Your Jewel Awaits

[DeathToll]

"Alfons! How we lookin'??"

Tris hurriedly passed through the hall to the cockpit with a full face of white shaving cream, the ship still in lightspeed. Alfons, Tris' personal pilot and caretaker for over a decade, just rolled his eyes.

"We're almost there, Tris. ..I really don't understand why you couldn't send the message yourself?"

Tris poked his head out from the refresher, whiping off the shaving cream onto a towel without having shaven; leaving his usual two-day's worth of growth.

"What ever happened to "Yes, sir"? You know, I'm really starting to miss those days before I let San influence your perfect work ethic."

Tris disapeared back into the refresher, storming out once again down the hall. Alfons began bubbling into a sarcastic chuckle, morphing into a full on maniacal laugh, then stopped. He really did think it was funny. But at the same time, he was loosening up.

"Meheheheh, ahahahahahaha, Bahahahahahaha!! ......You're just jealous that San's girlfriend wanted to come with us, while you can barely track this one."

Tris briskly walked back out into the hall, wearing a new red and white shirt, then disapeared into the other doorway.

"She's independant! I like that!!"

Alfons stabbed a finger into the console button with a particular spunk, then gripped the controls and lowered it down.

"And a Councilor to-boot! Gee, I wonder how long it'll take to gain that Master rank you've been rambling on about now? Pretty convenient if you ask me..."

"No!"

Tris' finger lead out into the hallway, pointing at Alfons harshly, soon followed by his face which was once again covered in shaving cream. He couldn't make up his mind, and now he'd gotten the cream on his shirt.

"No-no! You're not putting that in my head 'cuz she'll see it, and then it's all over!"

Alfons looked up at Tris' reflected face in a small mirror he'd placed in the upper dash so he could see behind him, due to all the conversations just like this. And Alfons smiled back.

"Better strap in..."

"No."

Tris shook his finger one last time. He said 'no', but he meant 'get that **** outa my head'. He spun around, back into the room which had a convenient two seats with belts, sitting down with that roundabout motion and strapping himself in. Alfons made some kind of noise that Tris couldn't hear but suspected it had to do with dropping out of hyperspace. They had done this a thousand times, after all. Indeed the ship dropped out, and they overlooked Nar Shaddaa. Tris unlatched himself and stormed out into the hall again, stopping to look at Alfons with a judging squint. Alfons just looked into that mirror, only his smiling eyes looking back at him.

"Your jewel awaits..."

Tris stared back for a moment.

"No."

That one was just for good measure. He really didn't know why he said it, but he needed to. After that, he spent a good half hour changing rooms as much as articles of clothing. Eventually he shaved his neck but not his face. He'd put a natural styling paste in his hair, put on a nice high-baller's white suit and tie with a white collared shirt underneath and white polished shoes, brushed his teeth twice, moisturized his hands a good five times, and hid his lightsaber along the inside of his thigh, pointing down of course. The outfit was remaniscent of what he used to wear before commiting to his line of Jedi-wear... minus the thigh-blade. The idea was to look good, while hiding in plain sight. No one would suspect him as being a Jedi looking like this.

So, Tris threw a boot at Alfons as his 'goodbye', and exited the ramp. Tris threw a nice colored credit chip to the docking regulator and kept on walking, with a certain strut in his step that even the happy recipiant noticed. Tris tucked his hand deep into his pocket, fiddled with the lightsaber hilt and kicked out a leg as he did so, then pulled out a comms device and lifted close to his mouth.

"Ebb, you here?"

...gotta strut...​

 

[GABA]

The Sage Master flew through the backdoor of the bar. She smelled of whiskey and the colorful odors of a space bar. She frowned, however, at the moment, it was the least of her concerns.

Ebberla was immersed in the Force, her presence hidden as she moved amongst the crowds of beings. She dug deeper into the Force, she recalled Tris' signature in the Force and now she searched for it. Surprising enough, he wasn't too far away. But it left her confused to why he would be here. Well, more than confused, baffled.

She had not seen him since their return from Saleucami. Since then she had spent much time on Empress Teta, healing and not to mention her appointment to the Council had left her quite occupied. But she couldn't say she didn't think about him, just curious thoughts to how he was doing, mostly they came into her mind before she fell asleep, the only time when her mind cleared for the day.

The Jedi Master sighed, turning corners, she knew this place well and with the Force, drawing her closer and closer to his location, she didn't even need to think about her movements. She dropped a few levels of the city, taking the back doors and the shadier parts most people would have avoided.

Then she stopped. She sensed him, no, now she saw him. She was a bit startled by his appearance. She knew he was arrogant, but so arrogant, would that make him ignorant to where he was? This was Nar Shaddaa and he was dressed like that. She bumped shoulders with a Twi'lek, he went to turn and muttered something, but with a quick wave of her hand, the Twi'lek's eyes blinked and he carried on.

