Ask Tatooine Ashes to Sand, Sand to Ashes

[Darth Caelestis]

Unlike the deserts of Exegol, cold and white the yellow sand of Tatooine was hot and irritable, sweat dripped from his face as the twin suns of the planet beat down upon him. Artorigas had come dressed for the intense heat, a set of light clothing which covered all of his skin and a wrap for his head and face, but still he was not used to this place. Between the serene hills of Serenno and the cold depths of Exegol's Citadel his body was perfectly suited for the cold, the heat he was to much. The Sith Noble could already feel sand between his teeth as it blew up from the great dunes outside Anchorhead station. It was the closest spaceport to their location and even though he could have landed much closer he did not need the attention from the ISC about a strange ship landing randomly in the deep desert of this planet.

So here he waited upon the outskirts of the city though for what reason he could not be sure, he had a reason to be here that was for sure. Now that the Serennian had reached the rank of Sith Lord new circles needed to be walked, new alliances and deals needed to be made. For the Marauders and Acolytes he had once walked with could not secure his place within this order he instead needed the ears, eyes and hands of his fellow Sith Lords. Artorigas already had the luck of dealing closely with both Queen Andruil and Darth Stolas and efforts were being made to contact Lady Tiamat, all Lords and Ladies who had attended his gathering back on Serenno. Now there was one left from that cold winter night he needed to speak to, to get the lay off, the magnetising Sith Lord Raze.

The armoured Lord has been as much the centre of attention of the party as himself gathering the stares and looks of many who attended the party from lowly Acolyte to lofted Lord. He was in a word, 'Intriguing' and that well interested Artorigas far more than he originally thought when he reached out to the man. To get into the mind and understand the man who seemed to not only gather powerful attention of Darth Stolas but Lady Tiamat also with nothing more than his presence now that was a man Artorigas wished to learn more of.

So now he waited, stood next to a hired 44-C Speeder, the metal to hot to lean against the engine a light purr keeping the repulsors off the ground. He only hoped he did not have to wait to long otherwise he may sweat to death in this head.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc had been on Tatooine countless times as President of the ISC. However, he had seldom come out this far into the outskirts of the city. The closest memory was when he had Tiamat kill a Krayt Dragon for its pearl. Those times seemed like centuries ago, back when he himself had only been a Marauder and barely managing an apprentice.

He opted out of wearing his usual armor, changing into clothing that looked more local and offered the right amount of ventilation. The head coverings and the cloth around his face did not hide the piercing silver eyes that gazed out between them. The towering half Sephi had arrived in a borrowed speeder that was the same model as Art's.

Emryc was quiet upon arrival, his gaze fixed out in the distance they had to cover for a few seconds. He checked down at his chrono before glancing at the other man.

“We have less than four hours before sundown,” He still had a means of distorting his true voice, though it did not mute the low baritone, “With any luck, we will not have to camp,” Emryc waited for the other man to mount his speeder.

“Suggest a shorter name for me to address you because I’m not bothering with Caelestis in the middle of a crisis,” The Sith Lord stated flatly. That he even bothered to remark on this was a testament that Emryc respected the man’s position. Otherwise he simply would have referred to him as ‘you’ or any other physical descriptors to get his attention.

@Braden Drake

 

[Darth Caelestis]

Even though Darth Raze was quiet upon his arrival, the speeder bike silently idling as he walked towards him. Artorigas did not need to turn around to confirm that it was the Sith Lord approaching him, for the intense aura that surrounded the Sith Lord confirmed everything he needed to long before he came into his eyeline. He had to control himself from bowing his head and calling him Mi'Lord, for now they were of equal rank within the Sith Order, that was a strange thought. This man who had dominated worlds, populations and people was now at theoretical same rank as him, it brought a small smile to Artorigas' lips.

