Beautiful Castagne | CIS Dominion of Hex [S-46]

[WelshPsych]

People nearby: [member="Sala'dine"] | [member="Alyisa Mithel"] | [member="Kiso"] | [member="Roy Americus"] | [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Karlie Lynn Destat"]
Objective: Tan, relax and enjoy the sights

Yuroic stepped near the sea, letting the water splash over his feet as he stared out to the horizon. The bliss of being on spice was amplified by the fact that the location was so pretty. He heard several woman talking and drinking at the nearby Tiki bar, giving an idle wave to them as he decided to wander down the beach and explore a little. There were people hosting face and body painting, he wasn't wholly interesred, his body had quite a number of permanent artworks already tattooed onto him. He was one to enjoy his body art but most of his body was not so much tattoos but scars. He had a high number from a tough life.

A former slave to a particularly nasty owner, he had been beaten half to death most of his childhood. Now there were fresher scars from his battles as well as his whole right arm a glistening silver in the sunshine, being robotic and all. He studied his robotic arm carefully, this was the first time he really showed it off in public, having normally worn clothes that covered it. Not due to shame but practicality. Few worlds were as lovely as Castagne. He continued down the beach and noticed a row of homes, very luxury houses from his point of view. There were no houses that lovely from places Yuroic had lived in. He spotted a very lovely lady sunbathing, it took him awhile to notice himself staring before he abruptly turned around and sat down.

Why was stoned Yuroic such a pervert at times? He really needed to sort that out...

 

[Kainan Wolfe]

​

Objective: Shore Leave | Post #1​

Attn: To whom it may concern​

• Streets of Castantene
  Castaigne, Sector S-46

The numerous uniforms looked so out of place in this relaxed city, which found itself flooded by thousands of off-duty personnel that now prowled through the streets, looking to buy drinks or mix with the locals. Many of the black trenchcoats had the white collars and cuffs that marked them out as Ultranauts, the disciplined, Stormtrooper-esque troops of the Nelvaanian Shrouded Republic, another world that found itself under the Confederacy's protective umbrella.

Earlier today, Tacitus' flagship and its escorts had finished a routine patrol mission and the Overlord had decided to stop for resupply here, giving his troops some much-needed shore leave while the massive dreadnought and its companions awaited for the resupply ships to arrive. This also had the unfortunate effect of leaving the Sith Lord with nothing to do, as he was a man who preferred to spend his time engaged in more productive activities.

As he strolled somewhat aimlessly through the streets of the city, he nevertheless had to admit that this was a beautiful world, which he would have preferred to explore in the company of his lover, not several thousand soldiers. He had sent her a message that his fleet would be stopping here for a few days, but he didn't know if her schedule would allow her to come. So, for now, he would have to find some other way to occupy his time.

The countless voices of the crowd and the smell of food and drink were nearly overwhelming for the Sith Lord's senses, who was more accustomed to the sounds of battle, or the efficient silence of his flagship's bridge, interrupted only by status reports and brisk orders. Vacations weren't really his thing.

Much like his soldiers, his own outfit stuck out from the crowd here, with the longsword and four lightsabers that hung from his belt and the strict formality of his uniform, the clearly visible trappings of rank affording him some much needed silence as the numerous soldiers respectfully gave him a wide berth and going about their own business after snapping brisk salutes in the wake of his passing.

 

[Mishel Kryze]

​

​

Mishel shuffled to grab another drink from the cider booth. "Okay that is actually good, and you said this was a rose? Castinrose? Castinrose with citrus? Oh this one has citrus, yeah sorry music's loud." The Tygaran grabbed offered sample and let it wash down. "Okay I think, I think I like this one better, nah. I mean it's good just too bitter? Oh there's a - okay let me get that." Another offered sample, oh this was great she could stay here all day she turned around and there was this guy walking around with food. "Here, right here, yeah oh that looks great what is this? Deep fried bantha? Oh, double fried bantha then stop talking give it, give- yes thank you. You're a pal."

It was in the middle of shoving that double fried bantha on a stick into her mouth that she caught sight of the woman in the skinny jeans, blonde hair, jacket and tank top. She stood there with stick in mouth and bottle of cider in the other just watching the woman. Mishel grabbed the meat on a stick and yanked it out of her mouth and chewed slowly, "holy mother Ashira..." her voice went quiet as she chewed on the way too soft bantha meat and was that cheese in this? "Is there chee- oh yes, and peppers. Goodness gracious Ashira this is delicious."

