Third Time Lucky-ish

[Beowoof]

Once upon a time on Nar Shaddaa, a twi'lek girl had been born in a gutter. From that moment on, she was somewhat cursed to live alone and tough on luck. She learned she could make her own luck through a little bit of sneaking and hands-on experience, but sometimes things just happen. Recently, she had been deported after having stowed away for a brighter world. It turns out that Corellians are a little touchy about letting just anyone make themselves at home over there.

Taci's business was in itself just as illegitimate as her birth, using her small size to her advantage in raiding supply closets or supposedly abandoned quarters in the murky lower levels of the Hutt playpen. Sometimes what she needed was even just lying out in the road for her to pick up. It may not have been the right thing to do, but how she conjured up her materials mattered little when one was hungry.

The things she produced, however, were a little more extraordinary than her slippery methods. She had her own hidden collection of scrap parts stacked against the walls of an ancient boiler room in the very depths of the city, in the shadow of the famous Promenade. Thousands of tired components found new life in her hands as she developed little gadgets that would line the pockets of her grungy coat. She even carried a custom-made pistol despite her aversion to firearms.

What she was most proud of, however, was a skill she had learned off-world before being kicked off the trade planet. Her 'kind' was not allowed to hang around The Promenade, but just outside of it, she could be found regularly stationed at an easel before dusk, swirling paints against a canvas in a nearly-forgotten art. She had grown to be paranoid, but was able to keep her eyes fully concentrated on her work. Somehow, she always knew when someone was looking at her.

[member="Asemir Lor'kora"]

 

[Asemir]

Nar Shadda. It seemed to always be that his bounties always ended up on the Smuggler's Moon. He wasn't sure why. Perhaps the place just naturally attracted the galaxy's worst. That was probably it. If he were a betting man, he'd bet on that answer, based solely on his experience on this shady world.

Still, having travelled from the seediest hole-in-the-wall tavern to the most glitzy hotel, he had to admit that it wasn't all bad. The Promenade was the one area on Nar Shadda that he actually admired. Not for its galaxy-class casinos, boutiques, drinks, girls, and host of other mind-inebriating entertainment. No, his admiration grew from the simple fact that the location was a symbol of cooperation amongst criminal empires.

Well, granted, that same cooperation was born from a matter of necessity. And a whole lot of greed. After all, what better way to make money than to guarantee a place of "safety" to the world's guests, and then rip the credits out of their hands through numerous legitimate (and admittedly illegitimate) means?

Ah, yes, the common good was born of greed. Definitely not unique to Nar Shadda.

Asemir Lor'kora strode with purpose, confidence in his steps, as he stalked down the central street towards the Promenade. He had forgone a direct flight into the busy luxury hub, having preferred a mode of transport that would get him into the district without attracting any attention.

His bounty had been an important man, a leader of some semi-major criminal gang, and the ingr'nysk had no intention of drawing attention to himself after having committed murder. The man would be missed by some unsavory individuals, and while Asemir had no fear for his own safety, he'd rather not stir up any more trouble than was necessary.

As such, he approached the outskirts of the district, one hand on the pommel of his songblade, noting the various individuals who made a living scavenging what good they could find. They huddled around barrel fires or in groups for protection. It was a stark contrast to the extravagant Promenade. Sad, really. But again, not unique to Nar Shadda.

It wasn't until he reached the very edge of the Promenade's borders that something intriguing caught his eye. A being stood before an artist's easel, and she was painting. In a traditional method. Using actual paints. How odd.

He walked closer, noting that the artist was a twi'lek, pink from what he could glimpse of her lekku. His eyes travelled to her work, seeing the obvious talent behind the subtle flourishes of her brush work.

It had been decades since he had last seen someone perform using this ancient medium. Most artists had transitioned to digital or holographic means. But he recalled one of his classmates from the Temple who had a tremendous gift with paints. She could fashion massive murals in the course of a night, beautiful creations that spoke of unexplored worlds and epic tales. Too bad she had been killed during their training.

