gossamer wingbeats

— EDIBLE GLITTER ( Eden/Sehrin | Cheevo the Hutt’s Floating Pleasure Palace | 3954 )

               content warning | substance abuse, drug mention, NSFW mention

The rich and the villainous — oh, Sehrin loved it when those two words were put together and even more when they have the means to back it up. There was a rather hot shipment of — well, one could say illegal substances but then one wouldn’t be having fun. They were simply — hard to come by. Unless, that is, you were an operative of the Exchange who knew how to influence a room full of potential buyers. Which is to say, unless you were Sehrin. 

               And there is only one. ( A fact the galaxy should be grateful for. )

The room revolved around him — which is how he liked it. He sat in some stranger’s lap, a human with his hand moving up against Sehrin’s thigh like a thief trying to nab something unnoticed. An Ongree sat hunched over the bar next to him, pupils dilated and blown. Sehrin would tap his fingers very lightly every now and against his large hand as a reminder that of course he wouldn’t forget him. A Qiraash woman sat on the other side of the human, leaning against him and pressing forward to Sehrin and every now and then he would glance up at her and meet her eyes. There was a sudden flush as he predicted and she giggled. He felt the rise of emotions, desire and joy and anticipation all at once and he winked at her. 

He had already done business. The Ongree would buy four cases of kyrotin for his boss — a local crime lord looking to edge his way into the trade and the human — goodness, Sehrin was so bad at remembering names of people he didn’t care about — Avlan? Horace? Lin? — would take another four. There was another human who had stepped away to see what all they could muster up in order to satisfy Sehrin’s cost. Exchange grade kyrotin was about as good as one could get and that was just the run-of-the-mill stuff. He hadn’t even gotten to the Spice yet. 

The only thing was … none of them would be able to afford anything else. Local crime wasn’t his target. And more importantly, he was getting bored. Sehrin was all for mixing business and pleasure but he had only just gotten here — the party didn’t have to stop at the first person who takes their pants off. And that was when he spotted her. 

              Eden — his little goddess of mischief. 

              “Excuse me, my darlings. I have to go talk to a man about business.”                “So soon? Let me buy you another—” 

Sehrin pushed hard against contentment in the human — Barnaby? Hasi — no, he was Hasi — hard enough to watch his eyes glaze over and his head begin to droop. He tilted towards the bar and Sehrin grabbed his chin and kissed him. He made a noise and Sehrin let him drop hard against the bar as he hopped up. There were protests but Sehrin simply blew a kiss and ignored them. They would be content enough to nurse their drinks in a bumbling kind of fog until the feelings faded. 

“Darling! It’s been—” He stepped up, took one look at the Twi’lek and his hands and everything snapped into place. She was working — Oh, how wonderful! He stepped forward and put his knee on the couch next to the Twi’lek — he smiled something sweet and pushed lightly against that relaxing emotion. Just enough to watch pupils widen, fingers loosen, and mouth go slack. Marks were such fools, it was delicious. His hand against his chin and Sehrin tilted the Twi’lek’s head up to look at him. “Oh, don’t be rude now. Introduce me to your lovely friend.” 

              Oh, things were never boring when Eden was around. 

“Oh, no!” Eden had to pitch her voice up to be heard over the music, so she leaned in closer to the man’s ear, giggles spreading through her chest, “No, I don’t think my father would be happy to know where I am. Are you going to tell on me?” She was a little bit old to be playing this gambit, but in the haze of the room the Twi’lek was lost in her doe eyes and seemed none the wiser. A litany of information flooded the edges of her gaze, tracking everything from his body temperature to what hormones could be picked up on the air-- her HUD let her know about Sehrin’s presence just before his voice did. 

She almost broke character. 

“Oh!” Act aside, her gasp was nothing short of genuinely delighted by the presence of her pink friend. This was perfect, Eden couldn’t think of anyone that would be a greater boon on this job. Serration’s taste for the soft and the beautiful meant that Sehrin was bound to be a winner, even without his other abilities. 

“It’s so good to see you, dear, I didn’t know you were in this Sector!” There was an Alderaanian lilt to her speech this time, “This is Serration, and he was just about to show me why a girl like me shouldn’t wander so far from home. Isn’t he handsome?” As she spoke she snuggled a little further into her mark’s grip, watching the Twi’lek’s eyes glaze over under Sehrin’s attention. It was always a magical experience. 

“And, Serration, this is one of my best friends in the galaxy, you’ll love him,” She continued after a bit, lightly dragging her nails up the back of the mark’s neck, hoping he wouldn’t notice that she hadn’t filled in a name, “Actually, it’s getting a bit loud out here for introductions, don’t you think?” While she spoke, she reached out with a foot to brush against the back of Sehrin’s calf-- it wasn’t the hug she would usually leap to her feet to deliver, but it was affection nonetheless. 

