milliways_bar | (no subject)

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bonnie murdock

(no subject)

It came to Bonnie's attention recently, while she was helping supply pie for Life Support, that some folks around here are short of food.

So, today, she has set up a table on one side of the bar, with another large baking of pies, plus some of her spare apples, and some jars of jams and pickles. She carefully covers the pies to stop any errant flies buzzing over them.

She sets up a sign behind the table.

'HARVEST FESTIVAL

Are you a keen gardener who would like to trade one food for another?

Do you have a lot of spare food that will otherwise go to waste?

Are you someone who just needs no excuse to bake?

BRING YOUR EXTRA FOOD HERE
TAKE WHAT YOU NEED

Trade crops and avoid waste. If you are hungry, if you are short of food, please, help yourself. No eligibility questions asked. Any spare food at the end will be given to the bar to be distributed later to those who are hungry.

Suggested items: Fruit and veg, baked goods, dried goods, canned goods
Please no: Out of date food, foods that need to be kept hot or cold, items inedible to humans (or at very least please label as such), magic prank food, blood products or products made from humans, medicines, junk.'

There are takeaway boxes and bowls and spoons provided.

[ooc: Treat this as a miniature impromptu party post, threadhopping encouraged.]

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"Even with bantha, probably," Dorian nods. "It's a good, square meal. We often had that at school."

"What else did they feed you at school?" Bodhi asks curiously, wondering if it's anything like the academy.

"Toad in the hole was always a favourite, too," Dorian says. "A pastry, like Yorkshire pudding, with a bit of sausage in, and of course gravy."

"Oh, I see." The name had him thrown for a moment there. "I didn't know earth humans ate toads. At least I haven't seen any recipes for them."

"No, we don't," Dorian says. "Frog legs are a delicacy in France, but not toads. Some of them are poisonous."

Bodhi nods. "I've heard of poisonous frogs and toads on other worlds. The Hutts sometimes breed them. As a drug."

"What are hutts?"

"Big slug like creatures. Gangsters mostly. They control a lot of the outer rim territories."

"Slugs that are gangsters?" Dorian says. "That sounds intriguing. How do they even hold their weapons?"

Bodhi reaches for the datapad he's rarely without and pulls up a hologram of a Hutt. "They run most of the smuggling and black markets."

"Ah, they have hands," Dorian says, peering. "What kind of book is that?"

"It's a datapad." Bodhi shrugs dismissively. It's not even a particularly impressive one, unless you count the extra holo projector. "I use it to keep all my recipes and notes. Some music too."

"Like an electric scrapbook?" Dorian says, trying to make sense of it with what little he knows about the future.

"I guess so." He shrugs. "Paper is expensive where I'm from. Proper bound books are a luxury item. Rich people collect them."

"Why should it become rare in the future?" Dorian says. "Are there no trees or rags on the planets out in space?"

"No need for it. When datapads and holocroms can hold whole libraries in the palm of your hand."

"That is practical," Dorian says, "but how do you give books as a loan or gift to your friends?"

"Download them onto a datachip." He answers, perplexed why that's a confusing concept. He asks the bar for one, handing Dorian a little slither of duraplast about the length of his finger. "That will hold two or three books. Or a holodrama."

"Holodrama?" Dorian says. "You can see a play with that thing? Like the machine over the bar, what is it called, television?"

"Something like that, only less flat. I have some in my room if you'd like to see?"

"I'd be honoured," Dorian says, smiling at Bodhi.

The man from space is a bit scruffy, but very lovely underneath. Those eyes!

Bodhi doesn't thing anything of it. He just keeps his holovids upstairs.

He leads Dorian back to his room, scooping Kyber up as the kitten comes tearing at him as soon as the door is open. The rooms are neat and airy, with a bit balcony garden.

"I don't have very many." He sorts through the crystals, trying to work out what Dorian might enjoy. "Some old detective stories I like. A recording of a Twi'lek poetry slam. This one is the story of a Jedi and his bounty hunter lover during the Clone Wars. It's a bit overly dramatic but I loved it when I was a kid." He really should update his collection.

Dorian looks around. Somehow, the room looks as if two people were living here.

"I like the sound of the last one," he says. "It sounds so very space-y and alien."

It somewhat is. Something Bodhi never thought to explain because it hasn't occurred to him that Dorian might have any interest in him, beyond seeing a holovid or learning about other places.

He sets up the projector, the image of a young human Jedi padawan flickers into view. It's an expensive projector and a remastered copy so the 3D image is in colour and crisp as the Jedi works through a lightsaber kata.

The plot is almost operatically silly. The padawan falls in love with a golden skinned Zabrak street thief, meeting in secret till they promise to marry. On the night he's meant to sneak out to be with her, his master calls him away to take the trials to become a knight and after much antagonising, he chooses his commitment to the Order and leave her at the altar.

Years later, in the midst of the Clone Wars, he's suffering silently but deeply with the choice with had lead him into war but unexpectedly meets her again. She's focused her hurt into rage and has become a bounty hunter, complete with red Dathomiri facial tattoos. A Sith warlord pays her to hunt down the Jedi and she takes to the job all too gleefully.

They meet, they fight. She spits hate at him for breaking her heart. He suffers heroically, blaming himself for what she's become. In the end, he flees rather than face her.

But she peruses and they meet again on another battle field. He pours out his undying love but she presses the attack.

At the very last moment, he's forced to defend himself or die and strikes out, the blow landing harder than he'd hoped. Dying, she confesses she loves him too, in a shockingly long speech. He vows they will be together again in the Force and takes his own life, falling on his blade to be with her.

It's awful. And Bodhi loves it.

Dorian completely loves it. Such drama -- such feelings -- so much tragedy.

He's riveted throughout.

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