Her eyes locked on Tris, and she knew he would be able to see her as she took down her cloaking and walked up to the Knight, a bit of concern on her face. As she approached him, she took off her black cloak, and stopped nearly nose to nose with, him, "You're gonna get yourself killed dressed like that..." Ebberla whispered, she wrapped the cloak around him, she knew it would a little small, but she didn't want any unnecessary trouble. She moved herself and him off to the side, not to be in any one's way. She looked into his eyes, trying to figure out why he was here.

"What's the matter Tris?" she asked him, searching his eyes for any hint, "Why are you here? Did something happen at the temple?" she asked, reaching into the Force she searched for any disturbances, but there was none she could feel.

 

[DeathToll]

No answer. He was confused, looking around, yet he couldn't feel her. In the middle of this dark and dingy, he was the white card in a sea of numbered red. He saw nothing unusual with his presentation, and yet he saw no comparison to any next to him. Sure, there may have been some noblemen in some corner of a nightclub he'd met at some point, but amongst these characters they were all backdrop to the thought of her. He didn't care what they saw of him. He was gorgeous; a scruffy man with beautiful features and a cut physique. How could he not flaunt the fit of that white suit?

He turned right, that line of shadow cutting through the flexed muscle in his cleanly shaved neck, moist with aftershave applicant. A flash. He saw her eyes, an image in his mind like a glimpse into a daydream. He swiveled his head back front, and there she was; stopped, just as he was stopped. His face warmed, but he did not smile; he didn't react, not yet. She started walking towards him, bumping into a Twi'lek. He did not move. He just watched her come closer. It was such a satisfying sensation, almost as if he couldn't move, even if he tried.

As she stepped in and wrapped her cloak around him, her eyes on his, their noses nearly touching and instantly sending a taste of whiskey and smoke into his receptros, his eyes remained focused on her forehead; not yet showing her direct eye-contact. He was fascinated by it, his brow ruffling up at the sound of her voice.

He followed her off to the side and out of the way, fidgeting with the small cloak and wrapping his arm underneath hers to also guide her by the small of her back just as she guided him. When she turned in to him again, he listened to her concerned tone as if it were something never permitted him in his entire life; as if a luxury he'd never known, in slavery to his father's goals of perfection and elitism. She finished, and he could see her looking into his eyes still, while he had yet to say a word, yet to look back into her eyes. They were close now, the two of them, and he lifted his hand to her face. He gently pressed his thumb to her forehead, mostly missing her marks of enlightenment but not avoiding them and feeling where that insect struck her, and softly his thumb glided across the surface of her smooth skin.

"Hmm."

His calm and breathy expulsion of air rumbled through his throat, his abdomen tightening in and his chin tipping back. After that thumb had crossed over to the side of her face, his hand, as if by happenstance and unintentional, cupped her ear and cheek; while still he stared at her perfect skin above.

"Terrible..."

Finally, as if a statistical miracle, his eyes dropped down to meet hers, and his lips spread into a smile. His mild-mannered joke regarding her oily skin had suffered under pressure of his perception of her beauty, managing only the one word; joking with the negative implication, yet warming with the positive compassioin behind it. Then, again, he said one thing yet its meaning was incredibly deeper; as if she was, in his eyes, wearing the most decorated luxury gown at the most extravagent ball of the century, and as if he was complimenting her on it.

"Hello bright eyes."

It seemed he was determined to ignore her actual questions. Whether or not she remembered those questions now, in light of his unhurried and almost drugged response, was something else entirely.

 

[GABA]

Ebberla frowned, her eyes watched his thumb touch her forehead. She made a face of confusion, an eyebrow shot up as he rubbed her forehead, more specifically where the bug had stung her and then down the side of her face and his had cupped her cheek. But she was so baffled by his presence, physically here, she didn't protest, though she still never did talk to him on boundaries.

She opened up to the Force, trying to read the Knight, without intruding on his thoughts, but it lead her to closer observation. She finally noticed what he was really wearing, he smelled good to not to mention, and did he shave some?. She took a step back for a moment looking over the young man, her confusion leading her to a sense of denial to what his intentions were, she didn't even hear him call her bright eyes. Just as he ignored her questions, well not that she needed an answer to them anymore, the Force already told her the answer and it also brought her a calm.

Then those words bright eyes finally reached her ears and it hit her. She froze in place, her face glowed with red and warmth, she didn't know whether to be embarrassed or flattered.

"B-bright eyes?" she gave a nervous laugh, not sure what to say to that, "Hah..." her stomach sank, now she felt guilty, the man was trying to give her a complement and all she could do was laugh at him? Ebberla sighed and looked away thinking.

"Is that all you came here for?" she asked taking her eyes back to his, covering up her doubt and uncertainty, "To tell me I have bright eyes and to see if my forehead healed?" Ebberla continued, giving a sly grin.

