“What’s wrong?”
Cora’s question was a fairly standard one, but this came with a modicum of concern given how heavily his husband slumped on the couch. There was work exhaustion — that was normal enough — and then there was this. It was Ruka worried and tired and not quite upset but also still upset.
“Qyreiami is still kind of pissed.”
That was what prompted the Pantoran to make his way to the Consul’s apartment in the Citadel. It wasn’t surprising she lived there: security was as good as it got, they had all the amenities at their fingertips, and the work commute was nil. But Cora also knew the Arronens just had a child and were still occupying a one-bedroom apartment barely fit for two. He would have to make that recommendation another day, though. This mission was more important.
He found the door, rang the bell, and waited.
The Zeltron appeared moments later, looking tired but comfortable in what looked like pajamas. When she saw Cora, her neutral expression soured somewhat, but her tone at least remained… professional.
“Mr. Ya’ir. How can I help you?”
“Please, Corazon is perfectly fine,” the Jedi began, smiling diplomatically. “Unless you’d greatly prefer Tenbriss Ya-ir. Might I request a moment of your time, Qyreia? There is a matter I believe we ought to discuss.”
Her hand moved as if to say something on its own, only to flop against her thigh. “Well, you’re here, an’ I’m here. Discuss away.”
“Of course.” If the Pantoran was discouraged by her general enthusiasm and their continued presence in the hallway, he didn’t show it. His demeanor remained perfectly placid as he took a breath. “I know your time is precious, so I will get straight to the point. It is about you and Ruka. This…fissure between you, ever since your ascension to Consulship. I know you have at least discussed it, and you’re working fine together, but everyday when he comes home or has just seen you or…that trouble remains there. You two haven’t seemed to work it out for yourselves, and perhaps that is because it’s so very much about me, at least for him. So…”
Here he paused, if only for cadence of the speech, offering her another smile.
“So, perhaps you and I could attempt to be more cordial? We haven’t exactly spent much time together before that wasn’t altogether as a family.”
Qyreia stood in the doorway of her apartment giving the Pantoran a rather deadpan stare. “Might have something to do with all my, how did you phrase it? ‘Violent tendencies’ I believe is what you said I’d bring to Arcona?”
Corazon gave a delicate exhale that could have been, perhaps, a sigh. “And with your own opinions of me, perhaps,” he returned, an incline of his head accepting the accusation. “Such being what I would like us to at least attempt to overcome. I would like us to be friendlier, Qyreia. Moreover, I would like our pride and prejudices to be less of a stress to all of us. I’m not asking you to forgive or forget or change your mind overnight. I just think perhaps we could…hang out…and see how it goes.”
“And what’s my opinion of you, Cora?” Her eyes narrowed, though seemingly more out of scrutinizing curiosity than any actual anger. She was, in her own way, humoring him.
The noble gave a shrug as delicate as his small sighs and his shimmering hint of eye cosmetics. “Something to the effect of my being stuck up, generally useless in my advice, and disrespectful of you, I believe. At least in speaking of the Clan’s leadership. I admit I don’t recall any specifics as you do. Personally? A harder guess, save in the way of my husband. I’d welcome your thoughts for yourself, though.”
“Your husband isn’t in my sights,” she said as steadily as she could. Not anymore at least. She sighed. “Your advice isn’t useless, but it also isn’t infallible. Believe me, Ruka is in the dog house for still making it out like I did what I did out of pride, because he still believes that.” She smiled slightly, leaning her head on the doorframe. “You are kinda stuck up, though. But,” she continued, standing up from her casual, if defensive posture, “you’re also kind, usually; a good husband and parent; and not bad with a lightsaber either.”
“You should have met me when we joined the Praxeum. I was even more sheltered and ‘stuck up.’” He smiled at her, and arched powder pink brows. “The latter which I think you sympathize with being called. And coincidentally, usually kind, a good partner and parent, and ‘not bad’ with a lightsaber are also qualities I’d ascribe to you. So, perhaps we have some common ground? Perhaaaps you’d also enjoy a mimosa, a soak, and a hot rock massage? Other amenities pending?”
She cocked her head to the side, frustrated that he rounded back to this again, but also curious. “No offense to your offer, but I think Keira would murder me if I took a spa day and left her alone to take care of Ileta.”
“I thought she might also enjoy the spa while we got a sitter,” the Pantroan suggested. “It isn’t as though Leda and Noga aren’t all but competing for the job. And we’d only be a comm away. Some time to rest might be nice. I know you’ve been…stressed.”
Her grin soured in an odd mix of concern and frustration. “Yeah… not sure how well she’ll take that. Between breast feeding and us just being new parents… Nothing against Noga and Leda, mind you. It’s just a hard sell to go for a sitter already.”
Perhaps because she heard her voice, or was quietly linked in to the Zeltron’s surface thoughts, the lady Force user quietly appeared from behind her wife.
“I heard my name, ‘spa’, and ‘babysitter’.” She caught Cora’s gaze and nodded. “Cora. I see you’re doing well.”
Corazon’s answering look was all soft sympathy and genteel smile. “Good afternoon, Kiera. Yes, I am well. You too, I hope? I was just inviting you and Qyreia for a spa day while Noga and Leda look after Ileta, but plenty understandable you’d want to stay with the dear. If you like, I can just grab my makeup bag and give you two a little home manipedi!” His smile dimmed, gentled, and he dipped his head. “Or I can leave you be and we can try an olive branch another time, Qyreia. One less busy.”
Olive branch? Keira thought direct into her lover’s mind. Are you two still fighting?
I could at least stand for an apology. It was hard for the mercenary not to sigh or roll her eyes and maintain composure in the moment so as not to tip Cora off to the unheard conversation.
“Interesting. Do Leda or Noga have experience with newborns? Babies are one thing, but she is particularly fragile right now, you understand.”
“I know they’ve some experience, at least, more than I do, though likely better you ask them their selves. Interview, as it were. Again, perfectly understandable you’d be wary. I doubt they’ll be offended. Or at least, that they won’t understand too.” His smile then was more genuine, a crease of adoration and humor in the look he shared more towards the Zeltron who was closer to the two teenagers before focusing back on her wife. “It’s alright. I can see I was a bit eager. Just know the offer stands.”
“I would certainly not mind being pampered.”
Qyreia looked indignantly at the pale woman. “Excuse you. What do you call the last week?”
“Fantastic, love, but this way we can both be pampered. Hm?” And maybe you and Corazon can come to an understanding.
“…Fine. We’ll work it out with the kids. See what they think.”
The Pantroan lit up. “Oh, wonderful! And yes, any pampering you both please. The couples’ massages are allegedly quite nice too, though I’m afraid I can’t vouch personally on the bundle, Depi is an excellent masseuse. All of them are.”
“Hear that? Masseuse.”
“Yeah, I heard.” Qyreia sighed. “Alright Cor. You got your wish. Spa day, once we’re convinced the kids can handle Ileta.”
Somehow, they were convinced. The kids both claimed experience with at least one newborn back on Kiast — someone named Elijah, which Ruka vouched for — plus all of their other experience with small children. Once that was settled, the new parents went about getting the preparations in order: milk bottles, diapers, a couple swaddling blankets, hats, onesies, the works. It was almost a wonder they had room for all of it in their already cozy apartment. Given the familiarity, they even let the kids take care of Ileta in the Ya'ir home. That way they had at least some of their own amenities to stay entertained.
