Session export: Kasiya Food and Beverage Expo (Daytime)

Usually, Ellisyn was completely out of her element when it came to these social gatherings she was trying to frequent more often, but for once, it was on her home turf. Somewhere she was familiar with.

The Firrerreo wandered through the stalls, a comfortable feeling of familiarity sitting nicely in her heart as she saw a few of the small-time businesses she had helped through some legal issues. She loved seeing her hard work pay off. She started to approach one of said business’s stalls when she caught sight of Erinyes, one of the few people she had the pleasure of calling a friend. The stall would be there all day. It could wait. She made her way over to the Zeltron and started with a friendly

“Erinyes! I’m surprised you’re letting someone else advertise your stuff for once.” <@645466919415054357>

Meat. Fish. Herbs. Spices. Beverages, alcoholic. There was no better way to lure Orson Trent to an event.

The agent, in a suit that would have looked more in place in a senate meeting than a food market, strolled through Food Expo, his eyes glancing over not just the culinary delights, but the female delights too. It was nice to just enjoy an event for what it was – no secret mission, no spying on anyone – just enjoying the food and drink.

There was nothing that attracted the women of Kasiya quite like good food, and good drink. And there was nothing that attracted Orson Trent quite like that which attracted the women of Kasiya. It was nice to be able to enjoy an event for once without any false pretences. He approached a stall with a range of colourful liquids in store, and went about ordering a sample of their finest.

Elly did the same, hugging Erinyes and laughing softly “Well I couldn’t miss something you’re hosting, that would just be rude” she released the entrepreneur and smiled “Besides, you know I can’t resist good food, especially good meat.”

“Holmes and streetfood? Sounds perfect. I’ll definitely be staying atound for that” she assured “But I can’t say I ever made it to Shanjiaoxia. Had some talks with people from there though, heard they’ve got some good stuff.” Elly followed towards the vendors, her nose plenty happy with what she smelt. “I suppose you’ve had to visit just about everywhere haven’t you?”

Leena looked over at the man, an eyebrow arching. “Was that your stomach?”

Muz tilted his head at her as the shuttle spun down for it’s final approach, the fair in view of the cockpit. It was good to go hungry to these sorts of events, but not too hungry. You wouldn’t want your judgement to be clouded, after all. At least, if you believed his chef, who normally would have been the one to make this sort of trip. Muz shifted his weight, moving back toward the ramp as the ship lowered itself gently to the pad, comms chattering between the Nihilgenia pilot and the Ektrosis tower.

Leena followed the man, adjusting her cropped jacket. This was the third ‘mission’ she had been sent to in Brotherhood space, and while it did get easier, it was still awkward for her. Perhaps he had been right, that iteration would help. But that didn’t explain why he was there. “Why isn’t Sim doing this, again?”

The images flew into her head, quick glimpses taken from the Lord’s recent memory of the Chef barking at his crew, piles of prepped vegetables and the sounds of a hectic kitchen. Then, rapid-fire instants of a wrapped gift, deep cerulean eyes, long auburn hair, a silver crescent moon on a chain. Leena smiled. This was for something special. For his bride.

Sunlight poured through the opening ramp and Leena shielded her eyes for a moment, briefly debating sliding her goggles on before her irises adjusted. Even here, at this distance, the smells of food rose above the steam and fuel of the landing zone. She took a deep breath and smiled at him. Today was going to be a good day.

Orson returned the smile with a casual tilt of his head, taking a moment to peruse the bottles lined up like colorful soldiers behind the bar. “I’m in the mood for something local. Anything you recommend?”

Draca slumped against one of the many posts that had been erected in the Ektrosis Waterfront area. Why did it have to be him? Why did he agree to this in the first place?

He wasn’t part of the Taldryan Republic. Not officially, anyways. Anders had made sure to keep him off the radar of any group or organisation that could take advantage of him.

Still, when you were Taldryan’s acting Spymaster, there were strings and favours that could be pulled.

So, here he was, feeling the cold chill in the air whilst listening to the hustle and bustle of everyday Port Kasiya life. He could smell the intoxicating aroma of food being served and here he was working as security because Anders needed a favour.

He sighed. The promise of free, unlimited ice cream would be worth it when his shift was over. He could practically taste it. Everything tasted better when you worked for it.

Or at least that’s what he told himself to get through the next few hours.

Seeing and sensing nothing suspicious, he tookma moment and retrieved his datapad. The home screen displayed the image of him and Melissa at the party back on Selen. Their first date. It meant so much to him to have someone like her in his life.

He smiled. He missed the sound of her voice and laughter. It was a shame she couldn’t come. It’d at least give him someone to talk to to get him through the rest of his shift.

He flicked to a game, the latest podracing game with motion controls.

Motion.

Controls!

He could play a couple of races before he went on his patrol again. Nothing bad was going to happen, right?

“A double measure, please,” said Orson as she reached for the bottle. Tsiraki and tonic - simple but a classic. The bartender was right, they had got the blend just right. Orson felt the warmth of the tsiraki. “The consul has good taste.”

“I’ll have to visit before I leave for good then” Elly replied.

The woman was no stranger to lines and didn’t mind waiting, especially when she had company. When it was finally their turn to order, Elly’s mouth was watering almost immediately. She knew if she didn’t make a split second decision she’d be there trying to figure it out for hours

“I’ll have what she’s having” Elly said, reaching into her jacket for creds.

Elly was exceptionally satisfied with the skewer in her hands, enjoying the silent moments she spent with Erinyes as they just walked and ate.

She looked down at Erinyes when she was addressed “I’d love to. If you’re sure I wouldn’t be imposing of course.”

While color and light flashed across the screen, pinwheeling a view out a viewport down a gritty, neon Nar Shadda racing ring, Draca twisted the datapad back and forth to steer. One lap, two, dodging a Gamorrean’s modified flamethrower on the wings…

“Working hard, ay?”

The voice came from directly beside him.

Draca’s eyes widened, his hearts nearly leaping out of his throat. He knew that voice.

It was like lightning had shot up his spine. He fumbled with the datapad in his hand. Left, right, left, right. He almost had it until he finally dropped it. The datapad jumped out of the game he was playing and into the home screen, yet another picture of himself and Melissa.

The datapad landed between them. Draca’s gaze turned the ever judging eyes of one of Melissa’s adopted fathers.

“Hi, sir. Mr Tenbriss Ya-Ir, sir! How are-How are you?”

And invisible hand caught the pad and inch above the ground, not letting the precious screen crack. The game’s music and sound effects continued to blare, crashing noises and exciting tunes, as it floated back up and landed in Ruka’s waiting hand.

All while he stared right at Draca.

“Doin’ okay,” the Mirialan Master answered plainly, thick, scar broken brows furrowed (in probably judgement) as he looked pointedly between Draca and the faire around them. “Just giving some folks a ride here. Take ‘em back when the night’s out and they ain’t seein’ straight.”

Ruka as the designated driver to a bunch of the Clan “kids”: surprising no one.

“Heard from Anderson you were on security duty. Thought I’d come find you, say hi, ay.”

Wait, Anders knew Ruka was here? Of course he knew. He was the Taldryan Spymaster, of course he bloody knew! He didn’t tell him on purpose! He was probably watching this entire scene go down with an amused smile on his face.

‘Curse you Anders for not telling me!’

“I am,” Draca straightened his posture. He towered over Ruka, admittedly, not that it made the man any less intimidating to him. “I didn’t see anything wrong on my last patrol so…”

“So…?” Ruka prompted wherever that explanation was going, looking up at the young Zabrak but seeming no more moved for it.

“I thought… maybe.. I dunno,” damn, those eyes were intense. “I could take a few minutes?”

“A few minutes,” the Mirialan echoed, flat, and offered the pad back to Draca, his game now sitting idle and dim on the [YOU LOST] screen. “Yeah, ay. Makes total sense. I’ll leave you to it, ay?”

Evelyn double checked some things on her datapad. So she needed to return tomorrow for her shift. She turned off the datapad and slipped it into her back pocket. The Hybrid glanced around with her emerald hues, she loved the faire. Especially when Aketa was with her, Aketa was always the cook so she would buy weird things just to experiment. Evelyn missed the little bickers they would have in how much Aketa was getting. The corner of her lips curved upwards in a small smile.

Ninety percent of the time, Aketa’s experiments, somehow turned out phenomenal and great. Ever since she died, Evelyn tried to cook but she learned that it wasn’t her strength. Piloting and tailoring was. Not cooking.

The pilot made her way over to the bar first, figured she could ask around to find some good wine booths. She stood beside a male she had never met who was enjoying his drink.

“Good day,” Evelyn spoke to the bartender. “I would love to hear your suggestions for your wines.”

<@339758862406254592> <@645466919415054357>

“Aww…”

Draca stared at the [YOU LOST] screen. He had been trying to beat that level for days and was finally getting somewhere with that.

Oh, well. He could try again later. Best not further disappoint Ruka any more than he already had.

He took the datapad from the Miralian as the game timed out, turning back to the home screen and the picture of Draca and Melissa plain for him to see.

Amethyst eyes softened a bit at the edges, seeing the picture. Even if said picture was the reason he was being so particular, not that he’d ever be happy to see someone on an important duty slacking.

But Draca was just a kid. Regardless of how old he was or what he’d been through. He was still young, and deserved to enjoy life. Games and girlfriends and all.

“Where’s your route?” the Mirialan asked, looking around nearby them. “It go by any of those ice cream stands? We can grab you one. Keep up your energy.”

He added a smirk.

Right there, right then, in that particular moment as Draca’s eyes sparkled and his face lit up, Ruka became his favourite person in the entire galaxy.

“It does now!” Draca smiled back, starting to walk towards the nearest ice cream stand.

Anders’ rules be damned. This was a matter of sustenance! Sweet, sweet, ice cream-y sustenance.

It dawned on Draca that this was the first time he and Ruka had interacted. Alone.

“It is good to see you again,” Draca said, politely. He always remembered his manners. “I don’t think we’ve had much chance to talk. How did you and Mr Cora meet?”

Crisp air currents carried the smell of roasting meat from the stall, a man tending to the food as it rotated above an open flame in the distance, beyond the worker stations at the landing zones. Muz wasted little time walking in a direct line, measured and steady steps toward the source of the smell. Leena broke from him briefly, stopping at the desk where a human worked records and registration.

She tossed a few credit chits down, leaning in close as she gave the shuttles serial and designation. The guy looked up at her, flashing a brief smile as Muz moved past the checkpoint behind her. “Hey, you’re not…”

Leena’s eyebrow went up in mirth. “I’m here for that. VIP or whatever you want to mark it down as.”

The man looked unamused. He’d had to deal with dignitaries and the like before. Always thinking that the rules didn’t apply to them. “What’s the name that it’s under?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” She half laughed as her Lekku waggled at the thought. “Run the serial and you’ll see.” She reached into her hip pocket again, and tossed some more dosh down. She watched his eyes as the datapad told him. “We good?”

He nodded slowly, then looked up at her, wide eyed. She smiled, gave a little curtsy and bolted off, jogging to catch up with the Lord. The man was hungry, and when that drew deep enough, it would turn to single-mindedness. It was best to just tag along, not that she could stop him if she tried.

Credits were placed down on the counter and a chunk of meat, still on the bone, was issued in return. Muz took it, staring at it with black eyes for a moment before bringing it to his mouth.

Leena straightened, seeing a scarlet haired Zeltron and an exceptionally tall woman with bronze skin headed their way. What was she, besides tall? Leena chuckled. Half of everyone in Brotherhood space was ridiculously tall, she wondered how they didn’t get their necks cramped on starships.

Incoming. Friends of yours? Her mind touched Muz’s, eyes darting from his to the direction they were coming from. His black pools didn’t move from her, just blinked slowly as he felt along the tapestry of the universe.

One is. His response bounced around in her head a bit before he turned to look, mopping at his mouth with a napkin. <@301514304845381632>

Elly silently followed, tossing an empty skewer away after Erinyes. She was already halfway through her second and continued to chomp as they made their approach. She raised an eyebrow when Erinyes said boss, swallowing her current mouthful.

It does now sure wasn’t a sell for that his patrol area actually included an ice cream stall, but it was fine; Ruka would keep his eyes out just in case anyone got rowdy or hands sticky. The kid could take a break for ice cream.

“You too,” the Mirialan replied, scanning the port grounds as they walked. His breath puffed lightly in the air, small clouds. The question drew his attention away from shepherding slowly, as if he was delayed keying in to it at all from its unexpectedness. “Oh, uh. We met at the Praxeum. The Jedi one. That Odan-Urr made on Kiast when they hid there a few years ago. The Sentinels came around recruitin’ any Force-Sensitives they could find on the planet, cause they needed students right? Or at least soldiers for the wars.” He shrugged. “Well, surprise to all of us, poor folks could be Jedi too. So I ended up invited and so did Cor and…yeah.”

