Sojourn To The Unknown [Kitt]

[Aran Finn]

UNKNOWN REGIONS, FRINGE SPACE ...​

Technically ...​

​

When Alen had invited Kitt on a mission of exploration to the Unknown Regions, a "mission" wasn't entirely what he had in mind. His research had earmarked a previously unexplored "garden world", sitting pretty in the habitable zone of a G-class star with an abundance of heavy elements and a low variability in brightness. All things said and done, it was perfect. They'd plot the hyperspace jump, explore the planet, find it uninhabited, and likely kick back and enjoy themselves in an unspoilt paradise for a bit. That was the plan, at least. Maybe there would be a spot of danger, a rabid beast or two, but all in all ... this wasn't really a mission. It was a holiday. And Alen aimed to get some alone time with Kitt.

It had all started with some Sith poison and Alen's makeshift, if successful first attempt at a touch of dark side healing. If the bearded Darksider had known that that was it all he had to do, he'd have let her get shot by a dart a few minutes earlier. From there, they had fought side-by-side a few times. They'd got up to some mischief too; spiked the punch at an official function, almost died together at a festival at the end of the universe on a planet they didn't entirely remember ... Alen had noticed that Kitt had developed a crush on him quickly. He'd been mostly flattered to begin with, but as time went on and he got to know the bounty hunter better, his feelings had grown a little as well. He hadn't noticed until recently. When a girl gets brought up in conversation by your protocol droid and you start babbling like an idiot, well ... you've got it bad. After Na'Varro noticed that his affections had grown into something with a little more kick, he resolved to do something about it. Because if Alen Na'Varro was one thing, it definitely wasn't a queen.

It was surprising to him now that he hadn't realised sooner. Solo was his type. Tall, fit, brunette, smart-arse, loyal, damn good in a fight, surprisingly-good at dancing, emotionally tough but could also go as bright red as his lightsaber at the drop of a hat. There was an age gap, but she was mature enough not to make him feel weird about it. And when one really broke it down ... he liked her. After years as a bachelor on the run and one failed marriage and a couple of kids, Na'Varro couldn't rate that enough. When in doubt, go for your gut. In his experience, he wasn't exactly sure if his guts had kark for brains anymore. Maybe they'd learned something.

They were in a standard YT-1300 freighter, a recent purchase which he hoped to upgrade in the near future. Alen was a decent pilot and an amateur mechanic, which came in handy sometimes. Looking out at the blue vortex of hyperspace with his feet on the dashboard, the bearded Dark Jedi reached out with the Force and snagged a beer from the fridge. He didn't bother with the bottle opener, he popped the top with the Force instead. It was a neat party trick, he reflected.

"I've got the strangest craving for McYoda's.." he muttered, wondering where @[member="Kitt Solo"] had gotten to.

 

[Kitt Solo]

[SIZE=10pt]Most women used the refresher to freshin’ up. The Fringe-empath-bounty hunter used it to clean out her two MK2 bolters. What? It had the best light, duh. Holstering the gun to her side, she paused in the open doorway, briefly glancing in the refresher mirror. Might as well put on some cherry-pie lip-gloss before leaving, wouldn’t want chapped lips.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]Spreading the liquid over her mouth she gave a resounding smack of her lips before re-joining her mission partner. Of course Alen was more than that and it made her nervous, scared, and excited at the same time. This was the first time she and Alen would be alone, like, alone, alone.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]Eeeeeeeeeeeeep.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]@[member="Hannibal Oryen"] probably wouldn’t approve, so it was a good thing her ol’ mentor wasn’t there or aware of what was going on.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]A choking sound emitted from her throat as her gaze fell upon the bearded, dark-jedi. It was hard to tell whether it was a laugh, cough, or laugh disguised as a cough. “Alen,” there was a certain endearment in using his first name considering she almost never did. Chin tipped to his open beer as she slid into the co-pilot’s seat next to Na’Varro. “You sure that’s such a good idea? Because let me tell you. If you crash us because you were inebriated I will survive the wreck just to get up and kick your,” she paused, sexy, good-looking, “ass.”[/SIZE]

@[member="Alen Na'Varro"]

 

[Aran Finn]

A half-choking, half-laughing sound emitted from the doorway. Na'Varro turned his head to regard Solo, and his facial expression slowly changed from ponderous to a wry grin. She looked good, especially without the red mask-cloth thing covering half of her face. Nice lips, especially when she was busting his balls about drinking and driving. Alen's smile was entirely genuine for once, he'd left his mask at home. That mask wasn't a traditional one. That mask was the man most people knew, the genial leader who just happened to be a darksider. Every laugh a distraction, every smile a lie. Alen rarely smiled genuinely anymore. Solo happened to be able to get them out of him at will, without even trying. It was strange.

