dar'manda

      「 — @javnennavok​ | 3954 BBY | Rishi 」

Vin wishes he didn’t have this much hesitancy towards the mere act of going outside. He forces himself to smile, to match the energy Kal exudes. “Have I become miserable to be around that you’re pushing me out?” There’s no real gravitas in his words. He chuckles afterwards then realizes maybe there is some truth to what he said. He hasn’t been good company to be around lately.

The laces and buckles on his boots are quickly fastened so he won’t keep Kal waiting by the door. The boots fit much more comfortably than the other pair he wore while on Nar Shaddaa. Each step from where he stood to the door is light and agile. “Thanks for getting these for me. I wasn’t going to complain about the others. These do feel more like what I’m used to. I appreciate it.”

“Not miserable to be around,” Kal says, teasing, “Just plain miserable. And I’m not pushing, I’m pulling, come on.” He makes a show of impatience by the door, dancing in his boots as Vinny laces up his own. 

In an effort to draw less attention to himself (to the both of them), Kal’s been trying to wear less obvious armor-- opting for less visible shields and things that he can wear under civilian clothes, rather than the heavy Mandalorian style that used to be his entire wardrobe. It took some time, but he’s comfortable enough like this now, and it’s opened up his eyes to a whole new world of subtler armor options. 

        「 — @javnennavok​ | 3954 BBY | TBD LOCATION 」 

“I, erm.” Jav’nen purses his lips as he mulls over where this sentence is going. “Appreciate it.” The tones of his voice from start to finish clash like dissonant notes. This is characteristic of most of his responses to Kal who reminds him of rapidly changing melodies. He never knows quite how to read the man.

“I suppose if your surveillance senses will be that keen, it won’t hurt to take a quick stroll around. My life is in your hands, Kal’edee.” It’s been weeks since he’s set foot outside a 10 foot radius of their place of residency. Some air might help calm his spirits in ways alcohol cannot.

“Of course,” Kal bows with an over dramatic flourish, humor in his voice, “I am at your disposal as ever. A weapon at your command-- never again shall you have to fear the dreaded gaze of the public!” His grin as he bounces back up to his full height is teasing and lighthearted-- it’s only been a year, but he’s already more comfortable around Jav’nen than most, and this kind of playfulness isn’t unusual. 

Neither is the way his heart skips a beat when Vin uses his nickname. 

It went exactly the way Vestir imagined, dreaded, feared. Leave it to Kal to accomplish something even the Hutt cartel couldn’t do. His shoulder throbbed even more than before the beating. “Do me another favor.” He groaned as he stood up. “Never offer to do that again.”

His joints cracked. “Really, never again.” 

Kal couldn’t keep his grin to himself as he finished up, maybe a little rougher than necessary. “Alright,” He said, packing the med kit back up and eyeing the shoulder brace one more time to check the fit, “I can’t believe you’re so ungrateful, though. Were you raised by--” The sound of the ship hatch opening interrupted whatever Kal had been saying. 

“Aha, not stuck with me alone anymore.” 

Kal & Lyra | 3957 BBY | Nar Shaddaa

(  @kaledeedeshra  )

                Confrontation was the last thing she wanted, but finding herself cornered, Lyra saw little choice. With her back to the wall, her gaze fixed upon the two bounty hunters as they closed in, moving almost too slowly toward her down the narrow ally — taunting her, she realized, letting her know there was no way out. Despite having paid off what she owed  ( and then some ), clearly she still had a price on her head. She made a mental note to set that straight as soon as possible if she got out of this alive.

                Instinctively her hand moved to the lightsaber concealed beneath her jacket. Though Lyra kept the weapon with her at all times, she kept it out of sight, only using it when absolutely necessary. Her situation seemed grave, but still she hadn’t determined whether or not this was a time it would be necessary. Her uncertainty was cleared in the next moment as one of the bounty hunters fired a shot, the red bolt only narrowly missing her cheek as she ducked to the side. The green blade flashed to life just in time to deflect another, though a third grazed her arm just below her shoulder, causing her to wince at the sharp pain it left behind.

                 She wasn’t sure how long she could hold them off, but she wasn’t about to give up any time soon. However, in the next moment as another figure appeared in the ally’s entrance, Lyra felt her heart sink. Two she could handle  ( at least for a time ),  but three? With her training left unfinished, she knew her abilities weren’t what they could be, and was all too aware of her own limitations. Still, she held loosely onto a small spark of hope that perhaps this person was here to help her rather than siding with her attackers.

