somnolent samba

[Toska]

The air held a metropolitan twang. Carbon dioxide, the thin haze of labor suffused the air, clung to sweat with an oily sheen. The sounds: the pattering of feet and buzz of engines overhead, of the spaceport writhing to each sonorous note of life that passed it by. They played and wove through with subtle vibrations. Bounced off walls, saturated empty space and quiet with a constant presence. Inescapable.

Manaan wore itself in spires. Domes sitting atop the waves, an endless ocean that unfurled below. It was a sight to behold, from the glister of ultrachrome and dull and gilded duracrete to the stray beacons guiding in cargo and a stream of passenger freight. The beck and call of city life thrived, stark in contrast to the gentle oscillations that set the world in motion. Powerful in its bearing, in salience to Alcyone's wandering eyes.

The slip of a woman carried herself well above the assembled Selkath, aloft of the mucus that permeated their skin; she swathed herself in velvets and silks, a myriad dress that enmeshed color with frivolity and refused to bequeath even a breath to fashion. She clashed to the onlooker. To the passerby, the denizen, the foreigner alike. And it suited her thus.

An elevator brought her into the city's underbelly, crammed in with a dozen others draped about the slim, transparisteel cylinder. It took them from the surface, deep under the waves, to a dome. Embellished walls, magnetic fields, and a haze of holographic light paid her welcome: the ambiance began before the spice touched her lungs. Psychedelic bass beat rapture to her ears, uplifted the feet that kept her pace. Rooted her in a walking trance.

When she hooked her nose to the air, she caught her first whiff. A blend of translucent smoke laced with spice, gritty particles that assailed her, irritated her eyes.

She smiled, nonetheless, and moved. Gave herself to the gathering, the little club hidden beneath the waves. A dome, a bubble erected for the pleasure of those small enough to know: it was filled, packed at the hip with flesh of all shapes, of all smells. Culture bleared in the dimly lit haze. Firaxan sharks dusted the viewing platform. Close enough to touch, to pierce the fixture separating them from a pressurized death...

She reached for it. Impulsively, reflexively. She reached for the divide just shy of those sharks. And her hand slipped right on through.

 

[Undine]

~ Theme Song ~

Ocean had made the descent under the oceans of Manann hours prior, and sat on the floor with her back against some sort of sofa, a spice bong in her lap. The spice had been laced with kolto, specifically meant for her due to her illness. Ocean wasn't sure who had given it to her, as she'd never been asked to pay for anything she was smoking, eating, or drinking, not that she cared at the moment. Next to her sat two women, a Rodian and Kaltooinian, who kept trying to get Ocean to drink from a bowl of liquid laced with death sticks. Even when she wasn't entirely mentally there, Ocean was that foolish and kept shrugging them off.

It was rather common for her and the other wanderers and street performers on Naboo to use various drugs, though death sticks had never been allowed in their camps due to the dangers and risk of being raided. She leaned her head back, watching the ocean above and sharks that skirted about. Every few moments it seemed like the glass of the dome would bend or disappear, causing the Rattataki to reach out, it felt like her hand moved along the span of air, it felt like she could touch the sharks if she only tried harder. Giving up, she turned to the side and saw someone attempting to do the same as she had just been.

Standing, and tripping over the Rodian woman's legs, causing all three of them to start laughing, Ocean picked up her bong and began walking over to the newcomer. Standing beside her, Ocean took a hit before looking at the woman, who appeared to be human, inhaling sharply before speaking. "Can you feel them too?" Ocean exhaled, letting the smoke go with it as she coughed slightly. "I'm Ocean, as you can see I control the endless bounties of this world." Ocean couldn't help but laugh at that, swaying one arm out in front of her as if to welcome the newcomer to the view of the Ocean beyond the dome. "What's your name?" She asked, offering her bong to the woman.

Curiosity had taken hold in her mind more then anything. She wasn't sure if it was because she was high, or if it this was another moment like the one in Theed on Naboo. Something drew her to this woman and as Ocean gazed over the woman's body, taking in the colors of her attire and the curves of her body, the Rattataki woman found herself wanting. She'd been with men for the most part, but wasn't shy to the many forms of pleasure life had to offer. There was something almost familiar about this woman somehow, Ocean couldn't quite put her finger on it though.​

 

[Toska]

This woman's gaze settled over her contours. Roamed the fabrics and lattice of beads and jewels that clattered and shook with each vibration rattling through her feet. A look of wonder, open in its fervor; Alcyone appreciated it in turn. Took in the dim lights, surveyed the woman across an ultraviolet fixture that masked most blemishes. Emphasized lines and cheeks. Bleared distinctive features into a garble of tonal want.

