Private One Reason

Loske Treicolt · May 3, 2020

Changing the world doesn't make it right

"I am so mad!" Balled in a fist, the side of her hand struck the doorway and stopped there while she exhaled as thunderously as she could through clenched teeth. She'd been unconscious for a while, having to heal from the wounds inflicted during the battle of Honoghr. Now she was awake and furious. Loske'd never been so irate in her relatively short life, so she'd never really received any admonishment against it, or advice on how to compartmentalize. On top of being horrible at managing the impact of her emotions on a bad day, she'd never lost this unfairly before and was feeling frazzled by it all.

"It's not fair. It's completely unreal. How can one monster withstand so much?

Hit with The Force? Pft, nothing. Just roooollllss off." That same fist unfurled into a gesture that made her fingers brush through the air. A representation of the minimal impact any sort of telekinesis, lightning, or other impressive powers had on the desert planet.

Frank rolled backward on his motorized treads, before zipping around to the back of her leg and poking in another needle of stim to her calf. Which made her hop away from the latest location she erected her outraged soapbox.

"And where was everyone? Master Morga, that Master Jyoti..Cedric? They were at the meeting for big heads, but on the ground? Oh no. Nowhere to be seen. Barash vow, yeah, yeah -- what else could the Force possibly be saying needs attention? Are hundreds of dead innocents not enough? The Force's kinda a jerk then."

She snorted a macabre chuckle at the idea of something within Sith territory, which had been the same for years being more important than genocidal lobsters.

You know, this is the opposite of what you should be doing right now. This doesn't help the healing process.

Not doing much more than talking in circles at this point, she collapsed on the stretching metallic bench and buried her face in her hands. The impact made her wince. For all the stimulants running through her blood, her torso was still a bacta-bandaged mess. Several broken ribs later, shoulder blade and whatever else the doctor had inventoried..Loske'd honestly lost count, but trusted Frank had a full record and awareness of what was broken, bruised, fractured, or whatever else.

She massaged the bridge of her nose, eyes closed, while she tried to pinpoint the root of her frustrations. There were a mass of them at this point. The Bryna'dûl's ridiculous prowess and success, her Jedi Master's abandonment, the lack of attention a very real threat was receiving, and all the pain she was feeling physically. She'd never been beaten so badly and been so useless on a battlefield.

"What the feth are we gonna do, Frankie?"

Maynard Treicolt · May 3, 2020

MC140c Scythe-class Main Battle Cruiser | "Raider"
Shortly After The Battle At Honoghr...

"Let her go! Stop!" The familiar voice of his younger self rattled through his unconscious mind before that ever foreboding spectral voice rung out in return.

<"Well- we've got him now."> Sounded out from behind the comm distortion of a helmet before the spine tingling noise of a blade cutting through flesh matched alongside screams of agony marred his subconscious all before he was jostled awake, taking in a heavy breath in a respirator strapped to his face, his eyes seeming to instantly widen as he woke up suspended in a bacta tank.

Event as the marks and purple bruising were evident over his his abdomen, arms, chest and legs the most prominent wound existed in the vicious laceration which buried into his flesh from the bottom of his chin up through and lips and into his left cheek near his nose - having sustained yet another concussion from a cut to the head from Tathra's sword. The strike team platform only serving to absorb the first wave of attacks before he was utterly struck down in the end, but well alive to tell the tale at the very least.

His bacta bath came to an end once any damage that could be healed over, was. Leaving the faintest signs of the battle fought in its wake.

Eventually emerging from the sick bay he trawled through the solemn corridors of the Scythe with no fanfare but his steps on durasteel flooring and the idle rolling of his BB unit at his flank - seeming to say silent for now, able to gauge the tone of how Maynard might be feeling in the wake of the last encounter with the Bryn'adul.

Stepping aboard an elevator lift he stood alone in silence as it made its way down the daunting spire of the ship before he clenched his teeth in irritation, balling one of his hands into a fist he slammed it against the wall only for the thick metal plating to ring out in return - the sting of pain negligable before he did it again...and again, erupting into a flurry as he slammed his fist against the paneling before he eventually was able to channel the force into his last eruption, flexing the steel on the last strike even if only in a slight dent before he stopped with, baring heavy breathes in its wake, moving his other hand over his knuckles he wiped his thumb down the bones to smear off the blood from the penance strikes.

Nothing. Everything he tried, people still died and he was unable to mount anything. Every single time he had a chance to snip a head of the hydra, he was thrown away, discarded like refuse. Each encounter seemed to follow the very same pattern any time he had his chance to thwart greater evil. He lashed out in opportunity to strike it down and he was all bu rag dolled into defeat.

Eventually the mechanical doors peeled open to give way to a corridor leading toward the hangar bay housing his own ship, The Renegade. Headed down a divergent corridor toward a barracks fit for Alliance officers not apart of the ship's managing crew he was intent on peeling into his own quarters - about ready to collect his effects and jump ship when he heard the lamentations of Loske past the open doorway to her own chamber. Swiping his hand down his bloodied knuckles to wipe the collective lifeblood he made his way into the doorway with careful steps. His own face spelled the same shades of pain and anger he's did past the layer of wounded flesh.

"Hey..." He said, his voice drained as he was barely able to mouth the words.

"How- how ya holdin' up?" Maynard inquired, his tone dipped in characteristic shades of genuineness.

Loske Treicolt

Loske Treicolt · May 4, 2020

She'd been about to throw something when a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts. Loske's head popped out of her palms at the intrusion.

Maynard Treicolt stood at the door and she ran her fingers through her hair with an angry swoop.

"Heh, we've got to stop meeting like this."

That was a poor joke, given they met... almost every day in completely different scenarios that were none too relative to this one. Save for that one time en route to Anaxes. She dropped her hands and rubbed the back of them, thumbing the ridges of her knuckles in mirror to acknowledging some of the damage on his own. It was an unconscious thing, but the pressure felt nice. She made a loose gesture for him to step inside if he wanted to, rather than occupying the doorframe for all eternity.

We've been better. Frank answered on her behalf, wheeling over to the basin and depositing the emptied stimulation needle he'd just pricked into her.

"I'm pissed." Loske levelled, stretching her legs out and picking absently at a piece of gauze wrapped around her bicep. "I guess furious, if that's allowed. That was a clown show. Everything that was supposed to happen didn't, and everyone that was supposed to show up didn't, and just.." she shook her head, catching herself before spiralling out of control and losing track of her tongue. Seh bit it. Loske left the bandage alone and folded her fingers in front of her mouth, glaring off in the corner of the little room the ship afforded the fallen warriors.

Right. Maynard.

Wedging her thumb between her teeth in concentrated thought, she relaxed her posture a bit. She'd been tensed for several minutes now.

"That's not fair. You were there. You dropped out of your Y-Wing...kinda there." Her head tilted, frustrated expression turning into something more of a blend of accusatory and appreciative. "Thank you. I uh, didn't really get the chance to say anything planet side.

How are you?" Loske assessed him more now, her vision clouded with anger recoiling a bit. Enough to take note of the clear scar that stretched over the farm boy's face. Last time they were commiserating like this, she'd told him he looked awful. Didn't seem so apt to do so this time.

Maynard Treicolt · May 4, 2020

Maynard tilted his head to Frank in acknowledgement to the Astromech, all the while he seemed to motion his BB unit in the direction of the hangar bay holding his own ship - seemingly not too keen to stay aboard the Alliance craft ; all but wordlessly telling his droid to see to it that The Renegade was ready to leave whenever he wanted to. And boy, did he want to.

"I mean- I saw you go down and I don't know, didn't feel like I had choice in it, not gonna lie." He said as he made his way into the room, sitting himself near to her on the metal bench she wallowed on. A brazen maneuver maybe but by this point, he at least felt comfortable enough around her. At this point they'd been through hell and back about three...four times over. Tracing his thumb over the newfound scar which seemed to still tingle on the open air over his face he offered a nod in return before letting out a deep breath, gaze shifting from hers for a moment as he collected his thoughts before looking back to her. Deep down, he was a bit insecure over this newest mark, certainly around her. He'd been beaten and bruised before but nothing that marred him this openly.

