Difference between revisions of "Template:FocusRoleplay"

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{| class="mp2right" width="100%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="5" style="vertical-align:top"
 
{| class="mp2right" width="100%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="5" style="vertical-align:top"
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! class="nounderlinelink mp2lefttitle" style="font-size:120%; border-width: 1px; border:1px solid #E8ECF4;background:#E8ECF4;-moz-border-radius:10px;padding:6px 6px 6px 6px;" | <center>'''''[[:Category:Focus Roleplay|Focus Roleplay]] - May 2012'''''<br>
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! class="nounderlinelink mp2lefttitle" style="font-size:120%; border-width: 1px; border:1px solid #E8ECF4;background:#E8ECF4;-moz-border-radius:10px;padding:6px 6px 6px 6px;" | <center>'''''[[:Category:Focus Roleplay|Focus Roleplay]] - July 2012'''''<br>
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'''[http://www.sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?t=22346 An Offer You Don't Refuse]'''</center>
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'''[http://sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?t=22750 Meanwhile, on Coruscant]'''</center>
 
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[[Image:anofferyoudontrefuse.jpg|right]]
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0 ABY[[Image:Moc.jpg|right]]
  
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Space travel was, is, and will always be for nunas.
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Zizzy Starseed was shoplifting again. Dana Stryder cast the teenager a sideways look, the blue skinned Twi'leki lurking by the candy aisle wearing a canvas jacket three sizes too big for her skinny frame. Their eyes met briefly, and the thirteen year old alien girl quickly averted her gaze and walked briskly out of the store.
  
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It was necessary, but a necessary evil. Even in the best of circumstances it was a chore to endure, and these were far from the best of circumstances. The quarters were usually too small, the air too cold, too dry, too recycled, too not-quite-right. In space you had no natural day and night cycles. You didn't know what was early and what was late. When you arrived, you had to reset your biological clock to some other planet with a completely different rotational schedule. That usually involved stimulants, alcohol, and/or too much / too little sleep. These were just the major frettings. Forget trying to wrap your mind around dressing for a place with a cold climate or worrying about a breathable atmosphere. Holo-meetings could be done from the comfort of your office, barefoot, in luxurious plush carpet.
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Dana rubbed a hand gently over her bulging stomach, shuffling forward in line as the checker seemed to have fallen asleep while counting up change at the register. The shopping basket on her arm was beginning to drag her down toward the ground and she looked up with relief as it was lifted from her arm. "Oh, thahnk you Corrahn."
  
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Still, Taataani had travelled enough to plan around these unpleasantries like a professional, and she had a series of rules in place:
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Her husband leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Anything for the mother of my child," he teased, sorting through the contents of the basket before adding in a pack of stims.
  
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* '''Charter your own travel:''' Mass transit, even first class or whatever they offered for preferential treatment, was for proles and rubes. Too many other people. Not that she wasn't a people person but that environment prevented mingling in a way she was comfortable with. Also you will never get a decent bit of sleep on one of those, no matter how hard you try. Also, private transit tends to be liberal on the eccentricities of the traveler, including and most especially the need to smoke while on board. This shouldn't even be an issue since they've invented air scrubbers, but if you have to suffer the hoi polloi, someone will always complain if you light up.
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Dana frowned. "You sahd you were going to quit. The smoke..." She tapped her pregnant belly and added, "I know, you're going to smoke outside."
  
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* '''Don't fly alone:''' It's sometimes unavoidable when on business, but if you can afford to charter and have abided by the rules above, you should also have company with you. Unless you need absolute quiet to do busy work on your travels, you're not going to want to read a novel or watch some derivative dopey holo that is playing. The company of others (others that you choose to bring with you, that is) is infinitely more stimulating. Sometimes literally. Even if you have to resort to just chatting up the pilot, make sure you are capable of doing so.
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"Yeah, yeah, I'm going to," Corran agreed, as they finally got to the checkstand. He started unloading the items onto the conveyer belt as the check-droid scanned and put them into bags. "And then I'm going to quit. I promise. Before our baby comes." He kissed her on the tip of her nose and gathered up the bags as she fumbled with a credit chit. The droid waited patiently for her to program the correct amount onto the chit, and then accepted it from her, pressing it into a slot on it's barrel-like body.
  