[SIZE=10pt]“Alen,” she began.[/SIZE] The bearded man noticed the use of his first name and knew that either an affectionate joke or a gentle chiding was on its way. Oh boy, Alen couldn't wait.

[SIZE=10pt]"Yes, Kitt?"[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]“You sure that’s such a good idea? Because let me tell you. If you crash us because you were inebriated I will survive the wreck just to get up and kick your ... ass.”[/SIZE] Alen knew what that pause meant, and he smirked despite himself. Eyes tracked to his feet, which were kicked up on the dash.

"My boots are also scuffing the Kashyyyk oak." He looked over at Kitt, now in the co-pilot's chair, and winked. "Call a cop."

Actually, now that he thought about it, he was the closest thing to a cop that they'd find out here. Handy, that.

@[member="Kitt Solo"]

 

[Kitt Solo]

[SIZE=10pt]She grumbled and swiveled her chair to face him, the corners of her lips twitching. There was a distinct smell of cherry-pie starting to fill the cockpit. “Really?” Voice drawled like melted caramel as a single chestnut brow lofted.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]“Your boots on the dash won’t result in a fiery crash in the middle of some jungle planet, Commander Na’Varro.” A mock-sigh left her mouth as she pretended to polish and study her fingernails against the sleeve of her shirt. “But that’s okay. Stars knew I’d be the more mature one in this relationsh--,” cheeks warmed as her gaze flicked up to Alen’s face.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]“I mean…on this mission.” She recovered quickly. Might as well have him clarify a few things up front before much more embarrassment ensued. “What did you have in mind for this little outing?” The underlying question of what his intentions were was loud and clear.[/SIZE]

@[member="Alen Na'Varro"]

 

[Aran Finn]

Alen caught the whole relationship thing before Solo corrected herself and smiled despite himself. She had the propensity to let things slip out of her mouth when she was anxious or nervous, and as a matter of fact, Na'Varro found that trait kind of endearing. And then there was the constant blushing ... it was nice to know that he could still elicit that reaction out of a beautiful woman. While Kitt seemed to be still beating around the bush somewhat, Alen was definitely more direct. He definitely wasn't the type to make the lady make the first move. As her gaze flicked up to his face, his eyes darted across to meet hers challengingly. His grin suggested that he was pleased enough.

"Too hot in here, Solo?" Na'Varro was clearly referring to her cheeks. She messed with him, he messed with her. They had that kind of dynamic. "Because I can always go out back and fiddle with the air-con..."

As for the mission though, it was pretty self-explanatory. Alen took his feet off the dash and sat forward in his seat, eyes darting back from Solo's to the blue vortex of hyperspace. It was mesmerizing. Often, the Dark Jedi Master would just make a jump, come out to the cockpit and contemplate infinity for hours on end. Jedi, or true Jedi at least, meditated. This was his form of meditation. Force knew he didn't have enough patience to sit still unless something else was going on.

"Well, it's pretty straight-forward. Explore world for signs of life or mineral deposits, anything that might benefit the Fringe." His dragged his eyes back from the alluring vortex that alluded to infinite ends and back to Kitt. "And if there's time, Kitt ... we can relax. You and me."

Letting that thought sink in, Alen turned back to the controls.

"We'll be dropping out of hyperspace shortly, might want to get strapped in, princess." Na'Varro knew that nickname irked her, but he did enjoy stirring the pot.

@[member="Kitt Solo"]

 

[Kitt Solo]

If she could dish it out, she could certainly take it. He sure knew how to rile her up but it was only fair. Eyes rolled a 360 at the nickname. "Does it look like I'm wearing a crown," the grumble left her lips as her smirk faded. She swiveled the chair and found herself focused on the tasks of co-pilot: systems checks, landing gear prep, safety harness - check and check -, weapons secured, beer packed.

