House Rules : A Successful Combination
“Oh frack.”
The marble stone floor cracked and crumbled beneath his feet. His arms wind-milled in the air as he struggled to regain his balance. Thin cracks spider-webbed up the surrounding walls of the hall, interlacing along the curves of the ceiling and causing the painted images to break apart in chunks of plaster and duracrete.
“I guess I got more than just the door opened.”
“Shut up! Shut up Rand!”
Behind him, the ex Jedi Exile struggled to hop across jagged chunks of debris and avoid falling stone. Her hand clamped down on his arm and with her help, he managed to concentrate and focus the surge of energy into his legs. Gasping and dodging chunks of ceiling that outweighed the two of them combined, he ran alongside his companion, eyes focused only on the small circle of light that shone from the single entrance of the hall.
Without really thinking matters through, as the floor was fully coming apart and the gaping chasm opening wide just before their exit was much more of a priority than his own skin, he hooked an arm around the lithe woman and jumped.
The roar of ruins collapsing deafened his ears. A massive cloud of smoke exploded, along with other shards of rock and steel, outwards from the entrance and peppered his ribbed leather jacket.
None of that mattered, however, since he was arched over a sprawled and fully irritated exile glaring up at him from under cover of his body, pinned between him and the hard gray ground. The flush over her cheeks was rather telling and belayed her otherwise pissed off expression.
But angry or not, he was just glad they got out without so much as a scratch.
So, he smiled. “Why, hello there.”
“Get off,” she grit out through clenched teeth.
Instead of replying, he angled his head to look back at the crumbled remains of the building and attempted to take in the repercussions of one poorly placed Frag Mine.
“I said get off,” she hissed.
“Hey, don’t get excited, darling,” he drawled.
Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and he instantly realized she wasn’t one to take the obvious bait. Half a second after that realization, pain exploded through his lower body and he fell to the side, curled up in fetal position.
“How’s that for excited,” she replied evenly as she sat up and dusted off the front of her Jedi robes.
“G-great,” he grunted, hands cupped between his legs.
From his position on the ground, and through the pain, he watched her stand up and rest her hands gently on her hips. She fell quiet as she stared at the ruins with her back to him. Her outer robes were missing, and what was left offered a view that was, in fact, great.
“Great,” he repeated and ogled her form without any restraint. A thousand different images flashed through his mind, heat curled in the pit of his stomach, and he slowly eased up to a more manly position of lying on the ground.
Her shoulders tensed, likely picking up on his wayward emotions.
“Do you want a repeat performance?” she asked with a convincing smile as she turned to look at him from over her shoulder.
“Well rough isn’t my kind of- Whoa whoa, gentle! Be gentle!” He gasped as she spun on her heel and rapidly approached him with quick, short strides. He gulped when she stopped short and leaned over, her face hanging ominously over his and blocking the dusty sunlight.
“Those ruins might’ve contained a valuable holocron!” she snapped.
Jarred by the sudden change of topic, he blinked bashfully at her. “You’d need an army of droids to get to it now,” he offered with a lopsided smile.
“Why couldn’t you just jimmy the door?”
“What? I told you, the lock was rusted solid. There was no jimmying anything. Why didn’t you swing your magical saber of justice and cut the door open?”
“My saber of justice?”
“You heard me, missy.” He grinned.
“Look-”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Interrupted from his reminiscing, Atton eyed the comlink resting on the table, beside his tray, with a particularly frosty glare. The vibrations caused by its incessant beeping sent the small communicator in a slow, counterclockwise twirl, beeping and ticking in an arc. Annoyed as he was, a half smile quirked the side of his mouth and he shoved another spoonful of warmed apple-cinnamon oatmeal past his lips before he could break out into amused chuckles.
“Atton?” the link rang as the crackled voice of one Miraluka floated through.
He reached over, picking up the com with his free hand, and pressed a button on the side of the device. “’M here,” he grunted through a mouth full of breakfast.
“My apologies, am I interrupting something?” Her gentle voice calmed his frayed nerves.
“No, no.” He swallowed past a particularly large lump of meal. “Just cramming down breakfast. What’s up?”
“Odd choice of words,” Visas replied. “If you have time, I’d like to request your help with a particularly disagreeable projector. It is rather old, and I am having difficulty getting it to function.”
Atton pondered her request as he plowed his spoon through the remains of his oatmeal and shoveled the lightly sweetened, nutritious lumps into his mouth. “Chyeah,” he mumbled, careful not to spray his food on the table. Sure, he was something of a slob, but he liked to think he was far from wasteful. “I’ll swing by after saber practice.”
“Thank you, Atton,” she replied, her voice never straying from the gentle, almost musical tone.
He set the comlink back down on the table and leaned back in his chair. The walls of the communal dining area arched up, like the inside of a dome, though at the center they curled up and out to allow light to drift in through clear glass windows. From where he sat, the gray sky threatened rain and another moody day- just his kind of weather.
Behind him, numerous droids maintained the cooking and serving of food, while several round tables littered the wide, open space. The soft cream-colored floors swirled beneath his feet, the light color in stark contrast with the dark gray and orange striped walls.
With a sigh, Atton stood and lifted his tray. Yet another long day hung ahead of him, and it was with an almost sad state of mental turmoil that he even realized his days were beginning to blur together. But that was no surprise. He had been a singular person during the wars, after the wars, and it worked fine right up until the exile.
“One foot in front of the other,” he murmured to himself as he dumped his tray in the cleaning reticule jutting out from a wall. Once his feet passed the threshold of the cafeteria and entered yet another long sparsely lit hall, he plastered an amiable expression on his face and walked with purpose. What that purpose was, however, eluded him.
