The Good, the Stressed, and the Edgy. (Ali, Yarkar, Kress)

[Aliclair Austjor]

Aliclair's eyes rolled once more. Right, fun. Because going an adventures to Force knows where always ended well to the feline hybrid. Letting her tail go, giving it a flick then letting it settle in it's usual position; curled. She brushed her suit before departing to her quarters to collect supplies to last a few days. Extra clothes, a few things she could nibble on, the whole nine yards. She looked upon her weapons; a modified vibrolance and a combat bow styled bowcaster. She let out a slight sigh; perhaps this new location would have better weapons to swipe that could better suit her than these two.

When Aliclair had all her belongings, she strapped it to a pouch on her lower back, draping a cloak over her then exited her quarters to meet Kressara at her ship. Her features showed slight distress, as if she were being pulled to this trip and in a way, she was. But, in the end, she agreed to go with this unlikely duo with her arms crossed underneath her cloak.

[Yarkar Edetar]

Yarkar did not have that much to get ready, most of his life was in his ship, so a quick stop by there allowed him to grab some essentials. His saber was always on his hip, but a cloak was always helpful to block out any particularly harsh sun or cold. He looked at the rest of his equipment, deciding to at least take his portable shield and DH-17. He didn't want to look armed to the teeth, but he wanted to be ready for the chance of something breaking out. After all, who would ask for backup if there was not a chance of danger? Beyond that he didn't feel like he needed much else, after all the Force provided where the galaxy would not. He made his way to Kressara, arriving shortly after the feline did.

Perhaps this is what he needed, he had not been among other Sith longer than in passing since he parted ways with Tormentous. How long ago was that? Perhaps 3, maybe even 5, years? Yes, after all, no Sith stood alone. He wanted to be among them again, there was something about company that seemed to resonate with the young acolyte. He was not familiar with the feeling, but it was nice nevertheless.

[Kressara Thryn]

Surprised that the two of them actually agreed to go along with her, Kress was rather proud of herself as she strolled from the mess hall to her ship, a weathered but well tuned Skipray called “The Shyyyo”. Stepping into the old bird, Kress was greeted by vibrant spray painted walls, string lights hanging from the ceiling over a small table with crates for benches like a breakfast nook, and the smell of flowery incense faintly lingering from the last time she spent cleaning. Personal effects were placed about the hull, some for comfort, others belonging to her usual crew, and plenty of mementos from previous trips. It was a small ship, technically classified as a fighter, but it maximized what space it’s interior provided to give passengers a small bathroom with a cramped shower, a cargo hold that bled into the main space, and six bunk beds stacked in threes on either side of the hallway that led into the cockpit. Each was freshly made, though some of them had photos tacked on the wall where her most commonly transported companions slept.

Among these pictures on the bottom right bunk were sweet scenes, presumably placed there by someone who cared very much about Kressara and his family. A tall, olive skinned man with shark like teeth and a cerulean mohawk (most often relaxed and brushed out long over one side of his head in the photos) was in most of the pictures, making it safe to assume he was the one who slept there. Group pictures of the punks Kress ran with, some candid at parties, others taken on purpose, and another of him with Kressara riding piggyback down a crowded market street. Family gatherings with his two kids, a young boy and a little girl who both favored him. Kressara was in the picture cutting a birthday cake for his son, obviously one of the family. A few more like that raised the question of whether or not Kressara and this man were an item, or if they were potentially her own kids to those who didn’t know her history.

On the top left side bunk, a patchy stuffed shark lay on the bed, its portion of the wall covered in low light plants which could survive without the sun, mostly jarred mosses and a couple little leafy greens, but an iridescent mushroom grew over the headboard in a glass that glowed when the lights were off. Glittery baubles and shimmer paints lined the bunk. The rest had some degree of personalization to them, though a couple were fairly undecorated.

The cockpit was a wild scene compared to the clean, mechanical cleanliness of most vessels. Purple velvet cushions replaced the old leather of control chairs, and the walls were painted the most in that part of the ship. Anarchistic phrases, profanity, crows, sharks, foxes, and a goofy looking character of undeterminable species littered the walls like her crew had a creative field day painting the interior together. Hanging from a lever over the display, an obsidian bird charm and a dinged up old ring on a gold chain. As a joke, the big red button that opened the cargo hold had “Self Destruct” painted over its former label.

Flipping switches and starting up the ship’s engines, Kress went through a brief check of the systems, equipment, and emergency materials before turning on some music that’d play low in the background. Everything was geared up by the time her newest crewmates/traveling companions arrived. Sliding her own bag off shoulder and tossing it down into an unused corner by the table, Kress motioned for the others to do the same.

