When You're Up Against the Setting Sun (Ket)

[Coryth Elaris]

The call woke Coryth from her sleep. Fumbling around she managed to wrap her fingers around her com link and answered it most groggily. "If you're not dead, dying, or bleeding out already, you will be before this call is over... So make damn sure it's worth it." Cory was in no way a morning person, and right now, whoever was on the other side of that com, was the target of her crankiness, in all it's redheaded glory.

"Well, I was going to ask how you were, but I think you answered that sufficiently." A familiar voice boomed.

For a moment, Coryth could only rub at sleepy eyes, trying to figure out who exactly needed their butt whooped this morning. Then it dawned on her, "Aylee? The hell woman, it's been what? Ten years?"

"Yeah something like that.... Last time wasn't .."

"You shot me." Deadpanned, and completely emotionless.

"Only a little .... It wasn't personal or anything. To be fair, I was trying to save your life."

"Shot me. You shot me to save my life... Right, and I'm guessing you've got some beachfront property to sell me on Tatooine.."

"I'm sorry! How many times do I have to say it before you believe me? Now, can we get past the point where you are still mad at me for that? Cause ... I may need your help."

Coryth sighed, one thing that she could never ignore was a plea for help. Even if it had been a good ten years and she wasn't sure she could trust Aylee's intentions these days... She'd given her word back then, and like it or not she was bound to those words, and wasn't about to break the promise she'd made to her former partner in crime. "I suppose I still owe you that favor, just don't expect me to be happy about it." For now, she could put aside that little detail, and the next hour was spent discussing why Coryth needed to come back to Coruscant.

Coruscant, the last fething place I ever wanted to be.... A sigh came from the little redhead as she pulled the tattered and worn grey cloak tighter around her body, If not for Aylee I'd never have come back at all. A plain black tank top worn under her cloak, left her scars exposed for all to see. The deep crisscrossing scars wove a most intricate crosshatch pattern across her skin, and much of her arms, lefts, hands, and feet. Her face fortunately had been spared that fate.

Right now, in the lower levels her eyes flicked back and forth, watching for the slightest signs of trouble, for she knew it was bound to come. With care withdrew her abilities into herself, making her force signature as small as possible, in hopes of avoiding any confrontation with Sith. Exhaling sharply, she finally spotted the old diner she was to meet Aylee in. With some manner of luck, she could get in, out, and on with life, with no complications. But that would be some level of extraordinary luck that she'd never before known.

[member="Ket Van-Derveld"]

 

[Ket Van-Derveld]

Misery. Depression. Apathy.

These were just some of the things that floated across the fragile mind of Ket Van-Derveld. Truly, he was a broken and aimless man. He'd fought wars, he'd killed, maimed and gutted countless thousands. Yet it seemed as if there was a hole in his heart. And no amount of killing, stealing, or drinking could ever seem to fill it. Like squared pegs trying their hand at hammering into a round hole, nothing quite fit. He felt alone, worthless, and truly, he felt as if there was nothing that could be done about it. Oh, sure, he had money. Through dealings with [member="Rave Merrill"], [member="Jared Ovmar"], and [member="Marek Starchaser"], he had more credits than he'd ever need. [member="Curupira Hawk"] provided him with the pleasurable distraction of female companionship that could never be equaled. His own family had found their own way through the woodwork, finding various ways to cheat death itself and end up in this time, this future was their present. Yet, he felt as if it was all for nothing.

He was a broken man, a host to so much pain, so much anger and hatred, that he'd come full circle, wondering if it was all worth it. He had knowledge within the Force to the point that if given the opportunity, he could lay waste to entire factions, systems, planets. He could have ruled this galaxy with a Mandalorian Iron grip, yet, he didn't act on it. Those who dwelled on this incarnation of the galaxy were mere plankton to be fed upon, yet he did not pursue it. He could have annihilated the Jedi Order with but a few well placed thoughts and a little bit of elbow grease, but he never did. It left him with a question that plagued him like an illness that would never give up.

What was the point of having absolute power if there was no reason worth using it?

And so he walked quietly down the streets of the undercity of Coruscant. The ground level, if you will, where the upper atmosphere was nothing but bleak smog. Where night was nearly perpetual, and the best you could hope for was a dusky overcast bright enough to see your own hands in front of your face. He'd left his new ship in capable hands, and his skycar was docked in a most secure facility, yet, he didn't care anymore. He was garbed in his leather pants and boots, hi gauntlets hidden under the sleeves of a white dress shirt that hung untucked over his waist, and a long terentatek leather coat that nearly kissed the soles of his boots with each step.

And so his footsteps thudded among the masses until he landed at a rather mangy and ill kept dive, a greasy spoon type of diner where no one asked questions so long as you paid, up front. Entering, he took a seat in a booth near the back, and waited until a serving droid made it's way to him.

"Hey there, w-w-w-what can I g-g-g-get ya, handsome-me-me."

He sighed lightly, tossed about 15 credits on the table, and spoke lowly.

"Cup of stimcaf. Order of fried eggs and bacon, toast on the side."

And with that, he brought his right hand up to his face, thumb and index massaging the bridge of his nose as sapphire eyes closed for a few, fleeting moments of peace.



[member="Coryth Elaris"]