Ruka’s scarred face softened with a small smile.

“He was my light there. Still is.”

“Erinyes.” Muz nodded at the woman, the bass gravel of a largely unused voice undercutting the rattling thrum of his inadvertent telepathy. Had it been two weeks since the Shadow Hand’s announcement? He let half a smile crease his eyes. In any event, he had seen her more in the last month than he had for a decade. “This is Leena'shylow.”

Leena bowed her head a degree at the Proconsul, her lekku sliding from her shoulder. She was grateful. Usually, intorductions involved titles, roles, positions, et cetera. She recalled the ostentacious displays from her younger days on the Nephilim. The sith were keen on being able to pronounce their names with as many words as possible. He knew she preferred that they didn’t know. This friendly banter and socialization would take a decidedly different tone otherwise. He seemed to respect that for her. She smiled. “Please, call me Leena.”

Muz turned his head, looking up at the fanged woman through his brow. “And your friend?”

<@645466919415054357>

“Talk about literally finding the light, am I right?” Draca chuckled at his light-hearted attempt at a small joke.

His smile faded when he recalled Ruka’s comment about the children of war. He still remembered his enclave burning, the purge from the mind of a mad Brotherhood Grand Master, Anders’ betrayal of his trust and then Draca himself joining the Children of Mortis.

Not to mention the fights. By far the biggest issue with having an eidetic memory was recalling flashes of the past. He could relive it all like he was experiencing it all over again if he focused on it too long. Every scratch, punch, kick, swing of a lightsaber and blaster shot by his ear were as vivid as if they happened right now. When did it ever end? Would it?

No.

He couldn’t think like that.

“Be the change you want to see.”

The best he could do was be better. Small steps lead to big things.

Though, he didn’t realise he’d said those words out loud…

“Good, uh …damn there’s a word for that…s'fancy…well, good saying. Yeah. You gotta be. We gotta be,” Ruka agreed, having noted the way Draca had seemed to drift off but not prodding at it. Except to steer the boy a little by the arm when he’d started to walk into some other people. At least they were in line for ice cream now. “It’s a lotta work. And a lotta…little, daily things, I think, how it ends up bein’. And sometimes we gotta not work too hard at it and heal up too. Or get ice cream.”

He gestured ahead of them.

“What you want?”

“Sometimes we don’t get a chance to heal. We move from one fight to the next, but we take solace in the things and people that make us happy. That helps us keep going…”

Draca hung on Ruka’s words…

And then he mentioned ice cream.

Draca was practically salivating at the flavours.

“Strawberry. You gotta have a classic every now and then, you know?”

Ruka regarded Draca seriously then despite the off-beat delight of strawberry he replied with.

“Draca,” the Mirialan began, “I get that. I really do. Look at me.” The emphasis here seemed to be on the scars. The multitude. “And that sounds really true, ay, right? Because life is hard and the galaxy is unfair and awful and we have the power to stop it so we have to where we can, right? But that’s an excuse. Okay? I’ve learned that the hard way. I’ve learned that by hurting the people I love, that make us happy, over and fragging over again, getting myself hurt like that. Because we break. We don’t stop to heal, or ask for help, or rest, we keep going into the fight, and we break. And then the people they love us, they’re the ones left.” He reached out and tapped a gloved finger against Draca’s dark datapad screen. “It’s you choice what you do. But don’t do it and pretend it ain’t an excuse, or pretend that letting yourself go on fighting and fighting, even to do good things and protect people, isn’t still hurting somebody. That’s not balance. It’s just– martyrdom.”

And Cora and Qyreia and his kids and friends were all sure sick of his.

Violet eyes leveled at the young Jedi, indicating for him to think on what was said, while he turned and ordered a triple scoop of strawberry and one cinnamon. It was cold enough melting wouldn’t exactly be a problem for the stack.

“I’m a Jedi, Ruka. Helping people is what I’m supposed to do,” Draca’s thoughts trailed. Could things ever really change? “I don’t want to hurt anyone, most of all Melissa.”

He took the stack of strawberry ice cream. A triple stack!? Ruka must really like him now if he was spoiling him like this!

Go, Draca!

“And I’m not saying not to help people, Draca,” countered the Mirialan, giving a pointed look around the ice cream tower. “And helping people ain’t limited to Jedi. Lots of folks make they whole lives helping people too. And lots of them give their lives for it. The idea here is that you consider your own life, too. So don’t just say ‘sometimes we don’t get a chance to heal’. You gotta make those chances sometimes. Ay, hear me?”

Then he made a sort of go on motion, indicating for the Zabrak to dig in, and started walking back towards Draca’s post.

Orson adjusted his suit as Evelyn approached the bar, making sure everything was neat and tidy as he finished the Consul’s Choice tsiraki and tonic, handing back the drink to the bartender.

“Another of the same, please, but with half a measure of Corellian white and a dash of citrus. Shaken, not stirred.”

“With a title like that I’m glad he isn’t my boss.” Elly said with a chuckle “It’s nice to meet you” she said, unsure which part of his title is his actual name.

<@284848346672136192>

And dig in he did.

Sweet, sweet ice cream. He didn’t care if Anders caught him right now. It was totally worth it. It was clearly made with only the finest and freshest strawberries Kasiya had to offer.

“Mmmm…” he said with a great big smile on his face. Then a thought came through his head. If Ruka was here, then maybe…

“Is Melissa here, by any chance?” Draca asked, a hopeful glint in his brown eyes. “I know she said she probably couldn’t make it but… you know…”

“She’s at home,” the Mirialan replied, sighing slightly at the way his advice seemed to have gone completely by in favor of ice cream. Oh, well. “We always check the climate on destinations. She doesn’t like the cold, so Cora suggested they have a spa day.”

“Not unusual, I fear.” He smiled at her comment, his voice echoing around the inside of her head. “The pleasure is mine.” He paused, clearing his sore throat, deciding if it was an appropriate time to maul the bit of rib meat he held in his hand or not. It was heartening, after all the wreckage, that it seemed that the clans were far more accommodating of each other these days. He had dreamed of it being this way back when… Looking back up, he saw Erinyes watching him.

The images flung quickly into her mind, scenes of glory and of gore, of that day long maligned and derided. It was no one’s finest moment. Of blood and of rage, the memory bled from his mind into hers. The images persisted, Cotelin’s weary face staring down at his own wound, the blackened and cursed flesh reversed by the Lord of the Krath’s rites, the price paid in full by the inadvertent sacrifice of one who had rage that would never be satisfied. Behind it all, Muz stared at Erinyes, waiting for the images to sink in. He wouldn’t have shared, but she was the one who brought it up, after all. She deserved to know the context, at the very least. He did leave them all in the lurch afterward. How exactly that all played out was never really his plan, and now he had to be the one that lived with it.

Forever, it seemed.

Leena recognized the look on his face, borne out of years of experience with the man. Glimpses of it, echoes really, seemed to play out across the Zeltron’s face, and she knew better than to ask all but one question. “How about a good, strong drink?”

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Aylin had her face pressed against one if the big duraglass containers that contained life fish. They were just lazily swimming around while the owner of the stand looked disgusted and annoyed at Aylin.

“Miss, would you mind stopping that. You are scaring away costumers.”

“But they are so pretty and cool,” the Nautolan protested as drool ran down the window.“

"They are just fish. Food!”

“No they aren’t, they are cool.”

The man threw up his arms in frustration, there was just no talking to her. “Gah!”

Draca chuckled, making a mental note to keep some spare cloaks I’d she ever came to visit him here on Kasiya. He remembered during the festival on Selen how quickly the chill began to bother her as the sun set in the distance. He offered her his cloak at that point too.

He was going to need a lot of cloaks…

“That was mine!”

“Frakk you, you stupid piece of bantha fodder! That bantha skewer belonged to me!”

A commotion drew Draca’s attention. A poor food vendor seemed beside herself between two customers who had very clearly had a bit too much to drink before entering the festival.

“Please, gentleman… there’s enough for both of you…” The stall owner looked desperate, like a deer caught in a speeder’s headlights.

Draca’s gaze hardened befite he handed Ruka his ice cream.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Draca said, approaching the situation.

Ruka had already had a scowl in the drunken pair’s direction – midday, no less – when Draca decided it was ready for intervention. He took the ice cream and decided to observe this time.

Draca positioned himself, moving around them first before stepping in-between them and the stall owner.

He placed a hand on their shoulders. “Gentleman, please. I think that’s enough. There’s plenty of food for everyone here at the market. There’s no need to cause a scene.”

“The frakk are you supposed to be!?” The first drunk asked.

The second peered at the badge on Draca’s armor. “Security…” he mumbled.

“Kriffs sake. I’m out of here.”

The first left, though the second? He remained with his arms cross.

“I ain’t leaving without my skewer!”

“But… you haven’t paid…” The stall owner said meekly.

“Sir, you have to pay for your food. These people work hard to bring their produce here,” Draca re-affirmed.

“I SAID GIMME MY DAMN SKEWER!”

The drunken man raised his empty glass to assault the stall owner. She screamed, though Draca could move faster than a blaster bolt when required. He intercepted the bottle, grabbing the drunk man’s wrist before sweeping his legs with a low, spinning kick. The drunk man collapsed to the ground, allowing Draca to pin his arms behind his back.

<@244244163002892288>

“Honestly, I cannot tell if she is hungry, fascinated, or a mixture of both. Miss Sajark, would you kindly refrain from gawking at underwater creatures like you have never seen a drop of water in your life?”

The voice carried an aristocratic lint to it, belonging to Taldryan’s acting Spymaster and wearer of its Elite Taldryanite Battle Armor.

High Inquisitor Anderson, one third of team Red-Green-Blue.

Evelyn scanned Orson’s suit very quickly while he was checking that it was pristine. Those tight threads. The button distance. They might be off by few millimeters. Not like she was going to ask him to take off his suit so she can double check that tailor’s work. Overall, from what she could tell, not bad at all.

Then again, not every tailor has OCD as her late wife liked to bring up. The Twi'lek mentioned two wines and the pilot gave her a friendly smile, “I would love to try Monairaud Demi-Sec, I am a huge fan of emerald wines and bartender choices.” She also felt a bit daring, so she made note to try the Briallina later.

<@645466919415054357>

The Nautolan pulled her face from the window and stared coldly at him and replied just as emotionless. “Mister Anderson, what a not pleasant surprise to see you here. I dare to bet I have seen more water in my life then you ever drank.”

With that she turned back to the tank, “I want the blue one, in a bucket with water.”

The man stared at her for a moment, “Uh… oh, yeah… sure”

He proceeded to rummage around to get a tank to hold the fish in and then fish it out the holding tank. He placed the tank with fish on the table, “That will be 50 credits plus extra for the tank.”

Aylin gave him a stack of credits and nodded. “Thanks! Now I can take Anders home,” she said with a to big grin on her face.

Anders raised a brow. “Oh? Want to take me home, do you? That is rather forward, do you not think?”

He chose to ignore the fact she named the fish Anders instead.

“I am no stranger to water, Miss Sajark. I can only hope that whatever concoctions yourself and Miss Talus are scheming on floor 42 has considerably less glitter and water.”

“You aren’t the correct gender to be even remotely interesting. And as for the glitters, that will only happen if you start to loosen up and smile more and we both know that isn’t going to happen anytime soon.”

With that she took the fishtank of the table and walked off, “Come Anders, we are going to have some fun.”

Anders scoffed and rolled his eyes. Why did Erinyes feel the need to organise this food and drink expo in the first place? Was she trying to show-off? Trying to outdo the Arconans in party-style events? Or was she just obsessed with culinary delights these days?

Well, everyone needed a hobby, he supposed. It was a good thing she was running TEAD, at the very least.

“Indeed, I am always a delight to have around in one form or another,” he smirked at Aylin as her silhouette vanished into the crowd.

After hearing a voice in her head, she just gave Muz a deadpan stare. This was just another reason she had a hard time being comfortable around all these powerful force people, she never knew when they were violating her privacy.

“Next time either ask or stay out if my head.” She hissed, a low growl accompanying her words. She turned to Erinyes “Hopefully we’ll see each other later.” She hastily made her exit, walking away from the pair to find something different to do. <@645466919415054357>

Muz’s eyebrow went up, watching the woman leave, shifting his gaze to the Zeltron and the Twi'lek. Leena sighed, shaking her head slowly. She smiled at Erinyes, a chuckle behind her words. “And to think, this is actually progress.”

