Private Mess Is Mine

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Myra was still awake. A bit more relaxed, and the adrenaline rush slowly left her system, but she was still awake. Her lids shut, and taking deep, even breaths allowed her to focus on the thrum of Makai's voice, the story, and the occasional shake of his chest when he gave a laugh; it was evident that Makai had inherited his pa's humor and joking quips, only enhanced by his ability to paint a picture of the entire ordeal vividly.

The corner of Myra's lips gave a twitch at Makai's jokes. As his storytelling wove a mental holo video in the heiress's mind, she gave an audible chuckle. Should Makai ask why, she'll be happy to answer.

In the meantime, the pads of her fingers began their slow, unconscious doodle over the fabric at his back. It was every bit of a self-soothing tick as much as a tangible reminder of Makai's presence.

Hearing the story of the younger Dashiell being restricted to the lower bowels of a research vessel would have been a pain to the very energetic and outdoor-loving Makai.

"Did you at least have fun looking at your samples? I bet you still got excited some way or another and talked another intern's ear off." He typically did, much like in their past when Makai had discovered a rather particularly interesting - or not very interesting for anyone else- rock or ore. But at least it had been interesting to him.

As for his question, Myra gave a short nod, rubbing her cheek against his chest again, hearting the thump-thump of his heart.

"Yeah. Much. "It was true. Makai's presence always had the capability of centering her as much as it had the tendency to set her off. Came with the territory of loving someone so much that emotions could go from one dramatic end of the spectrum to the next.

"Also, what's with the short-shorts?" the most important question of course. Those were new.

Not that Myra minded…

 

[Makai Dashiell]

“Are you laughing at me Ellie Arceneau?”

Makai suspected his description of a little nerd in the bowels of a research vessel had elicited the chuckle. If he had to tell a self-deprecating joke daily to hear her laugh then so be it. The half-Galan held the private opinion that she didn't laugh enough, at least the genuine laugh only those closest to Ellie heard.

“Hmm, I did get to analyze some cosmogenous sediments with a highly unusual make up. A lot of tektites in that area. It's rare to find any cosmogenous material but a boat load of tektites? It was like being struck by lightning, that's how unusual it was.”

Excited tone was back in his voice as he recalled the story and fervor to find such a sediment in large swaths.

Eyes closed as she pressed her fingers into his back, idly tracing doodles and patterns into soft fabric. He could get used to this - the quiet time together. Just minus the argument next time.

“We talked about it for a week.Kept us going during that dark time. First time I had seen tektites up close. Wish I could have kept one. Maybe next time, if there ever is a next time.”

Fingertips trailed on her arm, eyes still closed as he relaxed. Eyebrow raised with a mock indignant scoff at her assessment of his conversational skills.

“I do not talk people's ear off.”

Laughter came at the mention of his shorts. Of course she would ask such a thing. To be fair, they were a rather new fixture in his life compared to the long board shorts he favored in their youth.

“Really it boils down to peer pressure. All the guys said I had to wear them so,well, I did. A lot of the house were into them, all pastel colors of course. Wore them everywhere, even to this welcome back brunch we had after that first internship. The guys were roasting me, saying all these girls kept coming up to our table cause I was wearing them with a tank.”

Makai chuckled at the memory.

“I didn't get any attention. All I remember is drinking my margarita, recounting my summer, and eating this drool inducing sandwich. Amazing. I have dreams about how good that sandwich tastes.”

Little did he know the entire house had been trying to set him up with various girls around the university. The short shorts had been a last ditch effort to grease the wheels of progress.

“So I just kept wearing them after that, even though I got to be careful. When we started dating and I saw the way you looked at me, it just sealed the fact I plan on wearing nothing else. I even brought this lilac pair to run in, I think you'll enjoy the eye candy.”

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

"A bit," Myra answered Makai regarding laughing at him.

"You sound like your pa with the jokes and because I was right, you did talk a few folk's ears off." The slight drawl in her sleepy but amused voice indicated that she was feeling a lot better. Not right as rain, but well on her way. The issue with Blythe would be a topic of conversation for another time; it wasn't like Myra could avoid it. However, she didn't want to broach it during the week when she only wanted to sink herself into Makai's warmth and finally feel whole again.

