Ask Cloud Nine

[Darth Stolas]

The door to the hangar shut and Morgan turned on his heels to follow Emryc up the ramp with his droid behind. He looked around the open space of the ship. The other man had wandered off to look over the ship so Morgan had Dante take the crate to the captain's quarters, the soft thump of its weight dropping echoing into the hall. Slowly the young Sith looked around the space, a space someone else had been in until fairly recently. He sighed softly, then stretched his arms upward toward the ceiling, his fingers brushing the ceiling.

When Emryc was done looking over the ship he'd find Morgan sitting on the crew couch burning through another cigarra with an ashtray from his crate placed on the table. The young Sith looked from his datapad and tapped ash into the tray and nodded, leaving the cigarra behind.

"My turn now, huh?" he asked rhetorically, standing and walking into the cockpit. He sank into the pilot's chair, pleased with the overall size and thus comfort for someone his height. Then a button and switch at a time he went through the startup sequence for the ship. It came alive around them, the sound of the engine reverberating through the walls for a moment before the dampers brought down the sound. He guided the ship into takeoff out of the hangar, lifting off up, up and away from Terminus.

And they'd only just gotten there. Dante plugged in a series of hyperspace coordinates into the navicomputer and the ship did the rest, guiding him on an exit vector. Morgan briefly checked to make sure Emryc was seated before reaching over to pull the an elegantly designed lever to trigger the transition into hyperspace. The ship launched forward, the stars stretching and warping in silver-white lines across the viewscreen and then, for the second time in two days, they catapulted to lightspeed.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

He joined Morgan in the cockpit, eyes scanning over the navicomputer and various terminal controls. The design was sleek and much more advanced than what he was used to, but he could follow it easy enough. He silently mused about days when he could be wealthy enough to procure his own ship for himself, when he finally wouldn’t have to sign it in and hand it off to the space station after each mission. Emryc fixed his gaze ahead as they jumped into hyperspace, the lurch barely noticeable as a testament to the superior ship design.

Emryc watched the vortex of hyperspace for just a few minutes before he unbuckled himself and left the cockpit to situate himself. He always packed light, and it took only a moment to find the crew bunks next to the captain’s cabin. He eyed the bunk beds, suddenly reminded of his bunk back on the station. He took the time to unpack and organize his things before he plopped down on the lower bunk. He didn’t bother closing the door.

He had pulled out a comic issue on the Adventures of Preef Callo, sitting up against a pillow on the bed as he read it. He had one foot over the other, lazily swinging them side to side as he did so. The ship was much quieter than his own, and the silence was almost uncomfortable.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan went through the different controls, adjusting them meticulously one way or another in silence while Dante transferred data to and from the ship's computer. A couple minutes after Emryc left the cockpit the young Sith stepped out himself and headed to the captain's cabin to go through his crate of things. The noise of various materials being shifted and placed down regularly interrupted the otherwise quiet ship. Those really were some impressive dampers, especially considering the age of the design.

The long coat he'd been briefly wearing was slipped off and placed on a wall rack and silence returned for a solid twenty seconds, then boots hit the ground and the rustling of cloth on cloth. Morgan situated himself atop the captain's bed, hallikset cradled gently in his hands. For a short while there was only idle tanging of strings and humming as he made sure it was still tuned after the short trip.

With little more preamble than the sounds slipping into a pattern, Morgan began to play. It was a decidedly different energy than the last, colours of energy and adventure flashing out from beneath the storm clouds that made up the singing nightingale. Undercurrents of melancholy memory and nostalgia swept beneath the song, weighing down the sound and sinking it into the ship itself. Morgan put power into his voice, the cold metal walls of the ship alive in the Force with the tiniest sliver of Morgan himself.

Note by note and line by line, Morgan coloured overtop the history of the ship itself with faint shades all his own. Just like he had on Emryc's. It wasn't even intentional, really. But when he really sang harmony with the Force, emotion ringing out along with voice and string, even the stones remembered just a little.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

He had almost been waiting for it, eyes frozen on a particular panel of Preef shooting a Trandoshan in the face for a solid ten seconds. As if on cue, he heard the strings of the hallikset. And ordered returned, structure returned. He turned the page. His feet no longer erratically moved but now to a rhythm.

Keen ears picked up the music that became a part of the ship, part of the ambiance, bringing everything to life and kickstarting a pause. No words were shared, no thoughts spoken aloud, both within their worlds and yet interweaving simply through presence. Emryc remained where he was, drawn into the comic and the story, his imagination set free with the soundtrack that Morgan provided from the next room over.

