Private Between Saxons and Vikings

[Ashin Cardé Varanin]

While imperial station was far in Ashin's rearview, she retained certain vestiges. A ship, some armour, a wife, a book or two, and a dictum that had served her well on the throne:

Never put anything in writing that you wouldn't mind seeing on the front page of the Coruscant Enquirer.

Thus the message arrived in Ven Shai Turi 's most impressive speeder garage by Force phantom: a spectral shape, a voice that failed to register on security apparatus at a convenient or inconvenient time. Ashin didn't care which.

VEN SHAI TURI, it said. MY NAME IS ASHIN VARANIN. YOU RESEMBLE MY DAUGHTER AND I WOULD LIKE YOU TO IMPERSONATE HER FOR ONE EVENT.

A RETIRED JEDI MASTER HAS JUST DIED. I HAVE THE LOCATION OF HIS HOME. IF YOU IMPERSONATE MY DAUGHTER WELL, YOU CAN DO AS YOU WILL THERE, AND KEEP WHATEVER YOU TAKE.

WHAT DO YOU SAY?

 

[Ven Shai Turi]

Weird shit happened to Ven on such a frequent basis that a Force Phantom dropping in on her unannounced garnered itself a middling rating on the Weird-Shit-O-Meter. In naught but a bathrobe, sunglasses, and sipping hair of the dog after the previous night's bender, Ven winced at the booming voice and slowly meandered over to the thing.

She lifted her free hand and promptly stuck it through the phantom. Phantasmal miasma felt a bit like the pricklies after sleeping on your arm.

Nope, not a lucid dream.

There was something familiar about the phantom.

Ven sniffed, pushed her sunglasses up her nose, took a loooooooong sip of her drink, then answered with a shrug. Fuck it, why not?

"There better be funeral cake."

 

[Ashin Cardé Varanin]

Ven Shai Turi

This particular technique hailed from the tradition of Vectivus and keyed off a nearby life force —.in this case, a haplessly unconscious delivery driver a mile away. At the invasive contact, the driver died horribly.

The phantom flickered as Ashin found another life sign on which to anchor: a large man of uncertain disposition and activities, elsewhere. Normally she took more care with this but the moment demanded clarity of purpose and also she she was annoyed.

THE HOUSE CAN BE FOUND AT 17 SHIPBREAKERS WAY, ZORONHED, ZONJU FIVE

THE WOMAN YOU WILL IMPERSONATE IS NAMED Quinn Varanin A SITH LORD AND PRINCESS OF ESHAN

WEAR SOMETHING DIGNIFIED

JORUS MERRILL WAS CORELLIAN SO I BELIEVE A NUT CAKE SOAKED IN SPIRITS IS TRADITIONAL

The phantom began to fade.

 

[Eryndor Thorne]

Ven Shai Turi | Ashin Cardé Varanin

The large man 'of uncertain disposition and activities, elsewhere' was Eryndor Thorne. Crumbled outside the garage, still clutching the last beer can in his hand. Groaning as he felt something clutching to his soul. He first assumed it was heart burn or his liver crying out in anger. But then he realized he was being ridden like a bantha in a rodeo show.

"Errhwa?" The phantom would suddenly mumble in a slur as Thorne woke up. "What the kark?"

Blearily blinking as his vision came back to him.

"Ven, what the kriff are you doing over there?" Over his shoulder into the garage. For some reason he assumed it had something to do with that girl. She was trouble.

He couldn't even remember most of last night, but... yeah, trouble was the right word.

 

[Ven Shai Turi]

Princess.

Dignified?

Ven grimaced, but her expression wasn't yet prepared for the next offense: nut cake.

"Eugh-" the disgust manifested verbally. Ven's gaze grew distant. She lifted her martini glass and slurped the last of it down. Feth, at least she could wear black. Corellians wore black to funerals, right? Whatever.

She threw the empty glass. It had the audacity to bounce off a wall and clatter across the duracrete, unshattered.

Who the feth was Jorus Merrill?

Ven turned in a flurry of white hair and flailing bathrobe, headed back into the manor of her former Master. She opened the door with gusto and promptly smacked Eryndor Thorne with it in the process. Whoops.

"New job," she announced, looking around for the man and startling as she found him on the floor of the hallway, "crashing a Jedi funeral. Find some dress slacks and a tie, Sugarpecs, we're gonna be dignified."