"Not much different...that whole- I don't know but, I mean we put everything into that - us two ...and we walk away bruised up. Still gotta be ordered around by these masters its just...I don't know. Something's not right, blue." He remarks before he leans himself back against the wall behind him with a shake of his head. Even if he was barely able to articulate his thoughts, they seemed to align well enough with her own rhetoric. If he was anything, he was easily irritated.

"I'm gonna jump ship. Just for a little bit, I need to clear my head- do somethin' else. After our run in with the Sith, then the Bryn... I can't go right back into the fray again." He says with a shake of his head before he eyes her once more. Ever eager to dive into the action, it wasn't what anyone might have expected him to say.

"You're welcome to join, I mean what's anyone gonna say to us? We did everything we damn well could. I mean hell, we're there every time they need us while the damn Masters we're supposed to look up to? I couldn't tell you. Probably about time they take over for a second." Maynard seems to offer as his expression and demeanor seems to level as his thoughts drifted from the periless encounter they'd just licked their wounds from to at least a brief glimpse of something not totally horrible. Offering up a faint smile that only served to warp the scar that ran over his lips in an attempt to try brighten the mood between them.

Loske Treicolt

Loske Treicolt · May 4, 2020

"It's not the ranks that matter to me. Masters, learners, knights -- those are titles. That's whatever. We're all just people trying to get things done. It's just, ugh. Everyone always shows up to the stupid organization meetings - but when things need to get to the action part.." Loske shook her hands in front of them, curling and uncurling her fingers into her palms. She was mostly wounded by her partner's not showing up. On top of everything, he was supposed to be at the fore of these endeavours. After everything she'd done to help The Imperium, The Alliance, all his visions -- when she needed him The Force had other ideas. It wasn't fair. Again, she spread out her fingers to gesture something representative of evaporating. "Poof."

Then

Maynard Treicolt invited her to take off with him on his spaceship. The mood did not brighten.

"Wh---what?"

Leave?

Loske's face paled at the suggestion. Even if it was temporary, it was still leaving. That wasn't something she knew how to do. Maynard seemed all too ready to kick into gear. He'd done it once before, turned from the Order. Who's to say he'd come back? She scooched away from him a bit, enough so he could see her incredulous expression at his expense.

"This is...no. This isn't the time to leave. I don't know what it's the time for, but leaving for the sake of leaving feels wrong. I'm mad, yeah, really karkin' angry, but I want to show everyone what they should be doing. To be better than last time. Those monsters aren't going to stop being genocidal. If anything, we need to get to their level ah--" she snapped a hand up to her mouth. That probably wasn't something she should have said out loud. The clone back pedalled."Not genocidal, but less regard for the sanctity of..their preservation at least."

That was a lot of heat. "Sorry, I..I didn't mean to attack you. Where are you and BB going to go?"

Maynard Treicolt · May 4, 2020

The response wasn't-...well he kind've expected that. Based on his pattern of well, leaving the Jedi Order and cruising the Galaxy in a spaceship for a decade, skepticism was reasonable. But he was too committed now, even if the same problems that ailed him then seemed to linger still. Even if now he was far more seasoned in his experience several times over.

When she went on the offensive, he seemed to be rather level with his expression even still. From her? He could deal with it, they'd been through the thick of it a few times over, he knew she meant well and could only hope she meant the same in return back to him, seemingly vindicated when she was quick to apologize a second later.

"I mean now that I said it, it doesn't sound quite as good so I get it." Maynard admits with a nod in understanding, that smile being all but verbally smacked off his face especially as he saw her look toward him sour. Or maybe her resolve was greater than his, after all the last time he reached his limit with the Order, he up and left.

"Yeeeah. Well. I gotta be honest, I was gonna jump for Thyrsus." A strange start, at least it was in friendly (?) space.

"You name it, it's legal ; and you can buy it bulk. I was thinkin' we could head there and maybe...I don't know, but nothin' we got works." Maynard said knowing by experience and hoping she would fill in the blanks. Not that he would tell her that, certainly wouldn't dim the concern of history repeating itself if she knew he was snooping around in black markets.

"Because you're right, we keep throwin' ourselves at em as is- we're not gonna be so lucky next time. So yeah...I need some time away but - I'm not going back into the next scrap with the Bryn with just a fuckin' blaster and a lightsaber." Maynard said bluntly in return, hoping they could see eye to eye again.

Loske Treicolt

Loske Treicolt · May 4, 2020

"Hum." Loske replied, lifting from the bench and pacing toward Frank, lingering for a moment, and turning back to pace the way she came from. She chewed on the knuckle of her pointer finger the entire time, the other fingers curled over her lips in contemplation while

Maynard Treicolt explained the reason for his choice. At least he had a destination. If it was an aimless leaving, she'd be more nervous. Wandering through the stars with only the calls of the wild wasn't something that suggested someone with a purpose.

The implication of the unsaid was clear enough. Especially when someone pieced in his smuggling past.

Are you talking about purchasing illegal weapons? Frank asked, not so privy to Maynard's past. He hadn't been part of that conversation, so the question was pretty obvious. Do you have connections on Thyrsus? Their black market merchandise is hard to acquire. And using that on behalf of The Alliance, without their consent, could get you in a lot of trouble.

The second part of the question was warranted, and Loske dropped her hands to her hips with a shrug, as if the gesture was permitting the validity of the astromech's curiosity.

"I guess that makes sense. We need something more potent. Apparently The Force doesn't even work against them," She added sourly, looking down at her hands as if the sparks were manifesting once again. That'd been a darn neat trick for naught.

"Could just be for research purposes, Frank. We could reverse engineer something more to standard if there's something on the market."

Unlikely. It takes time to retrofit illegitimate weapons. Time you're not afforded.

"I guess we should get going then." She offered, apparently making her decision with the conviction of Maynard's delivery to his plan. At least he had the firsts of a plan.

Are you kidding? You have a full recovery regime to follow.

Loske dug into the single door closet, pulling out her leather jacket and fitting it over her shoulders and leading her trapped hair back up over the collar. "A hyperspace jump is ample time to rest. The others can handle the debriefing."

If Frank could groan, he would have.

Maynard Treicolt · May 4, 2020

The Jedi's eyes widened as she suddenly jumped on the offer before soon enough he was on his feel as well, if only with clenched teeth as shot of pain ran through well...everything.

"Well- I've been there before...to say the least, we won't have too many problems so long as keep our heads down. Might be in Silver space but...its not- well...its not Silver space. Don't expect any special treatment - they won't really give a rip that we're Jedi, doesn't mean anything out there." Maynard remarked, for all the intents and purposes, Thyrsus might as well had been an entity all its own.

"But yeah- I've heard a ton about the things that the 'Sunguard' get up to and use in battle, some seriously deadly stuff. We get our hands on...I don't know, somethin', it could help." Maynard says with a shrug, that smile returning as she joined him on the journey before he peeled out of her quarters and make his way down the hall back toward the hangar bay holding The Renegade. For a vessel that'd seen its fair sharing of beatings with the faint streak of blaster and laser markings along its hull, it was quite the vessel. It had every right to be given it was Maynard's domicile among the stars for...a while.

Offering a line of enthusiastic binary BB rolled out from the entrance ramp at the aft of the ship signalling that it was all ready to go as the pair stepped aboard up and past the cargo bay, largely empty save for a few crates strewn about the area.

"Nowwww, I know it ain't no luxury yacht or nothin' but its got the bells and whistles you'd want when runnin' product 'discreetly'. - Don't ask." He said, pointing a finger to Frank at that last part as if to silence any accusations the by-the-books droid would make toward him at the claim. Extending its metallic arm out, BB hit the button which sealed the airlock and slowly slid the entrance ramp back into the vessel.

Stepping through the main corridor they were flanked by the quarters of the pilot and co-pilot. One of which, the pilot's quarters had clearly been lived in, and recently where as the other seemed near pristine. Seemed Maynard was a lone wanderer. Stepping into the cockpit he sat himself into the pilot's seat, slowly swiveling it toward the control console he flicked the thrusters to light, sending a low hum through the ship before soon enough the pursuit craft slowly lifted it up from its landing gear on the hangar floor - sending the metallic legs folding into the ship before The Renegade surged out of the hangar bay into open space. Double tapping a button he activated the ship's onboard cloaking system, all but warping the light around the vessel until it blended seamlessly into the surroundings.

