Ask Cloud Nine

[Darth Stolas]

Somewhere in what they were doing Emryc pushed up and back against him and Morgan yielded control of how they were arranged, releasing his grip on the couch. Their positions were reversed and the free hand found itself hooked around a shoulder, an insistent pulling that only intensified when the other man ran down his thigh. Morgan's legs wrapped overtop Emryc's, keeping him close. He wanted him closer than they were. But Emryc took his time, and Morgan waited.

Morgan looked up at at Emryc, gold met silver, the colours bleeding together together into something new. The beasts didn't circle each other now, they stared each other down, clawed, roared, free of what kept them from each other. The hand that pulled at Emryc's shirt instead slipped beneath it, raking fingers across the scars of his back with enough force he could've left deep cuts if he didn't keep his claws trimmed dull. He pulled and writhed and grasped but Emryc just looked down at him with eyes that burned just for him.

Then Emryc kissed him. Morgan's arms wrapped around the other man when he closed in, pulling his heat close with unnatural strength He pressed up against Emryc with fervor, lips parting against the other man's as the rumbling purr reached a fever pitch and tinged with something like a whine. A hand slipped from Emryc's back and latched onto his high, iron fingers leaving bruises in their attempt to pull him closer. It was a gesture Morgan hadn't known he'd wanted, hadn't expected from the half-Sephi, but when it happened his heart sang and he burned even brighter.

He needed him now. Morgan tried to find a way around Emryc's clothes to remove them, but he was more likely to actually tear them off before he figured out how to undo them the traditional way. His legs squeezed tighter, bound the half-Sephi more tightly, desperately, breath coming quick and rough. Emryc knew what Morgan wanted, and Morgan knew what Emryc wanted. He had a tiger cradled in his arms and it only purred and begged for more, sank into his touch, pawed at the last things that kept them apart.

It was going to be a long night.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

---​

It was several hours later and he wasn't quite sure what time. At some point they had found their way away from the lounge area. There had been a crack as the armrest broke, and there was some unspoken debate about the crew quarters or the captain’s room which resulted in a crack in the wall that parted the two rooms. Ultimately, the captain’s room won out, and they found themselves there for the remainder of their time together.

Emryc still hadn’t bothered getting up or hopping into the shower. Sweat lined his body and he sported new bite marks and scratches. Some of the welts on his back were torn open again, but none of it was anything he couldn’t tolerate. He hadn’t even noticed them during the throes of passion. He didn’t know he wanted it as badly as he did, and each moment was committed to memory. This was true especially for every little purr, growl and other animalistic noise that came from Morgan - an assortment of noises only Emryc wanted to invoke.

His chest rose and fell, a half shredded blanket the only thing draped over his foot. Pillows were on the ground, clawed to shreds. This had been Morgan’s room before, and Emryc used the Force to float over the man’s pack of cigarra, lighting one as he stared up at the ceiling. He offered Morgan one.

“That’s the second shirt of mine you’ve ruined,” Emryc said after a long moment, voice slightly strained from exhaustion. Morgan had ultimately gotten fed up with Emryc not allowing too many opportunities to remove said shirt and opted to take the easy way out. Tatters of it was spread all around the lounge like confetti.

He didn’t feel like getting up, and he simply laid there blowing smoke rings on the captain’s bed next to Morgan. His own marks on the firrerreo were already beginning to fade, and he privately reminded himself to do it enough to leave some permanent ones. The thought surprised him, and he opted not to share it.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

A shaking, purring breath escaped Morgan's lips, though quite a bit softer and tamer than earlier, a gentle rumbling in the air around them in chorus with soft panting. His eyes were half lidded as he recovered, fingers delicately brushing against a particularly attractive series of bruises and bites along the brands of his arm. He smiled at them wistfully while they began to disappear, inundated with the scents and sensations of the past few hours. A few feathers that previously stuffed pillows drifted about the captain's room on currents from air vents, and he was vaguely aware there were shreds of cloth dotting himself and the rest of the room. Whoops.

The whole thing had been, somehow, both a blur and the most vivid thing he'd ever seen. He just lay there next to Emryc, soaking in it while his skin steadily shifted back to its standard shade, then just a shade lighter, a little gold mixed in with the silver. Morgan was only snapped out of his little trance by Emryc offering him a cigarra, which he took and lit with a series of small snaps from his electric lighter. He exhaled a cloud toward the ceiling, a downy feather caught along by the stream and ascending lazily within it.