The Jedi turned around to grab a napkin from the cider booth when she spotted someone in armor. Normally she would have chalked it up to security but Mishel was not yet drunk enough to say that with confidence and worse she was sure that looked like some sorta mando armor. And as the figure drew closer, she was sure it was mando armor and even better or worse, she recognized the armor. "Kark me sideways on a saucy Zhellday..." She looked at the rest of her snack and inhaled what was left before downing the rest of her cider. "Blondie or the mando who stabbed... what kind of karkin' Corellian Digital special is this." Mishel cursed under her breath.

[member="Peyton Steele"] | [member="Shia Kryze"]

 

[Shia Kryze]

"No, no... all three."

Shia sighed slightly as the vendor looked at her in surprise as she gestured to all three of the bottles she had been offered. This was the problem with being rattataki - people assumed you had the strength and toughness of your build, which in Shia's case was 'average humanoid' or 'solid as a brick' by the standards of the thin-framed rattataki people. She was, comparatively, a giant wall of lithe muscle. It just... didn't show, all those complex dextro-muscle fibres, she supposed.

Which also meant that she wasn't even getting started with getting drunk on that little alcohol. Something a little... extra was required.

"Then with brandy shots, yes - you say they're on-world fruit? Good. I've had enough karking corellian whiskey to drown a bantha."

She looked the offered bottles, added the double fruit brandy shots then paid, before looking up at something - or someone - she caught out of the corner of her eye.

"Oh." She looked slightly blank as she caught sight of Mishel standing there, absently drinking the first of the three drinks in one long pull and setting it aside. "If it isn't the padawan of uncontrolled exploding telekinetic death." She said in a voice that had been intended to be a mutter but was in fact slightly too loud. "Now Shia, remember Aunt Vivi's rules on dangerous women."

Rule No. 113: Dangerous women are like a good blaster, they need well handled.
Rule No. 114: Forget Rule 113. I mean it. V. If you follow it you'll regret it.

No one ever said Kryze family teachings made any sense. Still, the woman didn't seem dangerously unstable or in possession of a tendency to presently telekinetically explode, and those two Jedi she'd been with had probably - probably - dealt with the obvious fissures in her soul. She'd know otherwise, death always followed people like that.

[member="Mishel Noren"] [member="Peyton Steele"]

 

[Mishel Kryze]

​

​

Mishel held a finger in the air as if to say wait a moment. She headed across the street and grabbed the whiskey from the samples table, more like grabbed three shots and downed them in quick succession. She then marched right back across the street. "You never answered my question by the way," she shoved a finger against the other woman's armor, "how do you people go to the bathroom, and second off what in the karkin' Corellian Zhelluday Special are you doin' in these parts? I thought you folks had too ooga booga something something raid." She followed that up with a side gesture that was close to jazz hands in the air.

Ah, kark this. The Tygaran rolled her eyes and was half way into the stomp off and leave bit when she stopped turned and marched right back to the rattataki woman. "And for the record I did not telekinetic explode, ma'am. You, stabbed me, or did you forget that part - wait no, I stab- you know what, kark you three ways to Benduday." She adjusted her jacket and swiped another double fried bantha on a stick from the vendor and huffed it down the street. Now she needed to find blondie a distraction from Ashira knows what brought that uncivilized woman here.

[member="Shia Kryze"] | [member="Peyton Steele"]

 

[Peyton Steele]

She had a few things she needed to do, but part of it was looking around and seeing what Alliance and New Jedi Order folks were in the Confederacy. And to do some shopping. Sure, maybe Peyton wasn’t the most materialistic, but she liked to look good. Who didn’t, right? But for now, a bit of food and drink would do her just fine, say thankya. The pistol was hugging to her hip and would be obvious to most looking at her, unless they were more focused on her hip. Whatever. People could make their own choices.

Was one thing to be armed in this galaxy, but it was another to be running around in full Beskar’gam. She respected the Mandos, they knew a thing or three about warfare and combat, but being discrete? Not so much. Maybe she could get someone to build her a thin beskar bodysuit. Could that even happen? Nah, probably not.

