Private There's a Lot in Commenor

[Nixie Voidskipper]

"Great!" She replied, blue eyes flashing, and then with a sweep of her hand, she put enough credits to pay their tab on the table and pocketing the rest of her own. The remaining belonged to Lyra, and Nix was eager to get started. The droid returned to offer more service, but Nix just waved it away.

"A ship is a ship, but I'm sure anything you put together will do the job for certain." She picked up the gyrocomputer and stuffed it back into the cloth she'd taken earlier, and then pushed her chair or stool in - she wasn't paying attention - and then went to help Lyra up.

"I imagine there's no specific timeline on whatever we end up doing, but something tells me that we're in a hurry anyway." She grinned.

Nix left and then waited for Lyra to join her, she would know where her rig was parked, when Nix's communicator started beeping with coordinates. The screen turned on and lit up, the logo of the Empire turning crimson red and transforming into the logo of the First Order. She felt a prickle in the back of her neck. A bad feeling rose in the pit of her stomach, and she decided she would take off her jacket with the Imperial shoulder-patches in spite of the cooling air.

Then she reached down and ripped the patch from her shoulder and stuffed it in her inside pocket, then removed her rank insignia and did the same. Her flight pin followed. Nix knew that if the Empire was absorbed into the First Order, any Imperial patches would be targets for both First Order and other factions.

"Which way?" She asked, putting her jacket back on, but leaving it open. Keeping her uniform looking untidy would probably help her pass as just a citizen for a while at least. "I'll follow."

Lyra Ventor

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra rose with a natural, fluid grace as Nix reached for her, moving with the same quiet certainty she usually reserved for the cockpit. She fell into step beside her without a second of hesitation, but her keen eyes immediately caught the subtle shift in Nix's posture.

She noticed the jacket and the missing patches. The change was total.

Lyra didn't speak immediately. She simply watched, taking in the small and deliberate movements. She recognized that Nix was stripping away pieces of her identity without any unnecessary flair or drama. It wasn't a move made out of panic; it was pure, refined instinct. That told Lyra everything she needed to know about the woman beside her.

When Nix asked which way they should head, Lyra glanced toward the busy street before looking back with an expression that had softened significantly.

"That is a good start," she said, giving a small nod toward the now-unmarked jacket. "But if you are going to disappear, you need to do a bit more than just strip the labels."

She turned toward a quieter path that led away from the main thoroughfare and motioned for Nix to follow her lead.

"Follow me. My ship is parked nearby, but we are going to make one quick stop before we head to the docks."

She paused for a moment and glanced over her shoulder with a reassuring look.

"We are going to my parents' place."

Her tone was even and grounded. It carried a sense of certainty that felt like an anchor amid their sudden flight.

"We will find you something there that actually makes you fit in. It is better to look like you belong here than to just look like you are hiding."

She slowed her pace just enough so that Nix could walk comfortably beside her again, her voice dropping to a warm, conspiratorial level.

"This world is where I grew up. I know exactly how people here look at a stranger. I know what they notice and, more importantly, what they choose to ignore."

A faint, knowing smile touched her lips as she looked at her companion.

"If we are going to do this, then we are going to do it the right way."

Nixie Voidskipper

 

[Nixie Voidskipper]

Parents. Nix forgot how much that word affected her. It brought up anger, abandonment, fear, loneliness. She folded her arms tightly to her stomach and hurried her step. She was interested in seeing how an actual family worked. Hers had been a young Hutt who ran a cadre of child thieves and slicers in the Coruscant Underground. As a 'family,' it wasn't much more than a series of 'fall guys' for the Hutt.

"Good idea," Nix agreed to Lyra's sentiment about hiding her identity. It was a secondary issue, but something that could be taken care of easily and quickly.

She smiled at Lyra's clandestine tone, and just nodded along. Nix had grown up in a social order where criminals ended up in work camps regardless of age, and was realizing 'suburbia' was very different. The longer she spent, the more out-of-place she felt.

The toe of her boot caught a rock and sent it skittering across the paved street, dancing over the concrete and settling on the flat surface.

"Even in the Undercity, we noticed strangers. They stick out. It's the same here, only worse because it's me who's out of place."

Nixie nodded, smiled and agreed; "Definitely the right way."

Lyra Ventor

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra caught the shift in Nix without needing words to explain it, the tightening of her posture, the way her steps lost a fraction of their earlier rhythm, the quiet turn inward that had nothing to do with the street around them. She did not press on it. Whatever had surfaced belonged to Nix, and Lyra would not pull at it before she was ready.