"I'm glad you asked me to come. I was hoping I'd get some alone time with you."

She meant it. They could have their somber moments too.

"Even if you have a reputation for taking off your shirt in sub-freezing temperatures."

Okay, even if the somber moments didn't last long. But she liked that about their dynamic. They had those serious moments when it counted, without all the added fluff.

The viewport scenery quickly transformed as they exited the jump. A greenish-brown globe of the approaching destination reflected in her eyes. "Wow," she breathed. "Reminds me of Dagobah. Smaller, but still. And," gaze tilted down to the instrument panel, "these readings of life signs seem to agree." Index finger tapped the screen and she shot Alen a sideways glance.

"Should be normal enough though, right?"

@[member="Alen Na'Varro"]

 

[Aran Finn]

"I'm glad you asked me to come. I was hoping I'd get some alone time with you." Alen's smiled broadened, genuinely. "Even if you have a reputation for taking off your shirt in sub-freezing temperatures." That smile quickly turned into something more akin to a grin.

"Wowwww ... first off, that was one time." Alen growled with a touch of affectation. "Secondly ... you loved it."

That was for sure. He and @[member="Lucianus Adair"]'s shirtless brawl on Ascension in the freezing cold had raised a few eyebrows, and he'd caught Solo and Rave Merrill peeping a couple of times out of the corner of his eyes. Though he could never be sure who they were peeping at. Adair was two hundred pounds of sexy man, even Alen could admit that. Adair had about ten pounds of hunk on him, though Alen made his one hundred and ninety pounds work. Anyway.

"Dagobah? Never heard of it." Alen noticed the screen and his eyebrows furrowed, going into serious investigative Arbiter mode. "No sentient-made satellites. Life readings are high. Smog around the highest readings suggests primitive technology ... looks like they're still burning coal for power. That's barbaric."

Alen went into the zone, thinking further. Smog, primitive as it may have been, suggested sentience. It could be long-lost survivors of a hyperspace voyage gone wrong, or hippies, or descended pirates or smugglers. Or it could be something else ... it bore checking out.

"Let's go for a closer look." He grinned. "We're going groundside."

Na'Varro maneuvered the craft into orbit, and then into an easy descent. Landing without observing the planet was kind of reckless, but Alen was sure that they'd be able to handle anything that came their way. They were a great team, after all.

@[member="Kitt Solo"]

 

[Kitt Solo]

[SIZE=10pt]Of course she loved watching a half-naked Lucianus and Alen fight. She was straight, duh. She was up and out of her seat as soon as the craft landed, well, as soon as all the landing checks were complete. Her leg brushed against Alen as she squeezed past his seat, scooping up a pack from the floor. Opening the cooler, she put a few brewskis in the bag.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]“Having these may be vital to our mission,” she deadpanned before sauntering down the ramp and into the moist, jungle air with a touch of…smoky-smell that tingled against her nose. Fingers fumbled for a moment to tighten the pack’s straps around the curve of her shoulders. The sound of some moving water could be heard beyond some thicker foliage.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]“So, I don’t know much about you Na’Varro – besides your abilities to spike punch, heal a rather beautiful and fallen woman on the battlefield from sith poison, and put-up a damn-good physical fight.” She grinned and straightened. “Where did you learn to fight like that anyway?”[/SIZE]

And who the kriff hadn't heard of Dagobah? That was like basic History 101.
@[member="Alen Na'Varro"]

 

[Aran Finn]

Alen smirked and followed Kitt down the ramp, touching the soil of this garden world for the first time. The way this "mission" probably was going to go, they'd prove vital indeed. He doubted that the primitive natives would have any way of sensing or tracking their ship, as a result he expected nothing more than a little light recon. Find settlement, observe, return to ship, get happily drunk ... that was the plan, anyway. Solo led the way as they made their way through the foliage, heading towards the sound of rippling water ahead. Na'Varro was on her tail, ever watchful for trouble, though his gaze did occasionally stray to the area where her legs met her back almost of their own will. Every time they did, the man would notice, smile wanly, and then turn his gaze back to watchful alertness. It never stayed there for long, however.

