Family Time

[Orell]

A lot of characters have families in the Star Wars universe, and since the origin of Thanksgivings are harvest festivals, which would hardly be unique to Earth... screw it, it may not make canon-sense, but it's fun anyway. Add your own stories if you want!


Lien's intercom buzzed, a protocol's voice speaking up. "Captain, your sister wishes to speak to you. Shall I connect her?"

"Go ahead... C-Something..." he winced, still struggling to recognize all the protocol droid names.

"'ey, Li, wot's this I'm hearin' 'bout you hostin' the family dinner?" Kyri said over the comm, a... suspicious sound in her voice. "Don' we always do it back 'ome?"

He let out a laugh. "Come on, Ky! It's just a place, and way better than doin' it down in tha dark. Bigger, too."

"Yah, but does tha' mean yer gonna cook?"

"Hey! I'm a damn good cook!" he said, grinning at the comm. "At least as good as ma an' pa!"

"Uh huh," she said, suspiciously. "So, it ain' so you ken order stuff in secret?"

"Ky."

"Or so we gotta feel nice an' not complain?"

"...when has that sorta thing stopped ya in the past?"

He could HEAR her roll her eyes. "Hones'ly, Li, I KNOW ya don' really live there. Ya work on Carrick, way too long a c'mmute. You hostin' on yer hunk o' junk?"

Lien sighed. His sister wasn't wrong, exactly, but... "It's important to have a real flat, Ky. A place you don' gotta worry 'bout bein' stolen away, ya know? Or get shot down? And I'd rather host on a place without exposed wiring. And carpets."

"...uh huh. But... ya are cookin'?"

He sighed. "Yes! I'm sure ma will help out, and you can if ya want-" He sighed as he waited for Kyri's laughter to quiet down, "And I'm gonna be invitin' Az along too... and she'll prolly force her way into the kitchen, whether I like it or not."

Kyri snickered at the last. "She's a better cook than ya, righ'?" Once it became clear an answer wasn't coming, she continued. "Alrigh', alrigh', I'll be there, jus' migh' be a bit late? Keep gettin' confused 'bout tha time differences..."

He chuckled. "I'll forward you an app for that, Ky. See ya there."

[Audaine]

Audaine Buelle
The humble Apprentice sat in the quiet and hollow squat of an adjacent room in her shared apartment. She had refurbished it with her prized collections of Sith holocrons and her most dear treasures. The room itself was near pitch black in lighting as the Miraluka girl did not rely on lighting to see. She sat in the midst of the room in a circular glyph lined with her personal artefacts. A few of her most prized veils, a toy from her youth and her small crystalline holocron that acted out as her diary.

Life day looms closer. The remembrance of others. Her divided consciousness whispers to her. "The only people I have to share with are 'him'... And..." She paused, looking puzzled as she attempted to recall people she was close to. She by nature was not hospitable and often turned people away from her just by so much as existing. Perhaps it was jealousy of her capability. That's right, you have nobody except him and the Elysaren girl. You are a lonely little alien, Audaine.

The words stung her right in the chest, the guilt and realization that the words sung true. She foregoes such pleasantries as making friendships in order to ascend into Sithhood, to be a 'true' Sith. Friends were a liability in often times, it was wise to keep them select and few. But she didn't have many at all to begin with. What about the Sisters and Brothers of home? Her esteem attempted to reason with a quizzical notion to the whisper. Her posture visibly shrunk at this, her meditative sit collapsed into an upright lapse held up by her arm. "I am exile. I have not seen them in years." Her voice grew shallow and somber, riddled with her compassion. "I do what I do to be Sith. They will celebrate without me, as I them." She casts her field of vision to the holocron, a hand running over to stroke against the metal framework.

"I am sorry, Mother. Father."

Disclosure and things - Yes it's not a delightful post but at the same time, it points out the significance of holding your loved ones close. Happy Thanksgiving, all.

[Orell]

"Feel the Force around you, Shaantil. It is in everything, the people around you, the unliving steel, the droid, the air... the Force is eternal, unending, unyielding. Take comfort in that, if you can. You will never be alone."

Shaantil sighed softly in her meditation. A small comfort, perhaps, given to the Jedi after an unexpected and extended stay on a frozen pit of a world... but a comfort regardless. Master Soldin would always be with Shaantil, through her memories and through the Force...

"T7 = sorry..."

The Jedi turned her head, looking at the small droid, rolling into her quarters. "...what are you sorry for?" she asked, mentally kicking herself for not keeping more aware of her surroundings.

"T7 = had small accident // Jedi = angry?"

"What happened?"

