The idle mumbling of a shuttle’s passenger bay was poor music, and her datapad ran out of juice seven hours ago. While she had been placed next to a friendly, and somewhat charming, Aqualish, she couldn’t bear to speak to anyone the whole trip. She had left the Seldom Quiet in the docking bay of some nowhere waystation orbiting some gas giant on the borders of Sith space. She trashed the interior as best she could before she left, taking only a holodisk hidden in a secret compartment, to be held until she found a suitably horrible way to destroy it.
She left the Aqualish with a smile as he gurgled his goodbye, stepping off onto the home planet she hadn’t visited in so long. The air was sick with the poison of Imperial occupation, the white armor of the stormtrooper clanking along as Emic grew more disgusted with every footfall. Emic could hear Mother Iridonia cry as humans ruled her children.
Her lips pursed in a quiet whistle, and words rang around in her head.
Which side are you on, boy?
Which side are you on?
A stormtrooper’s hand checked her shoulder, stopping her as she walked past. “Singing rebel songs are we?”
It was far too easy to play dumb. “Rebel song? That’s a rebel song? Oh goodness, I must have heard it on the HoloNet and it got stuck in my head.” She mimicked a nervous laugh. “I’m quite sorry officer, I know better now that you told me.”
The faceless bucket, no person within, just a soulless aberration, formed of the Human species’ most despicable desire to dominate, idled on Emic’s face, trying to get a glimmer of the blood boiling behind her eyes. He couldn’t make it through her guard. “Whatever. Move along.”
The Zabrak could barely hold back from spitting on the trooper’s boots.
A taxi took her through the busy streets of Malidris, tightly regulated traffic guided by Imperial droids guiding her to the front porch of her family home. The urban mansion was gilded in their family crest, and glowed, despite its old shine being covered by the dust of apathy, against the Iridonian sun.
Her tattoo, the sigil of her family, that lay on the inside of her wrist, was pressed against the scanner, and with a sickly hiss, the door opened to the main hall.
“Aunt Emic!” came the voice of a young child, followed by two sets of footsteps pattering toward her. Around the corner came two youthful faces, each a bronze shade of human. The older, Desmi, and the younger, Kerris II. Emic’s subdued face fell away into a wide smile, as she was mercilessly slaughtered with hugs.
The older Lai child came nearly to her shoulders, having sprouted far from the anklebiter she knew as her cousin’s daughter Desmi. Kerris II, the younger daughter, hadn’t hit her growth spurt yet, but that wouldn’t stop Emic. “Look at how much you both have grown! Two more years, you’ll be taller than me!”
Again, came two more figures. The face of her dear cousin, the best friend she had growing up, and the only one that could have at one point been called rowdier than Emic, Kajal, faded through the door to the kitchen with a grin. Emic called out to them. “Staples!”
The sight of Kajal was as heartbreaking as it was on their holo meeting last year. They, who were once a gunshow, a black-hole density of muscle, who brawled with Helrotts and Imperials alike. They who fought with knives in alleys, who threw bricks, and beat stormtroopers with whatever was at hand, had, over the course of the last seven years, turned slow and soft. Emic’s joy was tempered by disappointment.
“Good to see you, Emic,” Staples said, managing a grin, as they hugged their cousin.
Emic tousled the hair of the bouncy human children beneath her. “Desmi’s getting big now, it’ll be time for her to get her tats soon.” The older girl’s eyes were swarmed by stars at the thought.
Then came the cause of Staples’s sorry state. Desmi and KJ’s mother, Mesheri. “It’s good to see you, Emic, but please, don’t put ideas in their heads.”
“Ideas?” the prodigal daughter laughed, confused and incredulous. “What ideas? You’re going to give them their tattoos, obviously. Right?”
Staples leaned in close, as they caught Mesheri’s polite smile creep ever closer to a grimace. “It’s complicated, Emic. Something the kids shouldn’t hear. We’ll talk about it later.” They gave Emic a clap on the shoulder, as Emic’s eyes darted between Staples and Mesheri as her eyebrows curled into an image of beastly frustration, hidden only by an attempt at a smile.
“I should go say hello to Nana,” she quickly said, attempting to dispel the claustrophobic energy that had arrived within this home. She wordlessly pressed through the crowd, as the kids ran off to play. She felt Mesheri’s eyes hound her every step, as if she was trespassing in the home she grew up in.