Now, as for the story regarding those short shorts…

Myra opened her eyes, tilting her head back to look up at Makai's face. At first, she was taken aback, but not surprised, that the short shorts were tied to his fraternity. Then came the eye roll regarding the commentary about girls coming round to ogle him. There might have been a small jealous huff that other girls had been sniffing around. Relief and amusement shone next at the oblivious nature of Makai, not realizing just how good-looking he was. Even as a lanky teen, with those ice blue eyes, that mop of dark hair, and the way the muscles in his arms would flex and –

Wait what?

The confusion in her expression was evident. Oh, not about how entranced Makai was regarding whatever drool-inducing sandwich that was so amazing, he had fantasies about it - that tracked. It was more the confusion regarding what required being careful with short shorts?

"Why would you need to be careful?"

Not a second later, Myra's face was blistering in a blush again. She shifted her upper torso to her back, feinting, rolling her eyes to avoid the embarrassed expression on her face at Makai catching her blatant ogling of him on the sailing ship on Palanhi. The fabric of her shirt shifted as she rolled and her fingers no longer swept their idle doodle over his skin.

"Hey, show that much leg, and someone is bound to look. You can practically see the entire patch of your upper thigh scales!" Myra cried out in a faux scandalous tone. Okay maybe not so fake, as that patch was already pretty high up his thigh.

 

[Makai Dashiell]

“No one is looking at my thigh scales. I promise.”

Makai was oblivious to the point that his roommate, Harlon, was consulted to ask if Makky Boy was possibly swinging in a direction away from women. The house had asked around and procured a ginger-haired man to stop by brunch separate from the girls. Makai had completely ignored the man too, deeply engrossed in retelling the tektite story to the group despite the obvious flirting. A few bets were lost, along with several frustrated groans.

Hearing her ask why he needed to be careful, Makai was cautious and broached the subject carefully. Typically he might have just made an idiotic comment yet with the entire mystery suitor situation, he didn’t want to seem like he was completely ignorant and uncouth.

“So, there are two camps of men. I'll let you fill in the blanks on that one."

Makai grinned and looked down at her, eyes subtly glancing over her curves as she pulled away from him, a hint of a blush on her face. This was a regular occurrence, he regularly was used to answering curious questions about all things male.

“So depending on what side of the camp you pitch a tent on...well, one side has to be a bit more careful if you're catching my drift..."

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Myra may not have recalled the extent of the afternoon on that yacht with the old biddies once the lemonade hit her. Still, she remembered vividly when the Zeltron, what was her name, Blanche, was eyeballing Makai without his shirt and in his short-shorts like she was a thirsty cougar ready to break him in.

She gave a snort, rolled her eyes again at Makai's promise that no one was looking at his thigh scales, and then panned those gray eyes back to his face.

"No, you likely were too oblivious to notice. I was obvious, and you didn't notice me staring at your scales at every opportunity in the past." take that for a revelation.

Now came the hop pocket class on the two camps of men. It was a little embarrassing and sure, heat lingered over her cheeks a little longer, but the explanation made sense.

Honestly, it was a little harder to imagine as the pair had been privy to seeing each other in their birthday suits since they were little. It came with the territory of being the same age and spending far too much time swimming around, getting muddy, or, as evidenced by Makai's shamelessness, simply ditching his clothes to dip in any body of water he deemed would be great to swim in.

It also wasn't like Myra had much to compare as a resource- although even in the dim light of the bedside lamps, one could see the cogs and wheels turn in Myra's head.

No. No. Not going there, she told herself. Myra gave a shake of her head as if telling herself no. Not the time, not the place. No matter how curious she was now.

However, the heiress did shoot Makai a look. "So, guess you just gotta make sure you are comfortable but also more careful in your sleeping pants?"

 

[Makai Dashiell]

“You were obvious about staring at my scales? I remember you inspecting them, I just thought you were curious or bored. Especially when we first met, I’m sure before being adopted you didn’t see many half-fish boys running around.”

Makai watched the wheels turn in her head, clearly mulling over the words he spoke.

Hand found hers again, interlacing his fingers with hers slowly. He didn’t expect rejection, especially considering how close they were now that they were done arguing ; the way her breath had been fanning across his collarbone, her thigh wedged between his leg.

Laughter escaped him at her question, a good one but she had guessed correctly.

“No commando for me."

He shifted position, rolling onto his back to look at the glass ceiling. Makai had taken Ellie with him, hand leaving hers, letting her remain half on top. Warm weight was a welcomed feeling against him, one he could get used to. He was still hoping that, with time, she could see some benefits of living under one roof.

Hand slid up her back again, watching the clouds quickly pass by.

“Maybe we can talk a walk around the lake tomorrow, or you can paint. I haven’t got to see these mystery talents of yours.”

