Dagger Two Hangar Platforms The Shame Corner
“Irne, Dell, behave.” Thrima smirked at the pair as the shuttle spun down on the pad. There was a lot of traffic out here for a place she had only recently heard of. And the long trip brought out the goofy behavior from her brothers, the two making crass jokes and body noises for the past hour and a half.
She moved from the cockpit into the passenger area, rolling her shoulders to stretch them as she moved toward the cramped quarters that had replaced the cargo area. Fingers worked the hidden latches of her beskar as she accessed the tiny suite and stepped inside. Enough room for a bunk and a locker, but that’s all she needed. Setting the kit on the carrier, she shuffled it out of sight, changing out the bodyglove underlayment for comfortable clothes. Pants with too many pockets and belts, a sleeveless jacket and a shirt. She paused for a moment, reaching back into the locker. The long and broad fabric, she wrapped around her neck once, the fabric draping across her shoulder and down her back. The Korowai had been a constant companion since she had gotten it from her mentor, a useful addition to her kit, if not a stylish one.
The Firrerreo paused, staring at the rifle in the locker, chewing her lip. She had heard that the place was a safe haven from Leena, but any place that had people had people problems. Nodding to herself, she reached out and pulled a pistol from a shelf, slipping the holster into place at her side. It was, after all, she thought with a grin, her religion.
Frima opened the door, took a step outside, and went to adjust a sling that wasn’t there. That wouldn’t do. Sighing, she thought for a moment, then reached in to grab her instrument from next to the bunk, slipping its strap over where her sling would usually lay.
Moving from the cramped quarters, she looked to see Irne crouching at the top of the ramp, helmet angled forward, staring at lights that reflected off of his viewplate. “Hey, you know what I said. No need for the skin in this joint. See?” She turned, arms open wide and giving a little half spin in front of him before soft shoes found their way down the ramp.
“All the same, I think I’ll stay here.” His voice was young, modified through the helmet’s vocoder. One of the younger Ulfhednar in her crew, but a brother all the same. They hadn’t socialized with anyone who wasn’t Kyataran by blood or by doctrine in… she whistled as she thought… They had backed her, though, and that was all that was important.
“Your loss.” She chuckled, flipping teal-frosted hair back over the side of her head with a quick hand. “Leena said they have the best caf.” It wasn’t just the caf that she was here for, though.
She turned away from him, stepping down the ramp and shifting her view forward. Her pupils dilated as her eyes went wide.
“Shiny…”
Right in her view was House Ventress’ newest Warrant Officer. Kalen Joss and his Golden 3PO droid were strolling up to their own shuttle, which was parked next to hers. Kalen gave the woman with the teal frosted hair a curt smile and a nod as he walked past and hit the entry key on the side of his ship that opened the hatch and ramp of his own shuttle.
It was a used but refurbisbed Sheathipede-class shuttle that had been painted dark blue. Kalen had purchased it for a steal at 10k credits(or so the salesman had told him). This would be his third trip, and first long range hop in his new ride.
‘Shall I begin reviewing the information our your latest contract master Joss?’ D-3PO said.
‘Sure, go ahead, I’ll prepare the ship for launch D.’ Kalen replied.
(just testing the button for Atty)
The Nubian starship hissed as it lowered onto the docking bay, the landing gear slightly warped from heat. A single vent gave out one last wheeze of steam—like the ship had sighed in relief.
Then, the ramp extended with a smooth clink.
And from the dark interior emerged… a ball of black fluff and grease.
Just under a meter tall, fur singed in places, burn marks on his arms like badges. His face was smudged with soot and oil, but his eyes - bright green, always moving - gleamed with sharp focus beneath his thick brow.
He wore a belt of pouches, each filled with tiny tools, spice tins, and mystery crumbs. In his paw: a pad with a hand-scrawled Basic note.
“SHOPPING LIST: LUBRICANT GEL. IF NONE IN SHOP, FIRE EXTINGUISHER.”
A janitorial droid zoomed past and politely beeped at his footprints. Nibik quickly lifted one foot, rubbed it on the back of his leg, and shuffled toward the pressure doors.
The doors slid open with a cheerful chime.
“Welcome to The Shame Corner! Please Enjoy Your Stay, and Please Don’t Lick Anything That Glows.”
Nibik stepped into the main concourse - and his pupils dilated.
The interior was bright. Too bright. It was all smooth walls in candy-sheen tones, playful signage, upbeat holoposters, and an artificial sun strip running across the ceiling like a permanent, enforced morning.
Shops and stalls spilled out in gentle chaos. Holosigns blinked over kiosks.
Nibik paused.
Blinked.
His ears flicked toward a sizzling noise - liquid on hot metal. His nostrils flared.
He smelled coolant. Coolant… with mint.
Nibik clutched his satchel tighter and crept deeper into the station, pawsteps soft on the polished floor, avoiding the foot traffic of pirates, slicers, merchants, and tourists alike. His presence was small - barely noticed.
But his gaze was locked forward.
There was lubricant in this place. Somewhere. And he would find it.
Aboard Kalens Shuttle
After securing his meager amount of cargo and supplies that he had requisitioned, he walked up to the 3 person cockpit at the front of the shuttle, took a seat and donned his headset.
Though he had only owned the ship for a few days at this point, he was a skilled pilot, as some of the many roles he had filled while with the little squadron lost in the other galaxy was as shuttle pilot, pilot trainer, and navigator. Even so, he was still getting used to the controls of his Sheathipede.
Kalen opened a comm channel to the hangar control centre, and he quickly realized, he hadnt come up with a name for his little ship yet. When he had docked, he had just responded to the comms call as ‘Sheathipede shuttle’ as that is how the person on the other end of the comm had referred to him.
It only took him a few seconds to decide on a name. He smiled to himself and keyed the comm as he watched a Nubian ship come into a spot across from his own.
‘Hanger control, this is the JV Cora, requesting launch clearance from the main hanger deck.’
‘JV Cora, are you the unnamed Sheathipede that came in earlier?’ Was the response Kalen recieved.
‘Hanger control, this is the Cora…Uh, yes sir, that is me. I apologize, its a new ship, and I hadn’t named it before I landed.’ Cora was the tailors daughter on Aliso who he’d been dating since he walked into her father’s shop just over a week ago. And though they had only been on 3 dates, he already asked her to move in with him, and named a ship after her. Kalen was in love.
‘No issue JV Cora, just asked for our records. You’re cleared to depart from the main docking bay right after that bulk transport lands behind you. Hangar control out.’
Kalen leaned forward and looked back through the cockpit windows and watched the transport come and slowly come to a rest in a large open part of the hangar deck behind him. He spooled up his repulsors, engaged his thrusters and headed out into open space.
A little ways outside the Golden Griddle Diner, so as to not be in the way of entrants, but rather on their way, was erected a small tent – a Shame Corner brand tent, of course, with a tailring logo emblazoned modestly on one side. Rather than camping or survival though, this one was for a bit of show, more the kind that could house a small booth for products or services (though of course, they also had camping tents and gear), and the flap was pulled back to allow entrance. Outside, a swirly sign advertised:
Futures, Fortunes, Viewings - Love, Luck, and Prosperity
From within issued the smell of incense (Shame Corner brand) and one could see a low table surrounded by (you guessed it) pillows with various designs sold in store as well. Faint notes and chimes and natural sounds seemed to play from an indiscernable source, while motes of light or wavering colors danced amid the scented smoke.
A Twi'lek woman was just exiting, muttering to her friend as she rejoined her and taking her own armload of jerky and cinnamon iced pastries. Back inside, though, a colorful and pale at once Togruta woman wrapped in a shawl scowled suddenly at her young Selenian companion.
“If you keep making faces the whole time, you’re going to make them apprehensive. Relax, petal.” They drew a flask from somewhere and wiggled it at him.
<@1056685516441006091>
Nibik’s nose twitched.
He’d been chasing the minty scent of Firefrost through the station - nose-first, ears flicking - until something else snuck up on him. Sweet smoke. Spice. Perfume pretending to be useful.
Just outside the Golden Griddle Diner stood a soft yellow Shame Corner tent. Logo on the side. Pretty sign up front:
Futures, Fortunes, Viewings – Love, Luck, and Prosperity
Nibik froze.
“Yub… cha?” he squeaked softly in Ewokese.
Love? You can buy love?
Smoke curled out the flap, scented with fake flowers and secrets. Inside: pillows, shimmer-lights, and the faint sound of windchimes arguing with birdcalls.
Nibik took one step closer. Then stopped. Then took one step back.
He ducked behind a planter and crouched, peeking with one eye. The eye said curious. The ears said no thank you.
“Chut-chut…” he whispered.
He opened his pad and writes:
“Maybe fortune person knows about Firefrost? Ask very quietly. Trade spice if no excited sounds?”
He stayed hidden, tail flicking. Watching. Waiting.
He’d give it five minutes. Maybe ten. Then he’d probably not go in. Maybe.
The Bastion had a history of being stolen and impounded. First by the Taldryan government, then his now wife, and now by a pair of twins that were on a quick errand for an ingredient or two. They could’ve asked or simply taken their own ship, but the leader of the Kendis clan simply didn’t want to.
