Session export: [HQD] Port Ol'Val Social

Marick adjusted the messenger bag on his shoulders beneath his cloak. He had made sure to bring plenty of supplies- towels, water bottles, pacifier, formula bottle, and medical equipment just in case. A lightdagger was sheathed safety in one boot, with his dagger in the other.

It might have seemed strange for him to be at ease inside of Port Ol'val, even without his lightsaber at his belt. But having spent a large portion of his career navigating and fighting to secure the shadowport, it was as close to a home as he had outside of the Citadel itself. Besides, his lightsaber wasn’t too far, just in case.

Biddy, his brightly colored BD-droid, chirped excitedly on his shoulder, holding the Radiant hilt in his storage compartment.

That was good, because it kept Marick’s chest and hands free to pay attention to Weyne. The baby’s hair had grown in like a bowl, straight and dark like Marick’s had been as a child. The curious part were the two streaks of white hair that formed ‘rings’ around his small head. Bright blue eyes looked around at all the sights, sounds, with the beginning of faint judgement starting to form. Weyne kicked his feet happily in the Tactical Toddler Holster™️ .

At his side, forgoing holding his hand to keep her hands clasped behind her back as she skipped along was Kirra. She, too, seemed to be at perfect ease among the plaza, waving to familiar faces all around her.

“Princess Sagitta will be here soon,” Kirra said matter of factly as her father approached one of the vendors. Marick paused and looked down at her, faintly lifting a brow at her. He had given up questioning Kirra’s…clairvoyance when it came to people she knew.

“Uncle Cole, too,” Kirra added, nodding once.

“You know that you can’t just call everyone in Arcona ‘uncle’ or ‘aunt’ without their permission, Kirra…”

“It’s okay,” she replied easily. “Uncle Cole will understand. He’s promised to a princess after all.”

Marick’s stoic face did well to hide his reaction.

Marick didn’t laugh, but it took all of his years of controlling his emotions to hide it.

“Lord Tyris!” the Bothan vendor greeted the Hapan. “Good to see you on this fine day,”

Before Marick could reply, Kirra stepped forward.

“Please,” the young girl flicked her hair in what could almost be a dramatic deflection. “Lord Tyris is my father. I’m just Kirra, if you please!”

Marick blinked twice. He made a mental note to remind Wyn that Kirra was a sponge and was starting to mirror everything she heard the adults say or do.

“Lady Kirra, as you would!” the Bothan corrected himself and offered a bow. Kirra made a polite curtsey with her shirt-dress. He glanced back up at Marick. “What can I get for you?”

“One bag–” Marick started.

“–Two bags!” Kirra corrected.

“–two bags,” Marick continued patiently, “of the fried dough bites, please”.

The vendor bowed his head with a grin and went to work. He had two skillets in front of him, lined with tiny divot-like imprints. He took a plastic bottle of batter and made a quick showing that impressed Kirra every time for some reason and squeezed the batter into the skillet mold. He closed the top down, twisted, and drummed his fingers against the counter as he timed out the baking. After a minute or so, he flipped the skillet open and scooped out two bags of small round pieces of puffy fried dough.

“Thank you kindly,” Kirra said, taking the bags while Marick was still paying the vendor.

“Now just…hold on a moment…”

From up on a short rooftop of one shop lining the plaza, directly across from the young girl kicking her legs on a balcony, dangled a crazy woman. She hung upside down with her clothes all falling in her face, which deterred her not at all, because she was very sneakful and skilled and also had no eyes anyway. One needed creative solutions when there were no milk crates or ladders to be borrowed. And sure, she could’ve just used telekinesis, but that wasn’t the same.

“Yes now, dear, a little to the left if you please…no no, pardon, my left, your right, yes, thank you…Aha… There… You go!” Atyiru exclaimed, finally managing to drape the hand knitted scarf over the massive “shoulders” of the defense droid in such a way that it stayed despite having no neck. Then she hugged it and kissed its dome. She had been making the rounds delivering hugs, kisses, and knitted clothing to all the droids and this was the last. “All done! Yippie! Now, Debbie, how am I going to get down…”

She smiled secretly to herself as she felt her children and her partner abuzz with the satisfaction of fried dough and mysterious Kirras. Reaching out to them, she knocked at their minds, mentally waving a kerchief, which echoed her flapping her topsy-turvy robe sashes that swished very well.

Oh, my dear ciridae and princess! I am in need of rescue. And also snacks. And you should say hi to Debbie besides.

<@189568236201705472>

Cole walked beside Sofila. Though he held no position himself, he’d been helping the Quastrix in her new posting. Sometimes it was all the little details that oftentimes became too much of a pile and he had the experience to lighten the load enough for her to regain control of the situation.

This was one of those little situations, and him helping was by being present.

He kept a eye on the passers by, maintaining a casual gait though ensuring to keep up with Sof as they entered the Plaza. She naturally walked faster than him, never mind the height difference coming into play.

“Remind me, how many did you invite today?”

Cole followed Sofila’s eye and wasn’t sure exactly what to do. Assumedly, Tyris would be nearby to help his wife though from how she was just relaxing there he wasn’t entirely sure Atyriu needed help. He side glanced Sofila, then looked back to Atty and just shook his head.

“I’d say good question but it’s usually best to not ask too much.” He answered, hesitating before with more uncertainty than he’d like to share suggested, “We… Could help her?”

Elsewhere in the plaza, a quartet of figures walked along, eyeing the stalls and sniffing the air, some more visibly than others. The tallest of the bunch was a young Mirialan man, casually dressed in fitted pants and a huttball jersey that showed off lean, muscular arms, his tattooed face partially obscured by the length of his brownish hair he occasionally flicked out of the way. Gauges and earrings hung in his wide ears, two new piercings a little puffy still as if just done.

Close beside him was another Mirialan and the next tallest of the lot, if only by a few inches. Still, compared to her brother nearing six feet now, it was noticable. The young woman wore a form-fitting skirt and leggings under it, her blouse bright orange, fine, dainty bracelets thin on her wrists and large earrings matching them along with a slip of a belt. Her emerald hair was a densely coiled cloud around her shoulders and head.

Walking with them were a Selonian with wicked hair dyed brightly, just so happening to be the same colors as the jersey the other boy wore, and a Shistavanen with fluffy cream fur talking a mile a minute. He seemed completely and utterly at ease on the asteroid, whereas his verdant companions radiated a little more unease, wary but curious.

The male Mirialan glanced around, blue eyes noting the familiar crazy cceeqa over one way doing something with a droid, and many other people. Both Mirialans seemed to soften at the sight of children. The girl though seemed disappointed as she looked around the shops.

“Ayy, it’s only food,” she muttered to herself, groaning slightly. She’d been hoping for more, like…stuff too when Carr talked up this market.

<@114916641581563913>

Kirra’s pointed ears twitched in a familiar pattern. Before the message, Marick knew even before the child looked up at him. So they spoke at the same time, Kirra mirroring her father’s cadence and careful tone perfectly.

“Momma’s in trouble–”

“Your mother is stuck”

Marick sighed. He took Kirra by the hand and guided her through the light crowd towards where he someone knew Atyiru to be.

When he stopped and looked up, his face looked tired. Before acting, he asked. “Atyiru. Do you want us to help you down?”

Marick had been working with Kirra on consent when using the Force. The young girls latent abilities were unique, and she sometimes just didn’t know that she wasn’t supposed to share things she detected in people’s minds or when the spirits shared secrets with her.

