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Post by Grand Moff Poobah I on Nov 16, 2015 0:01:56 GMT -5
Yana slept like a log. Well, not accurately. Logs didn't have long limbs that dangled in awkward positions. It was something like the offspring of a log and a particularly lazy octopus, splayed out all across the bed. Yana's left leg dipped off the narrow bed and trailed on the floor, her right was tucked up towards her. Her left arm extended off the bed above her, and her right was buried below her. Strands of her coarse black hair were fallen all over her face, and she was leaving a very unlady-like puddle of drool on the pillow.
To compound things, she had a light snore. Of course it helped that she was immensely satisfied. That helped her sleep. She'd gotten precisely what she wanted, and she had the feeling he'd be sticking around.
Of course in her dream he was riding a horse, shirtless, and toting a fancy blaster and vibroblade. Also she was much better-looking, and riding with him into a sunset.
In reality she had a dumb smile on her sleeping face as she rolled over into the morning sun shining through the window.
'wassat,' she muttered in her sleep, 'eysarlikemralds. awwwwwww.'
She tried to kiss her pillow, and her hair managed to cockblock that. She woke up sputtering with a mouth full of it, and sat upright in bed, looking around. No horse. No sunset. It was her own room, with her own self. Because that was just the way things were, she wasn't daft enough to sleep with somebody else when Dad was liable to check in any old time. Of course it didn't mean she had to think like a nun. No, far from it, she had several ideas about times, places, and excuses to have a quickie. Or two. Or three.
She slid out of bed, her usual night attire of pajama pants and a tank top being plenty fine for mornings, she headed straight down the stairs. Behind the bar they had a machine that brewed caf, and she held a mug under it, rubbing the sleep from her eyes while it filled, and then she found a piece of sweet bread and carried both over to one of the booths. She sat on the cushioned seat, bare feet on the edge of the table. She yawned for a minute, then sipped the drink, bit the bread, chewed silently, and tried to wake up for the day.
If she had any idea of schedules, Finn was still fast asleep. This was the beginning of the work-week, which meant they'd be dead until almost nightfall. It probably meant a mix of work and boredom. But that also meant opportunity. She could figure out what TK wanted to do next, and maybe help get him set up better in town. There had to be some kind of work he was good at, and he could get into. And interim she could probably convince Dad to host him. But in long run, sharing the same house with her dad meant the sex opportunities were more perilous.
Best to figure things out quickly.
Yana sipped her caf as she mulled it all over.
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Mr. Slender
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Post by Mr. Slender on Nov 16, 2015 23:17:12 GMT -5
Despite the deathlike sleep that had come upon him, TK-1104/D's eyes snapped opened wide. A quick glance at the clock on the nightstand confirmed it was a short bit before this planet's day cycle began, yet he didn't feel like he could be going back to sleep now. Mulling over the evenings of the previous night didn't sound like a productive time either, so the clone rose from his bed to find his underwear somewhere in the room.
After clothing himself he decided to give his exercise regiment a low tech upgrade, and laid down to start doing crunches. After fifty reps the clone switched to one handed pushups for awhile, until the sound of footsteps in the hallway caught his attention.
It was definitely one person, with no urgency in their movements, it also sounded too lite to be the massive Finn, so he concluded it was probably Yana or another guest.
The chance of it being the former was all the motivation he needed to interrupt his current set, and TK-1104/D quickly found his clothes. Oddly though, he didn't feel like wearing them. Being trapped potentially forever on Saleucami was something the clone was starting to get used to, massively in part of last night's education, but the clothes situation was troubling.
These ones just weren't him.
Fearing no retribution or consequence, he calmly left his room in the tight boxer briefs,typical of someone forced to wear form fitting clothing, and started down the stairs. The pleasant smell of caf caught his attention half way to the bottom, and spoke of even more formerly forbidden fruit. Caf was a mild stimulant, capable of ruining a troopers concentration, or in effect their aim and performance.
"...Good...uh..I...Hi." The clone rambled off quickly, as Yana seemed to appear out of nowhere for him. He slowly approached trying to think of what to say beyond that, but only succeeded in drawing a complete blank...
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Post by Deleted on Nov 17, 2015 0:08:24 GMT -5
This was Hope’s favorite time of the day. Well, Hope had lots of favorite times of the day. For example, five’o’clock in the afternoon, when most taverns started happy hour. Or when her head finally hit her pillow at whatever ungodly hour she decided to sleep at. But this time of the day? This time was just as good. Early in the morning, that it was reasonable for her to be up. But not so early that people wanted to be up. For some odd reason, despite her lifestyle, Hope was a morning person. Must’ve just been something her Aunt Ria had instilled in her from an early age.
Either that, or because at this hour, the streets were clear.