Asemir stood watching the twi'lek for several minutes, not too close to gather attention to her or him. He smiled, decided on a course of action, and approached her. He purposefully made some noise while walking and cleared his throat, hoping not to surprise her.

"You have some talent," the Forgotten said gently. "That's very good. It's been ages since I last watched someone paint with real paint."

[member="Tacitanya"]

 

[Beowoof]

Yes, someone had been watching her--she had been able to detect that much. Taci had always had some sort of 'instinct'. It was what enabled her to be such a sneaky street rat. But when the stranger spoke up, it surprised her. The sparse customers she had usually came earlier in the day when the usual riffraff was not filing into the Promenade to get wasted of mind, money, or body. Yes, she had seen her share of corpses. It was Nar Shaddaa. What did you expect?

Glancing from her canvas to the weapon-wielding figure, the tyrian twi'lek bit her lip. No, her customers were not usually this type. "I'm totally packing," she bluntly warned him before swiftly taking up a more welcoming mood. "Was it anyone famous? I'm afraid I've never been able to study any of the masters." That was a bit of an understatement. In truth, she had no idea what any of the masters' names were.

Smearing paint from her left hand onto her once-white coat, Tacitanya stepped back to allow a better view of her piece in progress. Swirls of blue dissolved into staggered strokes of gray, a white orb cut concave by somber green waves. "Like it?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

 

[Asemir]

Asemir held up both hands, palms up, to show that he was definitely not intending her any harm. "Relax," he said, "I'm not here to cause you any trouble." He gave her what he hoped was a friendly grin. "It wasn't anyone famous, but I guess she could have been." He seemed to consider that for a moment. "She had the skill and raw talent," Asemir concluded, "but fate conspired against her."

The ingr'nysk stepped closer to the canvas and leaned in. The swirls of blue and gray and green waves, they reminded him of a water world. The water world, where she had died. He shuddered, but his smile returned. It was genuine. "I do like the painting. It reminds me of a world I've visited quite often. Farraege. It has some special meaning to me."

Asemir regarded the painter. The twi'lek wore a paint-splattered coat that complemented her natural hues surprisingly well. There was also something about her that he couldn't quite grasp, something off. It wasn't bad or wrong. It didn't fill him with unease or anything, but she gave off an aura that just wasn't quite right. As if she was familiar. Somehow.

"I am Asemir," he said after a moment's hesitation. He offered her his hand, along with a mental question of why he was revealing his real name to a stranger. It was completely abnormal for him to be this forward. Completely not normal. "How long have you been painting?"

[member="Tacitanya"]

 

[Beowoof]

Taci was not sure if she should feel sad or just dismiss the man's vague tale as a passing, uttered thought. She found herself crossing her hands and slightly tipping her head reactively, somewhat out of respect for whoever it was he was telling of. She quickly snapped out of it, however, and resumed with the conversation.

"Farraege..." she mused. She had never heard of the place before, but it certainly sounded like a fantastic world. Apparently, this stranger had been around the galaxy a bit. He seemed like the type who either was in trouble a lot or caused a lot of trouble. Hopefully, he was the former. But for now, he was still a customer. And who cared what he was? As long as he did not hurt her, she had no reason to hold prejudice against him. He seemed nice enough so far.

So she accepted his handshake. "I'm Taci," the young woman introduced likewise. "I've been painting for about four years. I don't make much money off of it, but it helps all the same.

"I do other... stuff." She shrugged, her matter-of-fact composure highlighted by a grim smirk. "It's Nar Shaddaa."

[member="Asemir Lor'kora"]

 

[Asemir]

"Nice to meet you, Taci," Asemir said. What other stuff does she mean? he didn't say aloud. And then she added the Nar Shadda bit, and he dearly wished she didn't mean that. Is she trying to... Horrified, he shook his head and shoved the thought away. "Do you sculpt? Or maybe something else art-related?"

