Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Elevated Episodes: How I Met Your Mother - Jungle Rehash

Quietus blinked as she sorted out a stubborn cowlick of hair, Local to the system, not to Nadir.

Truth be told she wasn't exactly sure just where Dissero's numerous shops were located, but she recalled him saying before that he had at least one in every major region of the galaxy.

Phrik it is.

Qui snorted. Well if all of Aver's armor could send her into anaphylactic shock, why not the lightsaber, too? Having a matching set was very important.

She thought about her own and summarily came up blank. Her weapons of choice were made out of wood and stone, bone and leather. The idea of what metal she'd use to create a piece of deadly technology was such a foreign concept to her present-day preferences that she couldn't get a grasp of her options.

Certainly not Phrik.

She hadn't the mind for metals, and so instead she focused on finding something to wear. Also -

Have you contacted your mother about dinner?
 
Aver pointedly ignored the sarcasm dripping from the other room and continued preparing a breakfast that could’ve fed a whole orphanage on Nadir.

Not that there were orphanages on Nadir, but you get the idea.

Enough bacon to induce a heart-attack in a lesser creature, three exotic eggs she’d pilfered from a mountain nest near the new three home, and spice so harsh it would’ve burned someone else’s tongue clean off.

The mercenary, on the other hand, was salivating.

Have you contacted your mother about dinner?

The plate broke with a sharp crack, leaving her with a handful of porcelain and blood. Aver growled in the back of her throat and chucked the mess down the garbage chute.

In a clearly futile endeavor, she’d hoped Qui would simply forget about it in the grander scheme of things. Like glowy crystals and treehomes and… yeah, suppose a retired Queen would have too much mental capacity to spare.

No. She shoveled her breakfast onto a new plate and sat down to eat. I haven’t.

And fuck if her appetite hadn’t dried up in a flash.

Aver groaned and smacked her skull back against the bulkhead.

Can’t it wait?
 
The materials to build lightsabers aren't going anywhere.

Quietus methodically plied fingers through her hair, unraveling braids.

Nor do they have any reason to fear pain of untimely death on Nadir.

Silvered brows lifted as she gently pulled small, carved bone beads from the braid strands and examined them.

I would think you'd want to get it over with as quickly as possible.

The smell from the kitchen was certainly tantalizing, but she'd had her fill already this morning.
 
Yeah.

Well.

Aver pried her eyes open to gaze sadly upon the godly creation steaming on her plate. Abandoned. Forlorn. Left to cool with neither fork nor knife to disturb the pristine arrangement of protein and protein.

This could not stand.

The mercenary steeled her resolve and dug into her breakfast with gusto. Never before in the history of the galaxy had someone chewed on perfect cubes of bacon with such spite.

Hanger satisfied, Aver leaned back with newfound clarity.

As usual… her mate had a point. Used to be it would annoy the everliving fuck out of her, but after the first fifteen years, she’d just come to terms with it.

There was no living with Qui otherwise.

Fine.

And like the true woman of action of legend, Aver picked up her communicator and dialed her fucking mother for dinner.
 
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Quietus smiled quietly to herself and made no further comment on that particular accord.

The connection tone booped for several long, drawn out moments before Aver was sent to voicemail.

Apparently Lenda Thiir was busy.
 
There was no term for her expression other than giddy.

She floated over to Qui, drawing flush against her back where the blonde stood unbraiding her long luscious locks. Aver was warm all over, and so was her breath as it brushed against a pale neck, whispering along the shell of an ear.

And then she raised the communicator up for her mate to hear – the repeating, melodious voice of her mother declaring herself unavailable.

“The Force works in mysterious ways, darling.”

“I’m no master of spirituality,” she bit her lip and retreated with a laugh, clapping the device closed, “but… I’d say it wants us to go build the lightsabers first.”
 
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Green eyes stared at the wall before her as Aver laid it on as thick as honey over her shoulder. Non-plussed. Bemused.

Spirituality has zero to do with day-jobs.

The eye-roll could be felt on the air, forget their connection.

Forbid she be working or ... I don't know, sleeping? Leave her a message, I'm sure she'll call back when she can. In the meantime we'll go pick up the parts we need.
 
There was no mirror for Qui to see her face fall, but then she didn’t need one.

“And they called me cruel,” Aver grumbled, pulling back with the tiniest of pouts. Her gaze moved from cascading braids back to the communicator in her palm like it was some kind of alien parasite.

Aver Brand did not leave messages. ‘Call me back please’ – as if.

“It’s three in the afternoon on Nadir,” she said, like that explained anything. “I’mma get the parts ready and try her again after.”
 