“Well of course! That’s why I asked, silly. Wink! But thank you for asking. That is very important.”

She hummed to herself and made grabby hands at her family.

“I could certainly get down, but it’s much nicer to have someone help, don’t you think? Kirra?”

Kirra looked up at her father for final permission. He nodded and gave her a bit of space. Fela and Biddy also pulled back and watched attentively.

Kirra furrowed her brow. “But her mass is likely greater than what I can lift.”

Marick shook his head slightly. “Size matters not, Lunayi,” he replied comfortingly.

Kirra nodded, then looked up at her mother, clearly in need of her help. Her true-blue eye focused as her opaque, clouded eye honed on mothers signature in the Force itself.

She raised her small hand and imagined an angel with wings and feathers and multiple eyes (to be accurate, of course) lifting mother up from her position, righting her, and carefully bringing her down to the plaza floor.

Her will released into the Force, and her belief was strong enough to guide Atyiru from her hanging position down to stand in front of them. She lowered her hand, unfurrowed her brow, and smiled wide. “Momma!” she said as she darted forward and threw herself into Atyiru’s arms. “I did it!”

Atyiru floated gently down as if on the wings her daughter imagined, feet touching the ground and small cannonball taken to the chest happily. She twirled with the momentum as easily as any Soresu master, laughing bright and true as she praised the young wizard.

“Beautiful, Mika lunayi! My heroess! Thank you, oh, well done! Your father and I are so proud of you.”

She beamed as she kissed white locks just like hers, turning the smile too to Marick, her face angling in his direction.

“That they do.” Cole commented, watching Kirra with a raised eyebrow. That was incredibly powerful for such a young child. Either way, the situation was solved and he nodded, commenting as he began following Sofila once more, “Just remember we still have some stored from the last market we visited. We can always come back for more when we’ve actually eaten more of it.”

Marick leaned over and kissed her cheek. Then Weyne made grabby hands upward, feeling left out.

Cooing, Atyiru shifted Kirra back down, smoothing her hair as their ears all twitched in time, knowing the big sister would make way for her brother even if she still wished for attention; it was just right, after all. When Kirra was set back down she primly curtsied, then kissed Weyne’s cheek before the Miralukan mother lifted him out of his Tactical™ Carrier and nuzzled their noses.

“Hello, little one. Hello!”

Carr barely heard Leda’s complaint; he was talking enthusiastically about one thing or another, as he did. Some people spoke with their hands… Carr had developed the habit of talking with his ears and tail, none of which stayed still. Ro had to keep putting space between them to avoid getting struck.

“So then the professor is all like, ‘Did you even listen to the lesson?’, which is just him trying to redirect attention ‘cause, of course he is wrong,” Carr explains. “Which, of course… I say. So what does he do? He stop to do the math. It took him fifteen minutes, and when he finished the last set of equations, He turned and barked at me, 'You failed to follow the instructions and missed the point of the assignment! You shan’t receive any marks on this paper and I expect to see you after class!’ Like… what is that?! Just because my math is better than his?! Seriously?!”

By now, they had all become quite used to the young Shistavanen’s exuberant storytelling. Ro'ki got to hear it even at school. The Selonian, grinning, nudged his friend in the ribs, “As incredible as your stories about advanced engineering are… ‘haps we should, you know, check out some o’ these stalls?”

“Oh! I know this awesome stall! You see…” Carr started.

“Hey, how about showing us?” Ro quickly cut in.

“Damn right! Hang tight!”

Carr bolted toward the stall he mentioned, the Mirialans and Selonian watching after him before collectively letting out a breath—a momentary break. Of course, that left Ro alone with Leda and Noga, and they did not know them the way Carr did.

“I’d say he saves them up for yas, but…” he chuckled and scratched his head.

Carr returned within minutes, a paper plate in each hand, two treats on each. On them, what looked to be four tortillas shaped into bowls and made crispy. A very light glaze of what smelled like honey syrup was brushed over them, and inside were diced strawberries and mascarpone whipped cream. One for each of the friends.

Alex wandered through the Plaza at Port Ol’Val, idly fidgeting with the Voidbreaker pin attached to his collar. It was a new addition to his attire and, while it didn’t stand out significantly against the tyrian purple kaftan with silver ornamentation - most notably a gorgeous and elaborately stylized mythosaur skull on the back - he was still extremely conscious of it. It had been a very surprising turn of events for him, as newly returned to society as he was, and he still wasn’t entirely comfortable with all of this. But, then again, that was why he found himself here. Forcing himself to interact with others, particularly his new Housemates, would hopefully do him some good and allow him to start building the friendships and relationships he was eager to rediscover.

Steven followed closely behind Alex, adorned in a simple crimson tailcoat. The lanky KX droid had an impassive air about him as always, impossible to tell if he was even remotely interested in being here or if it was simply out of his sense of duty. The slight hunch of his shoulders made it clearly evident that there was something annoying him, though.

“Sir, I’m not sure it’s appropriate to be spending time in such festivities right now. There is a great deal of administrative work that still needs to be completed regarding the transf-”

“Enough of that, Steven, my good man. It is as much a responsibility of one in my position to perform social niceties and make appearances as it is to cross the t’s and dot the i’s. I am quite sure you are more than aware of this, and are simply being a Grumbly Gus because you do not want to be here.” Something caught Alex’s eye and a burst of laughter erupted from him, loud enough to reverberate through the Plaza. He pointed at a spider sentry festooned in a wildly-colored knit scarf and hat as he turned to Steven. “It appears you are not the only droid who chose to attend today dressed in their finest, my friend! Perhaps you should go and exchange fashion tips! You could learn a thing or two from that one, I think!”

Cole met her gaze, his head titled up to meet it and yet remained unwavering. He raised an eyebrow, slowly, without judgement but certainly# not convinced by the puppy eyes. Sofila had forgotten one vital piece of information in her plan after all. Cole didn’t like animals in the first place.

“Then we buy a small amount and that can fit in the space left in the drawer and not fill the entire cooling unit with fruit. Again.”

“It’s cool. We good listeners,” Leda said to Ro, then swore upon seeing what Carr had brought, her attention redirected. “Oh my goodness giimmi, ay.”

She took her plate with gusto, looking much more pleased to have the surprise of a Mirialan style treat present. Noga was a little slower, giving a huff, but he took the plate from Carr with a grin that had a soft, almost shy edge.

“Ay, strawberries?” he asked, sticking his fingers in and swiping up some of the syrup to try. He spoke around the digits, muffled. “Thanks, Carromi.”

Leda might have shot a look over, but she was busy eating and three quarters of the way done.

“M'ff there more of this?”

With Weyne happy in her hold after a few good bounces, Atyiru sensed another presence– or more specifically, another sort of emptiness accompanying a new – but old, whispered his thoughts, very old and walking on unsteady legs that had not tread such stones in ages – presence. Atyiru hummed as she returned Weyne to his father.

“Oh,” she cheered, “a new friend to make! A good thing we are always prepared, isn’t it, love?”

Dancing around him as Marick held perfectly still and didn’t blink at all at her ways, the Miraluka dug into the pack under his cloak that was fully stocked with anything they may need, including an extra hat, scarf, and mittens. She decided the scarf was safest. Who knew if her new friend had hands or a head? Mittens could do just as well as socks, of course, but only on bipedal feetsies. Treaded wheels would eat the yarn as surely as peckish laundry gnomes.