Just have to keep moving fast.

Still, it was easier to eat in NOT the armor. She grabbed a cocktail, and regarded the dark haired woman and the mando. All while making small talk with a local artisan.

[member="Mishel Noren"]
[member="Shia Kryze"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Location: Beach Front, where water meets the sand.


The salt water of the sea washed over it. Scherezade closed her eyes, still not too far gone to know that she was supposed to keep the salt out of her eyes. There had been another summon by the CIS. The only reason she didn't try to avoid it like last time was because there wasn't supposed to be any battles here. Which meant she wouldn't do something stupid like use her body to shield to protect those who had betrayed her.

She was tired. She was so tired. She had not slept for weeks now, not properly. She just carried on until her body gave out, and then she would just lay wherever it was she'd passed out at, never dreaming, never waking up refreshed.

She didn't want to go over things again in her head. Everything was spinning on a look in it again and again anyway, always accompanied by those whispers, all those whispers, the sentences the Darkness had given her, again and again and again.

Scherezade closed her eyes and let the water wash over her again. She'd laid herself down exactly where water met sand, knowing it'd give her at least an hour or two before the water rose too high and she would have to move. She turned to lay on her side, the bottle in her hand finding its way to her mouth as she took a swig.

 

[Daisy Americus]

On the Beach in Castantine wearing this and standing near [member="Scherezade deWinter"]​

​

Daisy Jane shielded her eyes from the bright sunlight, releasing a low, appreciative whistle as she looked out at a goodness-blessed beautiful ocean. It was the color of fresh born baby eyes. Honestly, living on Concord Dawn had raised her with a sense of sparseness. She could look at this every day and never get enough. The Mandalorian had been trying to find her place in this new world. They’d made a home on Haseria, however, she didn’t want to spend the rest of her days tending a bar and fending off all the neighbors that had gotten too friendly with a bottle of shine.

Some of her family was comfortable staying at home and some of them weren’t. Momma Americus seemed to like her new life. Everyone that had found an escape on Haseria seemed to be flourishing. It was a small, but growing community, with several different clans that just seemed concerned with taking care of each other. It was a nice change of pace. Though the gossip-vine she had heard about something called the Knights Obsidian, the Mandragora, and even a Smuggler ring. All of those things seemed good and dandy but it just wasn’t what DJ was looking for.

She wanted to make a difference. The bouncy blonde wanted to DO something with all of the skills that she had picked up, versus squandering them, by digging too deep in the Force. She had been strong before, if a little forgetful, and she just didn’t want to lose her heritage. Was it selfish? Maaaybe. At the end of the day, she simply missed her home. The feeling of belonging. Of having a purpose.

With that in mind, she was seriously considering applying to the Mandalorian Protectors. But, she didn't know what the rules were, or if they would even take her. She was a good shot but she still had a lot to learn.

The bubbly bartender dug her toes into the sand and smiled up and the sky. “Praise be his name and praise it a second time. Ayyyyymen.”, she murmured to herself, accepting the fact that this place was luckier than an entire field of four-leaf clovers. A girl could get used to this. Spying someone she knew, she raised her hand high, fingertips reaching and wiggling. “Howdy there Roy!”

[member="Roy Americus"] was a chiseled, gruff, tough old cyborg. She’d run into him a few times, but, like most of her extended family, they didn’t always know everything about each other. They were aliit and that was all that mattered. She would have his back through thick, thin, snow and hail. She smiled at him as he made his way down the beach, seeming to enjoy the lush paradise just as much, if not more than she did.

That was when she became aware of a slender woman lying, sprawled out, where the surf met the sand. Daisy tilted her head. Curious, and curiouser, were this Confederates. She wasn’t terribly gussied up because she’d intended on going swimming at some point, but, she was at least wearing a little denim over her cupcake pink bikini top. There wasn’t anything on her lower half but a pair of matching bottoms and she happily ran around barefoot. She loved her armor, as any good Mandalorian should, but the salt-air and water made her leave it at home.

