Soaring down to old Bothawui [Xian]

[Blackthorne]

Once more we sail on the hyperlane gale​

towards our shining home,
Our engines strung and our plunder done​

and we ain't got far to roam.
Our stans'l booms is carried away,​

what care we for that sound,
A living storm is after us,​

thank Skies we're homeward bound.​

Bothawui.

It wasn't home, but it was on the way, if the Cove could be considered home anyway. Several weeks beyond their last visit, past the rendez-vous with her brother and the discovery of [member="Xian Valart"]'s Force Sensitivity they'd had time to wade through the detritus of infantile beginnings. Training wasn't a class session to be had - not in the regimented way that Blackthorne grew up with on Onderon as a very young child - but a way of life and survival. Xian knew how to live by the skin of his teeth, now he just had to learn how to thicken that skin.

Space magic.

"Why are we at Bothawui, Kiin."

Kiin sat at the Captain's chair all chiaroscuro and delight, looking for all the galaxy like a child brought to a candy shop, "Imagine if you will that the information network of the galaxy had a focal point, a capital beacon like Coruscant is to commerce. That's Bothawui."

The Captain raised her brows and pawed at her face, fingers tapping at her lips in thought, contemplative consideration. She stood before the large bay glasteel windows of the bridge watching the traffic of the Bothawui system buzz by.

"Before I got stuck on Rattatak," Kiin continued, "I ran info-grab for a bigwig arms dealer. When we needed to know something this is where I went. Even if I couldn't find out exactly what I came here for, I always got a lead...for a price."

"There's an old chagrian archivist here that keeps a collection of manuscripts on ancient cultures by the name of Eosi Ammanon. She's said to be an expert on lost languages and heiroglyphs," Ihmoen handed a datapad to the Captain containing the write-up on Ammanon, "if she doesn't recognize it I suspect she might know someone who will."

"Mm," grunted the Captain. It was worth a shot. "Prepare the shuttle. Krayt and Ihmoen with me."

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Blackthorne"]

Odd, that.

Space Magic.

With all the attention the Jedi and the Sith got every day of the week you'd almost forget that for every one of 'em? There were about fifty who didn't give a flyin' schutta. Even when they could literally make schuttas fly with their brains and mind. Just eking out an existence in the lower wards of the Core worlds, out there on the Outer Rim, life only centered around the keen line between starvation and death. No, Xian had never much cared or put much stock in the Force.

Just the strength of his arm, the resolve of his mind, his body refusing to break under the most poor of circumstances, but then 'thorne came along and wiped away all past pretenses. Little woman (fierce, but still oh so smol to him) barely half his size -- exaggeration to make the wounds sting more -- wiping the floor with him without breaking a sweat.

It told him one thing: the 'verse wasn't as far as Xian had considered it before.

Survival, strength, tenacity... they had a way of giving way to someone with the Force. Might be that a different person would have given up that day. Mope around a bit. Make themselves a victim, but Xian had refused to make himself one since the day he was lucid enough to comprehend his situation. No. Instead he made the decision to make this Force his own. The training with 'thorne was haphazard at best and both of them were less than comfortable in these new roles.

But he was learning.

Xian, no, Krayt was listening with his eyes closed. Somewhere off the side of the bridge with his head leaning deep against the metal plating of the ship's hull. It hummed during the trip and the vibrations carried far, oh so far indeed.

Two paths we got 'ere, Krayt. You can either hear the sound or be it, one, not both.

'Twas obvious what they expected from him, but Xian wasn't sure. He kept his options open for now. Now he listened, until the mention of Bothawui came 'long. Memories started to trickle in. "Been there, lovely lil' Bothawui. Got good drinks." Head tilted, eyes still closed. "The... dance clubs were a touch too hairy for my taste though." Someone chucked- might'a been Ihmoen. Cute one... that one, but a bit too eager for Xian's taste, not sharp enough.

Then his name was called specifically and the storm, blue as crisp, woke with eyes opening.

"Aye-aye, 'Cap." Soft push and the Twi'lek was up on his feet already, he let Thorne pass and settled in the walk next to Ihmoen. They walked in silence for a while. Corner here, corner there, into the lift and there they settled in as the hum around them increased.

"So." Ihmoen stated while conspicuously studying the tiling of the ceiling. "Hairy, huh?"

Xian shared a look with Thorne, before mhmming and stretching lazily. "Know that's how ya like 'em, 'moen. I will let 'em know we coming."

 

[Blackthorne]

"Shut it, both of you."

The Captain busied herself with refastening hardened leather gauntlets, "We're not here for fething dance clubs."

There was plenty of time and opportunity for that back at the Cove, but on active runs the crew knew Blackthorne was all business. She'd never been to Bothawui so relying on these two knuckleheads would have to suffice. Krayt with his prior experience, Ihmoen with his tracking skills.

The lift stopped at the level for living quarters. Krayt had been granted his own room to keep his things - something large enough to accommodate one of the main crew. Not the barracks, anyways.

"Pack light - we're here to chat with an Archivist," she waited for the two men to disembark the lift then punched in the next level down, "Get the transport ready, I'll meet you there."

"Aye Captain..." Ihmoen eyed her curiously as the lift gate slowly slid shut again, waiting for her to disappear from sight, "...where is she going."