Go Tell It On The Ringworld

[Fromikeable]

Why in the galaxy did anyone wear tuxedos? They were absolute torture. Too tight at the collar to breathe. Too well-fitted to the arms to allow even the slightest feeling of freedom. Too formal to excuse comfortable shoes. Too expensive to justify stretching out some of the tighter stitches.

Appraising himself in the mirror as he buttoned the red jacket, Vance sighed. The tuxedo in question was a deep crimson, a vine pattern and dark green highlights along the buttons and fringes giving some credence to Life Day. At least it accented how broad his shoulders were.

Snaking a hand over to the top of his dresser, Vance plucked a small hair bottle depicting a thin Hutt with a lush hairdo winking, Hutt’s Hit Heads spread across the side in psychedelic bubble letters. Spraying, his mind drifted, searching for anything that could take him away from the outfit. The dinner at hand made the first stop obvious; Mooney. What was she going to be wearing, anyway? And how did that conversation go with the Order’s quartermasters? Did it demand that she show up in something plain? That sounded like a great way to blow her cover. More likely that she’d choose something stunning. Then again, wouldn’t anything look stunning when-

You’re doing it again. Grunting to himself, Vance’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Spraying the bottle on his hair for a last minute tightening of the curls, he quickly set it back down and headed out of his room.

---

”So, um… random question.” Vance’s hands tapped against each other as he fidgeted lightly, looking to his side at Lidah. Their speeder, an ornate limousine flush with leather seats and sound-proofing, sped through the Circumtore night. The ringworld was a hard change from Nar Shaddaa; where nights and days there were harsh and long, Circumtore never technically had either, the entirety of the inner ring blanketed by sunlight constantly. It was all it could do by way of atmospherics systems and life support to provide temporary relief for a few hours to each segment at a time, the entire sensation shockingly artificial.

”I remember the first time Locke came to Nar Shaddaa. But before that, I’d never gotten the impression that you guys were, uh, dating.” Outside, the planetoid’s cityscape began to change from the usual towers to those that looked more like home. Tasteful neon. Giant banners and holodisplays. Lavish buildings built atop the demolished or redesigned remnants of the ringworld’s mysterious builders. The speeders changed in turn, the more utilitarian among them giving way to the similarly high-class.

Looking down at his fidgeting fingers, Vance clasped his hands together to stop them. Clearing his throat lightly, he finally bit the bullet and looked at Lidah properly, doing an absolutely horrible job at hiding his train of thought.

”When did you start?”

[Neology]

[googlefont="News Cycle"]

”A random question, is it?” Lidah arched an eyebrow at Vance and folded her hands on one knee. She canted her head to one side, peering at him out the corner of her eye. As far as she was concerned, Vance didn’t have a random bone in his body – though the red jacket with vine print was uncharacteristically bold. ”I’m listening.” Despite trying for an air of grave and impartial concern, Lidah’s lips turned up at the corners. It didn’t take a genius to guess why Vance was suddenly so curious about her and Locke. In fact, she’d spoken to Locke about this very eventuality… Stars, over a year ago. And she was only now beginning to feel like her old self again. This Life Day dinner felt too long delayed. ”I’m not sure I’d use the word dating for any of it, but… You sensed correctly. It wasn’t like that until after, well,” Lidah frowned slightly, unable to find a tasteful label for that night when Tekt had almost killed Locke. ”Until after I brought him to Garland’s. Before that, he only saw Novus.” There was something cleverly dissociative to Sith names, looking at them from either side. Lidah shifted in her seat, running her nails over the synthetic fibers of the seat belt. She had a feeling Vance wanted the how more than the when. As much as she liked what little she knew of Moonfire, only one answer to how to charm a Jedi came to mind and stuck there: don’t. It was a lonely way to live and her love for her student made her want easier things for him. Part of her wanted to tell him to get out while he could, before only that one impossible person would do. ”The Republic was still at war and... It was pretty bad those last couple of years. Any time we could get was stolen. We certainly didn’t expect it to last. Or, I didn’t at least.” She had always had that vague, shapeless fear that someday Locke would come to his senses. Now so recently dispelled. ”What do you really want to know, Vance? I’ll help however I can. We both will.”

