Carving out a pine box.

[Taheera Sollo]

[member="Atham'aali'kema"]

She gaped openly at Maalik as he found purchase right outside her canopy. Muscles twitched, as if he could reach out to grip his hand and keep him from falling. Alarm crossed her features. And yet, there he was. Calmly talking and then...

Myrtle orbs bulged further as he physically leaped off. Did he just?! "What are you mad?!" She cursed. "Idiot!"

Green palms left the gun controls and she stood, torso pushing against the armament as her body leaned forward to get a better view outside. She reacted on instinct. Arms reached forward as the force tracked out. She felt nothing around Maalik but she could direct something in the vicinity around his form. Energy expanded as she built protective bubble around his blue form even as she was beginning to lose sight of the quickly falling ship.

There was a telekinetic push as she tried to manipulate the air around him, to give him a boost back toward their own ship. Or, at least further away from the enemy crash. "Idiot," she grumbled again, hands outstretched and brows furrowed in concentration.

 

[Atham'aali'kema]

He was intent on riding the ship down to the ground. He recalled the training of those shaped, transformed into slayers. The way the shapers dragged them out into the fields of Selvaris, brightly lit fields of lambent fruits hanging low to the ground. In every territory, the Kanabar Hul roamed. Large bodies and long legs, stomach glowing with the explosive contents of the fruits they consumed. It was a trial, they said, as they spit venom and recited the given names of those who had been captured. But the names were nothing more than numbers.

He recalled the way the others ran, moving through the fields with fear as they wielded small organic blades, dulled from the harvest. But the Harvester required direct interaction, absent fear and care for ones well being. It was then that he realized that to survive, care for his own well being had to be extinguished like a fire that would decimate the world around him. He would need to grow cold, careless, and calculating, as he thought of each interaction as an exchange. That his enemy might receive more injuries than him, he would take that action without a seconds thought. In his path to kill what care he was born with, he had inadvertently destroyed the strong desire to survive.

But something shifted and for a moment, he felt the pull of something foreign as his fingers and amphistaff were extracted from the proximity of the failing fighter. Whatever it was, it didn't sit well with him or his weapon. Turning to look over his shoulders, molten orbs were burdened with the first emotional expression Harla might have known from him. Anger.

He was a Slayer, flesh hardened and dampened to the force, built for one purpose. To destroy the Jedi. Despite what effort he had made to leave that world behind, indoctrination was a cruel mistress, difficult to escape. As she pulled him towards the ship, she might have felt the connection weaken. Whether that was from the sudden explosion in the port hull or the fact that he was something entirely foreign, it may have been difficult to tell. But as the power flickered around him, he plummeted towards the forest floor in the exploding ships wake.

Twisting, he caught the top of a spruce tree and bent it to his inertia, softening his fall as he descended towards the ground.

::BUCKLE UP, WE'RE GOING DOWN!::

The engineer rounded the corner and screamed down the hatch. "Either strap in there or get up here and get into the webbing. We've lost the second thruster and landing...well, yeah...landing!"

[member="Taheera Sollo"]

 

[Taheera Sollo]

[member="Atham'aali'kema"]

The Mirialan caught a flash of Maalik's molten orbs before he disappeared from sight. Brow creased with a mixture of worry and indignation. Was he mad at her?!

For trying to save his stubborn-arsed life?!

With a sudden lurch and tug of the ship, she was thrown back into the gunner seat. She heard the engineer's warning but there was no time to scramble back up that ladder. Her position wouldn't be good for a crash - very exposed. But it was the lot she'd been given.

She fought against gravity and her stomach lurched at odd angles. Green fingers managed to tie the crash webbing back on just as they hit the forest floor below. Chestnut-haired head whipped against the back her her seat as the taste of copper filled her mouth.

And suddenly, there was open air and jungle on all sides as her part of the ship was ripped away. Eyes squeezed closed. A protective bubble, shimmering with a tint of green sprouted up around her chair-strapped form as she went flying to the surface. Ship hull and plating bounced off of and rained down on the top of the bubble.