Understandably, they were both quietly nervous about the whole thing, and it was a conscious effort for Qyreia not to threaten bodily harm should anything happen to their child. This was supposed to be an olive branch, after all. Keira may or may not have mentally prodded her as well.
With nerves already noticeably high between the lingering angst in the Zeltron and leaving their child for the first time since the birth — and all too soon, it seemed — Ruka and Cora made the trip to the spa in the Sinchi Ring as quickly and smoothly as possible. Ruka drove, looking at Cora every so often as if to question if this was wise. Not because the plan itself was bad, but the timing of it, given the emotions radiating off the Zeltron that they could feel even without the aid of the Force. Keira’s were much the same at even a cursory touch on their senses. The Pantoran was able to reassure his husband at a touch of his hand. That the trip by speeder was decidedly brief also made things easier: too little time for anyone to change their minds.
Nestled among so many other buildings as was common in Estle City, the spa only stood out for its vibrant, greenery-covered exterior, with trickling waterfall fountains built into the walls on either side of the door. As much as was possible, they made the facade as smooth and full of curving lines as possible in an attempt to please the eye as much as distract from the rigidity of the outside world. It was oddly satisfying just to look at as they stepped out of the speeder.
Keira’s attitude lifted noticeably simply from the view. The mercenary, on the other hand, was still sour somewhere deep down, though hiding it was less an active process as she was simply distracted by the scenery.
“How’ve I never noticed this place before?”
“Because your idea of a relaxing night is pajamas and ice cream?”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Cora was about to say the same thing, but given Qyreia already had, merely smiled and gathered his bag from Ruka. The Mirialan closed the speeder door he’d opened for his husband and kissed him, then leaned back to lounge against the vehicle and give the trio a two fingered salute.
“Enjoy yourselves, ay. I’ll be here to pick you up when you’re done.”
“You too, darling. Tey ahmo.”
“Tey ahmo, mhin ahminna. And hey, crovja, it’ll be okay.”
Qyreia shot him a questioning look. “Why does that make it sound like I’m about to be ambushed?”
“Just by a masseuse’s hands,” Keira chuckled, enjoying the word all too much. “But I’m surprised. You’re not coming, Ruka?”
Ruka’s arched eyebrow and scrunched face seemed to expect to convey the obvious; but then, it was Kiera asking, and she didn’t know hom as well as the other two did.
“Havin’ my clothes off and my scars out and random people…touching me ain’t really my relaxing time. There’s a park a block away, I just find a nice tree there whenever Cor and Leda come here. And no ambush. Just,” he flapped one tattooed hand, “reassuring.”
Corazon gave his partner an understanding look and tiptoed up to kiss his cheek again, specifically over the more scarred half of the Mirialan’s face, before he stepped onto the manicured walkway leading up towards the building, politely waiting for the ladies.
Qyreia pointed at her narrowed eyes, then at him. Either she still felt something was afoot, or she was being melodramatic for humor’s sake. Given the lingering feelings in the air, perhaps a bit of both. Keira merely shrugged and followed after her wife and the Pantoran. She wasn’t here for dramatics. She was here to get pampered.
“So how does this work, Mister Cora?” she asked amiably, ignoring the Zeltron’s sourness. “I’m afraid this kind of thing is uncharted territory for me aside from what I’ve seen on the holonet.”
The Pantroan gasped, hand flying to delicately cover his mouth. “Miss Kiera! You haven’t been to a spa? I thought surely sometime during the wedding or honeymoon…Zeltros had quite the assortment.” His golden eyes slid to Qyreia, almost disappointed, as if to ask, but why?
“We were a little busy with getting everything ready,” Qyreia shot back, “and babysitting the two adults that had to be seated at opposite ends just to get the both of them to show.”
Aaand now we’re angry again. Fantastic. Keira attempted to deflect. “There is also plenty more to do in Qyreia’s home town, as I’m sure you noticed. Museums and woodlands, and of course that was when her mother would even let us out of her sight long enough.”
“A fair point. Missus Alayne was formidable as my mother, and your planet an absolute vision. We did adore it so. Weddings are quite the ordeal for everyone. You hardly get to enjoy your own. Too busy with everything.” Cora seemed to let the jab pass, pleasantly smiling and chatting, though the Zeltron wouldn’t miss the fissure of cold anger nearly unheard of in the Pantroan at allusion to Kordath and that entire situation. He nonetheless carried on without pause in graceful stride or waver in his tone, reaching to open the lobby doors for the couple. “Well, Miss Kiera, we’ll have to treat you wonderfully today to be sure! I’ll make certain they know just how well to pamper you. I know you’re eager for the massages, but there’s so many options…”
As they crossed the threshold, they were met with a cozy interior that seemed to match the curvaceous contours of the facade. While not dimly lit, per se, it was not bright either. Enough to see well, but also low enough that one could sleep comfortably. And much like outside, flowers and greenery abounded hanging from wall fixtures and in floor pots.
The receptionist, a handsome, dark-skinned Selenian man with pale stripes greeted them warmly. “The Ya’ir party?”
“That would be us,” Corazon replied cheerily, adding, “Good afternoon, Emeel. You’re doing well, I hope?”
“Just fine, Mister Ya-ir. Where’s Leda today?”
“Enthusiastically babysitting. She’ll be around next time. Today I get to introduce you to some more of our family.” He gestured at the ladies. “This is Qyreia and Kiera Viru Arronen. They have just had a baby and have very stressful jobs on top of it, and Miss Kiera has never been to a spa before. Treat them well, won’t you?”
“Oh my,” said the Selenian. He winked at the pair. “Nice to meet you, Qyreia, Kiera. We’ll do our best. If you’ll just follow me, we’ll get you settled for some refreshments while you figure out an itinerary…do either of you have a preference on gender or anything else with your caretakers? Just so so can get started!”
“Uhh… choice?”
Keira’s expression was only slightly less dumbfounded. “Nnno preference? I honestly hadn’t considered that as an option.”
Emeel smiled kindly as he came around the counter, looking to Corazon, who himself smiled as well.
“That’s alright, we’re only checking in case you did have some thoughts! It’s pretty normal for our guests to pick someone of the same gender, especially the first time…sort of like going to the doctor and wanting one the same gender as you, since there’s touching involved, and sometimes that can feel invasive,” the Selenian supplied helpfully.
“I think ladies would do well,” the Pantoran added. His golden eyes lingered a moment on Qyreia as he spoke, pink brows titled in a sympathetic expression. “Meesi and Kaore, perhaps? They are in today, aren’t they?”
Emeel chortled. “I’ll never know how you keep all our schedules so straight! Yes, they are. I’ll get them. Kaore is with someone, if you don’t mind waiting a bit longer for the massages? Maybe start with a nice manipedi instead?”
“That sounds wonderful. Kiera, Qyreia?” the Pantoran checked, turning back to them. “Manipedis?”
Keira all but clapped her hands together. “Yes! That sounds great. I haven’t had one since the wedding.” She looked to her Zeltron. “Pretty sure that goes for you too.”
Qyreia nodded quietly, smoothing over some of her earlier ice for the sake of the employees. “Sounds fine.”
“Then yes. We’ll wait for Meesi and Kaore, please.”
