Keepin Corellia Weird
Current Situation
Music
It had been nice. A small measure of peace, as it were, to be ‘retired’... That’s not to say that he didn’t do anything, mind you. But it was on his time and dime, his call. There was no grand crusade or ideal anymore, and that was a struggle to follow, but something he prized dearly. And, maybe a few times in the years since most would think he died, maybe a few times he had gotten in too deep. Toppled a tyrannical regime or three. Maybe helped foster and grow a few rebellions, or trained a young user of the Force.
But the Green Devil Inn in Coronet City was firmly in the hands of
Tessa Sedaire
now. And honestly, his daughter was doing wonderfully at running the place. It was a proper Corellian dive, and the information and resources for various aspects of the Underground and Rebellion cells across the Galaxy that flowed through her fingers and could be directed forth from behind the dusty old bartop she had inherited from him made him prouder than he could say.
Still not much to hear of from Liam, or his other children. And nothing to hear from Keira or their family, despite a pretty much always ready ear and search. That was honestly more habit than hope. But, still, he kept tabs on those he cared for. That included the old crew, even bastards like
Coren Starchaser
.
Which is what brought him out to this area of the ‘verse, piloting the vessel that the revered and absurdly capable Jorus Merrill had made for him. A tug in the Force, more than that really, and Julius had known without a doubt that Coren was in deep. And, while he had been keeping a minimalist profile for a long bit, despite all emotions and desires to the counter of that habit, he wouldn’t leave Coren in peril this deep. Couldn’t, really. Hell, he owed Coren more affection and bonds of friendship and love than Cal, his own brother… Closer to that rascal than probably his own kids.
Some bonds, some people, you just never forget, and never let go of. And Julius, despite his snark and the mellowing of his more caustic humors with his age and experiences, was still headstrong and fiery enough that when someone he held so close to himself could be felt to be fading, he wasted no time.
The Aing-Tii fold drive was pushed to the max, the navigator droid and systems warning alarm after alarm at his piloting ‘skills’... But within next to no time, speaking on the relativistic side of things, he was buoyed near where his friend was. Decades of battle on countless fronts and styles of engagement had his mind significantly sharper and more tactically inclined than most would know, thanks to the bluff and bluster of such a blatantly and wholeheartedly stereotypically Corellian man. So it took the briefest of moments, and he was in action.
Fingers seem to float and dance over the consoles. Levers pulled, slid, dials adjusted and buttons pressed. And just as everything pulled apart, those that remained would find themselves in the bay of the Bezharl, whether suddenly and stil inside their ships in the hangar of that craft, of in the case of Coren and anyone else, in various med pods and suites, the trio of surgical droids merrily taking car of their charges.
As Coren lay there, Julius sat next to him, Corellian longcoat draped over the back of his chair, a discarded dataslate with an open holofic on it, cursor blinking to mark his place. But, as Coren slept, Julius sat at bedside, saying nothing, doing nothing, just watching, waiting, ignoring the dried bit of blood in his moustache that had trickled from his nostril from frankly overdoing it in the moment.
“C’mon ya bastard, you best wake up and thank me for saving your hide… Besides, one of us has to keep the kids in line and respectable.. Damn sure ain't going to be me..."
Music
It had been nice. A small measure of peace, as it were, to be ‘retired’... That’s not to say that he didn’t do anything, mind you. But it was on his time and dime, his call. There was no grand crusade or ideal anymore, and that was a struggle to follow, but something he prized dearly. And, maybe a few times in the years since most would think he died, maybe a few times he had gotten in too deep. Toppled a tyrannical regime or three. Maybe helped foster and grow a few rebellions, or trained a young user of the Force.
But the Green Devil Inn in Coronet City was firmly in the hands of
Tessa Sedaire
now. And honestly, his daughter was doing wonderfully at running the place. It was a proper Corellian dive, and the information and resources for various aspects of the Underground and Rebellion cells across the Galaxy that flowed through her fingers and could be directed forth from behind the dusty old bartop she had inherited from him made him prouder than he could say.Still not much to hear of from Liam, or his other children. And nothing to hear from Keira or their family, despite a pretty much always ready ear and search. That was honestly more habit than hope. But, still, he kept tabs on those he cared for. That included the old crew, even bastards like
Coren Starchaser
.Which is what brought him out to this area of the ‘verse, piloting the vessel that the revered and absurdly capable Jorus Merrill had made for him. A tug in the Force, more than that really, and Julius had known without a doubt that Coren was in deep. And, while he had been keeping a minimalist profile for a long bit, despite all emotions and desires to the counter of that habit, he wouldn’t leave Coren in peril this deep. Couldn’t, really. Hell, he owed Coren more affection and bonds of friendship and love than Cal, his own brother… Closer to that rascal than probably his own kids.
Some bonds, some people, you just never forget, and never let go of. And Julius, despite his snark and the mellowing of his more caustic humors with his age and experiences, was still headstrong and fiery enough that when someone he held so close to himself could be felt to be fading, he wasted no time.
The Aing-Tii fold drive was pushed to the max, the navigator droid and systems warning alarm after alarm at his piloting ‘skills’... But within next to no time, speaking on the relativistic side of things, he was buoyed near where his friend was. Decades of battle on countless fronts and styles of engagement had his mind significantly sharper and more tactically inclined than most would know, thanks to the bluff and bluster of such a blatantly and wholeheartedly stereotypically Corellian man. So it took the briefest of moments, and he was in action.
Fingers seem to float and dance over the consoles. Levers pulled, slid, dials adjusted and buttons pressed. And just as everything pulled apart, those that remained would find themselves in the bay of the Bezharl, whether suddenly and stil inside their ships in the hangar of that craft, of in the case of Coren and anyone else, in various med pods and suites, the trio of surgical droids merrily taking car of their charges.
As Coren lay there, Julius sat next to him, Corellian longcoat draped over the back of his chair, a discarded dataslate with an open holofic on it, cursor blinking to mark his place. But, as Coren slept, Julius sat at bedside, saying nothing, doing nothing, just watching, waiting, ignoring the dried bit of blood in his moustache that had trickled from his nostril from frankly overdoing it in the moment.
“C’mon ya bastard, you best wake up and thank me for saving your hide… Besides, one of us has to keep the kids in line and respectable.. Damn sure ain't going to be me..."