[Moonfire]

What was it about lace that made it so terribly itchy? Even expensive lace seemed to dig right into her shoulders, rubbing and tickling in the worst ways.

Moonfire shifted some, her fingers looping between the whirling patterns of her sleeves as she shifted this way and that to adjust the fitted top. The fluff of crystal-studded tulle about her knees and waist wasn’t much more comfortable, but at least it had the decency to keep its shape mostly unattended.

A sleek speeder zipped across Circumtore’s surface, the glittering lights of the city below twinkling at they moved. Mooney, wrapped in stiff pale blue and silver, had been content to enjoy the quiet of their journey. A few quips of conversation and small-talk had broken up the journey, but the knight couldn’t help but fidget and fuss as the pair grew closer and closer to their destination; A holiday dinner with a pair of reformed Sith.

One thumbnail dug into the gap between polish and cuticle, pushing but never quite chipping the matte silver curlicues there. They’d explained this little jaunt to Hutt Space easily, another secret to keep from the council and other Jedi that Mooney swallowed down easily. A Life Day dinner with old contacts, an opportunity for Iris Marth to ingratiate herself further with the underworld. It wasn’t terribly far from the truth, like all the best lies.

“Does it get easier?” Moonfire’s head tilted up from her datapad, sliding it into the pocket of her gown. “Lying about… all this?” Teeth sank into her lower lip, chewing through the thick layer of gloss that frosted it as she observed the older investigator, forcing her hands apart.

[Rugs]

“Lying’s a funny thing,” Locke said as the speeder darted along Cirumtore’s crowded sky. “It should get easier the more you do it. You’d think it would. Most things do. Some lies do. But you already know that much.” It was a paradox of their roles within the Order, and one Locke had spent quite a bit of time pondering through the years.

The Jedi were supposed to be paragons. Defenders of the Republic and, arguably, the Galaxy at large. Wise in their ways, fair to all, arbiters of the truth.

And then there were the Investigators. The Jedi who wore masks — Locke had been dozens of different people in his time already — who cloaked themselves in lies all in the pursuit of justice. Those lies, for Locke, were as easy as breathing.

“But some things never get easy,” he said.

After so long hiding his relationship with Lidah from Moonfire, here he was, riding with her to what was essentially a dinner double date and Life Day celebration. Here she was, in the budding stages of a relationship with Vance.

The irony wasn’t lost on him.

“It is hard, hiding a part of your life from the Order. Knowing it’s something they forbid. It’s a tightrope that you have to keep walking and walking and walking.” As long as the relationship held. As long as they were Jedi. “But,” Locke said offering a smile, “it’s not one you have to walk alone.”

Lidah had helped him walk his, through all these years. Vance, he was sure, would do the same for Moonfire, and Locke himself would offer what help he could, should she decide to walk further.

The city below them glimmered and twinkled. If Locke craned his neck to look past the speeder’s front, he could see the ringworld curving up and around in the distance. It had taken some time to get used to seeing that.

He wore a ridiculous outfit. It was well-tailored and might have looked downright respectable, were it not for the tigerskin print on his suit jacket. The black vest underneath and matching pants at least meant he could look like a normal person if he decided to shed the jacket.

Lidah’s gonna love it, he thought, giddy.

“Know this, Moonfire,” he said, sensing the younger Investigator’s nerves, “whatever happens, I’m behind you.”

[Fromikeable]

The answer Vance received wasn’t a calming one. Together during the war? He could remember the tension every time he’d seen Locke during those years. It was hard to criticize someone for returning to a literal warzone when they’d been cutting throats and making deals in the Exchange, but times had been especially bad toward the end. The Republic had been lanced by the Imperials. News cropped up every day of the impending assault on Coruscant. When it happened, the holovids had been hard to watch.

It might happen again. Vance swallowed. That train of thought, he decided, was far too ahead of the current situation.

