Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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The No. 1 Cause of Forest Fires is You

[SIZE=14pt]Annaj[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14pt]Five Miles outside Vashan Sector[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14pt]
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[/SIZE]​

Credits were not even close to the most important thing in Matsu’s life, but that being said, she had no shortage of them. And a large amount of them were spent on her homes, including the one she’d brought Gen Gurasame to. She’d had business in the city and the compound was the most secure and comfortable place to keep him until she had the time to sit down with him and figure out where to go from here.

Most of Annaj’s capital city sat on a main drag, miles of a linear design cutting through one of the few areas of the planet not completely covered by forest. Half residential and half industrial it was the heart of Fringe space, crowned by skies that never turned from a bloody shade of red. As the main drag crested downwards to give way to the woods some of the system’s more wealthy inhabitants had taken to building estates elevated above the canopy and entirely separate from the structure of the city itself, floating homes in the style of a high-tech Kashyyyk. Private, scenic, and in Matsu’s case, protected.

A group of mercenaries, female and armed to the teeth, patrolled the outside of the estate at all times. If Matsu was home and someone was foolish enough to attack it was a suicide mission – but even then, they’d have to get through a group of women the Sith Lord had trained herself. Accompanied by a security system through Neuro-Saav Corporation her home was a formidable target to attempt.

And somewhere inside was Gen, surrounded by white marble and nightmarish art. There was a pristine quality to everything Matsu owned – clean, clean, clean and white and perfect save for the sculptures and paintings brutal and twisted at odds to the rest of her home. Floor to ceiling windows opened up on a view of the forest below.

An LEP waddled down the hall, trying to stay as quiet as possible though it knew it couldn’t avoid the inevitable. It’s master didn’t see fit to wipe its AI, rather liking the ‘personality’ it had acquired over a few months of serving her, and therefore it had developed several quirks and traits – one of which was being rather frightened of the man Miss Xiangu had brought home with her a few days prior. He seemed angry most of the time and he’d even thrown something at poor little Beez. But she’d instructed the little rabbit-droid to see to the man’s needs while she was away and he would do as she said.

Peeking his head around the corner of the living room, his fingers curling around the frame, he tried to sound as excited as possible to be checking in on Mr. Gurasame. “Um, sir? Are you well? Can I assist you with anything?”

His systems alerted him that Miss Xiangu was approaching, her stealth cruiser docking on one of the landing platforms outside, but he chose not to inform their guest of the news. Mentioning her always seemed to infuriate him, and Beez did not want him to be angry.

[member="Gen Gurasame"]​
 
He had no idea what that psychotic metal limbed whack job wanted with him. It hadn't been that long since their freighter was captured crossing in to Fringe space and Gen still wasn't especially thrilled about being here. He hated the empty feeling he felt at how quickly the woman agreed to his terms. He had no reason to expect treachery...well no, he had all reason to expect treachery because he was dealing with a Sith but based solely on their exchange he had no reason to. It was most likely that the woman just had the means, and based on this ridiculous "house" that seemed quite plausible, to acquiesce to his wishes without much of a fuss. That made rational sense, he preferred rational sense...so why was he still so perturbed? He didn't have an answer as he stood in front of the ridiculous pieces of art strewn through the building. He knew she was a Sith, but this felt like it was overdoing it. She was evil and violent, he got it, why did she feel the need to put him around such obviously asinine pieces of "art?" Then, the pure and unadulterated white walls around him were traumatizing. He was certain that depriving the body of the senses, restricting it to nothing but white, was probably the most effective way to drive someone insane. In fact, the complete lack any detail It forced him to actively look at the aforementioned asinine paintings. It had only been days, but it had felt like months since he and his family were plucked off their dinky little ship and he was running out of things to complain about, which was the most prevalent source of frustration in his life at this moment.