Muz tilted his head at her. It wasn’t confusion behind his eyes any more. She met his glare, one of her lekku coiling around the other. “What? It’s true…”

Muz shook his head once, then followed the Zeltron as she moved toward the bar. I have.

If pictures were worth a thousand words, what were memories worth? Experiences? He let a curated few of them flow from his mind into hers. The hours working with pressurized and heated crucibles, concentrating the spirits naturally first, then twisting them into the desired form, stripping away the need for time as he mellowed it forcefully, like taming a beast. The flavor was…something else, but maybe that was just how he tasted things, it was hard to tell. It had a glare of the artificial somehow, a hint of acridity that was less than pleasant. A few moments later, she watched as he disposed of the batch. So it wasn’t just him. Then, another batch, and another, the memories flashing quicker and quicker. Circles transposed from old crystals into the stone, telekinesis on a finer scale than anyone had deigned speak of before, going in and ripping away the harshness and rounding the edges. It was a lengthy and intensive process, but the taste…

<@645466919415054357>

He produced his flask from inside his warcoat, the amber glass and silver decorated in ancient sith runes that whispered in quiet ways beneath the hectic commotion of the people milling about. He mouthed words over it, fingers removing the stopper as he reached out with his mind.

Forty feet away, a bartender watched as a pair of clean rocks glasses that she just washed floated up off of the drying rack and out weaving through the crowd. “What the…do you…” Blinking, she rubbed her eyes. “Hey, Dav, I need to go get another caf. I’m seeing things again.”

The glasses flew into Muz’s orbit, hovering in front of him gently as he poured the golden liquid from the flask. A few ounces later, he offered one of the drams to Erinyes. It was only polite to let her taste it with her own tongue.

Leena rested a hand on her hip, looking at him, expectantly. Closing fingers around the other glass, he raised it toward his lips as he maintained eye contact with her. Waiting to see the half pout on her lips, he changed his motion, chuckling as he handed it in her direction. Raising the flask itself in a toast, he let the smile reach his black eyes. “To progress.”

<@645466919415054357>

Ruka’s brows had raised at the quick escalation and violence towards the merchant, seeming so out of place at a festival. But that was often drunks for you. Draca quickly subdued the guy, and Ruka stepped over, letting telekinesis take their ice creams and making sure the attacker’s head was firmly turned, so he wouldn’t choke if he vomited or anything while Draca had him, and that Draca wasn’t putting any pressure on his back or airways. Satisfied in everyone’s relative safety, rest he left to the Zabrak; he wasn’t in charge here and had no idea how they were running security.

Then there was just the stall keeper. He turned to her. “You okay, ma'am, ay?”

“Y-Yes, thank you…” the stall owner bowed.

Draca lifted the drunk man back to his feet as officers from the KPP swarmed the scene. Draca handed him over, explained what had happened and sent them on their way.

“Sorry about that, sir,” Draca said, rubbing the back of his head. “I wish it didn’t resort to that, but sometimes it can’t be…”

He saw the ice cream just… floating there.

“How are you doing that!?”

Mikhail peered between the lines and stalls of the expo, scanning the people present for one Erinyes. He clutched the head of his cane, using it to traverse the uneven terrain of the field. His other hand constantly checked the strap of a scabbard that hung on his back. He was intent on delivering the finished product personally, to get feedback and hopefully a positive reaction. He had taken longer than usual, but was quite proud of the work he put into it.

Unfortunately, he was having trouble finding the recipient. Trouble that was only exasperated as he found himself drifting more and more towards a few stalls of cooked stuffed dumplings. The smell was not the same he was used to, instead of a hearty savory it was almost a sharp lingering scent.

Fish dumplings.

He was immediately sidetracked after reading the sign. What plan he had been focusing on was shelved so he could eat. When was the last time anyway? Lunch the day prior? Yesterdays Breakfast? Either way, he carefully held a bowl of cream covered fish dumplings. He stared down at them, slowly backing away from the stall as he considered how best to approach them - and if there were any stigmas against utensils here.

The Mirialan Proconsul had more or less stepped aside while the process went on, and had on a faintly grim cast expression as Draca returned to his side with some sheepishness. He was going to comment on the events before the question stalled him.

Broken brows rose again at the sheer excitement in Draca’s tone. He blinked at the boy, glancing down at himself awkwardly before realizing what he was talking about.

“What, that? It’s just telekinesis.” Accordingly, Draca’s cone floated back to him. “Do you and Anderson not do it much? There’s a lot of things I can’t do too, like the important stuff, like healing.”

“We do,it’s just… you make it look so natural. We have to concentrate to do it.”

Draca took a lick out of his cone. Aaaah strawberry…

“Not everyone can be good at everything. That’s why we sometimes have to rely on others as much as they may need our help.”

“Right,” Ruka agreed. “I’m just good at this.”

Which was uncomfortable to say. So he just grimaced then. Ay…

Small talk, go. He could do this these days. He’d picked up plenty from Cora.

“How’s your ice cream?”

Aylin was strolling down the stalls, humming to herself and her new pet. She didn’t care about all the stares she got as she walked on. Then her nose picked up some yummy food and as if hypnotized she walked towards a food stand with skewered shrimps.

Sometimes, the Force just had a way of intervening when it felt like it. Draca saw Ruka’s grimace, and immediately his senses lit up with a myriad of emotions. He ft the self-loathing of a broken man, the disgusting and resentment directed not at anyone but himself. The anger and frustration were palpable to the young Jedi and spoke of a broken man trying to hold it together.

Draca used his own application of telekinesis to bin his ice cream. There was something more important right now.

He grabbed Ruka by his shoulders and pulled him into a gentle embrace.

“You are good. Everyone sees it, even if you don’t.”

“Uh–”

What was it.

With strange people he really barely knew hugging him into their chests and telling him he was worth it.

One was Atyiru, two was a franging pattern.

“Th…anks,” the Mirialan said stiffly, not shoving the kid away by any means, but certainly obviously not all that comfortable being suddenly grabbed and hugged. He leant away while patting twice at Draca’s arm in a sort of…there, there. “I uh. Appreciate. That. Draca.”

Why was this even coming up? Oh Bogan what would Cora or Qyreia do for this? What would he tell the kids? Boundaries. Boundaries.

“Uh, I…it’s okay this time, bud, but I don’t think we’re to the hugging stage…yet. For me. If you need one that’s totally fine, ay. But I’m good. Promise. All good here.”

Elly walked through the stalls of food, moodily chomping down on what was left of he’d skewer. She was trying to focus more on the taste and smell rather than the situation she had just left, leaving her plenty distracted. Distracted enough to bump right into Mikhail as he backed away from the stall.

“Oh, kark! I’m so sorry!” Elly immediately apologized, hoping she hadn’t pushed him too hard. Frustration mixed with her size made for some forceful steps after all.

Draca smiled and nodded. “Sorry, didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, sir.”

He decided to switch topics to try and lighten the mood. “So, a spa day? Do they do that kind of thing often?”

“Cora and Leda do,” Ruka replied, taking a step further away once released to try and resettle of his personal bubble. “They love it. Noga goes sometimes with them if he feels like it, and Mela tends to get kinda bored if they’re there too long and she can’t move around yanno? Gotta hold still to get your nails done. But trying it is fun for her.”

“Yeah, trying new things is always fun for her. I like that though. She makes everything… an adventure, you know? Like your experiencing it for the first time through her eyes,” Draca chuckled. “I still remember her biting ice cream. To this day, I still don’t understand how she does that.”

“She likes the sensation,” the Mirialan supplied, smiling slightly, though his look dared Draca – or anyone – to give her crap for it. “The ‘teeth tingles’. I’m glad, nice she has one good thing that’s cold and ain’t bother her.”

A pause, and violet eyes fixed sideways back on the Zabrak boy as they returned to his post, ice creams discarded.

“So, everything an adventure, huh?”

Draca felt a lump form in his throat. He swallowed to clear it. He intended to answer honestly and that was what he was going to do.

“I like spending time with her. Like, really do. I would never take advantage of her, I promise.”

Mikhail was not prepared for the impact. It was by sheer luck and his cane that he remained standing, unfortunately…

Plup plup plup

The dumplings didn’t make it. Mikhail stared down at the upturned bowl, cringing already at what he knew to be true under it.

Dirty dumplings.

He swallowed and looked up at the woman towering over him. He cleared his throat, then readjusted the sword scabbard that nearly swung around to his front. Blue crystal eyes scanned her face, catching a vague familiarity. “It’s fine, it’s alright.” He gently taps his cane, adjusting his stance to a more comfortable one. “Are you alright?”

He very much doubted she was in any way injured but, formalities.

Elly didn’t notice the dumplings at first, too preoccupied with looking the man over to make sure he was alright. She cursed at herself mentally for not paying attention, getting even more upset when she finally noticed Mikhail’s now ruined meal.

“I’m fine” she answered his question “I’m really sorry about your food though, let me buy you some more.” She hurriedly said, wanting to make up for her mistake

“A fine choice,” said Orson to Evelyn, sipping the improvised cocktail that he had just made up to look somewhat sophisticated, having spent enough time with the suits in the business district to know what the wealthy tend to drink. Fake it til you make it. “The name’s Trent. Orson Trent.”

Violet eyes bore into him, the Mirialan’s arms folding behind his back.

“I’ll hold you to that promise,” he intoned, tone soft, nearly lost in the noise of the waves and crowd. “I don’t think I have to tell you about what I or Cora are capable of if you didn’t. Like ripping any fortress or ship apart at the seams, or severing Force connections.” His look slanted, mildly friendlier now, and his accented voice grew moderate again. “Honest mistakes are different. You’re both going to make those. Not just ‘cause there’s a lot she doesn’t know from exposure, but because you’re both young and 'like, really like’ each other. Just make sure you both ask each other about things, and talk about them, and stop at any point if you’re ever even a little unsure or someone say no. Got it?”

“No no, it’s quite alright. It was my own doing. I shouldn’t back into people.” He offered a calming hand, hoping to quell any guilt she felt. After all, he was the one that blindly stumbled backwards. He then rests both hands on his cane, standing above the tragic scene of wasted dumplings. The few that weren’t trapped under their suffocating styrofoam holster were scattered a few feet away. Alone and abandoned. Soon to be forgotten underfoot no doubt.

Mikhail would get food later, if he could remember to do so.

“I’ve seen you before… another festival? Perhaps a Party?”

“Believe me, Anders makes sure I know everything about what anyone important can do. Melissa and I talk all the time. I have no intention of rushing things. We’ll go at our own pace, whatever she and I are comfortable with.”

Who knew what adventures and hardships awaited them? Who knew what trials and tribulations they would face?

Draca was ready to face it with her. She was worth it.

Though, he had to wonder how much did Ruka know about them getting together in the first place? Would that change what he thought of him?

Meanwhile, a couple more drunk people passed by Draca and those in vicinity, drunken jolly as they took short little chugs on some brown bottles.

Hands on the labels of the bottles, one wouldn’t be able to tell what they contained. One laugh aloud, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you! There was no way to make matters worse!” As the other retorted, “Worse than the dancing droid flinging soap right into Supervisor Alheim’s face? I gotta hear this!”

<@837236610684813342>

“I insist. I know I’d be very upset if someone knocked my food onto the ground. What stall did you get it from?” She asked, her head turning to the variety of food stands.

“And yes, we have met before. That costume party on Selen, we played a game of would you rather. My name is Ellisyn, just in case you forgot.”

Evelyn glanced over to Orson with a friendly smile. She noticed the martini. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Trent. My name is Wyvern, Evelyn Wyvern.” She held out her hand for him to shake.

Draca was torn between doing his duty, answering Ruka, and his loyalty to Anders. What was he going to do!?

“I… erm… ugh…” He stammered, trying to come up with a good response. This was Melissa’s adopted father, but now he was caught between a rock and a hard place.

“The boy knows whatever it is I have determined he should know. As for what that may be and how I attain said information, would that not be better inquiring at the source? Hmm?”

“Anders? What are you doing here? I thought you had to work tonight?” Draca asked.

“I finished. You know me. I am always highly proficient. I decided to come see this expo for myself with my own eyes. Though, I do think you should follow that situation over there, lest anything unfortunate occur.”

Draca took the hint, looking back and forth between the two Sith. He didn’t like the idea of leaving Ruka unanswered, bit he did have a job to do. He took his leave to keep an eye on the people drinking, just in case.

Once he was out of earshot, Anders folded his arms across his chest. “Is there a particular reason you feel the need to interrogate my protégé? Or do you take pleasure in watching him squirm, Ruka?”