Emeel beamed and spun on his heel. “Great! Right this way, then! And trust me, we’ll get you taken care off. The pedicures come with foot massages.” He winked as if conspiritorial over his shoulder. “Perfect for two new mamas, I bet.”
As the Selenian led them through the halls, the two women were treated to more of a view of the spa. Everything was in creamy whites and warm, pale birch colors obviously meant to soothe, the lighting both low and bright by way of recessed placement and many skylights. Plants were in multiple nooks, arranged with smooth gray stones easy to the eye and soft water features. Emeel pointed out various wings and directions of amenities, particularly indicating an outdoor pool deck that overlooked a quiet garden of Selenian tropicals. Every other room had a station with small hand towels and a water dispenser with small cups, cut cucumbers or mint and lemon and orange floating in the clear liquid.
“Important to stay hydrated,” Emeel elaborated once more as if giving them a special secret. “Deep tissue massages release a lot of those chemicals all trapped in your muscles, and most of our treatments involve higher temperatures, whether it’s the hot rocks – best. thing. ever, by the way – or hot water. Make sure you’re sipping between any other drinks! Now, right this way we’ll get to the changing rooms…you can stay in your clothes if you like, but we’ve also got robes, towels, and those disposable flippy flops on hand…”
Emeel kept walking, and Cora piped up, obviously conversationally, “So you both like manipedis? They’re a favorite for me. My big sister Angie and I used to do each other’s whenever one of us had a bad day.”
“I like them simply because I can never seem to get the right angle to trim my own nails,” Keira chuckled, though her attention was somewhat split with the passing scenery. Every so often she would prod her wife and point at one thing or another.
Qyreia seemed less enthused. “I don’t generally do things with other people touching me. Besides, I did so much walking growing up, I’ve gotten used to calluses.”
“And yours aren’t even that bad. I saw this video on YouHolo…”
“Babe, I don’t think anyone wants to hear about the callus-shaving vids phase.”
Keira rolled her eyes, smiling all the same. “Well. Your feet are still lovely to me.”
If either Cora or Emeel felt any cringe about mention of foot videos, they didn’t show it; an alike sort, nobles and savvy customer service staff. Both good at controlling their expressions.
“Ruka’s the same way,” the Pantoran commented sympathetically to Qyreia. “As you know, I’m sure. I can never get him to come with me, but that’s alright. We just do things at home. But unlike his silly butt, I can’t do my own right hand either, Kiera. So I still like to come get pampered, and Leda loved it once we got her to trying. Goodness, she was shaking and crying so much the first time, but everyone was so patient. That’s why I like it here.”
The Zeltron looked at him curiously. “You can’t groom your right hand? Why’s that?”
Cora held up said hand, wiggling his fingers. “I’m stupidly right-handed. Trying to paint my nails with my left looks like an utter mess, I tell you. Angie always did that one for me, and vice versa.”
“Who is Angie?” Keira asked as they rounded a bend in the hall. “You’ve mentioned her a few times now.”
“Sister I think?” the Zeltron offered, trying to recall the family conversations at the Ya’ir abode.
The Pantoran’s expression somehow turned up even more megawatts at that, and his next step was all but skipping. “Yes! My sister, and best friend. Angelica. I’ve two sisters, both older, her and Lucretia. Angie and I were always closer, perhaps because she was a bit closer in age – I was my mother’s baby – but we also just shared more ideals.” His smile dimmed slightly, then, into something longing. The Zeltron would sense the ache of an old, scabbed-over hurt in his next words. And a bit of shame. “She was the only one who supported Ru and I for a long time. I actually think you’d like each other a lot if you ever come with us to Kiast for Life Day. Provided she actually took time off, at least.”
“I think that would be a lot of fun!” Keira beamed. “It might have to be offset a little. Qyreia takes Life Day with her family very seriously, as you well know.”
Memories of Ruka and mistletoe filled Qyreia’s mind, but rather than the fluster that once imposed, it merely made her feel uncomfortable. That, and the prospect of Kiast was particularly low on her list, given what she knew about the stark class stratification from her time working with Odan-Urr.
It made her response surprisingly lackluster. “We’ll see. I make no promises.”
Keira recognized the emotional dip, however consciously muted by the Zeltron, and gave her a concerned expression. ’Are you alright?’
’Just don’t ask. Not right now.’
The exchange was over almost before it began, and Keira promptly resumed her attention on Cora and the impending pampering. “Now, I may be reaching a little, but does this spa have… what’s the term they use…? When the masseuse performs extra services.”
Qyreia outright flustered. “Keira! Don’t be asking about ‘happy endings’, for godssake.”
Corazon flushed too, going from his typical powder blue to roughly lilac in about six seconds. “A-hah-hem, no-no, ah, I’m afraid this is not…that sort of spa. I am not entirely certain, ahem, the Selenians have such somewhere here…”
A few steps ahead, Emeel was very obviously pretending he hadn’t heard the question. He flourished a hand at a doorway on their right.
“Here we are. Changing rooms. Use any you like as you like! There’s lockers for your bags too. Mister Cora, I’ll be just back with some menus while you all get settled.”
With that the Selenian bustled off. As the awkward distraction of Kiera’s lewd comment fizzled, the Pantoran’s golden eyes lingered on the Zeltron. Though he was smiling, it looked…oddly sad and knowing.
“No obligation, of course,” he said softly. “The invitation will always stand. You three are family.”
Turning, Cora indicated the doorway and hefted his heavy, expensive bag. “I’ll just put these up, change, and be back in a tickeroo.”
“What’re we changing into again?” Keira asked, already over the flash of embarrassment from her earlier question.
“Robes, I think?” The Zeltron looked to their host for help. “Not sure how comfortable they expect us to get in here.”
“Robes,” Cora confirmed. “Or you can stay in your clothes. Whichever is more comfortable. The massage rooms are private, and so generally they undress you in parts while they cover you otherwise.”
“Just robes then,” Keira confirmed. “I’ll be right back then.”
As she sauntered away into the changing room, Qyreia lingered in the lobby, looking unsure despite her consciously muted emotions. Clearly this was a situation where she wasn’t here for herself. Before Keira could reappear though, or Cora could ask any questions, she huffed and went into her own changing stall.
The Pantoran looked after her with another soft sigh but went on his way, himself breezily changing in the familiar territory. He was out in moments, his summery fashion, jewelry, accessories, and bag all stowed, leaving him in a thick cream robe that swallowed his dancer’s frame and made him look even smaller, his already-painted toes wiggling daintily into a very thin soft plastic material of a spa flip flop. He carried an extra towel with him, hugging it to his chest, and stood waiting, doing toe-lifts and two-steps.
Ruka’s smile flashed in his mind’s eye. Staring at him. Teasing about how Cora didn’t fidget like a normal person, but did ballet stretches instead, and how much he loved that quirk. It was a comforting thought as he awaited the ladies.
His female companions for the endeavor were out almost simultaneously and, whether erroneously or not, seeming to be only in their provisioned robes. Keira seemed excited by the prospect — a sense of liberation filling the air if not evident on her face — while he wife’s face burned a deeper shade of red, and it was hard to tell if her robe could possibly be tied any tighter.
“Feet and hands time? And do they do foot massages? Because I have a knot that even Q couldn’t get out.”
Qyreia merely blew a huff of air at the thick swatch of blue that hung over her face in reply. Apparently the knot had been a point of contentious pride even before the invitation to the spa.
