Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Let's Go Buy Sarongs! [Alna]

Tatooine, New Anchorhead spaceport, docking bay 92
It had been far too long since Fabula had managed to do anything but train in disturbingly dangerous places in the galaxy. The occasional holocall with Lynn was nice, but it wasn't any substitute for real interaction. When Fabs received an innocent holo from Alndys Merrill for the first time in what seemed like ages, she was all too happy to answer it. And now, her Bloody Pilgrim was touching down on Tatooine, not with the intent to go wrestle a Krayt dragon like she'd assumed her first visit to Tatooine would involve.

No, she was just going to go shopping. With Alna. She hoped that her mommy-figure had brought her own money.

Her ship lurched to a halt, and Fabula wandered down her boarding ramp a few moments later. The second she was outside her climate-controlled XR-95, though, she immediately began to regret that decision. Tatooine was hot. She knew it would be, of course, but she wasn't really prepared for how mind-bogglingly sweltering the most famous desert planet in the galaxy would be. Pausing to take a deep breath, Fabula allowed herself to properly focus the Force through her blood, cooling her body without having to worry about air conditioning or artificial cooling.

Of course, she was much less cool a few moments later when she walked up to the docking authority with a nervous smile on her face. Anticipating the standard question of business or pleasure, she managed to respond before being asked and hope that it would distract the officer from the more obvious matter at hand. "Um...pleasure?" Force, please let him forget about the docking fee.
@[member="Alna Merrill"]
 

Alndys

Mercenary, Artist.
@[member="Fabula Cavataio"]

"She's with us." A voice called out, catching the official's attention. More than that, though, what snagged his eye was a dark hand outstretched with a cred stick offered. Attached to the hand was a tall, warmly smiling woman sweating lightly in spite of her strappy white shirt and brown shorts; Alna Merrill, (D'lessio-that-was) former obscenely rich person, wife of Jorus, step mother of the red-skinned little girl clutching her free hand and peering owlishly at the teeming throngs of one of Tatooine's busiest public star ports.

Alna wasn't surprised that money was tight for her busty Dathomir friend, considering how they'd met. She payed Fabula's way with no fuss or hesitation, then greeted the olive woman with a small wave that was mirrored by Mara. "Glad you could make it, Fabula. How was the trip?"

Mara tugged lightly at Alna's hand, and repeated the wave curiously. Alna raised an eyebrow, then grinned and delicately adjusted the angle of Mara's wrist. "Like this, sweetie. Thumb inside for family, outside for a friend."

Mara glanced at her thumb, now outside her palm, and then grinned to match. She was missing a tooth and apparently learning the basics of kinetic communication.
 
Well that was unexpected! Alna had another adoptee. It was almost as if it was a thing that she did with regularity. But no, that couldn't possibly be it. Not Alna Merrill! She never picked up kids randomly and took them under her wing. Fabula's benevolent mental snark died down after a few seconds and she offered the same smile to her friend, bowing her head in response. "Thank you, Miss Alna. The trip was fine."

She couldn't very well respond with what she wanted to. For her, "the trip" almost never stopped. She was constantly wandering from planet to planet, normally favoring those without expensive docking fees. But then, that wasn't how Alna lived. She might not understand, and it would have been rude to correct her after she'd just shelled out money for her.

Instead, she directed her attention downwards, towards the adorable little girl. She crouched down, resting her hands across her lap with a soft smile and a softer voice. "And who is this? A new addition to the family?"
@[member="Alna Merrill"]
 

Alndys

Mercenary, Artist.
Mara ducked reflexively behind Alna, glancing out from behind a wide hip. Alna watched, bemused-Mara had adopted to her father's space-bound lifestyle, which was part of the reason she'd brought her out today. Meeting people, being among the endless throngs and pulse of terrestrial life would be a good experience for her. "This is my daughter. Go on, honey." Alna encouraged gently, giving Mara's back a small push.

The Zeltronian-human girl, barely more than a toddler, fussed with her skirts and haltingly stepped forward. Finding her courage was a little harder without her father or the soothing voice of the nanny-droids, and for a moment Alna wasn't sure she would speak at all.

Finally, she said. "I... I'm Mara." The red girl mumbled. "I-it's nice to meet you." And she'd remembered her manners! Alna's approving smile could have lit the city.
 