 

[DeathToll]

Tris' face dropped with dreadful surprise. His fingers fed up into the edges of the cloak around his shoulders, wrapping a tight grip on either side and lifted its hem up over his head. Pulling it down tightly and wrapping it around to frame his face, wide eyed and over-acting as his hands cross over his neck to twist the short cloak tight underneath his chin, he managed to point a single finger and take a step back.

"Whaaat?!? Wait a minute! You're not the Zeltron embassador's daughter! Who are you?!?"

Tris looked around and began shouting to the world and enjoying making a loud scene, arching his back as he looked the maiden in distress with that shall overhead.

"Help!!! This woman thinks she's a Zeltron! And she has a horrible case of oily skin!! Please, anyone!!! Oh if only we could save her! She's dooooomed!!! She's doomed!"

Tris released a hand from his lovely headwear and waved it flamboyantly towards E, letting go of his other hand to tap a backhand to some random passerby's shoulder to get his attention and carelessly get in his face to present his plea. If Ebberla hadn't stopped him by now, he might never stop.

"Can't you see?!? She's greased!! She's saturated with bodily excretion..."

Tris made sure to overly ennunciate that last word into the stranger's face, bewitched with the expressions of a haggard old witch, wide-eyed and teethy.

 

[GABA]

Ebberla nearly jumped in a startled surprise. His finger pointed at her, as he cried out in shock and surprise that she wasn't a Zeltron? Ebberla shook her head, her eyes narrowed in confusion to what he was doing. And then he started shouting to the crowd! Ebberla's cheeks reddened with embarrassment to his outburst.

"Tris? What the..?" she tried speaking, but then he took the next step and it was a step too far for her personally. And rightfully so, she was a Jedi, but still human, and still a girl, and nothing made girls more aggravated than to have their appearance insulted.

"Now just wait a minute!" she cried out, Tris had taken upon himself to drag an innocent bystander into his charade. "You came here to find me? To insult me?" she snapped at him, she looked around on the ground, the dirty city ground and picked up a handful of grim, dirt, guck, that built up on the corners of the street. Thank goodness for her gloves. It was anyone's guess to what lied in it, but Ebberla had a handful, and as Tris went on and on, she wiped her hand of guck across the front of his white suit.

"Oily skin?" her brow still furrowed, she took a step back to examine the damage, "Least I'm the one that doesn't look like a fool." she stepped forward and wiped her hand one more time across the top of his shirt for good measure. She moved back a couple steps, and examined him as though she were an artist and he was the artwork.

"That looks better. It matches your personality."One hand on her hip, and the soiled hand held out away from her, she waited to hear his rebuttal.

 

[DeathToll]

Tris just stared at her all serious now and leaving the stranger to make his escape, confused. Tris was frozen with disgust, his hands stuck in a helpless flex to either side.

"........you put crap on my suit."

His eyes shut as he was violated once more, her hand making a second pass in this drive by shooting as chills went up his spine; his suit, the victim of the most heinous of crimes.

She remarked on his personality, but he just looked to the guck's origin and then to her hand and finally to her eyes. She had his attention now. He paused, his thoughts flying through speeds of light, different emotions fighting for the surface. With time, his hand eventually made a fist, leaving a single finger to point with. His neck pinched, and he barely managed to point that finger at her.

"You..."

He spoke with a retribution, with a promise to tell her off; using that tone that would detail the words to put her in her place.

But then he cracked a light smile.

"... are gonna get it!"

His finger pointed down to the gunk in the street from the same place she had scooped up her ammunition, and he flicked a light spray of the muk onto her.

 

[GABA]

Ebberla was successful, she had gotten him to stop, but now without consequence. She could feel his annoyance, his vanity rising to the surface and not to mention his thoughts yelled to her. He still lacked skill to protect those thoughts of his, but it was nothing less than what she had expected.

He pointed a stern finger at her, his muscles were tense and she waited for the worlds to leave his mouth, to tell her how awful she was, and it was awful, his suit was nice, but it was necessary to get her point across and for a moment it had worked.

Then he smiled, his tone changed and the Jedi nearly stumbled over with disbelief. Both arms fell to her side, had he gone mad? He flicked guck at her, it splattered against her dark fatigues and even a speckle or two landed on her cheek. Ebberla didn't flinch, her eyes looked down to examine the damage and then back at Tris.

She blinked, he had gone mad, she was sure of it. She had a dreaded thought that made her stomach sink. Did Saleucami do this to him? She looked back down at the smelly stain on her, she used the back of her hand to wipe away any she had on her cheek. Her eyes went back onto Tris. This stain was never coming out.

"I'm gonna get it?" she questioned back, "No, you're gonna get it and my dry cleaning, and! And! How the blast did you find me?!" she asked her voice getting louder and louder, people were beginning to stare at the couple.

"Who the blast told you I was here?!" she cried out, she could feel all eyes on them. Her cheeks turned bright red from sudden embarrassment and the Jedi turned on her heel and left.