First Reply Lone Star Blues

[Bernard]

Original by Eli Baum​

Tion, Third Moon
For these days

Solitude was, for some, a comfort, others, a curse. Seclusion cut all strings that pulled attention in conflicting directions. This silence could lend focus in pursuit of something greater than the self and grant clarity in an age of convolution. Yet, the time for solitude oft eluded those who sought it most, while those who feared it seldom escaped its company for long. Like a shadow, it followed, always trailing out of reach when day was brightest, and unavoidable when night crept in.

The starless skies of Tion's third moon were a rare sight worth seeing only to those who lacked the credits for nicer vacation spots or those who, somehow, found fear when gazing up to distant suns. Frigid temperatures and strong winds didn't do the barren rock's attraction of tourists any favours either. Most inhabitants were born on the rock or came here to work in one of its duralumin mines. Bernard fell in with the latter crowd.

The wind's whistling masked any sound Bernard made as he entered the only cantina in town. Its name, 'Miner's Retreat', made it sound like a vacation spot, and, to some degree, it was, even if only for the miners. The establishment amounted to little more than a few tables and chairs, with a bar that held a meagre range of selections. Still, it offered a quiet place to read inside an acclimatized room, contrary to the bunks the corp provided, which lacked most insulation and were perforated by cracks and crevices to the point that a breeze chimed like a whole concerto.

Miner's Retreat stood empty at this hour, closed for business for another quarter-turn until the evening shifts finished their work. However, the owner tended to keep the doors open this close to opening time. Bernard figured he enjoyed the company. The Snivvian usually stayed busy finishing finances or last-minute prep whenever anyone came in early. He rarely struck up a conversation. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, as far as Bernard was concerned.

Bernard barely received a nod as he entered. He walked to the same booth he always did, the back corner opposite the bar-side wall, and settled down. The seating bench barely had any cushioning, and the back-rest came in at an awkward angle, so instead of sitting, Bernard usually lounged on his back across one entire row of the booth's seats. There was a part of him that always felt self-conscious about spreading the grime of a day's work in the mines on the cushions, but the Snivvian had yet to express any concern over it. Adjusting his back, he pulled a datapad from his backpack and began to read.

It was a quiet life out here in the Outer Rim. A good life, to some degree, for a former Jedi.

 

[Melydia Gold]

No one is alone
​

Melydia wasn't one for silence, for the quiet. Just as she wasn't one for being alone. She'd much rather go days among crowds and shouting over the silence that threatened loneliness. And she had done so, multiple times, though often by her own design than happenstance. The perpetual search for friendship had her carrying all sorts of bugs and small creatures with her, always looking to add more to her collection in the process.

Her search for companionship was never bound to simple creatures, however. And thus the search continued. Vacant wanderings meant for all sorts of locations, often with no thought towards how or why. Thus would explain how she had ended up at the Miner's Retreat, with little idea of where exactly it was or who there to be found. That was fine, though. She liked the mystery.

Wings, often so very active, lay dormant along her back as she half walked, half skipped down roads, a dissonant tune sliding out of her throat in a gentle hum. Wide eyes, and they were often very wide, looked about as she went with no real concept of what to look for. A small creature squirmed in her bag, having just roused from a nap and was less that pleased to be already in motion. But Melydia paid them no mind. No, she had a smaller, far more important goal in mind.

For one who kept so many friends around her, she was quite horrible at taking care of herself. And it'd just occurred to her that maybe, just maybe, hydration was a necessary function. Super necessary, even. So once wandering feet found themselves moving with a bit more intention, seeking out a restaurant, bar, whatever would work.

She found a bar eventually, the Sithspawn'd being walking in without paying much mind to whether the place was opened or closed. She did, however, come to a pause when she quickly glanced about, noticing how empty the room was, save for the barkeep and the booth-person. Whoops. Oh well. She tripped over to the bar, once dormant wings now fluttering with a slight air of nervousness. "We apologize to be here if you're not open, however we're very very thirsty. Do you have any juice?"

Bernard of Arca ​

 

[Bernard]

The quiet bell above the door's entrance rang again. A cold breeze whistled through the opened doors as a company for soft footsteps that were too light to belong to the mineworkers.

The cold stung Bernard's next breath and made the hairs on his arms stand just a little straighter. He glanced down from the text to catch a glimpse of the intruder out of instinct.

The new patron was short in stature, non-human, but held similar physiology. Small horns protruded on either side of her head, just short of the ears and chitinous wings rested on her back. Her species was an unusual derivative of Theelin, though something about her made a chill run down his spine. He turned back to the datapad before she turned in his direction, and his hand fell closer to the blaster hidden beneath the cape which wrapped around his torso like a veil.

