[Star Wars Roleplay] Two Suns and A Blue Comet

[Die Shize]

OOC Music [Recurring]

Spoiler

For a moment, Jetha just stood there staring at her fellow partner in all things coded criminal and password-protected, like a scientist watches a mouse in a maze. She felt amused, concerned, curious and envious all at once—without any idea how much of that was showing on her countenance. Zeltronian liquor… Drink it on its own and have a field day. Mix it with some other juices and spend your next moments on a level not terribly dissimilar from a high off dontworry. Zeltronian liquor and Zeltronian fun dip aside, Jetha felt her lips gradually widen to part for a giggle following Herrith’s query.

“Whatever happened to buying me dinner first?” Jetha playfully nudged her with an elbow. “Watch and learn, sis.” With that, she paced over to one side of the crate as Rongo granted her some space to work. Fingertips drummed off the viewscreen made for text.

“What password do we want, I wonder…” She looked around for inspiration, her first option being a blue-skinned, bulging-eyed Rodian who could have only been looking her up and down. She grimaced. Then there was Teddy, sipping from her Mon Island as though he had prepared the drink himself. Though, I hadn’t either, to be fair. She started humming some tune that grew suspiciously similar to calypso. She sighed.

“Hey, Herrith, what’s your favorite music genre? Or music band? Either or.” Jetha watched and waited. Should be an easy enough question despite her lovely circumstances… Catching herself before being caught, she waved a hand as though dismissing a question that hadn’t been asked yet. “Don’t worry. I’ve enough money to buy this merchandise but not enough to buy the crates. They get returned to Rongo so his having our shared password is part of the package. Having our hands, not quite.”

“Even though they’re four of the prettiest hands I’ve ever seen…” Rongo moved as though to remind everyone that he did indeed exist, sipping from a drink. “Wouldn’t you agree, Teddy?” Teddy grunted and did little else. Jetha wasn’t sure what to make of that and just blinked the moment away.

“Herrith, dear?”

 

[Herrith]

"Dinner?" Herrith blinked and stood back while Jetha interacted with the control panel. "I'll buy you three meals if you keep talking like that."

Herrith leaned on the crate next to Jetha while the woman went to thinking about a decent password. The fact she didn't have anything off the top of her head from previous accounts and needs was kind of ridiculous. She was about to call the other Zeltron out for it when she herself was asked. What her favorite kind of music was, that is. She stumbled for a moment and then cleared her throat, but Jetha was already explaining herself. High expectations you have of me if you think I'm that critical of everything right now.. Her thoughts of a proper password were interrupted by their Rodian third wheel trying to be smooth.

She let out an irritated cough. "And also two of the prettiest hands you'll not be shaking."

Herrith, dear. Yes, I'm alert and alive, give me a moment here.

"Uh...Runaways." A shrug. Just the first one that came to mind. This was officially awful.

Can we just ditch already? Furball is putting me off a little.

 

[Die Shize]

OOC Music [Recurring]

Spoiler

Jetha’s eyelids threatened to spasm as she narrowed them in thought. Runaways… Haven’t heard of them enough to know if they’re good or not. On that note…

“Fair enough.” She moved her hands to start typing on the first viewscreen. “What genre, out of curiosity? I like a bit of drum and bass, myself.” Rongo hovered over her shoulder to observe her efforts. “Well, Runaways it is! Along with my most hated music group, Frostplay. And voilà!” With that exclaim, Jetha turned aside and gestured Herrith toward the viewscreen, having enabled it to show the password characters. They read:

RA^f@5T*D!st4nt^FP*i[3D^G@m1ng

Jetha waited a moment to deduce whether Herrith had the password memorized or not. Rongo, meanwhile, didn’t have to. His datapad did that for him. Regardless of any struggle on Herrith’s part, Jetha didn’t delay in submitting the new password. The viewscreen displayed its approval and she moved her other hand to the biometric screen beside the first. She placed her hand on it. In a matter of seconds, the virtual outline amid her fingers went from red to orange to green. She glanced at the textual viewscreen inches away, content that it still showed the container as being locked. “All done!”

With that, Jetha looked back over to Herrith. “Your turn. Just head over to the other side of the container and do what I did. Password, hand-scan, done. I can either read the password out if you don’t have it memorized or type it for you. Whatever works for you, hon.” She gave her shoulder a pat of confidence, watching and waiting expectantly along with Rongo and Teddy.