<@244244163002892288> <@77213354619318272>

He frowned, lips pressed thin. After a moment he gestured with the avian head of his cane towards the stall selling fish dumplings. “Here. But I insist, do not feel the need to appease me because I am upset. I am not. If you wish to buy them, I will not stop you.” He swallowed then, knowing the reaction of snapping at her he suppressed was far out of place. She didn’t know him, likely didn’t know his species, and very likely was unaware of his family or training.

“My name is Mikhail. Kadnikov.” He grimaced to himself, tapping the cane back into the ground before bending over and grabbing the upturned bowl. He did what he could to scoop up the immediate wasted dumplings into before looking around for a way to dispose of the bowl.

Ruka, arms still folded behind his back in an upright posture, switched a cold, flat glare now to the Chiss Inquisitor.

“No,” he replied flatly. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know what he knows. Or that I’m not looking for honesty from him, since he’s the one involved in my family. He’s makin’ that choice, Anderson, dating Melissa. You don’t get to swoop in and shove him away so he don’t gotta answer a hard question when it’s a fair question that’s gonna get asked. If you’re filling his head with treating everyone as a dossier, ‘whatevwr you think he should know,’ then there’s consequences. MAYBE you shouldn’t be teaching him to see being honest as being interrogated or betraying you or whatever.” Shaking his head, the glare only intensified. “But since you here now, sure, why don’t you tell me what exactly you’re telling him? I’m not happy about the idea of an Inquisitor digging into my family, or Qyreia’s family.”

Anders rolled his eyes, taking a keen interest in the back of his hand for a moment whilst Ruka finished what might have been the millionth lecture in his life. Once he’d stopped talking, Anders glanced at him, choosing to ignore the cold glare the Miralian was giving him.

“Are you quite finished?” Anders raised a brow, then deeply sighed.

If this was anyone else, he would have had fun mercilessly taunting them, but this was the adopted father of the girl Draca was dating. Despite outeard appearances,he cared about the boy’s happiness.

“The Inquisitorius, as you may or may not know, deals in information. It can save or destroy lives, but it is not an infallible book that leans into your deepest, darkest secrets. Dossiers give us general quirks, personality traits, combat abilities, topics the aforementioned person may be knowledgeable in and languages they speak. That sort of thing. The Inquisitorius looks through the dossiers of all high profile leaders in the Brotherhood from Arcona to Vizsla and updates them accordingly. I can promise you that anything personal the boy knows, he will have learned via yourself, or via Miss Luxor. Though, may I offer a word of advice Ruka? If you want the boy to be honest with you, do not talk to him like you are about to strike him with your lightsaber. He is a young man and you are the adopted parent of the girl he likes. Of course he is going to be nervous. From personal experience, being gentle with him is the best way to get him to open up.”

“I’m not talking to the kid like I’m gonna kill him, Anderson. Just cause you walked in on a stern question doesn’t mean that,” Ruka pointed out, nearly rolling his eyes himself. “I know he’s going to be nervous, and I know how to talk to ‘em, I’ve raised two and– how ever damn many apprentices now. You’re an adult spymaster who’s done, let’s not pretend, probably all of the murder. I don’t need to be gentle to you.”

“Murder and so much more than you could possibly comprehend,” Anders’ lips curved into a grin. “Regardless, the boy seemed petrified a moment ago before I intervened, hence my current actions. You may have raised a family and as you say, many damn apprentices, but not everyone is your child. He is Draca Zul. Remember that.”

“I’m back!” Draca jogged back to them, dusting himself down. “Nothing to worry about. They’re a bit rowdy, but nothing a quick chat couldn’t fix. What’d I miss?”

“Oh, nothing really,” Anders shrugged. “Just Sith things. I was just taking my leave, actually. Buddy has wandered off…”

Draca groaned. “Again?”

“Yes, again. I bid you both a fair evening.”

Anders left with a confident smile on his face, satisfied that he had said his piece.

“Everything OK?” Draca asked Ruka.

The Mirialan really did roll his eyes then, both at ‘more than you could imagine’ and again at ‘Sith things.’ Though the former caused much more derision than it did anything else; to take pride in doing horrible things was just another reason to hope Draca really was nothing like him.

“Fine, bud. Dads disagreeing. I’m protective of my family, he is of his.” He shook his head. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Draca’s eyes peered towards the ground. “Can’t wait for this shift to end…”

The sentence was practically mumbled out of his mouth.

“Oh, if you don’t mind, sir. If you see a random BD-Unit droid anywhere causing mischief, let me know. That’ll be Buddy. I guarantee it.”

Brows arched. “Sure. Bring it right over.” He eyed the Zabrak, not exactly believing the ‘fine’ when the kid was looking down and lamenting his work. “Don’t like the job?”

Draca shrugged. “I’m not doing it because I want to. Just doing a favour for Anders, that’s all. It’s OK, though. It won’t be too long before my shift is over. Erm… do you mind if I ask you something, sir?”

“Sure, Draca. And you know, you don’t have to call me sir.”

“OK,” Draca smirked slightly. “Mister Ruka, sir.”

Ruka groan-snorted. “And your question?”

Draca cleared his throat. “Does erm… Well… erm…”

This was a lot harder than he thought it’d be. He could feel his cheeks flushing as he tried to force the words in his mouth.

“Does Melissa ever talk about me?”

The question came out quietly and meekly. Draca rubbed the back of his head with his hand, choosing to look at anything that wasn’t Ruka.

When suddenly a little BD-Unit droid hopped out of the stall! The owner of the stall tried to whack it with a broom, but the droid was more dextrous than they realised.

“I appreciate you letting me replace your floor dumplings with fresh dumplings.” She said, her voice a bit softer now. She hadn’t even realized she was being a lil forceful. Once he was finished picking them up, she headed for the stall, talking back at him to try and get him to follow “It’s nice to meet you Mikhail. Come tell me what flavor you got”

Aylin tilted her head as she saw a familiar BD-Unit run around.

“Buddy? What are you doing here?”

She looked around for either Draca or Anders. Neither of them were near. The little droid and ran around Aylin and hopped onto her arm and climbed onto the tank.

“And stay away you rat!” The stall owner yelled as she threatened to swing the broom at it again.

“Hey! I can assure you it won’t bother you again.”

The owner huffed and walked off. The little droid chirped happily that she had saved him.

“No problem, but what are you doing out here?”

The unit beeped an looked around. It made the Nautolan look back to the stall curiously.

“Really now? Interesting. Oh, before I forget. Meet Anders!” She said happily as she held up the tank with the blue fish.

The little droid looked at the fish, then Aylin, then back to the fish. It slowly waved a mechanical leg greeting.

Organics were weird…

She chuckled at his reaction and started to walk further.

“Let’s find Draca or Anders, I’m sure they wish to know this.”

Ruka tried very hard to keep a straight face, years and years of experience, nearly fifteen of it, of putting on smiles even when he hadn’t slept or eaten in days, assuring their Mama didn’t not love them, so much else–

Buuuut he couldn’t help it. The question was just so…sweet. And not what he’d been expecting.

On the one hand, thankfully Draca was looking away, and wouldn’t see his expression crumple into a grin. On the other, he’d definitely hear Ruka’s surprised laugh trail off into an aww. He tried to cover it with a cough.

“Ay, uh– ffft, yeah, yeah, bud, she, ahem, talks about you.” His scarred lips trembled with mirth. “Bout stuff you like and your dates and stuff. Why? Hoping for something particular?”

Draca was blushing. definitely blushing. If he could melt away into a puddle, he would have done so right then and there.

“No. I just… wonder if she thinks about me as much as I think about her.”

Oh, Ashla and Bogan and Ancestors.

He did not want to know all the content of those thoughts.

“Well you’d have to ask her that, but she definitely does think about you and talk about you to her family, so that’s a pretty good sign.”

“Yeah… it is… thank you,” Draca looked the older man right in his violet eyes.

“Ruka.”

“Mister Tenbriss Ya-Ir works fine, Draca,” the Mirialan said, some dry humor in his tone. “And no problem. Anything else on your mind, besides ugh, work?”

“Six cream and fish dumplings. I haven’t had.. fish before.” He dropped the bowl he held into a bin, then clutched his cane close to him. He was uncomfortable accepting charity always, but there was no way to truly deny someone who took it upon themselves to give.

“Thank you, for this.” He seemed to struggle to say. He ran a hand through his hair, combing it back as best he could while swallowing down some nerves.

“Haven’t had fish before??” Elly purposefully overexaggerated her reaction to try and get a chuckle out of the Arkanian. “I would be remiss if I got in the way of you trying it.” She offered a soft smile.

She had spent plenty of time with nervous clients and could spot when they were uncomfortable. Usually she’d offer calming words and reassurance but this wasn’t exactly the same type of situation so she was just making it up as she went.

The pair arrived at the stand and Elly ordered some more dumplings for Mikhail. Now they just had to wait.

Muz merely nodded at the Zeltron, eyes gliding over to the other booths. After all, they could sample all the absurd things he had fiddled with aat any other time. Today was more about what this place had to offer. He looked over at Leena, her eyes wide from the sample before she started looking for a place to set the glass down.

“So…” The Twi'lek smiled, watching Muz tuck away his flask and take a final bite of the roasted meat. “What’s the best thing here?”

“Straight to the point.” Muz chuckled, taking a mental inventory of the treats that people seemed to be walking around with. Skewered meats and vegetables, some sort of flatbread, and he wasn’t sure, but it looked like a sort of cold noodle salad. Even if some of them were not to their tastes, there was enough variety that certainly something would be.

“Yeah, you wanted to know what I know, right?” Draca didn’t want to leave Ruka unanswered.

“I did,” Ruka acknowledged, “but don’t feel like you’re in trouble.”

Relief washed over the young man. He felt Immediately more at ease.

“Honestly, outside of general information, not a while lot. Anders had me read dossiers whilst I was training under him to get a good idea for various combat methods that could be applied with the Force. They had other stuff too, like personality traits and the like, but no history. I guess it was one way Anders tried to expose me to the wider galaxy.,” Draca had to snort at that. “Melissa talked to me about stuff, mostly just small things, like Noga and Leda, or a trip with Mister Cora or yourself. Small things.”

The Mirialan’s mouth curled in a slight smile to hear that Melissa talked about them at all, especially the kids and Cora. Like he’d told Draca, that hopefully meant they were doing something right with her. It was hard to gauge.

“Kinda curious what you learned from that,” Ruka commented. “But ain’t nothing like experience. Sadly.”

“No, there isn’t,” Draca agreed. “I prefer to make my thoughts on people as I get to know them. Written words are one thing, but people aren’t characters in a book waiting to be psychologically dissected, and i say that as someonewho really likes books. They are people with thoughts, feelings and hardships all their own. You don’t really know people until you meet them and get to know them in person.”

“Well, that is certainly colorful.” Leena chuckled, taking a tentative sniff. The effervescence reached her nose first, and she winced backwards a degree, trying not to sneeze with a quiet giggle.

Muz raised an eyebrow, taking a quick sip, letting the bitterness coat his tongue, opening the taste buds for the subtle influences of herbs and spices, and was that Farinsol buds? He nodded at Erinyes in quiet approval as Leena dove in.

Her brow furrowed for a moment before she caught it and corrected it. Her lekku stabbed her in the back, then straightened quickly…well, as quickly as she could manage. Her left one was slower to react as usual, and she could tell he noticed. He finished his glass and surreptitiously offered to swap with her as Erinyes glanced off distracted for a moment, an offer she accepted with quick hands.

“So, what are the native specialities here?” Leena looked over the broad rows of vendors. “I see a lot of familiar things, but…”

“Yeah, well said,” the Proconsul said. He raised a brow. “Anything in those dossiers about us give you an idea that changed when we met?”

“Well…” Draca thought for a moment. He closed his eyes, the image of the Arconan Proconsul’s Dossier flashing through his mind.

“Dossier says you are family orientated, which is true. Doesn’t say about how much you care for them, though. Which is a lot. I’m glad to see that. There’s enough bad in the galaxy that the good should be cherished when it happens.”

A stymied look crossed Ruka’s face at that, obviously imagining the many ways that implication could be turned into a threat. If some dossier said family oriented, who wouldn’t then look at his family, if not to hurt them, then for favor? Everything in this damn Brotherhood was about power grabbing.

“Well. Yeah.” He didn’t have a good response, and fished for something, anything really. “What do you like to do, Draca? Racing games?”

