Cheers, bud.

[Loske Treicolt]

Palm pressed firmly against her temple, stretching her skin toward it. Her posture was terribly slouched, one elbow pulling toward the edge of the table and the other lazily resting. Her expression was listless, staring at the bottle before her. She'd never had alcohol before, other than that one flute of sparkle at one of The Alliance's balls about a year ago. When she'd still not known her family and only lived within the arms of The Rogue squadron.

"And then at the Battle of Coruscaunt, Darth Shara and Jedi Master Matteo contended in a fateful duel that resulted in the Jedi Master losing his left leg. From that, he spent several months in a rehabilitation centre."

This was the second time Frank was running through the stories of her parents. Each of them having feats of their own. Certainly forces to be reckoned with. She blinked heavily, pulling herself up from the table and resting her back against the booth with a sag, hands in her lap. "Please stop, Frank."

"I agree, kiddo. This is a lot to compute." Loske looked at him with a raised brow, expression weary. It was impressive the magnitude of empathy [member="Kaili Talith"] had programmed into the little, rotund droid.

The flygirl only exhaled heavily in response. She had, but only an hour or two ago, left the most awkward meeting of her life. A meeting with her parents and her brother. She was dazed without even touching the alcohol, but Frank had suggested they sit in some bar and drink to forget. He'd read that somewhere.

"It's so weird..." she murmured for the umpteenth time, poking the bottom of the bottle. It was too full to give a dramatic response, and only slid slightly. "So weird."

"For this method to work, you actually have to start drinking." The astromech chided, giving an electronic tsk of disapproval.

"You think I should call him?"

"Who, Micah?"

"What?! No!" That woke her up a bit, palms slapping the table top.

"Abel?"

"No, Frank. My ..." she winced "brother."

"Oh."

"You don't have his number." Frank of course, didn't seem to think this was such a great idea. She'd been doing so well on her own, without a family and fighting for what she thought was right. A little volatile with the vomit, but otherwise alright.

Eyes narrowed, and she gave a flick to the metallic curve of Frank's manufactured head. "I'm sure you can figure something out."

He rocked irritably, but didn't deny his prowess. It was true. There was no database safe from 'ol Frankie. And, being the personal astromech to a flight lieutenant gave him access to most of the Alliance's personnel and asset database. Isar Kislo being one of those contacts.

[File 817369
Name: Kisar, Islo
Rank: Jedi Order \\ Padawan]

"You sure?"

She nodded affirmation and the droid gave a programmed mock of a sigh while he held the supporting line and Loske pulled her datapad out from an inside pocket of her flight jacket - sending a correspondence to the number Frank provided.

[Hey,
If you think that was as weird as I did, let's get to know each other.

I'll be at Volcan for the next couple of hours. I'll be the one that looks like you.]

Well, he knew that. They'd just seen each other. And zoop! Off the message went to the pocket of her science experiment sibling, [member="Isar Kislo"].

 

[Isar Kislo]

Confusion.

That was the one singular emotion which could perfectly describe Isar as his discblade ripped through three drones in a single arc. Tucking his body into a roll, the Kiffar creation narrowly avoided a training bolt from one of the five remaining drones. The moment he'd rolled upright he erected a temporary, man-sized shield of force energy to deflect another. Raising his free hand, Isar caught the discblade which he'd been controlling telekinetically with little effort.

The moment the barrier dissipated, Isar withdrew the hilt of a lightsaber he'd created some months prior with the assistance of a Jedi Master from the New Jedi Order. While not typically a weapon of the Zeison Sha, Isar had deemed it useful to learn some of the Jedi arts to increase his own competence. He remained separate from the Order, however, unable to reconcile many aspects of their code and way of life.

Flashes of blue danced throughout the room. In a matter of seconds, Isar struck down the last droid amidst a violent scream. The steady hum of the lightsaber was the only sound to fill the cavernous space.

