Salamander
Writer
Tintagel, Cophrigin V
It was a hot, humid summer day on Cophrigin, shortly after noon. Sitting in a shady patch of his gardens, Messala looked up at the sky, his gaze searching. He found what he was looking for: thick clouds foaming in the distance, growing dark and heavy with summer rain. A storm was brewing in the south. He welcomed it, knowing the rain would help to lift the oppressive midday heat.
In addition to the clouds, he glimpsed the shape of an approaching shuttle in the distance, too distinct to be mistaken for any native bird. “Ah, that must be our guest,” he remarked aloud, standing up from his perch.
Darth Xanesh was a fellow Archon of the Primyn Group. She had asked to visit him here in his home, and though they didn’t know each other well, he had been intrigued enough to accept her request. Or rather, their request. She was two women in one, after all—not unlike his father, who was two men in one.
As soon as Messala entered the house, he encountered Errol, his only organic servant. The Sith Changeling stood waiting by the door. Before he could open his mouth to speak, Messala replied, “I saw the shuttle. I will go out to meet her myself, as planned.”
Errol nodded and stepped aside. Though his head was bowed, Messala noticed that Errol's expression was pinched with concern. “Errol,” Messala spoke with the soft tones of a father reassuring an anxious child, resting his clawed hands on the Changeling’s shoulders. “Don’t worry. It'll be fine. These women have been around for thousands of years—I’m sure there’s very little that can surprise them anymore.”
“That’s not what I’m afraid of,” Errol replied, raising his head and meeting Messala’s eyes. “I’m afraid they might.... The other Changelings I’ve met...”
“...are a bunch of petty ingrates. Just because I haven’t chosen to mold my form into something else, and instead have stayed in the ugly one I was born with doesn’t make me a lesser being than them.” He chuckled. “Xanesh is different, I’m quite sure of it. She may not have seen me like this yet, but it will not change what she thinks of me. We are scientists, not supermodels.” Releasing his hold on the Changeling’s shoulders and turning to go, he added, “Besides, it’s too hot today to wear a heavy robe just for the purpose of hiding myself in it.”
“It’s not too hot for a holographic disguise suite!” Errol called after him, prompting another laugh from Messala as he walked away.
So it was that upon arriving at Tintagel, Xanesh would find Messala waiting for her on the landing pad, alone, unarmed and, for the first time in her presence, uncovered. His face was as mean as his life had been. “Good afternoon, Darth Xanesh,” he greeted her. “You honor me with your visit.”
It was a hot, humid summer day on Cophrigin, shortly after noon. Sitting in a shady patch of his gardens, Messala looked up at the sky, his gaze searching. He found what he was looking for: thick clouds foaming in the distance, growing dark and heavy with summer rain. A storm was brewing in the south. He welcomed it, knowing the rain would help to lift the oppressive midday heat.
In addition to the clouds, he glimpsed the shape of an approaching shuttle in the distance, too distinct to be mistaken for any native bird. “Ah, that must be our guest,” he remarked aloud, standing up from his perch.
Darth Xanesh was a fellow Archon of the Primyn Group. She had asked to visit him here in his home, and though they didn’t know each other well, he had been intrigued enough to accept her request. Or rather, their request. She was two women in one, after all—not unlike his father, who was two men in one.
As soon as Messala entered the house, he encountered Errol, his only organic servant. The Sith Changeling stood waiting by the door. Before he could open his mouth to speak, Messala replied, “I saw the shuttle. I will go out to meet her myself, as planned.”
Errol nodded and stepped aside. Though his head was bowed, Messala noticed that Errol's expression was pinched with concern. “Errol,” Messala spoke with the soft tones of a father reassuring an anxious child, resting his clawed hands on the Changeling’s shoulders. “Don’t worry. It'll be fine. These women have been around for thousands of years—I’m sure there’s very little that can surprise them anymore.”
“That’s not what I’m afraid of,” Errol replied, raising his head and meeting Messala’s eyes. “I’m afraid they might.... The other Changelings I’ve met...”
“...are a bunch of petty ingrates. Just because I haven’t chosen to mold my form into something else, and instead have stayed in the ugly one I was born with doesn’t make me a lesser being than them.” He chuckled. “Xanesh is different, I’m quite sure of it. She may not have seen me like this yet, but it will not change what she thinks of me. We are scientists, not supermodels.” Releasing his hold on the Changeling’s shoulders and turning to go, he added, “Besides, it’s too hot today to wear a heavy robe just for the purpose of hiding myself in it.”
“It’s not too hot for a holographic disguise suite!” Errol called after him, prompting another laugh from Messala as he walked away.
So it was that upon arriving at Tintagel, Xanesh would find Messala waiting for her on the landing pad, alone, unarmed and, for the first time in her presence, uncovered. His face was as mean as his life had been. “Good afternoon, Darth Xanesh,” he greeted her. “You honor me with your visit.”