 

[Eryndor Thorne]

He groaned when the door got smacked in his face, but other than rubbing his forehead he didn't seem to mind much.

The door might have a larger dent than his head for that matter.

"A Jedi funeral? Usually I cause Jedi funerals, Vivi." He only used that pet name when she used pet names. Sugarpecs was not... well... not one that he was used to, but it qualified as far as Thorne was concerned. "Don't think it is that karking smart to go visit one of them." But regardless of the grumbling he began to pick himself up from his seating position.

Dress slacks... and a tie.

"Dignified? Have you looked at us in the mirror. We are like karking animals." Regardless though he'd shrug and turn around to walk with her back to her manse. He had claimed one of the rooms. Not like he used it all that often, but he stored some stuff there and pretty sure a suit was one of them. It wasn't his favorite attire but sometimes you needed to go incognito.

"I hope you don't expect me to shave my beard." Shouting out the door as he compared the handful of ties he had. "There are things I won't do for a job."

Ashin Cardé Varanin | Ven Shai Turi

 

[Skeevi Merrill]

17 SHIPBREAKERS WAY
ZORONHED
ZONJU FIVE

The wake of Captain Jorus Merrill — this particular wake, there were others — was Zoronhed formal like 'wear a clean shirt and your best work boots.' Everyone around here was a cousin one way or another. Kids half-raised by Jorus and Alndys at one point or another; his daughter Mara's kids and grandkids; Saga Merrill the nav droid; Beyyr the Wookiee; all their multigenerational whatever. This was the family wake. Skeevi was the only one here from Rave's side of the family, far as Skeevi could tell, not that Grandma had been too forthcoming about the relations.

A bit out of place — Jawa eyes under a yellow hood tented by Zabrak horns — they'd poked around the big run-down desert house, drink in hand, for the body and found nothing. Poked around for things worth salvaging and found a few of those. Now they were happily tattooing jittery Denon holograms into some second cousin's shoulder out front. This was the edge of town, Sith-ish granite and bitty sandstorms and rusty swoop bikes.

Maybe not that happily, come to think. He'd been Skeevi's best and only great uncle. Yeah, maybe not that happy.

Ven Shai Turi Eryndor Thorne

 

[Ven Shai Turi]

"Leave the beard. There's an afterparty."

Her approximation of Princess Dignified was a suit.

Black button up. Black slacks. Black chunky heels. Black leather jacket. Cigarette.

A cursory lookup of the Princess in question had raised her brows - bit like looking in a mirror if the mirror was from the nightclub where Disney Princesses went to sate their girlie problems with spice and Edge Lords, but those hazel eyes would be a pain in the ass. She hated wearing contacts.

Sunglasses would have to do.

Might be able to get some Force-fart sorcery to temporarily change the color right before arrival because hell if she was gonna waste energy on the entire trip. This lil podunk place was out near one of those roving stations, P L Y G R N D. They'd be ditchin' early if she got even a whiff of that fucking nutcake.

Her brushed hair whipped about in the wind of open speeder windows after making landfall. They arrived in a dust cloud outside the home. Ven squashed her cigarette in the ashtray, flopped a hand through her flock-of-seagulls hairdo, and gave herself one last check in the rear-view. Oh, fuck, the eyes. She looked to Eryn and promptly shlepped a hand over his left eye, "Need some of that pretty blue."

He'd feel a tingle in his eye, like the twitch he got at the end of a three day bender, and when she removed her hand she slapped it over her own eyes. His left eye blinked open, dull as granite. Ven shuddered, blinked, looked in the mirror to find his blue had made a vibrant green out of her own yellow. She rubbed at them, squeezed them shut, blinked again. Bit less vibrant, little bit murky. Not quite hazel, but it would have to do.

"Name's Quinn Varanin," Ven said to him as she pulled her sunglasses on, "and you're my new Apprentice. The safe word is nutcake."

She actually had no idea if his face was a well-known entity. Guess they'd find out.

"Let's fuckin boogie." Out of the speeder she went and up to the door.

Knok knok knok.

 

[Eryndor Thorne]

Ven Shai Turi | Skeevi Merrill

He wore a suit that fit him perfectly, but somehow Eryndor looked uncomfortable in it anyway.