Either way, once the password had been repeated on Herrith’s side of the container and she had submitted her hand-scan, the security registration was complete. Both text screens on either side would confirm that the crate was still locked. Unlocking it would require selecting the command from the menu, entering the password and entering the hand-scan—on both sides and from both Zeltrons.

“Right then!” Jetha clapped her hands together. “Only two more to go.”

This time, Rongo and Teddy hung back and just watched as Jetha and Herrith moved to the next crate. The last two had already reset in the floor beneath, Rongo having simply used the first for demonstration. Arriving at the container, Jetha once again went first and repeated the same steps like clockwork. Select ‘Enter new password’ from viewscreen—check. Enter new password—check. Hate Frostplay—check. Submit and validate new password—check. Get drunk after leaving this dump of a roadhouse—pending. Place pink hand upon biometric scanner—check. Watch as pretty light turns red then orange then— oh farkle.

“What’s this!?” The hand-scanner started flashing between orange and red, orange, red, orange, red and never quite green. At a loss, Jetha removed her hand and put it back. Same result. She looked at Rongo for some much required answers.

“Sorry, Jeth.” He smiled. “That’s the price a merchant like me pays for borrowed property. That one’s a little faulty. Just give it another go.” He sipped from his gin like there had been no problem to begin with.

Sighing in manageable annoyance, Jetha put her hand back where it belonged and waited. Borrowed property, he says. A little faulty, he says. Just give it another go, he says. Red turned to orange and orange turned to green. Presto. Jetha snapped her fingers in victory and bid Herrith along. “Third time’s a charm, love! All you.”

The last container, fortunately, went as smoothly as the first one. All three containers were sealed, locked, registered with new owners (at least temporarily) and filled with three fine reasons for bringing two fine Zeltrons to the armpit of the galaxy and the crotch beneath the armpit. The very thought made Jetha shudder.

By the time she turned away from the container, Rongo was upon her with a tall glass in either hand, green champagne bubbling at the top. Even Teddy had traded his (or her) Mon Island for this new drink. Jetha smiled sweetly, accepting her glass while Rongo retrieved his own from Teddy’s other hand.

“Fortune finds us both, ladies. Once business has been concluded, Teddy here will help transport the containers into the hall, out the door and upstairs behind Rongo’s Roadhouse. You’ll bypass the bar floor and can load up the speeder I have on standby if convenient. Teddy will drop you off anywhere you need to go. But first, a toast to commemorate this new fortune, shall we?”
Rongo raised his glass, gaze sweeping from Zeltron to Zeltron. Jetha looked from him to Herrith, half of her wanting to tip the champagne over the Rodian’s head and the other half knowing to play it smooth. She thought of a toast, raised her glass but held it there instead and waited, watching Herrith.

“This one’s all you.”

 

[Herrith]

"I'm fairly sure I got the password, Jetha. And the band is pretty close to what you like, I'd say."

Herrith rolled her eyes and walked over to her side of the crate, password and scan entered. Done. Easy business. She was a little suspicious of the second one being a little faulty, but did her part ever the same and then led with the final crate. All sealed up. Can we get out of here and head out to someplace less scumbag-ey already? I'm all for rough locations, but there's a Rodian here. Just about ruins it for me. She turned to find Jetha being approached by Rongo with two glasses. Once the Zeltron took her own, Herrith got the last glass and looked at it for a few moments while the two conversed. She sniffed the drink slightly and looked between the two before finally being ordered to call for a toast.

Probably safe to drink. If they were getting poisoned or knocked out, he should have done it before they'd locked up the crates to their own names. The woman blinked away her haze for a brief moment, then smiled and rose her glass.

"To a fast journey."

Hopefully her meaning got across to Jetha about how much she wanted to get away from here. She forced the smile a bit longer and then downed the champagne in a lightning fast tip to the ceiling, wiping her mouth as she looked between the two and then setting down the glass somewhere relatively safe. Well, she didn't FEEL too poisoned. That was a bonus.

Guess we'll find out in a few seconds if I'm about to wake up in a swimsuit on Nal Hutta...

 

[Die Shize]

IC Ambience

Spoiler

​

“Rin…..Air…..Rin…..Air…..Rin…..”

Click-click. Click-click. Click-click.

“Air…..Rin…..Air…..Rin…..”

Click-click. Click-click.

“Hair…..”

Click-click.

