Extreme Makeover: Home Episodes

[Aver Brand]

This was a bad idea.

Granted, going to Onderon that time had also been a bad idea, and look how that turned out. Joining the Sith had also been a bad idea, and— well, okay, fine, that one might’ve been a teensy tiny miscalculation. She was a big enough woman to admit it.

She was a big enough woman, period, but that was somewhat beside the point at this moment.

(Though it did help them shove through the throng at the entrance with a surprising expediency.)

Plainclothes were usually her speed whenever she was with her mate. Unfortunately, this was Nadir. The unpleasant threat of getting shot, stabbed, or worse loomed not so much as a storm cloud, but rather as the moon – a permanent fixture of these inclement, artificial skies.

Qui would just have to deal with the armor for this outing. (Reparations had been promised for later.)

“So.” Aver said with a broad gesture to the display hangars. Rows of ships, shuttles, racers, and everything in between glinted below them. This was a private walkway of a private section of a private, specialized shipwright.

#privileges

“See your new ride yet?”

 

[Quietus]

Quietus was never want to travel to Nadir without her own form of protection. The typical reinforced, alchemized leather strappings were her go-to and, with some luck, she'd managed to salvage some from the wreck of her ship on Thral ... along with little else. That damn monsterous mountain had done a number on it, leaving her with no other choice than to hitch a ride with Aver to find herself a new ship.

Clean, fresh braids kept wheaten-blonde secured along the crown of her head. Light armor fit over hand-woven fabrics of grey and blue. She carried her twin daggers and her Marauder's bag - nothing else.

This was a bad idea, she thought, taking a cue from Aver's own musings as the pair of women stood before rows of ships.

She looked, she folded her arms at the front, she rubbed her thumb over her lower lip in thought. She winced in indecision.

I don't know, Quietus gestured with a hand, this isn't exactly my thing. I had Volden pick out my last ship.

The Queen of the jungles and Master of savage beasts wasn't big on technology. Shocker.

 

[Aver Brand]

Aver had expected this.

It did nothing to lessen the bout of frustration that throbbed in her skull.

Yes, Aver had expected this, and so she’d taken the liberty of selecting a vessel prior to the actual visit.

This was the sort of kindness she would only extend to a single person in the whole galaxy. Incidentally, this person was standing beside her and making faces at lumps of electronics and durasteel. Now that Qui had gone through the requisite faffing about—

“Come on.”

And down the stairs they went, sharp left down a long corridor that opened into another hangar.

There was something to be said for the glint in those blue eyes as she turned to face her mate.

“Tada.”

Delivery? Dry as the Tatooine desert.

 

[Quietus]

There was nothing to say for Aver's short fuse on Qui's tendency to muck-about with technologically-related subjects. It was a known and accepted factor of their relationship she seemed to have come to grasp with about ten years back. Right about the time she stopped bitching about it and started simply accepting it for what it was.

Qui found it amusing, then, that the woman would make a fuss over a jacuzzi as compared to a natural hotspring.

It's the little things in life, Aver Brand.

She followed, bemused, non-plussed, and otherwise patient, as her armored mate lead into a side hangar and presented to her ... the same exact ship she had before?

Oh. Well.

Quietus shrugged with a lopsided smile, Works for me. How did you get one? Didn't think they made them anymore when KDY went under.

 

[Aver Brand]

Aver shrugged. Armor jangled.

“Shipwrights die. Blueprints are forever.” There was a wink, and possibly a smug smile, in that statement. For the obstruction a helmet used to represent between them, it meant nothing now.

She strode forward, and the doors opened obligingly for her metal soles to clang onto a ramp. The metallic distortion of her voice immediately took on an echo as she disappeared inside.

“It was an old model, though.” A laugh. “That’s not to say that old models can’t be… magnificent… and beautiful… and— ah. Well, anyway, it got a facelift. Some new tech. Stuff that goes into our fancier yachts usually.”

The merc navigated to the main space behind the cockpit and sprawled on the sumptuous cushions. Good upholstery, duh, because Aver planned ahead.

“And weapons, obviously.” With that she extracted a slim datapad from her belt and placed it on the table. “The paint job and interior decoration shet’s up to you though.”

 

[Quietus]

Shipwrights die. Blueprints are forever.

This was Aver for I stole it. She found that she didn't mind too much.

Following the woman into the ship, Quietus immediately took note of the obvious differences from her old mobile home within the stars. Facelift. New tech. Stuff that goes into our fancier yachts usually. It sure looked it. Green eyes slowly shifted from one modern surface to the next, brows faintly lifting to the offered datapad. She took it up to idly browse the upgrades.

It was a lot of tech talk that didn't mean anything to her - centuries ago, maybe, but at this point luxury was a pelt over a bed of freshly harvested meadow grasses and a nearby stream of fresh water. A hammock tied high in the canopy. A carcass quartered and a meal in her belly.

She sighed, gaze landing on the lounging Merc, and set the datapad back on the table with a lopsided smile.

Thank you, Aver. As long as it flies the same I'm sure I'll figure everything else out in time. Quietus turned to look around, finding the familiar layout her own form of comfort.

