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Mara
nothing worth anything ever goes down easy
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Apr 10, 2012 21:49:09 GMT -5
Post by Mara on Apr 10, 2012 21:49:09 GMT -5
(((Apologies for the delay…)))
His fingers remained lightly against the brown-colored glass of his bottle of Rylothian rum as he casually watched his companion fairly inhale her wine. She had seemed pretty nonchalant about everything that had just happened with the search, including disregarding her disguise. But the way she went at her drink now made Pak wonder just how nervous the Mirialan really had been—for now he could see that was the green woman’s species. Whether she was or not, the emotions he was reading off of her through his antennapalps made it clear that this female was a kindred spirit in the spirits department. Both she and the Balosar used alcohol as an escape.
Pak decided to go for another slug of his own bottle, lifting it to his lips, feeling a little uncomfortable just sitting there, staring at the Mirialan guzzling her drink. But he still found his eyes wandering over the neck of his rum bottle, finally giving the woman a good look. She was not unattractive; the holo the Rodian police had shown him hadn’t really done her justice. Yes, she was a bit rough around the edges, but what being wasn’t, really? If they had met in a different life, or even in his earlier life… He shook the thought away and set his bottle down on the table. It would only lead to a great deal of trouble and a path that was forever closed to him.
Greenie—he still hadn’t anything better to call the green-skinned female in front of him—sighed and tilted her head down to the table, speaking her mind. Her gaze was towards the deck of cards he had slid towards her, but Pak had the feeling she wasn’t really seeing them but looking through them instead; he was pretty sure he’d probably be experiencing the same downers in her situation. It was a feeling enhanced by the emotions he was sensing from her but not entirely. There were some things a being just knew without the aid of antennapalps or any other sensory organs.
In response, all he could do for the moment was nod while he tried to find the right words that would keep the woman around a bit longer. Reflexively his hand curled its fingers around the bottle of rum, turning the vessel in circles against the tabletop. He wasn’t exactly the most qualified sympathetic ear in the galaxy and was quite honestly feeling a bit uncomfortable with this sudden change in the Mirialan’s demeanor. But surely he could do something to cheer her up; the Balosar could be a pretty upbeat being before his own depressions set he down.
He just went with the first thing that came to mind. “Well, if you wanted to be someone else, Greenie… why’d you take that disguise off, then?” His laugh was cut short, as he swallowed it down, realizing how lame it sounded. And it probably wasn’t really want the woman wanted to hear at the moment. Quickly, he pushed on, stumbling through his mind for something to smooth things over with. Pak cleared his throat. “Anyway… we’re here, and you still have that wine I paid you for the lesson. Might as well finish, eh? At least until our drinks are gone.” His brows disappeared up under his unruly hair. “Unless there’s somewhere else you’d rather go—my ship’s docked nearby—or somewhere to be?” As much as he wanted to wile away some more time with the woman—the sabbacc being just a bonus—Pak wasn’t quite so heartless as to force her to stay and keep him company.
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last online Apr 19, 2013 18:45:53 GMT -5
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Apr 20, 2012 23:14:00 GMT -5
Post by Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy on Apr 20, 2012 23:14:00 GMT -5
Ervisa Therani was like a summer storm on many less than desirable planets in that she could promptly switch from one mode to an entirely different one. Fair skies could be hindered by winds whirling sand around, or by heavy showers and thunder. In her specific case it was that she'd transitioned from merry and jovial to dark and brooding. The latter two attributes were, for her, quite rare. But from time to time they emerged from the darker shadows of her personality to haunt her.
One phrase in particular was etched into her mind.
...if you wanted to be someone else...
Did she want to be someone else?
There were advantages to being her. She was fit and trim, with a body she could take pride in. She had the force to call upon as her ally, a lightsaber and a blaster to defend herself with, and she knew how to use them both. But for all that good, there was always bad. Even on the brightest day you couldn't escape from burdens.
No matter what she did, the memory of her failures plagued her. The death of her Padawan was something she'd replayed again and again in her mind a thousand times, endlessly captivated by the horror. She was no stranger to violence, and yet there was something heart-wrenching and agonizing about seeing it happen to a loved one. It magnified the effect, it made the stab through his heart every bit as painful as if it had been through her own.
