We're all Searching for Something.

[Lina Djo]

Laekia
Sanctum Space

"...the area is quite lovely. You've got easy access to all the nearby facilities, I mean, the space port is a stones throw away." The estate agent was talking quickly, somewhat nervous in the company of her current client. Her current client who had said nought but three words to her in the four properties she had brought her too. So the agent babbled, unnecessarily so. Mia would be lying if she said she didn't get a kick out of making people nervous, but it wasn't something she went out of her way to do. It just, well, happened.

The apartment was nice enough, spacious and close to everything. But it was an apartment and Mia was pretty sure she'd said no to any apartment. Grey eyes watched a transport settle into the spaceport before she turned to the agent.

"I don't like it."

Four words. The agent blinked "No?" her shoulders sagged somewhat.

"Not your fault, I'm used to open spaces, not tower blocks."

"I see...Well in that case I've a wonderful property for you on the outskirts of--"

"Not today."

"Oh."

The pair left the flats, Mia booked herself another appointment for the following morning and thanked the agent, watching her walk away deflated. The former Mand'alor shook her head slightly and glanced skywards, eyes closing briefly to enjoy the sun on her face. It wasn't that she was trying to be a difficult customer, it was a simple case of she knew what she was looking for, and thus far, the agent had failed to provide it.

Opening her eyes, she crossed the street and began wandering towards the entertainment district in the hope of finding food and picking up on any local news.

[member="Seydon of Arda"]

 

[Seydon of Arda]

Classification: Tertiary-Lambda Consultation
Clearance: Red-9-Jade
Encryption: Subtvod V. 3.01114
Date: [Date Corrupted]
Author: Lance Sargent Rothrick
Subject: RE: Spousal Sighting & Report
Recipient: "Seydon" - Voluntary Irregular Patrol 'Levantine'

Sir,
While I can appreciate your alacrity in maintaining communication between myself and the staff at DWTD Mass-Port, I can't hasten our archival teams any faster. What you're asking for is months old, and will require budgeted time to retrieve and sequester for review. Rest assured, we are working doggedly. However, in the meanwhile I have been contacted by DWTD Administrative authorities and I believe that we can both work to each other's gain.

Recently, we've had a visitor [ZIP-IMG.XCV FILE ENCLOSED] make a presence in the port terminals. She's since been in the company of several realestate agents across the city. Seemingly, she's interested in procuring a living space. If you can hasten the process, someone will ease off breathing on my neck, and I can wiggle for extra datasifting.

Looking forward to hearing from you.
~In Service,
(A Flourishing Digital Signature) Lance Sargent Thills Rothrick

---

The Entertainment Thoroughcourse, or the Neon Divide, struck a bawdy impression from any angle. Ancient power-plants, disused industrial landscape dominated by gutted retainer dams and laddered relay towers, decommissioned since the beginnings of the one-forties were bought, refashioned, and branded into Lavorn's premier "Maze of Awe" and Laekia's most functionally lucrative, busied entertainment district. Crowds as thick as sixteen million strong waded daily into expanded stair-cases and multi-tiered parlour galleries.

Her scent was wafting upwards, in Lvl 19/D. Past several dance 'boutiques' advertising the latest in Sinfloe Form Dancing. Males and females licked by sweat activated neon primary-colour paints lounged at the entrances and flirted at her passing with wanton eyes, pierced and studded skin, and copiously exaggerated genitalia. Ad-bots, elliptic rovers chased in polish, blue-washed chrome on micro-'pulsor boosters, jetted overhead and beamed a dozen holo-board offers at passing faces. Down below by a level, a club scene was blasting out the latest twist-jaunt. Subwoofers shook at the rockcrete street.

A man, with a physical description out of place with the fashion synced and drug-obfuscated crowd, stepped out a block ahead of [member="Mia Monroe"]. He was not unseemly tall, but corded with enough substantial mass that his physicality described hard-gained power. Belted field-harnesses wrapped around his chest and leg-breeches, and he stood dressed in an old, blue-striped jacket over a work shirt stained by sweat.

"Ma'am," Said Seydon of Arda to Mia as she strolled past.

