoulders he walked over and into the bar tent.

Mikhail’s eyes narrowed over the flask. He remained still for a few beats before he braced himself. He’d had hard liquor before, swill barely fit for consumption. So he raised the flask and took a long swig. It was bad, but he had prepared himself for it, having seen Nathan’s reaction.

Even so, he still grimaced and squeezed his eyes shut from the burn. He put the flask down on the table, between him and the Fortune teller.

“Savvy,” the Dowutin declared, taking back the flask. It disappeared like the cards had beneath their overlarge cloak. Again they sounded different; more relaxed, perhaps, with the reading over. “Now, feel any better?”

<@432543120635461643>

Nathan wheezed again, evidently struggling but provided a weak thumbs up.

And then began to stand, clearing his throat enough to properly say, “Thank you… we. Didn’t get your-” cough “-name.”

The oddly small Dowutin smiled, rising themselves and gesturing as if to see the boys out. It was obvious then that Nathan had nearly two whole feet on them.

“You can call me Acanthus,” she said, citrine gaze gleaming. “Goddess go with you, Nathan, Mikhail. Consider what the cards said, perhaps, hmm, before you go a'circling?”

As the pair would step out of the tent, they would nearly bump into another individual– this one looming. So tall and broad was the figure that they blocked the sun, and when looking up, both lads would note a Dowutin that seemed much more textbook: earthy brown skin, chin tusks, a lack of hair, and a behemoth mass. The alien glanced down, rumbling as they nearly spilled their plate of fried dough, tiny in their hand.

“Oh, look out there. Customers? Were you looking for your fortunes read? I stepped away for a snack…”

He gestured with one rocky club of a hand to the sign outside which declared Stoneteller’s Fortunes.

<@160141735354171394> <@432543120635461643>

Revs politely declined the offer for more food. And grabbed his fresh beer before heading out back to the festival. After wondering around for a bit, the tent that said fortune telling caught his eye . He saw three people standing outside the tent and assumed that was the line.

“Uh…”

Nathan had no idea what to say or do. Had they just given money to a fake? Was there really people baiting and faking folk out here?

His hand found Mikhail’s arm, tugging gently as they got out of the way of the tent with a pit of.. not quite hurt but unsettled by the potential of it. He didnt take them far aside, just enough for the stranger waiting outside to be able to enter.

<@160141735354171394>

As the silence stretched a heartbeat and the boys moved, the massive Dowutin shaman merely said, “Ooookay…” And then squeezed comically into his tent. Shortly thereafter, there could be heard some rummaging and him asking himself where his basket had gone, and where the bottles had come from.

Meanwhile, a blur of white darted off into the crowds, should the boys spot it or care.

Revs walked into the tent, and look around. Hearing the Dowutin talking to himself he stood there. “I’m just going to go on and say it. If you don’t know where the bottles came from I’m questioning how accurate this fortunes gonna be big guy.”

“That’s not– I–” the Dowutin stumbled for a moment before his great stoney face reddened, and he clearly swallowed down some rage as he muttered then about asshole drunk people littering and suchlike. Nonetheless, being a professional, he pasted on a grimace of a smile and waved the Miraluka forward as he rounded his table and began putting his cushions back into the right places.

Then paused mildly at whether or not waving was effective.

“I assure you, I am a master of the future! Come, come. What can we divine for you today? Perhaps a fortune for love? Or prosperity?”

While everyone chatted, Ruka and Cora ✨lurked benevolently ✨, guardian angels much like that their daughter dressed as, like the wings tattooed on Ruka’s back. Remembering Syrena and his original question pertaining to Siva, the Mirialan gently pointed her dancing form out to his husband.

“Ay, hey, they’re dancing over there, if you wanna join ‘em,” he murmured, waiting for the look on Cora’s face. Immediately, the Pantoran lit up, recognition coming to his features and excitement soon after as he flexed a two-step on his pointe toes, his version of bouncing in place.

“Oh! Oh, I believe that is square dancing? I haven’t had a chance to try it yet! Oh, Angel, can we?”

“Ay, ay, I dunno it either, how bout you learn first then show me? See her?” He pointed, subtly, okay, he’d learned to be less rude. “That’s Syrena, uh…Val…something. I think she’s connected to Siva. I can feel it. But I didn’t get a chance to ask. Odantie. She ran off with a costume change, you’ll love her.”

“Eee,” Cora squealed, and then wiped carefully at his eyes for mention of their departed Chiss. “Alright, yes, let us go and see! I’ll be back, love.”

“Have fun, mhin amhinaa.”

The Jedi pirouetted off, literally, twirling in a jog over to join the dancers. He observed just a moment before stepping into the flow, stomping opposite Syrena and throwing out a hand to her as he bowed and laughed.

“Hello! My name is Corazon Tenbriss Ya-ir! Nice to meet you!”

<@607619766752116771>

Revs sat down and leaned back in the chair in front of the table. “Well I make bad financial decisions and have commitment issues so I don’t see either of those being good.” Revs joked. “But let’s go for love.”

Mikhail was dragged away quite willingly. His hand found Nathan’s and used their mutual grip to pull them together. Despite this, he still leaned away, towards the direcion the blur vanished in and shouted out after them, annoyed venom dripping from their words in Arkanian, their explosive blurt capstoned by a “Kriffing sharlatan!” before he leaned back into Nathan, his shoulders drooping as he glared out into the crowd.

What was the point? Some random trickster spouting nonsense for some creds? What a useless waste.

He fumed silently at having been tricked out of some of his last creds, and at the fact that he was so stunlocked by a nobody tricking him into thinking there was something deeper going on.

Jaw clenched, pointy little fangs dulled slightly as they were bit down upon, the Arkanian stuck to Nathan’s side as he quickly tried to squash the floating feelings and emotions that had brought such a rise out of him.

<@432543120635461643>

Nathan flinched at the yelling, intent on removing them from the situation and.. well. Returning to the drinks. The drinks had been nice. Maybe they could try something else new and take their mind off of that. If she hadn’t been a fortune teller then… none of that was really real. Which sucked, in a way. Comforting in another, it was necessarily all good things but being lied too just.. didn’t feel great. Plus.. the implications she’d spoken of also meant little. Maybe… or. Well. Nathan didn’t know what to think, people were something he’d only began learning since Zig made a point of being his friend.

He began to sigh, and incidentally had forgotten about the recent consumption. Remnant alcohol rose back up enough that he coughed again, raising the hand not still holding Mikhail’s to cover his mouth but in the sudden bend, missed a cup on the floor and slipped. He stumbled side ways, loosing his grip on Mikhail’s hand so as not to take the Arkanian down with him, still making contact and trying to remain standing.