The droid looked around, almost acting bashful. "T7 = know Jedi = sad // T7 = know Cordae = busy + Soldin = ... // T7 = wanted to cheer Jedi up"

That earned a slight smile from the Jedi. "Thank you, T7, but what happened?" she said, restraining herself from making a joke at the poor droid's expense.

"T7 = find holonet article on food = good at cheering up // T7 = found recipes // T7 = tried cooking!" She stared at the droid for a few moments, before motioning him to continue. "T7 = read roast birds = good food // T7 = read recently killed birds = best food..."

"...so, you are sorry that you killed a bird, T7?"

"T7 = not done yet... // T7 = found + killed local avian species..."

She frowned. "...T7, we are on Nar Shaddaa. What avian species..." She winced, knowing the answer.

"Bird = Mynock"

Mynocks. The womp rats of the sky. And... "...I thought they were silicon based life forms?"

"Jedi = not like Silicon?"

She shook her head. "At least, not to eat."

"T7 = sorry..." T7 seemed to slump down even lower, but continued. T7 = had trouble preparing Mynock // Skin = tough // wings = little meat // T7 = may have made mess"

"...well, that is understandable... is that all?"

T7 shook its head. "T7 = cooked Mynock // T7 = think Oven = had malfunction?"

"Why is that?"

"Recipe = said to roast at 350 degrees // Mynock = overcooked + burst into flame + exploded..."

Shaantil gazed at T7 for several moments. "...350 degrees what?"

T7 looked around a few times, before reluctantly answering. "...recipe = did not say?"

The Jedi winced, although there was a slight smile on her face. "...please, T7, clean up the mess and... see to repairing the oven, if it is needed?"

"T7 = understand // T7 = sorry // Jedi = mad?"

Over twenty years of Jedi training was thankfully enough to prevent her from breaking out into laughter. "No, T7, and thank you for the thought of it..."

She managed to hold her expression for a good ten seconds after T7 left the room, before dissolving into muffled laughter.

[Orell]

Arazel sighed, staring up at the massive, forboding estate before ducking her head back under her hood, hiding away as Kaas City chose to resume the hourly downpour.

The raincoat was thick, heavy and warm, at least, far better than the dress contained underneath, but still not enough to make the hunter comfortable. She had become too used to the armor, or other hard, thick outfits, clothing suitable for hard work and hard living, not... this.

She reached the main door, walking past the slave letting her inside and reluctantly removing the raincoat, putting her dress fully on display. Light, blue and... fluffy was truly the only word. She felt like a cloud... or at least, a cloud in a bad way.

The butler bowed to Arazel as she entered, the slave collar carefully displayed under the collar of his coat. "Madam. Darth Khorus is expecting you in the dining room. This way, please."

The butler-slave started forward, turning as Arazel spoke. "I know the way. Leave me."

He smiled briefly. "I would, madam, but Darth Khorus insists..." At the hunter's roll of the eyes, he continued on. "Our lordship has asked that I confirm that you have come unarmed, and there is no armor underneath your lovely gown."

She snorted at the blatant lie. "None of either, unless you count my fists."

"It may please you to jest, madam, but may I urge you not to try to use them?"

Arazel sighed as they walked.. "You may." The estate was wearing on her nerves. She hadn't been back here in some time, not since the last time Darth Khorus insisted on dinner... and then not since the previous time...

"We do miss you here, madam. You do not visit often, and many of us have fond memories of you." The butler turned to Arazel, in front of the large doors to the dining room. "Why, I remember when you were-"

"Don't," Arazel said, cutting him off as she opened the doors, striding in, ignoring the slave's briefly hurt expression and fighting a grimace as she saw the figure at the far end of the table. Darth Khorus.

The Pureblood Sith always had a talent for striking an imposing look, regardless of the setting or the outfit. Here, in simple clothes, the robe more reminiscent of a dressing gown than a Sith's robes, his smile, his expression, his very stance screamed out to Arazel's practiced eye that this was a deadly person to have as an enemy.

He smiled, standing and walking around the table. "Ah, Ara, darling. How good of you to make it." He chuckled at the hunter's stiff bow. "Now now, Ara, I think we are beyond such petty formalities. Let me get a closer look at you..."

He stepped forward, his eyes trailing over Arazel, taking in the horrible dress. There was a ghost of a smirk on his face, she knew. "You look gorgeous as always, dear Ara. A shame about that tattoo, it does rather spoil the look."

Arazel couldn't hold back her harumph, bringing a grin to the Dark Lord's face. "You disagree? Feel free to speak up."

She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "...the dress is quite lovely, my lord. But it is not my sort of dress."

"You mean, you think you look like a bantha in a frilly dress?" Darth Khorus made no attempt to hide is amusement, infuriating Arazel to no end.