The loading ramp to the stolen craft descended, revealing a pair of seemingly identical twins. They walked in tandem down the ramp, both of their boots clunking along the ground. The matriarch of the clan, Angelica, wore black denim pants and a simple burgundy long-sleeved tee, whilst her sister and second in command, Thea, wore an even simpler outfit consisting of grey tac pants and a short-sleeved green tee.
“I still object to using Koda’s ship, Angelica. He will not be pleased,” Thea said, brushing her chin-length red and black hair away from her eyes, one of their few distinguishing characteristics.
Angel rolled her eyes while affixing her natural red hair into a ponytail. “He’ll get over it. Besides, He’s got it coming after hiding the fact he was having kids from us.”
“I do not agree with that sentiment,” Thea said as they made their way through the doors of the Shame Corner.
“I know,” Angelica said with a bit of a smirk.
Two Umbaran males saunter in, hard soles of combat boots clicking off the floor as they enter. It was clear they were related in how close their features matched one another.
In front, noticeably younger than the other, the lad wore long sleeves and a variety of layers of dark clothes around the midsection. A dark tan tool belt hugged his hip, and ends of tools, wrenches, pliers, bits and bobs, could be seen poking out. A pair of gloves hung half out of the pouch, as if he had just shoved them in there, for ease of reach. What was able to be seen under his sleeve, his right hand was replaced with a silver metallic prosthetic. His hair, an inky brown, was short on the sides, long on the top. It swooped down to frame his face about eye level. Atop his forehead was a pair of safety goggles for metallurgy.
The other male, trailed closely behind the first, taller, older. He looked as if he had not slept more than four hours in the past 48. His jet black hair, was shoulder length, a wolf cut style, disheveled. His sleeves from his black button up shirt were rolled up to his elbows. Also exposing a metallic prosthetic that extended up past his elbow, on his right arm.
The younger brother lead the way to the snacks section. He side eyed a few candy bars but knew Vigo would not approve, sighing, he moved towards the protein selection. Off to the side, a small brand tent with a sign caught his eye.
Futures, Fortune, Viewings - Love, Luck, and Prosperity
He gasped and turned to face his older brother,
“OOO V, Fortune telling! Can we go?”
Vigo peered down at his younger brother, and with a gruff voice he said,
“Dominik, those are nothing but scams. Flourishes and shows that do nothing but take your money. No.”
“V, please? It would be fun.” Dominik put on the big sad eyes. Laying it on thick.
Hearing his brother’s plea… His mind flashed back to the dark cargo bay.
The built up dust motes dancing in the muted light. The flickering light in the entrance. The stillness; the quietness, broken by the whimpers of the tiny creature that clung to him, in his arms. The ratted blanket that they had used to keep warm. Torn and dirty. Yet… he still couldn’t bring himself to throw away all these years later.
Vigo rolled his eyes. He had made a vow to himself that he would try to give Dominik a much better view of the world. Their beginning was a struggle and has since been trying to make it up to him, even if that means going to a likely scam worthy fortune teller.
He huffed a large sigh, and simply nodded, letting Dominik lead the way.
<@244244163002892288>
After she received approval to land, Aryn “Jade” Erinos-Magnuri brought the Fury-class Interceptor Raven’s Nest into the hangar that had been indicated. Out of routine, she deftly flicked the switches to power down the vessel and open the hatch.
That done, the Mandalorian stood and made her way to the main hold, where Artemis, Ruana and Katla had been keeping themselves entertained. “We’ve arrived.”
“Really? How did I miss the soft thump of the landing gear on duracrete or all of the systems powering down?” the Firrerreo snarled softly. “Must you always state the obvious?”
“Don’t be so grumpy, Kats. That’s the reason behind his outing: If you’re not on a mission, training or fiddling with something in your lab, you don’t go out,” Artemis admonished, shaking a finger at the Dark Jedi.
“She’s only grumpy because you dragged her from her lab and are forcing her to socialize, love,” Ruana smirked as she adjusted her bracer.
Katla merely sneered in response as she pushed herself to her feet and walked off.
The Mandalorian shook her head, well accustomed to their antics. “I’ll be staying with the ship, performing routine maintenance once we’ve refueled.” When she saw Artemis opening her mouth to cajole, Jade cut her off. “We need to be ready to leave, especially if Celevon’s influence shows up and some kind of chaos erupts.”
The Pantoran’s snort of amusement brought a mild glare from her wife.
“Fiiine. We’ll take the grumpy Firrerreo shopping for a bit,” Artemis sighed, purposely placing her bow and sword int the storage container for her gear. “Do you want us to bring you something to eat? You can’t live on rations.”
“Jerky. Some variety. The spicier, the better,” with that, Jade walked off, followed by her droid.
“I swear, that woman barely ever leaves this ship,” Artemis muttered quietly, only to receive a chuckle from her wife as Ruana finished with her own gear.
Thrima stepped through the doors, the cool blast of air tousling her hair a bit as her eyes adjusted to the light. Rows of snacks arrayed in front of her, leading to back walls covered in drink coolers. A scent of cooking meat and a sweeter smell of roasted sugared nuts swam in her nostrils as she paused in an inappropriate place in front of the doors. It was a lot.
A surly Besalisk shoved past her, a headset over his cranial ridge and looped into an earhole. His shirt looked like it had three weeks of long-haul hyperspace lane living on them. Thrima watched as he shuffled forward, grunting something at her that made her grateful that at least he didn’t smell as offensive. Well, maybe. After all, the smells were quite powerful in here, a warmer full of snacks positioned tactically near the entrances saw to that.
She took a few steps forward, swinging her head to the sides once she was clear of the immediate entryway. Off to one side was a merchandiser’s fantasy full of racks of ship gear, logo-marked clothes and decorative items. The pathway seemed to beckon her forward, toward a bright neon-lit area beyond, the simple aurebesh and arrows delineating a cafe and a bar. The other way, more snacks, booths worked by folks making all varieties of foodstuffs and a sign proclaiming the ‘best ‘fresher in the sector’. Thrma clacked her tongue at that. Last time someone made that claim, there were molluskoids living in the water. At least they hadn’t squirted her, like they did Essie. Gods, how her sister had squalled, not that she could blame her. At least now, the horror had subsided, and it was more a disgusting chuckle about having to clean their beskar afterward.
Turning again, she ran a hand up along the side of her head and thought of options for a moment. It was Irne’s shift to fly, so if she wanted she could have a drink. Hells, the kid was green enough at it, a drink might help steady her nerves as he did so. She had reminded herself that he needed practice if he was going to get better, not that the statement made any of her team less annoyed by the prospect.
Thrima smiled as she sighed, taking steps toward the bar, wondering what they had on offer. Aside from new friends and possible business contacts, of course. Bars were good for that, everywhere from the upper city of Coruscant to the mudholes of Nal Hutta. The smile lasted all the way to the barstool, Thrima sliding into a vacant one and letting her eyes dart around the place.
Approaching footsteps cut off any further debate between the Togruta and their Selenian ‘assistant.’ When the brothers entered, they were enveloped in the dim atmosphere of the tent, so much quieter and darker than the bright, exposed lights and mild white tiles and friendly neons out in the main floor of the station. To the Umbarans, it was a sudden haven, and the quietude was that of a deep, hidden hollow, rife with green and secrets. It was the faintest lingering of dappled water, of the way the shadows of leaves shaded the rich and thick forest floor, of the fresh and fetid scent of life and living entropy, a fallen log bloomed with shelves of fungi and flowers.
Was it music playing from some hidden speaker? A particular incense burning, or some of the glass and crystals hanging that warped the light?
Regardless, the clamor and furor of shopping outside seemed muted. Before them were aplenty of branded pillows and a low table where a Togruta sat, her pale skin riotous with splashes of lichen white amidst coral pink, seafoam green, and sky blue. Her montrals and lekku curled high at the tips and descended with leaf-like ridges into thin lekku that fell like trellis vines. A translucent shawl draped over her head and around her shoulders, serving well to obscure her while allowing some glimpses for mystery. Jewelry hung off montrals and clattered on arms that she lifted to welcome them in.
“Come, come, brothers-bound. Be welcome, be merry. Drink of the vine, and eat of succor, and tell us what whispers you seek.”
They gestured to the young Selenian man present, who had a tray of cups – Shame Corner designs that stuck out starkly from the crafted image going on here – and a few bowla of snacks.
“Caf, tea, water, soda?” he offered, trying on a puppyish smile.
Dominik’s eyes alit with wonder and awe at the transformation from out there to here.
He stepped forward, using the allotted tongs and put two cubes of sugar into a cup of tea.
“Dom— I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Vigo grumbled from the entrance of the tent. Dark eyes glancing around.
“Shh! V, it’s fine.”
Vigo huffed a sigh, crossing his arms in the doorway, staring.
Dominik, tea in hand, moved to sit at a pillow.
“A fortune! Oooh, or, or, the future. Waitwaitwait- do you do palm readings? You know what— you decide.” He said excitedly, taking a sip of his tea.
Vigo rolls his eyes again from the doorway. This Togruta was a force user and could sense that this fortune teller was probing their minds. However, he didn’t want to ruin the magic and wonder for his brother. Instead, he just stayed back, hoping the Togruta wouldn’t probe much farther.