Eventually, blue eyes shifted in the direction of his bag. Deactivating his lightsaber, Isar approached the bag, stopping close enough to clearly see inside without having to touch the bag. Clipping his lightsaber and discblade back to his belt, Isar reached into the bag to withdraw the worn cylindrical hilt of a weapon that seemed to have been modified with some sort of ornate decoration. His newfound 'father' had given it to him. Taking the weapon was all Isar could do to get the man to shut up and leave.

Noting the lack of an external activation stud, Isar allowed the Force to aid in his evaluation. Suddenly, the deep blue blade sprang to life with a snap-hiss. Instantly, Isar felt calming waves wash over him as his body cooled significantly. Gaze down at the weapon, Isar deactivated it when he heard the soft beep coming from his datapad.

Isar retrieved the device and placed the lightsaber back into the bag. It was his 'sister'. Isar sent no response, but he did gather his things and head for the shower.

Twenty minutes later, Isar entered the Volcan. Blue eyes scanned the crowd for little more than a moment when he recognized the blonde woman sitting at a table. Casually, he approached the table and clasped his hands behind his back. Isar's hair was still wet from the shower but it still fell to his shoulders, not quite as long as that of his parental donor. Unclasping his hands, Isar motioned to an empty seat across from [member="Loske Matson"]. "May I?"

 

[Loske Treicolt]

After several minutes of silence from her datapad, Loske's posture slouched considerably. Cool. So now she had a family but nobody within that circle wanted to acknowledge it.

"Cheers to that, eh Frank?" Finally, she reached for the beer (which was quite warm at this point) and pressed the bottle to her lips with a hearty swig. A muscle memory maneuver from the early days of flight school (False. This is a manufactured memory for Marcello's frat boy days with the RAF). It was mid sip that the blond fellow appeared. Between the unfamiliarity with the actual taste of the ale, and the surprise that her bro had taken her up on the offer, she choked down the liquid awkwardly with a cough. The back of her hand raised against her mouth to prevent a spray of fermented liquid to intrude on the table or elsewhere, her stomach clenching and tightening with the small cough fit.

"Please do," she winced, turning into the book of her arm to finish her cough off, setting down the bottle and gesturing to the empty seat. Composure found her quickly, and she straightened the hem of her shirt. "You caught me off guard...." Loske explained for the coughing episode. Dark blue gaze (her father's eyes) measured up the fellow that shared her DNA. He was in drapey clothing, and wet. Was it raining outside? Hardly a weather pattern for the Volcano that Sullust was. Stupid question.

"But not near as off guard as finding out the long lost test tube parents thing."

Oh well. I guess there's no point in beating around the bush anymore.

[member="Isar Kislo"]

 

[Isar Kislo]

Isar arched a curious brow at [member="Loske Matson"]'s attempt at drinking as he took a seat opposite her. For a few moments, he was silent as he looked at the woman. There was a definite likeness. More specifically, they both looked equal parts like their maternal and paternal donors. Isar's brain drifted back to that real awkward conversation and meeting. Funny thing - the only part of it that really registered as normal to him was the way their so-called parents interacted. It was plain to see that a deep, serious affection existed between them.

He could also tell that they were roughly as shocked and out-of-sorts over the whole situation as Loske and himself were.

"They seem happy, at least. I mean with each other." Isar paused for a moment. "I imagine it was never their intention to have children. Certainly explains the rather business feel of our meeting." Perhaps that was the most disappointing part. Having spent a great deal of his formative years with the Zeison Sha, Isar was no stranger to family connections...he'd simply never had one. It had hardened him to the entire concept.

Now he knew who his family was, and his parents seemed like they could rather care less about their existence. What was their true purpose? Were they destined to be some type of deadly warrior for the Kiffar? "What about the whole royalty thing? It's just random..." Their mother, an heir apparent to Kiffu. Their father, the elected sovereign of Naboo.

Leaning forward, Isar managed a smirk. "So. What did you do after the test tube?"

