Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Where Lanterns Hide the Blade


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The sun whispered its last breath in the form of a streak of orange and pink across Thule’s horizon, the amber glow slipping behind the towers and temples like a final breath before nightfall. Lanterns flickered to life one by one, swaying gently in the harbor breeze, their reflections shimmering across puddles left by the afternoon rain.

Niijima Izumi walked the winding streets in silence. Her black silk kimono, embroidered with crimson plum blossoms, caught the dim glow as if carrying the remnants of sunset upon its folds. Beneath the wide sash of her obi rested the weight of twin sword, hidden, yet never forgotten. Every step she took was balanced between grace and vigilance.

To the regular people of the world, she might have seemed no more than a performer returning from rehearsal; a geisha in red and black, her hair pinned elegantly, her face serene. But her hands, still raw from the day’s training, told another story.

Thule did not look kindly upon women who bore the way of the sword. By day, she practiced in secret; discipline, breath, resolve. By night, she entertained nobles and travelers alike, her shamisen and sake cups as deft in her hands as her blades. The contrast had long ceased to trouble her; she had come to see both lives as mirrors of the same truth.

“Rectitude. Courage. Benevolence. Respect. Honesty. Honor. Loyalty.”

The seven pillars of the bushido code were her quiet prayer, her hidden armor. They were not bound to gender, nor to recognition. They lived within every choice she made; each cut of the blade, each word she spoke in delicate conversation.

As she reached the lantern-lit alley, the sounds of laughter and clinking cups pulled her from thought. The warmth of the izakaya, the only one in Thule that welcomed both travelers and wanderers alike, allowed her somewhat chilled body and heart some warmth.

She hesitated at the threshold. To enter was to become the geisha once more, the smiling face, the soft laughter, the melody on stage. Yet beneath the silk and the song, the swordswoman remained, unyielding, unseen, but ever present.

Niijima Izumi exhaled softly, smoothing the front of her kimono. “Even in stillness,” she thought, recalling her master’s words, “the blade must not sleep.”

With that, she stepped inside; the scent of sake and grilled fish meeting her like an old friend, the glow of paper lanterns catching the red blossoms at her hem as the door closed behind her.

 
After the battle on Takodana, Kurayami found himself needing a place to lay low for a bit. Letting Sidonia know that he was en route to Thule, he obtained permission to land and decompress from a time. Today he donned no armor or helmet as he wandered the street, wearing only a pair of simple balck cargo slacks with first class Corellian bloodstripes displayes, a grey shirt, and worn black leather flight jacket bearing a faded emblem of 'Aquila' Squadron. If any even remembered the mercenary group he would be amazed, with how old they were. Holstered on either hip was a mdified SE-44C heavy blaster pistol, and a lightsaber clipped behind the left holster, mostly out of sight.

Right now he was scanning the streets with his cybernetic eye, looking for a bar to stop in at and grab a drink. Sometimes it was a little difficult to ignore the sheer amount of data that was pouring through the implant. Thanks to the Holonet connection it was constantly updating the profile of every person scanned. Eventually it pinged a nearby bar with a hot spring. Okay, well he wasn't sure about making use of the hot spring, but good to know he supposed. Angling that direction he stepped up to the entryway.

Pausing as he reached the entry as a young woman was currently waiting to enter. Psyching herself up of some such. He glanced at her, giving her a quick once over as she disappeared over the threshold, following soon after. Of course there was the security checks which were always fun, but once he got the okay he stepped inside and headed to the bar taking a seat at the high-top. "Namana liquor. And keep 'em comin'." The request was short and to the point, but quickly filled, when a pint glass was slid over to him of the sweet liquid, which was quickly downed and slid back for a refill. The second was going to be sipped at much more slowly.

Now it was time to see what the people of Thule were like day to day.

Niijima Izumi Niijima Izumi
 

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One of the workers at the establishment ushered her to an empty corner table. The entire building was warm, with a small fire contributing to the warmth in one corner. Chatter between the patrons filled the room, giving the stark contrast between the quietness of the outside. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath as she adjusted to the chatter and activity. The waiter brought her a cup of hot tea, for which she accepted with a curt nod. Izumi whispered her order in a low breath. "A hot sake please..." her voice was low enough to go unnoticed above the hustle and bustle of those around her but loud enough for the waiter to hear her. The man nodded his head, bowing to her.

From where she was seated, her existence was somewhat hidden, allowing her to survey the entire room while going unnoticed. As her golden brown hues rested on the stranger who had apparently entered the place after her, Izumi couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. Everything about the man caught her attention, some more outlandishly so than others. His appearance was definitely that which would see head's turn, and that was exactly what garnered as the others noticed him. Her eyes quietly surveyed him as he sat down, calling out his order. She imagined that he was at least some kind of warrior of sorts, if the weapons on him were not obvious sign enough. Izumi merely rested on him for a moment, before turning her attention to the waiter who now returned with a ceramic bowl of hot water. Inside the bowl of water, he placed a small bottle of sake, allowing almost half of the bottle to rest in the water.