Withdrawing her prize – a violent monstrosity of different colored wools that ended and began in no particular place, with tassels on the ends, because tassels were magnificent – Atty gave a satisfied, triumphant sound and struck a pose holding it up like Wyndell would. Kirra immediately copied her, pointing straight for the sky.

“Who are we finding, Mother?”

“We’re about to find that out, lunayi! Come, come. Maaaarry. It’s an old one. Perhaps you will have a memory faint.”

<@189568236201705472>

Marick blinked, but nodded. “Very well,” he glanced around, taking note of a few people that seemed to be staring at them. He made eye contact with a few, took notes, details, but it had been years since the illusion that there was no Force Users secretly running the Shadowport.

Marick had been the first ‘Blindman’, and moved about with an alias as the Ghost of Ol'val. But that was a lifetime ago, it seemed. Oblivioin Brigade was barely an echo in the Clan and House’s history.

But old habits never truly died. He knew that a new Battleteam Leader had been selected for the Voidbreaker. He had a hunch, but decided to stay quiet and follow his wife’s lead. He ruffled Kirra’s hair in a form of silent pride.

Carr practically beamed, delighted with how happy his two friends were. “They also have an amazing Sopapilla Cheesecake. It’s puff pastry with a fluffy cream cheese filling. It’s one of my favourites.”

Ro grinned and shook their head. They had to wonder if Carr knew what they were doing sometimes… “You’re grinnin’ like a dork, pal.”

The Shistavanen’s ears perked, and he cleared his throat, trying for serious, but he could not wipe the silly grin off his muzzle. “There is also a stall with a Leche Quemada. A lightly spiced candy the is crumbly and flavoured of slightly burnt caramel.”

Now Ro wondered if his friend had asked the vendors for these descriptions.

A text message arrived on Carrs comm.

Zig: 👀🫵🏻👀

The siblings exchanged a glance, silently communicating with thick eyebrows alone. They knew what the dessert Carr described was, being one common to their culture – their Papi had made it for them all before even. But the Shistavanen trying so hard for them was always nice even as it had been and still was puzzling.

Leda grinned silly back. “I love lecheqz. That sounds great. You guys?”

“Sure.” Noga tipped a two fingered salute that he then licked cream off of. “Ro?”

The Selonian gave a nod. “Sure, of course.”

Carr glanced up from his comm before glancing around the plaza. Was the Zygerian spying on him or something? Was she having him followed? He looked down at the screen before sending a reply, I’ll bring something back for you, don’t worry. Shifting his attention back to his friends, he motioned for them to follow as he finished his sweet, “I’ll show you where the stall is.”

Ro'ki wondered if any of them had a clue, the Selonian rolling their eyes to themself. They doubted Carr even knew he was giving signals, as much as they doubted either was picking up on said signals. It was irritating and adorable for the Selonian, who had far too much experience not to notice. Kids… they thought with a bit of a smirk. Force forbid he ever figures out which one he is crushing on…

“Oh, oh. That is your troublemaker’s face,” Carr shot at the Selonian.

“Ya think ya know me so well, this is actually my gods… why’re my friends such dorks face. Ya just see it so often ‘cause you’re the biggest dork I know,” Ro said, their tone full of affection for the three of them.

“You spent your last weekend off from classes with your head buried in an engine…"Carr started.

"That’s 'cause I am an engine nerd. You, dear Carr, are a dork. Come, my trio of dorks, we’ve delicious food ta behold!”

It was not a long walk, heading through the Ducts from the Dock, but Strong find himself taking his time. He was uncharacteristically nervous, some sweat on his brow as he stopped at various pop up stalls people had set up in the sides of the tunneled out portion of Ol'val.

“Yes, this should do…,” he murmurs mostly to himself as he holds up a small silver necklace, a simple affair but elegant and flexible, much like…he cut off that line of thought as the vendor demanded a sum that was…probably more than the piece was worth on the streets of the shadow port. The Chiss waved his credit chit over the man’s register and paid without an argument, tucking the piece of jewlery away and gathering up his nerve…he turned to head for the Plaza.

Noga and Leda watched the exchange between the two anthromorphs quietly as they often did, raising talkative brows instead at the classic teasing. They didn’t seem thrilled by being called dorks, but they’d definitely grown more used to it as an affectionate term from Ro over the last school year.

“By your leave, my Lord,” Noga affected, his accent trying to mimick Cora’s tone, the words well practiced. He gave a half bow and gestured with an arm, fully court appropriate thanks to training from their Dad, but snarkily out of place here. Leda snorted.

Orv Dessrx sighed as he fastened his cape and plucked some lint from his shirt. It had been far too long since he wrenched himself from the clutches of his work and political dealings with the Crymorah Syndicate beyond the Arx System. But, now that the Teltior had arrived back in Arconan home territory, it made sense to make the rounds and rekindle some ties that had languished.

His sources informed him that Marick, Atyiru, and a handful of Qel-Droma movers and shakers would be in Port Ol'val, so here he was. Strong allies gives one a strong position to make demands elsewhere - old connections were worth strengthening and new ones could lead to more intel.

After one final glance in his mirror and a straightening of his left bracer, the Sith practitioner left his hotel for Jerem Plaza.

Ever the cautious individual, Orv made note to diminish his presence in the Force out of habit as he wandered the streets. But that didn’t mean he wanted to hide - he was here at the Plaza and he’d enjoy what the place had to offer. Orv strolled along contentedly taking in smells of the market until he found something that caught his eye. He stopped at a street vendor with an array of smokey meats and vegetables.

“I’ll take a skewered sa'naxo. No sauce.” One can’t have things dripping on their clothes, after all.

The old woman running the booth mumbled something about her sauce being well known in these parts, but shrugged and grabbed a sizable stick of meat, offering it up. The Teltior held his datapad to the payment kiosk and took the skewer with a grin of thanks.

With his most immediate need being met, he turned and started combing the hustling and bustling crowds for his old allies.

Marick paused suddenly, with Atyiru and Kirra continuing on their path.

A familiar presence. It wasn’t obvious, or likely easy to spot for others, but the Arcanist’s senses picked up on the familiar thread.

Dessrx… The retired spymaster in him noted first–the same kind of attention any new power player on a holochess board warranted. Then, the part of him that had always been Arconae–beneath he and Orvs respective service and dealings with the Council–smiled.

Few had gone so far as to fake their deaths for the good of the Brotherhood, or rendered service to it. No different than Marick now filling the role of Exarch.

So the Hapan moved fluidly through the crowd to catch back up to Atyiru and Kirra, and was content to trust his fellow Arconae to find his own way to either them or the others.

Worn boots clacked on fresh pavement, the old pair having crossed countless miles of asteroid over their years of service and by now as comfortable as a fitted glove. The dark nerf hide was matched by a pair of charcoal leggings, the sort of practical legwear any self-respecting Twi’lek with a gym membership wouldn’t pass up on. A loose top of white satin, printed with an offset emblem of a rebellious phoenix, was haphazardly tucked into the waistband of the pants. A carefully curated look of casual devil-may-care attitude further accented by the swoop racer jacket in a matching shade to her boots.