Instead, she let it settle and focused on what could be shaped.

Her gaze moved ahead, mapping the street with quiet precision, the spacing of homes, the soft glow from windows, the absence of heavy movement. This part of the district would draw less attention. Familiar ground.

She shifted her path slightly, guiding them toward a quieter side street without making it feel like a correction.

"This way," she said, her tone even and natural, as if it had always been the intended direction.

Her hand lifted just briefly, indicating rather than pointing.

"We will stop at my parents' home first," she continued, glancing toward Nix just long enough to include her without turning it into a question. "It will be quieter there. And you will not stand out as much after we make a few adjustments."

There was no hesitation in her voice. It was a simple, practical solution.

As they turned the corner, the atmosphere shifted. The homes sat a little farther apart, the street quieter, the sense of observation fading into something more lived-in and at ease.

"Clothing first," Lyra added after a moment, her tone soft but steady. "Nothing elaborate. Just something that does not draw the eye."

A small pause, then her gaze moved forward again, already thinking a step beyond.

"After that, we go to the Starling," she said. "It will be easier to move from there without questions."

She adjusted her pace to match Nix, close without crowding, her presence steady and deliberate as they continued down the quieter street together.

Nixie Voidskipper

 

[Nixie Voidskipper]

The streets were quiet at this time of night, and their walk was mostly uneventful except for the sounds of buzzing insects and animals chirping, creating an ambiance of life that was unsettling to someone who grew up on a machine world, and spent much of her young adulthood aboard a starship. She might not have even accepted shore-leave if it hadn't been mandatory.

In spite of the effort to remain apart, Nix found herself shoulder-to-shoulder most of the walk. A product of crowded streets and crowded hallways. She barely even noticed, though Lyra was likely very conscious of the change in her companion. Nix was untrusting, closed off, usually very likely to put on a facade to avoid exposing too much of her real self in front of others. Lyra had gained a measure of confidence and a measure of trust, but was that enough to gain real connection? Maybe. Nothing was certain in a Galaxy with shifting loyalties and constant turmoil.

They arrived by lamplight to Lyra's home, but Nix wasn't certain if it was a humble accommodation or a sign of wealth that a single family occupied it's own home. Blue eyes danced about, taking in every corner, curve, window, and entryway. She took account of the door-lock and the mechanical accoutrements, planning an escape rout if the unlikely event demanded it.

She was always a little tense. Always a little ready for the worst, because on the streets of Corellia, the worst was usually just day-to-day. She remembered the advice of the Hutt who'd been her only adult figure. He had always said; "Plan for everything, because everything plans for you." Advice that had - she grudgingly admitted - almost always worked.

"This is where you live? Seems nice." She said simply.

Lyra Ventor

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra felt it before she acknowledged it, the way Nix had drifted closer over the course of the walk until the space between them had all but disappeared. It was not accidental. Not entirely. Habit, maybe. Instinct, certainly. Lyra did not move away.

She let it remain.

The quiet of the street settled around them as they approached the house, lamplight casting a warm, steady glow across the front path. It was not large, not imposing, but it carried a kind of quiet care that spoke more to consistency than status. The exterior was clean, well-kept, with soft climbing greenery tracing along one side of the structure and a small, deliberately maintained garden just off the entry path. Nothing extravagant. Nothing neglected.

Lived in. Loved.

Lyra slowed as they reached the door, her gaze flicking once toward the windows, noting the dim light still present inside. Someone was awake, or had simply forgotten to turn everything off. Either way, it did not concern her.

At Nix's words, her expression softened just slightly. "It is," she replied simply, though there was a quiet note of something more grounded beneath it.

She stepped forward and keyed the entry, the door unlocking with a soft, unobtrusive click before she pushed it open and gestured for Nix to step in with her.

The interior matched the exterior in the same quiet, intentional way. Warm lighting instead of stark illumination, the kind that filled the space without overwhelming it. The furnishings were practical but chosen with care, a comfortable seating area arranged around a low table, shelves lined not with clutter but with a handful of meaningful objects, books, small keepsakes, things that had been kept rather than accumulated. The air carried a faint scent of something herbal, something familiar, like it had settled into the walls over time.

There were signs of routine everywhere. A folded blanket was placed neatly over the back of a chair. A pair of shoes were set off to the side of the entry. Nothing out of place, but nothing sterile either.

Lyra stepped inside fully, letting the door close behind them before glancing toward Nix again, watching the way her attention moved through the space, measuring, cataloging, preparing.

She did not interrupt it. Instead, she spoke lightly, easing the weight of the moment without dismissing it.

