Public The Zenith Festival - Event on Spira

[Corvo Anattolius]

Brakkus

Corvo and Karda took the offered seats on the opposite sofa, the Echani sitting upright and somehow appearing proper even with his arm casually draped over the back cushions. He nodded as their host mentioned the risks of unregulated regions. Indeed he was familiar, those same regions were where his Amarrnth often hunted, and where he was offering to privateer on Brakkus's behalf. The risks of which, he often was to others.

"Drinks! Yes," He agreed to the offer, raising a finger towards one of the attendant droids. "Corellian Sunrise and...?" Her pointed the finger at Karda.
"Zeltron Passion." Was her cool answer, ordering a drink made from tart fruit juices and white tequila. An opposite to his own sweet cocktail.

Waiting on the drinks, Corvo leaned back into the sofa cushions. "I must admit, the boys and I have been enjoying the festival air, cooking out, games on the beach. It's been a wonderful opportunity to relax off the ship." Not something often afforded to those who chose to live in space. Though he was considering making it a more regular occurrence, there were countless tropical worlds or those with tropical bands and other pleasant environs.

 

[Embers]

“Wrecker of Quiet Nights”

Eaton's confidence earned a low, appreciative hum from Embers. Not because of the words. Plenty of pilots talked big. It was the feeling underneath them. No bluff. No desperate need to impress. Just certainty. The sort that usually came from either genuine skill or repeated head trauma. She hadn't decided which one he was yet.

“Raised to race, huh?” she said as they wandered deeper into the rental line. “That explains a lot.”

Her grin widened. “Most people spend five minutes talking about themselves before I figure out they have a death wish.” A glance sideways. “You managed it in two.”

The emotional static around them surged and ebbed like surf. Excitement. Competition. Anticipation. The closer they got to the racing section of the festival, the more those emotions began to harmonize into something she could actually tolerate.

Everyone here wanted the same thing. Speed. Victory. The rush. Simple. Manageable. Her eyes caught him trying—and mostly failing—to keep his attention focused above her shoulders. That earned him a distinctly amused smile. She didn't call him on it. Not directly.

Instead she stepped around one of the rental swoops and dragged her fingertips along the polished hull, giving him a moment to appreciate the view before glancing back over her shoulder. “You know,” she mused innocently, “for someone claiming to hide how good he is, you're remarkably eager to tell me how good you are.”

A wink. “Starting to think you're trying to impress me, sunshine.” The Laser Nine in front of her wasn't terrible. Stock. Clean. Probably maintained by somebody who actually cared whether customers survived. A disappointing standard, really.

Then Eaton mentioned handling his. That got a laugh. A real one. Warm and bright. “Oh, I believe you.”

She stepped closer again, invading his space with the easy confidence of somebody who had never learned the concept of personal boundaries and saw no reason to start now. “Question is...” Her violet eyes locked onto his. “Can you handle mine?”

The pause lingered just long enough to be dangerous. Then she broke into a grin before he could decide whether she meant the swoop race or something else entirely. Which, admittedly, she wasn't sure about either. “Let's get the Nines.”

Her gaze drifted toward the registration area. Toward the racers. Toward the promise of velocity. The noise in her head was already fading. “And after I beat you...” she added casually, starting toward the rental desk. “You can buy me another drink and tell me all about how it was actually part of your strategy.”

Her smile flashed over one shoulder. “I hear confident men are very creative when they lose.”

Embers

• Location: Zenith Festival, Spira
• Objective: Score something: a job, a ride, credits, spice…
• Outfit: Festival Attire
• Company: Eaton Waters

 

[Eaton Waters]

Confidence or overconfidence? Eaton was the type to make people trust him so he could make a quick credit, but with this one? He didn’t think it was that. He was actually here to get a job, and engine parts for his ship, and he already did that. So? Now it was a bit more of enjoying the Zenith Festival and all it had to offer. The Blubreen was also more than excited to see that he found someone else who was about the racing.

Laughing at her, Eaton shrugged. “Sometimes us from Pamarthe need to show off and beat any expectations!” A wink as he said that. There was an energy about the two now, and it was actually exciting for Eaton. This woman was more than met the eye, of someone who looked a bit lost, there was some depth that he just couldn’t explain.

“And I’m sure I’ll shock you on all that I can handle.” The man pulled out a cred chip from his pocket as they approached the booth. To the Mon Calamari staffer behind the desk, Eaton tossed the chip and requested a pair of stock Nines fully fueled and ready.

“Of course. We’ll have them on pad 4, give us 15 minutes to finish the prep and inspection. And for you to sign the waivers.”