CRASH-PLUNK

Just as quickly it was over. Heart hammered in her chest and the bubble disappeared. Parts of twisted metal wrapped around her and she lay on her side, still strapped into the darned seat. Head still spun and for the moment, she couldn't move.

 

[Atham'aali'kema]

The ground was softer than he had anticipated. The way Selvaris had burned before his departing from the One Sith, it burned images of molten rock into his mind. The lava flowed from the Gramuteks, massive gestating monsters of armor and grotesque shaping, as they gulped up what resources were left of the dying world. He recalled stepping from the grashal he called home, looking up to a world of fire and lightning and smoke. Death, everywhere, at the hands of the One Sith whom the legion served. Such betrayal, final and without recourse.

But here, pine needles softened his step as he came down just near the crashed starfighter that found itself victim to his amphistaff. He trudged forward, clothes beginning to fray from the wear and tear, as he found the pilot gasping for life. Maalik quickly jumped up and ripped the cockpit open, much to the shock and dying expression of the belted pilot.

"Where am I?"
The pilot laughed, spitting out bits of blood as he bobbed his head. He was free of his helmet now.

"You stupid..."

The amphistaff coiled around Maaliks arm as he looked down towards the man, free of emotion or hatred. If anything, he was simply irritated by this inconvenience.

"Tropis-On...On-Varonat. Just at the limits of...of the edgefields."

"And how did you know to give chase?"

"W-w-w-e followed you out of the defense station...a tracker on the ship."

"How did you know to track us?"

"We were intent on robbing you...the alarms were just convenient timing."

Maalik looked towards the man, the fire in his eyes stoked by suspicion. "I don't believe you."

"Why...why would I lie?"

Maalik returned nothing as he moved forward, hands leaning forward to rip out the dash panel from the interface. Tossing it to the ground, he hopped down from the crashed starfighter and left the man to die in his vessel. It was a short walk to the crashed freighter, following plumes of smoke in the sky. In no time, he was looking towards the hunk of metal with a thruster blown entirely out. He circled around it to find Harla in a precarious position. What anger he had was gone, insult forgotten for desire to find the tracker.

The amphistaff coiled down from his arm back to his waist, resuming position as belt. Pressing his hands against the frame of the glass, he looked for a bit metal to budge free the panel. Thankfully, the crash had damaged it extensively, leaving little need for effort to dislodge it. With a single tug, it peeled off and was flung into the woods. And with a crouch, he stepped in to approach her quietly.

If he stopped moving, he could hear the beat of her heart. Thump, Th-thump, Th-thump. It was rhythmical and loud, indicative of a traumatic event. He placed his hands on the metal coiled around her, little regard for her care of proximity, and exerted what strength he could to free her. With time, he might make it bend.

[member="Taheera Sollo"]

 

[Taheera Sollo]

[member="Atham'aali'kema"]

She saw his boots first. Neck craned as she spat a wad of blood from her mouth. The roaring in her ears was slowly replaced with the roaring and bending of metal. It didn't take long until he had a space large enough that she could scramble through. Fingers managed to find the release button on the harness.

The healer winced, knowing a few deep bone-bruises wrapped around her torso from where the buckling saved her life.

Pushing off her hands and knees, she scrambled through the gap. "You made it," she wheezed, letting a knee sink back into the pine-needle and dirt floor of the forest as she took a moment, spitting out another wad of blood. Myrtle-ellipses traveled to the blue chest clearly poking free from his tattered clothing. The back of her green palm wiped across her bloodied lips.

"What happened to you?"

She couldn't help it. Perhaps the trauma of the crash was making her so blunt.

 

[Atham'aali'kema]

What happened to him?

He looked towards her, just the slightest ounce of sympathy finding reflection behind burning irises. He was not immune to the suffering of others, despite his indifference to his own well being. Perhaps, if he had done something differently, he could have kept this from happening. He didn't question the act of mounting the ship, tossing himself from it's hull to the next, or attack of the amphistaff. He just wondered if there might have been a more effective route.