"I usually live on my ship," she said, a faint hint of something warmer touching her tone now. "The life of a pilot. Always on the move."

As she passed Nix, she gave her a small, deliberate nudge with her elbow, just enough to break the edge of tension without making a spectacle of it.

"Try not to look like you are planning an escape route from every doorway," she added quietly, not unkind, just observant. "It tends to draw attention."

There was no reprimand in it. Only a subtle grounding. She moved further inside, already turning toward the hallway that led deeper into the home.

"Come," Lyra continued, her voice steady, inviting without insistence. "We will find you something that fits."

And without waiting to see if Nix followed, she led the way inward, trusting that she would.

Nixie Voidskipper

 

[Nixie Voidskipper]

Nix followed cautiously, noting the contrast as lamplight changed to homelight. There were signs of life everywhere. Signs of people who settled into just being. It was alien to her. Confusing. A little unsettling, but there was something inviting, even enticing about it. "Um... Sure," she said uncertainly.

Then she rolled her eyes, "I'm not," she lied, extending the last word in protest, but she followed her friend, eyes darting about mostly in curiosity, but with her arms folded as if fearful of disturbing whatever this was. As if her simple presence here would shatter an illusion.

She followed down the hallway, into a room she assumed was Lyra's, and her eyes went flitting about again, a flash of blue, a careful assessment of a light source, a dry analysis of a drapery, calculated judgment over a houseplant.

"Is this all yours? Where are your... parents?" She struggled with the last word, as if worried she couldn't say it, so unfamiliar it was.

The thought of meeting her parents. She had to stifle hurt and anger, though in so many years it had dulled down into numbness, it sometimes boiled back up. Nixie had already vowed to kill her own if she'd ever met them. She didn't know what kind of jealous fit she might feel if she met someone else's. Truth was, she probably wouldn't know how to act.

"Do they know you like raiding junkyards with strangers?" She said, a playfully crooked smile tightening her lips. Thankfully, that cut the tension building up in her, and her elbow nudged Lyra in the ribs.

Lyra Ventor

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra felt the return nudge, and this time she answered it in kind, her elbow pressing lightly into Nix's side in a quiet, almost playful retaliation before she moved past her. It was easier to meet that than the hesitation wrapped around the word Nix had struggled to say.

She stepped a few paces further into the room, reaching for a drawer without looking directly at Nix, giving her the space to take everything in at her own pace.

"No," she said simply, glancing back over her shoulder. "This is theirs. I only pass through when I am planetside. Most of my time is spent aboard the Starling."

Her hand rested briefly on the edge of the dresser before she pulled it open, sifting through neatly folded clothing with an ease that spoke of familiarity rather than ownership. She selected a few pieces, practical, well-fitted, and unremarkable, and set them aside.

"My father is likely off-system," Lyra continued, her tone matter-of-fact. "Cargo routes. He keeps to them more often than not. But my mother should be here."

There was no weight in the statement, no tension, just quiet certainty.

Finally, she looked fully back at Nix, the hint of that earlier amusement returning.

"And no, she does not know about the junkyards," Lyra added, a faint curve touching her lips. "Though I suspect she would be more interested in how effective you were than where I found you. She has a certain appreciation for results."

Lyra stepped closer, holding out the clothes she had chosen.

"These should fit well enough. You can change here, and I will step out to make sure we are not interrupted."

She paused at the door, her hand resting lightly on the frame as she looked back one last time. Her voice softened, losing its playful edge in favor of something more grounded.

"You are safe here, Nix. The walls are thick, the sensors are mine, and for tonight, the rest of the galaxy is a very long way away."

It was not a promise she made lightly. She left it there, a quiet certainty rather than something to be argued with, before stepping into the hall and pulling the door shut with a soft, final click.

Nixie Voidskipper

 

[Nixie Voidskipper]

"I think I like your mother already," she said matter-of-factly, and turned to see Lyra closing the door. A primitive latch system not seen in most places, and certainly not on the kind of ships Nix had been on. It was a notable difference she wasn't accustomed to, but Nix was already undressing. She slipped her jacket off and let it fall to the floor, then began pulling off her tanktop. Her body was pale, oddly so, but perhaps that was just a product of growing up with little natural light, but she noticeably had criss-crossed scars that had long healed across her ribs and back, that blended in almost perfectly with her alabaster skin.

She didn't wait for Lyra to leave. Nix was clearly not uncomfortable changing in front of strangers, and for all they'd already been through, she was beginning to trust the other girl.