And Hope loved clear streets. No pesky pedestrians to get in her way as she cracked the pipes on her swoop bike, Darcy, and flew down the dusty, dirt path like a mynock out of a space slug or whatever nine realms of hell they went towards in the afterlife. No other traffic to try and slow her down. And not to mention, people hated it when she cracked her loud pipes and muffler on Darcy, which was one of the primary reasons that she did it. The town would get over it. In fact, they should thank her for waking them to such a sweet, warm sound. No doubt it could be heard echoing throughout the whole caldera.
Slowing the BARC swoop bike down to a crawl, the early morning sun gleamed off of Darcy’s racing orange and purple paint-job. This was one of the rare instances that Hope had the sidecar attached, which had matching colors. The reason she had the sidecar was simple - Hope hadn’t been racing. In fact, she had been gone the past day or so, over in the next caldera, picking up swoop parts. But not just any ordinary swoop parts. Oh no. These were turbothrusters. And there was turbothrusters, and then there was turbothrusters. These were the latter. The good stuff. The Holy Grail of swoop parts. Worth it’s weight in gold on Saleucami. The Aratech XP38 Turbothruster. Hope had only seen one before, and it was in Darcy at the moment.
And she had found two of them. She couldn’t wait to show Yana.
Pulling right up into the first parking spot at the Tavern that Yana and Finn ran, Hope cracked the muffler a few good times on her swoop bike, before hopping off. If Yana wasn’t up yet, she was now. Probably not Finn, though. The man could sleep through the Clone Wars, if given the chance. Covering the swoop parts in the sidecar, Hope would probably sever someone limb from limb if they even thought about touching them. Save for Yana, of course. Yana was Hope’s sister, adoptively speaking. And as such, when Hope burst through the door, she acted like she was at her own home. Pretty damn close, anyways. If Hope wasn’t hanging out at the Tavern, Yana was hanging out at Hope’s place. What was the difference?
“Yaaaaaaaaaaannaaa?! Whadda got to eat?! I’m starvin’!”
Unlike the others, Hope was already fully dressed. Black leather jacket, unzipped. Black pants. Boots to match. A solid, durable belt with her blaster on one hip and her lightsaber on the other. And unlike most days, her hair was sporting it’s orange-red natural color. Throwing her jacket down in one of the booths as she marched across the floor, Hope immediately made for the kitchen.
“Just wait till you see what I got on my trip! I -”
Then Hope caught it. A tall, incredibly muscular man wearing little besides his boxer briefs. Silver hair, and blue eyes to match. Taken aback for a moment, Hope almost thought she ran into the wrong tavern. But catching Yana out of the corner of her eye, and looking from the man and to Yana and back again, it didn’t take Hope’s Force-sensitivity to realise that they were shagging each other.
“Well then… Looks like we both got a couple of prizes.”
Smirking, Hope made her way for the food. If it had been anyone else, Hope would’ve tried to steal the man right then and there. But it was Yana. Yana was family, and Hope loved her dearly.
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Post by Grand Moff Poobah I on Nov 18, 2015 23:11:03 GMT -5
"Hey there," Yana said in response to the greeting of her favorite trooper. Her thick eyebrows climbed a little at his attire, since it was a little... Well, little. Not that she would complain, his underwear made viewing his uniformly-fit body all the easier. Of course the challenge was not ogling. Now at least she could say there wasn't anything there she hadn't already seen. She smiled warmly at him, at least as warm as the rays of sunshine wafting through the windows and the doorway. She patted the seat by her, and then belatedly realized she had food and he didn't.
"Oh yeah, there's bread over there on the counter, by the pot of caf."
She grinned happily for a minute, and then the sound.
That sound meant exactly one thing. It was the booming loud sound of a swoop, and not any vanilla swoop either. It was the hearty roar of a bike with a lot of custom work. In this caldera that meant just one precise, exacting thing.
Yana's eyes widened, the scar over her right eye practically disappearing.
But it was too late to hide the trooper. Not in this time. There was nothing to do but face fate with dignity.
Yana's best friend walked through the door, and caught them both in sleeping-attire. That meant the woman knew. Hope was smart, insightful, and insulting her intelligence was bad. But, by the same token, since she was a mover and shaker (THE mover and shaker actually) in their swoop gang, she was likely to react about as well as dad. That meant a certain amount of strategy was in order.
"Oh, hi Gaerial," She said, deliberately not using the woman's real name because of full knowledge she hated it. That would be leverage later. If she needed it. "Uh, meet Teek, he's new here. Teek," She looked back to the trooper, "This is Gaerial, she runs a swoop garage. We're friends."
Now she just had top hope that nothing else awkward happened before she finished her cup of caf. Of course maybe that was the advantage to smaller cups...