Eventually, perhaps, the unconscious Zeltron would have gradually regained enough consciousness to audibly perceive at least some manner of digestible speech, distorted and distant, muffled and muzzled though it might sound to her. Finger-snapping would probably be the clearest until, in a manner of moments, those words would be more apparent in sound and meaning.

“Herrith. Herrith? Herrith, can you hear me, hon?”

Jetha blinked, hovering over her friend who lay sprawled across the bed. Jetha’s bed, to be exact. The chamber otherwise void of inhabitants was quiet apart from the steady rhythm of the starship’s hum, the Zeltrons having since reached the light freighter in the mere matter of minutes it took to head there from Rongo’s Roadhouse. Jetha remembered all of it—Herrith, not so much. From there to here, here being Jetha’s quarters aboard the Dandelion. By this point, a groggy gaze ought to have been manifesting to where the only sober Zeltron in the room could have sworn that she saw a couple of eyelids part. She snapped her fingers again for good measure.

“Herr, come on, Herr. Wakey-wakey, picky up the pacey. Or shall I fetch a pail of water?”

She patted the poor woman’s forehead, rocked her back and forth by the collarbone and then, when all else might have failed, Jetha resorted to licking two fingers and plugging them in Herrith’s ears.

“WAKE UP HERRITH WE’RE BEING ATTACKED BY CHEVIN”

 

[Herrith]

Why am I not surprised...

Herrith's subconscious quietly whispered as she slowly came to. Her ears worked, at least...or whatever the hell that clicking was in her dreams. Her mind slowly began pulling itself back together. Words. A name. Her name. Hearing. Yes, she could hear fine! That was a bonus. The Zeltron was laying down on something soft. Her eyelids were heavier than solid bedrock, but she was coming back. Slowly. Her hand struggled to lift, like she'd just woken up from a surgery or something, and grabbed onto something solid. Alive. Jetha. Ship. Drinks. Oh, it's coming back now...what'd I miss?

Her mouth parted slightly and she let out a light groan. "Uhh..."

Her eyes lightened and fluttered open only slightly, revealing another Zeltron staring back at her. Jetha. They quickly shut again as she felt herself getting moved around, groans of irritation clearly audible before something very wet got stuck in her ear. Her eyes opened wide as her mouth went to speak, before the yelling jolted her up fully, her whole body visibly twitching as her hand rose to wave the woman away.

"Ah...bloody hell..wha..?"

She tried to pick her head up but wasn't quite to that stage yet. Her hand pat down the mattress and found her jacket still around her shoulders.

"I've still got clothes on? Oh, hell...what was in that stuff?"

Another pause and a slow, uneasy amile. "And did you lick my ears?"

 

[Die Shize]

IC Ambience [Recurring]

Spoiler

“ ‘Ello, sunshine.”

Jetha felt a corner of her lips tug away from the other as the fruits of her labor paid off. Chevin. Nobody wants to be attacked by Chevin. She remained standing with her arms crossed above Herrith’s prone form, watching the gal’s less successful efforts in pulling herself up from the bed. One step at a time.

“Close enough,” Jetha answered at the ear-licking query, eyes roving Herrith up and down from head to toe. “Your clothes are intact. Your pride, well, pride differs for everyone. A few moments more and that jacket around your shoulders would probably have been the least of your worries.”

Clearing her throat, Jetha grabbed a glass of water off a nightstand for herself and offered one to Herrith. “I can get you a hair of the dog if you’d prefer.” Her smile was wry but there was no deceit in her tone. With water or alcohol provided, she hooked her boot around a chair and pulled it toward the bed so that she could sit down and face her patient, legs crossed. There was a short pause for as long as it was permitted, one where heavy thinking, great deliberation and plans for the future were swimming in the sea that was Jetha’s brain. With a breath, she prepared herself for the dive and kept her countenance as casual as could be.

“So, there’s this saying that champagne is meant to be sipped. When it comes to the champagne we had, champagne is meant to be sipped.” She blinked, letting that statement serve itself. “Caballen-Viaxi was the bottle, a particular Falleen champagne that you’ll tend to find only in the most elite of social gatherings. Sip, socialize, scheme. Get drunk at your own peril. The older the bottle, the greater the potency and the more beans you spill—especially if you had them for dinner.”