Nar Shaddaa would always feel a little bit like home, and so Kal visited often. It was ill-advised, with the galaxy going to hell around them and the law close on his heels, but he’d never been particularly smart. 

Speaking of. 

Following after a bounty hunter was never really a good idea, but when plagued by aforementioned aversion to good sense and a healthy dose of curiosity... Suddenly it seemed like the right one. 

It wasn’t completely a random whim-- he’d recognized one half of the pair ducking down an alleyway, and knew him to be one of the scummier hunters to frequent the area. They’d worked together (once, never again), and Kal was still itching for some payback. Best served cold? Maybe. Something to keep Kal distracted, at least. 

And maybe he could pick up the bounty while he was at it. Kal’s pockets were running a little light those days. 

If only. 

If only she hadn’t been a Jedi-- Kal saw the lightsaber flash to life and knew immediately that he was screwed. Sith didn’t tend to carry that color, and it wasn’t like the things were flooding the markets these days. Being seen with one was a veritable death sentence in some areas, usually not worth it. Regardless, a quick glance over the situation had Kal judging that their quarry was... Young. Too young to leave the situation behind. 

“Oi!” Making his presence known wasn’t his usual style, but by the time one of them had gotten a shot off in his direction, he had the other by the throat. It was the stranger-- his acquaintance was now aiming at the both of them. 

Send me a ✧ and I’ll bold all that apply to your muse. — @oliristhemisericord

Send me a ✧ and I’ll bold all that apply to your muse. — @tenordo

Send me a ✧ and I’ll bold all that apply to your muse. — @javnennavok

Send me a ✧ and I’ll bold all that apply to your muse. — @vestirkano

—  A CERTAIN GLOW ( Kal/Oli | Ten Leagues Cantina on Nar Shaddaa | 3963 ) ( content warning: alcohol mention, extremely mild violence )

The fact that this kid wasn’t in anyway swayed or dismayed by his words and dismissal irked Oli to no end. He didn’t like feeling powerless in a social interaction, as though he didn’t have any control over the person or people he was addressing, and here this kid, this Kal Deshra, just smiled away all his veiled threats.

When the datastick appeared, however, Oli’s eyes narrowed barely in interest, watching the small device like a dog would a treat. The only hint that Kal had struck a cord was the sudden lack of rhythmic tapping of hard nails on a hard surface. He didn’t want to be interested, or agree that the information Kal suggested he possessed actually was valuable; maybe not to him personally, but there would be people that would salivate at it, who would do anything for him if dangled in front of their eyes. But right now, he was being baited with it, and he didn’t care for it.

Slow and deliberate, Oli moved down to fold his arms on the counter, leaning on them, his face moving closer and closer to Kal’s. “You’re playing with fire, Kal Deshra,” he murmured, voice soft but dangerous, looking him right in the eye. He tilted his head again. “You came here, into my home, trying to force my hand, and you don’t even know my name?” A laugh passed between them, quiet and melodic, but no less minacious. “Ballsy.”

Kal rested his hands on his helmet, and his chin on top of them once more. The action brought him closer, too, after the other’s movements, but there was nothing invasive about his demeanor. Above all, Kal remained open and light. 

“I like fire. And I’m not trying to force your hand,” His shrug was hampered by his pose, “If you don’t want the information, then I’ll find someone else to sell it to. I only came to you first because of your good reputation.” It was Kal’s first real bluff of the night-- he wouldn’t be selling the information to anyone he didn’t trust, and he didn’t know enough about any of the other information brokers on the planet to risk it. Almost nose to nose with his conversation partner, though, Kal didn’t risk breaking eye contact or dropping his soft smile. 

—  A CERTAIN GLOW ( Kal/Oli | Ten Leagues Cantina on Nar Shaddaa | 3963 ) ( content warning: alcohol mention, extremely mild violence )

If Oli had been any other person — kinder at the very least — he would’ve mirrored the niceties of this Kal Deshra, but as it was, he wasn’t any other person, and certainly wasn’t kind. Or at least, that’s what he told himself and fervently believed it until it became true in his mind. And so, in a blatant display of exasperation and annoyance, Oli tilted his chin down towards his chest as a hand lifted to pinch the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut. This was why he didn’t like interesting with people, because they were always coming in, asking things of him, when he just wanted to be drunk and left alone.

