Vyra Silara
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A bird without its wings is a low and tragic thing.
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Post by Vyra Silara on Feb 6, 2016 23:27:53 GMT -8
"No, thank you…Captain Rik." She smiled pleasantly, hand hovering over the control panel by the door. "I'll settle in and see you at dinner, then?" Tapping the controls, the door to her quarters swished shut as he nodded and headed back into his ship.
Before long, her travel cloak and dress were off and folded neatly, and the painful pins of the intricate silver spider web holding back her hair had been plucked from her locks and tossed unceremoniously on the dresser. She had a short but thorough scrub in the shower, lukewarm as it was. In truth, she'd have been happy to skip dinner and just enjoy the peace and quiet of her room; after so long traveling without her own space, the silence around her was appreciated, but she couldn't be rude.
An hour flew by too quickly. By the time she'd finished drying her hair, hanging her four gowns and laying out her incense for later, Vyra was on the clock. Dabbing perfumed oil on her neck and wrists, the consort slid into an easy seafoam green gown, simple in design, adding a white beaded shawl for warmth and casual slippers. She'd left her hair alone to fall naturally down her back, and her face was clear of the meticulously applied makeup she usually featured, as was common of courtesans.
It was a conscious choice, of course. All of it was. Once she reached Naboo, there'd be little time for her to be anything but a consort, always on display, always poised, ever attentive. Why waste this opportunity to relax a bit? She could still be graceful without the elaborate trappings of her occupation, still be herself while upholding the consort standards.
Vyra rustled through her bag, retrieving a few tiny jars full of spices, and placed them in a pocket in the folds of her gown.
The woman left her room feeling a little freer than usual, the subtle scent of vanilla, clary sage, and sweet citrus floating after her.
It wasn't hard to find the galley. She'd studied the map of the ship Rik had directed her towards and followed the hallways confidently. Sounds issued forth from the kitchen. "I hope I'm not late," she said, rounding the corner.
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Vyra Silara
Member
A bird without its wings is a low and tragic thing.
Posts: 30
Traffic Light: Orange
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Post by Vyra Silara on Feb 5, 2016 22:50:23 GMT -8
"Vyra." Her smile didn't reach her eyes, but she redirected her gaze to the guest quarters before it became apparent. "My name is Vyra." The Captain's insistence on being difficult was not an issue; Vyra was used to dealing with all kinds of reactions, and she understood that not everyone saw or interpreted things the same way. Sometimes her charm rubbed individuals the wrong way; people unaccustomed to her world would see her as false or misleading. But while she retained the practiced poise of her business outside her job, whether out of habit or preference, she was always genuine in her interactions.
She did have a duty to uphold the courtesan 'status' and be mindful of perception, as she always was. Her ability to adapt to others and change tactics based on what they responded to the best had always been a reliable guide, allowing her access to even the most stone-cold, stubborn, cantankerous of people. The women of the consort Hetaira and the roles they played were well-respected in high society, for their knowledge and other talents as well as their more carnal gifts. Even the most perceptive, who knew what she was and why she was there and how it all worked, recognized their status and their value, and when she encountered someone who did not understand it, she did her best to help them comprehend.
Of course, the Captain had no idea what her job was, and he was still uncomfortable with her outward attitude. She was not working, this Captain was not a client, and it was clear to her that he did not appreciate her current demeanor. He was right, in a sense, though he'd used the wrong word, 'civil', to describe it. She had been very civil, from the start. What she hadn't been was reserved or modest in attitude. Setting foot on his ship without permission was, perhaps, what had set him off, now that she'd seen how much he cared for his vessel. After realizing her mistake (even if it was not a mistake and simply the client's perception), a concerned consort would apologize for this, whether it was required or not, though the action in question was necessary at the time. Many didn't realize there was more to a consort's job than just oils and tea and sex and gowns. It meant swallowing your pride with a smile and having the grace to concede and submit, even when you didn't believe you were in the wrong.
It's what she should have done, long before now. But she'd have bet every shoe she owned that the Captain would find it equally distasteful, whether it was sincere or not, and Vyra always had been a stubborn thing at the core. Perhaps she'd broach the subject later, once she'd decompressed a bit.
