Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Cargo and Consequence




HAIuSyi.png


Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers

Valery leaned back into the couch with the kind of casual grace that suggested she could have been draped across a throne just as easily. Her eyes hadn't stopped tracking In's movements — not when she leaned, not when that halter slipped just right, not when her voice dipped into that dangerous, honey-sweet register.

"In, huh?" she echoed, swirling the tea in her mug with one hand, her tone silky. "Alright. But you should know — you invite me to drop the formalities, I might get a little too comfortable." A smirk. Not a threat. A promise.

Her gaze dropped, unhurried, appreciating the lean lines and smooth tone of In's skin with the same quiet confidence she brought to a battlefield. "And you," she said, eyes lifting again to meet hers, "Are dangerously good at turning a galley into a trap." Valery clicked her tongue softly, playful.

A long, deliberate sip of tea. Then, "Honeymooners, though?" she teased, the corner of her mouth curling upward. "Now there's a cover story. I could see it — smugglers turned lovers turned 'oops, we accidentally wandered into Sith space, guess we'll just have to stick together to survive.' Very romantic." She lifted her eyebrows and chuckled. "And highly believable, clearly."

Valery shifted again, a subtle lean forward that closed just a little of the space between them — not enough to touch, but enough to feel. The air between them felt warmer suddenly.

"I'm not afraid of high-maintenance," she said, eyes focused on In as she twirled a strand of hair around her index finger. "And I'll happily make some time for you." Another berry, this one plucked lazily, brought to her lips and bitten with far more deliberation than was necessary.






 
In couldn't help but flush a bit at that. The slightest lean forward, the suggestive arch of an eyebrow and the way Valery teased that poor berry. She wasn't sure if it was the air that was electric and charged, or just her, but it was reaching a fevered pitch. Now, whether that pitch was simply madding or hilariously overwrought was anyone's guess. In wasn't sure. Thinking too much about it would require squeezing some life out of her last couple of brain cells, and they certainly weren't making it easy on her. In had never been an especially cerebral person, after all - she was a doer, someone who kept her hands busy.

"Of course, if we're going to fool a military checkpoint - we'll need to be convincing." In murmured sheepishly, glancing briefly away towards the far corner of the galley towards a distant nothing, something else to focus her eyes on. "Only a couple of weeks to practice. While I'm used to being on a stage..." The Pantoran woman glanced back to her passenger, grinning as she set her tea aside.

Curlng her legs underneath herself as she half-stood, In gracefully closed the distance between herself and her flirtatious lodger, blushing furiously enough to turn her ears purple. Kneeling with one leg between Val's, In tossed her hair back and put a hand on the Jedi's shoulder. "...I'll need to judge your performance for myself." In purred, mustering every inch of her courage and frustration. Every drop was needed to push through the bubble of tension they'd been creating since they'd met. "What do you say, my sweet?"

In's smouldering, half-lidded smirk was cracked slightly by her nervous chuckle. She felt ridiculous, like a holosoap starlet in a bawdy b-tier production. But who said life couldn't be a little ridiculous from time to time?
 



HAIuSyi.png


Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers

Valery didn't pull away when In stepped in closer — far from it. The moment those long legs tucked between hers, the Jedi let her knees shift apart in quiet invitation, her body relaxing into the curve of the couch like she had all the time in the galaxy. Her mug was already set aside, forgotten, and her hands — those strong, callused hands — found their way to In's waist with effortless certainty.

Her thumbs brushed along the curve of her hips, slow and deliberate, while her fingers spread just enough to feel the warm pulse beneath skin.

"Mmm…" Valery hummed, lifting her gaze, golden eyes aglow with heat and mischief. "You want to judge my performance?" she asked, her voice dropping just enough to curl like smoke between them. "Fair. But I should warn you…" Her fingers curled a little tighter, not gripping — just holding, anchoring. "I might need some… hands-on instruction."

Her lips quirked into a devilish smile.

"Think you can teach me, sweetheart?" she teased, echoing the pet name with a wink — bold and shameless. "I'm a fast learner. Especially with the right incentive."

Then, as if to prove it, Valery leaned in — not all the way, not yet — just close enough for her breath to ghost across In's lips. Just close enough for the space between them to feel far too fragile.

"Besides," she murmured, her voice velvet now, "If we're going to sell this honeymoon story…" Her hands slid a little lower, not rushed — just suggestive. "We should probably start practicing."






 
Despite the speed with by which they got closer, the trip to Sith territory was a fairly long one - especially since it helped Val & In remain clandestine to periodically haul freight further along their path. Beelining straight for Sith territory from Empress Teta would have looked beyond suspicious, but a hauler taking small jobs in the spaces between? That was downright normal. Sometimes smuggling was more about being beneath notice than it was remaining out of sight.

A couple of weeks into their journey, In was awoken by the soft bleating of one of the less common alarms - an old distress scanner, kept under the cockpit console for reasons that were as much based in superstition as they were practicality. This far out in free territory and in the tense political climate, a distress beacon was as likely to summon scavengers and military investigation as it was to conjure help. After extricating herself from Valery's arms, the Pantoran woman staggered her way to the controls to have a look at what was trying so hard to get her attention.

In picked up the intercom as she sank into her seat. "Beacon six-six-Jar-Theta, this is freight hauler Dancer in Green. I'm reading your signal." In responded, tying her unruly white hair back into a quick tail to get it out of her eyes until it could be tamed.

What answered was a rapid-fire and panicked reply in a language In did not understand. Fear was universal, as was the youth of the person on the other end. She tried to curb her reflexive urge to set a course for the distress signal - it was a fairly predictable honeytrap that any half-wit pirate with a kid could think up. She'd BEEN the kid of that half-wit pirate. Everyone who heard such a trap told themselves they knew it was.

Everyone who heard such a trap also asked themselves...what if it isn't?

From the strength and direction, In reckoned the signal was coming from a small lunar colony on a tiny planetoid nearby. Water, gas, maybe thirty souls total.

"Hey, Val?" In called over her shoulder. Valery was the customer, and the one with the magical insight powers. At least for purposes of their cover, also her newlywed wife. Her input was important. "Could you come have a look at this?"
 

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