The ingr'nysk gave the twi'lek a good look again, trying to pinpoint that itch in his mind, that thing that told him there was something special about this girl. Something... and then he noticed it. Barely. Just a subtle flicker in her life force. It was a familiar flicker, the same flicker he'd noticed in his fellow acolytes over a half-century ago, the same flicker that characterized those cultists he had killed during Sivter's insane quest to conquer the galaxy. It was the mark of...

He glanced at the painting, decided in that moment to trust his intuition. "Is the painting for sale? When you're done, of course. But if it is, I'd like to purchase it." As he said that, he nudged with his sar'kera, using the Force to knock over a bottle of wash, and watched for her reaction. Would she catch it? Would she do something that might validate his guess?

[member="Tacitanya"]

 

[Beowoof]

Asemir seemed remarkably uncomfortable for some reason, quickly nudging the pace of the conversation up a notch. He was a rather strange stranger. "Well," the painter responded, digging into one of her many pockets and unveiling a couple of ridged, metallic trinkets. "I don't have much on me now, but I build stuff out of scrap. I guess it's not exactly art, but..."

Selecting one of the tarnished gadgets, she rolled the palm of her hand over the teeth of a gear that was just slightly protruding from the chassis of the object. It clicked a few times as it rotated until it could turn no more, and a set of lights began to blink intermittently in various patterns. "It detects police comms. The lights change pace as they get closer." She paused, frowning in a disappointed fashion at what she considered to be an unfinished work. She had wanted a police comm decryptor, and had even tried to get a black market slicer to make it work. Unfortunately, things had happened and all she got out of the deal was broke.

Her eyes lit up, however, when this mysterious Asemir declared his interest in her painting. He was quite the puzzle to her. He hardly appeared to be the type to appreciate art--or much of anything, for that matter. Looks could often be deceiving, of course. "It's almost done. I think..." Tacitanya placed her hands on her hips and gazed at her canvas once more, appraising her own progress. "Of course, I can never say it's really finished. If you like it the way it is, I'll give it to you now." Really, she would have liked to squeeze him for all he was worth. She rarely got customers, and a payday would be nice. But something inside of her just could not bring herself to be that greedy tonight. She shrugged. "Friends and family discount."

[member="Asemir Lor'kora"]

 

[Asemir]

OOC: I'm going to assume that 1000 credits is a lot of money. Despite my research, I couldn't find a good exchange rate to RL currency, so if 1000 is actually not a whole lot, I can bump the number up by a factor or so.

[member="Tacitanya"]

Asemir was genuinely disappointed when Taci failed to notice or respond to his little Force-test, but he hid his reaction well. It wouldn't do for a Forgotten to have let his emotions show. His instructors had been thorough in their teachings, and hiding emotions was one of the first lessons.

As she showed him the police comms scanner, he marveled at her multiple talents. An artist and a technician. And a probable Force sensitive. The Temple Masters would have a field day, had they a multi-talented acolyte like Taci. Indeed, they would have taken her as a child, broken her, and then remolded her into the perfect blend of spy, terrorist, assassin, and supersoldier. It would have been a tragedy.

"The painting will go great in the galley onboard my ship," Asemir said as he fished through one of the pouches hanging from his equipment harness and withdrew a credit chit. It was stamped with a one followed by three zeroes. "Friends and family discount," he echoed to her with a smile as he handed the large denomination coin to her. "It goes both ways."

Now, that would have been the end of it, Asemir knew. She'd give him the painting, and he'd leave Nar Shadda, and their respective lives would never intersect again. But, that nagging suspicion, that this twi'lek had the touch of the empyrean, of the Force, still hovered in his conscious. And he couldn't let that go.

