Private Loose Ends

[Kyra Perl]

Coruscant
Bar
​

The great thing about this planet was that no one ever expected to find her here.

While most of her attention lately had fallen into chasing the next best distraction, she also knew better than to linger. She switched up her location constantly and still her family had located her more than once, which was one time too many. She knew they were only concerned but she'd be damned, if they could only just take a hint. She didn't want to see them. She had her own little fortune-- compensation for an incident in a museum with Kana Truden all those years ago. It was her own money, ntraceable to the family funds she had once dipped freely into.

It was usually enough to drown out the galaxy. Usually.

The events at Ossus ran through her on repeat, foggy and distant. She had been on spices. That was only the first mistake she had made that day. The charred remains of her sister's hand were burned under her eyelids as she stared at yet another pill.

It was small. Unassuming. The little blue tablet sat on a square bar napkin... untouched.

But oh, she wanted it.

The din of the bar fell away as she lifted her glass to her lips.

 

[Ryv]

Another day, another bar.

Waking up in an unassuming hospital bed after weeks spent comatose hadn't gone over well for one Ryv Karis. Days at rest were commonplace after the large-scale battles. He'd grown used to climbing out of bed for a shower, only to find a new scar somewhere on his body. He'd thought he'd grown accustomed to it all by now. This fight with the Sith Empire had gone on for years. The initial blitz liberated entire swathes of space, but the joint New Imperial and Alliance war machine had slowed to a grinding halt. Now that the Sith-Imperial's had been humbled, they no longer blundered into the same fatal mistakes that cost them Bastion or Muunilist.

They'd learned fear. It shattered the makeshift glass built up over decades to hide the grim reality of their existence. They only grew stronger because the galaxy at large permitted it. Their growth had stumbled to an abrupt halt, their focus now entirely on survival as the New Empire hammered them from the galactic west, while the Alliance burrowed deep into south-eastern territories.

The fighting grew tiresome. Ryv felt far older than he should. At twenty-three, he expected to spend weekends out with friends when he could get away from the temple. Instead, his time was split between open warzones and hospital beds. The people he'd brought into his life up and vanished for months at a time, while those who trusted him to lead threw themselves into the meatgrinder just as he'd done for the last five years. It pained him to reflect on what life had become.

A flash of red caught the kiffar's gaze as he wandered away from the door. Sitting at the bar, slumped forward with a drink in her hand, sat a familiar Perl. One who'd done a number on his nose before he disappeared off to Ziost. He stifled a laugh and turned, his gaze drawn to his favored spot, a small booth tucked away in a dark corner of the bar.

A few steps from his seat, he paused. Against his better judgment, Ryv slipped his hands into his pockets and turned on his heel. Seconds later, he slid onto the barstool beside her and motioned for the bartender.

"Lemme get water and something greasy. Maybe a basket of fries?" Ryv inquired with a smile.

"No problem," the barkeep grumbled. "Just give me a few minutes."

Kyra Perl ​

 

[Kyra Perl]

Kyra didn't pay the room any heed. She didn't need to, humans were predictable. At least a third of the space would be thinking about their troubles, another quarter about their work, half about sex-- she didn't need to listen to fill in the blanks. She was uninterested.

She ignored the body heat that appeared at her side, her shoulders rounding in deeper around her glass. Her body language spoke volumes as she let a curtain of red fall between them.

And then that voice. The familiarity of it pulled her spine straight. Her head turned in incremental ticks, the curtain parting to reveal the curve of a nose she knew all too well. Her lips parted, her red-rimmed eyes bugling as she stared. She was young. Eighteen and the baby of the family. Despite all the wars she had been in, there were no lines on her face. Only bags under her eyes and the knowledge that she had been caught out.

"...Chit." She fell backwards into her chair, slumping as she tossed the drink back in a defiant go. She gestured for another, watching the bar tender as he served the water and slid it Ryv's way.

"Let me guess, my father sent you? Or, no. Romi. Feth, she would."

The bar tender slid her over another round. She leaned forward and dropped him a credit, her fingers wrapping around the steam.

