Timeframe: post Dark Nest trilogy
Characters: Jaina, Zekk, Lowie
Genre: absurd humor
Summary: "After a wild night of partying, Zekk and Jaina wake up in the Coruscant police headquarters to find their hands in binders, their initials tattooed into each other's ankles, and their lightsabers confiscated by the chief of police." - Vongchild
Notes: This was written in response to a personal challenge issued by a young friend of mine. The exercise was for both us. We were to take the summary above (written by Vongchild) and both write a vig. I encourage you to read hers, too. It was fun to see how differently two authors write the same story.
First to wake and last to comment
Behind those doors, freedom calls
Leave your saber and your walls
My eyes are heavy, my tongue is numb
My teeth are fuzzy, my head too sore
I finally see what we’ve become:
Drunken Poet and Divine Whore!
“Rodder, Zekk! Shut UP!”
The small bunk protested as Jaina shifted to cover her eyes better in the bright light of the holding cell.
What? Would you prefer love poems?
Soft now! What Goddess upon yon Horizon speeds?
Where she goes among the mortal men….
Discontent remains and desire breeds.
With breasts so soft and eyes so fierce
Have care with your heart, lest it be pierced!
“Gods, are you still drunk?” Jaina groaned.
Zekk considered the warm feeling in his stomach and the comfortable heaviness of his eyelids before allowing his lips to curve up in a small, satisfied smile. He didn’t bother speaking. He felt perfectly …perfect. Of course he was still drunk. Drinking was more fun that way. Perhaps someday he would teach Jaina how to make the glow last until the hangover was less vicious.
“Damn it. Of all the people on this frelling planet I choose a what? -- Closet POET? – for a drinking buddy.“
Then again, maybe not.
“What the kriff was I thinking?”
“She was thinking along… the starlit lanes
She was drinking along… with her romantic bane
And now even I’ll admit that this one’s lame
But annoying Jaya's a great game!”
“Zekk,” Jaina growled, “I’m warning you…be quiet.”
I’m not talking. I’m not talking. Not talking. Not talking. Not talking…
Jaina half sobbed, “My head hurts.”
“How can I with all that racket you’re making?”
I’m not making a racket. This is poetry. Art. And I am thinking, not speaking. It’s not my fault you can hear me, it’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the finer arts. Pity.
“Brakiss did this, didn’t he? Is this some sort of ancient Sith torture method?”
I could sing instead. Zekk stirred and took a deep breath to emphasize his threat.
“Guard?” Jaina struggled to sit upright and looked for the officer watching the holding tanks.
Roses are ...
A rough voice called filtered through the com system, “Keep it down in there.”
“Just please, can I have my lightsaber? Please?” The scathing look she shot Zekk left no doubt why she was so desperate for her blade.
“Jedi Solo, you are in a holding cell until the charges against you are assessed tomorrow morning. No lightsaber.”
Relax, Jaina. This isn’t so bad. I’ll bet the breakfast is just as delightfully heartburn-inducing as the squadron mess, too. We’ll be right at home.
Leaning her head gingerly against the grimy wall behind her, Jaina sighed and closed her eyes once more.
She was leaning with her back to Jag’s warm, sculpted chest as they watched one of his mother’s old holo flicks when he leaned forward and, kissing her neck, whispered, “Jedi Zekk, Jedi Solo."
“Jedi Zekk. Jedi Solo. Wake up.”
Zekk opened one eye to see a uniformed woman with pursed lips calling to them. Jaina lifted her head too quickly and winced before wiping the moisture from her mouth.
The woman continued, “Your victim has chosen not to press charges against you.” They didn’t need to Force to see that she clearly disapproved of this decision. “If, however, you are caught publicly drunk and disorderly in this district again, Coruscant SF1897Delta will file charges against you. If lightsabers are involved again, it will be a serious charge. You are free to go, now.”
Under the watchful eye of the woman, they filed out and retrieved their lightsabers, comms, and belt pouches from the armed guard in the anteroom. On the other side of the secured area, Jaina stopped dead in her tracks and stared.
Standing before them, presumably waiting to take them home, was Lowbacca. It was hard to tell it was him, though, because half of his upper torso was shaven so that muscle and the tips of his sheathed claws were the prominent features rather than his usual ginger fur. There was no bark of greeting, no Wookiee hugs, no toothy grin.
“What in all Nine Correllian Hells happened to you?”
Lowie glared at her and growled wordlessly. Zekk cleared his throat nervously.
The woman who escorted them to Lowie spoke from behind them, “Remember, next time you are nerf-headed enough to try and shave a Wookiee, use clippers instead of a lightsaber.”
Jaina’s face paled to a sickly green. "Oh, no. No. Tell me that I didn’t do that…” but another of Lowie's deep, angry growls cut her off. “Force, I tried to shave you for a tattoo? Why? A bet? Oh rodder, I’m sorry, Lowie.”
“Maybe we can shave you evenly and find a Jedi robe for –," Lowbacca’s hand shot out around Zekk’s throat, “Or not.”
Jaina was the first to break the uncomfortable silence in the speeder. “Um, Lowie? Why was I trying to get you tattooed?”
Lowie grinned through his fangs as he half-purred a response.
“I did WHAT?” Lifting up her trousers to inspect her ankle, she found -- in beautifully rendered Ennth runes -- the intertwining letters J and Z. As her considerable stock of curses dwindled down, Lowie was still laughing and Zekk snickering … until he found a matching tattoo on his ankle.
“Zekk?” Jaina murmured, staring at his tattoo.
“I am never going drinking with you again.”
“Jaina?” Zekk leaned back with his arms behind his head and closed his eyes.
“I look good on you.”