If Fabs wasn't already prone to becoming goo at a moment's notice, she probably would have had a much better resistance to adorable little girls being adorable. But that was adorable, and there was no defense in the world that could protect against it. Her smile spread just a little bit more, and she replied to the tiny red creature with as much warmth as she could manage. "It's very nice to meet you as well, Miss Mara." With a quick look down at the girl's clothes, she cocked her head to one side. "That's a very pretty dress."

It was slow to dawn on Fabula that the girl would probably be quadlingual in a few years. Even now, she could understand more languages than Fabula could on any day of the week. Kinetic communication, basic, probably her own language, maybe Huttese or Binary...just the thought of it was a bit daunting to Fabs, who could barely catch the concept of learning even a single language "the hard way."

Standing up, she looked back to Alna and left her hands clasped in front of her. "If it's not inconsiderate to ask, where'd you find her? I don't believe the recessive gene for being part Zeltron runs in your family..." Was...was that a joke? Dear Force, Fabula is attempting humor. The end is nigh.
@[member="Alna Merrill"]
 

Alndys

Mercenary, Artist.
@[member="Fabula Cavataio"]

Alna couldn't help but smirk as she scooped her daughter up with a small grunt and held her astride her hip. Mara mumbled a quiet, timid thanks and hooked her arms around Alna's neck to watch the world pass over the Lorrdian's shoulder.

"She came in a package deal some time ago." Alna joked, motioning for Fabula to walk beside her as she led the way out of the star port. "I got her, her daddy, and a new last name just shy of a year ago." Alna joked.

"Of course, that was all before you and I met." Alna clarified. "Let's go get somethin' cold to drink before we head to the markets. What do you say, Mara? Thirsty?"

Mara nodded her affirmation that, yes, she was, still somewhat overwhelmed by the crowd. Alna grinned and glanced at Fabula. "Looks like you aren't much for the heat either, hmm? Been keeping busy, Fabula?"
 
"Y-yes ma'am. Definitely busy," she replied with just a bit of a quaver. There wasn't really any way for her to explain that she'd just spent a month on Vendaxa with nothing but the clothes on her back in order to properly attune her body to the savagery of that world and the peace of knowing the Force in a new and intimate way. That wasn't the sort of thing Alna would understand, a bit like when the Lorrdian started technobabbling. "Though not normally on worlds like this."

Fabula offered a subtle, polite little wave to the docking official as she followed the other two ladies out. When she felt the Tatooine air on her skin more properly instead of just the cramped stuffiness of the docking bay, she smiled a bit wider and stretched out like a cat waking up from an afternoon nap. "It's not so bad, though. Warm, but not uncomfortably so." For Force's sake, she'd be able to meditate in a sandstorm at noon. Fabula, come on. Modesty only gets you so far.

She idly considered whether or not her next stop would be Hoth, so she could feel the other end of the spectrum. Whether or not she had the ability to ignore obtuse climates, she rarely had the reason to. Lingering instincts from her time as her mother's hitwoman left her predisposed to violence, even as a method of meditation. Suplexing acklays was far too high up her list of priorities. Maybe she could find a wampa to wrestle...
@[member="Alna Merrill"]
 

Alndys

Mercenary, Artist.
@[member="Fabula Cavataio"]

Alna nodded her understanding, quietly keeping the belief that Fabula wasn't telling her candidly what was going on - but that was fine. Everybody had their little secrets, Force knew she had her own. Balancing her daughter on her hip and her bag on the opposite side, Alna glanced over the multi-cultural heads of the crowd and began making her way across dusty, familiar plaza for what she remembered to be a market district. "I saw a girl who looked a bit like you on Drogheda a month ago or so. Wasn't, though - she had the hair and shoulders, but I think she was about ten pounds lighter in spite of being your height." Alna teased playfully, swatting Fabula's shoulder with the back of her hand.

Mara, on the other hand, was quite content to tug on and play with Alna's volumes of kinky, curly hair while looking around at the crowd.

"When are you going to come back to work for me, anyway?" Alna asked curiously. "I could use a bit of extra muscle, and I'm sure Jorus wouldn't mind someone around who hasn't heard his stories yet."
 

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