Mikhail looked back over to Nathan as he heard the crinkling crunch of a cup get stepped on. It was obvious that Nathan was in for a bad tumble, so the Arkanian moved quickly in an attempt to stop it. His arms wrapped around Nathan’s waist and pulled, inadvertently faceplanting him into the Pantoran’s chest.

Lavender

The realization that he could smell Nathan caught him off guard, but he managed to right the man before he fell to the ground entirely. He pulled away slightly, only his hands remained on Nathan’s sides as he looked up at him with some concern. “Are you ok?”

Nathan got his feet back under him properly with Mikhail’s support, the offending cup thoroughly scrunched into the ground behind the pair. He’d grabbed the Arkanian’s shoulder for a moment, embarrassed but not flushed as he steadied and let go, forcibly swallowing to try and clear the burning in his throat. Initially. He then registered the hands on his hips.

And Mikhail would watch as Nathan’s cheeks grew from a warm tone to hot within a moment of Nate meeting his gaze. The Pantoran’s hands rose for a moment, unsure if to encourage his release and ending up awkwardly floating. He dipped his gaze enough to not make direct eye contact. This close it was hard not to be distracted by the crystalinne blue peering from behind the sunglasses.

“Y-yea. I’m- Yeah. Just the uh- The alcohol. It’s still burning, a bit.” He cleared his throat again, grimacing but resisting another coughing fit, “Are- are you? I didn’t mean- well obviously I didn’t but-”

Nathan exhaled shakily, glancing between Mikhail’s eyes and the floor. “Probably should, get something else to get rid of the taste.”

Zuza had been spinning the empty krayt dragon claw cup against her other palm, blinking as the cauldron plonked down. She looked up, flashing a grin to Erinyes and placing it down to grab the straw emerging above the fizz.

“You’ve got a good point. Where’s yours?” She sipped it, gulping before continuing, “Or are ya too on duty?”

Zuza laughed, but then followed the waved hand. Muz and a new person, including someone her height! Sweet.

Or.. shorter.

Her eyes widened, and she waved. Maybe they’d come over so she could confirm it. “Hey Muz! Hello!”

Reiden nodded solemnly, a slight frown forming. Losing people was never easy, especially where family was concerned.

“Usually I’ll walk around a bit and see the different things that have been set up. Drinks and food or snacks are other typical things for me. I don’t think I ever really have a set plan in mind when I come here, but there’s always something to do. The fortune teller might be good, you should check it out.”

He turned to Erinyes, eyeing some of the other cocktails that various people had in their hands and on the bar top. Truth be told, he wanted to sample them all, but he knew that he should try to pace himself. There was a time and a place to really let loose, and this probably wasn’t either of those. His brow furrowed as he thought, weighing his options. “I think I’ll try the Kraytsblood Cocktail this time, please.”

Mikhail frowned, his eyes still focused up on Nathan’s face. At the extreme color change he found his hand almost reaching to touch the heated cheek, which had brought it halfway there, hovering infront of Nathan’s chest. He stopped, swallowed himself and cleared his throat. “Yesh.. different drinksh or.. food.”

He released the Pantoran, taking a half step away to give him some space. The Arkanian did however reassume his position at Nathan’s side, his arm in a position like he was expecting to interlink arms again. “If I find that thief, I’ll get our credsh back.” He stated firmly, eyes finally moving from looking up at Nathan to the crowd.

Mihoshi raised an eyebrow as she looked around her brother at the…creature(?) that had just spoken. With a gentle tap, she tried to get his attention before pointing at Zuza with a look of abject concer/horror. “Brother, I think the strange bird creature is wanting your attention and it seems to know you.”

She remembered the small amount of excitement that had occurred earlier when the smaller creature had seemingly attacked the larger bird creature. “Be careful though, I don’t think it tastes good.”

Or food. Nathan swallowed, watching the hand approach before lowering and having to catch his breath. He’d forgotten to breathe for a moment.

He slipped his arm into Mikhail’s, cheeks still warm in comparison to the biting chill in the air.

“I can cover us for the rest of the day. Either way.” Nathan spoke. He wasn’t ever going to mention it, but the quiet from the cred pouch hadn’t gone unnoticed by the Pantoran. “Drinks and food?”

Muz glanced in the direction that his name came from, spying feathers and face aimed directly at him. It took a moment to register, beneath the holiday costuming. Ah yes, fingerguns. He was fair to middling sure that she had risen to the throne in Arcona since their last… Had it been that long? He raised a glass at the Arconan in a show of welcoming and recognition, then turned slightly to assuage Miho.

“That’s the Consul of Arcona, Zuza.” Friendly, hyperactive, good people. He let the thoughts seep into his sisters head. It wasn’t gossip or tactical, but for some reason, it seemed a breach of etiquette to talk about people that way out loud. He took a sip of his drink, the astringent purple bouncing around his palate as surely as thought danced with memory inside his head. It was a constant work for him, trying to remember how to react to things and see without… well. It would have been rude, anyway. He was at least somewhat sure about that much.

Zuza had playfully glared at the notion of not tasting good. Zig would beg to differ- Aware of Force Users suddenly, Zuza cut off that line of thought. Hopefully. She approached, cradling her sizzling green cauldron and sipping from it on the introduction. It still felt weird, really. It had been a hell of a… kark nearing two years now since everything got hectic and messy. She didn’t let the exhaustion of that thought dim her smile, directing it between the two.

“Good to meet ya!” She gestured fingerguns to <@284848346672136192> , as was tradition, before holding it out to shake to the somehow shorter woman. “Just Zuza is fine.

Confused and concerned, Miho still looked at her brother with some small bit of reproach. This was one of the Consuls. Knowing enough politically to make a good first impression, she gave Zuza a warm smile.

“Hello, Zuza. I am Mihoshi Keibatsu, Proconsul of Odan-Urr. But, please we are already friends now so just Miho will be fine.”

She looked at her brother from the corner of her eye, trying to gauge his reaction to her being among the Acolytes of Urr.

“Ohhh, Wulfram’s mentioned you. It’s nice to meet ya properly.” Zuza leaned onto the table they were at, sipping on the straw lazily. “Great, I prefer first names. Easier than all the titles and kark, eventually you end up saying more words than names.”