A pause, and then, "Now, I know this is a bit forward, but can I buy you a meal? A drink?" Asemir saw the suspicion in her eyes, so he quickly added, "This isn't a trick. I know you're armed, and I'm not trying to rip you off or anything. I'd genuinely like to chat some more." He nodded to her police scanner. "It's not every day that you meet someone on Nar Shadda who's both an artist and a talented tinkerer."

 

[Beowoof]

((Typically, I go by the ~C10,000 for a basic ship rate, so 1,000 is actually a lot from my perspective. I really don't care, we're playing far beyond canon time and I hardly ever RP about money anyway. I'll take the thousand!))


She gasped at his willingness to almost immediately hand over such a large sum of money. Taci could not recall receiving so much cash all at once, and it almost felt a little dirty. "I wasn't even going to ask for half of that..." Understandably not wanting him to back down now, the twi'lek scrambled to perform a final cleanup to the piece before sealing it with a clear, thin coating, effectively finishing her art and protecting it from the elements. There was a brief moment of panic when she encountered the spilled wash, noticing the liquid draining out of its container and creeping about the walkway just before she stepped in the steady stream. The young woman briefly moaned. She did not remember knocking it over, but perhaps she was simply too excited.

Tipping the bottle back into an upright position to save what little was left, Taci tried to distract from the current delay, babbling on to console herself more than the customer. "Do you really think it's that good? I mean, you've just made my day--or year. That's like, so spiff." After a short application of the final coating, Tacitanya hastily shoved all her little things into a snug, weathered suitcase and folded down the easel. The canvas she lovingly flipped inside a towel before carefully sliding it into her suitcase. "Since we're going to dinner," she explained with a smile.

[member="Asemir Lor'kora"]

 

[Asemir]

"I really do think it's that good," he replied. "I'm not an art expert, but I can recognize talent. You've got it."

As Taci packed her gear, Asemir marveled at that sensation of nervousness that hovered just faintly at the edge of his consciousness, like some cobweb brushing against his cheek. He was nervous, why? Because he had offered to take a woman to dinner. So absurd. Going into combat, facing down Sith masters, spitting in Death's face, none of that had made him nervous. But this? He shook his head ruefully.

"Do you have a preference for food?" He asked her. "I saw some seafood restaurant in the Promenade. Something from Mon Cal. We can give that a shot if you'd like?"

[member="Tacitanya"]

 

[Beowoof]

Tacitanya pressed her lips firmly together, holding back whatever reaction her mind was screaming to release. It was a toss-up between a mild arrogance about her skills or an insincere humility. But she could not find the spirit to take on either attitude. It was quite the conundrum, acknowledging Asemir's compliment. And so she remained silent about it. Besides, she was detecting some nervousness about him. How she could know that, she had no idea, but she had always been able to sense emotion to a deeper degree.

"Mon Cal is fine, I guess. I've never had it before--at least, not any good kind..." She rambled--a habit she had developed in order to bore people and distract them whilst she filched things. Sometimes it spelled more harm than good, however. A guilty smile crept across her face, and she made sure to broadcast to Asemir clearly that one hand was lugging the suitcase and the other was in her pocket, not his. "I once had some Bothan cuisine. It was pretty good, but I spent the night cleaning dishes. So... let's not go back there. I can guarantee that they remember me."

[member="Asemir Lor'kora"]

 

[Asemir]

"We'll stay clear of that place then," Asemir promised with a smile, wondering if her story was true. It sounded much like many of the stories that were told to children, where adventurers traded their work for a meal. But to hear it happen in the real world? He wasn't sure.

The two set off, and as they headed towards the Promenade, Asemir found himself lapsing into silence. Casual chatter with strangers was not something he excelled at. Growing up in the Temple, he knew his fellow acolytes quite well, none of them were strangers, and in his line of work he had never found much cause for chatting up people he did not know. After all, the battlefield was the ultimate form of relationship building, cementing the bond between comrades. That bond communicated far more than any idle chatter could.