“Palm readings, tea leaf readings, knuckle bones, whatever you prefer…but if you are unsure, dear littler brother, then why shan’t we let the cards speak to you?”
Suddenly in the Togruta’s grasp manifested a deck of large cards, long and thick, faint gold trim shining. They seemed to suck in the little light present, and their backs were covered in art of vines, flowers, bugs, and bones. “Give me your name, and if you have it, ask of one wish or question for a focus…”
Though they spoke to Dom, their saffron eyes also flicked up to Vigo and held his suspicious stare unflinching, a long enough look to be a challenge with their too-sharp smile.
Vigo held the stare, arms still crossed, unmoving from his spot. He was here solely to watch over his brother, and didn’t want to be doing this.
The younger brother, on the other hand was still in awe. The sparkles in his eyes grew brighter as the deck of cards was shown.
He scooted closer on his pillow, closed his eyes, breathing in.
“Um-, Dominik.” A moment passed as he tried to think of a question. He adjusted his seating. Criss cross applesauce now. He leaned slightly forward grabbing his ankles.
“Hmmm-“ he thought back to the items he’s tinkering and working on.
“Will I create something that change the lives of people?”
Kalen yawned and stretched as he awoke on his makeshift bed in his cozy shesthipede. To enable trips longer then a single day he had;
-unbolted one of the 3 rows of passenger seats, turned it around, pushed it up against the row behind it and bolted it back down forming a bed with the 6 seat cushions
-he had bought a self chilling cooler and a food warmer at the last service station he had stopped at.
-he had downloaded a map of all the service stations in or near Brotherhood space so he wouldn’t get stuck somewhere without fuel.
On this quick hop, he had done a 4 day round trip run hauling portable power cells to a House Ventress listening post rimward of Aliso. On his way back he had stopped and attended a 4 hour ‘recent galactic history’ seminar at a satelite campus of the Brotherhood Academy. Had also recieved word on his comm that he was being assigned to ‘covert mission team’ and needed to report at a rendezvous points 4 parsecs coreward of the Aliso system.
And just by pure happenstance he found himself right back where he had started the trip 4 days ago, at the Shame Corner, he decided ti habe the service techs do a tune up aswell as refuel the Cora this time.
After parking his shuttle and being told that the work would take about 3 hours, Kalen grabbed D and headed into the station.
“Dominik,” enunciated the fortune teller, their mouth curling possessively around each syllable, echoing him with an eerie closeness. Almost as though it was his voice speaking back. “We witness you, and your belief,” they added, a fondness softening in their gaze and the furrow of their marked brow.
Again, they looked briefly to Vigo, and it was almost amused. They looked back.
Their hands flashed with elaborate motion, jangling and tinkling with bracelets and rings. They fanned out the cards, an offer on an altar, sweetened tea instead of wine and sparkling hope where flesh would lie.
“Choose five,” she instructed. “Place each face up. The first, second, and third beside each other in line. The fourth below. The fifth above.”
As Dominik would follow directions, the cards were revealed before him.
(Message deleted)
The fortune teller gave a thoughtful, exaggerated hum and smiled sweetly at the younger Umbaran.
“The first card,” she began to explain, “is the present, the here and now, representing who you are in this moment. The Queen of Cups suits you. You are much the same, do you see?”
As she spoke, she extended one whorled hand and tapped the card with one stoney nail. Before Dom’s eyes, the card shifted, and whatever the image had been before didn’t matter; there was just him, Dom himself, sitting amidst flowers under a waxing moon. He lofted a goblet in offering, one hand pale white in flesh, the other his cybernetic, proud and shining. The cup overflowed, spilling down the card, then down the table, misty, insubstantial liquid running down its sides, phantom but cool and flowing to the touch.
“You, in your wisdom, warmth, and kindness, strive to counsel and comfort others. You support them. Give them a hand, one might say.” Her look was sly, but her words gentle and serious as she carried on. “You care, Dominik. And in that caring you ask this question still, and look to help others…but you can be too dreamy as well. Intuition can step into naivety. Mind that while you may constantly seek to support others, the cards may have you seek help yourself.”
-
She paused to regard him, then moved her hand, swaying to the left.
“The second card is your past, how you came to be the Queen you stand as. This is Judgement.”
Again the card changed. Two figures now, both shocks of pale white, ensorcelled in the black of a hollow, dark room, featureless and metal, grime on the floor, cold. One figure held the other, their face upturned towards a spill of light cutting through the darkness. Both had only one arm, and bright red pooled below them.
“Many think this a foreboding card, as they associate the concept of Judgement with condemnation. But it is not. Judgement speaks to self-evaluation, awakening, renewal, purpose, reflection, and reckoning. This was the moment you became who you are today. This was the moment you looked inward and found something in yourself that you intended to manifest. A choice made. A path pursued. You decided who you would choose to be– this was your judgement of yourself.”
Her hand clocked right.
“Next we look to the future. The possibility manifested by where you are now. The Two of Cups – as seems to be your kind, and fitting it is – represents unity, partnership, attraction, connection, close bonds, joining forces, and mutual respect. A strong pair is indicated here, the joy of two becoming one. Fain and fair, I think it obvious what that pair may be.” She nodded to Vigo with a smile. “But lest we blind ourselves, be open to the possibility of some other partnership, some new unification, being in your future. Perhaps a new bond is what will carry you to your goal…and so we turn to your question.”
Dominik was wide eyed with wonder. The whimsical, the attraction, the words she easy saying, the cards that had changed right before his eyes.
Oos and ahs were heard but not much came out of him as he listened to every word she was saying. Sitting on his hands to keep from touching.
When she had gotten to the future, he agreed with this most of all. Her gesture to Vigo. He knew he could count on Vigo for anything, he was always there for him. However the idea of a potential new partner ship did peak his interest.
“Where can I find-“
“Alright, that’s enough.” Vigo huffed, unwrapping his crossed arms, as he took a step forward.
“But Vigo we were almost done!”
“I said that’s enough, pay and let’s leave.” He didn’t like all the poking and prodding into their minds. Into his ignorant little brother’s innocence. Filling him with falsehoods. He had no control over it.
“But-“
“No. We leave.” A moment passes
“Don’t forget to drink the rest of your tea and throw the cup away.”
“You’re no fun.” Dominik grumbled but knew it was no use. When Vigo was like this. If Dom didn’t go, Vigo would drag him out.
“I- I am deeply sorry about this. But- but I thank you for all that you’ve said. I-I’ll think on it going forward,” Dom mumbled to the Togruta and he stood up to pay, leaving a generous tip. Giving her a soft smile before turning.
The Togruta watched them suddenly go with narrowed eyes. While she smiled brightly, sharp-edged and bid humble thanks for the generosity and goodbyes, hands rolling and head bowing gracefully, her gaze stayed on Dominik.
The young Umbaran would hear a voice in his mind, and his alone:
When you want to claim your own truths for yourself, do not hesitate. Let no one hold you back. The rarity of your true and selfless kindness is too precious to be wasted for fear.
As the the duo departed, the Togruta suddenly relaxed, sitting back propped on her hands with a huff. She looked to her companion with a wry grin that edged on a pout.
“Well, that was anticlimactic. How droll. I was just building to the drama, too!”
<@1056685516441006091>
Nibik’s head bobbed and popped from plant pot to steel pillar. Sooty feet and ash clouds marking clearly where he was hiding.
“Chub ook!” He proclaimed in Ewokese.
If he does approach the tent, is there danger? Or food? Or maybe…Just maybe? Coolant?
“Yub yub!” His dusty feet pitter pattered in gleeful anticipation. The ebony furball hopped towards the Shame Corner branded tent and peered through, spotting the multi-covered Togruta delivering cards to the participants.
“Chuba wub?” He queried the cards. Maybe a way of giving directions? Maybe to a garage? Nibik stepped further, slowly. But also, slowly treading in the soot to the tent.
<@244244163002892288>
Kalen and D strolled around the large station and explored the various tunnels and areas for while. As a treat, Kalen then dropped his droid off at ‘that lovely refreshing oil bath establishment on the main concourse’ as D had put it.
“Oh thank you Master Joss, I will inform you over the commlink when I have finished” D-3PO said in his sing song voice as he was being slowly lowered into the hot oil bath.
“Sure thing D. I won’t be far.” Kalen walked over smiling, intent on getting a bite to eat.
After grabbing a large order of Thyferran Meatballs and wild Bothan Rice with Havak sauce ‘to go’ and picking up a 12 pack of Sluis Cola(it was a deal that came with a free cooler AND ice) he went and had a seat at one of the many sets of tables and chairs in the middle of the ground floor.
After munching of a few of the meatballs he threw the rest in the cooler, and walked over to get in line to have his palm read or his fortune told. He had always been interested in some of the ‘ancient mysticisms’ as back home in the other galaxy, they had had several believers, adherents and practitioners aboard. Over the year their influence had spread through each successive generation, and by Kalens time, 10 or 20% of the population followed some aspect of the eccentric belief system.
As he made his way over to get in line, Kalen recorded a quick voice message to send off to Cora on his commlink.