As everyone conversed, Ruka benevolently lurking keeping an eye on things, and Cora going to join the dancers, a new figure approached the bar and its beautiful drinks list. The petite woman looked like a Zeltron, though slightly less saturated, with petal pale pink skin and rich dark brown hair. One eye blue, one brown, she looked awfully like Erinyes herself and maybe one other Mandalorian t-bagging Councilor.

“Heya, again, friend!” Aralia exclaimed to the Emissary as she washed up to the bar, tapping the counter. “My pockets are full and my mouth dry. You got a cure?” She winked. Her pirate-like clothes were covered partially by a heavy mystical cloak.

<@645466919415054357>

At the mention of her predecessor, Miho calmed down a little more, focused a little more. The Armis Clan had come from Arconan territories and none of them had had bad things to say about their time with these people. Perhaps it was okay to trust, okay accept her brother’s feelings about this woman that he had dropped into her mind. It did help that this woman-bird-creature seemed friendly than just about anyone she had ever met. “Perhaps one day, we’ll have you guest at the Praxeum, or you’ll show up during one of the many times we are allowed use of the Winter Palace.”

Miho smiled politely at Zuza and patted the seat beside her, gesturing for the other diminutive woman to sit down next to her. “Friends are always welcome to join us if they want.”

“You continue to be one of my favorite flowers, Eri~,” Aralia sing-songed, and clapped for the show before tossing some credits from a heavy side pouch to the bar. She swiftly snatched the sour special from the air and tipped it back, drinking like it was a flagon to be chugged.

“Drinksh and Food” he repeats and nods in confirmation, once more hugging Nathan’s arm as they began to walk. He did not know eacactly where he was going, but he wanted to put distance between them and the Tent. Leaving the scrunched cup behind.

“Only sometimes, usually with regret,” replied the other cheerfully, a caustic belch slipping free. She covered her mouth briefly, then licked her lips, smacking her tongue. “Whoo, hey, that’s not actually that bad. Tangy. What else ya got?”

Meanwhile, as the minutes ticked on and the breeze lifted here and there to remind it was actually a little chilly, Ruka’s senses and thoughts once again pulled–

Tiny blue hands. A crack in the counter. A hand-knit sweater. The smallest and shyest of smiles after their first successful batch of cookies. A bundle of blankets on the couch, one of those tiny hands flailing out, desperate for caf, and the incoherent noise of thanks when a cup floated in to meet her palm…

–he blinked at the blurs around him, squinting, and made his way back to the bar. Erinyes had said there was warm stuff Leda could take…there…

“Hey, ay, can I borrow a thermos?” he asked, sure she’d have one in her epic rolling drink cart or something. Sure enough, the Zeltron floated him one between mixing drinks, and the Mirialan grabbed it and some steaming caf along with a napkin.

He sulked off to a quiet-ish lamppost and used it for a brace, handwriting never once pretty and no better now on something other than flimsi or a flat surface. But the message got there with a pen from his pockets, Mirialan words:

Can I co me up? [ ]yes [ ] no lo

He almost wrote ‘love you’ and had to stop himself. If she didn’t wanna talk, she didn’t need his feelings either.

Then the Mirialan turned and looked up at the window he’d felt her in, caught a glimpse of white earlier. It was an easy thing to float the thermos and note tied to it up there, setting it down on the ledge and waiting.

Easy.

Easy.

His vision blurred, burning hot in the cold, and he quickly tried to wipe at the tears with shaking hands before more of his makeup smudged.

“Kriff–” he choked out, a hiccup, and coughed to clear the lump in his throat that was making it impossible to kriffing breathe. Easy. Easy. Not hard at all. This was fine, it was.

It.

He needed air. Colder air, thinner air, he couldn’t breathe, the crowd was too loud and he couldn’t see.

Except for the thermos sitting there untouched.

Ruka turned on his heel and began trudging back to his former perch. Just get away. Calm down. Miss her later, at home, when you can afford to be a wreck. Now was party time…

<@264959101384130560>

As Ruka sulked back to his spot, what was once a distant feeling of a lost daughter was now suddenly much closer.

“Vacmi?”

The voice was quiet, tentative, nervous, and it came from his immediate left. When his foggy lavender eyes would make their way in the direction of the voice, he’d find a blurred face of white, with white wings caked in plaster– no the wings of a bird per se, not enough to get the wearer flicked off into the abyss like his Consul, but moreso like a statueque angel that someone might find in a cementary somewhere.

All of the white made her harder to see, but he could feel it was her through the force.

Does he miss me? Why would he miss a mistake like me? I can’t breathe…

Staring at him, standing there, looking so dejected and.. broken, it felt like shards of glass in her throat. Breathing hurt, swallowing hurt, and her eyes were fracking stinging behind these dumb contacts. She would not cry, she would not ruin Alex’s work, she would be strong and face her mistakes and-

“You never have to ask me if you can come talk to me…” She started, quietly, contact covered eyes suddenly unable to look anywhere other than her painted and cold and bare feet.

“You’re always welcome-… I-… You didn’t…” Nails were now deftly picking rubber-based paint off her fingers, exposing the pale blue marbled with white scarring underneath, as if her skin held the words she couldn’t get out.

“I’m the one who messed up. Who keeps messing up. I thought you wouldn’t want to see me– after everything I’ve done.”

Reiden watched as the drink was assembled. Even though it was such a common thing, both the drink making and the application of the Force, it was still a sight to see. He often did similar things when at home, or even on his ship, making sure to train the ability, especially when it came to fine movements. It had come in handy many times. Other times it was simply fun. Then there were times like this where it was simply practical to do.

He grabbed the cocktail and nodded in appreciation at the presentation. He took a sip, the flavors dancing across his palate. Then came the heat. It wasn’t overpowering and didn’t distract from the rest of the ingredients, rather, it enhanced them.

“Yet another tasty combination! It’s fitting that a pirate queen can produce such fine libations,” he mused aloud.

He watched as Zuza began chatting up the former Grandmaster and his apparent sister. He couldn’t help but be surprised at the way she did it so casually. He once again reminded himself that the other man was just a person, albeit an immensely powerful one. His gaze then turned to the newcomer. Another moment of surprise by her appearance. The galaxy truly held all manner of people and it was fun to be able to witness so much of it.

“I’ve hit up Kiast a couple times, so long as I’m not completely gate crashing I’d love to come.” Zuza smiled, accepting the silent invite and sitting down in the seat beside Miho.

“Any friend of Arcona is welcome on Selen, and the people of Estle hold more than enough festivals around and about if you ever want another one of these. Not to upstage Erinyes, just.. yknow.” She waved a hand, glancing between these two. Zuza couldn’t make out the connection between then, there was a level of comfort there. Shared glances and such, but that wasn’t much to work off of.