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Okay, fair, Myra mused, giving a silent nod at how Makai may have come to believe her obsession over his scales was just due to never seeing an Aquatic race-- time to remedy that.

“Yes and no - why I like staring at your scales. It might have begun that way because I thought you had pretty buttons stuck to your skin. Later, it was just because they were so pretty under the light. After that…well, it was more their location and because I wanted to touch you all over in other ways…” Myra confessed, cheeks a delightful coral pink.

As always, her body willingly followed where Makai wanted it to go. From the interlacing of their fingers to the ease with which he would roll her with him as he laid on his back. Half draped over him, the mused dark head of the heiress rose to look at him, bracing herself against his chest to watch him. She was warm and soft, folded in Makai’s arms, legs tangled-- a place she’d always been meant to be.

Blythe who? In summary, a successful application of mental bleach, was replaced by the warm, cuddly, relaxing feeling of being in Makai’s arms like she’d desperately wanted to be in the past six years.

The way he’d joked about cute little fantasies about him whipping it out felt like a direct poke to make fun of her, thinking to herself, what made him think there were cute fantasies of him doing just that?

Never mind that some of hers did include some version but fed off Outworlder prompts for fuel.

Thankfully, Myra used his question to move to a less scandalous subject.

“We can do both. Depends on what we feel like.” And their mood. “I can get engrossed in painting, though. If you thought you get passionate over being hunched over a microscope looking at tektites, I could zone out painting.”

At that moment, Myra took the time to look down at him, studying him a bit more intensely. She focused on the parts she could see, features she knew so well, as the patches of scales over his skin hidden by his sleepwear. It only took a second to confirm that his eyes were her favorite and the most difficult to capture on canvas.

Impossible to illustrate the multihued facets and the way he looked at her. Or maybe his mouth . . . Myra touched his lips with the tip of her finger in a delicate caress, and he stared with those oceanic topaz eyes, waiting.

“Oh, sorry.” Curling her finger back. “Yeah, a walk is good. I thought I saw a pool, too.” Since odds were, he’d like to go swimming.

 

[Makai Dashiell]

Makai could get used to the way she was braced up against his chest, looking down at him, braid falling over her shoulder. Stormcloud gray eyes searched him, taking in every feature, just before her finger came to caress his lips.

Hand slid slightly underneath her pajamas, calloused hand against the smooth skin of her lower back. He would go no further, not tonight.

Fingertip curled away from him and he just
smiled that little boy smile.

“No need to apologize. You can touch me
anytime.”

Makai had mentioned it before but he meant it. Six long years without her meant Ellie had free reign. Once she had declared her desire for him that was it, he was all in, completely trusting of her actions.

“The pool is heated. I had plans to check it out but it's not going anywhere. I figure I'll just fall asleep soon, been a night.”

His original plans involved him skinny dipping right now, with or without her, enjoying heated water and relaxing. Being wrapped up in her was no consolation prize, any time with the heiress was treasured, it just wasn't the night he expected.

“We will see where the day takes us tomorrow."

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

“Mmhm,” Myra hummed out in agreement as well as in pleasure at the heat Makai’s palm would radiate over the subtle curve of her lower back. The skin-to-skin contact felt nice.

Like a Bha’lair seeking the comfort of an owner's caress, Myra gave a slight arch of her spine, following the caress at the base of her spine until the curve of her bottom gave a slight lift up. A sigh equally as content as it was weary fell from her lips, the heiress settling back down against him. Drowsy half- hooded eyes would peer back down at Makai.

Her expression relayed her thoughts plainly. Myra thoroughly enjoyed having Makai touch her. He soothed as much as he excited her. Yet, for now, he was right. It was time for bed.

With a quirk of a smile at the corner of her full lips, Myra dipped her face and gave him a quick peck on his lips.

“I love you,” she murmured, salmon risotto wine breath and all. “Thank you for helping me regulate myself. I needed you. This.”

One day, she’ll talk to him about Blythe. Just not today.

The smile grew wider,” But I’m sure you want me to brush my teeth by now.” Her body shook against him with her mild, melodic laugh.

“Let me go wash up, and then we can both go to sleep.”

 

[Makai Dashiell]

“I love you too.”

There was the laugh he tried to hear at least once a day. A smile tossed in her direction as she left him to scamper off to get ready for bed. He missed the warmth immediately, the weight of her body against his. Soon though she returned, immediately returning to mold seamlessly against him, fitting as if she always belonged.

