SithLore

***Jaemus System, Obtrexta Sector, Grid Coordinates K-4***
***Hotel Providence, Northern Continent***

"Fierfe-", Doren began, stifling a curse in the wake of contact with a sharper, misshapen nail. "Zygan, could I trouble you for-", Vassyl started again, before a slender grey grasper descended into the Captain's view, offering a small basket full of odds and ends. Doren grinned in appreciation before gingerly fishing about for a replacement divot, and took up his hammer with renewed resolve. While some areas of his property had been easily restored through machine labor, many of the vintage elements, such as the antique staircase, required a steadier, biological hand. Thankfully, the young Jaeman's travels had introduced him to several amicable contractors, including Zygan and his cohort of Xexto construction team.

Dressed down in white tee and loose black trousers, Vassyl had been enjoying his shore-leave in spite of the work currently underway to refurbish the hotel to its former glory. As an enlisted officer, it was often Doren's lot to serve as an avenue of destruction: a facet of his service he seldom enjoyed. In rare instances such as these, acting as a force of creation was greatly therapeutic, and provided a measure of peace despite the tumultuous chorus of mallets on dairewood. Nonetheless, the atmosphere was rather to Vassyl's liking. The Captain's return to his homeworld had aligned with the changing of the seasons, and the chaotic resolution between the wet and dry months. The mornings remained quite cool, and ideal for such menial tasks, though by lunchtime, the sun would melt the morning frost and brighten the surface of the lake.

Even now, nascent glimmers shone through muggy clouds, scintillating on the ancient pond no more than a kilometer away. Every now and then, occasional glinting and refraction reached Doren through the windows surrounding the main entryway, and furthered his inner contentment. While his establishment remained open at this point of the orbital cycle, it was not a popular time for guests and foreign visitors. It had been a quiet couple of days, but that was not so awful. Stillness was not a common virtue in the military, and when it could be achieved, Vassyl was want to preserve it for as long as possible. Looking down at his chrono, Doren determined now was as good as any a time for a break. "Take five gentlemen", Vassyl instructed, "I shall have tea brought out in a moment". The Captain's collaborators gently lay down their tools, and chattered amongst themselves excitedly. As Doren well knew, no one could resist the lure of a complimentary beverage.

The search continued, and Vyn found herself in a system she didn't even know the name of, but despite the ignorance she was having a Deja Vu moment. Maybe there was a system she had visited, and it was similar? Or maybe she had been to this planet before? Whatever the case was, she walked in those emerald stilettos in the terminal with little more than a precursory glance to the Rim-Solarian Taxi Service Agent, and though she had paid him, she whisked to the docking bay terminal with such a haste one would think she was in a hurry.

Well, she was.

She had gotten a lead on the man who was holding the pistol, a specifically modified Westar that she had been looking to get her smooth hands on for a while, now. It had been a couple of months since she had been on this trip, but the more she searched, the more fun she had with it. It was a challenge and she was praying it would be held from her for atleast a little while longer. The adventure had gotten in her head with more ease than she had expected, but she loved every second of it. Sitting in the ripped leather cushion that served as a crude burgundy seat, the ship had started, and with the haste her extra 60 credits paid for, the minx was swifted to the nearest system, passing through the fringes and into the hyperspace needed to go anywhere quickly.

Filing the tips of those brighter viridian nails, she cleaned her cuticles while she waited. Vyn was sitting crosslegged by herself, dressed today in a modern and elegant verde attire set. The promo video she had watched had clearly shown this was imperial territory, and with her having no idea what she herself was going to get into, she figured dressing professional was the best option. A bit of flare with a side slit in her black pencil skirt, a comfortable but sleek bustier of matching refined emerald with a ebony trim, while an overcoat jacket sufficed modesty, too being the calm and collected black of usual attire. Her hair today was a glamorous shade of gold, cut in a daring side bob, and she held only just the tips of her remarkable front bang in a swoop, pinned with a gold, obsidian stone and emerald charmed pendant clasp. Eyes were highlighted in a forest of morning light, rays of gold peeking behind the man focus of verde highlights. Lips were shaded in a matte black, fading into a splendor of green just within the underhelm of the plumps. A runway model, as always.