“You look cozy in your robe. I feel like mine is thin by comparison.” As if to cement the point, Keira fussed with the front, ensuring it covered at least the better part of her bust.
“Yes, they’ll do foot massages. Absolutely get the citrus and the hot rocks. To die for.” He looked to Kiera briefly. “Do you need a bigger size, perhaps? Or a thicker one? They have some in case people get cold easily.” Corazon asked, and then extended the towel he held towards Qyreia like a peace offering. “Here, if you want it.”
“I’ve already got mine,” the Zeltron said, flapping the tail end of the one hidden under her arm.
“Oh, mine fits well enough. Perhaps I’m just not used to robes. Our lounging clothes are effectively our pajamas.”
Truly, if Cora was outsized by his robe, the women seemed to fit theirs well, though Keira had more shapely distribution of body mass that likely aided her. Qyreia by comparison seemed more apt toward practical application, much like the attire Cora was used to seeing her in, save for the sweater Ruka insisted she keep that she utterly swam in.
“Okay, well, it’s extra just in case things feel drafty at all,” the Pantoran said with aplomb, and then started down the hall back the direction they’d come, not truly needing their guide. “They do tend to feel a tad bit airier than most other ware, though I’m quite used to similar. Dressing gowns, nightgowns, and such. And actual dresses, of course. But those all come with undergarments.”
He led them to turn into a room with a glass door and glass walls, heavy wooden slatted curtains drawn over the outer wall to provide a mix of shaded, quiet privacy and glimpses of sky and greenery and light. The wide room was partially partitioned by low half walls, the smaller front having desks for nail appointments only and the larger back housing large, incredibly padded-looking chairs with deep basins in front of them. There was no one present, but Corazon seemed to take that in stride, moving promptly for a leth of three spa chairs at the back that all had small tables and menus set up beside them, water glasses waiting, candles and small flowers set beside them. The walls up front bore heavy shelves crammed with every color of nail polish seemingly available, some metallic, others glittery, and some, to Qyreia and Corazon’s eyes, just clear or murky bottles; to Kiera’s, it was more color still. The room generally held the same atmosphere as the rest, soothing neutrals, plant life, water, and the softest, faintest music somewhere issued, a low tinkling interspersed by the occasional hum of gong.
The room was a grand distraction from the “airy” comment, as Qyreia was far too acutely aware of just how much breeze the robe offered. So while Keira seemed to dabble her senses into everything about them, the Zeltron simply contented herself on taking in the peace of the room, seemingly happy that it was empty, in a way.
“So,” Keira chimed as she looked over the nail polishes, “what does our resident expert suggest we do? Do we just grab a bottle and see what happens?”
“If you like! That’s always an adventure. I tend to pair with the season’s fashion or particular outfits myself for an occasion.” Cora settled his towel in one chair, leaving the two closest to each other for the couple to decide who’d sit catty-corn to him, and then danced – literally, they were ballet steps – over to one shelf. “Do you have a favorite color, Miss Kiera?”
“Ah… hm…”
The half-Firrereo’s pale eyes flitted from the paints to her wife, either not wanting to seem too obtuse with her selection, or not somehow not offend by not. The expression was hard to gauge.
“I have several, though with my color scheme being what it is,” she motioned with a gentle toss of her deep black hair, “I find something like lavender works fairly often.”
Another glance to her wife who, seemingly for the first time this trip, actually managed to crack a smirk.
“Oh, lavender is very lovely,” Corazon agreed, humming a bit. “Your skin is such a gorgeous porcelain though, and with the dark hair, you can really work with anything. Cool colors may match your eyes better, but anything bold is a statement. Myself? All those beautiful blues are just right out, unless it’s a very dark navy, or something nearly silver.” His sigh was forlorn as he pressed a hand to his cheek. “Greens too, very tricky, because the combination just becomes garish if it’s too saturated. A shame, really, because it would be so adorable to do more greens just to match my darlings, like how our crystals are for each other, but it’s only a cute idea. You stick me in a lime-green brocade vest and I look like a paint spill disaster. Most of the time, I trend towards warm tones for a contrast, or just go with pinks and yellows. Natural compliments, with my hair and eyes. It’s the curse of being a pastel-palletted species.”
The Pantoran looked to Qyreia’s smirk then, as if for some sympathy.
Her smirk turned to a grimace, if still somewhat sympathetic, as she flashed her hands. Short-trimmed and unadorned nails. This particular Zeltron was not one for the things Cora craved, so her solidarity was limited in its scope.
“Leda has probably done my nails in the last couple years more than I have in my whole life.”
Cora merely flashed a smile at her, undetered. “Well, we appreciate your adventurousness with us. I know she’s loved spending the time with you. And I appreciate you coming today.” He turned back to the wall of polish. “Hmm…you don’t have to paint them, if you don’t want to. I know you prefer a more militant look. But it could be a little bit fun to just do your toes. Then it’s like a surprise just for you, see? Walking around at home or taking a shower and oh, there’s that pop of color you don’t expect! And then you think about the nice time you had! Or just enjoy that it’s pretty. Those things can be… nice, no?”
He two-stepped over to another shelf, humming.
“Something solid and unrepentant might do for you. Just pure white or black. I’m thinking perhaps I’ll go this nice sunshiney one today myself…”
He plucked a violently happy bottle from a myriad of yellows and oranges, turning it over and giggling at the words on the bottom.
“Tangy Tanjeelroo! I still have no idea what that is, except one of their mimosa flavors…a Selenian citrus maybe? Either way, excellent.”
“Militant look?” the Zeltron mouthed to her wife, not sure if it was a veiled insult.
Keira shrugged. “I don’t know.”
There was a brief flurry of motion and angry silent words, only for the pair to hurriedly resume their original postures as the Pantoran turned back around. Qyreia’s lips were perhaps pressed a little too tightly together, and Keira’s eyes perhaps too averted toward the polishes. She vainly tried to distract by motioning a bottle forth to her waiting fingers. She held it up for assessment.
“Metallic purple? I’d say electric, but not sure that’s actually a thing.”
“It actually is, hehe, those more neon ones there…” He pointed to some bottles of purple that seemed a shade that shouldn’t exist, almost aching to the eyes. But it was a half-hearted gesture, his own gaze focused between the Zeltron and her wife, gauging body language and general mood. “Pardon me, is something wrong?” His brows creased, and he folded both arms behind his back, assuming a more proper posture by default. “Too much color theory? Or have I offended?” He replayed the previous two minutes of conversation. “Am I being too pushy? Was it the comment on your preferences? I apologize, Qyreia, I will do better…”
’…the worst of its violent and fearful impulses.’
Cora’s old words echoes in the back of the Zeltron’s head — the words he’d used to describe her attitude and how it would land with Arcona. And then the offhanded comment about being ‘militant’. Am I really just some sort of goddamn knuckle-dragging grunt to Sir Noblesse here? Her hands quietly balled into fists under her robe, and she bit back all the bile that was forming in her extensive lexicon.
“I’m fine. Just impatient. That’s all.”
Keira looked at her Zeltron skeptically. ‘Dear, that wasn’t even remotely convincing if you were trying to be.’
‘It’s that or I say what’s really on my mind.’
Keira’s lips pursed thoughtfully as she relented. This was going to be a stressful trip of relaxation. “I think some word choices are best avoided, yes. But I’m not entirely in disagreement. Shouldn’t there be… people? For the manicures and the like?”