And mingled with the sting of that loss was her nagging sense of defeat. She'd been so thoroughly defeated that she'd left the Jedi and given up on life. Since then... She'd turned into a miserable pile of nothing. What was she? A drunk. A woman with no morals. She spent her nights on her back, and not even for the practical reasons of credits. She craved some false intimacy, and she'd even latched onto her sexual encounter with Asyr, that was one of the beacons in her life, the genuine bonding she'd never recognized a need for with words.
On the whole, yes. She did want to be someone else. Another life would be good, one without the tragedies and worthlessness of her own. She felt the need to be someone, to have a purpose and a mission. Instead she was an aimless traveller. She had no calling, no purpose. Her ambitions rarely extended beyond the next week. if asked where she saw herself in a year... She wouldn't know.
She wanted to be the person with the answer.
Pak's mention of the ship caught the Mirialan woman's attention as she lit another cigarette and breathed in deeply, letting the acrid tabac smoke into her lungs and letting it out slowly. Any sentient knew she was killing herself slowly with them, but she genuinely didn't care.
"Are you," She asked, "Inviting me to bed?"
Before he could answer she launched into the best words she could find to describe the situation.
"Don't worry if you are, I'm the girl who can't say no. And anything is better than just sitting around here waiting to be caught, getting myself drunk so I can spend the night alone with my feelings, trying to drink until there's nothing left for me but nothingness itself. Hell, I'd welcome sex. It's a distraction from all my other problems."
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Mara
nothing worth anything ever goes down easy
9,275 posts
55 likes
the one and only
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last online May 2, 2022 22:30:17 GMT -5
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May 3, 2012 19:56:45 GMT -5
Post by Mara on May 3, 2012 19:56:45 GMT -5
(((Sorry for the delay… life and a lack of motivation to post got in the way…)))
Waiting to see where his offer would go, he forced his attention back to his bottle of rum and lifted it to his mouth. It had been an innocent enough suggestion; if his Mirialan companion no longer felt comfortable out in this public space, it was only logical to put up the idea of coming aboard his ship. Pak didn’t see anything wrong with it. He was just hoping to continue their little impromptu sabacc lesson, and if they had to do it aboard the Crimson Requiem instead of this cantina, it wouldn’t bother him one bit. Plus, the Balosar felt like the alcohol was starting to get to him, and he knew he would be better off in a more familiar location. His depression couldn’t be far behind, and he wanted to make the most of his remaining upbeat feelings.
When the woman finally responded, his light blue eyes widened, and he nearly choked on the rum he had been in the process of drinking, and some of the liquid dribbled down his chin. A small coughing fit followed as he tried to gain control of his faculties, and he only half-followed her next discourse, explaining to him that she wasn’t bothered at all by his offer. It didn’t really matter that Pak had had no intention of making such an offer. The thought had never occurred to him when he suggested going to his ship that she would take it any other way than how he had originally meant it.
“Uh…” he gasped, finally drawing a deep breath and gaining his wind back. Slowly and deliberately, with a slightly shaking hand, he set his bottle back down on the table. Pak’s mind was spinning, but he knew he needed to say something to diffuse the situation and straighten things out. But still flustered by the unexpected turn of events, his response came out less than intelligible, and he stumbled over it. “Uh, no, no. That’s not what I was—not that you’re not, well—I just… I, uh…”
Finally he stopped to keep himself from digging a further hole and closed his eyes for a moment, inwardly shaking free the clouds in his mind, before turning back to look at the Mirialan. He sucked in another deep breath and paused so he could pick his words a bit more carefully this time around and not sound like a fool. “Sorry, I don’t mean to offend.” Pak shrugged, hoping she would accept the apology for his extreme reaction. “I was just offering a more out-of-the-way place to continue our lesson or talk or whatever, if that’s what you wanted.”
Pak glanced around the room before continuing. “If you wanted to get out of here. Honest, that’s all it was. I’m not looking for anything more than… his hand waved absently at the table between them, “this, to kill a few hours. Drinking alone isn’t always all it’s cracked up to be. A little conversation makes it a bit more bearable before…” He shrugged again, looking away from her and staring at the brownish glass of his rum bottle. Remembering what he had picked out of her response during his fit, he added, “I guess we’re not so different, you and I.”