[SIZE=10pt]“So, I don’t know much about you Na’Varro – besides your abilities to spike punch, heal a rather beautiful and fallen woman on the battlefield from sith poison, and put-up a damn-good physical fight.” Kitt grinned and straightened. “Where did you learn to fight like that anyway?”[/SIZE]

That question touched a chord somewhere in Alen's memory. It brought up some ... well, stuff, that could never stay dead and buried. The Dark Jedi was passed all of that, mostly, but a lingering sense of anger surrounding his father and shame surrounding his passive acceptance of the man still followed him. He'd been unable to deal with it as yet, and that feeling would likely follow him until his death. It was something he could cope with, anyway. It had been a long time, after all. Na'Varro paused, smiling when Solo referred to her almost-death scene on Javin. Alen had fashioned some crazy, left-of-field Dark Side Healing to draw the poison out of her ... and no smooch was received for all of his hard effort. His smile turned into a grin, and then sobered somewhat when he remembered her question.

"I learned from a few people. My father taught me how to fight with my body and my mind, and I learned lightsaber technique from a succession of Dark Jedi Masters over eight hundred years ago." Na'Varro realised how crazy that sounded, and chuckled. "So ... you should probably know that I was born during the years of Palpatine's Empire, and that you have a wormhole to thank for my presence."

Alen's bastard daughter who actually wasn't his bastard daughter had followed him through that wormhole, but one bombshell at a time. That was a nice, easy pace.

"Who taught you how to fight?" He asked, adjusting his own pack. "You've got a nice right hook ... for a princess."

Meeting her eyes with a lopsided grin, Na'Varro brushed past Kitt closely as he took the lead. Why? To take himself away from distractions, that's why.

@[member="Kitt Solo"]

 

[Kitt Solo]

@[member="Alen Na'Varro"]

Bottom lip dropped. "Eight hundred years...wormhole."

Blink. Blink, blink. She stared at his retreating form, the word princess and the sudden proximity of their bodies just before bringing her out of her initial shock. "I guess if the Aing Tii monks can flow walk through time and space anything's possible." She muttered like she was trying to convince herself, one hand brushing through unruly locks of chestnut-hair, fingertips pushing lightly on her scalp as if to ground herself.

"The best gorram mechanic on Corellia taught me. He was the same man who won the underworld street fighter champ title circa thirty years ago, made me eat my vegetables, and tucked me in at night. My father." The high esteem and respect she held for her ol' man was evident in her tone.

A clicking sound echoed in the trees and vines around them. She felt a bubbling of many emotions through the force as a glint of something to the side of the path made her pause. "Wait." Hand tugged lightly on the back of Alen's shoulder. "Her royal majesty wants to find out about where you got her nickname from but first..."

Fingers left Alen's shoulder and she took one step into the vegetation to the side, eyeing a metallic object embedded in a sap-filled tree. Mk2 bolter was in her hand. Her foot crunched as she took a second step-SWOOSH-WHACK whhhhhhhhhip.

A net obscured her vision as she was was swept off her feet and pulled high up in the trees. Limbs dangled at uncomfortable angles in the pre-made trap and if the clicking noise wasn't getting louder and the emotions stronger, she would be feeling much more embarrassed at the moment.

Instead, a series of Southern Corellian curses left her lips, face pressed against the webbing.

 

[Aran Finn]

The contrast of where Kitt and Alen had come from, childhood speaking, couldn't be more evident. Alen was still recovering from childhood trauma and re-experiencing and processing repressed memories surrounding his father. Kitt's father ... well, he sounded ideal. The two men had taught them similar things, but in different ways. That was part of the reason why Na'Varro could only use the Dark Side, while Solo favoured the Light. There was a duality in their dynamic which seemed to be why being around each other was so natural ... perhaps that stemmed from their fathers? It bore thought. Alen frowned seriously like that, then pushed it to the back of his mind like he always did. It wasn't healthy, but it was how he stayed sane. It was how he survived.

The Force swirled suddenly, and Na'Varro's thoughts turned to an elusive sense of danger. Solo seemed to sense it too ... Alen's hand crept for his lightsaber as Kitt ... Kitt.

"Kitt!" Too late. The trap was already sprung, and Alen watched helplessly, heart dropping into his stomach, as Kitt was wrenched sky high by a primitive rope net. His shock and panic subsided quickly as soon as he realised that she was unharmed ... well, apart from her pride ... and quickly turned to amusement. The bearded man turned away to hide his face, which was quickly changing from an "action face" to a scrunched up wad of paper as he tried so, sooo hard not to laugh. He made a stoic effort, choking once ... but in the end he contained it. It was like trying not to sneeze. He deserved a medal.

