Session export: The Shame Corner: 005: Hallowthankseening

The Drunken Tauntaun emerged from hyperspace outside Station 0h40-S0. It was a rather large refueling station here on the Hydian Way. Korvyn was putting his new Raider-II Corvette through some space trials and this had been a recommended stopover for him by his clanmate Reiden. Apparently, the food was good, the bar was better and the station had a weird pay-what-you-want philosophy. But dropping out of Hyperspace in a fully armed Corvette had got the attention of the local security.

“The Drunken Tauntaun,” the comms in the bridge rang out loudly. “Please power down your weapons and shields as a sign of peaceful intentions.”

“Do it,” Korvyn stated looking over at the real captain of the vessel, a burly human named Cid. “I will take the Echelon over to the station, TK-522 will accompany me.”

The young stormtrooper fell into tow as Korvyn made his way to the hanger bay. The Drunken Tauntaun was far from perfect but it did its job as both a weapon of war and a sign of imperial presence wherever Korvyn happened to go. As the Echelon powered up and took off towards the Shame Corner as it was so called Korvyn hoped it was as good as he had been told it was. He would be quite put out if he wasted all that fuel for it be a disappointment.

Thrump!

The sudden deceleration brought Thane’s gaze up from the datapad that had been consuming his attention. It would seem the shuttle had arrived at its destination. His black-gold eyes glanced towards the viewport across from him where stars glistened like soft snow on a moonless night.

Soon enough, an asteroid station came into view. No doubt the pilots were handling the docking procedure. It would be…awkward if not.

Well, not for him. Certainly for someone.

Air rushed through his nostrils as Thane sighed before stowing his gear. He rose to his feet and let his long, confident strides take him to the rampway which would be extending in short order.

What was he doing there again?

Unclear. It was in his agenda for some reason. Oddly, he had no memory of committing to anything.

No matter.

There were exactly three problems with being under three feet tall. The first was that most sentient beings in the galaxy seem to forget that objects and people existed below them. The amount of times Snaz Cimoc had almost been trampled in the short space of time he had been here was worth its own branch of research in the Aurora Collegium.

The second problem was that it took him literally eons to get from one side of the Shame Corner to the other. It was times like these that he considered the approach former FIST Justinios, his fellow Aleena, had taken. A mobility scooter would be handy, and considering Snaz was in his early eighties, the less effort he had to make the better.

The third, and final problem, was being seen in a line. Now, Snaz wasn’t the type to make a fuss. He’d been there, done that, and wanted to live what little remained of his life as easy as he could, but even he couldn’t mask how annoying it was to not be served before that other guy who clearly had pushed in front of him.

Snaz sighed. Roll with the punches. No point wasting energy on something so trivial, especially when he couldn’t be bothered. There was a part of him that wondered if the energy spent was worth it. Alas, he felt bad for what he put Draca through on Jedha and wanted to make it up to him.

He was a good kid, after all.

So, he did what he usually did. He smiled, and waited for something to come to him. He took notice of the nearby bar and decided a sit-down was in order. He wasn’t being lazy. Nope. Not him.

Karran sat in a corner booth of the Golden Griddle Diner. An onlooker might have thought that, despite his size, his eye had been bigger than his stomach. He had ordered a dozen eggs (half of them scrambled, three of them fried, and the remainder hard-boiled), roughly a pound of bacon, a dozen sausage links, another pound of hashed tubers, fried to a crispy-on-the-outside-soft-on-the-inside perfection, and finally, a stack of of half a dozen griddle cakes, loaded with a variety of nuts, fruits, and a healthy serving of chocolate chips. 5 minutes into his meal, roughly a third of the assembled meal had been eaten with no sign of slowing. A mug of steaming caf sat half-drunk to the side of the several plates that were necessary to accommodate his meal.

The Zabrak pondered the eggs as he chewed. He was coming to the conclusion that they had come from a variety of animals, though he was ninety-nine percent sure they were all avian in origin. He considered the hot sauce flight that sat in the rack at the end of the table along with the typical salt, pepper, and a number of various sweet syrups meant for the griddle cakes. He sampled the sauces one by one, settling on the one with a binary sunset.

Krayt Reaper: Now with 25% more Tatooine Reaper peppers

“I wonder if the waitress would be upset if I asked to add the biscuits and gravy to my order…” The Sith mused quietly as he sipped his caf. He typically preferred tea, but they had not had any options that had appealed to him at the moment. However, despite his typical aversion to the dark, bitter liquid, he was certainly coming around. The caf here was undoubtedly the best he’d ever had. He reminded himself to thank the waitress for recommending the gourd-spice latte.

From his booth, Karran could look out the window of the diner to observe the immediate vicinity at the station. Once or twice he thought he saw a familiar face, but they were either to distant of an acquaintance to flag down or he resolved them to be a stranger in a big galaxy that simply shared enough features to nearly be confused with a friend.

“Good food is best with good company.” Again, quietly, he spoke to himself, before he silently continued. Let us see if the Force brings anyone across my path.

Souls had to be left behind, lest they be carried with to haunt her very home upon return. What better place to leave the tormented than the Shame Corner?

Since her last ventures, Aphotis had ended and influenced the lives of many. Each left a distinct mark and flavour behind on her pallet, the colour of their fear. No ripple in fate was worth it without a taste. Their shadows and dread would one day serve a greater purpose as it would flower in her Garden of Trepidations.

This semi-graveyard would serve a dual purpose today. The spirits were likely to breach their ethereal prison during these hallowed times. It was an opportunity to refine their essence. Perhaps there were visitors looking to have their fortunes told, their items enchanted, or ones with a wish to speak to their deceased loved ones? Individuals gullible enough to be possessed or have their resolve tested by one of her wraiths.

All that was needed was a friendly drink, a bite to eat and a chat to peek into their miserable lives.

An aura of mystique and tempting melancholy hung around the tall Sith. She wore her shimmering second skin in the form of a slit, flowing, latex gown that waved, folded and draped over the floors of Station 0H40-S0 as her knife-heels clicked on durasteel, a millisecond ahead of the hammering of her weighted platforms. A large, intricate tome was clutched by her clawed, gloved hand. Tir’eivra’s raven hair was bound into a tightly-cuffed, high ponytail, giving her a regal appearance together with a neck corset that kept her head locked in place, unable to be lowered.

Her long tail flicked with mischievous twitches as eyes of passersby attempted to look away, but could not. Their curious and frantic gazes lifted her stride, making her feel as if she levitated through the halls.

Hekate paused at the opening to the Shame Corner, optical sensors taking it all in yet again. They had been onboard for two days already, and while the Theta-class was comfortable enough, they both felt cooped up in there, and the station was a welcome break. Leena bolted past, a direct course through the promenade plotted, juking the hotplates with spiced nuts and dried meats, beyond the caf station, directly for the refresher. “What?” Hekate’s tripled voice asked, met with a terse glower and a half-waving hand as the Twi'lek vanished down the hall and out of sight.

“I guess I should find some snacks, then.” Hekate stepped in, the staff smiling in their direction. “Or maybe some of the caf… I do enjoy that.” They made their way toward the cafe slowly, stopping for a moment as they looked around at cobwebs adorning the displays. “Seems that the janitor has been unusally lax…” Stepping beyond, a bevy of masks and tailring plushes in odd colors sat on a table, seeming to stare them down. Hekate let one of their optical sensors dim in confusion, standing and staring back for a few moments longer than they thought.

“I figured you’d go get caf.” Leena appeared at their shoulder.

“Well, I didn’t know what we were doing, and you ran off…”

“Okay, two things. First, I had to use the ‘fresher. And two, you are never to ever eat those spicy pickled farraxe leaves again.” Leena finished wiping the damp off of her hands with a paper towel. “It’s gonna take a miracle to get that stink out fo the 'fresher on board. But for now…”

“Caf?” Hekate offered hopefully.

“Yes. Caf.”

Mihoshi stepped out of the shuttle, followed by two giants in dark outfits that matched her own except for the white, sleeveless coat that hung loosely to her ankles. It had been some time since she had been anywhere without her ever-present bodyguards. “Both of you stay here. I don’t need you to look out for me at…” she looked up at the building curiously. “Whatever this place is.”

Adenn stepped forward, “Councillor Keibatsu,”

Xin spoke from the shadows. “We are in service to you,”

“By your contract with Mother.” Adenn finished.

The Proconsul rolled her violet eyes and shook her head as the twins watched her carefully.. “I wish the two of you would learn to speak right. Fine, sure. Just stay out of the way.”

Adenn smiled at her sister. “Shall we try the caf?”

Xin nodded with a smile of her own. “We shall.”

Mihoshi grabbed her thick, black hair in both hands and fought the urge to scream. Removing after a moment, she started off towards the entrance. “The two of you make me happy I’m alone now. I can’t imagine what my brothers would be like after this long. I’m sure they’d be moderately insufferable.”

The twins looked at each other and shrugged, following their small charge into the building. To their credit, the twin giants tried to be unobtrusive while they ventured through the aisles, looking curiously at everything. Miho set off towards the food counters and placed her order for a quick meal. It was still going to be a long trip back home for the small woman.

Home, she thought to herself. What does that even mean anymore?

As the small human departed for the food counter, Adenn and Xin stopped beside the caf station looking at the different types on display. The two Nagai each grabbed a cup and the same type of caf, their movements perfectly in sync and mirroring one another. “Councillor Keibatsu,” Adenn began.

“Is getting harder to manage.” Xin finished.

“She talks about,” Adenn’s tone was sad but thoughtful.

“Being alone like,” Xin continued in an almost identical tone.

“It weighs on her.” Adenn finished.

The twins nodded sadly to each other as they turned their attention back towards Mihoshi who waited patiently for her number to be called and seemed lost in her own mind.

“Maybe a trip,” Xin said carefully.

“To Kyataru?” Adenn finished with a smile.

Their decision made, the twins began to move away from the drink area and towards their small charge. And oh wouldn’t it be exciting when they finally told the Councillor their plan.

Leena’s earcones perked, if one could call it that. Somewhere in the acoustic cartilage chambers a word echoed that made her mind twitch. Too slow to catch what it was, she paused, closing her eyes for a second to focus on the sound that didn’t repeat. It nagged at her as she listened, drawing her focus back across the area. A couple of Nagai, tall ones, conversed under their breath, then moved almost silently from the fixings stand toward a human who seemed tiny in comparison.

“I thought you said that you liked the caf?” Hekate chirped, optical sensors drifting from Leena’s face down tot he cup in her hand. Instead of the rich chestnut of the caf, the color of industrial medical facilities greeted her gaze.

“Frell.” Lenna made a face. In her distraction, she must have just kept pouring more and more of the sweetened blue milk into her cup. Leena darted her eyes toward Hekate, a quick flash of her fingers to indicate that they should watch them all for trouble brewing, and she shifted her eyes back.

“But your caf…” Hekate flashed their sensors, then looked at their own cup, rich and dark.

“I’ll get more before we go.” Leena spoke through clenched teeth as her eyes widened, then flashed back toward the Nagai with as much force as an eye movement could have.

The two Nagai had made there way back to Mihoshi, standing silently beside the small human. Miho traced a finger idly along one forearm as she waited for the food to be ready. The efficiency of the line cooks behind the counter left nothing to be desired and after a few short minutes, a loud voice called out. “Key-eye-bat-sue?”

Adenn nudged her small principal with a finger. “Councillor.”

Miho sighed and shook her head, the movement of someone who was used to her name being said incorrectly. “Thank you, Adenn.” She spoke a phrase in her native tongue as she walked up to the counter.

Tossing credits on the counter for her food and the twins’ drinks, Miho began to walk towards one of the sitting areas. “Let’s sit in something more comfortable before we get back in that shuttle the two of you make cramped.”

The twins smiled as they gave a quick nod. “As you wish,” Adenn started.

“Councillor Keibatsu.”

The small woman gave an almost imperceptible shiver of anger. “For the last time, just call me Miho. Or Mihoshi if you have to be more formal. I recognize my own name and always being called by my title is making me crazy.”

The Nagai looked at each other, each one with an eyebrow raised. “As you wish,”

“Miho. Let’s find,”

“A place to sit.”

Miho gestured with her free hand and a growl. “Go on.” She followed the two giants with dark mutters about certain people and their behavior.

It wasn’t the first time Leena had heard someone butcher that name, but this particular variation was unique. She tilted her head, listening beyond what the staff were saying, trying to strain her senses without dropping her facade entirely. That would not do here. Maybe in some distant place, where nobody knew her, far far away from Brotherhood agents. But that wasn’t here.

Wait.

Keibatsu?

Leena’s eyelid twitched as her mind slipped back into gear, the woman and her Nagai already several paces away, looking for a place to set down. There wasn’t a Keibatsu there. She knew all of them. Or at least she had thought. An eyebrow went up as she nodded at Hekate, careful to keep the other three in view. She debated options, not the least of which would be to contact the boss. He certainly needed to know. But if it was a false positive, another person using names and titles that didnt rightly belong to them, well, she wouldn’t want to trouble him. Less people played that game these days, though, so many years removed from what he called ‘that cursed chair’ that hardly anyone outside of Sadow…

Hekate poured half a cup of caf down their throat before stopping, the clerk at the counter watching with wild-eyed curiosity. Leena stepped forward quickly. “You’re supposed to pay for it first…” She tried to keep her eye on the trio, fingers slipping into the pockets of her cropped vest for credits. An eye darted up at the anodized apprentice, then down to the napkin dispenser. “You’ve got a little…”

Hekate all but chortled, the sound vibrating in too many frequencies at once. They reached out, metallic fingers tearing the paper at first, then again before stopping to glower at the dispenser as though it weren’t inanimate. Slower and more steadily, fingers moved, pulling a veritable mop of shredded paper to their head, soaking up drops from the corner of their face as the clerk tried to force a smile through the confusion.