Always waivers. Eaton had a few fake identities that he used, but here, he wasn’t really doing anything too illegal, so he was using his own name. Handing the datapad over to Embers.

“Ah, so you’re a fan of the long game too?”

Embers

 

[Embers]

“Wrecker of Quiet Nights”

Embers watched the cred chip arc through the air and land with practiced ease. Again with the credits. Again with the confidence. And again she found herself smiling. Maybe it was the lingering spice Maybe it was the racing. Maybe it was simply that Eaton was proving far more entertaining than most people she'd bumped into at festivals.

The Mon Cal's mention of waivers earned a groan from her. “Every good time eventually runs into paperwork.” She accepted the datapad from Eaton and glanced over the liability release with all the attention of someone absolutely not intending to read it. Her signature appeared in a quick flourish. There. Officially warned. Officially ignored.

Handing it back, she caught the name he'd used. Interesting. Not that she commented on it. Yet.

His question drew her gaze upward again, violet eyes catching the festival lights. “The long game?” A slow smile spread across her face. “Depends what we're talking about.”

She stepped a little closer while the rental attendants disappeared toward Pad Four. The emotional noise of the festival still swirled around her, but anticipation was beginning to dominate everything else now. Racers preparing. Spectators placing bets. Mechanics making last-minute adjustments. It all tasted like electricity.

“Racing?” she continued. “Absolutely.”

A finger tapped lightly against his chest.

“Anyone can sprint ahead for a minute.”

Tap.

“The trick is knowing when to push.”

Tap.

“When to hold back.”

Tap.

“And when someone's about to make a mistake.” Her grin sharpened. “Then you make them pay for it.” The words carried enough double meaning to leave entirely in his lap.

She glanced toward Pad Four where attendants were beginning to move equipment around. Fifteen minutes. Just enough time to build anticipation. Not enough time to lose interest. A perfect amount.

“Though if we're not talking about racing...” Her gaze slid back to him. Lingering. Playful. Dangerous. “I suppose I appreciate a little anticipation.”

A beat. “Makes the payoff sweeter.” Then she laughed and broke eye contact before the moment could settle too deeply. “Besides, sunshine, if I took everything fast I'd run out of bad decisions before midnight.”

Her attention shifted toward the track beyond the rental area, engines already whining in the distance. The sound alone made her pulse quicken. For the first time since arriving at the festival, the pounding in her head felt manageable. Focused. Like all the noise was narrowing into a single point. Velocity.

She drew a breath and smiled. “Tell me something, Eaton.” The use of his actual name rolled surprisingly easily off her tongue. “When was the last time you lost a race?” The question wasn't mocking. It was hungry.

Because if he said never, she would enjoy proving him wrong. And if he said recently, she would enjoy trying anyway.

Embers

• Location: Zenith Festival, Spira
• Objective: Score something: a job, a ride, credits, spice…
• Outfit: Festival Attire
• Company: Eaton Waters

 

[Eaton Waters]

Tossing a side glance over at Embers as she said something about a good time and paperwork. “Only if you do it wrong, besides, its what, a signature here? Not even anything besides ‘you break it you buy it.’” The Blubreen laughed. “Besides, didn’t you have a waiver to sign before coming to Zenith?” Or was that just him buying tickets through the legal routes. He didn’t want to bring up too much suspicion while he was here to get his ship repaired and upgraded. That was almost a legal deal, not how he got the parts, but that was another thing all together.

The man always thought racers forget where their roots were, in powering up ships and speeders to slip past policing units and get the spice and other vices to where they needed to go. His father showed him how to do that, on some of the less-than-legal supply and delivery trips he took with the old man.

That was before he had gotten his own ship.

As Embers approached, and tapped him on the chest, he just kept a simple, albeit maybe silly grin on his face, blue eyes making and holding contact with hers. “Yeah, well you can’t give all the secrets away on the race field.” Same for life, but he didn’t need to explain the dual meaning.

“And a sweeter payoff is always what we aim for, isn’t it?” A laugh as they made their way to the Pad Four. Time to add some spark into this conversation, and make sure they were both having fun.

“I mean, sometimes you have to repeat bad decisions, to see just how bad they really are.” As they looked at the course, he was feeling the way the Force tingled with the energy, the focus, the drive… everything they needed.

“And me? Lose? Oh, it happens on occasion. Not something I like doing.” A grin.

Embers

 

[Embers]

“Wrecker of Quiet Nights”

Embers barked out a laugh at his attempt to dismiss the paperwork. A genuine one. The kind that made her shoulders shake slightly. “That's exactly what somebody who likes paperwork would say.”