Blue-green eyes softened as they observed the little mouse. It didn’t take a genius to see that something was bothering her. She looked so darn sad, so darn tired, that Daisy found herself walking over. She could smell heartache just as easily as a hog rooted out truffles in the fall. The tall, beautiful woman leaned over the prone girl, little more than a silhouette with the sun behind her head. “Forgive me if I’m intrudin’ miss…”, she trailed off, her voice unintentionally slow, tainted with a particular drawl that was thicker than a day old bowl of oatmeal. “But you don’t look too well. Are you doing all right there darlin’?”

​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Location: Beach Front, where water meets the sand.
Close-by People: [member="Daisy Americus"]
Post: 2

​

The sun was still shining through her closed eyes. The blackness was a deep red, but it was warm, so it wasn't as bad as it could've been. Her clothes were drenched in both sand and water. It was a good thing she'd remembered to at least take her combat boots off in advance. Clothes were easier to replace; combat boots were expensive and she only had that one pair that she wore pretty much everywhere.

Another wave of water washed over her and she flipped onto her stomach now, face resting on her folded arms. Just forget. That was what she wanted. To no longer feel the pain of the betrayal of the man she still loved and the woman who was her sister. To no longer remember what they had done. To be that girl she had been a month before, with the lust and hunger for life and adventure, and not this broken thing that couldn't really survive through the day without at least a few bottles of booze. That could carry on more than two minutes worth of conversation without bursting into tears.

And suddenly the red turned to black. Someone was blocking her sun.

Emerald green eyes snapped open, still puffy and groggy. There was a woman standing over her, talking. Scherezade blinked in confusion. When did people start talking to her? She just stared at the woman, her eyes barely moving, but still noticing the beach wear and the pink top. Pink was a good color, even when it wasn't Wednesday. Scherezade's own shirt was of the baby pink variety, but it was just a random shapeless t-shirt, paired with equally shapeless jeans.

"I'm fine," she mumbled a very long and very uncomfortable silence, and took another swig from her bottle. It was harder drinking while you were lying down, but she managed anyway before letting her head drop again.

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Location: Beach (Far off from the main event area...)​

Wearing: Black Wrap Bikini​

​

Now, this was a world Alessandra could enjoy.

Nelvaan had been an icy cold disaster of a planet that only served to make the Minister of Commerce cranky. She had loathed every minute of it, despite being fond of [member="Darth Tacitus"], and that was probably the only thing that kept her there. As with most of the Confederacy, she had taken the offer from Castagne quite seriously and fully intended to enjoy the impromptu vacation she could never get around to taking. The sun was warm, perfect, and the air provided just enough breeze to draw a content sigh from devilishly red painted lips.

Alessandra Creed lay like an exceedingly pleased tabby cat near the edge of a manmade pool. It was close to the beach itself, but far enough, that most of the common rabble left her alone. Every so often she saw a few people pass by but didn’t bother to raise her dark head from the soft pillow she was currently resting against. The large chaise lounge was made for far more people, but, the young woman remained on the edge. Almost as if she were prepared to move at a moment’s notice.

There was a feeling in the air, once more, that made her feel as if her sibling were close by. It kept happening. Geonosis, Monastery, and now Castagne. The thin silver chain about her neck led the eye down to a pointed amethyst crystal wrapped in a beautiful cage. It was one of the only pieces of jewelry she wore, save, for a small singular pair of black diamond studs in her ears. The crystal hid her Force Signature, unless, she did something that woke it up. It was a small comfort. At the very least, whomever she sensed, would not be able to sense her.

Not until she wanted them to.

A pair of pitch-dark sunglasses protected her eyes from UV rays and her naturally sensuous form was wrapped in thin strips of black material. Only here, on a beach, would Alessandra grace the eyes of the Confederacy with more skin than they deserved. Moreover, she intended to blend in, simply one more person at a city-wide party. Who would be looking for her here? What maggot, carrying holo-files that needed her signature, would dare hunt her down this far from Geonosis?

She couldn’t lie. A part of her was afraid they had hidden some sort of mystical tracker on her person. It didn’t matter when she left the office, where she went, or what she did on the capital of the Confederacy. The Commerce support staff always found her.

But, until then, her life-goals were simple. She intended to become one with the poolside furniture. It was lofty, sure, but with the way she seemed content to waste the day? It was totally doable. She could get back to Ministering when the sun didn’t feel so heavenly. Dark hair splayed about her head in silken waves of night, and most would think that she’d fallen asleep sunbathing. As relaxed as she seemed, at the end of the day, she was a Creed.