Leena produced the coins, a heavy and satisfying sound as they clanked together in her hand. Reaching out, she handed them to the clerk with a smile and a nod, then pivoted to walk toward the trio. “Thank you!”

Hekate followed in her footsteps, a pace behind as they moved. “Should I be concerned?” Their arms crossed, pushing the long sleeves of their robe up away from their hands. “I don’t sense any sort of threat…”

Leena tilted her head, casting a sidelong glance at Hekate. “No, I …don’t think so.” Her lekku twitched, and she responded by rote, fingers caressing the end and placing it gently upon her shoulder again. “Maybe. I don’t know. Just move with me.”

Leena stepped cautiously toward the trio, her mind quickly flailing through options and inventory. Her weapons, her tools, what she should do if this all went so very poorly. All of them weighed on her as she swallowed back the anxiety and let the name fall from her lips.

“Keibatsu?”

Lost in her own dark thoughts as she followed her bodyguards, Miho’s attention snapped to the sound of her name being pronounced correctly by someone other than the Twins. Even among her own Clan, they were still getting used to the small woman’s strange name and accent. Violet eyes filled with intent scanned the room and surrounding beings.

Employees, patrons, none of them seemed out of place. The eyes rested on the Twi'lek for a moment, a brief recognition from her last trip to this place, where and gone.

The Twins had also stopped, looking around from their own considerable height. “Was that,” Adenn began, a resting near her waist.

“It was.” Xin replied, her own movements quick and exact.

“Enough, both of you.” Miho said as she moved her gaze away from the Twi’lek. The robed and anodized figure beside her caught Miho’s attention for a moment before the young woman turned away. “We are hearing things. No one knows that name here.”

The Twins took one more moment to look at the gathered sapients before they too turned away to lead the small woman to a booth. “Yes, Miho.” Adenn and Xin said in unison with two smiles filled with mischief.

The small woman set her container down on the table, her eyes scanning the crowd again. How… she shook her head as though to clear away the warm fuzz of sleep. Even if someone guessed how it was said, there’s no way they would know who she was.

The Twins sat at the outer edges of the booth, blocking anyone from sliding in beside their principal. “No we aren’t going to talk about it and if you two want to babble at me while I’m eating go sit in the shuttle.”

Adenn and Xin exchanged a look before they focused on their drinks. “Yes, Councillor Keibatsu.“ The words started with Adenn.

"As you wish.” And finished with Xin.

Violet eyes, brighter than her own, but in a human. Leena paused, taking a sip of her overly sweet and creamy caf as cover for her contemplation. Repressing her tongues rebellion, she considered. It seemed that everyone in Brotherhood space had something unusual about their eyes. Unusual colors, heterochromia, multiple irises, unusually shaped irises, or the traditional sith fireburst all had prevalence among the humans in Brotherhood space. If they weren’t already in a rare percentage of people who could touch the Force, she would have wondered where the contact lenses came from, or if there was a particularly talented cosmetic surgeon somewhere on Arx. Yet that shade of purple recalled someone else.

The Twi'Lek’s mind swam through memory as quickly as she could. Not Nekura, with his one good green eye, or Shikyo with his steel-grey. The boss’s eyes were too heavily scarred, blackened for decades before she knew him. Ashia’s vibrant blue didn’t count, she had married into the bloodline. Sanjuro’s eyes though.

Leena stalled in thought, recalling the youngest of the Kyataran family. They were almost identical. She had assumed that it was a natural mixture of Ashia’s vibrant blue and what she had assumed were Muz’s sith fireburst red before the scars. Red and blue made purple, after all.

Something in her mind twitched, a buried memory worming up through fertile earth. The scar on her left lekku reminded her of years ago, the explosion ringing in her ears, the thick blood cascading down her head, into her eyes and mouth. It was her end, and if that was how it was to be, then she would expend every last bit of her life in a moment of wrath, ending the ones who had carved her. Leena pushed through the haze of recollection, forcing herself to remember the moments after. He loomed overhead, an ungloved hand seeming to pulse in time with her slowing heart. The memory wincing between the bright pain and the damage to her lekku, the outlines and light warbling in recollection as much as it did in the moment. She could feel the flesh begin to knit, the itch of quickened recovery that would echo beneath her skin even today. The black of his eyes fading, they world lightening for just a heartbeat.

“Frell.”

Leena took a breath, then another. He had to know. She had to know. And in her reminiscence, the stress swelled. “Hexy… eyes on them.” She murmured in close range. “It’s important to your master. I’ve got to find…” She had already moved away, purposeful strides motivated by anxiety. To what end though? Perhaps there was a security feed, and she could get a copy for him. Maybe she could get her ship’s registration. If she had an IFF code, she could follow those trails down and find out where she was, who she was.

There was too many options, she had to narrow it down. Eyes darted, looking for a terminal, something that she could access, slice, if need be. But answers. Answers were necessary.

Hekate pushed back their hood, moving toward the Nagai, stopping in front of them and pouring more caf down their aperture, then blinking their optical sensors at them. “So, you guys try the fudge yet?”

The three women looked up at Hekate for a moment before they looked at each other, the twins each raising one eyebrow while the youngest looking one in the center smiled warmly at their new company. It wasn’t so much the interruption that had caused the moment of confusion, the small Human had quickly gotten used to being accosted in most places since her ascendence to the Council of Urr.

It was the obvious anodized hue of the droid coupled with its behavior. “Oh, hello.”

The soft greeting from their charge told the twins to relax slightly. The rules of this place were posted everywhere and fighting just wasn’t on the agenda today.

Mihoshi pushed the bleached white food container to the side slightly and gestured for the person(?) -droid?- to pull up a chair.

“Fudge? I don’t believe we have. Do you have any recommendations?” Miho said softly with a smile. “I’m Mihoshi, by the way. And you are?”

The two Nagai to either side sipped their caf, movements identical and perfectly in sync. Miho’s lavender gaze flicked from one to the other as she realized she had forgotten a drink for herself.

Oh well. At least someone interesting had shown up for her to talk to. Last time had been that catlady and now was this…person(?).

Hekate slid a chair from a nearby table over, the scraping sound brief, but obnoxious. “I’m Hekate. Knight of the Krath Order, at your service.” They brought one arm to their chest and bowed a prescribed degree.

“As to fudge, I like them all. I guess I just am a fan of all sorts of food these days.” They slowly maneuvered around the chair to sit down as their voice echoed within itself, the tripled tones of their voice resounding. “That said, they do have a green kind, with flavors derived from a small acidic fruit from a tiny island on Manaan. Very brightly flavored.”

Hekate set their cup down on the table, shifting optical sensors from one to the other, seeming to catch on the Nagai. “Nice to meet you, Mihoshi. And these fine folk are… clones?” One optical sensor dimmed in an approximation of inquisitiveness.

Mihoshi listened to Hekate with a smile and motioned to the twins. “Well…technically yes, but also no. One is a clone, but they seem to have the same soul.”

Adenn cleared her throat, with a glance to the Human. “That is not,” she began.

“What Mother intended,” finished Xin.

Miho pinched the bridge of her nose. “The only person who understands what that mad woman intended is the woman herself.”

The Twins chuckled softly, the same exact tone from different throats. “Be happy you don’t have to deal with them every day, Hekate.”

She leaned back in the booth with another smile for their guest. “Of the Krath Order? I was once a member as well.” She thinks for a few moments, “I think it was…on K'hamar'a when I left the order.”

Her features darkened for a moment, remembering the glow of engines leaving the surface. Leaving her on the surface.

“But, that is ancient history. It only seems like it’s been ten years though.” With a shrug, the small Human smiled back at Hekate. “So where do you call home, Hekate of the Krath Order?”

Hekate pivoted in their chair. It was a fascinating principle, after all. A spirit split in twain by the cloning process. Did the clones that they had met elsewhere have the same scenario applied to them? Did it matter how many clones existed, dividing the spirit even further? Hekate made a mental note to ask the Master later about it. Taking a moment to pour more caf down their aperture, Hekate looked around, scanning to see where Leena had gone off to.

Stacks of merchandise lay beyond the simple seating area, clothing and knick-knacks, insulated mugs and bags of treats ready to go. Hekate shifted slightly, finally spotting the Twi'lek in the distance, hovering near the entrance, sliding a remote spike into a wall-mounted terminal and walking away quickly. Hekate tilted their head. It was odd behavior, even for her.

“Sorry, I was looking for my friend.” Hekate turned back to the trio, optical sensors brightening. “She gets into all manner of mischief when left to her own devices. As for a home? I suppose that I do not properly have one, although I have quarters aboard my Master’s ship.” They processed for a moment, then sat their cup down again. “How about you?”

Mihoshi’s face darkened with understanding for a moment before she shrugged. “I suppose I don’t really have a home to speak of either. Not for a long time now. I have quarters at the Voraskel Palace on Kiast and I suppose I am nominally in charge when I’m aboard The Resurgent, but as for a permanent place?”

She shook her head with a smile. “I am not homeless, but I don’t have one either.” Her eyes had tracked to see the Twi'lek but not really worrying about what the woman was doing. “Between you and me, Hekate, your friend sounds like a lot of fun. People who like mischief know how to really live.”

She touched the container for a moment and grinned at her guest. “Besides, when you’re in my line of work, mischief always makes it more entertaining.”

The Twins shared a look, curious as to why their Proconsul was being so friendly to a stranger, but it always wasn’t outside the norm for Miho to be a bit more outgoing to people she might not have to interact with again. One use friend, nothing more and nothing less. By that metric, the Nagai relaxed within themselves enough to enjoy their rest of the drinks while still maintaining an alertness customary in those charged with the protection of another.

Xin looked at Hekate curiously, her blue-grey eyes taking full measure of the being.

“You mentioned a master,” she began.

“Is it the friend you are looking for?” Adenn finished.

The Human pinched the bridge of her nose again with a heavy sigh. “That is our friend’s business and none of ours. Not everyone likes the people they have to deal with constantly.”

The Twins smiled at her, their expressions showing the enjoyment of their games. “But, Councillor,” Xin said with a smirk.

“We know you like us,” Adenn said with a similar look.

“Best.”

Miho gave each of the Nagai a longsuffering look before turning back to Hekate. “Do you do a lot of travelling then?“

If Hekate could smile, they would have. Instead, the outer corners of their optical sensors dimmed to give the appearance. Not fully, but close enough. “Oh no, Leena is….” They paused for a momet, looking atthe twins and debating the realities of things. Leena wasn’t her master. An older sister, maybe. Fellow apprentice, certainly. A friend, surely. There was more there, but it was hard to quantify, somewhere between the nuances of words and emotions. “Leena is not my Master.” Hekate gave a nod to punctuate the words before looking at Mihoshi to continue. “It seems that we haven’t stopped travelling for years. Always on some mission or other. I keep hoping to find a suitable kyber heart somewhere along the way, but…” They tilted their head, gazing off into the distance.

The spike connected to her datapad easily, Leena pacing between aisles of home decor and hooded sweatshirts. Oddly enough….or maybe indicitive of the ENvoy’s purview, there wasn’t any security feeds that she could see. Maybe they didn’t have any, or maybe they were smartly segregated into a different system. Either way, it was a dead end for her at the moment. So another trail must be followed. She bounced back to the top domain and almost grinned.

A few fingertaps would get her into port control, and from there she could probably see the registrations of everyone there. Then it was just a matter of sorting out which one that the woman had been flying around on. A few keystrokes and a light crack later, the list populated under her eyes. She paused beside a rack of plush animals, meant for kids that she hadn’t seen any of on the station. Weird, that. She wondered for a moment if there were ever any kids through the place. The soft-frozen dairy stand would have indicated so, and the bronze statuette of the oversized cartoonish tailring would have said so, but her experience differed.

Rolling down the list, Leena bit back a curse. This would be complicated. She didn’t have enough context clues to narrow it down if it wasn’t registered in their personal name. Three of the ships were under obvious aliases, unless ‘Duke Ebony BloodKnight’ wasn’t an edgelord’s wet dream. Two more were registered to the Envoys, and one to the Clan of Jedi that somehow threw their lot in with Arx. Acrid built up behind her tongue, her mind immediately recalling her time with the Nephilim, the pain of New Tython, and all the blood she had left in the grass and sands there.

Fast fingers tapped the side buttons, downloading the list to local storage, then another keystroke and a copy was sent to her secure server. It paid to have backups. Two was one, One was none, as the boss always…said? Thought? Tele-what? Leena shook her head briefly, focusing. There wouldn’t be time for reading through all this now. She had to get more details while she could. Tilting her stride back past the entrance, deft fingers slipped along the wall, casually retreiving her spike in ways that she thought no one would notice, breathing a slow sigh of relief once she was a few feet away.

Moving back toward the caf station, she spied Hekate, sitting at the same table with the three. “Oh gods.”

Mihoshi tilted her head to the side, listening to Hekate. The being’s voice had an oddly soothing quality to it for the Odanite. “Kyber heart? Wasn’t there something like that on Jedha?”

Xin and Adenn nodded slightly, watching Hekate curiously. “Perhaps there might be,” Xin said softly.

“Some still on Ilum?” Adenn finished. “Or perhaps…”

Miho sighed softly and shook her head. “Will you two stop it?” She turned to Hekate with a smile. “There are still places where they can grow. Perhaps I can get you a pass from the High Councillor to explore the caves on Kaerls if none of the others pan out.”

