Open Log [2]

[kallig]

WHO: Altair Kallig & You
WHERE: Greenhouse, various other areas, hotel
WHAT: Work, play, and exploration!
WHEN: Nov 6 - Nov 8
WARNINGS: None! Will update if this changes.

[Greenhouse (Nov 6)]

He wouldn't go so far as to call it his favorite place, but tending to the greenhouse has become somewhat of a standard activity for him. Tending to his alcohol project, which he's decided to continue, as there had been truth in what he'd said, that where there were sentient beings, there were beings looking to have a good time and relax with a drink. What he'd shared with Eli and Thrawn was certainly passable, wouldn't get you in trouble in slave settlements or even on Korriban, but he was determined to at least make something that would be accepted even on Dromund Kaas.

If only in the seedier cantinas, rather than the Nexus Room. Not even the poorest of the Kaas City elite would accept a drink that didn't come from a bottle with a brand name on it, after all, even if it should taste better, and only the elite were accepted there.

Honestly, the work made him miss his home.

Dromund Kaas had been rainy and hot and miserable with lightning that could completely obliterate a person had it not been for the spires, but he had loved it. The Sith playing their games, the politics, the interesting intricate webs of lies that had been so fun to observe, to see where they'd go.

Sighing to himself, he pruned back yet more weeds trying to overtake one of his favorite plants, small with pink leaves, with berries that tasted as sweet as candy, and yet somehow had a cooling effect when eating too, as though they were frozen. This was enjoyable work, but also left him with a lot of time to think.

But then, that was the truth of all of his time here- whenever he was alone, at least.

[Exploration (Nov 7)]

Trekking across unfamiliar lands is something he's used to, too. As an apprentice, he'd been sent across the galaxy. He'd set foot on Balmorra, on Tatooine, Nar Shaddaa... As a Lord, he'd traveled even further. Taris, Quesh, Hoth, and many other places. Still, there is something more unsettling about this place. Even more unsettling than the blighted Taris, even with all its Rakghouls.

Calling it similar to what he'd felt as Ziost died came close.

Like something entirely wrong in the Force.

Of course, that could just be the effects of Ziost, following him even here.

Still, it is important to explore. A Sith like him who thrived on information couldn't be ignorant of his surroundings, after all.

So he wanders, veil in place, though as he stops here and there, writing down notes in the notebook he'd been oh-so kindly given, he does wish he had some goggles or something, so he wouldn't have to keep the notebook so close to his body to glance down from beneath his veil.

Something to ask the Agrii for, at some point. Assuming he can get them to understand. Assuming they don't give him something entirely garish if they do understand.

[Hotel (Nov 8)]

The hotel seems a risky place to be, at the same time as it is technically the safest, considering the amount of people that seems to be gathered there. Technically, Altair does very little in the hotel. He's found himself a room that he's managed to get mostly cleaned up. At least enough to make it habitable, even if it more or less is only to sleep.

He's managed to find himself something to block the door with too, when he's off in dreamland, and he's set up something like an alarm system that will warn him of intruders, though it's simple- only a light item that will break if it falls, set up so that if someone manages to get the door open, he'll be alerted and can take appropriate action.

After their forced bonding time in the ships, he has taken to sleeping clutching his dualsaber like a security blanket, not wanting to find himself accidentally separated from his weapon.

Still, when he's not in his room, he can most often be found in the lobby or sitting near the wall on the stairs, and now that he has the materials to do so, he spends his time working on a needlepoint project.

Glancing down beneath his veil to see what he's doing.

Hardly convenient, but he's not ready to give up the veil either.

Comments

The Greenhouse

[doubled_speed]

Don't mind him, just a kid coming through this area of the greenhouse with an armload of mint, looking around at the plants around them. And when he catches sight of hte other man, he heads on over toward him.

"Hey, you. Know anything that serves as a good oil? Wanna make some mint extract to help keep bugs away from the fruits and veggies. But, like, oil will keep the mint extract better than water would and all of that."

[kallig]

His senses aren't effected by the other changes in power, thankfully, so he could feel him coming before hearing him. He turns his head as though looking, and then tilts it, thinking both about the question, but also about this person who's decided to talk to him.

He recognizes the voice, he thinks. Didn't they talk once before? Tommy, if he's not mistaken. It isn't really relevant, he supposes, but still.