"I...I went up the ladder with the missile launcher. I fired on one of the ships..." He paused looking towards the smattering of blood on her hand. "I then leaped from the ship to attack the other. That is when you..." He narrowed his eyes. Not at her, just at a distant clod of dirt, pressed beneath the heel of her left foot. "...After that. I landed by the ship and asked the dying pilot a few questions. There is a tracker on the ship, somewhere."

He moved away from her and towards the roof latching of the vessel. Ripping it open, Taheera would likely hear rummaging around as he entered. As the ramp kicked open, he carried the captain in his arms with a pack set on top of her. As he approached Harla, he set the unconscious captain down and scooted the medical kit to the Mirialan. "Our Enginner is dead. We need to make it to the spaceport at Tropis-on-Varonat, not far from here. Can you walk?"

[member="Taheera Sollo"]

 

[Taheera Sollo]

[member="Atham'aali'kema"]

She looked up at the Chiss with a dumbfounded expression as he responded. Like, really? Any expression of sympathy was completely lost on her.

"I meant your scars," she hollered after him, wincing once, as he disappeared from view. "And I was TRYING to save your life. Before," she continued on but didn't know if he'd even hear that part.

Stubborn man.

Second knee came to the earth as she quickly kneeled over the captain when she was set down. A frown puffed out her lower lip with news of the engineer. Eyes closed as her green fingers extended, hovering over the unconscious body. The force welled around the healer like a life-spring.

No internal damage to the woman's organs. That was good. Most of the trauma was around her head. "I can walk," the Mirialan spoke without opening her eyes. "She needs attending to, first."

Brow crinkled.

"A tracker? Is it related to the First Order?" There's no way they'd known about the transport she hired. She'd been too careful.

 

[Atham'aali'kema]

Scars.

Were they so apparent? He wondered, quietly, as she scanned over the doctor. He realized, then, that his torso and shoulders were exposed to the light of the jungle, peeking through softly parting leaves. As Harla spoke, his hands turned palm upward as he examined them, as if for the first time in his life. Even the pads of his hands showed the aging that torture had inflicted, forever entrusting nearly invincible flesh with the haggard and calloused expression.

He looked to the woman as she spoke, the force a thing almost entirely foreign to him. But he had known the condition of the captain was serious, yet not fatal. Perhaps it was intuition, the cold calculation of when death came knocking. It wasn't yet present.

"No, not First Order. Those pirates had intended on robbing us, even before a Jedi Healer joined us..." He looked down towards the Captain, running his blue hands over the womans hairless scalp. Sweat was apparent across her scales, collecting on her sharply beautiful features. "I have had these scars since I was born...indication of my ascension. I was crafted to fight the force...to fight Jedi." He spoke the words as a matter of fact, one that he failed to overcome with the years he had spent, fighting that very nature. Though if it wasn't apparent that it was no longer fully a part of him, simple words might not change that.

He stood up and walked back to the ship. "I will find some additional clothing and look for the tracker."

[member="Taheera Sollo"]

 

[Taheera Sollo]

[member="Atham'aali'kema"]

The mirialan paused in her healing. Head lifted sharply up. Whether it was from his accusatory tone in the words 'jedi healer' or his next explanation, she didn't know. Lips stiffened slightly as he spoke of stopping the force and killing jedi. Memories from being cloned seemed to resurface in her mind with one word.

Vong.

She knew next to nothing about vong but she knew enough to know his choice of words triggered a connection. Somehow. Maalik had saved her life, a few times. But there was a wariness she couldn't quite turn off around him. "I'm glad it was just pirates," she responded finally, choosing not to react further than she already had to the rest of his story. Concentration shifted back to the pilot. Lightsaber was clipped to her side, with the crystal she'd received from Gabe inside. She pulled for that calming, steady energy now if only to distract herself from seeing those molten orbs when her lids closed.

