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Thread: Mise En Place

  1. #1
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    Closed Mise En Place

    Two days following this thread...




    The few days without Captain s'Ilancy had been spent in routine, but it was a pre-planned routine. It was how things usually went when she was called away for short periods of time, ensconced in whatever meetings she was required to attend on whatever planet was deemed the place to be for the day. It was during those times that Samus Dage more or less allowed the ship to operate on autopilot. Oh, he directed things, but there was not much to direct when it came to simple stopovers. They would mostly return to the line once the captain returned. Trips to Jovan, sojourns to the border worlds to assuage any fears, resupply, deliver sundries. It was mostly a level set of duties and tasks, and it provided a bit of strange peace. Far removed from the old days, Samus was beginning to rather enjoy himself in these newer times.

    They had picked up the captain and the Jedi, Zem Vymes, from Carshoulis a few hours previous, lingering in the Cluster only long enough to send grateful comms and a few official words with the Pride galleon Kaurra'Iro'Iro that had escorted them in, then out once more. It had been a relatively easy encounter, though fraught with thin-lipped smiles in the way that Dage had come to know quite well during his time with T'yeellaa. He'd become adept enough at reading the ear cues no matter the subtlety, and while some he could suss out in timely enough fashion, there were certainly still particular ticks that he'd yet to translate and memorize.

    But, everything had been smooth enough, and two hours into hyperspace found Samus happily back in his normal role. Let the Captain have that seat on her precious bridge.

    What he wasn't happy with, however, was the sight of a steaming, shriveled pile of overheated rations that a serving droid had brusquely dropped on his tray. The thin black plastic of the 'plate', formed into one main entree area and two smaller side-dish sections held food that he wasn't exactly sure was edible. Today's meal? Nuna A La Emperor with Rodian tuber fries (limp and moist with steam), and some mixed vegetable slurry. He wished he was back at the Diktat's Roost in that moment, distracted only by the droid asking if he wanted a drink.

    A nod, and a liquid-filled pouch was set on his tray with as much grace as his food had been. He sighed, shoulders slumping, and turned from the ordering area to begin the search for a table.

    This time of the afternoon it was largely empty, save for a few of the squadron pilots tucked into a corner table.

    And, surprisingly, one other person.

    Samus let his tray smack down on the table inhabited by the lone occupant, swiftly following suit and flopping his lanky frame into a chair.

    "The trick is to imagine it's your favorite food. Don't think about what it really is, cause that'll only guarantee you end up starving to death."

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    The creative grousing elicited a half-upturned grin from the Jedi Master, who was already well on his way to getting his bearings on the food in front of him.

    "Oh it's not so bad," Zem consoled, turning over the over-cooked puree of vegetables with his spork. "In my experience, as long as you make the best of what you have, every meal can be a banquet."

    The rest of that saying went unsaid. He'd had a lifetime of bad meals. Regrettable choices of poor quality and negligible portion, begged borrowed or stolen in the name of filling the tank for another day on the run. The bad made you appreciate the good, and in return, you managed to smile even when the portions were lean.

    Clearly, Commander Dage longed for a lifestyle to which he was accustomed. Not a Jedi frame of mind, but one that Zem could at least understand.

    "Besides, I wouldn't want to hurt the cook's feelings."

  3. #3
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    "Then you're the only one on this ship that has an inkling of thoughtfulness for that bucket of rusted servos over there," a jerked thumb to the serving droid still behind the food counter.

    His thumb folded down as his index finger snapped out to point at the pilots huddled together a short ways off.

    "Them? I can almost promise you they're plotting that poor thing's demise."

    His words were punctuated with a smile that was a bizarre mix of joke and seriousness. It wasn't lost on him though, the fact that the Jedi Master had a certain leg up on the food they'd each been given. Unwrapping the thin paper napkin from around his own spork, he speared (actually smushed) a tuber fry. Moisture escaped the punctures in lazy drips. Held aloft in front of his face, his eyes eventually looked past it to Vymes.

    "How about you do a poor working guy a favor and wag your fingers to turn this sad bit of food into something with flavor?"

    A smirk, followed by a knowing wink, and the blonde popped the limp fry into his mouth.

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    The Jedi Master replied with only a sympathetic smile. Of course, it would do the Commander's mood no favors to say that Zem's previous meal had been the kind of epicurean state of bliss that caused Jedi to warn about forbidden attachments.

    "I think you figured out the secret with the first thing you said. Your focus shapes your reality."

    Spearing a bite, Zem paused. He didn't exactly frown, but rather changed tact.

    "Of course, where the imagination fails, a little sinthan and a little salt do wonders."

    He hadn't known Loklorien's executive officer extensively, but Zem's feelings gave him the impression that the dour quality of lunch wasn't entirely what he wanted to talk about.