But this situation was different. He needed to know Taci better, needed to find out what was it that was causing his instincts to go haywire, and since it was highly unlikely that they would share some life-or-death experience, he would have to talk. Nearing a hundred years of life, and there's always something new to learn, the Forgotten mused.

"I've never tried this place," Asemir said as they walked. "I've mostly lived off of field rations and other bland food, so seafood isn't something I usually eat." He thought for a moment. "Honestly, I think it's been years since I've really had true seafood from a planet that was covered in water. I think the last time was on Farraege, but that hadn't been a pleasant meal. The food was good, sure, but the circumstance ruined the experience." His voice trailed off as he recalled that dinner with Shyd. She had given him a data chit with the results of the investigation into Nycha's death. And that had led to a whole manner of bad events. Like the death of all of his friends. And lots more blood on his hands. And Shyd's departure. And saving the galaxy.

Bad events. All bad events.

"Yeah, not a pleasant meal," he repeated as he eyed some Promenade police warily. A slight touch of the Force turned their attention elsewhere. He wasn't in the mood to have the local "law" enforcement accost them for breaking some arbitrary "infraction".

Asemir turned his attention back to the twi'lek. "So, tell me, Taci, did you grow up on Nar Shadda? Have you been off world before?"

[member="Tacitanya"]

 

[Beowoof]

Farraege. That name kept coming up, like there was something significant about it to Asemir. She was in no way able to discern his age. She had never seen his kind before. Perhaps Farraege had been his childhood home. It sounded like a spectacular locale.

The mention of field rations was also quite peculiar. Those were for military people, right? As bad as her conditions were and as bland of food as she ate, Taci had never really encountered the need--or really, the availability--to survive on field rations. But why would he? A lot of soldiers came to Nar Shaddaa on shore leave, but they were so obviously marked. Actually, the twi'lek had even 'borrowed' one of their number's comm devices once and been able to return the slightly impaired unit to him a day later, they were so easy to identify.

"You've gotta eat something good every now and then. Trust me, even CorSec guys get fat on loads. One time--" She stopped herself, not wanting to convict herself of the petty crimes she had committed in front of cops--or Asemir. That usually turned people off.

"Yeah, I've grown up here. Street rat and all that. But I've been around," Taci divulged. "Obviously, I went to Corellia. I bet you wouldn't believe I attended boarding school there." She smiled, finding that humorous considering her current situation. She had learned her manners on Corellia, however. That was really useful in conning people. Not that she was intending to cheat her new acquaintance out of anything, but she was deeply curious about the vague fragments of history he kept dropping. Time to fish for information. "I stayed on Coruscant, once. But I doubt I've been as many places as you."

[member="Asemir Lor'kora"]

 

[Asemir]

"Boarding school on Corellia?" Asemir echoed with a glance at the twi'lek. "I wouldn't have taken you for the sort to have gone to boarding school. I mean, Nar Shadda doesn't strike me as the type of planet where anyone goes to boarding school."

Asemir thought for a moment. "It's true that I've been to many places. I honestly can't remember how many. I don't think it was that many, but it's enough that they just get mixed up."

Another pause for consideration of what he would say next. Should he say more? Of course! Why not?

"Mostly, it's probably because I only ever saw the planet on the ground, and most planets look he same when you're on the surface. With the exception of some ocean worlds or desert wastelands, they're all the same. I mean, you don't see much when you're stuck in a drop pod or insertion shuttle."

They arrived at the restaurant, and Asemir was relieved to find that it wasn't crowded. He raised two fingers at the greeter, and they were quickly led to a table. Menus were placed in front of them.

The Forgotten took a deep breath of the sweet aroma of shellfish. He smiled genuinely as his stomach rumbled. "This place smells great. So, yes, I guess I have travelled the galaxy. Most of it was with the military, so it wasn't nearly as fun as it should have been. Great way to meet people, though."

Asemir pages through the menu, noting the various selections of imported shellfish. "Do you have any dreams? Do you have any interests to see the galaxy?"