At his comment about there daylight the Sith Noble looked over at the falling twin suns, if they moved at the same speed of Serenno it looked about right, though if it was Exegol they had long before darkness would fall upon the pair. "I would prefer not to spend a night on the sand, that is for sure." Artorigas replied before mounting his speeder, his hands moving quickly across the controls, flipping switches, turning dials, pressing buttons as the full power of the 44-C came to life.

"Unfortunately my real name is as many syllables, Wessex would work saves you one at least." The Sith Noble replied with a smirk. "At least I do not need to worry the same, Raze seems pretty simple to me." It was a joke he made it purposefully to try both to break the ice with the man but more importantly to gauge the man's personality, was he as fluid and easy to speak to as Andruil and Stolas or one of these hardliner I'm super evil, super edgy Sith which seemed to perforate the Order to much for Artorigas' liking.

"The destination is approximately four hundred kilometres, South South East. Though my concern is if it is even recognisable after such a time." That was Artorigas' largest concern here that the sands had washed away any sign of there final destination, that they would instead spend hours in the hot sun looking for something buried under one hundred years of sand.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc was silent and introverted by nature. While he didn’t give off the energy of someone quietly plotting destruction, he was certainly a practical man that focused on the task at hand over idle chit chat. If that’s all it took to be labeled ‘edgy’ as many people incorrectly assumed, then he was definitely edgy. There was no response to the comment about his name, but he internally did prefer Wessex over the Darth title.

The Sith Lord kicked off and began to make his way towards the destination after checking it on the datapad one more time. For a while, the journey was uneventful and they were making great time. The suns were bearing down on them, and even with the ventilated clothing Emryc felt sweat line his body. He began to slow down when he could make out what appeared to be a giant cloud of dust beginning to head their way. Sandstorms were not uncommon, but it did mean they had to navigate around it or wait it out.

Emryc glanced over at Wessex to begin formulating a plan when his keen ears picked up a strange mechanical noise. His gaze flicked down to the other man’s speeder and then back up at him, “Should your speeder be making that noise?” Emryc asked icily as the other man’s speeder sounded vaguely like a distressed frog.

@Braden Drake

 

[Darth Caelestis]

Sweat dripped down from Artorigas' brow stingy his eyes, why in the grace of this galaxy would anyone choose to leave on such a place. If it wasn't for the wind whipping past him he was sure both him and Raze would have turned into molten pools of flesh and blood, not a pretty sight for anyone to walk past. He spotted the cloud second to Raze, he had heard of sandstorms, even been warned of them back in Anchoridge, but this was the first one he had ever experienced.

He slowed his own speeder to match the other Sith Lord, pulling back the cloth which covered his mouth so he could speak. He was about to comment on the fact the sandstorm was right in the way when the Raze mentioned his speeder. The Sith Lord closed his eyes in disbelief, he thought he felt it chug a little after they went over that stupidly high dune about fifteen minutes back but thought nothing of it.

Jumping off the vehicle he moved round to the right hand side thrusters. "By the arse of a Jawa's mother." He called out to no onw in particular as he spotted the issue, Force be damned Tatoo-rat's had been chewing on the power coupling, probably trying to get there daily dose of radioactive energy from the thing. Looking up at his piratey looking companion he sighed. "I can fix it, but its going to take a little while. A little while that she is going to wait for." Artorigas said pointing at the coming sandstorm. "Unless you want to let me ride on your lap." He joked, before beginning to get underway with the repairs not waiting for the Sith to reply.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc was silent through the man’s grumblings. The only times he had seen Wessex, the man had been dressed to the nines. He looked better suited to do some embroidery on a handkerchief than to fix up a speeder. The joke about sitting on his lap was also met with silence, Emryc facing away towards the sandstorm at this point. While the man got to work, the half Sephi turned his head the other way and brought up a cigarra to smoke.