Mihoshi thought about her friend and mentor Masahiro with a smile. “I don’t see why he would mind, but appropriate channels and everything, you understand.”

Glancing up, Mihoshi gestured towards the Twi'lek an eyebrow rising. “Your friend seems to be coming this way.”

Hekate dipped their head a bit. “I think Ilum is bare. After the First Order’s work, anyway. But I have seen Ilum crystals. Even held some in my hands. My Master has quite the collection. I’ve been around thousands of kybers. Yet none have sung to me, like my Master has said the right one would.” They paused, casting their gaze downward. “And I want my first saber to be perfect.” Shifting in their seat, the apprentice looked up again. “Perhaps…” Their head turned. “Perhaps Leena can help?”.

“Help with what?” Leena paused in her gait, eyes taking in the others again for a heartbeat before continuing toward them. Her eyes scanned them, searching for something between them, on their clothes or even their skin that would be a marker, clan affiliation, something that she could file away to help narrow the search down. Coming to a stop a few feet away, she swallowed hard then mustered as much of a smile as she could as she introduced herself. “Leena'shylow, but call me Leena, please. Hoping that my friend here isn’t bothering you fine folks.”

Mihoshi smiled and gave Leena a slight wave from the far side of the booth. “These are Adenn and Xin, my bodyguards and general nuisances. I’m called Mihoshi, but please just use Miho, the current Warmaster of Odan-Urr.”

She gestured to the table with a smile. “Please, join us.”

Miho turned back to Hekate, her smile still bright and cheery. “Your master is absolutely correct. When you find the right one, it sings in your very soul. The journey is long and arduous at times, but even the weakest will find their crystal.”

Violet eyes turned towards Leena, curious but restrained. “Hekate has been telling me they are searching and travelling in hopes of finding a kyber heart. If I can be of any assistance, I would be glad to help a new friend.”

Her eyes hardened only slightly for a moment - there and gone again - as she watched the purple-skinned woman. “We should always try to help our friends, yes?”

“Of course.” Leena pulled a chair up next to Hekate. “Why else have them?” She made a willful choice to shift her gaze from the Warmaster. Odan Urr. The Jedi of New Tython. Dread crept up her spine. What need had Jedi of a Warmaster, anyway? To manage the mercenaries of Ordo, of Raidoner? To grant succor and cover to fiends like Halcyon, Quon-Shen? Leena shuddered the feeling off. She had kept telling the boss that the Brotherhood was dramatically different since they had left that she had forgotten to believe it herself. She blinked her own eyes, shifting her gaze from one Nagai to the other. “To be completely fair, our travels have not been exclusively dedicated to Hekate’s search.” She leaned back in the chair, trying to force a posture of ease, hoping it would seep into her mind. “Not that we’ve avoided the opportunities.”

Hekate nodded. “As I mentioned, were I less choosy…” The noise that came from them could have been a cough or a groan. It came through as a chorus, same as her voice, tripartite. Harmonious and yet discordant. “But any assistance would be welcome.”

Elsewhere, in a small transport ship slowly descending to alight in the docking bay, J’Kast began to struggle to his feet. Long periods of spaceflight never left him feeling better than before, and he was ready to be on solid (if orbital) footing. After finally planting a foot on The Shame Corner, the aging Sith slowly cracked his neck with a stretch to the left, raised his hood, and deliberately – at only a medium pace – made his way toward the bar and dining area to find a firm, sturdy seat.

J’Kast was pale – one got the sense it wasn’t from the nausea. And his blue eyes, if you caught a glimpse of them, seemed to be fading away into their whites. He had been here before, but it had been decades earlier. “The more things change,” he mumbled to himself, “the more they seem to stay the same.”

A spiderweb decoration caught his attention on the walk, and he gave it an uncharacteristic smile.

Finally at one of the long benches that he awkwardly pulled closer to its table, he pressed his elbows into the surface in front of him, folded his hands in front of his face and began to think about the tasks ahead. His priorities were clear: Jerkey. Caf. Regroup. Get back on track.

The young woman nodded with a smile. She liked Hekate, confused more than a little by them but the company was far more enjoyable than some she could remember from her past. Not that she had all that many to really choose from.

“You are not the one who is being overly choosey, Hekate. It takes time to find the right companion. If it were easy it wouldn’t have been referred to as a Trial, hm?”

Mihoshi felt a sense of uneasiness as she watched Leena though. A curiosity, but also a…sense of something. A forgotten harmony, a song half remembered. The way the Twi'lek spoke, the way she handled herself reminded her of someone.

Someone long gone.

Mihoshi smiled again and it felt as though she were trying to bend stone. “As I mentioned earlier, Hekate, I will speak with the High Councillor to see if I can acquire a pass for you to visit the caves on Kaerls.” She turned back to Leena, the smile still brittle as though filled with jagged emotional scars. “I’m sure you would be welcome as well if you would give us a frequency we can reach you at.”

There was a sadness that Leena picked up behind Miho’s smile. Nodding, the Twi'lek slipped her datapad from an inner pocket of her cropped vest. “Certainly. I can link you, if that works.” She flipped through the menus, coming to a stop on a channel delineator, the frequencies that she had linked to her comms and the Theta-class displayed on screen. She flipped the screen around, sliding it toward one of the Nagai, assuming that one of the help would take it down.

There were too many questions, and so many would have to wait for answers. Leena adjusted, meeting Mihoshi’s gaze. The longer she looked at her, the more it twisted in her head. Each passing moment made her less sure that it was a work, a trap set for the largest possible prey. There was too much undercurrent. For a moment, Leena considered dropping her facade, to put it all out there and taste the air in ways that only happened when she drank so deeply of the Force.

But that was it wasn’t it? That was how you set that snare. That was how you baited that trap. The games that the monsters played were cold, harsh, brutal. Leena took a long breath, then held it for just as long, calming herself. If it was a scheme, she had to be on her game. She looked back up, seeing the woman’s eyes, echoing through her psyche. Damn it, if only he was here himself.

Hekate tilted their head. It hadn’t occured to them that it could be considered a trial all on it’s own. “That’s a great way of looking at it. A trial.” They tapped their fingers on the table for a moment, optical sensors seemingly considering the remaining caf in their cup. “Thank you for that.”

The Herald of Entropy pulled smoothly into the docking bay of the station, Alex feathering the controls as he made the now-familiar approach. While his business didn’t often take him this direction in the galaxy, it was frequent enough that he had become comfortable with this place as much as he was anywhere for terribly long. With a slight bump, the ship settled onto its landing struts and Alex began powering down its systems. It had been a while since he had flown anywhere truly solo, but there was much business to be taken care of back at Hod Haran’s Folly and Alex had felt a bit guilty about leaving Lady Raileera to handle it all alone so the valet droid had stayed behind to act as his agent.

A quick trip toward the aft of the ship brought him to his chambers, where a tailoring droid - scarcely more than a few machine arms and a rudimentary operating system really, but a droid nonetheless - was busy putting the finishing touches on a new outfit. With a recent change in his position, Alex had decided it was also time for an update in wardrobe to reflect his new role. It definitely wasn’t just an excuse to get a whole pile of new outfits. Definitely not.

A few short minutes later, the ramp lowered and a tall man in a freshly-tailored outfit strode forth toward the bar. A wide-collared coral orange blazer and matching slacks adorned with a dewback-hide belt buckled in polished brass, worn over an ice blue button-up shirt - though the term was extremely loose seeing as the shirt was unbuttoned all the way to just below his sternum - and complemented by a selection of gold chains worn about the neck. Beneath the coat sleeves, the shirt was cinched to his wrists by the bracers of his Mandalorian armor, and a pair of extremely shiny patent leather Oxfords sat just below the matte black greaves decorated in silver and gold ornamentation. The entire outfit was topped with a cream white Panama hat with a hatband matched in color to the shirt. A stark and standout outfit which drew a bit of attention as he approached the bar.

“I would like a-” Before he could even finish speaking, a glass of abrax was laid on the bartop before him. Apparently he was enough of a stand-out figure that he was remembered here, even amidst all the constant comings-and-goings a station like this must see. Placing a small pile of credits on the table he lifted the glass and tilted it toward the bartender in appreciation before taking a long sip of the slightly sweet alcohol which slowly evolved into a more earthy, almost wooden flavor.

Adenn, or maybe it was Xin, took down the information and added it to a pad procured from a pocket of their own. With a nod, the Nagai gestured to Leena she was finished. Miho watched the encounter, her attention back on Hekate. “Everything about life can be seen through that lens. Being left behind twenty years ago with nothing but cultists surrounding me, spending time in stasis, these make me who I am. The scared little girl was burned away through the fires of life. Tempered to be what I am now.”

The smile was still a little sad, but completely genuine. “I have no doubt, Hekate. You will find the one for you. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow. But, don’t be disheartened by failures.”

Miho winked at the being, letting that fondness override her own thoughts. “I’m sure even your master has his own failures he wishes hadn’t happened, but they did and even he grew because of them.”

Adenn spoke softly to her employer. “Councillor Ke…Miho,” she began before Xin took up the rest. “That is not our business either.”

The same Human nodded and smiled at the Nagai. “Of course, you’re right. Other people’s troubles are private things.” She smiled at Hekate with her hands held out, palms up in a gesture of supplication of sorts. “Forgive me, Hekate. I forgot myself.”

Maybe it’s time to forgive yourself, part of her mind said in the silence of her mind. She turned her gaze to Leena, the smile not as forced as it was. “And what about you, Leena? What else do you travel for if not just for kyber hunting?”

The Human’s curiosity seemed to be exactly that. The feeling of someone genuinely trying to learn about others they were spending some time with. Why did she keep feeling like she was missing something about the Twi'lek though? Maybe just one more answer would unlock the truth of that feeling.

The Zabrak returned the smile as he met the server’s eyes.

“I am quite well, my friend.”

The Sith took a deep inhale of the steam rising off of the caf. It had notes of chocolate and a nuttiness that was just vague enough to be clearly defined but strong enough to be noted. The addition of the gourd-spice aromatics served to only enhance the pre-existing flavor notes.

As he exhaled, he looked out the window of the diner and spoke again. “The energy of this place is…intoxicating. Full of life, but not so heavy to be suffocating, like Coruscant or… Nar Shadaa.” His nose wrinkled at the mention of the latter.

“How are you?”

Frenek steadied the old, clunky delivery cruiser, pulling in for a landing outside of The Shame Corner in a stall used for refueling. He looked over at the female Zeltron who sat beside him—the passenger princess herself. “This job’ll just take a moment—promise—then it’ll be off to wherever you’re taking that amazing instrument of yours,” Frenek said, gesturing towards her seven-string hallikset.

Exiting the vehicle, Frenek began refueling. He watched idly as shoppers filed in to The Shame Corner. No, that wasn’t quite right—they were dressed a bit too well to be shoppers—were they guests? Was there some kind of event going on? With his delivery cruiser still refueling, he went to its loading bay to consult the holographic data pad for this cargo delivery:

Delivery Code: B82-AR-Q2 Destination: The Shame Corner Instructions: Deliver cargo to The Shame Corner service entrance. Cargo is to be set up in the event kitchen for immediate use in the Hallowthankseening proceedings. Confirm receipt with store employees.

Ah, so this was the event Syrena had mentioned. Way to kill two womp rats with one stone! he thought with a grin. He tugged at the collar of the buttoned-up linen shirt that he had donned for the occasion, before simply undoing the top buttons.

After the vehicle had finished refueling, Frenek eagerly hauled his shipment to the service entrance of the Shame Corner, requesting a quick signature from a passing employee. The first steel crate was filled to the brim with assorted bubbling sodas and pastries—normal party fare. However, he noticed a second crate, tucked in the back of the loading bay, that didn’t seem to have been specified in his datapad. Frenek carried the smaller steel crate back to the kitchen, trying to resist the urge to open it himself. He was halfway back to the vehicle when curiosity got the better of him. He crept back into the kitchen and pried the steel crate open. Inside was a cluster of glowing green mushrooms. Staring at the contraband, he realized that these weren’t just any mushrooms… these were Fantazi mushrooms. He glanced around quickly, before pocketing a handful.

When Frenek’s clunky delivery cruiser haphazardly pulled up to the station, a Zeltron female lounged in the passenger seat, elegant legs stretched out before her in a relaxed posture. “Look, I know you have a job to do… But I really don’t want to be late to another show,” She sighed, though nodded once Frenek offered her reassurance. “Ah well, as long as we make this quick– Wait a moment,” She suddenly paused, casting a glance down at the address provided on her tour sheet, and then back up at the space station known as The Shame Corner. “This can’t be right… Apparently, this is to be the location of my next show… A store?” Syrena began doubtfully, her full pink lips curving into a slight frown. Yet at the same time, she wasn’t surprised– As someone new to the music scene, her current tour consisted mostly of bookings at back-alley cantinas or bustling casinos beside the Sabacc tables. Either way, she intended on making the best of it.

“Ah, I’ll be out in just a moment… Gotta prepare,” Syrena nodded before ducking into the back of the vehicle, where a multi-tiered glass hookah was located. She took a deep inhale, letting the familiar sensation calm her nerves. A few moments later, as the vehicle doors slid open, the feminine silhouette of a Zeltron female emerged from a cloudy haze of purple smoke. “Alright… Now I’m prepared,” She sighed blissfully, with a relaxed look shimmering in her pale lavender eyes.