“So, I know Muz cause we both helped out Kaisya last year, protecting Taldryan’s people and the citizens from a blizzard. How do you two know each other?”

Nathan had no issue with the hugged arm, occasionally using the grip to encourage Mikhail in the right direction either through a crowd or actually guiding them back to the food and drink stalls. Many of the people there before still gathered around, though mingling further now than they had been.

A drink stall was open and with somrwhat less of a queue than others, especially the food. He tugged Mikhail, pulling the man closer to himself unintentionnally as he set the course for the blue pair to join the queue.

“What do you want?”

“Oh, blind drunk. Always drunk. Never not drunk,” enthused Aralia. Spying the Human looking at her, she raised her empty glass in cheers, winking at him and smiling, clearly mouthing, hey. “Say, think he’ll buy me another?”

<@232396983854301187>

“Neeaiami,” Ruka gasped, barely having resisted cutting her off. My little girl. As it was, he lunged forward, heedless of their respective costumes, the thick caked paint, the scars they both shared under them, any of it. Of not crying or being strong enough. He just had to hold her. His chest felt like it was cracking glass as he buried his face in her hair and the wings wobbled awkwardly. “I could never, never, never not want you. I miss you so much. My girl, Siva, I love you, I love you, Cookie, sweetheart…”

Mikhail again didn’t mind the tugging. It kept him on track and at Nathan’s side as he scanned the crowed in futile attempt to spot the faux fortune teller. It kept him distracted and focused on something that wasn’t the mess of thoughts he had swirling through him at the moment. Though tempered by alcohol, he was still of sound mind enough to worry.

“A.. Blue noodle. If they have them. And the drink, the… blue one.” They were good, after all, and he didn’t have it in him for much experimenting at the moment.

Not yet

Aralia reached for the beverage with a near-literal sparkle in her dual-colored eyes, making outright grabby hands. She inhaled, blinking away tears from the fumes.

“You’re perfect. I would kill for you,” she said, with seriousness, for all her singing tones. The Zeltron-something took her glass of cirrhosis and rounded the bar to siddle up to a new victim friend. “Hey there, who’re you?”

The question was directed at Reiden, gaze gauging between him and Ankira, trying to determine from their body language if they were getting on.

<@232396983854301187> <@417336769181122562>

Ankira arches a brow slightly, unsure what he wanted to do for a moment, but when he ordered a new drink she felt sure he was going to stay here.

“Well, it was nice seeing you again and good to hear you are doing well. Guess I’ll go check out the rest then and find the fortune teller.”

With that she took her drink and turned to leave. Perhaps she would find other people she knew.

Leda looked intrigued at the word spicy, looking to Ankira. “Food, still, ay? Or fortunes?” <@417336769181122562>

“food first then fortunes,” Ankira said, “can’t go without getting the nerf and Roba special.”

“Well then, let’s go!”

Leda collected some of the cups and the spiceberry juice that probably wasn’t going to help do anything but fan the roba’s flames and lead Ankira along to the stall Erinyes indicated. She knew the one when she thought about it, having done her best to memorize the vendor list and locations and take notes. From one of the Kasiya villages. Partnered with a Foxen Erinos, or something. Sponsored? Whatever.

They arrived, and it sure smelled good. The costumer Mirialan looked hopefully past the line waiting until they got there.

“Hello?”

<@645466919415054357>

“Lots of blue for you tonight.” Nathan said lightly, not helping his own efforts to calm down. “Ill probably just get something.. bread-y.”

They made it to the front, Nathan getting some Pretzel.. something, and handing off the bowl to blue noodles to Mikhail. Drinks were at a different tent, and the pair had time to eat while Nathan got them both a glass of the blue wine from before.

It was hard to act normal. There was a buzzing in his ears, not like tinnitus but.. energy. A warmth all the way down to his fingertips, a sharpness to the world around him despite it not exactly being clearer. He nibbled on the pretzel, alternating between it and the wine as he tried to settle himself.

If the faux fortune teller hadn’t been.. faux, he could have tried.. again. Really. To express his feelings but everything felt offset. Awkward though Mikhail seemed peeved more than anything.

The Chiss smiled and looked up at her. “Hi Meihua, one guess what I would like to have,” she said with a wink. “Glad to see you are here again. Hope business is going well.”

“Oh, you know each other?” Leda prompted, trying to make polite conversations like Cora had taught.

Leda smiled to the woman. “I’m one of the hostesses of the festival, just helping out.” Then, with an awkward catch, “Ay, not that we no can be …friends.”

Ankira glanced towards Leda. It almost felt as if she wasn’t sure about making friends or something. She wondered if something had happened in the past.

“I’m sure we can be friends,” she said with a smile.

She then turned back to Meihua, “Make it one of your big plates with lots of spice. I’m sure she would like to try it too.”

“I guess… I like blue things” He went back to silently slurping his noodles, eyes focused down into his bowl past the rising steam heating his face.

He tried to relax, his efforts aided by the frosty drink tipping the buzz he was enjoying into a more numbing state. The self strangling thoughts slipped through the gaps, leaving him with a more peaceful, empty mind. He didn’t know how Nathan was faring after the drinks, but he didn’t feel like he should ask in case it came across as presuring. So he stayed silenty as they ate their food, occasionally leaning against the Pantorans side from the gentle sway that held him

The massive Dowutin smiled in a friendly manner at Revs. The table and chairs were like toys compared to him.

“Aha, a classic! Don’t you worry, friend, I am sure we can find you some luck in the draw of destiny…”

The fortune teller drew out a deck of extra large cards sized for his hands, obviously for some sort of display and not for playing, unlike the last to grace the table. He selected a set blindly and placed them in an arrangement, showing the Miraluka the cards. Then wondering if said Miraluka could see the cards. That part was still confusing.

Regardless he carried on, regaling the newcomer of his farsight:

“Your cards tell me a story, yes…the Universe, Moderation, and the Satellite. Now, the Universe implies you will have the opportunity to have all you ever wanted, while the Satellite implies complications and complexity, uncertainty, often dealing with lies, secrets, betrayal, illusions…Moderation calls your course here. As long as you reflect and evaluate on yourself and are willing to make adjustments in your relationship and with your actions, you will see the renewal of love and purpose that your lack of honesty and hidden self may otherwise prevent you from. You have so much you can achieve, in love and life! You mustn’t let it go to waste!”

Smiling reassuringly and wisely as any well-practiced augur, the man held up a thick finger in caution, one stoney nail crowning it.