Draca’s face lit up. “Yeah! Podracing games mostly. Did you know you apparently need the reflexes of a Jedi to pilot those things? I wonder how Force-Sensitive they might be…”

Draca seemed to trail off into his own thoughts for a moment before snapping himself back to reality.

Ruka was here. Focus, Draca. “What about you, Mister Tenbriss Ya-Ir? What do you like to do?”

“Listen to what other people like to do,” the Mirialan replied wryly, then shrugged. “Uh, spend time with the kids and Cor, obviously. Literally any second with my– uh,” Ileta wasn’t his goddaughter or anything so official, but she was family, she was so much of everything, much like her Zeltron mother, “uh…best…friend’s…” Another understatement, “babygirl. Uh, I like to cook and bake. Ay and train? Not really like. Fighting, exactly. But just quiet time is nice, being up high, meditating, or running up there with the Force, like flying. And we like comics…” He trailed off. “You ever been in a podracer? I built one, once, for one of my apprentices who wanted to try it. She modified her own ship too. Likes to go fast. I guess that’s another thing. I like mechanics. Building things. Making…more than I destroy.”

“You built one!?” Draca’s eyes practically bulged. “Nope. Never been in one. I was in a Swoop Race once, though. That was fun. Anders doesn’t usually let me pilot things. Not since the Arkanis incident. I erm… sorta… maybe crashed the ship… We do not talk about Arkanis…”

Draca sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

“I like to train too. Its like… I dunno… meditation. You connect with the Force and you are just so… free? I guess? I usually meditate moving, actually.”

Brows danced. “You crashed the ship?” He shook his head. “You won’t get better from that if you don’t get to practice. I was thinking of seeing if Mela would want to learn to fly with Noga and Leda coming up on about the age. Teach them all. I’m not great, but I can show you some basics too if you come by. Now if you want to know engines or…any other building really, that’s more me.”

Was that… an invitation?

“I’d… appreciate that. Thank you. And to be fair, Anders left a thirteen year old me in charge of the cockpit while he dealt with Buddy. That crash was not entirely my fault!”

“Ay Diosez Ashla ey Bogan…” Ruka muttered. “I wouldn’t call that your fault at all, Draca.”

He elected not to mention both because Draca left him there and because if Anders had taught Draca better, the thirteen year old wouldn’t have done it when left alone.

“Well yeah, just let me know when sometime, we’ll figure it out. I can show you flight basics and basics for fixing a ship and maintenance.” He shrugged. “Most of my work was anything labor: Mining, carpentry, architecture, machining, cleaning, landscaping, factories, ay, whatever while I was raise they kids. Being a Knight for the Lotus is real different. And this…Proconsul thing is… temporary. ”

Some other people holding brown bottles were sipping as they browsed near <@645466919415054357> . One of them asked the other, “What do you think will go with these Ektrosis Ale?”

The other replied, “It tastes like Gammorean Ale. I heard this is one of the classic stuff she makes.”

Temporary?

“Do you not like being Proconsul?” Draca asked.

Ruka grimaced.

“I wouldn’t say like. It’s just not really…a job I’m fit for, yanno? Leading people? Governing, and like, a whole…country? Basically? I’m not good enough for all that. I’m not that smart or diplomatic or none of it. I still don’t get why Lucine and Rylance originally asked me. But for Qyreia, it’s about us trusting each other. Whenever she doesn’t want me around anymore – cause she ain’t never needed me – I’m out. When my duty’s done, ay? Then someone actually good at this stuff that wants it can be doing it. I’m just here cause…it needed doing, and somehow they ended up with me.”

That assessment said, he rolled his eyes skyward and dragged his hand down his face.

“Ugh, and this Clan. Like the Brotherhood as a whole is just. It’s evil, you know that right? Bunch of superpowered tyrants starting wars and enslaving people one way or another, if not by actually enslaving them, then with controlling their systems or economies or labor. All that kriff. Torturing people, experimenting, genocides, cults, murder, half the time calling it for the ‘greater good’ or it’s TOTALLY fine to butcher and slaughter people if they’re criminals or slavers or enemies, and not, you know, STILL PEOPLE. WITH RIGHTS and lives. But you even set all that unforgivable stuff aside. And Arcona is just. My stress, kid. I didn’t have these grays before. I swear to Ashla and Bogan half of them are personally Zuza and the others are Mela, my apprentices, the stupid, violent, dumbass, reckless shit people just run around doing if you take your eyes off for even one second–”

He cut off and inhaled. Deeply.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m ranting. You don’t need to hear all that.”

As the two figures wandered away to get back into line, got their new food, and moved on, two remaining fish and cream dumplings sat where they had plopped and rolled away on the ground, having gathered some dirt and such, streaks of cream left behind them, one broken open a little where its noodly skin split. Surely to most they were now trash, or food for an opportunistic seabird.

But instead of a beak snapping up the fallen treats, it was a flash of color that snaked out from the nearest bit of cover, a few stolid, waxy, broad-leafed bushes that were a dull blue-green even in the cold. The lash of dazzling warm shades retracted quickly, there then gone back into the decorative shrubbery, taking the distressed dumplings with it.

Inside the shelter of stubborn Arreat mountain scrub brush, the morsels dropped from the curl of a tail under a gaunt hand waiting for them. Golden eyes peered at the scraps like another pair might a great treasure.

“Thank you, Master,” whispered the figure crouched there towards the retreating backs of the crystalized man and the tall woman, bowing as deeply as possible while still kneeling in a bush. Then he turned to his companion. “Ohh, Alk, look. We must have been very good today! God is not angry, and Goddess blesses us.” He extended his hand out, and a curious little trunk immediately began coiling and nosing at the smells of food. The small mott made several whuffing noises of excitement and curiosity, lipping at taut knuckles. The figure smiled, near to giggling, and hushed, “Patience, litlun, patience, here, here.”

He flattened his palm, fingers straight out, offering the dumplings, trying to angle so the unsplit, more full one was first. Alk immediately scooped it into his mouth with his trunk, chewing away. Cream sauce dribbled around his chin, and then man made a curious noise of his own, using his tail to lift the edge of his cloak and dab at the mott’s messy mouth.

“Oh what’s that? It looks like babe’s milk. How just right for you.” Glancing at what was left, he felt his stomach pang. It had started to do that, ever since Hunyi had him eat ‘snacks’ around a daily meal. Random surges of a deep, hollow pain that cramped and made his knees weak at moments. He wondered if God was angry with him for his excess, but didn’t ask Hunyi about that; she never seemed to understand or like when he spoke of the Bladelord and the Moonlight Mother. Now, the hurt didn’t make him want to eat the thing, especially if Alk liked it. But he had promised Hunyi that if he got the chance, he would eat things around meals. And the Master and Mistress had thrown this down for him, so he absolutely should. To defy their generosity was wrong and would be punished.

So he took a bite, shocked as ever by the sheer richness of the food out here in the Lord’s world. The cramp was immediately worse, roughly equal to an abdominal excision. He blinked through his tunnelling vision until it came back, then dutifully swallowed and took another bite. He offered his palm to Alk when he was done, giggling again when the mott tickled trying to lap up all the sauce.

“You do like that, don’t you, my little? Yes you do. Yes, sweetheart. Alright, alright. We will tell Miss Hunyi when she is done with work. Your mother can get you more, yes.”

He started scratching behind Alk’s jaw, and the creature immediately gave a trumpet and flopped into his lap, headbutting for more. It hurt, of course, but that was fine. Alk was warm and lovely. Rue hummed a tune and kept petting, occasionally peering out from the leaves at all of the people. So many. So many things. Such a big city. So much noise and color. Too much. But this bush they’d found to hide in was good.

“No, it’s OK! Really. It’s good to get things off your chest.”

Draca folded his arms.

“No place is ever truly good or truly evil. Its the people that make it that way. The most important thing is that no matter what we do, we try to make the galaxy a better place for the next few generations to come. Whether they are our children or not. We set the example, no matter how hard it is and hopefully others will follow. It isn’t easy, but… baby steps, you know?”

The Mirialan blew out a sigh. At least Draca was optimistic he supposed.

“Yeah, we gotta work on making it better. At least that’s what me and Qy are tryna do, where we can. Me and Cor and the other Lotus folks too. Maybe the Brotherhood will overall one day.”

He didn’t sound convinced, not even remotely, despite trying not to sound completely in disbelief of the idea. It was just hard to manage when the people that made it that way were all what they were. Thane was the best of them, and that shouldn’t have been the bar.

Draca gave a small nod. It was all the answer he needed to give. He realised how rude he’d been. Not once had he offered to show Rula around, instead just… standing in place being philosophical.

It was nice to have someone to debate with, but he wasn’t being a very good host.

“Want me to show you around?” Draca offered. “Got some good food stalls about. What kind of food do you like?”

Ruka gave him a mild look. “I appreciate it, but you’re working security. Don’t wanna be touring me the whole time.” A small smile gentled the reminder. “I like spicy, mostly. Saw someone going by with spiceberry juice earlier. That’s good stuff.”

“No,” he confirmed, leaning on his cane, pitched forward slightly to watch the chef work. “Arkania is… lacking fish - or similar fauna. Plenty of water, not liquid.” His foot slowly taps, waiting. He wasn’t sure if this person saught further interaction or just felt the need to ensure he was given recompense

“Arkania?” She asked, looking down at him as opposed to the chef. “I’ve heard of that place but I don’t know too much. What do they have to eat there normally? Obviously not fish” she chuckled

This is not what I expected.

When Jemel received word that he’d been selected for a “special assignment,” he expected something less … mundane. To serve on the Proconsul’s personal security detail was a privilege few Arconans received. He understood this, yet the Clawdite-Falleen hybrid couldn’t help feeling that his skills were better suited elsewhere, such as helping support Arcona’s vast intelligence apparatus. Surely, there were others available to act as an escort during this “Food and Beverage Expo?”

Despite the less-than-ideal circumstances, Jemel recognized the very real opportunity to distinguish himself from his peers that this assignment provided him. How often would he be able to rub elbows with Arconan elite this early in his career? And on another clan’s soil, no less. Should past tensions with the Taldryan Republic rear their ugly heads, then he would ensure that he would be present to offer his aid.

Swift, measured footfalls carried the “Cladeen” man around to the end of a stone path and revealed the Expo proper. It hadn’t taken him long to locate his charge. Trailed by an AAF soldier in civilian dress and accompanied by a Zabrak Jemel didn’t recognize, the Mirialan looked stressed. Coming into view where both Ruka and the soldier could see him first, Jemel made a brief sign with one hand–a signal to the latter that he was relieved of his post. During his approach, Jemel kept his eyes locked on the Zabrak and only averted his gaze to address Ruka when he was within earshot of them. A slight bow served as the genesis of their conversation.

“Proconsul Ya-Ir, sir,” he began, speaking in the formal tone that was required of him when addressing someone of Ruka’s stature. “Jemel Dresad. I’ve been selected to be your personal escort for the day’s festivities.”

Unlike many Clawdite, Jemel made no effort to hide his true form. Whether it was due to a conscious effort on his part or simply due to his mixed heritage, all but the most subtle of his Clawdite features were overshadowed by his Falleen heritage. It was the cover that allowed him to operate in public without drawing the same suspicion that Clawdites – whether rightly so or due to mere bigoted superstition – tended to experience.

Another purposeful look to the young Zabrak allowed him to make note of the armor he wore, and the lightsabers on his belt. This one was a Jedi, it seemed. Jemel nodded to him, as well, and waited for him to introduce himself.

A tired pinch briefly scrunched Ruka’s face around the eyes and brows, a short, bracing breath as if in preparation heralding before he nodded to Jemel with a brief, awkward smile.

“Good to meet you in person, Dresad. Tenbriss Ya-Ir, if you wanna do the title thing. Sir if you gotta or Ruka is fine too. You have a preference yourself?” He glanced past Jemel’s shoulder, violet gaze falling on the former guard, and gave a small wave and more at ease smile as if giving the agent a silent goodbye. The Cladeen would note a very tiny wave back, done more at the hip for subtly. Ruka looked back. “They warn you about me yet?”

Jemel noted the discomfort that the Proconsul displayed. At first, he suspected that he may have offended the man in some way, but the timely remembrance of Mister Tenbriss Ya-Ir‘s dossier reminded him that the Mirialan was known for his disquieted demeanor. Had they met in any other circumstance, Jemel would have never suspected that he held the powerful position that he did. It made him wonder how much of Ruka’s demeanor was a ruse to fool his allies and enemies alike into believing that he was anything but the shrewd leader and deadly Force-wielder that Jemel suspected him to be. The Cladeen felt a chill run up his spine, and just barely caught himself tugging his bottom lip between his teeth in an absentminded and all-too-unprofessional display of subtle admiration.

