First Reply Shor You Can

[Sofiel]

"Have you heard of the term 'Muscle Head'?"

The nonchalant voice cut through the verbal threat. Sofiel stared up at the muscle bound Shorak, a calm, simple smile on her face. The kind that would never reach her eyes of course. Shor had been a leisure trip through former Maw space until this demanding figure decided to cut in her path. Shouting accusations of Sith or raider. Monster was they called Vorthruz. That was beyond rude, but to now get in her way as she decided to leave? The white mask of her Familiar stared with it's eyeless sockets, as if trying to glare.

The man though, he just grunted. "You're certainly a monster. Look at this thing. It's no real bird. Did you make it yourself, Sith?"

They spit the word like a slur, but it wasn't like she wasn't a Sith. She raised a hand, pointing a slinger finger right at his chest. "It's a term for someone who thinks with their muscles instead of their brain. You seem tough. Do you think yourself tough?"

"Wha- Hey, listen to what I'm saying damnit."

A bolt of blue flew from her finger. It wasn't anything bright or flashy, but the lightning she unleashed caused the man's whole body to seize up and spasm as he fell to the ground. Pain. Too much pain for him to even verbalize. The others around gave a wide berth. The Maw was gone, but they were by no means in a position to try and tangle with a Sith.

"All those muscles, and they turn against you with just enough stimulation. You should think more with your head next time." She left him there, writhing on the ground after another short bolt. Killing would get more people to stand against her. Pain, though, that seemed to deter more. Agony was by far something these people fear the most.

 

[Spek Zhio]

--Theme--​

Bitter ale, sweltering afternoon, fresh out of tabac, busted alluvial dampers, leaking ionization chamber, shipment of spice in the hidden cargo hold, and don't get him started on the smell.

It was supposed to be a simple delivery from Kessel to Giaca. A trek across the Galaxy to some backwater outpost, two stops over the edge and at the junction of nowhere with who the hell even cares? A job which required speed, discretion, and being able to astrogate through unexplored lanes. All up his alley. Plus, with a sizeable compensation for his troubles.

Shit had to go down after that.

"Pure Pazaak," Spek Zhio cursed out loud, a sarcastic and self-deprecating smirk on his face. "Just my farking luck!"

Some errant cruiser's or clandestine space station's overstretched interdiction field, creeping just enough to dip its toes on the uncharted hyperlane between Endor and his destination. Automated hyperdrive fail-safes kicking in, on a ship without even a proper navicomp or unclogged shower drains. One kriffing last jump away from payday. And now, he was stranded on this bantha's ass of a planet for the unforeseeable future. Confined to doing nothing but pass the time sitting at that tiny round table, watching the denizens go by, while forcing himself to enjoy that diluted yet surprisingly astringent brew.

The Zeltron male wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his left hand, then brushed it against the gold-embroidered red jacket folded over his crossed legs. His blaster concealed beneath it.

"Let's see... What else could go wrong?" Maybe the engineers at the dry dock would find his hidden caches, or this heat was the only setting on the entire planet's fragging thermostat, or that ersatz ale was the only drink in existence on that orbiting piece of poodoo - he did try four other cantinas before settling for that scenic esplanade at the city's plaza. Complete with nearby quaint, dry, and broken fountain and all.

Or, maybe, he would be better off just trying to unload the cargo to a local fencer, if there even was one to be found on that rock. Failing that, another one of his world-class dine and dashes would have to do.

Then, he smelled ozone in the air. A thunderclap made itself heard.

Turning his head to face the sound, Spek instinctively reached for a certain pouch on his utility belt. He did not open it, instead just feeling the weight of the lightsabers inside. It was somehow reassuring.

He then saw a brief arc of blue lightning leap above the gathering crowd, not too far from where he was sitting.

"I just had to ask, didn't I?"

He opened the pouch without removing the sabers, just yet. Then, reached for the pheromone bracelet and turned off its suppressing action, allowing the raw Zeltron molecules to exude from his pores and mingle with his vigorous musk. Remaining cross-legged, he adjusted the jacket on his lap, placing his right arm beneath it, reaching for the blaster.

Doing his best to enter a state of battle meditation, that would also dwindle his Force fingerprint, Zhio decided best to be ready for anything while also to first wait and see...

Sofiel

 

[Sofiel]

"Are you calling me?"

A presence in the Force so shortly after her own little display. It had to be someone looking for her attention. Sofiel stood just a distance away, close enough to talk, but far enough to be ready for some kind of threat. And smiled. The cold, emotionless smile that certainly never reached her eyes. A presence that tried to hide.

"Why are you hiding?"

Spek Zhio

 

[Spek Zhio]

Spek tried to throw her back a warm smile, but it came out crooked after witnessing the unnerving dichotomy painted across her face.

Even without the lightning, her outlandish demeanor, or cold voice... even without the soft ringing in his ears, that originated from what felt like a stigmata in the fabric of reality, a few steps in front of him... He knew...

"A Sith..." He let the words escape his mouth. "Just when I was having such a pleasant afternoon..."