His missing piece.

The next morning it was difficult to disentangle himself from her without waking her. Makai had never been a long, deep, sleeper. He joked it was in the Dashiell genetic makeup to get up before the sun even thought about rising to take care of farm chores.

Now he was wondering if it was even a joke.
In complete darkness, save for the pre-dawn light coming from the glass ceiling, Makai changed into nothing but those periwinkle shorts and his running shoes. He left a note in small, neat handwriting that was out for a run and would be back soon enough.

He crept quietly downstairs, cleaning up the mess from the night before, getting everything into the dishwasher besides all but the biggest items he had cooked with it.

Slipping out the door, Makai hit the main road, figuring it would allow him to loop around some of the main interest points. Without a chrono it was difficult to get a read for distance and time.

He would have to use the sun and complete darkness in order to gauge.

While Thirty-Seven had been forcing him on a running regimen for endurance, Makai was appreciating the physical activity most mornings. It was a chance to clear his head or work through things that bothered him ; in this case the mystery suitor. He had been tempted last night to turn on his comm and reach out to Thirty-Seven but he resisted temptation. Nothing would get solved any quicker if he waited a week.

He needed this time with her without distractions. That included pondering what type of graviball bat he was buying to mark the occasion of teaching this guy what happened if he touched Ellie again.

By the time Makai considered the run finished, he came back to the mansion with a better outlook, goals firmly lined up in his head. Timeline and actions were firming up, yet for now it was about them.

Shirtless and sweaty despite the chillier air, he entered through the side door, deposited into the kitchen. He moved through the space, putting some caf on, listening for any signs that Ellie was awake.

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Myra was awake.

A deeper sleeper than Makai, Myra managed to get an extra half hour of sleep before she woke. It took a few moments to reconcile that she wasn’t in her bed, and then, once she recalled her circumstances, she realized Makai wasn’t in bed with her.

She had read the note, blearily staring at the impossibly neat writing - another unfair ability - and recalled he’d mentioned taking those lilac short shorts and going for a run.

A snort and a huff in feint annoyance that he left couldn’t stop the upward twitch at the corner of her mouth in mirth.

Lilac? Of all colors? He sure wants to stand out.

A quick sniff and a Myra confirmed she’d need a shower. Salmon, unfortunately, had a way of sticking its smell where it could, even if it was deliciously seasoned. Deciding her hair would also need washing, an arm threw back the covers. The chill spread goosebumps over her skin, but she swung her legs over the bed and grabbed her slippers.

By the time Makai returned, Myra had brushed her teeth, washed her face, and was steadily unbraiding her hair from the thick plait she’d had it reined in with. Well, as much as she could. More than a few strands were mused on the top and sides of her head.

All the while, there would be no mistaking the sound of music coming from the upstairs bathroom. In this case, Myra was using her portable music data stick in the entertainment array. She set it up to a daily mix, the program automatically mixing songs based on advanced A.I. analytics.

In this case, it had appropriately selected a track by one of Myra’s favorite singers, Skylar Quick, called Willow.

It began as a hum, but by the end of the intro, Myra was already swaying side to side, hands in her hair, working the braid free, singing to herself.

“I’m like the water when your ship rolled in at night…rough on the surface, but you cut through like a knife.” cueing the glide and slide as she drifted along, mimicking the holo video's whimsical gestures.

“… Lost in your current like a priceless wine.” Braid undone, Myra ran her fingers through its length, still singing along in the bathroom,” The more that you say, the less I know. Wherever you stray, I follow…”

Half step, then a twirl, the mahogany waves of her hair raked through with her fingers to the side from her forehead in a side part.

“I'm begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans, that's my man.” Another slide of her long legs, and she gave another half twirl and silly arm swoosh to boot.

This would be the scene Makai would walk into should he follow the sound of singing and music. One very silly Myra singing and willowy body dancing in those breezy grey pajamas in front of the large double bathroom sink.

 

[Makai Dashiell]

As he was fixing his caf to enjoy to his liking, he heard strains of music coming from upstairs. A pause and he listened closer, definitely music.

Ellie must be awake.

Grabbing his caf mug and taking a sip, he set off in the direction of the shared bedroom. He quietly climbed the stairs and worked his way down the hall, the music growing louder as he drew closer to their room. As he entered, the volume was blasting like any frat party he had attended, Makai soon found himself carefully peeking in the bathroom, chuckling quietly at the sight before him.

….I'm begging for you to take my hand….