She eyed the tidy double bed and the sleek desk built into the bulkhead. There was a small dresser, and a closet as well as a small seating area in the corner. Blue-white patterns swirled mesmerizingly over the bedspread as hyperspace whirled past the wide, thin window above the bed's headboard. She even had her own refresher.
Vyra nodded, stepping into the quarters. Everything was clean, which was more than she could have asked for, and all she really needed. Vyra set her suitcase down. "This will do just fine, thank you." She pivoted, facing him in the doorway, and her expression warmed a bit. "You have quite a ship, Captain, I can see why you love her." The brunette tilted her head a bit in questioning. "How long until we reach Naboo?"
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Vyra Silara
Member
A bird without its wings is a low and tragic thing.
Posts: 30
Traffic Light: Orange
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Post by Vyra Silara on Feb 1, 2016 23:54:03 GMT -8
"It's a general term of identification, usually followed by something that identifies you as YOU, not just a 'captain' of a vessel," Vyra said matter-of-factually. The consort gave the man's broad-shouldered back a knowing look as she followed him, tucking a stray lock back under the fine silver netting holding her hair in place; his decidedly cheerful obstinacy and his blunt refusal to play ball with her was something she'd seen many times. She could give in and offer her own name, ending the playful power struggle, but she was curious how far he'd take it.
And so, the little word game continued. "You strike me as a man proud of who he is, and certainly not someone who would favor being called something so ordinary as 'captain'. Or maybe I—" Something clattered on the floor, skidding as her foot knocked into it. Startled, Vyra put her suitcase down and bent, plucking the small piece of machinery from the ground and turning it around between her fingers for inspection. Inspection produced no results; whatever it was, it looked complex. Her eyes narrowed. "What kind of contraption is this..?"
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Vyra Silara
Member
A bird without its wings is a low and tragic thing.
Posts: 30
Traffic Light: Orange
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Post by Vyra Silara on Feb 1, 2016 1:24:41 GMT -8
Alright, so based on something I asked Kel'Al in chat last week, I need to talk to people IC about pulling Naboo and Corellia into the Alliance. Who would I be speaking to regarding both those worlds, and when or where would you want that discussion to occur? Naboo? Oh dear. Well, there goes my quiet little consort tea-party in Lake Country.
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Vyra Silara
Member
A bird without its wings is a low and tragic thing.
Posts: 30
Traffic Light: Orange
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Post by Vyra Silara on Jan 31, 2016 23:36:25 GMT -8
From the cockpit, Vyra watched the swirling blue of hyperspace pull and twist towards her for as long as she could, and then she averted her gaze, dizzy. She picked up the suitcase she'd set down, smoothed her cloak, and looked expectantly at the back of the Captain's head, who was seated in the pilot's chair.
She hadn't seen much of the Frosty Mynock yet, but the little she had, she could tell this man loved his ship. Grey and basic as its hallways and bulkheads were, he'd made many personal touches; there were modifications everywhere, in every system and every control panel. The ship had a 'lived-in' feel, certainly not strange for a spacer vessel, and if the galley was anything to go by, it could use a good cleaning. Of course, all the interior technical bits of the Mynock seemed to be very clean and well taken care of. If nothing, it showed what he cared most about, which the consort found intriguing.
"I'm not sure I caught your name, Captain." Vyra offered a small, polite little smile. "If you'll be staying at my retreat for a month, I'll have to call you by something, and I'm afraid 'captain' won't do."
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Vyra Silara
Member
A bird without its wings is a low and tragic thing.
Posts: 30
Traffic Light: Orange
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Post by Vyra Silara on Jan 31, 2016 19:20:23 GMT -8
She sighed, shifting her back to her other hand and scooping up the hem of her travel cloak as she followed the spacer up the ramp and into his ship without a backward glance. He was right. She'd find no better options here, and she had some time between now and Naboo to change his mind about the mechanic.
Ten minutes later, just as he'd said, the gears were up and the Frosty Mynock was bound for space.