Corazon didn’t need to know Qyreia even the slightest to have understood just how much of a lie that was or that he was being rebuffed completely. He stared at her, trying to convey that she could speak up, but sighed softly and decided to relent to Keira’s attempt at a segue.
“Alright, you don’t need to tell me what is bothering you, but I hope you know that you can say if you want to, at any point in the future, and I will not hold it against you. I want to make repairs between us…perhaps even an actual friendship one day…and I cannot do that if we are dishonest or worse just…don’t even try.” He held up a hand. “I’m not saying you’re not trying, mind you, Qyreia, please. I recognize and truly appreciate just how much of you even being here right now is really trying. And I want to thank you for that. So we can be ‘fine’ today. And perhaps sometime, we’ll get to a place where you can tell me what I do that’s upsetting and I can say I’m sorry then too.”
Speech given, he held his stare a little bit longer before turning to Kiera.
“I’m sure Kaore and Meesi will be along soon enough… Though what’s keeping Emeel, I haven’t the faintest. Especially since there won’t be other guests after us. But, ah well, we can sit down and get settled at least.”
“I thought they were just the masseuses,” Keira pondered, noting how the Zeltron quietly took the furthest seat down to stare at the little waterfall garden window. “I suppose I expected more staff for the other tasks.”
“They specialize in as much, absolutely, and there are other staff,” Cora replied, lingering by the racks with Keira and watching the Zeltron sit. A little more quietly, he added, “I asked ahead that we see as few people as possible and booked out the evening. I thought it might be less…so much for her, that way. But I can go and fetch a staff member and get us seen to right away by anyone else. They’re all lovely.”
“A thoughtful gesture, Cora, but if you’ll excuse my possible rudeness in saying so. We came to get pampered and instead are just…” She motioned to the otherwise empty room. “…standing around. So even for Qyreia…”
“Who can still hear you talking about her like she’s not here.”
Keira winced but continued, “…rather than overwhelming, she’s got the polar opposite.”
“Nothing rude in correcting a mistake, Keira,” the Pantoran assured. He set his chosen polish aside. “And apologies, Qyreia. I’ll be just back with someone.”
Cora promptly strode out the door they’d come in, leaving the couple alone for a few moments.
Keira sighed almost as soon as Cora was out the door and looked at her Zeltron. “Well that went swimmingly.”
“I am trying, I swear,” Qyreia said, tossing her head back in the chair.
“Well you’re at least managing to keep from giving him a tongue lashing.” Keira strode to the chair as much as the flip-flops would allow her to stride and stood over the Zeltron.
“I’m honestly here more for you than me anyway.”
“This is supposed to help make amends with you though.”
“Where I come from, you don’t buy apologies. This isn’t him making amends.”
“It might be how he does it.”
“Well fantastic for him, Keira. But I’m not him.”
“I’m aware.” She reached down to touch the blue locks, the pressure and stroke of her fingers against the scalp somehow cowing the Zeltron’s emotional state. “And I’m not saying he’s right, or that I don’t understand why it was better that you bite your tongue rather than speak. Because I know you.”
The tender jab forced an unwanted smile from her red skinned wife, and when she tried to swat the hand away, Keira swatted back. The brief and ineffectual tussle quickly subsided and devolved as Keira leaned down to cradle Qyreia’s head to her chest. The Zeltron’s eyes closed and she let herself get lost in the moment, away from her earlier anxieties.
“We can always leave if you want.”
“No,” Qyreia softly groaned. “You deserve this. If I have to bite my tongue until tomorrow morning, I will.”
“Much as I appreciate the sentiment, I’d rather you save that tongue of yours. I rather like it.”
“Mh, don’t I know it.”
Keira gave the Zeltron a playful slap. “Hush. They’re on their way back.”
Just so, a quartet of staff members followed behind Corazon as the Pantoran glided back through the door, even on papery flip flops that would trip anyone. One was Emeel, bearing several menus and a slightly flustered expression, while the other three were of a mixed nature; two Selenians, a man and a woman, and another woman, this one looking more like a Twi'lek, but with very short lekku, ears, and familiar skin stripes. Three Selenians, really, one could assume.
Cora took the remaining seat furthest from Qyreia, leaving Keira’s place between them, and Emeel started passing out several laminated menus to the ladies: one was for food and drink options, back and front, while another listed manicure and pedicure packages, waxings, facials and eyebrow treatments. A third was for body massages, and a fourth for various other treatments: mud bathes, milk bathes, acupuncture, steam rooms and saunas, guided meditation, the like. A cleansing ceremony was listed, noted to be uniquely Selenian in experience.
“Sorry to keep you waiting!” Emeel bustled, apologetic. “I thought you might like more time…ahem, this is Sura'ishurkalo,” the Twi'lek hybrid waved, her name tag reading SURA in yellow paint that nearly matched her skin, with tiny trees and waves drawn around it, “Marc, and Pomu.” The others nodded. “They’ll be taking care of you today. I know it’s a lot, so if you want to start with some drinks or snacks before you get into the other stuff, I can get that started for you real quick.”
“I think we’re very likely to start with some drinks…” Cora began, glancing at his companions. “Do either of you fancy mimosas?”
“Sounds just fine. Qyreia?”
The Zeltron, bereft of her comfort now that Keira was sat down in a separate chair, at least attempted cordiality. “Sure, I’ll take one.”
Cora turned back to Emeel, himself handing back his menus, at least. “We’ll have a pitcher of the Tanjeelroo to start. And maybe some canapes.” To the ladies, “If I have even a drop without something in my tummy, I will end up sideways on you two.”
“Sure thing!” Emeel took back the items and hurried off, evidently happy to have a task after their collective fumble. Left to the spa staff, it was Sura who spoke up first.
“Hi there,” she said, softly accented, something Selenian mixed with what the Zeltron spacer’s ears might recognize as more Outer Rim. “I’m Sura, nice to meet you all. Are we celebrating something?”
Her short lekku swayed behind her as she spoke, walking over to take a seat on one of the padded rolling stools in front of Qyreia. Marc sat down in front of Keira, and Pomu with Cora. All three began filling the basins with hot water, dumping in some oils and powders as they did so and testing for temperature.
Qyreia looked pointedly at her wife. Dont make me answer that question. Clearly the Zeltron was still opting for silence over honest discourse for the sake of propriety; or at least what she could manage of it in just a robe and thin sandals.
Keira measured her words accordingly. “Mister Ya’ir here invited us to a day trip to the spa. Lots of long hours lately, so it seemed like a good idea.”
Sura smiled back at them. “Hard workers, huh? That’s what we’re here for, a reprieve from stress, hopefully! Do you jobs keep you on your feet a lot? Or desk work?” She raised an arm and made a fist to flex it, winking. “We’ll get any knots out of your feet, promise, stronger than we look.”
Pomu said something quickly in Selenian, a breath of laughter, and added in a heavier accent, “Will take care of you, mommies. Nice to meet you finally.”
“Yeah,” Sura chirped, lowering her arm and stirring Qyreia’s foot bath, testing again. “Okay, see how you like that. Hotter? Too hot?”
“I’m not sure you could do ‘too hot’ for her,” Keira chuckled.
Qyreia narrowed her eyes at her wife and playfully but briefly stuck out her tongue. She tested it with a toe, first with a hesitant dip, then a more prolonged exposure. “Honestly I could go hotter, but whatever is comfortable for you.”