”I remember that night. It was terrifying.” Vance’s involvement had been torturously minimal. One minute he’d been working on a few things under Garland’s nose, helping Lidah set the groundwork for the many, many maneuvers they’d had to make to usurp the old bastard. The next, he’d been carrying Locke to Lidah’s suite, eyes locked on his wounds, wondering if he’d ever talk to the only man that he really looked up to ever again.

”I juuuuuuuust…” Snapping back to his train of thought, Vance’s face contorted as he wrestled with it. How did he bring this up? How much of it did he mention? All they’d done since the Blind Auction was the trip to Zeltros. That wasn’t so bad, was it? Then again, it made him squirm to imagine keeping the meetings secret from Lidah such as he had before. She’d been justifiably upset, and that had made him upset.

”... have someone on my mind, that’s all.” A vague truth that he was sure she could interpret. Vance couldn’t quite bring himself to just say it. It sounded childish, especially with everything else they had to do. Wresting control of Circumtore had been no easy feat, and recovery from the Crisis was still in full swing.

Asking for a blessing for a date that might not ever even happen seemed foolish.

Vance didn’t even notice the frown that he’d adopted as the speeder began to land in front of a lavish restaurant. A literal red carpet stretched from the entrance inward, large mahogany doors and small windows adorned with gold leaf suggesting some very high prices for what were undoubtedly numberless menus. As their chauffeur exited and opened their door, Vance was the first out, adjusting his bow tie.

Extending a hand for Lidah, his other touched up his hair, subconsciously obsessing over the placement of every curl.

[Neology]

”Yes. It was.” Was it terrible of her, to still be a little glad that it had happened? Not for Locke’s pain, obviously … But it had stuck him in a room with little to do but talk. To her. Even at their worst, he had always been fascinating to talk to. Lidah let Vance struggle through finding the words. It wouldn’t do any good to hurry him. And yet, by the end of the ride, he’d still said remarkably little. She made a noncommittal ‘hmm’ in response and let him hand her out of the speeder. Her mouth turned up at the corners, amused by the preening. ”Oh, dear. Sometimes I think we’re more alike than either of us would be comfortable admitting.” They began up the steps at a sedate pace, Lidah clasping his arm. Natural fiber carpet, real imported wood … Alas, they were all far too well-traveled to be stunned by what surely was – by spacer standards – extreme luxury and excess. This would have been commonplace on other worlds, of course. To her mind, you could not love someone you didn’t respect, at least not as an equal. And growing up within the Jedi Order had no doubt settled upon both of them some rather particular expectations. Was it any surprise that the first person to turn Vance’s head in all these years was also a Jedi? ”I won't bury you in details. Most of them probably wouldn’t apply, anyway.” Lidah had been Sith so much longer, she owned atrocities in her own name. She and Locke had sincerely tried to do major harm to one another on a number of occasions. Even her attempts to be nice to him had been received more like torture. ”You need to hear this, though. There will be times, maybe lots of them, when you will want more than your someone can give. I don’t mean sex, but more like … Just, all the stupid things normal people are out there taking for granted.” It was easy to find their table – all the others had been cleared away. For now, it was heaped with extravagant decorations and delicate glasses. ”You’ll have to figure out if that’s something you can live with or without. And it might look easy from here. Like you only have to break a few rules.” Lidah shrugged, holding the back of her chair and glancing subtly at her chrono. ”But multiply those stupid things by time and you have what they really mean by attachment.”

[Moonfire]

There were many things between Locke and Moonfire that had historically been left unsaid. As though speaking them aloud to another member of the Order made them more real, more tangible in the recycled air of their speeder, more likely to alert others to their failures in their duty.

Relief rolled out of her stiff chest in an exhale as he spoke. Even timber taking an uncharacteristically serious tone. Oddly soothing even. Moonfire was thankful for the boxes in her hands and the flash of the city lights in the tall windows to distract her as she listened, head bobbing along.

This was the role she accepted after all. To be an Investigator. To lie and lie and lie to find out the truth.

‘I don’t think this is what the Jedi expected you to lie about…’ Dark and inky the thought sat heavy in her throat.