Punching in the coordinates to the Desert World he grasped the handle of the hyperdrive control - punching the ship through from realspace and into the blue starstreaks of hyperspace - the last trail of anything left to the Alliance ship before they set off.

"Gonna hide us a little bit- in case well...the Alliance is all to curious about where we're goin'. Not that- we're going anywhere bad but...I don't know." He remarks before he turns the seat to get up from the pilot's chair, motioning his forefinger and pinky to his eyes before pointing them to the control console to Buddy, implying he was at the reins now as he walked from the cockpit.

"Sorry if I spooked you back there - I'm not leaving. Probably could've communicated better." Maynard states flatly. Knowing that she had the context of his past, he should have known better.

"At least - I certainly wouldn't let you go into the next scrap alone but I mean hell, I don't want you - or anyone else for that matter going to fight them again as is. It's helpless." Maynard states with a shake of his head before he makes his way into the ship's lounge. Grasping the open door way with his reddened knuckles before he went to sit himself down on the L-shaped cushioned seat nestled against the wall, resting his hands behind his head as he let the weight of everything bare down on him again in realization. He made clear in the past how much he cared about her and even as revelations came to light to Maynard it didn't seem to saver.

Loske Treicolt

Loske Treicolt · May 4, 2020

Silver space... "At least we don't have to worry about that overhead Jedi bounty, then."

"No, this is great --" she started, stepping up the ramp and into the cargo hold. Frank was about to ask, while he took in the scene of random crates. Were they empty? Undelivered? Abandoned? Smuggling was a world he was none too familiar with. Loske had a ship of her own, but it wasn't as big as this. He could barely roll around in circles in it, only forward and backwards and maybe a tight twist. His treads were happily suited to the space The Renegade offered. Loske just tittered at the pre-emptive dissuasion of curiosity and spent her time looking through the ship with unmasked envy.

"I really need an upgrade.." she murmured under her breath while

Maynard Treicolt dipped to the front of the ship. The only thing she'd carry forward about her current vessel, which was parked on Coruscant, were the remotely controlled cannons. Though they were only useful a fraction of the time.

You do. Frank agreed, still enjoying the roominess of the freighter as he whirled about the lounge area and Loske had to follow Maynard like a bit of a lost puppy, given this was his territory and space.

She didn't really say anything in response to his explanation of cloaking things. The solitude the fighter's layout boasted was enough to confirm he was used to these sorts of scenarios. Even if they were self inflicted. The fact that he was concealing his trajectory from Alliance flight control only served to confirm she'd made the right decision to trail along. If he wanted to run away and be untraceable, that was concerning. She'd have probably panicked or something or been even more frustrated. What if he hadn't stopped by her quarters? Had he been on his way to leave and just happened to overhear her or something? Was he planning on retreating without saying anything to her? Maybe he'd talken to Ryv... talked to someone.

"Yeah, you could have." She confirmed, toeing the flooring while he collapsed into the bench. One of the panels near to her was filled with dials and gauges that likely reported tracking updates. It was silent now, save for a few beeps now and again that fell into rhythmic white noise. Absently, she fiddled with it before giving a helpless shrug. "But I'm also hypersensitive to abandonment right now, in light of how everything has been playing out the past few months." Ever sine Brentaal, pretty much.

"Did you tell anyone else you were going to head out?

I uh, hah, this place is pretty much all you huh? That's a lot of self isolation. I couldn't do it -- that's why I got Frank. One of my best frien--" she stopped, and corrected herself. Kaili Talith was gone now. In her stead was Amea -- someone who Loske got on just fine with, but not to the degree of sisterhood Kaili'd been at. "Formerly, anyway, built him so I'd have someone to talk to in Space. Being alone with your thoughts for too long? Not good at it. Loneliness was apparently like, one of my biggest fears during my trials to finally get my lightsaber."

Maynard Treicolt · May 4, 2020

"The ship's medical staff gave me pass to take some leave after my bacta bath, so they should know well enough I was lookin' to jump. But yeah- you were definitely the stop I was gonna make before I was gonna head out." Maynard says outright, did he tell anyone in particular? No. But he certainly left the trail of context as not to draw any alarm of his disappearance. But Loske was never far from his thoughts seemingly.

"Well- yeah I mean that's part of why I keep Buddy around, probably the only thing that can put up with my shit." Maynard admits with a faint laugh to himself if only to subside the deeper layers of truth to what he said.

I know what you mean, abandonment and that. Anyone who's ever given a damn about me has been ripped away...and violently." Maynard stated with his voice dipped in shades of solemn as he leaned forward in his seat, his eyes set toward her as he does.

"It's probably why I ended up just...being by myself. If I never bothered making any friends or...ya know- I wouldn't have anyone to worry about losing again. I mean hell, Ryv did the same before I dragged him out of Concord Dawn. He could've come back from capture a long time before he did but...he didn't." Maynard admits, it wasn't the healthiest outlook by any means but it was a reasonable enough justification for his near damaging self isolation he embarked on for about the last decade before he rejoined the Jedi.

"But now- since I came back...that changed. I can't go running off into space again like some scared kid. I got purpose again and...I care a ton about you, Ryv...pretty much everyone else. But...I gotta be honest I would be lying if I didn't really mean...you in that." He admits, it wasn't the first time he'd openly admitted that he cared about her and each time it seemed flush his face in nerves as he did.

"I- I mean its always us together in the shit when something needs to get done. Always us in the fray back to back...and then always us picking each other back up afterwards. I don't know if I've cared this much about anyone else. I wouldn't abandon you." Maynard states with a degree of conviction and genuineness backing his words, seemingly comfortable to pour his feelings out in the open. If not now, when?

Loske Treicolt

Loske Treicolt · May 5, 2020

Anyone who's ever given a damn about me has been ripped away...and violently.

Isolation was a wise choice then. Loske could almost count on two hands how many people she got close to that were torn away for different bouts of time. Her greatest fault was her longing dependency to have strong relationships -- it was the antithesis to being a warrior. A miscalculation in her chemistry to have her codependent to a fault. Greyson, killed. Isar, her brother, into the void. Micah, coma. Kaili, memory wiped. Cedric, coma -- though only for half a year. Ryv, bombardment to the face, but he came back. Allyson, undetermined. More and more she understood why people were so withdrawn. Cedric had been like that when she first met him, she was the opposite. Nascent to the path of the Jedi and before any of this real loss took place. She was still a believer of relationships though, and their importance, it just..hurt all the more when they ended. Hence the motivation to give all she could while they existed.

While they were having yet another heavy conversation in the lounge, Frank busied himself with snooping around the rest of the ship's interior. He assumed the empty room would be assigned to him for the trip, took stock of it, and rolled into the cockpit to keep BB company. The other droid seemed to be quite chipper and almost supportive of this particular venture. Usually BB's countenance was not with his master's, and it was something the pair of astromechs could commiserate over. Frank regularly disagreed with Loske as well. Without being able to kickstart the conversation on mutual aggravation at their perilous situation, the astromech find himself quite at odds on how to interface with the other droid. So. How's the navigational system...

Her brows arched in surprise at the admittance of Ryv purposefully keeping his distance for that time he'd been compromised.

For the rest of it, she was quiet while

Maynard Treicolt continued surrendering his convictions openly. As much as she implored for honest dialogue, his made her uncomfortable and she suddenly felt exposed and trapped on this ship, despite her earlier compliments to its grandness.

His eyes spoke the unsaid words and Loske forced herself to look away, purposefully choosing to assess the shadows beneath the table and chairs installation. It didn't look used. If she really wanted to, she could trace her fingertips all over this vessel and track down the last time the bachelor had actually utilized any of the installations.

The discomfort she was feeling was rooted in the truth of his sentiment. And verily, she was probably projecting her own internal ruminations. Ryv, Maynard and Loske had been the vanguards of any sort of Jedi activity that needed doing on behalf of The Alliance - sometimes the whole Order. Much to her surprise. She'd always been against the idea of representing Jedi. Though since Brentaal, it could be pointed to ultimately Outrider and Friendly Blue pairing up and taking on several trying tasks. He was right. He'd been operating as her stalwart companion through it to the point where she was taking it for granted. His constant presence easing the reality that who was supposed to be her partner and trainer wasn't around -- though, she couldn't totally fault him for it. He'd been in a coma for half a year, but the Barash thing...she could fault him for that. Ryv did. But fault wasn't something that was sought here, no fingers to blame. Just open expression, observation and admittance. It was her that was in an accusatory mood.