 

[Lina Djo]

Mia felt uncomfortable. It showed in the way she moved, in the way her eyes never lingered on those who watched her for more than a millisecond. She looped her thumbs into the pockets of her jeans, fingers coming to rest on the grips of the bolters that sat idly on her hips. That offered her some comfort, eased the tension in her shoulders a little but she was still very much a fish out of water, and they knew it.

Pride kept her head up, forced her to meet their gazes if only for a heartbeat. She met the eyes of the lone wolf, and had gone three paces past him before everything else about him struck her. The lasting scent of something alchemized that gave the air a distinguished tang, the harness that marked him as out of place as she was. She stopped and turned, eyes flicking over him, taking in stark white hair and the hunters stance. Her gaze came to settle once more on those eyes and Mia felt the tension was from her completely.

"Seydon of Arda." she said softly stepping back towards him and extending a hand in greeting. "Good to see you again."

 

[Seydon of Arda]

"We know each other?" He took the proffered grasp regardless and gave her arm a few short, heavy pumps.

They stood soaked underneath a backlit awning, sprayed by liquid mists where some 'water party' raved and shook some six floors above. In spite of drubbing bass reverberations and pitched engine whines from traffic beside the wet sidewalk, he heard her softened tone. At his gesture, they ducked into an old, barred tunnel running up through switchback staircases.

Now, in aglow shadows, he peered closer at the unknown, marked woman. There was little way for Seydon to have been privy to Mia Monroe's exhaustive, and frankly thrilling, sagas running through the Core Worlds. Last they met, it'd been for a quiet outing on Korriban. Avoiding death-traps in some haunt of a tomb to drudge up a stubborn beastie. Now her face was a surreal change from the mousey, fierce, darkly tanned visage that brooked little contest. Seydon breathed up through his nose: there was something. He'd a razor keen smell, he did, but not so much to grant absurd clairvoyance. But she walked just so, bore herself up just so, and observed her surroundings with easy understanding.

"Ma'am?"

[member="Mia Monroe"]

 

[Lina Djo]

Mia smiled in the comfort of the shadows. It was so easy to forget her face was different, so comfortable as she was in her new skin. "Mia Monroe at your service." She told him. "Long story short, I died and decided death wasn't for me." Perhaps she'd go into detail later, but she was hungry and food was a far greater priority than boring the monster hunter with her woes.

She started them walking along the tunnel, more to keep moving than for a desire to see what was on the otherside. "You were seeking me?"

[member="Seydon of Arda"]

 

[Seydon of Arda]

"Aye. Estate agents made complaints to the standing autocrats about a bothersome warrior-woman. They woke up the DWTD, and in turn asked for a Levantine to look after the matter. In short: look after you," Seydon explained easily while they traversed beneath smoothstone and shining ferrocrete in the tunnel access-way. He had to look twice her way, then swallow and stomach curiosity for another occasion. Paired up, they walked under a water-beaded exit archivolt. A narrow walkway banded around either side of a glittering canal sluicing rapids that drained out from water park tanks. The park reared high by twenty stories northward, beaming over their thin alleyway.

They crossed an old catwalk fording a point in the blocky stream. They likewise noticed tall and stringy, lithe frames leaning casually across the opposite boutique end-walls. Gang-dregs. Scene-scum. Rumblers looking for excuses to exact visceral fighting entertainment. Exposed skin in their technocratic uniforms was acid-tatted in bar-code and x-code binary. In turn, they watched the Mandalorian and Dunaan with unblinking interest. However, that was the extent of their intentions. [member="Mia Monroe"] didn't have to touch a man to kill him. And that unnatural quality to Seydon's presence squirmed their flesh, and wilted their thuggish bravery.

Restaurants catering to exoticism plied the avenue beyond. Seydon's reflection distended and swelled off a polished stretch-aircar. Packs of débutantes sauntered by in fur jackets and leather skirts tied up around them in "rustic" fashion. Some Brahman young turks ogled Mia; one was brave enough to loose a wolf-whistle and call after her for her comm. frequency.

"So now I have to ask," The Dunaan spoke up beside her. "What've you come looking for?"

