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Well I'll need a few days to get back into the swing of writing fortune cookie bullshit everyday but I think I could manage.

I will be travelling frequently in the next few months, but will be able to post at least twice a week.
Your true family is the RP.

Liak'ykam tilted her head slightly as Zek made a comment along the lines of "tucking in the Wookiee". Her after-market translator, which struggled quite significantly with idioms, simply whirred aimlessly for a few moments before conveying the words literally. She did not understand how this many-handed one planned on bringing bedsheets up to her chin, particularly given as there were no beds that she had seen in their quarters, and Liak'ykam did not sleep with bedsheets anyways. Liak'ykam simply assumed, as with most things, it was a cultural difference she was ignorant about, and gave Zek a polite smile and head nod as he said so. Their compassion is strange, but these ones are not devoid of kindness.

Her confusion was short-lived as the captain announced there would indeed be cooking - which was a far more pleasant alternative to whatever devilry nutripaste was. "Wonderful!" Liak'ykam said, absolutely beaming. The Wookiee generally prided herself on a degree of stoicism, but she could not contain a bit of childlike glee. Oh, it had been so many years since she had people to cook for. There was some satisfaction in cooking for oneself, of course, but it was really not the same. Spending time, coming up with new ways to prepare the same materials, the challenge of trying something new - there was really nothing like it. Many centuries ago, Liak'ykam had been the one carving and seasoning after the hunters brought in a kill. As the years had passed, she had been doing more and more of the former, and less and less of the latter. Many nights had been spent with a simple spit-roast over a fire, and no one to share it with. Liak'ykam believed firmly in the spiritual and communal value of a good meal, and was resolved to make sure that every other member of the Phoenix fully appreciated its value as well. Even the metal one, she was confident, could be somehow persuaded. Liak'ykam had not stopped to consider the palate differences between a Wookiee and a less metabolically-demanding species; likewise, it was questionable if Varen Kray had considered the amount of food required to keep even an old female Wookiee sustained. Liak'ykam eagerly began considering the first meals and the fun she could have with them. A grand feast, certainly - they would need something to celebrate their coming together, and get everything started off on a good note. I am glad to have a purpose on this ship, Liak'ykam thought happily. There had not been much to make me feel useful before, amidst all these wires and machines.

Her elation was slightly tempered by the captain's announcement that the laser cannon only worked sometimes. Liak'ykam had lived for a great many years with frequent forays into one of the more dangerous regions in the known galaxy. The idea of having a weapon one could not rely on was entirely foreign to her - indeed, the rugged survivalist skills necessary to avoid becoming prey in the Shadowlands had kept Liak'ykam in good shape and quite strong. She did not know why a captain would embark on a journey with a cannon that was not always functioning, but Liak'ykam was quickly accepting there were many nuances to interstellar travel she would not be familiar with. Perhaps these little ones are more trusting. It is good I am here, truly - I can keep them fed and keep them from missing anything obvious. Contented with her insight, Liak'ykam gave the Captain a reassuring nod, as if to tell him that even if his laser cannon failed, Liak'ykam would keep him safe.

The Captain then delved into an explanation of the more technical aspects of the Phoenix, which Liak'ykam pretended to listen to with all the courtesy she could muster. This was perhaps the first instance of Liak'ykam's foreign nature being a boon to her - it was doubtful any of them were familiar with the facial expressions and body language of a Wookiee, and as such Liak'ykam was hopefully able to mask utter boredom with a veneer of patience. Liak'ykam leaned on her walking stick and observed her companions. She felt a sense of comfort, but a vague sense of foreboding as well - something that was deeper rooted than the anxiety of such a jarring and new experience. Something more immediate - the feeling of being watched from the branches above, of a poisonous something crawling through the roots below. Liak'ykam tightened her fingers around the walking stick. It was not upon them yet. It was simply coming. She thought of the bag she had brought along with her.