He checked his chrono after a few moments, hearing some cracks and pops coming from the other speeder. The half Sephi’s eyes narrowed as he put out the cigarra while watching the sandstorm rapidly gaining on them. Emryc finally hopped off his speeder, walking over to inspect what the other man had accomplished so far since they were clearly not moving yet. Likely Wessex was upset he broke a nail or something.

The half Sephi walked past Wessex towards the back of the speeder where it was noisy and sputtering. Emryc grimaced at the sight.

“Your reverse thrusters need to be fixed,” He stated flatly, “Come here,” Emryc waited for the other man to join him. This would go much faster if they both worked on it and he crouched next to the back of the speeder. The half Sephi did a bit of tinkering that usually worked in the past.

“All right let’s test this,” He said after a moment, “I’m going to-“

There was a sudden and small explosion as the speeder backfired on both men at once. Emryc toppled backwards, some of his cloth wrappings suddenly on fire. He patted at them frantically before plopping into the sand to roll around till the flames were suppressed at once. Emryc moved to sit on the ground, looking at his singed and sandy attire before he looked at the other man. When he spoke next, it was through gritted teeth.

“You are not sitting on my lap.”

@Braden Drake

 

[Darth Caelestis]

Alright if he was being serious Artorigas was trying to show off, Raze was the first Sith Lord he had dealt with since his ascension which hadn't been either Stolas or Anduil ones he had already has a solid relationship with. So of course he wanted to be fancy show of his practical skills as well as his brain and brawn. But well that backfired, he was right the power coupling had been chewed, but well that wasn't the problem, it was working fine. He just hoped that the fancy words would have brought him some time whilst he found the real problem. The Sith Noble was now banging different parts of the motor with his hydrospanner trying to see if anything clicked whilst he muttered under his breath.

Thats when Raze appeared, apparently the one out of the pair of them with some actual brains. He could say that he knew there was a problem there but he really didn't he might have found it eventually but by then they would have been well within the sandstorm with three less layers of flesh on their bones. Artorigas followed the man, his jaw clenched in anger at himself. Why had he not just taken the fall to begin with.

Artorigas gave the man a hand, using his hands to pry open a few little gaps and such so Raze could easily get access to the bits he needed. Then they were all ready, "I hope this..." The explosion was not expected that was for sure, nor was the fact Artorigas was now rolling backwards down the short dune they had situated themselves on. Now covered in sand, every crevasse, orifice, pit and patch of sweat deeply covered in the stuff he looked up at the singed Sith Lord high upon his sandy little mountain.

"You could always sit on mine if that's what you prefer?" He said picking himself up from the ground and heading over to the 44-C Speeder firmly planted on the ground, the backfire shorting all the replusors. He rummaged through the bag he brought with him and pulled out a full bottle of Red wine from Firrerre. He pulled the cork out with The Force and took a long gulp of the rich dark fluid. Before hauling the pack over his shoulder and walking towards the man. "Although I doubt we have time for either of us to play on the others lap." He finished pointing at the incoming sandstorm. "Did you pack a tent?"

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc blankly stared at the other man’s quip about sitting on his lap instead. Truth be told, it was a comically baffling thing that no one had ever suggested to him...for a long time, anyway. The half Sephi remained silent as usual as he got to his feet, dusting himself off before getting back on his speeder. The sandstorm was rapidly approaching and Emryc had little intention of attempting to find shelter.

The half Sephi paused for a moment when the other man opened up his bottle of wine, the scent of it very familiar to Emryc. A flood of nostalgia hit his senses and his normally frosty gaze softened just for a moment before he glanced away. Wessex’s question about a tent was entirely ignored as Emryc walked over and hopped back on his speeder.

Without a word, he casually sped off and left the other man behind to his fate.

The Sith Lord made it about 30 meters before the speeder began to make the same croaking noises. After a few sputters and coughs, it shuddered to a stop, the front of it dipping and burying into the sand. Emryc didn’t move for a moment, furiously glaring at nothing as he remained seated on the downed and worthless speeder. He briefly considered declaring all jawas as outlaws to be shot on sight, and he seriously began to consider the logistics to get that supported.