  5. #5
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    "Possibly, but they can only do so much."

    But, the Jedi Master still had a point, and Samus gave a helpless shrug as he scooped up a sporkful of vegetables. He stared at it for a moment before putting it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as his gaze meandered across the mostly empty mess hall; from the pilots, to his food, then finally back up to Vymes. He swallowed, then let his utensil tap idly at the thin nuna cutlet which had so thoughtfully been pre-cut.

    "I heard stories about you, you know. Me an' Kori joined up in Dan's old cell a month or so after you vanished. The old girl doesn't know it, but we used to hear her from behind doors. Ain't ever heard a man cursed to so many different hells in my life."

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    It felt strange to discuss that level of intimacy in third person, but it wasn't the sort of thing that Dage could've cooked up in a vacuum.

    "I did a few awful things in the name of a good I couldn't quite get my hands around."

    Zem fussed with his meal, delaying another underwhelming bite.

    "Suppose that makes me no worse than a lot, and also no better."

    Talking dogma with those who didn't feel the force around them was always a struggle, and Zem tried to keep the conversation to a lay pedigree.

    "She had every right to feel that way."

  7. #7
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    A hrmph, and the blonde broke eye contact to stare down at his food.

    "You thought you were doing good. Can't really blame you for that."

    Grappling a slice of nuna, Samus shoveled it into his mouth, gave a few quick chews, then sent it down his throat while setting down the spork and taking up the pouch of nutri-water. He pulled the thin straw from its' plastic covering, and poked the angled end forcefully through the small off-color hole.

    "But here you are again, back in the game so to speak."

    He felt almost like a kid again, sucking up Naboo-Sun through a too-small straw. Except, unlike that heavenly concoction of fruit concentrate and sugar, nutri-water had an almost gritty mouthfeel to it, as though the vitamins and minerals it supposedly held were coarsely ground and simply dumped into whatever vats were used to 'mix' the drink. It was a singular taste, if nothing else.

    Even though the man now sitting across from him was a Jedi, he was still a man. And Samus had had plenty of time learning how to read people in his years. Maybe his exposure to T'yeella had helped, in that being with her had taught him to pick up on an entirely new set of ticks, slight hand motions, and a litany of other tells. And something in his new table-mate was projecting outward. Of course, it could also be the strange brotherly affection that Samus had embraced with his old friend despite her peculiarities. Or perhaps it was in spite of it. Either way there was a note of protective rumbling that laced his next words.

    "She doesn't really let on how she's feeling most times, but if you know what to look for, it's there. That being said," again he picked up his spork, "... she's not unreadable if you know what you're looking for."

    Another piece of nuna was wrangled up, half-speared and half-ground by the short tines. It was lifted up, then used as an impromptu pointing instrument, dead center on the Jedi Master.

    "She was dreading the trip to the Cluster. Did her level best to make excuses for not going. Even tried some idiot pass-off by claiming she'd come down with Ithorian Red Fever. But now? Now that she's back, after spending two or so days out there, she steps off Varin's shuttle as though she's on cloud nine. Like she's just been told she can set foot on Ossus again."

    The nuna was summarily popped in his mouth then, and between bites, he continued.

    "Oh she was quiet and reserved and, well, Lok-ish, but I know what to look for. That old gal was ecstatic."

    He swallowed.

    "So. Makes me curious about what happened back there."

    And in an instant the rangy blonde shifted from a partially joking, jovial manner to something more serious.

    "If you get my drift."
    Last edited by Q. Samus Dage; Jan 31st, 2017 at 03:09:11 AM.

  8. #8
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    "It wasn't simply that I thought I was doing good..."

    Zem turned the empty fork over on his hand, only passingly interested in the meal.

    "...the end result speaks for itself. The Force..."

    He paused with a mild grimace. There was no way of talking about this by sanitizing the details.

    "...often reveals the destination, but obfuscates the journey. Loklorien and I, we have a lot of shared mileage. Those days you mention, those were hard on the both of us. Harder on her by far, I don't doubt. But good was done in the end. It's not the right question to ask if a man would turn back the clock and change his choices and circumstances. To possess and control history, that's not our way. We're passengers. Just as we're passengers on this ship."

    The Jedi Master prolonged the silence with a bite of bland vegetable. Sipping his water, he set it aside, and gathered his thoughts in order.

    "As for the turn of mood? Well, that's the next leg of the voyage. Before she was Captain and Commodore, Loklorien was a Jedi Knight the same as I. We shared that common experience so completely, we're just now considering that we're each of us human."

    Zem smirked at the not-quite-accurate turn of phrase.

    "From a certain point of view, that is."

  9. #9
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    The word choice was not lost on him, and Samus couldn't help but let a out a chuckle.