She seemed more curious than hostile at that point and, despite Zhio not caring much for their egotistical and megalomaniac self-righteousness, Sith were usually better conversationalists than the boring Jedi.

"...It gets even better! Seat," he gestured with an open left palm, "I said seat, feel free to have one. A seat, I mean."

Hopefully, his Zeltron pheromones were helping to soften her icy exterior.

"I would offer you a beverage. But I'm broke and it tastes like mynock piss, anyway!" Concluding with an honest smile, "or at least, what I imagine mynock piss must taste like. Never actually tried it... Just so you know."

Sofiel

 

[Sofiel]

"A seat." Sofiel turned her head before rather casually just moving to take the seat offered. The smile never changed, her eyes never changed. Emotion wasn't something she seemed to feel by all accounts. Her, or the odd bird on her shoulder. Vorthruz stared at the man, the eyeless slits in the mask that doubled as it's face gazing deep towards the man. Staring, unflinchingly. One hand folded over the other. Prim and proper, or at least what Sofiel imagined was prim and proper.

"I have already had a drink, I do not need another. Now, why are you hiding from me? Are you an enemy, by chance?" There wasn't a threat, just pure curiosity. The desire to know was perhaps the only real emotion she did have.

Spek Zhio

 

[Spek Zhio]

"Enemy? No, the name's Spek. Spek Zhio. With a 'zh' as in inclusion or pleasure. As in, it's a pleasure to meet you... and your... bird friend over there?"

He gently pushed the mug of ale, sliding it across the table towards her end of it. "I can't take another sip of this, anyway. The way that taste lingers in your mouth... bleurgh! But maybe your friend is thirsty and wants to try some?

As for me, I'm just your average independent contractor. A freelancer that just so happens to be passing by. That's all! Don't know who you are, never even got your name..." A pause, in the hope that she would fill the blank. "Why would I be hiding from someone I don't even know?"

Sofiel

 

[Sofiel]

"Vorthruz is incapable of drinking."

Sofiel glanced briefly to the drink, but the bird named Vorthruz did not so much as seem to flinch. It stayed clung to her shoulder, unmoving, unphased. Her smile did thin just a little. Annoyance wasn't an emotion she felt, but perhaps disappointment?

"I keep aware of those sensitive to the Force around me. It's an important habit when the Galaxy hates Sith so. Was it fear? Or perhaps a lure?"

Spek Zhio

 

[Spek Zhio]

"So I get to know your friend's name. But not yours?" He sighed, "The way you act, you seem to be the one in hiding. Tell me... not giving me your name... is it fear? Or perhaps a lure?"

The Zeltron laughed as if he had just told the greatest joke ever.

"I'm sure you know it as well as I do, the Galaxy is a big place. Lots of people and stuff in it. You should never make broad claims about all of them..." he took back the mug with his left hand, spending a couple of seconds contemplating whether the dryness in his mouth was worth the bad taste. "Oh! But I keep forgetting. Your kind tends to deal in absolutes."

Removing his right arm from beneath the jacket over his lap, he placed both elbows on the table. Not like the blaster would have made any difference. Crossing his fingers and resting his chin on top of them, he leaned forward, shortening the physical distance between the two.

"Do you go around zapping everyone that doesn't understand you or that you cannot understand? Well, I don't want to be zapped, so let me try something on for size... How were the words again? How did it start? Peace is a lie, there is only passion...

"Well, let me tell you something, you don't seem all that passionate about anything, really."

Sofiel

 

[Sofiel]

"You're rather smug. Challenging, perhaps?"

Sofiel smile grew just a little, though the emotion with it was hard to place in the slightest. She didn't move otherwise, just stayed calmly seated with her hands in her laps. The picture perfect symbol of poise. If what she'd read was to be believed, anyway.

"The man before was rudely trying to start a fight with me, so I ended the conflict. It seems you are following suit, though. Have you known a Sith to suffer constant insults or am I to stand my ground and enforce respect?" The weirdest part? It wasn't a threat, but a genuine question. She tilted her head to the side, reaching up to tap her chin in curiosity. "Are you a Sith yourself. perhaps?"

Spek Zhio

 

[Spek Zhio]

"If all you have is a hammer, then every problem becomes a nail," he sat back on the chair. "If I decided to lay low, how could you possible have interpreted that as a challenge or beckon? It was just me, trying not to draw attention and wanting to sit here in peace, doing my best effort to enjoy this poor excuse for a beverage.

He took a sip from the mug, and shuddered from the taste.

"If I were to guess, it's because you're always looking out for the next challenge. And, through those tinted lenses, every action someone else takes is either considered by you as subterfuge, a veiled threat, or hostile intent.

"And going as far as calling me smug? Who's to say? Though allow me to disagree. I just see this as two people engaging in casual conversation. Have you never had one of these before? Then maybe consider that your next challenge.

"Or did you mean smug, because I'm not cowering in fear at the face of a great Sith?" He sarcastically said in jovial manner.

Spek's Zeltron pheromones were doing nothing to help pacify her. Even if the Sith was unaware of them, the Dark Side was likely shielding her from the molecules, maybe even at a subconscious or innate level.