Liak'ykam turned her attention back to Captain Varen Kray, who instructed her to help Zek with takeoff procedures. Liak'ykam was not sure what aid she could give him, beyond perhaps reaching things that were too high up for him to grasp. Still, she thought, everything had a purpose. There was always a way she could help. "I do not know much of starships," she told Vek simply. "So simply tell me what to do and I can help." Around them, she could feel the hum of the ship, but it seemed to resonate on a frequency beyond the physical - as the hyperdrive began to lurch and thrum with energy, so did the others on-board. Liak'ykam felt their anxiety, the fear, the doubt, the excitement. Different on all of them. Much to learn. Much to learn. Liak'ykam looked curiously at the machinery. She had always been an avid learner, but matters such as this did not really interest her. It seemed so dull and lifeless. Her bowcaster always fired the same way. It did not surprise her. There was no spark of life - no Force, though Liak'ykam was unfamiliar with the term - in machines. Still, she tried to keep an open mind, though she doubted she would be spending more time than was strictly necessary helping the many-handed one with his machines. She would leave the technology to the Trandoshan, the machine, and Zek. Helping the ugly blue one find a mate and, as of the last few minutes, keeping everyone well-fed, seemed to be the tasks best-suited to her skills. She vaguely recalled Captain Varen Kray implying that she would be needed for "security" on the journey, but she did not really understand why that would be the case - or why they would pick her for such a task. She was a fearsome fighter, sure, but she was weak amongst Wookiees. Liak'ykam did not think they would be fighting many enemies she was familiar with - no great beasts of Kashyyyk for her to tame or...

Liak'ykam remembered the others she had fought. It had been a long time. She breathed and forced her grip on her walking stick to loosen. She was in the tops of the trees, feeling the warm sun. She was not below, in the place of blood. But if the Phoenix found its way there, the Wookie remembered how to dance, and she had a few fights left in her.
Oh Dervish I can't wait for Zek and Liak'ykam to be roommates
Captain Varen Kray showed the crew the interior of the Phoenix, which necessitated a considerable amount of hunching over to fit her head under some of the smaller thresholds. Liak'ykam wore a slightly condescending smile on her face as she followed, staying quiet and listening to what Captain Varen Kray had to say. She did not at all understand the point of detailing the ship's interior to herself, or really the purpose of having the four-handed one on board. The ship was not important, was it? It was simply a means to get from one place to another. Liak'ykam did not give someone a tour of her walking stick when she went somewhere. She did not tell everyone the purpose of the road she walked on. She simply went there. Why did they need a mechanic to fix it? Couldn't they just get another ship if this one broke? Liak'ykam supposed there was some greater significance to the steel frame that carried them, and did not wish to offend any of her crewmates by expressing her thoughts on the matter. She was old and foreign, and was willing to give a considerable benefit of the doubt to the little ones who seemed to place such high value on silly things like starships. She had gone over three centuries without setting foot on one - they couldn't possibly be that important.

Captain Varen Kray was to have his own room, which was fine by Liak'ykam. The chieftain usually had his own space. Liak'ykam did not require much space herself, as she did not plan on getting too terribly attached. She had spent many nights in the nook of a wroshyyr branch or on the ground next to a campfire. The cold steel floor of the Phoenix would be unfamiliar, but not uncomfortable. She certainly figured she would stay the warmest out of the group, if nothing else. Liak'ykam did hope that whatever space she was assigned to was - ah - spacious enough to let her lie down all the way, but she would make do. The Captain asked if they had questions, and Liak'ykam glanced about the group (having taken a position at the rear of the tour, Liak'ykam had a good view of everyone else). No one else had questions. She could sense some apprehension amongst them - aside from Woo'rah, who continued to carry herself with overconfidence. Liak'ykam was not so presumptuous as to lecture a stranger, but she did not expect the little one's ego to stay intact forever. Liak'ykam leaned on her walking stick and gave Captain Varen Kray a silent nod of affirmation, letting him know she had no questions and he was doing a great job. Are they quiet because they have nothing to say, or because they are afraid?

Liak'ykam had sensed another one hanging about the ship, but not paid much heed to her - she had not felt it as a harmful presence, merely there. The noise of the ship had kept her from really being focused on aware - in the Shadowlands, she would have been far more guarded. Liak'ykam had enough of a struggle finding her way to the right starport without keeping her vigilance constant. In time, she felt, that would return. She had lived on her own for many years, and for all her medical expertise, something as simple as a broken ankle or even a sprain could spell death in the lower reaches of the Kashyyyk jungles. There was room for mercy, but not weakness.