"Something that serves as a good oil... I think I've come across a few fruits that have a high oil content, if you've got a way to extract it. Would that suit your purposes?"

[doubled_speed]

"Guess I'll have to find a way to extract it. But yeah, it should suit the purposes. Who knows, maybe it will be good for frying things too. Where was that?"

He hasn't really put together that the guy is 'familiar' yet. He's too busy looking down at his bundle of mints.

"We've got like all the mint in the world and need to do things with it."

[kallig]

"I'll show you the way," He says, yanking out another weed out for good measure, before turning to head in the direction where he knows the fruits are.

"Honestly I've been trying to stay away from those abominable plants, but I suppose you have a point that it'll be good to keep the insects away from the fruits and vegetables..."

The food is one of the most valuable resources they have, after all. While their numbers aren't that great, there are still plenty of mouths to feed, and should more people arrive, managing food and water will become even more important. Even if Altair wishes he was home- which he's sure he's not alone in wishing- he still sees the worth in keeping everyone fed and in fighting shape, should it become necessary.

He'd glad he's not alone in that, he supposes.

[doubled_speed]

"Not a bad thing to have oil. Like, for cooking. And I think it figures into some preservation stuff? And some people might appreciate it for sex for all I know."

Oil isn't a bad thing. Didn't the Greeks or some other people make a lot of their lives off of that? Really, Tommy's not really smart enough to come up with those sorts of answers. Still, he considers that this can let things get deep-fried, and that's a good thing.

"Preservation of foods matter too. Sardines store in oil, right? Right. Probably."

[kallig]

"No, I suppose not. It's a strange thing, having to start a world nearly from scratch again. Cultivating crops, taking into consideration what we don't have, but will need in the future..."

The work felt kind of like being a slave again. Of course, even when he was a slave, such things were a given, and what he didn't have, he could steal from his masters when they weren't looking. Here though, here they had to create what they needed with their own hands. Especially since he doubted the Agrii would understand should they ask for necessities.

"And I have no idea what sardines are, but you are right that we'll need to find a way to preserve food, and oil can certainly play a part in that. Right now we're managing, but depending on what winter will look like..."

Food, water, ways to stay warm. There was a lot to consider. Just trying to scrape by wasn't going to cut it. There were the ships, but Altair certainly didn't want to rely on them so much. They were a last resort, if even that.

[doubled_speed]

"So they're like, these little fish. And people eat them out of cans. And they're terrible, salty, and oily, and DO NOT belong on pizza," Tommy explains. Not that he has an opinion. At all.

And it's not like Tommy doesn't know they're managing. He just works another part of the greenhouse. This place is big enough that people don't necessarily have to run into each other while working this place.

"Hoping we don't actually HAVE winter for a while."

Hotel

[ladiesss]

Krista spends most nights in the Hotel, but not because she likes it. She tends to push her luck, in fact, showing up as late as the dwindling sunlight will let her get away with, and then trudging straight up to her room without really talking to anyone. She crashes in her hammock, sleeps for a few hours, and then is up again at sunrise to head right back out into another weird new day.

But, as tired as she is this evening, seeing the familiar form of Altair near the stairs again is enough to make her pause. For a second, she worries that he's hurt or something... But then she realizes he's just huddled over a project, and the stupid relief she feels is enough to get her to actually go out of her way to say hi to him.

She hugs her own hardcover journal close to her chest as she hops up the stairs, stopping one or two steps lower just to get somewhere near eye level. She's got a small smile on her face as she greets him in her usual, quiet voice.

"Hey, funny running into you here again."

[kallig]

"Krista," He greets, with a small smile of his own, lifting his head as though to look, even though his eyes are covered as always, "Greetings. And I suppose it is... It always seems to be here, doesn't it?"

Only twice, but still. The lobby, the stairs. He hopes that won't become a running theme for their meetings- even if there certainly are stranger circumstances in which he's met people. A lot stranger circumstances, in fact.

He sets his project down in his lap- barely started, but it seems to be intended to be a profile portrait of a woman who is most certainly not human.

"Are you doing well?"

[ladiesss]

"Yeah, I'm doing okay."

She nods at the question, though her eyes have clearly followed his project. She even tilts her head to the left and to the right while she still responds, not at all hiding that she's trying to figure out what it is she's looking at.