Turning back with a straight face, Na'Varro couldn't resist a chance to give Solo a little bit of a ribbing. He couldn't. It was what he did well.

"Need a bit of help?" He grinned. "You know, you should consider making this 'tree ornament' thing a full-time gig. You look great up there."

Pulling out his lightsaber, he ignited it and threw it at the rope holding up the net, cutting the thing loose, and then positioned himself seamlessly to catch Solo as she fell. It would have been really romantic if she wasn't surrounded by a giant, feth-off rope net ... and if it wasn't pressing her face like a sieve.

"You have a great vocabulary, I should add-" Click. Clickclickclickclick.

Na'Varro sensed a disturbance in the Force. Looking down, he noticed a bunch of red laser dots pointed at his chest.

The Dark Jedi Master sighed.

@[member="Kitt Solo"]

 

[Kitt Solo]

@[member="Alen Na'Varro"]

Tree ornament!?

"Na'Varro, you're gonna be in so much Bantha poodoo when I get down. Just remember who has the beers....wait! Don't....," heart lodged in her throat and stomach leaped to join it as she fell, landing with an unceremoniously "oomph" half squeal in Alen's arms. Too bad he never got that kiss for several reasons: still being tangled in a feth-off net- arms pinned around her body and Alen's chest, still trying to get over her aching pride, and the feth-ton of red dots moving over them both.

"You are like a freakin' magnet for trouble," she whispered up to the bearded man before he could say the same thing to her. A small, strained smirk was on her lips.

The clicking noise grew louder as several dozen, massive bug-humanoid creatures stepped out of their hidden positions. Their emotions were a little overwhelming through her empathic connection. Bottom line: not good. She took some comfort in Alen's arms, but not in the net. Slipping to her feet slowly, she stood in front of Alen and shrugged the net off, hands raising.

"Maybe if we offered them some drinks..."

The clicking peaked in a crescendo then eerily stopped. Their emotions focused on her before the canisters of gas were fired.

 

[Aran Finn]

Half a dozen bug-humanoid sentients stepped out from their hidden positions, and Na'Varro stretched outwards with the Force, sensing that countless others remained in hiding. Introduction to an entirely new sentient species aside, Alen was more focused on how many they were and how deadly they were. The bug-reptilian-avian-mammal things were here in platoon strength, from what he could sense. Uniform suggested military origins, lack of battle armour and the pre-historic slugthrowers they were carrying showed that military technology had not yet developed to an acceptable level. The planet's atmosphere showed no signs of attempted space travel ... it seemed that Alen and Kitt were an entire species example of "first contact." It occurred to Na'Varro that the aliens weren't handling things well, and that he wasn't exactly the best example of humanity to make a good impression. Great. And that was when the gas canisters were fired.

Nerve and smoke gas, Alen thought immediately ... and he acted quickly. The Force exploded from his left hand violently, sending a wall of energy crashing into the six visible troops and flinging them off their feet. He was already moving as that happened, seamlessly taking Kitt by the arm and speeding off into the scrub, the Dark Side fueling his movements. The tangle of jungle was thick, if they could just-

Na'Varro felt an explosion of pain in his right shoulder as he was flung violently to the dirt ... he knew what it meant instantly. Grimacing, he rose to his feet and started running again, his left hand covering the bullet hole in his right shoulder as blood seeped from in between his fingers. The bearded man was in a world of pain, but they had to keep going.