Slowly, the pilot's head trauma began to heal as cells were knit back together and the pressure undone. The woman stirred slightly. Pulling out the medical pack, Taheera placed the woman's head gently on top. Standing, the healer found some water and washed her own mouth out. She'd bit down pretty hard on the inside of her lip in the crash but it seemed to have stopped bleeding.

"The pilot will need to rest a little," she called out to Maalik, a part of her still largely frustrated that she couldn't sense him at all or able to key in on exactly what he was feeling. Turning, she headed back into the downed-ship, intent on finding a portable comms unit to check on the local channels and give them a better idea of what they were up against. Maybe the Order was no longer searching for them at all.

 

[Atham'aali'kema]

As she came into the ship, she may have laid eyes on Maalik in the dim light, piercing through torn scraps of metal. He was still busy, doing his best to find proper clothing, as he moved through the lockers. His scars weren't simply scars, but active scarification. As if bands of flesh were forcibly pressed against his skin, in long rows and dots, to demarcate specific points on the body. Symmetrical and precise, his skin was two toned between ashen blue and the color of the deepest parts of the ocean.

His mind was numb to the world around him, which included the soft footsteps of an potentially angry Mirialan. He wasn't so removed or egotistical to not understand the weight of his own words on a Jedi. That was what she was, there was no doubt in his mind regarding that. And he held no doubt that she likely harbored anxiety towards him, towards his honest omission. It was a lesson he was untaught beneath the hands of the shapers: that sometimes the truth wasn't worth speaking.

He looked over his shoulder, throwing on a button up shirt that would match nicely with the activities of a safari. Were they going on a great hunt? Were they hunting now? He felt the discomfort that his long glances brought, despite the near opposite intention. His was a curious, yet likely unnerving, glance. And suddenly he was set on avoiding an awkwardly quiet walk through the woods.

"Have you ever been told you were something...only to know that it wasn't the case?"

His words rung out through the hollow belly of the ship, disheveled and torn apart by the crash.

[member="Taheera Sollo"]

 

[Taheera Sollo]

[member="Atham'aali'kema"]

The mirialan couldn't help but stare in silence at the scars across his marred-flesh of blues. What he'd been through, had it been by choice? Would he remember the difference now? What was he like....before?

There was no doubt in her mind that whatever the shaping meant, it had been a painful and in many ways, costly process. Myrtle-ellipses quickly tracked away as the shirt went on and she felt the heat of Maalik's gaze upon her. She was supposed to be finding a comms unit, so she didn't have time to focus on him. That's what she told herself, anyway.

Carefully, she began picking her way through the debris and bent metal in that part of the ship. Chestnut-haired head looked up sharply at his question, surprise briefly crossing her tattooed-face. Purple-lips thinned slightly, weighing her response.

"Yes," she began. "But what're you getting at?" The healer hadn't found out she was a clone right away. Eyes flickered upward.

There. Just beyond his shoulder looked like a charging station, wedged between a dent in the outside of the ship. She might get lucky and find a comm somewhere in that mess. Next stop would be the bridge.

Taking a lesson from Gabe's book, she took the few, short steps toward Blue and stopped in front of him without too much regard for personal space. Green-palm came out and pushed lightly on the outside of his left upper-arm, as if she could just nudge his hulking form easily to the side. "Can you move, please? I gotta get around you."

 

[Atham'aali'kema]

He moved to the side, movement akin to water bypassing stone on it's way downstream. She shrugged off his question with what seemed like a certain disinterest, likely similar to the sort he often portrayed. His eyes trailed towards her intent, searching for systems for communication. There was a purpose here, he recalled, as he was intent on finding the tracker. But given that there were no more pirates and looters showing up, he assumed that either the gang had been vanquished or the tractor was destroyed in the crash.

"Slayers are never given a choice..." He admitted as he moved away from her, finishing up the buttons on his shirt. "Those who don't acquiesce are tossed away...like a clawcraft that no longer works." His hand flexed as he moved towards the exit. He would likely take a few moments to walk around the ship, ensuring that the vessel had no apparent anomalies that might function as tracker. But in his minds eye, he envisioned the steering controls of the clawcraft and the way the engine purred beneath his hands. He was more than adept at flight, he was considered a top ranking candidate for squadron leader of the CEDF. Coming from a relatively obscure family, there was always the pressure that he needed to succeed above all others. Perhaps that was why he needed to take the solo mission for expedition and recon training. And everything would have been fine, had he not lost his way over Selvaris.

