Post by Mara on May 3, 2012 20:00:53 GMT -5
(((…stays in hyperspace, haha. (It sounded better, and more generic, than my previous title idea). Anyway, I might be going out on a limb here with this idea… but I wanted to come up with something that might force them to talk to each other. Plus it just helps me in my overall scheme to wreak havoc on Pak. ;p Let me know if you need me to edit, though, to make it easier for you to reply…)))
[…from I Was Told There Would Be Cake]
Thud!
Pak groaned as he slowly came to his senses and felt the hard surface of his cabin floor beneath him. He had landed on his front, his arms and hands squeezed beneath him as they had flailed out instinctively to brace the fall he hadn’t realized was coming until too late. Trying to deal with the most immediate issue, he tried to right himself but discovered he was all tangled up in the sheets from his bed. Slowly but surely, though, with a few wrong turns, the Balosar eventually wiggled himself free and turned around to sit up straight. Leaning his head against the side of his mattress, he shook the remaining sleep away and tried to remember what had got him into this situation this time.
There could be no doubt that it had started with a dream. It always did. Sometimes they were calming, and he hardly moved a muscle the entire night. But most of the time they would become frantic, and he would end up crying out or injuring himself somehow. And all of them were related to Shen in some way or form. His dreams about the Miraluka woman whom he had lost were a double-edged sword. He always enjoyed himself while he was in there, whether they were memories of the short time they had spent together or just fantasies of a future that never came to be. However, they always eventually ended up in knowing tragedy, causing him to wake up, sometimes violently. Pak both dreaded and anticipated his nighttime visions.
This most recent one, he couldn’t really remember. That was always the downfall of jerking back into wakefulness. The memories of the dream faded away with the sleep he had been enjoying just moments before. All the Balosar could get a sense of was a blurry image of Shen herself, red hair surrounding mask-covered eyes. Pak groaned again and rubbed his eyes hard to help bring his mind to the present. Continuing to think this way would only serve to bring him back to the clutches of sleep and his dreams, or just shove him prematurely into one of his moments of depression. He couldn’t really think of why exactly but knew it was important to keep his senses clear.
Lifting himself to his feet, he went looking for just the right potion to help him out. Slapping on the glow panel, he started rummaging through the startling spacious cabin, at least in comparison to the others. He found and tossed aside three or four empty bottles until he remembered the one he had stashed in his safe. Again, he couldn’t really recall the reason behind it, but he unlocked it anyway. Immediately, a smile of relief crossed his features as he removed the bottle of Corellian whiskey, un-stoppered it, and took a long drag. Pak’s light blue eyes closed in satisfaction as the liquid began soothing him immediately. Now he could down to the business of… of whatever business he was in.
And then suddenly it came to him, as he was going over the past few days in his mind with the added clarity of the alcohol. Coruscant, a blonde woman named Golda, passage to Nar Shaddaa. With a much-belated glance, he turned his head towards the direction her cabin was. He briefly closed his eyes and hoped he had woken her up, wished he knew whether he had called out loud or not before falling out of his bed. Of course, there wasn’t much he could do about it now, and he shrugged and took another gulp of his whiskey. What was done was done. The Balosar would just hope she was a heavy sleeper, and his nighttime issues went unnoticed. After all, she had chosen the furthest cabin.
A look at his wall chrono told him it was still quite late—or early, depending on one’s point of view—according to the Coruscant standard time he had everything in the ship set by. It was a military habit he hadn’t quite dropped. Pak figured that he had probably only been asleep for a couple of hours at most. But not wanting to return to the possibility of another dream for that night, he moved back to his cot and set it back to a vague semblance of rights. He had learned over the years to be able to function on little to no sleep. Perhaps he’d just wander into the galley for a snack or go hole himself up in the cockpit for a while, letting the soothing lines of hyperspeed travel keep him company.
He kept the whiskey in one hand as he went to the door and darkened the room again, opening the door into the hallway. Pak noticed then that he was still clad in only his shorts, and he glanced back to the corner where he knew his clothes were laying in a pile. Then he looked down to the closed door behind which Golda was sleeping. Making the rather quick insight that if she hadn’t woken up so far, she wasn’t likely to do so anytime soon, he just shrugged to himself and left his cabin, along with trousers and shirt, behind. Suddenly feeling hungry, now that he was up and about, he decided he’d just make a quick bite and disappear into the cockpit or back to his cabin. No harm, no foul.
And so, sipping from his bottle, he padded slowly towards the galley in his bare feet. Not bothering to turn on the full set of glow panels, he went to a familiar cabinet with the directness of a being that was used to taking this path many, many times in the dark. The only light to aid him was a soft glow coming from the small running lights out in the perimeter of the hallway. Stooping by the opening, he set down his whiskey and started flipping through the leftover military ration bars from days gone by, pulling out a few to take with him for a late-night snack. This time of night, Pak didn’t really feel like taking the time for anything more complicated than pre-made food.