[member="Kitt Solo"]

 

[Kitt Solo]

[member="Alen Na'Varro"]

[SIZE=10pt]“We’ve angered the loc-ahhls,” she staggered on her feet as Alen took off, was shot, and took off again. Sharp, jungle vines and branches scratched across her face and arms, pack thudding against her back. She felt Alen’s pain, anger, and a touch of fear. She felt the same from the locals, minus the pain.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]Those buggars were moving fast, faster than they could run. She suspected they had a few minutes. Or… [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]“Alen,” she gasped and shouldered him hard into the underbrush. There were several rolls and snags on vines. She ended up on top of him, somehow. Quickly, she slid off and to his side, remaining pressed to the ground. The area that she picked to tackle the dark jedi-master was filled with shrubs and vines that acted as a natural cover and hiding place. They ended up rolling down into a dip offered by a giant tree’s roots. Slipping off her pack, she pulled out a bacta patch.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]Fingers reached across Alen’s chest and she covered his mouth. In other circumstances it might have been conceived as romantic with a brush of her fingers against his lips, minus the dirt, scratches, vines, snails, blood, and running away from an angry and unknown species on an unknown world. “This is going to sting like a mother, shhh. On second thought…”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]Reaching into the pack again, she popped open one of the beers and poured it over his shoulder, hand remaining over his mouth to stifle any scream. Then, she slapped the bacta-patch over it. “Looks like the bullet went clean through. You were lucky.” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]Using the force, she pulled some of the vines over them, as her side pressed against Alen’s, stomach flat against the jungle-floor as the sound of dozens of rushing feet crunched in that not too far distance.[/SIZE]

 

[Aran Finn]

Alen almost shouted in protest as Kitt wasted one of the beers, but thought better of it. After all, they were being hunted by an actual unknown here ... who knew what would happen if they were discovered? In any case, the bearded man took a back seat as his ... err, mission partner (?) took control of the situation. Generally, Alen liked to be the one calling the shots, but he also liked a woman who could take charge when needed. Kitt's quick thinking wasn't just necessary ... it was kind of ...pretty hot. Na'Varro watched her work, his lips curled up in a smile under her fingers as his skill in Crucitorn worked passively. It was always cool when you could withstand physical pain with a smile on your face.

Then the vines went over them, and Na'Varro felt her warmth as she pressed against his side. It was damn distracting. He was a Master of the Force, but that didn't mean he wasn't human ...[member="Kitt Solo"] was so distracting that some day, he swore, she was going to get him killed in the most embarrassing way. As the aliens footsteps passed, then slowly receded into the distance, the Dark Jedi was on his feet. Throwing the vines away, he offered his arm to Kitt to help her up. Not that she needed it, but he didn't think she'd complain ... he pulled her up powerfully, into a sort of half-embrace before setting her down somewhat. Na'Varro grinned at Solo, still close enough to feel her heat.

"I have a plan."

- Two hours later, night -​

​

Alen had built a fire, which would surely attract the bug-avian aliens in time ... in his estimation, they still had at least half an hour until they got back. In the mean time though, he and Solo sat by the fire and drank. He was already a happy enough level of tipsy, which was pretty much as far as he wanted to take it. Na'Varro was no alcoholic ... well, not anymore. The bearded man drank and then looked over at Kitt, who was visible in the light of the fire. Nerves started to tingle a little bit ... no matter how many times he had done this before, he still got a little nervous. But this was a bit different ... Kitt Solo made him a little more nervous than the average girl. She was a weakness of his now, but one that he was more than happy to have.

"Hey Kitt," he said softly, setting his beer down on the ground. "How did a girl like you get into bounty hunting?"

Na'Varro still couldn't figure that out.

 

[Kitt Solo]

[member="Alen Na'Varro"]

A bubble of laughter escaped her throat as she tore her nervous gaze away from the surrounding darkness and settled it on Alen, instead. “I think seeing me in all those formal dresses started to give you the wrong impression, Na’Varro. I was young and I needed the money,” she shrugged, innocently and lifted her hands closer to the warmth of the fire. She felt exposed by the light. And was it just her or was the Great Alen Na’Varro nervous? She hoped his plan was a gorram-good one. Then again, maybe he just didn’t want to keep warm the other way…

“Actually,” she cleared her throat, refocusing her thoughts, “my family has a lot of unspoken expectations for me. I didn’t want to live in the shadow of a powerful politician, a.k.a, Mom, the best Corellian mechanic among other things, as you know, Dad, or,” she exhaled dramatically, “my sister who doesn’t even know I exist. Apparently she’s a powerful jedi master but very elusive.” She tipped back the last of her beer and grinned at Na’Varro over the rim. “Why, do I not look enough like the bounty-hunting type? Maybe I should start wearing an eye patch or something.” The warmth of the fire and the light buzz from the alcohol were distracting, but not as distracting as Alen’s gaze. She realized a moment too late she was happily lost in his eyes and still grinning like an idiot.



