Ask Cloud Nine

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan's head turned just slightly to the side, the sound of his footsteps drawing his attention before he showed himself at the end of the hall. He continued to play, unbothered, the throaty hum and twang of strings reverberating in the closed space alongside their echoes in the Force. He turned another page.

It was only when Emryc spoke up that he turned slowly to look at him. The other man smelled of of sweat and fighting, though without the scents of iron and death that usually accompanied it. It drew Morgan's attention more than his voice, eyes narrowing slightly along with a brief flaring of the nostrils, but that wasn't something he needed to hear.

A smile crossed his face for a moment, just a little one that tugged at the corner of his lips before they parted.
"It was taught to me. Would you like to hear the words, soldier boy?"

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc didn’t miss that little flare of the nostrils and he had to bite back from grinning. It was his ship, after all, he had liberty to smell however he pleased. Morgan’s words resonated within his mind. Taught to him? By his demon teacher, perhaps? He noticed Morgan didn’t elaborate about the teacher earlier and he didn’t want to waste time probing again.

“Demoted from scholar to soldier boy, eh?” He said with mild amusement dancing in his eyes. Emryc almost wanted to find cause to make the man smile, if for no reason than to see those pointed fangs that prodded his curiosity. He didn’t let his gaze shift, keeping it trained on the golden eyes or off him entirely.

“Sing away,” He said simply, turning his attention away to lean his back against the wall in the hallway. He pulled out a cigarra and placed it between his lips before lighting it, staring up at the ceiling as his gaze followed the trail of smoke.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

MUSIC​

The young Sith flashed bright smile, equal parts cheerful and amused. "When you held a book you were a scholar. A weapon, a soldier. Is this not so?" he asked playfully, turning back to look down a moment at his instrument and resetting his fingers before he began to play again.

In the Force, Morgan's presence could best be described as storm clouds, slowly swirling around themselves. As he began to strum again the Force joined in, points of light and motion dancing behind the clouds. He began to sing, out loud this time, and the effect only intensified. Morgan sang and the Force sang along with him, a strange and distant sound all its own.

"Leaves from from the vine, falling so slow. Like fragile, tiny shells, drifting in the foam. Little soldier boy, come marching home. Brave soldier boy, comes marching home."

The traces of each emotion in the words flickered across his face like echoes of what the Force betrayed, but the real soul was in his voice. It rang with feeling and sorrow, reverberating off the metal walls of the ship. It weaved smoothly through the relatively simple notes of the lullaby with weight, not simple repetition. Unless he was interrupted again he'd continue through the ancient lullaby from a bygone age until the very last line. Emryc asked nicely, so he shall receive.

"Little soldier boy, thought he could soar. Brave soldier boy, fallen in the war. My little soldier boy, I need you home. Brave soldier boy, come marching home."

Almost abruptly as the final note was played the sound stopped, leaving them with only the sounds of the ship around them. Morgan looked steadfastly at the open book in front of him, silent after his song. With a flick of the Force he turned a page.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc considered the distinction for the separation of soldier and scholar before he grumbled a response, “My copy of Clone Wars: Consolidated Volumes 2-5 makes for a rather hefty weapon,” Though a joke, it was about as deadpan of a delivery as possible before he went back to smoking.

Eyes remained on the ceiling as Morgan vocalized and played the song, the tendrils of smoke slowly traveling up and swirling into the air. It was clear he was listening, not moving a muscle except to draw from the cigarra and send the smoke from his lips and nose.

He heard the words soldier boy a few times and had to keep from grinning. The instrument and song combined into perfect harmony, a soothing salve to spread over his thoughts. It took him back through time, back to an age long before now, the emotions seeping into the song from Morgan letting himself sink into the music. It was cathartic in its own way for them both and Emryc shared in it.

The silence that came afterwards was almost cruel and jarring, yanking Emryc back to the present. He hung onto the words - the words he had never heard before, only the tune. It was that much more perfect and he understood why it survived so long and was taught for generations. His head bubbled with questions - Was his teacher affiliated with Drast? Had there been someone that had known someone from a royal line? Emryc kept the thoughts to himself as he blew out more smoke, still not glancing over as Morgan returned to his book.