"A lot less despair, anyway. That's been good." And next, bluntly (and curiously), "What're you working on?"

[kallig]

"Glad to hear it," He says, and certainly means it, too.

He has sort of worried about her, in all this chaos, already considering her a friend. Who else will he make jokes about beings that are all leg with, after all, or bad poetry about frustrations about stairs.

Her question about what he's working on earns a slightly smaller smile, and had his eyes been visible, it would have looked like a sad one.

"An embroidered portrait of my apprentice, Ashara. Assuming I have enough, or can get enough, materials, I was planning on making one of each of my crew back home."

[ladiesss]

She's tallying up each little kindness in the back of her mind. She won't bring attention to it, probably, but she is counting. She's glad that she wasn't just making up how well they seemed to get along last time.

Whatever explaination she was expecting out of Altair, it apparently wasn't this--she looks surprised, and then a little sad herself, even though she can't see his expression.

"Aw, that's... Really nice."

But that sounds... dumb, so Krista mushes the fingers of one of her hands self-consciously against her mouth, looking back up at where she assumes his eyes would be.

"It's... I'm trying to think of a better word. But that's good. A good project."

[kallig]

A Sith wasn't supposed to have connections. A Sith was supposed to see others as disposable. But that wasn't him. It never had been, and it never would be. Other Sith saw that trait of his as a weakness, but he saw it as a strength.

He smiled slightly, tracing his fingers over the needlepoint project, "... I miss them already. I know they're managing without me, but..."

Ziost, again. Always Ziost. Ashara had been with him, there on the orbital station. How was she doing? How was everyone else? It's... A concern.

"It's the same for everyone, of course."

He shrugs his shoulders, dismissing his own feelings, and pats the spot beside him, "Sit with me for a while? It's good to have your company."

Hotel

[pileofspirits]

Phalanx has been around... or not, as may be more accurate to describe the way they sometimes wander without interacting with or even acknowledging whatever is happening in their physical surroundings, quietly drifting past like the ghosts they're made up of.

Today is different, however. On their meaningless way passing through the lobby, something snags the corner of their attention like a beacon. Stopping in their tracks, they turn to fix big, dark eyes on the little project that Altair is working on from across the room.

"...Needle?"

[kallig]

The busy gathering of ghosts again. It's been a while since he's seen them around, but their presence through the Force is unmistakable. He imagines he must have felt similar, once upon a time, though there were hardly so many, in him.

Horak-Mul is still with him, somewhere, so perhaps he still feels strange to those who can sense such- he doesn't really know. They did say feels like ghosts once, didn't they? It's been a while, but he thinks he can remember it.

"I'm sure the Agrii will give you one, should you ask them."

They'd need to be specific, he's sure. Still. If they saw fit to give him an embroidery kit for beginners, then all hope is certainly not lost.

[pileofspirits]

"Mm!" With an excited little murmur, they abandon wherever they had originally been going to head in his direction instead, walking right up to him as if they'd been invited.

"They have--gave, we have things! Things, things things."

Plunking down to sit nearby, they dig through the layers of their sleeves as they begin to scoot closer, eventually drawing out a strip of cloth that had previously been tucked up out of sight. It is still attached to their cloak on one edge, but they eagerly hold it out as best as they can for their friend to look at. They show off what seems to be the word "Things" cross-stitched several times (each in a different font) across the fabric. The words aren't oriented with each other in any sensible way, and the lines forming the letters occasionally run off in forgetful tracks until they run into one of the other words, but the stitches themselves are neat and well-formed.

"Things!"

[kallig]

He glances down at it from beneath his veil, and hums. The stitches are surprisingly professional looking despite the... Everything else.

"So I see. Is it a hobby of yours?"

One of them, perhaps? There's more than one presence, after all, and the absent-mindedness reminds him of a less vicious version of what had been happening to him, where the ghosts were trying to drive him insane to run the show.

"Your stitches are very neat."

[pileofspirits]

"Work! Work," Phalanx insists. And whether or not their friend notices with that veil in the way, their eyes are now a bright and indignant blue.

They scoot even closer then, almost sidling right up to the other man. Smoothing their project over their knee, they press out the wrinkles until it's as smooth and appealing as they can make it without the fabric being held properly in a hoop.