It wasn’t till some time later that Emryc finally hopped off the bed and changed into comfortable sweatpants and a hoodie. It was a luxury he wasn’t afforded on the space station and he took advantage of it whenever possible. He stopped by the rations area to grab the healthiest looking snacks he could find before making his way towards the open space around the entry ramp. There was a holoprojector there and he hooked his datapad up to it before walking over to plop down on a seat, kicking his feet up on the table in front of him.

Emryc had his bowl of crunchy snacks as the movie began - a sci fi thriller that he favored. It wasn’t jump scares as much as spooky and eerie, but it certainly gripped attention.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

The song ended and the young man took a deep breath. He set aside his hallikset and set himself back to his feet. He stretched wide and slow, and turned away from the bedroom door out of sight, aware Emryc had moved to the common area. He didn't bother closing the door.

He slipped from his spacer's clothes in the shadow of the room corner and into a set of loose, plain black, very soft long-sleeved pajamas. The trip would be another lengthy one considering the space lanes and there wasn't much reason to wear real pants as far as Morgan was concerned. He turned to look at the bed for several seconds before turning and digging something else of his crate and walking out into the common area.

His footsteps, bare skin on metal, were quiet as a cat's on the forest floor. The young Sith turned to look at what Emryc was playing, decided he didn't actually care what it was, and found his way to the couch. Morgan melted into it, languid and and relaxed, lounging on the side opposite Emryc with his head rested on the cushioned arm, one leg resting on the back of the couch and the other bent on the couch itself just shy of Emryc. He tugged the sleeves of his shirt toward his hands and then crossed his his left over his waist over a small bag of some food or other labeled in Firrerreon.

He popped one of the snacks from the bag into his mouth, a small morsel of spiced and dried meat, and idly watched the holoprojected movie.

"He was asking if you were an idiot. In case you were wondering."

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc didn’t look up as Morgan eased into the couch next to him, nor the way he spread out on it to take up most of the space. He was only an inch or so away from him, claiming the space for himself. Emryc silently popped another snack into his mouth, gaze trained ahead as he watched the woman on the Holo slowly opening a door that led to some stairs down to a basement. He made no move to shift away from Morgan, letting that small gap linger.

He heard Morgan’s words and his mind began to shuffle through what they meant. It took a moment to recall, but he finally did. There was a moment of silence as the stairs creaked, the woman slowly taking step after step. Emryc’s eyes were fixed on the screen, his blinking less frequent than usual.

“I wasn’t wondering,” He said abruptly. The woman continued down, the suspenseful music building up, “What did you tell him?” He asked, deciding to humor Morgan.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan's eyes flicked over the projected screen for a moment, quiet a few seconds as the subtle shadows in the background of the scene shifted. Watching things from a human perspective was strange and interesting.

"You're not just another little soldier boy," he answered, adjusting his position slightly as his eyes narrowed toward the movie. He ate another snack. "Not like most from that station." Morgan's face scrunched a little into a peevish frown, clearly irritated. "Which he already knows. You were on Coruscant, he read your file."

He clicked his tongue, refocused on the movie, and ate another snack. The movie was a decent watch, an opinion Morgan had formed in the span of only a couple minutes. There was some abomination of a monster, creeping here and there in the shadows. It tracked its prey without eyes and fangs like metal daggers. The actions of the woman were played for drama, and it was a little slow by his standards. But it was kind of nice in its own way, even if they didn't know what real monsters looked like.

Well, whatever. Morgan watched it anyway, content where he was for the moment. His leg inched a little closer. He ate another snack.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

The woman’s shriek was enough to make Emryc’s ears twitch just the slightest, but his demeanor was otherwise rather relaxed. Morgan’s words caused the slightest tightening of the jaw, but his gaze was fixed ahead. There it was again - Morgan revealing that he had access to a lot of intel he didn't. The man tossed it around casually as he had with the extra knowledge he had around their mission. And evidently he had enough knowledge to form opinions of the 'soldier boys' aboard the station.

“Clearly you know all there is to know about me,” Emryc said curtly, words laced with frost, as he popped a snack into his mouth. He thought about how Sirius would have been connected to the Eclipse and what other files Morgan had access to. Living the life of a soldier aboard the station meant all his mission logs were on file and every day of his life on the station was documented. If Morgan somehow had access to it all, then so be it.

