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Thread: Mise En Place

  1. #21
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    She'd already polished off one bite of nuna; not so much chewing as simply swallowing. A second sporkful was already on its' way to her mouth when Zem asked his question. She paused, mouth open, and slowly the Lupine closed it once more. She angled her head to afford him a white, sideways look. A slow blink.

    And just as slowly, the spork and its' shoveled contents were lowered back down to the plastic tray-plate.

    "Well... "

    There was a moment of silence as she considered how to best answer.

    "I suppose you could say that the two... enjoy each other's company."

  2. #22
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    "Oh."

    Zem's face went cryptic for a moment, then a little surprise shone through.

    "Oh."

    More silence, until he leaned forward a bit, propping with his elbows.

    "Meorrrei? The same Meorrrei as..."

  3. #23
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    "T'yeellaa would be her eldest, so yes."

    She went back to her food, though at a less barbaric pace. Rather than simply eating with no other purpose than to gain sustenance, the Lupine did her best to slow her pace and intersperse her bites with talk.

    "It was not what I expected, but the two seem to like each other well enough."

    The spork rested atop a small pile of tubers and she leaned forward a small bit to finally give a sniff to what she'd been eating. It was about what she expected. Only maybe... worse? A frown, and s'Il tapped the table with a fingertip.

    "Mother and daughter are mostly night and day however. Do not expect some younger version of Taataani."

  4. #24
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    The Jedi Master looked visibly relieved by that assurance.

    "I suppose the galaxy couldn't be large enough for two of them."

    It wasn't that his time with the esteemed Senator of Kepaa Brens had been bad - far from it. But the Rrou'fai of the house certainly seemed to suck up all the air in whatever room she inhabited. Even if this K'ohta'rrou was somehow a fraction of the brilliance, he wondered how Commander Dage could maintain course in that gravitational pull.

  5. #25
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    A rueful smile came unbidden to her lips, both corners ticking upward ever-so-slightly.

    "I think that if there were two of them, our lives would be planned meticulously until the day that we die."

    Not exactly a jab, it was a musing on the level of attention and perseverance that Taataani had shown so recently. A stray look to his own tray of food, and without ceremony the Lupine liberated half of the sponge-like brownie that still sat untouched in the top corner of his plate.

  6. #26
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    "How are you still hungry after Carshoulis?"

    It was said in part surprise, and part good fun. Zem fixed Lok with an amused twinkle as he surrendered his brownie without incident.

    "I could skip meals for three days and probably be sated. I don't think I've eaten like that since, well...ever."

    While gluttony wasn't specifically singled out and forbidden under the Jedi code, Zem had to wonder if that level of indulgence didn't in some way function contrary to the spirit of tempering passions. At the very least, if he spent a month on Carshoulis he might be in no physical condition to duel!

  7. #27
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    Pausing mid-chew, s'Il gave an owlish blink as she stared at him.

    Slowly she swallowed, very nearly making an entire production out of such a simple action.

    "Metabolism?"



    * * *


    Jovan hung in space like a sentinal, perched over an invisible line, a watcher. It had gained a steady increase in traffic with each successive visit that s'Il could remember, and in a way she supposed that it was a hopeful thing. She secretly enjoyed the notion of a thriving community in space, and despite what she was sure were a myriad of differences shoved together and made to work out the kinks, there was a necessity to such things.

    From her seat on the bridge, the Lupine leaned back, one elbow propping her up only slightly. The drop from hyperspace had been routine, their clearance codes sent and instructions given. But, rather than the normal docking procedures, Mr. Varin would be taking a shuttle to pick up their temporarily attached guest. It wasn't anything particularly out of the ordinary, but still; it would've been nice to see the station once more. The last time that she'd visited she had found a rather enjoyable Cizerack restaurant that specialized in a multitude of marinated raw meats. It'd been delightful, and she had very nearly made herself sick.

    Now however, there was no time it seemed for small breathers, and the Captain turned an almost lazy eye to KHER.

    "Is Mr. Varin off, then?"

    "He is, Ma'am."

    "Good."

    A moment passed, and she shifted her gaze to Zem, who had taken up residence beside the ship's AI.

    "A shame we don't have time to dock. You would like it there, I think."

  8. #28
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    Master Vymes remained somewhat skeptical of that assessment as he stood at his partner's side, taking in the vista afforded of the station from the bridge.

    "Taking holiday on an Imperial space station? After the pampering on Carshoulis, I think you may be slightly mad."

    And that was part of the amusement - he was finding more and more that Loklorien s'Ilancy often had him figured out before he'd made up his own mind.

  9. #29
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    "Slightly mad? Perhaps."