She reached over and took the folded clothing and inspected it carefully. "A white tanktop," she smiled crookedly, "Big change." Her tone was dry but she gratefully pulled it over her head and sighed in relief at the clean clothing. Her own had a days worth of sweat and grime worked into them. She placed the rest of the clothes down on a piece of furniture.

One by one, she unlaced and kicked off her boots, thudding against the floor roughly.

She then undid her belt, glancing briefly at the Empire logo, and bent to slide them down her legs, which also had the same scars as the rest of her body. One on her thigh was particularly pronounced. A scar like the Death Star exploding, which reached out from a central mass of raised flesh, that almost wrapped around the entire muscle.

Nix didn't say anything about them and they were covered in seconds when she pulled on her new pair. She paused to admire them, then carefully folded her clothes and placed them on the empty spot. Before she was done changing, Lyra was already gone, and Nix took the moment of privacy to sit down and stretch her tired muscles.

Just a moment, she thought, just enough to rest my eyes.

She was breathing softly, sitting up in her chair, and in moments she had drifted off, dozing lightly in the chair.

Lyra Ventor

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra did not go far.

The door had barely settled into its frame before she paused in the hallway, her senses reaching out. It wasn't a search for danger. This house was perhaps the only place in the galaxy where that weight truly lifted. Instead, it was a quiet check of the space's rhythm. She heard the soft rustle of fabric and the shifting of weight in the guest room, the private sounds of someone finally letting their guard down.

Satisfied, she moved on.

The house carried a perpetual, grounded calm that never seemed to fade, no matter how many months she spent among the sterile decks of starships. A low, amber light bathed the main room, and the faint, rhythmic sound of a knife against a cutting board drifted from the kitchen. It was a familiar heartbeat.

Lyra stepped into the kitchen without hesitation.

Novessa Ventor stood at the counter, her movements a study in practiced efficiency. She didn't turn. She didn't need to. The bond between them, forged in flight paths and shared silence, told her everything she needed to know the moment Lyra crossed the threshold.

"You're late," her mother said, her voice even and dry, yet carrying that unmistakable undercurrent of relief.

"I did not give a time," Lyra replied, her tone softening as she leaned against the doorframe.

A brief pause followed, then the faintest shift of amusement mirrored in the set of Novessa's shoulders before she finally glanced over. Her sharp eyes, so like Lyra's, held a knowing glint.

"And you brought someone."

It wasn't a question, nor was it a confrontation. It was an observation of a daughter who, despite her best efforts to remain a solitary pilot, still possessed a heart that gathered strays.

Lyra inclined her head slightly, a small admission. "She needed a place to stop. And a change of clothes. She's... a long way from home."

Novessa studied her daughter for a long second, weighing the unspoken details. The tension in Lyra's posture. The protective way she spoke of the stranger. Then, she simply nodded and returned to the task at hand. Bread, protein, and fresh greens. It was simple fare, but made with the kind of care that only a home kitchen could provide.

"Good," Novessa said softly. "Then she can eat. No one should face the stars on an empty stomach."

Lyra stepped forward, stepping into the familiar dance of their shared space. She took a finished sandwich as her mother slid it toward her, the two of them moving around each other with a wordless, fluid grace.

"She will not stay long," Lyra added, perhaps more to convince herself than her mother.

"Most people don't," Novessa replied, already plating a second portion. There was no judgment in the statement, only the weathered wisdom of a woman who had seen many pilots drift in and out of her life.

Within moments, the makeshift meal was ready.

Lyra took the plate, balancing it easily in one hand, while Novessa picked up the second along with two glasses of water. They moved in sync, a quiet procession back down the hallway.

When they reached the door, Lyra didn't just barge in. She gave a light, rhythmic knock, firm enough to be heard, but gentle enough not to startle.

"Nix?" she called, her voice steady and warm.

When only silence answered, she followed up more quietly, a note of invitation in her tone.

"We brought food. It's better than whatever rations bars you've been living on."

Novessa stood just behind her, a silent, observant anchor. Her presence was steady, lacking the intrusive edge of a stranger, as they waited together for the girl on the other side of the door to let the world back in.

Nixie Voidskipper

 

[Jett Vox]

(Still getting used to this)

 

[Nixie Voidskipper]

Nix kicked her feet up and sat up with a start when she was surprise-awakened with food. "Oh uh, come in..? It's your room. I thought you'd just come inside."

She clamored to her feet and reached over, twisting the handle to let Lyra inside. She was met with the smell of home-cooked food and it was dizzying.