“Told you.” Keira’s smug grin was met by more sneering, which only amused her more. She tested her own with a finger. “That’s perfect… Pomu was it?”
“Hotter it is,” Sure chuckled, turning a knob below. “Don’t mind me, I’ll mostly be pulling your feet out one at a time. And none of us feels a thing with these hands anyways.” She wiggled her fingers at the Zeltron, showing plenty of callouses and dry, blunt nail beds, chapping. It seemed fitting against the actually rather solid muscle of her arms. Pomu and Marc’s hands were slightly lighter in shade than the rest of them.
“Mhm,” Pomu herself said to Keira. Marc was settling Cora’s feet onto a towel above their bath, already in the process of removing his current pink nail polish. “Keira and,” she blinked over at the Zeltron, “Qyreia? Have it right?”
“Yeeeup.” Qyreia’s response was somewhat distracted as she watched what Sura was doing rather closely and curiously.
Keira, by contrast, was already leaning back in her seat and enjoying the light and pleasantly scented humidity wafting around her. “And how do you know we’re mothers, hm?” She looked at Cora. “It couldn’t possibly be that our patron has loose lips?”
Corazon blushed a light lavender, clearing his throat delicately, and all three of the staff laughed almost uproariously.
“You’re basically famous to us,” Sura recovered first, having leaned back and been pointing at the knob she turned in indication, showing Qyreia what she was doing with a demonstration of turning and temperature from the spout. “Mister Cora has so many stories, and Miss Leda idolizes you,” this was said with a smile up towards the Zeltron. “It’s always Miss Qyreia that and Ruka-Angel this and oh they’re so amazing. I think I hear more about you than I do about my own friends!”
“Ahem,” Corazon squeaked, closer to magenta now, sinking down a little bit in his robe as though to hide behind the fleece. “When you put it like that…I don’t mean to be indecent…”
Gold eyes flicked more towards the Zeltron in a fearfully abashed manner, though Keira wasn’t left out of the guilty look.
The Zeltron rolled her eyes, but kept fairly quiet, preferring her quiet observations and mental communication with her spouse. “So much for privacy.” Despite her message, she didn’t seem upset. Keira had a hard time parsing it out, and it took a few seconds of abusing the others’ talking to piece together the emotional reaction. Her expression to Cora was, accordingly, one of quiet reassurance. He wasn’t in trouble for this, at least.
“Well I can’t fault Leda, at least.”
Qyreia’s lips hinted at a grin from the comment.
“Though to hear Cora speak so highly comes as something of a surprise.”
The trio looked confused at that one. “Really?” Marc spoke up for the first time. Despite his appearance, his voice was pure spacer; no accent at all. “That’s… alrighty.”
He seemed to find any contradictory statement to his guests either unwise or in direct opposition to his job description, and so just finished removing Cora’s polish and turned to some other things on his cart.
“Well, he speaks very highly of you!” Sura recovered, clapping her hands together pleasantly. “So! Why don’t you look at the options? The citrus is my favorite, but we’ve got plenty of infusions and packages. Oh, and the hot rocks. Never skip the hot rocks.”
For his part, Corazon just looked…disheartened. He was quiet instead of suggesting anything, saying something lowly to Marc that was replied to equally softly, and then the Selenian walked off to some cupboards and began gathering up supplies.
Keira’s gaze lingered on the Pantoran several moments longer before it became clear he was not going to engage the topic further. The opportunity was lost, for the moment at least. She instead turned her attention to Pomu and the selection laid out before her and on the menu.
“I’ve heard nothing but good things from Cora about the citrus and these hot rocks, if that’s alright.”
“Same for me,” Qyreia said as she tested the water again, finding the steaming basin sufficiently hot. “Ooh, yeah, that.”
Everyone smiled at that. “Nice, isn’t it? Citrus and hot rocks it is…” Sura glanced at the piles of menus, then the ladies, then Cora. “Are we thinking three Goddess packages?”
Cora winced a bit at that where he might not normally. It wasn’t anyone’s fault the Arconans had such a negative association with a normal word these days. He was quick to brush past it.
“Yes, that sounds lovely, Surry.”
“Great. Be right back. You enjoy that soak now, we’ve gotta grab the citrus stuff.”
Pomu and Sura moved off for the same cabinets Marc had, even as the man returned with his already collected supplies. At nearly the same time, Emeel reentered, bearing a tray with a glass pitcher of bubbly golden liquid, three fluted glasses, and three small plates, a larger plate piled with small, fancy snacks.
“Annnnd here you go!” chirped the host, pouring glasses and passing them out. Cora was also passed one of the small plates. “Ladies? Who wants some?”
Keira dipped her feet in as bid, unbothered by any word choice and finally feeling able to relax. “Yes Cora, please. That would be…”
“Ahhhahahaaah.”
Keira’s head turned to see the Zeltron finally immersing her feet in the bath, the expression on her face somewhere between pain and mirth. Below her, the red legs stuck into the water with such fresh steam that it was as though the disturbance released even more water vapor.
“You good?”
“S’very hot.”
“Well you did ask for that.”
“Mhm. And now I’m just… acclimating. While it gets to the good part.”
“I don’t quite get the ‘good part’ you do from that volcano.” She took the proffered flute of drink and one of the snacks, leaning back again and reveling.
Emeel crossed over to the Zeltron with the tray. “Oh thank you.” Unlike her wife, Qyreia seemed quite content with leaning forward in her seat, even if it didn’t seem the most comfortable position. She held onto the mimosa, but seemed less interested than in the hot, soothing feeling crawling up her legs.
“Ru’s the same way,” Cora commented, giving a small sigh as he leaned back more similarly to Keira, mimosa dangling dainty in one hand, sinking into his robe. His voice muffled a bit. “Burning hot. I try, I do, but it’s like being a steamed lobster. I think it’s because they hold on to their stress so tight, only melting will let their muscles relax. No, Qyreia?”
The other women returned with their things, and as Emeel finished distributing drinks and food and stepped away, the pedicurists assumed their positions. Marc and Pomu just went about their business, dumping salts of a sort and more oils into the water along with fresh slices of various citrus fruits that released a sudden, bright rush of scent, Sura paused to show the attentive Zeltron each component. She explained as she went, “These are mineral salts from the ocean and volcanic beds, soaked in some other mineral oils. This is palm oil and this is siliskin. We sell it up front. Just helps soften and open those pores. And I think the fruit is self explanatory.”
“You would think so,” the Zeltron practically hummed, “but if I see a whole cucumber instead of in slices, I might question what your plans were.”
Keira just barely avoided aspirating her first sip of the bubbly drink. “And you gave me trouble from what I said?”
Qyreia suddenly felt a pang of guilt. It had been so long since she’d been in the service industry, she forgot even well-meaning jokes didn’t always hit right. “Uhm… yeah. Sorry, Sura. I didn’t mean that.” She lifted her glass. “Think I’ll just shut myself up now.”
Sura gave a little laugh, only a bit awkward. “Thanks, Miss Qyreia, I appreciate that. But no need to shut up unless you want to. It’s pretty good mimosas tho.”
Corazon hummed into his own glass, which was very suddenly half gone. In his own head, he admonished himself, and made certain to eat a canape.