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"They didn't seem to have time to." Loske interjected, absently gesturing at Frank as if [member="Isar Kislo"] would know exactly why she was indicating him. "I've just been listening to their archival records. It makes sense why their DNA would be twisted to create weapons.

Maybe that's why they never had their own children anyway? Didn't want the responsibility of raising the worst of themselves." She slipped her palm into the bend of the arm that was now supporting her chin. "It's all so weird."

Her brows furrowed when Isar eagerly jumped ahead. She wasn't done reflecting yet. This guy was literally her - as much as anybody could be. The only one that could identify with a fraction of what she was feeling.

After the test tube? She wasn't as fortunate as Isar. Her memory had been erased after exploding the training tank on Kiffu. She hardly had any recollection of that planet at all. Even her flygirl academy days were somewhat hazy (all manufactured). "The only clear thing I know is piloting with the Galactic Alliance. Transferring over on Sullust and being recruited for squadrons."

She thumbed the opening of the bottle, glaring at it. "At least this is explaining why I can't remember childhood.

What about you?"

 

[Isar Kislo]

Isar wasn't sure that he had the capability to reflect on much else with regard to their donors. In the same vein, he didn't really want to acknowledge so much that he'd been created for some singular purpose. He understood his life as a warrior, but he didn't see why the circumstance of his creation needed to define him indefinitely. He felt almost as if he'd been in a prison his entire life, but the blindfold had just now been removed.

Light blue eyes glanced to the droid for a moment. She named it? Isar didn't name R8. The thing was just R8.

Allowing his gaze to settle back on [member="Loske Matson"], Isar exhaled softly. "Well. I suppose at some point I was either taken from or escaped Kiffu. I don't really know how it all happened. The first thing that I do remember was my training in the Jedi Temple. Then I recall the Sith attack." Apparently, though, all that had been false, a lie. "I was with the Zeison Sha for years, learning their views of the Force and working to master..." Isar raised his index finger slightly, making a series of gestures that hoisted Frank into the air, spun him end-over-end twice before setting him back down. "...manipulations of telekinesis."

Apart from the basics of Force manipulation and, for the time being, an intermediate level of competence with a lightsaber, telekinesis was the thing the young Zeison Sha warrior excelled at.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"The Zieson Sha?" Loske repeated, the words foreign to her. Ancient worlds and magics weren't exactly locker room talk. She didn't have time to get an answer before [member="Isar Kislo"] demonstrated though, on poor Frank.

Being Frank, he protested loudly. "HEY! Squirt, put me down!" Little sparks emitted from the front panel in self defence, and Loske reached out half heartedly in the air before the astromech was sound on the ground again. "Custom creation," Loske admitted sheepishly as Frank shuddered with what would have been anger "-things get quiet up on space. Frank's my closest companion."

She shrugged, despite how weird that potentially sounded and took another slow sip of the ale. The whole bar stunk of the stuff. She set it on the table, displeasure evident in her expression. "Do you drink? This is my first. Figured it's as good a time as any to start."

 

[Isar Kislo]

Isar arched a curious brow in the droid's direction before nodding to Loske. "Yes - a sect of force users from the Yanibar system. Those that are extremely well trained are a sight to behold in combat."

For a moment, he looked back at the droid. "So...Frank here is likely to be in the vicinity anytime we interact." It was an observation, not a question. "My name is Isar, Frank." That was going to be the first and last time that anyone ever referred to him as squirt - lest Frank preferred for Isar test out his disable droid knowledge.

Loske's question about ale caused him to glance back in her direction. "Honestly. I had never tried alcohol either until I stumbled upon the Alliance. I've found that I'm a whiskey guy, Corellian to be specific. Whyren's Reserve to be exact...though it's more expensive than I can generally afford." Reaching for the mug of ale, Isar sniffed it before quickly pushing it away from him. "I've been told that ale is an acquired taste."