“Hi, Cora, I should be back on Aliso in about 3 or 4 days…I’ve thought about it, and I want to sit down with your father and get his permission to ask you to me in with me. Ill let you know when exactly I’ll be home in a few days when I have a better idea, ok hun, talk to you soon. Bye.” He sent the comm and got in the short lineup at the booth.
As the twins walked through the aisles, Angel’s eyes were drawn to a certain sign advertising futures and fortunes. The younger of the two twins, by just a few minutes, took in a breath to point it out before being rudely interrupted by her elder half. “No. You said we were here for ingredients for Brick. Getting scammed in a tent at a fueling station isn’t getting ingredients for Brick.”
“I won’t be long I promise,” Angel pleaded. “You can go look at all the souvenirs and see if there’s anything you like. Maybe socialize for once,” Angel offered.
Thea could tell that arguing would get her nowhere so she simply disengaged from the subject entirely. “Make sure you do not take long. We have more than just this to do today.”
“I know I know,” Angel said, walking away. “Make sure you grab that jerky Elly likes for the next time she visits. She always lights up.”
The other twin nodded as they parted ways, one towards the tent and the other towards the a actual reasons they were there
As the “Togruta” interacted with her patrons, Cato sat there in silence, gaze cast downward toward a pair of hands whose thumbs pressed tightly against one another. His lips tightened, too, keeping the words he wanted to speak locked away until they were alone.
“I don’t think you should be taking advantage of people like this, Dianthus,” he finally spoke after a long, uncomfortable silence, the words crashing out of his mouth like an ocean swell breaking against jagged rocks. “Their beliefs. There’s power in fortunes, and … and this doesn’t feel right.”
The pout appeared fully then, a mean little curl to it as the ‘woman’ narrowed her eyes at him, displeased. She nearly dropped all the way onto her back to whine at him for the express purpose of annoyance, except for the fact that there was a two-foot ball of soot with eyes in the corner watching them and hanging on every word.
“Dear petal, the point of it is that there’s more there. Power in the fortunes. Power I am giving them that’s already in their belief. All that I tell them is already inside them, with a bit of pageantry thrown in– because I have power too. I’m not even manipulating the cards. Only how pretty and informed it all is.”
She drew the top one from the deck and flicked it at him. It shot through the air then zipped upright and floated before his nose before settling calmly on his knee.
“The Hanged Man,” she said, Cato staring at a beautiful chrysalis suspended from an evergreen branch, strung by webs. “Upright, his position is a sacrifice that he needed to make in order to progress forward - he’s not death or execution or some man-made condemnation, but waiting and suspension. His upside down state can also symbolize the feeling of those that walk a spiritual path, for they see the world differently, as you do. Where there are others that do not understand the need to sacrifice, you see it as natural. You’d give your life in a heartbeat not to hurt someone. You pressed it into my hand and accepted a blade to your throat. To retreat into your cocoon and wait as change comes upon you is a natural course of action for you as you walk the path alone…but you are not alone now, Cato, mine.”
The image on the card was joined by a phantom, monstrous white spider with dappled markings crawling into it, like living paint. It curled protectively above the cocoon. Dia her head at him, lekku swaying.
“Now is that all bullshit and taking advantage, any more than when we get ourselves lodging and needs?”
The corner of the Selenian’s lips curled downward in a slight frown, a silent recognition of him conceding the point. Dianthus had come to know it well in their travels’ but she also knew that he wasnt normally so quick to accept her reasoning. Distant eyes belied the quick, playful pout and plucking of the card from midair with two fingers, hinting at something deeper that troubled him. Now wasn’t the time, though.
“You’re right, I suppose,” he said, pausing as if he was preparing himself to say more, but his eyes shifted to the tents entrance when he sensed someone else coming.
Dia was staring at him with clear suspicion, opening her mouth, when her montrals vibrated with approaching footsteps. She sat up properly and resumed her mystic air, as though a switch was flipped. Her voice deepened breathily with age and crinkled with accented spice again.
When Angel entered, the younger twin was greeted with the same sensation of solitude, the sudden, endless quietude of a mountain brook cutting through an ancient and knowing forest. The small motes of fairy light added an enchanting charm, drawing visitors in towards the table.
“Welcome, searching soul,” the Togruta greeted. And if she lightly kicked her companion to sit up again too and offer the drinks tray behind the table, no one needed to know.
<@301514304845381632> <@204034522033946625>
While he was waiting in line for the fortune teller with his cooler full of drinks and food, D(3PO) called him on his commlink to let him know he was finished at his ‘droid day spa’. Kalen told his to walk over to the edge of the messinine and look down. The droid complied and saw Kalen down in the lineup waving at him.
“You see me. Ok, can you come down here, I’ll give you some credits, I’d like to go over to the tool cart vendor over here and buy some tools we need for the Corra I, please.”
“Oh yes, master it will be my pleasure, I will come down and join you forthwith sir.” The droid responded.
The table was the epicentre of Nibik’s awed vision, as what seemed to be glow bugs dangle and lit the tent in a subtle aura. It felt like he was home again, as a mixture of peace and serenity filled his innards. The faint scent of sage and musk lingered near his nose, enticing him further into the tent. It smelled like great-ma. He didn’t like it. The Ewok bundled the corner of the tent and smothered it into his brown nose and mouth. Dog-like and wriggling unconsciously, his nose unfortunately caught the scent. He grunted in defiance and stepped further inside, sooty pads puffing clouds and suddenly alluding the customers of his whereabouts.
“Chub ook!” Nibik pointed a greasy finger at the Togruta, her multi-hued complexion an opposite to the Ewok’s oily-black features. The subtle glow, the cards on a cloth table, the aura of peace and mysticism. It reminded him of the Chief’s Mistresses hut. But that one was usually filled with skulls, bones, and jellied Gorph feet.
She definitely did not sell coolant.
Nibik slung out a datapad and typed in big letters.
“AR EYU MYSTYK MYSTRYS?”
Galactic Basic was not the bolt he tightened recently.
Angel was rather charmed by the enchanting decor. It was very stereotypical for something of this sort but it was always entertaining to her. She’d seen the occult, she’d experienced it too. This was rather showy in comparison.
The welcome provided by the woman behind the table was something Angel wouldn’t be able to respond to as a filthy Ewok entered the tent, shouting and pointing and sniffing around. The woman was taken aback by the whole situation. She looked to the Togruta and chuckled. “Looks like you’re about to have your hands full here. Good luck,” she said before slipping out of the tent and towards the jerky for her dear daughter.
The Togruta squinted at the datapad as her lurking sootball finally emerged, unfortunately right in front of her next customer, and that wouldn’t do.
One did not simply cut in line.
It was law.
“Hold a moment, oh avenging angel,” she called to the Human, before addressing the Ewok, “Yes, I am a mistress of mystics. And I will help you find what you so seek. But only after I have told this one’s telling. Wait outside, please, little posey.”
<@301514304845381632>
Silent and lost in thought, the Ewok nodded firmly and dropped the datapad. He quickly turned and ran put the tent, leathery pads dusting the Shame Corner branded carpets and tent walls.
“Nub Chub. Ook-ya!” He clapped in assertiveness. There had to be someone selling the coolant brand he needed. The mistress with the cards couldn’t help with this, no matter how tasty her cards look.
Ahh…
With a big sigh, he turned to the area of the stores and skipped ahead.
“Gonna grab some food, meet you in the diner?” AJ called into the ship.
After an affirmative was grunted back from where Vincent was doing some quick mechanical checks, the orange-spotted turquoise Rodian shrugged on his jacket over a dress shirt that had replaced his typical band tees, and hopped down the ramp. Once his boots hit the ground, he fixed a pair of headphones over his pointed ears. AJ thumbed his datapad and the portfolio album he had been working on to present to the academy blared back to life.
The teenager made his way towards the diner, weaving through the coming and going of ships and people. He looked up to see a line trailing outside a tent ahead. A line that was unfortunately between him and the building entrance. So, he did the reasonable thing. He eyed a gap in the progression big enough he could pass through without bumping into anyone, put his head down and uttered, “Excuse me–”
– his shin caught against a cooler and sent the lanky Rodian stumbling over it. His reflexes kicked in enough that he tucked his shoulder in to at least roll into the fall before laying splayed on the ground. His gaze stared up at the stars past the static sphere of the station as he debated whether this was a sign he should rain check on the college tour.
“Wow, you ok kiddo?” Kalen said as he turned around to notice a teenager Rodian had apparently tried to sneak through the line behind him amd had tripped over Kalens cooler.
Kalen moved to help him up, not worrying about the spilled cooler, though one of the beverages bottles had broken, splashing its sweet syrupy liquid over the floor.
<@244244400488710155>
AJ took the offered hand and welcomed the assisted balance as he got back to his feet. He brushed off the dust and loose pebbles off his cargo pants. Stooping downwards, the Rodian teen grabbed his headphones that had fallen off in his tumble. He passed them between his hands after straightening up and regarding the man that helped him.
“Er, thank you. Yeah, I’m good.” AJ paused and glanced down at the mild carnage. Grimacing slightly, he put his headphones around his neck before rubbing his nape with one hand. “Sorry, is that yours? I can replace your drink there. Or, I mean, give you some creds for it if, uh, alcoholic?”
Now retrieving the few unbroken soda bottles and placing them back in the cooler.