The pilot however was a bleak man, barely making it through the week, and hoping he could finish up this run and settle back home after this shift. Of course after they were released through the hole of hyperspace, immediately they were noticed by imperialistic forces, halted, and inquired of.

"This is RSTS of outer sector, Civilian Service Taxi. Identification code 2925371RSTS3. On board with one passenger, one pilot. Cargo, cilian belongings. Requesting permission to land nearest any tourist center for disembark."

[Civilian transport, throttle back your engines and stand by for security screening], an older woman's voice cooly announced, somewhat garbled by the hovetaxi's limited speaker functions. Jaemus was certainly no Bastion, but its merits were no less impressive on a first or second glance. Designated as a Class One Fortress World, the local system sported multiple Golan platforms in its orbit, accompanied by regular fighter patrols and on-site defense cruisers. Even now, from the back window of the miniscule shuttle, one could clearly see the identify the side hull of a Carrack-Class Cruiser, presently refueling no more than five kilometers off to the right of the primary communications station. Similarly, the all-too infamous frames of TIE Interceptors glinted about far ahead of the taxi's front viewport.

Within the communications hub, a cadre of biological and artificial administrators double and triple-checked the credentials of the pilot and his ward, ensuring that neither had any notable histories that would warrant a search, seizure, or other more severe interventions. While Jaemus boasted a considerable ground defense force, its main military agenda was its vital position in the hyperlanes, owing to its proximity to the new Imperial capital, as well as its oft-overlooked yet sizable shipyards. Indeed, there was no lacking in Naval presence, and stationed forces wasted no effort in displaying their preparedness for a fight. After what felt like a small eternity for the put-upon driver, the female announcer returned, affirming, [Clearance codes accepted, please execute your predetermined landing cycle: failure to do so will result in an arrest and potential imprisonment. Welcome to Jaemus].

There were no weapon's on the taxi ship, so there was n way he could illustrate to the waiting company his lack of hostility. Eons seemed to pass for him as his engines were shh'ed and he waited for the voice of the woman to return. He almost misunderstood her words when she had left him, almost turning off his engines completely. He skipped away into a daydream, wondering what his wife was making for dinner this evening. He had another job lined up after this one, but he had informed her ahead of time he would be a slight bit late, and though he knew she would've if she could've, he told her not to wait up for him. The food would be wrapped up for in in the-

[Clearance codes accepted, please execute your predetermined landing cycle: failure to do so will result in an arrest and potential imprisonment. Welcome to Jaemus].

He was so startled out of his daydream, he had almost forgot what he was even currently doing. Fumbling with his brain for a pace of seconds then with the controls, the engines were brought back to active energy use, and fired themselves to the only just active but not too active. Only enough to pass though their allowed entrance to the planet, locate the nearest terminal, which from his map's cords was mainly north of the planet's entirety. Trying to settle himself past the entirety war-prepped arsenal the Jaemus waved in front of his visor. Hells, he was surrounded by the ships, squadrons passing him by casually threatening him in the most nonchalant manner a pass of death-delivering ships could. The sheen of their hulls and wings glanced at him as he navigated through the clear path and eventually made his way into the atmosphere. Making his approach, he connected the autonav with the cords he was given by the map, and seamlessly they made it to the landing paddock. Pulling within the docks, he unloaded the rotors that gave grip to the steel floor. The air began to seem free the artificial pressure, and the ramp release first second and third seal, unwinding from the door's mainframe. Just as the landing procedure was completed, a lithe figure switched into view from the passenger's section of the ship. Standing behind the pilot, she waved her milk chocolate hands at the pilot with the swiftest farewell before disappearing down the ramp. "Thanks, hun!"

And off she was.

Of all the facilities on the hotel grounds, Doren found the landing pad to be the most unsightly. To remedy this fact, he had original platform demolished, and a replacement constructed on one of the smaller neighboring hills a half a kilometer out. No sooner did the taxi finish deploying its docking clamps before a silver, open-top speeder dipped up and over the crest of the grassy knoll, stopping just short of the landing zone. The pilot was a labor droid. Bulky in build, and cramped somewhat within the front driver's compartment, the metallic denizen awkwardly escaped its shoulder belt and proceeded to collect the visitor's luggage. After quickly scampering around the other side of the hovercraft, the automaton hastily opened the side passenger door and attempted a slight and courteous bow.

