~*Fairies*~ Log: Anakin Skywalker and Dr. Aphra WHO: Dr. Aphra, Anakin Skywalker, and droids WHEN: Beginning shortly before 8 PM on Friday Sept 14 WHERE: Ark Angel II WHAT: A lighthearted evening for Vadaphra is ruined by those damn fairies WARNINGS: Just feels
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It was extremely annoying to get interrupted by a droid's shrill electronic shriek, followed by rapidfire cursing in binary. Anakin did some cursing of his own as he lifted his head from the pillow. Well, his pillow. He'd been using it for months, after all, since he lived here now. He didn't quite think of the Ark Angel II as "home," but he was particular about that word.
"Artoooo, just ignore him." His head dropped back onto the pillow as he cursed some more. Maybe R2-D2 was so antagonistic towards BD-1 just because BD-1 was the same droid model they'd been fighting in the war, and maybe it was for some more personal reason. "Sorry. I better go break that up before he breaks something."
Aphra hooked a finger at the hip of his trousers, tugging them toward her while she whined about damn droids who ruined private time. She curled up her legs to her chest and looked up at him with wide, sad eyes that begged for him not to leave the bed. When it was clear that he was going to stop whatever droid argument was going on, she huffed.
"Don't you hurt my droid, or I will turn you into a trash droid, Artoo." It was unclear whether she was serious or joking.
"You wouldn't... would you?" He kept his voice down so the droids wouldn't hear and undermine her threat. It was not easy to make himself move from the(ir) bed when she looked that disappointed. The argument was escalating, though, and she'd probably be even more disappointed if the droids wrecked one of her projects in the midst of it.
Artoo was still cursing. Anakin obviously couldn't vocalize the way a droid could and Artoo understood him perfectly anyways, but he could approximate some of it and whistled briefly to Artoo to really emphasize his point. Cut that shit out. When Artoo 'grumbled' back, Anakin glared until Artoo warbled and rolled over to him. "Artoo, Beedee, what's all this about, huh? You interrupted us."
BD1 came around the corner after R2, his stilted walking in contrast to R2's smooth rolling. He sported a black bowtie, lopsided and dirty, and a single monocle which was attached to his face so it couldn't be removed easily. It was hard to take the anxiety out of the battledroid. He looked around, and though he could not change expressions, it was clear he was in some sort of conundrum.
The droid had the tell-tale monotonous sounds of a battledroid, but with a few extra words Aphra had put into his programming for laughs. "I say, this good fellow keep following me around, yelling Fight Me while I'm doing my duties. I beg your pardon, Master Aphra, Master Skywalker. He has forced me to my robotic shins."
"He's… what? Artoo." Anakin glared down at Artoo, who made his best 'innocent' sounds. "Tell the truth." A more reluctant warble. "I told you, we aren't 'at war' with him. And no matter how, uh, 'interesting' his makeover looks, you don't have to tease him about it, either."
"That makeover is one hundred percent Earth-inspired. Google it." Aphra had seen more than enough photographs of butlers in her search efforts. She couldn't make the droid wear a whole tuxedo since that would limit his movement and cause him to overheat, but that bowtie and monocle stays.
She noticed what appeared to be electrical sparks near Beedee's knees. "Did you zap my droid?"
"Oh, I try to keep Artoo off the network so he doesn't get too many wild ideas, but you see how he is. Impudent." Anakin tried to look at Artoo sternly, but his mouth kept twitching. He liked Artoo as-is, but sometimes Artoo could be a little maddening.
Artoo tilted forward and down and made an apologetic 'woooo'. "Why would you— Artoo! You can't do that! He's doing his job, not 'gathering intelligence'. You're just making excuses. If you damaged something, you're helping fix it."
Aphra stuck her tongue out at Artoo, then gave Anakin a playful thump in the side. Her earlier pouting was forgotten, and now she began to use her foot to try and shove him over the side of the bed. He could deal with this mess, and she would just lay here like a lazy lump. "Go fix this. And bring me something yummy to drink when you come back."
Artoo shrieked at the thump, but he wasn't angry about it. Sometimes he liked her, and sometimes he was unsettled about how she was even more of a droid fan than Anakin was.
Anakin grumbled a little and swatted Aphra's foot, but got up from the bed. He didn't bother grabbing a shirt; he knew Aphra would be just fine with him walking around shirtless. "Fine, fine, give me a few minutes to sort out."
After he'd drawn the droids out of the room with them and did a quick fix on Beedee's sparking, he headed to the kitchenette. 'Yummy' for Aphra could be mixed or straight from the bottle. He called to her, "Surprise you?"
"Oh baby, oh baby," she monotoned, flopping backwards on the bed and stretching her arms and legs out so that she took up most of the space on it. "Surprise me."
Then a thought occurred to her. "But make it something fruity! I want to feel like I'm on a beach on Sesid!"
"What does that feel like? I'm not exactly a beachgoer." It took him a little while longer to mix something up. He was no bar droid, so he'd asked Beedee to confirm a recipe so he wouldn't mix it up wrong.
As Anakin walked back into the bedroom, he grinned at the sight of her all sprawled out. "You're ridiculous. Here, tell me if..."
He trailed off, expression turning spooked as he looked over his shoulder.
Aphra knew that look: danger was around the corner. It wasn't the only perk of having a Jedi for a boyfriend (she still needed to get used to that), but it was a nice one when you needed to get prepared. She hopped up, reaching under the bed for her blaster.
"What is it?"
"I don't know... wait." He set her drink down on the nearest surface, almost missing it in his distraction. 'Danger' was obvious, yes, but the kind of danger wasn't making sense.
Old instincts were flaring, not just his Force sense. Childhood instincts that told him run, find cover, get inside, which made no sense since he was already indoors and why would it feel like...
He held out a hand and called his lightsaber to fly to it, as if a lightsaber could fight off what he was confusingly sensing. "Chelli, stay down."
"Like hell I'm going to —"
Artoo and Beedee both began to make confused and agitated noises from the other room. There was a rumbling that began, startling her. Earthquakes and sand burrowers and space slugs were typical in their world, but she hadn't heard anything about one of those here in Tumbleweed. Well, that was that movie Tremors, but she'd watched that for someone called Kevin Bacon for the six degrees. Aphra's hand tightened around her blaster, even as she glanced the room for her hat. There was explosive putty in the hat, if she needed it.
"What the kriff?"
A gust of hot wind carrying a wave of sand blasted through the doorway, engulfing Anakin. He looked panicked for a moment before he was too obscured to be seen. His lightsaber clattered to the floor. The freak indoor sandstorm disappeared as quickly as it had come.
Anakin, too, had disappeared.
Artoo was already on his way over to his master, but grew frantic as soon as the sandstorm swept in. He let out what Aphra could only describe as a pained howl before he spun around in circles near the spot where Anakin disappeared.
Aphra hadn't even had time to think before the unthinkable had happened. Logically, she knew there was not much she could do against a freak, indoor sandstorm, but her blaster had been useless. All of her cunning and freak luck meant absolutely nothing. She'd jumped from the bed at Anakin's panicked look, so she met Artoo near the door.
Aphra dropped to her knees, scooping up a small handful of sand that was leftover. This was too little to be him, wasn't it? Wouldn't there be more? Aphra opened her mouth to say something, looking at the astromech, but couldn't speak. Artoo did it for her, giving a mournful sound and tilting his dome-shaped head downward.