Tali Sroka had called Ol’val her home for years and when at home, she preferred to dress comfortably. Few adornments, mainly a simple headpiece to cover the base of her lekku and a stylish tool belt for her compact lightsaber, completed the streetwise look. Her amber eyes flitted from vendor to vendor over freckled cheeks as she made her way towards the Plaza proper. Somewhere amongst their number, she could smell roast mynock.

The air inside Ol’val had never been particularly pleasant, what with it being imported and recirculated through bio-oxygenation filters and dispersed via a capillary network around most of the habited areas within the Shadowport. It was still perfectly breathable, of course, but the processed nature left it with a certain staleness that constantly reminded her of the fact she and everyone else aboard their asteroid home, were stowaways in a realm inherently hostile to life.

It was against that backdrop that her earcones tingled at the shrill sound of a child’s laughter. It felt like an age when she’d last heard such a sound on Ol’val. It made her smile.

When she first arrived here all those years ago, the place had been a hive of scum and villainy, run by a network of cartels operating on byzantine rules of power. In a scant few months, it had all been put to the torch and most of it had burned to the proverbial ground. It was upon those ashes that Lucine and her had begun to rebuild. It seemed they had been successful.

A child running elatedly down Ol’val’s streets. A fat middle finger to all the carnage of the past and the inhospitable void around them. Life always found a way.

Now it would be someone else’s turn to be the warden. A new flame had been kindled from the ashes. She could only trust they would keep it going.

Alex was amusedly glancing around the stalls set up around the Plaza. He was not yet sure if he was currently in the mood for fried dough, fried meat, or fried cheese. Spirits forfend he should desire some non-fried food, but he supposed if he really needed there were some vendors selling fresh produce. As he closed his eyes to let the smells assail him and follow his nose, he felt a slight tingling on the back of his neck. It didn’t seem like someone was watching him in particular, but at least their notice had turned in his general direction. He quickly swiped his credit chit at the vendor and took a couple skewers with melty fried cheese on them as he glanced subtly over his shoulder.

His attention was immediately drawn to what he assumed to be a family, two adults accompanied by a child and a carried baby, headed toward him at a leisurely pace. The presumed mother of the group was holding some of the colorful knit garments Alex had noticed adorning the droids about the Plaza, and the pieces clicked together.

Oh, this is going to be entertaining at the least, he thought as he bit into a chunk of cheese and pointedly turned his attention away so as to not tip off Steven. <@244244163002892288>

Orv’s attention was redirected from the last of his skewer. Perhaps it was the tickle of the force, or maybe it was happenstance - but he turned his head all the same and there down the street he spotted some familiar figures. Tossing the rest of his meal into a bin followed by the napkin he used to wipe his face.

The Teltior had gone to battle with Marick and Atyiru as Arconae compatriots, but, well…Orv didn’t exactly serve on the front lines. That put them at the level of respected allies rather than as old friends. Such is the responsibility of a politician - dirty hands makes leading from the back quite difficult. Sure, Dessrx knows he’d be quite adept at killing from the front lines, but his real skills were in the backroom deals and the trading of lives that end (and sometimes start) wars.

All the same, Orv knew of their exploits as Arconan leaders - even after the wars - so it was time to bridge the gap and see if they’d prove even more useful to him in the long run. He picked up his pace to catch up to…

Wait. They brought their family? Drek. Well, I guess the best way to work this is to be friendly and interested. The intel sharing should come later anyway…will come later.

Shouldering past a small group of Sullustans, Orv elevated his voice into a welcoming and familiar tone, sing-songy in a way that smiled for him so that he didn’t have to.

“Marick. Atyiru. Is that you? It has been ages!”

Marick turned and was, in a rare moment of being lost in memory, unaware of the Teltior’s approach. That alone should have unnerved him. If it did, it did not show on his face, however. And if there was anything off about Orv’s approach, the Hapan wasn’t able to detect it in that moment.

“Dessrx,” Marick greeted formally, but with a respectful bow of the head. “I had heard you had returned to the system, and had hoped we would have a chance to run into one another.”

Marick hadn’t heard, per se, but he still kept tabs on the comings and goings around Dajorra. He had helped build the core infastructure still used in the DIA, afterall, and being a retired Voice had a few perks.

Meanwhile, in his baby holseter, Weyne seemed unperturbed by the new approaching stranger, content to play with the toy he had been given. The youngest Tyris child had yet to manifest any Force sensitivity yet…and he seemed intent on the toy and getting the simple set of rotating colors to align evenly. It was a toddlers version of a puzzle cube, but instead of focusing on the shifting pieces the baby was focused on getting the colors just right.

Marick saw no issue with this, and no one else thought it worth pointing out.

Kirra, on the other hand, turned and her face lit up as she noticed the new person. “Hiya Mister!” When Marick narrowed his eyes down at her, she cleared her throat and quickly adopted a more formal tone. “I mean, hello! I am Kirra,” she beamed up at the Sith with a bright smile and her mismatched eyes.

One the one hand, Orv would know Atyiru’s smile even from a distance. And while only one eye matched Marick’s, the attentiveness she displayed was a clear mirror of her fathers.

At a commanding seven feet plus in height, the Chiss stood out in the Plaza crowd, his head a shining beacon reflecting the ceiling lights as it turned this way and that, red eyes scanning the crowd. It was clear as day that he was looking for someone, or something, in particular. He saw children running, he saw people buying food at stalls, he saw familiar faces scattered among the crowd…

“But where is…” he murmured to himself, looking oddly nervous. The festival affair was all well and good, an excuse to come to Ol'val, but he had come here with purpose today, and it made him more nervous then any battle he’d ever been in before.

“Pull yourself together, Son of Garmis,” he rumbled to himself, taking a deep breath.

Ro either ignored the gesture or was completely oblivious to it. They spun on their heels and shuffled forward, a wide grin on their snout. “Onwards, then!”

Carr watched him walk forward a few meters before clearing his throat, “Left, Ro.”

“Of course!” The Selonian turned right.

“Other left…” Carr sighed.

“Oh! Gotcha!”

The kids followed. There was never a dull moment. Carr disappeared now and again, returning with another treat for his friends. He kept his nose up, practically sniffing out the best treats while they chatted. The enjoyment of treats was interspersed with Carr’s ridiculous storytelling. It was a wonder none of his professors had just kicked him out of class if the stories he was telling were accurate.

“Ya’ve both heard ‘nough 'bout our borin’ days in class; what’ve ya both been up to?” The Selonion managed around a mouth full of some honeyed pastry.

Carr took that as his queue to let someone else talk while he enjoyed a spiced meat pastry.

Cole had led Sofila further into the market, glad to notice that the fruit stalls weren’t right there straight away and that they wouldn’t be carrying around a large amount of stuff the entire time this invite was open.

There were new faces around, familiar ones too. Stres'tron'garmis looked nervous, which was odd. In Cole’s years of knowing the Chiss he’d never seen the man be that.. twitchy in a way that wasn’t loud and fighting something. They were nearby to the Chiss so, in a moment of trying to distract Sofila from fruit be sociable he called over the short space.

“Are you looking for someone Strong?”

“Ah…Mister Cole,” the Chiss nods in greeting, before he glances over at Sofila, his expression perking up, “Miss Sofila! Ah, yes, I am looking for…Mistress Sroka.”

Despite most of Ol'Val being cramped tunnels, the plaza was almost agoraphobic. Due to the perspective bending intricacies of asteroid architecture, as much as things could be claustrophobic, they could equally well be cavernously vast. Jerem plaza was squarely of the latter variety, which did make seeing people a lot easier at a distance. As such, spotting a hulking seven foot Chiss was less a matter of keen eyes than a simple act of bothering to look up.

