Lost in Time

[GhostOfProtocol]

Kesh - 849 ABY, Post Korriban and Post Omega
Star Runner Cantina

Kei coughed lightly, his fifth Correllian Ale of the last two hours in his hand. He'd heard reports for days of the Omega event, he'd heard the reports but not processed them. He wasn't at Omega, but Korriban was something he'd witnessed. He still couldn't get the images from his mind, over a month and two weeks after the incident itself. He was aware he still had work to do, he still had a Cartel to infiltrate but he couldn't bring himself to do it, couldn't bring himself to go back to his ship and fly to the White Palace, he just couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to go back to The Ebon Hawk and see T3.

He didn't want to leave the Cantina.

The Cantina was a place he'd basically spent the last two weeks, trying to drink away the images in his mind. He couldn't stop thinking about each and every person who died in that bombing. He'd purchased some cheap string in his first few days and a lot, a lot of beads. He'd found the death count of the Korriban bombings and had spent two weeks threading beads onto the thread, one for each person who'd died. He pulled that string from his pocket, removing his current bag of beads, dropping his Correlian Ale onto the table.

He was about a third of the way through, and he coughed again and he threaded another bead. He found this relaxing, a way to honour every single person who'd died in that bombing. People would always call the Omega event the most devistating event in recent history, but Korriban had the most innocent deaths. So many innocents died, so many who didn't deserve to die.

He sipped his ale, and got threading.

[member="Xain 'Cruor' Sykes"]

 

[Xain 'Cruor' Sykes]

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Region: Wild Space​

System: Kesh System​

Planet: Kesh​

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Time: 22:22:11​

Place: Star Runner Cantina​

Day | Night: Night​

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Demons...​

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They existed, no matter what people thought, they were real. The scary thing, was that most didn't understand where they hid, in truth, it took Xain a long time to figure it all out. Demons hid inside everyone, deep down, in a slumber waiting to tear free. The acts of war had shown many all over the galaxy, that those meant to protect also could be responsible for death. It wasn't sensible to kill thousands of people in effort to weaken a foe, regardless of the risks. The Jedi should have known this and still they fired, Korriban had suffered, more than that, the people. It was strange to think about, life, delicate and frail, yet capable of destruction beyond comprehension. The events that transpired on Korriban rippled through the entirety of the galaxy and while Xain wasn't there to witness it, he felt it.

He wasn't lounging around in some bar because of the thousands that were wiped away like stains on a glass, no; he drank to numb his own actions. He was cursed. A man that was cursed was the worst kind. It had turned him into a monster, a blood sucking murderer. No matter how many he saved, protected, or helped, the images of ripping apart his victims necks made him twitch. It was nightmare and he was living it. Being brought back from the dead was one thing, but living off of fresh blood was another. He wasn't meant to be and the more he thought about it, at least one of the ten thousand lost on Korriban deserved to take his place. He gripped onto the clear, crystal glass and held it to the air. He examined the liquid inside and grinned. The blue liquor was something he never thought about trying, but tonight it didn't matter, nothing did.

He places the glass down onto the counter, the bright luminescent light from above made him lightly groan and as the tender came through for another look, Xain titlted his head upwards.

"Ale, the best you got. The blue stuff was disgusting." His voice was grating and deep, a light sigh escaping his lips.

The lights dimmed for a moment before returning to it's original brightness. The surges of power came from the storm that had been brewing for the better part of a few hours. He sucked the remaining alcohol off his teeth and leaned back. The holo-display showed a few news stories, one in particular piqued his interest.

"Hey tender, turn it up."

A nicely dressed woman began to speak as she reported the news.

"Just a few hundred feet behind me, a young lady was mauled to death by an animal. Right here in Coronet City. Corellian officials say that wildlife wouldn't go unnoticed and that the attack is under investigation. A witness has placed a man in a black jacket at the scene, but nothing further on this developing story.."

Crap...

[member="Kei Garnik"]

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[GhostOfProtocol]

He swung his feet up onto the table, continuing to thread, tiny bead after tiny bead. His mind was wondering, the images of the faithful day creeping up on him like someone playing a sick, twisted and cruel joke. His mind was only slightly processing the cantina, slightly processing the news that had been turned up. Something about a dude in a jacket and an animal on Corellia. He cared about Correllia once, he was a Correllian, even though he wasn't born on Correllia. He was more a spacian, born on a ship in space and raised on Correllia. He wasn't actually sure what he was, a murderer? He let everyone on Korriban die so.

Stop thinking about Korriban.

He took a long, thoughtful gulp of his ale, eyes staring around the cantina. It was almost enjoyable to hang out in hell, it was calming, you got to see people you wouldn't normally see, and heck, the authorities had a decent grip over the slums as to be sure there wasn't that many violent brawls. He reached to his side, almost missing his blaster. It'd been two weeks since he last had it at his side, after vowing to try and use his words. He still owned the DL-44, it was in his apartment, the same keycard locked safe as his second weapon, his most important weapon, his most important tool.

Traitors.

He dropped the string and beads into his pockets, standing up slowly. He strolled casually over to the bar area, very casually. His voice was quiet and full of sadness, his eyes telling a thousand stories in one. He stared at the barteder for a moment, then the new man. Kei hadn't seen him before, he wasn't a regular, Kei could tell that much, he'd of known the face if he was.

"What happened on Correllia?"