Since the sandstorm was coming from the other direction, Wessex would have caught up by now. Emryc quietly stepped off the speeder and moved to grab his things, pointedly not looking at the other Sith Lord.

“Yeah I have a tent,” He grumbled after a while as he slung his pack over his shoulders and began to walk, as if he hadn't just attempted to ditch the man moments prior. They would have to find a good place for cover while the sandstorm blew over. Emryc walked at a brisk pace, though he was slowed by his feet sinking into the sand. He was sweating profusely, covered in sand and sporting half-singed clothes.

“It doesn’t come with an attached refresher though,” Emryc stated to what he perceived to be a prissy noble, “Lord Wessex.”

@Braden Drake

 

[Darth Caelestis]

Artorigas thought he saw something change in the man when he spotted the bottle of Alcohol in his hand, was he a closet alcoholic like the Sith Noble? He was about to offer the man a quick mouthful to help quench his thirst when the arsehole got on his speeder and left. "Fracking, Bantha Arse left me." He said to himself, though Artorigas' anger quickly turned to amusement and eventually a light chuckle as the he watched the Speeder chug and splutter before burying its nose in the deep sand of Tattooine. The other Sith hadn't gotten far and as the noise of the dying speeder petered out Artorigas kept his chuckle to himself, the man seemed a little uptight as it was having the newer Sith Lord laugh at him was not going to make his mood any better.

Darth Raze's little crash was at the bottom of the small dune they were on, Artorigas slid down its side, a pack over his right shoulder the bottle of wine in the other hand. Reaching the bottom he gave the Sith a sickly sweet smile, very much a 'serves you right' look. "I would say we try and find some low ground, try and stay out of the wind as much as possible." He suggested before following the long legged man across the desert.

Sand had well and truly wedged itself in ever feasible location upon Artorigas' body and every step was an itchy nuisance, he could not wait for a shower, a bath then another shower to make sure every ounce of the stuff was removed from his skin. When he heard the little comment from the other Sith, he decided to play with the man a little, granted camping was not his idea of enjoyment on any planet let alone one as much as a hell hole as this, but when you have to be uncomfortable might as well make everyone as uncomfortable. "Are you afraid the tent will get to hot and humid with both of us inside Raze?" He replied with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

They had reached the low ground between the dune they had 'crashed' both speeders into and another slightly further on. "I guess this has some good cover? Plus it is getting rather close." With that Artorigas went to Raze's pack and began to look to unload the tent, he hoped it was easier than trying to fix the speeder. I mean he had watched enough survival holo's and it always seemed rather easy, just put the poles in the holes and up it went. Unrolling the large piece of fabric, he stood up and stared at the concoction of rope, metal poles, flaps, canvass, plastic and The Force knows what else and sighed. 'Maybe surviving the sandstorm was the easier option here?'

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc kept his gaze trained forward as he walked in silence when the man suggested where to camp. It wasn’t as if they had a menu of options to choose from, even if he did privately agree with him. The half Sephi kept walking as Wessex made a quip about the tent being hot and humid. This caused Emryc to give a brief glance towards the other man, though the expression in his eyes was entirely neutral. He couldn’t place if Wessex enjoyed making crude jokes or if this was a genuine attempt at flirting, but both got a comically blank response.

The half Sephi slowed down as they came across some lower ground with the higher ridges offering some cover. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the best they could do. A quick glance over suggested that they only had moments to get the tent ready and shelter in place. Emryc watched as Wessex casually went through his bag to unpack the materials. A part of him wanted to punch the man clear into the sandstorm for touching his things, but a part of him wanted to observe and see what he would do.

Emryc watched for a few seconds as Wessex fiddled with the poles, pins, cloth and other items. After shaking his head, the half Sephi finally walked over and snatched the items from his hands.

