War Dogs

[Salem Norongachi]

The sun beat down on him. A slick sheen of sweat blossomed on his brow, furrowed as it was as he looked into the engine of Mrs Taldirs speeder. Sal swiped at his forehead, doing little more than smearing grease across his olive skin before gritting his teeth against the driver in his mouth and dipping his head back into the innards of the machine. He torqued the lug into place and then, avoiding collisions with the metal confines, swapped wrench for driver and went to work setting the power cabling back into place.

"Almost done?" Sal registered the voice but his attention was firmly on the burned out wiring a few inches from his face, his hand tugging at the bundle. "She's coming in at Seven..." it kept talking, and this wire wouldn't budge from its mooring and it had been a long day. His back was breaking, he wasn't as young as he used to be. "Do you hear me?" Norongachi heard him, he heard him loud and clear, he heard him while this fraking wire wouldn't move and his body felt like it needed a solid hour in the fresher.

"Hey!" the kick against the front plating of the speeder sent a quite vibration through its metal and Sal took a breath. He'd worked here for a couple of weeks but it had become clear to him that his boss had an Emperor complex; everything he surveyed was his kingdom and that fully included the three mechanics that worked under him.

"Hey!" the second kick never made it to the metal again, his leg quivered and jerked several inches from it, his face a mask of confusion. Sal, for his part, extracted himself from the machinery and groaned. A hand went to his lower back to ease the muscles there while his boss dived face first into panic, his head snapping between his immovable leg and the impassive face of his employee. Norongachi said nothing, he reached into his grimed overalls and extracted a cigarra and set it between his teeth.

"I quit." the cigarra flared to life between his teeth and he moved out into the alley beyond the garage.

"Hey frea-" he never looked back when he heard the voice calling at him, but it silenced quickly when the speeder split into its component parts and plastered his boss against the wall like a modern art project.

Sal needed a drink and the nearest Cantina was only a block away.

 

[Anesia Jy'Vun]

"No escort?"

With a flick of her wrist, pale fingers fanned staff away. She shifted in her chair and let her arm fall to the desk, Roon's stormy, but softly clouded sky at her back. In this moment, Anesia looked less the politician and more a doll. The artificial lighting had been snuffed and there was nothing more than the flicker of flames from a wicked candle and the pale glow of the moon. Neither did well for revealing the features of the woman whose skin rivaled winter, and the light flush of blood bloomed upon her cheeks the only physical proof of life. Her chest did not rise and fall- the stillness...statuesque. And her eyes, while stark emerald were ever glossed like polished gems, were unblinking.

The mind was very much alive and sprinting from one notion to another. It was was if a pin-ball had been let loose with swinging arms and no hole to drop in to restart. Or a once very alive system of hyperlanes suddenly lit up in a system. Her mind was reeling, overloaded. Shock had set in and her current appearance reflected as much.

A ghost flare.

There were questions and emotions. Uncertainty where there was always surety.

It was in that very line of thought, that Anesia propelled herself from where she had sat for near a day. The sudden rebirth, or echo of that man immobilized her, the heat gripping her heart as if aiming to cease its beat. That fire...their fire. She reached for the flame, that warmth only to near be entranced by its rhythm.

Madness.

She would find it again, monster that the siren was, she would find him.

Sal.

______________________________________________​

Three Days Later​

When she arrived, the hood to the deep suede coat was cast about her crown of russet curls. The unnaturalness of bright green eyes rimmed with fluorescent violet swam in its shadows, directed upon a one [member="Salem Norongachi"]. She had settled her back against the worn interior of the cantina. It was all she could do. Watch. Frozen in a fear that had nothing to do with violence.

It was war. The worst kind of war, Anesia surmised.

BAA-DUUMM BAA-DUMM BAA-DUMM​

 

[Aszräl]

Rhoujen lie in an alcohol-induced stupor in the corner of his freighter's cargo hold. His eyes were dim and lidded, and his appearance was disheveled. For all the bravado he put on for those he dealt with in more formal events, the fact that he'd been shunted from the universe then thrown violently back into its midst just for Sigma to... his breath shuddered and he repressed that feeling. He took no comfort in his young-again form but he made the best of the extension on his years.

