The Birth of Prometheus

[Dax Perl]

Location: Kal'Shebbol

The humid air made it a little difficult for Dax to breathe, and yet, he didn't mind. He was glad to be breathing at all. Kaeshana, only recently concluded, had left the man a little worse for wear. The wounds were still fresh in a very literal sense. But here, within Outback borders, he could rest, recuperate and...oh who was he kidding, he was here resupplying before galavanting off again, looking for revenge. And his saber.

The man signed his signature on a sheet of flexiplast, a shipment of rations and ammo having just arrived. The droids were already assisting the organics in loading the cargo onto his ship. After he was done refueling the Revenant Dawn he'd be ready to take off once more. He had work to do...intel to gather. Whatever would give him an edge. Even if he didn't quite know what that was...

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Kaeshana had been a bloody, smashed mess of a battle. It started off fairly organized, but devolved into rampant chaos rather quickly. Then again, these things often did when you threw the Force into the mix.

Rather than go directly back to Lianna, Joza elected to spend her time on Kal’Shebbol, overseeing the treatment of the Outback mercenaries and notifying the families of those who’d fallen. It wasn’t easy. Nothing had been, and the losses weighed heavily on the Zeltron given that she was the one who had requested backup. The First Order hadn’t threatened the Kathol Outback, but they were dangerously close to their borders. The Galactic Alliance seemed to take it upon themselves to strike at the growing galactic power.

For now, the Underground receded back to their roots and she couldn’t argue.

Her ship had docked not long ago at the spaceport, Ivan going off to do whatever it was that pilots did in maintenance of ships. Joza herself was wandering around, looking for something to eat when she spotted a familiar head of dark hair.

“Dax,” She came up behind him, not bothering with any sort of greeting. She had mixed feelings about the guy—earnest and she felt bad about what had happened to him on Kaeshana, but the crimson saber he’d wielded had worried her. “You look well for someone who had a hole burned into their stomach.”

She could be subtle and polite, but she did that too often and this place brought out the rougher side of Joza Perl.

[member="Dax Fyre"]

 

[Dax Perl]

A voice spoke his name behind him. One he vaguely remembered, although why he couldn't quite place. Turning around, he saw the crimson hair and distinct pink skin of a Zeltron woman. He didn't recognize her. Then he remembered. This must've been [member="Joza Perl"], the Zeltron he'd fought alongside briefly on Kaeshana. She'd been armored, head to toe then, but he vaguely remembered speaking to her without her helmet on...maybe he dreamt that, he couldn't be sure anymore. But now that she wasn't the man saw that the rumors of her being a complete femme fatale had been true. "Ms. Perl." he greeted her, with a nod of his head as he gave back the flexiplast and static pen to the man who'd delivered the supplies. "Well, I'm not gonna lie, I've felt better. But, modern medicine right? A GA doctor stuffed a cybernetic stomach in me. Otherwise, still healing." While the man was still capable of eating, the action itself was awful...having a machine process food for him wasn't nearly as fun as it sounded..."How're you? You guys make it offworld alright?"

 

[Joza Perl]

She cracked a grin at the mention of the cybernetic stomach. “I can’t believe the stuff they come up with nowadays.” She shook her head. “Glad to hear you’re on the up and up, though.” She waved her hand as he turned the question to her. “A lot of bruises and some broken ribs, but we managed alright. Just glad to get back home with my son.” Her eyes drifted over to the flexiplast with his signature on it.

“Sorry about what happened there, Dax. I know that losing something like a saber is a bigger blow than it looks like.” She gave him a tired smile, eyes softening a little. “I did my best to get it back, but that Sith seemed adamant on hanging onto it. Which leads me to my next question…” A brow arched and her faced firmed—moreso in wary curiosity than anger. “Where’d you get that thing? I mean, orange, really? That does not go with your eyes.”

[member="Dax Fyre"]

 

[Dax Perl]

Dax nodded. Anyone who said losing a saber was just losing a saber had obviously never built one of the blasted things. One poured their soul into them. But that particular one on Kaeshana...well he hadn't built it but he had forged a bond...an odd thing to say about an inanimate object...but it was how it went. The thing seemed to have a life all its own.

Dax couldn't help but laugh a little at the woman's slightly sarcastic comment about his saber color. In truth even the saber he'd made as a Jedi was orange...it wasn't like the color was forbidden or anything...well at least to the man's knowledge, "Thanks for trying...Really. You fought in the Omega War right?" the man asked, hoping to provide the context for how he'd obtained the darkling saber.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

“Mm. Nope.” She shook her head. She’d heard about it, of course. “Was a little too pregnant for that. Did you find the saber during it?”