Emryc's comment about the shirt brought him pause for a moment and he blinked. Morgan started laughing, tired but bright and musical as it always was, joy evident in the way a smile lit up his face. He didn't know why it was so funny, but in that moment it didn't really matter.

"I'm sorry. That was worth a shirt at least I hope," he said back when he was done laughing. He looked over at Emryc, noted the new collection of bleeding marks over his skin that contrasted nicely with the old ones. He was mildly worried about it, but the other man hadn't complained so he brushed that thought aside. He could still taste the remnants of his teeth sinking into skin and drawing blood, iron now mixed with cigarra smoke, and decided not to think about it too much. For now.

"I'd like it if you came to visit me on Eriadu."

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc looked over as Morgan laughed. That sing-song noise was really beginning to grow on him, and he often found his own lips wanting to curl into a smile when he heard it. He knew fully well Morgan wasn't the slightest bit sorry, and he doubted that was the last wardrobe casualty for him. He turned over to the side to prop himself up on his elbow to look at the firrerreo. Silver eyes roamed over his bare skin, noticing the way it changed hues. Sweat glistened against that silvery and gold tinted shimmer, accenting the toned muscles there. Emryc could feel that familiar stir in him again and his body began to betray as much.

He drew his gaze away, drawing in from the cigarra as he looked at Morgan’s eyes instead while blowing the smoke away from him, “I will,” He said simply to his words as if it was the most obvious thing ever. There was crude simplicity to Emryc just as there were unexpected complexities, “What would we do there?” He ventured to ask.

Emryc’s gaze flicked for a moment back to the markings on Morgan’s arms. He hadn’t missed those runes and symbols. The questions still burned and they were just there on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he pulled from the cigarra and exhaled.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan hadn't actually thought that far ahead. In the interim while he thought of an answer he pushed himself up into a seated position, back planted against the headboard. He ran a hand over a particularly impressive mark Emryc had left across his stomach that nearly blended in with the brand scars around it, steadily fading from sight by no less appreciated for it. At whichever point his shirt had come off- he didn't actually recall the specifics, he'd been busy at the time- it became quite clear they were eventually meant to cover most of his body. The brands on his his torso were only half complete, blank skin spacing out the silvery shapes, and those on his upper back even left a small, round area for what was to be an important marking. He'd yet to earn it.

The young Sith stretched his neck from his new position and then went back to looking at Emryc. He knew that look now, having seen it up close for some time. That and the other things that went along with it. Morgan smiled at him. "Whatever we want," he said, humming in a satisfied sort of way. Then it stopped and his expression turned pensive, brows slightly furrowed. Without warning he slipped off the bed and over to his crate and bent over to go through it. He pulled out a small case from where he'd packed it in layers of spare clothes.

Morgan took a step backward toward the bed and seated himself on the edge, laying across his back with a great languidness and sliding slightly toward Emryc. He looked up and smiled at Emryc from that position and his hand rose up holding the case of Amelie Leorna audiocards.

"You promised."

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc saw the shift in expression from Morgan and watched in silence as he slipped off the bed and began to shuffle through a crate. He was disappointed, expecting the man to get dressed again, as he looked away to watch an idle feather still twirling in the air. He was distracted again when Morgan sat back down and plopped backwards.

Emryc glanced down at that smile and the way his eyes lit up. He simply watched for a moment, not even realizing that the slightest hint of a smile found its way onto his face as well. He liked seeing this side of Morgan, one that couldn’t be further from the monster that casually tore out throats and kindly deposited them into trash disposals. Emryc reached for the cards, taking them from Morgan.

“So I did…” He said simply. The cigarra hung from his lips as he rolled off for a moment to pop one in and sync it up to the speakers. It only took a moment before he returned to the bed and sat down on the edge and laid back exactly as Morgan had. His head was directly next to Morgan’s, right side of his face aligned with the firrerreo's, his body stretched out in the opposite direction on the bed. Emryc gazed up at the ceiling and smoked as the first song began to play, all of his muscles relaxing almost the instant her voice began to flow. It was a song from centuries past, and her voice took them right back.

