# Weekly Prompt- 2025-03-26 ### Andromeda Galaxy, uncharted planet; 6371 CE An unfamiliar sun straddling a bright blue sky. Wispy clouds of water-vapor, just like his parents' lullabies. This was paradise. One of many, so he'd heard. For Finn, the son of miners 'round a hot jupiter, this was the first earthlike planet he'd seen outside a sensie. The thought of leaving his star scout without EVA gear still felt alien to him. As did the shimmer of a sprawling lake, and the melody of songbirds amongst the trees. Sera had an easier time. Born upon the Republic's breadbasket, she'd grown well-adjusted to the comforts given by the Precursors. Such that in the ample time before their next orders, she'd opt to sharpen her saber skills outside. Sera stood ready with her brilliant blue lightblade, measuring every breath as she eyed the nanite projector. At random intervals, the swarm would coalesce into a humanoid form. A faceless manequin brandishing arms. Each and every time, her augmented body would twist around mock blades, leap over quarterstaves, before delivering a powerful cut with the crackling saber. The nanites dissolved, she resumed her place, and the dance began once again. Finn had always liked watching Sera work her magic. Her taut muscle and minimal cybernetics lent her an old-fashioned appeal. Like a farmer's daughter, his father once said. It didn't hurt she wore a skinsuit. To this day, Finn found himself amazed at how a few layers of graphene could highlight her primal allure. Sera wouldn't fail to notice. After all, Finn was eye-candy to her. When a glance 'cross her shipmate's chest nearly cost her the match, she vaporized the manequin with a flick of her wrist and cut the power to her blade. "Hey, flyboy! Gimme a coke, would ya?!" she said, popping it open moments later, "Thanks. I owe ya when we're back dockside. What's the status on the picket boys?" Finn shrugged his shoulders, joining her for a seat in the shade. "Loud and clear, but the wire's practically dead. Some politics on the *Orestes*. That's all they told me." "Figures. Keepin' us in the dark, even in another galaxy. My mama woulda been ashamed." Finn didn't remark on that, instead soaking in the sensation of a gentle breeze through the trees. He marveled at how the branches swayed, leaves undulated like the ribbons miners tied to air vents. When he returned to Sera, he found her inspecting the grip of her lightblade, picking dirt out the notches. > [!fail] Finn > **Diplomat:** 16 - *Failure* "I guess this means you'll miss the Games," Finn half-joked, smiling a little, "All that hard practice, and neither of us even got to qualifiers. You'd wipe the floor with me, of anyways." Sera forced a single snicker at that. "Yeah... Looks can be deceivin', y'know. Them manequins pretend to switch it up on ya, but over time they all feel the same. It's nothin' like another human being." The two of them shared a moment's reflection. Then a thought piqued Sera's interest, and she tossed Finn the handle to his lightblade. "Fine then," she resolved, getting to her feet, "if Admiral Bei won't let us square off in the ring, we'll settle this here and now. On yer feet, flyboy." Finn raised his brow, before flashing her a grin. Back on his feet, he drew back a dozen paces, and lit the blade with a thought-command. Its light shone shone azure just like Sera's: Too weak to burn, yet enough to pack a hard punch. "Last chance, hun." she'd tease, circling the ring with him, "Sheathe yer sword and we'll call it a draw." "Hah! Fat chance. I'll knock ya into next week." Sera rather liked his spirit. Respected it, even. As she steadied her stance and drew back her blade, she peered out from her comfortable facade, and felt a strange smile play at her lips. "Heh. Your call, Finn."