will you sink down to me?
That laugh was echoed as Damsy pushed herself from the table and jumped nimbly to the floor. "There's some tihaar about 'les Arisso drank it all to clean out his servos." Her voice was lilted and altogether more lively, so it was very possible that was a joke. As she passed beside Mal on her way out an actual door opposite the way they came it, she clapped the flygirl on her shoulder. "Kidding. It's not quite that strong."
Damsy led the way again, this time into a bullpen area that may have once been an office but was now decorated with a variety of artifacts. Cushy furniture, trinkets in various degrees of shine, ragged flags. Lanterns and lit incense gave the space a warm, welcoming light. The predominate color of décor was red, but despite that and the more recognizable symbols of fallen Sith factions and planets, the room offered no foreboding ambience itself. If any guest felt or would feel that way, the burden was entirely upon them and the prejudices they brought with them. A few Sithspawn reclined about, talking amongst themselves; a cyborg here, a near-human rakghoul there, and more.
The bullpen turned out to be semi-circular. Damsy continued guiding Mal down one of its arm into a good-sized kitchen. Its one resident turned from the oven as the duo entered. She was a half-sized humanoid with green skin, dark eyes, and frizzed light hair. "Motina," greeted Damsy before turning to Mal. "Mal, this is...well, everyone just calls her Motina. Means mother in Sith common."
"But if that makes you uncomfortable, dear, Ridy is just fine," Motina croaked in a voice that betrayed age like her body didn't. She passed her smile back to Damsy, who was now scratching at the back of her own neck. "Oh, Damsy, you don't need to tell me. I can feel it from here. It does you good to have friends that aren't Spawn."
"Uh, yeah, sure."
Motina's grin widened to bear sharpened teeth, but she closed her mouth shortly after. "Mal, would you care for a stuffed fig?"
**
Mallory Bash
Damsy led the way again, this time into a bullpen area that may have once been an office but was now decorated with a variety of artifacts. Cushy furniture, trinkets in various degrees of shine, ragged flags. Lanterns and lit incense gave the space a warm, welcoming light. The predominate color of décor was red, but despite that and the more recognizable symbols of fallen Sith factions and planets, the room offered no foreboding ambience itself. If any guest felt or would feel that way, the burden was entirely upon them and the prejudices they brought with them. A few Sithspawn reclined about, talking amongst themselves; a cyborg here, a near-human rakghoul there, and more.
The bullpen turned out to be semi-circular. Damsy continued guiding Mal down one of its arm into a good-sized kitchen. Its one resident turned from the oven as the duo entered. She was a half-sized humanoid with green skin, dark eyes, and frizzed light hair. "Motina," greeted Damsy before turning to Mal. "Mal, this is...well, everyone just calls her Motina. Means mother in Sith common."
"But if that makes you uncomfortable, dear, Ridy is just fine," Motina croaked in a voice that betrayed age like her body didn't. She passed her smile back to Damsy, who was now scratching at the back of her own neck. "Oh, Damsy, you don't need to tell me. I can feel it from here. It does you good to have friends that aren't Spawn."
"Uh, yeah, sure."
Motina's grin widened to bear sharpened teeth, but she closed her mouth shortly after. "Mal, would you care for a stuffed fig?"
**
Mallory Bash