As he dropped his hand again, a deep, weary sigh escaped him, and he looked at Kal again. While he was still only several centuries old, age clung to his bones and weighed him down, and every person he met made him older and older. Certainly more tired. “Yes, I know Ophid, but why she would recommend me is beyond me,” Oli ground out. He let out a sound that wasn’t just a simple growl, but it sounded deep and animal in nature, a rumbling that kept vibrating in the way most species were simply incapable of producing. “No one can be trusted, me included.”

His nails tapped along the counter in a rhythmic and impatient manner as he looked this veritable baby over. “How does that sound?” he repeated the words, not hiding his irritability. “It sounds absolutely awful and resource draining. What makes you think your information is valuable to anyone but you, child?”

Watching the other person’s obvious exasperation, Kal’s smile grew sly until it crinkled his eyes. He wasn’t sure what it was, but something struck him about their demeanor. Obviously they didn’t want to appear friendly in any way, but Kal had always enjoyed a challenge. 

“No, I can definitely see what she saw in you,” He said, tilting back slightly in his chair, “She’s talented at seeing past first impressions. I think I’ve made the right decision in who to trust.” The way that the other person’s rumbling vibrated through his own chest reminded Kal of jungle creatures he’d hunted in the past, and did nothing to quiet his smile. There was something more to them than met the eye-- which was impressive, because at first glance it was impossible to ignore that there was something special there. 

“And,” Kal reached behind him to pull a datastick out of his pocket, “I have detailed information on Neo-Crusader operations and Sith army movements. They’ll be valuable to anyone on any of the planets involved, as well as anyone looking to take advantage of the chaos.” Out of a grudging sense of repaying him for what he was doing, Kal’s sister Kaya had shoved the information into Kal’s hands before he left Vorpa’ya for good. The Neo-Crusaders weren’t what they had been, but there were still small groups in operation around the galaxy, and the Sith were just as much a problem as ever. 

—  A CERTAIN GLOW ( Kal/Oli | Ten Leagues Cantina on Nar Shaddaa | 3963 ) ( content warning: alcohol mention, extremely mild violence )

Oli had honestly expected him to run off or at the very least leave him alone, yet surprisingly, the boy had done neither. Again his eyes scanned over him as he talked, uttering a word Oli didn’t know nor cared to know. An eyebrow quirked as a slight smile tugged at the left corner of his mouth. “No. If I couldn’t take care of my own problems, I would’ve long been dissected by now.”

The ‘owner’ was brought up again, and Oli’s head tilted to the side slightly, like an animal whose interest had been piqued by a toy. Or a piece of food. There was something that tugged at his insides as he watched the boy, and instinctively, his nose scrunched up in disgusted; not at this human boy, but at himself. There was a softness he felt swirling around in his stomach, the kind of feeling one would get upon witnessing a kitten yawn and fall asleep in your hands. The kind of feeling that Oli had absolutely never experienced before in his life, and honestly could do without for the remainder of his existence.

With an exasperated sigh, he poured another drink — a vibrant blue, swirling in the glass without swirling, not unlike his skin did — in the same glass he’d drank from previously, but instead of throwing it back himself, Oli pushed it towards the boy. “Fine,” he grunted, grabbing another glass to pour himself the same drink, “I’ll bite. Who are you, what do you want, and how prepared are you to sell your soul?”

Without hesitation, Kal downed the offered drink, mimicking the movements that the golden beauty had used just moments before. The drink burned a little harsher on the way down than he’d expected, but after the number of times he’d downed Mandallian Narcolethe in a similar fashion, it didn’t phase him too much. He would never be able to out-drink his older sister, but he could easily hold his own against most of those that hadn’t been raised on the stuff. 

Kal whooped and gave his head a shake to clear it, hair fanning out around him, after he finished the drink. If possible, his grin had only grown brighter as he sat back up straight. Already, the alcohol was settling in his stomach, the burning shifting to a more pleasant warmth. 