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Vyra Silara
Member
A bird without its wings is a low and tragic thing.
Posts: 30
Traffic Light: Orange
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Post by Vyra Silara on Jan 30, 2016 23:38:41 GMT -8
She hesitated for a moment, a little surprised at his request. It was a smart, unexpected business move on his part, and while she certainly had the money to pay her way back home anyway, she found his lack of credit obsession and his resourcefulness very refreshing. A month sounded like a long time, but depending on the parts he needed, it could take weeks to ship everything to her retreat. Vyra studied him, weighing her options. The man was clever, certainly.
"Alright." She moved up the ramp to stand in front of him, suddenly very short due to the slope, but somehow no less regal. "Fair, provided you run all parts needed by my mechanic." No need to be too trusting. Vyra offered a hand to seal the agreement. "Deal?"
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Vyra Silara
Member
A bird without its wings is a low and tragic thing.
Posts: 30
Traffic Light: Orange
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Post by Vyra Silara on Jan 30, 2016 21:35:49 GMT -8
Vyra raised one finely arched eyebrow, the rest of her unmoving as she held his gaze. "I need transport to Naboo," she answered, getting right to it. "I'm not on any particular timetable, but I'd like to arrive…quietly. I have a house in the Lake Country with a fully functional port and hangar so we can avoid the Capitol."
She paused, reading his expression. "And no, before you ask, I'm not running from anything. I'd simply like to avoid the public eye for the time." The woman raised her chin a bit, scrutinizing his face. The smart option would be to offer him a set of numbers and haggle until the fair amount was reached, but she was curious of his character. "What's your price, Captain? I'll pay half up front, and the rest when we reach Naboo."
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Vyra Silara
Member
A bird without its wings is a low and tragic thing.
Posts: 30
Traffic Light: Orange
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Post by Vyra Silara on Jan 30, 2016 21:08:20 GMT -8
"This lady always counts on trouble, and can very well take care of herself, but your concern is noted." She turned, slowly, peering up through her hood at the man standing above her. Vyra smiled in the shadows, though he probably couldn't see it. "And how do you know I'm pretty?" she said, her tone sharp with conversational sparring. "You don't. But you see a female form in a richly embroidered cloak and assume that, because she hides her face and wears expensive things, she must be beautiful." She shook her head a bit. "Spacers and their romantic notions."
The consort reeled in her playful tone a bit. The man was right, to an extent, and though she knew how to defend herself and how to work a situation, she counted herself lucky so far. She couldn't quite tell from this angle, but he didn't look the unsavory sort. Of course, looks could be very deceiving.
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Vyra Silara
Member
A bird without its wings is a low and tragic thing.
Posts: 30
Traffic Light: Orange
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Post by Vyra Silara on Jan 27, 2016 23:00:01 GMT -8
::Ladies and gentleman, we're beginning our approach to Juvex. Estimated time until we enter atmosphere is about one standard hour. Please remain in your cabins for the duration of the flight. Do not attempt to enter the cargo hold to retrieve your luggage before touchdown. Your items will be sorted once we reach the hangar and given to you in an orderly fashion—::Of course, everyone got up at once. The rest of the pilot's announcement was lost in the sudden surge of noise as species of all shapes and sizes scrambled around their sleeping units in Room C Aisle 29, gathering their possessions and stampeding towards the cabin doors like it was a high stakes race. Vyra rolled her eyes, lips twitched slightly to one side in amusement as she finished folding her spare travel gown. She couldn't blame them. After nine days, she was already going a little stir-crazy, but some of these beings had been on this starferry for weeks with no privacy, no quiet, and no personal space. Now that their destination was within reach, even an hour seemed too long to wait for the chance to breathe new air again. A slipper slid off her cot, landing with a soft tap on the floor. She began to bend to retrieve it but paused halfway down, reconsidering. A quick look