Joza’s own pair of sabers were unremarkable in appearance, standard blue crystals picked from the icy Ilum caves as a Padawan. Attuned to the crystals, she’d grown more attached to them over the years through combat and meditation, working in tandem with her weapons almost as if they were sentient. The Zeltron couldn’t claim to understand the mysteries of the Force, nor was she overly concerned with them, but there was something to be said for how a Jedi bonds with their crystal. “Orange isn’t a great color. You should try pink.” The comment was made in jest, cheeky, but there was a hardness to her eyes that suggested that the joke was simply a pleasantry at this point.

[member="Dax Fyre"]

 

[Dax Perl]

Dax laughed a little at [member="Joza Perl"]'s joke. "Pink goes with everything right?" He'd heard that Joza had given birth a little while after the crisis. It should have struck him that she'd been pregnant during the war as well. Fighting while pregnant seemed like a generally bad idea. "Yeah. I was one of the people in the final assault on the weapon. Our objective was the reactor rooms. Of course, they expected that and sent down a Darth to stop us. Killed her, took her saber." he explained. That day had been bloody. The kind one would call a Red Day. "Right after that I got promoted to Knighthood. Seems like I have an affinity for war-time promotions huh?" the way he said the last bit...it rang a little uncertain, as if he wasn't entirely sure if he deserved his rank. He was still young after all, just barely entering his twenties. It'd only been a year since he earned his Knighthood. And he'd been stabbed. That definitely didn't seem like the kind of thing that got people promoted.

 

[Joza Perl]

Yes, fighting while pregnant generally was a bad idea. That didn’t particularly stop Joza until she was so big that moving became a chore. Waddling, more like. During Omega, she waddled quite often.

Moving on.

“They do bring out the best in us.” She chuckled shortly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. The Zeltron could sense inklings of Dax’s self-doubt, and she couldn’t blame him for feeling that way. Getting your ass kicked did that to you, and Joza had lived through her fair share of having her ass kicked. Still, she’d be worried if he wasn’t feeling a little wary. Arrogance and overconfidence were distasteful and lead to stupid mistakes, whereas Dax seemed to remain anchored to reality.

“You smoke, Fyre?” Retrieving a cigarette from her pocket, she held the end over a wispy flame that sprouted from her fingertip before balancing it on the edge of her lips. If he replied in the affirmative, she would hand him a cigarette. Something told her that he didn’t, but she’d been surprised before. “Master Fyre, sorry.” She corrected herself, smiling wryly as she exhaled a puff of smoke.

[member="Dax Fyre"]

 

[Dax Perl]

Dax held his hand up in decline. "Naw, thanks though. Gotta keep these lungs good for running. Which I could barely manage before getting turned into a shishkabob." he joked. "And please, for the love of all that is good, don't call me 'master'. I'll never forgive you." The young man was the kind to try and keep things as laid back as possible. He wasn't one to be formal.

"Anyways, what's next for you? Heading home to the kid?" Dax was surprised to see that Joza had been keeping as active as she did, even with a child. He doubted he'd ever be able to handle both a home life and the life of...well they weren't Jedi but...one got the picture.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza shrugged at his decline before a wolfish grin tugged at the corners of her lips. “As you wish, Dax.” She took the cigarette out of her mouth, watching the smoke curl around the lit tip as she exhaled a quick puff. “I haven’t been called Master since…well, since I’d been with the Jedi.” A short exhale through her nose replaced the laughter that she didn’t have. The Zeltron hadn’t made a show of casting off titles or the like, but felt that designations were limiting. Still, she held a special distaste for those who called themselves Sith—rarely were they charming—and took Jedi as they came.

She did her own work. Quietly, usually, and unobtrusive when she could manage.

“Soon, yeah. Gotta see my little man, y’know? Then it’s back to work.” Families to notify, funerals to arrange. She’d be damned if she didn’t get to see her son before all of that came crashing down. In a perfect world, she’d be with him all of the time, but she did what she did in part to support her child. Firemane paid well for their interests on Kaeshana.

“And yourself?” She gestured towards his ship, lit cigarette in hand. She was mindful to exhale the smoke to the side, away from him. “Heading off to challenge a certain Sith?”

[member="Dax Fyre"]

 

[Dax Perl]

Dax nodded, "Yeah...and don't you start giving me that 'revenge leads to the darkside' chit either. I heard enough of that with the Jedi. Lotta good it ever did me." Dax wasn't the kind to typically hold a grudge. However, the times he did, he never forgave it. And he often chased after it with a vengeance that often ended with the subject in a less than healthy condition. The usual amicable, friendly side of the Rogue hid underneath it what could be a very angry, very violent counterpart after all.

"That saber had a lot of meaning. Other than the fact it was proof I actually killed a Darth ya know? It's a reminder of a lot of the things I've lost." Some how, each of the sabers the man had collected over the years had become a sobering memory. The saber worn on his right, a Jedi's blade, orange, first crafted by his master, Jay-Cril Talon, dead, killed by Sith. The saber taken by the Sith, a testament to the sacrifices made by others, for others, including himself. The saber on his left, the loss of his grasp on his humanity.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

A scarlet brow lofted.

