Session export: The Shame Corner: 022

Weyr was still sitting at a table at the Seven Sins bar. Laoch, his shoulder-sized reddish black and blue winged Keeradak, hopped onto the table and let out a yawn, showing his sharp needle-pointed teeth as he stretched out his cute clawed hands and flicked his crimson tail.

“RAwwwwrp.”

The Evereni set down his datapad for a moment and looked at him. “Bored or hungry Laoch?” He chuckled.

“I was just reading fascinating facts about merqaals. Did you know that the six tentacles on the sides of their heads are used as sensors that can sense the environment for danger? They can also use them as a form of communication. Their scales on their back also help protect them from rain and predators in their native jungle.”

The Keeradak blinked at him and let out a small growl. “All right, fine, I will look at the menu, maybe they serve something you can eat.” He then began to peruse the menu. “Perhaps I will get something too.”

The skittering came first— sharp, deliberate taps against the floor as Evara emerged into the Shame Corner, carrying a large satchel over one shoulder. With a fluid shift, she rose upright. All six arms unfurled with swift efficiency, as she claimed a small table tucked along the edge of the bar.

Without ceremony, the Harch began to set up her wares. There were several hand knit pieces, including a small stuffed lothcat. Bone talismans followed next, carved with care and arranged carefully on the table. With her other arms, she withdrew various necklaces and set them down.

“Alright… open for business,” she muttered to herself, her voice carrying the distinct lilt of an accent. “Another day for more sweet, sweet credits, yes.”

She paused, as if remembering something, then produced a second sign— rough, hand scrawled ink was written unevenly across its surface. Evara set it down, carefully arranging it into place at the end of the table, as it read: Please inquire for necromancy.

A faint, knowing smile crossed her lips. Turning toward the bar, Evara lifted several of her hands in a broad wave.

“Evara’s wares now open for business!” she called in a well practiced tone, the edges of her words slightly hardened by accent. “Fifty percent off… today only, yes? Very good deal. You come, you look, maybe you buy.”

Her several beady red eyes lingered there for a moment longer, settling on the bar.“Hmmm…” she murmured, softer now, one hand idly tracing the edge of a bone talisman. “Could take a drink while I wait, yes.”

An Odan Urr transport landed with grace among the bays, two people stepped down once the engines settled into silence. The signature deep red hair of Aurelis, and a male with sharp military cut black hair a lean build, roughly Aurelis’s height at 5'10".

“This is much better than the mop, we can actually see your eyes.” “ Yeah yeah Mom.” the man rolled his eyes slicing that last word with the epitome of sarcasm. Receiving a smack upside the head in return. “You just wait, they will flock.” They stepped through the automatic doors, Eivan, the man beelined for the sweets, if it weren’t confirmed that the man was 26, Aurelis would have pegged him for a 12 year old. She watched him go, then turned towards the refrigerators herself.

A rather large Togorian emerged from the docking bay, stretching as he walked. The transport back to Brotherhood space had been cramped for a sentient of his size, as they often were. Rajhin Cindertail towered over most of the Shame Corner patrons at 2.2 meters with a broad powerful build and tiger-like visage from his fur pattern. He had the unmistakable appearance of a warrior.

His amber eyes darted around the floor as the Togorian debated how to spend his layover waiting for Royal Guard transport to take him back to Arx. He had been taking on increasingly dangerous and often solo missions since completing the long recovery from his dire injuries in the last war. He was proud of his service as Fist but he honestly preferred it this way, moving around freely, helping small teams, testing himself as a warrior instead of a general.

Across the floor he spotted a familiar face from one of his last missions setting up shop. “EVARA!” he shouted, causing some concerned looks and no small amount of scurrying from patrons nearby. He rushed across the sales floor, being careful not to trample anyone in his excitement. “What adventures have you been on lately my brave friend!”

<@607619766752116771>

A tall Diathim, a very rare sight in the Galaxy outside their system of Iego, and also called Angels, drifted into bar. As far as height standards of his own race go, he was of average height at more than 7 feet, but here he was of a towering height. Aethron was garbed in a loose white-gold robe after the Greco-Roman fashion. His feet were bare, and 6 translucent white wings lay folded upon his marble-skinned back. His long, silver hair was tied up behind his head, although some strands managed to fall over his face.

He walked into the room. While it was not first encounter with other species, it was one of the first. It was only a short time ago that he even became aware of other species in the Galaxy. But more importantly, it was his first attempt to socialize within the Dark Brotherhood. As of now, he’s only an envoy for the group’s diplomacy division. Smiling at and easily mesmerizing those he passed, he at last came to sit beside <@244244163002892288> first and attempted to strike up a conversation.

Her lips curled into a delighted smile, revealing rows of razor sharp fangs as her mandibles clicked in soft, eager rhythm. Recognition sparked instantly— Rajhin. The towering Togorian was impossible to mistake. The last time she had seen him, they had been knee deep in danger and treasure alike… and he had been, perhaps, the only one to ever meet her former husband… Chursiggaa, the Hutt. Or at least the ghost of him.

