We Are One
Outer Rim Territories;
Ivax Nebula;
Bespin.
They had only just begun to pull into the planet's atmosphere when the Fanblade began to rattle. It was slight, and nothing out of the ordinary, merely entering the thicker air and submitting to the now-present pull of gravity. Unneeded accessories and uncomfortable clothing had been removed and now lay in piles around their feet, leaving them with only what was needed to serve as basic coverings. The red sphere of the cockpit had long since heated, even against the sheer cold of deep space. Xenia, once at the forward controls of the ship now lay sideways, draped across Kail's body like a small child, legs hanging off of the right edge, and the rest of her body curled against his chest; still bare. His skin felt warm against hers, though it wasn't a conscious feeling. Her eyes were closed, and had been for at least a few hours. Even so, a small smile remained on her full lips, her hair now in a tangled mess, the white fabric of her clothing blown apart, dirtied, and now torn away; in part from the attack on Naboo.
"-- Bespin air patrol, your landing permit and vehicle registration code."
Automated voices began to cycle through at annoyingly loud volumes; Bespin's air patrol, in request of the various landing codes and registration. It was information only Xenia would have known off the top of her head, which was more or less standard procedure among pilots, preventing others from really using a stolen ship should they have the nerve to try it. The bright orange of sunset cloaked the two humans in a flattering light, tanning them beyond what was normally visible. She stirred in response to the harsh, mechanical sounding humans on the other end of the com-unit, but didn't fully wake. Her hands, not subject to any real command, stretched over the man's pectorals and clenched into a fist right at the pit between them both. Again the Bespin officials called in for the information, as persistent as ever, the raising noise of their own air patrol cornering them on either end. The strange cabs, armed with stranger placed weapons, displayed pilots who peered into their own cockpit, flashing hand signals to suggest a response.
"You are not cleared for landing, I repeat not cleared for landing, you'll have one last warning. Landing permit and registration--!"
[member="Kail Ragnar"]
Ivax Nebula;
Bespin.

They had only just begun to pull into the planet's atmosphere when the Fanblade began to rattle. It was slight, and nothing out of the ordinary, merely entering the thicker air and submitting to the now-present pull of gravity. Unneeded accessories and uncomfortable clothing had been removed and now lay in piles around their feet, leaving them with only what was needed to serve as basic coverings. The red sphere of the cockpit had long since heated, even against the sheer cold of deep space. Xenia, once at the forward controls of the ship now lay sideways, draped across Kail's body like a small child, legs hanging off of the right edge, and the rest of her body curled against his chest; still bare. His skin felt warm against hers, though it wasn't a conscious feeling. Her eyes were closed, and had been for at least a few hours. Even so, a small smile remained on her full lips, her hair now in a tangled mess, the white fabric of her clothing blown apart, dirtied, and now torn away; in part from the attack on Naboo.
"-- Bespin air patrol, your landing permit and vehicle registration code."
Automated voices began to cycle through at annoyingly loud volumes; Bespin's air patrol, in request of the various landing codes and registration. It was information only Xenia would have known off the top of her head, which was more or less standard procedure among pilots, preventing others from really using a stolen ship should they have the nerve to try it. The bright orange of sunset cloaked the two humans in a flattering light, tanning them beyond what was normally visible. She stirred in response to the harsh, mechanical sounding humans on the other end of the com-unit, but didn't fully wake. Her hands, not subject to any real command, stretched over the man's pectorals and clenched into a fist right at the pit between them both. Again the Bespin officials called in for the information, as persistent as ever, the raising noise of their own air patrol cornering them on either end. The strange cabs, armed with stranger placed weapons, displayed pilots who peered into their own cockpit, flashing hand signals to suggest a response.
"You are not cleared for landing, I repeat not cleared for landing, you'll have one last warning. Landing permit and registration--!"
[member="Kail Ragnar"]