Mother of Pearl
Zipping across the galaxy could (understandably) make one tired. Couple that with a back to back business deal on Coruscant, some charity work on Lianna and a quick stop on Zeltros to ensure that her legacy was healthy and fed and well…the fatigue could make one grouchy.
An issue had popped up at one of her cantinas on Zonju V, deep into the Outer Rim guarded by the Coalition whom she worked closely with on a regular basis. All of the primping and polishing for a lifetime couldn’t strip away her rebellious streak and she couldn’t be too bothered to hide it either. It was no secret that Joza was involved with the scoundrels and salvagers of the Outer Rim but it wasn’t a heavily advertised fact—nor was she considered to be a particularly bold threat to anyone outside of the entertainment sphere.
When she’d caught wind of [member="Bryce Bantam"] offering amnesty to an injured Force warrior of the First Order, the Zeltron had nearly smacked herself in the face, mechanical palm to forehead. Thankfully she’d stopped before giving herself a concussion, finished the bedtime story and kissed her toddler son on the forehead before tucking him in and departing for the old Outback space. The illegal dinko fighting ring in basement of The Aurodia would have to wait another day or so as she made a pit stop of Kal’Shebbol to ensure that the evil First Order person had not sown destruction to the entire system.
Surprise surprise when Kal’Shebbol was still intact and moving along with daily life uninterrupted. After insisting that a perpetually unamused Ivan stay on the ship—you’d better not take half a day like last time—she signed herself into the medical facility where Bantam’s ward was staying. He’d supposedly saved her from death, and she had to take a moment to wonder what it was with doctors and trying to save everyone. Her opinion of the First Order was understandably not the best, but it stood reason that they thought the same about whatever side it was she affiliated herself with. Her interactions with them had all been hostile because they had happened in the middle of a gorram war zone and she’d questioned their stability given she saw one of them hold a saber to [member="Bethany Kismet"]’s neck in a hospital. Why he’d been allowed the weapon was beyond her, but the situation somehow defused with no additional injuries.
Suffice to say she cursed Bryce a few times on the way over, but wariness kept you alive. You had to draw borders somewhere but sometimes those borders were in sand and they could blur the more you moved about them. Her heart thudded once as she thought about [member="Haytham Kaze"] and the years they’d spent together in an intensely passionate but ultimately tragic romance.
She waved off the staff who suggested they escort her to the woman’s room, insisting that she’d find her own way but it was moreso that she just wanted to light a cigarette in front of the Ren’s door without being scolded.
She inhaled slowly, letting her lungs swell with the sweet ether of addiction before exhaling a steady stream of smoke.
On the other side of the threshold, [member="Ara Ren"] would hear two stark knocks against the door.
An issue had popped up at one of her cantinas on Zonju V, deep into the Outer Rim guarded by the Coalition whom she worked closely with on a regular basis. All of the primping and polishing for a lifetime couldn’t strip away her rebellious streak and she couldn’t be too bothered to hide it either. It was no secret that Joza was involved with the scoundrels and salvagers of the Outer Rim but it wasn’t a heavily advertised fact—nor was she considered to be a particularly bold threat to anyone outside of the entertainment sphere.
When she’d caught wind of [member="Bryce Bantam"] offering amnesty to an injured Force warrior of the First Order, the Zeltron had nearly smacked herself in the face, mechanical palm to forehead. Thankfully she’d stopped before giving herself a concussion, finished the bedtime story and kissed her toddler son on the forehead before tucking him in and departing for the old Outback space. The illegal dinko fighting ring in basement of The Aurodia would have to wait another day or so as she made a pit stop of Kal’Shebbol to ensure that the evil First Order person had not sown destruction to the entire system.
Surprise surprise when Kal’Shebbol was still intact and moving along with daily life uninterrupted. After insisting that a perpetually unamused Ivan stay on the ship—you’d better not take half a day like last time—she signed herself into the medical facility where Bantam’s ward was staying. He’d supposedly saved her from death, and she had to take a moment to wonder what it was with doctors and trying to save everyone. Her opinion of the First Order was understandably not the best, but it stood reason that they thought the same about whatever side it was she affiliated herself with. Her interactions with them had all been hostile because they had happened in the middle of a gorram war zone and she’d questioned their stability given she saw one of them hold a saber to [member="Bethany Kismet"]’s neck in a hospital. Why he’d been allowed the weapon was beyond her, but the situation somehow defused with no additional injuries.
Suffice to say she cursed Bryce a few times on the way over, but wariness kept you alive. You had to draw borders somewhere but sometimes those borders were in sand and they could blur the more you moved about them. Her heart thudded once as she thought about [member="Haytham Kaze"] and the years they’d spent together in an intensely passionate but ultimately tragic romance.
She waved off the staff who suggested they escort her to the woman’s room, insisting that she’d find her own way but it was moreso that she just wanted to light a cigarette in front of the Ren’s door without being scolded.
She inhaled slowly, letting her lungs swell with the sweet ether of addiction before exhaling a steady stream of smoke.
On the other side of the threshold, [member="Ara Ren"] would hear two stark knocks against the door.