Song ​

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan's eyes lazily followed Emryc on his grand journey from the bed to the sound system and back again, drinking in the sight. They watched him lay down and then turned back to the ceiling, lids closing while he listened to the song. It was an older one and very rare. The lyrics were slow and a little warbling, sung with feeling and experience behind them. They were a little tragic and a little hopeful, an ode to the nature of the heart and where it led. A content little smile found itself on his face, just barely tugging at the corners of his lips.

Very suddenly he was acutely aware of how close Emryc was and that he was still here, just listening to a jatz singer. He'd seen more of Morgan than most ever did and dove right in. He'd kept his word twice so far. Two for two wasn't bad, not bad at all. He opened his eyes again to look over at the other man. Almost absentmindedly Morgan's right hand slowly slid across what remained of the bedsheets and delicately laid itself palm up across Emryc's left shoulder. Morgan didn't really know why, he just liked it there.

His other hand brought the cigarra back to his lips again and he parted them after, smoke lazily rolling out and up into the air as fragile little wisps, dancing slowly along to the tune. The purring hum from his throat harmonized with the music all on its own, though he tried to keep it from getting too loud. He really was going to miss having him around when they got back.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc stared at the ceiling with half lidded eyes, silently tracking a particular feather that twirled beneath the light. Amelie’s voice always put him at ease, and Morgan’s purring hum only enhanced it in ways he didn’t know had been missing. Emryc felt the firrerreo’s hand lazily graze over his shoulder, coming to rest there as a comfortable weight. He didn’t look away from the ceiling, exhaling softly as the next song queued up.

He idly reached his free hand over, fingers lightly grazing along the length of Morgan’s inner forearm. He didn’t even realize he was tracing along the markings there without looking, having committed them to memory. Eyes were fixed on the ceiling as his fingers traced towards his palm, tickling along it as he circled there. He had seen people entwine fingers in Holomovies and always found the practice strange. He almost considered it here but it was probably silly and stupid.

“I don’t have a home to invite you to,” Emryc said after a long moment, not looking at Morgan. It was something he despised admitting, “I only have my station issued ship and a bunk aboard the station itself,” He hated thinking about how he had almost nothing to his name. Emryc wasn’t quite sure why he even bothered to mention it here or why he even cared what Morgan would think.

“Just a soldier boy…” He muttered as his eyes narrowed at the ceiling. Emryc didn’t want Morgan to have any delusions about him, even if that meant that he learned that the half Sephi had little going for him.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

"Not just a soldier boy," Morgan replied instantly, matter-of-fact and sure as if it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. His hand left Emryc's shoulder and he rolled over toward the right so his face was directly above Emryc's, golden eyes looking into silver. His left hand replaced his right on Emryc's shoulder, slender fingers finding the other man's and laying gently across his palm. Morgan looked stern.

"And it doesn't matter." His head moved off to the side, into the space between Emryc's right shoulder and his neck. His lips brushed delicately across the bruised muscle there, marked by clawing fingers. "You're a scholar," he asserted softly, moving closer and down to plant another kiss across Emryc's collar bone. "You're a painter, leaving shades of gold across my skin," he whispered into a pointed ear as questing fingers made their way down Emryc's chest, careful to avoid any of the more violent signs of his affection.

"What you are is enough, and I look forward to seeing what else you can be," he said, pulling his head away to look down at Emryc again. Morgan smiled, soft and sweet and all for the soldier boy with no home to invite him to. It really didn't matter, not at all. His hand atop Emryc's slipped between between the fingers. It was a silly and stupid little thing, but Morgan liked it anyway.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc was pulled from his own thoughts when Morgan contradicted his words. He tilted his head to eye him with mild curiosity as he spoke. He felt those lips near his neck again, a mix of pleasure with just the slightest hint of pain. He almost wanted to feel the fangs graze against his skin again, having gotten oddly comfortable with them. The feather soft kisses were tantalizing, and his gaze was back on the ceiling.

The thought of leaving shades of colors across Morgan’s skin sent carnal waves through him. At the same time he couldn’t help but softly chuckle, remembering his rather dull answer on how soldiers ‘didn’t paint’. It wasn’t till just this moment that he understood Morgan’s very blank and unamused reaction to those words.