Syrena grabbed hold of her instrument, a sleek seven-string hallikset, before striding towards the bar. The heels of her metallic white stiletto boots lightly clicked against the ground with each step. She wore a form fitting black dress, short in length with a low neckline. Flowing semi-sheer sleeves draped to her wrists, the silky material shimmering as it caught in the light. Syrena’s cascade of pale pink hair fell in smooth waves to her waist, loosely swept over one shoulder. She perched herself atop a small stage near the bar, already beginning to tune each string of her instrument in preparation.

There it was. Speaking of her master’s failures. He certainly considered many things personal failures, even if he didn’t share them. He was notoriously private, doubly so in those contemplative moments, but she knew him all too well, and for entirely too long. Yet still, that was a loaded statement, a spot of insight that could betray someone with an axe to grind. The result of one of those failures, perhaps. Leena filed it away for later, to discuss with him.

The human turned to look at her. “And what about you, Leena? What else do you travel for if not just for kyber hunting?”

It was a fair question. To be honest, there wasn’t really a good answer. Aside from the occasional need required by the Lion’s famously opaque master plans, Leena was generally free to pursue whatever she wanted. It was a long road to get to that point in life, but she was going to enjoy it as best as she could. “Sometimes, the Boss has things for us to handle, but mostly? Trying to find old droid parts to fix an old friend.” Leena paused, her mind flinging toward the image of BT-R3, the astromech that felt trapped in a combat chassis. It had been years, and trying to add the old functionality back had been a challenge yet unresolved. “Some of the old solid state boards from the old republic have some tech that none of the current manufacturers bother with these days. Not profitable enough, too hard to mass produce. Buggy sometimes, but that’s part of the charm.”

Leena paused, taking a sip of caf. “How about yourself, Mihoshi? Mostly clan business?”

Mihoshi smiled and shrugged. “Some clan business. I have to keep track of our allies almost as much as our enemies.”

And because sitting still makes you remember.

The Human shook her head as she glanced at the Nagai twins. “Pragmatism, you understand. Someone once told me that bravery is a fine thing, but enemies can be anyone.”

She drew an imaginary circle on the table, placing a finger inside of it. “The Clan has few actual alliances.” Miho traced a line away from the first circle and mixed another on the surface. “We have Arcona who has served admirable as an ally for many years now according to our archives.”

She glanced up at Leena, making sure attention was on her. “We had other alliances of convenience such as one with Naga Sadow, but it fell away like so many things.”

The small Human shrugged and looked at the table, her violet eyes seeing things not actually there. “Maybe one day those will exist again and I won’t have to worry too much about external threats.”

Miho looked back up, seeing if Leena understood. "That is what my job mostly is. Considering possible alliances and enemies and trying to find ways to avoid it.” Violet eyes hardened. “And if it can’t be avoided, to crush them without mercy. My job is to do what the Order cannot or will not.”

Leena nodded slowly. She was no stranger to the evershifting complexities of clan politics, unfortunately. Avoiding those pitfalls had become a primary motivation for her in the years following her leaving the Nephilim. Well, as much as anyone truly left the Nephilim. She sat the cup down, looking at the woman. “I much prefer operating outside of the clan structure. Less…” She fluttered her hand around in a nebulous gesture, then stilled it, raising an eyebrow. “You know?”

Hekate tilted their head at that comment, optical sensors brightening for a moment. “We’ve spent some time in Sadow space. There’s remarkably good noodles at Squeek’s place.” They paused for a moment, turning to look at the twins.

“They’re not bad. We’ve had better.” Leena let the smile cross her face. “But not bad for a work trip.”

“I think I heard that Squeek’s is moving from Dentavii to Inos for the new station that they’re building.” Hekate rambled, their hands lifting the cup of caf and setting it down a few times in succession. Leena’s arched eyebrow turned toward them for a moment. “I imagine that you might be able to try some when that is done.”

“If you ever find yourself in Sadow space, that is.” Leena shifted her gaze, watching for any change in the woman’s expression.

Miho nodded slightly, perfectly understanding the desire for less political chicanery even though she herself couldn’t avoid it usually. Listening to Leena continue, she perked up slightly at the mention of noodles.

“I’ll be sure to make my way there. Should I find myself in that direction.” Should she mention knowledge of a territory she didn’t belong to anymore?

With a shake of her head, Miho grinned. “It’s been a long time since I had good noodles. I’m trying to teach some of the chefs on Solyiat the different ways I know to make them, but it’s slow progress.”

Mihoshi pulled a small data pad from inside her white haori, barely revealing the stylized snake head on her shoulder. A few taps brought her to a direct contact freq.

She held the pad out between Hekate and Leena, not sure which one would take down the information. “If you ever find yourself in the Nilgaard Sector, perhaps they’ll have worked it out. If not, the beaches near Baime do not disappoint.”

Leena took the datapad carefully, sliding her own back out onto the table to copy the contact information. “Beaches and noodles. Sounds like a potent mixture, especially if they have some of those great little hot peppers.” She flicked the frequencies into her contact file, then spun the datapad back to her. “Maybe I can convince you to hook me up with your artist, while we’re at it.” Leena smiled, pointing first at her own shoulder, then at the swirls of black ink on her hand that transitioned into a circuitry pattern on her forearm. “Hard to find good work these days. Doc would certainly spend enough creds to keep them in business.” She chuckled.

Mihoshi accepted the pad again and smiled softly with a shrug. She looked at the work done in Leena with and wide smile. “Fun, aren’t they?”

She thought for a moment before she shrugged again. “I was the artist for mine. A memory from….” Kyataru, the unspoken word caused her expression to dim slightly. “Long ago. The work was done by a hatchetman with a heavy hand out in the unknown about five years ago. Still have a few gouge scars near my waist from him.”

Mihoshi schooled her face back to happiness and gestured to her back. “It goes all the way down my back too. Who’s Doc? Another friend of yours?”

“Yeah.” Leena watched her expression shift, then mirrored her mirth with a chuckle. “Taka Kuroshin, Best medic I think in the Nihilgenia. Hence ‘Doc’. Loves getting inked. I imagine he’ll run out of skin eventually.”

“Knowing Doc, he’d find a way to grow more just for the sake of having more to get artwork on.” Hekate chirped, finally lifting the caf and pouring the last bit down their aperture.

Mihoshi started visibly at that name. Kuroshin. No one would know that name. No one should know them. Her secrets. “How do you know….”

“Forgive me, but I just remembered something that…needs to be…seen to.” Her voice was hushed, almost scared.

The Twins, sensing the smaller woman’s distress, were on their feet immediately, scanning the surrounding area as Miho tried several times to escape the booth before succeeding.

The heat of the flames kissed her skin. She was trapped behind a burning wall, screaming with her mother’s blood splashed on her clothes. Fire licked at small sockshoed feet as she tried to find a way - any way - away from the death that awaited her.

She was on her feet and moving, violet eyes seeing nothing but the past.

He was there, green eyes filled with fury. A fury she would remember for years to come. Nekura. Safety, but sadness. Peace, but rage. They spent years on the run, hiding because they would never stop hunting.

And now she was alone. Her family was dead, finally hunted down. What other reason was there? They would never have given up searching. K'hamar'a and its cult had made her an orphan and now, now those wounds on her soul were tearing open again. There was no one left to save her this time, no one…

The Shame Corner was a blur as the twins actually had to work on keeping up with their much smaller charge. “Mihoshi,” Adenn said with some alarm.

“Wait!” Xin finished.

Leena’s eyes darted from Mihoshi as she darted away to her Nagai attendants in pursuit. There was a lot to unpack, and she played back the last few sentences in her own mind as she stood up. A fear of surgery could be rational for someone who had to be cut on to masquerade as bait, but that didn’t seem right.

“Was it something I said?” Hekate asked in low tones as they too found their feet.

Leena shook her head, her left lekku sliding down her shoulder with the movement. Obviously they weren’t weirded out by tattoos, otherwise she wouldn’t have them or talk about them that way. The Nihilgenia? The word itself wouldn’t strike that sort of visceral reaction, except in someone who really wasn’t a threat. Which led her back to Doc. Leena’s pupils dilated.

No, Taka Kuroshin.

Nihilgenia were called that because they were initially all clones, before the Keibatsu returned. ‘Never Born’. Issued with serial numbers instead of names, that never sat well with the Lion. He insisted that they take a new tradition, along with the pay and rights that the soldiers earned with so much blood and sweat. They were instrumental to the Keibatsu’s return to Kyataru, after all. They began to create names for themselves, choosing whatever first name that they liked, and taking the surname based on the first place they saw combat.

Doc’s first contact with the enemy was at the ruin of Kuroshin.

The ancestral home of the Keibatsu, razed at the same time that they were all orphaned.

Scattered to the winds, left for dead, it seemed that everything they did since then was just preamble to their return to take it back, to rebuild it. It was where they invariably would end up when they returned to Kyataru. It was where Manji brewed his alcohol, it was where Shikyo trained his men. It was where Muz helped Kojiro build his armor. It was home for them.

That reaction.

Leena stopped, her ear cones seeming to throb with her pulse. Hands produced a comm. He had to know.

Who were they? Did they know who she was? Did they think she was someone who just thought her name sounded exotic? She hoped for the latter, but the fear that had always been inside her screamed that they knew. She needed to run, run, RUN.

She had made it to the shuttle. She was safe. The Twins had entered only a few pacs behind her in time to watch the smaller woman begin to collapse. Adenn caught her and placed her gently in one of the chairs of the main compartment.

“Sister, get us” She began.

Xin nodded, “Out of here.”

“To Kiast, pilot.” She said in the intercom. The entire time, Mihoshi stared blankly at nothing, trying desperately to drag the scraps of sanity back where they belonged. The years of isolation, the years spent frozen, everything washed over her like frigid flood waters. She had to find the truth. She had to know.

But, she was going armed for battle. First, she would get herself back together again and then…

Home.

As the telltale sounds of an instrument being tuned drifted toward him from nearby, Alex’s eyebrow cocked in curiosity. As the proprietor of several music venues aboard a luxury resort space station, he was always on the lookout for musical acts to contact and book. After all, an empty music hall served nobody’s needs. He stood from the bar, heavily-poured glass of abrax clutched gently in his grip as he meandered through the various tables and other patrons of the bar to take up a position at a table directly in front of the stage in order to give himself an unobstructed view. He leaned the chair back to a precarious angle and took a long, smooth sip of his drink as he waited for the show to start.

Reiden had just stepped off the boarding ramp of his ship when he spotted a small woman rushing past, followed closely behind by two larger ones. There was the briefest flash or recognition in his mind at the former, though he couldn’t put a finger on why, or the where. It seemed a strange sight, but perhaps they were running late or simply eager to continue on whatever journey they were taking. In any case, it was of little concern to him at the moment. He was in need of some caf, and the Shame Corner always had some of the best, or so he had heard from multiple sources. Then again, maybe something stronger was in order. Or both. Both was good.

He turned back to the ramp, a slight scowl on his face. “That’s the last time I listen to you when you tell me that a job will be easy. You always say that, and it almost always turns out to be just so wrong. Really, it’s my fault. I trust you too much. I never learn. But no more.” Reiden gave an exasperated sigh as he turned around to face the entrance to the station, slowly setting off. “It’s like you jinxed it by even saying that.”

Truthfully, he didn’t mind a challenge. He was more than capable of handling himself and taking care of most things sent his way. Challenges kept things interesting as well. But what got to him was being lured out with the promise of an easy job to switch things up and make some extra credits and having that turn out to be a bigger thing than originally thought. That, and having it happen repeatedly. Unlike his friend, he did have other responsibilities to take care of that occupied his time. Working jobs was just something he liked to do on the side.

Orion’s laugh could be heard echoing slightly from within the ship before he stepped out as well. “Hey, it’s not my fault things went sideways. Sometimes people change things up at the last minute. Sometimes the intel is wrong or incomplete, and often you won’t know until it’s too late, even if you look into it yourself. Sometimes, like this job, things just go bad. Nothing you can do about it. But we got it done, yeah? So don’t worry so much, Rei.”

“I’m not worried, I’m annoyed. Although…” he paused for a moment, considering things, “it was fun, I’ll give you that much.”

After collecting the Fantazi mushrooms, Frenek shortly received notice on his data pad from Syrena, that he was needed for a performance. After ambling his way towards the bar, he spotted her tuning her instrument. For a long moment, Frenek watched from afar, admiring her grace and summoning the courage within himself to step up onstage. Frenek wore many hats, but his drummer hat was new and he was unsure if he’d fully broken it in.

After heading behind the bar, he began to roll a couple of empty steel barrels and crates atop the stage. With a nod towards the gentleman sipping a glass of abrax, Frenek slipped out scuffed wooden drum sticks from his tool belt and began to strike the crates experimentally, searching for the best tone. Just then, he noticed another name on the set list. “The more, the merrier!” He nodded to Syrena as they awaited the arrival of Nash, pausing to eat one of the Fantazi mushrooms. “Maybe he’ll be interested in one of these…" Frenek couldn’t help but wonder aloud, waiting for the effects to kick in. Greeting the audience as they prepared to start the show, he gave the spin of his drumstick in one hand.

The female paused, having sent a brief message to Frenek through her datapad: Need ya onstage, your drum expertise is needed if you catch my drift. Once she was certain her instrument was properly tuned, she connected it to an amplifier. Her silvery gaze grew focused for a moment, as Syrena gestured with the fluid wave of her hand, causing three mics to be lowered down towards the makeshift stage. The elegant line of her brow rose in mild confusion as she glanced back at the set list, though that confusion quickly shifted to delight as Syrena noticed something new. “We’re going to be playing with Nash? He’s a really big name,” She commented, almost not believing their luck.

