Cirrsseeto Quez
Jan 3rd, 2017, 10:36:23 PM
Two days ago
POP
Retractable claws were a useful quirk of evolution. For the Cizerack, they were a boon to a species of arboreal feline predators that millions of years later - like so many other sentients - became much more than the sum of their parts. The claws remained for no shortage of practical reasons, and became conveniently useful in moments of happenstance that evolution could have never predicted - such as leveraging the cork out of a bottle of fizzwine.
Opening the ritual New Year's fizzwine had been Cirrsseeto Quez's yearly duty for the past three years on his tour as Captain of the Novgorod. Galactic New Year was, in a galaxy of millions of worlds - each with nonstandard cycles and rotations - an utterly abitrary sort of of day. Pegged long ago in the Republic calendar to Coruscanti standard, it was one of hundreds of customs and rituals that formed the glue that held alien worlds together, even when so many tried to tear themselves apart. It was a locus. A commonality among different people, forcing them to stop and recognize that the things they shared were at least as important as the things that set them apart.
Cirr pried the cork out from his clawed grasp, pocketing it as he tilted the well-chilled bottle, allowing a few tipples to burble into each of a dozen small plastic cups held in front of him. The first few served were dissuaded from drinking with a chorus of "It's not time yet", as each set of eyes kept watch on a chronometer in the Marauder corvettes small ready room. Here, everyone was family. United not by blood or by name, but by cause and shared experience. There were new faces, like Camile Saccard, standing almost too-tall and holding her cheap glass of cheap fizz wine like it was a bit more expensive. Jaden Luka, stuck halfway in a bawdy joke and halfway listening to someone else's tall tale. Omwet Skye, her violet eyes fixed on the chronometer like a kid who really believed in new years and new beginnings. Regan Altink, chewing on a hangnail.
Lyanie.
Cirrsseeto's eyes froze on her as she chatted alongside Jasper Kyl. It didn't take Lyanie long before her eyes had forgotten Jasper altogether, and they shared their moment like they always did.
He smiled. So did she.
A moment was all they could afford. He wore her ring and her last name, but they were the Captain and the Engineer among the crew. Cirrsseeto fought hard to keep the professional distance intact. That didn't mean it was a perfect defense.
"Alrrjight, gatherr rround, gatherr rround."
The Captain finished dispensing the last of their meager bottle, setting the empty container down on the table with a clink.
"Fjirrst, lets gjive thanks to the duty shjift forr coverrjing ourr posts tonjight."
"Here here!" came the group reply, sprinkled with laughter.
"Let's also gjive thanks to Captajin's djiscrretjion," he quipped with a fang-tipped grin. "and jI trrust one measly bottle of fjizz-wjine jisn't nearrly enough forr you all to cause trrouble."
Regan passed a hip flask to one of the junior officers. Cirr pretended not to see it.
"What can jI say. End of the old yearr, and begjinnjing anew. jI'm thankful to see jit thrrough wjith each and everry one of you."
The Captain cradled his own glass between his oversized hands, blue eyes scanning the group.
"jI want to take a moment and rrememberr those famjiljiarr faces who arren't herre now to rrajise thejir own cups. Memberrs of ourr famjily-jin-arrms who djid thejirr best to safeguarrd the futurre we stjill uphold."
Cirr's eyes moved down to his glass as he traced a thumb along it's rim. He didn't dwell there for long before looking up again.
"Forr the fjirrst tjime jin two generratjions, the guns arre larrgely sjilent. And whjile they may neverr be totally sjilent, we know that the peace so many rrealjize today was pajid jin full and not forr cheap. We bearr wjitness to the prrjice. We all hold vjigjil overr what was purrchased. Don't take a moment of jit forr grranted. Don't trrade jit, barrterr jit off, orr cheapen jit forr a thjin prromjise of somethjing else. We each hold a duty to majintajin the peace, but we hold an obljigatjion to ourr fallen to ljive jin jit too."
The Captain shifted his feet a bit, finding the act of standing still on his prosthesis to be uncomfortable. Pausing, he pressed his tongue between dry lips.