And now, she was pleased to consider the Togorian to be a drinking companion. Evara skittered forward with sudden warmth, all six arms wrapping around him in an exuberant, many limbed greeting. “Rajhin! Ahh, what delightful surprise!” She chimed. “Is splendid to see you again, my friend, truly splendid…”

She pulled back at last, mandibles clicking contentedly as she gestured grandly to the small spread of her wares. “For you, I make special offer… very rare, very generous.” One hand waved dismissively, as if brushing away the very concept of profit, for now. “You take something… for free. I insist.” A brief pause followed, her head tilting ever so slightly, six red eyes glinting with intrigue. “Perhaps you wish to speak with dead, hmm? I can arrange. Or maybe… custom weapon, engraved just so…” She tapped one claw thoughtfully against her chin. “You think on it, yes?”

Then, with a sudden shift of energy, she turned toward the bar and slapped down a small handful of credits with a decisive clatter. “But first—” she declared, glancing back at him with a fang filled grin, “we drink!”

The small keeradak’s head perked up as his little nostrils flared as he diligently sniffed Avaritia’s hand. His little eyes shimmered as he saw the gold letting out a “Reeerp” and very gently licked her hand as he began to nibble lightly on one of her fingers. “Laoch, what are you doing? No, you can’t have her jewelry.” He then put down the menu. “Yeah, I will take a simple non alcoholic Tattooine Sunset and some of those tacos. Laoche is allowed treats if he behaves.” He gave a look to the Keeradak, who now promptly stopped nibbling on her hand and sat quietly, still eyeing her hand with great interest.

Rajhin was about to object to taking anything for free from Evara when she added “You think on it, yes?” He reluctantly nodded “I shall give your generous offer thought my friend.” He followed his Harch comrade’s energetic transition to the bar and matched the pile of credits on the bar with a similiar contribution of his own.

“Yes! We drink! I’ll have what she’s having!”

The Harch looked at Rajhin with a fanged grin, then back to the bartender happily. “Hmm… What to order indeed, that is the question, yes? So many options, how wonderful.” She began as her six hands tapped in thought for a moment. “I should very much like some spiced Scios cider, yes indeed. Perhaps sprigged with a delightful flower of some sort, one that is in season, and thank you.”

Evara paused for a moment with as she glanced between the two, her smile shifting to one that was more fond as a memory passed through her mind. “Cider was always my husband’s dink of choice. He was an honorable, beautiful Hutt. Of course, now I’m widow,” She said with a soft laugh.

<@244244163002892288> <@185939710005215232>

Laoch raised his little red spiked head up at the tailring. His head tilted from side to side a moment before snapping up the meat treat as he gulped it down. Then he sniffed at her hand again and licked her palm. Satisfied, the keeradak growled softly as his own wings flapped while he stretched the muscles and yawned;showing his exposed needlepoint teeth again. Wriggling his claws, he shook each digit before looking up at the tailring whining.

His tail swishing and swaying softly against the top of the table, Laoch watched Avaritia’s pet crawling over her.

Weyr then just shook his head and laughed.

The docking clamps screamed in protest as Satjeekah the Hutt’s gilded barge forced its way into alignment with The Shame Corner’s hangar. It was a place Satjeekah knew wasn’t particularly famous for its vices or its secrets, but it was for it’s cuisine.

A hush fell over the docking bay as the ramp descended with theatrical slowness. First, the entourage: Nikto enforcers in polihed armor fanned out with disciplined menace, blasters low but ready. A pair of attendants, a Mirialan and a Zeltron, followed closely, carrying ornate containers on long shafts, wafting sweet perfume vapors through the recycled air. Behind them, a protocol droid announced their master’s presence in a syrup-smooth tone, its vocoder barely masking underlying disdain.

Then, at last, he emerged. Duke Satjeekah the Hutt.

Massively resplendent, draped in dark, patterned satins, exotic furs, dangling charms and a very nice top hat with critter bones lahed onto it. The feathers on his hat blew in the wind of pressure differential as he glided onto the floor with the practiced ease of his platform’s repulsorlifts. Rings adorned thick fingers, each inset with stones from worlds most beings would never see. The Hutt crime gourmand surveyed the station with slow, deliberate satisfaction as a faint, amused rumble escaped his throat.

“Ahh…The Shame Corner,” he purred in Huttese, his voice translated a beat later by the droid. “What a dump.”

His gaze drifted across the docking bay, lingering on the flickering neon signs, dirty corners, piled up crates and machinery, as well as the creatures who knew better than to draw attention.

“And yet, somehow, they have fabulous fudge which we wish to taste.”

One of the attendants stepped forward, presenting a dataslate filled with all the flavors presented at the stand as Satjeekah waved his hand and the column proceeded.

The entered the Corner’s vendor and services section with slow and glamorous presentation. The Nikto stomped their heels as the walked, while the attendants wafted the perfume, thick and choking, over everyone nearby. Even the droid, programmed to remind Saatjeekah that was not, in fact, a god, seemed to carry himself with high standing.