Maybe it were the tattoos going down his neck before disappearing underneath the collar line. Maybe it was him constantly fidgeting with his tie as if he was struggling against a snake trying to choke him to death. Maybe it was the way he kept glancing down at his leather shoes. Spotless to the extent they shone brightly.

"What the f-" Ven's hand shlepped into his eye and it made him blink wildly at her. Then the feeling and then he looked at the mirror and groaned softly. "You know I hate it when you do that. Get your own blue eyes!"

But it was too late already.

The color had faded out of his eyes and left them a dull grey color.

"First I gotta wear this wookie suit." Stepping out behind her and offering his elbow as he grumbled. "Then I gotta give up my-" Eryn paused as she announced herself. For a moment she even looked like some prissy Princess schutta. "Her pl- her apprentice, Eryn Thorne." Unless they were halted at the door he'd guide her through the doors and continued.

"-my eye color, you know I am proud of my ocean blues!" His hip checking hers. "You better get me drunk like a bantha by the end of the night."

Already guiding her towards one of the tables that hopefully had 'refreshments' also known as a feth ton of drinks.

 

[Skeevi Merrill]

"Th'feth'sit?" said Skeevi to the second cousin they were tattooing, and got a spectacularly unwise shrug in response. The tattoo job ended. Skeevi kept their focus on the two new arrivals, wearing maybe the only truly fancy suits on Zonju Five. Being from the bad part of the bad part of Denon, Skeevi had feelings about suits and followed them inside.

The place was indistinguishable from half the cantinas in the Outer Rim, and this was just the family wake.

Skeevi deposited themself opposite the two. Across the table and its beverages:

"Himside, wifeside, Raveside?"

Ven Shai Turi Eryndor Thorne

 

[Ven Shai Turi]

"Noneside," Ven replied, giving the yellow-coated kid (?) a short look down, "distantly a third cousin twice removed, on a galactic scale." She made that up without knowing how obliquely close it was.

"Quinn Varanin," introduced herself, gave herself a suitably solemn expression behind the glasses, added a little sniff for good measure and lifted a hand to wipe a sleepy from her eyes, though it could appear she was wiping away a tear. She stepped on Eryn's foot, "My Apprentice, Eryn. He's an alcoholic, we're working on it."

"Came to pay my respects. I'm a Princess and that's the sort of thing we do."

 

[Eryndor Thorne]

Something was about to come out of Eryndor's mouth that was decidely un-apprenticelike.

It was almost as if Ven could read his mind and forestalled that possibility by a quick crushing of his foot. Instead of whatever obscenity was about to be delivered, he hissed under his breath and dull colored eyes flicked to the little woman with a threat promised inside. It was a good thing "Varanin" continued to talk because it allowed Eryn to regain his composure.

Somewhat.

"I am here to pay my respects also." He finally managed to utter while sending a balefire gaze at the 'Princess'. "While making sure her Royal Highness is treated with the proper respect and decorum she deserved."

Which was to say exactly none.

Eryn wondered if there was a pie somewhere he could throw in her face. Wouldn't that be a sight?

With that exchange done his eyes started scanning for the alcohol bar again. "You think they got shots here in this shindig?" He muttered to Ven from the corner of his mouth.

 

[Skeevi Merrill]

The name Varanin got some wary attention from one or two or three of the assorted cousins in the vicinity, and that got nerves frizzing around Skeevi's cybernetic knee. They rubbed it absently. Eryndor Thorne had the look of a blue-collar type (but like, fancy blue-collar nerf herder) uncomfortable in a suit, which fit the apprentice thing.

Apart from the hands. He didn't have work hands, he had fighter hands. Both of'em did.

Maybe not trades then. No, wait, maybe princess wasn't just inexplicable banter. Maybe these were genuine rich people. Rich fighters. Mercs? Hm.

"This is the family wake," said some older lady in a chilly way — ah shavvit, that was Mara Merrill, Jorus' daughter and Skeevi's great something. Bitter shavvit who made her bones lynching Mandos, was the story. "Thank you for coming, but the public wake is tomorrow at the town hall. Skeevi will get you one for the road."

Like feth would Skeevi get them one for the road — except come to think of it, those suits and their ship or hotel or whateverthefeth probably had odds and ends worth taking.

Skeevi unlimbered their gangly legs, long yellow coat, and long braid from the bench. "Shots, y'said? Shots it is. Whyren's?"