[member="Tacitanya"]

PS Posting on phone is an exercise in patience.

 

[Beowoof]

Tacitanya would not have taken herself for the sort to attend boarding school, either. "Yeah, my mom was big about that," she mumbled.

Now it was confirmed that Asemir was in the military, or had been at some point. It was still a bit surprising to consider, since most of the soldiers she had seen were all about the revelry and had not taken an interest in her art, as far as she remembered. But all the planets look the same? That was something notable. "Yeah, Coruscant; Nar Shaddaa--nothing much to tell between them. Though there are a lot more of my people here than there." She stroked one of her lekku to indicate just what 'people' she was referring to. "But there's also a lot more Hutts..."

It had been quite some time since Taci had set foot legitimately in a restaurant. Thankfully, Asemir chose an establishment where people would not recognize her. She had sort of lied--just a little bit--to him about washing dishes. Really, she had been hiding in the dishwasher. "This place totally smells great on this side. It's the smells in the back that freak you out." The twi'lek slapped her palm against her mouth to keep it from running. Shut up, you. Way to spoil the mood.

Clambering into a seat, Taci recalled her training at boarding school and placed the napkin in her lap. It would suck to be the guy who cleaned up after them. He would have a hard time getting out the grease and paint residue that came off her hands. "I have dreams all the time. Someday, I'm going to see everything and have a Holonet program or something. I might get to sleep in, too.

"What do you do for a living if you're not in the army anymore?"

[member="Asemir Lor'kora"]

PS Yes, yes it is!

 

[Asemir]

“Ah, sleeping in, that is indeed a luxury,” Asemir chuckled as he thought about how he would answer her question. Honestly? Another lie? His training said to lie, but he wasn’t in the mood to spin another tale. But it would be safer? You’re talking to yourself again. And Sera isn’t even around anymore.

“I wish I could tell you that I had some amazing and fascinating job,” the Forgotten said as the server set down glasses of water. “But, it’s really not that exciting. When I finally mustered out, I did the whole private security contracting bit for a while, but it didn’t have the freedom or the purpose in life, so I quit that and went into bounty hunting.”

He immediately regretted revealing that. Bounty hunters didn’t carry the most stellar of reputations. They weren’t knights in shining armor, after all. Contract killers were more their rep. “Bounty hunting in a good way,” Asemir quickly added and realized how stupid that sounded. “Er, not that bounty hunting is good.”

And now his body was threatening to betray him by wanting to blush in embarrassment. Feth, when had that last happened? Decades ago? When he was a child, before he had been taught to control the natural ingr’nysk physiology of changing skin colors based on one’s emotions?

Why was this happening? He was talking to someone at dinner. And his mind and body were reacting like the first time he had participated in a live fire exercise. All his training and experiences, and he was rattled by dinner?

Crazy.

Asemir took a sip of water, he forced a smile. “Let me try that again. I take only take contracts that help others, things like finding missing people or hitting a slaving ring. That sort of thing.”

The Forgotten tapped his menu. “Have you picked something? I’m thinking about this seafood pasta. It sounds amazing.”

[member="Tacitanya"]

 

[Beowoof]

"Well, hey! I'm a thief, too!" Taci blurted out, trying to make Asemir feel less awkward about bounty hunter stuff. It was not until after she announced this to the whole world that she realized just how bad of a blunder that was. She smacked her palm against her forehead in frustration with herself. "I mean... in a good way. Like you said." She had no idea what she could justify as 'good' about it, but he could take it at face value. Everyone she had known was shady in one way or another, so a bounty hunter was not the worst friend to have.

All this time, the twi'lek had neglected to look at the menu. Her reading skills were not extraordinary, but a few years in school had served their purpose. The crab-stuffed creampuffs sounded really good until she read that the crabs were totally alive when served. She shivered and scanned for something less exotic. Nothing really familiar popped out, so she followed Asemir's lead. "Yeah, I think I'll go for that, too." Dear Force, she hoped it was edible.