around told her she wasn't being watched. Hand outstretched, palm towards the shoe, Vyra did as she'd done many times before, grasping for the Force, pulling at the shoe, willing it to rise into her open hand. She strained, forehead scrunched, brows flat over her eyes, fingers curling like claws. The shoe gave one sad little shudder and stayed right where it was, and the Force slipped through her fingers like water. Vyra sighed, relieved. "Whoo! Ah…kriff…" The door swished open behind her. Vyra scrambled to grab the slipper, tossing it quickly into her bag as she turned. Fina, her bunk mate for the past nine days, hurried in and flopped on the cot opposite Vyra, out of breath. Her hair was wild, exposed flesh shiny with sweat, her shirt buttons were half undone and the rest of her skimpy outfit was all twisted awry. The ex-senator raised an eyebrow, one corner of her mouth turning up in amusement, and perched lightly on the edge of her own sleeping unit. "I take it you used the oil?"Fina lifted her head, grinning. "Where the hell did you get that stuff?!""I made it." Vyra shook her head at the awe on Fina's face. "The process isn't too hard; it's finding the right ingredients that takes time, especially for an aphrodisiac oil meant to appeal to multiple species. For example, most Twi'lek men find sandalwood and vanilla repulsive, but it'll work a human male into a frenzy in the right dosage.""Huh." Fina frowned. "You make it all sound so…clinical.""It is clinical, to an extent. But being aware of that isn't a bad thing." Vyra cocked her head a bit, adopting a soft, conversational tone in hopes of sounding less…medical. "Understanding the scientific elements behind what we do doesn't make me dispassionate or unable to appreciate the other part of it. If anything, that knowledge helps make the experience better."Fina snorted, setting her head back down and smirking at the ceiling. "Heh. What 'we' do. I think what you do is a little different than what I do, honey." "And how is that?""I give a quick but decent screw for a lump sum. You pour tea, wear jewels, make magic oils, have philosophical discussions and take men to another plane of existence between your enchanted thighs." Vyra burst out laughing. Fina grinned. "It's true! I bet you even comb your hair between clients.""You're ridiculous.""I don't even own a comb.""Then how do you get your hair so perfectly tousled?"Fina smiled, rolled on her side and propped her head up, fixing Vyra with an impish expression. "I let men tousle it. A lot."Chuckling, Vyra watched the woman fondly, her lips turned in a sad smile. "I wish we had more time," she sighed. "I'd take your measurements and have some proper gowns sent to you on Coruscant. It would help attract better clientele.""Nah." Fina shook her head at the consort. "Thanks, but I like my short skirts and skank tops. Your fancy princess gowns would look weird on me," she declined, tone firm but friendly."Oh, I doubt that! With the right tailoring on that narrow frame of yours? Something strapless with an empire waist…maybe in a bright yellow—" "Vyra?""Mmm?""No."Vyra quirked her lips to the side in a tiny pout, but her brown eyes glimmered in amusement. "You ruin all my fun." Fina stuck her tongue out at her. "Are you all packed?""Yes'm!" Fina sat up with some effort, swung her legs over the side, and huffed a sigh in a very unladylike manner. "Pack before you screw, that's my motto." She grinned as Vyra giggled. "But I think I ruined that guy's future chances at a good lay. He'll never finish quite that explosively ever again." She rolled the little crystal bottle of oil between her fingers before holding it out to Vyra. "Here."She waved it away with a kind smile. "You keep it, Fina. I can make more on Naboo.""Really?" The hooker's face lit up, and she quickly re-pocketed the bottle. "Thanks! Man, I'm gonna start charging extra when I use this.""Remember, only a few drops. Otherwise you'll—""Possible seizures and chronic erections and mild insanity, yeah, I know. I'll be careful," Fina assured her, hopping off her cot to grab her tiny, worn pack.The two chattered as they gathered the rest of their things, beings filing by on their way to the ramp. Vyra felt the transport shudder under her feet as they entered the atmosphere, and a few short minutes later, an announcement blared over the comms as they landed.The off-load turned out to be a longer process than anticipated, due to a few of the passengers not having the right documentation. A handful had lost their baggage tickets, four had lost their children in the crowd, and one elderly Bothan had to be carted off the