“They didn’t teach you this in private school?” He muttered as he began to walk around to dig the stakes in. They had to work fast and that would go much quicker if Wessex followed direction. Emryc barked out instructions rapidly, relying on the other man to help. He could feel the sands from the storm begin to brush against him, the winds carrying over the coarse grains that irritated his eyes.

By some miracle and after Emryc cursing at the other man a few times, they finally managed to get the tent up. The half Sephi climbed inside, leaving very little room for the other man. They would have to get quite cozy. To his credit, Emryc actually did his best to allow the other man room, rubbing his eyes to get the sand out. At least Emryc smelled fantastic for now before the sweat would overpower the cologne eventually.

The cloth of the tent began to flap and wave aggressively as the sandstorm raged around them. It was 50/50 on whether the tent would hold or if it’d be torn apart.

@Braden Drake

 

[Darth Caelestis]

"I was actually home schooled." Artorigas replied with an over the top smugness, which he hoped would bring some life and laughter from the stoic Sith Lord. However whatever hope the Sith Noble had, it was quickly destroyed when the task master began, he barked orders like a shrill Kath Hound, bark bark bark. 'Put the pole in this hole, no not that way, it goes in the ground not your shoe, the sandstorm is almost here.' Even through the incessant barking of orders and awful reminder of his father, Artorigas could not fault that the man not only knew what he was doing but was also an expert in commanding people to get stuff done quickly and efficiently.

The pair were able to dive into the rather cramped tent just in time, the edge of the sandstorm just breaching the small dune, there speeders disappearing from sight as Artorigas closed the door. To say the fit was snug was an understatement, both he and Raze were above average height and the other Sith had the girth to go with it. He rubbed his face the small stubble let loose more sand than he could have expected onto the tent's floor. Why was every planet he visited recently covered in this irritating substance, Tattooine, Korriban, Moraband, Exegol.

Huffing at the situation the Sith pulled back out the bottle of Firrerr wine and proper his head up against his pack as a makeshift pillow. Pulling the now loosened cork out with his teeth he held up the bottle towards the flapping tent walls. "To the stupid idiot who decided to colonise this world." Before taking a long swig of the wine, if he was going to be trapped in here with this fridge door of a personality he was going to need all the alcoholic help he could get to not go stir crazy.

He took a second swig the soft burning of the alcohol dripping down his throat a comforting feeling in these troubling times. "So this is going as well as a Womp Rat trying to impregnate a Bantha."

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc was not concerned about the type of company that was around him. He was adaptable to most situations, and he could tolerate even people that gabbed nonstop or panicked. For all his flaws, the lack of patience was not one of them in most situations. He sat there perfectly still, even through Art’s elbow wedging into his side or the man’s thigh shoving against his and very much getting up in his personal space. Emryc sat calmly with his gaze trained forward, the tent flapping violently against the side of his face.

His nose scrunched up slightly at that Firrerre wine, but he said nothing about it. He was going to close his eyes and withdraw into meditation when the other man spoke. The comment about the idiot that colonized the planet drew out a surprise chuckle which Emryc promptly covered up with a series of coughs. As President of the ISC, the comment was especially entertaining, but he said nothing out loud.

A moment of silence passed as he felt the man next to him shift, drink repeatedly, and make a few more remarks. The man had this consistent impulse to do or say something, the constant urge to react to something that was growing worse from the lack of stimulation. Emryc did not turn to face Wessex as he finally spoke, gaze still trained ahead.

“You’re not comfortable in your own company, are you?” The baritone rumbled quietly after a few moments had passed.

@Braden Drake

 

[Darth Caelestis]

Artorigas gave the man a concerned look as he started coughing. Hopefully he didn't have AMS or something, he was bound to catch if he did, there was hardly any fresh air in the tent as it was, let alone if it was filled with a virus. His look turned to puzzlement as he heard the quip from the other Sith Lord.

