Calyx Sundrift
Always Swipes Right
ANDRAS SYSTEM
The storm that raged overhead illuminated the forest in brief flashes, revealing shaking treetops at the mercy of the howling winds. Rain came down in sheets, turning the ground into a slick, muddy trap.
Calyx kept a fist on his rain poncho's hood, a desperate attempt to shield himself from the worst of it. The poncho was already soaked through, to the point that the clothes underneath had gone damp and heavy. There seemed to be no end to the torrent, and no limit to how far his boots could sink as he slogged through the mud.
His relief was palpable when he finally set foot on the boardwalks of the frontier village.
Well- village.
The sad collection of huts had little to offer in terms of actual civilisation. They belonged to people who'd settled near the Republic's military outposts, in hopes that soldiers stationed there, desperate for drink and company, would spend their credits at the nearest locale. The unfortunate reality was that off-world delivery services were more popular than anything the locals had to offer.
Calyx stepped through the long hanging beads and was greeted by the warmth of heaters and the smell of meat fried in month-old fat.
His gaze swept the room. The round hut held few tables, and even fewer patrons. By the time the barkeep - a spider-like Harch - scuffled his way over, a pool of water had already formed at Calyx's feet, dripping steadily from his cloak.
He threw his hood back, readjusted his eyepatch and spoke. "Whisky. Corellian, if you have it. But I'll settle for a local brew."
Katsumi Royal