The Twi’lek was looking more suggestible by the moment. The hand he’d had at her waist was slowly drifting down her hip, distracted and distracting. 

「 RUNNING ON EMPTY.   location | outer rim territories. spadja sector. tandankin.

The unexpected touch made every nerve in Io’s arm ignite white hot — pain flared beneath his skin, muscles clenching, his hand curled into a tight claw. Sharp needles pressing into his skin — that dark oppressive cloud that made everything hard to breathe — a dark pulse beat, a siren’s song. He winced loudly, drawing in a sharp breath before he could register what was happening. Without anything to stop it, panic flooded in. Fear was a cold jolt down his spine and he reached out blindly for  — ( “—and may it bring you back.” ) 

               Only there was nothing there.                There hadn’t been for quite some time. 

The words are blurry, noises through cotton, Io doesn’t hear them. He just hears the beat of his heart in his ears, the Force thrumming through him like a weapon. That’s what he needed. He pushed into the grip, against whoever held him to knock them off balance but whatever held him let go and he met air and then the ground rushed up to meet him. Breathe, Io — a distance voice, thin and distance with time. Calm yourself. Your pain hurts only you. The pain in his arm began to fade — it was only a ghost, only a memory. 

           Clear your mind  /   one would think.  /   Then stop thinking and do. 

He breathed, he centered, the Force snapped everything into crystal clarity. He sees a face he does not recognize, one with no association to the Sith or the Empire or himself. The crowd around them has given them a wide berth and he suddenly felt every steady heartbeat and the eyes that watched him. A growl in his throat, he got to his feet and — A miracle? 

“And what makes you believe I am in need of a miracle? Especially one from the likes of you?” 

              “Oh!” 

Before she realized what was happening, Eden was dodging backwards, old training taking over before her brain caught up with her. It was over in an instant. 

Her knees hit the ground hard, and they would bruise, but that was unimportant because clearly this person needed more help than she’d thought. First instincts weren’t always best instincts, however, and indecision froze Eden’s helping hands. After the way he’d reacted upon being touched the last time... She couldn’t make herself touch him again, even to offer help up. Instead, her hands fluttered uselessly in the air until he got up on his own. 

“I offer my deepest apologies,” Eden remained on the ground, “For touching you without consent, and for startling you.” Afraid of pushing her luck, she kept her hand to her chest and her head tilted down for another beat before slowly glancing upwards. 

              Still, he glowed. 

“And I hope this won’t offend you, but you don’t seem to be in a particularly healthy state,” Slowly, carefully, Eden got to her feet as though trying not to pose a threat to a frightened animal, and gave him a careful berth once standing again. Up close, upon further inspection, she could see more details of his singed clothing, and how poorly it fit. Probably stolen. The style spoke of Imperial origins. An escapee? Or someone trying to get in? Regardless-- he looked like the kind of person in need of an escape route, and maybe a safe place to recover. 

“This may not be the best place to discuss such things,” She glanced around at the people watching them, though some had already grown bored and were beginning to press in once more, eager to continue their shopping-- Eden lowered her voice, “But I do have a personal ship and medical supplies, which could be at your disposal, if you would be inclined towards classifying such things as miraculous.” 

For a moment, her careful demeanor broke and a teasing smile bubbled to the surface. 

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

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

 「 RUNNING ON EMPTY.     location | outer rim territories. spadja sector. tandankin.    status | claimed by eden kept 

—  ●        A presence rippled through the air and Io went cold. The crowd was a lazy thing, shuffling folk in shades of brown that wandered from one neon blazing sign to the next. He pressed closer against it, head down and mimicking movements to simply disappear.  Io did not know much about this planet — a slow urban sprawl that faded into mountains. The ship had it pre-programmed into its systems and Io didn’t have time to change it before the engines shot and the autopilot refused to shut down. The controls frozen and with no means — or time — to do anything, he had to jump before it crashed into the side of a mountain. A glance over his shoulder, he could still see the smudge of smoke that stained the clouds overhead.

              That was fine. At this point, Io had very little say in the matter. 

He pulled the hood of his cloak down, turning his attention to stalls with their rusted and gleaming wares, clenching his hand into a fist to keep it from shaking. There was a heavy groan about this place, a slow crunch of metal against stone. It made Io uneasy. A shopkeeper, an aged Kubaz shriveled up on her seat, uttered something in broken basic but Io was not listening. At least, not to her. He took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to match what he felt to what he knew. Only — it was gone. That was not reassuring. He was losing his mind. 

