Post by Oboe on Jan 13, 2020 13:39:10 GMT -6
After the first day away from Namek, Oboe had quickly fallen into his space-faring ways. Immediately, upon what would be considered “morning” for his people, The Namekian would rise and walk from his chambers to the mess-hall and kitchenette area to begin brewing a nice warm cup of water. The act alone would seem minor enough, until he began reaching for the cuboards. Within were glass jars, each full to busting with leaves and grounds the likes of which were not common on the Green World. Selectively taking his time on choosing one of the many Jars, Oboe decided on a particularly robust glass jar and removed it – popping the seal open and inhaling the luxurious aroma.
“I hope they like it.”
Of all the things he’d learned to like about off-world, it was this that he found was his favorite. Leaves when steeped in water that add a unique flavor and taste to this usually refreshing liquid. It was known as “Tea”. A strange brew able substance that originated more common on Earth versus other planets, imbued the liquid with a refreshing mixture of herbs that – for a Namekian – was more satisfying than a large-scale meal. The aroma would soon fill the entire ship, a planned reaction for the brothers sleeping within their quarters.
Xander and Xanathar. Two Namekian’s of Oros Village, survivors of the most recent attack by his former apprentice, Kitiana, had come to him in search of training, guidance and growth. The duo had tremendous ability, though after the events that had been occurring on Namek over the last six months, it was clearly understood why they suddenly felt the desire to grow in strength and ability. In many ways, they represented what he must’ve felt all those months ago. A desire to defend his people, to protect them from the wickedness that was the universe. Though their methodology was more accusatory in nature. They wanted to blame those who had come to their world, in a more direct way. Though they weren’t wrong for their feeligns, Oboe wanted them to understand that the rest of the universe wasn’t as evil as the few.
Still, until he knew exactly how much they knew…he’d be useless to them. That where this morning came into play. Having stayed up late into the evening trying to consider exactly what sort of training he’d put the pair through, one of his fathers old journals fell upon his lap and reminded him that he was overthinking things. Sometimes the easiest way to get results…was to simply do it. As he awaited their awakening, oboe would hum to himself a simple ballad. Patient.
WC: 450
“I hope they like it.”
Of all the things he’d learned to like about off-world, it was this that he found was his favorite. Leaves when steeped in water that add a unique flavor and taste to this usually refreshing liquid. It was known as “Tea”. A strange brew able substance that originated more common on Earth versus other planets, imbued the liquid with a refreshing mixture of herbs that – for a Namekian – was more satisfying than a large-scale meal. The aroma would soon fill the entire ship, a planned reaction for the brothers sleeping within their quarters.
Xander and Xanathar. Two Namekian’s of Oros Village, survivors of the most recent attack by his former apprentice, Kitiana, had come to him in search of training, guidance and growth. The duo had tremendous ability, though after the events that had been occurring on Namek over the last six months, it was clearly understood why they suddenly felt the desire to grow in strength and ability. In many ways, they represented what he must’ve felt all those months ago. A desire to defend his people, to protect them from the wickedness that was the universe. Though their methodology was more accusatory in nature. They wanted to blame those who had come to their world, in a more direct way. Though they weren’t wrong for their feeligns, Oboe wanted them to understand that the rest of the universe wasn’t as evil as the few.
Still, until he knew exactly how much they knew…he’d be useless to them. That where this morning came into play. Having stayed up late into the evening trying to consider exactly what sort of training he’d put the pair through, one of his fathers old journals fell upon his lap and reminded him that he was overthinking things. Sometimes the easiest way to get results…was to simply do it. As he awaited their awakening, oboe would hum to himself a simple ballad. Patient.
WC: 450
