Saga - OT Prairie had a little LAM (OTP Challenge - Landscape of Love "Prairie")

Prairie had a little LAM​

OTP Challenge location: Prairie​

The yellow-green grasslands seemed infinite, stretching to the horizon, as the local sun, named Ansion like this agriworld, climbed into the sky.

Light glinted of something in the distance, slowly approaching from the foothills acting as the backdrop to the South.

Eventually, a globe of transparisteel hovered by, pushing a path of grass down with it's repulsorlift energies, heading to the North, shrinking with distance.

Later that morning, in the distance, the same sphere crossed the horizon from left to right.

Still later, from right to left, but a bit closer, the same vehicle, called a LAM by the way, scythed across the swaying plains.

Finally, it stopped, putting out four spindly-looking legs, and settling onto the grass to save power.

Inside, Yavinelf huffed in annoyance as he folded the flimsy topographical map, and glared apologetically at his peacefully reclining beau to his right, then before he voiced his complaint, his gaze slid down the abbreviated white shift that she was wearing, drinking in her form for long seconds..

Even just the simple contour lines and shadowed trenches that the fabric followed as it went from her boat necked collar, over the twin mounds of her chest, down her abdomen, then her cream thighs extending from the hem, all looked sexy as hell.

He wore something similar, in a hardier fabric, both of them having taken to the apparent uniforms of a warrior, and targe-maiden, of the Dantooine Imperium, that they had been forced to don at the Hotel Mutdah, in the Oseon System. In his view though, the thing looked way, way better on his Coruscanti femme.
"That's it, sorry Luv; I just cannot find this church of yours."

Ysanne Isard, director of Imperial Intelligence, opened her eyes and turned her head slightly to gaze up at him. "What church?"

"Church. Prayer-ree. This place of worship where you wanted to have a picnic."

"Prairie. P-R-A-I-R-I-E. An expanse of grassland with no trees on it."

"Oh." Nelf's head came up, looking all around, covering about two-hundred-and-seventy degrees and seeing that they were sitting in the middle of terrain that matched her clarified parameters. "Oh! So how about here for our picnic then?"

"Hang on." Ysanne pressed a finger to a seat control near to her right hip, the back of her chair humming as it straightened her back up. "Yeah, this is good." The location, like so much of the barely developed Ansion, looked absolutely beautiful. She put an arm round his shoulder, and pulled the half-elf over for her to plant a kiss on his lips, the two smiling through it as they savoured the moment.

When they separated, she announced that she was going to stretch her legs, slipping her feet out of her sandals as she opened the bowed door on her side so that she could turn sideways, swing her knees, Yav watching as her slipping off her seat caused the back of her dress to ride up and give him another pleasurable view of his treasure.

She had to lift her knees up with each step as she walked slowly away from the craft, the breeze fluttering her dark hair, and rippling the white fabric around her as she turned her face up to the sky, revelling in a fresh air and sunshine that was hard to come by on Imperial Centre.

Looking beyond her, Nelf was reminded of the East Commons on his own long-lost homeworld of Norrath. He wished that Isard had been able to see it, but perhaps this was the next best thing.

After a couple moments, he opened his own door and stepped down onto the flattened grasses, the stalks tickling at his bare ankles and calves as he tromped round to the back of the transparent sphere that was the LAM.

The thing was eerily similar to the TPV marine escape capsule that they had used on Iskalon, and no wonder, this travel craft was a direct predecessor, but not particularly required to protect it's passengers from multiple dangers, just get them from A to B.

In contrast to the TPV, where all the storage was on the inside, to prevent risk to life with having to go outside, the LAM had a large rear compartment accessible from outside, as now, he lifted the opaque metal hatch, and lifted out the intertwined reed picnic basket by it's handle, and closed the storage up.

He rounded the side back to his open door, leaning in to pull out his pride-and-joy, the facsimile of his old Velium Light Shield, a transparent four foot diameter circular disc that was flat on the inside, and bowed out like a convex lens on the other side.

In contrast to her loose shift, Nelf wore his with an equipment belt cinching his outfit around his waist, so that he could wear his Finely Crafted Sheer Blade, and have it ready.

He walked a couple metres ahead of the LAM, stooped to set down the shield and picnic box, then took a further step forward, pulling the Blade out and started scything it through the long stalks, intending to clear an area for them to settle within.
"Honey?"

"Yeah?" Her voice called back from his right, indicating that she had not strayed far from where he had seen her.

"Keep an eye out for those Chawix things." The travel guide had warned about these tumbleweed things that allowed the wind to float them about the place, however the plants had thorns that could stick into flesh and poison prey, and suck their life juices out. He had his Force senses passively scanning the area for any threat, so they ought to have plenty of warning.