A Sith that was also a musician. He had truly seen it all.

“For all the times we as Sith will have to break and rebuild ourselves,” He said quietly while still glancing up, “Don’t break that part of you, Nightingale.”
He said nothing more as he turned and walked towards the refresher for that much needed shower, smoke trailing behind him.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

The young man's expression was blank as he looked at the book. Blank as Emryc said what he said and turned to walk off to the refresher. Only when he was gone and couldn't see did Morgan crack a smile, brilliant and joyful as the morning sun. Nightingale, was he? Just a blackbird singing in the dead of night. At least he'd coaxed a joke out of the pointy-eared stoic.

"Ah, never that. Only tempered, cheri, I promise you that," he whispered toward the book. He laid the hallikset down in his lap with the neck resting across his right shoulder. His smile turned sad for a moment, then slipped away from his face. With a flick of the Force and a turn of his head the book gently closed, resting against the wall and the nest he'd made for it. He sighed softly and with a weary energy moved the hallikset off and to lean between the floor and the corner made by the couch and wall.

Morgan pulled one of the nest-blankets up and over himself to the waist, folded his arms over his chest, and closed his eyes. Not sleeping, but still and silent at rest. They had much work ahead of them and, for now, this felt best.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

The night had passed with Emryc doing his prayers, meditating and then finally sleeping. He began the morning the same way before training for a few hours, eating, showering. He was methodical by nature, everything on a strict schedule and routine. There were clear patterns to his days and everything was by the minute, all of it a habit from his life on the space station.

It was afternoon by the time he was dressed in civilian clothing and making his way towards the cockpit. He walked by and spotted Morgan in the common area again. Emryc simply gave a jut of his chin in greeting before he continued on to the cockpit. They would jump out of hyperspace within moments and he would have to take over manually.

Emryc had read up on the planet in question, never having traveled to it before. There was a sudden lurch as they kicked out of hyperspace and he switched over to manual control. He could see the planet in the distance, the surrounding atmosphere teeming with ships from all over the galaxy. Emryc leaned forward, eyes widening at the variety he saw, glancing over models that looked far more advanced than anything he had seen before.

"Anywhere in particular I'm supposed to land?" He called out to his passenger.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

By the time Emryc had emerged from his room for the final time Morgan had similarly gone through his own set of daily routines. His presence was marked by something that smelled faintly of earthy herbs and bright citrus that wafted through the air wherever he was. He'd changed from the previous day's clothes into an entirely different set of clothes and boots from his crate. Somehow, combined with the addition of the DT-29 blaster slung on a hanging holster he looked like just another spacer on Terminus. Especially the lopsided grin. That was a classic detail.

He hummed idly to himself, trilling his way up and down chords as went through his datapad. He didn't look as Emryc called from the cockpit, but he did respond by rattling off a string of coordinates. "The Black Betty spaceport, dock E4. Dante," he snapped his fingers sharpish and walked toward the cockpit, the little droid floating up ahead of him to interface with the communications console.


"He'll send an encrypted code ahead to let them know we're here. How do you feel about leaving your ship behind under watch?"

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc’s keen ears picked up the humming as he gazed ahead. The constant humming and singing was something that would miss on his ship when they parted ways, and he mused on installing some extra speakers later to have more melodies about. He almost missed what Morgan said, quickly snapping back to the present. With the droid doing its work, he simply punched the details into the navicomputer and followed the path to the appropriate port.

Morgan was in the cockpit by the time he asked Emryc the question about leaving the ship behind. He didn’t answer, but the perceptive Firrerreo would pick up the tightening of the jaw and flaring of the nostrils, along with the tightening of his grip on the gear. Emryc very seldom displayed emotions, but a flurry of them were on full display at the thought of leaving the ship behind. No words were uttered.