“Did you decide if you wanted polish or not, ladies?” he asked once he’d swallowed and patted napkin to lips.
“I’ll take my metallic purple,” Keira intoned, flitting between snack and drink as though she were a queen. This was the part she was here for.
Qyreia pondered as she sipped quietly at her drink. “I… Sure.” She looked to her caretaker as it were. “But could you pick for me? I give you full creative license. I’m just horrible at that sort of stuff.”
Sura smiled. “Sure thing.” She got up and went over to the polishes, only throwing one assessing look over her shoulder, lekku swaying, before she reached over to a wall of neutrals and selected a sheer white, sparkly metallic silver, and a black. She swayed on back and set the bottles aside, then got to work. “I’m thinking a nice pattern. If you want something really fancy we can get Mister Cora to do it, but I can do pretty good swirls! Hehe.”
Cora tipped his mimosa flute as if saluting. While they spoke, the nail artists got a start on drawing one foot at a time out of its hot bath and buffing, shaping, and clipping at nails, leaving cool smears of various gels on nail beds and applying other substances as they went. All the while the scent of bubbly lemony-orange freshness was strong in the air, inviting one to breathe deep.
“My nails are your canvas. Have at ‘em.”
Despite the assured tone, the Zeltron was still a muted bundle of nerves. Between Cora’s seesaw of whatever he was doing, trying to let Keira just relax, and now feeling bad for a joke, having her nails done and the rest of her pampered just felt… wrong. It was awkward and she didn’t like it Adams he didn’t like that it felt awkward because it shouldn’t. And she did her best to at least put on a neutral face and exude little of her actual emotions.
The mimosa seemingly disappeared far sooner than it should have.
Keira turned in her lounge chair. “So Cora. You said you, what was the phrase, reserved us out for the night? That seems an awful long time just for massages and manicures.” She looked to Pomu. “No offense to what you’re doing of course. It’s lovely.”
Pomu patted the ankle of the foot she worked on as if to say no worries. Qyreia – and Cora’s – glasses were refilled promptly enough in just a pause of the work. The Pantoran turned too in order to answer the woman, his demeanor having softened once more at the edges quite considerably. He was lounging in his chair now.
“I just meant I, mmm, booked out the rest of the sposts for the evening. Evening being. From…now until close, that is, of course. We don’t have to stay all that time obviously or do everything, I just thought you’d like the privacy of the affair, Leda does too, it can get loud sometimes when they’re all booked up, chattering and such, lots more people, awkward when you’re all in robes and don’t know each other, yes?”
“Iiiit’s pretty awkward now,” Qyreia intoned as she watched her handler at work. “Not as awkward as the festival at the Parade Grounds, though.”
The Pantoran squeaked again at that, and where the tips of his ears were visible over his turtling in his robe, they were solidly purple.
Once he was confident in finding his voice, he spoke up again, “I apologize, I really did think you would like it better, I was just trying to make a place for you that would be safe and comfy to relax in.”
The spa staff seemed to be politely pretending not to hear, or just unphased by any sort of personal chatter. It was rather normal from them.
“I don’t think she was accusing anything,” Keira consoled. The mental eye-roll she felt from the Zeltron confirmed her guess. “Merely that, regardless of the, er, population density, that this is an awkward circumstance for us.”
Qyreia shot her finger-gun in confirmation, her face occupied with the mimosa refill.
“Which, even though I’m not so bothered, this is still a unique experience for me. So I’ll apologize now for any other poorly worded, inappropriate questions I might ask.”
“No need to apologize…please, ask away, anything you may want,” Cora managed, seeming to get ahold of himself back from his mimosa and the hurt of the previous commentary that shrieked only in his own mind. He sat up a little more again, clearing his throat and smoothing at his robe as if to make it more presentable. “Is there anything I can do to make it less awkward?”
Keira pointedly looked to the Zeltron who huffed in response as she finished her second round of mimosa.
“Cor, I’m sitting here in nothing but a robe, being manhandled and painted by a stranger — no offense, Sura — for no other reason than ‘because’. Really, this shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone.”
The pale woman gave Cora a glance. “I’m perfectly fine, by the way.”
“Oh shut up.”
All considered, the Pantoran actually seemed placated at that more normal display of the Zeltron’s mood. And the use of his more intimate nickname in particular, one usually only Ruka tossed around, seemed to settle his nerves further. He smiled a little at first into his glass, then wider.
“Very well, then. We’ll just have to do our best to be distracting from that until you’re too relaxed to be bothered anymore.”
“That’s right,” Sura chimed in, patting one red foot as if to indicate offense wasn’t taken. “Just you wait. I’m mostly done trimming here. Then it’s the good stuff.”
And the good stuff it was, as following the clipping of cuticles and shaping of nails, back both feet went into blistering hot water, and then it was on to the Zeltron’s calves, a slow, thorough massaging of lotions and then hot smooth stones pressed firmly and rhthymatically into muscle over and over, kneading.
Where Keira was a visage of contentment, quietly enjoying the fruits of Pomu’s labor, the Zeltron was struggling to stay quiet. The cuticles treatment had her gritting her teeth, and the nail trim had her struggling to avoid being tickled by the Selenian hybrid. But once the massage started, her struggle became one involving use of her lip to bite back her vocalizations. Her calves flexed periodically and unbidden, almost as if the pressure from the striped yellow hands goaded the muscles into revealing more tension to be released.
It was too late for her to lean back to enjoy it. Qyreia had to make due where she was lest she risk exposing her reactions or herself somehow.
“I may not have swollen ankles anymore,” Keira cooed as the hot rocks were worked in behind her knees, “but this is heavenly. We need to get some of these. What do you think?”
“Mhm,” came the reply, struggling to contain the whimper in it.
Corazon himself was all hums of contentment and quiet sighs that sometimes got a little extra breathy in a way that exactly one other person in the room would recognize. He’d taken to snuggling his extra towel by a mimosa and a half, clutching the folded thing like a pillow – or person – and rubbing his cheek in every so often. Marc didn’t seem phased beyond a little bit of a raised brow, nor did the others.
“Best take a class on how to use them first,” Sura grunted on an exhale as she worked a particular knot of cinnamon-skinned muscle. “Or you might– burn yourself. There’s a method – to it.”
Indeed the pedicurists seemed to have a system of sorts, handling the rocks with wetted or lotioned fingers only and periodically dipping their hands in the water between exchanges of a rock gone warm to the air and skin before another fresh, extra heated one replaced it. Pomu, for all her thinness, was deft wiry muscle as she worked over Keira, paying special attention to aforementioned ankles and feet for the recently pregnant woman.
“You hn keep up with that ‘mmethod’, Sura, Imunna owe you a karking drink.”
“She said in front of her wife.”
“And cahn you b-blame me?”
Keira hummed her satisfaction at the latest roll of knuckles in the soft tissue just below her ankle bone. “Mh-no, I guess not.” She looked down at her attendant and the others, noting some of the… muted expressions. “I am curious as to your thoughts, Pomu. You all seem so genuinely quiet. I understand the professionalism, but I’ll admit it is somewhat unnerving.”
“Oh, do not mean to make nervous, mommy,” Pomu said brightly enough with another pat. “Just usually more talk to each other, yes? Don’t be worried about sounds you make either. Normal. Pachuamarc just quiet man! Hehe.”
She stuck at Marc with one foot, since her hands were busy. He shot the ladies look.