She pointed at him accusingly. “One signature becomes two signatures. Two become six. Next thing you know you're filling out forms to prove you filled out the previous forms.” The expression on her face suggested she considered this one of civilization's greatest failures. Though his mention of a waiver for Zenith itself did make her pause.

A beat. Then she shrugged. “Maybe.” Another beat. “I don't actually remember getting here.”

Which sounded far worse than she intended. Then again, it was also true. The spice haze that had carried her into the festival had left a number of gaps she wasn't particularly interested in investigating.

As they continued toward Pad Four, she listened to him talk about repeating bad decisions. That earned another laugh. “Some call that the definition of crazy.” Her grin widened. “Then again, I've been called crazy from time to time.”

Only from time to time. Certainly not constantly. And definitely not by every authority figure she'd ever met. The two rented Laser Nines were waiting when they reached the pad. Sleek. Stock. Hungry.

The sight of them immediately pulled at something inside her chest. Engines. Speed. Freedom. The noise in her head narrowed again. Not gone. Never gone. But quieter. Manageable.

As they approached the swoops, Embers brushed her shoulder lightly against Eaton's. Not accidental. Not entirely deliberate either. Just enough contact to let him know she was still enjoying herself. “You know,” she said, looking over one of the machines appreciatively, “I actually respect that answer.”

Her gaze shifted back to him. “Most racers spend half their lives pretending they've never been beaten.” A small shrug. “Rare being who actually enjoys losing.”

Then her smile sharpened. Because while she respected honesty—She enjoyed competition more. Her fingers ran along the handlebar of the nearest Laser Nine.

“Speaking of losing...” Violet eyes flicked toward him. Dangerously playful. “Do you want a personal wager on this race?”

The question hung between them. Festival lights reflected across the polished hulls. The distant roar of another race echoed across the grounds. Embers tilted her head slightly. “Before you suggest credits...”

She spread her hands. Empty. “I will remind you I don't actually have any at the moment.” There wasn't even the slightest embarrassment in the admission. If anything she seemed amused by it.

“Temporary condition.” A grin. “But if you've got another idea, sunshine, I'm listening.” And judging by the look she gave him, she was very interested to hear what kind of wager a charming racer with more confidence than caution might propose.

Embers

• Location: Zenith Festival, Spira
• Objective: Score something: a job, a ride, credits, spice…
• Outfit: Festival Attire
• Company: Eaton Waters

 

[Eaton Waters]

A laugh from her? That was something he hadn’t quite expected. Not that it was unwelcome. It was awarded with a sly smirk. “I’m not sure anyone likes paperwork.” Looking to her, and how they got to become more paperwork, he nodded. “Exactly why I don’t do it on the regular, but sometimes… its necessary.” Like for getting discount starship parts.

Or to sneak through a planetary interdiction team with a load of spice.

Or to get into a museum to prep a forgery.

As he looked at the other speeders, and the other racers, he was prepping any kind of chance where he could take some of them on, some looked to have deep pockets. If not on a race, than perhaps some sabaac.

“And most racers are full of themselves. I’ve gone up against the Corellians, for example. They always say they’re the best, but when a Pamarthean shows up? We’re more grounded, learning from a young age and not just a lot of brass and balls.” Maybe a bit overt of an explanation, but Eaton didn’t think Embers was going to judge him.

“And you learn more from losing than constantly winning.” Of course, he also ran illicit substances around and he needed to stay on top. Stepping up to the other Laser Nine, one that was blue, he looked it over. For a stock swoop they were good.

A wager though? A grin. “No credits sure sure.” For him, the obvious would be her contact information so they could connect after this trip. But that was too cliche.

“I win, you have dinner with me, no strings, besides you telling me your story.”

Embers

 

[Embers]

“Wrecker of Quiet Nights”

The other racers barely registered. Embers saw them. Catalogued them. Then promptly dismissed them. If they were fast, she would have to be faster. If they were talented, she would have to be better.

And if they beat her? Well. That was the price of leaving her own swoop at home. Simple. The machines mattered. The course mattered. The competition mattered. But right now?

She found herself watching Eaton more than the field. The confidence. The grin. The way he seemed equally comfortable talking about racing and making wagers. It was entertaining. And entertainment was worth a great deal when the galaxy usually felt like static and screaming.

As he laid out the terms, Embers let out a thoughtful hum. Long enough to make it seem like she was genuinely weighing the proposal. Then she giggled. Actually giggled. The sound surprised even her.

“Dinner?” Her head tilted. “That's your big wager?” Another laugh escaped her. “Sunshine, you must not be that confident.” Her violet eyes danced with mischief. “I was expecting something a little more risqué.” The word rolled off her tongue with deliberate emphasis. Not enough to make things serious. Just enough to make him wonder.

