Chapter 29: Lir Sey'les

Skor II

Laughing giddily, Sey'les stepped out of her quarters, holding Wulf's hand.

Wulf stepped out of the quarters, covering his crotch with one of his free hands. "Sey'les—Shassa this is—"

"—Your idea," Sey'les snarled.

Without the piles of scrap in the Avaricious Snaltowg's hangar, Sey'les had come to the realisation that the room was big enough to serve as a track. She had not gone for a jog in over a week and did not feel like running outside in Serwald's subzero temperatures.

Wulf had joked that, since Itoll and Fojo were spending the night at some ski lodge, and Nebhir and Trajan were staying at the half-Squib's parents' house, he and Sey'les could have a physical training session completely naked.

Fur dancing with excitement, Sey'les had then pointed out, that they would still need to wear running shoes to protect their feet from possible rusty nails, glass, and bits of transparisteel left behind from the scrap.

In the bright light of the hallway, Wulf's wispy flame-shaped thinned areas of fur on his arms and neck were more visible. Bafflingly to the Bothan, the young Ardennian seemed far more concerned with covering his genitals than with the now exposed burn scars all over his body.

Sey'les looked down at her own body, feeling not uncomfortable from being naked, but instead unease at the thinned area of fur on her left side. The patch ran all the way from her wrist to her armpit, then down her armpit to her waist—It followed the path of what had been a gap between the plates of her armour vest. Under that fur was scar tissue the bacta could not heal. No, I need to do this.

"Wulf, you can wear whatever you like," Sey'les growled, "but I am doing this."

o.o.o.o.o

With his lower arms folded across his chest and his upper arms behind his head, Wulf sat up, drawing his face nearer to Sey'les's exposed, ludicrously dyed, hot-pink furred breasts, then fell back to the pad, bouncing up into another sit-up. He was fully clothed in his black Republic-issued Naval exercising uniform.

"Forty-two," Sey'les mouthed voicelessly. She wore nothing but sneakers and socks as she held the Ardennian's feet in place, spotting him. Her abs ached from the thirty-nine sit-ups she had already done.

"Sey'les," Wulf panted, laying back down before sitting back up.

"Forty-three," Sey'les mouthed, fur completely calm, facial expression in a deadpan.

Wulf took a deep breath, sitting up, straining. "You are so kriffing weird," he said firmly, staring directly into her eyes.

Scowling slightly, fur still completely calm, Sey'les whispered "yeah yeah, forty-four."

Laying back down, Wulf groaned in exhaustion.

"Come on, you are usually able to do sixty at least," Sey'les pleaded, fur twitching in annoyance. She began counting down—Per physical fitness rules, laying down for more than five seconds during sit-ups ended their count. "Five, four, three… Two?"

Wulf sat there for a few more seconds, then grumpily sat back up, whimpering.

"Forty-five," Sey'les growled, fur dancing with excitement.

Exhausted, Wulf continued into another sit-up, this time without any chatter.

o.o.o.o.o

After finishing their session with a 10-minute cooldown jog and 5 minutes of personal stretching, Sey'les felt more relaxed than she had in months. Walking through the hallways to the kitchen, the Bothan panted in exhaustion but felt centred.

Whatever had happened to her on Antar 4 was a part of her she could live with. Everything she had done on Merj, she could live with and would do again. All she had to do was keep Daymask and the Red Sigil terrified.

All of her actions led to this calm centred moment of clarity. She felt like she could feel the cold metallic surface of the walls and floor with her mind. She could definitely feel Wulf, even though she wasn't touching him. The rapid pulse of his heart, the twitches of his lungs, the concerned "o" expression his lips now wore. Huh. Wulf is worried.

"Why are you worried, Wulf?" Sey'les panted in a physically exhausted but serene tone.

"Uh… You are walking through the ship, completely naked, acting very strange."

Huh. What's that? Sey'les wondered, closing her eyes as she walked forward. She sensed a different sort of presence. This one was colder, more room temperature than Wulf. It had a thin snout, eyes that felt round, but blocky in a segmented sort of way. Its skin was wrinkly, leathery, and around its skin was a cotton cocoon of some sort. What could that be?

"Captain!" Fojo gasped. "Shassa! What in the hell—"

Sey'les opened her eyes and let off a surprised "oh," realising that the strange thing she had sensed was a Rodian—Her Rodian. Fojo looked quite goofy, wearing thick white cotton pajamas. "Why are you out of uniform?" she growled sternly.

"Out of Unif—WHAT THE HELL!" Fojo yelled, covering his eyes. "YOU ARE NAKED!"

I guess he's right about that, Sey'les thought serenely. "All right, you caught me."

"What is that smell?!" Fojo demanded. "Were you—My gods!" the Rodian gasped.

"No," Sey'les scoffed, some of her serenity broken. "We were having a PTS in the hangar. No one was here except for us, so I just… Huh," she growled thoughtfully.

Fojo shook his head angrily. "Is this just you trying to passive-aggressively prove to me that you are a woman Sey'les?! I am a medic! I already knew that!"

"No," Sey'les snarled angrily, folding her arms over her exposed chest not to cover them, but as a gesture of utter disapproval. "Ensign, are you insinuating that I am a man?"

Wulf chuckled sheepishly, earning a furious glare from Sey'les.

"N—no," Fojo stammered, "No ma'am. I was just—"

"—Where's Itoll?" Sey'les gasped, suddenly noticing his absence. She sniffed the air, concluding Itoll was certainly nowhere in smelling range.

"He stayed at the lodge," Fojo huffed bitterly. "Met a new friend and made it clear—"

"—He what?" Sey'les gasped, then began yelping furiously. "You—You let Itoll stay in some motel by himself, overnight?!"

"He…" Fojo croaked, fiddling with his pajama sleeve. "Yeah."

Sey'les swore under her breath, slamming her hot pink furred shoulder into Fojo's as she passed him. "Wulf! Come with me! Fojo," she yelped, not bothering to look back at either of them. "YOU ARE CONFINED TO THE SHIP TILL I GET BACK!"

"Yes ma'am," Fojo sighed sadly.

o.o.o.o.o

"Wulf," Sey'les growled cautiously, fur twitching in annoyance as she put a bra on. "When someone says I am ugly, you need to defend me."

"What?" Wulf snorted, wearing a clean T-shirt as he stepped into his flight suit. "When did that happen?" he asked, rummaging through his duffel bag on the floor of Sey'les's quarters.

"Fojo said I look like a man!" Sey'les snarled, glaring at the nervous Ardennian.

"I'm sure that's not what he meant," Wulf sighed.

"WULF!" Sey'les yelped, putting her hands on her hips. "NOW YOU ARE DEFENDING HIM!"

"That's not what I—Sorry Sey'les," Wulf stammered, correcting himself mid-sentence.

"Good," Sey'les snorted neurotically. She closed her eyes, trying to get back that sense of calm. Instead, all she sensed was a startling feeling of imminent danger. What could that mean?