What did surprise her was how blue this one was. Another blue tentacled one. Liak'ykam sighed gently, crushing the roots. There was a sharp contrast between her calm demeanor and body language and the power of each strike that turned solid root into dust. I do not know why the universe has brought so many poor wretched ones, but I shall help them try and find happiness. Woo'rah - Liak'ykam at least approved of a Wookiee-sounding name, if not of her unfortunate skin tone and hairlessness - insulted Shai. Now, now. There was no place in this ship for in-fighting, Liak'ykam thought. She could feel, like the first leanings of a tree when the outer storm winds hit, conflict drawing near for them. Liak'ykam looked down at the paste. I think I will need a great deal more.

The first blue one introduced herself as Shai, and Liak'ykam gave her a gentle smile. She felt this one didn't like talking too much, which was okay with Liak'ykam. She sat with the Shadowlands hanging around her. Liak'ykam could smell it on her, hear the absent noise that came just after a lightsaber fell silent. The air around her tasted of iron and salt in Liak'ykam's mind. Blood and sweat. Liak'ykam thought. Her brow furrowed, grey fur rippling a bit. No. Blood and tears. The iron machine - named Bo (Liak'ykam did not know they were given names, which confused her. She did not name her walking stick, or the crushed up roots in her hand - why did they name this thing? She had many questions, which she supposed was typical for an outsider such as herself. She would simply watch and learn, as she always had. Captain Varen Kray had been rather kind to her, and she saw no need to pester him with endless questions. She remembered when the children had done that to her, asking her to tell their futures, to know who they woudl love, who would have the greatest hunt. So many questions. She missed them) spoke in a flurry of words, all sounding different. Perhaps it spoke in different dialects of Basic? Liak'ykam was still working on understanding Basic. The questions multiplied, and Liak'ykam could not help but chuckle softly to herself. After all these years, I'm the little clueless one. The universe is not out of surprises. The many-handed one, the tall blue one, the one who walked with slavers, and the metal one (Bo) were all talking to themselves, leaving Liak'ykam opposite the room with Shai. That was okay. Liak'ykam was content to simply sit and watch. They would let her know if they needed her, and she would speak if she felt she had something to say, or cook something if any of them started to get hungry. Liak'ykam had not even considered food on-board the Phoenix, but presumably they had some. Who was cooking for them? She was looking forward to having people to dine with once again.

The tall blue one spoke again, and Liak'ykam listened. Perhaps it wasn't accurate to say she listened - Liak'ykam focusd with all her senses, and mostly the Force. She was hardly aware of the synaesthesia that passed - she could smell fury, or hear the echoes of pain and fear, or see a kind of happiness across someone. Liak'ykam had seen many like this one before. Hunters who thought their worth lie in the claws that rattled around their neck or the gouges on their warblades. So young and already so proud. Liak'ykam did not like that - picking fights with the others. She had moved from Shai now to the many-handed one. He, too, was proud, but his seemed more firmly rooted. Liak'ykam sighed, putting the bowl full of paste on the floor and began to find a little vial to keep it in.

Liak'ykam's focus was drawn away from the yapping of kath pups across the room to the growing quiet beside her. Liak'ykam forgot her medicine-making for a moment and turned to Shai, who had her eyes closed, breathing deeply. Her first instinct - drilled from decades of dealing with those that did not take the time to stop and Listen - was that she was sick in some way, but if anything the opposite was true. It was watching a child struggle to load and draw back the bolt on his father's bowcaster - he had seen it done, perhaps even managed it before himself, but unable to do it now. Liak'ykam did not wish to be too forward - she remembered how she had hated having things told to her. Then she contemplated on the anger - not towards Woo'rah, but towards herself. Liak'ykam reached a hand over, slowly, and rested a hand on Shai's shoulder. Her hand had the cooling touch of the leaves she'd been crushing up, but that was not the presence Liak'ykam wanted to impress upon the Twi'lek. There were not words she could pass along, either - Liak'ykam's Basic was not yet fluent enough, and she did not think the Twi'lek knew Shyrriwook. She instead wanted to show her a feeling - an image. Liak'ykam thought of Kashyyyk, of the climb from the Shadowlands to the upper canopy. Liak'ykam remembered it clearly, feeling the pressure of the dark floor of the jungle - the raw tension of prey and predator, ferocity and fear - slowly slipping away. Each time her claws dug into the bark, finding a solid hold before she pulled herself up further, things became a bit lighter, the air less heavy and humid, less clouded with the scent of death and the dark side. Then there was the canopy, and the gentle unknotting of her shoulders and legs as she rested at the top, pulling off the rucksack she'd carried for half a mile's ascent and simply leaning back against the tree.