Murmurs rose amongst the crowd, Aurelis who was purusing the selection of flavored cold caf, turned a little, a Hutt, with lots of people surrounding him, had made a grand appearance. She looked over the group with a rather judge-y gaze for a moment before turning back to the fridge with the shake of her head. Hutts

Evara paused for a moment, drink in hand. As a strangely familiar feeling swept through her, one she felt only a few days prior during a vision… And yet now, it was all the more real. She felt herself drawn forwards, her arachnid legs instinctively carrying her in that direction.

Through the haze of the crowd, Evara froze, the moment she saw him. Her six red eyes locked into place, growing wide. “Chuursigaa…?” Evara whispered slowly under her breath. She hadn’t recalled summoning her ex husband’s spirit, at least not this time. And yet there he was.

Her legs carried her forward, vision sharpening on each detail of the Hutt, in the sudden realization that this was indeed a different one… but one that was no less attractive, perhaps even more. Definitely more. There was a sense of regality to this particular Hutt, the way that he carried himself, and the way that his attendants catered to him.

Her beady sets of red eyes took in each curve to his full slithering form, scanning across each subtle flex of muscle beneath smooth blue skin, the way that his golden eyes caught the light. “Who is this tall drink of water?” Evara murmured to herself in a soft gasp. With a few of her trinkets gathered in her arms, and drink in hand, she strode forward to the Hutt.

For a moment, she paused before him, dipping into an eloquent curtesy, before a slow smile curved across the arachnid’s red lips. “I speak with the dead… but I must admit, I much prefer the living when they look like you,” Evara finally said in a low, velvety voice with a wink of one of her six eyes. “Ah… yes, that expression. You are used to being admired, hm? A being like you does not go unnoticed… and I have no intention of letting this moment pass without indulging my curiosity.”

Syk had arrived at the station and tried to enter the main hub. As she slithered softly down the terminal, the Sith could see that she had to wait at the docking bay because there was a whole procession proceeding to the main hub.

Her nose wrinkled at the sweet perfumes permeating throughout the air, then heard the proclamation of some great name.

Syk just tilted her head a bit and watched this Hutt emerge in all his gaudy regal splendour as he sort of sashayed himself sluggishly into the main hub.

It was magnificently and horrifyingly impressive, yet decadent and purposeful the way he carried himself.

“Thiss one thinks very highly of himself. I wonder who actually worships the ground he walkss on or who just takes his money.”

Slowly, she made her way after them into the main hub. She tried not to cough at the reeking perfume overpowering all the other smells while she looked around. There were so many vendor stalls and places. She had no idea where to even start. At least though with the Hutt there, all the attention would be off her. She breathed a sigh of relief. Yes, there was that at least.

The Diathim smiled at his startled expression. He has been in the wide galaxy for some time, and while he has not travelled far and wide, he was now used to such reactions. He can only give a welcoming smile to all. To <@244244163002892288> he said, “I’m doing well, and you?” The Angel then looked around him and greeted them all similarly. He stared at the Harch a bit too long, as for some reason he is afraid of all arachnids. However, he wasn’t beyond intermingling, of course. In the brotherhood, he’s training as an envoy, which means he has to know and communicate with everyone. This is his trianing ground. He looked longer at the Hutt, who was interesting in form and personality alike. He didn’t really order any food and drinks himself, for he needed none. His species don’t eat and drink, for they have no need to. <@1385116824814878940> <@607619766752116771> <@690640377262243843> <@186977617356783616> <@185939710005215232>

Upon hearing the Diathim speaking, smiling, and attempting to greet everyone, Weyr gave him a polite wave. He had come across a small data article on their species from the records kept in the DJB database, but not much really was known about them. This now fascinated him greatly and peaked his interest. He had to somehow talk to him, but how to approach him? Weyr began to think.

Aethron attempted to speak telepathically first, because it is easiest for him, and it doesn’t constrain the use of Basic. He thus attempted to convey his greetings through the Force. His voice there was harmonious and musical, one of liquid tongue and an ethereal language, and yet the meaning was clear. “It is my honor to meet you, and meet all of you. How has this day treated you?”

Weyr’s eyes danced delightfully, concentrating. He smiled, looking at Aethron, allowing the Force to flow freely as water, his own voice soft and calming. “I am honored to meet such a fascinating individual as yourself. My day has been a little lonely, but all right. How are you?” Then he turned, raised his glass to the Togorian and grinned. “Great name for such a polite one, a toast to greetings all around. I am Weyr Suil.” <@309550307921231872>

Weyr chuckled as he took a small needle and pricked his finger, dark grey blood began to form as he sqeezed the pricked finger, then showed them.

“That proof enough?”

Saatjeekah remained silent, eyes squinting slightly as the Harch approached. That, in and of itself, made the moment stretch between them. The Nikto noticed first. Blasters shifted subtly, ready to defend their boss. The Mirialan attendant stiffened. The Zeltron’s hand faltered just enough to betray tension. This was not the kind of interaction one simply had with a Hutt of Satjeekah’s stature.

One of the enforcers took a step forward. “Back away—”

A single, lazy wave of Satjeekah’s hand stopped him cold. The Hutt’s golden eyes remained fixed on Evara, unblinking, scanning her with appraisal as he brushed his thick fingers across his beard.