The ship arrived at dock E4 and Emryc switched off the engine. He rose from his seat and made his way out, stepping into the port. A quick glance showed him a multitude of species from all over the galaxy with ships from everywhere. It was a bustling hub of activity and it was almost overwhelming.

Emryc glanced back at his ship for longer than needed before he allowed Morgan to lead the way. The port was incredibly lively - bars, restaurants and countless shops dotted every side. Emryc glanced around, his pace slower than it should have been as he eyed a series of shops that sold top shelf imported liquor.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Ah, well, that series of expressions wasn't particularly reassuring. Emryc hadn't actually complained but he may as well have. At least he seemed to go along with it. Morgan stepped down the ramp just behind Emryc with Dante in tow carrying the repacked metal crate. He looked around as they left the hangar, pausing nearly as long as the other Sith before looking at the Dante. The little droid whirred and affirmative and Morgan nodded before turning back around.

Terminus was as busy as he remembered. More than anywhere else in the galaxy this was the place you could find just about any kind of person off on some kind of adventure. No one asked questions here much, which meant business could go just as- What was Emryc staring at?

Morgan turned around to look and followed his gaze to the shops. Ah. He looked down at his datapad for a moment and then stepped back up Emryc, getting rather close to speak quietly a few inches from his left hair.

"I'll indulge a little of your curiosity if you pick a good one," he said softly, then took a retreating step back with a cheeky grin on his face. A cigarra slipped from somewhere in his jacket and he lit it, turning back to look down at his datapad for a moment.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc was entirely distracted when Morgan leaned in close to speak. The only hint that he had been caught off guard was a series of rapid blinks, though he didn’t turn to look at the other man even after he had stepped back. His gaze remained on a particular shop.

“If you insist,” He said dryly after a moment, walking towards said shop. It was a whiskey bar and it had imports from all over the galaxy. Emryc took a seat at a table, calling a droid over for the menu. He balked at the prices, but it would be worth it. He could only afford one glass and it arrived a moment later.

Emryc stared at the whiskey, picking it up to sniff the rather horrible smell. He glanced up at Morgan, “Aged since 30 ABY, extracted from an old First Order base…” He took a sip and tried to keep a straight face, swallowing it as if it were enjoyable while it completely ravaged his throat. Emryc blinked a few times before sliding the glass over for Morgan to try. It was definitely an acquired taste and far different from the range of whiskeys he had tried so far.

He could only hope the strong smell alone wouldn’t make Morgan pass out...

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan sauntered smoothly after and slipped into a seat opposite Emryc, ashing his cigarra in a tray on the table. When the whiskey arrived he stared at it, a stare that only intensified as the other man elaborated on the the origin. The story was certainly kind of interesting, but... Why, though?

For a solid couple of seconds he didn't pick it up. To his eyes it had a strange sheen on it. He was of the opinion aging doesn't count if it's under a pile of blasted rubble, and the smell was certainly unique. The problem here, however, wasn't the smell. Frankly Morgan had smelled worse things than poorly aged whiskey.

He took the glass in in hand and raised it to his lips to take a sip and almost immediately as it hit his tongue his expression turned sour. It burned less than what they had on Firrerre, but the taste was truly foul.

"Eugh. That is- no. Absolutely not. This- just- this doesn't count." The glass was returned to the table and slid back over while Morgan shook is head and took a drag on his cigarra in an attempt to remove the taste. Just terrible. The menu was snatched up and looked at for himself. His face slipped into something blank for a moment before he ordered a glass of something.

He was rather surprised they had it at all, really. But after all, this was Terminus. Before a long a glass of glimmering, gold-amber liquid was placed before him. This one he sipped eagerly, humming softly in appreciation, before offering it to Emryc with a small smile, mischief glimmering behind those sunny eyes of his.

"Panatha Red Sun. Very traditional." A notably rare whiskey with notes of citrus and chili and a slight sourness. Also notably strong by human standards, with a burn to match. At least it was a pleasant sensation. For Morgan, anyway.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc’s jaw shifted slightly to the right as he actively tried to keep back a very blatant smile that threatened to break through. Morgan’s reaction to the drink was better than he could have expected. Emryc simply shook his head in disagreement, picking up the glass to continue sipping on it alone. It tasted vaguely like liquid rocket propellant mixed with decayed old dead body. Just lovely.