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last online Apr 19, 2013 18:45:53 GMT -5
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May 9, 2012 17:19:25 GMT -5
Post by Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy on May 9, 2012 17:19:25 GMT -5
The coughing and sputtering answered Ervisa's question perfectly. It wasn't a sexual proposition in any way. That was almost disappointing. Sleeping with someone gave her a fleeting sense of intimacy, a moment of bonding. Then it slipped away again and she craved more.
Just another addiction, She thought dismissively as she stared at the cigarette in her hand before raising it to her lips and inhaling. Her placid grey eyes were focused on the Balosar before her, waiting to hear what he had to say.
Truth be told, she was beyond caring about anything. She was deep enough into the bottle to have passed happy and hit depressed. Once she'd been a promising Jedi. Now. Well, she was a failure. There was no question on that. It wasn't as if she could sink any lower than a drunken bum.
Pak didn't seem to be handling it well, judging by his response, but gradually he gathered his composure and made a proper explanation. It was hardly what she'd been hoping for- Well. Truth be told, she hadn't really been hoping for anything. She had nothing but blank expectations, a void waiting to be shaped.
One phrase alone resounded in her head.
I guess we’re not so different, you and I.
"Yeah," Ervisa said in a flat tone. "I guess we are. Maybe that's the problem here."
The green woman rose from her feet and steadied herself against the table as her head spun slightly. After a few seconds to regain her balance, she spoke again, in a tone no more animated than before.
"I'll go to your ship if you want. Just lead on, or not. It doesn't really matter."
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Mara
nothing worth anything ever goes down easy
9,275 posts
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last online May 2, 2022 22:30:17 GMT -5
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May 18, 2012 19:21:15 GMT -5
Post by Mara on May 18, 2012 19:21:15 GMT -5
Another shrug moved his shoulders in response as his green-skinned companion agreed with him, and he continued to keep his eyes latched to his rum. They hardly knew each other, but they both apparently could see the similarities inherent in each other’s eyes, posture, entire body. Pak could feel it radiating from her through his antennapalps. Length of time spent between them didn’t matter. Their pasts had made them an unlikely pair in the galaxy. Soul mates in a way, scarred and baggage-laden, soul mates, somehow destined to meet in this Rodian cantina, purpose unknown.
The Balosar had been somewhat elated to discover this, that there was someone else like him out there, but the Mirialan woman, she didn’t seem happy about it at all. In fact, her tone in responding was devoid of emotion and almost negative. Pak wondered if it was just her wine getting to her or maybe the unexpected run-in with the Rodian police. Or maybe it was something else entirely. It didn’t really feel to him as if she had been offended by her misunderstanding of his proposition to change locales and his subsequent embarrassment. But then again, he had rather limited experience with female beings, especially in the recent months.
However, he was slowly losing a desire to care; his rum along with what his ‘palps were sucking in from his companion were starting to drag him down. The aura around her reminded him of himself and what he would be in another hour or two. It was like a mirror image of his future. A change in environment was definitely needed before he was too low to do anything about it and ended up drinking into the night, only leaving the cantina when he was forced out. Despite everything, he had actually been enjoying himself with the Mirialan and didn’t want to leave that behind quite yet. Let them fall into a drunken, depressing abyss together.
A creak from the other side of the booth made him look away from his bottle. The Mirialan had gotten to her feet, wobbling a bit. Pak had half-stood up in his seat, preparing to help her, but she had steadied herself easily enough. Still, he finished the move anyway, sweeping up his bottle of rum and putting his free hand under her elbow anyway, firmly but gently. “Well, I don’t want to force you to do anything… but perhaps it would be best to at least get you away from these prying eyes. Just in case someone starts recognizing you.” He smiled briefly.
Pak guided them through the busy cantina, around the maze of tables and a crowd at the bar. Soon enough, they had exited onto the street, and he stopped. After a sip of his rum, he turned to look at her. “Surprisingly, I was actually having a nice time chatting with you. A nice change from drinking alone. And I’d like to continue on, maybe still get those sabacc tips, if you’re up for it. Play for credits, make it interesting. We could just talk. Or… drink in silence away from the public eye. Just anything to pass the time, see what happens” A shrug.
