Ask Tatooine Ashes to Sand, Sand to Ashes

[Darth Caelestis]

The sand smacked into the side of his face with a horrid intensity, the small molecules of sand ripped away at his skin, the sensation of pain ripping away the intoxication running through his mind. The audible concern coming from his fellow Sith Lord pulled some sense into his body, his brain sensing the immediate peril dumped adrenaline through his body. Everything came clear for a moment though deep down inside he knew that this would last only a few moments before everything would come crashing down.

Artorigas sensed the flow of power coming from Raze trying to block the incoming sand, his eyes closed he needed rely on his senses to get him out of this mess. Luckily he had an apprentice who could not see, even though he did not have the same innate ability as the young women, he had played around with the idea of using The Force instead of his eyes when he was alone. Reaching behind him he pulled the small bag he had taken with him and had been using as a pillow and began rummaging inside.

Stuff was being turfed in every direction as he scrambled around for something to seal the slowly growing tear. Finally he found it, the small medical kit he had brought with him, he pulled out both the gauze tape and the medical compound. Turning to the hole, Artorigas pulled the The Force inside himself before reaching out and grasping both flapping sides of the tear and with the might of The Force pulling them together as his hands went to work.

Placing one end of the gauze tape on one side, he used the medical sealing compound, the pink paste dried quick and was normally used to seal wounds and burns and keep them clean before Bacta could be administered at a medical facility. He waited for a moment to allow it to harden before pulling the gauze across the gap and spraying more of the compound. Some of it splattered back onto his chest and face as the wind pulled around Raze's barrier.

Slowly the wind died down as the gap got smaller and smaller, finally subsiding as the final amount of compound dried. It would hold but not indefinitely, the pair only had to hope that the storm would pass before that came to pass. Artorigas turned to look at the fellow Sith Lord a sarcastic grin on his face. "See it wasn't..." The adrenaline dump had ran out, the flood of intoxication and weariness collapsed in on the young Sith Lord and it all went to black as he passed out onto Raze's lap.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

It was only because Renfry spoke highly of the man. That was the only reason.

It was some time after the storm passed and Wessex was still out cold. Emryc had given up on rousing him and thought about leaving him behind. In fact, he had packed up the entire campsite and was prepared to hike the rest of the way by himself. However, he glanced over at the sorry state of the other Sith Lord sprawled out on the ground and practically drooling. With a sigh, Emryc shook his head and walked towards the man.

“HURRAH and up she rises! Early in the morning!” Emryc belted out a song slightly off key as he walked through the desert some time later. His mask was off and he had the bottle of Firrerre wine in one hand. His pack was on his back, Art’s pack placed backwards on his chest. Wessex himself was unceremoniously slung over Emryc’s broad shoulder, his head hanging over Emryc’s back and probably near his perfectly sculpted ass. The half Sephi’s arm was loosely wrapped around the Sith Lord’s legs. It took active focus with the Force to carry all this weight and trudge through the desert.

The moons were high up in the sky and the air was chilly, and he only had a vague sense of where he was going. He felt no need to keep his mask up while the other man was out cold and he was enjoying himself. Emryc took two steps to the right and then two to the left before he did a few stomps and spun in a circle in the dance that usually went with the song.

“WHAT WILL WE DO WITH A DRUNKEN SITH LORD? WHAT WILL WE DO WITH A DRUNKEN SITH LORD? EAARLY IN THE MORNING!” He took another swig from the wine, clearly in a great mood as he kept half walking half dancing through the desert while lugging around Wessex’s dead weight.

At one point he began tapping to the beat of the music, slapping his hand to a rhythm against the back of Wessex's knees as he walked.

“Hey ho! Let’s go!”

@Braden Drake

 

[Darth Caelestis]

His body felt weak, his stomach queasy, and his mouth was dryer than a Jedi's sandal. This was the true aftereffects of a hard hitting hangover, the problem was that he never had the fun and exciting night before to make the hangover worth it. Artorigas' eyes squinted open for a moment, they were caked in sand there was a slight resistance before they opened to the darkness of the Tattooine night. The sandstorm had ended it seems and from the moving sand beneath his face, they were on the move.

Only with that revelation did Artorigas feel the digging sensation into his stomach of the man's shoulder did he realise that he was being carried by the six and a half foot singling lump. The Sith Lords' deep voice did not suite the solo singing in the open desert, at best it was a backing voice in a choir. Closing his eyes for a second he tried to control the constantly spinning internal equilibrium, which was making it feel like every single piece of his being was turning in different directions. Only a moment after he got a hand on the spinning motion did he truly spin as the walking mass of brooding mystery spun himself around to his stupid song.

Artorigas had a quick decision to make, chunder here, right down the back Darth Raze, or try and remove himself from man's shoulder and spew upon the ground. Much of his deep conscious wanted to coat the back of the man's trousers in sick, but the practical part of him knew it would not be worth the hassle. Coming alive quickly Artorigas reached up and jammed his hand into the trap of Raze rolling himself off the man's shoulder.

He collapsed onto his back, knocking the wind out of him. With an effort he turned himself over and pulled himself up onto his hands and knees before emptying his guts back down the small slope they had just climbed. There was little in his stomach it seemed as much of the alcohol had been soaked up already by his overactive Liver and he had only eaten a little before setting out from Anchoridge. Three or four heaves later and he was empty, a few more dry heaves a fair bit of spittle and he was done.

Wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve, he took a deep breath of the cold night air before pulling himself up onto unsteady feet. Turning to the Sith Lord, his eyes were bloodshot but hopefully hidden in the darkness of the evening. "Your Welcome." He said before walking up and holding his hand out for his pack. "Shall we?" Artorigas had no need nor want to dwell on what had happened in the tent or whilst under the influence of the wine, he just wished to get on with their search.

@Sreeya