Have to get the old Pillar colors on it, black and green. And the tree.

 

[Aver Brand]

The merc drummed her fingers on the table as Qui soaked it in. Pivot, stop. Pivot, stop.

She wondered if it was too early for steak. It was lunchtime somewhere in the galaxy, Aver reasoned.

Pivot, stop. Peruse the datapad.

Oh, but first they had to—

“My pleasure.” The tilt of her head implied it well might be, and soon. She jiggled the seat a bit. It didn’t creak.

Yet.

“Tree? It’s not Life day yet, darling. Unless you’re celebrating something else?”

Survival? Matriarchy?

“Birthday?”

 

[Quietus]

The mute gave the merc an odd look.

Life Day? Celebrate?

Oh.

Birthday?

She snorted, There is no point in celebrating a birthday after the first 100. I don't even remember my birthday to be honest. But, anyway, not that kind of tree.

Quietus twisted her upper body a quarter turn and indicated her left shoulder, This tree. I had the symbol on my last ship.

 

[Aver Brand]

“You mean you ain’t gonna throw a party for me in half a century?” Aver batted her lashes behind the helmet as she leaned back, running her fingers over the top of the leather seats.

“That?” Her brows shot up as she waved a confused – albeit gauntleted hand – at the tattoo in question. “Why would you put that on your karking ship, Qui? It’s a dark mark, woman.”

 

[Quietus]

If you live another half century plus one, I'll throw you the biggest party...

Amusement was as thick as honey there. Could Aver Brand survive to 100? Quietus realized she had no real thumb on the lifespan of a Firrerreo, so who really knew. Jury was out.

It ... doesn't symbolize that to me, the woman shook her head, it doesn't symbolize that at all, really. My grandmother was not a Sith by practice or definition. My family may have associated with Sith on the whole, but we never followed the doctrines or dogma. The Tree is much more than any of their narrow vision.

 

[Aver Brand]

The fingers stopped. A head turned. A brow lifted.

The smile disappeared.

“Is that a promise?”

Aaaand reappeared, sure as sun follows the rain.

“Association, huh? Is that what grandmas call it these days?”

In a flash, Aver was standing again and tugging Qui out of the ship.

“You can tell me all about the symbolism on the drive over,” and, in anticipating the drive over where? “the bazaar. We’re going shopping, baby.”

 

[Quietus]

I am a grandmother and that is what I'm calling it-

Oop.

She was being tugged off the ship and despite not being able to see the smugness on the Merc's face, she knew it was there. Knew it down to her bones.

Shopping? Oh, right. She needed to replace ... well, basically everything that had been in her old ship. Including normal clothes. Walking around Thral half naked worked just fine when you were the only sentient creature there. The rest of the galaxy? Not so much. Nadiir? Definitely not.

Green eyes landed on the hand that tugged her along.

I hadn't realized we'd graduated to public hand-holding. Aver, you really do care...

And then her eyes promptly rolled upwards.

 

[Aver Brand]

Her first impulse was to yank her hand away.

Her second impulse was to roll her eyes.

Her third impulse wasn’t so much an impulse as a calculated riposte to the blatant, shameless teasing from a blatant, shameless woman she called mate.

Usually.

Desdemona Shamalain, Aver pointedly began, I waited for you.

From a woman that did not wait, it was a yes by any other name.

Before the aforementioned blonde individual could come up with another witticism, she pulled them up short at the unassuming, though arguably tastefully decorated storefront of one Leather Delights.

“Looks right up your alley, darlin’. After you.”

And there it was – the shit-eating grin of legend.

 

[Quietus]

The smile that returned to I waited for you. wasn't so much a smug or mocking thing, but of amusement and curious fondness. Indeed, she had waited. Quietus would not soon forget.

As for the hand holding...

It wasn't really her thing, but neither was it Aver's thing.

It was sort of like ballroom dancing. Neither one of them were liable to do it willingly, but when it happened you didn't just let the rare opportunity go. Quietus was content to let their hands do as they would, breezing through Nadir interconnected. Until the drive. Then her hands were a little more busy gripping the oh poodoo bars of the vehicle.

Honestly, it was like breaking a rank drexl.

When her eyes landed on Leather Delights she had to take a moment to keep her entire mind from rolling. The poodoo-eating grin notwithstanding, those green eyes rolled right over to the taller woman in bemusement, one blond brow flicking upwards.

Your idea of normal clothing is highly suspect... she walked in anyways. If nothing else, she could likely barter business in here for the Beastiary as a supplier. There were all manner of products one would expect to find in a place called Leather Delights, and after some time to browse she pulled out a brown leather boustier and garter set to hold it up in front of her.

You know, I just don't think this will help me impress the Suzerain.

 

[Aver Brand]

“But you don’t wear normal clothing,” she said as she followed her inside. “And what’s normal anyway?”

A rhetorical question thrown into the ether as her mind settled on other things. Largely watching Qui rifle through the selection, shrug off the over-eager teenage clerk, and finally emerge with two very… interesting pieces.

Yes. Interesting was definitely the word going through her head.