starferry by medics. "Do you have baggage to collect?" Vyra asked Fina. "Nope. Don't you, though?"Vyra shook her head. "I sent all my things ahead of me, there was too much to travel with alone. They'll be waiting for me on Naboo."Fina smirked. "I bet you have three closets full of designer shoes, don't you?"She rolled her eyes, linking arms with Fina and towing her through the crowd. With some maneuvering and convincing words, they were able to pass the knot of upset travelers and head down the boarding ramp. The Juvex spaceport looked much like any other. It was decently busy, for a world with no ties to the Republic, fairly smaller than most on major planets, and no less dirty. But the architecture was full of sweeping arches and smooth sandstone, and colorful mosaics decorated the walls and the ground, though worn from time they were. People, mostly tired travelers hurrying to their next destination, scurried around in tight groups, their eyes down, keeping to themselves. Vyra saw why. Lining the side streets were slavers, selling their newest 'catches' or eyeing the passer-byers with wicked expressions. Nausea gripped her, and the ex-senator turned away, face sour. Fina studied her for a moment, gaze flicking from slavers to Vyra. "You've never been here before, have you?"Vyra frowned, her face stormy. "It makes me sick, knowing slavery is still allowed anywhere in this galaxy."Fina shrugged, wrapping herself in her threadbare brown cloak. "It's part of life, doll.""It shouldn't be," she spat. "We-..the Republic worked so hard to abolish it, but for every trade we close down, a new one springs up on worlds like this.""It's always been here, always will be, and there isn't anything anyone can do about it. Hey…" Fina grasped Vyra by the shoulders, ducking a little to look at her face, and smiled her street-girl smile. "You can't solve everyone's problems, Vy. Just worry about yourself." Vyra's frown softened. "That's a selfish outlook."Fina winked. "Never said it wasn't. C'mere, I gotta go, my next flight is here." She leaned forward with a sad smile, wrapping Fina in a quick, tight hug. "If you're ever on Naboo…""I'll follow the trail of blissed-out men and incense," Fina joked. The two giggled, breaking apart. "And, hey…thanks. For all your advice.""Be safe on Coruscant, please? Send me a holo sometime!" Vyra waved at her new friend, watching her saunter away like she was the hottest piece of flesh on the block. She probably was. As Fina disappeared into the crowd, Vyra clutched her suitcase, took a breath, and got her bearings. She'd booked private transport on a ship berthed not far from here, if her directions were correct. The consort lifted the embroidered hood on her dark purple traveling gown, shrouding her face in shadow, and made her way to Dock E, avoiding the side of the road peppered with slavers. Half of her wanted to march over and buy every single slave being offered to a growing crowd; she probably had enough credits for it. But she knew it would solve nothing.Ah, there it was. A bulky freighter sat heavily in Dock E-07, the words 'The Concord' scrolled across the hull. As she approached, however, sirens blared, and authorities pulled up in their flashing speeders. She hung back, stunned as they stormed the ramp and dragged men of various species outside, cuffing the rowdy ones. One of the officers engaged in a screaming match with a large Twi'lek who, she assumed, was the captain. The list of charges against them was long, and the Twi'lek kept roaring something about waiting for a 'very distinguished passenger'…She back-peddled, heading the way she'd come at a decent clip. "Well, now what?" she muttered, scanning the ships in the other berths. Her heart dropped a bit as she realized her plans had fallen through and she could be stuck here for quite a while. It took weeks to book new passage sometimes, and Vyra had no desire to sit around this slaving hole for any extended period.Fueled by this thought, the woman raised her chin and strode forward with determination, pulling up ship information on her datapad as she passed each waiting ship. Many were empty, or not looking for passengers. But this last one… "Dock F-26…hmm….'The Frosty Mynock'?" She chuckled, scanning the YZ-775 with an approving nod. "The Frosty Mynock. Well, they have a sense of humor, at least." The landing ramp was down. Slipping her datapad into her bag, Vyra moved slowly up the ramp, eyes peeled ahead. Strolling onto someone's ship without invitation was not good form, but perhaps if she just poked her head in and called out…
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