The Padawan still hadn't processed through those feelings, and things were getting mixed up. At this point, her incapabilities with compartmentalization were starting to cripple her judgement.

I wouldn't abandon you.

Her face tightened and she swallowed, catching herself. He was hitting all her sensitivities. She'd been silent for a handful of seconds after his final statement, and ran a hand along the surface of the outset against the wall, adjacent to the L-shaped cushioning the ship's captain occupied.

You'd think she was seeing some sort of psychedelic design in it's tabletop, for all the attention if captured.

"I know."

Loske looked up and moved to sit at the bottom of the long-part of the L, right before the curve and nearest the tabletop so she could rest an elbow on it, and prop her cheek against her palm. And keep enough distance for her to feel comfortable. Which was strange, usually she was the more assertive or aggressive one when it came to feelings. She was just feeling a little too...confused about it all. "Me too. I hate how insincere that sounds, saying me too after you, but it's true. I couldn't abandon you either. I feel awful that time I had to retreat on Brentaal and leave your survival to chance...I mean, it turned out okay but..I don't not think about that. I think I keep trying to make up for it.

I'm glad I met you in the hangar on Peace. Heh," she let out a knowing chuckle, and dropped her hand to rub at something invisible on the table's surface "-I guess the weirdness of that day set a precedent for the extremity of most of our time together, hey? I probably wouldn't be alive or in one piece or whatever if we hadn't met. Me and a lot of other people. You're a good man, Maynard." It went without saying how far he'd come from the first time they'd met -- and from the Padawan Master Tor'Kun had known.

She had to somehow turn this conversation away from the situation he was putting them in.

"And uh," she pointed around them, suggesting The Renegade itself, "-resourceful. Really thinking outside the box on this one.

I guess taking a break also helps you distance from the constant going of things. Remember why we're doing what we're doing, and get another perspective. Not just part of the daily slog."

Maynard Treicolt · May 5, 2020

<They're sad again aren't they? Here I am, excited to go to Thyrsus...and they get sad.> Buddy said - seeming to pass off Frank's question with his own cynical complaint. Seemingly a fitting companion to Maynard already.

<But otherwise - yeah its all fine. He's put together a good ship. I helped. Prefer it over getting plugged into the X-01.> The droid finally says in remark to his astromech peer.

You're a good man, Maynard. That statement all but drew a shiver through his form when she said it. He'd lived years in this pit of self-doubt and anguish, shutting doors where there was any attempt of another to welcome themselves into Maynard's life. Even since they'd known one another, he'd seemingly become more comfortable in his own skin. He was certainly bold, never shying away from sounding out how he felt and he was quick to action that at least had the aim of helping people. He'd seemingly passed the trials of skill, courage and insight several times over - her being no different being that she was at his side the entire way.

"Yeah...I try." Maynard admits in response to her remark with a shrug as he leans back into his seat, shifting to face her. Still - that self doubt seemed to linger in how he felt, how he spoke.

"I mean, that's in part because of you, I think. I wasn't really before I met up with you and Ryv. Before I came back I was just-" He says, motioning a hand around them.

"This was all I had...I didn't have any purpose to any of this, just to survive. With-." Maynard says before he seems to cut himself off, drawing a deep breath from his chest as his gaze broke from hers for a second.

"You around I-... I feel like everything just means a bit more...fuck I don't know, maybe I'm just too scared to say it, say what I really mean." Maynard admitted with his voice dipped in a shade of bitterness, toward himself. Leaning forward in his seat before he rested his elbows on his knees, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shut his eyes. What the hell was he doing? Even he thought he was being a bit too overbearing. She signed up to buy black market weapons, not listen to him pour his heart out to her.

"Sorry- I should probably forget it." Maynard said, taking in a deep breath through his nose before letting it flow back out. Thinking back to what Ryv told him on Concord Dawn- he could only assume she saw him in a completely different light than he saw her. It only made sense for that sort've feeling to cultivate, at least it did from him. They'd been through the thick of it side by side and compounded a deeply embedded chemistry along the way. When he needed someone to listen to him, she was there and all the same when she needed to say her piece, he would listen.

He hadn't seen that sort of genuine affection in- well, a very long time. Certainly not since he was driven from Concord Dawn the second to last time he was ever there. Even still- he more than assumed what he was doing...there was no way it didn't make her uncomfortable, especially in the context that she was 'seeing' Cedric, the very man who'd seemingly up and left on a Barash vow. Not that he'd ever known him before but the very fact that she was left alone like that seemed to stoke that inner forbidden fire of discontent within him. Good people were wronged, Maynard would try and stop it and walk home with scars and bruises be they mental or physical. It was a grueling cycle. At the very least, Loske could agree that a break away from it, even if for one trip and back might've been worth it.

Loske Treicolt

Loske Treicolt · May 5, 2020

I think I like it better when they're fighting monsters. Frank mumbled, swapping between binary chirps and basic. Speaking in binary with BB was a little more clandestine feeling, given the other droid's programming. Like they were swapping secrets.

Being a human seems difficult. Too many emotions. My processors would overload.

I'm always doing what I think I should

The glow of the hyperspace tunnel that cut through trillions of stars filtered through from the cockpit and stretched into the walkway that connected all the little cubed rooms of The Renegade. The lounge only saw a faint glimmer of the dancing light, but it was enough for Loske to look at.

It felt like her eyes were stinging, and her throat hitched. As up-to-date as the filtration systems were, she felt like she was suffocating. Everything that Maynard was saying, and not saying, was like a blunt object to the side of her head. She wanted to pass out. Or vomit. Or something. For all the wonder of her chemistry, handling emotions in a pragmatic way was beyond her grasp. She was upset with Cedric's choices, that much was evident, but she was pretty sure they could resolve it. If he came back..he hadn't died yet. She would know about that. The reality was, she thought they'd be in a much different place than scattered across the galaxy by now. She'd agreed to train with him, and he'd busied himself with The Imperium, now he was busied with another pursuit. Maybe she was being selfish.

If she weren't so present in the moment, now would be a really great time for Kaili to be alive and ask for a call-a-friend lifeline. Loske closed her eyes for a moment to reflect on one of those wisdom bombs her friend had dropped after karaoke.

Kaili Talith said:
“Look, I am trying to say…” Kaili let in a deep breath and then exhaled it. “As long as you are happy, that’s good. One person can make all the difference, but things get rough sometimes. Actually, no, things get really rough and in the middle of all that you always need to stop to ask yourself if you are living for each other, or if one of you are living for the other. ”

Kaili had learned that much.

“Love for the sake of love is no love at all.”

What was she holding on to?

This wasn't fair. Cedric wasn't even here for her to have discourse with about this whole thing. And that..that was part of the problem. Maynard was here. He was always here -- and more than just a circumstantial benefit. He made sure he was by her side all the time, and she'd taken it for granted, played ignorant to any feelings that resonated within her for him. Categorized it as a superior sort of friendship instead of taking any sort of bold leaps. That wasn't fair, either.

Her voice was infinitesimal when she spoke, almost drowned out against the white noise of the ship's operations.

"May..please don't do this.." There was an unfinished plea to that -- To me. To yourself. To us.

Everything he'd said was somber in itself, but the way his voice fluctuated when he suggested he just forget it nearly broke her heart. She wanted to scoop him up and hold him.

It was then that Loske realized the respect he was giving her. He knew about her existing relationship, which made sense given his closeness with Ryv - and Ryv knew.

Maynard Treicolt deserved so much more than she could figure out how to give right now, and she was being torn in two. There was no question on how much she trusted him and had boundless compassion for him. She'd not given much pause to thinking about how she felt about it, but it could be described as a blend of something like agape, pragma and philia. But she'd made a commitment to someone else; no matter how private their relationship was to the wider galaxy. Who would she be if she abandoned that at the suggestion of something else? Cedric deserved more, too. And who's to say she wouldn't do the same thing to Maynard if something else came up? What did that make her?

She needed to get away from this. Right now.

"I can't do this right now." She admitted flatly, the volume returning to her voice while she fidgeted through her discomfort.

“I’m sorry. You’re being so honest, and my head’s not in the right place.” And by extension, her heart. The blonde reached over to put her hand in his free one, and give it as much of a reassuring squeeze as she could muster, running her thumb over the marred knuckles. She’d meant to ask about them, about his wounds, but then the hearthurt started.