He watched as Morgan’s order arrived and the man had a rather confident air about his choice. His golden eyes glinted and Emryc’s own only offered a skeptical gaze in return. Emryc watched him take a sip first before it came over his way. It certainly smelled milder than the other drink which made it more approachable.

Emryc took a sip and it was okay for about a second. As it went down his throat, it felt as if flames had been ignited and he began to cough out of the blue. After a bit of a fit, he slammed a fist against his own chest before scowling at Morgan. Without a word, the cigarra was plucked from his lips and floated over for Emryc to snatch from the air and draw from it to kill the lingering taste.

He exhaled smoke as he spoke, “That tastes like something only your demon teacher can enjoy.”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Emryc's reaction to the Panathan whiskey turned Morgan's smile into soft, amused laughter. Pulling a scowl from the other man was even better than he'd hoped. Such a drink wasn't usually consumed by humans, after all, though he had to give him credit for not simply choking on it.

"Aha, it is one thing my teacher drinks, but not his favourite. Your whiskey was terrible but the choice was good, so..." He trailed off a moment to retrieve another cigarra since Emryc had swiped his and lit it yet again. He sipped at his alien whiskey and took a drag before speaking again.

"I think that's worth two questions, if you feel like asking. We have a little time." Another sip of the drink before he leaned back a little into his chair, though still with that vaguely military balance and straightness in the spine. Habit from training that was long kept. He may not have been raised in a soldier factory but he was taught similar things all the same.

Morgan did hope he came up with good questions if he bothered. About the mission, or himself, or anything really. Answering would be a fun game on its own. Just so long as he didn't ask about his teacher again. On that he would always give the same answer.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Even the laugh was a gentle trill that carried with it melody, and Emryc found his scowl softening in turn. He quietly smoked for a moment as Morgan spoke, his gaze on the whiskey next to him that was half finished. Two questions. He thought for a moment, the only sounds around them the bustling of people and the echoes of Life Day music. The air was cheerful all around and people were carrying around large bags of gifts to share with families.

He drew from the cigarra again before exhaling slowly till he finally turned to look at Morgan again. Unlike Morgan, he didn’t entirely ease into his seat, but he did shift slightly closer.

“Give me answers to two questions you wish I wouldn’t ask,” He muttered quietly as he reached for the First Order whiskey that was becoming more tolerable with each sip.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Slender fingers tippity-tapped atop the table, drumming the beat played by a little drummer boy. Some old Life Day song that flew through his head as he watched and listened to the festivities around him. Morgan's head tilted toward the young man across the table when he finally spoke again. An amused eyebrow raised.

"That is not a question," he replied, then looked off briefly into the distance. Perhaps this too could be fun. Besides, it might distract him from leaving his ship behind. That's why Morgan but doing this at all. He was silent for many seconds before he spoke again.

"'To honor my family' and 'We do not serve.'" He ended up giving him answers to unspoken questions but that didn't mean he had to make them clear or easy to decipher. That really would be no fun at all. He turned back to look at Emryc, eyes set back in that hawk-like sharpness when they first met for a moment before shifting into a dry smile. "Now, what are your two questions?"

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc watched him and sipped from his whiskey as Morgan answered, turning the questions back around on him. He thought for a moment, looking ahead beyond Morgan at an alien family plodding along with their ten children. He ashed the cigarra before drawing from it again, eyes narrowing just the slightest bit.

“Perhaps… why have you chosen the path you have and…” He finished up his drink before putting the glass down, staring at Morgan with mild amusement, “What’s a motto you've read in a history book that stuck with you?” He rose from his seat then, deciding that one bad whiskey worth an arm and leg was enough for him. He pointedly chose to ignore that nag at the back of his mind of the potential implications of Morgan's answers.