Jetha gulped back some water to wet her whistle. “Downing that glass was for you like downing a little bottle of whiskey—nothing a Zeltron can’t handle—except for all the brandy and the tea and the liquor of our species’ namesake that came beforehand…and afterward...sort of.” She narrowed her eyes as though suspicious of her own speech, and certainly of her counterpart's recollection of events. "Herrith...how much do you remember after downing that glass of bubbly?"

 

[Herrith]

Sunshine. How nice of her to be so pleasant after Herrith could have very well screwed up their whole deal thing. She managed a weak smile as she curled her right knee, lifting her leg from being flat on the bed only slightly. More to reassure herself she wasn't paralyzed or anything too dramatic. Jetha had blocked her from sitting up, more or less (on top of her own inability), and her hand shot up to squeeze the other Zeltron's forearm slightly. I'm good, don't got to mother me that much, love. And evidently Jetha had resorted to drastic measures--maybe not outright licking her ear, but the finger-in-earlobe trick was rather effective to be completely honest.

"Water's...water is fine, love." Taking the cup and sitting up on an elbow so she could drink properly. Jetha got herself a seat and there was a long period of pure silence where Herrith's head wasn't pounding and she could enjoy cold water down her throat after whatever the hell just happened.

So Rongo had apparently given them quite the potent and nasty drink. Probably not the best idea to go on a drinking spree earlier than when they were offered that champagne. A pause as Herrith took in what was being said.
"...So he spiked me. Knowing full well I was a little tipsy. That lizard-bastard..." Cutting herself off as she tried to sit up again and was only met with pain. She groaned for a moment and then leaned back again, sighing.

"Guess you're playing doctor while I recover..." She teased, shutting her eyes while the other Zeltron continued.

Memories. Oh, no. What HAD happened after the champagne? Nothing good, most likely. Herrith let out another long sigh which turned into a displeased groan.

"I don't remember anything...what...what happened? Ah, brix I hope I didn't muck this all up..."

 

[Die Shize]

IC Ambience [Recurring]

Spoiler

Jetha held her glass mid-sip, the rim resting on her lip as the million-credit question was asked. No recollection. No memory. No idea. So be it. She knocked back the rest of the water and held the empty glass in her lap, turning it absentmindedly.

“Rest assured that the deal still stands." She tapped a reassuring hand on Herrith's leg before removing it. "Rongo’s containers are in my hangar and my credits are in Rongo’s pockets. Though, as your doctor, I suppose it is only due course that I explain the situation. That and, well, I feel...partly...responsible for what happened. My job, my contact, my Rodian.” Jetha tickled that last part on the tip of her tongue. “I hope I never say those two words again. If I do, shoot me."

There was a short pause before Jetha continued, granting any input on Herrith's part.

“Anyway, let me lay it on you, love. After you tossed that champagne down your throat, all bets were off. The other three of us had barely graced our glasses, though I knew Rongo was having the time of his life already on account of you having yours. He offered you another glass, I said fat chance, you asked me who I was calling fat and Teddy grunted." Or was it a growl?

“Well, after sipping our champagne, more bubbly was out of the question but I wasn’t about to leave my Jallerian Chaser untouched before we left. I already had a few drinks myself by then and was feeling good enough for another. You wanted a sip so, fine, no harm there.” Jetha squared her gaze on Herrith with restrained rivalry. “Except you downed that too and left my glass looking like the one now in my hand…” First the Mon Island then the Jallerian. What's a girl got to do to get a drink and keep it?

She sighed. “Suffice to say you had gotten your fill. Then you began giggling. You giggled so much that I started giggling too and if there’s one thing that I know about my kind it’s that a Zeltron’s laughter is doubly contagious where laughter in the universe is already contagious. Rongo giggled. Even Teddy giggled, or . . . ” Trailing off, Jetha glanced at the ceiling to find the words. “ . . . Some kind of...guttural, growling, grunting guffaw or...something…

“Needless to say that we all giggled ourselves out of breath and you said you needed to sit down for a bit. I was charmed by that idea. Not as much as Rongo perhaps, who I made sure maintained a five-feet distance from you and demanded he have Teddy start taking my cargo topside. I would wait with you. Teddy opened the door and hovered the first crate through. Some moments later I heard a crash! I didn’t hesitate to rush out into the lobby. Sure enough, the crate’s repulsorlift had somehow failed and sent it dropping like a rock. That’s Rongo’s business ethics for you. I tried to help his hairy fool fix it. We did. Teddy went upstairs and I went…”

Jetha paused, crossed the other leg over the first and leaned back in her seat with a deep breath in and a slow breath out. She began tapping a finger on the side of her glass. “Well, I went back into the storage room where my other two crates were, along with one Rodian and one Zeltron to find a glass of Rodian rum in his hand and a bottle of Zeltronian whiskey in your hand. Except...neither of you were drinking…sort of...”