She could never relinquish that much control in public. She was a Creed, after all.

[member="Adron Malvern"] | [member="Mishel Noren"]

 

[Traveler]

Location: Droid Spa

Of all the many things he had seen, a droid spa had not been one of them. With a simple cloth backpack over one shoulder the being known as Traveler walked into the spa and marveled at the treatment the droids were receiving. In most of the galaxy his kind were seen as servants and slaves. Bought and sold like tools to live as servants to the biological beings but here in this moment they were free. It was true for some it may just be a moment but life was made up of moments and The Core knew they deserved this one.

He set down his bag as he was greeted with kindness and invited to partake of any of the free amenities. His bright blue eyes flashed his delight and he sent a string of binary to thank the other unit for its invitation. He walked straight to the oil bath and stepped into the clean fresh lubricant.

"Ah." He said with genuine relief. His joints and servos already felt better.

What a great day. He turned to the another droid in the spa and drew on The Core to reach out to it and ask it if it wanted to know about the Core.

 

[Traveler]

A post so nice it posted twice.

 

[Ordo]

Location: Beach


He strode out onto the hot sand, feet bare against the dry ground. It had been a long time since he had relaxed, he almost came armed despite the thought that it was a chance to unwind. His scarred chest also bare basked in the hot sunshine. His garb was old fashioned loincloth, typical witch's undergarment.

Although he stood among people relaxing he could not honestly say he had an idea anymore of how to enjoy a beach. Lovely women relaxed with refreshments and young men soaked in the sun almost as quickly as others did alcohol. He took a deep breath and walked toward the water and found a spot to flop down and watch the waves.

His grey-green eyes gazed over the lapping waves and the many people enjoying their beauty. The corner of his mouth turned up and twisted the scars on his face. This was a nice place. He was glad he came.

 

[Shia Kryze]

Shia's expression was less anger and much, much more bemusement and shock.

A lightsaber charge would, she reflected, have been easier to deal with. She stared after the departing dark haired figure for a long, confused and perhaps even fulminating moment, one finger raised as if to defend herself, but otherwise speechless.

"Hey! Wait just a moment there vod, what kind of di'kulta do you think I am? You were levitating in the middle of the room surrounded by dark side energies! I was bloodlessly raiding until you and Ember came along and got all Jetii on the situation. And hey, don't you walk away!"

She hurried after Mishel, an utter lack of her normal predatory violence to her movements.

"You stabbed me! I still have the karking scar! The armour contains inbuilt micro-recyclers and fibres, just like anyone else in heavy armour - and we don't wear it all the time, just you know, in battle or when visiting fellow Clans all formal-like." Oh Manda help me, I'm talking like Americus. "I'm just here to enjoy the party, so... uh..."

She trailed off, suddenly well aware of the scene an armoured Mandalorian Rattataki makes when she hurries through a crowd after someone. Let alone one wearing a half-cape with the Death Watch logo on it and the rank sigil of the second to Manda'lor.

"... my names Shia, what's yours?" She ended with lamely. Damn, desperate Shia. Desperate.

[member="Mishel Noren"] [member="Peyton Steele"]

 

[Daisy Americus]

On the Beach in Castantine wearing this and sitting near [member="Scherezade deWinter"]​

Her hands fell to her hips while she waited for the young woman to respond, elbows bent, as the rather pregnant pause continued. The girl seemed unkempt. As if she hadn’t had any home cooking, or, a good night’s sleep in quite some time. Daisy could sympathize. When the cure had been announced by the previous Sole Ruler the majority of her family had begun to sleep with one eye open. Leaving had been a heartache. It still was. “You don’t look fine darlin’…”

Especially not when she only sat up to take another long drink, straight from the bottle, in such a way that would have made her grandpappy proud. Rather than judge, the bleeding-heart Mandalorian felt for her. People who were fine didn’t engage in such fierce day-drinking, fully clothed, looking as miserable as a Loth-Cat in the rain.