Emryc stuffed his hands into his pockets as he began to walk away from the shop, “Let’s go find this ship of yours,” He said as he gazed ahead.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan finished off his own drink while Emryc pondered, the glass clacking gently on the tabletop. He considered the questions of the Sith for an extra second and idly blowing smoke rings in the intervening quiet between them. When Emryc stood to go he rose up with him and stepped away from the shop, leaving his half-smoked cigarra behind in the ashtray. He didn't answer his questions, but he did confirm that Emryc was not just another churned out soldier. At the very least he was good at guessing games. Or close enough, anyway.

"Yes, let's," he replied while he pulled out his datapad again to check some detail or other- as well as the planetary time- back with Dante in tow. The path away from the shops and stalls lead them through more crowds and streets, turning the corner occasionally, but their end goal was a hangar section on the opposite end of the one they'd landed at. The spaceport was quite large and often busy, which resulted in exiting it entirely before wandering around being faster than trying to travel through the piecemeal guts of the complex.

Morgan was quite quiet during the trip other than the occasional soft humming to himself for just seconds at a time. He was pensive, going over mission details and contacts in his head and, though he was still paying attention to his surroundings and where he was going he was slipping steadily into work mode.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

The rest of the walk was uneventful, though he did note the humming that followed. Emryc was getting quite used to having it around, and it somehow helped keep his head even clearer than usual. He walked to the designated docking bay, seeing a ship in the distance with the Lady Lucy written on the side. His eyes widened as he spotted it.

“It really is a Kazellis class…” He said barely above a whisper, fully not having believed Morgan at first. He could only stare at the sleek design and the weapon systems that were outfitted along the elegantly crafted edges. Emryc had the vague look of someone that was smitten upon setting his gaze on another person.

“And it’s not...old…” He mumbled as he walked around it. He looked at Morgan, “This is it? This is the ship?”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

The moment the two Sith passed through the entrance to the docking bay with the Lady Lucy inside Morgan's eyes moved over to look at the sealed entrance to the down landing ramp, then over to look at Emryc. The other man seemed downright smitten by the vessel and a small smirk flashed across his face. He also had a great appreciation for the Kazellis class of ships, though he didn't have one for himself. It was almost a shame to fly one in the present context.

"The very one," he confirmed in a matter-of-fact tone, an echo of the military clip back on the station. He looked back up at the landing ramp, eyes sharp as a pair of gilded daggers. He gave a small nod of his head.

"Sirius."

Down from the ramp stepped a man with a small smirk, confident and sure. He was dressed in spacer's leathers that would otherwise allow him to blend in, if not for the way he held his hands at his hips drawing back his jacket, revealing a black metal lightsaber and an array of vibroknives concealed within.

"Morgan. Enjoying the scenery?" the man asked with an unsubtle look toward Emryc.

"Of course. They sell foreign razors in the marketplace. Surprisingly sharp." Sirius nodded in response and stepped down the ramp followed by a pair of what looked like rifle armed mercenaries, a Nikto and a Falleen. "The lady's yours. Good luck."
Sirius waved his hand and he and his guards made to leave. Morgan kept his eyes on them the entire time, through the conversation and after, not giving them a single second out of his sight.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc barely paid attention to the words around him, glancing over as ‘Sirius’ walked out and stared at him. He heard the rest of the conversation, his gaze flickering over to the lightsaber and arsenal of weapons the man carried. Morgan’s words sounded like some sort of vague code, and Emryc had to bite back from rolling his eyes.

He didn’t miss the way Morgan watched the man till he and the guard both left - clearly there was no love lost there. He said nothing about it, turning his focus back to the ship. Emryc was in awe as he watched the ramp lower lower for them to step in. He walked in and inspected the ship thoroughly, pausing to admire every little detail.

It took a few minutes to realize he was delaying them. He straightened up and looked at Morgan with a blank expression, “Ready when you are,” He said, glancing over towards the cockpit. Morgan had acquired the ship and it was only fair that he got to pilot it.

@Mr. Teatime