If Emryc noticed Morgan shifting closer, there was no external indication of it, and he didn’t move away yet again. Silver eyes were on the woman on the screen that appeared to make progressively poorer decisions. It was difficult to judge whether his mind was in the present or elsewhere entirely.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

There he went again, looking into space. Morgan truly had already learned a lot about the other Sith. He watched and listened, poked and prodded this way and that. Testing the waters, so to speak. There was more to learn- Morgan suspected much more- than what he'd found so far. It looked like it was going to be fun.

"Oh, do I? How clear?" he said back, warm heat unbothered by the cold in Emryc's voice. "How can you be so sure what I know or not if you don't ask?" he challenged, turning his head to fully look at Emryc with a cheeky little smirk on his face. The pointy-eared Sith had his curiosity. He was a soldier boy, but also a scholar. He was clearly clever and well spoken. He indulged Morgan's little games without giving in, dancing in circles back and forth, round and round. He liked music, the song of a blackbird singing in the dead of night.

Figuring him out was a long but very entertaining game. Of course he hadn't gone through his files, just the basic stuff. It wouldn't be nearly as fun if Morgan cheated, after all.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc could practically feel Morgan’s gaze on him, and he knew the man was no longer paying attention to the movie. Emryc popped another snack into his mouth, watching as the woman finally met her end in a gruesome way. It was almost satisfying and he found himself rooting for the monster in the scenario.

Emryc was generally rather blunt and to the point. He took in data, parsed through it and extracted the relevant bits. He could tell Morgan was toying with him, and sometimes it was a game he himself initiated. Emryc had questions, several questions, but none would pass through his lips anytime soon. They were threads in his mind that he simply let slip through his fingers, watching them float away. He didn’t chase after them, didn’t shift from his path. He only grasped them if they were directly in front of him and convenient.

“Then I would just be playing your game,” He said at last, shaking the bag of snacks to get the last piece. Emryc liked his little fights, but every once in a while he defended with a blunt shield. Eyes remained on the Holo, waiting to see what would come of the conclusion. He half hoped the monster would simply annihilate everyone.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan gave off a satisfied humming sound after Emryc replied, perhaps not the sort of response he'd expected. Or maybe he did by now? He turned back to the screen. The woman had died, how sad. Easy to predict, a basic pattern. Not at all like the man he was currently sharing a couch with, not at all.

But the best part, Morgan's favourite little detail, was that only he knew the rules of the game. Emryc had to guess piece by piece, and every play he made gave Morgan another piece of the puzzle. No matter how stoic he presented himself the other Sith was no machine. He was, in the end, only human.

"Nonsense. Then you'd lose," he corrected in a teasing and playful tone. He slipped another snack between his lips and chewed on it slowly, thoughtfully. Emryc was out of snacks, if he could even call them that. Some kind of tried vegetable chip? Good, he guessed, but bland by any reasonable standard. He strongly suspected the only reason anything served on the station was even salted was for health reasons.

Morgan held up his own bag of snacks and shook it enticingly underneath the sound of someone dying a horrible death on screen. The words under the Firrerreon were in basic, describing a smoke-dried and seasoned lean meat. Pure animal protein, plus flavourful- but not hot- spices.

"Share with me, soldier boy? A man needs his iron."

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

He could hear the playful tone as Morgan spoke, and Emryc turned to finally glance at him, “Is there an incentive to winning?” He asked, a faint glimmer in his eyes that appeared just for a moment before disappearing again. He looked at the snacks offered with skepticism clear on his face. Emryc half expected it to be raw cubes of meat - who knew what Firrerreo considered ‘snacks’? He vaguely entertained the notion that if they were ever stranded in space, Morgan would devour him by day two. Not in the way he’d like, either.

Squashing the thought, he reached for one of the snacks tentatively, bringing it up to sniff it first. It certainly smelled delicious enough and appeared to be cooked, “I’m flattered by your concern for my wellbeing,” He mumbled dryly before finally nibbling on the snack. It was surprisingly flavorful and had a smoky flavor without the usual burn.

Emryc couldn’t help but take another, thoroughly enjoying the change of pace from his usual eating habits. He certainly wasn’t a vegetarian, but he did favor the healthier greens and rather bland meats. He pursed in his lips, running his tongue over them to clean off the flavor - he would never actually lick his lips in view.

The movie was reaching its conclusion and he lowered his legs from the table in front of him.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

"Well of course there is. Wouldn't be much of a game otherwise," he offered with no further immediate elaboration. Instead he just held open the bag open for Emryc to take some snacks out of it. He was only half watching the movie now, half watching Emryc. He was more fun to watch anyway, the little micro-expressions that ever so briefly graced his fair features.