She looked left, looked right, set her glass to her lips and tilted her head back. Then she remembered that it was empty. Ah, brix.

 

[Herrith]

Herrith took a second to register what Jetha was getting at. She didn't like where this was going at all. By the way the other Zeltron was acting, and how her little empathy sensors in her body were functioning, this wasn't exactly a terribly humorous story. Either way, she flashed a smile and nodded, but otherwise stayed silent so her companion could continue. Oh, hell. Am I really that much of an asshole when I black out? Stars, I'm sorry Jetha. She cringed at the laughing part. That was just embarrassing. No more of that...she was going to need to rein herself in a little. Maybe make it up to the poor girl who had to deal with a younger version of yours truly. Her eyes flicked to the ceiling as she listened.

It only got worse. "Stars, I'm sorry Jetha. I'm a keetar freg, I guess, when I drink too much."

The large sigh only offset her more. What could have possibly been worse than what she had just heard? It was unbelievable enough for her relatively sober self with the first two parts of the story. Then Jetha explained the shining jewel of her already terrible story. Oh. That's much worse. So much worse. Her eyes cleared almost immediately as she blinked and the story registered. They flicked right to Jetha's face as her expression shifted from mild unpleasantness to complete shock.

"WHAT?! Oh--bloody hell..."

The sudden raise of her voice made her head feel like it was about to explode, on top of the quickly rising feeling of sickness. Her hand shot to her forehead and then immediately lowered to her mouth, a knuckle hovering just in front of her nostrils as she whispered, turning on her side slightly.

"Oh...oh Jetha, I'm going to be farking sick...kriff.."

She slipped into their native tongue and cursed quietly while her stomach churned and twisted from the description, the drink, and her headache.

 

[Die Shize]

IC Ambience [Recurring]

Spoiler

​

Jetha struggled to both smile and frown at Herrith’s reaction. It was a somewhat humorous ordeal, for one of them anyway. It was certainly only natural for one to recoil in anger and disgust at just the very idea of placing one’s bodily sensors upon those of a Rodian’s, whether one was a touchy-feely Zeltron or a big hairy Bothan. Of course, “bodily sensors” had a few translations in a few different languages.

“Now, Herr, it’s not like his hands or mouth were—” Jetha cut herself off and just sat there blinking for a moment; a bit of a delayed reaction on her part while Herrith’s hand went from head to face. Jetha made out her quiet speech and then it all became clear. Oh hell. “Oh hell!”

Bolting from her chair, she snatched a nearby metal box, flipped it upside down to spill out whatever junk was inside and jammed it against the side of the bed. I should have prepared for this. Silly girl. Perhaps they both were, on that note. “Spill it all out and leave no river dammed, sweetheart. Two fingers down the back of the throat usually gets me out of a pinch.” Standing there holding a box as a makeshift puke bowl, Jetha’s eyes drifted out the window beside the bed to glimpse the stars.

“Come to think of it, if it weren’t for the gum in my mouth, I’d have probably barfed at the bar by the time Rongo’s tongue slipped inside.” No pleasant memory by any means. The scenario was enough to make her cringe and gulp back vomit that, for her if no one else, was at least imaginary instead of real.

 

[Herrith]

Herrith wished Jetha understood the exact reasons behind her disgust for Rongo's race. And now this was one more lifetime regret that, fortunately, she would not be remembering. Now, if only she could get rid of her pounding headache. The other Zeltron snatched her something to spill her guts into, and she promptly did so, hair falling in front of her face in strands. Plainly, she was too hung over to care about how messed up her hair got, or how...unclean it may have ended up. She finished after a little under a minute, wiping her mouth and taking a few breaths as she went to sit up and be a bit more eye level with her companion.

This time with more success, she took her glass of water and downed some of it to get rid of the taste in her mouth and get her mind off her nausea. Eyes flicked to Jetha while she spoke, a faint tinge of amusement appearing as she found a way to avoid thinking about her problems. Specifically, the ones she didn't remember. Herrith lowered the glass and set it somewhere sturdy, pursing her lips to bite back a smile while she replied.