Overhead, the clouds seemed to shudder as a strong wind blew in from the east. All the while, the sun continued to blink in and out of sight above a migratory gray sky. As was common with the intermediary months, the promise of rain was probable yet fickle. Far away on the southern continent, the weather was less erratic, and certainly more predictable. The closer one drew to the northern archipelago, in contrast, the more chaotic the elements became. Still, the dance of early autumn showers was picturesque in its own unique way, provided it was viewed from within the dry amenities of the hotel. With a foreboding series of chirps, the droid looked to its current ward with an anxious photoreceptor. When living on Jaemus, rust was indeed a near and present danger.

The minx hadn't wasted any time casting those hazel green irises across the newly remodeled landing pad, instead squinting against that gentle breeze which carried with it various particulates. Appearing as though she scowled against nature itself, the beaut turned an immediate direction to the silver hover, stylish in a coup manner. An arch crescented her brow and a nod of interested impression, she breathed in her lovely voice, "Wow, treatin' a girl rather nice, aren't you?" She tilted her head as the automaton came by, watching the mechanical assistant pick up the couple of minor bags she kept with her to keep up the 'typical girl on vacation' ordeal. All she needed was near nothing but a couple of pairs of clothes, and though she made herself seem high maintenance, Vyn accomplished such with as few tools as possible. The only makeup she used was basic eyeliner and some colors. A steady hand and some varied shades of lipstick. Natural beauty hadn't passed her up. And anything she didn't catch by face she accentuated through that curvy body of hers. She might have been short, but she had heels for that. Any mood she had, she had a wig to match. Alright, maybe she was a tad bit more maintenance than she thought she was. Because heaven's forbid she didn't have brushes or her plethora of jewelry.

Returning a mini acknowledgement to the droid, Ms. Reigns accepted the seat, allowing the bot to close the door behind her after she had made herself comfortable. After it had replaced itself clunkily in the driver's seat, she unanimously slipped her own belt on and enjoyed the ride where it went. It wasn't very sunny, and though she would had preferred the sun of this system to have been a bit more visible. The mugginess was sure to mess with her hair- It was then she remembered she had a wig on, and hadn't need to worry about her real hair growing disoriented and fluffy. Raising a warm mocha hand to her lips, she gave a giggle from her short memory's surprise, and felt more at ease of the cloudy day.

Taking her eyes off of the front of the route, she lightly waltzed a smooth arm over the edge of the speeder's window rim and enjoyed the ride. She had a thing for traveling, and despite the tinge of grey overhead, she appreciated the beauty of this planet so far. Nothing like some good breeze and nature and stuff. Imperial's had a thing for making a regular day feel secured, and a citizen feel even more safe. Well, yes, they had a bit of expertise in being callous and curt, but business was business. Pirating was more and more cutthroat nowadays, anyway. Being civil was nice.

Vassyl's eyes perked up as the familiar hum of the hotel speeder floated through the open lobby windows. He had since returned to his work on the stairs, and observed Dweir had not returned from the sorting the lacquer canisters at the back loading dock. Handing his tools off to one of the taller Xexto, Doren made his way to the front desk, and sure enough, found that the establishment was indeed expecting a singular arrival. Vassyl noted further the reservation consisted of one the single rooms on the second floor, well situated by the main access lift, and sporting a moderate view of the lake. And then there was the owner of said claim, one Vyn Reigns. A foreign designation to be sure, and not without a dose of moxie regarding the surname: not that it changed much. Business was business after all.

Realizing he would be making a professional first impression, Doren gave himself a once over. Sawdust and wood chips had seemingly taken residence on his shirt. That simply would not do. Having purged the unruly settlement from his attire, Vassyl then looked across the way at an antique mirror on the opposite wall. The Captain had indeed worked up a sweat amidst his task, that much was not easily solved, but remedied some with a dabbing of the wrist. And then there was the hair. Frayed some by the mid-morning moisture, Doren did his best to smooth things over in the short period of time it would take Oh-Nine to disembark his passenger and begin to bring their luggage around to the side service entrance. Posture, that much could be managed. With a deep breath, Vassyl straightened up, and awaited his latest guest.