"Some starr pjilot once sajid that ljife's harrder than the Kessel Rrun. Therre jisn't a shjip that's everr qujite crrossed the fjinjish ljine, but everryone fljies jit as best as they can. The ones who wjin fjind tjime to tow the ones who brreak down. When thejirr tjime comes, someone else carrrjies them on a ljittle furrtherr."
In the corner of his eye, Cirr could catch the last few ticks of the chronometer leading to the new year. Time to wrap up. Hoisting his glass, the Captain smiled with upturned ears.
"Let's rrun that rrace one parrsec betterr."
A chorus of well-wishes and huzzahs bled into the sound of a countdown, as all eyes turned to the red and black chronometer.
"Ten!
Nine!
Eight!"
Cirrsseeto gravitated from his spot next to the table, invisibly finding Lyanie's side. With everyone else's eyes on the numbers, they each took their liberty to gaze at each other.
"Seven!
Six!
Five!"
The farm girl from Dantooine and the son of a Carshoulis Baroness touched their glasses together, each empty hand finding it's opposite.
"Four!
Three!
Two!"
They sent the year off with a kiss, beneath a chorus of "Happy New Year!" A stream of noise obfuscated them for a moment as a few bars of Cycles' Passing Ballad were sung - badly, as no one seemed to know the lyrics beyond the first stanza. It was a fleeting smokescreen. Cirrsseeto and Lyanie's lips parted with I love you mouthed silently in unison.
"Djid you make a wjish?" Cirr asked, still holding his wine against Lyanie's. It was Cizeri custom, one that Cirr brought with him to their union. Even though Cizerack New Year was a good five and a half months away, he'd saved the Wish for this day, owing to being a man of the stars.
Lyanie nodded cryptically, a grin dimpling her face. Cirr leaned in, his smile broadening.
"Gonna tell me what you wjished forr?"
The Engineer raised on her toes, putting a kiss on the Captains lips to seal them.
"Nope."
It was bad luck, after all. Telling your wish. Besides, they knew each other too well than to cheapen it by giving it away. Or at least that's how Cirr figured it went. Because his wish was always that they'd find a way somehow to run that race neck and neck, as long as they could.
"Me ejitherr."
The Captain and the Engineer clinked their glasses, sealing their secrets with a drink in unison.
POP
Retractable claws were a useful quirk of evolution. For the Cizerack, they were a boon to a species of arboreal feline predators that millions of years later - like so many other sentients - became much more than the sum of their parts. The claws remained for no shortage of practical reasons, and became conveniently useful in moments of happenstance that evolution could have never predicted - such as leveraging the cork out of a bottle of fizzwine.
Opening the ritual New Year's fizzwine had been Cirrsseeto Quez's yearly duty for the past three years on his tour as Captain of the Novgorod. Galactic New Year was, in a galaxy of millions of worlds - each with nonstandard cycles and rotations - an utterly abitrary sort of of day. Pegged long ago in the Republic calendar to Coruscanti standard, it was one of hundreds of customs and rituals that formed the glue that held alien worlds together, even when so many tried to tear themselves apart. It was a locus. A commonality among different people, forcing them to stop and recognize that the things they shared were at least as important as the things that set them apart.
Cirr pried the cork out from his clawed grasp, pocketing it as he tilted the well-chilled bottle, allowing a few tipples to burble into each of a dozen small plastic cups held in front of him. The first few served were dissuaded from drinking with a chorus of "It's not time yet", as each set of eyes kept watch on a chronometer in the Marauder corvettes small ready room. Here, everyone was family. United not by blood or by name, but by cause and shared experience. There were new faces, like Camile Saccard, standing almost too-tall and holding her cheap glass of cheap fizz wine like it was a bit more expensive. Jaden Luka, stuck halfway in a bawdy joke and halfway listening to someone else's tall tale. Omwet Skye, her violet eyes fixed on the chronometer like a kid who really believed in new years and new beginnings. Regan Altink, chewing on a hangnail.
Lyanie.
Cirrsseeto's eyes froze on her as she chatted alongside Jasper Kyl. It didn't take Lyanie long before her eyes had forgotten Jasper altogether, and they shared their moment like they always did.
He smiled. So did she.
A moment was all they could afford. He wore her ring and her last name, but they were the Captain and the Engineer among the crew. Cirrsseeto fought hard to keep the professional distance intact. That didn't mean it was a perfect defense.