“No no no, thats fine kid, its all good, you seem like you’re in a rush. Are you alright? No ones chasing you or anything are they?” Kalen said as he glanced around for a few seconds and saw D tottering up to him.
“Oh my, I witnessed the entire thing Master Joss, are you alright air, I was standing by to assist you if you had needed it sir.” D-3PO claimed, sounding almost boastful.
“And what you have done D? Hollered for help?” Kalen chuckled.
“Precisely Master Joss, how ever did you know that?”
“Lucky guess I suppose D…” Kalen said as he turned back to the young Rodian who had shuffled out of the way of a sanitation droid who was already cleaning the spilled soda. He motioned to the Rodian kid with his chin implying that he was waiting for an answer.
<@244244400488710155>
With the expectant gaze turned back on him, AJ drew his own attention away from the droid as well. He shrugged, “Not being chased, just not paying attention to my own two feet. Was heading inside.”
The teen paused and looked at the others in line, who now returned to their own idle conversations. “What’s the line for anyways?”
<@1178915035049902120>
“Fortune teller I think An old mystical practice which supposedly lets you know whats going to happen.” Kalen said as he pulled out 2 100 credit pieces and handed them to D, the droid thanked him and hurried off to get the tools and supplies Kal had asked to go buy from a vending cart across the way.
As creds exchanged from hand to metal palm, AJ stared at the tent for a moment. The teen who had been mostly nonchalant or even aloof so far, was seemingly seriously chewing on the offered service. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked back to the Human.
“You don’t seem like you fully buy into that sithspit?”
Lips stung and tongue burnt with the flavor of good alcohol. Thrima smacked her lips twice, trying to divine what sort of juice that was in the ‘special’ that was mixed within. Pivoting on the stool, she took a look out into the rest of the station, a steady stream of people finding their way into a little tent not far away from the cafe. Why there needed to be a tent indoors made little sense to the Firrerreo, but she supposed it was just the station’s way of displaying their goods. The line didn’t make sense though.
Eyebrow raised, Thrima threw back the rest of the drink and set the glass back down on the bar, flipping out a few credit chits as a tip next to it. Dropping her feet from the stool’s rung to the floor, she slowly stood up, letting herself double check her metabolism. It had only been one drink, and she had never managed to get drunk that cheaply, but still, it was good to be sure.
A few paces later, and she saw that the line had gotten a bit longer. Smiling as she got closer, she swung her head back toward the tent, eye spying the sign and making even less sense out of it.
“…sithspit.” She hadn’t heard the rest of the sentence, but the look on the teen made it so she didn’t need to.
“That bad, eh?” Thrima grinned, nodding toward the line. “Seems like it’s a popular flavor though.”
“I dont fully believe. But i don’t disbelieve either. I’m just here killing time while my ships gets fueled up and ready to go. My name is Kalen by the way.” He said.
The young man chuffed lightly and nodded in understanding. Time killing was a good motivation. He glanced once more at the tent before introducing himself in turn. “AJ, just AJ.”
A golden skinned woman with burgundy and teal hair joined them in the line, having heard his swearing. AJ stepped back subtly, seemingly making room or keeping his own space as he angled to face both Kalen and the newcomer. His antennae twitched in mild confusion, taking a moment to process what the tall lady said.
“Ah, it’s a fortune teller,” he explained.
<@284848346672136192> <@1178915035049902120>
“Fortune teller?” Thrima tilted her head in consideration. “And here I was, thinking we made our own fortunes.” She chuckled at the idea for a second. “It’s worked out for me pretty well so far. I’m Thrima.” She dipped her head a bit in acknowledgement of the two. “Nice ta meetcha.”
“Have you had your fortune told to you often then?” Kalen asked curiously as he gaze across the concourse through the maze of people and saw D at the tool sellers cart paying for the things he’d asked him to buy.
“Oh not that.” Thrima laughed, a warm sound as she shifted her weight and smiled at Kalen. “My fortune is mine to make. You know: blood, sweat and tears. And a fair bit of ammunition and coaxium.” She pointed at the tent with her thumb. “I’m not going to let someone tell me what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.”
“Besides…” She let an impish grin cross her face as her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “It only works when you start believing in it.” She stretched her back up again, a hand pushing errant hair back from over her eye and winked.
“The pleasure is mine ma'am” Kalen said, politely bowing his head also in return sign of greeting.
“If it works when you start believing, then maybe there is something to it…the whole self fulfilling prophecy thing…I’m Kalen and this is…” Kalen smiled back as he motioned to the Rodian kid.
The teenager nodded in agreement to the whole making one’s own destiny and working for it. He was pondering on the whole fortunes working through self fulfilling prophecies and the idea of that when Kalen gestured to him. “Hmm? Oh, I’m A.J, just A.J. Nice meeting you, Thrima.”
His turquoise antennae twitched with curiosity that overcame his general caution and respect for people’s business. “Ammunition and coaxium…are you in some merchant business or more like protection detail?”
<@284848346672136192> <@1178915035049902120>
“Elek, verd, beroya, ver’gebuir.” She let the Mando’a fall from her lips, then watched them for a second before continuing. “Sorry. I’m a professional…” Thrima paused for effect as she grinned at them. “…Solution provider. Very discrete. Bespoke.”
She watched them for a second as she ruminated. Most things worked better if you believed in them, not just those things with the trappings of mysticism. She clacked her tongue as if to chide herself for forgetting her training. It was a key concept of the universe, after all. Words are magic.
The language Thrima spoke sounded somewhat familiar, but AJ couldn’t place it. With the diversity of population that had passed through Port Ol'val, it really could be a number of them. So, she was a discrete, solution provider. That definitely sounded like someone he didn’t want to attract the wrong attention from, if at all. He jutted his elongated chin up in an attempted nonchalant nod, “Ah, gotcha. That’s cool.”
“Excuse me,” an Umbaran man spoke as they squeezed past the small group, the flap of a tent flopping close sounding nearby. AJ turned to see that they had migrated with the line while talking and he inadvertently had placed himself next in line. Despite being half a sceptic as the Human had put it well, some wonder nagged at his mind and he seriously was considering trying it. But…
“Hey, Kalen? Uh, I know you wanted to do the teller and I sort of cut in line, do you want to go or…?”
“Na na, you can go first, I’m still waiting for my droid to come back with some gear for my ship anyway. If I go in the tent, he’ll just be blowing up my commlink wondering where I am anyway” Kalen said with a smile as he gestured with his arm for AJ to go ahead.
As he glanced over he saw D in the distance gathering things into a shopping satchel and start walking back across the concourse towards him. <@244244400488710155>
Pat Tap
Oily feet slapped the marble floor, as smog of ash bloomed from his heels. Nibik looked around the bright, halogen lights and signs, his basic wasn’t this good. Furry funger shoveled and prodded his ear, pulling ear wax and grease out in idle thought.
There was, of course, maps and signs. The Ewok knew blueprints and schematics well enough, he’s built ships from blueprints. But not in basic. And nothing this colourful.
“Ub-Yub?” He questioned the map, asking for the mechanic store. For now, all his clue were down to his nose. Wriggling and sniffing the air, unfortunately brought the smell of last night’s chargrilled Nerf steak. He sighed and looked around, hoping to catch a staff member.
<@244244163002892288>
“Alright, thanks. Good luck with that,” AJ responded. He gave both Thrima and Kalen a small smile before ducking into the tent.
The change in lighting was stark enough that after a couple blinks the greys of his infrared vision began defining the edges of his sight. At least, until the dim lights sparkling off of dangling glass or crystals, he wasn’t sure which, filled the small space with color again. He glanced briefly at the surroundings, the cushions and low table, took in the incense smell. Grey reptilianoid eyes fell on the Selenian man first, a look of mild surprise and recognition. He wasn’t expecting to see one off Selen or out of Dajorra. He dipped his head to him and then the pastel Togruta sitting behind the desk. The fortune teller he reckoned.
“Uh, hi.”
<@244244163002892288> <@1056685516441006091>
A passing salesperson in the Shame Corner’s aggressively cheery yellow and blue paused as they spotted an extra dirty customer staring at a directory questioningly. The species didn’t matter– you learned that look of being lost or needing something. They approached, smiling.
“Hey, there. Anything I can help you with?” It was a golden-eyed and haired woman with warm, nearly golden skin, whose name tag read Jinse.
As Angel left to collect her jerky, the changeling debated needling at Cato for his unusual reticence or trying to telepathically chase down that Ewok. Instead, their answer arrived in the buzz of conversation of a queuing line outside their tent and the flap lifting again, this time to admit a face she hadn’t expected.
The Rodian boy. With the music. And the Holo.
AJ.
Who looked first at Cato like he knew something.
Under the table, her dagger warped into her hand from the wyrd.
Oh, oh, it was going to be such a shame to kill him, oh she didn’t like that at all.
AJ had been…or seemed, rather, nice. Annoyingly starstruck over Savran’s alter ego. And he’d let her try on his ‘headset.’ Offered to share a candy bar out in the parking lot, since all she’d grabbed on her way out was a jug of coolant and as much jerky as could fit in her hoodie pockets, too busy thinking about bloody, glittery murder.
He’d been. Nice.
