Xian Xiao
Elementalist
Xian noticed the shift in him the moment she stepped closer, even though Jerrik was doing an admirable job pretending nothing at all had changed. There was a faint tension in the way he carried himself now, something balanced between nerves and excitement, and for once she chose not to tease him too sharply about it. Mostly because she could feel some version of it settling into her own chest as well.
The warmth between them was still unfamiliar, still something she hadn't quite learned how to navigate, yet she found she didn't want to step away from it either.
His promise to behave earned a soft snort as she followed him toward the exit. "I don't believe that for a second," she said, her voice dry but undeniably amused. "Your definition of 'good behavior' probably just means fewer explosions than usual."
The faint smile tugging at her mouth stayed with her as they moved through the ship together, a quiet thread of ease weaving itself through the space between them.
When he asked who was flying, she immediately raised an eyebrow. "You are absolutely not flying if we're going to Coruscant," she said without hesitation. "You'd get distracted trying to do something dramatic over the skyline and crash us into a Senate tower."
She brushed past him lightly as they stepped into the cockpit, dropping into the pilot's chair with the kind of familiarity that came from years of cramped ships and long jumps through hyperspace. The controls flickered awake beneath her hands, the hum of the systems spreading through the cockpit like a slow exhale.
Coruscant.
The word alone stirred something complicated in her. It was nostalgia threaded with exhaustion, curiosity tangled with the quiet ache of returning to a place she no longer belonged in the same way she once had.
As Jerrik talked about cantinas and taking a breath before diving back into ancient Sith worlds and questionable decisions, Xian leaned back slightly, glancing toward him as the cockpit lights softened across her features.
"You know," she said, her tone thoughtful in a way that felt new even to her, "a few months ago I probably would've said stopping to relax was irresponsible." Her fingers moved across the startup controls almost absently. "Now I'm starting to think throwing ourselves into increasingly terrible situations without ever stopping to breathe might actually be the irresponsible part."
The engines began to warm beneath the deck, vibrations humming steadily upward as the ship came fully alive. Her gaze drifted toward the viewport, then back to him again, softer now.
"Coruscant sounds good," she admitted quietly. "Crowded enough that no one pays attention to two more people walking into a cantina, and loud enough that we can disappear for a night if we want to."
A faint smile curved at the corner of her mouth. "And if the music's terrible, I can watch you suffer through pretending to enjoy it."
There was warmth in the tease, easy and unforced, and for a moment she simply looked at him across the cockpit, the future ahead of them uncertain in every direction, yet somehow less frightening than it used to be. Not safe. Not stable. But theirs.
She turned back to the controls, fingers settling around the throttle as the hangar lights reflected across the viewport.
"Alright," she said softly, anticipation threading into her voice as the ship prepared to lift. "Let's go see what kind of trouble Coruscant still remembers how to cause."
Jerrik Molten
The warmth between them was still unfamiliar, still something she hadn't quite learned how to navigate, yet she found she didn't want to step away from it either.
His promise to behave earned a soft snort as she followed him toward the exit. "I don't believe that for a second," she said, her voice dry but undeniably amused. "Your definition of 'good behavior' probably just means fewer explosions than usual."
The faint smile tugging at her mouth stayed with her as they moved through the ship together, a quiet thread of ease weaving itself through the space between them.
When he asked who was flying, she immediately raised an eyebrow. "You are absolutely not flying if we're going to Coruscant," she said without hesitation. "You'd get distracted trying to do something dramatic over the skyline and crash us into a Senate tower."
She brushed past him lightly as they stepped into the cockpit, dropping into the pilot's chair with the kind of familiarity that came from years of cramped ships and long jumps through hyperspace. The controls flickered awake beneath her hands, the hum of the systems spreading through the cockpit like a slow exhale.
Coruscant.
The word alone stirred something complicated in her. It was nostalgia threaded with exhaustion, curiosity tangled with the quiet ache of returning to a place she no longer belonged in the same way she once had.
As Jerrik talked about cantinas and taking a breath before diving back into ancient Sith worlds and questionable decisions, Xian leaned back slightly, glancing toward him as the cockpit lights softened across her features.
"You know," she said, her tone thoughtful in a way that felt new even to her, "a few months ago I probably would've said stopping to relax was irresponsible." Her fingers moved across the startup controls almost absently. "Now I'm starting to think throwing ourselves into increasingly terrible situations without ever stopping to breathe might actually be the irresponsible part."
The engines began to warm beneath the deck, vibrations humming steadily upward as the ship came fully alive. Her gaze drifted toward the viewport, then back to him again, softer now.
"Coruscant sounds good," she admitted quietly. "Crowded enough that no one pays attention to two more people walking into a cantina, and loud enough that we can disappear for a night if we want to."
A faint smile curved at the corner of her mouth. "And if the music's terrible, I can watch you suffer through pretending to enjoy it."
There was warmth in the tease, easy and unforced, and for a moment she simply looked at him across the cockpit, the future ahead of them uncertain in every direction, yet somehow less frightening than it used to be. Not safe. Not stable. But theirs.
She turned back to the controls, fingers settling around the throttle as the hangar lights reflected across the viewport.
"Alright," she said softly, anticipation threading into her voice as the ship prepared to lift. "Let's go see what kind of trouble Coruscant still remembers how to cause."