"Alrrjight, gatherr rround, gatherr rround."
The Captain finished dispensing the last of their meager bottle, setting the empty container down on the table with a clink.
"Fjirrst, lets gjive thanks to the duty shjift forr coverrjing ourr posts tonjight."
"Here here!" came the group reply, sprinkled with laughter.
"Let's also gjive thanks to Captajin's djiscrretjion," he quipped with a fang-tipped grin. "and jI trrust one measly bottle of fjizz-wjine jisn't nearrly enough forr you all to cause trrouble."
Regan passed a hip flask to one of the junior officers. Cirr pretended not to see it.
"What can jI say. End of the old yearr, and begjinnjing anew. jI'm thankful to see jit thrrough wjith each and everry one of you."
The Captain cradled his own glass between his oversized hands, blue eyes scanning the group.
"jI want to take a moment and rrememberr those famjiljiarr faces who arren't herre now to rrajise thejir own cups. Memberrs of ourr famjily-jin-arrms who djid thejirr best to safeguarrd the futurre we stjill uphold."
Cirr's eyes moved down to his glass as he traced a thumb along it's rim. He didn't dwell there for long before looking up again.
"Forr the fjirrst tjime jin two generratjions, the guns arre larrgely sjilent. And whjile they may neverr be totally sjilent, we know that the peace so many rrealjize today was pajid jin full and not forr cheap. We bearr wjitness to the prrjice. We all hold vjigjil overr what was purrchased. Don't take a moment of jit forr grranted. Don't trrade jit, barrterr jit off, orr cheapen jit forr a thjin prromjise of somethjing else. We each hold a duty to majintajin the peace, but we hold an obljigatjion to ourr fallen to ljive jin jit too."
The Captain shifted his feet a bit, finding the act of standing still on his prosthesis to be uncomfortable. Pausing, he pressed his tongue between dry lips.
"Some starr pjilot once sajid that ljife's harrder than the Kessel Rrun. Therre jisn't a shjip that's everr qujite crrossed the fjinjish ljine, but everryone fljies jit as best as they can. The ones who wjin fjind tjime to tow the ones who brreak down. When thejirr tjime comes, someone else carrrjies them on a ljittle furrtherr."
In the corner of his eye, Cirr could catch the last few ticks of the chronometer leading to the new year. Time to wrap up. Hoisting his glass, the Captain smiled with upturned ears.
"Let's rrun that rrace one parrsec betterr."
A chorus of well-wishes and huzzahs bled into the sound of a countdown, as all eyes turned to the red and black chronometer.
"Ten!
Nine!
Eight!"
Cirrsseeto gravitated from his spot next to the table, invisibly finding Lyanie's side. With everyone else's eyes on the numbers, they each took their liberty to gaze at each other.
"Seven!
Six!
Five!"
The farm girl from Dantooine and the son of a Carshoulis Baroness touched their glasses together, each empty hand finding it's opposite.
"Four!
Three!
Two!"
They sent the year off with a kiss, beneath a chorus of "Happy New Year!" A stream of noise obfuscated them for a moment as a few bars of Cycles' Passing Ballad were sung - badly, as no one seemed to know the lyrics beyond the first stanza. It was a fleeting smokescreen. Cirrsseeto and Lyanie's lips parted with I love you mouthed silently in unison.
"Djid you make a wjish?" Cirr asked, still holding his wine against Lyanie's. It was Cizeri custom, one that Cirr brought with him to their union. Even though Cizerack New Year was a good five and a half months away, he'd saved the Wish for this day, owing to being a man of the stars.
Lyanie nodded cryptically, a grin dimpling her face. Cirr leaned in, his smile broadening.
"Gonna tell me what you wjished forr?"
The Engineer raised on her toes, putting a kiss on the Captains lips to seal them.
"Nope."
It was bad luck, after all. Telling your wish. Besides, they knew each other too well than to cheapen it by giving it away. Or at least that's how Cirr figured it went. Because his wish was always that they'd find a way somehow to run that race neck and neck, as long as they could.
"Me ejitherr."
The Captain and the Engineer clinked their glasses, sealing their secrets with a drink in unison.