Zan'ei General Phantom

Sunlight filtered in through the canvas of Rhe’akha’s hammock cocoon, the Skoga blinking a few times before sleepily calling out, “Zandro, sekiisa cah’leb.”

Zandro was a few branches higher in the tree Rhe’akha had chosen to sleep in, the half-elf glancing down to the sun-gold eyes blearily peeking out at him. “I have been awake since the dawn-light chased away the night,” he answered after a moment.

He knew how to say as much in Sko’an, but there was something about not being a Skoga that affected the pronunciation. Add in that Zandro had a very noticeable Westerwood accent—his response even in Common was marked by it—and that made him more than a little self-conscious about responding in his friend’s native tongue.

“I will never understand how a barghoa can be quiet enough to not wake me, moving about the trees as you do.” Sitting up in his hammock, Rhe’akha quickly pulled himself onto the branch, deft fingers undoing the knots that had secured the hammock the night before.

Skoga, in terms of appearance, looked as if a wizard had tried to bond together a human child and their pet cat. Many considered the race nomadic, as they called no land their home and were found on the move more often than not, but their wandering ways were largely due to how they were regarded by other races and not a true ‘fact’ of their people. That so many were cheats and thieves did little to alter these misconceptions.

Perhaps that careless disregard explained why Zandro and Rhe’akha got along so well.

Carefully folding the mass of canvas and rope before tucking the roll into his pack, Rhe’akha shouldered the wolfskin bag and clambered up to a branch nearer the half-elf. “Where to now?”

“East, until we find the Eisaren.”

“She is little more than a stream this far south.”

Zandro nodded. “I know. This is not my first time traveling to Vayemar,” though he’d not been to the city for a number of years. “She returns in power once you near the Glennamur,” he pointed out.

“Were we far enough south for the mountain waters to give her back her strength, I would find myself wondering how a reli’ina would have led us so far astray.” The Skoga’s face turned up in a cat-like almost-grin in the seconds before he dodged a playful swat from his compatriot. “Does that mean we are to dine on the river-bright tonight?”

“If we find anything that will be more than a rude joke at the expense of our stomachs, I don’t see why not. And for the last time, Rhey, they’re called ‘fish’.”

For all their talk about order and justice in the galaxy, the Empire certainly did a marvelous job of pushing some of those who didn’t quite fit their mold into the welcoming (and disgusting) employ of the Hutts.

You needed credits to survive, and it was hard to earn anything if you weren’t the right kind of person for the Imperial Academy. Which, of course, Jeho wasn’t. Maybe it had something to do with the stereotype that surrounded Corellians--that they were rebellious, egotistical, trigger-happy troublemakers--that had the dark-haired male kicked out before he’d seen his first month of training completed. Maybe it was the fact that he tended to use his mouth and his fists more than his brain.

His past was neither here nor there, Jeho’s only concern now getting this delivery of glitterstim to his contact in Xucphra City and getting the hell off of Thyferra before the Empire’s goons caught up with him.

He really hated Inner Rim drop runs, and he was wondering when his luck was going to run out and he’d end up indebted to a Hutt for spacing a shipment.

It had taken Hana exactly three seconds to realize that the rift she entered wasn’t the one she had wanted to pass through, and fought the urge to run a hand down on her face. One would think that she’s already learned her lesson in attempting to pass through certain rifts without her twin, but no. With the passageway between this world and hers closed right after she exited, she had the option of either sitting where she was until it opens again, or taking a look around the world she ended up on.

Her curiosity won, of course, as her hand touched her side, where some of her knives were concealed under her cardigan. Hopefully she wouldn’t need those here, as she took a small walk, eventually ending up in a cantina, but barely left the entrance as she took in the rather remarkable and completely unfamiliar sight in front of her.

Had this been before the Empire had replaced the Galactic Republic, the cantina would have had far more of an eclectic gathering of patrons, visitors from all corners of the galaxy. With Thyferra quite solidly under Imperial control and, by extension, reflecting a great deal of the regime’s xenophobia, the only non-humans were the few Vratix settled around the facility, the nearly two-meter-tall insectoids there for the most part as patrons, though one was situated behind the bar.