Turning away before he could immediately respond, Embers crouched beside her Laser Nine for one final inspection. Hand on the repulsor housing. Quick glance at the control surfaces. Fuel line. Throttle response. Nothing unusual. Nothing hidden. Stock. She almost felt bad for it. Almost.

Rising back to her feet, she gave the swoop a satisfied nod. It would do. Her attention returned to Eaton. “Still...” A shrug. “Dinner isn't terrible.” Then her smile sharpened. “But if I win?” A finger pointed toward him. “You buy the drinks afterward.”

Another finger. “You tell everyone within earshot that I beat you fair and square.”

A third. “And...” She pretended to think. Though not very hard. “You take me somewhere interesting.” The words came softer. More curious than teasing.

“Not a tourist trap. Not a fancy restaurant.” Her gaze held his. “Somewhere you'd actually go.”

Then she grinned again, breaking the intensity before it could linger. “Figure if I'm going to take your pride, I might as well get a good story out of it too.”

With that she swung a leg over the Laser Nine and settled into the saddle. The familiar posture felt natural. Comforting. The engine hadn't even started yet and already the noise in her head was fading. Speed was coming. The galaxy would narrow soon. Just her. The course. And maybe one overconfident Blubreen she was increasingly looking forward to beating.

Embers

• Location: Zenith Festival, Spira
• Objective: Score something: a job, a ride, credits, spice…
• Outfit: Festival Attire
• Company: Eaton Waters

 

[Eaton Waters]

It was what he did, catalog everything and everyone. Keeping an eye on the others, he took them in, mostly aliens, made good sense. Hell, most species that didn't have the human deficiency were great racers. His spot as a human-fish-person hybrid made things a bit different, but he knew how to travel, and being of Pamarthe, he knew how to race, sure as anything.

Preferred to not do pods, sticking to swoops and starfighters, the sort of things you ran spice in. The trick was, they were definite unknowns, but he had quite a mystery in front of him.

"Dinner and a story. In my line of work, information is the greatest wager." That was saying a lot. And besides, he didn't want to call up something like a date or a night alone with her. That was child's play and if he really wanted that, he could make it work, or just wander into the crowd. "And risque? Where is the fun in that?"

Better to be something no one expected.

"Drinks, obviously. Sure. And I am not shy to let someone know when I've been beat." He took that request in stride, and with a smile. "And somewhere interesting? I can definitely work that out, but I suppose, I will need to know whats interesting to you." Though somewhere that a grand prix race was going? Perhaps that could be fun, at least they'd have something to talk about, if they got that much time. Watching her mount up on the swoop, Eaton grinned.

Following suit, he got onto his, and moved himself into one of the slots for the start. A quick L shaped race, not anything too difficult, it was designed for nearly anyone to come in and race. Pulling up some goggles, and adjusting a buff over his mouth, he gave Embers a nod before the countdown began.

 

[Embers]

“Wrecker of Quiet Nights”

Embers' smile softened—not with disappointment, but with understanding. Information. That, she understood. Stories could buy favors. Names could buy freedom. Secrets could buy entire starships.

She gave a slow nod. “Fair.” Her fingers drummed lightly against the Laser Nine's handlebars. “Information's worth more than credits half the time.”

Probably more than half. She couldn't remember the last time a pocketful of credits had kept her alive. A warning, though? That had.

His answer about the lack of fun in a risqué wager earned another amused smile. She looked at him for a long beat before shaking her head. “I like that.” The admission came easily. “A man who doesn't need to use leverage to get himself into... interesting situations.”

Her grin returned, teasing without being overt. “That's confidence.” And confidence, she'd learned, was infinitely more attractive than desperation.

She extended a gloved hand toward him. “Looks like we've got ourselves a wager, then.” Once the agreement was settled, Embers swung fully onto her Laser Nine and rolled it toward the starting grid.

The world began to shrink. Crowd noise became background. Music dissolved. The emotions crashing through her mind dulled beneath the growing vibration of the repulsorlift engine. Her breathing slowed. Focused.

Without ceremony she gathered her loose hair into a quick tail, securing it with a band she produced from around her wrist. No helmet. Never had. Never liked the feeling of something between herself and the wind.

She settled into the seat, fingers wrapping around the grips as naturally as breathing. Then she looked sideways. Straight at Eaton. He had goggles. A buff. He looked ready.

Embers answered with a wicked little smile. She lifted one hand from the controls.

Five.
One finger folded down.
Four.
Then three.
Two.