Ryv

 

[Ryv]

The bartender placed an opaque glass down in front of Ryv and turned away from the pair. Ryv reached out with a gloved hand, took hold of his drink, and downed a third of it before returning it to the bartop with a faint sigh. There likely wasn't a right answer to her question. Kyra almost certainly wanted to know someone was out there looking for her, but she probably didn't want to be bothered. Something had taken hold of the young woman's heart and gripped tight. The little blue pill was all the proof he needed. A dirty bar on the lower-levels only added to the case being built up around her. She needed help. Just as he once did.

"Gotta be honest, Kyra, I don't talk with your old man or sister much," Ryv propped his chin up in one hand, his gaze lazily shifting from the wall to the young woman at his side. He took note of the dark bags beneath her eyes, alongside her slumped, almost beaten posture. Yeah. She definitely needed some help.

"This is one of uh- those crazy coincidences you find in holo-flicks, I'd wager. I used to come to this bar with my parents when I was younger. We'd watch the nuna-ball games with some of the other locals in 1313," he looked up to one of the blurry screens. Disappointment seeped through the Jedi Knight's stoic demeanor at the sight of a random drama rather than the memories he recalled with outward nostalgia.

"You know," he looked back with a shrug. "Those people out lookin' for you would probably like to know you're safe and sound. I'm sure they're worried sick," he straightened in his seat and leaned back, arms crossed over his pink tanktop. "What's got you hangin' around here anyway? Shiv's house special tastes like piss, so I imagine it ain't the choice in brew."

Kyra Perl ​

 

[Kyra Perl]

"Coruscant is hardly a warzone," Kyra grumbled, placing down her glass just so. A subtle twist of the napkin hid the blue oval from sight. Her fingers quaked a little as she shoved them through her hair. It did little to untangle her messy curls.

"I wasn't trying to get anywhere." She finally gave the space a distant look over, slumping back to mirror his posture. Truth was she had just been letting the flow of the crowd take her along with it. Now she wondered if a little something else had nudged her along. If one could ever dared to call the force 'little'.

"Just ended up here, 'guess." She shrugged, rubbing her hands self-consciously over her arms. She glanced his way, her attention catching on the planes of his nose.

"Listen, I don't want any trouble..." She offered, half exasperated and half emotionless. She barely knew the dude but she remembered that day. It was hard not to, it had been a half-ass attempt at sobriety. She could recall the feeling of his cartilage crunching underhand.

Feth, she still hadn't shown her face after that.

"If this is your place, I can go."


Ryv

 

[Ryv]

"You know," Ryv offered her a meager smile. "You'd be surprised how dangerous Coruscant really is."

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Lots of folks seem to think the Core is a haven compared to the rest of the galaxy. It definitely isn't the worst place to be, there's no doubt about that, but it ain't all glitter and rainbows. Even here on Coruscant, the Alliance's seat of power, you got gangsters, drug runners, and slavers claiming swathes of turf on the lower levels. Vong run rampant in some places, while Sith cultists continue their frenzied worship in some half-forgotten temple to the dark side."

His hand reached out for his glass as he spoke, though he made no move to drink. He simply rolled it within his palm. The water within swirled about in a small whirlpool. It kicked up a layer of grime from the bottom of the dirty cup, much to the kiffar's disdain. Small particles of built-up dirt drifted lazily through the translucent liquid, visible to the pair.

"Coruscant and the rest of the Core ain't paradise, Kyra. People 'round here are trying their best to make a difference where they can. Probably the same back on Kashyyk or wherever your old stomping grounds are, eh?" he set the glass down with a frown.

"Believe it or not, I don't go places looking for trouble. It's an unfortunate side-effect of having so many eyes on me. Someone is bound to agree with me, while someone else is gonna curse my name and condemn everything I stand for," his fingers drummed lazily across the countertop as he spoke. "You're welcome to stick around, though. It's been a while since I've had a drinking buddy."

He lifted the foggy glass in a half-hearted toast and downed its contents.

Kyra Perl ​

 

[Kyra Perl]

Kyra watched him down his drink, her lips pressing into a slow purse.