Straightening his posture upon hearing his superior’s inquiry, Jemel took silent note of the gestures exchanged between him and the departing soldier. Normally, he would have pulled rank for the display of improper decorum, but it was the Proconsul himself who likely had initiated such laxities in address–if his present informal disposition was any indication.

“Jemel is fine, sir,” he began. “And 'warn’ isn’t the word I would use. But I read your dossier. I wouldn’t be able to do my job properly if I wasn’t familiar with you.”

And little did he know, Jemel had read more about him than what was strictly necessary for this particular assignment. A mix of his desire to know about all the pieces on a given board as much as he knew himself and a genuine curiosity of the man so ominously dubbed the “Shadow Scion” led him to read through the information present in Ruka’s public record as many times as he could on the flight over.

“You’re in good hands, sir. Just pretend I’m not here.”

“Rest assured, Mister Tenbriss Ya-Ir is in do danger here,” Draca took in all the features of the Clawdite. He wondered silently if he should be concerned that Arcona were sending their own security personnel, but given Anders was on Selen for that very reason when Cassandra was there, he couldn’t really say anything.

Instead, he held out a hand. “I’m Draca. A pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Root plants, mostly. They are not the most flavorful. Luckily we have a decent red meat supply to supplement that. Anything grown needs to either be naturally resilient or engineered to resist the cold. Everything else is grown inside of the cities.” He glanced up at her, finger tapping the beak of the figure on his cane head.

“It would seem so,” Dremel answered curtly. He noted the attempt at a handshake, but made no effort to extend his own in kind. Instead, he folded his hand across his bare midriff and dipped his head in a bow. “Jemel Dresad.”

Whether meeting him was a pleasure or not remained to be seen, so he left it at that. However, sensing that his denial of the handshake may have been seen as rude, Jemel spoke again to explain.

“My apologies. Shaking hands is not a common practice amongst my people.”

Ellisyn was about to ask another question when the person attending the stall nabbed her attention. It seemed the dumplings were done. The Firrerreo gladly accepted the bowl and offered it to Mikhail. “I’d love to hear more about Arkainia or your cane or why you’re here if you’re willing. If you don’t have the time, that’s perfectly alright.” She hoped he’d wanna stick around and talk but wanted to make sure he had an easy out just in case.

Draca retracted his hand, not wanting to offend the Falleen. The young Jedi might have been well travelled, but that didn’t mean he understood every societal norm in the known galaxy.

“No, no, no. I didn’t mean to cause any offense. How are ypu finding Port Kasiya?”

Anders approached the bar area next. Surely BUDD-E could not have gone far? The little droid had a knack for causing mischief and giving him a headache.

Much like Draca, honestly.

Then he saw her. He recognised the silver hair of tbe Echani hybrid anywhere. She appeared to be talking with some Human, a smooth talker by the looks of things.

“Lady Evelyn, fancy meeting you here of all places,” Anders mouth tilted into a coy smile. “And who may your friend be?”

<@339758862406254592> <@216702440140046336>

As if by some miracle, BUDD-E produced the skewer that Aylin desired in its mechanical foot.

And then leapt down and ran off with it to see if she would chase it…

Evelyn heard her name so she turned to look who it was and recognized him immediately. Who could forget meeting a Chief Inquisitor? Not to mention, that night was a bit rough on her mentality. She felt slightly embarrassed. Right now, she seemed much better and less moody.

“Good day, Mr. Anderson. I am here on a job.” She was off at the time being so she knew she had to be careful considering who she was flying and of his thoughts towards alcohol drinks. Speaking of which, “Thank you.” She grasped the glass and took a taste. Mmm. Not bad. She’ll have to buy a bottle later since she cannot drink anymore for the day.

“This is Mr. Orson Trent, we just met.” Evelyn then turned to the bartender, “Ma'am, where can I buy a bottle of the Monairaud Demi-Sec?” She wasn’t sure if she can buy it wholesale here or at another stall.

<@339758862406254592> <@645466919415054357>

Terroir matters. The thought sailed over as he lifted the glass. “Do you sell by the case or by the cask?” He was fairly sure that it wasn’t cask-aged, the color wasn’t there. But stranger things had happened, and stainless kegs exist after all. Even if his bride didn’t love it, having a backstock would not be remiss for diplomatic reasons. Sadow had a reputation to uphold, after all.

He paused for a moment, letting his mind wander. Was it Kasiya that had those dark confections with the little purple flowers? His mind focused, the image of it floating from memory to thought. Small ovals of dark and rich coating, a few flakes of ocean salt and one of the tiny buds on top, the filling smooth and creamy, the floral scent meshing with the sweetness in good measure. He remembered how she loved the little things. But as they were a gift, he was unsure of their providence. If anyone knew where they would be found, it would be Erinyes. He would have to ask her.

“Marid…” Leena muttered, her mind reaching for the connection in memory that dodged her consciousness. Different words meant different things in different places, and she was sure… Muz looked at her as they moved, a minute movement of his head soothing the concern. Good, she was remembering correctly. And if he wasn’t concerned, she had less than no cause for alarm. She blinked away the thought, watching the Zeltron move. The idea of eating a big old pile of fresh mint both intrigued and mortified her. There had to be a reason for such strong flavor affinity. “Are they at a higher elevation or is it just a difficult soil there?”

Walking away from the bar and toward the food vendors with Erinyes and Leena, black eyes recognized a Chiss through the crowd. They weren’t terribly uncommon in Brotherhood space, but there were few that he recognized personally. It came together quickly in his mind. The man wore inquisitor armor then, his saber hilt curved. Ah yes, <@837236610684813342> was the name. The Nautolan slicer, the Chiss, Declan and himself had torn through that collective facility not all that long ago. Was it a month ago? It felt like a year ago. Like last week. Like a dream he would have tomorrow. He waited for the bloodshine eyes to meet his, and nodded a degree in recognition.

Anders’ eyes were good. Some might say better than his senses in the Force. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a man with long flowing hair that within the remnants of hid being, held power that few could match.

Former Grand Master Muz Ashen.

The last time Anders had seen him, he embarrassed himself. Perhaps this was a chance to get more in his better graces? Then there was Leena. Anders had found her to be more than adequate company back on Selen. He nodded back in recognition, turning to the barkeep.

“I’d like to order a drink for that fine gentleman over there and his lovely companion.”

Anders then turned to Evelyn. “May I inquire as to what tasks you are currently underta-”

He froze.

He saw BUDD-E.

BUDD-E taunting Aylin across from the bar area.

It leapt from the floor, skewer still grasped, and landed on Muz’s shoulder…

<@417336769181122562> <@216702440140046336> <@339758862406254592>

“Buddy!” Anders yelled in shock.

Knowing the importance of encouragement, Ruka gave a little smile between both Draca and Jemel. “Ay, no worries. I know I’m in good hands with both of you.” He turned back to the Cladeen in particular. “I say warn ‘cause everybody on the summit guard at this point likes to say beimg assigned to me is cardio, I’m 'leg day’ or some kriff. I’m liable to go running towards the problem if something happens.” At the very least, he had the decency to look abashed, in a stiff, awkward way of someone wishing they could not have anyone bothered by them but determined to do the dangerous thing anyway. “That’s all. I’ll warn you first though if I can and at least send you updates on my location. Promise I’m not out to make you hate your jobs. It just happens.”

He gestured to Draca. “But anyway, ay, like he says, Kasiya is nice. Feel free to enjoy it a little. Make sure you actually eat something while you’re here, Jemel, I don’t want nobody going hungry just cause they watching me. Got any suggestions, Draca? That aren’t ice cream?”

<@1056685516441006091> <@837236610684813342>

An eyebrow went up and he turned his head to have a look. It wasn’t the first time one of Leena’s little friends had jumped up on him, but he was fairly certain that she left them behind, on the ‘Spear. The chrome reflected the lights in odd directions across his face. He reached up, creating a pathway for the droid to walk down his arm as he turned his head, eyes darting to Leena as if to ask the obvious question.

Leena’s eyebrows both shocked upward as she moved quickly toward him, her arm reaching to gently lift the little droid off of Muz’s arm. “And who might you be, little guy?”

Muz tilted his head, his expression unchanging. If this wasn’t hers… He exhaled slowly, his mind uncoiling around him as he felt along the tapestry of creation, the echoes of everyone’s spirit unspooling into his awareness. It would be like drinking from a waterfall for most, given the number of people around, the fair having more than its fair share of sensitives present, but he was no mere acolyte. He sifted through, finding prize little malice. Some annoyance, sure, but that was to be expected whenever there was more than three people anywhere. Was it embarrassment? The sense was acrid, regardless. He relaxed his jaw, knowing full well that there was no threat. Watching the Twi'lek coo at the droid as the source grew stronger, Muz let his eyes glide across the crowd. His eyes came to a rest, finding the Chiss glowering at the little droid, mouth working a word that he could not hear.

That would explain it.

Anderson ordered drinks for a pair of strangers as she glanced over to them and saw who they were. Oh, yes, she remembered meeting the Twi'lek briefly on Selen during the Halloween Festival. His attention was turned to her, only for a moment, before there was a look of horror on his face.

Being a solider, Evelyn felt her muscles tensed and she was prepare to move if she needed to. He yelled someone’s name and she looked back over to them to only see a droid was resting in the Twi'lek’s arms.

Oh. Well, that was a relief. She slowly exhaled and took another sip from the wine while working on calming her mind from that brief moment. She did not expect Mr. Anderson to be a man to have a droid with personality.

Jemel lifted his hand, showing his palm in a display meant to ease his concerns. “None taken,” he reassured him, “Port Kasiya is beautiful. Cold, though. I much prefer the warmer temperatures of Selen.”

And were it not for his body’s ability to preserve heat despite its ectothermic nature, he likely would have been more visibly perturbed by Kasiya’s comparatively frigid temperatures.

Shifting his attention to the proconsul again, Jemel’s lips stretched into a slight smile when he mentioned his tendency to run off toward danger.

“Well, as much as I would enjoy the exercise, I don’t think I’ll have to worry about it.”

Jemel gestured to the deconstructed skimboard on his back.

“And food would be nice. I’ve heard Kasiya has quite the diverse collection of delicious meals.”

Cassandra stood out on the balcony of the 473rd floor of the Taldryan Tower, overlooking the entire waterfront area of the city.

It was bustling with members of various clans, and she could smell the aroma of fresh foods even way up here. She had hoped to join them, but alas…senatorial life kept her entwined as it ever did.

She absolutely planned to pin a lot of the paperwork off on her vice-chancellor or maybe even that rat Anders, who has been ever a thorn in her side, that way she could enjoy a fine evening with everyone below.

It was part of her job, anyways, even if the senators never saw that.

Yeah…thats how she would do it…<@837236610684813342> would have all the paperwork, with the Vizier to oversee it and make sure he didnt mess it up…thats it! He was probably busy causing trouble as it was.

Then she would be free to join the people, see Muz again, and have some…god forbid…fun.

“Ice…”

Draca stopped himself and silently huffed. What did people have against ice cream? Its a perfectly viable option!

“Bantha skewers are pretty good. Got some spaces blended into the meat that are grown here on Kasiya if you are…”

“Buddy!”

Draca paled upon hearing Anders’ voice. That did not sound good…

“Lady Evelyn, please do excuse me for a moment.”

Anders rushed over to Muz and Leena, giving a light bow to the former. “I do apologise, Lord Ashen. It appears my droid has forgotten its public etiquette.”

BUDD-E squeaked lowly, nestling itself in Leena’s arms.

“Lady Leena, a pleasure as always to see you again. I will take my droid from your hands, if I may?”

<@284848346672136192> <@417336769181122562>

Aylin stopped dead in her rush to get the droid and held onto her tank. She saw Muz and Anders and thought it best not to bother them.

“I… uh… should be going…”

“Oh no you do not!” Anders pointed a finger at her. “Would you kindly explain what you were doing with my droid, Miss Sajark?”

“He found me, Mister Anderson, he said he found something interesting at one of the stalls.” The Nautolan said as she held her fish protectively.

“He didn’t want to say what.”

“Very well, Miss Sajark. Though, a question, if I may?” Anders eyed the fish. She seemed to be very protective of it. A coy smile stretched across his face. “Do you prefer your fish steamed, grilled, or fried?”

She glared at him, “Do you want to be steamed, grilled or fried?”

Anders rolled his eyes, completely unimpressed with Aylin’s complete lack of maturity.

Granted, Buddy appeared to be undamaged. So, Fish Anders would be spared from Sith Anders’ wrath.