Tali had spied the familiar sheen of Strong’s polished forehead at a distance, and as she waded her way past the throng of ol'valians, she felt a strange sensation tugging at her consciousness. Ever since she had deepened her study of the Force and bent her capacities to understanding the course of destiny, she had begun feeling these premonitions. Not quite Precognition, not quite true Farsight, but something in between. An inkling of a potential. Unfortunately they were even more nebulous to interpret than true visions, and doubly irritating, they felt not much different from the disquiet flutter the Chiss happened to cause in her whenever they met…

Halting for half a pace to steady herself with a deeper breath, the Twi'lek closed the distance to find the stalwart Chiss already caught between the new Quaestor and a Cole place.

She put on a pleasant smile and closed the distance.

“Inspecting the produce, Lady Armis? I never knew you hadt such fascination for hydroponics.”

“Andt greetings to you as vell, misters Farrow andt Garmis. I hope you’re enjoying a port vith a few less shadows as much as I am.”

The big Chiss straightened perceptiably, his shoulders squaring as he heard her voice, and turned on his heel, ears starting to purple with a blush.

Lady Sroka, he rumbled, lowering his head in greeting, “You look…” he glanced at the others and felt the words fumbling in his mouth, “…well, you look very well.”

Tali could not help the bemused smile that tugged at her lips at seeing Sofila’s reaction. She would do fine. No, she would thrive. She just knew it.

“Enjoy the festivities,” the purple Twi'lek stated amicably as the pair exited stage left. She was sure they would have another time to chat if need be.

Once Sofila and Cole had disengaged to a polite distance, she finally returned her attention to Strong. The smile on her lips widened, just a smidgen. “You don’t look half badt yourself. Even if not in armor—or a dress uniform. Enjoying the shadowy side of life?”

Strong looked down, then back up at smiling amber eyes.

“It is…nice, here. I have seen Ol'val in smoke and flames, in ruin and madness. I have helped clear debris and put up fresh walls alongside the locals…but all I did was help things along.”

He looked around, then back at the woman in front of him.

“You made this a place where people can smile in the daylight…well, the lights, anyways.”

He cleared his throat and felt the weight of the gift in his pocket.

“But what of you? Finally free of your duty…how does it feel?”

While Kirra introduced herself to Orv, Marick’s attention shifted again. He noticed someone watching- flanked by a KX-series droid, and chomping on…cheese? With a closer look, the details matched what he’d read of the new return to Qel-Droma. Zig had encountered them, and he’d already been informed of the behind the scene changes going on with the ship and House.

He didn’t really try to hide the fact that he’d clocked the human, seeing if he’d acknowledge or approach.

The open hangar of Port Oval was filled with the musical chime of cheeping birds. A heavily modified, and vibrantly painted, N-1 Starfighter flew in and landed in a maintenance area. As the engines turned off, and the cockpit opened, a Mandalorian climbed out of the vessel.

“Miss Eevie! You’re back!”

A young dock worker ran up to the ship to help Meneveria Navis-thae Erinos check in.

“Do you want us to take a look at her?” he asked pointing to her ship.

“No thanks. My guys’ll handle it.”

At that, 3 DUM-series PIT droids and a BB-unit came out of the ship and began working on it. As the Mandalorian walked further into the port, the droids did maintenance scans, light repair work, and system diagnostics testing. It was clear from watching the interactions, KD-9, the BB unit, was the crew leader. With beeps and whirls it gave the PIT droids their assignments.

One of the droids, designation BN-EE, seemed to move slugishly. It’s black domed head tilted down as it plugged into and spoke with the ship’s computers. It seemed down on itself and dejected.

The second one, called DN-EE was excitedly holding a plasma torch as it worked over the starfighters hull. It’s fiery paint job matched It’s energy as the photolens eye seemed intent on the deep burning plastic flame.

Finally the third droid, called KN-EE, had to right itself after tripping over a cable laying in the middle of the floor. It had a burnt orange and brown color scheme, and it’s chassis and plating was dinged up and dented. It was checking over the engine of the starfighter, and pulled out a fuse for cleaning. After setting down the fuse and turning away, a small rat like creature grabbed the fuse and ran off with it.

KD-9 saw this and yelled out at the other droids. The three PIT droids dropped what they were doing, DN-EE literally so as the plasma torch started a fire. Seeing the running creature, the PIT droids chased after it, and KD-9 frantically started trying to put out the fire.

Alex was half keeping an ear out for the approaching family and half trying to figure out whether the fried cheese skewer he was eating was delicious or a foul grease bomb - it could honestly go either way and his taste buds hadn’t quite decided yet - so he was caught a bit by surprise at a sudden outburst of his name from a different angle. He turned, just in time for Sofila to approach followed by a Human man. When introductions were made some pieces clicked together for him.

“Ah, Cole then. I have heard your name mentioned a few times as potentially accompanying the boss here when she may have business aboard the ship. Good to put a face to the name!” He held out his hand, bracer shifting a little bit against the purple cloth at the sudden movement.

“And yes,” gesturing to the tall droid behind him with the other hand, “this is my boon companion and majordomo of my estate, Steven. Without him, I doubt I would manage to keep the lights on.” Steven, for his part, stared impassively - the only way he could - and his head dipped a nearly-imperceptible amount in what could have been meant as a bow or merely a simple adjustment of stance. <@432543120635461643>

“Every bit helpedt,” Tali affirmed. “There is no vay any of us couldt have rebuilt all this on our own. But it is rebuilt, andt that is vhat matters. It vill never be—how vouldt Lucine call it—polite society, but at least it isn’t on fire andt the streets aren’t running redt. I think that’s about as goodt as this place vill ever be.” She seemed genuinely pleased with that state of affairs. A shadowport was still a shady place, it sorta had to be by definition, but there were also some limits to how far into chaos it could regularly descend before it also ceased being a port.

At the mention of her own future, the Twi'lek’s smile faltered, if only for a moment, and she turned thoughtful. “I vouldt be lying if I saidt it didn’t feel a little empty. It vas such a big part of my life andt suddenly…nothing. Still, I am not concernedt. Everything is in goodt handts. Andt maybe vhen the next assassin comes aroundt, I von’t be the one vith a target on my back.”

“But I think it’s best if I take a bit of space between myself and Ol'val. Let me return vith a fresh perspective. Trying to carry on from vhere I vas… I think it vouldt be awkardt for all of us. I think Lucine calledt it a sabaton?”

“A… sabbatical perhaps? A time to step away and recuperate…a vacation?” Strong gave her a smile, before leaning in, his voice dropping to a low rumble.

“We could be off the station and out of system within the hour, if you say the word…”

It was far from the first time he’d suggested a vacation…a getaway, but always their duties got in the way.

“Good to meet you.” Cole replied, glad that Sofila seemed at least mostly relaxed though tensing himself at the sudden introduction. He shook Alex’s hand with a firm grip, letting go after a moment and returning to a neutral stance.

“And likewise. The Voidbreaker can be interesting to be apart of. It’s good to know who’s taking the helm.”

He side glanced the droid, noticing the movement but not responding to it.

<@216702440140046336>

“Right, that,” the Twi'lek said, re-remembering the word she’d tried for.