“Now, as for your future…the Queen of Air and Darkness, the Legate, and the Destroyed Starship…these cards whisper that while your past was nurturing in your relationships, and your present is stable and avoids risks, your future may be cataclysmic. Some would read this as a sign of destruction, but one must remember that change, like a new love, can often feel like the world falling apart! It makes you anew, and you can look forward to hopeful and healing time.”

<@490928122544259102>

“Tjeovimi,” Leda whispered in sheer awe to her ancestors when finally presented with the spread. It was so much food, and it all smelled so good. And so many chillies. And she’d clearly gone to space heaven. “No, ay, we got two hands, right–” she was reaching for her purse and realized the terminal had already pinged. The girl tried tapping her loaned credit chit anyways. “Uh, ma'am? Can you? It’s not working?”

Nathan felt his face flush as Mikhail leant into him.

And with thoughts so rampant, alcohol made his tongue slip, “Do you like me?”

He froze in place a moment after, half way about to nom the last piece of his pretzel thing. But saying he hadnt meant to ask would be worse.

aaaaaa

Mikhail Nodded - His mouth was full and it would have been rude to speak - seemingly without really thinking. That would come in a second, when he swallowed and every gear he had froze.

After a beat he lifted his head from the steaming bowl to peer up at Nathan. Rose spread across his face as he opened his mouth, fangs poking from his lips as he tried to formulate words. He seemed confused as he spoke “I.. well… If.. You”

He trailed off again before frowning and stumbling once more. “I.. Yeah. Yesh? You..” he looked away, back down at the bowl of blue noodles “… are blue too”

Muz chuckled quietly at the thought. Of course, Zuza wouldn’t know. She was young enough to be his child, after all. By the time that she had found the Brotherhood, the Sons of the Dragon had all but retired back home to Kyataru, perhaps occassionally peeking their heads out in Sadow Space on a lark, or to help with some particularly troubling thing. After a lifetime of effort and what happened in the dark spaces of the universe, he couldn’t begrudge them that.

Muz raised the glass, the violet tincture swirling befoe him as he half smiled at the Arconan Proconsul. “Mihoshi is my little sister.”

Zuza’s mouth made a perfectly shaped O for just a moment before she closed it, grin spreading across her face. Damn, their parent’s were STILL getting busy? There was an obviously large age difference.

Good for them.

Anyway, away from thinking about old people sex, Zuza simply replied, “Ohhh, that’s cool. You must have all sorts of silly stories then.” Mischeif rose alongside her eyebrows, “Siblings always seem to have the wildest kist on each other.”

“Oh, right.” Leda shook her head, blushing. Thankfully her thick face paint makeup hid it. “Ay, sorry, forgot for a second that was like, a perk…” She felt so stupid, and in front of one of the event employees. “Well this all looks really good, thanks!”

Why did he ask it like that? If he was going to ask it at all why wouldn’t he put in some kind of qualifying statement that would clarify he meant it as more than just friends. Nathan stared into the remaining wine. You are blue too. What did that mean?! Zig would make some kind of inneundo here. Someone else would probably just laugh it off but. If Mikhail had missed what he meant by the glove… aaAAAaAAAAAAAAA-

“Did… Well I…” Nathan pressed his palm into his forehead, “I meant. The. Well- When I kissed the back of your hand, I- I think I got the uh- wrong. Or. I tried to look up how it was… Done.”

The Pantoran hybrid released a strained breath, “I like you.”

He could’ve been choking and the sensation would have been no different.

Words rang in his ears, the high pitch drowning out the rest of the festival. He focused on Nathan as best as he could, the dizziness of the drink not faltering like his mind was.

He leaned one way then the other, before grabbing Nathan’s bicep to stabilizing himself as he sent his bowl down. “You… Looked up Arkanian..” He fitted words together slowly, as if he was physically piecing together what the Pantoran had said.

So many thoughts flooded him, then flitted away into the dark oblivion that hovered beneath his mind, all silenced by the drink.

Still, his heart pounded and his face flushed. Brought to a strained epoch of the night, his reaction was not what would have been expected.

He laughed. Not loudly, or mockingly, but drunkenly and towards the Pantoran. His face suddenly met with Nathan’s chest, forehead resting against the other man as his giggling paused. “You.. did it backwardsh. Take glove off, then kissh. It'sh cold there sho we wear glovesh. It'sh..”

He then paused and seemed to continue the thought, of what it meant. That Nathan wanted to court him. His face shifted and lifted again, bright crystal eyes reflecting the light of the festival around them in addition to their own glow. “You.. want to… me?” his grip on Nathan’s arm tightened slightly

Revs leaned back in the chair, crossed his arms, and stared at the table in front of him as if he was looking at the cards. “Well. There isn’t any complexity, I’m an open book and Ive never lied to any woman I’ve dated.” The Assassin lied. The truth was he never stayed with anyone for more than a few days with rare exceptions, and had never given his real name to any of them. He could start to be honest but that would be hard in his line of work. And he could stop running from responsibility, he was getting older and not a young Miraluka anymore. Maybe it was time to settle down….or maybe it was time for another beer.

<@244244163002892288>

Nathan avoided Mikhail’s gaze at first, his cheeks hot with emotion. Too much. It was hard to really identify what was at the surface. Then Mikhail faceplanted his chest and he didn’t know what to do. How to breathe. Backwards- Oh damn it no wonder-. This is what he gets for trying to not be too obvious and avoiding certain sources in case it got back. There were so many connections but-

There was no immediate rejection. Red flushed the Arkanian’s unblemished cheek, creasing to the edge of the crystal. Warmth. From his cheeks, the festival around them. It didn’t seem so loud now. Nor that busy really.

“I do.” He responded, finally glancing up to properly meet Mikhail’s eye. He could see the partial reflection of his own eyes in the sunglasses, but was glad he could see past them.

Mikhail swallowed and looked down, once more pressing his forehead into Nathan’s chest. He remained there for a few moments, shoulders relaxing as weight lifted from them. He breathed slowly, then nodded against the Pantoran.

He pulled away, still holding onto Nathan. “Then.. you’ll need to do it properly” he reached up to remove his glasses, wincing only slightly at the now unrestricted sources of heat that flared around them. He looked up at Nathan, eyes watery yet a weird nervous smile pulled at his lips. It was silly, but he couldn’t help but want it to be proper.