He gestured with his bottle in the general direction of the spaceport. “My ship’s just over there. She’s a real beaut.” His brows raised and disappeared under his hair. “Or we could go to yours, if you prefer. Whatever.” Pak glanced away from the Mirialan woman. “I mean, I don’t know about you, but I’d much rather be in familiar company when I start feeling like this. And maybe you don’t see it, but I feel a…a connection with you somehow. A similarity in souls. But if you want to leave, go ahead. I’ll head back inside the cantina and drink myself stupid to drown away my past, like I always do.” Pak knew he was probably saying too much and not making much sense but couldn’t stop himself. The mix of alcohol and demons were closing in.
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last online Apr 19, 2013 18:45:53 GMT -5
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May 22, 2012 4:21:01 GMT -5
Post by Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy on May 22, 2012 4:21:01 GMT -5
Ervisa was fading fast, wilting like a cut flower taken from its vase and laid bare on the table. Getting off the ship at Rodia had proven to be a bad idea. The siren song of alcohol and fresh air had seduced her away from security and safety, and into precisely the sort of situation she should have avoided.
For her, Rodia was a poisonous place. The air wasn't green or caustic, and the rain wasn't pure acid. But it was toxic to her. As much as she liked to put on a bright face, her years in a dilapidated Rodian prison had been miserable, a long stretch of dreary agony that still brought back unpleasant memories. And those memories? They were toxic. When it came to memories, Rodia was probably second only to Felucia. Coruscant at least was devoid of any personal feelings. The Jedi Temple itself might as well have been its own world.
The change that had come over Ervisa extended to her appearance as well. Vibrant green skin had become sickly and sharp features had become too sharp. The hints of darkness under her eyes had evolved into large semi-circles. She looked tired, worn. Like she'd aged a decade in a few minutes.
Of everything Pak said, only one little phrase managed to plant itself in the Mirialan woman's mind. Similarity of souls. That merited a few drunken words, slurred though they were.
"My soul's black. It's all stained, and worn down. Ugly. I'm not evil. I've just dragged it through too much. It's dirty now."
Why did philosophy always rear its ugly head deep into the bottle?
Ervisa Therani took another drag of her cigarette and sighed, staring blankly at Pak.
"Lead on."
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Mara
nothing worth anything ever goes down easy
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last online May 2, 2022 22:30:17 GMT -5
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Jun 12, 2012 19:27:36 GMT -5
Post by Mara on Jun 12, 2012 19:27:36 GMT -5
(((Apologies for the delay… I could make a bunch of excuses, but, meh. No time to get into it, lol. Anyway, here’s a link to Pak’s ship, just in case: Crimson Requiem))) The Balosar had half-expected the Mirialan to decline or to continue acting indifferent to whatever he was saying. As he had spoken to her after they had made it outside the cantina, in the background his antennapalps sensed her emotions, and they were far from getting better. In fact, the change of scenery and addition of fairly fresh air hadn’t done a lick of good. It appeared that nothing would be a help to the green woman, and just the passing of time, and perhaps the settling of alcohol, was souring her mood. Pak had needed all his self-control to keep his voice light enough as he made his supplication to spend more time with her, suggesting a trip to his ship. His ‘palps were almost drowning in his companion’s dark emotional pool, and he didn’t want to wallow in his own depression quite yet. It was a notion that was only confirmed by the woman’s reply to his comment about the two of them being some sort of odd pair of soul mates, and as she took it in a different direction. There were so many things Pak could think to say in reply but decided on silence being the best answer for the moment. Her statement really didn’t seem to beg for a response. All he did was nod his head a couple times, not in agreement but in understanding. At least he was beginning to realize perhaps the seed of the woman’s current emotional status. The carefree Mirialan he had first met had been replaced by this sad representation of who she had been. He assumed it was merely the effect of her wine, maybe influenced by the appearance of the Rodian police. If it had been something he had done or said, she obviously wouldn’t be agreeing to spend more time with him, however unenthusiastic it was. With another nod to acknowledge her response, he led them on through the streets of the city and towards the spaceport. Having let go of her arm, he now walked by her side, keeping his free hand a few inches behind her back to guide or perhaps aid her, in case she had another stumble. It was a bit of a struggle for him to remain silent, but Pak forced himself to stay quiet as they walked. Spouting off unfiltered random nonsense wouldn’t really gain anything in their conversation. The woman would probably either ignore him