She paused there deliberately, holding his gaze just a fraction longer than necessary. The corner of her mouth twitched upward. A silent challenge. A promise. Her hand dropped to the throttle. The Laser Nine howled to life as she launched forward, blue skin and copper fabric disappearing in a blur of acceleration, leaving only the shriek of repulsors and a playful laugh trailing behind her into the first stretch of the course.

Embers

• Location: Zenith Festival, Spira
• Objective: Score something: a job, a ride, credits, spice…
• Outfit: Festival Attire
• Company: Eaton Waters

 

[Eaton Waters]

Now this woman was doing nothing but buttering him up. Definitely meant she intended to win and push him out to follow up on those promises. He had no issue with that. So far she proved to be good company and there was something beyond the obvious that interested her to Eaton. Maybe that she was another vagrant, wanderer, loitering in the calm places of space. Places they shouldn't be.

"I make my living off information" He know how to use the Force, only through trinkets he stole, including a sword that seemed to help awaken it in him. Most of it was simple tricks and what he gained off of stolen books from Dathomir. "And interesting situations? I find those without even trying. But for what you're saying? Call me a romantic, but I'd rather it not be a reward for a win."

Cheapened it. Even with the no-names off to the side. Victories were for winning starships.

"And definitely a wager."

As he got himself to the top of his bike, he watched her, saw the count down, and grinned. She may not be able to see that, but as she took off? His eyes definitely followed the copper fabric as he pushed his own throttle, the Laser Nine jumping as he moved to catch her, knowing he'd have to take the inside corner and slide the repulsor at the first turn to make up the bad launch.

Embers

 

[Embers]

“Wrecker of Quiet Nights”

The engine's scream drowned out almost everything. Almost. There were still echoes of excitement from the spectators lining the course, adrenaline spilling from the racers behind her, anticipation building with every meter they covered. But once the throttle was open, all those emotions blended into a single current she could ride instead of fight.

This...This was why she raced.

The Laser Nine skimmed over the water, the festival disappearing behind her in streaks of neon and reflected sunlight. Wind clawed at her loose bangs despite the rest of her hair being tied back. No helmet. Just the air. Just speed. Just enough silence inside her own head to breathe.

She laughed into the rushing wind. Behind her, she could hear Eaton's engine climbing. Of course he hadn't been far behind. She wouldn't have respected him nearly as much if he had been.

The course stretched low over the ocean, and the first crosswind hit like an ambush. A wall of salt spray exploded upward as wind sheared across the surface, blasting sheets of seawater across the racers. The spray hammered against the Laser Nine's nose, droplets stinging Embers' face and soaking the front of her copper top while mist washed across the controls.

Her vision blurred for an instant. The engine coughed once as moisture rushed toward the intakes. “That's more like it!” Instead of easing off, Embers leaned harder into the machine. The swoop danced beneath her, the rear end twitching before settling as she shifted her weight instinctively. A challenge. Good. She lived for challenges.

Through the spray she caught a glimpse of blue closing from the inside. Eaton. Trying exactly what she'd expected. She grinned. “Information broker...” she called over the roar of engines, her voice carried away by the wind before she laughed again. “Then I hope you learned enough to know I'm a terrible person to race against!”

Another gust flung seawater across them. This time she barely blinked. The salt burned her eyes. The wind tugged at every loose thread of clothing. The Laser Nine shuddered as it skimmed over turbulent air only a few meters above the waves. Perfect.

She stole another glance toward Eaton. Even now, with the first corner rushing toward them and every instinct demanding complete concentration, she found herself smiling at him. “And romantic?” she shouted, teasing despite the velocity. “Careful, sunshine!” Her smile widened. “Keep talking like that and I might let you finish second!”

Then the corner was upon them. Her flirtation vanished beneath razor focus. Body low. Throttle feathered. Eyes fixed on the apex. The rest of the galaxy ceased to exist.

Embers

• Location: Zenith Festival, Spira
• Objective: Score something: a job, a ride, credits, spice…
• Outfit: Festival Attire
• Company: Eaton Waters

 

[Eaton Waters]

Wind in his hair, the sound of the engine, and the thrill of the race. The on again off again chase and be chased of rival style racing, touge in some worlds, was what Eaton did enjoy. Sure, having a full count of other pilots out there added variability, but one on one? That showed you how you really did, while giving you someone to chase, or avoid letting catch up to you. Of course, this was more a friendly race with undertones of some flirting. Something that really was more a dance than anything else. The two bikes were the same, so it really came down to guts and glory.

And keeping a good view of the track and not your competitor.

As the wind hit, he smiled, that felt like home, the spray of the sea and the cool ocean breeze. The pilot nodded as he leaned in and tucked the engine just a bit harder, the bike juttering but he could hold it together, sheer force of will, or the right focus. It didn’t matter, the swoop was solid, and he could keep it moving.