He paused in the entryway, leaning against the doorframe to watch her, drinking his caf. So far she didn't noticed him, engrossed in the music, doing some type of choreography as she worked on her hair.

Grinning like an idiot as he watched her, Makai was intent on committing the entire scene before him to memory. The way the jersey pajamas clung to her as she danced. How quickly her fingers worked through her long, silky hair. The graceful yet somehow still slightly awkward movements as she followed the beat.

More important to burn into his memory was the fact she looked carefree and happy in this moment. Utterly unconcerned with anything beyond enjoying the music and getting ready for the day ahead.

Makai had seen this Ellie less times than he would like. Their first meeting she was mute and scared, learning to trust. By the time she was starting to emerge from that shell, she became sick in earnest. Then once better, moody teenage years had struck before they parted.

That wasn't to say there weren't happy times in their lives. It had just seemed to him Ellie was dealt particularly unfair blow after unfair blow every time the light was at the end of the tunnel.

Now, being a sole heiress, the weight of reality weighed heavy on her shoulders. Makai relished the sight of seeing her as a carefree twenty-something, swaying to the music, humming along.

Just when he didn't think he could be any more in love with her, find her any more enticing or desirable, she went and did something like this.

I don't deserve her.

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

“You know that my train can take you home; anywhere else is hollow.” Myra’s hips gave a slow rock from side to side, and her hands dived into her hair, raking the thick brown tresses up on top of her head, “I’m begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans; that’s my ma—“

The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose, a sixth sense. It wasn’t in fear but in awareness. With a quick dart of her head toward the bathroom entrance, the reason stood there, leaning against the threshold.

Hands immediately fell to her sides, sending that mass of wavy mahogany locks down around Myra’s shoulders and back. Her face blazed red at being caught and at the sight of Makai leaning there. The affectionate stare that observed her every movement, ice blue eyes equally amused as enjoying the trace of his gaze as it swept every contour and feature he beheld. Myra knew that expression well. She often mirrored that when studying Makai, painting him into memory.

“Oh. Umm. You’re back.” She began, flustered. It took two seconds for the embarrassment in her smoky gray eyes to darken into a swirl of storm clouds.

Oh. oh.

For once, it wasn’t Makai’s scales that grabbed her attention. The lilac fabric was eye-catching. No helping the apparent drop of her gaze as she took in how they hung real low by his hips, a little black drawstring bow and a dream holding them in place.

...Wait for the signal and I’ll meet you after dark…

Look up, and Myra’s mouth went dry. Swallowing hard, those stormy orbs traced the line of his obliques, where the vee and dark trail below his navel drew her attention back to those lilac short shorts again.

...Show me the places where the others gave you scars…

As if catching herself at her blatant ogling, Myra forced herself to look up, but she couldn’t even get past his chest. While he was starting to cool off, it was evident Makai was still covered in sweat, patches of his skin over his torso along with those patches of scales shimmering under the light. Segmented lean muscles earned hiking across rough terrain, lugging sensor gear, and yes, even sailing, were there for Myra’s full perusal. It took a second to realize they were rippling too; Makai was amused enough for those broad shoulders to shake.

...Now this is an open shut case, I guess I should have known by the look on your face...

Latching her attention to his eyes, Myra’s face warmed at his smirk and chuckle. Well, point Makai. The short shorts worked.

...Every bait-and-switch was a work of art…

There had been no hiding it. Myra wanted him. The desire he evoked from her was evident in her heated gaze, now blushing in bashful awareness.

...The more that you say, the less I know. Wherever you stray I’ll follow...

“Okay, fine. Just let it out.” She gestured at him, cocking her hip to the right, head tilted with an eye roll, encouraging him to continue laughing.

...I’m begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans, that’s my man...

“But I’m going to take a shower.” She warned him, her hands coming up to mid-chest to start unbuttoning her blouse.

 

[Makai Dashiell]

"Oh look, you've finally found my eyes.”

Makai couldn't help but to smirk at her appraisal of his body. Smokey gaze had lingered for quite some time on form.A definite victory ; he had gotten Ellie to blatantly and openly ogle him.

A mental note to keep the lilac shorts in a very regular rotation.

Laughter didn't last long once he saw the blush breaking out on her face, the sheer look of desire in her eyes.

“But I’m going to take a shower.”

Hands went to those buttons, he could see from the angle he was at,her body half-turned from his. Entering the bathroom, he set his caf mug down on the counter near the sink, coming up behind her.

“Let me help you with that.”