He furrowed his brow, before turning back to face at the flapping fabric which made up their ceiling. Was he uncomfortable in his own company? No that was stupid why would one not be comfortable around themselves, that made no sense. His lips parted ready to give his own smart quip about the man still covering his face in the tent but he stopped himself.

Artorigas had spent a lot of his life on his own, not physically he had a large family and they had all been around him when he grew up, but emotionally and mentality he had been. Separated from them due to his fathers need to have his older brother succeed in everything, for every time Artorigas succeeded it was seen as a slight against his father and brother. The now Sith Lord had been conditioned for so long that he was not accepted by his father that he went out of his way to be seen and to be heard.

Always speaking aloud, making sure he had the last comment, the first word, he was always acting never just sitting back and thinking. The power of The Force had only amplified that nature, not one day since he joined the Sith had he stopped, always going always moving forward, speaking to everyone he met, trying to make an impression on everything he saw, be it person or planet. Was he uncomfortable in his own company? Yes for it was lonely to be with just himself.

Was this a realization, probably not, for he knew he had been going out of his way to make sure he had in impact, he had held the party on Serenno for this exact reason. But admitting this to himself was a different kettle of fish and doing something about it, was that even possible? Even if he wanted to do it. He chose not to answer the question, though his lack of answer was probably all the Sith Lord needed to know, instead he took another long draw of the wine.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc had expected a sarcastic quip, or perhaps another dirty joke of some sort as the man appeared to be fond of them. However, he was pleasantly surprised when he was met with silence. He internally patted himself on the back for figuring out how to make the chatty noble shut up and do some much needed self reflecting. With the way he shifted slightly and withdrew into his own thoughts, it was clear the man hadn’t considered that question before. He had always obsessed over titles and showboated without reflecting on how he saw himself when the opinions of others weren't a factor.

The half Sephi closed his eyes and began to focus on his meditation, letting the other man have conversations with himself and finally acquaint himself with who he was.

That was until he heard the gentle sound of the bottle’s contents shifting. Emryc glanced over to catch the other man tilting the bottle back to drink some more. The half Sephi observed this for a moment before his eyes narrowed.

“You are aware that is Firrerre wine?” He asked with his usual icy tone, “And you are aware that you’ve now had enough to knock down a small krayt dragon?”

There was little doubt that effects of the exceedingly strong alcohol would set in on the noble almost at once. He had been steadily drinking from the bottle and it would be moments before he began to slur his words and felt the impacts of a drink made for a far more resilient species.

@Braden Drake

 

[Darth Caelestis]

Mind still racing, his body movements limited to nothing but lifting the wine bottle up to his head and drinking there was probably no way Artorigas could tell if he was intoxicated or not. The man was also a serial drinker, a fair few people would say he was an alcoholic, hardly a day going past without at least a bottle disappearing. Was this a coping mechanism, if it was, it was a bloody good one that was for sure. So even his subconscious scoffed at the idea of the Sith Noble being anything more than a little merry at this time.

Artorigas tried to think of a curt reply, but his mind was becoming foggy his usual quick wittedness and outstanding smarts seemingly looked behind an invisible wall of alcohol. If words could not work then a look would, Artorigas turned his head towards the other Sith. Though what he had thought was a quick motion clearly to Raze was not, but inside Artorigas' mind he had just done a triple roll in a TIE Fighter and his mind was spinning. His eyes loosing all focus as his body tried to grip hold of his now spinning mind.

After a moment keeping as still as possible his body got control and his eyes focused and locked in on the glowing orbs which still hid behind his face coverings. Why was the idiot still covering his face from sand inside a tent? Maybe he had been drinking? If so what was it? Was it good? Even with his smarts a little dented by the alcohol Artorigas knew better than to speak to the man about fashion. He remember what happened to Xeno on Serenno with pleasant glee, a little chuckle escaping his mouth as the image of the flying Zabrak flew back through his mind.