As she looked over and called to him,, he couldn’t help but smile, lucky for her, the buff on his mouth fell away.

“You’re tough, i’ll give you that!” he called back, as the seaspray hit them, still, his element so he was able to make a small gain as long as the bike kept moving.

As for romantic, he just wanted all parties involved the same. Just like how he was sliding into the corner the same as her.

Embers

 

[Embers]

“Wrecker of Quiet Nights”

The world narrowed until there was only the roar of the engine and the rush of salt air. Everything else—the pounding music of the festival, the chatter in the back of her mind, the countless emotions she'd been drowning in since arriving on Spira—fell away beneath the scream of the Laser Nine's repulsors.

This was why she chased speed. Not for the finish line. For the quiet. The crosswind rolled across the ocean again, throwing another curtain of seawater over the course. Salt stung her eyes and plastered loose strands of dark hair across her face. Embers only laughed, leaning lower over the controls as the swoop skimmed just above the wave tops, the intake whining before clearing itself with an angry growl.

She could feel Eaton drawing closer. Not because she looked. Because she felt the pressure of another skilled pilot dancing at the edge of her awareness. Then she heard his voice through the wind. Tough.

Her grin widened. "You say that like it's a compliment!" she called back, laughter carrying away behind her. "I was aiming for impossible!" She risked a glance this time. Just long enough.

He wasn't forcing the issue. He matched her line through the corner, smooth instead of reckless, letting the swoops settle into a rhythm rather than trying to muscle his way ahead. Interesting. Most racers she'd known would've tried to shove their advantage into existence. Eaton seemed content to let the race breathe. That was... attractive.

Embers rolled her shoulders into the turn, letting the Laser Nine float just a touch wider before feeding the throttle back in. The rear drifted for the briefest heartbeat over the turbulent air coming off the water, then bit cleanly as she rocketed out of the corner.

She shot him a sidelong smile. "You know..." she shouted over the engines, "for someone trying to beat me, you're being awfully polite."

The next stretch opened ahead of them, long and fast, the ocean glittering beneath the afternoon sun. Her pulse quickened. Not from fear. From anticipation. She eased the throttle open another fraction, feeling the Laser Nine protest before happily obliging.

"You're going to have to flirt harder than that if you want me to let you past, sunshine." Another laugh escaped her as the wind caught it. Then she looked forward again. The teasing vanished from her face, replaced by pure concentration as she tucked in behind the windstream and urged every last measure of speed from the stock machine.

Embers

• Location: Zenith Festival, Spira
• Objective: Score something: a job, a ride, credits, spice…
• Outfit: Festival Attire
• Company: Eaton Waters

 

[Eaton Waters]

Once the race started, everything really did fade away for him. He almost forgot that this was rentals, and a race during a music festival. His focus became tunnel vision, the course, the walls, the racer in front of him, the bronze shirt and blue skin. Okay, maybe not as focused as he thought. Didn’t matter. He was in a race, and he needed to keep up with her. The stakes were not that high, but bragging rights, and honestly, that was it. Eaton’s own ego wasn’t tied to his ability to win a race.

Tough was a compliment. But the way she spoke, he knew there was a game at play. Shaking his head, and a grin on his face, he kept his hands on the controls and feathered the throttle through a turn, trying to cut his angle down so he could get alongside her. If the bike and his line allowed it. If not, there were a few more turns, he could be patient, he always was.

Keeping close on her, he was waiting, just going to react. To use a metaphor of his homeworld, you surfed a wave when you and the ocean were working together, forcing things only added to struggle. “I’ll get ahead when the time is right.” Or he may not.

Sure, in competition racing, he would push himself, but he was also in a spec racing set up here, she had the same swoop.

When she called him out for flirting and turned ahead, he saw a bit of an opening. Not the smartest move but Eaton killed the repulsor for a second, allowing the swoop to fall, and be turned a little easier, powering it up before hitting the ground, it threw him under the windstream, and into a sliding turn that put him just ahead of her.

“I can always just do something like that, too.” He called back, blue eyes watching her.

Embers

 

[Embers]

“Wrecker of Quiet Nights”

For the briefest heartbeat, Embers thought she had him measured. Then he disappeared. Her eyes widened just a fraction as the blue Laser Nine abruptly dropped beneath her line. The maneuver was risky—stupid, even—but it was controlled stupidity. Before she could adjust, Eaton's swoop surged back up out of the wind shadow, sliding cleanly across the apex and nosing ahead of her.