It made her head swim. Almost brought her close to fainting, as it had been ages - or perhaps there'd never been a time - when she had food prepared and brought directly to her, rather than the steam pots that Pogo the Hutt had fed the Corellian orphans in a trough, or some crusty piece of food stolen from a trash can or a midden pot.

Imperial food had been a step up for Nixie, but this was almost too much for her to handle. "Oh my," she said, gripping onto the doorframe to keep herself from falling.

"What's that?" She said quietly. Those blue eyes flicked up, then back and forth as she tensed up to the sight of Novessa. Her eyes very slightly widened. At first her mind jumped to Lyra turning her in, but then she dismissed the idea immediately.

"You must be Lyra's mother. I'm Nix, uh... I'm um... a pilot. Like Lyra."

She looked shocked when she lost her grip and had to scramble back up the doorframe, but she played it off like nothing happened. After a yawn, and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she resumed her pose.

Lyra Ventor

 

[Lyra Ventor]

Lyra stepped in first, her movement smooth and unhurried, though her eyes had already taken in everything in a single sweep. Nix's posture, the grip on the doorframe, the way she held herself just a little too tightly together.

She did not comment on it.

Instead, she shifted the plate slightly in her hands and stepped aside just enough to let her mother follow, grounding the moment before it could spiral into something sharper.

"You fell asleep," Lyra said simply, her tone quiet, observational rather than teasing. "That usually means you needed it."

She crossed the room without hesitation and set the plate down within easy reach, not placing it directly into Nix's hands, but near enough that she would not have to think about taking it.

"Sit," she added, softer this time. "Before you fall over trying to pretend you are fine."

There was no bite in it. Just a steady kind of honesty.

Behind her, Novessa stepped fully into the room.

She did not rush forward. She did not crowd the space. Her presence settled instead, calm and self-assured, the kind of stillness that came from someone who had spent a lifetime reading situations before acting.

Lyra glanced back toward her briefly, then to Nix.

"Nix… this is my mother, Novessa Ventor," she said, simple and direct.

Novessa inclined her head slightly in greeting, her sharp eyes moving over Nix, not lingering in any one place, but missing nothing either. It was not suspicion. It was an assessment, clean and precise, then just as quickly, it softened.

"A pilot," Novessa echoed, her voice warm but measured, carrying the quiet authority of someone long accustomed to command without needing to raise it. "Then you are welcome here."

She stepped forward just enough to set the second plate and the glasses of water down beside Lyra's, arranging them with an ease that suggested this was not unusual for her, offering food to someone who had not expected it.

"No need for introductions beyond that," she continued, a faint, knowing curve touching her lips. "Anyone who flies their way into my daughter's company and walks in under their own power has already proven enough."

Lyra's gaze flicked briefly toward her mother at that, something quiet passing between them before she looked back to Nix.

"Eat first," Lyra said, her tone steady again, but lighter now. "Questions can wait."

She leaned back slightly against the nearby surface, giving Nix space rather than hovering, but staying close enough that the distance never felt like absence.

Novessa remained where she was, relaxed, observant, but no longer assessing. Just present.

And for the first time since stepping inside, the room felt less like a place to navigate and more like somewhere it was acceptable to simply exist.

Nixie Voidskipper

 

[Nixie Voidskipper]

"I am fine though," she protested, her voice stronger now. "I just don't usually nap."

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Ventor," she said politely, with that Imperial accent affected by nobles and Moffs, by scientists and commanders. Officers and pilots. It was no need guessing she was from Corellia, but the accent itself was picked up from holo-shows, news projections, and her own officers. She spoke very little as a child. She spent her time observing back then. It had taken years to get her speaking, and she had the Empire to thank for that.

Anyway, yeah that must be it. The reason she was so weakened. Nix hardly slept. Usually just a couple hours a night, and she'd been up for days. It had served her well as an orphan, dodging criminals and constables, catching sleep whenever she could. It was just that when she slept, she was usually still alert, so she would find a dark, secluded spot and sleep for an hour or two, and then be awake and refreshed. It was a talent. It wasn't the first time she'd been up this long either. Her record was something like four and a half days.

She didn't protest any further though, she accepted the plate and the hospitality with cautious politeness. "Your daughter is a fine pilot as well. She bested one of the finest pilots I know with ease. It was quite impressive. I hope to see her talents in action again soon. I would hate to be on the wrong side of her, for certain. Lyra might be the best I've ever seen."

Nixie examined the food on her plate cautiously. It was neither mush nor gruel, and it smelled fresh. Not processed meat sludge, nor Hutteese slop. She couldn't place the smells, the textures. "I have one question. What is this?"

Lyra Ventor