After an awkwardly long period of interlocking eyes between the pair Artorigas flipped back onto his back. His mind now aware of his intoxication the expertise of an this borderline alcoholic kicked in, allowing him to keep the spinning sensation from making him empty his guts. Looking back up at the flapping tent he held the bottle aloft trying to catch the level through the weak light filtering through the sandstorm. "Your point is?" He asked, even through the stupor his usual noble privilege was evident in his tone as he spoke.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

As Wessex stared at him, Emryc looked back. The frosty silvers calmly met the other man’s drunken gaze, always unwavering. He wasn’t someone that was unnerved easily by others and he certainly didn’t shy away from things unless he had vested interest. In this case he blankly looked at the other man as long as he held that little staring contest before he unceremoniously plopped back.

Dating a Firrerreo meant Emryc knew about the planet's foods and wines perhaps more than he ever wanted to know. He knew fully well that Wessex was rapidly losing control and he would become a liability on the mission. Emryc considered his various options - he tried to leave the man once already and now he somehow ended up in his tent taking up space.

Emryc’s thoughts were interrupted right when Wessex laid back, the cramped space not allowing for enough room. The half Sephi had to scrunch himself up a bit more as the other man’s limbs pressed against his. The flapping of the tent grew worse and Wessex’s giant, stupid head wedged back against the fabric. He heard the man’s question and the attempt at sounding sober. Emryc’s eyes narrowed as he reached over and snatched the bottle from his hand, deciding that it was probably enough.

“You’re going to become as useful as our speeders,” Emryc grumbled, turning his face away as he took a sip of the wine. While he had no intention of getting drunk, it was perfectly good wine and they had time to kill as long as the tent didn’t topple over with them inside.

“You’re not going to gain anything by trying to study me, you know,” The half Sephi stated quietly after a while. He knew when others sought him out purely out of curiosity. Perhaps that wasn’t this man’s intention, but observations on Serenno said as much. Emryc turned away to take another sip before replacing the mask, “I mostly do my own thing.”

@Braden Drake

 

[Darth Caelestis]

"Might make it easier for you to leave me again then." Artorigas quipped back about the comment on the speeders. The Sith Lord's mood had soured considerably as his mind had dwelled upon his own inadequacies and the thoughts of his parents and brother. He was tempted to snatch the bottle back from the larger man and go back to drowning his anger in alcohol but thought better of it. Artorigas was clearly a little far gone and the man was not only larger than him but now considerably more sober. So sitting here in his stupor was the best thing he could do, perhaps the sandstorm would lift soon and Emryc could go about his day, leave Artorigas here in his own piece of mind, without the Sith Lords sweaty crotch extremely close to his thigh. He could have some piece and silence before his sobered up and made the walk back towards Anchoridge and another bottle of wine.

The silence of the howling wind continued for a few moments before the man spoke again. Artorigas had given no attempt to try and look at the man's face whilst he drunk, the idiot was trying to be super mysterious and cool and the alcoholically influenced Sith Noble wanted nothing to do with it. Even his comment about not studying him made Artorigas roll his eyes, if this man didn't want to be studied and wanted to be all mysterious, why was he always out with people. It made no sense to the Serennian noble and if he was honest he couldn't even be bothered to try and pry into the man anymore, he was boring.

The wind continued to flap against the side of the tent, the air inside was becoming stale with sweat and alcohol. The small gap in by the door was enough to stop them from suffocating but still a small amount of sand was getting in, he could feel it in his teeth, a fascinating sensation which under the influence of Firrerian wine took the full attention of the Sith Lord something surprisingly more entertaining than trying to gander what was behind that stupid mask.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc found the man’s commentary to be curious after a moment of silence. He tilted his face away to take another swig of the wine, deciding that he actually didn’t mind it. Unlike most Firrerre wine, this one had a taste that wasn’t as harsh going down the throat. This also meant it was deceptively unassuming because it likely hit just as hard as any other wine from the planet.