Eyes caught hers in the mirror, boyish smile reflecting back at her.

“Mind if I join you?”

 

[Makai Dashiell]

Kashyyyk | Shortly Before Life Day
​

Makai was never one to celebrate Life Day or Winter Fete, two back-to-back holidays widely celebrated in the 'verse. It was an odd mix of forced celebration and forced happiness in his opinion.

At the age of ten or so he asked his father to not even try to pull off any of the traditional celebrations, instead focus on doing something else. Their annual fishing trip was born ; a new planet each year. It was something fun and different and he looked forward to it every year.

The only traditional element kept was an exchanging of gifts, only amplified when Ellie had come into his life. Since the pair never spent the holidays together, they had always exchanged gifts a few days before, hanging out together for a the few days once they grew older. It had never been anything grand, instead more focused on spending time with one another.

Today wasn't much different than the past.

Makai had arrived early to set-up and start their meal. It had been decided when they left Naboo to come together separately due to the need to depart separately ; Ellie off to the Farm, himself off to Bestine IV.

Working in the kitchen, he realized there were no bad views in the massive treehouse they were staying in. Sweeping views of the horizon and towering trees kept him company as he prepped, chopping vegetables and reviewing recipes.

Beautiful views weren't the only things keeping him company.

[ Sir, Mistress Arceneau does not eat gomgourd. ]

In the middle of making gomgourd pie, the half-Galan looked up, giving his droid a withering stare.

"Is Ellie allergic to gomgourd?"

[ Not that I am aware. ]

"Has she eaten it before?"

[ I am unsure. ]

"Then how do you know she does not eat it?"

[ Easy Sir, she nevers orders gomgourd. ]

"Today she is ordering it. Trust me Thirty-Seven, I'm not making anything she won't enjoy. Not trying to mess up our first Life Day together in years."

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

It didn’t take three hours to pick an outfit this time, so Myra considered that a win. On the one hand, she didn’t need to pack much; this was going to be a short overnight trip before she had to head to Orrin III for Arjun Farm. On the other, spending a grueling few weeks without seeing Makai after every wonderful blissful and, yes, even fumbling awkward but enjoyable time with Makai, being only able to spend a couple of days seemed oh so short.

Myra had grown used to Makai's daily presence so easily and just as quickly as before when they were kids. Waking up next to him, cuddling up against his firm chest, feeling his arms wrap around her and the way his fingers oh so easily went slipping to interlock with hers just like before. Being woken up in the middle of the night, his ice blue eyes dancing with adventurous mirth, drawing her in and taking her to new adventures and experiences unlike ever before.

Like when —

[ We shall be arriving shortly, Mistress.] El-three’s alert broke Myra from her reverie, the young woman staring at her reflection one last time. She’d had El-three style her wavy hair in a half updo, letting a few tendrils flank the sides of her face. A bit of lip gloss, some blush -- no wait -- Myra stood up, leaning forward in front of the boudoir. Her grey eyes narrowed in a critical gaze. Wait, do I look pale? Oh void help me, I do!

She immediately brought her hands up, pinching her cheeks and rubbing them furiously for a moment. The color immediately perked up and Myra was satisfied that she didn't appear to look as blanched as a Nagai.

"Okay, make sure the crate is brought in without Makai noticing. Have Thirty-Seven make sure Makai is distracted so that I can set up later." she had several presents to give to Makai for Lifeday. One for every year they missed that she'd carefully either made or bought with him in mind, and the last, the heiress had painted herself in a fretful evening after Naboo when her midnight became her afternoon. She could not put the paintbrush down until she was done. Afterward, covered in splots and smears of paint, Myra had an immediate second wind of energy at the final product.

I only hope he'll like everything... Myra mused. Most of these were selected or made with her knowledge from before he left or what she could gather from Judah and her ma. Hopefully, it will turn out okay.

They were only a few minutes out.

 

[Makai Dashiell]

In constant contact with his counterpart, Thirty-Seven knew how close Mistress Arceneau was to arriving down to the millisecond. The protocol droid also knew he was supposed to be distracting Mister Dashiell from her entering the treehouse.

[ Sir, I have exciting news about your favorite graviball team, the Dac Dodgers. ]

Head was down, focused on arranging wafer thin potato slices artfully into a baking dish. Eyebrows quirked in surprise. Graviball? Makai had not been allowed a morsel of news since dating Ellie, even having to miss the galactic series, not that his team had made it.