"You deserve total clarity and I can’t give that to you right now, and that’s not fair. That’s my fault. I really--” she bought herself some time to collect her panicked thoughts with a heavy sigh and stood up from the bench, wringing her hands. She wasn’t really sure what Maynard wanted out of her, or what he was really trying to say. She could assume, but she also didn’t want to force him into spelling it out and drive that dagger deeper into his heart so she could flatly reject or accept his terms. His vulnerability was extraordinary, she had to at least meet him at that level. The real human one. Up to now, most of her emotional reactions were explosively reactive, acting on what she wanted in the moment. If that were the case, she would have flung herself at him -- but she had to think about the impact on more than one relationship now. Back to that question of what it would make her; and would she be okay with that? Stick with the devil she knew, or something new?

“I really, really, truly and deeply care about you. About us. And I don’t want to say the wrong thing. I need..I need to process.

I’m sorry.”

Taking a step backward, she angled herself away from the lounge and toward the room that was more pristine than the other -- operating on the necessity for space and the assumption that would be where she'd be staying for this journey. Once she was out of his immediate sight, and the room's door sealed, she rested her back against it with a heavy sigh and slid down to the ground.

Maynard Treicolt · May 5, 2020

<Oh...yeah, the monster fighting is better. Brentaal wasn't fun, but I like fighting monsters. And Sith...but not feelings, I don't like fighting feelings.> Buddy said in an even handed tone of binary beeps to his astromech counterpart.

<Yes - being a sentient seems...busy.> Buddy muttered in agreement to the other droid before its photo-receptors drifted toward the control panel once more in idle upkeep of the ship's systems. Someone had to be doing something remotely productive.

Maynard didn't utter another word while she spoke. He'd said really all the he could muster now, in this place, in his head space - she had to piece the rest together. It seems she did and even if Maynard might've expected a worse response from her ; it didn't hurt any less. When she took his hand into hers and caressed his bruised knuckles his eyes shut at the physical affection. It was an alien sensation something he hadn't felt in...long enough to distrust if he ever felt it to begin with.

And as quickly as it was there, it was gone again with her apology- admittance of space from him, to think and process.

Things make sense eventually

"Yeah..." He muttered solemnly. He'd overcome that periless pit of self doubt to be well and truly honest with her and she walked away - inconclusive. He felt his stomach think at the feeling as he reflected to how he felt on Concord Dawn about the revelation, that feeling of dejection, delusion and failure something he was far too eerily familiar with. All he could ask himself was why he would ever bother.

He'd been long accustomed to isolation by the time he returned to the Order only to be hurt again and again as he was before. If he didn't care...maybe he would've left again. Even still, in face of this gut wrenching conflict of feelings, he still wanted the best for her. He wasn't going to press anything, certainly not now. Hell, even he needed his space to think.

When he heard the door to her quarters hiss closed from the other side of the wall he slowly climbed up from his seat, slowly making way from the lounge area into the main atrium of the ship before he turned to make way toward the cockpit where the two astromechs both turned to face him.

<So yeah I -...you know whats really cool? The cargo hold! Lets go there.> Buddy said before he began to roll out of the cockpit, hoping Frank would follow along as he allowed Maynard some space.

Glancing the way of the co-pilots quarters, the door sealed he looked over the sealed entrance way for a moment. He wanted to peel it open and be there for her but even he knew that wouldn't do anyone any good. He needed to be alone with his thoughts all the same. Stepping into the cockpit he pressed the button sealing the door behind him as he slowly made way to the pilot's seat, swinging it around to peer out the canopy of the vessel. The bright blue streaking starlight of hyperspace projecting over his face and the rest of the dimmed area as the psychedelic vision consumed his visual attention- seeming to get lost in it as he slouched back in the seat.

It never seemed to go his way in the end. When he did anything for others, he wounded up bloodied and bruised in a bacta bath and when he did well by himself, he was suspended in crippling isolation. Even if he'd told her he wouldn't leave, and he would make good on whatever he promised her...it was a tough ask with each passing day. Even still - his thoughts rarely strayed from her. She seemed to care a great deal about him and just as often as he was there for her, she was there for him. He wanted more for them, it felt right to him at least.

Evidently, it didn't seem like she felt the same. As he sat alone he tangled in a parabola weighing his own internal dilemma. Did he keep trying? As much as he didn't want to do so badly by Cedric, someone he'd respected even if he'd never met the man, he abandoned her. Maynard would never do that, of that he was certain of himself. On the other hand...maybe it was best to just leave it be. He'd been alone just fine this far, maybe that was what he deserved. Maybe he needed just that - to be alone. At the very least, it'd save him from loss and abandonment himself...all the same, it'd all amount to nothing.

These dragging minutes of contemplative isolation soon came to an abrupt end when The Renegade emerged back into realspace. With the dunes of Thyrsus set in the face of the binary star system filling up his vision he brought his hands to the controls and continued the ship's course to the planet's surface. Surging past the Echani skyhook which suspended over Nicea, the planet's seat of power.

Setting down into a spaceport with guidance of the port authorities the landing gear of the ship finally set down unto hard ground before the engine's shut down. After a long and perilous journey of transparent but necessary conversation. If he could do anything it was set aside his feelings, even if only for a little bit - regardless his feelings only ever seemed to culminate in him brazenly risking his life for her to this point so...it worked out. Stepping from the cockpit he encountered the droids once more who seemed to peer up back at him, Buddy at least appraising if the man had been crying. He was certainly red faced, but not crying, not yet.

"Alright - gonna need you two to watch the ship, don't really want black market folk trying to include either of you in any barter. Frank, probably best if you get Loske, see if she's ready to go." Maynard said before he readied himself to immerse in this precarious underworld once more, letting the entrance ramp dip down to the surface once more as the airlock gave way for the Wayward Jedi's exit. Whenever she emerged to meet him, Maynard seemed to look the part of someone who'd be snooping for illegal weapons in black markets. Leaned against one of the landing gear legs with his arms crossed over his chest, his helmeted gaze peered over to her.

<"All set?"> He asked, his inflection seeming unphased enough past the natural distortion of the helmet's vocoder.

Loske Treicolt

Loske Treicolt · May 6, 2020

It didn't take Frank very long to ascertain that there was nothing notably worth investigating or cool about the cargo hold. Save for the stacks of crates. Which were disappointingly empty.

I don't want to cause any pain

Be it a set number of square footage, or a stretching meadow - Loske didn't think she'd be able to find enough space. Usually someone who was a portrait of panglossian, she almost felt like she couldn't see beyond the tides of her own clouded grip on the world.

The walls between them were a relief though, and provided somewhat of a cocoon that allowed her to close her eyes and allowed shame to creep into her purview. She was ashamed to have been so irresponsible with her ignorance toward one of the most important people in her life, and her not being more forthright when Cedric had decided to leave. Though, to be fair, she didn't really think it would eat at her this much. For most of their relationship she operated as someone who was untied, keeping their budding feelings for one another under wraps and far from the eyes of anyone who might press either of them on it. Mostly because Loske had never come to terms with the institution of The Imperium and what it meant to be with the face of it. Too much spotlight, and it had made her uncomfortable from the get go.

The would-be Kiffar wasn't ignorant to her extended imprudence just moments ago either. Her response was ultimately a non-answer to

Maynard Treicolt 's honest outpouring. She'd addressed that wasn't fair, and self preservation moved her to extract herself from the situation. Would it have been better to talk this through with him? Rationalize where she stood, why she stood there, and why she felt she couldn't move? No, not really. That wasn't his burden to bare. He'd shouldered enough at her expense to date.

So what now?

Loske closed her eyes, resting her head against the door. She tried to envision herself through all the rhythms, cadences, moods and emotions she'd had up to the point where she'd felt the fury that'd opened her eyes to reconsideration. The fragments of doubt had been omnipresent, introduced in and out like little seeds in a poorly maintained garden. She hadn't noticed them until they threatened to turn into weeds. Perhaps that was the benefit of the go-go-go Maynard was looking to take a break from. When you were in the thick of it, there was little time to consider anything else. The past few months she'd only been focusing on conditioning and training against the Bryn'adûl. Although - hah - a lot of good that wasted time had done. At least some of the evacuation efforts and reallocation of persons had been fruitful.