    "Well, that's definitely one way to put it," his knowing grin didn't quite wipe away, even as he downed another few tuber fries. They turned into mush it seemed, on contact with his tongue. But, he chewed gamely and swallowed without too much fuss. After all, it wasn't the first time he'd had to choke down the horrid things. What he wouldn't give to have thick-cut tuber wedges fried in duck fat.

    "Had a hell of a basket of tricks too," the mention of Lok's tenure with the Jedi was one that brought back old memories as if they now played out in front of him. But still, there was always the underlying nature of a protective brother for his old friend that ran deep, and Samus let out a long, low sigh. Those rueful flashes shifted as his mind switched back, eyes both focusing on the Jedi sitting across from him. The old guy had a calm nature to him, as though he'd walked the long road and learned more than a few hard lessons along the way. But, they were lessons that had obviously shaped him, and the blonde could respect that.

    But still...

    "She's the oldest friend I have that's still alive." The note of caution was more than evident in his tone.

    "And she'd no doubt deny it, but that heart of hers is still fragile."

    He looked down to his food.

    "All those things that Dan did, I honestly do think that the worst was bringing her to the moment in time when she ended him. Killing someone you loved as much as she'd loved him... it's the most wrenching thing someone can do to another being."

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    Dage's observation brooked no disagreement from Vymes. The Jedi Master's eyes fixed upon the table.

    "I think she'd buried the man, the fiction of the man, well before that moment. As long as Darth Decepis could be Dan, he could alter Lok's reality. None of this is easy to comprehend, not even for myself. We can become enslaved to our better natures. So much of what she did in his name was done with good intention. He stole that compass from her. Hitched it to himself, and told her to follow him.

    I've never wavered in seeing the good in Loklorien. The light never went out. The tragedy of it all is what darkness a good heart can be led to."

  11. #11
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    She felt a strange sense of new life injected into her consciousness. As though she had suddenly gone from aimless drudgery and self-drowning to having a renewed sense of hope and excitement, the Lupine found that her footsteps seemed to have more of a sense of purpose. Rather than simply existing to bury herself in work in the effort of forgetting unforgettable memories, she had suddenly (an honestly, quite unexpectedly), been thrown a lifeline. A chance to become the woman she'd always been meant to be. Whatever the will of the Force, it was stronger than her own will, and stronger still than the will of Darth Decepis. The notion that all of this was fate still held no water for her; fate was still an outdated and silly notion. No, it was the will of the Force. The will.

    Her normal duties tended to, s'Il had allowed herself time alone in her quarters to change into a fresh uniform, suddenly finding true comfort in the fabric. Before, it had been a prison that she relegated herself to. It'd been a strange comfort in the restriction of duty and loyalty she wore each and every day. But now? Now it had become some truly comforting. She felt purpose-driven once more, as if she'd been reborn.

    And stepping through the doors of the mess hall, her eye tracked through the mostly empty area. It was no real surprise that a few pilots were huddled together at a far table, fully engrossed in what looked like a game of cards.

    But it was the two men who occupied a table more or less in the centre of the room that arrested her attention quite swiftly.

    The beginnings of a frown as she found herself unsurprised that Dage would find his way to Zem so immediately. One foot stepped forward, then another. She was not hungry, and so bypassed the food counter. Instead, she made for the table. Stopping at the edge, she looked down at the occupants; first Zem, then Samus.

    Slowly, the Lupine moved to sit. Beside Zem. Her hands moved to rest on the tabletop, hands together, fingers intertwining. Her eyes remained on Samus, but her words were very obviously for Zem.

    "I certainly hope that my Executive Officer has been nothing but gracious and respectful."

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    "Oh certainly, Captain."

    The Jedi Master maintained a placid little smile on his face as he reciprocated his address to Lok in the same professional manner she'd begun.

    "Grousing over the autochef and the rations notwithstanding. We've just been comparing notes."

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    'Comparing notes'. There was a small part of her that did not like the sound of those two words. Samus Dage was no stranger to conspiratorial happenings, and the Lupine gave her XO a suddenly narrow-eyed look. He only offered a smirk and helpless shrug while shoveling a mass of nuna and vegetables into his mouth. No doubt to avoid having to answer any questions. No matter. She had new enough to share.

    "We're being diverted to Telos."

    Both hands came together on the table's surface, fingers intertwining.

    "It seems there is a small matter that requires our attention, and Command has asked that we see to it. They see our current position and proximity, coupled with the fact that Master Vymes is with us, as an advantage that they wish to take."

    Finally she angled a sideways look to Zem.

    "I am sorry that we'll not be able to return you to Ossus in as timely a fashion as previously thought."

    She wasn't sorry, and she knew that he was very well aware that she was not.