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Mr. Slender
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Post by Mr. Slender on Nov 23, 2015 22:33:45 GMT -5
A sense of beauty was not something programmed into an Imperial clone. In fact the capacity to regard something beyond a tactical prospective period was something many suffered from, not that they did anything to defy their mental condition regularly. Beauty was just another factor that could interfere with following orders to one’s capacity, not unlike weather events or equipment malfunctions.
If the empire wanted an art gallery or monument destroyed you were expect to level it with complete indifference.
Seeing Yana bathed in the morning sunlight elicited a mental sense of enjoyment that TK-1104/D could only rationally attribute to some amusement he was receiving from the sight. Beauty was the likely culprit, yet he couldn’t be sure with 100% certainty. More examination of females was going to have to be necessary.
As if materialized by his curiosity of how many variants there could be, another suddenly appeared. She was a much louder and paler specimen than Yana. The clone’s expression remained blank during their introduction, as he gave her a quick once over. However, his eyes opened wider and he took an instinctive cylinder that had be ingrained into his memory.
“Jedi….”
‘Kill, kill, kill, kill’ Was all that flashed through TK-1104/D’s head for what seemed like hours; still, his muscles gradually relaxed and he slowly moved back to his neutral, statuesque stance from before. “Nice to meet you.” Was all he stated plainly, before spinning on a heel and jogging for the kitchen.
Hopefully food would help clear the fact he just ran into one of the Empire’s most wanted criminals out of his head for the moment.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 1, 2016 21:36:34 GMT -5
Sometimes, perfect days stayed that way. Things just went right. No one pissed you off, or got in your face, or screwed you over. But this was Saleucami. And if you were on Saleucami, sometimes the wool could be pulled over your eyes, and you only THINK you’re having a perfect day. Sometimes, perfect days were shattered with one word. One action. One thought. Then, there was no salvaging the day after that. Like a fine piece of china that hits the floor and shatters, there was no use for it anymore but to clean it up and throw it away.
And after that one word was uttered, Hope’s perfect day was pretty much shattered.
The redhead knew something was wrong the soonest the tall, white-haired man tensed up, almost seizing. It wasn’t a visible change, but it was one that Hope could feel through the Force. The man didn’t do much to hide it. There was almost a sort of detached bloodlust that came along with it, like a creature that killed for sport, or because it was told to do so. Not because it wanted to.
And then that word was uttered. The one word that Hope hated more than anything. It always made her skin crawl, and balled her hands into tight, sweaty fists. A rage rose up in the short woman that was as fiery as her hair. Jedi. Hope hated the Jedi. Most of her family had been Jedi, from what she was told. And they abandoned her on this spitball of a planet. Usually, anyone who called Hope a Jedi got shown some very un-Jedi things. Usually with her fists, inserted into faces.
But it was only because of Yana’s presence, because of the fact that she apparently liked the man’s face intacted, that Hope stayed her hands. She was close, though. So very close.
“Who’re you callin’ Jedi, Sleemo?”
Hope wasn’t yelling. She was past yelling. Her voice was more of deep growl. Her anger had allowed her to completely bypass the fact that the man had followed up with a greeting, but she didn’t much care. Somewhere, deep down, Hope knew that it wasn't exactly the man's fault. After all, the lightsaber was hanging at her belt, and what else did you call someone who wore one? But that was just how much Hope hated the Jedi. And she was never good at controlling her emotions.
Either way, she wasn't to be approached about it right now. In a bit, when she cooled down, maybe she'd try again with the white-haired man. As he walked away, Hope stomped behind the bar, and poured herself a cup of caf, slamming cups and pots around as she did.
“Where da hell did you find this one, Yana? He just fall outta the sky?”
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Post by Grand Moff Poobah I on Apr 4, 2016 16:44:23 GMT -5
Yana didn't like the direction this was going. First there was the fact TK had reacted to that lightsaber on the hip like a bull to red, or a Neimoidian to tax increases. It was downright uncomfortable for her, and she started trying to spit out the words that she wasn't, when Gaerial instead blurted off brusque rebuttal. TK walked off to the kitchen as planned, and Yana took her own breakfast and relocated herself.
Respectable people didn't sit in their pajama pants on the bar you served on. Good thing then that Yana was immensely not respectable. She was, however, awkward. No amount of excessively sweet coffee or fresh bread was going to fix the underlying problem here, which was that lying to Hope was damned near impossible. If she was going to have any chance of this, she had to do half-truths, and try hard not to be obvious.
"Well actually..." She began, pausing to swallow another mouthful of bread, "Kinda. Yeah. He was on a ship, and it crashed out there in nowhere. Poor guy had to walk all the way in, was half-dead. I got to take care of him, it was super romantic, and don't bother him OK? People were after him and he needs to start a new life."
That was not her best rhetoric. Indeed it wasn't likely to satisfy anyone or explain anything, but it was what it was, and Yana moved on. Or attempted to.
"So you want some bread? What'd you get on your trip?"
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