The Dowutin gave a thoughtful hum while smiling and nodding. “Of course, sir, of course, I can tell you’re honest as they come… perhaps the cards sense complexity in your work, and know it will bleed into your love life?” he offered a soothing alternative. “You certainly seem contemplative! Which is the purpose of such a reading.”

“Guess we need to find a place to eat then,” Ankira said as she picked up the food and looked around.

“There’s tables this way.” Shoving down her embarrassment, Leda took back over as a totally competent hostess and guided Ankira to where a wide array of picnic tables were, one of several such spots stationed at intervals around various sets of food tents. Many seats were taken by families and various pairs and groups alike, but there were several spots available too.

The Mirialan teenager smiled at seeing the children, and watched some playing as they sat. She picked out one of the chillies toppings and popped one into her mouth before even starting on the food, eyes scrunching happily.

“Oh, that’s good. So you have a special huh?”

His emotions blew over her like a tidal wave, big and strong enough to drown in. His sorrow matched her own, the hurt of losing family. She stood there for a heartbeat in his embrace, surprised, stiff. She had thought over what would happen when she saw Ruka next, what she would say, what he’d say, a million times. There was a tiny sliver that had hoped that this would be the outcome, but she hadn’t let herself believe in it.

Intill now.

Tiny hands, trembling like branches in a hurricane gripped at Ruka’s hoodie as she buried her face into his chest. He smelled just like he always did, like belonging, like home. A tiny, strangled, heavily denied sob escaped her lips. Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry….

“Y-You miss me?”

The question was the only thing she could force out, gasp out, through the emotion caught in her throat.

“Yea I’ll have to remember that,” Revs said as stood up. He threw a few credits down on the table to pay for the fortune and thanked the Dowutin for it, then walked out the tent. He wandered around the fair while drinking a few more beers before deciding to call it a night.

The Miraluka made his way back out to the parking lot and found his speeder bike, then strapped the big stuffed animal onto the back of it. “Mm safety first.” He slurred his words as he grabbed a helmet off the bike and strapped it to the stuffed animals head before starting to climb onto the bike.

Reiden had said goodbye to Ankira, watching as she left. He sipped at his drink and smiled. It was always good to see friends, and especially so when it had been such a long time.

The scents of the festival and the crisp autumn air filled his nostrils once more. The scenery was great at this time of year. Each time he came to Arx, he found himself wishing that he could visit more often, even outside of his Inquisitorius and various other dealings, or festivals like this.

He turned to face the other Zeltron, offering her a smile. “Hi! I’m Reiden.”

Nathan cleared his throat, putting a small bit of space between himself and Mikhail. Properly. Right. Glove off, then kiss. It was so hard to do it the first time, doing it again should’ve been easier but the twist in his stomach didn’t relent.

He took Mikhail’s hand again, palm against palm and pulled it up between them. He hesistated but a moment before pulling the clawed costume piece off of Mikhail’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. It wasn’t as cold as it often was on Arkania but it Was cold, enough that the Pantoran, on releasing the kiss, slipped the glove back into place. Using it as a focus to avert his eyes and not need the pressure of meeting the other mans’.

“Ay, ay, ay, there, puuja,” came a sudden voice as a hand gripped the back of his collar and yanked him away from the controls. The stuffed animal stared with flat, judging eyes as the Miraluka was manhandled around and turned to face a young Mirialan man wearing a staff badge and a thunderous expression on his painted face. He looked at Revs’ one visible lightsaber, locked his jaw, and kept going. “What you think you doin’, gettin’ on that thing? I just watch you walk in circles tryna make a straight line over here and you stink like a bar. Sit the kriff down. Drivin’ drunk ass? There people here. There kids here!”

“Hey, Reiden,” Aralia murmured, watching the Chiss go with some curiosity before her heterochromic gaze switched back to him. “Well, guess it’s just us now. Call me Aralia. I don’t really know anyone here but Eri there, and she suggested you were a nice guy. Hope I’m not bothering you…?”

She sipped her drink, the straw making sucking noises as she hit the bottom and got air.

She got a reply surprisingly quickly, suggesting either Dozen was watching his comm (she wasn’t Flyndt, so, doubt) or she’d caught him in a lull between gummy troop pours.

🦈: Your game? Please. 🦈: You can breathe in my general direction when you’ve been at this longer than approx. 143 days.

“Really? What type of dead beat lets their kids play in a parking lot?” Revs said as he shook himself out of his jacket and away from the Mirialan. “And I was just dancing” he slurred slightly. The Miraluka put his arm around the young staff member. “Let’s go find these kids parents and give em a good talking too. Whass your name by the way kid?”

Hearing her cry went through the man like a saber to the chest, but the gutting blow hardly mattered next to the fact that she was gripping on and curling into him, was here and not slipping away without a word. Asking questions like that, not just–

“When we found your apartment empty,” he ground out, “we knew it wasn’t the Children again. Knew you were at least safe. And then Turel comm’d to ask when we were coming by ‘cause he’d heard a Tenbriss Ya-ir had hit Kiast and who else would that be…”

He stuttered to a stop. She didn’t need to hear about Corazon crumpling to the floor of her vacated office, knees gone out in relief and grief as he sobbed into the white, plush carpeting, his form the only spot of color now the few potted plants were gone from the pristine and minimalist space. She didn’t need to hear about the look on Leda’s face when they told her Siva was gone for now, however long that was, a look that reminded him dangerously of some of the actual Sith he’d crossed blades with. She didn’t need to hear about Bril’s pain and anger and pulling away. She didn’t need to hear about Noga hugging him because he’d pulled the hoodie she made for him out of the bottom of the laundry bag that first week after she was gone and just broke down.

She didn’t need to hear about those things now.

There were others worth saying.

- “Every single day,” he swore, dropping kisses to her crinkly, plaster-caked hair. “We miss you all the time, every day. I think ‘bout you every time I get dressed. Every time I go in the kitchen and see the flour or your mugs or that peppermint tea nobody else likes. Every time I hear a droid beeping. Every time it’s even a little cold and we grab a blanket. We ain’t had cookies in the house in months. There’s a pile of gifts in the closet from stuff we’d thought you’d like eventually, maybe. Cora stares at your comm code every night waiting for a message to show up. I put that ceeqvk lotion on my scars because you told me to and you’re the doctor. I use the glasses cloth you got me.

Some days I’m so mad you’re gone the thought of you makes me nearly crash the speeder and some days I’d give anything to talk to you again. You ripped our hearts out. Don’t mean they not still yours. You’re in everything, kollacecia. You’re our little girl. Daughter. Grown ass woman, whatever, okay, ay, you are my girl. Miss you? I love you, of course I miss you, I miss you so much.” He hugged tighter, swaying, rocking them, really, there in the street. “Sivami, kollaceciami, neeaiami, tey ahmo, tey ahmo, tey ahmo.”