A twig snap in the peripheral darkness sobered her up. Picking up no malevolent emotions, she imagined it to be more along the harmless variety of species. She forced herself to relax, not realizing she inadvertently scooted a little closer next to Alen. Chestnut-brows scrunched together as she remembered something Alen said before. “You said your dad taught you some stuff. Was he a dark jedi too? And how the kriff are you keeping your cool after being dumped into the future like getting off at the wrong speeder-bus stop?” The past thing was still a bit hard to swallow, unlike the beer they were happily drinking.

 

[Aran Finn]

Alen nodded as she spoke, then chuckled.

"Bounty hunters are generally pretty damn ugly." The fact that she wasn't was the unspoken fact that hung over what he had said. By Na'Varro's standards, it was a compliment. He didn't hand those out like party favours, like a lot of others did. In his eyes, constant compliments took the meaning out of them ... he preferred for his to be genuinely worth something. That was a character quirk of his that could be taken a couple of different ways; it was also one he could not change. It was part of who he was.

A snap in the darkness resounded, and Alen's hand shot for his lightsaber. His eyes went to Kitt ... she had already started to relax, and Alen had learned to trust her empathetic nature. Empathy was where he was lacking; he put that down to his father. Her question brought up a lot of deeply buried things ... memories, dark emotions ... part of him noticed how much closer she had shifted towards him, and the other part was still fixed on his father. It wasn't something he talked about readily, his instincts always told him to push it away, ignore it, to survive and live despite it. He ignored his past for the most part, for that kept him sane and in control. It kept him strong ... for if he dwelled to long in his past, he might fall completely. It was the source of his power ... and if there was anything he knew about power, it was that it takes away more than it gives. But Kitt ... she was someone he trusted. Someone he cared about. If he couldn't tell her about his past, it was doomed to fester inside his soul until the day he died. His eyes met Kitt's now, the connection between them, the trust ... it caused a kneejerk reaction ... one of pain. Alen forced himself to not look away. Looking away would doom him to being the man he had been shaped to be. Alen fought against that every single day of his life.

"My father wasn't a Dark Jedi ... he was a nobleman, a warrior. He taught me how to fight and how to live ... he shaped me in his image, for the most part. He wasn't a good man, not in any sense of the word. But he had talents ... that man made me who I am today. All of me. Part of me is grateful for his harshness, for the strength he gave me through his brutality, for making me who I am ... but part of me wishes I had a chance to be anything else." Alen smiled, as if he had made peace with it all, but he knew that he could never have peace. He had been forged in fire and steel; war was all he knew. Kitt's other question provided some respite. "I don't know if I'm keeping my cool, but I think I'm coping. I miss my old life ... I had kids. Twins. I hardly ever saw them, but I always missed them. Still do. I guess I'm just keeping busy. Responsibility is my escape, Kitt. When I've got other things to think about, it's not like I can dwell on anything. Besides, I've got you around to distract me..."

That thought brought a grin to his face, his mind no longer on his past or his father. He had made a new life for himself here, because he kept looking to the future. Looking forward. That was part of who he was, and it was something he was eternally grateful for. The bearded man sat for a second, watching Kitt. He had made a quite a few wrong turns in his life when it came to women, enough to know what he didn't want. [member="Kitt Solo"] was not like any of them ... she was so obvious, hiding in plain sight. Alen had no idea why he hadn't gone for a girl like her when he was younger, heck, he might have even been happy if he had. And it was never too late to get things right. Her profile was illuminated by the light of the fire, and Alen thought she was beautiful. Sentimental tacky crap aside, that was the truth of it. His defenses were down, his fight with himself over. Another good single man bites the dust. Somewhere, in another galaxy, another universe perhaps, a young man with shaggy hair and a scrappy beard poured out a bit of his forty in the Dark Jedi's honour, and wished him godspeed. Perhaps Alen noticed this, touched by this act of sentimentality from another dimension. Quantum mechanics was a queen to understand.

Alen met Kitt's eyes with a hint of challenge to them. He grinned.

"Hey," he said quietly, not looking away. "C'mere for a sec.."