At the bar, the Snivvian gazed up from the financial pads strewn across the counter and sized up his latest patron with a raised brow. A tinge of fear crept up his spine when he recognized her nature as a sithspawn, but he did well to retain his professional mask. The twisted experiments of Sith magicians were not the most uncommon sights inside Sith Space. However, the fundamental corruption of what made life sacred made even the most acclimatized citizen wince in terror at times.

"No pets," he said, voice even, and raised one finger from the counter to point at the newcomer's bag.

The woman's wings droned against the quiet whistling wind that crept inside through closed doors. The uneven buzz further put Bernard on edge.

Melydia Gold ​

 

[Melydia Gold]

Melydia blinked. Once, twice, as if trying to place a thought that had stopped to rest in her mind yet fluttered off before she could get a grasp on it. Was there something she'd caught sight of that'd upset her? No, she'd certainly know if that were the case. Was it the looks cast her way whenever she entered a new space? Perhaps. Yes, that was quite likely. Such was the life of a form given rather than born. Yet the Snivvian looked friendly enough and the figure in a booth seemed quite interested in whatever they were doing, so she didn't think too much on it. Best not to focus on thoughts and looks that may or may not be there.

Her brow furrowed at the Snivvian's decree, however, her body shifting to cradle the bag like one would a favored book. Friends, not pets, she nearly corrected. So many failed to understand (Melydia included) that there was a stark difference between the two. But this was his establishment and who was she to make the rules. She held up one finger, asking the bartender to wait just a moment, before fluttering back outside. Casting a quick glance around, she settled the bag and the creature inside it down just outside the door. "We'll return soon, so don't wander too far," she promised the creature before once again flitting inside and back to the bar...only to run back outside to grab her credit purse and dash back in again.

"Now might we have juice?" She asked with large eyes. Her gaze continued beyond the Snivvian, drifting to the other corners of the establishment as she waited, eventually coming to rest on the other figure in their nest of a booth. Juice first, friend-making second.

Bernard of Arca ​

 

[Bernard]

The Snivvian snorted and ducked under the counter. He came back up with a bottle of mupple juice, imported from the southern Tion before the Empire lost the region. The purple-pink liquid splashed a little as the Snivvian poured it, but he steadied himself after a breath. He set down the cup on the counter and quickly turned back to the datapads.

Bernard tried not to think about the exchange, and instead forced his focus onto the words on his pad. His eyes followed the lines of text, but his mind still ran in circles. Tion's moon was supposed to fly underneath most's radar. It was remote and had no points of interest beyond the mines. Was this a hunter who'd come for him? Or just a coincidence?

He brought his mind back to the pad and did his best to relax, trying to read normally again. The less noticeable he was, the higher the chance the newcomer would pass him up.

Melydia Gold ​

 

[Melydia Gold]

With a pleased flutter and enthused smile, Melydia placed an assortment of coins on the bar. Mostly credits, with a pretty pebble thrown in the mix, she wasn't entirely sure how accurate the payment was - keeping track of live friends was so much easier than the coin ones - but certainly hoped it'd be enough for the drink and tip. With the cup nestled between both hands, she took a tentative sip. Colorful drinks were often a hit or miss in flavor and while the insectoid couldn't quite tell if she liked this one's taste, the liquid down her throat did solidify that she was indeed quite thirsty.

With drink in hands, she turned to further take in the establishment. The decor was cute, she supposed, but nothing drew her eye like the living. And while manners suggested that she leave the figure in their booth alone, she was dreadfully curious (and in a rare moment without her friends). So she waited, three to five sips at least before she would make her way over to the booth.

"What are you reading?" she asked once more with wide eyes and the gentlest of smiles tugging at her lips. She kept her distance, not wanting to crowd the other (she'd been told once that personal space was indeed a thing), but also in fear that the other wouldn't be open to conversation. So few were on this strange planet, and she couldn't for the life of her understand why.

Bernard of Arca ​

 

[Bernard]

The bartender collected the coins, discarding a few rainbow-coloured pebbles into the trash compactor, and was truthfully simply happy to see some return on his investment of the juice. None of the miners ever depleted his stocks of it.

A few footsteps later a question came for Bernard.

"What are you reading?"

He mulled the idea of responding over in his head for several long moments. Any interaction posed a risk to the secrecy of his identity, and he'd made himself fairly comfortable on this third moon of Tion by now. He was thus inclined to meet curiosity with a wall of silence, but isolation was making him restless. His talents withered away with each day they found no use. Perhaps it was time to move on.

"Meditations on a Padawan's Journey," he didn't take his eyes off the text as he spoke, his tone flat.

The book was anything but legal in S-IMP Space. Possession was punishable with imprisonment, if not outright death, last Bernard had heard.

Melydia Gold​