Aver pushed off the wall to inspect the clothing from up close. “Cause you’d have to be karking blind – or completely without taste – not to appreciate this.”

“But—,” she whirled about on a metallic heel and nearly gave the clerk a heartattack, “I see your point. Libido’s the first thing to go when you hit your thousands.”

The merc stuck her chin out the window, towards the wide alley running through the Market district. “I wouldn’t worry about it. The fashion strip’s about five clicks long.”

 

[Quietus]

Quietus hung the set back up with a terse sigh, grumbling thoughts in the back of her mind about normal and what she did and did not wear. The point of a disappearing libido managed to sneak into process - made her think she'd not actually heard of the Suzerain having a child for ... quite some time. Then again, the woman was well into what was believed to be her 2,000th year, though rumors abound she was far older yet. Planetary cataclysms having wiped out a great deal of records from what was believed to be her birth.

Odd that she didn't choose to enlighten her people on her actual age but, Qui supposed with a mental shrug, she'd stopped counting at about 325 years and she was certain that Lorelei hadn't celebrated her actual birthday for hundreds of years as well. At some point one just had to wonder what the fuck difference did it make?

Right, well, the mute tossed a set of useless steel handcuffs onto their display stand and moved to steer her mate out of the window and through the door, let's get clicking.

Not that there wasn't plenty of things in here she wouldn't mind seeing Aver in. That wasn't the point of this trip.

I do, in fact, wear normal civilian clothing when I go places where the entire population isn't likely to murder you.

Namely, when she visited Lucian. He liked his danger as well as she did, but sometimes you just wanna kick your heels up and relax in the lap of luxury. But also when she visited family ... where they made their home in civilized places. Naboo, for instance, where Dissero had settled with his wife and son.

Let's find a place for businesspeople. I like me a nice pair of fitted slacks.

3...2...1...

 

[Aver Brand]

Ha ha. There’s perfectly… civil sections, Aver couldn’t help but jump to the defense of her home, however ill-earned it might’ve been.

Though with a heavy heart, the unlikely duo abandoned Leather Delights for plainer pastures. Or tailored pastures, as it were.

Upscale and midday conspired to allow them unusually swift passage across the otherwise busy street, and soon enough a vintage bell was ringing echoing from hidden speakers as they entered a brighter, warmer establishment.

Aver had forgotten the name of the shop, but she hadn’t forgotten the owner – a portly older Bith with crow’s feet rimming his eyes and a whole sea of wrinkles on his vast forehead. He abandoned his assistant to some menial sartorial work and rushed forward to greet them.

“Miss Brand! Have you come for a new fitting already?” He was more aware than most that Aver went through suits like a Zeltron whore through customers.

“The last one’s fine, Phabess.” She tipped her head towards Qui before she strode off to occupy one of the opulent sofas leaning against the wall. “You’re gonna have to pull out the tape again, ‘cause you got a new measure to take.”

 

[Quietus]

Quietus stood in the doorway of the shop, taking it all in as Aver abandoned her for a couch. Green gaze swept across four-way stands of various tailored suit coats, their differences in size, cut, pattern, ad color so diminished you needed a magnifying lense to see it. It was the sort of place that smelled of expensive materials and fresh caffe. A hint of leather on the air that spoke of beautifully crafted dress shoes and the faint ticking of likely some of the most high-tech aur diamond encrusted watches one could buy.

She liked it.

"New measure ... ah," the bith turned with contained excitement to the woman filling the entryway, the excitement slowly draining to bridled distaste at her current ensemble, "I see I have my work cut out for me. If you'll follow me Miss...?"

Narrowed eyes turned from the portly man to her mate now lounging on the couch. She could sense the smugness through the armor. Qui made a motion to point to her head and then to him as she followed, gesturing that she couldn't talk to him. He wasn't force sensitive.


Towards the back a tall, silver-skinned man stepped out of a changing room and stepped up onto a platform before several floor-to-ceiling mirrors. A small buzz of activity followed him as tailor droids began hovering about, measuring and pinning various sections of the suit he currently wore.

 

[Aver Brand]

“Miss Brand,” Aver offered on a velvet voice. She could feel Qui’s gaze begin to bore holes into the side of her helmet.

She held it with a serene grin.

Phabess was still gaping when she turned to address him again.

“She doesn’t speak a word of Basic, unfortunately. But, you know…” Aver shrugged, tipped a suggestive chin at the Beastia getup, “untamed women.”

The bith blushed a deep green and busied himself with a new flock of hovering droids. Having cleared his throat three times too many, Phabess twirled about on his heels once more.

“Er, well then.” He clapped his hands together, features trapped between consternation and annoyance. His eyes darted helplessly towards the merc.

The merc grinned even wider.

“A full bespoke Executive, and throw in the plates as well.” Because kark dying to a stray streetfight bolt. “And after you’re done with the measurements, we’ll have a look at your watches.”

 

[Quietus]

Those eyes most certainly bore laser holes into the side of that stupid helmet.

Then, a moment later, arms folded, gaze leveled.

Not surprised you've already forgotten my last name.