[…from I Was Told There Would Be Cake]
Thud!
Pak groaned as he slowly came to his senses and felt the hard surface of his cabin floor beneath him. He had landed on his front, his arms and hands squeezed beneath him as they had flailed out instinctively to brace the fall he hadn’t realized was coming until too late. Trying to deal with the most immediate issue, he tried to right himself but discovered he was all tangled up in the sheets from his bed. Slowly but surely, though, with a few wrong turns, the Balosar eventually wiggled himself free and turned around to sit up straight. Leaning his head against the side of his mattress, he shook the remaining sleep away and tried to remember what had got him into this situation this time.
There could be no doubt that it had started with a dream. It always did. Sometimes they were calming, and he hardly moved a muscle the entire night. But most of the time they would become frantic, and he would end up crying out or injuring himself somehow. And all of them were related to Shen in some way or form. His dreams about the Miraluka woman whom he had lost were a double-edged sword. He always enjoyed himself while he was in there, whether they were memories of the short time they had spent together or just fantasies of a future that never came to be. However, they always eventually ended up in knowing tragedy, causing him to wake up, sometimes violently. Pak both dreaded and anticipated his nighttime visions.
This most recent one, he couldn’t really remember. That was always the downfall of jerking back into wakefulness. The memories of the dream faded away with the sleep he had been enjoying just moments before. All the Balosar could get a sense of was a blurry image of Shen herself, red hair surrounding mask-covered eyes. Pak groaned again and rubbed his eyes hard to help bring his mind to the present. Continuing to think this way would only serve to bring him back to the clutches of sleep and his dreams, or just shove him prematurely into one of his moments of depression. He couldn’t really think of why exactly but knew it was important to keep his senses clear.
Lifting himself to his feet, he went looking for just the right potion to help him out. Slapping on the glow panel, he started rummaging through the startling spacious cabin, at least in comparison to the others. He found and tossed aside three or four empty bottles until he remembered the one he had stashed in his safe. Again, he couldn’t really recall the reason behind it, but he unlocked it anyway. Immediately, a smile of relief crossed his features as he removed the bottle of Corellian whiskey, un-stoppered it, and took a long drag. Pak’s light blue eyes closed in satisfaction as the liquid began soothing him immediately. Now he could down to the business of… of whatever business he was in.
And then suddenly it came to him, as he was going over the past few days in his mind with the added clarity of the alcohol. Coruscant, a blonde woman named Golda, passage to Nar Shaddaa. With a much-belated glance, he turned his head towards the direction her cabin was. He briefly closed his eyes and hoped he had woken her up, wished he knew whether he had called out loud or not before falling out of his bed. Of course, there wasn’t much he could do about it now, and he shrugged and took another gulp of his whiskey. What was done was done. The Balosar would just hope she was a heavy sleeper, and his nighttime issues went unnoticed. After all, she had chosen the furthest cabin.
A look at his wall chrono told him it was still quite late—or early, depending on one’s point of view—according to the Coruscant standard time he had everything in the ship set by. It was a military habit he hadn’t quite dropped. Pak figured that he had probably only been asleep for a couple of hours at most. But not wanting to return to the possibility of another dream for that night, he moved back to his cot and set it back to a vague semblance of rights. He had learned over the years to be able to function on little to no sleep. Perhaps he’d just wander into the galley for a snack or go hole himself up in the cockpit for a while, letting the soothing lines of hyperspeed travel keep him company.
He kept the whiskey in one hand as he went to the door and darkened the room again, opening the door into the hallway. Pak noticed then that he was still clad in only his shorts, and he glanced back to the corner where he knew his clothes were laying in a pile. Then he looked down to the closed door behind which Golda was sleeping. Making the rather quick insight that if she hadn’t woken up so far, she wasn’t likely to do so anytime soon, he just shrugged to himself and left his cabin, along with trousers and shirt, behind. Suddenly feeling hungry, now that he was up and about, he decided he’d just make a quick bite and disappear into the cockpit or back to his cabin. No harm, no foul.
And so, sipping from his bottle, he padded slowly towards the galley in his bare feet. Not bothering to turn on the full set of glow panels, he went to a familiar cabinet with the directness of a being that was used to taking this path many, many times in the dark. The only light to aid him was a soft glow coming from the small running lights out in the perimeter of the hallway. Stooping by the opening, he set down his whiskey and started flipping through the leftover military ration bars from days gone by, pulling out a few to take with him for a late-night snack. This time of night, Pak didn’t really feel like taking the time for anything more complicated than pre-made food.
