for_everyone | (no subject)

The Great Tirahnn Fair was one of those see-before-you-die suggestions that travelers of all types shared around the galaxy. From tourists to smugglers, petty thieves to corporate nobility, anyone could be awed by the size and scope of it. Going back more than a millennium, the fair had been held every five Tirahnn years in the wide marshlands outside the capital city, land too soft and sinking for cheap development, but safe enough for ships to anchor for a few days. Those traveling merchants who landed to participate remodeled their ships as galleries for their wares, and opened their airlocks and boarding docks for the massive platforms that ran over the marshlands, connecting one ship to the next. The platforms spun together in a massive web along the ships, hovering droids at the ready in the days leading up to the fair to connect the new arrivals.

The second day of the Great Fair brought undeniably perfect weather - sunshine that glinted across the sea of interconnected ships, with the marshlands still cool enough to protect the fairgoers from too much afternoon heat. The platforms that stretched ship-to-ship buzzed with droids hawking snacks or drinks, buyers slipping from one sale to the next, and the occasional law enforcement speeder whining overhead. As was tradition, many of those selling decorated their ships for the occasion, with streamers and string lights, neon signs and garish paint jobs, sometimes even bottle caps or flowers. And inevitably holoprojections advertising their products. Enormous salvage haulers sell refurbished hyperdrive engines alongside star yachts advertising jesmin perfume and light freighters brimming with Cambrian wine and Trandoshan ale.

A few meters from Hera, another holo rotated through images of freshly painted astromech and GNK droids. What had actually been for sale down below hadn’t been nearly so impressive, but then, Hera hadn’t really been looking to buy. Settled on the platform along the open upper hatch of the B-7 light freighter, a Rodian boy of about fifteen stands over her as she kneeled in front of his R4 unit, affixing the new radar eye in place.

“Some people just secure it with a hydrospanner and leave it at that,” she says. As she speaks, she gently moves the probe of a sealer around the droid’s eye, careful as though she were spreading bacta over a wound. “But it’s not just about sticking it on. You really need to make sure nothing gets in there that could mess with her sensors - that’s a problem that can spread to all her systems.”

Hera at last finishes with the sealer, switching it off and recapping it as she gets her feet. She reaches out to the R4, tapping along her circular dome. “How does that feel?”

The R4 answers with a few satisfied beeps, and Hera holds out the sealer to the Rodian boy. “Secure and seal, right?”

“Right, Hera.” The boy takes the sealer from her and slips it into his bag. “Don’t know how long it’ll last, though.”

The R4 pipes up again, in a chiding tone, and Hera laughs. “She has a point - she’ll always know better than either of us.”

“Well, thanks for the help.” The boy hesitates, and then, “My family’s ship is over by those big Calamari freighters, MC-18 with seaweed all over it, if you come by I can give you a free bag of vine-caf.”

Hera smiles - that comes more quickly, as she thinks briefly on her answer. “Sure, I’ll stop by later.”

He doesn’t linger any longer than that. The boy gives her an excited nod, and calls to his droid in Rodian before they head toward the nearest walkway. “Bye Hera!”

“Bye Qebna, R4 -”

She’s just finished waving when another droid rolls up behind her, intoning a rather sulky set of beeps. Hera rolls her eyes. “Because your leg works fine, Chop.”

The resentful beeps continue as they move to rejoin the crowds along the walkways among the ships. So much for the droid knowing better

Threaded | Flat

Once every five years, Chir'da thinks, as she wanders over the walkways between ships great and small, means that is was definitely worth turning down a new gig while out in this corner of the galaxy. Sure, the pay would be good, and it'd be free board to a new planet, but --

All this life, all this crowded thrum of new sights and sounds -- totally worth it.

She's already bought a few new ribbons to tie around her lekku -- jewel-bright sapphire and burgundy and a deep golden yellow -- and some silken cloth in similarly bright colors to turn into the newest loose wraps she likes to wear over her functional gray bodysuit. There's a list of a few items she'd like to pick up -- mostly missing tools, datapad memory cards, and three spare droid parts to ship back to her foster mothers', whose R2 unit could do with some sprucing up.

There's a moment where Chir'da skips back a step to avoid colliding with a Rodian boy followed by a R4 droid. She's laughing, though, lekku twitching in a fond commentary about the energy of kids (from the ancient perspective of being seventeen), when she pauses, caught by a display of jewelry and carved wooden statues laid out on an elaborately decorated table.

She'll be here for a few minutes, fingers gently touching each stone chip, each smooth line of the carvings. It's soothing, in a way.

Except --

"Oh, sorry!"

Maybe it's a good idea not to block the walkway while browsing. Hopefully the other Twi'lek and her orange-topped astromech don't get too upset at the obstruction.