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

“I haven’t acquired it yet, I guess. Figured I’d allow myself one evening of a pity party and then get on with.. the usual.” She swirled the container around a bit, absently looking into the bar’s typical patrons. She’d never been in here before. “People do this kind of thing all the time.” It was how people coped with things - especially through the weariness of war. So many of the patrons were scarred or wore expressions of exhaustion or general listlessness. That was almost more unnerving; people no longer feeling anything. There was a reason this was called fire water - this ale burned!

It seemed that she, unlike her kin who had been filling his mind, was more busy filling her wallet. She was saving for a full rehaul for a customized X-Wing, but she could afford to splurge a little, thanks to her lucrative career as an expendable pilot of The Alliance - flying those missions nobody wanted - and a contractor for GUIDE. “Tonight's as good a time as any to spoil yourself, hm?” Two fingers raised and a few seconds later a droid whirred over, snapping into place in front of their table.

“Whatcha good for, kids?”

“In the mood for something a little stronger. Do you have corellian whiskey? Whyren’s reserve?”

The droid beeped affirmatively, mocking a humanesque whistle “anything else?”

“Do you have anything more...fruity?”

“We’ll see what we can do, lady.”
And with that, the droid twisted on its wheels and went off toward the bar. It was only a handful of moments until the droid returned, clunking the short glass of whiskey to the table accompanied by a much skinnier and tall glass. “Blumfruit Cooler.” The droid offered as explanation before wheeling away.

“Well, okay.” Loske murmured, pushing the glass closer toward [member="Isar Kislo"]. “Cheers, bud.” She lifted the glass and tipped it in his direction, hovering the rim at her lips and basically sniffing it while waiting for Isar to follow suit.

 

[Isar Kislo]

Isar shrugged at [member="Loske Matson"]'s first series of statements. "You're probably better off not acquiring it. Lest you end up like..." Isar motioned to the...diverse clientele. "...one of these cave dwellers."

Loske was correct in the focus of Isar's life. He'd never much been one to care about money. Truth be told, he'd spent so much time drifting from location to location, training in various Temples and combative schools. If he'd truly required something, it had simply been provided to him. Isar supposed all that was going to change...for the both of them.

Lost in brief thought, Isar almost hadn't caught Loske signaling the server droid. After she'd ordered and the droid departed, Isar arched a curious brow as he leaned back and drummed the fingers of his right hand on the table. "This is on you, right?" A soft smirk touched his lips as he raised his glass to cheers Loske. "Cheers."

Bringing the glass to his lips, Isar took a casual sip before setting the glass back down on top of the table. "So. How's life as a Rogue...or I guess it's a Wraith now?" He would hear rumors of the elite flying squadrons from time to time. Isar loved being in the air as much as the next, but didn't really find himself fancying being part of the Alliance military in earnest.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"It's on me, courtesy of the Alliance." She made a small ka-ching noise to emphasize the impact of her paycheck.
People tended to pay higher the more you risked your life. Unless of course, you were a Jedi. Then people just expected you to do it -- when you were someone who wasn't #blessed with The Force, people tended to be more grateful. She even had someone who set up her ship for her and hand her a helmet when it was time for takeoff. It was pretty luxe.

"Kind of the same thing, no matter the name. You get in the air, you stay there until it's time to come back. I love it, honestly.

I guess I kinda take after...dad? He said he used to be a part of Naboo's RAF.."

She shuddered slightly, counteracting the positive reaction she otherwise had to the sentiment of dad.

 

[Isar Kislo]

Isar gave a half-smile at [member="Loske Matson"]'s response. "Works for me!" It was the only declaration that he felt he needed to have in response to her kind offer. Following two more sips of his drink and listening to Loske briefly, very briefly, describe her duties to the Alliance, Isar placed the glass back on top of the table.

Leaning back in his seat, he folded his arms across his chest and dipped his head slightly in ascent to her statement regarding Naboo. "I've heard of this, yeah. However, I also heard that Kiskla started out as a pretty accomplished pilot for the rebellion. I don't know that I've heard of Marcello ever flying for them formally."