Pale pink lips tilted into a smile, the fidgeting hand moving to lean forward and squeeze Locke’s knee. “I can’t tell you how much that means. I--” The words caught, snagged on that awful lump as she forced out a touch too forced of a breath. “Thank you, Locke.” Straightening some Moonfire watched as the speeder glided to it’s landing pad, the dazzling lights of the ringworld less a blur and more a gradient squares to pinpricks.

Hoisting up the packages in her arms, Moonfire moved towards the door, careful to keep the low heels of her shoes from catching on the edge as the skirt floofed just a tad too large for the speeder’s opening. “I hope they like the gifts I picked out…”

[Rugs]

A small smile broke Locke’s face as Moonfire thanked him. Part of him wondered if he was doing the right thing. Certainly, this wasn’t the Jedi thing — but then again, he’d never be the example of the perfect Jedi way to conduct one’s life.

But the die was cast, and the heart had a way of seeking the things it wanted, regardless of the dogma the mind tried to impose upon it. The way Locke saw things, a guiding, supportive hand would likely do Moonfire — and Vance, for that matter — better than a suppressing one. The path she’d walk, should she decide to continue it would be hard. Love was never an easy road, and this was triply true for a Jedi.

Besides, Locke Nemsee was many things, but a hypocrite was not one of them.

Their speeder ducked out of the skylanes and toward their destination. A broad walkway jutted out into open space like a dock of sorts and Moonfire was the first to disembark after their ride pulled to a smooth stop.

“I’m sure they’ll-” Locke nearly stumbled stepping out of the speeder--that first step as steeper than expected, “they’ll love them.” He managed to catch himself and kept walking as if he hadn’t almost just put his face in the duracrete. “I hope Lidah likes my suit,” he said, grinning again like a cat that was about to get into some trouble.

The promenade was beautiful, with more self-serious style and dignity than could be found in all but the wealthiest sectors of Nar Shaddaa. Moderate-height trees lined the middle, with branches cut to hang over the walkway for shade whenever the mechanisms that escaped Locke’s understanding thrust the ringworld segment out of artificial “night” and into the endless light of the star it surrounded. Their destination for the night, sitting atop a short flight of steps, was every bit as luxurious as the exterior suggested. In the Core, this might have been commonplace, but in Hutt Space, it was the pinnacle of opulence.

Lidah always did have good taste.

They were ushered in and Locke quickly picked out their table, with Lidah and Vance already present. “We have arrived,” he said, spreading his arms to show his tiger-striped jacket in all its terrible splendor. “Bearing well wishes for a happy Life Day!”

[Fromikeable]

All the stupid things. A peaceful night out, going to a show or catching a quick meal, eyes locked on eyes, talking about their day. A quiet night in, a mundane room or apparent, some silly holomovie setting a relaxed mood, their feet up side by side on the couch. A borderline meaningless squabble over laundry. A walk around the block shoulder to shoulder, smiles and whispers exchanged. An admiring look. A teasing wink. A dumb, short text in the middle of the night.

All of it would be beyond complicated. So much so that Vance hadn’t even gotten far enough to think of sex.

”I don’t really know yet.” Releasing her arm as they entered the dining room, Vance’s hands dipped into his pockets, his gaze drifting off toward a far wall. ”I’ve never given it serious thought before now. And even then, it’s not just up to me…” His voice trailed as a bright color caught his eye rounding the corner, so offensive to the eye that his head moved to track it. By the time he put together what he was seeing, Vance’s hands were out of his pockets, his eyebrows raised, his mouth open just enough to convey the full stop his mind had been brought to.

When Locke cemented the reality of the outfit with raised arms and a giddy proclamation, Vance could only let slip a long, slow whistle, one hand coming to hold the side of his head.

”... I think that jacket just gave me a stroke, sorry.” Blinking a few times, Vance forced his eyes off of the man he used to consider one of the most dangerous Jedi in the galaxy to Mooney. Pupils danced from the lace to her face, the outfit earning a small smile and subconscious fiddling with his own bow tie. Glancing down at his velvet, Vance tried not to let the sudden self-consciousness show.

”Happy Life Day, Mooney.”