"Very neat, very... stitches." And then, insisting one last time for good measure, "From working."

[kallig]

Close. Altair leans away just a little, though he doesn't sense a threat, so it stays with just that.

"Work, then. Neat stitches from your work. Got it. I apologize."

Such a curious collection of ghosts. But then, for there to be a remnant remembering their life isn't that surprising. When the spirits of the Dark Temple started to wake, they were much the same. Even Aloysius, before he realized, had been that way. Resuming his past life as a Lord of the Sith.

"Did you enjoy your work?"

Hotel

[tiedonastring]

It wasn't often that Hux found himself in the hotel, he tended to avoid it. He spent most of his time in the power plant working on improving the areas that needed to be fixed. He mainly came out to see what was going on and if other new faces arrived. But if he was really honest it was because Millicent wanted to see her people. For the time being he simply followed the orange cat. If he knew the area and the people he wouldn't be so worried about where his cat went. With the Fleet he didn't have to worry.

He almost tripped over someone as he was coming down the stairs not realizing that there was someone there. Thankfully he caught himself on the handle before making a complete full of himself. He scowled at the other as he straightened up his coat and uniform.

"Aren't there other places where you can sit with out being the middle of a pathway?" Hux retorted. Yes, he would blame the other even though it was more his fault for not paying attention.

[kallig]

Altair had sensed the approach of a guarded mind, though almost being tripped over came as a surprise- after all, despite his small size, he wasn't making any effort to be unseen, though it's certainly not beyond his skill set, given the training he was given as an apprentice.

He turns his head slightly, though it's more because of the accent. He knows that accent, after all. Another person from his world, possibly? Though no one he recognizes.

"There probably is," He responds, with a slight shrug of his shoulders, "This just seemed more convenient. My apologies."

Many Sith would likely have reacted with violence, at his tone. Altair is not one, more than used to people being snippy with him for various reasons, and not about to be bothered by it. In the realm of slights, someone being upset with him because they almost tripped over him is entirely insignificant, after all.

[tiedonastring]

Hux was about to respond back with another snarky comment when his eyes fell upon the light saber the person carried with him. He clenched his jaw and his body tensed at the sight. He found himself taking a step back. A Force user. Regardless if they were a Jedi or a Sith, Hux had a bad association with either of them.

At the bottom of the staircase Millicent stopped and meowed up at her owner, wondering what was holding him back.

"Are you a Jedi or a Sith?" he questioned, his tone tense. He could almost feel the ghost of a memory of Snoke Force choking him and throwing him across the bridge in front of his people.

[kallig]

So he was from his world then. Earlier-- not likely. Any earlier era and he'd get kicked down the stairs for being an alien. A later time, then. Like Eli, and Thrawn. With an expected sort of tenseness around a Force user, or at least around a Sith. Does he immediately stand out as one then, or is he- Ah. Not a fan of Sith, not a fan of Jedi.

There are those too, he supposes.

"Sith," He says, with a shrug of his shoulders, "Not that it matters that much here."

Altair is proud of being Sith, but going around being unreasonable won't serve him well here- it doesn't back home, either. Being Sith and being a leader, he's had to learn to keep a balance. A leader who loses his cool and demands respect without giving anyone any reason to respect them is no leader at all, after all.

"If you're waiting for me to lash out, you'll be waiting a while. I'm not so much of an idiot that I'll be going around making enemies in a situation as uncertain as ours currently is."

[tiedonastring]

"......Then you are an unusual Sith. Most I'm familiar with... especially one in particular look for any reason to lash out." Hux carefully replied as he took a step down and being mindful to give the other a wide space between them.

He still eyed the other warily.

[kallig]

"I can imagine. I know a few dozen morons like that, too," Altair replies, a weary sort of tone to his voice. He deals- dealt- with them less after becoming a Dark Councillor, but he'd known many who lashed out at the slightest provocation. They were always the most annoying kind to deal with, too, too stupid, too impulsive, or too arrogant, to find a way to deal with a problem that didn't end in violence.

"Lashing out serves one poorly, in my experience. Especially lashing out without provocation."

Altair was sure there were Sith who'd see someone almost tripping over them as provocation. He was not one- it took a lot more to move him to violence.

"In this place, we are all equally displaced from our homes. I'd be an idiot if I went around making enemies rather than allies by acting the typical Sith."