“A vacation soundts nice, can’t deny. Maybe somewhere vith hotsprings andt ice. Don’t tell Vicxa, but I quite enjoyedt our mission up in Tunca. The northern lights vere magical…” She sighed wistfully. “Needt to findt someone to take care of Vala vhile ve’re gone. She’s not quite tame enough to be let out andt vander Ol'val alone.”

“Sofila…” Cole spoke, too late to stop her from asking but throwing the comment in to at least to try and reduce the liklihood of more.

“I am afraid I am a little bit at a loss of how to respond to that, boss,” Alex’s mouth turned up a bit as his brow furrowed in consideration. “There are, after all, a few ways that question could be taken.” A slight tilt of the head toward Cole to show appreciation for the concern over social norms as he continued.

“If you mean to enquire as to the ‘what’, then I believe the only real response is that every organic being is born at some time, right? I apologize,” he held out a hand palm upward and gave a slight bow, “as I am not extremely familiar with the effects of age on your people, but I would gauge you to be somewhere around your mid- possibly late-20s? So in just the same way that you were born by my best guess somewhere around 15 ABY, I in that same way was born in 3985 BBY. And since, to my knowledge, we have not yet figured out a way to get from point A to point B without traveling the distance in between, I have lived those years.” As he spoke, his brow softened and the smile returned to his features, clearly becoming more comfortable and confident in his answer as he went.

“Now…if the question is as to the ‘how’, all I can say is that it is remarkable what healthy eating, regular exercise, and a good nightly skin care regimen can accomplish.” At this, his face split into a full grin and he held out a pair of skewers to the two of them. “Fried cheese thingy?” <@432543120635461643>

Strong lights up, a smile on his face as she speaks

“Of course! We could visit one of my family’s estates upon Csilla, a world of glistening ice and beautiful nightskies! It even has a private hot springs and spa…,” he tapered off and blinked, then looked at her.

“You…you said yes? You wish to actually take a vacation…with…myself?” he asked quietly, her answer finally fully sinking in.

“Vell, it vouldt be a lot easier than trying to sneak into one of your family estates andt spent a vacation trying not to be noticedt…” the Twi'lek replied with a playful wink. “Oh, andt you can introduce me to your parents!” she added with an excited smile. “I’ve never met non-Arconan families before andt I’ve vonderedt vhat your parents must be like…”

The excitement seemed genuine, though a small part of her was fishing for a reaction.

The big man smiled sheepishly, something Tali had never truly seen before, his ears turning darker as he looked down at the deck.

“My father is a serious, powerful man that makes me feel like a boy. My mother is kind, she tempered him greatly.”

He grew quiet for a moment before looking back to her eyes.

“And they will both like you very much,” he said quietly.

Noga and Leda shared a glance as they often did, then the sister nudged her brother and smiled at Ro. “Well Noga’s birthday is tomorrow,” she pointed out, earning her a glare and soft protest.

“Ay! Shut up. Don’t brag,” he hissed in Mirialan, something Carr might catch some of by now.

“So we’re gonna do like, family dinner probably…and more speeder lessons. Otherwise…” Her grin fell and she shrugged stiffly. “You know. Stuff.”

Like watching their Papi show up from a “safe” diplomatic trip comatose and basically undead. And then watch him get fired. And have their closest family friends leave. And then another apocalypse event…

“School,” Noga filled in. “Y'know…regular kind though. Not like your college stuff.”

“We signed up to volunteer with the youth shelter network awhile back,” Leda offered. They were closely familiar with a decent amount of Estle’s infrastructure, politics, and outreach thanks to their parents’ activities as former Proconsuls, and had their family’s proclivity for protecting children. “It’s been insane since everything.” Her demeanor seemed to darken further, but there was a fire in her expression nonetheless, determined. “It’s good though. Need it.”

This outing was particularly nice, being the first break that they’d really taken in months. Even if it was to Ol'Val, they’d wanted the time to hang out with their friends.

Forestalled – but only briefly – from hugging that other KX droid as an old face made an appearance – not that she could see it – Atyiru allowed their daughter to introduce herself just so before she instead threw herself into hugging the boney form of their auld acquaintance.

“ORVVLES!” she squealed at the top of her lungs, which was a not terrible height, being in her torso around the 5'6" mark, “It’s so good to see you! Wink!”

Kirra giggled, and while closing both eyes, said, “Wink.” Then she took a step forward and gestured to her father and baby brother. “And this is Weyne. He’s my little brother.” Her tiny chest puffed with pride.

<@258623291441283082> <@189568236201705472>

Carr had to admit he had a different background than they did. He could understand, on principle and logically, why it was God to help those in need and defend those who could not protect themselves. It was up to the strong to do what was right. That is how he saw it. His mother, then Mune, made sure to instill that in him. He could not understand it the way his friends did. Leda. Noga. Ro'ki.

The Shistavanen’s ears lay back with a slight frown on his muzzle. Was there more he should have been doing?

Ro'ki grinned toothily, “That’s a good thing you are doin’, helpin’ at that shelter. If it weren’t for Eilen pullin’ me from my ol’ life, I’d not have met you three. Caleb gettin’ me into the college has givin’ me a goal.”

The Selonian had been very open about their life before coming to Ol'val and, in turn, Selen. He was an open book. Of course, that meant some of the other students and Carr saw the looks they sometimes got and heard the things that were sometimes muttered in passing. Were they friends because they were the same in the treatment they received from others?

“Ya’re thinkin’ too hard again,” Ro chuckled.

“Did… the shelter need more help?” Carr finally asked.

Ro'ki’s wide grin turned into a gentle smile before gazing at the Mirialan’s. They thought the three of them were so kind, admiring that in them. He began to speak when he was bumped hard enough that it was doubtful it was accidental.

A comment the Mirialans recognized as Shistavanen was growled out at the Selonian. Carr’s hackles rose, and he bore his teeth, grey eyes ablaze before Ro'ki rested a hand on their friend’s arm.

“It’s fine. No harm, no foul.”

“You don’t know what he just called you!” Carr snarled.

The other Shistavanen, obviously older than Carr, closer to Noga and Ro’s ages was dressed in the same uniform as the Selonian. He sneered and walked away, snarking out another comment in Shistavanen that, from the tone, was as nasty as the first.

(Cont.)

“It’s fine, Carr, really. It doesn’t matter,” Ro smiled reassuringly, though it wilted around the edges. “Ya know, I should head back to the Voidbreaker. I’m kind of tired, ya know?”

“Ro'ki…”

“Hey, I’m fine, you dork. Noga, happy birthday. You’re awesome, man.” He shot the Mirialan a grin before he started back through the plaza.

Orv was taken aback by the hug - something he’s not felt in what felt like decades. He gave a brief and unpracticed pat on Atyiru’s back and then looked down at Kirra and darted his eyes toward Weyne. “Charmed, I’m sure.” He manufactured a toothy grin that managed to reach his eyes as he brushed his clothes smooth. “Nice to meet you, young ones. I’m old friends with your parents.”

The Teltior had always felt awkward speaking with children and the evidence of that was still vividly present with his formal and professional tone. His eyes darted back up to the woman before him and then over to Marick. “How are things around the system? How’s the Clan and House Qel-Droma?” Orv raised his hand a moment “And before you ask-” Were they going to? “-I am fairly caught up on the logistics already from my reports. I’m curious how things are really fairing. I am quite pleased to see you two breathing.”