For now.

“Kindly ensure you keep your antics away from my droid, if you will. Buddy us getting its mischievous streak from somewhere and part of me wonders if it is you.”

“I have done nothing to your droid and it isn’t like I see it daily or something that could cause such a change in behaviour.”

The Proconsul visibly perked in excitement at Jemel’s gesture, violet eyes lighting up and him moving to step around slightly, as if to inspect. “Ay! Is that a skim board? Man, I always wanted one of they when I a kid! I was workin’ on building a couple from scrap for me and Yi when–”

He stumbled to a stop, and the surprisingly pure enthusiasm dropped, going solemn, a flash of pain. It was tempered though by a sad smile, like a melancholy memory recalled.

“Ay, ay, I forgot all about those… That’s cool, Jemel.” Looking back to Draca, he noted the concern on the Zabrak’s face, then looked in the direction of the yelling. “Uh, you need to go get that? That your ‘menace’ droid?”

Leena looked up sheepishly for a moment, an eyebrow raised. “I am not.” Those titles meant something in Brotherhood space, on Kyataru, hell, everywhere she’d been. And she did not want that at any rate. Muz laughed, a low rumbling sound from deep within his chest. He let the smile sit there, touching his eyes as he turned to watch the Nautolan and Chiss have some sort of heated discussion about aquatic life, amusement writ large on his face, despite the look Erinyes had passed in the clanmates’ direction.

Leena went back to petting the droid on the head, letting the flush fade from her cheeks. After a moment, she lifted it up and smiled at it. “Why do I not know this model?” she brushed off its optical sensors with a thumb. “You’re not mischievous, are you?” The droid seemed to almost purr with how it stutter-fired its cooling fans, patently enjoying the attention. Her lekku coiled around her shoulder in response. “Not in the slightest, are you?” She smiled, looking back up at Anders. “I’ve seen mischievous, and this is not at all mischievous.” She winked, lifting the droid up to hand to him.

<@645466919415054357> <@837236610684813342> <@417336769181122562>

Draca pinched the bridge of his nose. He heard Anders, so he knew he was there with the droid.

“Yeah. I’ll go take a look. Wanna come with?”

He didn’t want to be rude, but he understood if not. He was meant to be working, after all.

“Absolutely not,” Anders glared at Erinyes with the icy bitterness of a snow blizzard on Hoth.

“One of them is bad enough. Who knows what kind of shenanigans they will preoccupy themselves with when together. To answer Miss Leena’s question, Buddy here doesn’t need to be exposed long, just long enough that it becomes a nuisance.”

<@417336769181122562> <@645466919415054357> <@284848346672136192>

“Mister Anderson,” Aylin started, drawing out his name long and almost mournful, “doesn’t know what it is to have fun or how to relax. That’s why I got Anders, at least he knows how to relax.”

She held up the tank with the blue fish inside of it, swimming around lazily.

“If you want to get Buddy’s program fixed, you know were to find me, Anderson.”

With that she turned around to get her own skewers, since the ones Buddy had were out of reach now.

Anders blinked before snorting.

“Wannabe Palpatine? That is rich coming from someone sweet-talking her way into Cassandra’s bed. You are just about the least threatening Sith I have ever had the displeasure of meeting, Seraine, so do yourself a service and stop trying. The glare and the voice do not suit you. It is unbecoming.”

Anders paused to take a deep breath. “My security plan is adequate enough, thank you very much and I even provided my protégé. I can tell when my company is not appreciated, however. Come along, Buddy. I am sure we can find somewhere else to enjoy the evening.”

BUDD-E hopped onto Anders’ shoulder as he made to leave.

Jemel quirked his head to the side upon noticing his Proconsul’s change in disposition. Although he hadn’t expected him to get as excited as he did about a skimboard, it was a welcome departure from his previous manner. But that brief moment of child-like amusement was truncated by what he could only guess was a more painful memory connected to it or perhaps this “Yi” person Ruka mentioned. Cataloguing that information away in his mind in case the name came up in the future, he said nothing else of it. It wasn’t his place to pry, after all. He did, however, offer something he hoped would lighten Mister Tenbriss Ya-Ir’s mood.

“If you’d like, you’re free to try it out.”

Without missing a beat, Jemel retrieved the skimboard from his back and pressed a small button on the side before tossing it out in front of them. The hiss of engaging hydraulics preceded it expanding to its full length, after which it emitted a faint hum when it began to hover just above the ground.

“It takes some getting used to, at first, but I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it in no time at all, sir.”

His attention briefly shifted to Draca, who seemed to be worried about someone else. Perhaps, it was related to the shout they heard just a bit earlier. “I go wherever Mister Tenbriss Ya-Ir goes.”

Muz stood there unblinking as the two traded barbs. Turning to Leena, he saw her lekku twitch, stabbing at the small of her back. This was exactly the sort of posturing and pecking order nonsense that made her hate the very notion of going into brotherhood space. She was far happier on the Spear, doing things for the Keibatsu rather than for Naga Sadow or the Cursed Throne. The last few interactions, she thought maybe things had gotten better, maybe it was not as bad as she remembered. But perhaps not.

After all, treachery was the way of the Sith.

The slight arch of his eyebrow was all she needed. She’d learned long ago the Lion’s true language. She had to. Leena slipped off to the side quietly, darting between some passing festive folk. She more than needed that drink now. Perhaps after, she’d feel different. Probably not, but perhaps.

Muz turned back to Erinyes, waiting for the moment to pass with a final sip of Leena’s tsiraki and tonic. Dismissing the empty glass with a thought, it sailed toward a nearby table on a current of will. He raised an eyebrow at her. Cassandra?

“Well, she’s no Sith.” Muz didn’t lie. He knew Leena’s way, her thoughts on the matter. How could he not, she’d main them plain over the last several years. Nominally, she was more Krath, but even then only by his proxy. And his own feelings about the wastefulness of the Sith? Well documented, and not worth the repeated lecture at this point, not to anyone who knew him even passingly well. He paused, letting a grin creep up his face as he looked at the Zeltron. “And I met the Consul on Arx.”

Aylin was wandering with a hand full of shrimp skewers pinned between her fingers between the stalls, hoping she wouldn’t bump into Anders again. Being stiff and orderly on missions is ok, but here on a free day? She shook her head, banning him from her mind and looked around to find something to drink.

Ruka seemed intrigued by the skim board, watching it hover, but he didn’t move to step towards it despite the offer. In fact, a more bashful sort of look crossed his face, combined with a grimace and a hunch of his shoulders that, altogether, honestly just made the man look constipated.

“Ay, nah trouble, appreciate the offer through, but uh, yeah, duty calls,” he said with a glance to Draca. “C'mon, then, let’s see what’s up.”

The Proconsul strode off in the direction of the sound, taking the lead. His posture immediately straightened back into that of a man on a mission rather than someone with social anxiety being offered the chance to try out someone else’s tech. With hands folded behind his back and his cloak billowing from the sea breeze, it made quite the contrasting effect. Violet eyes scanned the area, spying a few recognizable faces from previous events, including the recent festival Arcona had hosted as well as two different parties from the Council, and dossiers.

Muz kriffing Ashen. Of all people. At least there was Erinyes, and Captain Wyvern, their AAF pilot, who had wine in hand. And it looked like Anders was heading off away from them with a droid on his shoulder.

Where to start.

Ugh, diplomacy. Why couldn’t Cora be here? Why, Ashla and Bogan?

“You wanna see if your pops is okay?” he asked Draca lowly. “I gotta go…do the talking thing.”

<@837236610684813342> <@1056685516441006091> <@645466919415054357>

“Sure, thanks, Ruka.”

Draca shot him a thumbs up, silently hoping Ruka wasn’t as against that as he was the cuddles. It didn’t take much to find Anders. The Force literally lit up his stress like a firey beacon on a cold night.

“Anders? Is everything OK?” Draca approached cautiously.

BUDD-E waved a mechanical leg in greeting.

“Yes, I am fine.why would I not be?” Anders responded, barely glancing in Draca’s direction until the young man was in front of him, arms folded across his chest in statement that said you know how I know.

Anders sighed. “Fine. Idiots just being idiots. I swear if the Inquisitorius did not require my presence here I would leave this rigid waste of a moon and everyone on it behind.”

“It’s not that bad,” Draca said.

“You are not the one on the receiving end of ire from your peers,” Anders glanced back in the direction of the stalls from whence he came.

“I thought you didn’t care what Taldryan thought of you?”

“I do not,” Anders confirmed with a nod. “However, there is something to be said about being amicable. It will make our presence here far more tolerable in the long term.”

“You just need to relax,” Draca smiled. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Anders, but you aren’t exactly great with people.”

“No, you are correct in that assessment,” Anders returned the smile. “That is why I have you. Come along, Draca. I think it may be time to relieve you of your duty.”

“Does that mean it’s time for ice cream?” Draca held a hope in his eyes that sparkled like diamonds in a dark cave.

Anders rolled his eyes. “Yes. It is time for ice cream. I owe you that at the very least.”

“YES!” Draca cheered, catching the attention of nearby citizens. Anders merely pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.

Evelyn remained tensed and stoic as the whole discussion went down. When it was over, she looked around and saw Ruka and gave him a small wave before looked back to her wine and sighed.

P-Con Ruka was uncomfortable with the drinks. Good thing that she only had a sip.

With a deep breath after Draca left, the Mirialan nodded back to Evelyn Wyvern and muttering to Jemel, “The Taldryan Proconsul is a friend, but that’s an ex-Grand Master franger. Fun times.”

So said, he strode forward, one hand settling at the hilt of the blade on his hip as he bowed to Erinyes and the assembled properly as Cora had taught him.

“Erinyes, ma'am. You were right, Kasiya’s beautiful too. Less humid. Expo’s nice. Good to see you.” He smiled a bit, then looked over to that guy. “Hello. Darth Ashen.”

<@645466919415054357> <@284848346672136192> <@216702440140046336> <@1056685516441006091>

A single, forceful stomp on the skimboard’s tail caused its front end to spring into the air with an audible pop. Jemel casually lifted a hand and caught it in the air, then clicked a button on the side to collapse it again.

“Just know the offer is an open one, sir,” noted Jemel while securing it across his back.

When the three of them began their amble toward the other group, he mimicked Ruka by folding his arms behind his back, clasping his hands together loosely. A passing breeze nipped at his exposed skin and reminded him that he needed to purchase a coat or sweater of some kind should he ever need to return to Kasiya. His outfit, as fashionable as it was, was an odd fit for the planet’s cooler climate.

When they arrived at where the other group was standing, Jemel remained silent, offering each of those present a pilot nod in recognition of them. What a group to find himself amongst. Not only was he the personal escort of his own Proconsul, but he was now standing amongst a high-level member of the Inquisitorius, the current Taldryan Proconsul, and the former Grand Master of the Brotherhood itself. He did his best to remain posed despite the nervous energy he felt rumbling within his core. The ensuing conversation between this “Anders” and Draca gave him something to focus on. Although he kept his eyes on the surroundings, ever vigilant for sudden movement or flashes in the distance, he kept his ears trained on the conversing men. Most of it was inconsequential to him, but he did make note of the Chiss’ dissatisfaction with his interactions with the others, thus far.

Leaning toward Ruka to hear his confirmation of their identities, Jemel nodded. “There are a lot of big players here,” he muttered back.

His eyes settled on Evelyn, next, though he didn’t say anything. Now wasn’t the time for exchanging pleasantries, at least not for him.

<@244244163002892288> <@284848346672136192> <@645466919415054357> <@216702440140046336>

Muz nodded his head a degree at the Mirialan as they approached, acknowledging his presence as he made pleasantries with the Taldryan. The overt formality bothered him, although it was to be expected. What they were teaching in the Academy these days was….woefully inaccurate, and he supposed those lies served that cursed throne’s purpose in one way or the other. It wasn’t much of a factor in his own plans, so he didn’t have to be that person, not here.

He tried to restrain himself as he returned the greeting, letting his voice alone convey the message, as Leena had tried to coach him, even if it was woefully inefficient.

“Hello.” By the gods, he was hoarse. Disuse for how long, combined with over-use by comparison the last few weeks, it was like hearing a stranger’s voice.

Muz looked at the proconsul, half of the smile from earlier still pinching the corner of his eyes. Leena always finds me. He let his eyes glide off of her, looking across the crowd for something that would taste good. And there they were. Small crustaceans, impaled on spikes, roasted to a dark pink, some manner of spices and char tinging the edges of the flesh even darker. He looked up, recognizing the Nautolan from before, the mission into Collective space, the same one the Chiss was involved in. Giving a brief nod in her direction, he tilted his head, then spoke to the Zeltron.