Exhaling slowly, the stunningly attractive county-belle took off the denim shirt that she’d been wearing, and tossed it away so it would stay dry. Instead of leaving the half-pint to her sorrows DJ sat down beside her, legs tucked off to the left, while she leaned on one hand in the sinking wet sand. The salty surf, warm and wonderful, swept over tanned legs and she instinctively relaxed. For a long time, she just sat beside the green-eyed girl, ignoring the fact that she looked a bit like a sea urchin, and just let tranquility exist.

“My name is Daisy.”

The introduction was short. Her accent was strong, making her rather simple, floral name sound like it had far more syllables than it really did. She didn’t really expect a response in kind when she took into account the sense of misery that flowed from her new friend in rolling waves. Being social was probably pretty hard. “I’m new here. My family, my paw, my momma and my siblings and me all came here when we weren’t welcome at home anymore. It was hard. Really hard. But we’re making it work.”

“I know I'm lucky to have them. Lucky that we're all together. Things could have gone sideways faster than a drunk farmer herding bantha.”

Her eyes stole away from the brown-haired woman and turned back to the ocean. It was endless. In a way, it was almost humbling, making her feel mighty small. Haseria was good as gold. Beautiful, green, and with plenty of fresh lakes. This was different. The water glimmered in a way she had never seen. The sand was almost white. Unintentionally, she sensed more than she wanted. The girl wasn’t just miserable. She was darn lonely to boot. “I’m sorry.”

“Ah…I know it doesn’t mean much, comin’ from a stranger and all, but I am. Try and hold on to a little hope. Especially when it seems like there isn’t any. My momma always said there’s not a pot too crooked that a lid won’t fit… You’re a hot mess right now, but I reckon, you ain’t beyond fixin’ sugah.”

The figure of speech, crossed with a little slang, might be confusing. For the most part, people were able to figure it out with context clues. In essence, Daisy was intoning that there was someone out there for everyone. Be it family, friends, or lovers…The poor drowned kitten at her side just needed to give herself some slack and time. Life was hard with some pretty bad moments...

But, it was accepting the possibility of good bits, that would make it worth livin’.

 

[Corvus Dravere]

Location: Beach
Post: 1
Near: Daisy and deWinter

From that endless expanse of sea, where the soft white caps of a shallow surf just began to rise on their way towards the sand, a series of grey bulbs broke the surface of the water. Walking forward, their helmets appeared, a pair of eye lenses glowing dimly in the sunlight. The first figure to appear was different from the rest in only one aspect - size.

Broad shouldered and tall, he lead the others, a net full of oysters slung over one shoulder. Behind him came four others, and any of the Americus would recognize their neighbors in the Dravere clan immediately. They eschewed the T-visor so common among Mandalorians, opting to use a variant of the diving suits their ancestors had brought with them thousands of years ago.

Water ran in lazy rivers over the smoothly contoured surfaces of their armor, dripping to the sand where it was shaken off by every steady step. Seaweed clung to helmets and shoulders, falling off when hands were raised to brush the fronds away. Pausing in front of [member="Daisy Americus"] and [member="Scherezade deWinter"], Corvus panned his tubed helmet down to the girl laying by the surf, medicinal bottle of pity well in hand.

One hand reached down, adjusting the life support system at his waist, the softly glowing dials dimming as it was turned off before he spoke through a carefully modulated helmet speaker. “I wouldn’t suggest laying like that.” Around them, his clan mates moved up the beach, carrying shrimp, cod and crab, heading towards a space they could clear to build a fire pit for cooking.

“You never know what may lurk beneath the waves.” His voice was serious, but in truth, it was what passed for humor among them. His attention rose, settling on the blonde Americus before him. Lenses staring at her for several moments of silence, he gave the barest tip of his head in greeting. “I haven’t seen you since you were a child.” It wasn’t even a ‘hello,’ and then he moved onward, but not before pausing to peel a starfish from his chest, where it had covered up their clan emblem - a red star with inset Mythosaur skull. “Here.”

He said that single word like ‘I’m sorry,’ and then moved on.

 

[BNI-Bella and BNI-Leo]

Location: Castagne [Capital City Castantine] - Droid Spa

​

Fresh Meat​

The mysterious [member="Traveler"] would think himself safe in the Droid Spa. It was a clean, approachable, robot-friendly environment that catered to their kind like nothing else did. BNI-9000 and BNI-9001 had memory fragments of a new Droid Sanctuary forming in the Zhar System of Confederate Space, however, neither rabbit entertained the thought of leaving Mistress Talon. They were sentient enough to ask for freedom, as the CIS law demanded, but they enjoyed their place. The Mistress was taciturn, precise, and very robotic most of the time. Especially, when she read their bedtime story.