Syrena watched in intrigue as Frenek set up several empty steel containers as drums, glad that his handiness in engineering always seemed to come in use at the most unexpected of times. Besides, she was certain that the metallic sound of the improvised instrument would prove useful when it came to playing the genre of Gonkrock, which Syrena was already aware was one of Nash’s specialties, along with the added flourishes of Sinfonial and Dusk that she planned on infusing into the music. When Frenek pulled out a Fantazi mushroom, she couldn’t help but smirk and silently mouthed the words to him, “Save some for me.”

Seeing that they already had at least one audience member, an elegantly dressed man with a beverage in hand, Syrena greeted him with a relaxed wave. Grabbing hold of the mic in one hand, she adjusted her seven-string hellikset over one shoulder and took to the stage. “Good evening, Shame Corner! We’re thrilled to be here, let’s have some fun and make this a night to remember,” Syrena began to greet the bar, as they awaited the arrival of Nash.

<@160141735354171394>

It took no more than a few moments after the announcement for Jackson Nash to round the corner from the dock. He gripped his instrument by the neck, jogging down the hall of the station towards the makeshift setup. It wasn’t the largest of venues he’s played by any means. As he eyed the single person standing ready for the performance, he concluded that it wouldn’t be the Smallest he’s preformed either.

He slowed down before reaching the edge of the stage and slung a strap over his head, letting the weight of the six string rest there as he hopped up onto the stage with both feet at once. He flashed a bright smile to the other two and flicked his head back, neon hair flying through the air not unlike a holocommercial. “Sorry, I would have been here earlier but the Grazing Banthas outside caused a bit of traffic.”

The unseriousness of his excuse was matched with a grin of equal weight as he Jacked a cord into the faceplate of his instrument with a fluid, practiced motion. He was decked out in his normal show attire, but elected to keep his top on and only sported the skeletal face paint that paired with the glowing bone tattoos along his arms and hands. He looked up at the other two again as he seemed to automatically go through a series of sound tests, cybernetic fingers plucking softly at each string. “How’re you all feeing? Oh - name’s Pulse. Nash works too, I don’t mind”

“‘Pulse’—I like the sound of that!” Frenek shouted over the already gathering noise of his makeshift drums, as he began to play, signaling the start of their performance. He looked down at his drumsticks now, feeling the rhythm behind each hit, swaying ahead and behind the beat like a pendulum—throwing in a fill here, accenting a hit there, and occasionally resting as though to allow the other musicians to shine through on their own. Frenek had learned over his years of drumming that silence was just as important as sound, and that what was there could be accentuated by what wasn’t.

During a brief pause, he looked back up and gave a dazed grin to the gentleman who had originally constituted their entire audience. It only took one drop to make a ripple. Ripples… he could see them now emanating from each tap of the drum stick. Colors… he could hear them now reflecting off the illuminated strings of Syrena’s instrument and the glowing bone tattoos belonging to Nash. He had gauged the dose of his Fantazi mushrooms well.

<@607619766752116771> <@160141735354171394>

Glancing over at Nash, a look of amusement shimmered in her pale lavender gaze. “Oh yeah, gotta watch out for those Grazing Banthas man,” She said with a light laugh, curiously eyeing his glowing skeletal tattoos as he began sound testing. Those are sick, I should definitely get some myself one day, The Zeltron female couldn’t help but think to herself. “Well, we’ve certainly heard a lot about you. Your reputation precedes you. I’m Syrena, and that’s Frenek Mausma. Feelin’ absolutely great,” She said away from the mic with a slight smirk, gesturing behind her to where the drummer was already beginning to play a few beats.

Syrena fell silent for a moment, as if only to focus on the starting rhythms, lightly tapping the heel of her stiletto boot to the beat. She cast a glance over at Nash and gave a slight nod, signaling that it seemed they were ready to start. Syrena stood beside her bandmates, her shimmering black dress and the icy pink hues of her hair catching in the fluorescent glow of the spotlights overhead. Leaning in close to one of the mics, her voice emerged, velvety smooth yet with a tangible grit as she began to belt the first few soaring lyrics of a Sith-inspired Gonkrock song:

“Vexok savaka, jen saarai, hyal asha, Through victory, my chains are broken Vexok savaka, hyal asha…”

Her silvery gaze burned with a certain intensity as she began to sing, focusing on the striking melody.

<@160141735354171394> <@1292362530299183208>

Nash took a side position flanking and back two steps from Syrena. His bright orange cyber eyes watched the drummer carefully, his ear tuned into the vocals coming from the Zeltron next to him. He nodded along, catching on quickly with the vibe of the lyrics even if he couldn’t understand all of them. He started slow, giving Syrena a solid backing with a distinct enough trill that wasn’t too complicated.

He would have preferred a session or two of practice with them, but wasn’t too upset with having to learn their style by ear. It was exciting, after all. It wouldn’t do to be Bored while playing music, so he leaned into the spontaneous. His makeup and tattoos weren’t too obvious in the light of the stage but they did add a slight hypnotic visual to the way his fingers struck at the strings.

Nash followed the other two’s lead, studying how they progressed through the song so he could plan for the next that would come.

Frenek launched into a thunderous beat, one that matched the pace of his bandmates, adding to the energy of the song. He threw his head back to the beat, drumsticks tightly gripped in each hand. As the song progressed, he lowered the volume of his playing to steady thump, allowing for the power of Syrena’s vocals and the fluid precision of Nash’s six-string playing to shine through.

They had reached a steady groove, one that Frenek had lost himself to in the heat of the performance, while still maintaining some semblance of control, always keeping to the rhythm. He rose one arm in the air, spinning his drumstick, only bring it heavily down upon the steel drum, signaling the end of the first song. Frenek shifted to look over at both Nash and Syrena with an enthusiastic grin, “That was awesome.”

<@160141735354171394> <@607619766752116771>

Passengers shuffled in their seats as the strip lighting slowly brightened to illuminate the aisles of the mostly empty intersystem commuter shuttle.

“We have arrived at our refueling stop, The Shame Corner. This stop will only be for thirty minutes, if you’re not back by then, you’ll have to get on the next shuttle or find your own way home,” the voice of the shuttle’s captain announced through the overhead speakers.

Lorn looked around at his fellow passengers. Most of them were getting up and stretching, a few decided to ignore the captain’s announcement and continue napping or reading. He considered his options, on the one hand he had been cooped up on this shuttle for hours and could do with a good stretch and a drink. On the other hand there were people out there, and he didn’t particularly like people. At least on the shuttle the people were quiet and kept to themselves. A dull ache in his lower back prompted Lorn to move down the aisle and out into the station proper. He wasn’t too worried about someone snooping through his things, everything he traveled with was on him now.

The ragged edges of the Sith nomad’s cloak swirled around his ankles as he stepped out onto the hanger floor. A feeling of uneasiness passed over him as he took in the sight of the crowd of people aboard the Shame Corner. His hands reached up to adjust the intricately wrapped scarf draped over his head, making sure the hood was pulled down low and the lower half acting as a mask was pulled up high, leaving only a sliver of his face exposed and even that was hidden in shadows. The only defining features visible were his emerald eyes, shining from their place hidden in the shade cast by his hood as they surveyed the cacophonous scene. More than a dozen people of various ages and species made their way through the docking space, many of the younger ones appeared to be dressed in the garb of what appeared to be some ancient Sith cult.

Distracted by the strange gathering, Lorn failed to see the young robed figure until it was too late. The youth ran straight into his path causing a collision that ended with the youth knocked to the ground, his oversized black robes pooled around him. The youth quickly climbed to his feet and craned his neck to lock eyes with Lorn. The youths face was a mess of scars and wrinkles, the saggy skin gave the look of a face partially melted by intense heat. The youth’s anger was evident in his yellow eyes set within deep red rings.

“Hey mister, watch where you’re going or I’m going to have to unleash the unlimited power of the Dark Side!” He raised his hands limply in front of himself. “You’re dealing with a clone of the Emperor himself!!”

Lorn’s fists clenched at the mention of the Galactic Empire’s long dead leader.

“Tra’vis! Leave that poor man alone!” The miniature Palpatine’s mother rushed over. “Sorry about that sir, he’s very excited about his new costume.”

Lorn simply replied with a grunt and continued on, the sound of Gonkrock wafted through the station, growing louder as he made his way into the main section of the station.

Alex nodded along to the music as it flowed from the stage, closing his eyes briefly to really take it in. As the song progressed, he noticed a slight change to the drumming and considered the drummer more carefully. Reaching into his jacket, he extracted a datapad and started making a few notes.

Definitely vibes for MFUG if anywhere; a little morose with the stylings - though not in a bad way - but nobody comes to a hostess club to be sad. He looked up again as the song had reached the crescendo and was clearly going to be coming to an end soon. He paid careful attention to how the number wrapped up - decently impressive for musicians who obviously had been booked into this gig separately and not had time to rehearse together beforehand. He applauded politely for a controlled amount of time before turning back to his datapad. Definitely keep an eye on the drummer if they sign on as regulars. A little indulgence is fine, but it is very easy to go from ‘freeing your mind’ to ‘trapped in a hell of your own creation.’

As The Armistice End settled it’s shields, powered down its weapons, and listed into port, an annoyed Alexandyr looked to his brother-in-law, jaw set and tablet in hand.

“Something actually edible this time, a non-alcoholic drink, and get me some of their JERKY! I heard this place has AMAZING JERKY!” The younger Mandalorian shouted as Wulfram shook his head, heading towards the airlock.

“You know, you could get dressed in something more than boxers and a tanktop and just come inside. Meeting some people won’t kill you.”

“I met people with Siv at Baime, I don’t need to meet strangers in a gas station. Besides, someone needs to be here for refueling.” Their banter drew a chuckle from the now-retired War Councilor as he waited for the pressure between the airlock and the station to normalize, then strode into the docking platform, travelling down the short halls a moment before he checked his visor for air quality and removed his helmet and clipped it to his belt.

“I’ve seen some fancy loading stations, but—” He trailed off as he made his way into the storefront proper and the scent of the spiced foods and the gathering people caught him.

“No wonder it’s such a popular destination.”

Syrena swayed rhythmically to the beat of the drums, which were accented with the hypnotic quality of Nash’s six-string abilities She took a momentary pause from singing, giving her vocals a brief rest, and also to allow enough time for the musical craftsmanship of her current bandmates to shine through. Silky wisps of her long pink-toned hair flowed around her form with each movement, as she nodded her head to the pulse of the melody.

After the pause, Syrena leaned in close to the mic again, delivering the final notes, her velvety voice rising and falling with the song to give it an almost enchanting quality:

“Vexok savaka, hyal asha, The force shall free me…”

With the final verse delivered, Syrena tossed her head back with a smirk, casting a sideways glance at both Nash and Frenek. Even though they hadn’t had any time to practice beforehand, she knew that sometimes with the spontaneity of improvisation, that this sometimes made for more enthralling performances. Next, she cast her gaze towards the audience, taking the graceful form of a bow, though her gaze lingered curiously on the finely dressed gentleman with a datapad in hand. Syrena made the quick mental note that when their performances for the night came to an end, that perhaps it would be a good idea to introduce themselves to him.

She stepped away from the central mic, nodding towards Nash. “You wanna take the lead on this next one?” Syrena offered with a look of anticipation shimmering in her lavender gaze, eager to see what musical direction he would take them in for the next track.

<@160141735354171394> <@1292362530299183208>

Lorn walked past the musical performance lost in thought as the rhythms pulsed, leaving him deep in thought. That last line stuck with him…the Force shall free me. That was something that drove him through life, growing stronger in the Force, never feeling weak again, finally being free. He was on autopilot as he entered the diner, contemplating the song he just heard. The diner was a busy place, but luckily he was able to find an empty booth and slid into the seat. Picking up a menu, he glanced at his options.

The telltale ding of the diner door opening had nearly fallen into the background with each new customer of the Golden Griddle. But this time, it rang with a crystal clarity that pierced Karran’s focus on his current conversation with the waiter. It drew his good eye to look at the figure slipping through the door and into a booth. As the clarion bell continued to ring in the back of his mind, the tone dropped in pitch until it pulsed like a deep, slow, humming heartbeat that emanated from the new patron of The Golden Griddle.

“I must apologize, friend.” The Zabrak spoke without returning his eye to the waiter. “I have some business I must attend to at a different table. Please hold this table for me for five minutes. If I remain at the other, please bring my food.”

The Juggernaut rose to his full height and set a one-hundred credit chip down on the table, pressing it with his thumb. “Whether I return to this table or not, this is yours.”

Karran took long, purposeful strides across the diner until he found himself next to the newcomer. He eyed the man. His build was lean, but he could not see much beyond that beneath the ragged robes he wore.

“Through victory, my chains are broken.” The Sith did not know why those were the words that came out as he slid into the seat across the table from the stranger, but he knew them well. The penultimate line of the Sith Code. A mantra he had spoken thousands of times during the many hundreds of hours spent drilling forms and katas with his lightsaber. The same mantra that he had meditated on for cumulative weeks of his life.

Karran’s eyes stared unblinking at the Shaevalian across the table. One golden brown, the other a milky, unseeing white. Both carried an intensity of purpose, though the Zabrak himself did not yet know what that purpose was. But he had waited for the Force to deliver someone of interest, and he intended to listen.

“I highly recommend the caf. With gourd-spice.”

Lorn bowed his head in polite greeting to his unexpected guest. Lorne wasn’t particularly fond of company, especially the ones who invited themselves to join him. But, he had to admit, there was something about this massive Zabrak that drew him in. He studied the man across from him, he appeared to have faced many hard ships in his life, that was evident from the visible scars and milky white eye. But there was also the feeling of power emanating from the man and his choice of greeting, using the Sith code to make introductions was certainly a bold choice.