The Force's student ventured beyond reflection, seeking something other than tracing the routines of the familiar. There were patterns to be matched, for certain -- but ultimately she'd feel better if she didn't feel so dodgy with her thoughts. The other end of that metaphysical bond she reached out to was deep in Sith Space. Covert. Unresponsive, and not from lack of trying. Again, not something she could be truly upset about. It was probably a precaution to maintain the sanctity of the mission. On her part, it was an abuse on trust. A lifeline that should have been preserved for emergencies. Like if she were dying or something.

The air circulation in her room was starting to feel stale just about the time that there was a slight adjustment in the atmospheric pressure as it reacted to the difference between hyper and real space. It was enough to cue her shift from the cogitative trance she'd put herself in, and she maneuvered to stand. Introspection consumed her awareness to the point where she'd lost track of time. They were arriving. She rummaged through the pack she'd brought with her, fingering past the snacks to the alternative set of overcoats she'd brought. Her slacks, boots and tank were fine as a base layer, but the rest needed a dingier upgrade. Typically her leather jacket served enough, but it'd recently been branded with Saber Squadron's insignia, which was not something to boast in uncertain territory. Especially if it put the pair in jeopardy.

Her saber was attached to a belt of her blaster and cartridges (some empty, needed to be refilled) that was slung across her jerkin. It was concealed by the shapeless poncho that was pulled over the entire ensemble. It was completely unflattering with zero suggestion of any contouring, which was required in such potentially hostile environment. She wasn't about to repeat her last visit to Terminus.

"Okay." She bolstered herself with an exhale, running her hands over her face and shaking them out at the end to give herself the mental fortitude to conquer the first steps of awkwardness. Her lack of connection hadn't brought her closer to progress. The reality was on the inside, she'd already made a decision. Deep down the truth was there; she just had to access and enact on it. Which seemed to be part of her design with all things since initiating this whole Padawan business.

The door to her quarters hissed open seconds before Frank was about to wheel into it to knock. He'd never knocked before, but the oppressive mood of the ship and the awkward separation between the two friends was indicative enough for him to have some protocol.

Oh good. How are you feeling?

"I don't want to talk about it." She evidenced a dismissive wave of her hand before pulling on the weathered gloves to conceal any trace of skin. With the mission at hand, and her solicitude rampaging, it was best to keep everything buttoned up and cold. Unaddressed if she was going to play any sort of useful role in this. Pretend to be her mother. Couldn't break her stride.

I have to stay with the ship. Frank complained.

"You're surprised?"

No. I'm Frank.

Kark, she was feeling off. Usually that was her play.

"Okay, well, be safe." Her hand briefly gave a pat to his dome-shaped top before she sauntered down the extension of the ship and to the ground where her friend was waiting. He'd changed into something more apt for the black market, going so far as to conceal his face which was a smart precaution. She hadn't thought of that. Self consciously, she scraped her hair back into a tight, low bun with a few stubbourn hairs poking out around her face, and lifted the collar of the poncho to cover up to the slope of her nose.

"Do you have a secret black market name to go with that outfit?"

Maynard Treicolt · May 6, 2020

Ultimately, really...it didn't really matter what they looked like here. The Hierarchy was king and they didn't care for the Jedi. Any 'control' the Silver Jedi (now Concordia) had over the planet was...ceremonial at best. There was about little to no presence of any Concordian authority on the world and there certainly didn't need to be when the entire system was locked down with an array of strangling defenses and the Sunsworn legions present to protect its people at any threat.

However - it was best to go into these transactions a blank slate. Any allegiance to Alliance, Jedi Order, anything could trip an alarm, change attitude. With Loske emerging from The Renegade, they blended right in as proper spacer trash. Looking her up and down Maynard offered a nod from behind his helmeted gaze.

<"Secret black market name? Those don't-...no. I mean, we can certainly make some though."> Maynard spoke with an leveled tone through the vocoder of his helmet. He didn't seem all too bothered by their earlier talk. But he'd gotten pretty good about just going with the flow of things. They could come back to all that later, right now Maynard wanted a proper face melting Class D Disruptor. He set his focus on that, for now.

Pine Away

<"We already have Blue...Outrider, might as well hide behind another layer of alias I dunno, Poncho"> Maynard said in proposal for her smuggler alias as he began to lead the pair from the spaceport and into the nearby streets. The architecture and color palette of the city was uniquely beautiful among anything else they'd come across in the Galaxy, even as they delved from the block of spaceports, escaping the rumbling noise of ships arriving to and leaving the planet.

Soon enough they were immersed in the open air markets of Thyrsus. The sights and products for sale might've been immediately alarming in a land that was truly a free market profiteer's dream in what it allowed to be sold openly. Weapons ranging from blasters to disruptors and rocket launchers were on open display beneath the brightly colored cloth overhanging tarps which shrouded the bazaar from the ever present, permeating heat of the planet even if the Echani skyhook which rested forebodingly above the city would occasionally offer reprieve and conceal the invasive binary sunlight. Alongside the dealers of death, any spice one could fathom could be purchased by the crate load. All the while slave auctions brazenly took place in the open, offering up sentient product with a variety of appeals be they hard labor or far more carnal.

With each step - Maynard seemed to be wholly confident in how he carried himself, not a behavior he often had among other Jedi, on peace. In surroundings like these he was at ease, even if he was no native to this world, these were people he knew how to navigate. With each merchant they passed someone sought to make a deal, barter or snag the attention of the pair. Beneath his visage he seemed to brush past them even when heavier duty cybernetic limbs sought to grasp his shoulder he merely brushed it away. Everything in his gait, posture and panoply indicated he was a man who knew what he was doing here.

Eventually stopping before another weapon stand he began to look over the product, eyeing the usual assortment of shotguns and other weapons, the highlight of the selection being a crate of IL-18a Disruptor Carbines which were in common usage in the Sith Empire, likely stock which hit the market at the onset of the mass defection of the New Imperial Order.

<"Question for you, boss."> He asked to the Thyrsian merchant who turned to reveal a skull half cybernetic, peering over the spacer with a pair of beaming red artificial eyes he tilted his chin up once for Maynard to continue.

<"Been runnin' product in Wild Space as of late and I've come across a couple of the Bryn, sure you heard of em yeah? Lookin' for a piece that can fix that problem, my blaster and saber don't hold up for squat against Draelvisier."> Maynard said, unafraid to expose his genuine voice to the man which only spelled an accent on the fringes of Galactic society hailing from Concord Dawn, if anything it made the man know quick he was dealing with a competent bazaar buyer.

"Bryn'adul? Tough shells to crack, my friend...disruptors...are good, I have some here- Sith Imperial so you know it will properly annihilate anything you come across, heard it can punch a hole through a tank. But not many survive run ins with with these Bryn'adul. Everyone I've come across with the same problem...well...I don't like the tales they tell, I have nothing better than this." The Thysian merchant said with a shrug of his shoulders, his voice speaking in a half cybernetic distortion.

<"But I want killin' power...surely Thyrsus got somethin' to scrap with em, yeah? Sun guard got nothin' cookin' to deal with Bryn?"> Maynard says before he places as stack of three Aureus Solari chits worth a hundred standard credits each on the counter between them.

"Hmmm...if you're...not so content with conventional weapons, maybe try something else. My friend here says that theres a particular...toxin which targets these beasts, maybe speak with them." He says, hushing his tone when speaking with Outrider, if only because well...he paid for the info there had to be some degree of subtly to it.

<"Will do, 'preciate it - take it easy now."> Maynard says to the merchant who offers up a lazy two fingered salute in return, headed in the direction he pointed out, Maynard glances to Loske.

<"Not really sure what the hell he means by that but...I haven't seen a better lead yet."> The spacer remarks to her.

Loske Treicolt

Loske Treicolt · May 6, 2020

Hiding behind the mask was a tactical advantage at this point. Ironically, it was a swap in vulnerability - if any emotions were to pass her countenance would betray her instantly. He'd be hidden behind a well constructed veil. It was a play of just balance in the end.

“Eck..” she made a noise of distaste for the moniker he assigned her, and flattened some of the fabric by brushing down her torso. “Right. I mean, when I was doing swoop races I registered as Blue Sato -- homage to the old man. But I guess poncho works. Easier to say..” the conversation trailed off into a mutual silence that was either born out of the shared awkwardness or intense focus on the mission they’d given themselves. Loske didn’t really know which she was feeling more.

