Friends in Low Places

[Amz]

This wasn’t the first hole-in-the-wall establishment the young woman had been in, but until now the Cantina was never a reticent scene. A scarce handful of patrons brooded over their half-empty mugs of ale, with some looking to have stumbled in off the street. Judging from their stained and tattered linen shirts, matted oil-slick hair, and their incoherent mumblings of rhythmic quality; it was easy to assume where they were categorized in Galactic society.

Ashtara’s brandy eyes turned away from the piteous vagrants and back to her own disappointingly empty cup. She lifted her gaze back up and passed a smile of unrivaled friendliness to the bartender who accepted the lure, refilling her previous order with a grin of his own. A new glass was pushed towards her, filled halfway with a rich maroon liquor. Ashtara composed a hasty expression of thanks for the bartender and lifted the glass, sipping it in a dainty fashion. Her comlink chimed, giving a reminder that soon she would need to leave, the visit being rather brief.

Perhaps before then, someone of interest would show up to stave off the boredom.


[member="Jared Starchaser"]

 

[Jared Starchaser]

Things were never slow in the Fringe. He liked that. His father liked that, and well, the whole crew of the Dawn Treader liked it. Sure, they might be making their home ports in Fringe space, but they kept themselves apart. A warrior tribe of pilots and snipers. It was like throwing a hero unit down to fight the enemy. Sure, not as strong as the 501st, or the 181st, but more versatile than either. And that was important. With the rapture that had gone on, the Fringe Federation, lead by Ashin Varanin had made a strong push, not a strong as the Sith, but they were religious extremists. Still, the side of extremists that he'd fight WITH, as opposed to against. Take down the Jedi? Yes, please.

Even now, he knew that a few things were going wrong. Murmurings. But there was a lull. And during a shakedown flight for the Treader, he and a few other pilots made their way planetside. It was good to stretch the legs and refresh the lungs.

Plus, drinks.

That was when he entered the hole-in-the-wall joint with the music. And saw the woman at the bar. "Ain't you supposed to be flyin'?" Or had the Rapture pushed people completely away from life?

[member="Ashtara Starweaver"]

 

[Amz]

Her body straightened a certain measure when Jared approached, and then liberally relaxed as she angled herself to address him. “Ain’t you supposed to be flyin’?” Ashtara repeated with a mock lift of her brow and cant of her head, dark tresses spilling over the curve of her shoulder as she felt some of the tension flow, then set down the glass of wine with a gentle ‘clink’. She drew her expression back to some form of professionalism and idly played with the rim of her glass, sliding her finger along its edge mindlessly. “Things have been a little bit weird, ya know? Just needed some R&R.”

The recent rapture had a lot of the Galaxy still bent over its knee. But instead of hauling herself away and running from the simple fact that life changed, Ash instead had followed her wanderings to a bar to drink it all in, and, well, was accepting it. Mostly.

“Would you care to sit down? Share in a couple of drinks?” Her lips curved into a diminutive smile. “Assuming that drinking with a fellow pilot is still acceptable behavior, and all.”

[member="Jared Starchaser"]

 

[Jared Starchaser]

He may have been an easy going commander, but really, deserters bothered Jared. Maybe because what his father had to put up with, making the ship safe. And being tasked with keeping the peace between Sith, followers of Krath and Nightsisters in some now defunct Dark Side Order. Now wouldn’t that be a thing of beauty, Dark Jedi, Sith, Nightsisters and the Krath all dividing the galaxy up but not shelling each other out. Sounded lovely to him. Keep the power where it should be, used and not hidden. He couldn’t quite remember what [member="Ashtara Starweaver"] had said she was doing, but hopefully she’d move herself back to full time behind the stick.

The Fringe was going to need every capable pilot they had. His father was saying so. And with his sister abandoning the ship for her little Odyssey, he wasn’t sure what to think. Even Cole had vanished. Sidling up to a seat next to Ash, he nodded and pointed to her glass and nodded to the bartender. “Yeah, I hear ya.” It had been rough, but Fringe needed to keep doing its job, else Kaiju would eat the galaxy.

Or something.

“I can drink with whoever I want, so long as the Admiral doesn’t see.” His Admiral, Williams, the Miraluka who was the Shepard of the Wing when they were between homes, before Jared earned top kick.