“Curious,” he rumbled at last in fluent Basic, thick with an unknown creole accent. “Most who come to me, dey come wit fear, hmm? They be wantin’ something from Saatjeekah. Power. Wealth. Thrills.” His platform gave a soft hum as he adjusted his posture, rising just enough to loom, his heavy-set but muscular body on full display. “Dey be wanting wat one cannot attain easy, ya get me?”

The Mirialan leaned in slightly. “My lord, the confectioner is three stalls ahead—”

Satjeekah waved her off, slower this time, as though indulging himself. “Yah know who I am, little seer?” He did not wait for an answer. “You be feelin’ something,” he said plainly, never indulging in asking a question, more speaking at her. “Dat recognition witout understandin’.” A faint, pleased rumble followed. For a moment, just a moment, it seemed as though he might offer something like a bargain. Instead he exhaled, long and almost wistful. “Perhaps I be willing the offer what you seek, however…” The word lingered, like a wisp of smoke in the air. Satjeekah lowered himself back to his prior posture, the looming presence receding. “I did not come here for souls. Nor admirers. Nor all dis…destiny talk an’ poetic foolishness.”

He paused for a moment as he leaned in.

“I be here for fudge.”

The entourage relaxed, just slightly, enough to loosen the tension. He gestured past her with a polite tilt of his head. “And while you are…undeniably intriguing,” he added, with the faintest curl of a smile, “And yah stand right between me an’ it.”

Satjeekah’s eyes shifted with fading patience. Courteous, professional, and yet still annoyed. “Take dis as kindness. Anodda time, anodda place…maybe I indulge yah curiosity. An’ maybe,” he flicked a finger under her chin, “ maybe yah not like how far dat go.”

“Now,” he finished, already moving his sled past her as the platform hummed forward again. “be well…an’ be somewhere else.”

The Nikto resumed formation, the perfume returned in suffocating waves, and the procession continued as though nothing had happened.

Ahead, somewhere three stalls down, delicious fudge awaited.

Weyr flashed her a toothy grin, showing more of his sharper teeth. “As you wish.” He took out a small lighter first and sanitized the needle before returning it to a small container and into his side pocket. Then he took out a small phial, squeezed out a few drops of his grey blood and sealed it.

“Not everyday I have someone who admires my blood. As long as you don’t use it to curse me or some other Danthomir Magicks, you can have it.”

After sealing the small phial, Weyr took out his healing spanner from the same side pocket and ran it over his finger, healing the wound before returning it to the same place.

“There we go like it never happened.”

He then held out the small phial of collected blood to the ‘Dowutan.’

Weyr blushed a deep grey color, mortified he mumbled out apologies bowing his head as his left hand came over his face.

“I am so very sorry. I am still learning how to converse with others better. Having to work alongside individuals who are very close minded and imperialistic,sometimes you pick up words you didn’t realize were insults for which I am deeply sorry. I shall try to remember.”

He then put his head down on the table, still very embarrassed.

The Diathim, Aethron, then proceeded to show them glimpses of his homeworld through Telepathy, with mental images. And why not? While he is here making friends, might as well show everyone where he is from, to show them his home. One by one, he showed them glimpses of unending fields of emerald green grass, washed by rivers and the light of heavenly bodies. At daytime, all is bright and merry, while at night, all is silvery and peaceful under the starlight. In their mind, they’d head an otherworldly language that’d remind them of orchestral hymns, prayers and blessings, voices as soft as a feather. At last, he asked them to tell them about their home worlds too. <@185939710005215232> <@244244163002892288> <@1385116824814878940>

Rajhin’s face took on a sour note for a moment. “I have no memory of my homeworld,” he replied to the telepathic inquiry in an uncharacteristically soft tone. “My earliest memories are training in the Obelisk ways in Brotherhood space.” The Togorian fell silent for a moment before his expression brightened again, “but of all the places I have seen in my travels Kashyyk feels the most like home. Tall trees that touch the sky, nature at its rawest and most primal, and a strong proud people with a deep connection to the land.” He sighed wistfully and turned to await the answers others would give to Aethron’s question.

Weyr nodded at the one teasing him as he could hear the Angel in his head. He then smiled.

“Well sadly I don’t know much about my home, I grew up in the streets at first on Nar Shadda, then was picked up by some scientist who saw potential in me and helped me learn more about medicine and science. Then I went to school, graduated and went to work in a couple labs and hospitals before finding out about the brotherhood and joining.”

As Weyr spoke and was paying less attention, Laoch looked over at the spider lady’s stall. Low and behold his eyes caught sight of a Vulptex plushie. All unguarded. His little jade eyes gleamed and sparkled. “My softie now.” He rawrped softly as he flapped his little wings and flew over to the small set up shop. Landing himself by some other dolls, he began sneaking carefully, trying to make sure no one saw him.

A little bit more and he was within pouncing range.

Weyr chuckled. “I guess you could say it’s like one big company with several different affiliates, though I do enjoy getting to know others. I usually don’t get out all that much, so here is a great place to hang about and get a chance to meet people.”