"If I kiss you right now, would it he better or worse than Rongo? Neither are really pleasant, I guarantee it."

She stuck out her tongue for a second and then shut her eyes again, sitting there in silence.

 

[Die Shize]

IC Ambience [Recurring]

Spoiler

Jetha’s hands tensed at both handles of the box, holding it steady as the upchuck commenced. Regurgitation was a foul thing. For the regurgitator, involuntary spasms (that were sometimes voluntary) collaborated with the wet and chunky aftermath of whatever had since cascaded down the throat to settle in the belly. Of course, not all of it settled lest it not be elected to come back up in a reverse waterfall known as vomit.

Then again, the witness suffered in their own way. Sometimes it only took the mere sight of another puking their guts out for the observer to in turn puke their own out. Fortunately, Jetha was content with just grimacing and looking away. She held the puke-box in place, its depth adequate enough to keep any unwanted liquid from splashing upon her arms, and the stars outside beckoning her gaze if not her arms.

When all was done, she betrayed herself by glimpsing inside the metal container newly meant for vomiting, a green something something membrane oozing around amid a yellow coating and black sludge. Oh...goodness...by the stars abright, was Jetha’s only thought as she tossed the entire container down the garbage chute and dusted her hands off. Herrith had tempered her violent throat with water, sitting back for some much needed composure after such an ordeal. The vomit and what led to it, no doubt. Ugh. If I had a credit for every time this happened to me… At least, it wasn’t happening to her. Jetha had remembered her limits upon stepping foot into Rongo’s Roadhouse, from upstairs bar to downstairs lounge. Or deep, dark den of darkness. Whichever.

“Hold still.” Jetha calmly spoke after Herrith’s humor, standing a pillow upright against the wall and dipping a small towel in a glass of water. She gently applied it to Herrith’s forehead to wipe away her sweat, clean her hair and offer something damp and cold for her head, cradling it in her other hand. Jetha smiled. “I’d take your tongue and lips for a Rodian’s any day, babe. On that note, I don’t think I’ve tasted a mouth as foul as Rongo’s. Still, whatever tragedy befell you before I came to break it up, well, you survived.” She dipped the towel again and repeated her movements, using her free hand to ease Herrith’s head against the pillow. “You’re as much a survivor as I am.” Survival is the only way to survive.

Fighting back a frown, Jetha retrieved a bottle of painkillers from her nightstand and poured more water into Herrith’s glass. She offered both the glass and a hand with two white pills. “Take these. For your head. Should help with your nausea too. Doctor’s orders.” She winked.

 

[Herrith]

Herrith complied to holding still and her eyes tracked the towel before shutting so that she could stave off the pain in her skull, the water both soothing and intensifying the pulse she was feeling in her brain. She took short, careful breaths while Jetha kept her still to clean some of the crap that had just come out of her mouth up. The Zeltron slowly relaxed her shoulders as her head got put into the pillow, easing back a little to uncross her legs and set them down somewhere, probably hanging over the edge of the bed or something.

"Sounds good to me, love. And you doh't know the half of my story about surviving..."

Herrith managed a weak smile as she muttered this. The clatter of a pill case caused her eyes to open a little while Jetha refilled her water and offered some meds that would supposedly make her immediate life a whole lot better. She took the glass and drank a sip before gliding her hand over the pills and Jetha's palm, putting them into her mouth to promptly take. Doctor's orders. Very funny. She set the glass of water aside and then ran a hand through her mess of tangled hair, other hand readjusting her jacket.

"Alright, doctor. You're beginning to sound like the previous person who gave a damn about me." Laughing quietly before silencing herself again.

 

[Die Shize]

IC Ambience [Recurring]

Spoiler

​

Jetha watched as the medicine was taken, Herrith’s movements as slow and steady as anyone else’s would be after puking their guts out. There was always the risk of letting loose another barrage and the pills that come with but the healing effect should work in short time, settling the stomach without any reprisal. As she watched Herrith, Jetha let her mind wander on what she had said about surviving. I really don’t know your story. You really don’t know mine. For the former, a memory triggered that took her back to Ryloth.

Two Zeltrons and one Twi’lek had been searching for one James Logan. The lead came up that might have taken them to Nem’ro the Hutt’s palace. Jetha had been less than enthusiastic about heading there, though if the lead checked out then she certainly had considered it. You, on the other hand...you really did not want to go along. If Herrith had a story about survival, Jetha wagered that it had something to do with Hutts and her history with them. Whatever it is.