Morgan let out a satisfied hum when Emryc took a second morsel of meat and then took another for himself before resealing the bag. The movie was nearing its end and he'd want more snacks for before they actually landed on Bespin. The cons of a protein heavy metabolism, alas.

"It depends on what you want, Emryc."

Emryc's legs dropped from the table and Morgan's right leg slipped forward in the movement and rested gently against Emryc's knee. Maybe he could give the man one rule, at least. Might make it more fun, last longer. His expression shifted and he turned back to look fully up at Emryc, a spark of something glinting behind those golden eyes.

"Is it better to take, or to win?"

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc had shifted gears mentally almost entirely. His mind was on the cargo bay on the ship, and he vaguely wondered how he could set up a makeshift gym. He wanted a pull up bar at the very least, and he would adjust the gravity slightly to add resistance. Being in space all the time meant he had to work that much harder to keep his body in optimal shape.

However, before he could move to get up, he felt Morgan brush a bit closer. This was bolder than anything he had done before, his leg pressing against his knee now, closing that tiny gap that was there before. Morgan spoke without words, gently asking him to stay. It was enough to have Emryc slowly turn his head to regard the firrerreo again. The eyes before him were fire, burning intently for the briefest moment.

The slightest grin appeared on Emryc’s face, a rarity to behold. There were no fangs, but there were pearly whites and a devil may care charm, “I’m a simple man, Morgan,” He said in response, looking up briefly at the ceiling while the grin remained, “I take what comes to me,” He tilted his head once more to look into the fires again, “And sometimes I like when winning doesn’t come at the cost of a defeat.”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan tilted his head slightly, regarding Emryc for the fraction of a second with a mixture of curiosity and intensity. His gaze flicked for a moment over the man's shoulder and his other leg crossed overtop the one leaning against Emryc's knee.

This grin was different from the others, with a life to it that was less restrained. Morgan steadily bent at the waist to lift off the arm of the couch he'd been resting on, finally sitting up after all his lazy lounging. He pulled his sleeves down to straight them over his arms and neatly folded them across his lap before meeting Emryc's silver eyes with gold.

"Defeat comes when you concede it. Victory comes when you take it," he said, eyes glittering. It was another reference to history as old as the song he'd sung on Emryc's ship. Morgan considered Emryc's face for several seconds, looking carefully over the shape of it. Then he smiled, the same kind of smile when Emryc had asked him to sing the song on his ship. His legs retreated slowly from Emryc's and he moved to stand.

"I think I like you, soldier boy. I'll hold you to what you said."

@Emryc Thorne

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc watched Morgan shift and finally rise up from his lounging. There was a sudden flicker as his eyes sharply met the goldens when Morgan spoke next. He knew that phrase, and the gears began to turn within his mind. For a moment it appeared as if Emryc had words threatening to spill, but he held them back. Perhaps the man was simply another history lover like himself?

This would nag at the back of his mind for some time. He didn’t look away as Morgan surveyed him silently, his own gaze taking in the details of the man’s face. There was a primal streak to him along with the natural beauty he possessed. Yet nothing drew attention like the vibrant eyes which constantly challenged and tested. What did raw, unbridled desire look like in those eyes? What did pleading look like in those eyes? What did fear look like in those eyes? Emryc immediately noticed the absence of his touch when he drew his legs back, though his face betrayed nothing

A sound close to a soft chuckle left Emryc when Morgan spoke next and rose to stand. The half Sephi remained sitting for a moment, gazing vacantly at the credits that rolled on the screen. It was a while before he finally rose as well, moving over to adjust the gravity and then making his way to the cargo hold to train.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Without a further word Morgan stood and quietly stepped back toward his room, snack bag in hand. He stepped through the door and placed it deliberately on a small table, tossed some things from crate onto the bed, and then padded into the refresher to wash his hands, brush his teeth, and brush through his hair. He didn't bother closing the door.

His expression was blank as gold eyes into the depths of their own reflection, so different from the silvers they'd met over the past few days. Something lay behind that icy glint that he wanted to see. But it was only a game. Just a little game.

Preening complete he wiped off any water with a small hand towel from himself and the placed his things back into a small travel bag. By the time he emerged Emryc was halfway from couch to wherever it was he'd decided to move now. The travel bag went on the table by the snacks and he pondered what to do now. The trip was going to take a while yet.

Read, maybe? Practice chords? Mm, no. Not that.

Somewhere in the distance he suddenly heard a thump as something shifted and fell in the cargo hold, the sound echoing down the halls. The hell?

