The following is a dream sequence experienced by Vinri alone, and is thus inaccessible by others ICly.
At first, there was darkness.
Then, a lone structure emerged from the entropy: A humble cantina, wrapped snug in a weathered frame of pockmarked durasteel and crowned by a flickering, lopsided set of neon aurabesh. The letters said something, at some point. But now, there in the absence of reason and firmament, the shapes shifted and warped into something muddled and indecipherable. The sight made the pit of Vinri’s stomach boil with a rising unease. Shame.
Beneath the low-hanging sign sat a single large window frame, long devoid of any glass seal but secured firmly with a crosshatch of metal rods. From between the gaps flooded an exuberant warmth, a yellow-orange kaleidoscope of shimmering spotlight paired with the telltale shouting and laughter of festive celebration. Faint silhouettes would pass and go within the light’s radiance often enough to imply the room was filled with dozens of delighted bargoers. In this surreal place, it felt as though their party raged on for time immemorial, and all one had to do to join was step through the door. Vinri knew this cantina, and the sight should have been a relief to him. Instead, that same subversive feeling of unease gripped him even tighter.
He found himself at the door, another slab of old metal stripped of paint and protective laminate. He had seen this door enough times in his life to know every cut, scar, and divot by heart. His hand began to tremble as it rose ever-so-slowly to the door’s control panel, the blinking array of buttons flaring like warning lights. He stared into it, entranced, as his vision began to swim.
He didn’t belong here. Not anymore. He has to turn back. None of this is for him.
Without warning, the steel brick of a door clicked to life with a hiss, and Vinri’s head whipped in its direction to witness as it rose lazily from the floor to its recess in the doorframe. He blinked away his hazy vision and looked back to his hand, brow furrowed with confusion. He hadn’t pressed anything. Nevertheless, the door was open, and the cantina was free to enter. He pulled his hand away from the control panel and slipped it into a pocket, unleashing a long sigh of relief as the warmth of the room washed over him. The knot in his stomach began to unravel, and the tensing nerves in his lekku stilled with peace. With light steps out of the formless darkness, Vinri followed that feeling of peace and crossed the threshold into the supernatural building.
Squinting hard against the cacophony of light that now filled his vision, Vinri scanned over the contents of the cantina with a curious eye. There was, indeed, a multitude of people: A melting pot of ruddy faced Humans, Duros, Rodians, Twi’leks, and every alien in between, all active and chittering amongst themselves on every square inch of the floor. Some lounged around dingy couches and billiard tables, while others mustered together tight in the middle of the room, twisting and shuffling to the upbeat music. There was hardly a single open space to step in sight, and Vinri was forced to weave his way through the bustling, cacophonous crowd to find anything beyond the entrance.
As he weaved further and further into the cantina, his eyes began to acclimate to the change in scenery. His heart jumped in his chest with a sudden shock as his gaze meandered onto the face of the rutian man next to him:
There wasn’t one. Like the featureless, plastic form of a mannequin, there was nothing but a completely smooth, unnatural sheet of flesh covering what should have been a face. As a matter of fact, there wasn’t a single face to be seen in the entire building. Just bodies, animated puppets masquerading as regular people, shaking their limbs as though they were dancing and chittering their jaws as though they knew what laughter was.
In that singular moment, Vinri had gone from being another blissful reveler partaking in a jubilant connection of lives to being the only living person in the room. The colors of the light receded from their bursting, welcoming amber to a passionless beige, their lively vibrance vanishing in a sobering instant along with all the rest of the cantina’s life. Still, it seemed there was nothing left but to continue forward, and Vinri did so with a deflated morale.
Trudging between the squirming masses of not-quite-people, he found himself at the other end of the room and standing before a grandiose stretch of dark, chest-high wooden countertop, complete with an array of cushioned stools. Behind it stood a proud display of glass bottles of varying size nestled on gilded shelves rising to the ceiling, glittering with filigreed labels and housing a varied collection of liquors and concoctions. And at the counter’s center, clad in a timeworn, patch-ridden emerald jacket, stood a togruta with a princely crown of montrals and lekku that disappeared past the edge of the bar, all adorned in stripes of ocean blue from tip to tip. The man, it seemed, was the only other soul in the bar that had a face. Vinri knew whose face it was.