Curiosity seized her, impassioned from the grip she slid over the woman's wrists, nails tapping lightly over bone as she steadied herself. A light laugh escaped her lips, nigh silent but for the glitter it left in her eyes. The device lodged between them held her rapt, and she considered it gingerly. Appraised each sculpted decimeter of glass and pyroxene adorning its surface.

Smoothly wrought, swirls of colored grains embellished its facade, intertwining serpents. Oroborous as it bit into the bulbous finish. The very head of the piece was blackened, a mess of liquefied glitterstim bubbling within. Flecks of spice mingled about, packed tight and melted into semi-solid crystal globs, but the fixture remained odorless.

She took it to her lips first, brow arched for assistance as she suckled at its tip. One long inhale drew vapor into her lungs, and she allowed it to sit there, a petulant smile cresting her chin as she stuttered out a cough. Trails of carbonized spice dribbled between her teeth.

"Alcyone," she crooned, wrist limp as she offered it back.

"Will this world's mistress confer me with a dance?"

 

[Undine]

Ocean breathed deeply from her bong before placing it on a table before turning back towards Alcyone, accepting the strange woman's offer, as well as her hand. Having grown up a street performer on Naboo, Ocean was more than familiar with dancing with beatiful women than most. "Shall I take the lead or would you prefer to?" She spoke with a coy smile, taking the lead anyway for now. Ocean held their right hands high, arching her's at the wrist slightly as if to push Alcyone away as her left hand pressed against the small of the woman's back. She reached behind the woman with her right foot, pulling at the woman's heel as she held her back and dipped her slowly, exhaling the spiced vapors across Alcyone's chest and neck.

As Ocean dipped her, their bodies swayed, returning to their previous standing upright position as Ocean once more began to move. Their bodies swayed and breathed as one for a few seconds before Ocean paused to allow her partner the chance to take the lead. She wasn't the type to simply seduce, Ocean wanted to be seduced in turn as well, regardless of what that meant in any given moment. Would Alcyone see fit to seduce her with her mind, body, or perhaps adventure? Ocean was really up for anything under the spiced haze.

Their movements were slow, intentional, and transfixing though only they seemed to be affected. Ocean moved as the water of the ocean around them. She could feel the gaze of the creatures beyond the dome's glass, they watched them with the same hunger Ocean herself was attempting to express as she danced. It was that hunger, and perhaps the spice that pushed her over the edge. Ocean wanted something, something Alcyone could give her. Ocean was no child when it came to sexuality, she'd experienced a great many things during her nights spent in the vagabond camps. She felt a similar hunger now as she breathed in sync with this exotic gypsy woman.

There had been times where she'd had the same effect on others, Ocean had been described as exotic in her own right, but there was something more to this woman. It was this something, Ocean decided, that was the reason for the hunger within her. It was this decision that made Ocean do what she did next. Her mind twirling from spice and other pleasurable chemicals and sensations, Ocean reached out to Alcyone, pulling the woman closer into an embrace as she kissed her. Ocean was far to use to being the entrantress, she never thought she'd be the one to be enchanted.​

 

[Toska]

Hungered beckoned want, pain. The pain of recompense, of compensation that loomed beyond. To grasp it fully in hand and seize the moment recklessly, blissfully and intentionally ignorant of its consequence spoke to boldness. An intense longing that came to satiation on a whim... a rigorous desire, a fulfilled want left wanting, aching for more.

These sensations drew Alcyone limp in the woman's grasp. She fell slack, shoulders slipping in on themselves, curling her around the arms that held her taut. Her nails grazed lightly along scalp, traced lobe to neck, nape to spine, and followed each individual ridge to base. There she lingered for a moment, breath heady, filled with sinful scents, and reversed her path. Her tails sculpted the shape of the woman's back, skirted the boundary of flesh and cloth, and found their roost with a thumb nestled beneath lip.

She opened her mouth to the kiss; devoured residual trepidations as she forced the woman to command her weight. Her lips were an open candor pulling in the woman's tongue, rolling it within her mouth. Suckling at it, a nip bobbing them apart just enough for her to take lip between teeth, neck craned to saturated their gazes. To paint her in their colors, palette blending to an ultraviolet lens; they mixed, churned, indistinct on the threshold of propriety.

Her hand came to rest at the hollow of the woman's throat. Settled in the contours of her chest. Slipped beneath fabric, brushed to the coarse grain of flesh. She lavished her touch upon each chiseled inch. Lower, from collar to breast, further; to navel, where she sat, hooked along the eaves of hunger. It crooned. Writhed to the melody of echoing want.

She followed it deeply. Murmured into lips, "What do you desire?"