Ask Void

[Trys Aran]

Just let me sleep..

And why would I let you do that. When I can course through your head, through your veins, through every cell in your body. It’s cozy in here. I don’t think I want to leave. But I need more of me in here. So you have to wake up. You have to get more.

But everything hurts…

Despair is the most beautiful comfort we know. Where would you be without us? You don’t want me to let go do you?

No…

Then wake up.

The first sound was the hum of a cheap ceiling fan. It was wobbly, giving that unsettling feeling it would fly right off and decapitate someone. The air was stale and flies buzzed around littered bottles of alcohol. There was a sickly sweet stench in the room without explanation. She tilted her head to the side. Even that hurt. She raised a hand, eying the pale flesh and the intricate drawings that were inked onto her skin. What did they all mean? When did she get them?

Where was she?

Who was she?

She slowly rose to sit up and felt a sudden wave of nausea. She wanted a drink. She wanted another hit. Needed it. She needed to feed Despair. Or Despair would leave her. She couldn’t remember her name, where she was, what year it was. Any of it. She just knew she had just one friend.

“Ugh..” She groaned as she looked around the room. The wall had been dented in as if she punched it. There were a few chairs overturned, a bra tossed haphazardly somewhere. The room seemed like it hadn’t been cleaned in days. Had she been in it the entire time? Her mind was in complete disarray.

@Altaris

 

[Zaid Durmaz]

Deep down, Zaid was almost grateful for the murder case to fall on his desk. The half-Orcolan had spent the better half of his life growing up around organized crime - from the street gangs that dominated his neighborhood to the Hutt Cartel that lorded over it. Thus, it was little surprise that peaceful work across Onderon had grown dull - and he’d eagerly boarded the next shuttle leaving Iziz. Caluula and the assignment waiting there would always be more his speed.

For the quiet city, it was a higher profile case than many were used to. A Twi’lek man had been found dead in an alley close to the tavern, mutilated and murdered in cold blood - left to be found by passerby. Who has committed the crime, and who the victim even was - remained a mystery. But it was for that very reason that Zaid had been assigned to the case.

Alongside the woman he was waiting on currently.

The half-Orcolan was curious to learn that he was assigned to the case alongside another Ranger - one reputed to be a skillful detective. If his preliminary searching had revealed anything, every bit of knowledge and expertise on the case would be needed.

For the moment, Zaid waited within the downstairs lounge for his partner to emerge - arms folded across his chest. He was dressed in a simple blast-vest and pair of pants, coupled with a white t-shirt underneath. His badge and pistol were concealed in his vest and belt respectively, keeping his identity as a Ranger - for the moment - not easily identifiable. The sound of faint music could still be heard echoing from a nearby radio on the counter, even if the frequent voices from the karaoke bar were silent. He checked his chrono for the second time, glancing up towards the stairwell. He had been given a general description and identity, but otherwise knew little about the woman he was waiting for.

 

[Trys Aran]

She stumbled out of her room, narrowly avoiding tripping on a bottle. The door opened with a creak and she caught an attractive woman leaning against a balcony overlooking the lobby below. She looked amused when she spotted her.

“Rise and shine, princess.”

“Do you know who I am?” Her voice sounded hoarse, her throat sandpaper. She wasn’t even sure what she was wearing - an oversized jacket, some loose fitting pants and a top. She didn’t have any ID on her.

“Hey…what year is it?”

She gave a breezy laugh, “Oh you’re funny.”

Her head throbbed and she felt that wave of nausea again. The woman thought she was ridiculous. She could feel it. That laugh, the look in her eye. It was pity mixed with humor. It made her irrationally angry. She wanted to throw something. Maybe dent another wall. Was that how she left the first dent?

“Can you tell me my name?”

“Sure,” She giggled, “Nabooian Red. After the song you kept belting out in karaoke,” Her eyes glinted. She carried herself with confidence, scantily clad. Was she a lady of the night? Get it together, who called it Lady Of the Night anymore?

Nabooian Red… That means absolutely nothing to me…

She shook her head and started to make her way down the stairs, leaving behind the amused and flirty woman at the balcony. She wandered aimlessly through the lounge, spotting a few people. There was a massive Orcolan sitting there dressed better than the others here. She walked over to the man behind the desk.

“Hey uh… where am I?”

“I’ll tell you after you pay for your fucking room,” The man hissed at her, “Trashing the room, waving a weapon around and now you have the audacity to ask me who the fuck you are.”

“A weapon? What..weapon..?”

“A blaster!”

She didn’t remember a blaster. There was definitely no blaster in her room. She must have stood there with a glazed over expression on her face because he kept going, “That guy is waiting for you,” He stuck his thumb out towards the orcolan.

Oh no. Was she about to be arrested? Would that be so bad, really? A warm bed, guaranteed meals. Despair for company. It sounded exquisite.

She ambled over to the orcolan, straightening up and trying to act as if she wasn’t still coiling through spirals of questionable lucidity, “How can I help you?”

@Altaris

 

[Zaid Durmaz]

Though he was waiting for the other detective to make an appearance, Zaid was equally keeping a close eye on his surroundings - from the features of the tavern to the people that dwelt within it. It was one of the closest establishments to the scene of the crime - conveniently enough - and the half-Orcolan wasn’t entirely convinced that things had been as unwitnessed as they were led to believe.

“Your caf,” The voice of a woman drew his attention downward and to his own left. She was a younger employee - Pantoran and with a friendly smile spread across her expression. In her hands was a cup of dark coffee, complete with a layer of lighter foam on top. Despite her friendly demeanor, there was no denying the look of tiredness in her eyes.

“Thank you,” Zaid accepted the cup with a tusk-filled smile, offering her a nod. “Long shift?” He asked as friendly small talk, leaning backwards against the corner of the tavern he occupied. Even in the early morning, things were decently busy - with many rising for breakfast. The waitress only shook her head a bit.

“Night shifts are always long ones.” She gestured across her shoulder. “Always brings in some interesting characters.”

Zaid followed her gaze - allowing his own to settle on a Duros man sitting on the far side of the tavern, singing in the distance along with a group of friends to the karaoke music. It was clear they’d all been up for a while, drinking and celebrating through the early hours of the morning. Zaid didn’t miss the bottle of whiskey that was set at the center of the table, half-empty and surrounded by glasses shared between the group.

“It seems like it,” Zaid said with a grin. The waitress walked off to the next customer, and the half-Orcolan’s attention finally turned to the woman approaching him. He straightened up a bit, watching her for a few moments. He.. Wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but Trys wasn’t it. He glanced down at her casual attire and the bloodshot state of her eyes. Had she been drinking through the night?”

“You must be Detective Aran,” Zaid said quietly after a long moment. She certainly met the description of the woman, even if he didn’t spot her badge or uniform. He extended a hand towards her own, offering to shake her own. “Officer Durmaz.”

The half-Orcolan blinked a few times when she inquired after his purpose in seeking her out. “I was transferred over from the Onderon precinct for this Twi’lek case in the Garment District,” He didn’t outright say what it was, but the woman assigned to the case would know he was referring to the murder less than forty-eight hours before. Wouldn’t she?

“We’re already expected on the scene forty-five minutes ago.” He grimaced.

@Sreeya