Emryc was distracted from his thoughts when Morgan interlaced their fingers. Silver eyes glanced down to stare at this new development as if it were a strange otherworldly custom. He liked the feeling, and he didn’t entirely understand why. It was a simple gesture and yet it managed to carry weight. He simply let their hands stay like that, resting on his body. He liked the warmth from Morgan, liked how his demeanor was here and now. It made him think about different facets to himself. Was it truly just a soldier and controlled beast? Or was there more?

“The galaxy will know my name soon enough, nightingale,” He said quietly with a smile beginning to form, “Maybe you’ll sing about me someday.”

Emryc brought up Morgan’s hand to kiss the fingers before he slid away from the bed, rising to his feet. He cracked his back and shoulders before beginning to leave the room. However, he paused at the doorway for a moment, placing a hand on the frame. He simply stood there, back facing into the room as he drummed his fingers for a moment. A whirlwind of expressions were going through his face that weren’t visible to Morgan.

“You uh…” He cleared his throat, “You want to join me in the shower?”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan moved from Emryc's way as he got off the bed, turning and sitting on the edge to watch him go. He grinned at the sight, tilting his head to look at the marks that covered his back. He'd opened some of them up it looked like, joined by new scratches and lines of bruising skin over the sculpted muscle. He hadn't noticed at the time, only smelled the blood, but he expected Emryc would have said something about it if he had a problem. Morgan glanced down at his nails, thankful then he kept them trimmed down every day.

The rhythmic tapping of fingers on a ship's doorframe drew his eyes back up to Emryc, still standing there. Morgan blinked, the action seeming out of place for the fairly stoic half-Sephi. Was something bothering him? Did he say the wrong thing? What-

Oh. Morgan didn't understand why but that question felt like it carried more weight than the words implied. He looked down at himself, noting the sheen of drying sweat and the tiny flecks of red dotting the silver and gold. At least it wasn't champagne this time. Morgan hopped off the bed and stepped toward Emryc, humming softly in a gentle purr, having already decided. It was worth it. It really was that easy.

"Yeah. I'd like that," he answered, gently pushing a hand against an undamaged bit of Emryc's back. "Before we get sticky, please."

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

---​

“Break his arm, you stupid kriff!” Emryc growled at the Holo, resisting the urge to put his fist through it. Very, very, very few things could get the man riled up. Huttball was one of them. Emryc normally avoided watching it around anyone else because he was usually heavily invested. A slam down on the already broken armrest caused a part of it to completely fall off with a clutter.

The Ryloth Rancors were up again and they had a new player that seemingly tried to play the game without violence. As a result, the team kept missing crucial opportunities to score. Emryc couldn’t understand for the life of him why the player wasn’t cut from the team or even dead yet.

Emryc decided to steal some game watching time while Morgan was still asleep the next day. They had several hours before they would arrive at Terminus. He had an assortment of snacks with him, and he stole a few of Morgan’s smoked meat bites too. He was dressed in a hoodie and sweats, feet up on the table.

He watched another player get pummeled, “Come on!” He shouted at the Holo. Emryc looked to the side to glance at Dante who was perched next to him, “Don’t look at me in that tone of voice, droid,” He hissed before popping a snack into his mouth.

It was a good thing Morgan was dead asleep and not a witness to any of this.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan had still been asleep when Emryc had woken up, and besides the peaceful sleeping expression and the occasional attempt to scoot closer and press up against the other man's warmth, the most notable detail was his skin. After he'd fallen asleep the faintly silvered undertones, having returned at some point post-shower, gently faded completely over to the gold his kind were more known for. It stood out especially against the many brands that remained the same colour no matter what.

Something clattered on a metal floor and Morgan's eyes opened. He was splayed across the bed and off at an angle, the lack of a second person having led to a less cuddly and more spread out position. He blinked sleepily, a pair of nictitating membranes sliding over his eyes directly after, and slowly pulled himself up by the waist. His expression darkened and his skin followed suit, the gilded undertones slipping away and replaced by a silver that matched his brands, then slowly back again to the usual subtle shade. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked around, expression normalizing as he took it in.

They'd both cleaned up the captain's room before going to bed, but why was exactly half the bed made and Emryc not where he'd wanted him to be? It was almost mathematically precise in how the bed was divided. The resulting chuckle was cut off by another sound, Emryc's voice shouting from somewhere in the ship. Morgan tilted his head toward the door and decided to put on some clothes.