The planet's arid climate was a refreshing welcome in contrast to the artificial atmosphere of The Renegade. Constructed from a culture that had an affinity for the heat, she loved visiting planets that were on the warmer side. Even if it got a little uncomfortable under several layers. She fell into a role of simply taking things in and following

Maynard Treicolt 's emboldened lead. A maturity to his step that wasn't oft' given the chance to be showcased. It was like his soles were practiced on these sands, and the maneuverability between the merchants required her to keep in step. Most of the things they were offering for purchase went over her head -- she could appreciate the damage they undoubtedly did, but the craftsmanship detailing was out of her scope of comprehension.

The entire atmosphere was an assault to the senses. If Maynard’s trajectory wasn’t so fixated and absolute, she definitely would have been distracted by now. This was part of what she loved about the worlds beyond the core -- they maintained a culture that was more pure to the plant itself. The openness of the market was testimony to the accessibility of conversation, but the purchase was behind a barrier of barter. Everyone wore that on their faces.

Loske’s eyes were possibly the only visible thing that would betray her, and while Maynard engaged in a productive dialogue, she got distracted. Lingering around behind someone wasn’t really her forté, and these people were out to make a cred. She’d never participated in illicit shopping before, and honestly should have been paying more attention to the dialogue between The Renegade’s captain and the partially cybernetic tent keeper.

By the time Maynard approached her again, she was jaw-dropping at the four-digit price of a blaster that weighed the same amount of ten sticks of butter. Which went to her next mental question of how much she could fetch for her saber -- that was a pretty hot commodity. The kyber crystal hadn’t cost her anything, it’d come from the skull of a dead sith lord, but nobody had to know that. Or maybe that would make it more expensive. A premium charge piece.

“Oh, uh, I guess I’ll have to pass this time. Next visit, maybe. Thank you. ” She offered to the fair-haired person tending to the tables before turning back to her masked companion when he approached and included her in the conversation. They looked unamused by the denial, and twisted the weapon to give a clicking sound while they turned away to pack it up again.
She hadn’t really been listening to the start of the back-and-forth, but was able to catch the tail end of it where the undertones came out to play and appreciations were exchanged. When she met up with Maynard again, she gave a wandering look in the direction the partial machine had suggested.

“A toxin?” She whispered into the cloth of her poncho’s collar. It absorbed her words and hot breath without hesitation. The implications of something biochemical were heavy, and she couldn’t tell if there was anything flinching about Maynard’s resolve with his face concealed beneath that mask. The visor over his eyes was darkened and obscuring any sort of intel to his opinion on it -- though nothing seemed shaken. They were here, they were doing this. She better pony up and participate. If it were the Bryn’adûl considering the moral implications of pursuing biochemical warfare, there’d be no hesitation.

“I guess there’s really only one way to find out.” The blonde admits, making a vague gesture while falling into step with her companion. They maneuvered through all the offerings of contraband, and other weapons.

One could categorize the planet as one giant Thyrs trap for smugglers.

The outdoor sprawls of the market extended into areas that were less concerned about their lighting. The deeper into the maze of fabrics and incense, the more nefarious the retailers became. Most were simply tents, but there was a doorway cut from a rise of sandstone where vapours poured from into the open air of the market. It certainly suggested it was more clandestine than the other offerings. “That must be his friend.”

As they approached the doorway, one of the only things closed off in the market, they drew more gazes than they had before. The market wasn’t patron-poor, but this particular establishment didn’t see many visitors. For all intents and purposes, it looked closed. Those gazes materialized into people lingering, almost encircling warily.

Stopping outside the door, she paused, not completely up to snuff on the protocol here. “Do we knock?”

Maynard Treicolt · May 6, 2020

<"Blue this, blue that. Always Blue...I dig it."> Outrider admitted, weird that she carried around a yellow saber with a name like Blue anything but what could you do.

After their short exchange with the weapons merchant Maynard led the pair the direction of the man's advice.

<"Nothin' else has done the trick as of yet."> Treicolt said in response to her hushed utterance of the word 'toxin'. He had a damn good point.

<"I mean...yeah I'd guess so - certainly seems like the sort of place that'd hustle 'toxin'."> Maynard said, seemingly skeptical himself but with the recent encounters with the Bryn'adul compounded over their experiences, did they have another choice? The longer they waited, the more they put virtue ahead of what needed to be done, the more innocents would die. If a 'toxin' was what it took, so be it. He wasn't going to keep enveloping himself in this every time. Each and every time he had to call on that deep perilous pit of hatred that burned within him. What began as an inkling of an issue was quick to brim into a wild fire every time Maynard was thrown into the fray, Loske could certainly see that by now. Maynard himself didn't seem to overthink it, it was survival.

Approaching the deb chiseled into the sandstone wall Maynard appraised the entrance way for a few moments before he glanced over to her and offered a shrug of his shoulders. Placing his gloved knuckles on the door he offered a rhythmic rap on the bronzium door as his other hand went to slowly grasp the hilt of his lightsaber...just in case.

Qrgyl Ud // Purveyor Of Forbidden Substances

The door opened to reveal the wide bug eyed gaze of a Gand standing in the doorway as a cloud of innately (but mild) psychedelic spice blew out invasively in their direction. As Maynard's helmet's inbuilt respirator seemed to negate the smoke he seemed to snap back with an instinctive turn to Loske before his armored visage shifted back toward the Gand.

"What do you want with Qrgyl?" It uttered, initially chiding the two immediately for disturbing his trip as he looked between the pair with a indiscernible insectoid gaze.

Maynard offers a brief appraisal of the alien himself before he nods once as if affirming his own suspicions. Yeah, this was about right. He wasn't sure who else he'd be expecting to hustle a toxin in the bowels of the Thyrsian black market. A Gand certainly fit the bill if only for how rare and secluded the nearly dead species was. Certainly was the first time he'd seen one.

<"Was told you might have a...'toxin' tha-"> Maynard was interupted by a pull of his forearm wrenching him into the hole in the sandstone structure before he turned to pull Loske as well, less in a threatening manner toward the two but far more worried of anyone listening to this transaction even if ultimately, no one here cared. You'd think he'd know that by now.

"Qrgyl does not speak of these things in open...what you are looking for- Qrgyl knows this." The Gand says rather inconclusively as he glances between the two, offering up no further information.

<"...Alright...erm...do you know where to get some around here, boss?"> Maynard asks the alien, crossing his arms over his chest as he sized the Gand up.

"Yes yes- Qrgyl has some." The Gand admitted with a few nods before he turned down a corner of his domicile into another room, leaving the two be for a moment.

Glancing toward Loske, Maynard could only shake his head for a moment before he wrapped his fingers around the belt accommodating his holstered blaster pistol.

<"Now you can't tell me this hasn't been fun."> Maynard said, offering a tilt of his head as he held his arms out with dipped shoulders to try and lighten the mood between them, they certainly needed it after earlier. Living in blissful ignorance of the esoteric scents that swirled through the Gand's domicile which was...interesting to say the least. Certainly epitomized any usual spicer den with psychedelic patterns splayed across the walls, seemingly painted by the Gand's alien digits itself as holo recorders played an idle tune of intense alien instrumentation and vocals. Splayed out in hookahs and open jars. Spice. Glitterstim, Mind Spiral, the good stuff.

Emerging once more from his domicile the Gand seemed to let off an idle if less than reassuring laugh to itself before it presented a metal box to the two, offering it to Maynard before suggesting he open it. Obliging, the atmospheric hiss of the container gave wake to the box opening to reveal a large vial containing a sample of the Vengeance of Sword And Sun.

<"Uhhh...right...ok, what uhhh- what's the damage?"> Maynard asked, referring to the price of the item before anything else, of course the Gand operated in far more literal terms.

"Ooohhh, very very bad. At worst it can completely weaken and kill any of these beasts - the Bryn'adul. It rapidly degrades and kills the cells within a Draelvisier until they melt away in a slow and agonizing death. All you need is the proper delivery method. Bullets, grenades, bombs will do Qrgyl thinks." The Gand states outright, seemingly fond of talking about death.