This was the traditional way to serve hot sake. He placed a tiny candle like holster underneath the bowl, allowing consistent flame to keep the contents hot. It was her guilty pleasure, the perfect way for her to unwind.

Izumi nodded her head in appreciation, allowing him to pour her a small cup. A thin whisp of smoke presented itself from the cup, dispersing only inches from her face. The woman extended her hand, her fingers delicately wrapped around the porcelain. She loved hot sake, drinking it even on the hottest days. It provided her with comfort and warmth, where comfort and warmth were sought and not attained. Her lips touched the cup lightly, and in one smooth action, she threw her head back, allowing the contents of the cup to glide down her throat. The heat first reached the back of her throat, her body shuddering at the suddenness. As the liquid made its way to her stomach, she could feel the warmth light a flame from within.

She sighed happily, closing her eyes once more to allow the liquid to touch all her senses.

 
He'd always had a good sense of when people were watching him, though tonight it was admittedly a bit harder to pick out a single person from the crowd. Kurayami had no doubt that a man who had literal glowing scars spiderwebbing across his shaved head that intertwined with innumerable other scars, two deep gouges over his one remaining organic eye, and an obvious cybernetic implant replacing the other eye...yeah, it draws attention and whispers of what happened. He couldn't help but smirk and chuckle slightly to himself as he noticed when people did stare a beat too long. Those were the ones who always looked away as if ashamed for being curious. Yet he didn't hold any animosity or anger towards those who had genuine curiosity.

One such person whom he took note of happened to be the young woman whom had been paused in front of him when he got to the door. From where she was seated he took it that she was a regular or perhaps that was a reserved table. He noted a hint of something that felt different about her. Force potential perhaps? In closely crowded places it could be hard to tell, even for senses as well honed as his own. But it was something he contemplated as he took a sip of his drink, turning his gaze more fully towards where she sat. Waving over the bartender he asked simply, "Tell me what you know of the woman in that booth there." His tone was low enough so as to be kept between just the two of them when the answer came from the barkeep. "I know she is a regular and sits there often sir. I know nothing more of her." "Of course. I don't need a name, but anything else?" "She keeps mostly to herself." Clearly, the barkeep either knew more and was keeping the information close to the chest, or simply was unaware. Kurayami slid a low value cred chip across the bar and stood, making his way over to the young woman's table.

"Evening miss, if this seat isn't take, I'd like to talk to you. Noticed you were one of the many who seemed...how do I put this...interested in, confused by....or any one of a thousand other descriptors by my physical appearance. I'd rather not talk about that whole incident, but if you really want to know I can give you a short version I suppose." He flashed a quick grin extending his hand. "Name's Kurayami Bloodborn by the way."

Niijima Izumi Niijima Izumi
 

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For the brief moment before the sake settled in her system, she had been lost in her own world, one filled with the pungent scent of fermented rice and alcohol, and it was a moment of pure bliss. To call her an alcoholic was perhaps too strong of a descriptor, for she enjoyed her drinks but not to the extent where enjoyment crossed the line to habit. In fact, she had made it a point for it not to, for her father's teachings would always ring in her ears. It was not in the samurai code to allow indulgence to take over one's senses after all. She opened her eyes, allowing the light of her surroundings to snap her back to reality, putting her now empty cup down on the table once more.

Before she could pour herself another cup though, the man she had been quietly observing was making his way towards her with his cup in hand. Had she been too obvious in her staring? This couldn't be the case, she mused, seeing as Izumi prided herself in being discreet. It was the way of the samurai, the ability to be discreet. As the man approached her, he had asked if he could take the seat opposite her. She merely nodded her head, gesturing with her arm that the seat was indeed open for him to take. His words would then make her blush, a hint of pink danced across her otherwise pale face. She had failed to be discreet after all.

Clearing her throat, she bought herself some time before replying, thinking of the best way to approach a rather confrontational first encounter. "I apologize if my gaze came off rude or direct, for I didn't mean for it to be..." her voice was again a low whisper, melodic and pitch but lacking in decibel. "Izumi...Niijima Izumi," she continued, bowing her head as she introduced herself. The stranger had said his name was Kurayami, an interesting name that hinted of Thule origin, at least from the sounds of it. But she wasn't much of a world traveler, at least not by her own will, and from the way he dressed and carried himself, he was definitely a foreigner to these parts.

Perhaps he hailed from a nearby land?

Even as a geisha she never really traveled outside of Thule. There were times her services would be requested by foreign diplomats but all within the land of Thule. She would love to travel the world, to see sights and take in cultures unknown to her. A few minutes would pass before she spoke again, realizing she had rudely dismissed the important parts of Kurayami's words. "If you wouldn't mind, I would love to know..." her face and voice didn't reflect this interest at all. In fact, she was a stoic woman, one with few expressions. It was how she maneuvered the world, for then people wouldn't be able to tell how she thought and felt. "...only if you're comfortable, of course."

 

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