First Reply The Dew of Heaven

[Athsheva Rin]

The twin suns of Tatooine burned brightly overhead. Here, Athsheva thought, was something familiar. The windswept dunes of the planet's surface were not unlike those of her own homeworld... and equally as deadly to those who were unaware of the potential dangers in the desert. Thankfully for her, she was prepared. Countless encounters with sand-dwelling predators over the span of her exile had taught the Yuuzhan Vong to walk without rhythm, to set her eyes upon a singular landmark in the distance and follow it, and to swallow her spit as soon as it pooled in her mouth. As tempting as it had been to simply land her yorik-vec closer to the city, she knew that would have been a disaster waiting to happen.

So, here she was, walking towards the outer limits of a settlement that the locals called Mos Eisley. The sandcrete walls laid directly ahead, and already, the sights and smells of civilization-- a strange kind of civilization, but civilization nonetheless-- began to assault her senses. Her nose-pit wrinkled, brown eyes watering slightly at the smell of burning refuse. It made the simmering heat feel even hotter. If she was going to visit this place any longer, she needed to find shelter, and fast.

Athsheva ducked into the nearest building with an open door. Luckily for her, it seemed to be some sort of... establishment. A bar or a restaurant, she couldn't entirely be sure; sentients of all kinds mingled at the tables, eating, drinking and laughing. Her own people had similar places-- learning to ferment alcohol was one of the childhood challenges that every Shaper faced-- but this was... different. Perhaps it was the repetitious, throbbing beat of the mechanical instruments, a cacophony of sound that made her skin crawl. Or perhaps it was the machine standing behind the counter, dispensing a wide variety of bubbling liquids from its multi-jointed arms.

Disgusting. Revolting.

And yet... she was thirsty.

After a moment's consideration, the Yuuzhan Vong moved as casually as possible towards the counter. She took her seat next to a stranger, trying to discern what was the appropriate social expectation for this place. People seemed to be exchanging something with the filthy droid. Little sheets of pressed metal. She didn't have any of those.

"Damn," she muttered. Infidels and their bizarre customs...

 

[Subject 73 Red]

Athsheva Rin

Red sat at the bar, staring ahead. Around him, people celebrated and partied and talked nonstop. The drinks kept on flowing, and the party kept on going. Yet, Red sat there, silently. He only stared ahead. To be frank, cantina's weren't his favorite place. In fact, he really hated them. He was only here for a job.

Mercenary work had its up and downs, sure, but Red was out of his depth in cantinas. Too many people, too much noise. Hard to concentrate. But it did have its uses. People got loose-tongued when drinks were abundant. Made information gathering much easier when people were drunk and unsuspecting of any ploys.

Then, suddenly, something entered the cantina. Usually, this wouldn't be strange, but Red felt a strange shift. It wasn't the absence of a presence, but the exact opposite, like a piece of dead space. It moved closer to Red, before sitting down beside him. He glanced over. Some alien species, one he had never seen before. The alien was odd, not especially because of the strange empty feeling he got from her. He noticed her mutter something, seemingly frustrated. Red could take a guess and assume she didn't have any credits to spare for a drink.

"Want a drink? I have more than enough to buy something for you." He said to the alien, offering. Perhaps there could at least be an interesting distraction before his job actually started.

 

[Athsheva Rin]

Tagging: Subject 73 Red

Her pointed ear twitched, tizowyrm activated by the sudden sound of the voice to her left. Athsheva's head quickly swiveled, brown eyes centering on the stranger with a shrewd, calculating gaze.

Curious...

The red hair could be explained easily enough. Far beyond any natural color, yes, but she had already seen plenty of infidels who dyed themselves in strange colors. It was the eyes-- strange, otherworldly crimson-- that kept her attention. A subspecies of human? A natural mutation? Perhaps. But she suspected he could be something more... fascinating.

One thing was for certain: Tatooine was proving to be a more interesting place than she had initially predicted.

She took a moment, pursing her full lips and furrowing her brow, pretending to think about the offer. Then, Athsheva nodded affirmatively, expression settling into a pleased little smile.

"If you would be so kind," she cooed, eagerly taking advantage of the gracious offer. "I will have whatever you are having." The tizowyrm still struggled with contractions. She rested her elbows upon the counter, folding both hands beneath her chin, amusement evident on her face.

"... Does my mysterious benefactor have a name?" she continued. "Or shall I just call you stranger?"

 

[Subject 73 Red]

Athsheva Rin

Red watched as she took a moment to respond to his offer. She was certainly an interesting one. Most people would have jumped on the offer, but she certainly took some time to seemingly decide on the offer. She most clearly was not from around here, if that meant anything anyway. Most people who came to cantinas on Tattooine were rarely from around, but she seemed even more out of place than the standard spacer.

"I will have whatever you are having."

Red slid some credits over to the droid, who came over, and deposited a drink before the strange alien woman.

"... Does my mysterious benefactor have a name?"

Red turned back towards her, looking at her. "Officially? No. Just a little more than some numbers for what I should officially be called." He told her. "Personally? I've been given the nickname Red, on account of, you can guess why. It's just stuck, I suppose."

"What about you? Do you have a name? You certainly aren't like the other patrons of this establishment." Red said, gesturing at the other people in the cantina.

 

[Athsheva Rin]

Tagging: Subject 73 Red

Athsheva's eyes flickered to the drink before. It was a bubbling, roiling concoction, with a deep shade of crimson-- much like the one who had ordered it. Very curious. The idea of actually drinking something brewed within the confines of a durasteel barrel made her stomach momentarily churn, but she shoved the sensation down. She had no fear. She was Yuuzhan Vong.

"Officially? No. Just a little more than some numbers for what I should officially be called. Personally? I've been given the nickname Red, on account of, you can guess why. It's just stuck, I suppose."

Simple enough. At the very least, she admired the lack of pretension surrounding the man. The mention of numbers only further solidified some of her suspicions.

"What about you? Do you have a name? You certainly aren't like the other patrons of this establishment."

Before she answered his question, the Yuuzhan Vong took a moment to grab the glass before her. Unceremoniously, she lifted the glass to her lips, tossing her head back as she downed half of the drink in one large, unbothered gulp. It burned on the way down, twisting her insides with a lingering acidity that was surprisingly pleasant. She would have to make a replica of it later, she decided.

"On that, we can agree," she sighed, setting the glass back down upon the counter. "I very much doubt that this place has seen anyone like me. Or will ever see anyone like me again." She was burying the lede, of course, forcing the man to wait a few moments more for the actual answer to his question. It was a technique that had served her well during certain dalliances in the past, among her own people. That was coupled with a general lack of eye contact, her attention momentarily fixed on the drink before her.

Eventually, however, she did turn her eyes to the man beside her again. Shrewd eyes regarded him once more. "I am Athsheva Rin. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."