No one else could read a holo-book with such perfect apathy and indifference quite like she could. If [member="Srina Talon"] was not with them—how would they ever power down peacefully to recharge? Just the thought of the albino-woman organic being gone made both of them feel immeasurably sad. She was their human. It was a good thing they didn’t have to worry about it. Instead, they focused on their game of make-believe.

Pointy objects would sluice through the thick oil bath, sticking straight up in the air, as they circled before the Traveler. No droid who invaded their super-secret sanctum of Bunny-Doom was safe from their misguided, yet, entirely adorable squirrely wrath. A data stream, firewalled to high heaven, passed between them. Neither one could decide which of them ought to make the first move.

Bella was faster. But, generally speaking, Leo had better reflexes. This droid was much larger than they were and full of visible interconnecting, whirling, moving parts. His blue photoreceptors matched the same shade of blue that BNI-9000 sported for her singular cyclops eye. Something seemed to pass between their new target, and another droid, that they did not understand.

It did not compute.

It was then that the decision was made.

Bella swam toward the Traveler and popped out of the oil in the last second. The floating pointy things would be revealed to be her silver tipped ears and she launched herself into the air with perfect bunny-ninja-grace. Her little paw hovered just over where his chest, before she tapped him lightly, and her teal photoreceptor lit up with joy. “Tag! You’re it!”

With that, the little rabbit-droid dropped back in the oil to swim away.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Location: Beach Front, where water meets the sand.
Close-by People: [member="Daisy Americus"] [member="Corvus Dravere"]
Post: 3

​

The silence was welcome. Scherezade's mind drifted away, occasionally falling into memories she didn't want again, and then began to yoyo between those and nothing. She liked the nothing better. The nothing meant she didn't have to think or react or do anything. And then the woman spoke again, and gave her name.

Scherezade blinked. Daisy began to talk, and Scherezade tried to place her accent. She couldn't really get much beyond 'probably somewhere in the Outer Rim', but that reduced the number of potential places from thousands to hundreds. One eye opened and stared at the blonde while she resumed talking. Family... Lucky... Scherezade closed her eye again. Yes. To have a family was indeed to be lucky. She didn't have one. The biological one was gone, the ties to the adopted ones severed harshly, and-

There it was. The preachy part. It seemed like she'd gone from a person who was generally ignored or tolerated to someone everyone felt the need to preach to.

At least they could agree on the hot mess part. Scherezade didn't need a mirror to know how awful she looked right there and then, and had been for the entire duration of her time outside of the second round in the Darkness.

She just sighed, and took another long gulp from a bottle.

"Scherezade," she said, "and I don't have a paw or a momma or anything like that. So yeah, you're lucky."

Someone else came nearby them. The voice sounded masculine to her, but she had no intentions of opening her eyes and looking. She didn't know what the suggestion referred to, though it wouldn't have surprised her if it was about her bottle. Everyone had their butthole opinions about it. And then he referred to Daisy.

Good, Scherezade thought. Maybe he'd take her with him, and the preaching would stop.

 

[Adron Malvern]

Location: Castagne | Time: Afternoon | Objective: Relax? | Tags: [member="Alessandra Creed"]

Castagne was a beautiful planet, covered with some of the most pure waters Adron had ever seen. He stood from the balcony of his temporary lodging on the planet. A decent sized Villa that overlooked the ocean, it had been provided by the Castagnian government for his time on the world. Officially a member of The Confederacy Castagne had graciously opened its arms to her new host.

Leaning on the balcony, Adron watched the gathering crowd that was starting to overtake parts of the beach. This was his third day on the world and he was immensely enjoying it. He had arrived earlier than the others, the reason for his father lavish lodging. As Castagne was now a part of The Confederacy it has to be assessed for military potential. Thus far he was content to erect a small garrison for the planet’s defense, however he did not feel the need for a full military presence. It was a peaceful world with a peaceful people, for now they could hold on to their dream.