Didn't you say she worked at a diner? Three in the afternoon sounded like the tail end of peak lunch hours. Quietus could not remember the last time she'd ever been to a diner. Restaurants alone were rare enough.

She'd completed the ritual of pulling free her soggy braids and now moved on to combing through the crimped mane of silver with her fingers. A creamy pomade smoothed over the length and worked into the ends smelled strongly of fruits and flowers from Thral.

Hair smoothed, she twisted it back into a bun and pinned it loosely with hairsticks and moved to the closet of the bedchamber. All manner of fine, custom fitted suits ordered from Aver's personal favorite shoppe were hung neatly inside. The variety of color wasn't exceptionally broad, but she was feeling the midnight blue ensemble for the venture. She pulled it out and gave it a look over.

Still smelled new. She didn't think she'd even worn it yet.

You know, out of all the ... civilized outfits I've worn throughout my life, I think I like these suits the best.
 
“So?”

The lifted brow was implied as Aver joined the blonde shoulder-to-shoulder in the spacious closet. Between the two of them they barely made it out of fifty shades of gray. It was best not to stand out on the streets of her home rock.

Her mouth quirked up – the corner her mate couldn’t see right then, of course.

She brushed past Qui, taking a deep lungful of her scent before pressing a lingering kiss to a bare shoulder.

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
 
Well I was thinking that instead of going to some restaurant we could -

A kiss on her shoulder. She gave a light shiver, pricked a half smile.

stay in.

Cook for her.

Enjoy some privacy and talk freely.


Even at Aver's restaurants there was the chance of running into her ... underlings. Whatever you called them. Someone that might potentially recognize her. She'd already have her guard up being out in public, coupled with being in the presence of her mother didn't exactly spell for an easy evening.

This was already going to be difficult without the added pressure of maintaining appearances.
 
“Stay in…” the mercenary dragged out the sound as she pivoted on her heel. Both brows raised this time. Shet just got srs.

Aver held that green gaze for a long time. Her eyes slowly narrowed as she did up the buttons of her shirt one by one, pacing the silence – and stalling the answer.

You planned this.

It wasn’t a question. She faced the mirror, shrugging on the shoulder holster. Dinner with mother notwithstanding – weapons on Nadir weren’t a cosmetic accessory. Even her suit, tailored as it was, boasted plates front and back.

Like she was getting shot dead on her own streets right before introducing her—

Aver frowned at her reflection. Straightened out nonexistent creases.

“And I suppose you imagined this going down at my place?”

When she turned around again, she was holding the tail of a cravat in her palm.

Do me?

Cue smirk.
 
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Do me?

A wry smirk very slowly worked it's way across her lips, jaw hinging to stretch it as she drummed her fingers along the material on the hanger in her hands. Qui laid her suit on the bed and turned to the woman who had somehow dressed in record time. When had all these layers appeared? She propped a brow and held out her hand for the cravat, taking her time to reach up around her tall, broad shoulders.

Well it would be rude to invite ourselves to her house and I don't like to assume the state of things...

What sort of home Lenda Thiir kept she couldn't say. The cravat was laced snugly around Aver's neck, fingers performing practiced movements as they had the night of the Gala.

And I would never expect you give up your private retreat to anyone.

She firmly tugged the cravat knot and bow centered.

So I took the liberty and rented us a condo for the week.
 
‘The woman had somehow dressed in record time’ because otherwise she’d’ve just thrown her mate back onto the bed and satisfied the ache between her thighs.

Fuck if being outplayed didn’t bring the fresh memories of a heated morning shower rushing back, right into the pit of her belly.

She lowered her gaze to pay rapt attention to the elegant fingers working their magic with the tie. Aver could’ve learned how to do this knot and ten others besides in the span of time between their fancy outings. Calling them irregular would be highballing it – twice wasn’t enough to even start a statistic.

You did?

As those hands stilled, Aver caught and covered them with her own. She pinned Qui with her look for good measure, a moment of seriousness conveyed by the hard set of her jaw.

Relinquishing her hold, Aver moved past her again to retrieve the last of her wardrobe – the jacket.

“Which district?”

A trivial distinction somewhere else, but around here, it could mean the difference between a peaceful evening and a front-row seat to a gang war.
 
You did?

Yep.
Quietus replied glibly, the amusement persisted through Aver's serious look, and followed her as she relinquished her stare for her jacket instead.

Oh..mm, she gave a dismissive wave of her hand as she moved to a nearby chest of drawers to pick out the neglige that would go under her suit, Stardom or something to that effect.

Black or... black?
Qui produced two different braziers from the drawer and held them up dangling from pointer finger of each hand at either side.
 