His thoughts flicked from person to person from his past. Luna Vega, whom he'd met on the most unlikely of circumstances. Boy, would she be surprised. Starchaser, who he'd seen here and there but never approached again. Merrill, who'd started this wild train wreck. Then his thoughts drifted to two others who were much more similar to him. Just as splintered, though perhaps less schizophrenic. [member="Anesia Jy'Vun"], who'd helped reintegrate him to this new dynamic and got him some busywork with the Confederacy, and Omega...

His memories flashed through many of the lessons, trials, lectures, fights, and Sigma's desperation when he ventured into the Unknown Regions to locate Norongachi. That desperation was still there, though subdued. Perhaps the whim was so strong because it was one they shared. To discover their mentor anew. Treiades slid further down the wall and his breathing slowed. He slipped into a light trance while mulling on the old adventures of himself, Salem, and Anesia. That accumulation of thought it what led him to an epiphany.

Out there, somewhere, Jy'vun was hunting someone. Out there, there was a familiar sensation. He lingered on that sensation for just a moment before he realized what it was. Who it was. [member="Salem Norongachi"]. That drunken state shed away and he rose to his feet, stumbled, but got himself moving forward. A dozen meters later and he landed in the pilot's seat and jammed the coordinates in. Which ever backwater that Norongachi had sequestered himself to this time, Rhou was going to go say hello. About a minute later the jump to hyperspace was made...

... And Treiades used the trip to nap off the last bit of alcohol.

 

[Salem Norongachi]

Grease lined nails strummed the bar-top. An old tune, that he could only barely remember half a riff from but, as his mind wandered and he went through the motions of self examination that usually followed the quitting of yet another 'normal' job, his fingers played it out all the same.

The Klantooinian barman prowled up the length of his territory, collecting glasses as he went, before stopping in front of Norongachi. It took a moment but his patron finally registered his proximity and looked up at him with what those in the service trade called a 'practiced smile'.

"Quite finished pondering the deep and mysterious intricacies of life?"

The question brought a genuine smirk to Sals lips and it was enough to shake off the storm that had gathered in his thoughts. "Just thinking, Bar." he knew the sentients name began with b-a-r, but he'd be bugger'ied if he knew it in full and it was two months past the polite cut off to ask him to repeat it.

"Think and drink, sir. Floor space is at a premium." Bar barked a laugh and looked up and down the empty bar-front.

Easy conversation. He'd probably miss that the most. A pleasant exchange of words that went no deeper than what was being said, no double talk or hidden meanings. No need to dissect and examine word to micro-expression or inflection in vocal tone, nor subtle ticks of body language. Just a conversation between two people that would end, hopefully, in a drink.

"I very much plan to," he made a fist, rapped his knuckles on the aged and lacquered wood to emphasize the point. "bottle of the usual."

"Not that I'm one to take credits out of my own pocket but a bottle? Its barely gone noon, Sal." despite his question, barmans instinct and the aforementioned profit had already drawn him to the shelves of alcohol. He barely cast a glance over them before grabbing a deep caramel coloured whisky.

"Its been one of those days." the bottle clanked into place before him.

"But...its barely Noon."

"I know, so get me a glass before it gets any worse." Sal smirked again as he deposited some credits and cracked the seal on the whiskys top.

The quiet life was over as soon as you touched that damnable Force...

The first glass chased down that bitter thought in a single swallow and Bar, knowing when something was beyond his modest skills as a sounding board for troubled drunks, walked away.

 

[Anesia Jy'Vun]

"Membrosia," this type of establishment- all backwater- never housed the darker twin, so she settled. When she did, it was in time with Anesia sliding her bottom upon a free stool just three down from the elusive [member="Salem Norongachi"]. A slash of ivory flashed to the 'keep and the creature's penetrating gaze befell her objective shortly after. There were thoughts of turning the very liquid he drank into fire and the very darkness seemed to nip then, at the deep gray of her heels.