He could sense the rage that roiled within the noble, though he couldn’t explain why there was so much anger. Perhaps it was simply because they were delayed. Emryc was a patient man most of the time, and he could calmly wait out any storm before continuing on a journey. Wessex was absolutely bubbling with fury and he pointedly looked off in a different direction.

The sandstorm began to get worse as the tent began to violently flap and shift. The half Sephi glanced up and saw the opening that was letting in a lot of sand. He also noticed a few edges were coming slightly loose, threatening to displace them.

Emryc cursed inwardly, attempting to maneuver himself around the other man uselessly laying there like a log. In the end, the half Sephi exhaled to himself and moved right over Wessex to adjust the corners and close up the gap. This meant that he had to practically straddle the worthless idiot that served as nothing more than an obstacle in the way. However this was still preferable to the other man moving too much and potentially vomiting on them both.

Emryc was entirely unconcerned, a practical man by nature. He focused on what he was doing, pressing down against the stakes and working to tighten up the loops he could access. The cloth of the tent was caving inwards, the worst of the storm passing over them. Unlike Wessex, there was no rage from the half Sephi and he appeared perfectly calm as he worked.

After a moment, he glanced down at the other man from above, icy silvers drilling into him, “Are you displeased that I attempted to leave you behind?” There was the slightest hint of amusement laced into that normally monotone baritone.

@Braden Drake

 

[Darth Caelestis]

Artorigas watched with curiosity as the man straddled him, had the alcohol gotten to Raze quicker than himself, was he coming onto him. The Sith Lord paused for a moment as he watched his hands, where they coming up for his shirt, he took a deep breath in, for Raze was easily stronger than him and already being on top meant that he would also start with the advantage if Artorigas was to resit. The hands passed his chest, shit was he going for the back of his head was he going to pull him in, or maybe the throat. Damnit was he going to kill him, he had tried to leave him out here in the desert to potential starve or die of dehydration, perhaps he was tied of waiting and wanting to get it over and done with now.

Was that how Raze had gotten to the rank of Sith Lord, through the quiet assassination of his fellow Sith whilst out on a mission together. Artorigas fumbled his hand trying to grab the hilt of his sword, but in this confined space it was to hard to do anything. Then the hand passed and pushed down on the peg to the side of his head, securing the flapping tent against the wind. He let out an audible sigh of relief as his alcohol filled mind began to relax as Raze fixed two more before looking down and speaking to him.

"You could have just asked me to do these pegs you know." He said snobbishly as the man continued to straddle him. "Now please move." Artorigas placed his hand on the side of the man's chest and gave him a simple push as he twisted his left hip up to get the man to dismount. However the movement did something that he had not expected, for when he tried to grab the sword hilt he had moved it to the side away from his body so as he twisted his hip the sheath rose up into the side of the tent. The metal tip of the sheath did what metal tip do best and sliced through the side of the tent, allowing a torrent of sand to fly into the tent.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc was largely oblivious to whatever internal crisis the other man was having, focused entirely on securing the tent. He glanced over when the noble requested that he move, noting that the man casually waited to mention anything until Emryc had already done all the work on the tent. The half Sephi rolled his eyes, scooting off the man without incident. He was careful not to put his weight on him, not intending to crush Wessex.

“You have been largely useless,” The baritone rang out matter of factly in response. He tilted his head to look at the edge that cut through the side of the tent, “Case in point..” He stated right before the sand blew in. Emryc shielded his eyes and looked away, pressing back against the opposite side of the tent.

“Plug that tear!” He called out, hoping Wessex could do something before they were buried. The winds were already making the tear wider and Emryc could feel particles of sand getting into his eyes. He attempted to assist by channeling the Force and throwing up a barrier, but even that wouldn’t stop the damage from getting worse. Emryc couldn’t see anything for a moment, eyes watering and squeezed shut as the storm pounded against the tent and threatened to tear it apart.

@Braden Drake