Miho leaned forward across the bar and looked towards Zuza, a gleam in her eyes. She didn’t actually know any stories, but she could certainly make some up. Outsiders didn’t know how they had been scattered, or how their oldest brother had been away for training as a Jedi when they had been attacked, scattered, exiled. Home was just a word to her by this point. Kyataru had been home, lost. Sephros had been home, lost. Kiast could be home, but how long would it be until that was lost as well?

She tapped the counter, for a moment before she spoke softly. “There was this one time…”

She felt more than saw look that was directed at her, well it wasn’t the eyes that gave away the emotion but more the look on a face that she knew all too well. A look of long-suffering indulgence. Being the youngest sibling and the only daughter of their parents had it’s own perks, but Mihoshi knew better than to push things a little too far. She sat back and gave a playful huff. “Well, the story wasn’t even going to be about you. And now I’m not going to tell it.”

If the truth was to be known, she had been closer with Nekura than with their eldest sibling. He hadn’t been around much when they were on the run. It wasn’t anyone’s fault except those who had made them orphans. The small woman began to draw small designs on the surface. “Actually, it hadn’t really been a super time since brother found us all and I was…taken from them again.”

Stories and feelings probably best hidden for now, experiences she didn’t think she wanted her brother to know. What if he looked at her the same way the hard-liners at the Praxeum did? Mihoshi smiled at Zuza, her face washed clean of those thoughts. “What’s a Kasiya?”

-# <@432543120635461643> <@284848346672136192> <@645466919415054357>

“Nice to meet you, Aralia. No, you’re not bothering me at all. Actually, we have that in common. I’ve known Erinyes for a little bit. And then Ankira, the woman that left, I’ve known for a while but haven’t seen her for years now. But that’s about it. Always nice to meet new people, though.”

The Zeltron-something chuckled. “A sea of faces, hm? And all such lonely places. Is that always how these things are?” She waved a hand around. “I’m new to this space. Met Eri and Iddy at the Shame Corner and just ended up following them home a'pace. Wild nights.” Once again she sipped at her glass, again making that sucking empty sound. She pouted at it sadly, then peeked at Reiden, nodding to his drink. “Is that good?”

“There usually seems to be a good amount of people here, if that’s what you mean. I’m familiar with the Shame Corner as well, a good place. Great when I need to make a stop somewhere safe for a rest or to stock up on something.” He sipped his drink and nodded, laughing softly. “Yeah, it’s pretty good. It has some heat on the back that’s interesting.”

He leaned into the bar and turned to Erinyes. “Hey Erin, do you think you can make one of these for Aralia?” <@645466919415054357>

Mikhail watched, his face burning even more somehow. He swallowed as he felt Nathan’s lips against his skin, bumps raising across his arms as the Pantoran pulled away and reffited his glove. He spoke softly, the Arkanian words flowing into each other. “я принимаю тебя”

He was not sure how to feel, but every part of him buzzed with electricity. He squeezed Nathan’s hand, wobbling slightly. Now what? Uncertainty filled him, but what unease he would normally feel was quashed by Nathan’s presence.

“I.. Don’t know what to do now. It’s.. not normal for me to be on this side.”

Aralia positively beamed at Reiden asking Erin to make her a drink, giggling at his laugh too. “Aww, thanks, Reiden. You must always be this generous.” She winked, a deeper pink filling her cheeks. “Funny you call the Corner a safe place. You spend a lot of time in danger?”

Reiden thought for a moment as he sipped on his drink, not sure exactly how to respond. “Well, it sort of comes with the territory when collecting bounties. And there’s things in the past that probably made me some enemies. It’s not that I can’t handle myself or anything, but if I had a choice, I’d rather avoid a fight.” He gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. “Besides, the Shame Corner has a good reputation for quickly putting a stop to any issues, not to mention the threat of venting someone. Friendly, reliable, and capable staff, good caf, food, and drinks, and clean refreshers? That checks off a lot of boxes in my book.”

“You’re a bounty hunter?” Aralia looked him up and down. “You don’t look the sort I expect. Mighty fine one then, or just indirect?”

Reiden tilted his head to the side a bit. “Not primarily, not for a while, but I do some here and there, or help a friend from time to time. Collecting debts eventually turned into collecting bounties, did some bodyguard work as well. Other times I’d get called in when some people needed a little help with whatever. Credits are credits, after all.”

“A refrain to live by, that one,” she returned easily, though her expression was hungry. She smiled sharp and nudged his arm. “Who is to know? Perhaps if my winds ever change, we’ll cross paths again, towards you should they blow. Mayhaps we’d even work together instead of against. You’ve the makings of a finest friend.”

Nathan chuckled, slowly releasing the hand but stepping in close again. “I.. don’t know either.” He glanced around, looking for something to release the static filling the moment.

The maze. It’d be a little more private as well.

“Do you want to try the uh, the maze out? It’ll probably be kind of easy, but, y'know.” He cleared his throat, raising the wine glass he’d emptied without realising it. “After a refill maybe?”

He nodded “That shoundsh.. good. A refill too.” after a few seconds of silently staring up at Nathan, he started and extended the hoop of his arm. With his other hand he places the glasses back on his face while he waited for Nathan to take his arm.

Reiden sipped his drink and nodded. “That very well could happen. There’s no telling what the future may hold and it’s always good to have people to call on should the need arise.”

Halfway through the spicy sweet concoction Erinyes had made her with relatively little of the fixings and a lot more of the alcohol – so as to not waste the good stuff on someone not tasting – Aralia was a little more loose-postured in her cheer as she nodded to Reiden. “Always is, isn’t it? Tell me, Reiden, do possess thee a strong sense of justice? Or are you the sort of bounty-taker more given to the lawless?”

Reiden thought for a moment. In truth, he wasn’t so sure which side he fell on. “Maybe a bit of both? On one hand, part of my job - or maybe it would be more accurate to say one of my jobs - is to help enforce the laws of where I live or fighting the enemy, and helping people can feel good. On the other hand, those jobs don’t always pay as well and I’ve got various ties to criminals from my past. And something that can land on either side of that is there’s something nice about seeing people get what’s coming to them.” A small grin appeared as he finished his drink, setting the talon-shaped glass down on the bar.