“My name is Kal Deshra, of-- formerly of Clan Deshra. Ophid said she’d worked with you before, and that you could be trusted,” Kal had taken the person’s words as confirmation that he was talking to who he wanted to be, “I’m looking for information and hoping to build some good will, and while I don’t have a soul I do have valuable information to offer in trade. How does that sound?” 

—  A CERTAIN GLOW ( Kal/Oli | Ten Leagues Cantina on Nar Shaddaa | 3963 )

( content warning: alcohol mention, extremely mild violence )

Oli looked the boy over. He didn’t look dangerous, but he knew better than anyone that looks could be deceiving, especially in a place like this. Regardless of his rule of neutrality in this place, over the years there had still been people that had attempted to test Oli’s patience by coming in with a try for stabbing him when they thought his guard was down. It wasn’t that Oli was hard with trust. It was that he didn’t trust at all.

“Owner is busy right now, leave a message and I’ll see if she has time for you,” Oli snorted, pouring himself another glass of bright coloured alcohol as he purposefully ignored the patron on one end of the bar, snapping to get his attention. Oli was about to throw the liquid back when a particularly rude word was tossed his way in Huttese. A long moment passed where Oli just held the drink to lips painted gold and black, as though he had frozen in time by a command, even as the music chimed on above the murmur of conversation.

And then everything went very quick. The glass was slammed down on the bar while Oli was already moving down it, and in one graceful movement, grabbed the human man by the throat, coffin-shaped black nails digging painfully into the delicate skin. As Oli started to lean closer to whisper in his ear, with the man practically lifted out of his seat and across the bar with unproportional strength, it was almost like he was gaining years visibility. Five years, ten years, fifteen years…

By the time Oli let go of him, the man was pale with fear and his hair had started to lose its pigment. But he was alive, and that was about as merciful as Oli would be that evening. The moment the man hit the chair again, he fell out of it in a scramble to get away and run out of the cantina. Oli watched him go, wiping his hand on a cloth as though cleaning off filth.

Without another word on the matter, Oli carried himself back to where he’d put down the drink and finally threw it back. A quick glance towards Kal conveyed an expression of bored disinterest. “Oh, you’re still here? Pity.”

By the time things escalated, Kal was already halfway out of his seat, face colored with second-hand offense-- he may not have known the person behind the bar, but by his measure it was never okay to say things like that to a person that had done you no wrong. 

He was brought up short, though, of course. This was the Ten Leagues, it had been foolish to assume that the bar tender wouldn’t handle things themself. Granted, if forced to guess, Kal wouldn’t have been able to come up with the... technique at play before him. Frozen, halfway between curiosity both genuine and morbid, he was still staring by the time the man had been released and run off. 

Despite himself, Kal felt instantly more at ease in the establishment. 

For most of his life, he’d been around violence and of the impression that the most dangerous people were always the safest for him to be around. With a toppled bar stool and the rest of the evidence of the scuffle still present, the bar suddenly seemed less pristine. The ex-Mando’ade’s posture relaxed. 

“Chak,” He shot a friendly smile in the bar tender’s direction as they walked back over, “I was going to offer to take care of him for you, but I see I didn’t need to.” Kal sat back down and placed his helmet on the bar.

Despite the display and his own curiosity, there was no part of Kal convinced that asking about what just happened would be a good idea. It wasn’t any of his business, anyway. Best to just accept the scene and move on. 

Up close again, he couldn’t help but notice the mesmerizing trace of gold in the bar tender’s skin now that he looked closer. 

“As long as you don’t expect the favor to be returned.” At the very least, Vestir was transparent. People had their own codes but that was none of his business. He slumped back in his seat. “Face scrapes, left arm cut, left shoulder… Fucked for now.” He left out the other bruises and things that were easily concealed. If Kal wanted to feel useful or absolve guilt for whatever, Vestir could humor him. But only to an extent.

Like the child he was, Kal wiggled his head around and mimicked Vestir’s sentiment in a stupid voice, before regaining some composure, “What favor? No favors happening here.” As he spoke, Kal popped open the medkit and set it up on the table next to his coworker, getting out some initial antiseptic and setting aside the bandages, “Alright, well, this box is out of painkillers but I have some stashed in my room, as well as a shoulder brace you can use as long as you promise to wear deodorant. I’ll get them in a minute, let’s do the unpleasant shit first.” It was taking all he had not to act to smug about the situation, even though he couldn’t actually identify what he was feeling smug about.