    Rising to stand, s'Il took a few steps forward, gesturing for Zem to follow. Past the pilot's nest and up the shallow stairwell that opened onto the grated walkway that lined the front viewport. It afforded a mostly unobstructed view of the space before them, and the station that sat so quietly in space, surrounded by traffic of all types.

    "It's actually rather remarkable despite how it appears. One would almost say it's bigger on the inside than it looks from the outside."

  10. #30
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    K'ohta'rrou Meorrrei maintained a good sabacc face in uniform, but she was giddy on the inside. A temporary assignment to warship duty as an expert advisor was a welcome change of scenery in that the scenery actually changed on a ship. It was a reminder of the life she'd temporarily deferred to become the executive officer of Jovan station. A life that she vowed to return to at some point.

    Then there was the small bonus of serving for a couple of days with Samus. It was such a good idea on flimsi, but this was in itself completely unchartered territory. Aside from sitting on joint command conferences, they had never actually served together. Would that work out? Would they get on, or would it be a professional disaster? In a relationship of firsts, there was a lot of rocky terrain in kissing an equal, and T'yeellaa far from an expert.

    It all left her with a few clawhoppers flipping in her stomach, but you wouldn't figure it by looking at her. The K'ohta'rrou's duty uniform was immaculate from her cap, high starch collar, and white gloves. She carried a small duffel with just enough basics to accomodate her for two or three days of duty. As the shuttle ahead pierced the atmospheric shield, T'yeellaa waited as an aloof species of statue.

  11. #31
    The approach to his designated berth was made smoothly, and Jeremy brought the nu-class shuttle in past the atmospheric barriers, letting the old craft hang for but a moment before beginning the slow taxi. The wings had been folded, and landing struts extended slowly from a blanket of ejected hydraulic steam. Jeremy Varin was more than aware of the practical dinosaur he so regularly flew, but sometimes you just couldn't beat the classics. They were hardy, built like hovertanks, and difficult to truly replace.

    He didn't bother making the effort to extricate himself from the cockpit, as this was a simple pick-up. It helped that he could already see his passenger waiting for him, and even as the shuttle touched down softly, he reached forward to activate the boarding ramp. A hiss of more vented steam, and the nose of the old beast began to slowly extend downward.

  12. #32
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    The lack of curbside service was a feature, not a drawback. T'yeellaa eschewed the innate Meorrrei urge to insist on pampering, and a career in the military had cemented that ethic. She bounded up the plank, duffel in tow. With the pilot situated in a lofted seating platform above the entry, there was little to no incentive to get chummy. That was fine by her.

    Securing her duffel in the cargo webbing, T'yeellaa strapped in the nearest seat, taking care to mind the hem of her jacket as she negotiated the buckle.
    Last edited by T'yeellaa Meorrrei; Feb 27th, 2017 at 11:59:39 PM.

  13. #33
    From his perch above, Jeremy hadn't really paid much attention to the officer waiting, but the internal sensors told him enough that she'd boarded. Everything now was routine, and he couldn't help the smirk that etched onto his face. He remembered her well enough, though there was a healthy suspicion that she had not a clue that the very same man she'd shared angry drinks with was now her pilot. It was one of those lovely little things about fate, and even as he began the quicklist point checks for in and out pick-ups, he couldn't help himself. In one fluid motion Varin retracted the boarding ramp while activating the talkback comm.

    "Pleasure to have you aboard, K'ohta'rrou Meorrrei."

    In the grand scheme of things it wasn't much, but Jeremy had strangely been gifted with the luck of his voice sounding exactly the same, whether face to face or over the comm.

    "I hope you've not brought any of that brown, angry firewater with you."

  14. #34
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    Her ears flicked as the vox chimed in. Even through the scrubbed electronic comm line, the voice was familiar enough to recognize.

    "Jerremjy Varrjin."

    Pilot Jeremy Varin, it would seem. T'yeellaa spoke to the ceiling, lacking a reference point. He'd be a much hazier memory if it wasn't for an awful lot of good advice rendered when she needed it. The K'ohta'rrou smiled as she leaned back in her seat.

    "Forrtunateljy, jI thjink both the Alljiance and Cizeri navjiess have ssomethjing to ssajy agajinsst mjixjing ljiquorr and actjive dutjy."

  15. #35
    He gently pulled on the yoke, feeling as the shuttle responded smoothly. It had become his baby in a way, and he took care of his ship nowadays in just the same manner as he had cared for that old, battle-worn TIE fighter he used to fly. Some things from the academy never died; at least, the basic things. And as the nu-class shuttle lifted once again, repulsors easing it back, Jeremy began the turn that would leave them facing open space. He talked as he flew.

    "I suppose when legitimate trappings get laid on, this man's 'navy' has to start behaving."

