Private First Day Out

[Amos]

Inner Core - Unnamed World

"No, I don't know how to fly a shuttle." Amos said as he knocked the back of his knuckles against the droid's head. A frown pulling at his lips. Speaking basic so often was still foreign to his tongue. There was a rough edge to his voice, he tended to roll his r's more than most fr instance. Letting his words linger a bit longer than they should have. "I told you that weeks ago."

He nudged the droid one more time, but it was clear that whatever that pulse had been had fried it along with the ship's circuitry. They had been lucky there had been a fail safe auto-pilot, otherwise they would have ended up in the side of a mountain.

Amos knew that he probably should have started to learn to fly one of these wretched machines. His old Master had always insisted it was important, though they'd never quite managed to reach the lesson which would actually teach him to fly. Cocking his head to the side, the Kiffarin pulled himself up and away from the pilot's seat, figuring he had less of a chance of figuring it out than Ven Shai Turi did.

His shoulders rolled. "Shame, we were just a few light years from Byss."

A frowned touched his lips.

"Might even be in the same system." Though it would be impossible to tell. The same pulse that had knocked out their droid pilot had also knocked out the astrogation and most other systems. Whatever the hell it had been, it had been strong enough to nearly knock them out of the sky. At first they had both thought it was an EMP, a trap laid by some old remnant rebel group, but it had quickly become apparent than the pulse had reverberated through the force.

Whomever had set it had been powerful, though neither felt any familiarity in the signature. Either way, the power lingered even now, clinging to the walls of the shuttle and seeming to call out to them. When either of them closed their eyes, they saw curling fingers, beckoning them east. An eerie omen that brought nothing less than goosebumps.

"I feel like we should go.:" He said flatly. "Whats the worst we could find?"

That sort of logic had brought him this far.

 

[Ven Shai Turi]

"No you didn't"

Yes he did.

A black-clad hand wiped the white hair from her face, one of the most fruitless efforts in the galaxy given the unruly nature of her hair. This was supposed to have been a fun little jaunt out to not-Byss and it was only by coincidence and happenstance that they were anywhere near the place. Ven peered blearily into the sky, the very place where her ship had been summarily man-handled by an unseen force and yeeted to the ground.

It was a fething miracle they'd survived - but the ship wouldn't be flying again anytime soon. Ven had very little mechanical expertise to speak of, so she made no move to fill the space Amos' figure had just vacated.

"Feth Byss!" she asserted aloud and loudly at that. To Amos. To herself. To the universe at large. To the fething broke-ass pilot droid.

Why hadn't she been flying again? Oh, right, she'd been a little distracted with her newest companion. Ven facially shrugged at herself as she looked from Amos to the ruined ship, and back to him again.

Worth it.

"I feel like we should go.:" He said flatly. "Whats the worst we could find?"

Ven narrowed her eyes and moved closer to the ship and to the energy that still seemed to cling to it like some oily residue. Her fingers swiped across the bulkhead then rubbed together. Felt dark. Felt ... familiar. Which was odd given the variety of dark flavors the galaxy had to offer. Anyone else might've climbed into the rabbit hole of conjecture-- why here, why now?

Not Ven.

"Alright," she said, verbally admitting defeat to their unknown assailant with one last glare skyward. Didn't tell the man to grab what he could for their survival, for someone with that many scars, marks, and muscles he had to know at least that much on his own. Ven took up her cloak, her bag, and the last of her stash of food and drinks. Compass? Who needed a fething compass.

"You really can't fly a shuttle?" with a shallow swig from a bottle of nondescript alcohol, she side-eyed him and shook her head, "At least you're pretty."

Off she went, following the trail of the dark miasma.

 

[Amos]

"And what more do I need than that." He commented wryly as he began to gather up one of the shuttle's emergency packs. Whatever had brought down the ship still lingered within, even as he grabbed rations and the few medical supplies they might need along the way. He could feel it, the gentle ebb of power which seemed to flow from the very walls. There was something discomforting about the sensation, even to him.

As though they were being watched.

Shaking the feeling, Amos shouldered his newly acquired pack and followed after Ven.

Whatever planet they had landed on was at least capable of supporting life. Their shuttle had crashed in the midst of what appeared to be a valley jungle, a ring of large mountains hedging them into a natural cage. Though that didn't give the terrain credit enough for just how far it seemed to sprawl. "Is this part of the fun you promised?"

When she'd found him, Amos had been languishing in prison. Stowed away their by his handlers and all but forgotten in the rows and rows of durasteel cells. He'd been up for the pits, soon, due to be tossed away in a show of blood and entertainment. It had been only by happenstance that she had seen him and taking her fancy. If it wasn't for his good looks, he might now have been little less than a puddle of blood beneath some other fighters feet.

Not that Amos ever thought he could lose.

But as she'd stood at his cell door peering down at him to offer both complement and cutting remark, Ven had offered him something no one ever had before; fun. A promise that she had immediately made good on with their last hours together on the ship, though not in a way that Amos had initially expected.

Though, it wasn't as though was complaining. The Kiffari simply found himself wondering what kind of storm he had shackled himself to.

Fingers raising to push away more of the jungle sprawl in their way. That odd miasma of dark energies still lingering within the air, gently tugging them in the direction of the mountains.