The hovering mobile was swift and careful in it's streak through the paved paths of this planet. The darling had called herself so caught up in the scenery, the air as it silkily slid over that soft skin of her's, the way the planet simply felt, the only thing that halted was the movie screen of real life abruptly stopping. Vyn felt a slight trace of confusion at the interruption, the interest growing meek now as she embarrassingly remembered she was in a ride, not a holofilm. Rolling her gorgeous hazel emeralds at her own silliness, she patiently waited while the droid not only grabbed her things, but opened the door for her, metal clanking magnetically against metal. The droid was a lot more posh at customer service than driving, and if it had a heart, maybe some flesh, or even a working smile, she may have rewarded the thing with a kiss on the cheek. Yet it had none, and those glossy lips remained hers, alone.

However, the company they stopped affront of had all of these things- Well, unless it was another protocol droid and someone had managed to put synthskin and expert-

"Hello!" she exclaimed, tongue slashing the greeting through unprepared lips. She had only commanded that mouth of hers to smile! Not to talk! As much as Vyn wanted to punch herself in the mouth for her premature greeting, she waved both it away, and to him, this dapper man, instead. Maybe this is why people considered women to be bipolar. Too busy arguing with themselves and wise-cracking off.

"The name is Vyn," she allowed herself, extending a perfection-based manicured palm to shake. "Vyn Reigns. But I'm sure you may have already been alerted of such," she assumed. 'Well, since he was waiting out here and at the exact same spot the droid dropped me off at, obviously', she mused inwardly.

"I honestly don't wanna pester, but do you maybe think you could introduce me to who might have been the architect of the buildings? They're startlingly beautiful," she charmingly slipped, hoping the tilt of her head would induce whoever this man was be smitten enough to obey her with more swoon than swearing. Of course she had no clue who indeed she was talking to, until he had opened his voice to tell her.

Vyn Reigns. She had easily captivated the entryway with her presence. Several of the Xexto had paused to acknowledge her, and Doren himself could not help but note the elegance of her composure. She was beautiful, of that there was little doubt. Thankfully, for Vassyl's sake, the woman's excitement, nigh bubbly disposition released a sort of nervous energy that nullified his own. Straightening up after his initial meditations, the Captain softly began, "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance Miss Reigns, I am Doren Vassyl, the owner of this establishment". While the young Jaeman did not particularly reflect his station at the present moment, it did him no good to lie about his spot on the management ladder.

Further still, the unexpected request of the building's history had come from left-field, and was a desire that only Vassyl could accurately satisfy. Though much of the staff had preceded Doren's tenure as the hotel's overseer, he had nonetheless taken the time to thoroughly familiarize himself with the facility's history. "You humble us with your interest in one of our planet's foremost architects", Vassyl continued with a smile, "Straaf's work is not so well known in larger galaxy". Stepping out from behind the front desk, Doren swept a hand out in invitation, and concluded, "I'd be more than happy to provide a brief tour, if you're not too weary from your travels?". With no other outstanding reservations, Vassyl had some time to wax eloquent before the construction team took their next reprieve. Memory lane was ever so enticing after all.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, left hand floating swiftly to her chestbone in modest surprise. She honestly thought he might have been simply one of the lackeys, but here she was speaking firsthand to the owner. Wouldn't be the first time she was too quick to judge character, she reminded herself bitterly.

"Regardless of his expertise, the pleasure is completely mine, Mr. Vassyl. Though please, send Mr. Straaf my utmost appreciation. I'll pass his work's image through the galaxy, if he might need an avid advertiser!"

Her hand moved up to trace a line across the base of her chin, the vixen listening to the owner as he offered his tour. Well, it was his, considering this was his establishment. That's how it worked, wasn't it? A heart-stopping smile crossed those ink and verde shaded lips, breaking through the shade with bright ivory gratitude.


"I hope it's not too brief; I honestly considered an extended stay, if it doesn't trouble y'all too much", she pointed out, her hurry to make herself seem more relatable than just an average guest completely bombarding through. Vyn was in such extreme pace to do such, slang slipped into that sentence, which not only mortified her, but made her wonder if her guise as a professional woman would slip up much too soon.

"Your droid was a perfect driver!" she threw into the topic, unbelievably awkwardly as her thoughts raced of how Mr. Vassyl would judge her ugly tongue.