A light clink of glass upon polished wood announced the arrival of her order. With a push of a credit chit, pale digits snaked about and only pulled the drink nearer. Gem inspired pools never dared look down though, perhaps in fear the man before her would vanish yet again. "Salem." The name dripped fluidly from her mouth, the taste of the syllables still prescribed upon her tongue.

This was no happy reunion, Anesia knew, and the feeling hung in the air like the strewn lights. of the cantina.

Mere moments later and with a shake of her head, the hood cast over her features slid to rest at her back. He looked worn- and more than war ever did. Those lines around his eyes and shadows just under them revealed mediocre bore more stress than the latter. He had never been... Salem was not made for the trivial pursuits of civilians. Anesia sighed, finally mustering the small feat of bringing the stemmed glass to her lips and pulled between them, the lightly sweet potent liquor.

There was unrest in his bones and for no particular reason, she felt it and knew it had begun the assault on his mind.

 

[Salem Norongachi]

He was losing his mind. What he knew as then, wasn't now. He drank, and he drank. Bar, for his part kept the dullness flowing. Once or twice he spoke up but whatever Sal had said in retort quieted him down. A room over the cantina and the bar itself were his whole world. What did it matter that they were coming, what the frak did it matter that they would bring the mess with them. They'd be here, that was it, and ya know what? Until they did...

Just one more day. Sal thought, groggy, his body unforgiving.

As he opened his eyes, he saw the end of the bar, he saw the discarded tidbits from the bar top treats dish. Its a cruel thing to focus on half a nut. Crueler still to try to peal your cheek from an unrelenting surface. Sal winced, he seethed, and eventually he popped his face from it. Bar looked at him, shook his head, and wandered off. Whatever he'd said or done the night before wouldn't be spoke about later.

"Whiskey.." he croaked. She was there. He felt her. The closeness was a battering ram against his senses, a maelstrom of power that he could no more ignore than a tidal wave threatening his shores. "Drink, Anesia?"

 

[Aszräl]

For Treiades, the events that followed were like strange dreams. Yet again he was merely a passenger in his own person, while something else played around in his body. It was a delicate balance that he thought he had solidified, but with Norongachi so tantalizingly close, and so very real again, there was little that the comparatively weak consciousness of Rhoujen could do against the true entity that he was created to be. The rest of the hyperspace voyage was spent in anticipation of the coming storm. Anesia was there, but for Sigma she was as insignificant as the rest of that world.

How much time passed for the younger creation to arrive was uncertain, but regardless of the duration he was inevitably on that unnamed world. Sigma's ship touched down on the landing pad. He grabbed his things and exited the ship, and his first footfall upon the ground sent out a vibration in the Force that could've been felt like a spider feels prey on its web. Only the prey was another spider. He followed his senses through the streets of this low-rise town. There was little to speak of - little reason to come at all. The perfect place to get lost until the hounds caught your scent.

The bar was in view, now, and [member="Salem Norongachi"] was almost in reach. Deft tickles of electricity danced across Sigma's fingers. There was no doubting that the hound wanted the blood of its prey - regardless of reason.

 

[Anesia Jy'Vun]

"Ahead of you, Sal," was the answer she gave him after emptying the glass half way. Wildly lit pools focused on the bar, passing over the bottles. It was a hard thing to watch- [member="Salem Norongachi"], that is...and his current state of mess- and the Sith opted to look away for now. Anesia could not exactly ignore it- not with him mere...short meters away. "Well, perhaps a bit behind, but," she lifted her glass in salute.

A single nut was pursed between her fingers before being popped in her mouth with an audible crunch.

Fluff. Jy'Vun was stalling. Now that she had him, the siren of the darkside was at a loss. A loss for words, for action. Cat got your tongue? The woman leaned into the bar, letting her arm fall there as well so that her hand could prop up her head, nails sinking into lush curls. "Where have you been?"

Straight. Too the point. But forced. Really, she could picture choking him with her bare hands. Anesia resisted the urge, bright lime and violet eyes flicking to [member="Treiades Rhoujen"] and then back.