He knew it was a long shot to begin with, but there was no harm in allowing his physiology to act for itself, in its natural state.

"No, I'm not a Sith, nor a Jedi for that matter. I'm just Spek, a spacer with a starship in dry dock, waiting for her hyperdrive to be repaired. Alcyone is a great vessel, you won't find another one like her in the whole Galaxy. But she is in need of some serious maintenance. We've suffered an unscheduled jump out from hyperspace, and now her hyperdrive motivator is in need of more than just motivation..."

His body temperature was being regulated by the Force, and he felt comfortable to the point of not sweating any more. He usually cut himself from it and would not use it for anything as trivial, but him drawing from the Force came as a side effect of being near another sensitive.

"And that's about it, now you know everything there is to know about me, while I still don't even know your name. You accuse me," he emphasized it by pointing at himself, "of insulting you," then pointing at her, "while not even offering that one common courtesy? Very rude, if you ask me." He shrugged.

He felt tingles of pleasure running through his body and raising the hair on his skin, as if lightning was about to strike. Submersed euphoria, the likes of which he usually felt while astrogating or fighting. And it had been some time since last he had done the latter.

"So, the way I see it, these are the choices placed before us..." Zhio counted them with his fingers, enumerating them.

"Either you begin sharing as well, starting by telling me your name and what is a Sith doing here; or, you get up right now and go along your merry own way and we both forget this encounter ever took place; or...

He let out a long sigh.

"We find out what's behind door number three."

Sofiel

 

[Sofiel]

"You're assuming an awful lot over a question."

Sofiel tilted her head to the side, still with the same, simple smile. Emotionless and cold.

"I'm enjoying the night sky here. Exegol's remains are in clear view on a planet like this. And.. Sofiel. I believe you asked my name a couple times in that tangent. Was there something I might have missed?"

Spek Zhio

 

[Spek Zhio]

"Well yes, you did in fact miss the part where you tell me what is a Sith doing here. Or is it just really admiring Exegol's remains?"

He also tilted his head. Not in mockery but subliminally mirroring her body language.

"Tell me more about them, then."

Sofiel

 

[Sofiel]

"They are floating chunks of a dead planet. Some parts are larger than others, some likely have more substance than others, but are all similarly now lifeless and dead. Must a Sith have more reason than enjoying a view to be anywhere?"

Spek Zhio

 

[Spek Zhio]

Apparently door number one it was.

"And you find beauty in dead planets?..." Spek closed his eyes for a mere second on the outside. "Interesting..." But time stood still on the inside.

He snatched and tugged at distant astronomical hill spheres and the mass shadows of departed etherealness.

Opening his eyes, he inquired, "But isn't Exegol several solar systems away? That's a great pair of eyes you got there!"

Maybe they could find common ground after all.

"Hmm... Sofiel that's a pretty name," he added.

Sofiel

 

[Sofiel]

"No. Not dead planets." That was all she offered on that topic. Instead, she just smiled a little wider. Exegol was quite a ways away. But it wasn't impossible to see. At least for her eyes.

"Spek makes you sound like.. Well. A speck. Why are we talking about names?"

Spek Zhio

 

[Spek Zhio]

"Aren't we all just a speck of cosmic dust? At least I'm honest about it.

"You can give yourself a grandiose name, that will last for generations to come... But in the end... Well... The final day will also come for the last being to remember the name Exegol."

With the sundown came the much welcomed septentrional cool breeze.

"What would you rather talk about, then?"

 

[Sofiel]

"People of your Galaxy are, true."

There was no argument from Sofiel. Even her current host would die. Though, she wouldn't forget. At least her siblings and her wouldn't, anyway.

"Something simplier. You. You're a smuggler, yes?"

Spek Zhio

 

[Spek Zhio]

"I keep forgetting that Sith and Jedi are more alike than at first meets the eye," he retorted, "with all that spiritual mumbo jumbo, Force Ghosts, and whatnot..."

He groaned at her question. "Was that a jab? That felt like a jab. I told you that I'm an independent contractor. Law and justice are two very different things."

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"For example, were you to hitch a ride with me to a Jedi-controlled sector, some might say that I was smuggling you. It's all relative, in the end.

"What I'm trying to say is, we can say smuggler. You can't say smuggler!"

Sofiel

 

[Sofiel]

"Is that how that works?" Genuine, teasing, impossible to tell. She just kept the same expression like a doll on display. Even her emotionless gaze followed that line of thought. A doll? A puppet. A shell.

"Then I shall refrain from using that word when talking about you."

Spek Zhio

 

[Spek Zhio]

"Well that's very kind of you. A praiseworthy improvement, for someone who just moments ago almost had her hands at my throat!... Figuratively speaking..."

Was it weird that he almost wanted to know what would happen, had she tried to do it in a more literal sense?

Open the third door?

"Tell me then, what does it mean, for you, to be a Sith?"

Was she the cause of his intrusive thoughts? Or has he always been like this?

Sofiel