“At least I don’t gossip.”
“Why I never.”
Sura laughed. “You a bit, Mama.” Then another grunt of effort. “Miss Qyreia, no offense, are you made of metal? Geez.”
“I warned you they had stressful lives,” Cora sighed, gone melty in his chair. “Qyreia in particular. Even more so lately, and we didn’t think she could get more stressed.”
“They didn’t, mnh, call me Iron Shin for nothing,” Qyreia said through the latest pressure, largely directing it at Sura’s comment with a strained grin.
“She also doesn’t like to stretch after her workouts.” Keira tsked her wife jokingly.
“I’m still pl~enty flexibhle. Hokark. Nhand I like the springy feel when I go for a run.”
“That’s called ‘tension’ and it’s bad for your muscles.”
“I dunno. F-feels pretty good right now.” She cast a glance at the Force user. “Mommy.”
Keira twitched slightly, but the next hot rock had her relaxed again within the next instant. “But, back to the point. What sort of gossip are we talking about?”
“Just silly things,” Sura assured, eyeballing Marc briefly. “He doesn’t actually mean gossip, he just thinks we remember too much about stuff people tell us.”
“Like about someone’s husband. Who I still haven’t gotten hands on.”
The ladies giggled, Pomu more a cackle, and Cora sniffed pointedly and sipped at his drink.
“Just so.”
“Or about these parties you all apparently have. Such things. Or how Miss Leda is doing with things.”
Qyreia quirked a brow despite the deep kneading in her legs. “Seems you all know more than I do these days.”
The lady Force user braced for… something. She wasn’t sure what. For Qyreia to get morose about being left out. For Cora to get apologetic again, or worse defensively accusatory. None of this had quite gone the way she imagined so far. By the same token though, this was their feud to sort out, regardless of how invested they were or weren’t in it. And she could only try so many times to create openings for them to talk.
“Well, it’s understandable, given we haven’t been talking as much…” Cora began, glancing over at Qyreia. “What with, you know, and little Ileta. Ru just about dissolves all,” he fanned at his face, mimicking inarticulate babbling over something cute, and his eyes even produced tears, before he blinked back to his normal self, “every time Keira sends a Holo, you know. Wouldn’t mind more. And the latest with Leda seems to be figuring out whether or not she finds Carr more than cute, you know. It’s…hum.” He let out a groan as Marc pushed at his foot.
“I have no idea who that is. School friend? What happened to the Zeltron boy? Alrun I think.”
“Have you been playing matchmaker without me?” Keira faux gasped.
“They were so cute together, and he didn’t mind the transition thing, and *yes*Iwasmatchmaking.”
Corazon shot them a look over his permanent lilac blush, a tipsy rose on the Pantoran. “She does not need to be match-made, thank you very much, and she won’t be,” his tone took on an edge of steel, a protective parent, before he softened slightly. “Ahh…you…likely don’t mean that in quite the way I know it, apologies for snapping. They did seem quite cute. And she’s very worried about the transition and Carr knowing about it or not or if she has to tell him and how to tell him and…”
Cora flapped a hand.
“Oh, no, by the by, not a school friend. Though he’s looking to enroll in university! He’s Mune Cinteroph’s little brother. The lovely petite white Shistavanen. I have pictures. You’ll see. They’re very adorable. He and Noga and Leda have all become fast friends it seems, the kids are sharing their comics and he’s gotten into some of his own by proxy… They’re teaching him Mirialan, and he goes on and on about technology…I don’t know what happened to Alrun. She hasn’t told either Ru or me, and if Noga knows, he’s not talking. Maybe you’d get it out of her, Qyreia.”
“A… Shistavanen?” Qyreia openly cringed. “Oh boy.”
The reaction got her a few looks from Cora and the pedicurists, who only paused a moment before going back to setting aside hot rocks and getting out more lotions, placing citrus slices up legs, rolling bags of hot wax in their palms and sleeving them like very warm socks, and then wrapping all of that in warm, heavy towels. Then it was onto hand care while feet were left snug and moisturizing, which promised a soon reduced mimosa and snack intake.
Tragic.
Cora, however, was indeed loose of lip from said drinks. He tilted his head. “What’s so bad about that?”
“Crossing the humanoid-species line is outside my capacity,” she replied plainly. “I wish her the best. But… nope. Not going any deeper on this.”
“Probably for the best anyway,” Keira chimed. She was oddly proud that the Zeltron didn’t snap back over Cora’s reaction, though the apparent seesaw effect was now leaning things the other way.
“Who even is Mune anyway?” the Zeltron added quietly.
“Hmm…fair enough,” Cora hummed, and then sighed as his hands started getting pampered. “Mune? They’re, mm, newer to your ranks I suppose. They came from Scholae Palatine about…oh hum ho…six? Seven months ago? They and their husband Caleb. I’m not sure what you’d find useful to know. They’re rather a powerful adept and seer especially, and a strong defender…they have connections to the Master at Arms offices…Lady Atyiru re-married them at our ice cream social! Disaster that that was overall, between all the dramatics and emergencies and…well, you were there, looking after the kids. Thank you again.”
“They?” She looked at Keira quizzically.
“Still a Shistavanen, so unless this Mune person is cohabitating their body with a ghost, I believe it’s a gender thing.”
“Fair.” Qyreia sighed. “See enough aliens, things like that get muddled. Like trying to remember this ice cream social thing.”
The Pantoran gave a shrug that got him a reminder tsk from Marc to mind moving his hands. “Remembering social things is sort of the whole point of me, and you’ve had much more to worry about. If no surprise it doesn’t track. And yes, they being because of their fluid gender. Which I do not mean literally, on the alien species front.” He tilted his head. “Is such not as common as transitioning on Zeltros?”
“Neither is particularly common, Zeltros or otherwise. At least not in my experience. My homeworld is just very welcoming of all comers.”
“Literally, if what your friend said was true about the courtesans.”
“Yeah. Hutts are one of the prime reasons she never went that route.”
Even the Pantoran cringed a little bit at that, though he didn’t exclaim overly. Instead, he just commented, “I am grateful for your world’s welcomeness. And grateful we moved here, even, despite…well. The incidents. Neither of those concepts were welcome on Kiast. At least not in society. I have the occasional night terror about what it might have been like for Leda had we stayed…”
His voice grew morose, gaze going far away, pink brows wrinkling.
“But, ah, happier relaxing things, no? Before I run off rambling. What’s this about your friend?”
“Ourin. You met her at the wedding. Tall, purple hair down to here,” me motioned to her mid-back with her free hand, “and uh… buxom. She contemplated going the professional courtesan route once upon a time.”
“And probably still could if she wanted.”
“Eh, I think she’s pretty set on just working to maintain comfort. Once she’s past modeling prime, she’ll probably end up working for Morine on the admin side.”
Sura seemed to break her professional quiet with her bursting levels of growing curiosity at the offworlder. “And what is ‘past prime’ for modeling?”
Qyreia mulled on it a second, waving her hand thoughtfully. “It depends, but for Zeltrons, some have gone all the way into their fifties before dropping off.”
The Selenian Twi’lek seemed mildly impressed by the statistic, nodding appreciatively for the factoid, but it was Keira’s curious brow that took the stage.
“That some oddly specific knowledge.”
“Ourin is my friend.” She shrugged. “She looked into it once upon a time and we learned vicariously.”
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