Liak'ykam lifted her hand off the Twi'lek and felt the tenuous connection break. No, break was not right - breaking was violent, sudden, definitive. It simply faded, like the sun spots slowly drift down and down as the sun's angle sharpens. Liak'ykam had never known a formal name for it, but she had found herself drawing upon a technique like this many times. There had been battles in the jungle, from skirmishes to full, desperate struggles for survival - where she had walked back from the thick of fighting and simply sat down. She had closed her eyes and sighed, and suddenly she was not Liak'ykam breathing, she was Bus'anta, thirty yards behind her bringing a ryyk blade down into the skull of a slaver, or Wrrl'arra, blasting a gold-armored off-worlder at point blank range, watching his energy shields explode with the impact - Liak'ykam had been the forest, the trees, the wind, the blade and bowcaster alike. She had not had cause to do it on that scale for many years, joining herself to another - but this meditation was small, and only for a moment, and took no great effort at all. It had been something Liak'ykam did daily on Kashyyyk, reaching herself to a ferocious beast to calm it, or to feel the forest around her for danger, the sky for storms.

She gave Shai a gentle smile and resumed bottling her salve.
Walks findsfinds silence to be enjoyable as well, yet a rarity on family vacations.

EDIT: Apparently literacy is a rarity as well. I pull the "I'm on my phone" card.

It would not be accurate to say that Liak'ykam never valued a quiet moment of peace or relaxation - she had spent many an afternoon on Kashyyyk, having climbed to the height of a wroshyyr tree, simply leaning back in its branches and watching the sunset, or listening to the energy of the forest below. However, she was never one to be idle when there was work to be done, and there were no sunsets on-board the Phoneix at any rate. Liak'ykam did not enjoy giving in to pessimism, but she was already yearning to be off-ship and back somewhere with open air and trees. To pass the time, Liak'ykam had drawn some of the plants from her satchel and was crushing them up with a small wooden mortar and pestle. Her aged fingers were kept free of fur thanks to the wrist wraps she wore, and they moved through the routine of making a salve with dexterity and familiarity. Liak'ykam might not have been able to type her name in Basic on a terminal, but she was making medicine without looking down.

The Trandoshan had gone and discussed things with Captain Varen Kray. Liak'ykam heard the words, but her Basic wasn't quite good enough to decipher it - and they were well out of range in the translator, halfway across the ship. In fact, it could be said Liak'ykam hadn't even really heard the words, but rather just the intention, the vague mood, reverberating down the steel hull and across the ship. It sounded like doubt and worry, but arrogance, too. Liak'ykam paid him no heed. She did not sense that she was the cause of that worry. If she was, it was rightfully so. I do not wish to fight you, little scaled one, but I will not be put in chains.

The little metal one whirred and beeped every now and then. In a way, Liak'ykam supposed, it was alive. She did not quite know what to think of it yet. She would try to get to know it in time. Even in all the life of Kashyyyk there were rocks and dirt and other unliving things. They were important, if not living. Perhaps that was the droid's purpose here as well. In that case, I must be an tree, Liak'ykam thought, Older and taller than all these ones. The many-handed one was talking quite loudly, and Liak'ykam's translator carried the message with relative accuracy. It was concerned about the ship, yes. That was a good concern. Liak'ykam sensed lots of pride from one so small, which seemed very strange to her. Any Wookiee his size would not have spoken up at all, it would have known its place. Still, she thought, little ones could be useful. It claimed it was a master engineer, which Liak'ykam supposed was good. She certainly didn't know how anything on the spaceship worked (she had tinkered with a few mechanical devices before, but never anything on the level of a hyperdrive or turbolasers). He wanted his boundaries respected, which Liak'ykam thought fair. I think he is simply a little insecure about his height, Liak'ykam thought. It would be good not to pity him and make him angry. "Thank you, Master Engineer," Liak'ykam said, giving him a nod of her head. "If we can help with something let us know."