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    "That I am with you?"

    Matters of military were no stranger to Zem. After all, he'd spent all of the Clone Wars getting to know that particular brand of entropy. Still, the relationship between the Alliance and the Jedi Order was not the same as the relationship between the Republic and the Order. They still worked closely together, but not quite hand in hand as before.

    Telos had been a vital stronghold during the clone wars, and later a major imperial staging area. Given it's proximity to the Hydian Way, that brokered no surprise.

    "How might I be of service?"

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    The news only elicited a raised eyebrow, but Samus said nothing as he continued to empty his plate. It was one of those necessary evils, to choke down the very stuff that kept you going. He was used to it though, and had developed a decent enough tolerance to bad, pre-packaged food. At least he had the few stopovers at Jovan, and during those times he gorged himself. Thoughts on Jovan inevitably led to thoughts on T'yeellaa, and the rangy blonde found himself suddenly doing his best to quell the less-than-professional musing that always seemed to spring to life. He knew s'Il abhorred extending that second sight of hers unless necessary, but with Master Vymes thrown into the mix, Samus did his best to maintain decorum in his head. The last thing he wanted was to telegraph the happy - and very carnal - memories of the last time they'd stopped at Jovan. T'yeellaa had instigated a game of hide and seek in her quarters, and as usual had 'hid' beneath the covers of-

    - bad food. Limp tuber fries. Sad vegetables. Over-processed nuna. Pretend they're crispy tuber fries, steamed veg, and perfectly fire-grilled spicy nuna from the southern regions of Myomar.

  16. #16
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    A single finger twitched slightly, moving to tap a knuckle.

    "There's a small group of refugees from Imperial space who have recently turned up; about a month ago if I'm to go by the reports that Command sent me."

    Refugees and those escaping the Empire were nothing exactly new, and all three of them knew it. But it was the next bit of information that held the most importance.

    "Word is there are Force sensitive children among them, and the Alliance wishes for all of the group to be relocated to Ossus. They understand that the choice is ultimately the Council's, but they are hoping for an amicable solution."

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    "Really?"

    Zem's interest was piqued, and he leaned forward so that his elbows met the table.

    "Well...I can't speak for the council alone, but I see no reason why we would refuse such a request. Do you know who helped to organize their passage?"

    This was a fortuitous turn. Force sensitives on the Imperial side of the galaxy faced tremendous uncertainty and danger. If someone was helping to spirit them away, perhaps they could partner to help even more children.

  18. #18
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    "I do not."

    Simple and concise, in much the way that she always was. There was no flowery conjecture, just honest truth. Whoever had shown enough 'compassion' to help these refugees had - in her mind - done so for the credits. She knew what it was like to live hand-to-mouth while scrambling for whatever safe harbor could be found. She'd done it herself, and Zem had been there, at her side, during those terrible times.

    "Perhaps we will ask them once we arrive at Telos."

    Of course, there was always one more 'thing' to tend to, and s'Il let her eye track from Zem to Dage.

    "I've been asked to stop at Jovan first, however. It seems K'ohta'rrou Meorrrei has been plucked from her normal duties to assist us."

  19. #19
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    It was as if she was purposefully provoking him, jerking his thoughts from their studious exertions in imagining his meal as something actually appetizing. He stooped chewing, looked up to meet her mismatched gaze, and slowly followed with a deliberate swallow. The spork was let down, deposited with calm gentleness.

    Samus pushed the tray away, towards the middle of the table, and as if on cue Captain s'Ilancy disengaged her own hands to reach out and complete the action, pulling it to find a new spot in front of her.

    She could have it. It was horrid anyway.

    A respectful nod was given to both of his tablemates, and with a light groan, the blonde rose to stand.

    "I'll be in on the bridge," he rumbled.

    It was easy to tell that this new news had taken him by surprise, and he was - in the face of it - unwilling to exert any more energy than necessary in pushing down his thoughts on the matter. A courteous nod, and his lanky frame stepped back. He even gave a half-hearted salute before turning on his heel and vacating the mess hall.

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    Zem wished he'd gotten more insight into the unnamed samaritans. That wasn't what the force willed, unfortunately. Loklorien was right, patience was the best virtue here. Perhaps Telos would give more insight into whether they were dealing with simple coyotes or someone they could actively partner with.

    It was the next bit of news that confused the Jedi Master. He knew enough of Jovan Station, but Loklorien namedropped a Cizerack officer with a fairly blue-blooded name. For whatever reason, it was enough to cause a visible sea change in her first officer, who promptly excused himself from the table.

    "Good talking to you." Zem called after, but by then, Dage was halfway to the mess hall exit. Vymes turned a quizzical expression to his partner.

    "Was it something you said?"

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