<@189568236201705472> <@244244163002892288>

Marick watched the other Arconae carefully, but more out of careful habit than concern. If Orv had wanted to know anything, he’d likely already had the access he needed. He nodded once.

“Arcona has whethered some difficult trials, but nothing we haven’t seen before,” he alluded to the events on Selen over the past few years. “The Children of Mortis seem to have faded, for now, but the Collective have been making a resurgence. Fortunately, there has been no sign of the ‘One Sith’ in many, many years.” The later comment was more of an inside communication that Marick figured Orv would understand.

The One Sith had been revealed as a plot by the Grand Master’s with Darth Esoteric’s real identity being that of Damon Nix. Orv had “died” as part of his plan. Marick hoped he’d understand that Marick had learned all about it during his time as Voice, and was glad that it was far behind them, but also in acknowledgement of Orv’s sacrifices and the work he’d done.

He continued. “Qel-Droma is as strong as ever, but the bulk of our members tend to gravitate around Battleteam Voidbreaker and the titular ship they operate off of.

Atyiru hid a giggle with a polite cough that set Kirra to giglge in her place, even if she didn’t know what was so funny.

Marick narrowed his eyes faintly at his wide and daughter.

<@244244163002892288> <@258623291441283082>

Noga and Leda reacted quickly to the clipping shove, gutteral tone, and larger form: while Leda initially blanched and froze for a second, she quickly had her back towards her friends and her brother, turning to glare after the stranger; similarly, Noga’s back curled her way and he stepped up, the two effectively, immediately, squaring off to close ranks, shielding one another and Ro'ki and Carr.

“Ay, dickless bastard!” Noga took another step after the other classmate, recognizing the uniform, while Leda took one back to catch Ro'ki, looping her arms one with his and one with Carr. Divide and conquer, it seemed to be. “Say it to my face. You wanna hit my friend pretend it ain’t nothin’ while you spout kriff? Don’t think so. Apologize.”

The other student slowed and then turned, his eyes narrowed at the four. His lips curled back into a nasty snarl, his ears back. “Did you kriffing call me dickless? With that dickless whore standing beside you?”

Ro'ki giggled a little nervously; the sound was almost panicked. They would have been long gone back on the street, not standing up to the guy. “G… guys, it’s fine, really,” he said, feeling Leda’s arm loosen through theirs, and their other hand grasped the arm.

Carr’s tail was rigid, his ears back, and his eyes narrowed. The snarl passing between his bared fangs was uncharacteristic of his usual demeanour.

“Oh, is he your whore? I hear he is cheap.” The other Shista spat with a wicked grin.

Carr thought Zig and Mune would not be happy with him, but he did not care—he would deck this guy. “Apologize…” Carr growled.

The first time the word left the other Shistavanen’s mouth, both Mirialans went rigid, much like Carr’s tail. The second time, and Noga was moving. He had the speed, footwork, and confidence for throwing himself at someone born of years of tireless huttball play, where violent contact and skirmishes were prolific. He was across the space between them in a few blinks and throwing a graceless but vicious punch into the other student’s grinning muzzle.

Ro'ki froze.

Carr’s growl was surprised into silence.

The student was perhaps the most surprised of the three. He had gone from making snide comments to being on the ground with blood running from his nose and one of his canines chipped. “What the kriff is wrong with you?!” he barked, a hand going to his bleeding nose. He angled his head to glare up at the Mirialan. “He’s a kriffin whore; what do you care what people say about him?!”

People were staring; it seemed they were making a scene.

The rebuttal only served to incense Noga further. The teen – who likely looked like an adult to a passing glance – crouched down with a knee on the chest and grabbed the other by his lapels to viciously shove him further into the decking, pinning him down as he would another team’s player. His other hand drew back ready to hit again, before it clenched and unclenched and he snagged it in the coat and shook a little.

“Don’t use that word. I ain’t like it. His name is Ro'ki. He’s my friend. They both is. And they kriffin’ people. Hear me? You. Respect. People.” It sounded like he was reciting a lesson, but there was rage in his voice. “You keep that word outta you mouth. You keep him and Carr outta you mouth. You keep away from them. You don’t touch them again. Nobody does. You got me?”

He shook again, a tightened grip.

“Noga!” Leda called in warning, not against what he was doing but for the crowd. She tugged again on her frozen friends, bullying them along despite her medium size. “We gotta go.”

The guy looked shocked. It was as if he had never thought someone other than Carr would actually stand up for the Selonian. At school, they never hung out with anyone else but each other, and he had no idea what they did outside of school. Who even were these two Mirialan’s? His eyes shot from Noga to Leda and back again.

The crowd of onlookers muttered to each other, and the attention of the security droids would undoubtedly soon follow.

The Selonian slipped from Leda’s grip and touched Noga lightly on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s go. He’s not worth gettin’ in trouble over.”

Carr smoothed his fur and let Leda lead him away, Ro'ki close behind.

“Never again,” Noga spat as he was pulled off, glaring at the other student before hurrying to follow.

Whether or not they’d soon be questioned was hard to tell.

Leda held fast to Carr’s hand as the quartet turned a corner in the plaza stalls and got close to a wall, eyeballing the marked exits that might lead them back to the Docks and the Voidbreaker. When she paused them, she turned to pat Carr down, physically smoothing his fur and ears too, then to Ro'ki, hesitating on touching before her hands dropped.

“Are you okay?” she asked, and then saw her brother.

Noga was shaking hard and breathing fast. He looked like he was going to be sick only a few seconds before he pivoted and wretched up all the snacks they’d been having, knuckles bloody and swelling.

Ro'ki turned to eye Noga, letting him get it out of his system. When The Mirialan finished being sick, Ro pulled a water bottle from their satchel and handed it to their friend. “I’m okay,” he answered Leda, holding the bottle out to Noga, “You didn’t have to do that, you know, but… thank you. I appreciate it.”

Carr scanned the direction they had come, watching for security or anyone else following them. “We should get back to the ship, get your knuckles looked at. Thank you, Noga. Leda.” He smiled at Leda, “I… uh… guess I left out the stories of the bullies?”

Leda looked mildly murderous to be smiled at. Her hand twitched down towards her foot, like she might take off her shoe, before she stabbed one finger into Carr’s chest.

“What were you thinking?! Ayy!” she burst out in higher pitched Mirialan, her accent coming on hard and strong. “Bullies? Bullies? How many who did it who you let do this to you, they say that shit to you, they hurt you? You tell you family! You tell us you talk to us you get help for that what you thinking? I’ll–” she cut off with an inatrticulate noise and stuck her finger to his snout again. “Carrmi you– ay! Get us some safe place you. Now! Noga! Come on.”

Her older brother was still shaking and nursed his hand to his chest, the other busy gulping water to spit. He’d looked to Ro'ki with something just as angry and sad, and then just shook his head and passed it back, muttering, “C'mon.”

Alex looked up past Sofila and Cole as a commotion seemed to be stirring up on the far side of the plaza. Recognizing at least one of the individuals he could spot through the crowd, he tilted his head slightly back and forth, loosening the muscles in his neck. He set down the proffered cheese skewer plate on a nearby surface and bowed slightly.