Laoch was now in position, like a cat, he wiggled his front shoulders a bit, then his hind quarters steadying and swishing his tail, then he leaped forward!

His mouth opened as he grabbed the Vulptex by the throat and hooked his front claws into Vulptex to keep hold of it.

Then with magnificent forward momentum, he dived off the counter and opened his gorgeous metallic azure wings and lifted himself before he fell to the ground, gliding swiftly back towards Weyr’s table.

He held the Vulptex plushie tightly in his jaws as he weaved past bar folks walking, flying between one taller bar patron’s legs as he beelined for the table.

Aurelis decided ultimately, to stock up. She closed the fridge and headed back towards the registers grabbing two shopping baskets, giving the Hutt’s entourage a WIDE berth. She strolled purposefully towards the snacks, to find the pilot already with an armful,“ Seriously?” The pilot shrugged, Aurelis rolled her eyes and handed the basket over to him,“ Here, you know for a fact that you’ll end up with more.” He wordlessly dumped the armload into the basket and went back to wandering the aisles while Aure went back to the fridges, snagging 3 or 4 of several different flavors of caf. Then headed for the snacks, picking out a couple bags of crisps. Maple sandwich cookies and as she passed a row of caf mugs she paused as something caught her eye. Bags of caf, one of while was titled Shameless, White cocoa and toffee, she read with a raised eyebrow.

Sofila grabbed Rajhin and pulled him into a tight hug. She then lifted him slightly and waddled her way over to where his seat was.

“VERY LONG!” Sofila grin was from ear to ear. She hasn’t been that excited in awhile.

“Oh-” Oh geez. A lot had happened since she last saw him. Jeez.

“Nothing exciting, left Selen and moved to Kasiya. Got a very serious boyfriend now. What about you? What have you been up to? Have you been sharpening your skills!?”

He felt his nose twitch as he stepped off the Tiss'shar. He was low on supplies. He was low on funds. He was low on booze. He was low on ammunition. And booze- that part was the worst. Razraf had barely limped to the station. His last job had went all sorts of sideways. The lithe Selonian sighed. As he walked the path, he was struck by a sense of loss. There was nothing here for him- or was there?

Ducking into a shop, the Selonian mercenary was struck by how tacky some of the clothing felt. There was nothing that beat a simple set of clothes. Everything here felt so put on, so forced, when compared to the sorts he was used to dealing with. From simple t-shirts, to fancier collared affairs, to tight pants and- wait, were those sparkling pink booty shorts?

He shook his head and snorted. He was sure that he would look absolutely ridiculous chasing after riff raff and criminals in something as audacious as half these clothing choices. He turned on his heels, and strode out of the shop. He walked listlessly between shops and stalls, his eyes searching.

He could smell the musk of several days cramped in a ship with a failing cooling unit. Space was cold, but the systems on his Aggressor pumped out a lot of heat. His clothes were wrinkled. His fur was dirty.

His stomach growled loudly.

His eyes darted left and right, hoping no one had heard.

Put simply, he looked and felt rough.

Syk slithered about the main hub, searching for clothing that might be tailored to fit her. Part of her problem was finding something that could fit with her body type. As she entered a shop to look about, she almost ran over a Selonian. “Ssorry, about that, I almost didn’t see you there.” Her nose wrinkled at the smell of the poor, wet creature before her. She actually felt bad for him. “Are you all right? You seem a little lost.”

“Lost?” He shook his head at the question. “Nah, it is hard to be lost. Home is about as close as it can be from here.” His hands found their way into his pockets as he lowered his eyes and tried to sidestep around the woman.

His stomach growled again, a bit louder this time. He wanted to burrow into the deck plate, to disappear below its surface from embarrassment.

“I suppose so, though it seems that you are hungry. And let me guess.. You are strapped for credits.” She tried to smile, her fangs showed a bit.

Here we go, really hope I don’t scare him.

“Well you are in luck, I happen to feel really generous today and wouldn’t mind allowing you to look about for an outfit here, then take you to the sonic showers to get all freshened up and perhaps get you something to eat. You fascinate me and I don’t think I have ever met a Selonian before. So what do you say?”

His eyes searched Syk’s face as he considered her words. He looked down slightly at her, his head tilting to the side. He was hungry, but he was also cautious.

“I interest you?” He blinked. “What is so interesting about me?” He shrugged. “I’m a spacer. Maybe a bit of a bum just now. I am significantly aware that I am in a rough state, I smell pretty ripe, and I barely have enough creds to keep my ship flying. Why do you want to make me your charity case here?”

His words hung in the air. There was tension, even if it was mostly coming from his side of things. He seemed to weigh his choices, before his shoulders slumped in surrender. “Okay, I can’t eat my pride. If you are buying, I will let you help clean me up, make me presentable, and maybe I can get a cheap sandwich or something.”