She reached for her glass. She held his gaze and downed hers in return, the cocky gesture unwavering. Her eyes watered at the bitter sting of alcohol. She coughed into her hand and turned away, her hair hiding a grimace. Dammit.

"I was here first," she rasped. It was a childish statement, but it was a neutral one at that. Someone with siblings would even find it to be friendly. Or at least casual. She didn't both explaining herself to him. He'd either find her palatable, or he'd hate her. It was as simple as that.


She coughed again, clearing out her lungs and rubbing her mouth dry with the back of her hand. "You don't really strike me as the type who has to drink alone." Her head pivoted, glancing over his shoulder for the signs of his crew.

What if this was payback? Lure her out and jump her? She shoved off the thought, the girl rolling her eyes to her own paranoia.

"S'not like you don't have friends." She traced a condensation ring with her pinky as she grumbled into the counter.

 

[Ryv]

"Truth be told, I'm not much of a drinker," Ryv slid the empty glass away from him. "Lot of the boys drink the heavy stuff. So do the gals, to be fair, but I uh- well, I have a bad relationship with booze. Even back when we all used to hang about, I didn't get the invite to hit the local bars. It was a respect thing, I think. Boundaries and all that."

Was he oversharing? Absolutely. Did it matter? No, probably not. Her casual ribbing was enough for him to find it in him not to care.

"Friends," he looked off past her, once more finding the dramatic showing on the blurry screen. "I dunno about that. Time keeps on movin'. Folks change. A lot of the people I used to hold near and dear aren't around as much. Most of the people in my life don't know or care about who I am. They just hear the title and see me for what they think I am."

He looked back at her out the corner of his eye. "At one point or another, we all need someone to lean on. I'm just the unlucky bastard, so many young Jedi wind up relying on to keep 'em standing."

To no one's surprise except maybe Kyra's, no one lingered behind Ryv. The bar had a few customers spread about. None of them seemed interested in the conversation at hand. Ryv reflected that same disinterest in the room around them. His gaze hadn't drifted from her or the holo-screen since he'd noticed her presence at his side.

"You don't strike me as the type to have to drink alone either, Kyra," he parroted her earlier sentiment. "What's got you down in this hole anyway? Shame? Depression? Little bit of column A, little bit of column B?"

Kyra Perl ​

 

[Kyra Perl]

She dragged the water ring down, dragging the condensation into a nonsensical design. His words struck a cord, her expression souring as she glared at the laminate. She was so easy to read. Always had been.

"I'm not ashamed," she lied. That would mean admitting to faults. Kyra would sooner cut off her other hand. "I'm just taking a break from things. Everyone's path in the force is different," she mocked. The strands of hair that usually made up her paddie braid stood out like a sore thumb-- the braid's pattern undone, kinked and frizzy amongst a see of gentle waves.


She gestured for the tender, an itchy squirm hitting her as she pushed out the glass for another refill. Her attention catch on the pill. Her whole world walloped, that need yanking at her core.

A beat.

She took in a sudden intake of breath and dashed away the water ring.

"Just needed air. Like you." She shot him a look, the blues of her eyes piercing through him. The force danced around him, an aura of colors that sang a sad, isolating melody. In a room like this, he stood out. Force users always did.

 

[Ryv]

"Different, huh?" Ryv watched her finger trail along her glass. "I used to think that. Now, we've got a generation of young Jedi, each with a thousand-yard stare that could rival even the oldest among us. But uh, that's probably my fault."

He watched as the bartender began to prepare her another drink. A part of Ryv wanted to speak up and shut it all down. Each of them knew she shouldn't be drowning her sorrows in some rundown dive bar in the lower levels. She needed help. Real help. That part of him that always yearned to do the right thing pushed him to do anything other than keep up the casual conversation. Romi had to be worried sick. Knowing Coren, he was probably tearing his hair out from stress.

One look in the woman's troubled, blue eyes kept that bit of Ryv in check. The poor girl had fallen into a pit, one wreathed in dark emotions and even darker memories. He wasn't her savior. He was just a troubled guy she'd run into at the local dive. Whatever he could do for her, big or small, had to be on her terms.