Isar gave a simple shrug. "That seems in keeping with what little I know of his personality though. In the Jedi circles, he's certainly known as a loner. Very critical too, apparently. I have...memories, images. They don't always coincide with another, however." Reaching for his glass, Isar posed a simple interrogative. "How about you?"

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"Kark, they're so cool.." Loske murmured, wrapping her lips around the straw of her cooler and going temporarily crosseyed in frustration that she did not have a dedicated spot in the archives. Would she get one, if she wasn't a Jedi?

She p-too her straw out when [member="Isar Kislo"] started talking about fragmented memories. Her expression turned somewhat pained and she leaned back in the booth, her shoulder sagged and fingers drumming on the tabletop while Frank shook next to her at the potential trigger.

"Honestly, up until today, my memories made sense. They've always been contextual so they felt real; except there was this one time I ended up on Nar Shaddaa, totally randomly, without any documentation or papers. I had thought my flymates were playing a prank on me, some sort of roofie gag. I had no memory of anything that would have led to such a disgusting planet...until a few hours ago.

Kind of makes sense why that was...so disorienting. It must have been shortly after the test tube." She leaned forward again, inhaling more of the cooler as liquid reassurance.

"I'm also thinking that's why I'm so physically sensitive, too. Do you ever get times when your body is just like -- nope. Not doing this. and, in a sense, shuts down on you?

Also why do you get to be a Jedi? I don't have any Force connection."

 

[Isar Kislo]

Isar glanced up at [member="Loske Matson"] with a thin smile amusement at her declaration about their parents. Raising his glass back to his lips, he took another sip as he watched his kin's face contort into one of discomfort. It was like she'd suddenly been struck with a feeling of constipation.

The male clone did not bother to inquire on that subject. Fortunately for him, Loske quickly moved into an explanation. Thinking upon her first question, Isar tilted his head slightly. "You know... I can't really say that I'm struck with those sensations. I do find that I quickly bore of long conversations or convoluted battle plans. I recognize that's...nothing like what you're describing. As for being a Jedi..."

Isar shrugged before taking another sip of his drink. "Force training dominates every memory that I have. How can you be so sure that you don't have some connection?" Isar was not versed enough in all the mysteries of the Force to accurately discern the degree to which a person was sensitive to the Force. To be honest, everyone was sensitive to the Force to some degree. However, it took rather extraordinary midi-chlorian content to be able to interact with the Force at will.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

[SIZE=11pt]Sccckkrrrkkk.[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] Her drink was empty, and the sharp noise of empty air through her straw cued the waitress droid to whirr over to their table and seek another order from the pair. The blonde pilot confirmed another round, and then leaned into the heel of her palm, elbow on the table as she slid the empty glass toward the unoccupied part of their seating arrangement. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“I have no memory of any Force training, at all. Hand-to-hand combat never involved any fancy telekinetic talents. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Actually, when things get too stressful, like.. For example, I was on Karfeddion and there were corpses everywhere, just a lot of death, and all I could do was vomit, basically.” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]She paused. She’d also had a rather unfortunate interaction with a Sith Lord, who had basically made her head explode from overstimulation and probing into her mind. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“I feel like I’d be pretty badass with a lightsaber. That would help should I ever touch the ground.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Have you ever killed someone with yours?”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt][member="Isar Kislo"]. [/SIZE]

 

[Isar Kislo]

Isar thought about [member="Loske Matson"]'s initial statement for a few moments as he drummed the fingers of his right hand on top of the table. The interaction on Karfeddion rang only a distant memory. Isar hadn't really been much involved in that particular operation, but he did recall it as one of the many interactions between the Alliance and the First Order.

It was Loske's question about his own combat experience that caused him to level his glacier-blue gaze in her direction. "Yes," came the simple, surprisingly emotionless reply. "Several."

Isar paused, searching for a way to change the subject. It was not that he carried any shame, he just preferred not to discuss such matters. A part of his soul was pained for his inability to redeem them before death had been necessary, but another large part told him their death was an inevitable necessity. Had he known his 'parents' at all, the confusion likely would have been easier to reconcile.

