Faction I Ain't Worried

[Kelly T. Perris]

C E L E B R A T I O N
Beach'n Brew Bar and Grill ☛ Corcoral Beach
Ataria Island ☛ Spira ☛ Core Worlds

In the weeks prior to Ultimatum

Wedge Draav ★ Ari Naldax ★ Vashja Io ★ Elijah Beckett
Aeson Keel ★ Teravin Arosin ★ Acaadi ★ Reima Vitalis

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The period of time since the pilots of Revenant Squadron had made it through Janara III’s brutal SERE course was filled with training exercises and wargames meant to put them through their paces of working as a team; still, nothing would truly test them quite like live combat, and those fires did burn on the horizon… but today that was the furthest thing from their minds. It had been decided to take their celebration of the squadron’s reformation, and their passing through the harrowing methods used upon them, to a place where sun and sand were plentiful now that they were truly ready for deployment.

To make the best of their coming together that they possibly could, for there was no telling when they would next find true rest. To that end, the pilots of this reborn unit were in the Beach’n Brew at midday when the sun was high, chatting amongst themselves; drinks all around a little while after a meal, with thoughts doubtlessly on what Ataria Island has to offer, for the most part.

Perris stood and tapped a knife against the side of his pint, waiting for those gathered to quiet down, and when some took their time at it, he spoke up, “Alright, alright, shut yer holes,” he said, humoured, getting some jabs and jeers for his trouble... but they did settle, “before we get back out there for some more of that glorious and much-needed sun,” he drew those last few words out, flicking a cheeky look at whoever was the palest, “I think our fearless leader,” here he gave half a smirk, “oughta say a few words.”

He raised his glass, indicating the man across the table from him with the motion.

“Wedge?”

It was just like Perris to put a man up to something when he could, and he was certain at least some of the group wouldn’t let Actual back out of it once the idea was out there. He'd either nail it, or fumble.

 

[Wedge Draav]

Normally, Wedge was a rather uptight, reserved, callous and angry individual. It came with the burden of leadership, and his natural cold exterior. Years of warfare and constant fighting, a shoot-down, and the horrible events he'd lived through caused him to be more than reasonably cold and off-putting.

That was, until, you got about two or three drinks in him. Then, the old Wedge shined through, that blissful kid who just loved to fly. Loved the skies, loved the rush. Loved a good time. Currently, he was strumming along a keybed prior to sitting down with the team- another hidden facet of Wedge's personality hidden away, locked behind the constant warfare that widdled away the happy man from before.

"Huh? Wzzat you schaid?"

Currently, Wedge was five drinks in.

Someone, one of his pilots asked him to speak. About what? Ah- the thing. They'd all done something good. The school was hard, grueling, and rewarding at the end. Each pilot was a master survivalist now, and for the most part, had done well against the best of the best that the Alliance had to offer. Sure, they all got captured- it was part of the exercise, after all. But they all did well and no one quit. Wedge couldn't ask for more.

His sunglasses drooped down to his nose when he grabbed the knife that Kelly had. He thought it was a microphone.

"Hello pilots. I'm Wewdge. And I'm-" He stopped, his face dripping down into his chest while he collected himself. "I'm so proud of you guys. You guys are did good. SERE sucks, I ain't gonna hold you. You guys did great. Revenant Squadron is back- but first..."

He took another swig of his drink. For some reason, he spoke with such clarity in his next sentence that it was generally off-putting.

"I am going to issue you an order."

He looked around at the table, scanning each of them like a hawk. Perhaps it was all an act. Perhaps he was going to reprimand them. Tell them they were being shipped out.

He reached under the table, slamming a beach ball on it.

"Pick teams or I pick for you."

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[Vashja Io]

I Ain't Worried​

Tags: Wedge Draav Kelly T. Perris

Vashja and her astromech both made their way to the beach. The woman had never been to a beach before, she was very curious what they might find here. She had taken off her shoes to feel the sand grains between her toes, interesting, not unpleasant, but not entirely pleasant either.

It was time for Wedge Draav to speak apparently, quite an interesting speech if she was honest. "01001001 01110011 00100000 01101000 01100101 00100000 01100100 01110010 01110101 01101110 01101011 00111111"

"Yeah, organics will do that." she laughed to her little astromech.

The intoxicated squadron leader pulled out a ball and told them to pick a team, beach volleyball? Not a game she had played, but she was able to quickly download the basics of the game and the maneuvers she would need to play. She looked at the others "Who wants a partner, little mech here can't jump so it's just me."

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[Reima Vitalis]

Reima stood by out of courtesy to the non-smokers at the table, close enough to observe but far enough that her smoke wouldn't irritated. She was regarding the whole affair skeptically. She was dressed tastefully, though in a bathing suit rather more risqué than one might expect for a Galidraani aristocrat. Her modesty was somewhat preserved by a fashionable coverup and a pair of strappy sandals that had, to her fury, already gathered what felt like six pounds of sand just by walking over to the bar.

One hand held a cigarette to her lips, the other a fruity cocktail of some extraction that people drank at these types of locations. She smelled faintly of coconut from the tanning lotion she had applied and she was ready to get brown, but Wedge seemed determined for them to engage in some sort of athletic team sport, which made her anxious already.

She was god behind the wheel of a speeder or the yoke of a starfighter, and good on horseback, but anything requiring running around on sand?

Reima finished her cigarette, put it out in the adjacent ashtray, and returned to stand behind her chair, lithe frame propped up by a hand on the back of it. "I'll be on the winning team," she volunteered coyly before taking a sip of her drink.

Wedge Draav | Kelly T. Perris | Ari Naldax | Elijah Beckett
Aeson Keel | Teravin Arosin | Acaadi​