or just look at him with her dark, empty eyes. Instead, he concentrated on finding the way to his ship and focusing his antennapalps on any other nearby beings that were close enough for him to sense, hoping to sprinkle in some good emotions along with the heavy ones the Mirialan was smothering him with. Twenty, thirty minutes later they finally made it to the docking bay of the Crimsom Requiem, and the expectation of seeing his baby turned him chatty again, giving him one last burst of optimism. He turned to her and grinned. “Here we are, bay 344. My girl’s just inside. Go on ahead.” Pak took a couple steps to the side and indicated for the green-skinned woman to enter inside first, and he would follow her in. The Balosar hoped the sight of his ship would lift her spirits, at least a tiny bit. Plus, he just always took pleasure in seeing the reaction of others when their eyes first laid on the red paint of the arrowhead-shaped freighter. Most were horrified at the color and told him they’d find a new pilot; some laughed in unbelief at what they saw and would still decline his offer of transport; a few got past it and settled on what was important, hiring him in the process. After waiting a minute or two, Pak came inside the docking bay, the arm with the bottle of rum in its hand hanging limply at his side, forgotten for the moment. He smiled and sighed as he gazed at his ship, running his pale blue eyes over all her lines and sharp curves. “Isn’t she just magnificent?” he breathed out without looking to his companion. His eyes were only for his beloved at the moment. “I haven’t had the chance to do any modifications to her yet, ‘cept for the paint. Though, of course, she’s perfect just as she is. She’s my pride and joy. The only bright spot in my life.” Remembering he wasn’t alone, Pak finally looked over at the Mirialan and gestured his bottle-laden arm towards the freighter. “Greenie, meet the Crimson Requiem. Crimson Requiem, meet Greenie.”
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last online Apr 19, 2013 18:45:53 GMT -5
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Jun 13, 2012 15:27:44 GMT -5
Post by Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy on Jun 13, 2012 15:27:44 GMT -5
(The wait is fine. Take however much time you need, I'll always be around when you have time)
Ervisa felt her eyelids growing heavier as she walked along, despite the freshness of the air. It was still hot and humid, a sticky sort of feeling that left her doubly fatigued. The alcohol was truly catching up to her now. She felt like her eyes were sunken deep in her head, like she was watching the world from underneath a pool of water. She could hear, but at the same time she couldn’t. Every few steps she staggered and weaved, bracing herself on Pak’s shoulder before recovering more or less and soldiering on.
This was probably the most drunk she’d been in a year at least.
When they finally reached the docking bay, Ervisa was half-surprised to see it was only a few blocks from where her own abode was located. As Pak gestured for her to enter first, she did, coming to a halt just inside as she stared at a large, wedge-shaped ship. It was red. Her first instinct was that it was some trick of the light or her eyes. She closed them and looked again, only to find that it really was red.
Further thought was stopped as her head spun and she leaned heavily against the wall and wretched, sending the contents of her stomach onto the ground. Wiping her lips with the back of her hand, she muttered a few words that might have been “sorry about that.”
She wasn’t entirely sure, drunk or sober, about what she was supposed to do now as she was being introduced to the ship. Bleary-eyed, she waved to it as if it were a sentient being. To no one’s surprise, it didn’t wave back.
“Ish very nice ship youze got here. I like the color,” Ervisa managed as she slurred her words. “Looks like those Republic diplomatshic cruishers, with tha’ red on it,”
Ervisa belatedly noticed there were two ships in red. How could she have missed that before?
“Yesh. Both of them very nice.”
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Mara
nothing worth anything ever goes down easy
9,275 posts
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last online May 2, 2022 22:30:17 GMT -5
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Sept 26, 2012 18:11:59 GMT -5
Post by Mara on Sept 26, 2012 18:11:59 GMT -5
(((Sorry for the wait… Anyway, hope you don’t mind me moving Ervisa a bit here… I think I posted a link to the ship in my previous post; might help with the inside layout a bit, for what it’s worth. ;p)))
Pak had slipped back into a reverie after his casual introductions between his ship and, if things went well enough, his new friend. It was something he just couldn’t help and probably wasn’t the healthiest hobby for a being with his recent past. A smart therapist might suggest that he was merely projecting his brokenheartedness onto the ship, replacing his memory of Shen with the real images of the red freighter. And if the Balosar ever consciously realized this and had time to consider it, he’d probably reluctantly agree. Just before he dipped into another severe depression brought on by the revelation that he was merely prolonging his pain and not dealing with it.