“Buy something — or go,” the Kubaz snapped, waving her hand at him. Io gave a shallow, stiff bow and stepped away, waiting for the slow crowd to swallow him up. He reached into the pocket of the stolen uniform, dirty and singed from the heat of the crash, and held tightly to the roughly carved wooden cube. The jailor had once mentioned it was lucky & Io needed all the help he could get. Well, no. What he needed was to find a way off planet — he knew the Axis ran nearby but vital trade routes are primed with check points and this close to Sith space, Io didn’t know enough to blindly risk it. He needed a ship and — the Force be with him, he needed actual help. 

             Although these days, he seemed to be running short on miracles. 

Eden’s relationship with the Force was a tenuous thing. At times, she forgot it existed at all, preferring to bury herself in what she identified as ‘the real world’, and ignore any knowledge that she couldn’t identify the origin of. Though, there were other times... A gut feeling had saved her life more than once over the years. And then there were those other other times. She could count them on one hand, the times that her gut feelings had become utterly overwhelming. Like a compulsion from somewhere deeper than her mind, it was impossible not to follow, and this time it pulled at her like a magnet. Land the ship, land the ship, land it. 

              She obeyed. 

The Spadja Sector wasn’t an area of space she frequented, too close to Imperial space by far, but she’d been making an allowance for a special contact. Lianna, at the center of so many trade routes, was the most convenient place Eden could talk them into. 

None of this explained why she was landing on Tandankin on her way back. It was, as far as she could tell, out of her way and of no interest. Yet, still, she landed and she disembarked, leaving her ship in a guarded space port. Something was out there... Something was tugging at her. No... It wasn’t there, yet. Eden would have to wait. 

Two days later, something in the air shifted. As if possessed, she left the room she had rented and followed the feeling of it out into the city, to the markets. Whatever she was supposed to find, it was here. In the crush of the crowd-- a soul glowed. Eden danced her way through the overwhelming press of people, standing out in a gauzy dress ill suited for the environment, and just as her hand closed around a stranger’s arm the feeling left her. This cloaked figure, scruffy and singed and worn down-- she had found who she was looking for. 

@sehriin​ ( content warning: substance abuse, nsfw mentions ) 

In the middle of Hutt space, not far from Nal Hutta, there floats a space station bedecked in a million lights. Spinning, ever projecting neon advertisements and party music onto the com waves of any vessels that float too near, it acts as a hub for the rich and villainous. Taking cues from any number of city planets and pleasure hubs, Cheevo the Hutt’s Floating Pleasure Palace is known far and wide as the place to go if you have too much money to burn and too little sense to look for adventure elsewhere. 

The top three floors, the largest by far, are dedicated to eternal parties. Pools filled with various neon-colored liquids, a wide selection of open bars, a perpetual haze of sweet smelling smoke and perfume, and large domed windows through which to view the endless expanse of space. The few floors below that are where guests go to retire, large decadent rooms decked out with plush beds, private hot tubs, and more mirrors than you can count. And, below that, are the floors where guests aren’t allowed. It’s rumored that these decks are dedicated to shady dealings and Hutt business, but the truth is that no one knows whether that’s the truth or if they’re just dedicated to the kitchens and service rooms. 

It’s a veritable playground for Eden, a thousand inebriated guests with pockets full to bursting and rooms containing more valuables than even she could hope to fathom. But, this time, she has her eyes on a very specific prize. 

Cheevo’s right hand man, an unfortunately slimy Twi’lek simply called Serration, and with the artificially pointed teeth to live up to the name, has the master keys to the whole station. It’s a miracle that he’s allowed any breaks at all, but over the last week or two Eden has gotten a very good sense of his schedule. And a very good sense of his type. 

(content warning for: suicide mention and uhhh brain washing? kind of? idk how to warn for that, and some mild like.... referenced medical gore idk)

01. Tell us about your character’s name. Was it given to them or chosen? Does it hold any special meaning? If your character has aliases or nicknames, how did they get them and what do they mean?

“What do you want to be called?”

“I don’t understand the question, sir.” 

“Well, I can’t just keep calling you Sixteen.” 

“Technically my full designation is PM-16-21A.” 

“That’s not a name, you need a name, kid. What do you want to be called?” 

The Keeper wasn’t really a man that cared for names, so he never bothered naming his charge either. It wasn’t until Eden reached the cybernetics expert, Sargo Hemmel, that she received a name. It was a long discussion, but ultimately she begged off deciding on a personal name for long enough that he gave up and named her after a dancer he’d known in his youth. 

As for surname, Eden had a stronger opinion. It’s really just a pun on the fact that she was partially raised by the Keeper. She thinks she was very well kept. Hemmel tried to convince her to pick a more common name, but she does have her stubborn moments.