The Kids Are Alright (Solo)
Re: The Kids Are Alright (Solo)
The ground floor lounge was where Nana Lai could be found. Kerris I was the matriarch of the Lai clan for going on 70 years. Three generations had called her grandmother, and still she was kicking around.
Emic let the door slide open, leading only to the barrel of a blaster waving from across the room. Kerris’s voice creaked to her, demanding her identity. Letting Nana have a blaster was probably a mistake, but she was still a good shot, and she didn’t want it taken away. “Who’s there? Who are you?”
“It’s Emic, Nana. Your great-granddaughter,” she responded, remaining calm in the face of threat of death.
“Eh…?” the old woman mumbled, her blaster lowering to reveal tattoos nearly hidden beneath the creases of a life lived long and brutally. “I’m sorry, Emic. My memory’s not what it used to be. Can’t keep track of all these grandchildren. Whose kid are you?”
“Belaphon’s my mom,” Emic responded with a kind smile, as she pulled a chair up across from Kerris’s chaise, tattered and faded from years of cigarras smoked in this room. The elderly woman lit one, taking a single puff and handing it off to her great-granddaughter.
“Belaphon, right. I remember better now. Whatever happened to that girl you brought around with you last time?” Kerris asked, ever focused on the important things in life: new grandkids.
Emic racked her brain to figure out just who she decided to bring home to her family. It wasn’t something she really did. Maybe Bederia? Or maybe it was that one-night stand that she had here a few years ago. Even Emic thought he was a woman at first glance. She just decided to play along, even if it could be that she’s remembering another cousin. “I haven’t seen her in a while, Nana.”
Taking the cigarra back, the old woman indulged a gentle laugh. “Like mother, like daughter. Belaphon never liked to stay with one person very long either.” Guess Kerris had it right after all.
“How are things around here, Nana? Staples take good care of you?”
“They take care of me just fine, but that wife of theirs won’t let me see the kids,” Kerris spat. “Says my stories scare them. Pah. Only thing those kids fear is her.”
To deny a child their grandmother’s stories. How could Mesheri do this? Emic’s nose was filled with the stench of empire, and she stood. “I should go visit with Staples, Nana. Good to see you.”
As if to deny herself the ability to mourn another grandchild killed after the last time she saw them, Kerris merely nodded and returned to her tea and cigarras.
Emic let the door slide open, leading only to the barrel of a blaster waving from across the room. Kerris’s voice creaked to her, demanding her identity. Letting Nana have a blaster was probably a mistake, but she was still a good shot, and she didn’t want it taken away. “Who’s there? Who are you?”
“It’s Emic, Nana. Your great-granddaughter,” she responded, remaining calm in the face of threat of death.
“Eh…?” the old woman mumbled, her blaster lowering to reveal tattoos nearly hidden beneath the creases of a life lived long and brutally. “I’m sorry, Emic. My memory’s not what it used to be. Can’t keep track of all these grandchildren. Whose kid are you?”
“Belaphon’s my mom,” Emic responded with a kind smile, as she pulled a chair up across from Kerris’s chaise, tattered and faded from years of cigarras smoked in this room. The elderly woman lit one, taking a single puff and handing it off to her great-granddaughter.
“Belaphon, right. I remember better now. Whatever happened to that girl you brought around with you last time?” Kerris asked, ever focused on the important things in life: new grandkids.
Emic racked her brain to figure out just who she decided to bring home to her family. It wasn’t something she really did. Maybe Bederia? Or maybe it was that one-night stand that she had here a few years ago. Even Emic thought he was a woman at first glance. She just decided to play along, even if it could be that she’s remembering another cousin. “I haven’t seen her in a while, Nana.”
Taking the cigarra back, the old woman indulged a gentle laugh. “Like mother, like daughter. Belaphon never liked to stay with one person very long either.” Guess Kerris had it right after all.
“How are things around here, Nana? Staples take good care of you?”
“They take care of me just fine, but that wife of theirs won’t let me see the kids,” Kerris spat. “Says my stories scare them. Pah. Only thing those kids fear is her.”
To deny a child their grandmother’s stories. How could Mesheri do this? Emic’s nose was filled with the stench of empire, and she stood. “I should go visit with Staples, Nana. Good to see you.”
As if to deny herself the ability to mourn another grandchild killed after the last time she saw them, Kerris merely nodded and returned to her tea and cigarras.