“Easy, Fyre.” The cigarette stayed idle, jittering slightly as she flicked it with her thumb to clean the ash from the front. “I’m not here to give you a lecture.”

Jedi was a common misconception when it came to Joza’s place on the spectrum for Force alignment. While she herself worked primarily in the Light, she’d left the title of ‘Jedi’ aside. It was a gradual change, one that was made quietly and without much fuss given that she still rallied alongside the Jedi and their friends against the Sith. Lately she’d been less worried about titles and more focused on her own work.

“I get it.” Green eyes reflected in earnest as she listened to Dax explain why the loss of the saber hit him hard. “Just be careful not to get yourself killed, y’hear? That Sith was pretty tough.”

Another exhale of smoke. Time to get to the point.

“You know how to make fire, Fyre?” A cheesy grin tugged at one corner of her lip as she held up her free hand, curving the fingers slightly as short tendrils of flame spouted from each fingertip.

[member="Dax Fyre"]

 

[Dax Perl]

"Funny." the man said, the woman's humor of course not passing by him. Although amused, slightly, it didn't show on his face. If he had a credit for every time he'd heard that joke..."Ironically, I don't. I saw what you did to that Sith though, even if I was barely lucid. Pretty impressive stuff you did there." So far the man had specialized in Emerald Lightning, Force Shadow, and the various facets of the Force Drain. Some techniques had been more forgiving than others. Still, each had come to be very useful to the man.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza shrugged.

“Still managed to get away.” She either hadn’t hit quick enough, or hard enough, but she’d managed to render both of his hands useless by the end of the fight. Or so she’d thought, at least.

“Thank you.” Not one to turn down a compliment, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other and decided to get right down to the nuts and bolts of it.

“Do you want me to teach you? Y’know, to light campfires and the like.”

[member="Dax Fyre"]

 

[Dax Perl]

"Ya mean that?" Dax asked, perking up a little. Aside from the fact that the man always enjoyed adding new skills to his arsenal (feth, the guy even knew how to sew just in case he'd needed to make some field repairs or something) but he was also a bit of a pyromaniac. Making sparks fly was one of the things he'd never get tired of. "I'd think that'd be awesome if you would."

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

“Sure, sure.” A grin stretched across her face at seeing him perk up a little. “I think it would be something you could put to use.”

Her hands went to her hips, glancing over at his ship before moving back to Dax. “So…your place or mine?”

[member="Dax Fyre"]

 

[Dax Perl]

Dax motioned with his head towards his ship. No reason to go elsewhere he figured. The cargo hold was filled with various crates of food, ammo, a weapon rack in the corner. Further within the ship was a training room. Old school punching bags, physical dummies and practice droids. "I got a room in my ship that should be able to take the brunt of whatever goes on in there." he said. A lot of aggression was dispersed in that battered training room.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza nodded once, following Dax onto the ship. She spent a prolonged casual glance at the cargo, not scrutinizing it out of suspicion but curiosity. Food, weapons, crates filled with who knows what—standard fare, and it wasn’t particularly her business so she didn’t prod. If he was smuggling, the Zeltron didn’t really care. She tended to turn a blind eye to petty criminals unless they were trafficking people into slavery—then things stopped being petty.

“Nice.” Was her only comment in regards to the training room as she looked around. It was well kept, but broken in by a lot of use which was a good sign. “Before we start, tell me a bit about what you can do?” She prompted him in a friendly, almost leisurely way. Besides, she was naturally curious as to what Dax’s regular fighting style was.

[member="Dax Fyre"]

 

[Dax Perl]

"Whatcha mean?" the man asked, pulling out one of the practice dummies and floating a wooden practice sword to his hands. "Force skills? Or what?" The man had a rather...interesting collection of techniques he'd picked up along the way. Not all of them were combat related, but they were certainly useful. Some of were just downright destructive, to others and himself.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

“Combat wise, force or not. Just to get a feel for what you know and what you don’t.” Joza cracked her knuckles, eyes following the sword as it drifted into Dax’s hands. It wasn’t so much to gather data on the man, moreso because she realized she didn’t know much about him. “For example, I specialize in defense, redirection and supplementary skills. Pyrokinetics is sort of an outlier, but it’s come in handy quite a bit. More than just making fire, too. It’s about manipulating heat—in the air, in the power cell of a lightsaber, in the gas canister of someone’s jetpack. That sort of thing.”

An amicable grin spread across her face as she thought back to all the times fire shaping had come in handy. In that regard, Joza tended to be more of a scalpel than a hammer. Precision was her forte.

[member="Dax Fyre"]