Pushing off of the balcony, his eyes came down to the open lounge adjacent to his Villa. It was remarkably empty, despite a prime time to enjoy the amenities it held. He could see that someone was occupying a space in the pool area and it only took a moment before he realized who. An amused snort escaped him as he took note of Alessandra sun bathing without any company.

He could change that.

Turning back into his Villa, he took a moment to take in the white and champagne interior. Not his style, not in the least, but not particularly horrid either. He looked to the thin-lined suit that was laid out on the bed, a freshly shined pair of leather shoes. He gave the suit a contemplative gaze before turning to the dresser that was across from the bed.

“Better.” He muttered, pulling out a pair of dark brown summer shorts used for swimming. Tossing them on the bed behind him, he also produced a white T-shirt.

Adron took a few moments to change before finally leaving his Villa behind. Walking out of the main entrance he couldn't help but smile at his reflection in the windows. It was extremely…. Casual. Something he was not very used to.

The street he walked on was not busy, but it certainly was alive. Many of the upper echelon of the planet seemed to live or at least vacation in this area. They all seemed to be happy, productive people enjoying their days of celebration. It was refreshing to say the least.

He turned into the lounge area where Alessandra laid. He looked around a bit, taking in the area as he generally did before approaching. Of course the lounge was equipped with the one thing he had been looking forward to. Close to the main entrance was a small bar where an older man stood, whistling a low tune to himself while he saw to his wares.

Glancing over to Alessandra, Adron approached the bartender, greeting the man with a brief nod.

“Hello, sir. What can I get you?” The older man asked, turning to face the Minister.

“Let me get a whiskey with soda and a Sonic Screwdriver.”

“You got It.” The man said, turning to gather the necessary ingredients. Adron watched him prepare the drinks with a notable interest. Even as a younger man he had always enjoyed watching a bartender at work. Only moments later the bartender set two drinks on the bar with a rather impressed look about them. The whiskey and soda was a dark brown mixture with a few ice cubes floating along the top of the short stubby glass. The cocktail, however, was a beautiful blend of orange and red and came in a much taller, slender glass.

“Settle now, sir? Or want to keep a tab?” The bartender asked, sliding the drinks over to the customer before him.

Adron shook his head in response, “It’s early. Let's keep it open.” Adron remarked.

Taking both of the drinks, Adron walked over to Alessandra. He eyed the chair that was a few feet from her. With the subtle touch of the Force the chair slid closer to Alessandra just as Adron approached, giving him a seat beside her. As he sat down, he held the colorful beverage out to Alessandra.

“You seemed like you could use a cool drink and some company. So here I am.” He offered that playful smile that only Alessandra had been privy to.

 

[Mishel Kryze]

Maybe it was a Kerrigan thing, maybe it was a Ren - or something she picked up along the way but Mishel had decided she wanted no more of the woman. The woman however was not done with her. Mishel turned around and narrowed her gaze on the armored woman who dared to follow her. "Not levitating, I Force leaped." She corrected and then turned back around and tossed the now empty stick into the trash and waved off any further offers of food and drink. "Did not stab you, you stabbed me - if you have a scar it's not from me." She interjected and made her way into a local shop. The idea of an armored rattataki following her into the shop more than amused Mishel but she did happen to look around for that blonde. "Mishel."

"And you look terribly out of place so..."

Mishel made a move. She shoved the armored woman into a dressing station and went through the racks of clothing and headed back to the dressing change. "Find something that fits, we can charge it to master starfart." The Tygaran tossed clothing item after clothing item, and then shuffled through the store for something for herself. She shimmied out of her typical rebel garb and into more beach appropriate attire. Heading out of her own dressing station she walked to the front. "Yes can you charge this to Coren Starchaser and this needs to be charged to- oh yeah, yeah I'm with the Confederacy. Oh? Awesome well you know what, if you ever, need help let me know." She winked and looked down the other end of the store. "I promise you if you do not put on something that actually looks like you belong here, I will go in there and dress you myself." Run around clunking in armor.

"And if you're upset about where to put that armor, you can park it on one of my boats."

"Beside I really want..." Mishel stopped a moment as her mouth hung open, "to go to the beach..." She motioned out of the store.

[member="Shia Kryze"] | [member="Peyton Steele"] | [member="Alessandra Creed"]