She dropped her menu with a loud plop on the tabletop and cocked her head, sensing a little discomfort from the other. "You feeling okay?"

[member="Asemir Lor'kora"]

 

[Asemir]

“A thief and a bounty hunter. A great duo,” Asemir said with a smile. He looked at the waiter. “We’ll both have the seafood pasta with the name I can’t pronounce.”

“Very well, sir, the mala you-yu on fettuccine for you and the lady, ” the man said as he gathered the menus and set a basket of buttered garlic bread on the table. “Your meal will be right out.”

“I’m feeling okay. Honestly, just a bit nervous,”Asemir admitted as he nudged the bread basket towards Taci. He thought for a moment and decided that he would just be truthful for the next few hours. Despite all of the training and practice, hiding behind cover stories and lies became tiring after a while. And it was always easier to keep the facts straight when the facts were truth.

“It’s a bit funny, actually,” the Forgotten continued, “I’ve seen combat, I’ve been in pretty heavy fighting, and that’s never been a problem. Sitting here, talking with you? I’m nervous.” Asemir chuckled. “I never would have thought.”

He unfurled his napkin and set it on his lap. “So, I’m curious, where did you learn to paint? Was it something your parents taught you?”

[member="Tacitanya"]

 

[Beowoof]

That was odd. What did he have to be nervous about with her around? If he wanted to pick her up and throw her across the room, he probably was entirely capable of that. Taci furrowed her brow, pondering the possibilities.

Maybe he was just intimidated by her genius. Because she totally was one of those people... "Well, if you're concerned about what people are going to think," she began, taking in the scenery around them, "you should be okay. Half of them are winding up for that sort of thing. And, besides, that's not my kind of work. Only my mom did that." Even if she went through dishonest avenues to acquire materials, Taci was most often bluntly straightforward about the truth. While an admirable trait, loose lips do sink ships.

She took a sip of whatever expensive H20 had been set on their table before answering Asemir's question. Painting was always a good subject for those who were nervous about things. "I learned to paint just a couple years ago. I got to visit an art museum while in boarding school--you know how fancy people get to do those things..." The twi'lek shrugged, tracing her finger in random shapes on the table cloth. "Nothing from my parents. We--I don't even know who my dad is. So no one ever taught me. I just sat on a hilltop one day and it just came to me.

"Crazy, right? But I heard a lot of the masters were really insane. I think." She cocked her head and gave a humorous grin.

[member="Asemir Lor'kora"]

 

[Asemir]

OOC: Sorry, short post. But, as an FYI, the “ma la you yu” in my last post is Chinese for numbing spicy squid. It was the only thing I could think of when trying to figure out an unpronounceable name for the seafood dish. lol

Taci didn’t know her father? That was unfortunate, Asemir thought, but he recognized his sadness came from more of an intellectual sadness and less of an emotional one. He knew he should be sad at the circumstance but he almost considered it normal. He didn’t know his parents and neither did any of his cohorts. He was pretty sure he wasn’t an orphan, but he had been taken from his family as an infant. It was the standard operating procedure for Force sensitives of the Xedael Empire. It was normal. Unfortunately.

“Tell me about it,” Asemir said as he plucked a piece bread from the basket. “I’ve had many masters who were certifiably insane.” He shivered as the memory of one said master emerged. “I trained under this expert swordswoman. She was a master of her art. There was no better person in the galaxy with the blade. I think her name was Astra Pran’kor. Or something like that, it was far too long ago. Anyways, she was definitely insane. Beautiful and all that, but she had this insane quirk of seducing the students. Completely inappropriate and distracting.” A pause. It probably wasn’t worth mentioning that he had murdered her during a training session. “I’m glad when she left the Temple.

“Insane and crazy masters aside, you said you’ve been painting for only a couple of years and without formal instruction. That’s quite impressive. But, what do you mean that painting just came to you?”

[member="Tacitanya"]