But her promise wasn’t to that boy. It was to the one beside her. And recognition was a condemnation. Nevermind the repetition– that AJ would be here, that they would encounter each other twice. Was he after her? Or after her Cato?
Information, first, then.
Her grip eased, and the third lekku behind her back grew shorter, reabsorbed into her skull as a tail began to erupt instead. Not her normal one, it kept stretching, whip-like and razor-tipped, cells secreting a natural poison. She let it grow with part of her mind before making a smile at the teenager before her, whose posture was starting to shift from her abnormally long pause.
“Welcome,” she greeted, and beckoned the Rodian closer, specifically pointing to the cushion in front of her furthest from Cato. “Welcome, welcome to my realm. A polite young man, are you not, AJ?”
<@1056685516441006091>
AJ stiffened briefly at his name being said, but relaxed. He figured there was a chance she heard him outside or, well, he guessed some medium sithspit and all. The Rodian took the proffered seat, criss-crossing his legs when he did. A light smile played on his snout. “Heh, I suppose so.”
“This is a, uh, first for me. Haven’t seen a teller before. So, how does this,” he gestured to the tented room, “work.”
The changeling tuned into the Rodian’s mindscape as he sat and their Aklay tail finished forming and he sat, the burgeoning blossom of her awareness creeping soft and skittering as a spider over a dewdrop.
The initial echoes of fleeting, recent thoughts were easy to catch and tongue at, fuzzy at the edges as they faded – Selenian, friendly, unexpected – and her shoulders eased by just a turn. Then a quick rustle through the leaves: skepticism, doubt, a sort of self-consciousness for hoping for anything – after years? What after years? – and some drivel about self-fulfilment from the yammering numpty outside.
Was AJ really only familiar with Cato’s species, and not Cato himself?
Could it be he really did happen to be visiting the Corner again? It was popular.
Or was she manifesting excuses she wanted to see to soothe the bee’s sting of needing to dissolve the kidneys of a boy who had been nice to her?
Disaster, all around.
“Whether your first foray or fortieth matters not,” the Togruta assured aloud, not missing more than another two beats even as her mind spun through his and slipped back. “It can ‘work’ many ways, depending upon which method you would use, what you would seek, and what you would be willing to give for it.”
A fanged grin eased over their marked features, the baubles on their montrals tinkling as they leaned forward.
“What do you wish for most in this world, AJ? Credits? Fame? Love? Or perhaps…answers?”
Meanwhile outside, Kalen had waited as the next in line. After D had returned with all of the tools and devices that he had requested, Kalen sent D back to the ship, and told him to call him on his comm when the ships tune up and refueling was complete.
As he stood there taking in the hussle and bustle of the station he saw a curious little creature(Kalen had never encountered or heard of the ewok species at that point) creeping around obviously in search of something in particular.
‘Cute lil guy, I hope he finds what hes looking for’ Kalen thought to himself as he grabbed a soft drink from his cooler, cracked it and took a sip.
Drakai guided his ship past the shielding of the station and set the vessel down in an open berth. He sighed and stretched his neck. It had been a long flight, having been finishing up a job far from the station. Slitted eyes took in the Shame Corner once again. He’d had decent luck with a good job posting the last time he had stopped by, so perhaps he would again. But he needed some supplies as well. And a drink. It had been quite the day.
The Kyuzo got up and disembarked, heading for the station’s entrance. The decorations and signage he remembered from last time greeted him. The merchandise was all there. The tantalizing scents of various prepared foods hung in the air. Oddly, though, a large tent had been set up. The sign mentioned fortune telling. He was idly curious, but decided to do what he came here for before indulging in anything else, especially with a small line forming. Maybe it would look better later.
He glanced around and angled for the bar, deciding that a drink was in order first.
Nibik plugged a fat finger into his ear and rotated it slowly, thinking. He saw the purity of her golden eyes, her honeyed skin, and his head tilted.
Is this a droid? Surely not one of those Hoomins??
The Ewok brought up his datapad again and typed furiously.
WARE IS CUULUNT? NED FUR HYP DRIIVE
Earwax covered 60% of the datapad.
Jinse leaned nearer, her face crinkling slightly in a classic customer service mask of repressed horror. She read the pad then quickly straightened back up, smiling brightly.
“Cuullunt…cul-aunt…coolant? Ah, for a hyperdrive. Yes, we have that right over in the mechanics section. We also have a lot of other things if you’re interested! Snacks and drinks, the best refreshers, shower stalls, nap pods, an a animal area…”
Kalen just marveled at the furry little bear like creature as he was obviously buying something in the shop across the way. It appeared to be sentient…well sentient enough to operate a datalink anyway. As he gazed around he did notice a couple of what he thought were empty shops(they were just accessways and corridors, but Kalen didnt realize the difference)
“Well thats an idea…maybe Corra and I could open a business and rent one of those shops…place seems busy enough…but what type of business? What would make money off a bunch of tired stinky spac….” he thought to himself, and then it hit him. The greatest idea anyone had ever had anywhere at anytime. Kalen, was going to open, a brand new, one of a kind….laundromat. But not just any laundromat, he was going to open up, the best laundromat ever.
The Togruta – the Changeling – paused, tail tip stilling its flicker out of sight of the Rodian. Cato would be able to catch it, from the corner of his eye.
“We ask the question,” she began, each word weighted, chosen, “and see what answers await. Whose fate do you seek?”
“Rutze Josso.”
He was quiet for a moment, a hand coming up to touch not his headphones around his neck but a necklace. An etched rectangle of metal and wood.
‘…Axee.’
The voice was melodic with a low click, the crackle of campfire in the background. A flash of a pale hand holding out a datapad balanced safely on suction cupped fingers. A set of dark eyes on a soft orange face, her tendrils pulled back beneath a scarf and a scar across her snout.
“Take it. Mawala Fosh, Axee.”
It was a fleeting memory, seconds passing, but enough to make him exhale. A reminder of his feelings he hadn’t quite resolved, the grief. AJ let go of the necklace and shifted in his seat.
As Kalen stood and waited for his turn the fortune telling tent, he had put together what he thought was a dynamite prospectus and business plan for his ‘Laundromat’ scheme. The more he wrote ideas down and the more he considered the market he’d be entering, the more he started to think that maybe he was actually an entrepenuerial savant. How could the idea fail. Most small vessels didnt have laundry machine aboard, and even most mid and small sized capital ships were short on clothing sanitation amenities.
So here it was…he would buy back his old Sheathipede from Warrant Officer Skurba, and hire a team of Ugnaughts to operate the ship and business. All Kalen and Corra would have to do is front the startup cost and maybe throw in a bit more for some advertising, and bing bang boom they’d have ‘Fluff You’ money in no time. They could pick a nice little pleasure planet to retire to, and make plenty of younglings.
In his estimation, it was a great plan, with almost zero chance of failure. He didn’t bother considering the fact that if it was actually a ‘get rich quick’ area of commerce, there’d be plenty of competition and market pressures.
As Kalen placed a page break on the business plan file on his datalink and began to chart the startup and overhead cost projections.
Similar facial features and bone structure, similar enough phenotypic expression, accounting for whatever else…but I wasn’t the woman’s appearance that gave the Changeling their answer as to the weight of that name.
It was the love.
The love enshrined in the memory, so powerful it made everything else fade away. A feeling fo safety. Warm like that campfire out of sight. Sure like that hand. So desperately, utterly gone, ripped away, leaving a gaping wound, the sound of her voice.
A single tear tracked down the Togruta teller’s cheek, her saffron eyes riveted on AJ. In a detached manner, she extended her palm over the table, hand spread over a cloth with symbols sewn into it and sprigs of herbs and a few stones, the placemat for her cards and bones.
“Give it to me.”
Meanwhile, a piece of her mind splintered, and she whispered to her friend’s mind– she’d only promised not to read his, after all.
I need you to…I don’t know, hold onto me. Something.
Their other hand fell by their hip, not so much reaching as waiting, clenched. The two of them didn’t touch much, and still all the contact she gave him, all the small nudges and allowances, was more than she had had in totality in years.
AJ paused as his mind faltered and attempted to figure out what it was she wanted. He glanced down at his necklace, then up before hesitantly pulling it up over his head and antennae. Clutching it in his hand, he reached out and let it drop into the Togruta’s hand after a pause. He sat back and waited.
Whoever made these incense must have been nose blind. The first time he caught a whiff of them, they made his eyes water; now, he only managed to tolerate them because Dianthus, after much protest from him, settled on a well ventilated area to erect their stall. Cato covered his nose with one hand while carefully escorting the teeny incense holder, which was made of painted metal and shaped to resemble some flower with five petals over to the nearest garbage bin.
By the time he returned with a fresh incense stick, which he lit with his arms outstretched away from his body, he felt something crash through in the Force like a wave that could knock him off his feet. Sadness. The heart-contorting feeling of loss and wrongness that often went hand-and-hand with sorrow.
His eyes shot to the “Togruta”. standing near him. And before he could say thing, he heard her voice enter his mind.
After hearing her request, Cato didn’t hesitate to reach down and grab ger hand. They had done so while crossing the street, so doing it when she really needed it? It was a no brainer. His eyes were almost pleading in the way they softened while looking at her, almost as if he were begging her to give him a sign, any sign, that she was okay … that she would be okay.