 

[Lina Djo]

Mia chuckled, the noise echoing through the tunnel ahead of them. "It wasn't my intention to be a difficult customer." she mused. At least she had company now, company that was somewhat more understanding of the warrior woman. Her eys drank in their new surroundings at the other end of the tunnel. If she wasn't well travelled, she might have been awed by it, but to her, it was more of the same. She'd never had a love for cities.

She met the unblinking gazes of the gang, fingers resting lightly on the clip of her holster, hairs rising on the back of her neck. this was the reason she didn't like cities, cities collected scum. People who were too young to know better were swept up by those driven by power and greed. Pawns in a greater fight, often dieing too young. She looked away, eyes darkening somewhat. War was everywhere, no matter the scale, it was fought every single day. They left them in their wake, still feeling their hungry eyes on the backs of their heads.

Mia forgot them at the sight of resturaunts, grey eyes flicking over restaurant names, scanning for something to quiet the low growling of her stomach. She maintained a stoic expression at the wolf whistle, ignoring his call for a frequency, though her cheeks gained a little colour. She used to be immune to such passes, months in the company of Strider Garon had granted her that, but it had been a long time since she'd seen or even spoken to the mandalorian man whore. Seydon's question snapped her out of her discomfort and she looked towards him.

For a moment, she said nothing, contemplating her response carefully. "I'm leaving the Clans." she said finally "So I'm in need of a new home." The words weighed heavily on her heart and she looked away again, scanning the restaurants as they passed them, but seeing nothing. "Are you hungry?"

[member="Seydon of Arda"]

 

[Seydon of Arda]

"Hmmn," He scanned for a close eatery along the avenue, keeping up with Mia's brisk pace rubbing against opposing foot-traffic currents.

There was 'Hailie's Comette Grill & Lounge'; an arch-faced concierge with stiff mannerisms and a loathe sense of entitled procedure kept the pair waiting while showing in newer crowds. They watched, with some patience, as glitter-edged laughter rolled off studded tongues and their vision became blurred by iridescent sequin gowns and feather-pleated evening jackets. Returning, the concierge found them gone.

A follow up at 'The Kanji' met equal success. Neither were even shown past the front auto-doors. It was a model of imperialistic and brutalist architecture, with humourless arcade facades columned and stretching up overhead by twenty meters. Precisely suited bouncers kept watch by the black-glass auto-doors; in spite of regulations prohibiting establishments from operating lethal equipment on premises, each were clad with silent melee-shield vambraces and single-edged, long-curved vibro-swords.

In time, they wandered into 'Frostflake'; a warmly decorated establishment belying its frigid namesake. A portly server showed them in past bustling aisles overflowing with busily occupied booths. There was a small four-seater pub counter close by the cashier till, several roaring smoke-less fire-dens screened by sooty grilles, holonet broadcast screens played out the latest Gravball tournament. Seydon thought of [member="Jaxton Ravos"] and his old captaincy of the Correllian Rogues.

Finally seated in a back corner, they made their orders for drinks and sat facing one another for a goodly while. "Mandalorians are fast to say the Clans are home," Seydon said. "...But I know a secret about Laekia. Take a speeder and charge out on a drive for a half hour in any direction, you're already lost in wilderness. I can show you a few spots."

[member="Mia Monroe"]

 

[Lina Djo]

"The Clans were home... are home." she blew a sigh out of her nose and closed her eyes. When she opened them her face gained lines that aged her, her shoulders sagged slightly. "Things have changed...or perhaps its just me." She shrugged, pushing the weight off and forcing a small smile to her face. "Whatever it is, I need to go. Your help would be much appreciated in finding somewhere."

She looked up from the hunter as their waitress returned, setting their drinks before them with an easy smile despite the shadows under her eyes. Making their food order, the fell into comfortable silence for a few moments. Mia's eyes glazed slightly as she stared into the bottom of her drink a slight frown creasing her forehead. Eager to avoid getting herself caught in a dark place she looked up.

"How is life in Sanctum space? The war doesn't seem to have affected you all that much."