More of the faceless patrons had placed themselves on all of those stout barstools except for one directly across from the Togruta. Vinri approached it and sat himself down, silently observing the man behind the counter as he idly scraped a cleaning rag through a drinking glass.
Then, a lone structure emerged from the entropy: A humble cantina, wrapped snug in a weathered frame of pockmarked durasteel and crowned by a flickering, lopsided set of neon aurabesh. The letters said something, at some point. But now, there in the absence of reason and firmament, the shapes shifted and warped into something muddled and indecipherable. The sight made the pit of Vinri’s stomach boil with a rising unease. Shame.
Beneath the low-hanging sign sat a single large window frame, long devoid of any glass seal but secured firmly with a crosshatch of metal rods. From between the gaps flooded an exuberant warmth, a yellow-orange kaleidoscope of shimmering spotlight paired with the telltale shouting and laughter of festive celebration. Faint silhouettes would pass and go within the light’s radiance often enough to imply the room was filled with dozens of delighted bargoers. In this surreal place, it felt as though their party raged on for time immemorial, and all one had to do to join was step through the door. Vinri knew this cantina, and the sight should have been a relief to him. Instead, that same subversive feeling of unease gripped him even tighter.
He found himself at the door, another slab of old metal stripped of paint and protective laminate. He had seen this door enough times in his life to know every cut, scar, and divot by heart. His hand began to tremble as it rose ever-so-slowly to the door’s control panel, the blinking array of buttons flaring like warning lights. He stared into it, entranced, as his vision began to swim.
He didn’t belong here. Not anymore. He has to turn back. None of this is for him.
Without warning, the steel brick of a door clicked to life with a hiss, and Vinri’s head whipped in its direction to witness as it rose lazily from the floor to its recess in the doorframe. He blinked away his hazy vision and looked back to his hand, brow furrowed with confusion. He hadn’t pressed anything. Nevertheless, the door was open, and the cantina was free to enter. He pulled his hand away from the control panel and slipped it into a pocket, unleashing a long sigh of relief as the warmth of the room washed over him. The knot in his stomach began to unravel, and the tensing nerves in his lekku stilled with peace. With light steps out of the formless darkness, Vinri followed that feeling of peace and crossed the threshold into the supernatural building.
Squinting hard against the cacophony of light that now filled his vision, Vinri scanned over the contents of the cantina with a curious eye. There was, indeed, a multitude of people: A melting pot of ruddy faced Humans, Duros, Rodians, Twi’leks, and every alien in between, all active and chittering amongst themselves on every square inch of the floor. Some lounged around dingy couches and billiard tables, while others mustered together tight in the middle of the room, twisting and shuffling to the upbeat music. There was hardly a single open space to step in sight, and Vinri was forced to weave his way through the bustling, cacophonous crowd to find anything beyond the entrance.
As he weaved further and further into the cantina, his eyes began to acclimate to the change in scenery. His heart jumped in his chest with a sudden shock as his gaze meandered onto the face of the rutian man next to him:
There wasn’t one. Like the featureless, plastic form of a mannequin, there was nothing but a completely smooth, unnatural sheet of flesh covering what should have been a face. As a matter of fact, there wasn’t a single face to be seen in the entire building. Just bodies, animated puppets masquerading as regular people, shaking their limbs as though they were dancing and chittering their jaws as though they knew what laughter was.
In that singular moment, Vinri had gone from being another blissful reveler partaking in a jubilant connection of lives to being the only living person in the room. The colors of the light receded from their bursting, welcoming amber to a passionless beige, their lively vibrance vanishing in a sobering instant along with all the rest of the cantina’s life. Still, it seemed there was nothing left but to continue forward, and Vinri did so with a deflated morale.