“Chub ya woo!” Nibik hopped and wiggled his sooty feet in excitement. He heard coolant and that was enough. Sprinting through the pristine corridor, black smog following slowly behind like a low tech pod-racer. He darted passed the legs of humanoids, and tucked in between the thighs of Ithorians. Then he made it and his mouth was agape.
“Oob…wow,” his ear flickered in baited breath and anticipation. A finger scratched his butt. Bottle after bottle lined the shelves; coolant, oils, screenwash, adblue, brake fluid. Like newly promoted cadets from the academy, they stood at attention, waiting for Nibiks choice.
“Eeb-cha! Yub yub!” The Ewok hopped and clapped in unreleased excitement, and grabbed a nearby flatbed trolley. What appeared to happen before the staffs eyes seemed to look like utter chaos. Nibik ransacked and raided every shelf he could possibly reach, nabbing fluids, hooking tools, licking air fresheners. His trolley overflowed and dropped most of its load, but the small mechanic piled on more and more. Drifting around the shelves, his flatbed clunked into a nearby bucket display, which seemed to have upset the buckets by tossing them around. It also upset some staff members, but Nibik was in paradise. Piled and strung onto the flatbed, Nibik chuckled and danced in glee.
“Yaay!”
The mechanics section floor couldn’t be seen, while the shelves sat empty. A lone hydrospanner dropped from the tool rack.
<@244244163002892288>
Jak walked through the Shame Corner, seeing and not seeing everything. He navigated through the crowded store in the direction of the bar. He absently ran his fingers through his mostly white hair, a testament to age and adventures past, as he approached the entrance.
“Seven Sins, eh? I won'er what that means.” He wasn’t much for actually finding answers to questions anymore. Historically, when Jak went looking for answers he ended up in the middle of a Sith ruin or a battlefield somewhere. Those days were long behind him. Drinking, carousing, womanizing, that’s more what he wanted now.
Walking up to the bar, he tapped a meaty knuckle on it with a hail-fellow-well-met smile. “Whiskey, iffn ya don’t mind.”
A muscled, curvaceous woman with tan skin and what seemed to be a closely-shaved head of crimson hair glanced over from where she was restocking bottles, stood on a ladder behind her precious counter, heavy boots and baggy, camouflage-patterenes pants hung loose on her hips. A tight band wound around her chest, doing little to hide her figure, musculature, or the thick, black ink of her story of tattoos.
Seeing two new customers, one perusing and now the knuckle-knocker, she leapt smoothly down and gave the white-haired man a critical once-over before selecting a particular bottle and pouring the whiskey. She slid the cup over.
“No mindin’,” she drawled, long incisors behind ruby lips. Her green gaze switched to the younger man. “And you? Need some recommendations?”
<@227653769842655233> <@232396983854301187>
The pale hand that he took clenched in his, saffron eyes briefly looking over and widening at the expression that they found on their friend’s face. She nearly ripped her hand back away.
Don’t look at me like that.
It wasn’t a thought she sent, though, and instead her grip only tightened, her sharp teeth gritting. The Togruta turned back to AJ Axee, gripping the flat metal and wood necklace in their palm. Gripping tighter. Tighter. The edges dug in, bruising, but weren’t sharp enough. Without a blink, the teller leant forward and bit into the meat of their hand, piercing flesh, and waiting for a sufficient amount of blood to pool and drip.
They turned their hand over, still holding the necklace, but using thumb and forefinger to draw red runes across the tabletop, heedless of the arrangement she was ruining. She whispered under her breath as she did so, an ichorous, snarling chant that dripped and spat syllables across hissing sentences. When the last rune was placed, she held the necklace over the center, and the symbols pulsed. It was not a glow, but the opposite, creating a halo effect around them; they seemed to suck in light, growing deeper and darker. It was as though they were burning, growing blacker and blacker.
The veins of the teller’s arms bulged, stark and luridly black under her white, speckled skin. Her eyes crept black, her face contorting in concentration, pain.
Dianthus clung to Cato’s hand. The fortune teller leaned forward, black tears brimming and trailing, thick like mud, barely halfway down her cheeks.
“Rutze Josso,” the Togruta intoned, a command issued to bloodied necklace held in tether, to something beyond it.
For a long moment, it was only waiting, a held breath of suspension, with nothing else for either teen to see. Then, the air seemed to warp, twisting–
- And nothing happened. The runes went flat, their strange gravity breaking like a snap. Only sooty black lines were left. Just they three and a “stinky” new incense.
The Togruta teller slumped back, groaning, and shrugged her shoulder forward to wipe her face on her shirt. The ichor smeared, and her long nose wrinkled.
“Bloody shite,” she muttered, then, once more in the mystical tone she’d had when he came in, if a little bit like she’d run a marathon, “alright, yeah, we can do it– ahem, yes, I shall seek her fate. What is your question?”
<@244244400488710155> <@1056685516441006091>
After finishing his business plan and being thoroughly pleased with, Kalen then posted a few job listings on some of the popular recruitment and want ad areas of the holonet. It was a basic ad seeking 4-6 employees who would like to become owner operators of a new mobile laundry service, he also offered a 20% share of the profits for a group or 4% per individual.
After only 4 or 5 minutes he recieved a message on his datalink from someone interested in the position.
The message read-
*To: Kalen Joss From: Ugnaught Labour Guild #37346 Re: The Textile Cleaning Market Opportunity
Greetings, I am Ugnaught Treel, I and my cadre would be open to negotiating an agreement on this proposal. You will hear us now.
We counter propose;
-21.75% profits share, this includes 5 staff total, and 3 on duty during hours of operation. -I, Treel, will be you’re managing partner and labour liaison. -We demand full autonomy on all textile cleaning operations. -We require the right to rename the vessel to ‘Ugnaught Cleaning Vessel #27’ for the duration of our arrangement.
Also, the business shall not operate between 0001h-2359h on Wednesdays.
We will hear your reply now.
I am Ugnaught Treel, and we have spoken*
“Well that was quick…” Kalen said aloud to himself.
The transport shuttle’s engine hummed as it slowed to a stop at the Shame Corner. Before the doors opened, passengers undid their harnesses and gathered their belongings. Sebastian was the last to move.
Visiting his mother and sister was bittersweet. His heart longed to be home again. On the other hand, he cherished being on Selen. Lektra’s presence tethered him to the location. That, and his dangerous mentor-turned-enemy was still at large. Still hunting. And the last thing he wanted was to drag danger back home.
Shaking off the bone-chilling thought, he shimmied out of his seat. The worn gray duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Heavy and rugged. Much like his lingering guilt. His boots shuffled along the durasteel as the line of passengers exited the vehicle. Being the last, he gave the pilot a nod of appreciation. They nodded back.
As he stepped through the doors, the sweet scent of fudge wafted into his nostrils. Memories and nostalgia flooded his mind. It was here he met Lektra. Then, he was a bumbling fool. Barely able to form a sentence without stuttering or mumbling. Somehow, she saw through that.
A corner of his mouth tugged to one side as he reminisced— Lektra’s gaze and not-so-amused laugh. The smile faded as quickly as it came. They still had such a long way to go. He gripped the strap of the weighty bag and stepped deeper into the station.
“What. The Frak?”
The word uttered without a barrier, AJ face twisted is disbelief and disturbed as he sat ram rod straight. His shoulders were tense with a static pulse lingering along his spine, and an urge to jump up and bolt in his legs. What he just witnessed, the blood, the odd aura of the symbols, her eyes going black, it was unnatural and incomprehensible to his brain that has never experienced anything but the mundane. He tried reasoning with it, seeking the safety of it being a play of the lighting, dim as it is.
Seconds passed before he finally resigned in some resolve and pressed forward. “That wasn’t seeking her fate? Then what–…sorry, never mind. I…I want to know if she’s alive, if she’s alright or trapped or something.”
“Well I can’t very well seek her fate if she’s dead,” the Togruta scathed, clearly a little bit on the edge of keeping up her profrssionalism. She was putting her weight back a bit into the Selenian at her side. “That’s what that was, Axee. I couldn’t pull her spirit here, so there’s no spirit to pull. She’s alive. The rest,” a shrug, “then we see.”
Quick fingers, now stained with sooty black that flaked off, spun cards out of that deck. A simpler arrangement this time, more straightforward, after all that.
Drakai had been on autopilot as he entered the bar and settled into an open stool. He was lost in thought, wondering about what his next job might be and hoping it would pay well. Not that he was in a bad spot, but getting something with little to no pay wasn’t ideal, and he’d had a string of those of late.
He glanced at the bartender and nodded in greeting. He paused briefly in thought before answering. “An ale, please. And a straw if you have any. It’s no trouble if you don’t, though.”
AJ’s scaley brow furrowed in contemplation, his resolve weighing against uncertainty reflected in the purse of his lips. Resting his hands on his folded legs, he met her gaze with a fleeting small smile to her grin. “Answers, I think.”
A pause.
“Could you…would you be able to sense someone else’s fate?”
No. There was no way.
He hadn’t told her or anyone else in the building anything but his preferred nickname. Why was this the final straw that broke any barriers of disbelief after what he had just witnessed? He sure didn’t know and wasn’t exactly thinking about it, Linda.
