First Reply Twin Peaks

[Adrien Mostarr]

TWIN PEAKS
The Snake and The Grass - Prologue
———

POSTERITY​

AT-ATTIN

Adrien doesn’t visit the Southern part of the galaxy all too often. He’d been on a few missions in Eriadu when he was still a Knight under Argilac, some other times in Tatooine, Rodia, Ryloth. It’s not his favourite region of the galaxy; the chaos, the lawlessness, the scum and villainy, it’s a good area to make money, but not one to build family and raise children.

In truth, he’s only here in At-Attin for a quick fuel run. He had sneaked in and out of New Cov for a quick meeting with a Jedi. Not so Imperial of him, at least that’s what most of his brethren would say.

Adrien from six months ago would question all the same. He was spiritual to an extent, but a Jedi? That’s an activity that Argilac and Michael would engage in, not him. It’s only since he was shot at his spine four months ago that he was left with nothing to do, at least physically, and started following the path of his lost master.

So this was supposed to be a quick pit stop, or so he thought.

“Karkin hell…” he cursed under his breath as the engine of his stealth ship burst. Eventually, dragging his limping leg across the city, he found a garage that can work on his ship, but it would take two days.

“My kriffin luck…” he muttered at the bar in the hotel he was forced to book a room in., finishing his glass of whiskey to erase the smell of petrol that assaults his nose. His eyes travel from one side to the other, something feels off about this place, this planet, but he can’t point out what. Maybe it’s just the anxiety speaking, he just want to get off the planet soon.

Two days is a long time for a man who’s livelihood depends on being at the right place at the right time. What is he supposed to do in kriffing At-Attin?

He’s just hoping that nothing out of the ordinary will happen here during his stay, and his ship will be ready on time.​

OPEN​

 

[Mr. Usher]

THE GOOD DOCTOR​

The chair beside him creaked—an antique thing, mismatched with the rest of the bar's plastoid junk—yet no one had pulled it out.

A man now sat there, somehow unnoticed until the moment he was present. Clean-pressed coat, round spectacles, and gloved hands resting with surgeon's stillness atop the table. His scent was of dry herbs and formaldehyde.

He turned his head slowly toward Adrien, the pale lenses of his glasses catching the low amber light.

"You seem to a bit out of sorts, or out of place," he said without looking at the whiskey.

A pause. Then, as though recollecting some decorum:
"My apologies. Dr. Vane Pell."

He offered no hand. Only a thin smile that didn’t quite touch the skin stretched over his high cheekbones.

"Saw your ship brought in. Curious thing—stealth-grade fuselage, plasma scoring down the belly. Sloppy welds on the starboard repulsors. Unfamiliar tech for our skies. You’ll be grounded, I expect, at least forty-eight standard hours."

Another pause.

"I could assist, if you like. My associate tends to the dead, but dabbles in resurrection, ah, of ships, I mean."

The physician didn't blink the entire time.

Outside, the wind shifted, rustling dry leaves in the trees. The hum of the streetlamps buzzed steadily as if in low-frequency chorus. In the corner of the bar, a patron softly hummed a melody with no discernible tune—just beneath the threshold of conscious recognition.

"Something wrong with the air here," Dr. Pell added, tilting his head.
"Been that way since the rains stopped falling."

His smile widened then, just a fraction too far.

"Strangers tend to leave with questions. Or don’t leave at all. Perhaps my associate could help speed you on your journey?"

Tags: Adrien Mostarr
​

 

[Adrien Mostarr]

TWIN PEAKS
The Snake and The Grass - Prologue
———

POSTERITY​

AT-ATTIN

“Dr. … Pell…,” Adrien observed the stranger. His face, his smell, the words he chose, there is something strange about him, something unsettling. The warden puts down his glass of whiskey, almost empty anyway.

“And you know all of this, how?” he asked the physician, never raising his voice nor showing any resemblance of emotion. The stranger never blinked in his speech, nor his smile seemed human. He tapped into the Force to get a sense of the stranger, it is turbulent, malevolent even. He can’t pinpoint what it is, he is not that gifted in the Force, but he is knowledgeable. It is undeniably dark, no matter what other people would classify it as.

His complete contempt of the dark is why he is never able to rally the banner to the extent of other Imperials, or even the Jedi. He knows how deep the abyss of the darkside is, and how varying it can manifest itself as. A 99,5% light is still dark in his eyes.

“Something is wrong with the planet indeed. People warned me off At-Attin for the pirates and scums, but never of your kind,” his gaze never leaving the stranger, staring him down his soul. “Perhaps it’s you and your associates that brought it here, no?”​

Mr. Usher​

 

[Mr. Usher]

SNAKESKIN​

The smile never left him. It was not one of warmth, but of certainty—a practiced expression of those who always find amusement in being recognized too late.

"You’d be amazed how much a physician learns from burn patterns and carbon residue. The fuselage told me its story. And your limp whispered the rest."

Dr. Pell shifted in his seat with surgical grace, fingers steepling just above the table, the dim glow of neon catching on the edge of his glasses like blood on bone.

There it was—the first blink. Slow. Deliberate. The two eyelids were just out of sync.

"My kind? No, I don't believe medical practitioners to be the cause of the criminal presence on At-Attin, though I do what I can to assist the neighborhood watch."

The lights in the bar flickered once. A cough echoed. And somewhere, far off, a chime rang where no bell hung.
Dr. Pell reached for his drink, gloved fingers brushing the rim, but did not drink. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, voice low, conspiratorial.

"If you prefer to wait at the mechanic, I recommend locating accomodations and retiring to rest early. The second night is always harder in here. That’s when the dreams begin."

The physician stood with his drink slightly too smooth in motion, seemingly oblivious to the scrutiny of the warden. Or choosing to present as such.

"Unfortunately, It is not safe to be outdoors after dark around here."

Tags: Adrien Mostarr​