 

[Kitt Solo]

And there it was. They weren’t holding hands on a sunset, illuminated beach. They weren’t sipping some fancy-pants Nabooian wine at a five-star restaurant. He wasn’t a cookie-cutter protagonist from a romantic-comedy holovid. And that was what she loved most about the moment. He was utterly and uniquely himself: a leader with a raw past, a past that included two TEENAGE kids (she would have to gnaw on that one for a while), a weary traveler, and a man with the ability to look beyond the current situation no matter how much it was covered in bantha-poodoo. Hard bark of the log cut into her legs. The cold nipped at her back. Her nerves were almost to the point of being well frayed. And she wouldn’t change one gorram-thing.

Especially not when she caught the glint of challenge in Alen’s eyes and met it with her own.

“Wait, do I have something on my face?” She knew she didn’t, well, besides any dirt picked up from their roll away from a malevolent and unknown species. But it was all she could say. Her nerves kicked-up to a new level. Her heart rate increased and she was sure the beating in her ears would give away their position to every known creature on the planet. But she held his gaze and instead of backing away, she nudged in closer. There was no way she was letting Na’Varro win this one. And suddenly, the crackling fire felt far too hot as she hovered her lips inches from his own, trying not to think about how awkward the situation was about to get if she had completely misread his signals.

[member="Alen Na'Varro"]

 

[Aran Finn]

“Wait, do I have something on my face?”

That was Kitt. Always with a dry quip aimed at not letting the other person get the upper-hand. Inherently competitive, she was. A woman at the top of her field and top of her game ... one worth chasing. Alen had refined his taste in women with time and experience, and he had successively weeded out "types." The ones who slept around to give themselves a confidence boost, the bubbly but dim ones, the ones who thought they were smarter than everyone else ... the crazy ones been wiped from the board early. Solo was smart, funny, beautiful and confident ... a woman of the highest quality. And here she was, nudging closer to him, so close he could see the warmth of her face. It was daunting, nerve-wracking ... even though he knew that he had already won, there was still that pervading, exciting sense of dread that maybe, just maybe, he had read all this wrong. She moved closer, and the raw bubbling of nerves in the pit of his gut reached fever pitch. It was the scariest, best feeling. It was a plurality, and that was what made moments like these special.

"No.." he said softly. Her face was so close he could feel the warmth of it ... running his right hand through her hair until it cradled her face from behind her ear, he leaned forward and kissed her. Compared to the biting cold of the night air, she was as warm as it got, and gorram it, it had been a while since he had done anything like this. He would be damned if he didn't enjoy it. In the back of his mind, he wondered if his beard was too prickly, but that thought did not linger. Heck no. He was busy.

Click. Click click click click click. Danger. Na'Varro, extremely reluctantly, broke out of the kiss and whirled around to see six bug-avian-humanoid aliens approach, leveling archaic slugthrower weapons at them. They looked like repeaters ... and the Dark Jedi could also notice Force auras surrounding the half-dozen figures. Force Users then, weak but trained somewhat. Clearly someone had taught them how to mask their Force presence ... part of Alen marveled at that, part of him was pissed off at being interrupted when he was in the middle of something important and enjoyable.

"Ta ma di diyu!" The stream of Zeltron expletives rolled off his tongue naturally. "Gun kai ni hundan!"

One of the six figures stepped forward, gestured to the ground and spoke.

"Kal ullius var ent daen."

And here Alen was without a bug translator.

[member="Kitt Solo"]

 

[Kitt Solo]

Kitt had many talents; linguistics wasn't one of them.

Fingers hesitantly uncurled from Alen's shoulders, face still tingly from the tickle of his beard. She wanted more but she got a bunch of clickity-alien mumbo-jumbo and a slur of...Zeltron curses, instead. Despite the situation, she wanted to make a quip about Alen's vocabulary but couldn't quite do it. The alien speech was lost on her, but it didn't matter because she was already moving. How quickly she changed from a giddy-girl being kissed to a warrior-woman would probably be daunting to most people.

The hell she was going to let them get captured.

The force wove through the ground in front of the alien's feet and a blast of dirt and leaves exploded into the air between them and their campfire as she released the energy. It would've been convenient if they were all clustered together, but they weren't. It was evident some military training existed for them. She went to lunge forward, past Alen, her hands shooting forward to grab the neck of the repeater gun with force-induced speed away from the closest bug.

[member="Alen Na'Varro"]