Garbed in loose black sweatpants and a matching tank he opened the bedroom door, looked over to the couch, and stared. Maybe he was still asleep. He shrugged.

"Morning," he announced despite it being closer to noon at the time, then wordlessly stepped into the refresher to go through the usual preening, nail filing, processing of Emryc getting really into huttball, and brushing his teeth.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Sensitive ears had picked up some movement and Emryc quickly quieted down. He was getting far too annoyed at the game. He glanced up as Morgan slowly emerged and walked past as if he were an AMS infected zombie. Emryc said nothing, simply popping another snack into his mouth before he turned to the Holo again. He changed the channel to some random one that was a show about home renovations.

Emryc had his comlink up to check scores by the time Morgan came by, glancing up to see the firrerreo that looked a lot more alive now. He moved over so he could sit, casting a sideways glance at the broken armrest briefly before he did so. Emryc had already prayed, worked out, showered and eaten breakfast by then.

However, he wasn’t the type to judge other people by their strange habits. Emryc instead silently extended the bowl of snacks over which was a curious mix of veggies and Morgan’s own snacks. He observed Morgan for a moment, considering all the time they had spent together. Emryc had gotten to know several sides of the man intimately, and he sometimes found it hard to look away. He thought back to the first day they had met and how they had both been nothing more than two soldiers on the same assignment.

For a moment it almost looked as if Emryc was going to say something. Instead, a small smile graced his face. He found himself doing that involuntarily before he could stop himself. He didn’t say a word before he turned back to watch the very fascinating show about how a couple that worked as moisture farmers was hemming and hawing over a 2 million credit home.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Bare feet tip-tapped softly over metal as Morgan made his way over to the couch. He was pretty sure that armrest was more on the floor than he remembered, but he supposed it didn't matter on this particular ship. He sat near Emryc followed by the smell of herbs and citrus and looked down at the snack bowl with slightly furrowed brows. Morgan wordlessly reached toward it and slipped a hand under it, lifting it up with expert balance. He turned himself over to gently plop his head directly into Emryc's lap before planting the bowl across his chest for their convenience, a lazy and satisfied smile on his face. He ate a meat snack.

Morgan immediately drowned out the show with his own thoughts. On Emryc's ship some days ago he'd deliberately avoided resting his head in the guest room and had instead slipped into a deep meditation in a common area he could keep an eye on things from. The other Sith had been stoic-faced and cold for the most parts the entire time and Morgan had been, admittedly, a little bit unhelpful in his attempts to figure out what he was like, what made him tick, what gestures and expressions to watch for. The usual collection of information he did on anyone he meant, the game he played.

It had not gone the way he'd expected. Emryc's studies and the things he did drew his attention, how at times he played along with his games and at others surprised him by throwing the whole thing out the window. The only way to avoid the games was not to engage at all, and the only way to lose was to concede. Morgan lost his game, but he'd won something else entirely. He didn't know what it was, and he was sure Emryc would have more questions eventually. It was inevitable.

But for now Morgan decided to be a lap cat. He ate a vegetable snack.

"Did your team lose?"

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc glanced down as the snack bowl was moved over. He remained still as Morgan casually plopped his head into his lap. For a second, Emryc simply blinked down at the man that behaved more and more like a cat. The half Sephi stared at him for a bit, amusement dancing in his eyes. He decided he liked this arrangement and didn’t protest or move.

He reached over to grab a snack, popping it in before he glanced over to check the scores again. Emryc’s hand absentmindedly slid down Morgan’s torso before dipping under the shirt. If Morgan wanted to use him as a pillow, Emryc could use him as a hand warmer. The hand slid up along his stomach, coming to rest just below where the bowl was perched. Fingers running over those muscles, that tank top and the smell of citrus… Emryc’s eyebrows furrowed for just a moment as he tilted his head to look at where his hand was. He looked distracted just briefly before he shook his head and turned to refresh the scores.

Emryc bristled when Morgan asked his question. His entire body tensed up slightly and his jaw tightened. He scowled at nothing in particular, and everything about his demeanor strongly suggested it was a topic he didn’t want to discuss. The Rancors had been having an off season and it made him constantly angry. He was doing okay with fantasy Huttball, however, so there was that.