The revelation came crashing on him the next heartbeat.
“She’s alive…” AJ slumped in relief? Shocked surprise? His emotions were an indistinguishable sudden tsunami washing over him. He was left a believer, for denying would go against his hope and everything he just experienced, the exhaustion in the slump of the Togruta girl and the sharpness of her tone. He took a deep breath and nodded in both understanding and to signify his intent to continue.
Pierced brows raised at him, a smirk on ruby lips. “Sure. The fun kind or the boring one?”
She poured him the ale and offered up two different straws, one straight and clear, the other a neon pink with twisting curls and curves in its bend, likely made for tall party cocktails. She waggled them.
For a moment, the flare of jealousy that welled up at the Rodian’s visible relief, at those two words, was so strong that it nearly choked her. That she nearly leapt across that table and wrapped her hands around his skinny, putrid throat. That she needed to see his dark eyes bulge even further out of their sockets, desperate for air and then glassy and lifeless for the picking.
But Cato’s warmth was close, and.
And she didn’t.
Instead she inclined her head back and reached to tap the first card.
“The Past,” the Togruta intoned, and the circle of dandelions seemed to bloom and writhe, rising from green leaves, opening into golden little heads that transformed into puffballs and then went bare and wilted as their seeds flew away. It was cyclical as the bird that lived and died on either side.
-
The Kyuzo’s eyes sparked with amusement as he held another brief moment of consideration before responding. “You know what, let’s go with the fun one. It’s nice to feel fancy sometimes.”
“The Wheel of Fortune. When the wheel is reversed as it is now, it means that luck has not been on the fated’s side. Perhaps misfortunes have followed, whether consequences of past actions or simple devastation– but regardless, you must understand, Axee, that when this card appears reversed, the change in fate is beyond your control. Beyond her control. Whatever took her away, wherever she has gone…” her tone softened, just a touch, just the whisper of grace against a petal, “she did not intend to leave you. It was out of her power. Control is often an illusion. One we must learn to let go. You may blame yourself for something, but sometimes, that is only self afflicted suffering for something that you could never have changed.”
They were platitudes she did not herself believe; her will would be made manifest. But for someone like AJ, they were true enough.
“The Wheel turns, and turns, and at times we are crushed below it, but it will turn again, and walk a new path we must…to the Present.”
- Her finger moved, weaving magick, not unlike the very card she pointed to.
“The Magician represents willpower, desire, being resourceful, skill, ability, concentration, manifestation…perhaps ironic, considering the lost of control in her Past, but in the Present she is moved to seize it back. Rutze Josso stands between heaven and earth to create the world that she wishes for.”
Another flick, and she touched the last card, once more reversed.
“And so perhaps most of interest we peer to the Future. The suit of Cups is associated with emotion, inner voice and world, and water. An oceanic planet, mayhaps? Regardless…the Reversed Knight is a well of emotion, yes, but it is rife with failure. It signals disappointment, tantrums, moodiness, turmoil, avoiding conflict, and vanity. Whatever she sought to accomplish, she has been stymied, and as a result fallen into anger and despair, perhaps to the point of paralysis in taking action to change it. Whatever it was, it was extremely important to her, and not being able to achieve it has left her stranded in her own disappointment.”
The teller raised her hand then, cautioning that she wasn’t finished, and pointed the card face at AJ.
-
“Heed this, too. In the realm of your own feelings, the reversed Knight of Cups suggests that you might also be grappling with emotional turbulence. You’re disillusioned, avoidant, questioning your desires and motivations within this connection.” Her voice hardened, a snap and crack, sharp with sorrow, broken through. “My father is dead. Your mother lives. Do not even dare give up on her yet.”
She flicked her wrist, all but throwing the card at him, which sailed directly into his chest like a knife. It bounced off and fell into his lap, joining the tossed necklace.
“Keep the reminder. Now. Get out.”
With much to consider, AJ slowly blinked, then scrambled up and pushed out of the tent. He muttered to those waiting to maybe give it a minute, blindly walking back to the ship, snacks forgotten.
Meanwhile, the teller was breathing hard, trembling. Her friend clutched her hand, beginning to say, “Dia–”
“Don’t touch me!” the Togruta snarled, flinching back, and gripped at her table. “Get the next one. We clear the queue and leave.”
Never one not to argue with her, especially seeing her like this, after she’d said that, Cato said, “Dia, come on, let’s just go. We can get that smoothie you like and just pick a ship to hop on.”
She liked running, that much he’d found out. Staying in one spot for more than a few days made her antsy and anxious, not that she ever admitted it.
“Just do it, Cato!”
And before the argument could go any further the next was pushing in.
<@1178915035049902120> <@1056685516441006091> <@244244400488710155>
Kalen had been told it was his turn so to out his link in his pocket grabbed his cooler and headed into the tent.
“Hello, I’m just here for a quick reading if thats doable?” He said casually as he gentle reached out with his force sense just to scan thd immediate area. There was a Togruta woman seated a table staring at him as he stood there.
Whether it was the combination of a lot of body spray having passed him on his way out, overly strong incense in an enclosed space, excitement for a business idea, or the mystic’s abilities themselves, Kalen’s concentration wavered and his senses found nothing particularly noteworthy. Instead he just saw the young man and the fortune teller, who looked at each other before the former turned away to pour some waters.
The Togruta beckoned Kalen forward impatiently. “Yes, yes, doable, what do you seek?”
The close-shaved bartender smirked back, evidently pleased by such an answer, and plopped the loopy-looped yellow straw that hadn’t changed at all from the last post into his ale and slid it over.
“My fortune told, that all. How much?” Kalen walked over and had a seat infront of the togruta
“Twenty,” the Togruta answered, without any of the usual redirection or mystique. She quickly placed down three cards as the sum was paid, all while asking, “Do you have a specific search in mind, or only your future?”
He pulled out two 10 credit slips and layed them on the table. “Yes just my future please.”
“Very well.”
The money disappeared, down into a tin for tips and charges when they were making a more ‘honest’ collection rather than just manipulating their way into things. The Togruta turned over the cards one at a time, then began explaining.
“Are those good?” Kalen said.
“Any interpretation of the cards could be good or bad, depending on how you choose to rise to their challenge or heed their wisdom,” the teller said. They indicated the first. “The Ace of Cups. An indication of awakening, particularly of new feelings and new love, of intuition, but it needs not be romantic; you have recently experienced an entire world of new things, I would argue. You have a new beginning presented to you, and you have started it by living your life to the fullest regardless of what weight it once carried.”
To the next. “Your Present, the Chariot, reversed. Perhaps because of how much has come into your life and how easily you have been swept up on it, you are in danger of being swept along. Like being carried on a ship of which you are not the captain, you are merely allowing everything that happens to you, the good or the ill, to happen and take you wherever it will. You are directionless. That may not yet be harmful, to simply enjoy life in the moment, but it may mean you are not being as careful as you should be.”
“And so we turn to your Future, to which the reversed Nine of Pentacles speaks. This suit deals in fortune, prosperity, health, nature, and earth, typically new growth or continuing growth. Reversed it reminds that one must remember that not only material wealth can bring happiness, and to be cautious in business ventures.” They made an almost sympathetic expression, though it was a little stained. “It may also mean you’re doing too much work, and need to truly rest, step back and appreciate what you have before you as you find greater happinesses and excitements than money.”
Ok, Kalen thought, that all tracks. It was strange though. He stared at her for several seconds unblinking and reached out with for force again in a focused but gentle way, probing for signs of deception or whether or not this mystic was using the force or some other underhanded tactic.
Golden eyes met his through the smoky incense, the blatant staring and the prod in the Force together an obvious giveaway as to Kalen’s searching. Slowly, very slowly, her lips spread, wider and wider and wider, until the open maw of her mouth showed all her pointed fangs and the flesh and jaw of gumline and maxillary bones too, as if the lower half of her face had been unzipped.
“Does this not satisfy your curiosity?” she asked, the vowels tumbling around teeth.
Kalens eyebrows raised, he stopped scanning and slightly recoiled in the chair. The fortune teller across from certainly a force user, and a powerful one at that. He also sensed the dark side was very strong with them.
“Yeah. Consider my curiosity satiated” he said calmly, the 2 two locked in what amounted to a staring contest.
“I did have an entire galaxy open up to me…and yes…I have been working very hard.” He said after a few more seconds to break the tension.
Bully for you, thought the changeling, but only said, “Then perhaps you’ll find truth in your future too, or some more unexpected joy. Once can never be quite certain, even with the cards as our guides.”
Without blinking or averting his gaze, Kalen stood, reached in pocket and said “A Jedi always seeks the truth. Thanks you for the reading”
He dropped another 10 credit piece as a ‘tip’ on the table and left the tent without another word.
At least the tip seemed to soothe. The teller snatched that credit up too, then looked to her worried friend, who was still staring at her in a way that she simply couldn’t stand.
“Fine. Let’s go,” they relented, and all at once what magic there was present evaporated, leaving only the table itself, the Shame Corner pillows on the floor, the tent, the cups. None of the atmosphere or sound.
And of course the incense burner.
They slipped out the back, the Changeling putting her hood up, hiding the series of cracks and mutating of flesh that came with it.