"THAT'S NOT HOW THE FORCE WORKS!" [Invite]

[Luna Vega]

In a manner of speaking, most of the things she saw or did was done well past inebriated. So who was to know if it was something conjured from her whiskey-tickled brain? Separating fiction from fantasy was not one of the pirate pilot's strong points. In fact, Luna would rather it stay that way in this case. She did not want to remember any more of it, nor did she want to know if it was real. All that really meant was that the freshly found Force sensitive would have to deal with it and be accountable.

Accountable for feelings, for actions, for people.

Sapphire strands whipped across Vega's face when she shook her head, answering herself without the expression of words. Her gunmetal eyes had fell into the bottom of Wren she gripped both desperately and loyally then. The thumb and forefinger of her right hand adroitly fondled the neck while the others splayed about the body of the amber bottle to cradle it. "Nope. Nope. Nope." Doona want no part of it.

Too late.

Luna stretched in her jumpsuit, casually craning her neck and drawing her shoulders back as if the action would stop the constant nagging of her conscious. Where was Rhoujen? Where was Zane? Yeah, because that was a great topic. The pirate snorted and found her eyes drifting towards the shuttle doors and then back to the view port.

 

[Luna Vega]

Fate usually had different plans. Different plans all together. Luna Vega was not the type to go with the grain [alcohol exempt of course]. As a matter of fact, it was something against her religion. Were it, if she had one. Leaning back into the pilot's chair, one leg lifted to prop up along the edge of the control panel. Gray eyes noted the wear and dried earth at the toes of worn boots, studied it even, to remember just where it derived. Suddenly, she was propelled into the past and her pirate smile faded as the memory began.

The entire day was routine. Should have fell the same path as everyday before for years. Same orders, same patrons, same slave. Same frakkin' shag, with the same regrets every blasted morning. To be fair, it had started as such. The hot sun filtered in from old tattered bed sheets used as curtains, a sorry excuse for a bed shoved into the corners of worse for wear walls above the only cantina in town. One mirror sat upon the floor just across the room from the mattress. Vega could see herself then as she could every morning- through the dust and haze of one too many cigarras. Her stormy eyes were shadowed, remnants of two day old liner smudged the likes of dark lashes. The familiar smell of breakfast wafted up the stairs, but it was the voice and thud of boots that roused her for work.

Same patrons... same orders...

That day and those eyes were what changed her life as she knew it.

Rhoujen.

"FRAK, LUNA! WAKE UP!"

After a few long moments, she blinked.

"Someone matching the description was spotted due west of here..." He paused, "If we don't leave now..."

A frown creased her lips and her head shook, "It's not him." It's someone, she didn't say.

"So you mean to tell me we came all this way, wasted resources... and you're... you're not even going to check?"

 

[Luna Vega]

"They were no even yer resources," and she meant for it to come out hotly, but her words were soft and depleted much like her hope. Those eyes burned though, glazed with tears that had yet to be shed when she canted her head up at the second mate. Both hands fell to the arms of the chair and she launched herself upright, planting both boots on deck. Luna shouldered his elbow to move past him, set the Wren down even, "Well c'mon."

For a heartbeat, Kryn stood there unawares and in a state of confusion. The second mate had not stared after her, instead he soaked in the contents of the bottle. It had been uncorked, but full as when it was filled. "Huh..." tearing his gaze away, the man trudged from the pit and down the ramp.

[WIP]