Session export: Beach Bonfire - [Galeres Getaway]
Iloh Inner Rim Territories 44 ABY
The archipelagos of Iloh stretched far out to the horizon as the shuttle touched down. Soft sand scattered and foliage waved with the gusts created by the vehicle’s landing. The island that had been chosen for them had all the amenities needed for a day and night at the beach: a small restaurant, a fishing and surf shack, boat rentals, and even a live band at the end of the dock. Though it was a hot day, the cool blue waters were inviting.
A lithe Human, Luka Zarkot, was the first to exit the Shuttle, with a crimson Zabrak, Vreva, close behind. The Human was dressed in board shorts over a black one-piece bathing suit, while the Zabrak sported a black bikini and sunglasses. A Nexu squeezed between the both of them and rushed off to chase the local fowl, who scattered into the air with frantic squawks at the sight of the beast.
“She seems happy,” Vreva mused as she stepped off the shuttle onto the warm sand.
“Enjoying her retirement,” Luka replied. The greying of the creature’s muzzle and longer naps had not gone unnoticed, though the Nexu still ran circles around them when she wanted to.
“Heh, retirement,” the Zabrak scoffed. “This is about as close as we get, right? Oh hey, is that blitzball?” Without another word, Vreva made a direct line towards where some hoops were set up in the water.
Luka sighed and shook their head before collecting their bag and heading towards the water’s edge. After setting their things in the dry sand, they kicked off their shoes and stepped barefoot into the waves that touched the shore. Small fish dispersed as they disturbed the water. Once they were out waist-deep, they laid out on their back to float.
Karran stepped onto the beach draped in a silk robe. He kicked off the wooden-soled sandals he’d worn to walk across the paved path and let his feet sink into the fine, soft sand. Just beneath the surface it was cool and soothing. Nothing like the sand of Tatooine. Nothing like the blood-soaked soil of battlefields erupting into the air under artillery fire.
He gave his head a quick shake and reopened his eyes. No more thoughts like that. Not until the next time he needed to be a weapon.
He surveyed the beach with his good eye and began walking until he found familiar faces.
The shuttle’s ramp creaked and groaned, actually grinding against the duracrete landing pad when a Herglic stepped down it. Paumgon Lfin, nearly as wide as he was tall and wearing cargo shorts, carried a portable combustion grill down to the beach. He set it down a safe distance from a stand of trees that would hopefully cast their shade over it as the afternoon deepened.
“Where should I put this?”
Paum pivoted to see Yeoni Grivna nudge a hoovering concession stand next to him. The cooler full of meat, produce, and beverages enough for those attending the festivities had been personally stocked by the old Herglic. He rumbled to the Kiffar and gestured with his three-fingered hand at the trees, “Over there.”
“My respect for handling the food and grill,” Yeo uttered once he returned from stashing the cooler. He looked out to the surf, most nominally where Luka had gone specifically before looking back at Paum. “Though if you want to join in the fun, you’re welcome to. I can help–”
“Hrumph!” the Herglic chuffed, the sound emitting through his blowhole. He straightened up from turning on the gasser. “This is what I call a relaxing time.” Pausing, his gaze wandered to the waves lapping the shore. His shoulders tensed and he waved off the shorter man with a parting smile, “No, I got this. Go on.”
Yeoni shrugged and left the mercenary to it. He crossed the sands to track down where a familiar human had set their belongings, crouching beside them as he took off his watch and any other items less water resistant. His gaze drifted to the ocean and a smile touched his lips once he located his loved lounging there. Items stashed into their bag, his sandals soon joined the pile followed by his white linen shirt and the tank top beneath it. A quick gathering of his braids into a topknot, then he was off to join them.
“You wasted no time.” The comment came with a brush of a hand against Luka’s arm as the Kiffar came up beside them, water lapping above his midriff.
A touch slid across the small of his back a hand tracing all too familiarly along the silk. A heartbeat later Diyrian saddled up beside Karran, her other hand busy securing sunvisors on top of the scarf protecting her curls. She wore a two-piece, maroon swimsuit with a deep cleavage and a strappy design that surely would leave fun tan lines after a bout in the sun. Over top of it, she donned a white lace robe open save where a thin black belt gathered it at her waist.
“Mm, it’s nice here. I’m so glad we got a chance to get away,” Diy uttered with a smile up at the tall Zabrak. She didn’t say whether get away was from her commitments in Dajorra, his from his ward and exploits, or from the echoes of yet another war. It was a here and now opportunity to not be in the moment. If any thoughts of the risk and pain from conflict crossed her mind, she did not pull away but leaned into him as they walked, content with the contact.
The small touch cleared the remainder of the fog of dark memory. One of two voices that could bring his mind out of any dark place reached his ears. A smile pulled across his face. A true, blissful, peaceful smile.
“Indeed.”
He looked down at the woman that he looked up to in so many other ways.
“And I could not imagine anyone I would rather get away with.”
He matched his pace to hers as they walked.
“Although, I am not sure that the bathing suit you picked for me is quite… appropriate?”
“Mm, keep talking sweet like that, Big Guy, or I may be the only one you get away with this trip,” Diy purred with an amused and endeared grin, bumping her hip into the side of his thigh.
A giggle escaped her at the mention of his suit. She let go of his arm to touch his back once more, finding and snapping lightly the waistline of his bottoms, “Perfectly suited for a resort trip. Plus, the color suits you I think.”