"I've wanted to say something to you since Jakku. It might not mean much with everything else you've got going on, but I don't feel right sitting on this any longer," he shifted in his seat, so he sat straight, his body facing her in full.

"I really am sorry about what happened back there, Kyra. Emotions were high with so much crap going on, I let them get the better of me. Regardless of what happened, I shouldn't have aired out your dirty laundry in front of a room full of strangers. You seem like you've got enough on your plate as is."

Kyra Perl ​

 

[Kyra Perl]

Kyra's expression pinched, a deadly silence falling from her. The energy around her began to shift, its stagnant nature bursting to life. It wasn't hard to guess what she was feeling. Her emotions entered the air, creeping through one's skin and whispering into their minds. It was a rare skill, and a dangerous one at that, coming from a drunk in pain.

For a moment his words left her mortified... then angry. There were no explanations for the fog of influence that drifted around her, but the unconscious display quickly dispersed into a wash of bone-seeping weariness.

Her shoulders fell in. She shook her head, crouched over the fresh drink placed before her.

Words clung to the tip of her tongue-- explanations, apologies, accusations. She wanted to tell him about it all. Everything felt so heavy, if only they could just know... Maybe then people wouldn't judge her so harshly for losing her wits.

Just like that day on Jakku, she didn't bother explaining herself. It was energy she didn't have. She washed it back with another round of alcohol, shrugging into the counter.

"Doesn't matter. They can think what they want. They don't know me."


A wave of her finger gestured to the tender, who flicked a glance over. Kyra jerked her chin, vaguely gesturing that his bill was on her. She was never one to really say apologies, but her actions spoke them well enough.

 

[Ryv]

The emotional fog thickened. It undulated in layers of shame, anger, and exhaustion, threatening to spill over onto Ryv. He did not look away from her, even as she moved through the patchwork web of emotion.

Not unlike Kyra, he was born with a gift, a natural understanding of sentient emotion. A few years back, her crash course through grief would've overwhelmed him entirely. He would've felt what she did. Shame in himself as life spiraled further and further out of control—an overabundance of rage, born of his inability to rein everything back in. To look in the mirror each day, greeted by the same bruise-like bags beneath the eyes, the same empty, lightless gaze staring back at him. He had known it once. At times, it still reared its ugly head, like a dark cloud on a bright, sunny day. It drifted just at the edge of his peripheral, always waiting, ready to reach out and reclaim his life.

Fortunately, he had become intimately familiar with empathy. It was a necessity for his line of work. Battlefields were not stagnant things. They were an explosive blend of putrid emotions, most often met in kind. Even the most well-meaning soldier struggled to overcome hidden biases and open contempt for the enemy. Ryv was no different. It took conscious effort to overcome his weaknesses, so he could do the same for others. Only, it became increasingly more difficult when someone like Kyra lingered nearby.

He could see the internal struggle play out right in front of him. Her eyes, two beautiful pools of cerulean, once so full of vibrant life, were dark. She struggled to meet his gaze. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she could not push herself to say them, to let him in and be heard. Someone out there had to know. Surely, if anyone could understand her pain, it had to be someone like her—a kindred spirit, one familiar with the ever-present black clouds.

"I'd like to know you, Kyra," Ryv said after a moment of silence.

What did he want others to say when he'd been where she was now? Being reminded of his strength didn't matter. Those were empty compliments, uttered solely as silver linings after each and every tragedy. He didn't want other's advice, either. The best advice he'd ever gotten when in a depressed state meant nothing to him. It fell to the wayside, forgotten, unused when he needed it most. He had to climb out of the pit, and he only accepted help when he was nice and ready for it.

"I dunno what I expect from this conversation. I'm not a fate guy. I don't think there is some hidden meaning in life. I certainly don't believe the force is guiding me from one place to the next, but uh- well, I'm here now, and I see someone who's stuck in place," he shifted in his seat, his free hand joined his other around the clouded glass of water. "There's always gonna be someone out there willing to be that person for you. Hell, there's probably more of 'em than you think."

He took a sip of his drink and returned it to the countertop with a faint clink.

"What hurts the most, you think? The fact you failed to make things right, or the fact it knocked you on your butt, and you can't seem to get back up?"