More words and a frail laugh from Herrith broke Jetha’s trance. She smiled in appreciation, more for Herrith than herself. My job. My ship. My passenger. The comment about people and the damns they did or didn’t give had come off as lighthearted as troubled and did nothing to silence Jetha’s thoughts about one’s bloodied and bruised background and the survival that came with it.

“Who was that?”

Jetha leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, distracting her own surprise at blurting out the question, conversational though her tone was. Granted, her curiosity might get the better of her and earn the rejection of revealing personal information. Of course, with Herrith’s eyes already forced open by the doctor who woke her and with the medicine still working its miracle, conversation just might be the thing to take Herrith’s mind off of her hangover. And my mind off of my job.

 

[Herrith]

Ah, here were the questions.

Herrith took in a long, slow breath, shifting slightly while she let her mind work around and pull out bits and pieces she'd be willing to talk about. To be fair, there was a long list that the woman had suggested, but never any that actually CARED. Not many that she could recall immediately, that is. Still with her eyes closed, she sat up to pull off her jacket and set it aside elsewhere, finally feeling comfortable (and feverish) enough to show all the scars on her upper arms. She didn't directly say anything about them, instead looking to explain herself a little while Jetha got into a more comfortable position on her chair.

"You should just sit on the bed...it IS your bed, after all."

Opening her eyes to make visual connection before shutting them again.

"Well, I guess I'd better not stall too much. I had a...friend. A bit more than that, really. Blind. But she could see more than most...if you get what I'm saying. Kind. Pretty. Took care of me, I took care of her."

A long pause. Then a slow sigh.

"Not really sure what happened to her. Just...got detached after a while. Like both of us got busy and I never stopped getting busy. Haven't heard from her in a long while. I, uh...well, we were almost something special, I suppose. Anyways, enough of that..you don't have to hear it."

She cleared her throat, then spoke semi-sarcastically. "Now I've got a Zeltron in my grasp."

 

[Die Shize]

IC Ambience [Recurring]

Spoiler

Jetha’s eyes followed Herrith’s every movement, her own body as still as the room. Outside the window opposite her seat, the stars twinkled white amid a black backdrop, big bright balls burning and bursting, but this far away they were as still as the darkness that surrounded them. She didn’t need to look at them now to know that they were there and would be beyond her own lifetime. Two Zeltrons who ultimately amounted to a mountain of dust in a crazy galaxy, on the other hand, was a whole other story, one with a chapter that Herrith was just getting into.

Her jacket came off and her arms came into view. Jetha felt her lips tighten. She scowled at the scars, recognizing the brands immediately. Hutts. Kriffing bloated slugs. Her tongue was pressed up behind her teeth threatening to spit as she quelled an anger that rose within her out of nowhere, lest her fellow Zeltron pick up on it with mere feeling. When her own subsided, Jetha blinked herself back into the moment, Herrith’s prompt for her to sit on the bed perking a corner of her lips.

“We’ll call it the sickbay bed for now. And you might feel like stretching your legs. I do.”

With that, Jetha propped her legs toward the foot of the bed, crossing one boot over the other and reclining further back into her desk chair. Her hands rested in her lap and she remembered that the last time she was in this position there had been a bottle of whiskey between her fingers. At the moment, though, they weren’t missing its absence. Jetha was at full attention, her interest piquing at Herrith’s having a blind friend; no unusual deed by any means but revealing of a character point. That’s friendship right there, true and unconditional. At least, it probably was. Even the best friendships didn’t last forever. Her eyes drifted back toward the window and for a moment she could see a spacesuit drifting further and further away, till the memory of it collapsed back in her mind and it was her turn to sigh in front of Herrith.

“A Zeltron with a ship full of many ways to drown one’s sorrows, at that!” Jetha smiled in jest. A moment elapsed as she watched her passenger, her patient, her partner, glancing from her branded arms to the spot on her head where she had earlier glimpsed another scar. We’ve got plenty. She didn’t stare long before meeting Herrith’s gaze. Questions ran through Jetha’s mind like a mouse in a maze, ones on how exactly this girl got her scars and broke her chains, even the name of her blind friend, until the questions subsided in an instant and she was left with a statement made of steel.