Then the second most prevalent annoyance in his two day long new life wheeled itself in to his damn room. Gen didn't turn to face him yet, trying to ignore his agitating little voice. He wasn't sure why he hated the droid, maybe it was because it was Matsu's puppet, maybe it was because he feared being the same thing if he stayed here, maybe its face was stupid, there were too many reasons to truly pin down why he despised it so. Yet here it was, skidding through the insanity ward toward him and asking him if he needed anything. Then a crooked smile started to form on Gen's face. If he was stuck here in this hell hole and then forced to put up with this miserable droid as well, he was going to find a way to enjoy himself, and he was embracing the Sith mentality of cruelty a little too readily he just wished he hadn't missed his stupid little robot face earlier. As the droid worked its way in to a terrified stupor in the room, Gen turned around from the auspicious painting and stopped a few inches in front of the droid and crouching down to meet it at eye level, the twisted smile still beaming across his face.

"Ya know droid, there is something you can do for me actually. Your mistress has been reeeeeeeeeeeeaaaallllly trying to encourage me to use the force, right? So I'm trying, but I'm having a little trouble with the math, and you're a droid, you're good at math. So I want you to calculate for me how much pressure I need to exert with the force inside your neck joint before your head rockets off your shoulders and crashes in to that hideous painting. Can you do that for me buddy?"

Gen placed his hand gently, almost reassuringly on the droid's shoulder and playfully tilted his head, as if he was being a consoling friend, despite his actual words being quite to the contrary. Surprisingly, he was actually getting sick of Matsu not being here, she was still better company than this useless piece of excrement and if he was going to be here, he wanted to actually do something. He didn't want to use their magic, but he'd rather be using that than doing nothing here in a whitewashed room, or he wanted to break the droid, whichever came first.

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]
 
[SIZE=12pt] Beez wasn’t necessarily the best at interpreting facial expressions. His Mistress had such minute changes in her features when she felt something that he hadn’t had much to work with when building a reference chart for himself. However, he didn’t need to be familiar with humans to recognize that the bared teeth and crooked quirk of the lips on Mr. Gurasame’s face was decidedly unfriendly – dangerous, maybe even unhinged. There was another man that came by once in a blue moon and Beez avoided him desperately – a monster of a man, tattooed and one-eyed and so…so quiet, and even though the little droid hardly knew fear in the conventional sense he knew something was wrong whenever the visitor spared him a glance, made Beez feel like he’d seen something he shouldn’t have. Mr. Gurasame was different but no less terrifying; this wasn’t a quiet feeling but an immediate alarm, the notion that if he didn’t remedy the situation he’d end up as scrap in Mistress Xiangu’s livingroom at the hand of her ‘guest’ for…well, he didn’t even really have a reason. Why did Mistress Xiangu have to have such strange friends?![/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] However, he immediately perked up when he was asked for something – this he could do! Maybe if he did a good job Mr. Gurasame would be more inclined to…not look at him like that. And even better, math!? Oh yes, all their houseguest needed to do was tell him the problem and he would whip up the answer in – oh…OH! If Beez had more than eyes he would have looked terrified as Gen threatened to behead him. What did he do?! He was programmed to do as he was told, but this man was clearly completely insane and needed serious mental evaluation if he couldn’t see that all Beez wanted was to make his stay pleasant![/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] How rude![/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] He let out a squeak of a sound as Mr. Gurasame placed a hand on his shoulder, trying not to take a step back and sprint out of the room. “Um, well, I…I’d need to—”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] “It’s alright Beez. You can go find something else to do.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] If he had tear ducts he would have cried in relief when he heard the sea-glass sound of his Mistress’s voice. “Yes, yes! I will, I’ll do that.” He immediately – albeit gingerly – extricated himself from their guest’s grip and moved from the room as fast as he could, bowing to Matsu slightly as he hustled by her in the doorway.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] Matsu waited until her housedroid had moved out of the room to sweep past the doorway, shrugging off the robes she had over a bodysuit and dropping them over the back of one of the couches as she went to sit, seemingly at peace among her ‘asinine’ artwork. She’d thought the whitewash rather post-modern, but she could tell Gen didn’t feel quite the same. She wondered how he’d feel when he knew what she’d done to his family, their blood on the same pristine sort of marble. She contemplated telling him now, watching him give in. He was certainly on his way without too much encouragement.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt] “Beez just wants to help you. I would have thought you’d like a friend.” (Because the odds of your family remembering you after what I did are very slim.) She pressed her thumb to her one of her fangs absently, watching him and thinking of his little sister’s screams.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt][member="Gen Gurasame"][/SIZE]​
 

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