Trudging between the squirming masses of not-quite-people, he found himself at the other end of the room and standing before a grandiose stretch of dark, chest-high wooden countertop, complete with an array of cushioned stools. Behind it stood a proud display of glass bottles of varying size nestled on gilded shelves rising to the ceiling, glittering with filigreed labels and housing a varied collection of liquors and concoctions. And at the counter’s center, clad in a timeworn, patch-ridden emerald jacket, stood a togruta with a princely crown of montrals and lekku that disappeared past the edge of the bar, all adorned in stripes of ocean blue from tip to tip. The man, it seemed, was the only other soul in the bar that had a face. Vinri knew whose face it was.
More of the faceless patrons had placed themselves on all of those stout barstools except for one directly across from the Togruta. Vinri approached it and sat himself down, silently observing the man behind the counter as he idly scraped a cleaning rag through a drinking glass.
“Yo.” The man spoke plainly.
“Yo.” Vinri replied in kind.
The man finally looked up from his glass, setting his eyes squarely on Vinri.
“How ya livin’, huh? How’s ya people?”
“I... don't know.”
“What, you don’t know how your own people are doin’?”
The man clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “That don’t sound
like us, Vin.”
“Shut up,” Vinri spat dismissively. “You're not me.”
The man snickered lowly, turning
his eyes back onto his glass. “Sure.”
As the short-lived conversation seemed to fizzle out, Vinri swiveled on his seat to face the horde of mannequins present. A morbid curiosity compelled him to scan their eerily absent features once again, despite the tenseness that such an unnatural scene set in his lekku.
“You’re forgettin’ ‘em all now, huh?” The man casually tutted.
Vinri twisted in his seat once more, turning to face the man again. “What?”
“You heard me. You don’t even remember what they look like.”
Despite the obvious evidence of the accusation, he bristled defensively at the thought.
“Oh, shut the hell up about it!” Vinri snarled. “What would you even know, huh?
You don’t know a thing about what I’ve had to do—"
“Oh, shut the hell up about it!” Vinri snarled. “What would you even know, huh?
You don’t know a thing about what I’ve had to do—"
“I know about all of it,” the man patiently interjected. “I was there, remember? Because—"
“Because you're ‘me,’” Vinri relented with a roll of his eyes, throwing his hands into the air. “Right.”
“Bingo.”
“Smartass.”
“Takes one, V.”
“…Touché.”
The conversation found a stoic lull once again, the once blaring drums and vocals of the music now sounding impossibly distant as its whispers lingered in the space between the two. Vinri tapped his fingers against the countertop along with the beat, his eyes lazily affixed to the rag swirling throughout the man’s glass.
“They’re gonna kill you if you keep it up, y’know.”
Vinri scoffed at the thought, his idly rapping fingers forming into a tight fist.
“Good. Let 'em. I'll take every last one of those Sith punks with me.”
“Good. Let 'em. I'll take every last one of those Sith punks with me.”
“Wow.” The man replied in an unamused monotone. “Y’know, you really sound just like ‘em—"
Vinri turned his eyes away from the glass and stared daggers into the man himself. “Don't. Don't you do that.”
“Do what?” he sneered with a shake of his head. “Point
out the obvious? You’re changing, Vinri.”
It was hard to argue against that. He knew it was true. “...Just what the
hell do you want from me, huh? Give it to me straight, what are
we doin’ here right now?”
hell do you want from me, huh? Give it to me straight, what are
we doin’ here right now?”
The man gave no regard to Vinri's demand and instead raised his project up to the light to expose any missed stains.
“Stars, you talk like ‘em, you kill like ‘em, you forget the little people like ‘em…”
he rambled. “What would she think if she saw you right—"
“Don't you dare say her name.”
“I didn’t.” the man flatly snapped back. “And I wasn’t gonna,
by the way… But I don’t even have to, do I? I bet you
remember her just fine.”