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With all of this said, none of it is guaranteed to keep you from being miserable, especially if you travel after getting bad news, like a summons to Coruscant because the Imperial Navy is eager to have your business bid on a contract to supply their cruisers with sublight thrusters. It's not sexy or headline-grabbing, but it both has the potential to be lucrative beyond your wildest dreams, as well as being destructive to your conscience when you supply people you morally oppose. But one thing is for sure. You don't say no. At least not in so few words.
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"Have a good day, gentle beings," it said haltingly, and then turned to the next customer.
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Dana hurried out into the afternoon twilight of Coco district, the manufacturing zone where she and Corran both worked. He was waiting outside, a stim already between his lips. She felt like scolding him, but sighed instead and took one of the thin plastic bags from him. "C'mon, let's go home."
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Corran grinned at her, that grin that made her weak in the knees and her heart skip a beat, and she found herself grinning back, despite the humidity of the day and her exhaustion. They were lucky to have each other, and luckier still to have jobs in Coco. Thankfully she looked human enough, but it was a matter of record that she was a quarter Balosarian. Having to live in Invisec, or, as the Empire liked to call it, the Alien Protection Zone, would be a nightmare. Here in Coco Town different species lived together in relative harmony, as long as everyone kept their heads down and no one rocked the boat.
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The Stryders did not rock the boat.

Latest revision as of 08:46, 9 July 2012

Focus Roleplay - July 2012
Meanwhile, on Coruscant
0 ABY
Moc.jpg

Zizzy Starseed was shoplifting again. Dana Stryder cast the teenager a sideways look, the blue skinned Twi'leki lurking by the candy aisle wearing a canvas jacket three sizes too big for her skinny frame. Their eyes met briefly, and the thirteen year old alien girl quickly averted her gaze and walked briskly out of the store.

Dana rubbed a hand gently over her bulging stomach, shuffling forward in line as the checker seemed to have fallen asleep while counting up change at the register. The shopping basket on her arm was beginning to drag her down toward the ground and she looked up with relief as it was lifted from her arm. "Oh, thahnk you Corrahn."

Her husband leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Anything for the mother of my child," he teased, sorting through the contents of the basket before adding in a pack of stims.

Dana frowned. "You sahd you were going to quit. The smoke..." She tapped her pregnant belly and added, "I know, you're going to smoke outside."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going to," Corran agreed, as they finally got to the checkstand. He started unloading the items onto the conveyer belt as the check-droid scanned and put them into bags. "And then I'm going to quit. I promise. Before our baby comes." He kissed her on the tip of her nose and gathered up the bags as she fumbled with a credit chit. The droid waited patiently for her to program the correct amount onto the chit, and then accepted it from her, pressing it into a slot on it's barrel-like body.

"Have a good day, gentle beings," it said haltingly, and then turned to the next customer.

Dana hurried out into the afternoon twilight of Coco district, the manufacturing zone where she and Corran both worked. He was waiting outside, a stim already between his lips. She felt like scolding him, but sighed instead and took one of the thin plastic bags from him. "C'mon, let's go home."

Corran grinned at her, that grin that made her weak in the knees and her heart skip a beat, and she found herself grinning back, despite the humidity of the day and her exhaustion. They were lucky to have each other, and luckier still to have jobs in Coco. Thankfully she looked human enough, but it was a matter of record that she was a quarter Balosarian. Having to live in Invisec, or, as the Empire liked to call it, the Alien Protection Zone, would be a nightmare. Here in Coco Town different species lived together in relative harmony, as long as everyone kept their heads down and no one rocked the boat.

The Stryders did not rock the boat.

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