"No, my lord, I think I look like a Rancor in a frilly dress." This earned a laugh from the Darth, and she continued on. "I think there has to be better dresses for women with muscles out there. Mandalorian women have to wear something, don't they?"

"They wear armor, darling, and I think you know that too." He turned, walking back to his end of the table and gesturing at the other chair. "Sit down, please. I want to know all about your latest exploits, criminals captured, Sith insulted, Hutts killed..."

Arazel chuckles softly, sitting down and spying the veritable feast laid out before her, happy that the subject has finally shifted to something else. "No hutts killed this time, my lord."

"Then what are you using that armor for?" He asked, almost looking taken aback by the notion. "It took so long to repair that from the detestable shape it was in!"

"Criminals and Sith, my lord." She reached for a drumstick, but stopping as Darth Khorus coughed.

"One last thing, Ara? It's just you and me here, you know what to call me."

Her eyes flickered, pulling the drumstick to her plate. "...of course, Father..."

This was going to be a long dinner.

[Jedibehr]

Kyros stood at the nurses station of the Casualty Reception section of the Republic hospital ship Comfort.  It had been a busy shift, with the open conflict of the Starfighter squadrons against the Imperial forces, there was an increased need for medical support.  The last fast transport had brought 62 injured from the Kuat shipyard dogfights, as well as another 42 ground troops from the conflicts raging on Denova. 

Kyros was in the middle of catching up on some last minute charting when his friend and colleague, Heather Gravelle came around the corner.  The young, blonde human female nurse smiled as she rounded the desk.

"How are things here in receiving?" She asked casually.

"Good, just sent the last of the criticals to OR, the rest are either in the medical wards or boarding here in Reception."  The Cathar male nurse answered.

"Boarding, ugh.  I hate that, if I wanted to be a med/surg nurse, I would have signed up for that."

Kyros chuckled at her, revealing his elongated canine teeth, that were the hallmark of his people.  His feline reflexes and agility had served him well as a trauma nurse on a hospital ship.  The tiger coloring of his fur had also served him well in his years as a field corpsman with SpecFor, prior to attending Republic Naval Nursing School.

"Any plans for Life day, or are you on?"  The young woman asked, as she removed the surgical cap, from her head, running her fingers through her hair.

"I do not have any family, so I volunteered to work the holidays, so that some of the other nurses with family could rotate back stateside."  Kyros said, as he finished entering a set of vital signs on a patient he was still caring for in the reception section of the ship.

"That was nice of you," she answered, looking around the section, which was the equivalent of a large emergency room in standard planetary hospitals.  "Although, this place could be using some sprucing up.  Why have you guys not decorated for life day?"

Kyros shrugged his shoulders and looked around at the white bulkheads.  "Kinda stark in here, isn't it?"

"Here," Heather said, as she drew out a holodisplay of the decorations that were all over the Primary Operating suite nurses station.  "We went nuts, if we are going to be stuck on this ship for Life Day, we might as well feel like it is the holidays."

Kyros nodded, "I think, I am going to go to the duty free shop, when we dock at Fleet to drop this next batch off.  I think it would be nice to have some nice decorations for the patients, and staff."

"You guys doing anything for yourselves for Life Day eve?"  Heather was now completely enthralled by the images of her work area.

"I think we are going to do a potluck of some sort."  Kyros added.

"You guys always have the best food."  Heather protested.

"Hey when you deal with death and dying all day, you learn to appreciate how important good food is," Kyros joked back with her.

"Mind if I come down and steal some food?"

Kyros shook his head, he knew she would not let the rest of the ship know they were having a pot luck in Casualty, as that would bring all the staff to Casualty for their food.

The calm banter between the two nurses was shattered by the loud wailing klaxon of the incoming alert notification.  Kyros was over the counter and in the communications alcove before Heather could ask what the noise was.

"Casualty reception, Comfort, go ahead."

"Comfort, this is rapid transport, Hawkbat coming in hot with 45 pilots from Kuat Yards.  I have 15 Delayed, 12 Intermediate, and 18 Critical, how do you copy?"

Kyros depressed the transmit key.  "Comfort copies, we will be ready to receive."

Kyros leapt back over the counter and hit the intercom for the Reception section.  "Attention staff, we have a transport inbound, with 45.  I need all triage nurses to entry ports.  All other staff, prepare to receive patients.  Count is 15 Delayed, 12 Intermediate, and 18 Critical, all hands to stations."

Kyros shrugged at Heather, "Catch you after shift in the mess?"

The young human smiled and headed out to let her colleagues in the OR know what was coming in.  "See you at dinner."