“Deepest apologies for the interruption, I shall return shortly. I have recognized a situation which may require a small amount of intervention on my part,” he began a quick and efficient stride through the crowd as he spoke. By the time he had reached the site of the event, it seemed to be mostly over. The ones he recognized - as he came closer he had been able to identify two of the younger crew members of his ship from their dossier images - had already made their way off, and the other party in the altercation was still on the ground, groaning slightly from the absolute walloping he had endured. The security droids had begun to converge, and Alex quickly stepped forward to intercede.

“It is alright, folks. The situation is handled! Please return to your day, we will handle it from here,” he signaled at the droids to hold back for a moment. They recognized him as having a level of authority within House Qel-Droma and accepted the command. Alex bent down to the young man who was still on the ground and began to help him up. He put one of the Shistavenan’s arms over the back of his neck and stood, helping him to his feet. He slipped one of his own arms around the young man’s torso to steady him. To all the world, it looked like Alex was simply helping the injured party to get on his feet.

What was much harder to see were the subtle moves. The hand which was holding the arm around Alex’s neck had applied a slight twist, not enough to break anything but putting an immense amount of strain on the wrist. Meanwhile, the other hand around the Shistavenan’s torso had slightly grabbed hold at the bottom of his ribcage and squeezed just hard enough to cause the ribs to shift. Alex’s face, close to the young man’s head now because of their position, leaked out a voice in a low hiss inaudible to anybody but the two of them. Any who had dealt with Alex would have been shocked to hear the complete lack of any tone of mirth or amusement.

“It seems to me, boy, that you have learned a valuable lesson today. But I have seen your type, thousands of times in every shape and size. You do not learn quickly and you do not learn well. So I want to make something extremely clear right now,” another squeeze and a small popping sound from the ribs accompanied his words. “If you try to retaliate for this slight, or if I ever catch wind of you having so much as an unkind thought about a member of my crew, their guests…hell, somebody they met once in passing and exchanged a casual greeting with - I can promise you that what pieces of you they are able to find once I am finished with you will be indecipherable from the bantha poodoo you must have for a brain to think that behaving like this is acceptable. Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?” With each staccato word of the question, Alex twisted the young man’s wrist ever more slightly. A frantic, wide-eyed nod was the only response that could be mustered before Alex shoved the Shistavenan at one of the nearby security droids.

“Get him to medical, have him patched up. He has agreed that this is but a playground misunderstanding, no need to pursue any further as a security matter,” the smile returned to Alex’s face as he turned and headed back toward the companions he had left by the food stalls, as if it had never left.

“I did not want to worry you. I can fight my own fights… and… Ro’s…” he hurriedly explained in Mirialan. He continued in Basic, “I did not want to worry you, that’s all. Sorry, it was not cool, I know.”

Ro'ki slipped the bottle back into his bag and fell into step with them on their way back to the Voidbreaker II.

“You okay?” Carr asked in Selonian. It was not as practiced as his Mirialan, but he had started learning Mirialan first and all.

“Aye… I am fine. Please, stop askin’,” Ro mumbled.

“Hey! We’ll go back to the ship and have Noga’s hand fixed right up! Check out some comic books. I do have some new ones in the room. Mune said Caleb found some newer issues of a few of them on his last mission!” Carr obviously tried to lighten the mood even though what had happened left a bitter taste in his mouth as much as anyone else’s.

The snap hiss of a snare in three-eighths beat just hits like nothing else, punctuating the percussion and bridging the sound junction between the drums, the bass vye and synthtone. Of course, it would sound less like it was cobbled together in someone’s hanger if he had a better headset. As his stylus tapped his knee in time with the beat and his antennae twitched along, the music would sputter occasionally or take up a light gravelly tone. When he twisted slightly to grab a half eaten bun, it cut out completely. Right before the bridge, the climax.

….

Sigh.

Times like this made him reconsidered turning down Vincent’s offer of a new set – this one…wasn’t replaceable though. Axee Josso pulled the headset down and bit into the lukewarm now bun, the beans and meat filling still tasted better than it usually did from Jerem Plaza. It took him only a second earlier to realize some event was going on today. The place was more crowded than usual. Not that he wasn’t just gonna hole himself up in this alleyway on the crate he sat cross-legged on anyways–

–“ay! Get us some safe place you. Now!–”

AJ blinked.

And then he simultaneously twisted to locate the close voices he finally registered with his headset off, and stilled. The Rodian teen was tucked in a good corner of the alleyway. The light was dim and there was a fence he could scale if needed, as long as the holes of his dark cargo pants didn’t catch it.

Two Mirialans, a Shistavanen and a…not really sure what the other furred alien was. They chatted, or well…seemed a bit heated actually, and then started to leave. AJ stared after them, his turquoise lips pursed in debate. Something was tugging at him to go follow. The male Mirialan, older of the two? He didn’t look so peachy, and the shista mentioned fixing up a hand. They all looked riled and rattled. Nimble sunction-tipped fingers ran through the limp tressels on his head. .

Ittu.

Hopping off the crate and shoving the rest of his bun in his mouth, AJ wrapped the other one and threw it in his pack with the rest of his stuff. He slung it over his shoulder, pulled the hood of his black hoodie up, and hurried to the alleyway’s corner. Paused. His large pupilless grey eyes scanned the main plaza street both the opposite way the kids went and then after them. It took him a moment of walking before he spotted the four in the crowd.

Trying to keep it casual – you didn’t want to attract attention out here, a ‘safe’ space or not – the blue and orange spotted Rodian didn’t take long to close the distance and soon was falling in step beside the Shista.

“Hey, I heard…ya’ll get yourselves into trouble? Seccers or scum?” the Rodian asked, his tone pitched in the almost mechanical, melodic way of his species.

<@244244163002892288> <@114916641581563913>

“It not about you fighting your own fights!” Leda continued with hands on her hips as Carr tried to change the subject to comics. “Ain’t matter if you can, it you don’t have to! It about not talking to family!”

She looked decidedly not casual, and her brother looked more and more stressed, continuously looking at his bloody hand and growing paler, both of them obviously looking around. When a Rodian in a hoodie and headset around his neck fell in with them, she nearly took a swing herself.

“Ay!” Leda jerker, and then looked around again, and then made a shushing gesture to the other, she thought, teenager. She didn’t seem at all to have trouble deciphering his brassy tone. “It’s– nothing. We didn’t anything. None of your business!”

Evidently, she wasn’t one to lie normally.

“Seccer?” Noga mumbled in question, even sounding sick, but having pulled up closer to Carr’s back as if he might need to punch this stranger away too. At least he wasn’t in a uniform. <@244244400488710155>

The thought of a man who would make Strong feel like a boy made the Twi'lek physically recoil. What was he going to be, a literal mountain?

The smile soon returned, compassionate and hopeful, as she brushed a lek tip over her shoulder before laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Then I very much look forwardt to meeting them both.”

Three PIT droids rushed through the “streets” of Port Ol'val still chasing after the little thief of a creature. Sounds of displeasure could be heard as they bumped into and moved through crowds of those visiting the Asteroid base. Each droid photo-lens eye stalk veered to keep the creature in their sights and the beeped and chirped for anyone to stop the running rat-like thing. That fuse was their lady’s and they just had to get it back before she returned to the “Free Bird”. Otherwise that damned BB-Unit of hers would let them have it.

KD-9 definitely “wasn’t their mother”, but they definitely were the one who would deal out the punishments. And each DUM droid feared what punishment they might recieve.

“No more fire!”

“No more watching stars and clouds!

"No more oil-wrestling droid matches!

They had to get this job done! And fast!