The Diathim smiled outwardly, but inwardly gave off the feeling of sadness and even pity. They all miss their homes. That’s one thing that connected most of the people here. But what was sad was that for some, their home worlds were ones of adversity, hostility, and overt danger. The Diathim considered their planet as a living, breathing entity. Such beautiful and serene was their home, that Aethron cannot imagine worlds that are cruel and hostile. Yet, he gave off a feeling of sadness and regret as the others were feeling it as well. He merely mirrored their emotions. <@244244163002892288> <@1385116824814878940> <@185939710005215232>

Syk tilted her head at Razraf. “Charity case? No, I just want to help you get on your feet. I am Syk Varshin, and just kind of came to this place myself. I did see the sonic showers down that way.” She then pointed towards the north past the clothing area. So if you don’t mind walking with me, you can get a nice warm shower, get your clothes washed, and then we can grab some food.” She then smiled again as she gestured for him to follow.

Meanwhile at the bar

With a Vulptex plushie in his mouth, Laoch landed onto Weyr’s table triumphantly as he set it down.

“RAAAWWWRP.” He danced around the plushie happy with his prize. In that instant Weyr felt immense sadness and regret hitting him. He reached out again to the Diathim concentrating. “I appreciate you trying to relate to how we feel about our homes, Your home sounds quite lovely. Are there any hobbies that you enjoy doing?” As he waited for a response,he turned to Laoch and his eyes got wide. “Where did you acquire that Laoch? Please tell me you didn’t just take that from someone’s store.”

The reddish-black Keeradak puffed out its small blue chest as his little eyes gleamed. He was so proud of himself.

“RAAAAAARRP!”

Weyr frowned. “Laoch, whose Vulptex is this?” <@297496904282144769> <@309550307921231872>

“Well if you are okay with it, then that is fine. Though this little one needs to learn that it’s not polite to steal things that are not his. He was lucky that you didn’t mind this time, however someone else might not and he needs to be careful. Give me a moment, while I give him a father’s talk.” To the surprise of the shapeshipter and anyone else paying attention, Weyr shapeshifted into a bit larger grey form of Laoch with red spikes and blue wings. Immediately, the little keeradak stopped running and obediently sat down in front of Weyr, his little face looking very guilty as he conversed in Keeradak tongue to Weyr. The language was primarily trills, growls and squeaks. After explaining to his ‘dad’, he awaited the response. Like a responsible dad, Weyr began to lecture him also in keeradak tongue.

*“Laoch, you are lucky this person was kind to let you have the Vulptex toy. Some are not very nice like that and you could have gotten not only you hurt, but also me if they didn’t want to take payment for the item. You can’t just go stealing things. If you want something, come ask me. Don’t just run off like that, someone could have also kidnapped you. Now apologize to the kind person for stealing it before you play okay.” He gave the little keeradak a soft head rub with his face.

“I care about you little one, so no more stealing okay?”*

“Rawwerp!” Nodded Laoch as he hopped over to the shapeshifter. Sitting on his haunches, he put his tiny little claws up in a thank you gesture as he let out a series of apologetic trills and clicks. Weyr then shifted back to his normal Evereni form and chuckled.

“Laoch is apologizing for stealing your Vulptex and is thankful for the gift. Sorry about that.”

“Only swing by maybe once a month to every other month.” Aurelis answered,“ Otherwise we’re kept pretty busy. So we tend to stock up.” She flashed the man a rather charming smile. “ He is looking forward to the Barbeque dishes up at the diner.”

“Uh…woops, I did forget how big the adults are, at least it was still small by normal standards due to it being me. I will adjust that size when transforming again. My apologies. ” He then realized he had transformed into something in the middle of the bar and blushed. “I well…uh, yes. When I found Laoch, he was an abandoned runt baby. I transformed into one because it was familiar and soothing to him when he was just hatched. He sort of imprinted me as dad, and so at times, I will transform into one to help him understand things. I am very sorry about that. I should have remembered better about the size.” He sank back down into his chair, now wanting to turn into a small bug. He sighed at himself.

“Always get caught up in the now instead of the surrounding picture. A detail I need to work better on.”

Dreel, the Ugnaught had just officially taken over the management of the laundry and ship cleaning business on the station, though the 33 year old red haired man had be running the place for weeks already. His uncle Treel had decided rejoin some military or other, and the other two owners, Kalen and Corra had just had their homeworld viciously attacked by the Eternal Order.

It couldn’t have come at a worse time either, because was booming. So much to that he had hired two additional staff to help keep up with the demand. One folks had found out they offered upholstery shampooing services, the order for interior shio cleaning services had doubled with the week.

“I will return.” He said, and plopped down from the full sized barstool that he used to man the desk near the till of the Laundry shop.

As he walked out the door and across the middle of shopping area, he looked to his left he was startled the sight of a full sized Keeradak.

He froze instantly. Keeradaks were known to mistake Ugnaughts for small prey animals they historically hunted for food. In fact his brood brother had been maimed by an adolescent Keeradak when they had been children.

After about five minutes the adult Keeradak had disapeared again, all the ugnaught saw was just some Evereni sitting at a table, however there was a much smaller keeradak playing with a vulptex plushie on the table. It turned to look out of the bar and locked eyes with the startled ugnaught. The green eyes gleamed as it wiggled its tail.