The poor blue one had come and sat down next to Liak'ykam. She remained silent for a few moments. Liak'ykam had been right earlier, she felt, in sensing the creature's past. Here close, she could smell the Shadowlands in every breath - there was blood and rusted steel hanging about her. This one had been a huntress, she knew, but Liak'ykam thought the blood and steel smelled old and faded. She had not been on the hunt in quite some time. Liak'ykam sensed a little indecision, and a feeling of being almost naked. The little one is missing something it has lost, she thought. Liak'ykam gave a glance to the tattoos on her lekku. She had seen those tattoos - or ones like them - many years ago. I would do well to keep a close eye on my belongings, I should think. Liak'ykam's hands kept moving absently about the satchel in her lap and the mortar resting on the floor of the room. A few minutes passed with Liak'ykam simply feeling the Twi'lek next to her and the ship around her. She had never been one to move quickly or rashly - there was always something to be gained by waiting and watching. "So, little one," Liak'ykam finally said, a gentle tone to her voice (that was likely lost in the translator's bored drawl). "What do they call you? I am Liak'ykam." She continued to make the salve, pausing only for a moment. One of the roots was proving extraordinarily stubborn. Liak'ykam gave a grunt of slight annoyance and brought the pestle down on it hard, crushing it with ease. She mashed it into powder and then set the pestle aside, picking out the fibers from the paste that she needed. Liak'ykam could feel the strength in the little one. She did not have the thick arms of a Wookiee, or even a Trandoshan, but Liak'ykam knew that looks were often misleading. This one had seen many fights, even for one so young. Liak'ykam wondered what other strengths she had - there were times she had clanmates that were ferocious warriors, but at a loss to remember the old stories, to find their way out of the Shadowlands, to tell poison from medicine. Liak'ykam was in an unusual place, on-board the Phoenix - to the rest of the galaxy, Wookiees were physical behemoths. To her own kind, Liak'ykam was not even close to the strongest, and she never had been. Liak'ykam had not won fights in her many years with power and strength. She won them through waiting and watching.

Her walking stick rested beside her. It did not have many notches and scars, but the ones it did have were deep.

It had been many years since Liak'ykam had felt as strongly as she had. Kashyyyk grew smaller, and smaller, and yet she could feel it still, pulling at her as the moon pulls upon the waves, as the wind on the trees. Then there was a single moment and the stars burned and stretched and it was all so very far away. Her heart had let her once before, Liak'ykam thought, but this was the first time she had left it. "I will be back," she said softly - as softly as a Wookiee can - to the window. She did not like the taste of empty promises on her tongue.

Alderaan had been preferable to the ship - there was no cold steel (it was too much like a cage, Liak'ykam felt. The only warmth was in the engine room, where she found herself most of the time - the hum of the hyperdrive was a poor substitute for the forest's noise, but it was something), there was grass between her toes and wind in her fur. The freighter bay where Varen Kray awaited was acceptable. She had gotten used to all this steel and commotion after a few weeks off-world, but she did not think she would ever be truly acclimated to it. Liak'ykam had thought that this little bald one would help her, and she had been correct. She did not quite know how to navigate around these cities and starports - there were lots of words, which had no use to her. The small translation device which she had bartered for - and that, truly, was a stroke of luck, but a story for another day - was able to read some of it aloud to her, but she words did not seem to make sense. They got very angry at her when she tried to go to the Car Go Docks. Go was surely the word for leaving, she had thought. Why did they not let her leave there? The air was thick with the grease of fuel and the smell of money - it was nauseating, like sludge, the feel of commotion and clamor. Greed hung on the foreign words and foreign lips of all the people she tried to speak to. She found so many of them were afraid of her, rumbling into the device that was clipped to the collar of her hood. Very few had time for her, which she understood. It seemed that everyone had been quite busy, but she wasn't sure with what.

Varen Kray seemed more patient, which she had appreciated. "I am looking for someone," she had said. The machine spoke her words for her in Basic. It then spoke his words back: "I am looking for you." They discussed briefly the job - passage sounded very nice, and she trusted this Varen. She did not know much of off-worlders, and they were all so very different - and so very hairless, the poor ugly little things - but she could feel trust in him. He walked with it, and it hung about him in the air. The ship was cold and hard, but there was something faint covering it - memories, maybe. It was like the burnt ashes of a campfire, where long ago, there had been song and feast. Liak'ykam had spent many nights by forgotten campfires, and she thought she could spend a few more. None of her possessions posed any problem with the man, who had called himself a Captain. "I am not your slave," she had told him. "You're my crew." he had said back. That was okay to Liak'ykam. She had worked hard for many years, though never for someone.