“The caf sounds…agreeable. It has been a long journey. Now, to what do I owe this chance encounter?”

“Curiosity. Boredom. The Force. Any mix of the three. I sensed your presence and followed my feelings.”

The one-eyed Sith examined the smaller figure. As he did, he felt a slight stutter in his twin hearts. The arrhythmia came with an ache in his chest, but passed almost as quickly as it came.

“I could feel the power pouring off of you as you walked in. This was enough to at least investigate. You are clearly no ordinary traveler. Which brings me to my first question. Who are you?”

“Me?” he thought for a moment. “I’ve asked myself that countless times. I am nobody. Just a weary nomad searching for a place for my self in the chaos of the galaxy. Though, that may be a more existential answer to your question than you were anticipating. I suppose you’d like to know my name. You can call me Lorn. I am only here on a rest stop, I am on my way to see a new…friend I suppose you could call them.”

A gentle tingling in her tail spread through her body as it developed into a full shiver. The tall woman turned around so fast that her form turned into a blur. The thick latex gown clicked and snapped against itself as it caught up with her sudden pirouette. Her claws fanned out and relaxed just as soon. She was expecting to look down, just not this far down.

“Mistress? Do I know you? Do you caress your tail against the tails of others, before diving down to the floor every time you meet them?” Aphotis’s judgemental voice was stern but laced with a hint of mischievous curiosity.

Her glowing eyes studied the stranger, their light illuminating her long dark lashes. She would have known if she had run into this one before, he stood out far too much. This specimen had many admirable feats that she admired, a tail, beautiful spots, stunning hair, but he was incomplete. A work in progress perhaps? Or an incredible fluke perchance?

Tir'eivra’s tail swerved left and right, twitching every now and then as muscle memory reminded it to keep close to the rest of her body, lest it risk being touched again, or worse, be contaminated by a stray hair.

<@244244163002892288>

Karran’s eyes suddenly narrowed. His good eye, golden brown, focused intently on the face in front of him as he leaned forward slightly.

“My father used to say that no man is nobody. The mightiest king and the lowest pauper find themselves on equal ground when returned to the sand.”

The Zabrak relaxed and straightened his back. Allowing his bulk to press back into the cushion of the booth.

“He also said to never trust someone who claims humility or grandiosity when you know the contrary to be true. Pride is no sin, but arrogance is a weakness. To be humble is a virtue, but to present it in falsehood is in bad faith.”

Karran presented his right hand, palm forward with fingers spread, then slowly moved it to just beneath the table. He shifted, as if removing something from a pocket, then laid a cylinder on the table. Just over two-and-a-half of his hands long, covered in ornate carved bone and wrapped in strips of interwoven pebbled leather from what appeared to be a reptile. At one end, a large fang extended, at the other, a solid disc of bone, also engraved with ornate carvings. The Zabrak gave the object one quarter-twist and removed the inner workings from the casing to reveal a crystal chamber. From the crystal chamber, he plucked a spherical stone. It was smooth, a deep red with pearlescent swirls. Finally, he set the stone at the center of a cloth napkin on the table.

“Let us be entirely honest with each other.”

“Honesty? Hmph. That is something sorely lacking in this galaxy.” Lorn glared across the table. “You ask for honesty and I have been nothing but honest. You say no man is nobody, that may be true, but maybe that is how I see myself. Do you deny me my truth?”

Lorn reached his hand into his sleeve and removed his own lightsaber, following the Zabrak’s lead and placed a black Kyber crystal so dark it seemed to absorb the light around it onto the table between them. He sat back in his seat and crossed his arms, his voice dropping to a low growl.

“But I will play along. I do not claim humility nor do I feign pride, and I am not weak. I am a purveyor of justice, a breaker of chains, a voice for those who are not allowed to speak out. Now, I believe I have answered your question, though maybe not to your satisfaction, and I think it’s my turn to ask. Who are you? Who are you to judge me? You speak of virtues and honesty and humility, so what makes you better than me or anyone else?”

Karran smiled. Not a smile of cruelty, or malicious glee. It was a true, genuine smile of wholesome satisfaction. That was the correct answer.

“My answer is very close to yours. I am Karran Val'teo. First and Last son of Kar and Batii Val'teo. I bear the Lotus with pride. I stand with you in breaking the chains of the downtrodden. May no slaver stand in my presence.”

The smile slowly faded as the initial satisfaction of the interaction smoothed.

“As for who I am to judge? I offer no judgement of you. I cannot, without having known you by your actions. But your words have told me much. As did the way you spoke them. You are right to feel as you do.”

The Zabrak let his words hang in the air for a moment before he continued. “I should like to spar with you. If you consent to crossing our blades with no ill intent.”

Nash slid into his new position at the central microphone with a smirk. He cast his glowing amber gaze back at the drummer, then delivered a hollow, rattling and plucky melody, ending on two large hits. He repeated it once more, feeding into the two hits for the drums to exploit. He quickly followed the hit with the a faster version of the melody but much more active and full bodied this time, strings growling sound through the speakers at his fingers command.

Each hit moved Nash, or more accurately, he moved with them. He didn’t shy from moving about the stage, movements carrying him with the sound as if the music was channeled through him and not the speaks about the stage. He made it back to the mic just in time to let his voice join the cacophony of sound. The light hearted sound of his voice, almost playful, did well to hide any bitter feelings the song may have sprouted from long ago. Instead, he sung in a confident, almost cocky attitude, layering the defiant energy of his performance with a tale of bygone relationship, a man stealer that came from a hard life. One, that seemed, to Nash at least, too long ago to be real.

The tension eased within Lorn, his hand moving away from the lightdagger hidden within his robes.

“Thank you for speaking your truth Karran Val’teo. I’ve heard of this Lotus, an admirable cause, although not one I myself have fought along side.” He glanced back at the warning signs by the door and nodded. “As for crossing blades, I would be honoured to do so, though I believe this establishment frowns on such things taking place here.”

As the next song started, Alex looked back up from his datapad to spend a moment actively listening. This time around there was less need to make thorough notes - “Pulse” was already a known quantity, and there were already directives in place with the entertainment managers of the Folly regarding when and where to arrange bookings. He leaned back in his chair and took a long pull from his abrax, letting the music flow over him. It was a luxury he was rarely afforded these days. Any time he was experiencing any sort of performance, no matter whether it was the intent or not, there was always the background “need” to keep part of his attention focused on the potential mutually beneficial opportunities between the act and the entertainment resort station which he operated.

“I have gotten the impression that that would be discouraged. However, I invite you to join me at my home. I would consider it an honor to host you for a meal and a duel.”

Karran noted the tension rise and fall in his dining companion, but had felt no warnings of impending danger. With a fluid, practiced motion, the Zabrak replaced the crystal in the chamber of his lightsaber and returned the inner workings to its casing.

“Another topic of interest, if I may. How do you interpret the Sith Code?”

“That sounds…nice.” Lorn shifted in his seat, clearly either unfamiliar or uncomfortable with the concept of friendship. And then he thought on the those four lines he had repeated countless times since he had first discovered them. He closed his eyes, took a breath and whispered. “Through passion I gain strength. Through strength I gain power. Through power I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. They are words I have lived my life by since the day I first heard them.”

He sighed and opened his eyes, reaching for the components of his saber, rebuilding it as a means of keeping his hands busy while he gathered his thoughts.

“I find it to be less of a code and more of a guide. A guide to being a better person, building a better galaxy for all. The first part speaks of passion, of finding something that you care about. Whether that’s someone, something or just an idea. Find whatever it is that drives you, pushes you to grow, that thing that you can’t live without and in that find your strength.

“That strength, it doesn’t have to be raw, brute power, though it can be. It can also be more internal than that. Your mental strength, your conviction, your will can all be just as, if not more important. This will give you power. Power over those that would caste you aside, beat you down and control you. Power over those that believe you are less than you are, those that try to tell you that you are nothing, not worthy of anything.

“Harnessing and accepting this power leads us to victory. Victory over our own negative conceptions of ourself, over the oppressive forces of the galaxy that grasp for control because they themselves are weak. And once we seize that victory? Then, and only then are our chains broken and are we able to know true freedom. The freedom to be our true selves and cast aside our fears.”

The last piece of his saber clicked together, complete once again. Lorn let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding and blinked. He lifted his gaze from the lightsaber in his hands and realized in that moment he had spoken more to this man than anyone else in recent memory. He cleared his throat in embarrassment.

“Sorry, I seem to have found myself rambling.”

The signature scents of the Golden Griddle filled the nostrils of Jin Priscilla. Most of the smells were familiar and others were new. Either way, his senses reminded him that he was starving after a long and tiresome trip from Kasiya. Beside him and nearly a half foot taller was Ellisyn Kendis. The duo’s case was successful but their relationship—whatever they were— wasn’t so hot. Although he might have been the reason he was under the woman’s ire, he didn’t feel that he was wrong.

Generally, the man chose to be casual about everything in his life. This manifested itself in his attire and attitude toward relationships. Although she pushed for something serious, he was comfortable where they were.

The pair arrived at an empty booth within the establishment, Jin taking a seat first. Once settled, he gestured to the seat across for her to take whilst flashing her a white smile that contrasted his dark skin. “You know me well enough by now to know that I don’t bite. Hard.”

<@301514304845381632>

While Jin focused on the smells, Elly found herself overwhelmed by the sounds that came from the dining area of the Golden Griddle. The calmer, more toned down ambiance was something the Firrerreo much preferred over the noise coming from outside. The lawyer followed her not-boyfriend to a booth and hesitated to sit across from him. After his antics the previous days, she wasn’t sure whether or not she should even try to be cordial with the man.

With a bit of regret, Ellisyn sat down across from the man and rolled her eyes at his comment. “And you should know by now that I bite back.” Her words weren’t playful like Jin’s. In fact, they were rather sharp, just like her teefs.

Karran nodded as he listened. He respected Lorn’s position. He even agreed with the man on many points, which was refreshing, especially given his interactions with other members of his order.

“I agree. I sometimes wonder what might have happened if i had been found by the Jedi. I do not know that I would have been long their ranks. But perhaps my life would have turned out far different.”

He made a polite gesture to gain the attention of the waitress who had first served him and made a sign to order another caf and then gestured to Lorn.

“And you need not apologize for spouting philosophy at me. It is one of my favorite topics.”

“I never did fancy myself as a philosopher or poet, simply a survivor. But the Force moves us in mysterious ways. Plus, you could call the code a bit of a passion of mine.”

The barrier Lorn had erected to keep people at a distance began to crack just a little bit. He still didn’t trust Karran completely, and wasn’t about to let his guard down fully. But, this conversation felt like a breath of fresh air in a musty room. Unlike so many others, Karran didn’t seam eager to judge and condemn him. It was kind of nice.

“The Jedi have admirable goals, though I believe them to be ultimately flawed. But, I think it’s important to study both sides of things. Have you had a chance to study the Jedi teaching?”

“Only enough to frustrate myself, truly. Their entire code feels deeply contradictory to me. No emotion, only peace, no passion, only serenity, no chaos, only harmony. To not feel emotion or passion is to kill the things that make us…people. And to deny chaos in favor of harmony is in direct contradiction of everything we know of the galaxy. An asteroid can break out of a belt because some miners used a little too much detonite and destroy a city on a planet lightyears away, and they think that that’s part of some grand rhythm of the galaxy? A krayt dragon’s hunting ground can grow to overlap a massive city, causing it to destroy the entire thing, scattering and destroying families, and they think there’s no chaos?!”

The Sith caught himself before he started shouting. There was a time for him to let these strong feelings out, but a friendly conversation was not it. Besides, he had slain that demon from his past. He took a breath, bringing his emotions back into check.

“A fire is most effective when focused.”

“But they are onto something in the rejection of ignorance and death.”

“Ah, but the irony is within their own ignorance. They claim to reject it, but as you say are ignorant of the workings of the galaxy and what makes us, well, us. I’ve always believed that passions and emotions are what make us stronger. That anger that rages inside and pushes us. The joy that keeps us going. The sadness of what we’ve lost that reminds us of where we are going. The disgust in the things that need changing. The fear of our own failure that helps us reach our goals. These are all key emotions in building a being up, to deny them is to deny oneself.”

Wulfram continued to peruse the various shelves and goodies throughout the convenience shop, listening to the soft music and voices of others that carried around him. A murmur about his brother’s constant complaints of food being ‘inedible’ because it wasn’t ‘soft’ or ‘spiced properly’ meanwhile the elder Mandalorian could chew what equated to literal protein bricks without complaint. Grabbing some jerky, a variety of drinks for the longer journey ahead, and a commemorative hat for Alex, he paid for his bounty before exploring the station a little more. Eventually he wandered onto a couple having a conversation he would have loved to have been part of from the beginning.

A hardened basalt-colored eye looked between the pair of them as he listened into the conversation and tapped on the table with two fingers. One he recognized from his time serving as the Director of the Dajorran Marshals, Karran Val'teo.

“I’ve had the misfortune of working alongside the Jedi for the last year as the War Councilor of the Vatali Empire, and, you’ve got the right of it, both of you. Though they preach their teachings that there is no chaos within The Force and having prescience of mind, I’ve seen them too involved in their own matters and minds to realize the effects their actions have on the worlds around them. I’ve watched worlds burn because of their involvement.” The weary Mandalorian chimed.