Vinri fell silent for a long while, the confident defiance that had once ebbed through him wavering as the man’s words rang true. For the faintest moment, he saw that woman’s face as clear as the man’s own, as though she were right there in front of them both. She would have been here too, Vinri figured, if this was really the place he suspected, torn from time itself and presented to him now in all its peculiar taunting. He didn’t want to look for her amongst the crowd. That would mean she could see him too.
“...I do.”
The man huffed a breath onto his finely polished glass before wiping it down with a finishing touch.
“What if I told you she was still alive?”
“You don't know that. If you’re me, you couldn't know that.”
The man nodded with a shrug before crouching low behind the counter. The sound of rummaging and clinking echoed from its deep cupboards.
“You’re right. I couldn’t, not for sure. But you can feel it though, right?
Far out there in the stars somewhere. Like a heartbeat.”
“Yeah… Yeah, I've been feelin' it.”
“I know she wouldn’t wanna see us torn up by
some Sith scumfucks, yeah?”
“She wouldn't, no…”
The man nodded solemnly at the response, and as the dissonant cluttering noise behind the bar came to a halt, he rose back to his feet with a small trinket in hand: A coin, polished and oxidized to a deep emerald sheen. Printed on its face was a winged saber, complete with a starburst at its core. It settled against the slate countertop with a dense snap, drawing Vinri’s attention immediately. The man rested his hands on his hips as his eyes settled on Vinri’s face, his expression hardening with grim sincerity.
“...You gotta play the game, Vin. The whole song and
dance. Don’t care how much it hurts.”
“I know, I know…” Vinri sighed. “I just—"
“Hate ‘em too much?”
“Bingo...” He stared down onto the twinkling coin.
The man snorted softly through his nose, his hard countenance peeling away to present a soft empathy.
“Yeah… Believe you me, I ain’t their biggest fan neither.
But they really are gonna bump you off if you keep your act
up. Then you can’t help anybody.”
“...She wouldn't want that, would she?”
“No, V. She wouldn’t. None of ‘em would.”
Vinri brought a hand over the coin, swiping it up gingerly into his palm and securing it in a fist.
“But they took so much from us. From both of us!
Hell, it'd probably be you out there instead of me if they—"
“I know Vin, it’s tough.” The man cooed, his voice low and
passive. “It ain’t ever been sunshine and rainbows for us, but
it is what it is. You need to live.”
Vinri nodded, closing his eyes. “...Live. I'll live.”
“…She really was amazing, wasn’t she...?”
“…Brightest star in the sky.”
Vinri held his eyes shut there for a time, simply allowing his chest to rhythmically rise and fall as he memorized every ridge and textured face of the coin in his palm. It was the only thing that felt real in this shifting dreamscape, the only thing true and honest. He held fast to it, his anchor in troubled times.
When he opened his eyes again, the storied walls of the cheery cantina no longer stood around him. Smoldering rubble took their place, the foundation’s jagged edges marking the shallow grave of what was once a place of brilliant joy. There were no more lights, no more music, no more crowd and no more cheers of merriment or clinking of glasses. Vinri was sitting at no bar, speaking to no man. All that remained were the smoking, scattered chunks of broken concrete and battered durasteel, along with the somber silence that hung over them all like a shroud.
Vinri closed his fist once more. The weight of the coin remained, true as it had always been. In that grim place, it gave him the power to stand unafraid. He blinked his eyes again, and the rubble itself vanished as though it were never there at all, like vapor into the yawning black.
Once again, there was darkness.
When he opened his eyes again, the storied walls of the cheery cantina no longer stood around him. Smoldering rubble took their place, the foundation’s jagged edges marking the shallow grave of what was once a place of brilliant joy. There were no more lights, no more music, no more crowd and no more cheers of merriment or clinking of glasses. Vinri was sitting at no bar, speaking to no man. All that remained were the smoking, scattered chunks of broken concrete and battered durasteel, along with the somber silence that hung over them all like a shroud.
Vinri closed his fist once more. The weight of the coin remained, true as it had always been. In that grim place, it gave him the power to stand unafraid. He blinked his eyes again, and the rubble itself vanished as though it were never there at all, like vapor into the yawning black.
Once again, there was darkness.
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