[member="Xain 'Cruor' Sykes"]

 

[Xain 'Cruor' Sykes]

The newswoman trailed off in the backdrop, the bartender behind the counter turning it back down. The woman's voice trailed on. Xain shook his head, he was referred to as an animal, in reality he was a monster; even worse. He gripped onto his tall glass of ale and lifted it slightly to the air. Slowly gyrating his wrist back and forth he watched the amber liquid stir. His cold silver eyes locked onto the display of bubbles sizzling to the top, creating a perfect foamy top. He gasped as another tremor of his regret full actions dragged him into the fray of hell, once more.

The burning sizzle flashed through his mind, his teeth tingling from the searing flesh he had bit into long ago. The blood boiled for him as it nurtured his survival. The bright red blood had tainted him, cursed him, called to him. His first feed was a disaster. Nothing; not even the force could stop his own actions. The sudden spill of his ale onto his pointer finger snapped him back into reality. The bar was littered with a few others and while he had been there for hours his struggle to deal with the things he had done still seemed to torture him.

He lifted the bottom of the glass upwards as he took two large gulps and slammed the hard mug onto the dark wooden counter in front of him. The bright lights that bothered him before toned down once again as another drinker came up to the barkeep.

"What happened on Correllia?"

Xain wasn't sure if this man was onto him or if he had just overheard the news from afar before reaching the depressing atmosphere the bar continued to allow. A small groan came from Xain, before speaking.

"An animal in Coronet City, killed a young lady..." Xain took another sip of his ale and sighed. "Shame, really. No one deserves to go out like that." Xain waved over another, moving his arms in a weird pattern, another mug was on the way. He burped lightly and leaned onto the counter with an exasperated breath. He felt a shiver in his bones, one he couldn't shake. Cursed and muddled, Xain was a Zabrak like no other. rare in his appearance and a slave to the Dathomirian witches from his past. Escaping them was his first true mistake, without such defiance for his and his love's freedom. He may not have been brought back. That was an entirely new problem, whoever had the power to bring him back from his desiccated corpse gave him improvements. His body had been turned into a muscular fit machine, but even his size couldn't make him feel any bigger. With thousands of people being killed by those who are to uphold peace and him killing to survive, the galaxy was grim. Nothing would be the same, Xain strove to do what was right, but that had been compromised...

He turned to look at the man near him that seemed curious about the incidents on Corellia. A fake smile reached him. The thought of another sulking in a random bar almost gave him comfort that he wasn't the only one, useless and broken.

"What about you? What brings you to the bottom of the glass, friend?"

Xain wasn't sure what he would get out of a conversation with the green eyed smuggler, but in the end, neither of them would have to be broken alone.

[member="Kei Garnik"]

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

Spoiler

Didn't get a notification for this, cheers for reminding me This is a short post because i'm still ill, just not quite as bad as I was yesterday

He shook his head weakly. What brought him to the bottom of a glass, other than guilt and sadness. Oh, wait, that was all it was. He felt guilty because he hadn't even tried to save any of those who died, any of those on Korriban who lost their homes due to the dropping of the bombs. He was sad because it was the supposed good guys who'd dropped the bombs, the supposed good guys who were responsible for that amount of death and disturbance. The galaxy was a grim place, lost because it's two big superpowers had wiped each other out and as such they'd wiped out the only way of policing the galaxy, policing the stupidity.

"Everything, the want and need to escape from life, the guilt when you fail to do something that could of saved a life. The galaxy is crumbling under the weight of itself, it's superpowers and police forces are basically dead and as such the galaxy has entered a state of civil war, what the hell does a smuggler do but fit in and drink his life away to get out of the galaxies problems?"

[member="Xain 'Cruor' Sykes"]

 

[Xain 'Cruor' Sykes]

Spoiler

I apologize it has taken me this long to reply. I had some RL stuff to attend to! Sorry for the long wait!

Xain took another sip of the sweet amber ale in front of him. The hops sizzled on the edge of his tongue before finally, gulping it down. The small sigh that came after seemed to have relaxed his body. Turning back to the smuggler he grinned. Either he was starting to get a buzz or the man next to him was just as torn and scattered as himself. He set the glass back down gently and listened to what the poor drunk had to say. The smell of smoke and grime reached him for a moment before averting his attention back to the sulking pirate..or what Xain assumed was a man of illegal duties. He had been away from the workings of the world for a long time and reading people was one of his many poor talents. For all Xain knew he could be a Jedi, but if that were the case the force concealing efforts being used at this very moment were some powerful tactics.

"What the hell does a smuggler do but fit in and drink his life away to get out of the galaxies problems?"

He caught the last bit of his rant and the images of his own actions began to plague him once more. He knew no matter how much he drank, the galaxy at large wouldn't change. This wasn't anything new and as far as Xain could tell the man he was now sharing words with...knew it too. As quickly as they came the visions of a frail women screaming had left his inner mind. He needed help, not a drinking partner, but it would do. He lifted his glass towards the newly found sulker and smiled.

"Well my friend, I can drink to that. It's really no use. The galaxy will always be war torn. History always repeats itself." A light burp escaped his mouth. Xain shook his head and with a few blinks of his eyes he sprung up out of his seat, mug in hand. "Trying to save someone that can't be saved sucks...I mean look at me, ha, who would want to."He tipped the glass upward, the bright lights stinging his eyes as he downed the rest of the truthful juice within. A loud grunt reached him and he slid across the floor closer to the smuggler. His arm wrapped around the backside of the man's chair as he leaned in, a putrid smell slithered from his mouth as he spoke.

"What's your name, friend?" Xain's pales features showed through, hopefully he wouldn't be mistaken for a sith like so many times before. "Tender! Another one!" Slamming the mug down onto the counter he lightly chuckled, a sudden frown reaching his gleeful expression. "And one for my new friend too!" He barked, leaning against the smugglers chair, preventing himself from falling.

[member="Kei Garnik"]