RPlog:Sojourn on the Guardian

Lounge As your eyes adjust to the dimness of this room you notice the soft elegant music playing in the background. The sounds of music and the chatter of people enjoying themselves eases your mind and soul. Little lanterns of lights dot the room in shadows radiating the faces of the people. Large glass windows act as walls separating space from inside. Stars shine bright through the windows adding to the aura of the lounge. The tables are made of thick round glass that reflects the images of the patrons. Each table is complimented with a set of two to four black leather couches. A series of black sofa couches line the perimeter of the windows giving a birds eye view of the wonders of space. Along the back wall under a spotlight of flourescent lights is the bar. Made of elegant mahagony wood the bar runs down the length of the wall with sets of different sized glasses hanging upside down on the ceiling rafters. Decorative banners of the respected Imperial Fleet adorn the back wall of the bar. On the back wall beside the bar there is a little silver sign with the word "PRIVATE" engraved on it. A brass door knob is just noticeable under the dim light. As a reminder that one is still in the Empire two Black-clad naval troopers stand guard at the entrance to the area and the auto-blaster cannons still loom from above. A small series of steps by the window lead up to a second level which contains only a few tables and chairs. It is very hard to actually see if there is someone up there. A sign by the rail reads: Commanders and above.

(+HELP PLACES for help.) -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Morganna => Krisma's Krazy Yet Kewl Kollection -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- Up leads to Senior Officer's Tier. Aft leads to Off Duty Level.

Joir is sitting alone at on the far tables on the border of the room, the ones which give a direct view into space. In his hand is a glass of clear liquid which he is sipping slowly. The solitude of the dark expanse of space seems to have had some effect on him because his gaze is directly outward - as if remembering someone who at this moment is far away, separated by huge black nothingness.

The ambassador doesn't notice Joir yet, but she is drawn to the large viewport herself.. to the vast emptiness that has filled her with awe so much before. She presses a hand against the transparisteel.. this window was her only companion for such a long time. When before people around here used to sneer at her, they regard Morganna with respect, and she finds that change hard to face for some reason.

The arrival of another watcher shakes Joir out of his trance-like stare. The opportunity to dream and the muse presents itself very scarcely in this Galaxy. Looking up he directs the gaze of his cold grey eyes to the holidaying Ambassador who does not look to be relaxing yet. Unfortunate, like dreams, rest is a valuable commodity that should be appreciated when offered. Joir stands quickly and smooths down the front of his military style-jacket unconsciously - calling in a clear but neutral voice he addresses Morganna "Ambassador"

The ambassador is startled out of her reverie as she is addressed. She turns to face Joir, but still keeping a hand on the transparisteel window. She moves with a light amount of pain, but it could just be complications from her assassination attemopt.. well, it would be if it weren't for the other scratches on her face, "Good evening.. you don't have to be so formal.. this lounge is for us to relax in..." with that, she turns her face back to the transparisteel and her eye reflects off the surface, an eerie blue glow mimicking one of the stars.

Formality has formed a large part of Joir's life. Stringent military protocols which direct that all but your closest friends are to remain known on a purely formal basis - and now most of those friends are gone, killed in long hard years of atrition against a constant foe. Keeping his voice cool Joir replies slowly "What would you be addressed as then?" keeping his grey eyes locked on her, noting with some interest the cool blue glow.

The Ambassador presses both hands against the glass and the chill of the vacuum behind penetrates even the thickness of that material seeps into her body, "You may call me Morganna. I'm on vacation and I'm on vacation to get away from the formality."

Joir shows no visible indication of having heard the ambassador, turning his gaze back to the dark perfection of space speaking only to say "Of course". There is no mention of what he himself prefers to be called, it is obvious that even off-duty he expects a certain level of separation between himself and his subordinates.

Morganna sighs heavily and pushes away from the glass. This whole stuffiness is why she's here anyway, it annoys her, and it grates on her. All she wants to do is tell these people to lighten up a little. She walks over to a familiar couch and sits down, closing her eye and rubbing her temple.

Joir leaves the empty glass on the table and walks toward the bar, talking quietly to the staff member on duty he collects two vessels containing a strange, glowling blood red liquid. Carrying them carefully he walks slowly toward the ambassador. Stopping before her he holds out one of the glasses and speaks quietly, but with a slightly warmer voice than before "Corellian brandy?"

Morganna smiles slightly, but her face still shows soem discomfort, as does her shoulder. She winces when she reaches for the glass, "Thank you. So, what can I call you?" she asks quietly, almost nervously. Morganna has never liked OSG."

Joir holds Morganna in a cold gaze for a moment, wondering whether this is a trick question or not... obviously thinking about his answer. Speaking slowly and precisely he answers "Call me? - I still bear many names, Count Joir, General Joir, Director Joir..." he pauses as if deciding whether to continue "And my first name is Tsaran" - he states that and the earlier sentence with some pride, as if the family name is of some significance.

The scarred ambassador nods slowly as she listens to Joir, her glass is raised to her lips and she takes a sip of her brandy. "May I call you Tsaran, Director? or do I have to stick with formalities. I know Lord Adlerson despises me calling him by his first name." she scratches her eye, "Most people call me Morganna, or Ambassador Tazecks.. or several derogatory names.."