But then a sharp, bitter smell started penetrating his nostrils, startling him back from gazing at his beautiful ship before making the sad connection between his former and current loves. He glanced over at Ervisa who was just standing there, looking somewhat confused, her eyes a bit glazed over. Aside from that, though, coupled with her obvious drunkenness, everything seemed okay with her as far as he could sense. Having assured himself of this, after a quick sniff of his own body, he ran his eyes around the rest of the hangar, worried that maybe the odor was coming from his ship. However, when he discovered the recognizable puddle of puke on the duracrete, his fear disappeared, and his nose wrinkled a bit.
He turned back to the green-skinned woman, just noticing in the back of his mind that she had said something about ‘both’ ships while he was investigating the origin of the strange smell. Pak’s brows rose, disappearing beneath his shaggy brown hair. “Um…” He started to say something in reply but decided against it. Even if the Mirialan was listening to him, she was obviously not completely coherent, and he hadn’t figured out yet whether she was an angry drunk. That was something he wanted to avoid if at all possible, having the examples of past experiences. What the woman really needed now was some kind of remedy.
Not wanting to leave her alone in her current state, he decided he’d just have to get her inside the Requiem long enough until she had recovered to the point where she could depart under her own power and clear mental state. Putting the clues together—double vision, confusion, unsteadiness, vomiting—had convinced him that she wasn’t fit to be on her own, at least while he was around. A swift scan of his companion told him that he’d have to guide her aboard; she was inches taller and perhaps even outweighed him by a few pounds. There was no way he was carrying her inside, especially since he had some alcohol in his system as well.
Clearing his throat, he put his empty hand behind her back again, this time actually touching her, lightly, in order to lead her forward. “C’mon, Greenie. Let’s get you inside. I’ll make up a cup or ten of caf for you. Let’s go. This way…” They slowly made their way to the ship’s hatch, Pak typing in his security code to debark the ramp when they got there. Making she that she wouldn’t stumble, he got the woman up the ramp, walking behind her, and into his ship. He led her into the common area and deposited her carefully on the couch before heading back to close things up and reset the security system.
On his way to the galley, he poked his head in. “Be right back with that caf. Make yourself at home.” Pak had gone a couple steps when he ducked back into the common room. “Er, the ‘fresher’s that way. In case, you know…” With a shrug, he pointed in the direction of the ship’s facilities, grinning sheepishly, before getting back on course to set the caf machine up. The Balosar hoped the Mirialan wasn’t completely out of it and would have at least somewhat understood him. Going on a cleaning spree wasn’t on his agenda in the near future.
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last online Apr 19, 2013 18:45:53 GMT -5
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Sept 26, 2012 23:11:01 GMT -5
Post by Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy on Sept 26, 2012 23:11:01 GMT -5
The Balosar herded the rather intoxicated Mirialan woman up the ramp and into the ship, finally dropping her off at the common area, on a couch to be exact. Of course she was rather sprawled unusually, with her green limbs sticking out at the awkward angles that belied both her casual drunken status and her natural flexibility as a Mirialan.
Pak peeked back in and pointed to the refresher with promises of making the sustaining black beverage that held the Universe together- Or was that the Force? She was a little hazy on what actually held what together at the moment. Something held something. Held hands? Yeah, she could be holding hands to hold the universe to- Coffee.
"Coffeeeeeeeeee..." Ervisa murmured before giggling and passing out.
Drunken dreams were always interesting for Ervisa, because they were especially enlightening as to the future, yet she never managed to remember anything about them, or even their very existence.
She was standing on a dingy street, neon lights illuminating her. Looking down she could see herself reflected in a puddle, dressed like a tramp. On the up side she did look sexy, and that merited the semi-conscious declaration that she was a vixen. Yeah.