Still, she was not entirely foreign to technology. She had lived a rustic life in Kashyyyk, but not an altogether primitive one. While this had been her first trip on a spaceship, she was familiar wtih them, with shields, with blasters, with sonic emitters, with all of it. She had used some technology throughout her life - over three centuries, it was hard not to - but she found so much of it to be so restrictive. She could not feel anything in it, when she held most of it in her hands. There was no life to it. Could these people around her, these spacers and smugglers, not feel things the way she could? Those on Kashyyyk could, she felt. Even those who seemed deaf to it, she could show it to them. Perhaps that was all the little ones needed. A little guidance.

Liak'ykam sat polishing her walking stick, humming softly to herself. Liak'ykam sat outside the ship by the loading ramp, sitting on the floor of the launch pad. She had no desire to stay cramped inside the spaceship any longer than was necessary, and Captain Varen Kray did not seem particularly perturbed by it. She had taken off the translator, as it was desperately and futilely trying to render her song into intelligible words, giving Liak'ykam a headache in the process. Liak'ykam finished polishing her walking stick and the Captain Man was still not ready to leave. She did not need to ask him, or even need to rely upon the Force - he sat tense and tight, coiled up and waiting. They were waiting for others, yes? That was okay with Liak'ykam. It would be like having a little family. She had not had a clan for many years, although she had a few contacts she had traded with from time to time. Sometimes, when other clans had those with sicknesses they could not heal, they found their way to her. She wondered if they would have any use for her here. Perhaps these off-worlders still had to deal with infections from deathspine varactyl bites. A few of them certainly looked as though they had. Just a few hours before she had seen someone entirely blue and without any hair at all. Liak'ykam had stood and stared, head tilted to the side. There must have been some terrible accident with that one.

The next one to come along was very strange to Liak'ykam. This one was all steel and wire, with a false spark of life in its chest. She gave it a warm smile and stood up, knees popping. She told it hello, and remembered she had left her voice translator on the ground. Liak'ykam sighed, and had a suspicion that she would have some communication issues in the future. The little steel one seemed nice enough, as best she could interpret its mannerisms. Strange that Varen Kray would want metal men instead of real ones, Liak'ykam thought. She would try and speak to it, but she did not know what to speak to it about. Liak'ykam had interacted with droids before, but never extensively. There were a few protocol droids she had crossed paths with, and the occasional medical droid, which were utterly useless in her opinion. They were never long-lived in the Shadowlands, at any rate.

The third one made Liak'ykam tense for a moment, her fingers curling around her bowcaster, which she was now polishing (indeed, everything she owned was polished like a motherfucker by this point, but Liak'ykam was a reservoir of patience if nothing else, and not bothered in the least). It was a Trandoshan, one of the few alien species Liak'ykam was well-acquainted with. It carried slavery on its teeth, and its scales did not hide its secrets from her. Liak'ykam stared it for several long moments, not trying to mask her enmity, feeling it billow off her like a cloud. But she breathed in deep and did not think this one was like the others. They were not trustworthy, any of them, but this one smelled too much of juma juice. It did not walk as a predator or carry violence in its hands. He had some weight upon him, which Liak'ykam noted. He is slow,
I should think. He is not one of their hunters.
No, she thought, returning her gaze to the old bowcaster (much like the ship, she could feel the memories in it, warm to the touch, thrumming with things she could not forget). Liak'ykam did not seek to greet that one. She would not be cruel to the little one, but she saw no need to befriend one of the enemy.