He could still recall the sound of the meteorites, as they exited the vong space craft, bursting open the cabin as he plummeted towards the surface.

His memory grew hazy as he imagined what it was like to fly those vessels, those of his native people whom he was taught to hate. Memories of his abilities to fly were all but stripped from his mind, like carrion from the bone, as he was shaped into something far more ruthless than what he was truly born as. His inward reflection was filled with empty spots where he could once have seen a Chiss Officer staring back, a beast now filled the void. And what purpose did he serve now if nothing more than guard and fighter, awkwardly traipsing from one ship to another. Or in this case, simply out of the way.

Instead of turning to exit the ship, he pivoted and moved into the captains deck. He'd look through there, first, just to ensure that the tracker hadn't been placed in the cliche position beneath the dash.

[member="Taheera Sollo"]

 

[Taheera Sollo]

[member="Atham'aali'kema"]

The healer expected resistance or a gruffness in response to the Jedi-killing slayer. Instead, she found the opposite. It was enough to make her pause. And perhaps the problem here, was that she wasn't used to being closed off from sensing emotions. Maalik was a novelty.

Maybe she had a bit of pride to swallow.

Bending down, she stretched her arm out and reached back in the dented filled space. Fingers clawed at a piece of equipment in the back. She couldn't quite reach it. A frustrated puff of air left her lips.

Didn't take an empath to see that Maalik was thinking back on events in his life that changed everything. "So the vong," she began, voice a little softer than before with less of an edge. She was trying. She called out to him in the other part of the ship. "They just took you and physically re-shaped you? Changed your mind?"

Fingers got the edge of a comm unit and she scrunched in further.

"Sorry. I don't know much about the vong. My memories didn't contain anythi--," voice trailed off. "It's complicated," she finished.

 

[Atham'aali'kema]

He perked up, smacking his head on the bottom of the dash. The sound of the hit was far more indicative of the damage than what actually had occurred, given his shaping. He was hard headed mentally and physically. Grasping a device in his hand, cords hung out like tendrils of a jellyfish. With a slight flex of his forearm, the tracker crumbled into ten or so pieces. Exposing the wires in side, he set the object down on the dash and began to hit it with the underside of his fist. Satisfied with its destruction, he watched as the red light flickered it's last bleep before dying off entirely. His only concern was that it was transmitting their position up into that point.

Walking out of the flight deck, he dropped the remains of the tracker on the ground of the cargo area and looked around. He couldn't spot her, squeezing around the various nooks and crannies of the ship's carcass. Dusting off one of the seats that didn't get dislodge from the crash, he steepled his fingers as he sat back and looked around.

"Change would have been merciful, I think..." Mercy. That was a complicated word, one he wasn't sure he understood. He knew it implied some sense of the lesser of two evils, the way death might be merciful when compared to suffering. He looked towards where her voice resonated. "I recall the years of torture but its like seeing a language I can't understand..." Maybe the ordeal might have been just as complicated as her predicament, to which he honed in on not the subject as much as the phrasing.

My memories didn't contain anything...

"Are the memories of now-Harla different than those of the past-Harla? Were they stripped from you, as well?" His eyes lifted, warmly, at the thought of finding mutual ground with this woman whom he likely offended with his offhand comments regarding Jedi. Coupled with the flare of anger in reference to her powers, he was convinced that they were off to a poor start.

[member="Taheera Sollo"]

 

[Taheera Sollo]

[member="Atham'aali'kema"]

Fingers finally clasped around the device. Slowly, she began to extract herself from the twisted metal and crawl and wiggle her way out. Torture? For years?

Made her stomach crawl.