A sharp bark of laughter escaped her helmetless head, immediately stolen by the ocean wind. "Well..." She shook her head, unable to keep the grin from spreading across her face. "I'll give you style points for that one."

Salt spray burst across them again as another crosswind rolled over the water. It soaked her sleeves and peppered her face, but she hardly noticed now. He was ahead. Good. Now she had something worth chasing.

The emotional static that usually filled her skull had dwindled to almost nothing. There was only the rhythm of the engine, the vibration through the handlebars, and the racing line unfolding ahead. Eaton occupied the center of that focus now, his Laser Nine carving through the course with smooth confidence. Not flashy. Efficient. She liked that.

More than she probably should.

"You know," she called over the howl of the engines, tucking into his wake to steal what little aerodynamic advantage she could, "most men spend all evening trying to get in front of me." Her smile turned mischievous. "Congratulations."

She leaned lower, letting the stock Nine stretch its legs down the straight. "You're the first one's managed it today." The distance between them remained frustratingly small. She could almost reach out and touch the back of his swoop. Almost. Embers studied his line instead of forcing one of her own. He'd already proven he was willing to gamble on unconventional moves. Fine.

She could be patient, too. Her fingers feathered the throttle, matching his pace rather than trying to outmuscle identical machines. The next series of turns would decide things. She smiled to herself.

"Enjoy the view while you've got it, sunshine," she teased, violet eyes fixed on the opening she hoped he'd leave. "I'm a lot more fun when I'm behind you than when I'm chasing everyone else." The grin lingering on her face suggested she meant more than just the race.

Embers

• Location: Zenith Festival, Spira
• Objective: Score something: a job, a ride, credits, spice…
• Outfit: Festival Attire
• Company: Eaton Waters

 

[Eaton Waters]

Music off to the side was still thumping, the basslines even in this sunset lit party. It was fine by him, he enjoyed the atmosphere, and even though he could feel the rhythm, it was more the people enjoying the festival that were hitting him. It was one of those downsides to the Force. He really preferred the spells and martial aspects but not so much the empathy.

He did try to dull it most of the time.

And not focus on it when he couldn’t dull it.

His slide though, that helped him not focus on it. And her response to it? That made it even easier. The blubreen glanced back with a smirk and nodded. The Laser Nine sped up and he pushed the swoop forward.

“I’m sure only in front when you’re not dancing.” Was that too on the nose? Probably. She could slap him later for it. Right now it was time to race! Holding his line, he didn’t give another glance back, falling into a bit of a zone with the race now.

“Gotta come and get me, there, Blue.” He laughed as he moved the swoop ahead, another turn and he saw the low hanging bar, another course was overlapping this one and some other swoops were going above and over their course.

Embers

 

[Embers]

“Wrecker of Quiet Nights”

The music faded into little more than a pulse beneath the scream of the repulsors. The race had become a language. Throttle. Weight. Wind. Trust. Bluff. Embers grinned as Eaton's voice carried back to her through the salt air.

"The view of me dancing is always good, sunshine!" she shouted back without missing a beat. "You just haven't earned the best seat yet!" Her laughter disappeared into the ocean breeze.

She resisted the urge to immediately bury the throttle. That was how impatient pilots lost races. Instead, she fed the Laser Nine a little more power, feeling the engine answer with a smooth, eager surge. Just enough to tighten the gap. Not enough to announce desperation. The stock swoop wasn't her own. It deserved to be coaxed, not bullied.

His challenge drifted back to her. Gotta come and get me. Her violet eyes sparkled. "Oh, I will." She settled lower over the controls. "I'm just deciding whether to catch you..."

A playful pause. "...or make you work a little harder to keep my attention." The flirtation melted away almost instantly.

Ahead, the course changed. Her eyes caught the overlapping section where another race crossed above theirs, a latticework of speed suspended over open water. Swoops from the intersecting circuit flashed overhead, their shadows racing across the sea before vanishing again. That...

...could become interesting. Or fatal. She instinctively shifted her weight back a fraction, loosening her grip on the handlebars. Not tense. Ready. Ready to dodge another racer making a mistake. Ready for debris. Ready for turbulence from the crossing traffic. Ready for Eaton.

She watched him instead of the opening he'd left. Not because she couldn't make a move. Because she chose not to. He'd already shown one unconventional pass. Now she wanted to see how he handled uncertainty. Did he commit early? Wait for the opening? Trust instinct? Trust calculation?

She smiled to herself. Information. He'd said it was the greatest wager. Maybe he wasn't the only one collecting it. The Laser Nine held station just behind him, close enough for him to know she was there without pressing the issue. For now.