“Well, Thirty-Seven, considering it is now the off-season, I doubt it is much news. A trade or contract extension I’m sure.”

Thirty-Seven picked up two pieces of potato slices and studied them, distracted for a moment. Despite being a droid, disappointment was palpable.

[ Sir, these are not uniform. I can detect millimeter differences. ]

Makai took the slices of potato back, annoyed. A deep breath before he ended up banishing the droid from the kitchen.He was arranging the gratin dauphinois to be circular, each piece laid waving in one direction, and didn't need the commentary.

“Of course there are differences. I chopped by hand, you watched me!”

[ Next time may I recommend a mandolin. ]

“Noted. Now, you mentioned graviball? Can you please finish?”

[ Of course Sir. As I was stating, your favorite graviball team is for sale. The controlling stake in the Dac Dodgers is up for bid. ]

“I'm not surprised. Every being who owns a graviball team is typically old. Probably died.”

[ Indeed the sentient did Sir. I think you should purchase the controlling stake. ]

“Me?!” Makai scoffed over his potatoes, carefully pouring in the decadent cheese sauce, trying not to disrupt his fanned vegetable work. “I am not sure. Seems frivolous.”

[ Your finances can more than support a purchase. The team is managed well and is currently profitable through HoloNet broadcasting licenses, merchandise sales, ticket and concessions. Ahto City is calling for a stadium renovation, however, the financing can be done through various channels and not your own. ]

The half-Galan was quiet a long moment, thinking. Such a acquisition would expand his financial portfolio. There were risks and benefits of course, yet it seemed Thirty-Seven was steering him in one direction.

“Let's go ahead and explore placing a bid on the team. Find out what other parties are interested if you can. See what our competition is like.”

[ Of course Sir. Once offices reopen after the holiday the proposal shall be ready. ]

Makai looked at his chrono, trying to time the meal. He had wanted to sit down and start not long after Ellie arrived in order to maximize their time together. Speaking of…

“Thirty-Seven, is Ellie fairly close?”

[ I believe so Sir. Last I heard from El-Three was a delay through traffic control due to the large amount of ships in the area for Life Day. ]

Oven opened and he looked at his whole roast nuna and accompanying roasted vegetables. Nearly done, if Thirty-Seven kept away from the stove he should be fine.

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Aurora Dawn, the newly purchased Sterope-class Shuttle - the replacement for the one previously horrendously taken apart by Queen Ringo - quietly came down upon the landing pad with a smooth purr of her engines. Cyan engine exhausts shut down, and within the luxurious vessel, Myra had to remind herself not to trip over her grey skirt in her rush to exit the vehicle. Makai would not be waiting for her, and for good reason.

It was a small sacrifice to properly surprise the younger Dashiell with what she had made or acquired for him with significant, purposeful forethought.

Thirty-Seven would have taken her orders to heart, and the Trade Heiress was confident Makai would be entertained elsewhere for the period Myra required EL-Three and the rest of the attendants to bring the large crate full of Makai's Lifeday presents. They were held in a large three-meter by three-meter plexisteel climate-controlled white crate.

"Be careful," Myra cautioned, striding down the loading ramp as she personally observed the delivery. She held her right hand to her hip while the muggy wind blew strands of her mahogany hair into the air. It was humid but not unbearable. She was sure Makai was grateful for the additional humidity. The air was fresh, and Myra could smell the lovely aroma of earthy moss. Excitement brightened her features, eyes shining like polished hematite stones and the apples of her cheeks a bright pink in cheer. Above all, she couldn't wait to throw herself into Makai's arms, wrap her own around Makai's shoulders, take a good big whiff of his herby minty shampoo, kiss him senseless, and then --

[ Where shall I deliver your personal luggage, Mistress? ] El-Three stopped beside her, drawing her from her increasingly spicy train of thought. A ruddier blush colored her face, and she murmured with a bashful tuck of a wayward strand behind her ear, "The main bedroom is fine."

After all, she figured Makai would also be sleeping there.

[ Ah, of course. Shall I also deploy your plan for the bath? ] he asked, referring to Myra's rather shameless idea revolving around the large bathtub, candles, and the remaking of a particular holoseries scene from the Dunaan, a live-action of one of her favorite high fantasy series.

"Oh.. umm," The blush on Myra's face turned into an even brighter red. "Not yet," she squeaked out, clearing her throat out.

"Let's get the presents set up in the atrium by the Life Tree, and we can plan accordingly as the day progresses..."