"Good point. Yeah, I will keep an eye out." Her tone turned airy and relaxed. "This is the best place that you have taken me, Yav. I love it."

He was pleased with her show of appreciation."Always the best for you, Trip. You know that."

The half-elf rarely had reason to use his Finely Crafted Sheer Blade, in this technologically-advanced realm that he had arrived in, so many decades before, so, already knowing that he planned to use it on the long grasses of Ansion, he had ground a keen edge to the blade, and was pleased to see it cutting so cleanly through the bent-over bunches of green and tan stalks.

After a few moments, he had a shorn area suitable for the groundsheet, and re-attached the weapon to the magnetised platform that ran along the back of his belt.

Nelf flapped open the groundsheet, in reality a white bedsheet from the linen store aboard his Theta-class shuttle, Stealf, which had brought them to this world. Once it was laid on the ground, he stepped around it, diligently pulling it out into a taut square, then stepped onto it, sat down, then leaned over to pull the picnic basket over his lap, setting it down in the centre of the thing, the groundsheet feeling like civilization in a sea of chaos.

He began to diligently lay out the food, Tico Pies, Breadroot patties, plastic-wrapped sandwiches, dipao fruit juice, a frosted white bottle of alcoholic Klapneicie ("Clap Nee Cee"), several flimsi-wrapped triangles of pre-cut Tepasi flatbread, and their individual vacuum flasks of hot beverage - her polished rose-coloured one containing boontaspice-flavoured kahve, whilst his own chromium flask was filled with a simpler Athosian Coffeine (80% caffeine, 20% hot bantha milk).

Also, in case his femme was in one of her salad-eating moods, a plas-wrapped bowl of Taba oolleh. Green Taba leaves mixed with other...stuff.

Looking over his right shoulder, he called, "Honey, food's up!"

"On the way!" The Inquisitor gazed across the serene visage before him, his legs crossed at the ankles, whilst he waited for the gorgeous finely-haired calves of the Director of Imperial Intelligence to appear at his right periphery, so that he could pull their owner down to sit beside him, and plant a kiss on her.

He could hear her crunching through the long grass.

Cindy would have liked this. He thought wistfully of the micro-sand panther that he had bought for Ysanne's birthday. However, they didn't want to have to worry about the small animal, whilst they were spending quality time together.

Isard arrived and he duly stroked a palm up her calf muscle, past the back of her knee and under her shift, then when she giggled and bent to playfully slap his invading hand away, he intercepted her arm and pulled her gently down to join him.

"Yav!" Was all she managed to get out before he wrapped her in a hug and closed in for the kiss, their lips meeting and their tongues probing each other, a light breeze fluttering her hair over his forehead and across a cheek.

She lay back, and he moved with her, them both separating and laying next to each other, her looking up at the clouds, whilst the half-elf lay on his side and regarded the side of her face.

A sandwich skimmed over her body, and settled onto her chest, naturally drawing her attention.

"For energy." He explained.

"Butter?"

"Westerhill." He identified the yellow-coloured creamy foodstuff that was spread onto the bread before the fillings was added. It was exclusive to some region on Lothal. "All week long, and twice on Taungsday." He thought of this as The Butter Trials, as his Ysanne had feelings about butter.

She had few weaknesses, but she absolutely could not stand Flounut butter, primarily due to it's association with a favourite dish of Prince Xizor, back on Imperial Centre: Large Ithorian Snails in flounut butter.

Only hold a sealed tub of flounut butter up to her and she would be frantically flapping hands at him to ward the thing off, then leaning away to noisily retch up her last meal onto whatever was down there, carpet; a Force-provided bucket; Cindy, one syllable into a miaow, if the kitty didn't interpret her yawning expression in time...

If he ever heard of an enterprising young being wanting to produce a handheld translator for animal sounds, he could already help them out with the sand-panther for "uh-oh".

The only other spread that his Ysanne felt strongly about, was that produced from the blue-green milk of some sea cow from the ostensibly lost Ahch-To waterworld.

She had told him that she felt that milking the thala-siren was what separated the women from the girls, and as a youngling, the act of milking one had not phased her in the least, with her classmates voting her as "either a weirdo, or most likely to become a force for change in the Galaxy."

Ysanne must have sensed him smiling at the memory, and worked out why. Her gaze flicked sidelong at him. "You males will never understand how disconcerting it is to have an animal cock its' head to flash a knowing grin and wink at you whilst being milked. There is such a thing as too much self-awareness."

"If it enjoyed it that much, are you quite sure that thala-siren was a cow?"

"Yav, it had four udders."

Nelf thought about that for a moment, then rejoined with, "Well, it is udderly ridiculous that you consider it your Rite to Womanhood?" He countered, bringing a thumb to his chest. "I had to cross my world to find the legendary Elven port of Firona Vie. And you milked a cow."