Siv really didn’t care for embarrassment at this point. She had failed her position in leadership, had one of her best friends steamroll a mother and her child while she was on a protection detail and it was caught on galactic holo, had spilt an entire mug of caf on herself during a House meeting, had an absolute meltdown when the hab unit decending into New Tython had malfunctioned and Severin had placed himself on the goddamn exterior. At this point, she was an expert in simmering in embarrassment. The people passing by giving her and Ruka strange looks could eat kist.

The Chiss medic pulled back a little to look at her adoptive father, really taking in the tiredness and exhaustionon his face. Her heart screamed and her lips set into a hard line. She would not shirk away from this pain she created, that’s how she got into this situaiton in the first place.

“I’m sorry. I know sorries won’t fix what I did. They wont give you back your sleepless nights of worry, or give Cora back the money he probably spent on skin care treatments from all the crying.” He didn’t need to tell her about their sorrow, she knew. She could see it in her sleep. She was well aware of the wounds she had inflicted. They had haunted her every night since she left.

“I broke, vacmi. Under the stress of the rebuilding efforts, under the stress of the Inquisitorious– yes, I joined. That’s probably a better discussion for later. Under knowing that, even though you were alive because of me, I failed you in the moments afterwards when you needed me the most, I failed the entire family, because I was so absorbed in making sure you wouldn’t get hurt next time. That descent into darkness, that consuming need to keep you and Cora and Noga and Leda and Meli and everyone in Arcona safe…”

She took a deep breath.

“Zuza found me hysterically sobbing on the floor of my office. I had been crumbling, too scared to ask for help, because everyone was counting on me. Because I didn’t want to fail you and Cora again by letting you know I couldn’t handle the position you two were so proud of me for getting in the first place. I don’t remember the next two days, but apparently I had begged Zuza and Alex not to tell anyone. I must have been enough of a mess because they agreed. I was in me and Alex’s apartment, catatonic, not moving or eating under this weight I had put on myself.”

This was when she gently steered Ruka and her to sit on a nearby bench.

“Everything was going wrong, and I couldn’t fix it, and nothing I did seemed to make it better. So Zuza suggested I take a sabbatical– go visit Alex’s family in Odan-Urr and act as an liason for Arcona. I would be an Odanite for a bit, and heal. My therapist agreed. But I couldn’t stand the hurt on your face, on Cora’s face, on the kids’ faces– because I knew you guys would blame yourself for my weakness. You would think you failed me, when I failed myself. Drowining under all the pain and sadness, I made a really selfish decision that I couldn’t face that pain. I ran away. And I am so sorry. I am so sorry that I karked up so severely. I am so sorry for the pain I caused.”

“Oh,” and now there was something sharp in those mismatched eyes, and they wavered to pure black for a moment as the glass in her hand, now empty, creaked as her knuckles whitened. Her lips curved in something far from a smile, voidlike for how hungry and cold. “Now, that, my dear…that is something upon which we could toast a thousand cheers: to those who deserve it getting what. Is. Coming. To. Them.”

The cup cracked.

The Mirialan listened, listened all the while. He ignored the stares just as well, too absorbed in making sure he got every word, in just watching the way she spoke, the twitches of her hands and the how her eyes scrunched and when she sped up and words ran close together or dropped between pauses. He went easily when she pulled them aside, and bit on his molars not to interrupt during any of the places she talked about being a failure, or failing them, held back from any more smothering hugs when she had so much to say.

So he listened.

And when she stopped there was a short pause in which his insides tumbled over themselves and his chest caved in from the force of not saying it was his fault, of claiming blame, lessening hers, any assurance he could give to comfort. The voices in his head were screaming and silence. The anxiety was powerful and powerless at once. That was his war, not hers, and he had to get better about not inflicting it on those he loved as much as she was trying to.

Would it be weird to see the same therapist as his daughter?

Probably.

Ohgod.

Ruka licked his lips, tasting paint and tear-salt, and tried to find the strength to say what he knew he needed to.

“Sivami,” the man began, reaching to take her other hand, so he could hold both: she hadn’t let go of him yet and he hoped she didn’t all night or however long they had. “Sweetheart. I.” His throat worked around the lump of dread trying to choke him out. This was so hard. “I. I f-f-f.” Would it be easier in his own tongue? Doubtful. “I forgive you.”

Not because forgiving her would ever be hard, no; but because to say that admitted wrong had been done to him in the first place.

Siv seemed to deflate, as if she had be patiently waiting for those words for eons. As if they were some sort of nightsister incantation to release her from whatever grip had been strangling her. white pained lips trembled softly and a single tear rolled down her cheek. No more. She wouldn’t let any more than that fall.

“I’ll keep working to be worthy of that forgiveness.” Her hands tightly squeezed Ruka’s, not letting go.

“I have a lot of work to do still, but I’ll keep going.”

“I know you will, kollaceciami. I believe in you so much. I never stopped, and that never changed. You know that part, right? Me and Cor– we weren’t disappointed just ‘cause we was proud of you got the job. We were worried about you, and wanted you to be safe an’ happy. Don’t matter how or where you do that, so long as it is. And whatever work you do to forgive yourself, you already plenty worth mine. You’re worth so much.”

With his hands occupied, he leaned forward and, determined and uncaring of being silly, nuzzled her cheek, sort of wiping away the tear with his nose. And making bright orange and black smudgies on her white makeup.

The second motion was detected as coming towards her and something long contacted her hand, Aralia was upright with her stool toppling back, hissing and one of the glass shards in her grip like a brandished blade. Half her face twisted unnaturally, and the malevolence Erinyes felt would remind, indeed, of someone drawing on the Force with cruel intent.

But then a second later the makeshift weapon was pocketed, and the Zeltron was smoothing back a palm over her face and hair, patting it down – pushing a cheekbone back into place, to a close observer – and her eyes were two different colors again (though which was brown and which was a blue mirror to the Emissary’s had switched). She fanned her fingers out in a placating gesture.

“Alright, alright, I’m calm, I’m good, I’m good, I’m cool,” she assured, tucking up the little flare of infernos temper and smothering it back into a box. “Sorry about that, Eri~. Won’t another of what belongs to you shall I ever break, I promise fast. What do I owe for the glass?”

“Rightly so,” Aralia purred, tugging her chair back up and dusting it off. She turned to Reiden and smiled at him. “Terribly sorry, friend, I think perhaps I’ve not had enough to drink yet to be good company. Think you’d be willing to change that?”

<@232396983854301187>

The woman’s gaze flashed back to Erinyes, narrowing. Her smile was a grimace as she spoke through teeth.

“Yes, dear, I’ll pay for the glass.”