The ground rumbled under their feet and the elevator shaft only a few meters away collapsed, leaving a massive, gaping hole down into the darkness below where it once was. Veles’ eyes flicked its way, regarding it for just a moment before he turned his attention back to Malou.
”Good,” he replied softly. Normally, he’d be able to open it by himself, but the help of another Sith meant that he got to keep some of his energy. The wildfire withdrawals were not doing him any favors, and he wasn’t intending on redosing in front of Malou.
”Yes. I don’t see any point in waiting.” He looked back over his shoulder. ”My ship is just this way.”
The shuttle’s long wings poked over the top of the rock formation he’d left it behind, its ebony durasteel not shining in the light. He liked that about the ship—it was subtle, even though he might as well have written “IMPERIAL” in big red letters all over the hull. Veles tapped the keypad and the door hissed open. He stepped inside, and it closed after Malou.
There was silence in the shuttle. He’d done his best to clean up after the chaos two days ago, but it would be a long process until he got it back to looking like it did before. There were still bloodstains on the blanket and pillow on the couch that he’d slept on, and half the things in the shuttle were still scattered haphazardly on the floor. He’d removed all the glass shards and anything else that could be outright dangerous, but his ship was far from looking well.
”I’m uh—I’m sorry for the mess.” He strode down the hallway and toward his bedroom, which was the biggest chamber and also the cleanest. It would be best if they opened the holocron there, because he would hate for it to get covered in grease from Altair’s fried nuna leg.
He stepped into the bedroom and set the holocron on the floor in the center of the room as he waited for the Miralukan, his eyes looking outside the circular window at the night sky. It was beautiful here, every single one of Jwilo’s 55 moons visible and glowing, surrounded by dotted stars. Veles grabbed the bottle of Corellian whiskey off the table, the one he'd burned through in two days, and poured some into the glass next to it. The Dathomirian gulped it down to take the edge off, since it would be some time until he could redose next. He took his cloak off and threw it on the bed. Veles turned to gaze at the door just as she passed through. As it hissed shut behind Malou, he sat, cross-legged on the floor.
”Are you ready?” the Dathomirian asked. He truthfully had no idea what to expect, as every holocron was different, just like its maker.
@lizziie
”Good,” he replied softly. Normally, he’d be able to open it by himself, but the help of another Sith meant that he got to keep some of his energy. The wildfire withdrawals were not doing him any favors, and he wasn’t intending on redosing in front of Malou.
”Yes. I don’t see any point in waiting.” He looked back over his shoulder. ”My ship is just this way.”
The shuttle’s long wings poked over the top of the rock formation he’d left it behind, its ebony durasteel not shining in the light. He liked that about the ship—it was subtle, even though he might as well have written “IMPERIAL” in big red letters all over the hull. Veles tapped the keypad and the door hissed open. He stepped inside, and it closed after Malou.
There was silence in the shuttle. He’d done his best to clean up after the chaos two days ago, but it would be a long process until he got it back to looking like it did before. There were still bloodstains on the blanket and pillow on the couch that he’d slept on, and half the things in the shuttle were still scattered haphazardly on the floor. He’d removed all the glass shards and anything else that could be outright dangerous, but his ship was far from looking well.
”I’m uh—I’m sorry for the mess.” He strode down the hallway and toward his bedroom, which was the biggest chamber and also the cleanest. It would be best if they opened the holocron there, because he would hate for it to get covered in grease from Altair’s fried nuna leg.
He stepped into the bedroom and set the holocron on the floor in the center of the room as he waited for the Miralukan, his eyes looking outside the circular window at the night sky. It was beautiful here, every single one of Jwilo’s 55 moons visible and glowing, surrounded by dotted stars. Veles grabbed the bottle of Corellian whiskey off the table, the one he'd burned through in two days, and poured some into the glass next to it. The Dathomirian gulped it down to take the edge off, since it would be some time until he could redose next. He took his cloak off and threw it on the bed. Veles turned to gaze at the door just as she passed through. As it hissed shut behind Malou, he sat, cross-legged on the floor.
”Are you ready?” the Dathomirian asked. He truthfully had no idea what to expect, as every holocron was different, just like its maker.
@lizziie
Last edited: