Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Sand, Static, and the Shape of Secrets

The Gilded Veil breathed like a living thing at this hour, silk lights exhaling color, basslines sliding along the ribs of the building. Kael Virex worked the floor with practiced grace, all smirk and shoulder-roll confidence, a man who knew how to pour a drink and read a room in the same glance. Arq's choreography whispered from the stage in a language only the Veil spoke fluently, dancers folding themselves into velvet shadows. Kael leaned on the bar, fingers slick with condensation, when his comm-bracelet hummed like a cat stretching awake.

L.T.I. Priority Invite.
Andrew Lonek never knocked. He opened doors.

The message unfurled with corporate silk and subtle bait. An embedded journalist. Outer Rim expedition. Proprietary survey tech. A planet rich with stubborn value and old myths. Tatooine. Kael huffed a laugh into his glass. Sand and suns. Destiny had a dry sense of humor.
 
"Don't," Arq said, appearing beside him in a shimmer of blue skin and sharper intuition. "Your eyes just did the thing. You are thinking of trouble."
 
Arq kissed the air near Kael's cheek, a blessing or a warning, hard to tell. "If you break anything that belongs to me, I will invoice you with interest."
 
The Cosmic Kat waited on the pad like a promise wrapped in chrome. Sleek lines. Teeth hidden behind a grin. Kael ran a hand along the hull, felt the hum of a ship that wanted to move. He boarded to the scent of citrus and ozone, the kind of clean that meant someone had opinions about order.

Blair Fowler stood at the console, hair catching the light in a way that looked unplanned and absolutely wasn't. Model-perfect features sharpened by a journalist's stare, curious without being kind. She wore a jacket that had seen places and a smile that had disarmed men who underestimated it.

"You're late," she said, not looking at him.
 
"I'm early for the story you haven't told yet," Kael replied, settling into the co-pilot's seat like it belonged to him. "Kael Virex. L.T.I. sent me. I assume they told you I'm indispensable."
 
"They told me you're… adaptable," Blair said, finally turning. Her gaze skimmed him with professional appraisal and something warmer that refused to be labeled. "This is my ship. You touch nothing without asking."
 
"You're the one going to Tatooine," Kael shot back. "I just brought sunscreen."

They launched with a purr that vibrated through bone. As hyperspace streaked into a cathedral of light, Blair briefed him on the mission. Rare mineral seams beneath old moisture farms. Quiet negotiations. A story L.T.I. wanted told carefully. Kael listened, really listened, catching the cadence of her words, the places where she leaned into truth and where she braced against it.

"You don't trust Lonek," he said.
 
She glanced at him then, something unguarded passing between them, like two pilots realizing they shared a map.





Tatooine greeted them with twin suns and a horizon that promised to steal your breath and charge you for it. Heat pressed close, intimate as a secret. The Cosmic Kat settled into the sand with a sigh. As they moved through the market, Blair's recorder caught voices and dust, while Kael caught glances and exits, the undercurrent of a place that never slept, just waited.

They bickered like sport. About routes. About who asked questions first. About whether Kael's instincts were luck or something earned the hard way. Their words danced, edged with smiles, fingers brushing by accident and on purpose. In the shade of a half-ruined arch, Blair challenged him on his past. Kael countered with a question about her future. Neither answered. Both remembered.

At sunset, the desert turned to molten gold. They stood by the ship, heat easing, the world holding its breath. Blair tucked her hair back, eyes bright with a story taking shape.

"You know," she said, "for someone L.T.I. calls adaptable, you have a lot of principles."
 
"Only because we care about being right," he said, stepping closer, careful, respectful, the space between them charged and patient. "And because you're terrible at asking for help."
 
"I will," Kael said, and meant it.

The suns dipped. The Cosmic Kat hummed behind them, ready for whatever came next. Somewhere between the Veil's velvet and Tatooine's grit, something rare had sparked. Not a headline yet. Not a vow. Just two people, circling, already aligned by gravity they pretended not to feel.
 

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