"While it flirted with me, remember." She sat up, the sandwich falling into her lap. "Look, enough. Let me get at that Tepasi flatbread."

Still laying on his side, the Inquisitor realised that she was not faking missing the pun, It actually had gone over her head.

Isard carefully unwrapped the moist flimsi from the flatbread, and regarded the small fragments of meat and vegetable nestled amid the red-coloured sauce that made the flatbread so sought after. And this was the good stuff, from one of the restaurants on Imperial Centre.

She held it slightly towards her lover. "Think you can heat this up a bit?"

"Considering how dry some of this grassland looks, I have worrying visions of a flash wildfire, so much as I would love to, I don't think so. I didn't even want to use my lightsabre to cut the grass down."

"What, even Flame Lick?" This was the least offensive of the half-elf's fire attack spells.

"Especially Flame Lick."

"Aw-right." She conceded, settling back beside him, bringing the floppy wedge of doughy tepasi down enough that she could bit into it, and chew, the taste exciting her taste buds. "Mmmmm."

A round Tico Pie came spinning on its horizontal axis over the hump of Yav's raised hip like the triple-decker Chunky Monkey of flying saucers, circling slowly above their faces as if uncertain what to do next, then wobbled onto the taut white ridge of Tyrian shimmersilk tenting her chest.

"Dude, will you stop playing spaceport with my habs?" Ysanne chuckled, likening the pie's "landing zone" to a pair of space colony hab-domes.

Yav grinned widely and joining her in laughter, their mirth echoing across the grasslands, as he asked how she would like them played with.

The End​

Notes:

Non I-5 fanon were the following picnic fare:

Tepasi flatbread (created by @Daneira )
Shiny pink vacuum flask of boontaspice-flavoured kahve (joint-developed by @leiamoody, @Chyntuck ) - based on flavoured Turkish coffee.
Taba oolleh – a salad made of taba leaves from the planet of Ool (inspired from RL tabbouleh) (created by @Chyntuck )

 

Right to the point there with Isard and Yavinelf’s relationship.

Your wittiness is in top form here, with little details like “Taungsday.”
Kind of blunt in some places like the “spaceport” comment, but all the funnier for it.
Very humorous mention of the sea-cow milking on Ahch To of all places.
Love the familiar, affectionate speech patterns between them
“Aww right.” Very realistic in a personal, loving setting.


Great work @Sith-I-5

 

Many thanks for reading and reviewing, @Emperor Ferus

I am glad that you enjoyed the reading, and enjoyed the familiar speech patterns, as they spend more time in each other's company; and that the humour still works in some places.

 

@Findswoman , many thanks for reading and reviewing.

That whole butter thing was borne from me researching if a) butter was a thing, and if not, what did they call it in SW; and b) the various types.

I could see Ysanne having to attend a meal with Prince Xisor at least once, so the Ithorian Snail connection became instant inspiration gold.

I had to look up "thala-siren" just now; I didn't know that the thing had an actual name, though in moments-old hindsight, I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised.

The wiki entry doesn't say anything about them making much noise, so I don't know where they got the "siren" bit from. Though of course, words don't have to mean the same in a galaxy far, far away, as they do in Real Life.

I'd have to check, but I think Yav can create a flame in, on, or around his hand; however I did spend a few days thinking the grass cutting could be easier if he squatted down and fanned the lightsabre a few inches off the ground, and while lightsabre blades ostensibly do not produce heat, I was seeing the shorn tips of each blade of grass glowing yellow; so the "wildfire risk conversation" had been worked through, way before I got to the cold pizza in her hand.

The old laptop where I do my picture / gif creation is down, possibly forever. So I don't know when I'll be able to get a pic up for the LAM, and had not thought of doing a separate article, though that is not a bad idea.
Visually, from certain angles, I am thinking that the flyer from the Tom Cruise sci-fi movie, Oblivion, is a better model for the LAM, than the glass globes from Jurassic World that form the TPVs.

****

@Emperor Ferus

I literally could not think of a different word to use. I have since edited it to use the word "habs" for mammary glands, comparing Isard's chest to two pressurised habitation domes, or hab-domes, together.

Ysanne can use that term from now on. Not yet sure how widespread within Imperial society I can make its use...

 

Not only did you bring that particular relationship to a new level, but you played around with words like this was a Monty Python sketch. Or something Stephen Fry wrote in his free time. Hilarious and clever alike!

 

Lovely to see you here, @AzureAngel2

I am glad you liked the escalation in their intimacy.
I really like that following their "date nite gone wrong" in the Oseon System, they have really 'leaned into' (committed to) the concepts of their Dantooine Imperium roles, particularly the dress; and spending more time away from Imperial Centre.

Many thanks for reading and providing feedback.