"Don't get too comfortable up there," she called over the engines, her tone warm with amusement rather than challenge. "I'm learning your dance, and I've always been a quick study."

Her attention returned fully to the overlapping section, eyes flicking between the racers above, the shifting wind over the ocean, and Eaton's next move. If there was danger coming, she'd rather watch how he met it than rush into it herself. Sometimes the fastest way to the finish wasn't passing. Sometimes it was learning exactly when not to.

Embers

• Location: Zenith Festival, Spira
• Objective: Score something: a job, a ride, credits, spice…
• Outfit: Festival Attire
• Company: Eaton Waters

 

[Eaton Waters]

See, the fact that he was able to communicate with her and wasn’t totally in focus meant that she was that level of distracting. He normally fell into a flow state when it came to racing and this was not it. But Embers? Well, she was distracting, and on top of that, she was someone that Eaton knew he could work with. If she wanted to, he could get her involved in some smuggling trips, and even more so, some racing, depending on her vessels of choice. Right now, it did seem that it was swoops.

And honestly? He’d love to have her crewing on the Pelagic. Smuggling and getting through blockades in the increasingly busy galaxy? It was nice, lucrative, a bit dangerous. Maybe if he earned that best seat she was talking about. Moving the swoop, he couldn’t help but smile.

As the flirting kept going, Eaton sunk slightly into the Force, that aspect of it he didn’t care much for, but he could feel where she was and the flow of the race momentarily. Pushing the throttle and dropping the swoop into a different gear to find himself a little burst of speed and power, hoping it’d keep her attention. Looking up at the crossing traffic, his eyes widened as he dumped the repulsor to give himself some more speed, and worked on timing between other racers and pushed the throttle, it wasn’t that he had anything to lose.

It was he wanted to win.

Embers

 

[Embers]

“Wrecker of Quiet Nights”

The overlap changed everything. Until now the race had been wonderfully simple. One engine. One rival. One line. Now the Force opened around Embers like a floodgate. The racers above. The surge of exhilaration from spectators. The brief flashes of fear, confidence, calculation, and triumph as half a dozen minds converged around the crossing courses. She hated it. She loved it. And somewhere within the torrent...

...there was Eaton. Not his thoughts—not clearly. Just impressions carried on the current of the Force. Focus. Amusement. Interest. Her. A crooked smirk spread across Embers' face. So I really am distracting him.

The realization warmed her more than she cared to admit. Beneath the thrill of the race she sensed something else from him, something less immediate than the next corner. Possibility. Future races. Smuggling lanes. Shared jobs. A place aboard his ship.

That last one lingered. It was... flattering. Far more flattering than she expected from someone she'd bumped into by accident only a short while ago. She certainly wasn't rejecting the idea.

Then the sensation shifted. The playful current faded as Eaton reached deeper into the Force. His presence became more distant. Sharper. Purposeful.

"Oh..." Embers murmured to herself, a grin tugging at her lips. "Now you're getting serious."

His Laser Nine surged. She watched him commit. No hesitation. He dumped the repulsors and threaded the crossing with impeccable timing, slipping between the racers overhead with a burst of speed that was equal parts skill and nerve.

Embers didn't chase him. Not immediately. She admired it instead. "Beautiful..." she breathed, unable to keep the appreciation from her voice. Then reality asserted itself. Without spice coursing through her system, the Force never stayed where she wanted it.

It wandered. Reached. Clung to every nearby mind whether she invited it or not. Instead of narrowing onto the perfect racing line, it dragged her awareness toward the other competitors as they crossed overhead—their exhilaration, panic, confidence, instinct.

Too many voices. Too many feelings. She eased off. Only a fraction. Enough to survive. Enough to let the chaos pass without becoming part of it. Her own instincts carried the rest. Years behind controls, countless hours trusting reflex over conscious thought, let the Laser Nine weave cleanly through the intersection despite the distraction clawing at the edges of her mind. No collisions. No mistakes. Just...

...not quite fast enough. The moment the crossing lay behind her, Embers twisted the throttle to its stop. The engine howled in protest before answering with everything the stock machine could offer. Salt spray exploded behind her. The Laser Nine leapt forward. She chased. Hard.

But the gap she'd surrendered was stubbornly intact. Her violet eyes locked onto Eaton's retreating swoop, and despite herself she laughed. "Looks like this one might be yours, sunshine!" she shouted into the wind. There wasn't a trace of bitterness in her voice. Only exhilaration. And maybe...

Just maybe...Anticipation for collecting on the wager one way or another.

Embers

• Location: Zenith Festival, Spira
• Objective: Score something: a job, a ride, credits, spice…
• Outfit: Festival Attire
• Company: Eaton Waters