“Oh no, its got a youngling, I’m getting eaten for sure.” Dreel thought to himself. He wasn’t even armed, amd had no way to defend himself. So instead he just stood there, frozen in fear.

Laoch, who noticed the ugnaught still frozen in place staring intently at him, was now fascinated by the much smaller person.

“Rawrop!” He attempted a greeting and then wiggled his backside and leaped into the air. Spreading his wings he flew towards the outside of the bar to get to the ugnaught. Weyr suddenly noticed Laoch take off again and dashed off after his companion

“Laoch get back here! What are you doing? What did I just say about wandering off!” He then spotted the ugnaught. “Oh dear…”

Dreel was no commando like his uncle, but he did have decent basic survival instincts, and swiftly ran and slid under a bench where to Rodians just so happened to be sitting.

Bril Teg Erinos’ arrival on Station 0H40-S0 was one marked by a tense silence. The weight of his responsibilities, reduced as they were, was a vise. Deep within him, beyond the purview of reason, he sometimes felt the instinct to flee flare within him like a flash fire, only to be quenched by the waters of higher values. Values like his duty to his friends and family, to the people of Selen and beyond. He had only ever acted with those things in mind, and was resolute in his decision to always stand in defense of those he held dear.

Yet on the eve of another war, the third such conflict in as many years since his acceptance amongst the Brotherhood’s ranks, the specter of his self-doubt had reared its ugly head again. And this time, no words of assurances from his beloved or his teachers salved the taint festering within him.

With everyone preoccupied with preparations, that left Bril with only one person he could think of, someone whose age surely came with just as much wisdom. Didn’t it? He hoped so.

Upon arriving at the Golden Griddle, he approached the first employee he saw and started speaking. Typically he asked how they were doing, having long since established a rapport with them due to his frequent visits, but his words were short, this time – tone clipped by urgency.

“I need to see Avalon.”

<@244244163002892288>

Razraf nodded. “That would be very nice. The space lanes have been a bit hard on me. I had hoped to find some work. Got a ship. Looking for a crew. Got keep the Starship flying. Sure you know how that goes.” He sighed. “I don’t suppose this place has a bounty board? It is hard to keep supplied and fed on the niceness of strangers.”

He needed a break. Lots of time devoted to studying old manuscripts and parsing the archives had left him feeling drained. Too much time out of the world and too much time buried in work had given him a pulsing migraine. The slightly fresher air of the station helped, a bit. The other burning desire he had was much simpler to address. And sure, he could have drawn from his Bottle of Sadow, but he needed the excuse to get out. He needed a drink.

The bar was already in sight as Bentre Stahoes strode quickly past shops and sundry. Without skipping a beat, he stepped past and slipped around other patrons to find an empty barstool. Once settled down, he let out a breath. This place was nice. He watched the bartender patiently. His thirst was great, but he still represented Naga Sadow and the Orian System here.

His eyes darted from Avalon to Ray and Vidente. He knew them, but not nearly as well as he did her. “I’m sorry, but can we speak in private?” he said, offering the couple an apologetic nod in the hopes that it would make up for what he felt was an offense, though slight. Normally, he wouldn’t mind their presence, but this was personal. Then again, when wasn’t it with them?

Weyr raced, finally catching up to the keeradak. He tackled laoch, holding him tight. “Laoch, leave whoever it was you saw alone. Knowing how you are, you probably scared them half to death. Now back to the bar we go, if you can’t behave then I will put the leash on you.”

“Raaaaaaaaarrrrpp!”

Laoch hated the leash, he stopped fighting and sighed as he clilbed up on Weyr’s shoulder. Small,curious looking ugnaught would have to wait. As he entered the bar again, he saw a couple more show up as he walked to the front and sat down on a stool. “Now laoch last warning, if you take off again, you are gonna get the leash, you hear me.”

Laoch squawked and nodded as he sat perched. Still looking around at some of the other patrons.

Weyr happened to look over to see a complete perfect copy of himself, only difference being that he was sea green with some red,gold, and violet eyeshadow around black eyes.

He smiled very impressed and nodded to her.

The Evereni’s sharp teeth flashed as he picked up the glass in front of him, spinning it.

“Well, certainly wouldn’t be boring. I never had a sibling before, a twin would be most fascinating. Though I would wonder the level of skills this twin of mine can do.” He turned to the bartender a moment setting the glass down. “I will have some Corellian ale please.” As he turned his attention back.

“Game?” He chuckled. “Hmmm, well I was curious as to what you do. Didn’t know if you had a profession of sorts or hobby besides transforming into the likenesses of individuals.” He replied while taking a drink of his ale.

“Ah, Corellian ale, good stuff. See I am a medical doctor so I tend to take care of sick and hurt people, though I also enjoy studying animals. What about you?”

He nodded in thanks before collapsing into the chair. Two fingers moved to massage small circles across the bridge of his nose, working out the tension.

The sound of Bril taking long, slow breath mingled with the faint hum of the heating element beneath the pot of water. After a few of those, he was ready to speak.