-# <@379840612788076544> <@467973085006659594>

Jin let out a sigh, his gaze set on the woman. “Too bad. I think you may be overreacting just a touch, Elly,” he said, shoulders lifting nonchalantly. It was just a kiss. The pair had no official relationship status. While they did get closer, Jin didn’t think there was anything to fuss about.

“The Jedi are flawed, yes. And deeply frustrating. But ultimately their goals are well-intentioned, and I think I would rather fight back to back with an unknown jedi than an unknown Sith. At least I know the Jedi won’t stab me in the back for prestige and power.”

<@236356564125089792> <@379840612788076544>

“So, you’re saying you don’t trust me? I’m hurt,” his voice was thick with sarcasm.

The Shaevalian looked up and bowed his head to the newcomer. This human was the second persona today to invite themselves to what he had initially thought was a private table within the Golden Griddle. Best case scenario they continued on with this quite interesting conversation and he learned something new. Worst case, one day one of these men would be his enemy and he would already have some useful information to bring them down. But, that was something he would deal with if and when he needed to, for now he slid over on the bench and made room for the older gentleman.

“Care to join us in our philosophical musings on the Force?”

<@467973085006659594> <@236356564125089792>

Aphotis raised a perfectly shaped brow at the submissive display. His gestures and manner of speaking seemed trained in the art at the very least. His tail was as expressive as her own, and as it coiled around his leg, hers rose.

The tall Sith turned her head to check her flanks, wary of it being a distraction, then she turned her attention back to him.

‘Did he just call her Mistress? And who is this god?’

“I am Aphotis, who are you and what god do you place your faith in?” The woman’s voice was inquisitive as she leant forward just ever so slightly, cupping her chin with her clawed hand.

“You seem a decent fellow. But until I have fought you face to face, I will not be quick to trust you behind my back.”

Karran quieted as the cafs we delivered to their table. He promptly produced a credit chip worth far more than the drinks and gently handed it to the server.

“The Echani believe that the truest way to know someone is to fight them. That, in combat, a person’s truest self is revealed. In my experience, only a master of manipulation and combat can truly hide anything in a pitched fight.”

As the conversations continued and the patrons begin to file in, her silvery gaze became focused on the rattling melody that Nash began to play. Though faster in rhythm, she enjoyed the sense of energy that it brought with it. Focusing on the light hearted sound of Nash’s voice, every now and then Syrena leaned closer to her own mic, providing the smooth notes of occasional background singing, careful to not overpower Nash’s voice and to instead compliment it.

Concentrating on the faster beat, she lightly tapped her foot to ensure that she kept to the rhythm. The strings of her instrument held a faint white glow as she began to play, her fingertips nimbly gliding to each note as she plucked a few bass cords to support the melody.

Syrena glanced up, noting a new audience member with lupine ears carrying a vast amount of baby merchandise. She cast him a friendly wave with her free hand, only to then reach into her pocket to draw out a light silver pick meant to be used for a stringed hallikset instrument, which she tossed in his direction. “For the little one! Maybe they could use it when they’re older,” Syrena called from the stage with a vibrant smile.

<@160141735354171394> <@244244163002892288> <@1292362530299183208>

It had felt like ages since they had docked, but Thane—Darth Renatus—had finally made his way onto the station. There was so much going on and he just wanted to shut out the noise, as he so often did when it came to social situations. The Deputy Grand Master shut his eyes tightly and focused his attention inward. He managed to close himself off enough to enter the throng of individuals that moved through the halls.

The Firrerreo pushed himself forward one step at a time, finally making his way towards the hub of activity. It seemed fate had plans for him, because just as his stomach began to growl, the smell of food reached his nostrils. Following it like a moth to a flame, Thane found himself just outside the Golden Griddle diner. Perhaps food and then he can figure out what sweet Hell brought him here.

J'Kast didn’t move for a moment but turned his head to the side after a pause. He considered the costumed fellow and looked him over a couple of times.

“And for the ‘holiday’ you are… some sort of mythical blood-drinker… <<he squinted at the nametag>>… Mato?” The Sith’s voice was low but with the rasp you’d expect from an aging throat. He spoke quietly, but it was easy to hear each distinct word thanks to the precise and terse diction he used.

“Don’t answer yet – more importantly, please tell me where you went to get that cup of caf you’re holding because that is my first priority, and it is my first time visiting this…<<he looked around and gestured slightly with his left hand>> place.” – And drawing his fingers up to a fold in front of his mouth – “And perhaps point me to in the direction of where people like <<he shrugs and gestures downward at his black robe>> me might be spending their time studying here.”

<@244244163002892288>

“I would, but, as it stands I already have my brother waiting for me aboard The Armistice, probably complaining because his Fudge or Jerky are taking too long. Your conversation caught my ear as I passed and I couldn’t help but comment after recent experiences.” The Mandalorian stated with a curt nod, before he adjusted his grip on the bags at hand.

“Names Wulfram Armis, Galaxy is a smaller place than any of us seem willing to admin. Sure I’ll meet one or both of you again out there.” He said with an upturn in his voice before he broke off.

-# <@379840612788076544> <@467973085006659594>

“In as much as I can let myself simply enjoy anything these days, yes,” Alex smiled pleasantly at Jax. He hadn’t had much chance to interact with the man, despite having served aboard the same ship briefly. Alex’s swift rise through ranks and responsibility since his return to the Brotherhood had left him in a constant state of readjusting his expectations, rarely being around a situation long enough to connect strongly with anyone around him. Just as soon as he had gotten used to being back, he had been appointed Captain of the Voidbreaker. Before the dust had even had a chance to settle on the bed in his Captain’s Quarters, he found himself the Quaestor of the House. He had a little internal betting pool on if he would leave an imprint on the chair in the Blind Man’s office before…who knows, maybe he’d be appointed Grand Master next.

“The music is good, fits the atmosphere quite well. Not particularly my genre of choice, but I can see the appeal. Musicians are quite skilled at what they do, as well,” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking the hat from his head to fan himself briefly before replacing it. “Sorry, was falling back into analysis there for potentially booking entertainers for my venues on Hod Haran’s Folly. Between my new proprietorship and my new leadership position, I find myself frequently forgetting to also be a person.” A deep breath and Alex’s shoulders relaxed a bit as he let the tension settle off of him for a moment. “How are you doing, Jax?”

Nash shifted to a less intense routine, rolling a melody out with precision movements. He started on something more in the spirit of the venue, up beat and spooky. He swayed, feet itching to carry him around the stage again as he leaned over to Syrena in a break in his vocals. “You’re up next!” He shouted over their own sound

He was confident that he had learned what he needed about them, and gave them plenty to pick up on with the songs he performed.

“And congratulations to you both on that,” Alex smiled warmly. “There is little in this galaxy of more joy, purpose or merit than that of bringing new life into it. Nor any concept more existentially terrifying, I should think.” A faraway look briefly passed his features as he took another sip of his abrax.

“As far as my new adventures…I do not know if ‘fulfilling’ is the right frame of mind for it, to be perfectly honest. I think I am past the part of my life where I am looking for fulfillment - I have had eons to pursue my own goals and desires, and had my fill of many of them only to find yet another waiting for me behind it. Nowadays, I think it is more about seeing a need which exists and recognizing my ability to satisfy it. There was need for a leader for the House,” he waved his hand lazily in a circular motion, “I was present and capable to provide. A dearth of available entertainment and commerce venues in the system - and yes, I am aware of the Sinchi Ring but it is a little…unfocused, shall we say? - and it just so happens I had the means and devices to fill that niche with the Folly.” His attention half flicked back toward the stage as a new song, a slight change in mood, started up.

“In many ways I view myself more as an instrument for the fulfillment of fate, more so than a target for it to act upon.”

“No bother at all, though I am afraid the answer may disappoint you,” a twinkle shone in Alex’s eye as he spoke, clearly addressing a topic he had spoken on many times before. “I am as bog-standard a Mandalorian as they come. Human, I suppose, though we do not necessarily always think of ourselves in the same terms as others of our kind. My family has been part of the Clans since the time of the Republic, and my first battles were the early skirmishes of the Mandalorian Wars.”

“To the best of my reckoning, I am four-thousand twenty-seven years old. How that is possible,” Alex shrugged and offered a wry grin, “I can only offer that perhaps one really is only as old as one feels.”

“Thank you, Mato…” the Sith replied. “You’ve given me the exactly the information I needed.” <<Including how many steps to take to get there, apparently…>> he thought to himself.

J'Kast rose from the table, his knees stiff. He shook off the light cramps with slight movements and walked intently past the “blooded” station staffer toward the caf station he had pointed to. He remembered a trick he used years ago of downing caf, napping, and waking up refreshed. Maybe it was time to break out this trick again.

After procuring the caf, he sipped it down quickly and - for the first time on this visit - appeared relieved. The nap closets… now to find those…

The hooded sorcerer locked himself in the dark closet as Mato suggested. He leaned back, caf slowly beginning to take hold, and began a short nap that he knew would end with a jolt of energy.

“This,” he thought, “is exactly what I needed. I’ll get this rest, awake to a new vigor, and be ready to face what’s ahead.”

Kerissa had found herself delayed in getting to the show, being on the same ship as the singer. Nash being late meant that, as much as she’d have liked to see the whole set, she had things she wanted to peruse around before settling down to enjoy the music. Snacks and a couple of odd drinks she definitely didn’t see in the stores on Selen that could be taken back with her.

Once content with the oddity of the place being explored, the Kessuryn made her way to Nash’s stage, shaking her in gentle amusement at him about leaning off of the stage to chat as she found a place amongst the crowd. She had the hood of her jacket up, though by this point Nash would recognise it even amongst the hubbub of people.

The Sith kept her head high, merely moving her cold, ghostly eyes to peer down, with the occasional saccade to her flank. This ’Rue’ had quite the long designation, an indication that this ‘god’ likely experimented on many. For the time being, Aphotis had had enough of would-be gods and ancient has-beens, even if there was power to extract from worship. She was more interested in the hybrid.

“Ah, a scimitar, The Scimitar? What is your devotion to this entity? Are you a useful tool?” Her voice held a more inquisitive tone when she regarded Rue.

Tir’eivra would never let the universe know that she had ever been below others, groveling at someone’s feet like this one before her, but times had changed and when the flow altered it always came with potent surges. There was always a reason and motivator, especially for the downtrodden left to rot away—she knew. There were plenty of powerful individuals that passed through the Shame Corner, what did this one want from her?

She clenched a clawed hand as she recalled this Scimitar’s titles.

‘He Who Rages? hmpff, who does not?’

Alaisy held herself back from emitting weariness by shifting her weight to her other leg.

’Destroyer? Ambiguous babble, one can scratch an other’s speeder with disregard and call themselves a destroyer.’

’Most Powerful? Well, it is certainly their funeral to be that arrogant, absolutely preposterous to call yourself that or have others call you such. Even as a challenge…’

A smirk almost formed on her lips that she had to push away with pure willpower.

’Smiles are reserved for those who must be terrified—not here, not now. Finally, The Blade? Well that is quite the symbol. This démodé god required more funding for a holo-ad-campaign, clearly.’

A nice, cold, stiff drink was all Snaz needed on a day like this. Why a day like this? Because it appeared on this very day, a large amount of the Brothehood’s most powerful seemed to congregate in one location. And that music, he could barely hear himself think!

My, oh my. He had no idea The Shame Corner was so popular. It appeared when Sith weren’t out trying to dominate the galaxy they liked to do shopping. It appeared that when Jedi weren’t out protecting the peace, they broke their code and indulged in material gain. Mercenaries…

OK, that one made more sense. The galaxy really had changed since the tyranny of Darth Sidious. Snaz felt every wrinkle on his old Aleena face ache as the weight of his many years dawned on him.

What was he here for again? Oh, right. Draca. Something for Draca.

Snaz devoured the rest of his drink and carefully hopped down from his seat.

She listened carefully, staring down with her arms crossed. If he was made by god, then she was unmade by one and forced to claw her way back to the realm of the living. It was Osasdii’s dying spirit itself that shifted the blinding light to the comfortable gloom and together intertwined they rose up from their inevitable grave. Perhaps this one before her was never treated with the kindness of death, but teased only by the pain. A bitter taste formed in her mouth as she pondered it. She could see it in his eyes…

’The Masters? There are more?’ It was as if there was no fight in him, no lust for life, yet the sensation was familiar. Their fate was likely lingering, if it did not find him already.

Her heart sank, color vanishing from her cheeks if there had been any before. Her brows furrowed as Rue mentioned the name. Now she knew that it was a mistake to come unmasked, this was the last time. There was no comfort that hugged her face, breathing felt like inhaling icicles and she could feel her cells dying exposed to the same air breathed by the Shame Corner’s clientele. A tightness formed in her chest and the temperature around her rose. The surge of anger undid the damage by renewing her skin with a flash of dark side energy akin to a cloud casting shadow. Pricked by cold, enveloped by heat and comforted by darkness.

“Elly? Kendis? Rue, explain, please. ” The name was uttered almost like exhaling audible breath.

Her lips twitched into a smirk as she inquired. If she was to get an answer, she had better not scare the life out of him, yet.

If it was true, Tir’eivra wondered if he would have been the one that helped her get back on her feet.

’Ironic, talk about defying death, small universe.’

A tingling sensation brushed across the back of his neck, causing Alex to turn his head about and catch something out of the corner of his eye. A figure appeared to be trying to prostrate itself through the floor of the station and, as if the action alone weren’t enough of a giveaway the clothing and the faintest hint of the voice Alex could just pick up over the music were quite familiar to him. Standing from his seat and straightening out his jacket, he bowed his head slightly to Jax.