“Welcome to The Shyyyo! Home away from home. Make yourselves comfortable. There’s a bathroom over there and if you’re looking for a drink or something to snack on, check the crates by the table. Don’t worry about what you take from those, actual ration stores are in a cabinet in the cargo hold. A few of them have spare clothes, weapons, blankets, games, books, you name it. Beds are by the cockpit! I sleep in the top left, but the rest are free for the picking.” Smiling a bit awkwardly, Kress spun on her heel and took a seat in the pilot’s chair. A second chair next to her was open, as was a cushioned bench along the wall of the cockpit if they wanted to hang out while she flew.

“We’re flying to Bespin, so it’ll be a bit.”

[Aliclair Austjor]

Aliclair's opalescent eyes scanned the walls of Kressara's Skipray. While there were a few things wrong that she would fix, she kept her comments to herself while maneuvering her way through the ship. She let out a small snort before dismissing herself after Kressara explained the potential do's and dont's, while surveying her surroundings for a place to hide or meditate. "You can take that seat if you wish, urhm... I don't think I caught your name." The feminine started while looking at Yarkar. If he decided to present his name or not didn't concern her.

Her ears swiveled against her head like satellites on the search. She looked upon the pictures presented with curiosity but it didn't gnaw her enough to ask questions. It was pretty self explanatory on what they represented. Eventually, Ali didn't find what she was looking for an opted to settle in a corner of the commander's cargo, coiling her tail around here she sat and shut her eyes to begin meditation.

[Yarkar Edetar]

"Yarkar. Yarkar Edetar, former apprentice of Lord Tormentous if it matters to you. And I do not believe I caught yours? Unless you would be more fond of me using that nickname Kressara referred to you by. 'Whiskers,' I believe she called you? I imagine you'd prefer to be a little more dignified than that." Yarkar felt that this woman had more to her than she seemed. Short quips had glimpses into what she meant, although Yarkar had the decency to not try to telepathically read what her true emotions were in full. She seemed like the kind who would warm in time enough for him to know her intentions.

However the Shyyyo was itself a distressing mess to Yarkar. The scribbles and pictures and phrases and a button, clearly both relabeled and poorly at that. All of this almost shot a dart through Yarkar's skull, splitting his mind in two. He felt so out of place, like he couldn't make sense of the things that he witnessed. The world hid its reality under a coat of paint that had yet to dry, leaving him only confused. He went into the cockpit to sit in the chair if only to be around the one thing he knew for certain. He sat too-straight, almost like a droid himself as his legs sat pressed together and his head moved to focus in a spot where he could see as little of the interior as possible, only Kressara and the space beyond. He still felt the thin wisps of drowsiness dance behind his eyes, but he was more alert both from the unfamiliar surroundings and the innate worry that they brought him.

[Kressara Thryn]

The ship was small enough that from the cockpit, one could look down the central corridor and see almost all the way into the open cargo space. Eyeing as Aliclair opted to simply meditate rather than stay in the present for the journey, Kressara let hazels roll. Yarkar wasn’t much better, sitting like his surroundings were going to bite him if he so much as moved a muscle out of place.

“Jeez, you both really know how to turn up.” She let a brief huff of a laugh pass through an exasperated smile. She might as well have decided to take the trip alone. Might have felt about the same. Not caring to respect one’s meditation time, Kress called back into the body of the ship, “Not one for road trips, huh?”

Her usual crew was definitely livelier company. They’d usually lounge around the ship, dance when it was safe to move around, break into the snacks, tell stories, play games, even cut up a little in the back over a few drinks. These two looked eager to get the trip itself over with.

“You know, you’d both get a lot more enjoyment out of life if you relished the time between destinations. We’re on a ship about to head way out of any authority’s reach, without the need to do anything other than have fun away from the usual humdrum you guys live by every day. Why not cut loose a bit?” Turning her eyes on Yarkar, she’d suggest, “Relax, let the downtime do its job and actually rest your body AND your brain. You might be learning what it takes to survive in the sith in that stuffy academy, but you aren’t learning a darn thing about how to survive yourselves.”

Engines sufficiently warmed and all systems running smoothly, Kress jumped behind the wheel and took them up from the landing pad. The Shyyyo might have looked like it was owned by punks (which it was), but it ran like a ship that had more than enough love poured into its upkeep. Kress and her pilot both threw more credits into that vessel than most Euphornian citizens made in a standard year, EACH. Sailing into the stratosphere like it was skimming silk, they watched the planet's surface shrink beneath them.

Digging into her pocket to pull out motion sickness meds, Kress popped a couple before motioning to the media player.

“Feel free to change that, Yarkar. There’s a ton of songs downloaded into the ship’s computer. I don’t use any transmitted music services though. Makes a ship way too easy to track. You could always hook up your own devices though. What bands ya into?”

[Aliclair Austjor]

Aliclair's nose scrunched slightly at the nickname 'Whiskers'. She wasn't sure where that name came from; she had none. So it concluded within the feminine's mind that it came just from the simple fact of her being a feline hybrid. But she didn't direct any of her annoyance toward the younger human. "Just, Aliclair is fine. Or Ali, former apprentice of Tormentous." She said before settling down. 'Like that's anything to flaunt..' she added to herself with a slight flick of her ear. The bitterness she felt toward the Dark Lord hadn't changed not one bit, even while he was MIA. For a while, she figured the Galaxy without it's Reaper was a good thing but there were those within the Sith who missed him so she wasn't one to complain.