[member="Seydon of Arda"]

 

[Seydon of Arda]

Seydon paused glance over his frosted tankard rim and shrugged easily. Downing a mouthful, he half-heartedly perused a portioned menu, fast deciding for something with spice, sauce, and oceanic flavour. Somewhere behind them was an extended family celebrating a young girl's birthday. One party-popper exploded with too much exuberance, showering his nape in confetti and glassy sparkles.

"Hmmnn," He hummed. "It will find an excuse to. Otherwise, it's quiet. The worst trouble we had was a small flotilla hailing all the way from some place. 'Crystalsong'. There was a Merrill involved, so I needn't say more. We drove them off. Would you believe it was over 'severance pay'?

"Suppose we ought to be thankful it resolved as it did. It was all an inch away from consigning the Free Worlds into an odd, odd war with a foreign power we'd never heard of before. ...But there's troubles brewing by old Confederacy territories. Somewhere northward along the span, we hear talk of a 'shadowy empire'. And if you're not keeping the Clans loosely directed anymore, maybe one day they'll be sizing us up too."

The Dunaan shrugged again. Something else was clouding his eyes over with rheumy worry. "I'm out working more and more to put my mind off it."

[member="Mia Monroe"]

 

[Lina Djo]

Mia gave a derisive snort at the mention of Merrill. That family was always followed with trouble of ridiculous sizes, they had a habit of stepping--no stamping on toes. There was never anything subtle or accidental about what the siblings did. The Merrill's liked to stamp on toes, look their owners in the eye and grin at them. It was safe to say there was no secret in their enjoyment of upsetting those who believed themselves to be 'greater powers'.

And they were good at it.

"I've heard similar rumours, but nothing concrete. I've half a mind to investigate, but there are far bigger issues to be dealt with than another short lived Empire. And you can rest easy about the Clans looking this way for a fight. They offered you protection and support should you need it at Etti. Trust me when I say you're safe from them." So long as she was still breathing, and considered by them to be a mando'ade, the Sanctum would be safe. Just because she was walking her own path and settling elsewhere, didn't mean her voice would no longer be heard.

"Where you're looking to escape it, I'm searching for a new way to throw myself back at it," she smiled "this time, I might succeed in walking of the battle field myself, stead of being carried."

[member="Seydon of Arda"]

 

[Seydon of Arda]

"Mmmn," He leaned off from the table while a blue-scaled and four-eyed waitress precariously balanced their appetizers onto the stone-washed wood.

"That's a plate of mountain-shrimp and watercress soup," She said, tongue sticking out in concentration. "Redcheese in sage and acorn, almond and chestnut slices in a redcurrant preserve. Your main courses will be along shortly."

They watched her bustle away back through limb-teaming aisles. A hefty specimen of male loosed a heavy guffaw and accosted her briefly, sat her atop his knee and invited her for a moment's dalliance sharing his companion's beers. Seydon listened to the laughter. Another party-popper further back down their booth-row burst and vented a hailstorm of whizzbangs and streamers onto his shoulders. Umpteenth giggles sounded, thoroughly pleased with their mischief.

Seydon picked a paper weed out of his hair. "If you're needing someplace in the Sanctum to strike out from, there's enough private land to make a go of it. ...That said, I have to ask: how bad is the Inner Core. I've... had a few folks venture that way. They haven't made it home yet."

[member="Mia Monroe"]

 

[Lina Djo]

Mia met his gaze, grey eyes regarding golden as she tried to read what he already knew. "Bad." came her response finally. "I died there, Ordo was posessed, and Mand'alor Skirata died in a foolish battle to avenge me and get Ordo back. Those that don't make it back are one of three things; Still fighting, dead, or no longer who you though they were. The Jedi have lost a lot of souls in this battle, padawans and masters alike have had their wills broken and minds brainwashed."

She looked down at her food, pushing it about the plate, her appetite suddenly lost, the more she found herself drifting back to what she'd seen, what she'd heard. All that she knew to be true. This was not an enemy to be brought down easily, and it was not one that would be sated with simply devouring the Republic. She looked back up at Seydon, head tilting slightly. Why would he ask such a question?

....and they have Rosa Gunn.

"Feth." she breathed. "Whatever folks you've got missing, you better go and get."