Their knowledge regarding bacta production was likely the only reason their kind were tolerated by the Empire, given what had happened to most other non-human races around the galaxy.

Holos on one of the far walls displayed what seemed to be a race, but the vehicles were closer to Ride Chasers than anything else, hovercraft that were quite obviously not supposed to be going as fast as they were, and the pungent smell of tabac and hard liquor seemed to have practically seeped into the walls of the building. A glance around the interior would also reveal a hallway near the back of the building, likely leading to the lavatories and perhaps a kitchen.

For those who did head back through the hall, they’d find what they expected, but also rooms with sabacc and pazaak tables and dejarik boards, though it was up to the players just how legal (or not) the games got.

With this being an Inner Rim locale, the cantina was a bit more upscale than what Jeho was used to, given that most of his dealings happened in the Mid or Outer Rim. Recessed lighting and polished steel gave the place a bit of a refined air, though there was wear and signs of lacking care if one really looked. The Corellian’s expression shifted just a touch as he moved through the main entrance, stepping around a female stalled near the entryway, barely able to hide his discomfort at the presence of the (supposedly) telepathic Vratix. Shifting the pack slung over his shoulder, he made it about halfway to the bar before turning around and taking a second look at the woman he’d passed.

He’d not met his contact before, but Merna had given him a basic description of the woman he was supposed to rendezvous with, and with the way she was seemingly taking in the sights around her, he couldn’t believe that she could have been an undercover Imperial agent.

He was going to shoot himself if he was wrong about that.

Closing the distance between them in a matter of a few steps, Jeho nodded to her. “Syphex?” he asked.

A quick sweep of the cantina made Hana quite sure she’d rather stay where she was, her eyes darting every now and then to the non-human patrons and to the holos by the wall. While she wasn’t a stranger to such, her more recent encounters in other worlds had made her rather wary. Her attention was fixed on the ongoing race by the holos - for a moment fascinated by how fast they were going - before her sensors alerted her to someone approaching her.

That she had not expected any form of attention to fall on her at the moment, and she found herself staring at him; something in him felt familiar, at the same time, not. At his words, though, she blinked. Twice.  Knowing nothing of what he just said - was that a name or a place? - she canted her head to the side. “Pardon?”

Well, that was either the luckiest damn break in a long while or the name he’d given wasn’t one that would draw undue attention. “Sorry,” he apologized, one hand brushing through short dark brown locks before he hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his jacket. “You look like an old friend of mine,” and the lie flowed like truth from him.

This was by no means his first run for Merna, and he had been told to play it cool regardless of who he was to meet or where the initial meeting was supposed to happen, so, “First time on Thyferra, miss?”

“Oh.” The case of mistaken identity wasn’t new for Hana, as her confusion was replaced by an expression that told him that she fell for that rather quickly. “It’s alright.” That someone looked like her, though, was something interesting, though she chose not to speak about that for now as he continued speaking.

For one, she wasn’t sure what or where Thyferra is - though she knew now from how he had asked that she was on it. Not really being one to be wary of those who would first approach her, she nodded. “I’m…” she gave him a small, sheepish smile. “I’m not from around here.”

The strange rose-like chocolates have a warm sweet smell to them, a full baker’s dozen in all set in a chess pattern.

'❀We'd never met til that party with the Guardian, but I wanted to thank you and Sage for being so sweet to Murkle. He's barely friends with any of us in the Council itself beyond Crescendos, but I've seen the changes you two have made in him. Please don't give up if he gets difficult. I was told you liked licorice. -Magnum Flora, Agriculture Specialist and third Judge of Grand High Council❀'

It was Azalea who had found the treats first, considering the note for a moment before handing it to Inshou.

He glanced at the message, reading it over once before setting it back down on the small table and picking up one of the smaller roses and popping it into his mouth.