“We call them ‘ebi’ .” He let the image of the skewer cross from his mind into hers. Is the Nautolan yours?

Leena downed the glass quickly. They called it wine, but it was a color that she had never thought a wine would be. She tossed down a little more dosh and got the glass refilled with an anxious look from the guy running the stand. She smiled wide at him, trying to convince him it was okay, that she was okay. Taking a deep breath, she muttered to herself under her breath that same thing.

“I am okay.”

<@645466919415054357> <@417336769181122562>

“Food’s fine. Just meant to get something for Jemel here. Not sure what he’d like though,” amethyst eyes darted over, and then lingered, eyeing the pebbling of exposed green skin and then the rest of the clothes, determining with all parental quickness that he was not dressed appropriately for the weather. Tsk. The Dark Lord sounded hoarse too. Someone was going to catch cold. “Ay, maybe something warm? And good for a sore throat? Lead the way? If you don’t mind me coming along, Ashen. Don’t wanna crash in.” He turned to Evelyn. “Maybe some juice, Captain?”

<@645466919415054357> <@1056685516441006091> <@216702440140046336>

Evelyn’s eyes met with Jemel’s for a second as she gave him a small nod and glanced back to their surroundings. The Zeltron, Erinyes, started to talk to Ruka and there was mentioned of food. Her emerald eyes glanced over and met with a pair of amethyst and she heard him suggested juice. Which she assumed was his, maybe, most kind way of saying to drop the alcohol around him.

“Yes sir.” That was perfectly fair. The hybrid figured she can always order the bottle of wines she wanted to try to go to her home for her to test later. The pilot turned to face the bartender as she scooted her wine back, “Thank you for the small taste. It is a very good recommendation.” After she made sure she paid, she made her way over and stood behind Ruka. They made their way over to a food booth. She’ll let the others order first.

“My escorting intelligence officer. Like Anders to you and Lady Tyris, but, you know, hopefully not much like,” Ruka said lowly, nodding to the Cladeen as they walked. He seemed intrigued by the red broths, inhaling. “Oh, that’ll be good. Tell me one of those is chillies. Jemel, Wyvern, Ashen, will you eat soup?” He wasn’t sure what would and wouldn’t pass in the Cladeen’s culture, as sampled earlier by the lack of handshake, nor what the others would prefer.

Jemel’s head lifted a little when he heard his name. Ah, food. As if on cue, his stomach released an audible grumble that made the emerald skin around his high cheekbones warm to the faintest eggplant hue. How embarrassing. Although he would have preferred to regard his Proconsul for a moment longer, his lingering eyes coupled with Jemel’s noisy stomach was enough to force the Cladeen to break eye contact. He exhaled.

Once Ruka formally introduced him to Erinyes, Jemel offered her another nod. “Jemel Dresad, ma'am.”

Then, he addressed his superior again.

“I’m not a picky eater, sir,” he noted.

As they neared the stall, the smell of spice caught Jemel’s attention. Although his folks weren’t huge on spice, he personally enjoyed his food having a nice kick.

“Something that’ll give me a good sweat would be nice. though.”

Jemel hadn’t realized the name Ruka used at first, but a moment’s reflection allowed him to connect the dots. His eyes trailed over to the woman who now stood on the other side of the Arcona Proconsul. “Wyvern… As in Evelyn Wyvern?” he inquired, budding recognition clear on his visage.

“Yes sir, I think I will have a bowl.” If it meant to have a break from bland boring foods at home, why not? She looked over the menu before hearing her name and turned to look at Jemel. Her eyebrow rose for a split second before her expression changed to more stoic. Why were his cheeks slightly violet? Was he becoming ill?

“Yes sir, I’m Evelyn Wyvern.” She held out her hand for a handshake. She was going have to get used to her name being slowly more well known. Even though it was more awkward than the day she found out that her ship was toilet papered.

“Gonna be five orders. Two of something mild hot for him and her then, please,” Ruka ordered to the vendor, “and your spiciest for me and the Lady, don’t care what else it comes with.” If Erinyes drank her own spiceberry juice then she’d be fine with this. “And uh, one of whatever has no spice and would soothe a throat. Thanks so much, sorry about the bother.”

While he finished up paying, he eyed Jemel and Evelyn. Oh, that flush was damningly familiar. The Cladeen was lucky he purpled, though not as sweetly purple as Cora did. Ruka just looked like mud. Or worse things people had come up with so creatively so many times.

It was probably from the cold, given the chill he’d noticed earlier and the comment about preferring Selen’s weather. Maybe Jemel didn’t do cold much.

Reaching up to his collarbones, the Proconsul unclasped his cloak and slid it off his shoulders, waiting for a less awkward opening to give it than when the two were talking.

Somewhere among the expo, a pair wandered through the various stalls and tents set up. Having been present the past week on Kasiya, it was intriguing to have watched what started as just a few skeletons of structures until it full blown into the market it was currently. Crimson feathers stirred and raised with mild chips, an olive hand reaching out to steel whole peppers grown from the very farms supplying goods to this venue. And not just any but some of the most highly calibrated spiced potency one could find.

Crunch.

A pearl and grey beak sunk into them idly, and a mottled tongue licked inked lips after swallowing. The deadly quantity of capsaicin appearing to have no affect on the Omwati as Flyndt and Foxen continued on their way.

Jemel looked to Evelyn’s extended hand and responded with a more apologetic expression than he’d given Draca. Although they were strangers, the fact that she was a pilot in the Arcona Expeditionary Force made him a bit more comfortable with her. “Sorry,” he began, “We don’t shake hands where I’m from.”

He did place his right palm flat across his left pectoral, the dark blue of his painted nails complementing his baby blue v-neck and the dark greys of his jacket. It wasn’t a standard salute that the military used, as he was no soldier, but hopefully it would convey his respect for her, nonetheless.

“You’re a member of Siren Squadron, yes? A Captain, according to Mister Tenbriss Ya-Ir’s address?”

Evelyn withdrew her hand but straightened up and returned the gesture. “No. I am sorry. The fault is my own, it did not occur to me that I had forgotten to ask of how you greet.” The respect did not go unnoticed and she greatly appreciated it. Her emerald hues glanced over to Ruka with a small frown as he paid for their food.

“Thank you, Mister Tenbriss-Ya-Ir, sir.” She would have to repay the favor someday. Then she focused back over to Jemel.

The hybrid gave a small smile with a brief nod, “That is right, sir. I still do not have your name.”

“There’s no need to apologize, really.”

He was happy to see that his gesture was reciprocated. When she mentioned that he hadn’t introduced himself, yet, Jemel felt a little embarrassed. “Oh? I hadn’t realized. My name is Jemel Dresad. I work in intelligence, for Arcona.”

He briefly shifted his attention to their Proconsul, tilting his head to the side when he saw he’d removed his jacket. “Is everything alright, sir?”

“Fine, Jemel,” Ruka replied, and extended the cloak out. “Here, you seem chilly. It’s not exactly warm.” As he spoke, he glanced over to the merchant, watching idly as bowls were filled, and floating them up and over towards respective individuals as the orders were filled.

Without missing a beat, Jemel extended his hand to grasp the cloak. He didn’t say anything at first, seemingly stunned by the offer. “You’re offering me your cloak, sir?” he asked, swallowing hard before mustering the resolve to look over at him.

“It is nice to meet you, Dresad.” An intelligence officer. That made sense. It would be useful to have them around the leaders. Evelyn noticed movement out of the corner of her eye and the Mirialan was handing his cloak towards Jemel. She wasn’t the only one that was confused until Ruka mentioned to the intention of handing him the cloak. Ah. Her eyes went back over to Jemel’s outfit. Not bad but not ideal if one gets chilled in this kind of climate. It was a different one.

Evelyn actually enjoys this climate. Jemel’s reaction to Ruka was even more interesting. The slight almost unnoticeable tremble in his hand, the sparkle behind the lime colored eyes, and the slight pitch jump in his voice. Her eyebrow rose for a moment before she went back to looking serious.

“Hmm?” The Mirialan finished levitating bowls, four just hovering there in a delicate spin, steam wafting, until Erinyes and Muz claimed theirs. Evelyn’s was lowered to her hands, and Jemel’s waited as Ruka looked back while taking his own. “Yeah, have it, please, ay. Not like I need it, and I’m dressed warm.”

It was true, given his lightly armored Lotus robes.

“Well I was actually looking for someone here… They commissioned something from me -” he adjusted the strap holding the sword on his back “an Erinyes I believe? I was to meet them here and drop it off.”

Jemel felt his breath catch in his throat, forcing him to turn his head so he could cough into his elbow. It was a reaction he hoped would be construed as a response to the airborne capsaicin drifting in their midst. He turned back and accepted the cloak, throwing it around his shoulders. His face turned a deeper violet this time, prompting him to lower his head.

“Thank you, sir.”

A gentle sigh escaped his lips as he felt the fabric work its insulative magic, trapping his body heat where it belonged. He took the bowl, next, making note of how easily and casually his Pronconsul used the Force to manipulate the objects in midair. What was likely a wholly mundane task was enough to give the Cladeen pause for a moment, for he knew his own connection to the Force was embryonic in comparison to what most bonafide Force wielders could rely upon–truer still, he gathered, for the Mirialan before him.

Wafting up from the bowl held between emerald hands was the scent of an ingredient immediately familiar to the hybrid. The skillful blend of spices, citrus, and onions had hidden it at first but there was no missing it, now.

“This one has Fleek eel in it,” he noted, the pitch of his voice raising a tad. He was speaking to no one in particular, at first, but upon realizing that his comment had earned a look from the others present, Jemel figured an explanation was in order. “It’s a marine animal that’s considered something of a delicacy amongst the Falleen. Although, it’s typically spiced and fried in pepper oil. I’ve never had it in a broth before…”

His words trailed off when his curiosity got the better of him. Taking his utensils in hand, he scooped up a bit of everything present in the bowl and popped it into his mouth. The blend of flavors, especially the way the marrow from the nerf bones mixed with the briny taste of the Fleek eel, jumpstarted his tastebuds. His enjoyment was clear on his face.

<@645466919415054357> <@244244163002892288> <@216702440140046336>

“Oh Erinyes? I was just talking to her earlier so I don’t think she could’ve gotten too far.” She offered him a quick smile “I’m sorry for holding you up, should probably let you go find her”

Ruka grinned back slightly at the look he got from the Zeltron, as if knowing her thoughts. “You welcome, ma'am. Damn this is good. I’ve gotta talk Qyreia into some trading contracts in the name of Clan…togetherness, or whatever. Selen’s got amazingly fresh fruit and seafood but the spices are all imports and the local market ain’t big.” Then his eyes went to each person in turn, evidently checking that they were eating – Muz too, good, Evelyn his look said, then back to Jemel – and he was satisfied to see the Cladeen now bundled up and enjoying his food.

“Fleek eel huh? In pepper oil? You got my attention.”

<@1056685516441006091> <@216702440140046336> <@645466919415054357>

Mikhail was in the middle of dismissing Elly’s concerns when out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the waving woman on approach. “Oh. Speaking of.”

He set the bowl of untouched dumplings down to more easily take off the strap across his chest. He tucked his cane under an arm as he holds the scabbard of the blade, ready to hand it off. “I do hope you enjoy it. I took longer that I thought I would but.. I think it came out very well.”

“‘Course,” Ruka said as Erinyes went off through a mouthful of spicy noodles. It was her show, after all. Ashla and Bogan knew how much he and Cora had to run around hosting their parties.

Oh Ancestors, flashbacks.

At least he hadn’t had to stop people from dying three times here, as a Force-battery or otherwise. And nothing was on fire, and there were no explosions, and as far as he’d seen, no big drama or argument over relationships or ressurections or revenge or you killed my brother’s. Nobody scalped. No glitter bombs. No crying. Or surprise weddings.

Were his standards skewed?

That was a deep hole to stare into for tonight, nope. The Mirialan shook his head and ate his food, looking around. Muz had gone to get more food. Jemel and Evelyn waited on him. But they were all eating, good.

“Alright,” he said once slurping up the last, having nearly inhaled his food while it was still in front of him far before the other two. Childhood habits died hard. “Let’s go take a look around. Itinerary says there’s a lights festival once dark falls and it won’t be long now. Wanna make sure all our kids is in a row.”

Who knew what the Arconans would be getting up to.

Hopefully they at least had clothes on.

He should ask Erinyes about indecency laws for Kaisya like… yesterday.

Floating his bowl away, the Proconsul signalled for his entourage to follow.