"According to records, Marcello started his training in the Force late. After a career as a pilot, he met a Jedi that revealed his inherent talents to him." Shrugging as the new drinks arrived, Isar quickly retrieved his and raised it in the air with a smirk. "Hope for you yet, Blue."

 

[Loske Treicolt]

[SIZE=11pt]“Hm.” [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]Loske replied simply, shrugging. She’d killed too, but never at close range before. She figured there was a definite difference between the explosion of a ship and the body inside, and seeing the death at close range. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Her mind briefly switched gears to an imaginary conversation between herself and [member="Marcello Matteo"], weighing her up for her ability to manipulate the Force, maybe training, while [member="Kiskla Grayson-Matteo"] leaned in with points of encouragement. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The image was pleasant, and she took a sip of her drink, blinking heavily before turning back to the reality across from the table, [member="Isar Kislo"]. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Do you think you’re going to talk to them again? Are we a family now?” [/SIZE]

 

[Isar Kislo]

Isar did not mind the brief silence that occurred between himself and Loske. During that time, he allowed his own mind to wander as he took several more sips of his drink. Isar was not exactly prone to day-dreaming much...at least not lately. When he was separated from most of the galaxy, he had certainly spent an inordinate amount of time wondering as to where he'd come from. The clone had constructed fantastic stories about parents so engulfed in the struggles of the galaxy, that they had to send him away to keep him safe. In his mind, they'd been some type of covert operative, revered by many.

In a way...he supposed his dreams had been closer to truth than he would have imagined. However, he would never have imagined that he, personally, was more of a science experiment than anything else. Blue eyes raised to Loske's face, snapping him out of his memories as she started speaking once more. "I...I don't know. I guess I just feel like if they wanted to have any kind of a relationship with us, they would make the effort." Isar paused, realizing he was being somewhat pessimistic. It wasn't as if Kiskla had actually given birth to them or Marcello chased them around the house pretending to be a monster. That was not the situation. They were not a family in the traditional sense.

Holding Loske's gaze, Isar seriously intoned, "Regardless of them or their desire, we..." Isar motioned between the two of them. "...are two sides of a coin. We share more in common with each other than we do with either Kiskla or Marcello." Isar paused, not exactly good with the emotional stuff. "We're family."

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Loske blinked.

She’d never really heard the term family so endearingly. Once or twice Rogue Squadron has referred to themselves as family, but that was because they were supposed to die. It didn’t feel as everlasting as the way her brother across the table said it.

“Yeah..” she slowly realized, suddenly feeling more full than she ever had before. Like little swirls and clouds were pushing at the soles of her boots.

She got up quickly, shimmying over to the other side of the booth and draped her arms, somewhat tipsily, across the shoulders of [member="Isar Kislo"]. “Yes we are. I like that.” She confirmed, nodding next to him before pulling herself back out and scuttling back to her seat with impressive coordination.

Frank beeped from the distance, wanting to indicate how pathetic her alcohol tolerance was.

Somewhat sheepishly, she schlucked the rest of her drink back and reached to adjust the tightness of her perky ponytail.

“What should our first family outing be?”

 

[Isar Kislo]

Isar's glacier-blue eyes tracked [member="Loske Matson"]'s movement. For a brief second, he was curious, then a small smile pulled at the corners of his lips. His facial expression was a direct contradiction to his body language wich feigned impending discuss at the girl's obvious intention to do something physical. Isar patted Loske on the back, somewhat awkwardly given he rather rarely embraced anyone. In fact, outside of Mira he wasn't sure he'd embraced anyone prior to that moment, and it was certainly very, very different with Mira.

As Loske settled back into her original seat, Isar finished the rest of his own drink. Shrugging his shoulders at his kin, Isar smirked slightly. "I don't know... I feel like our family spending time together would be...fighting pirates or defending ambiguous nations of people." Really, the idea of independent fun without a purpose was a genuinely illusive concept to the clone.