 

[Makai Dashiell]

Makai was learning that Life Day lunch was a game of hurry up and wait. Having no set tradition on his own to rely on, he had poked around on the holonet for some ideas. An odd amount of prep, to do nothing, only then to furiously cook, and now back into a holding pattern as it finished off.

Instead of checking his comm every five minutes for the time, a message from Ellie, or to mindlessly scroll the holonet, the half-Galan uncorked the wine and poured a glass. Might as well stare at the stove and drink, now that seemed like a time honored tradition across the ‘verse.

“So what’s up with the graviball talk all the sudden? Season is over and you figured it can’t do much harm? That I can’t drop everything, buy tickets, and catch a game?”

[ I recognize you have achieved your goal of coitus with Mistress Arceneau. I have unblocked the Graviball Network as a reward. ]

Makai immediately choked on the expensive Necr’yhor Omic red wine,somehow managing not to sputter it everywhere. The unblinking eyes of Thirty-Seven stared at him as he tried to regain his breath, clearly unconcerned.

“Goal of…. Thirty-Seven, Ellie wasn’t some goal to achieve, nor was...physical intimacy. She’s not some objective to be achieved like a quarterly sales goal.”

[ What else is the purpose of pairing yourself to another individual of the same species if not to achieve coitus? It is basic biology Sir, to secure your genetic line. ]

The half-Galan groaned. The protocol droid had been far too interested in his personal life ever since giving him a pep talk on Maramere. He was beginning to regret the phrase ‘we can hang out anytime’ as Thirty-Seven was now his near-constant companion.

“Not this conversation again Thirty-Seven.”

[ Securing Mistress Arceneau’s hand shows predictive modeling of an increase of profit of thirteen-point-seven. Modeling suggests modest profit increases with each successful heir, depending on gender. Not only biology Sir but also critical for the businesses. The data supports it. ]

“Not a word of this to Ellie when she arrives. I’ll dismantle you personally.”

[ No need for violence Sir. ]

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Myra would have to thank Thirty-Seven personally and get him something nice. Between the attendants and El-Three, Myra was happily pulling the Life Day presents from the climate-controlled crate and having El-Three set the four larger pieces on easels with crimson Life Day fabric coverings over them. Myra would have preferred to hang them up, but this would also do.

"Alright, is there a way to fix the lighting, perhaps?" the Trade heiress mused, tapping her jaw with her forefinger as she glanced up at the ceiling, pin lights, and back at the easels.

"Let's see if perhaps we can adjust them so the light can shine directly upon unveiling," Myra gestured to another attendant, who promptly did that. All had orders to conduct their actions with the utmost sensitivity to ensure they would make as little noise as possible so as to not to alert Makai of their activities. Thankfully, moving the pin lights only required the use of a datapad.

Myra tested the lights with a critical eye, turning them repeatedly while guiding El-Three to move the easels just so. When she was finally satisfied, the protocol droid stepped away, his ocular receptors reviewing the layout. While he determined there was a better angle for one of the easels, he knew best that, in this instance, it was advisable not to alert Myra of the millimeter difference and let her enjoy the satisfaction of her placement.

[ Well done, Mistress. Mister Dashiell is sure to appreciate your creativity and efforts. ] he praised her, successfully eliciting a giddy clap of Myra's hands as she rocked on her heels, pleasure bathing her features with a delightful rosy hue.

"Alright, let me set the rest of these around the Life Tree, and we should be good to go." Myra's long grey skirt fluttered around her slender legs as she did just that, dispursing the attendees to leave. "It is alright; please take the crate away. I will take care of the rest."

Her pile of seven other presents was carefully placed and set in a pleasant series of stacked boxes. Two lightweight, small rectangle boxes, four medium cube-sized boxes with one with a hefty bit of weight to them, and finally, a moderately weighted oblong flat box that one may consider to have an article of clothing. One for every Life Day they missed, along with an extra one that she recently purchased, thinking about him.

"Alright, how is Makai doing, El-Three?" Myra asked, peering over her work with her hands on her hips.

The droid's ocular receptors dimmed and brightened, signifying his syncing with Thirty-Seven.

[ I am pleased to relay that he is alive and breathing. He survived a brief malfunction while drinking wine, but I assure you, he is fully functional and will be suitably energetic for your re-imaging of the Dunaan bathing scene. ]

Myra immediately flushed, "Would you please not mention this around Makai." she groaned out, starting to feel sillier by the second. Doubts came to mind. Maybe I shouldn't bother at all.

"Just...let's go. Show me where he's at."