Down the halls he went and turned into the doorway of the hold- then had to catch himself, knees bent, suddenly heavier inside the room. Relatively speaking. He straightened again and looked around. Yes, there was Emryc. And over there was a small crate that had come loose in the flight and fallen when the grav-plates in the hold were turned up. Mystery solved.

Morgan rolled his shoulders and stretched, neck twisting left and right, one leg lifting and then the other. Now this was familiar.

"You train in high-grav?"

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc had already changed and was in a tank and comfortable shorts for a workout, just enough to outline his toned and athletic profile. The area was sparse and he would have to improvise with equipment. He also had his datapad hooked up to the com speaker system here to project music he had mixed. It was far different than what Morgan had played or probably even liked. It was a remnant of Emryc’s love for the underground scene from his time in Hutt space.

This was the kind of music that took him back to the dark warehouses, the neon lights, his fingers digging into the waist of a pretty something where the scent of sweat, colognes and perfumes was almost tangible. The bass reverberated through his bones and his head swam from the spice he had snorted earlier. It was a side of him almost no one knew, and he preferred to keep it that way.

He hadn’t expected Morgan to show up, and it was hard for him to mask the light surprise. He figured the firrerreo would be in his room reading, strumming his instrument or just plain plotting new mental games to play with Emryc. The half Sephi eyed him for a moment, giving a half shrug, “Space station life,” He muttered simply.

Emryc turned away to walk towards the edge of the cargo hold, looking up at the edge of a shelf to stack items on. With a sigh, he decided this would do. He jumped up with ease, fingers catching the lip. The gravity resisted against him, but he worked through it, pulling himself up and above the lip. He was comfortable in this zone, even if he shared the space with Morgan.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Club music? That wasn't what he'd expected. Especially not those lyrics, descriptive of an entirely different kind of game. There was something about it. The high, breathy voice of the singer. The low, buzzing bass. And that guitar, warped to hell and back to get those brief, dangerous-sounding chords.

Morgan tilted his head slightly to consider the music, expression pensive. It sounded vaguely familiar, like he'd heard it before some time in the past before he'd formally joined the modern Sith. His teacher hadn't approved of quite everything he'd gotten up to in the depths of the city moon, but certainly it had been a good series of lessons.

Emryc muttered something about station life and Morgan's head turned to look at him, then back over to the fallen bit of cargo. Right, he'd come in here for a reason. He walked over to it to pick it up and place it back where it went, stacked atop a larger box, carefully aligning it into the corner. Nice and even.

Morgan moved differently in higher gravity. Where before he'd moved with a certain lightness, here he moved with the casual strength and easy grace of a feral tiger. His steps were heavier and more purposeful, the alignment of his body and stance adjusted to the increased weight, wider but still straight. His feet walked heel to flat to toe, only rocking the rest of him forward when balance was ensured. It was pure habit on heavier worlds, especially dangerous ones like Firrerre where a bad fall when moving quickly could be the end of you.

He watched the other Sith for a few seconds, eyes taking in the new information bared in front of him. Well, if Emryc didn't mind things getting heavy, Morgan might as well join in. He stepped away from the pile of cargo, two arms lengths away, and began to sink glacially slow into a deep, wide stance. Facing away from Emryc, of course.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc was vaguely aware of the other Sith joining him, and it didn’t budge his focus. He had been training for as long as he could remember, and it felt nice to stick to routine. The pull ups continued for a long while till he felt that familiar burn throughout his body. He followed up with push ups and many other workouts that he could do without actual weights. There was no engagement with the other man except a cursory glance every once in a while. Gaze lingered longer whenever the burning golds were looking elsewhere.

Sweat began to line his body, and he kept going, the music always something with a quick beat and flow. He resorted to picking up the boxes full of parts to use as weights - it was peak improvising. He didn’t do his kata today, saving combat training for later. This was purely for conditioning.

He switched things around, deciding to pair the workout with vinyasa. He lowered himself into a few poses that were a blend of teras kasi and vinyasa. After a moment he placed his palms on the floor and kicked off into a shirshasana, going upside down into a headstand. It was a nice rush he felt with the added gravity, the weight and resistance almost welcoming.

The tank slid down then, about halfway into his back. Countless welt-like scars criss-crossed over one another and they appeared to move up his back to beyond where the tank hid them, enough to suggest that they traveled all the way up. Emryc wasn’t concerned about it, his eyes closed as he focused on the music and his breathing.

@Mr. Teatime