Joir looks at the untouched liquid in his glass - red, like blood. Spilled blood he has seen plenty of, friendship he has not, however despite his desire for companionship the discipline of the Empire overides all, yet perhaps there is a way around the technicalities - for a short while a least. Raising his eyes once again he looks back at the ambassador, eyes grey, yet lacking their usual icy edge "Amb... /Morganna/, while on duty or serving under me I /expect/ all my subordinates to respect my title. But that is not the case here, is it" taking a small sip of the brandy Joir continues - with a smile almost showing on his face "You are currently relieved of duty, and in that position I suspect that you may call me anything you wish"

Mevid comes in from the main hallway. Mevid has arrived.

The Ambassador nods with a sigh, taking another sip of her drink. Her upbringing was one of humiliation, of lonliness. It took her years to be able to be around people, and it still makes her jumpy. Only recently has she found companionship, love, but even that has been stripped from her, "yes, don't worry I've learned my lesson about insubordination.."s he smirks, "Anything?" thinking for something particularly un imperial to call Joir for a moment.

Mevid strides briskly into the area from the off-duty area, his hands behind his back. He sees too other occupants and nods sharply, a chopy military action, and stands to attention, saulting. he says in his grating, metallic, menacing Stormtrooper voice, to both people in the room, though he doesn't use the plural form, "Sir!"

Joir is about to form a suitable reply to Morganna when the Stormtrooper enters the room. Turning slowly, he gives the Stormtrooper an intense gaze with his grey eyes which have returned to their original ice like colour. Speaking quietly, but with a dangerous edge to his voice Joir intones "Yes?"

Morganna narrows her organic eye and doesn't turn to face the stormtrooper, she sinks in her couch a little and scowls, her mood darkening. She can't even get away from the blasted humans on a half shell on her vacation.

Not replying to Joir's question right away, the figure of Mevid spins his head around, watching Morganna carefully. Then, he turns back to Joir, and nods, "I was going to rest here sir! Since you are already occupying it, i will leave now sir!" He salutes again, but doesn't make any attempt to move, he just stands rigidly, obviously waiting to be dismissed.

Joir finds it hard to believe that he was once just this - a young, arrogant and annoying Stormtrooper. Continuing to stare hard at the trooper he replies with the same cold, dangerous voice "Perhaps you could find somewhere else to relax? Trooper" - the threatening tone should be enough to convince the man that he is no longer wanted here.

Morganna rubs her left shoulder and raises her hand up to crick her neck slightly. While she was never a trooper, she is obviously not in the most cordial of moods. Her tone is icy as she speaks, "Would you care to accompany me in the upper tier, Director Joir?"

Mevid nods, robotically, and says, in that same, robot-like voice, Yessir!" He turns around, and marches off out of the room.

Mevid heads into the main hallway. Mevid has left.

Joir nods to Morganna, and taking his red drink with him mounts the stairs to the senior officers quarters.

You head up.

Senior Officer's Tier A small rectangular room nestled in the corner of the lounge beside the window. Brass rails encompasses around this area allowing anyone to just lean over and look out upon the lounge below. Along the rails are wooden counters that run parallel with the edge. Large elevated plush stools are neatly placed under the counter ready for use. There are two large circular sofa tables in the middle of this room for eating and drinking pleasures. The window offers a spectacular view of space and its bright stars.

(@HELP and +HELP PLACES for help) -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- own leads to Lounge.

Morganna comes up from below. Morganna has arrived.

Morganna heads towards one of the plush couches and takes a seat, up here mit is much more quiet, and there is no chance of being disturbed by people as lowly as stormtrooprs. The ambassador winces again, "Damn shoulder."

Joir walks behind Morganna but is drawn to the large open viewpoint beside the couches. Standing there looking outward he nods absently as Morganna speaks, - still staring out to space he forms a question for the ambassador, speaking in the same precise voice he used earlier - obviously the tone he uses when cautious "What do you know of Prime Minister Darkstar".

The ambassador leans back and closes her eye. She shrugs and takes a slip of her brandy, "I know she was once married to someone of vast importance to the empire, but that's about all.." she rubs her temples and sughs, marriage, love.. bah.. love is nothing.. she thinks to herself, more than a little bitter.

For all his cynicism, cold eyes, and harsh expressions Joir's view on love in somewhat different from what you would expect. He too has been burnt, but not by a person - more by circumstances, and by a person of 'vast importance to the empire'. Although he keeps his face impassive if Morganna could see his eyes she would tell that her lack of information has disappointed him "Really?"

Morganna opens her eye and fixes Joir with a cold stare, "I don't know much about Ms Darkstar at all, except that her sympathies lie with us.." she rubs her temples and sighs, her thoughts having been torn away from her affections fast enough to leave some trace of a stray thought.

Joir continues to look out into the depths of space, taking an occassional sip from his blood-red drink. It is apparent that Morganna does not know anything of any more use to him, so he ends that topic with an ambgious "Indeed" before changing the subject "Where will you be going next?"

Morganna takes a long sip of her brandy, nearly finishing it off, "I plan on heading to Bonadan or something, to see if there is anything left in a hidden place that I had there once.."

One of the uniformed waiters approaches Joir and stands behind him, clearing his throat in a polite attempt to gain the Directors attention. Joir turns and says in a disinterested voice "Yes?" - without replying the waiter hands Joir a datapad. Quickly scanning through the datapad Joir curls his lips into a visible scowl. Turning to the ambassador he says "I wish you well in your quest." Holding up the datapad, he states with a slightly ironic tone "But duty calls"

Morganna inclines her head and raises her empty glass to Joir, "I understand, Director. Duty before pleasure." she leans back in the plsh couch further, threatening to disappear in the soft folds. "I need to go down to the med bay soon anyway. Good day."

Joir nods in dismissal "Good day"