Ven Shai Turi Eryndor Thorne

 

[Ven Shai Turi]

Wow. Rude.

Ven didn't look at the owner of the craggly voice from behind, eyes stuck to the gangly teen in their banana suit.

Never turn down free booze. Especially not Whyren's.

"Well at least the old man had good taste," or someone did. Maybe it hadn't been Jorus. Who the feth was he again? She accepted the shot, cheers'd with Eryn, and downed it with zero Princess dignity.

"I was told all cousins were welcome," she shifted her attention to the older woman, "even estranged ones. Don't think Uncle Jor would appreciate your tone, grandma."

 

[Eryndor Thorne]

Ven Shai Turi | Skeevi Merrill

Grandma.

Eryn promptly choked mid-shot and had a coughing fit behind Ven. Being behind her didn't amount to much however, because she was a short stump and he was ridiculously large. He waved his hand at them, the universal sign of don't mind me, I am just here enjoying the scenery while y'all are fighting it out on a dead man's wake.

There wasn't a lot that Eryn could say anyway.

He was just the Princess' apprentice. But if Eryn had found Ven a bit annoying on a regular day, her being put on top of him really amplified his desire to throw her into a wall.

 

[Skeevi Merrill]

"Skeevi," said the old lady, "help our visitors along for the night."

As if Skeevi was, feth, a bouncer. Skeevi'd been bounced, sure, but otherwise their best bet at bouncerdom was they'd watched Road Hab about a hundred times, Denon original and fancy Coruscant remake both.

Rule one: no underestimating the princess mercs.

Rule two: take it outside.

Rule three, ah crap: be nice.

Skeevi plastered on a smile and started ushering the pair of them doorward. "Nice Whyren's, yeh? C'mon, let's getcha home, tomorrow's lookin good..."

Ven Shai Turi Eryndor Thorne

 

[Ven Shai Turi]

Ven would not be ushered, bounced, or shuffled along. She let the shortstack banana toddle right up to her and that was as far as Skeevi got to go. The little thing might've been able to use some brute force against herself if she really tried, but Ven had some serious doubts she'd get Eryn to budge a Coruscanti Inch.

Maybe if she used a carrot instead of a stick, anyway, she could. That Whyren's was tasty.

"I said," Ven raised her voice an octave, glassware on the table rang in response, "I'm here to pay my respects," behind her sunglasses she glanced around at those gathered in the humdrum little home. If there was anything worth taking here, it didn't balance out dropping the act and having a little fun instead.

"To Uncle J."

Looked back to the old biddy, back straight and chin lifted.

"So check your engine pressure and take a load off, eh? It'll be better for everyone."

 

[Skeevi Merrill]

Skeevi watched wheels turn behind the old lady's eyes. There were plenty of cousins here on the younger side, or older, folks not best suited to a brawl. How far could Mara Merrill bend? How much risk would she take on against two unknowns it'd be easy to underestimate?

Maybe the old lady'd watched Road Hab too.

"To Jorus," said Mara at last, and the tension ran down just a notch, and some drank to the toast.

Skeevi couldn't relax yet. Inside the pocket of their long coat, they fitted their fingers through a set of electrified knuckles, just in case.

Ven Shai Turi Eryndor Thorne

 

[Eryndor Thorne]

It was great.

She had managed to resolve the whole situation with just a bit of guile, a lot of attitude and bossiness.

He probably should be proud of her, but he was too busy with another Whyren shot to really worry about it too much. It made sense though, her apprentice was an alcoholic after all, as "Princess" herself had said.

"Hear hear, to Jairus!" He said, raising another new shot up in the sky and topped it over onto his mouth.

That was his name right?

Jairus? Jorus? Eh, same difference, basically the same thing.

 

[Ven Shai Turi]

Ven's shotglass was empty, so she tossed it over her shoulder and gestured to the bottle of Whyren's on the table to make her toast official with a quick swig direct from the bottle. The shotglass shattered against a wall - there it was.

"That's the spirit-" she quipped pointedly at the old woman.

Eyes narrowed behind the sunglasses as she cast another look about. This little home was tidy and well-loved with very little of any value within immediate notice. Time to snoop. So she pivoted on her heel, took another sip from the bottle, and headed on a path that was the opposite of the entrance that Skeevi had tried to usher them back out.

"I'd like to get a lil keepsake of Uncle J while I'm here to remember him by."