She didn’t grace that dig with anything but a snort. Still. Jacket on, long locks spilling over her shoulders – and how weird was that? – Aver peered at her mate in the mirror.

Skip them both, she drew back up to the blonde, abducting the silk delicately from her grasp, “free the titty?”

Couldn’t quite keep a straight face at the end. Her mouth twitched first, and then she broke out into a shet-eating grin. “Oooorr… keep this one,” and she twirled the lace around her finger, “and I’ll ruin it later.”

Her wink made it a promise, but she pulled away anyway, heading over to the armory with an innocuous spring in her step.

Instructing one’s lover in patience was a double-edged sword.
 
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Free the titty indeed. They were always free ... except when they weren't. The rare case being her travels into civilized territory. She sighed, reclaimed the bra from Aver and looked at them both. At this point it boiled down to comfort, so she went with the silk-lined and finished dressing.

I'll feed Shai.

The beastie was back in the cargo hold, right where she left her, sprawled across the open space with several bones for chewing. Quietus whistled to her and moved to the nearby freezer compartment to check their selections. The prime cuts of meat for herself and Aver were carefully packaged in preserving wraps, stacked off to the side. On the other side were large racks of ribs, whole leg bones, and cases of organ meat. Honestly, her and Aver would eat those too but it was mostly for Shai.

The tuk'ata sidled up alongside her, yawning and sleepy, and stuck her head under Qui's arm to inspect. She gave the beast a questioning look.

Shai wanted ribs. Of course she wanted ribs.

You'll have plenty of fresh meat on Nadir I'm sure ... Qui leaned in to nab the closest ribs with a large metal meat hook and heaved them out. The half ribcage was about as big as she was tall, but Shai was a big girl and needed her protein. The beast grabbed it and dragged it out the rest of the way, taking it back to where she'd been sleeping.
 
Wisely, her mate picked the oooorr option. Having finished dressing herself, Aver was content to lean back against the doorway and watch the familiar expanse of pale skin disappear under well-tailored propriety. She’d’ve called it a crime to cover up such beauty, but where they were going, law was an afterthought.

As Qui disappeared to the hold to feed their favorite Sith beast, Aver produced her communicator again. Her gaze bore into its innocuous black screen as if the device could be faulted for her own shortcomings.

The feet she’d sooner lay the blame at were those of her… well. No amount of visceral revenge or quaint family chats could bridge the vast chasm separating ‘parents’ from ‘gene donors’ that had cracked open the day she’d been shipped off to market.

The day they’d been shipped off to market.

Aver scowled. She flipped the comm back on, pushing thoughts of her elusive sibling aside.

> You free for dinner tonight w/ me & wife? We’re cooking. A.

Her thumb hovered over the send button way too long before she finally swiped it into the ether of holonet with a grunt.

Now for the sunnier part of her day.

“Mel?” she raised the comm to her ear, content to watch the set of her jaw in the mirror. Fuck if you couldn’t see a visible change pass over her features as she settled back into the role she occupied here.

“Clean out the floor and run the forge hot,” cold blue eyes stared from her reflection, “you and your team can take the day off.”
 
A silver wisp of a woman's form shifted across the background reflection in the mirror as Quietus returned in those same moments to find herself something to put on her feet. Somewhere in her trunk she had a pair of leather flats with plated toes - just because sandals looked silly with a suit and fuck heels.

She found them in the corner and took up residence in a nearby chair to put them on. If Aver was talking business she didn't hear it simply because she didn't need to. Didn't matter who Mel was or what clean out the floor and run the forge hot meant. Wasn't her circus, weren't her monkeys.

Where are we going to pick up the materials? that was her business.
 
At the R&D division, was apparently the answer.

A tall building like any other in the industrial district of Nadir (which is to say, everything but the Stardome). Its bare façade bore no company markings – par for the course in this ass-end of the galaxy. Plausible deniability, et cetera.

Lack of identifiable features notwithstanding, Aver marched them both through the entrance without a second thought.

The security gate made a noise of protest at all the weapons stowed away between the two of them, but the pair of guards who rushed in to stop them were quickly chastened by the flash of her credentials. Her mouth quirked with power as she led them down two metal stairwells – something about elevators being a problem in a building full of experimental labs – until finally they knocked open the doors of the machine floor.

Silence greeted them, their steps echoing through the chamber hewn straight from the comet walls. Aver nodded at nothing in particular; perhaps the efficiency with which her orders could sublimate an entire shift of engineers.

Take a look at that terminal, she flicked her gaze over to Qui, should have a catalog of all the materials we got in storage.
 

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