<"How'd you- wait- how you'd know this was- where- nevermind, how much does this cost?"> Maynard asked, tilting his head as he shut close the durasteel case, turning to hand it off to Loske as he went to produce the cost of the product.

"What?" Qrgyl interupted, causing the spacer to stop his action and glance back to Loske.

<"How much did you want for it?"> He asked again.

"Qrgyl doesn't want it..." The Findsman stated again outright. What followed was an awkward length of silence between the three as Maynard glanced back to Loske and then to the Gand, then back to her before eventually he nodded once to Qrgyl.

<"...Right...erm...ok then, well...we'll be going then.> Maynard said, rather uncertainly before the Gand nodded once, waddling up toward the door he slammed an insectoid digit on the control panel to let it slide open before motioning the two out.

<"...Take care now, alright?"> Maynard said, offering the Gand a thumbs up before he set a hand faintly on Loske's back as if to put some urgency into their exit in case the Gand suddenly felt the urge to ask for payment on their way out...which he didn't. And the door shut behind them. They were now zero credits poorer and one vial of Xenotoxin richer after a...curious encounter with a Gand spice maker.

<"Uhh- well...I guess...we have that now."> Maynard said, motioning to the steel case before he peered out toward the marketplace.

<"I mean- unless there was anything else you wanted to check up on- I think we got what we came for."> Maynard admitted.

Loske Treicolt

Loske Treicolt · May 7, 2020

A muted yip of surprise was all she could do when she was also dragged inside, and she stumbled in after

Maynard Treicolt with the grace of a wampa. It all happened rather quickly after the doorway was discovered, and probably not as discretely as the mysterious alien may had preferred. The door hissed shut behind them.

Another disadvantage to not having a mask meant there was no filtration system or protective barrier between herself and whatever airborne panaceas filled the room. Her chemical constitution was delicate and unable to metabolize anything so invasive in a productive way. When the science nerds were trying to create a weapon composite, they didn't consider her exposure to drugs. The sheer exposure to the levels of spice was compromising. Loske returned Maynard’s glance and sprawling gesture when the gand disappeared with a big, heavy blink.

“Fun was exactly what I was thinking.” She drawled, the words feeling heavy as they rolled from her tongue. The blonde could almost see the breath they sailed on, and they dissipated just before hitting the ground, shattering into fractals that hardly resembled anything. Woah. “I think.”

The case itself was unceremonious, but the contents inside garnered respect. It rapidly degrades and kills the cells within a Draelvisier until they melt away in a slow and agonizing death.

Loske, not much more than an observer at this point, reached out to accept the box. She took special pause when it came to her touch though, and the entire hilarious back and forth between Maynard and generous Qrgyl was lost because she was trying to look at them with a forcibly curious expression, as if the contortion of her brows would get them to confirm or deny that they were seeing the same undulations around the box as she.

The silence got her attention, and she tucked the box beneath her poncho subtly. Oh! They were going now. She was stepping lazily, and Maynard’s touch sparked a shocking reaction that coerced her to scooch a little faster back into the arid market. The sun was brilliant, and she snapped a hand up to conceal her eyes against the contrast from the dimly lit atelier they’d just emerged from.

“He was nice.” She offered, her self awareness suggested she try to normalize.

“Yeah, we have...this. This sounds really deadly.”

The would-be Kiffar’s mind was going a million miles a minute, and at the same time being remarkably sluggish. The conversation she’d just observed replaying over and over again in different volumes, parroting the points that bothered her over and over again. She tucked the box under her arm, adjusting it beneath the poncho to keep it concealed.

Recalling the discretion of the alien, she did her best to project her voice in a whisper -- or at least an undertone -- now that they were out of the shop. She had no idea how it sounded to Maynard, in her head, it was really quiet. There were moments when it sounded a normal volume. “Not to sound ungrateful, but this doesn’t seem like a lot. Not a lot of room to mess up. He mentioned we’ll need..nngh..” her free fingers pressed against her temple to abate the threatening headache. Stepping out of the shop was the juxtaposition she needed; if she’d stayed in there any longer she might have just right passed out. Or found somewhere cozy to curl up and lounge lazily for hours on end. In an attempt to gather herself, she exhaled for clarity -- concentrating on her breath rather than the yammering on her psyche. “Proper delivery methods.” It was improving, being outside helped exponentially. Now she just felt like they were being watched - but it might have been an onset of paranoia that were not part of her Jedi senses.

“Do you think we should get our own? This'd be the place.

We might have access to The Alliance’s resources, but what if they don’t support this? I mean, our Jedi Platform suit things have..” another pace setting inhale exhale combination, and instead of concluding her thoughts with words, she made a gun out of her fingers. He’d get the point.

Not a lot of room for error, no matter how they looked at it. Mister Qrgyl’s words turned over in her mind’s eye once again. It rapidly degrades and kills the cells within a Draelvisier until they melt away in a slow and agonizing death. Replaying on repeat until they triggered a memory that was not her own. Cells burning from the inside until they completely incinerated their host. “I have an idea, it means one more stop though...” In her hypersensitive state, the images that flashed and burned in recollection were absolutely horrifying and she took an involuntary step back. Flesh turning into nothing more than charred ash wasn't something she was used to seeing to up close.

“Ugh, I’m going to need some water or something.”

Maynard Treicolt · May 7, 2020

Her staggering was concerning and it clearly drew the eye of Maynard as he seemed quick to look her way at any off movement after they left the Gand's den. Keeping them on the move he set a hand on the small of her back for the faintest of moments if only to keep them on the move, blended in with the rest of the crowd as they talked.

<"Nah you're right, its not much but now, well, we know where it is and we might have better luck tracking down a better source...might, I don't know but its something. For now, I don't really wanna keep rolling the dice around here, should probably skip town while we're ahead."> He remarked, to her suggestion that they stay around and peruse the other instruments of death openly for sale in the maket he offered a shrug before shaking his head.

<"We can pilfer the Alliance stuff if need be I feel. We're Jedi, we're officers, we've proven before we don't fuck around so they'll probably just let us have whatever."> Maynard said in confidence. It was then that realization hit again as it seemed to at very unsuspecting moments. He was a commissioned officer in the Alliance military. Just...seemed off, but he seemed to fill the shoes well enough, maybe not in decorum but certainly in grit and leadership...for the most part.

<"One more stop? I mean...yeah, I don't see why not. But hell, let's get back to the ship. We still aren't sure what the hell what we have is but all I know is I don't really want anyone around here pokin' their heads around at us."> Treicolt said, motioning for her to hold the durasteel case close to her and beneath the poncho if need be. It didn't matter if they pulled attention, they wouldn't be here too much longer but he certainly didn't want anyone to wrench it free from her grasp.

The more they walked, the more the market atmosphere dissipated around them to give way to the street corridor which led back to their inhabited space port. As soon as The Renegade was in sight, it was clear enough at least that no one had tampered with it. Frank and Buddy seemed to be just good enough at their job it seemed.

With the boarding ramp lowering by command of either droid who likely saw their approach, Maynard was quick to ditch the helmet as they stepped into the freighter, raking a hand through his hair as he pulled in a breath of fresh air not filtered from the respirator.

<But yeah you're right, Frank- Well that was quick. Last time you stuck around a lot longer.> Buddy said upon the rolling approach to Maynard who offered a tilt of his head in consideration.

"Yeah well sometimes it just works like that, Buddy. Got ourselves some sort of 'toxin' that targets Bryn. Now do me a solid if you could, Buddy and get us out of this sand castle Frank grab some water for Blue if you could manage it. Regardless, I think we're due for- where are we going?" Maynard said, arching a brow as he peered toward Loske, that balanced pendulum of his smuggling, spacer persona behind his helmet 'Outrider' he might as well had been in full melting back down to Maynard, with the tensity only a notch or three behind their last conversation aboard the ship. He'd been tense around more than just her since that last encounter with Tathra and the Bryn'adul.

He'd channeled a deeper...negativity then which he'd only felt in shades prior- but there he called on it in full. It clearly bothered him and the physical marks of it showed as he slid the gloves from his hands, stripping the outermost layers of his spacer getup as he acclimated aboard the ship again.

"You feelin' alright?" He finally felt the need to ask, after he saw her visibily breath in a breath of what could've certainly been some sort've innate depressant.

Loske Treicolt

Private One Reason

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