Private In Sickness

[Yula Perl]

“Ennnnnnn-“

If The King wasn’t used to whining in his presence, he would soon become well acquainted with it.

Enlil and Yula had spent the past few days on Terminus, investigating a local gang that had recently contracted into a slaving ring. The group had been purchasing exotic aliens for entertainment use in their clubs and bars, and the pair of Judges had swiftly put an end to that. The bigger problem was still the slaving ring—spread across several sectors and more importantly, off of Terminus—but they’d throttled the city’s most prominent flow of slaves, if their underground contacts were to be trusted.

Their big confrontation had lasted into the night, so Yula offered up her apartment for Enlil to crash in once the last of the gangsters had been rounded up. It likely wasn’t the sort of accommodation he’d been used to, but it was what she had. Her home wasn’t dirty, but it was messy, well stocked with second hand furniture and various half-finished projects scattered about.

“Enlil, I’m dying.” Splayed out on the couch and covered haphazardly with a blanket, Yula groaned as if she were sixty years older. Her voice came out ragged and muffled, and she blew her nose generously into the fistful of tissue she perpetually clutched. Her hair was an absolute mess and her face held a noticeable red glow, but not for the fun reasons. “I might not make it…tell my mother I’m sorry…” Another dramatic groan.

Alas, the spunky Zeltron had been felled by a cold.

Enlil

 

[Enlil]

One conflict into another, the King heaved a sigh. The lanes of Terminus were rife with underworld scum and lawbreakers, men who got away with small infractions in order to apprehend much larger fish. In an ideal world, Enlil would put them all to work to repay a debt to the society they had broken.

But the world was far from ideal, and they worked with what they had. For now. The real argument came when he was presented with Yula's living accomodations. His face was twisted in disbelief as he looked them over.

"I still haven't decided if you live like this, or I'm being had," he muttered in response to her first ridiculous assertion. She was clearly not well, but the only thing that might have slain her in recent history was... well...

"What manner of carpet is this? And these drapes? Aslu fend, woman, is there even a theme to your decor?" He balked at the room with mouth slightly agape before she finally mentioned her mother.

"I haven't even met the woman, but under these circumstances, I think you're quite lucky about that. I mean, has she seen this place...?"

He shook his head. No, now was not the time. Later, they would go shopping.

For now... "Bah, we've been out all night and you've lost your heat. Cover up, quickly now." He remembered when he was a child, playful, and tarried too long past dark. His mother would read to him, and feed him broth made from the stock of a slaughtered cock. "Do you have heavier blankets?" he asked.

Yula Perl

 

[Yula Perl]

Yula moaned, the agony of sore joints, a fever and insults to her home just too much to bear. Her apartment may not have been a palace, but it was home, damnit! She had everything the way she liked it.

Yes, her mother would have been aghast. I give you and your brothers and sisters everything, and you choose to live in this dump?! Come back home! Joza had never been to Yula’s apartment, but she could imagine the words her mother would say with perfect cadence.

“If my abartment offenbs you that much, then go!” She sat up and growled through her clogged sinuses, punctuated by an aggressive sniffle. Then, on a dime. “In the closet.” Collapsing back onto the couch, she once again trumpeted into the wad of tissues.

If Enlil made his way to the hall closet, he’d find himself intercepted by a spider droid who, being quite territorial, reared on her hind legs and chittered at him aggressively in droid speak.

Enlil

 

[Enlil]

"That bout of defiance lasted longer than some thoughts of Rebellion. I commend your effort," the King jeered lazily as he heeded her words about the closet. He managed to find it amid the turgid mire of... everything Yula had amassed on the floor of her apartment. When she was in better health, he really would have a talk with her about it.

The Droid that stopped him seemed emphatic. Reared up like a Stallion in the throes of a territory dispute, it fired off a string of incomprehensible sounds that amounted to "get off my lawn" to the King.

"I don't know what you're saying, nor do I care," Enlil snapped. "Yula needs a blanket. Help me find the blanket- yes, that could be useful- or get out of my way."