As they neared the group, Diyrian waved to the Herglic busying himself with the grill. She spotted both her cousin, Yeoni, and Luka out in the surf already, and Vreva out on a rigged up court of sorts. Setting her bag down, she turned back to Karran with a wink and a dastardly, cocky tongue stuck out the corner of her mouth.
“Looks like I’m going to have to challenge you to play ball. How’s joining up with Vreva for a game, best out of three, sound?”
The Zabrak looked across the beach to the red-skinned woman then back to Diyrian.
You wish to play against me and another Zabrak warrior in a game in which height and athletic skill are key? He thought to himself.
“As you wish.” Was all he said.
With some reservation, but not an ounce of shame he slipped the robe from his shoulders and revealed himself in the swimwear that Diyrian had picked out. It was definitely not a modest garment, although it did, ancestors be praised, conceal his most personal features…barely. It was skintight and it seemed as though prayers and hope we’re the only things keeping it from riding up to expose his buttocks.
Vreva turned and waved to Karran and Diyrian, holding a ball at her hip. “Heeey! You got another for teams, or do we want to play Orbak?” She looked over towards Luka and Yeoni and lifted the blitzball over her head, waving it in the air. “Do you guys want to play, too?”
“I’m fine,” Luka called out in response, still floating in lazy circles on their back. They looked to their Kiffar partner with a soft smile. “Unless you want to join in, Yeo. I’d rather just enjoy the water. Swim around. Relax.” Although they had beaches on Selen, it was soothing to be so far removed from all of their duties.
The Kiffar might have lingered behind her partner, an appreciative grin dancing on her face. Diy raised her chin and waved high back to Vreva before coming to a stop on the sandy temporary court. “What’s Orbak? Is that like Gnort, replicating each other’s shot and first to spell it loses?”
“I’ll pass for now, thanks though,” Yeoni shook his head after a brief moment of debate. That moment being a glance down at the Human floating beside him. He was far too content staying in the surf with them.
<@467973085006659594>
“Back on Tatooine we played Womp Rat. But instead of shooting a ball into a basket, you had to throw a rock into a hole in the wall.”
He smiled.
“It was easy enough until one of us got really good at ricochet shots.”
Vreva gave a wicked grin at the description of the game. “Heh, I wonder if Luka’s played that,” she said, then shouted over, “Hey Luka! Womp rat?”
“With you? No thank you,” came the reply. Luka then stood up in the water, somewhat curious of the game despite not wishing to join. “I thought you were playing blitzball?”
“Orbak!” she called back, before lowering her voice to speak to those playing. She was still a bit loud, but that was her custom. “Right. Yeah, it’s a bit like Gnort. Same concept, different letters. Take a shot, doing whatever fancy maneuver you’d like to do - or not, I dunno, your call. If it doesn’t make it in, you take a letter. Spell Orbak - or I guess Gnort works too - and you’re out. Any questions?”
<@244244400488710155> <@467973085006659594>
Karran rolled his shoulders back, consciously releasing muscles that had been unconsciously flexed and tensed for…weeks? Months maybe?
“There was also, of course, the unwritten rule of Womp Rat, that if you can bounce the rock into the other players’ shins until they quit, you also win.”
He chuckled.
“I developed very strong shins.”
“No questions here,” Diy responded back to Vreva. She bit her stuck out tongue briefly as she held off on a comment about getting rocks into holes. Still, the Kiffar couldn’t help but turn to Karran with a grin. “And a resilience and doggedness to a challenge.”
Following Vreva to a small paved half court nearby, she waited along one of the painted lines. A hoop stood at one end, taller than herself yet she was certain Karran could easily reach up and drop the ball in. Both Zabraks had a height advantage over herself, she couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of how easy they could land her with a letter.
<@467973085006659594>
“Alright, I’ll go first. Start with something simple to get us going.” Vreva stepped over to the far end of the half-court, considering where she wanted to throw her first basket. An easy shot would be boring, but she didn’t want to add some gymnastics that would make her look like a fool. Giving a shrug once she had found a spot, she took aim.
“Three-pointer,” she said with complete confidence, tossing the ball up and over - and went right over the back board. “Kriff,” she muttered under her breath, scowling as she went to retrieve the ball.
“Uhh,” she looked awkwardly at the other two once she had returned. “Wind must have taken it. But I guess that’s a letter for me. Your go.” She tossed the ball quickly to Diy, so as not to linger too long on her failure.
Diy didn’t think too much about it and picked a spot a meter closer than Vreva’s original position. Her throw undershot everything, missing the humming basket.
“That’s an O for me,” she said as she sauntered back to hand the ball over to Karran.
<@467973085006659594>
“C'mon, one of us has to make the shot,” Vreva said, crossing her arms over her chest. She was clearly disappointed in her own poor showing.
Karran rolled his neck and reached his arms high above his head to stretch. He took the ball from Diyrian and gave it a light toss into the air, getting a feel for it. After a few dribbles on the ground to gain a sense for its rebound, he began to line up his shot.
He gave a few preparatory pumps of his arms as he got ready to shoot the ball. And…just as he was about to shoot, the right side of his face squinched in dissatisfaction. He took a few steps and repeated the whole routine.
Toss.
Dribble.
Aim.
Pump.
And…
He adjusted again, this time getting a bit closer to the basket.
Toss.
Dribble.
Aim.
Pump…
Finally he walked up right below the basket and reached his arm up, his wrist just in line with the rim of the basket, palmed the ball and…let the ball roll forward, dropping straight through the hoop.