“I’m sorry. Namely for whatever happened in that abysmal bar and its basement, whether a suspicious handshake or a tip of the tongue too far. All kidding aside, Rongo is as Rodian as they come. He’s a vile creature, that goes without saying, but I have the misfortune of knowing just how vile he is.” She waved a hand at what might be any unwarranted concern. “Fortunately, your jacket hasn’t come off until now, for what it’s worth—not to upset the pills in your stomach.” Or the booze still in mine...

 

[Herrith]

Herrith winced as a more intense, more familiar wave of nausea came over her. Jetha must have been getting rather peeved by something. She could only assume it was the brands marking her arms. Instinctively, she brought a hand up to her left bicep and scratched at the symbols scarred deep into her skin. The itching returned on queue while she faded back to older memories. Voices returning in her mind before she shut them out and shook her head free a few times. Back on track. She nodded to the other Zeltron's offer and leaned back, extending her legs down the frame and almost parallel to Jetha's, staring down at both of their extremities while the other continued to speak.

Herrith knew she was looking at the scar. Why wouldn't she? They both seemed to see something similar in each other. They both saw scars. Herrith could see it in the woman's eyes. How she moved. Acted. Like something was missing. She knew that feeling. Though whether they really got along exactly with each other when it came to how those scars healed, she'd probably not know for quite some time. Jetha seemed to keep trying to reassure her about Rongo. That was alright, now. She didn't have the attention span for it nor the drink in her gut to worry about it. Though good to know that her jacket was safe. She blinked a few times and let herself smile slightly.

"Well, maybe you should have thought a bit more before leaving me to the lizards--literally. I don't know what I possibly could've been thinking."

Laughed some more.

"Oh, what am I to do anymore...hopeless flirt and sick as a bantha."

 

[Die Shize]

IC Ambience [Recurring]

Spoiler

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At Herrith’s less than heavyhearted acceptance of Jetha’s apology, she gathered her own less than featherweight feelings and dismissed them. Probably, she was beating herself up more than Herrith ever would. Or would she, if she knew the things that I knew? She cleared her throat in mock embarrassment, knowing that, ultimately, they both had played their parts in getting from Point A to Point B.

"Well...in your defense, and mine really, let’s see...Mon Island Iced Tea, Cassandran brandy, Spenori whiskey and Caballen-Viaxi champagne, and each in varying dosages...yeah I don’t think that there was much thinking on your part after all that, lizards or not. You had me beat at the Zeltronian liquor. I didn’t have any homebrew myself in that sitting but Spenori hits as hard as it tastes good. And then the champagne made for sipping that you said goodbye to in one gulp. Heck, even that Mon Island can be sneak . . ."

Trailing off, Jetha caught herself rambling and blew through her lips to shut herself up. “Anyway, what you might want to do is get some rest, my bantha-flirting friend. Let those pills kick in and chug as much water as you need. The loo’s behind the door over there and that other door is how you got in.” Zonked out and heavier than I expected but got in nonetheless...

Jetha slapped herself on the thighs and rose from her chair with let’s-get-to-it resolve. “I’ll either be in the cockpit or cargo bay. Need your help with one of the crates again when you’re feeling up to it. Bloody box has it in for me.” She was about to make her way out into the corridor before she held her gaze with Herrith. “Unless you’re up to it now, that is. No pressure. Sometimes a stroll is what a hanging body needs.” She stood waiting for Herrith's reply, unfazed either way. The Dandelion was moving but at the same time she wasn't going anywhere just yet, and neither were those containers.

 

[Herrith]

Herrith laughed for a short while after Jetha went rambling on about how much of a screw up she had been. Which she wasn't. The woman didn't realize her partner was so...self-effacing at times. Though now she knew, and honestly it was admirable. Sure, Herrith was similar, but she didn't usually directly display that same compassion. Same, but different. It was interesting to think about. Seriously. Her eyes flicked over the other Zeltron's face as a smile came onto her own.

"I love it when you ramble. Makes you a perspm and not just a figment of my madness."

It seemed some work needed to be done. The smuggler wasn't one to sit around for that, so when Jetha asked for help, she immediately went to rise once more, wincing slightly but otherwise managing. She brushed her hair out of her face again, raking it aside and folded her jacket up to put at the foot of the bed. Once all that was said and done, she pulled off her belt and holster, setting those down next to it. The pouches and buckle were digging into her skin through her pants, she'd felt it for a while now but hadn't directly acknowledged it. No way she was moving or sleeping in that anymore.

"Doctor's orders, I presume?"

Herrith flashed a smile while she stretched her arms.