Her mind began to get into its solem state to where she can properly commune with herself and her Force. Unfortunately, her meditation didn't last long. Ali let her throat rumble in a slightly inaudible annoyed growl while casting her opalescent stare onto Kressara. "Usually not unless I'm in the pilot seat. But, seeing that this is your ship and not mine, I am.. unsure of what to do." She said, leaning back against the ship wall. The hybrid moved her gaze to Yarkar to see what he would do, her eyes not as crude but more so curious to see what sort of tunes he would play. If he decided to do so.

[Yarkar Edetar]

“Humdrum? You misunderstand me Kressara, I live to the beat of my own drum. The Sith move too slowly for my tastes.” Yarkar almost cracks a smile at it, his pride shining through everything. “Rest is being forced upon me. My mind is honed like a vibroblade, rest is but a sheath. You said you needed a crew. This is work, as much as you call it rest. I will learn what I can about survival though, I refuse to be bested.”

Offered the ability to change the music, Yarkar was faced with a mild crisis. He didn’t actually know much music. He only really heard it during his studies or at balls. However, that music was tightly tied to dance, and there was definitely not enough room for that. An awkward silence befalls the vessel before Ali speaks up, Yarkar trying to hide the fact that he was holding his breath by letting it out his nostrils as he takes in new air.

“Very well, Aliclair. It’s a pleasure to be formally introduced.” He tries to trail off, attempting to draw someone to fill the silence and hide the fact that he was unacquainted with music that would be reasonable to listen to. He was not one to readily admit that there was something of which he was unable to accomplish.

[Kressara Thryn]

“Uuuuuh huh. Sure…your mind is a plump little dopamine deprived wad of gray matter that responds to stimuli on occasion IF you’re lucky. It’d be useless if it were a blade, or a sheath, or whatever you’re likening it to so you don’t have to properly care for the type of weapon between your ears. Neglect to keep that thing working properly and you’ll die as soon as you face someone who does…lucky for you, almost no one in that temple has a fully functioning brain due to idiot practices, myself likely among them, so you’re safe for now, kid.” Kress spat all of that out without a breath between sentiments. It was a well memorized precautionary tale, like this wasn’t the first or fiftieth time she attempted to warn someone of the dangers behind neglecting their sanity.

But she wasn’t talking about tactical knowledge, or studying, or keeping focused on your enemies and goals. She wasn’t even talking about meditation and connection to the force.

“Life comes and goes, and you don’t get much of a say how or when. If you don’t let yourself live it, REEELAAAAAX, and give your mind the chance to grow outside of the limited little kiddy pools they’re swimming in day in and out, you’ll stay a stunted angry child no matter how old you get…” She turned her vision from the open stars to Yarkar as she spoke, then rolled similarly twinkling golds back at Aliclair to finish, “...and YOU will meditate and wonder who's going to choose your next move for you, literally for the rest of your nine lives.”

She turned her focus onto the music, realizing Yarkar had no songs in his head to offer them. That much only proved her point. He needed a friend. He needed MANY friends. So did the growling girl behind them. Ali had been inducted into the order against her will, much like Kressara. It took a while for the farm girl turned spice dealer to finally find freedom, and even longer to learn how to properly defend it. Suddenly, Kress wasn’t flying with a couple of fellow sith acolytes. She was in a small box with a couple lost kids on timers doomed to run out long before they ever realized…they didn’t have to live inside that box just because someone else put them in it, or it’s a different box from the one they grew up in.

“My bad, but sorry Yarkar, but my mind’s a little fast paced too and I know you probably have a good song in mind…” Saving his pride, she flicked down a list of titles on the dash and hit one. “But I might as well be guilty of all the universe’s greatest tragedies if I actually forget to play this band for you both.”

Radically flowing notes plucked on metal strings to off beat drums and lilting synth somehow matched the paintings on the cabin walls, expertly played when the voice of a space angel joined in. It was upbeat, melodic, and unusual until the beat dropped and the hard vocalists shredded their throats to deliver raw emotion in musical form. Kress’s leg bounced in time with the song, then her whole body thrashed in her seat when the chorus blasted from the stereo system, hair whipping forward and back again before she straightened out. She was tapping the steering column and singing along with one hand dancing to the lyrics.

The Shyyyo cut through starfields and followed trails in the dark of space Kressara had mapped out in her mind from so many journeys before. She seldom needed guidance from the ship’s nav system, opting to disable the program when she wasn’t using it to minimize the risk of their computer being tapped into and destination leaked. One song played after the other.

“Ali, you have a favorite band? Anything you want to play?” Though she expected much the same result from asking Yarkar.