The marble stone floor cracked and crumbled beneath his feet. His arms wind-milled in the air as he struggled to regain his balance. Thin cracks spider-webbed up the surrounding walls of the hall, interlacing along the curves of the ceiling and causing the painted images to break apart in chunks of plaster and duracrete.
“I guess I got more than just the door opened.”
“Shut up! Shut up Rand!”
Behind him, the ex Jedi Exile struggled to hop across jagged chunks of debris and avoid falling stone. Her hand clamped down on his arm and with her help, he managed to concentrate and focus the surge of energy into his legs. Gasping and dodging chunks of ceiling that outweighed the two of them combined, he ran alongside his companion, eyes focused only on the small circle of light that shone from the single entrance of the hall.
Without really thinking matters through, as the floor was fully coming apart and the gaping chasm opening wide just before their exit was much more of a priority than his own skin, he hooked an arm around the lithe woman and jumped.
The roar of ruins collapsing deafened his ears. A massive cloud of smoke exploded, along with other shards of rock and steel, outwards from the entrance and peppered his ribbed leather jacket.
None of that mattered, however, since he was arched over a sprawled and fully irritated exile glaring up at him from under cover of his body, pinned between him and the hard gray ground. The flush over her cheeks was rather telling and belayed her otherwise pissed off expression.
But angry or not, he was just glad they got out without so much as a scratch.
So, he smiled. “Why, hello there.”
“Get off,” she grit out through clenched teeth.
Instead of replying, he angled his head to look back at the crumbled remains of the building and attempted to take in the repercussions of one poorly placed Frag Mine.
“I said get off,” she hissed.
“Hey, don’t get excited, darling,” he drawled.
Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and he instantly realized she wasn’t one to take the obvious bait. Half a second after that realization, pain exploded through his lower body and he fell to the side, curled up in fetal position.
“How’s that for excited,” she replied evenly as she sat up and dusted off the front of her Jedi robes.
“G-great,” he grunted, hands cupped between his legs.
From his position on the ground, and through the pain, he watched her stand up and rest her hands gently on her hips. She fell quiet as she stared at the ruins with her back to him. Her outer robes were missing, and what was left offered a view that was, in fact, great.
“Great,” he repeated and ogled her form without any restraint. A thousand different images flashed through his mind, heat curled in the pit of his stomach, and he slowly eased up to a more manly position of lying on the ground.
Her shoulders tensed, likely picking up on his wayward emotions.
“Do you want a repeat performance?” she asked with a convincing smile as she turned to look at him from over her shoulder.
“Well rough isn’t my kind of- Whoa whoa, gentle! Be gentle!” He gasped as she spun on her heel and rapidly approached him with quick, short strides. He gulped when she stopped short and leaned over, her face hanging ominously over his and blocking the dusty sunlight.
“Those ruins might’ve contained a valuable holocron!” she snapped.
Jarred by the sudden change of topic, he blinked bashfully at her. “You’d need an army of droids to get to it now,” he offered with a lopsided smile.
“Why couldn’t you just jimmy the door?”
“What? I told you, the lock was rusted solid. There was no jimmying anything. Why didn’t you swing your magical saber of justice and cut the door open?”
“My saber of justice?”
“You heard me, missy.” He grinned.
“Look-”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Interrupted from his reminiscing, Atton eyed the comlink resting on the table, beside his tray, with a particularly frosty glare. The vibrations caused by its incessant beeping sent the small communicator in a slow, counterclockwise twirl, beeping and ticking in an arc. Annoyed as he was, a half smile quirked the side of his mouth and he shoved another spoonful of warmed apple-cinnamon oatmeal past his lips before he could break out into amused chuckles.
“Atton?” the link rang as the crackled voice of one Miraluka floated through.
He reached over, picking up the com with his free hand, and pressed a button on the side of the device. “’M here,” he grunted through a mouth full of breakfast.
“My apologies, am I interrupting something?” Her gentle voice calmed his frayed nerves.
“No, no.” He swallowed past a particularly large lump of meal. “Just cramming down breakfast. What’s up?”
“Odd choice of words,” Visas replied. “If you have time, I’d like to request your help with a particularly disagreeable projector. It is rather old, and I am having difficulty getting it to function.”
Atton pondered her request as he plowed his spoon through the remains of his oatmeal and shoveled the lightly sweetened, nutritious lumps into his mouth. “Chyeah,” he mumbled, careful not to spray his food on the table. Sure, he was something of a slob, but he liked to think he was far from wasteful. “I’ll swing by after saber practice.”
“Thank you, Atton,” she replied, her voice never straying from the gentle, almost musical tone.
He set the comlink back down on the table and leaned back in his chair. The walls of the communal dining area arched up, like the inside of a dome, though at the center they curled up and out to allow light to drift in through clear glass windows. From where he sat, the gray sky threatened rain and another moody day- just his kind of weather.
Behind him, numerous droids maintained the cooking and serving of food, while several round tables littered the wide, open space. The soft cream-colored floors swirled beneath his feet, the light color in stark contrast with the dark gray and orange striped walls.
With a sigh, Atton stood and lifted his tray. Yet another long day hung ahead of him, and it was with an almost sad state of mental turmoil that he even realized his days were beginning to blur together. But that was no surprise. He had been a singular person during the wars, after the wars, and it worked fine right up until the exile.
“One foot in front of the other,” he murmured to himself as he dumped his tray in the cleaning reticule jutting out from a wall. Once his feet passed the threshold of the cafeteria and entered yet another long sparsely lit hall, he plastered an amiable expression on his face and walked with purpose. What that purpose was, however, eluded him.