    It was a tongue in cheek jab at the less than official manners that had once been part and parcel for the old Rebel Alliance. Of course, he had not thrown his towel in with the Alliance until Endor, and everything before then had been uniforms, inspections, and flying. Oh, he'd told the K'ohta'rrou the truth about not being accepted to the fleet academy, but he'd also left out the fact that he had reapplied. That time, he'd gotten in.

    The shuttle cleared the atmospheric barrier, and as it did its' wings folded down, locking into place.

    He purposefully chose not to ask her how the festival had gone; her previous frustrations at having to go were enough that he didn't want to pry. Instead, he spoke of things much more immediate.

    "If you want, I'll send down the back seat for you so you can get a look at your new home away from home. Well, a closer look than a screen on some terminal in the station's command hub, at least."

  16. #36
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    The K'ohta'rrou smiled at the offer.

    "jI'd ljike that."

    A moment later, the copilot seat raced down with a hiss of hydraulics. T'yeellaa unbuckled from her passenger seat, taking the copilot seat's promised vantage. She hooked in, then slapped the recall button on the armrest, sending the chair up into the cockpit, where she sat behind and slightly above the shuttle pilot. The semi dome of transparisteel afforded a wide open view of space, allowing the K'ohta'rrou an unfettered look at the one-of-a-kind ship they were approaching. There was something to be said of the artistry of Khera'va'ssio, and someone could certainly say it a lot better than T'yeellaa could. It wasn't exactly the beauty of the ship she was admiring. It was an idea. A sense of place. Unseen by Varin, T'yeellaa's eyes appeared wistfully longing.

    "Nai'enna y'ennetaiya kau suurro'arr."

  17. #37
    He smiled knowingly. Even despite his inability to understand Cizeri, the emotion in her voice was easily translated. His attentions returned to his controls however, and the normal docking chatter he'd come to expect filled the air around him.

    "Nu Alpha Seven Seven Zero, you're cleared for berth."

    "Copy that, Control."

    His head angled slightly up and to the side; his passenger was very much out of sight, but he knew that she would know he was addressing her.

    "You ever been on one of these old boats before, Ma'am?"

  18. #38
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    "Nothjing ljike thjiss beforre, no."

    T'yeellaa had served on old ships. But old to her was measured in decades. And she'd flown aboard privately-owned vessels of tremendous beauty. Her mother certainly owned numerous star yachts, at least one was built by hand. But a ship like Khera'va'ssio? It was in a class of it's own, or at least quite nearly.

    "Therre ussed to be a rrace out jin the Outerr Rrjim known asss the Drragon Vojid Rrun. Do jyou know of jit?"

  19. #39
    "I've heard of it, yeah."

    He talked as he flew, his skills on display as the old shuttle smoothly slid past the atmospheric barrier and into the hangar. A row of A-Wings were nestled along one side, each in their own cubby-port that allowed just enough room for the pilot to slip in. Lining the other side of the hangar was an assortment of supply crates, surrounded by a small smattering of deck hands and a single cargo crane suspended from a heavily reinforced track above.

    "Never had the desire to do anything like that though. I mostly stuck to those old TIE's and did what I was told. Course, times change, and now I'm here."

    Some might find the shift from a fighter pilot to shuttle duty as a demotion or some form of insult, but for Jeremy it'd been a godsend. He had found that there was a certain detestable level reached when pushed into the cockpit of something that didn't even have shields. Some pilots ate up the fact that there was no safety net, but for him he found the nu-class to be a far superior craft, and a machine worth his time. He babied the old bird, and while he'd not named her yet, there was a healthy degree of affection he felt for each deckplate and console panel.

    The short descent to the deck was made gently, and he settled them comfortably down.

    A quick look toward the large, arching entrance showed him that there would be at least someone to meet the K'ohta'rrou. Not that he didn't enjoy her company, but he had his own duties, after all. And he suspected that she was the sort to get down to business at the earliest opportunity.

    "Looks like you're getting the executive treatment," he grinned while beginning his shut-down sequences.

    "The old gal actually left the bridge to welcome you aboard."

  20. #40
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    Back to reality.

    T'yeellaa unpacked her memories of the old race she'd witnessed as a cub. Khera'va'ssio wasn't a hand-built star racer, and Loklorien s'Ilancy wasn't the near-mythical Loo Ree Anno. But the special nature of this ship couldn't be dispelled, especially as a veteran starship captain.

    "Thank jyou forr the rrjide, Jerremjy."

    The K'ohta'rrou tapped the debark control on her seat, triggering the lowering mechanism that would take her back down to the cabin.

    "jI'll ssee jyou on the rreturrn trrjip."

    Gathering her things from the cargo webbing, T'yeellaa stood at the gangplank as it lowered.

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