Truthfully, the King was ragged from duty as well. His fuse was infinitely shorter than normal, and as he was abysmally inexperienced with Droids, he dismissed the very thought that they might have personalities of their own.

A bold assumption, perhaps.

Yula Perl

 

[Yula Perl]

Emily did not care for this stranger’s speech nor his tone. Who was he to speak to her that way while in her own home? The nerve!

He was looking for a blanket, and that much the droid could help with. Not because she wanted to help him, but simply because she knew and he didn’t. Soon he would see who the master of this apartment was. With a chorus of trilling, Emily climbed up the wall to the closet and jimmied open the door with two legs. Clambering into the closet, Emily pulled out a blanket and dropped it to Enlil’s feet. It was actually a nice blanket, thick material woven into ornate Tatooine patterns. Predictably, it had been a gift.

Her task complete, the spider droid toddled off to the couch, leaving Enlil to pick up the slack. “Ebily, be nice to Eblil.” Yula chided, patting the navy blue body of her companion droid. Emily whirred in response, settling in on top of the couch to watch Enlil’s every move.

Enlil

 

[Enlil]

He watched the Droid as it appeared to become huffy. Was such a thing capable of that level of complex emotion? Ha! Of course not... right?

Enlil did not give it a second thought as the creature sped about the area and performed the requested task. What a good creature! How utterly useful. "Excellent," he praised. "I have decided you are a worthwhile creature after all," he informed Emily.

The Droid was well on the way already before he could finish, which left the King to crouch low and lift the blanket for inspection. When it was between his fingers, he paused.

Warm, for the cold desert nights. The brown and tan patterns reminiscent of sand and hot wind, blasting across the world. Twin suns that cast a long shadow over the earth...

The pattern was all too familiar, and yet, he dare not speak on it. How could he? Enlil had seen other worlds not unlike his own, it was easily to dismiss as coincidence.

"Here," he instructed in a much gentler, albeit commanding voice. "Stay under this."

Yula Perl

 

[Yula Perl]

For the first time since they’d known each other, Yula did not put up a fight. She accepted the blanket, casting it over her body and snuggling into its warmth with a satisfied sigh. “Thank you.” The Zeltron was feeling too poorly to fire off another sarcastic remark, the weight of the blanket like a reassuring hug.

From atop her perch, Emily warbled in concern at the blonde stranger. Clearing her throat in an aggressive manner, Yula swatted lazily at the droid. “Em, be nice.” More argumentative chirping. “Emily don’t—that’s mean!” Yula shook her head. “He’s my friend, Emily, not a prostitute. Yes, I know he doesn’t wear a shirt.”

Emily whistled back. “Fine, fine. Emily, this is Enlil. Enlil, this is Emily—she’s the first droid I ever made.” First successful attempt, after many failed, explosive attempts. “Be nice to each other.”

Sighing again, Yula curled further into the blanket’s warmth. “My mom got me this. Says it’s from Tatooine—nicest thing I own.”

Enlil

 

[Enlil]

He looked around for somewhere else to sit, preferably a spot not littered with... anything. There was a chair, but strewn across were clothes, some non-descript parts, all things Enlil deigned not to be touched. In lieu of a seat, he stood with his arms crossed and listened to the woman and her chirping companion.

It seemed the machine had strong opinions about his appearance. Prostitution was a commonplace profession in his age, and served to glorify the goddess of fertility by honoring her most sacred act. While the King did not indulge, many of his people had.

To Enlil, this was a strange thing to call someone simply because they did not wear a shirt. "I appreciate that your pet thinks so highly of me," he laughed, but raised a hand. "But I read I am not dressed nearly finely enough to be compared to a prostitute. These threads are comfortable enough to suit my tastes, though."

He looked to the woman when she mentioned the blanket. Something about the name seemed... familiar, yet distant. What an interesting phenomenon. "Tatooine," he repeated the word.

It sounded so foreign.

"Hmmm."

Yula Perl