Things darkened as a man came up and passed her credits, and she followed him into a dark alley. What came next was hardly a first for Ervisa, but she hadn't ever thought it would be on a monetary basis.
Now she was walking, taking the credits to a bar. To buy a drink? No, not a drink. She bought a baggie of reddish powder and snorted it up her nose. But that wasn't right. She'd never even touched spice before, it was too dangerous...
As the lights swirled, Ervisa became cognizant of the fact her eyes were open and staring at a spinning light overhead. Why was it spinning? No wait, it wasn't. Nothing was spinning at all.
She looked around and saw she was on a couch, and it clicked. That Balosar had brought her back to the ship he'd mentioned. Yeah, that was it.
Ervisa uncontorted herself and sprawled out on the couch, feeling much better already. Chalk it up to being a Jedi or even just a Mirialan, there was something about alcohol, she could bounce back from it fast when she wanted to. Granted she wasn't about to suddenly be all better, but the room was no longer in stereo. Well, visual stereo.
The Mirialan woman looked around for the Balosar.
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Mara
nothing worth anything ever goes down easy
9,275 posts
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last online May 2, 2022 22:30:17 GMT -5
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Feb 1, 2013 3:27:55 GMT -5
Post by Mara on Feb 1, 2013 3:27:55 GMT -5
(((Apologies for the delay… I hope I’m not too rusty, haha. Anyway, not sure how much longer you were planning on this thread going for… I’m fine either way.)))
In the Crimson Requiem’s galley, Pak spent a few minutes just staring at the caf dispenser, trying to remember how to turn it on and get it to churning out the black liquid for his guest. He couldn’t recall the last time he had used it. Obviously it had been a while, considering how dirty and dusty it looked and how currently baffled he was by it. While he poked around at it, fiddling with switches and buttons, he idly wondered when he had actually drunk something that wasn’t alcoholic. The answer of “um… Starfighter Command?” floated to the surface of his mind. Which would mean somewhere around a year or more, and somehow that was something that he was able to simultaneously shrug off and be bothered by, though only briefly.
Eventually after a couple false starts he got the machine going in what appeared to be the proper way, and he leaned back against the counter for a moment before he went looking for a cup or glass or any container he could deliver the caf to his guest with. A browse through the cupboards told him that maybe he needed to stop by a store if entertaining guests aboard his ship was going to become a habit. Pak saw that he was rather lacking in the dish- and glassware department. And well, lacking in most departments, as the galley was more empty than full with what should be in a galley. He ended up improvising with a brandy snifter he found in the sink, rinsing it off and pouring some caf into it. On his way back to the lounge, he scooped up a bottle of Rylothian rum for himself. Just because his new friend needed to sober up didn’t mean he planned on joining her.
Pak slowly reentered the common area of the ship, being careful not to spill any of the caf out of the snifter on his way. Still, he allowed himself a glance at the Mirialan, noticing that she was still laying prone on the couch but, as far as he could tell, her complexion was clearing up. Her eyes no longer looked glazed over. Perhaps just a short nap and rest had helped her while he was rustling up a drink. The Balosar approached her, clearing his throat softly so as not to startle her, and held out the caf. “Here you are, Greenie. A nice cup of caf. Er, well, not a cup, exactly, but I seem to be fresh out of cups.” He smiled and shrugged. “If you need some more, let me know.”
After he was certain she was grasping the snifter and wouldn’t drop it and spill the caf everywhere, he moved off to the side, half leaning against, half sitting on a short table nearby the couch. Thoughts of redecoration flickered through his mind as he looked around the room. It was sparsely furnished, the items that were there being of less than quality. But then he shook it off. Even if he consciously made the decision to do so, he knew he would get sidetracked, and it would never happen. Who was he trying to impress, anyway? The Balosar led a lonely life and liked it that way.
Absently, he lifted the bottle of rum to his lips and took a drag. Pak hadn’t made a hardened decision to let his guest be the first to speak. He just didn’t have anything that came to his mind to talk about or ask her. With all the excitement of earlier and more recently keeping himself busy taking care of his guest, his energy was running low now that his body had a chance to recoup. Content to remain where he was in companionable silence, drinking his rum, he waited, casually watching the Mirialan, seeing but not seeing.
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