“War is coming,” he began, sure thst she’d heard due her proximity to the Brotherhood, “and the premonitions are back. Never visual, just feelings … pain, fear, and death … so much death.

"Everyone I speak to, they mean well, but they don’t get it. You’ve lived a long time, probably longer than anyone I’ve ever met. Does it ever end? The wars, the gnashing of teeth. Surely, it can’t always be this way … can it?”

“Your rhyme, whimsy and manner are elegantly tailored. Delivery equisite, delightful and quite charming. That is a rather poignant statement on doctors. You must carry some bitter experiences.” He replied without flinching at the alarming possible threat of violence as he took another drink.

“I am relieved Laoch can vouch for my endearing kindness. You remind me of someone I used to know.

They were alike in that sentiment. True we all die the same, but wouldn’t it be so much more fun to be able to perhaps using my healing services to live just a little longer so you can bring pain, misery and complete chaos to whoever may be the unlucky soul to have your ire, my savage bloodthirsty twin?”

Tilting his head to the side, he winked back at Connie.

“My war,” he said with a scoff. Even after the words left his lips, they lingered on his tongue like hot coals. But he said nothing more, just bit back the defensive words that pressed against the back of his teeth.

What could he say, really? Her statement stung not because they were lies, but because they were true. The nature of life and death were a given, and as much as he wanted to deny any responsibility for the Brotherhood’s actions, to distance himself from the clear association between himself and the aptly named Dark Council, he was knew deep down the truth: moral code aside, he was a part of it. As much as he could excuse his participation in the last war as necessary for him to protect his new home and family, the result was the same. He was an agent of Brotherhood hegemony, and all that entailed.

His shoulders fell as he sank into a miserable slump within the chair. Dejected. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know what I’m asking. Or if I’m asking anything at all.”

As he sat there, wallowing in the murky pit of his own grief, a thought manifested in his subconscious. It was a simple thing, a passing curiosity that was bubbled just below his own conscious recollection but came as loud as a trumpet to his interlocutor’s superior senses. What if he leaned into more of his people’s powers? Explored the depths of his power, could he end the wars and suffering?

It wasn’t hard to see where her point was leading. Crystal blue eyes fell to the floor. “The dreams of tyrants and despots, of monsters,” he muttered, sounding defeated, “So, what am I supposed to do? Accept that this is always going to be my life? Always fighting to make a safer future that never comes?”

“Either you got an amazing stomach, or simply just don’t care what you eat.” He chuckled softly. “Maybe a bit of both. As for a job, well mine is primarly healing folks. So if they throw in some extra credits, I might consider it. Doctors do need to make a living.”

“I do no harm to my current patients I tend.” He replied back nochalantly while flashing a toothy smirk.

“If you intend to harm a patient, well there is nothing in the books that says I can’t incapacitate you to stop you from harming another. Also shooting someone in the kneecaps never did kill anyone.”

Bril’s eyes widened a bit when he felt a hand touch his own. Warm like stones on Selen’s beaches, blanketed by the light of Dajorra. In that moment, she became like a star all on her own, a beacon to help guide him back to calmer waters and brighter shores. His eyes shot up to her, and his face scrunched to fight back something that was fighting to break down that door and turn this into a much more embarrassing meeting for him.

“Thank you.”

He’d intended to speak the words, but no words came out, only a choked whisper to accompany the words dancing across his lips. With an upturned palm, he curled his fingers around her hand. The two new arrivals, the station, the whole galaxy faded in that moment.

Then, the swell of realization came crashing back down onto the shores of his mind, and he instinctively pulled his hand away just as his thumb started to trace small circles across the surface of her silvery skin.

“I don’t want to … I can’t run. Not when so much is at stake. I ….,”

He searched for words but they all seemed to elude him. Perhaps that was for the best. Perhaps silence was better.

“Thank you, and may you always have a full cup of drink wherever you go.” He smiled and raised his glas before drinking it.

After noting the vicious predators handler, or owner or whoever, had corraled their murderous petty, Dreel wiggled himself out from beneath the bench he had sought refused under.

As he stood up and dusted himself off he curtly bowed to the two confused Rodians whose conversation he had interrupted as he scrambled in between their legs to avoid being a mid afternoon snack for the Keeradak.

After making sure that the coast was indeed clear, he continued over to the snack bar in the middle of the shopping areas concourse and proceeding to by a few pounds of fudge and a 6 pack of peach cider before returning to the laundry shop.

He noticed that there were a few customers milling about inside as he approached, and realized that they had a busy afternoon ahead of them considering how many laundry pick ups were scheduled in addition to the interior ship cleaning jobs that had come in that morning. Apparently their rates were relatively low and the quality of work they performed was quite high.

“Greetings Chief.” The little Ugnaught said as he opened the door and saw one their regular customers, a Chief Petty Officer from one of the large freighters that passed through the station weekly. The Chief was the head steward of the vessel and was responsible for getting the crew’s laundry done.

“Hey Dreel, how you doing pal?”

“Aside from a brush with death, I am doing quite satisfactory, I have spoken.” The Ugnaught dry cleaner replied.