“While I do not intend to cut our conversation short and am more than happy to continue any time you wish, I am afraid I once again find myself at the mercy of fate - being in the right place at the right time to aid a friend in some manner of distress. I must beg my leave, at least for the moment. Perhaps if the situation does not take overly long to resolve, we can resume.”

The click of his Oxfords against the tiled floor was loud, perhaps intentionally so as he crossed the distance toward the scene he had espied earlier. As he came nearer, he stopped just short of the two figures and lowered himself down a bit, kneeling and bringing his face close to the floor. After a brief moment, his jovial baritone slid forth.

“I must admit I am not entirely certain what is so fascinating about the floor here - I dare say the tiles do not even seem to have a pattern to them - but I hope you can elucidate for me, friend Rue, since you appear to have been studying them for quite a bit now.” <@188018248241905664> <@244244163002892288>

Her tail swept from side to side as if nothing had changed, while her lips twitched only a little as she analysed his answer. The lack of movement from Rue cast doubts and sent her thoughts out into thousands of different paths that all piled into anticipation.

“Merely a coincidence then, no matter, I would have been impressed, and the potential for scar tissue would have been fascinating.”

Aphotis inclined her head with a gentle smile, something the spliced Ryn genes seemed to have made easier.

She was about to inquire more about the god and even about his sudden defiance when a Human arrived, similarly glued to the floor. She raised a brow. Any chance of coincidences evaporated as his Mandalorian greaves were in plain sight.

“Friend of yours?” She clenched her teeth as she queried, feeling the urge rising to mention her name again.

<@102435651189743616>

Alex rose to his feet, brushing off the knees of his coral orange slacks as he did so, and stared - admittedly a bit upwards - directly into Aphotis’ eyes. A steel behind his gaze pierced clear through the emerald-green-flecked-with-yellow of his irises, which seemed somewhat incongruous with the pleasant tone his voice maintained as he addressed her.

“I am ever so sorry, I did not notice you there,” a grin slid forth from beneath the well-manicured facial hair. “I saw my friend Rue here from across the way whilst I was enjoying the performance, and thought perhaps there was some help needed as they were on the floor. Must have dropped something or perhaps been injured, I thought to myself, and felt necessary to come and offer my assistance,” the slightest tinge of darkness entered his tone as he continued, “with whatever the problem seemed to be.”

Still not breaking eye contact, a hand was extended. “Alex Draconis, proprietor of the luxury resort station Hod Haran’s Folly and Quaestor of the esteemed House Qel-Droma.”

<@244244163002892288>

“There are a multitude of problems, but the brush against me is not one of them. Rue seems to be after punishment, though, as a rule there is a fee attached to such a favor. Even pain has a cost as it serves purpose, learning, discipline, pleasure…” The last word was spoken breathy and slow, making the intense electric-blue of her eyes flicker like a flame.

She studied Alex Draconis as his eyes met hers. He did not look away, making him a puzzle to piece together, whether it was charm, willpower, or age and experience that prevented him from flinching. There was a comfort in those emerald, gold flecked globes that were digging for thoughts.

Curiosity kept the Sith tense, the potential for conflict was like food for the soul.

“Quaestor, a pleasure to meet one of House Qel-Droma’s new generation. Did I say new? Your eyes tell many a story,” Aphotis’s voice was cordial as she accepted his greeting with her symbiotic, latex-clad hand. The alchemical skin shifted to remove any creases and to accommodate the handshake.

<@244244163002892288>

A deep laugh erupted forth as he provided a firm shake of the hand before releasing.

“I daresay it has been quite a long time since I have been the ‘new generation’ of anything, and even in this case it is not quite accurate. I spent a brief time amidst the ranks of the Clans a few decades ago, and an even briefer time among the leadership of this same House.” As a crunching noise sounded while Rue shuffled behind him, Alex looked down and now noticed the crushed snacks and other items which had previously been hidden beneath Rue’s form.

“Oh my, it appears a bit of an accident has occurred and ruined your items, Rue. I shall see if I can catch the attention of one of the shop attendants and get these replaced. Not much good to anyone as they are now, are they?” Alex began looking about for one of the employees of the station, intent both to inform them of the necessary cleanup and also to see about some non-befouled items in their place.

<@244244163002892288>

Her tail twitched as he laughed, her symbiotic skin instantaneously adjusted to the firmness of the handshake before he let go.

“Ah, I see, how positively rude of me, I did not even introduce myself,” Aphotis’s voice was judgemental and smoky, lifting somewhat on Alex’s chic manners.

“I am Aphotis, once known as Alaisy Tir'eivra, I was part of- and even Aedile of the Qel-Droma. They gave me room to experiment aboard the Voidbreaker and Selen has always been a pleasant place to visit. Especially when the Selenian gods ran rampant, the opportunities were positively overwhelming!”

Her glowing eyes turned to Rue, while her long tail snapped from side to side with predatory inclinations. For some reason his quietness made his presence all the more difficult to ignore. Like a loth-cat that finally saw it’s prey moving, she clenched her jaw as the tendency to pounce became more pronounced. When the Zabrak arrived she had trouble adjusting her focus.

“Mhm, yes, a spill indeed, do you think you can recover his items? I think they may mean a great deal to him,” her voice had an eerie kindness to it.

<@102435651189743616>

“Rue,” her voice was a soft as a gentle flowing river, “if you seek purpose, I offer you the opportunity to join me at the Asog Temple on the moon of Kasiya.”

“The Scimitar possesses a number of qualities that overlap with my own methods, should you wish to atone, you could do so there. I am sure your devotion would please them. Give it some thought, that is all I ask.”

Aphotis could have snatched genetic material from the hybrid and followed him, but he carried enough doubt with him in his heart that any added pressure could have overwhelmed him. Besides, she knew the potency of free will infused with fear, Rue was a fount of it that just begged to be tapped for her Garden of Trepidations.

“Mr. Draconis, may the Force give you what you desire.”

<@102435651189743616>

Alex tipped his hat toward Rue and Alaisy in acknowledgement and farewell as he also bowed slightly.

“Well, it looks like everything has been cleared up a bit here and they will be getting things cleaned and what merchandise needs to be replaced done so.” There was still the slightest edge beneath his gentle drawl, the steel not leaving his voice so easily once added. But at the same time, his body language made it clear that he was not seeking to further intervene - everybody was entitled to make their own choices, as long as it was a choice.

“I am afraid I must now take my leave. Never a slow moment for one carrying as many responsibilities as I do,” he replaced the hat on his head and with a casual snap of both wrists, each hand was suddenly occupied by a small card which he offered to each of the other two. “If you should ever find yourself by way of the Dajorra system, please find the time to stop by Hod Haran’s Folly in orbit of Gethsemane. These are VIP cards for yourself and any others you may bring along, ensuring the greatest service and access to the station’s amenities. Fully-covered Master Suites at the Hotel Tome’tayl - though do please message in advance if you intend to use one as they do book out quickly - and access to the VIP balconies at the Dragon’s Den Cabaret.”

Having brought the situation back to a state he found amenable, and promoted his business endeavor, Alex strode away toward the ship docks. He had been away from his affairs - both the business of the Folly and the leadership of the House - for as long as he dared to today, and would need to contact Steven as soon as he left port to begin arranging outreach and contracts for future possibilities. <@244244163002892288>

As the two made their way further into the station, Orion was drawn in by the smell of fresh caf. When they first arrived, he hadn’t thought he needed or wanted any. But now that they were inside and the aromas were wafting through the air, the desire had fully taken hold.

“I’ll catch up with you later, Rei. This caf is calling my name.”

The bounty hunter gave a wave and then approached the counter. He waited as the line progressed, placed his order, then paid for it, making sure to leave a nice tip. Baristas had it rough sometimes, and he never understood why they weren’t treated better, they’re just trying to do their jobs, same as pretty much any other person in the galaxy. He sipped the hot beverage and nodded in approval. It was clear why they had a reputation as having some of the best coffee. And truth be told, he probably needed it more than he was willing to admit. The journey home would be a long one, and he’d be flying for at least some of it since Reiden couldn’t. He usually liked to keep himself busy anyway, but a little rest was good too.

Maybe the droid brain can handle the second half of the return trip. Or maybe a little more.

Elsewhere, Reiden continued along. He wanted to get a drink of some kind, but the decorations and costumed children milling about was a sharp reminder of the time of year, which somehow hadn’t fully registered with him. His thoughts drifted to his nephews. There was definitely candy available at the station and he was willing to bet that they had costumes of some sort as well.

Sure enough, he spotted a rack of costumes as he cast his glance around. He made his way over and perused the options. Almost immediately, he spotted a little Mandalorian costume. A pang of sadness as he was reminded of their father and how he had passed away when the twins were still babies. But then he smiled, realizing that the rambunctious Deus would probably love it. And Shadow had always told him that the boy took after his father. A little more searching and he spotted some robes that perhaps were meant to be a sorcerer, but they fit well for a Sith as well. That would work for Artorias. That left Sorin. The Shame Corner’s mascot was a hit with the boys, so a tiny tailoring costume would be cute, if he could find one, and hopefully it would be the right size.

Ellisyn had half a mind to simply get up and ditch the man in front of her. His nonchalant attitude toward everything was beyond infuriating and after her time away, she didn’t know if she had the patience for it anymore. The woman opened her mouth to retort, to say something she would surely regret, when she was suddenly assailed by a gaunt bundle of color.

“What the kriff!?“ Elly exclaimed, surprised by the sudden impact. the Firrerreo had to resist the urge to grab the unknown being by the scruff and throw them across the room with a force undeserved to any stranger, let alone one of her closest friends. It took only a moment for the woman to recognize the man now at her side by his extremely unique scent alone. Being as delicate as she possibly could, the Kendis grabbed Rue by the shoulder and pulled him away so she could look into his pained eyes. “What’s wrong?” She asked, her tone immediately becoming motherly as it often did.

Reiden turned at the sound of the voice. Instinct taking over, he assessed the person - although he knew he was safe, this was the Shame Corner, after all - quickly taking note of the name tag. He smiled. “Yes, thank you, Avalon. I was trying to find another costume. Do you perhaps have a tailring one available? I have a little one in mind that I think would love it.“

Being given the silent treatment from the Firrerreo wasn’t unusual, so he mentally shrugged it off. In the meantime he considered how effortless his life was before and the freedom he had. On top of that, he was reminded that he didn’t have to put up with nonsense and could have anyone he wanted.

The detective used the silence to study the menu of the diner. All the options seemed respectable and he was starving.

Before he settled his decision on an order, their table was met with an uninvited guest. Everything happened so quickly that Jin subconsciously placed a hand on his concealed blaster.

The dark hybrid barely had a moment to react before Ellisyn was consoling the… Jin couldn’t put his finger on what he could only describe as a genetic anomaly.

Regardless, it was refreshing to see her consoling who was a stranger to him. The maternal instinct she possessed was something he never got the pleasure of seeing in action because he hadn’t earned that yet. Although he didn’t feel he was wrong for what transpired prior, he still wanted to be apart of her life.

For the time being, Jin remained silent, watching the duo across from him.

<@301514304845381632> <@244244163002892288>

His fault? The would often cry and blame himself for a variety of things when they first met but the man had made real progress over the months to further understand how to be a person and that it wasn’t bad to do certain things and feel certain things.

“Hey now, hush, it’s okay,” Elly said with a sing sing voice. She pulled Rue close and held him tight, not caring about the tears wetting her shirt. “You’re safe now, okay? I’ve got you.”

The mother slowly brushed her fingers through Rue’s silky hair. Whatever had happened, she was determined to find out, and whoever did this to him would pay. She knew well enough that in a place like this there was nothing that would hurt Rue in such a way without outside intervention.

The Firrerreo nodded her thanks to Ray as he delivered the un-asked for mugs of chocolate. It seemed the man must have remembered her from the last time Rue was distressed, a fact that bothered the woman. It seemed any time they were out in public together, the hybrid found something to be distressed about. Ellisyn wished with all her heart that she could protect her friend from the pain that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

As Rue began to calm, the lawyer gently pulled him away from her body so she could get a good look at him, checking first for injuries and second for his eyes, making sure to hold his gaze as she asked him once again. “What happened, Rue?”

Reiden paused for a moment. He had only recently learned of Sorin not too long ago and was still very much getting to know the boy. And some babies could grow more than others and he could never tell. But he could make a decent guess, and in the worst case scenario, he’d return the costume and try to find something else.

“I believe he is around two years old now. The family has been away for some time and although we try to keep in touch, things happen sometimes, you know how it is. But I was surprised, and very happy, to learn of him, so I’m trying to make up for lost time now that we all aren’t so busy and they’ve finally returned home.”

He blinked, not sure why he was sharing so much. It had not been his intention, but the words had just started flowing before his brain had time to fully catch up. He let out a quiet laugh, a smile appearing once again. “Any help you could offer would be much appreciated.”

Reiden followed the woman along. He was once again surprised at the extent and variety of things that the station offered to its patrons. Combined with the fact that the Shame Corner had ties to the Envoys and was thus a safe stopping point, despite perhaps being a little out of the way, made it the perfect place to stop at when traveling. So long as there wasn’t a tight schedule to keep, it seemed like a good detour if he needed anything, or simply needed a place to rest. There was no telling what might happen at other stations, although he could easily handle himself, he didn’t want to cause a scene for anyone. And stopping in the void of space wasn’t a very good idea at the best of times.

He nodded, “Thank you. They’ve been a source of a lot of happiness over the years, and now I’m sure that will only grow. And yes, just a standard size.” He looked at the rack and picked up the appropriate size, smiling. “Thanks again for your help.”