Kyra Perl ​

 

[Kyra Perl]

"I don't want them to be that person!" The response exploded out of her, poignant and containing a life of its own. The alcohol had crept its way up her spine, warming her cheeks and tongue alike.

"I don't want to go back. I don't wanna be surrounded by a bunch of people that walk around me on egg shells and pretend nothing is wrong. Everything is wrong. Don't you get it?"

The irony to it was that he likely didn't understand. He was one of the few that didn't have a run down of her last year. The intimate details of what she had done to save her family were in the hands of many, but not, ironically, in the hands of the one person she had taken it all out on.

He probably thought she punched him because the spices. In truth it was barely a factor.

The urge to speak came forward again, but the words that really mattered were far too large for a girl who felt so small. She looked at him, eyes going blank as she stared right through him. She could see it all-- the emotions that matched the backstory he had given. The loneliness, the void, the anger.

What did her pain matter when he had his own too? Zeltrons as a race train themselves to minimize and eliminate the negative. Pain was not a commonly displayed emotion. They didn't do that to each other. Not in public. Not with strangers. This wasn't a world of empaths but so swallowed her words back all the same.

Some things were engrained. It was killing her. She didn't even notice.

She slumped back over the drink, defeated.

"No one gets it. Now I got the dude I punched trying to make me feel better, it's pathetic. Everything is just... out of control," she breathed, her vision growing fuzzy as she stared blankly over the bar.

"How's your nose?" She asked abruptly, her head swinging his way.

 

[Ryv]

"Fair point," Ryv said. The idea of it all reminded him of the archetypal double-edged sword metaphor. Going back to seek help seemed like the most beneficial decision she could make, but it came with its own price. No one wanted to be treated like a problem to be solved or an explosion waiting to happen. The looks alone could drive anyone crazy.

Of course, he did think plenty of things, given he didn't have every piece of the puzzle. He thought the spice made up most of the issue. He thought a trip to a therapist would do the girl far better than drinking in dirty dive bars. But his own problems didn't come to mind. They rarely did after his first trip to Bastion. The galaxy had its fair share of issues, and he was unfortunate enough to have a hand in dealing with a decent chunk of them. It all reminded him of a spider's web and a massive one at that. The more he struggled, the harder it became to free himself from the chaos. Kyra was just another problem weaving itself a strand in the growing web of Ryv's life.

Her question brought a smile to his face. He reached up, pinched the bridge of his nose, and shifted it from right to left.

"Nose is doing alright, I s'ppose. Auteme is probably the best damn healer in the whole galaxy, so stuff like that ain't a problem for very long," he looked back at her. "I dunno if I'd consider something like this pathetic, but uh, you're the one dealin' with it, so do you."

He lifted his drink and took another sip of the murky water.

"What's next on your grandiose agenda? One could spend a life timing hopping from one bar to the next in this galaxy," he set the glass down, his gaze drawn to the flow of people who wandered past the window at the front of the establishment. It was difficult to make out anything more than humanoid-shaped silhouettes, given the dark interior and tinted frame, but it made for better entertainment than a wall of drinks.

Kyra Perl ​

 

[Kyra Perl]

Well what was this then? She nearly asked, but those words caught with all the rest.

She drank her alcohol and sat back, her thoughts drifting back to the familiar name he had dredged up. It had been years since she had seen Auteme. Silver Rest felt like a distant memory, even if it had only been a year since she had left herself. She wondered what the girl was up to. She was always such a goody two-shoe, she was probably already a knight.

Jealousy bit through Kyra like a knife, followed by regret. She never tried as hard as she could have in those lessons.

Her fingers drifted up, combing through the kinks her undone paddy braid had left behind.

"I ... don't know," she admitted, as Ryv inquired onto her plans. She finished off her drink in a final toss back. What number was she on? She had lost count. "That's kinda half the appeal though, isn't it?" She gave him a looser smile, following his gaze to the figures passing by. Silence fell from her, her attention focusing on the haze with him.

"Out there always feels like the force to me. Step in and if you relax it'll sweep you up and... show you things you woulda never noticed on your own."

Ryv