Thankfully Morgan himself could distract him from his grumpy thoughts. Emryc looked down at the firrerreo as he lazily curled his fingers against the man’s skin, “I might have to leave some details out of this mission brief for my final report,” Emryc had to bite back a grin.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan hummed in a self-satisfied way when Emryc's hand found its way under his shirt, content with the new arrangement. The other man's hand was a little cold at first but quickly began to warm up, becoming a comfortable presence against his skin. He didn't bother following up his question since Emryc's reaction gave him the answer he needed without having to say anything. Morgan didn't have much interest in Huttball, he'd only asked out of mild curiosity. He ate a vegetable snack.

He turned from the screen he wasn't really watching to look up at Emryc and found himself meeting silver eyes again. Morgan grinned slyly up at him, amusement sparkling in his eyes. "Oh? Like what?" he asked innocently, right hand raising from the bowl to gently place fingers across a bit of Emryc's thigh he was sure had bruises dragged across the skin. Because he put them there.

He popped a meat snack into his mouth and then moved the bowl silently off his chest and onto the table a safe distance from Emryc's feet, then looked up at the other man again with a certain kind of expression, a fire lighting up behind his eyes. Something about Emryc's hand where it was reminded Morgan of the club in the worst kind of way. Or best, he couldn't tell.

"We land in a few hours."

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc couldn’t help but shift a little when Morgan brushed his fingers against his thigh. Memories flooded back all too clearly, his breathing changing just for a flash. He grabbed a meat snack and simply grinned at Morgan's question. He kept his hand beneath his shirt, gently sliding it up along his torso. Something about it was oddly soothing, and it came with involuntary purrs sometimes which Emryc began to like.

Morgan set the bowl away and reminded Emryc that they would land in a few hours. Emryc had been glancing at the scores briefly again, feeling better since the Rancors were finally turning things around. The idiot pacifist wannabe player was finally booted and the heavy hitters were back in action.

Emryc looked down at Morgan again, seeing that fire in his eyes, “What do you want to do to kill that time?” He murmured quietly, his hand still tracing over Morgan’s body. Silver eyes gazed into those goldens and his hand slowly began to slide down to his stomach and then abdomen. Fingers dipped slightly into the rim of his pants and just barely below before he paused, his eyes suddenly widening.

“I can teach you about Huttball!” He said, quickly straightening up and switching the Holo back over to the sports channel. Morgan had asked about how his team was doing so obviously the man was interested in this.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan had been about to answer, spurred on by where Emryc's hand was questing off to, when the other man's face suddenly radiated excitement. At least compared to usual. Morgan stared up at him with a flat look for several seconds, then turned to look at the screen, pouting slightly away from Emryc. Then he looked pensive.

Wordlessly he flipped himself over so his left shoulder was against the couch and his cheek rested atop Emryc's thigh, a hand reaching out to gently pull one of Emryc's back to his chest. He liked it there, and its presence brought out a soft purring rumble again. Slender fingertips ran across the leg he was newly settled on and Morgan smiled a little bit. This was okay too.

Although he hoped Emryc wasn't too attached to his pants.

"Okay," he replied after moving around, "I'd like that." Seeing him excited over something was rare, but Morgan had filed away speeders, ships, and now Huttball. He didn't really care about the sport, but he didn't hate it either and his answer was genuine. Maybe it was less boring than he remembered. Or maybe he just liked the sound of Emryc's voice.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

“Okay, so there are 8 players on a team,” He began, eyes on the screen. His hand was back against Morgan’s chest. Emryc’s demeanor had changed quite a bit as he began to explain every little minute detail about the game. He even began to delve into some clever plays in history and rattled off some legendary players. At some point Emryc began to move his hand while he talked to describe everything, though the other one always remained with Morgan.

He paused every so often to watch the live play, lighting up when his team scored. Emryc went right back into the mechanics and all his opinions on the game and other details that would- He couldn’t tell if Morgan was purring or snoring by this point, but he liked that soft rumbling beneath his fingers all the same.

It wasn’t long till the game ended with the Rancors winning and Emryc finally stopped talking, the Holo now switching over to a Hutt giving some commentary on the game. The half Sephi glanced down at Morgan, “So? Think you’ll ever go to a game?”

@Mr. Teatime