Liak'ykam remembered once a kath hound she had found deep in the Shadowlands. It had been crippled by one beast or the other, and its back leg was bent almost completely backwards. It howled and screamed in pain, but had enough fury left in it to ward off any predators. It sat, bleeding and dying, as the forest waited for it to weaken. Liak'ykam had felt such pity for the little thing, broken and alone, even though it might have tried to kill her had it been not in the process of dying miserably. Liak'ykam had knelt beside it and sung it to sleep, feeling its heart slow with each verse. When it was calm, she had struck it quickly and ended it with peace. Liak'ykam was reminded of the poor kath hound when the fourth one came in. Such a sad creature, Liak'ykam thought. It was the blue hairless one she had seen before. Oh, the sad thing. Liak'ykam wanted to embrace her. Such a small little thing would never find a mate, Liak'ykam thought. She could not give someone tall sons, and it had some kind of strange tentacles coming from the back of its head. She was far too short and had hips far too thin to make any clan leader consider her for marriage. Liak'ykam had seen one of its kind, she thought, many years before, but it had been green, a nice earthy tone. Liak'ykam resolved herself to be kind to this one, who was surely very alone in this world. Even the ugly ones may have nice spirit, Liak'ykam thought. Liak'ykam did not think she would let the scaled beast or the dead metal one insult this one on account of its hideousness. No, she had some use on Varen Kray's ship, old though she might be - she had her little ones to watch for. Perhaps with some salves she might get a little hair to grow on the blue one. Liak'ykam could feel its sadness, and its fury too. Liak'ykam thought, under the hood it wore (it knows it is furless and tries to cover itself, the poor little one) the same darkness she had felt in the Shadowlands, where there was nothing but the hunt and the prey. It had suffered, Liak'ykam thought. That is okay, little one. I have suffered too. Liak'ykam could tell that this one could feel life, as she could - the breeze when the air was still, the noise when the animals slept, the sun when the night had come. Yes, she would take this little broken one and make her happy, even if she could not make her beautiful. Liak'ykam sighed and put the now-completely-glistening bowcaster down by her rucksack of belongings. There was much suffering in the galaxy, Liak'ykam thought sometimes, and she did not have enough years left to fix even a sliver of it.

Then there was a strange one. It had hands for feet. Or feet for hands. She could feel this one was bitter, and its steps clinked and clanked with metal. It was not dead like the metal one, but it certainly was trying to be. Why would one surround onself with the machines, Liak'ykam wondered. She had gathered some flowers from a field in Alderaan (unbeknownst to Liak'ykam, she had ensured the utter failure of an Organa ancestor's performance in an Alderaanian gardening competition in the process) and was weaving them quietly into her fur, neatly adorning her greying braids. They had stranger scents than Kashyyyk's, but were not entirely unfamiliar. She thought some of them were reminiscent enough of the ones she'd crushed to make dyes, and could almost feel their purpose in her hands if she carried them long enough. Liak'ykam thought perhaps travelling - if not as good as Kashyyyk - could still be enjoyable.

As the many-handed one clambered on-board, Liak'ykam felt a sense of readiness. Our clan has gathered, she thought, gathering her few possessions. She slung the rucksack over one shoulder in a gentle, fluid motion, entirely ignoring the bag's weight. Her bowcaster was strapped over her chest and she used the walking stick to steady herself - although she was not so old that she needed it quite yet - and walked into the ship, savoring one last taste of the fresh air outside before ducking her head down low to walk in. Liak'ykam found her quarters rather instinctively - they just felt like the right ones for her - and set her belongings down. Liak'ykam was not too worried about anyone taking her things. After all, they were a clan now. More pragmatically, Liak'ykam new, the thick scent of wroshyyr trees hung about everything she owned, even if these little ones lacked the noses to smell them. Anyone who fancied themselves a thief would not easily escape the old Wookiee's perception. Liak'ykam moved back into the central area where Captain Varen Kray was and sat down on the floor, resting her back against the wall. She quietly affixed the translator to the collar of her hood as the Captain spoke, and the little earpiece she wore conveyed his words without noisily filling the room with a Wookiee's echo of his words. They seemed reasonable enough demands, although the little one seemed very focused on making his voice heard. Liak'ykam had heard many who spoke far louder - a Wookiee's roar could travel far, indeed - but she often found herself more concerned with the quieter ones. Liak'ykam wore a gentle smile as she watched her new companions settle in. Liak'ykam had taken a position as a crew member with this Captain Varen Kray. She was not fully aware of what it entailed, but she would be traveling with him for quite a while as she understood it. That would be okay. There was lots of the galaxy to see.

Liak'ykam leaned back in gentle silence and watched and waited.
I leave you primitives alone for two hours
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