Pushing herself to her knees, she looked up as she turned. Strands of chestnut hair tangled with dust and pieces of grass from outside. Green hand came up to shove it impatiently from her brow.

"I'm sorry," she began. "It's hard to move on from experiences you don't ask for and that alter your life completely," made her think of Barkesh and her own death and transfer before that. Made her think of Trextan and his time with the Sith. She thought of the scars Gabe showed her from being crucified. Reminded her of the scars on Maalik.

And for a moment, she found herself staring again.

Myrtle-ellipses quickly tracked down to the comm in her hand as she pushed herself to a stand. Leaning back against a damaged bulkhead, she winced slightly as her bruised torso stretched out. There it was again, Harla. Gaze lifted to meet warm pools of molten.

And suddenly, she felt nervous.

Most people took the news that she was some hybrid clone better than she ever imagined they would. But there were always others...

"My name is Taheera," she said slowly. "But Harla doesn't sound so bad," uncertain permission for a nickname. "I am a clone hybrid of two force masters who were married. One was a Jedi healer and the other, well, I'm not so sure. I think he was a bit darker. So," she blundered ahead, "I didn't know I was a clone when I woke up and I didn't have THEIR memories but I already knew how to do basic things and had a general understanding and knowledge of the Galaxy. But this is the first time I'm hearing about the Vong. They must not have had that knowledge or, whoever made me didn't deem it necessary for my original body to..." oh. That was a bit TMI.

"I mean, for me to have."

Fingers curled a bit tighter around the comm. Heart was beating faster as her nerves got the better of her.

 

[Atham'aali'kema]

"Why apologize...if you weren't there?" He looked up from his steepled fingers to find the Mirialan in a different light. Far removed from the hate that filled his vision, plummeting from one ship to another. Was he so capricious as to be moved to different moods so easily, barely a change in the wind? He of course was lost on such phrasing, the wording to imply sympathy in lieu of presence. A concept that felt foreign to him. She should have just as well apologized for his birth, given that the event led to his torture all the same.

From the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow move towards the entrance way. Grabbing a rod next to him, he stood in preparation of whatever came through the door. Surprise subtly showed through as the Falleen captain braced against the frame with a makeshift crutch beneath her shoulder, fashioned from broken tree limbs as a result of the crash.

"If you two are done, we need to head to the city...find a new ship to steal." Sweat coated her brow as she turned and limped, not giving him the opportunity to tell her that she shouldn't be up and moving. Just as she moved in, her shadow was gone as the sounds of trudging and sliding, heard in the slowly growing distance. An obvious acoustic character to her gait, Maalik set the rod down and moved towards the locker. Finding an old beater holdout pistol, he checked the ammo and turned back to Taheera.

"Harla...Taheera. They sound similar, in their own fashion. I'm not accustomed to preference but I find myself indecisive in which I favor..." The shadow of a smile formed where stone once set. Perhaps it was genuine, perhaps it was a gesture he had learned to mimic, often seen between once living mechanic and captain. "When time allows...I'd like to hear more of this original body. And how you found yourself...unencumbered. As I have of my own." Being one without ability to truly understand the complexity of metaphor, he assumed she was referring a literal original body that somehow differed from the green one that stood before him. He wondered if that original body was similar in its anxiety, in the way her heart beat so fast and hard that he could barely hear the sound of birds over the sound of its sporadic rhythm.

Leaving that suggestion hanging in the stale cabin air, he walked out into the sunlight as he strapped the holster of the pistol to the small of his back.

[member="Taheera Sollo"]

 

[Taheera Sollo]

The healer-empath worked extra hard to tune into Maalik. Nothing with the force, just an ear to his tone and a sharp eye to his facial expressions. He didn't make it easy when it was hard already.

She thumbed the comm on as he left and searched the channels. Pushing away from the bulkhead, she followed quickly after. A stream of chatter came through the receiver. Holding it up to her ear, she caught up to Maalik as they stepped outside. "The authorities are looking for our ship. Sounds like patrols are already out. At least we have some Forrest cover."

The Mirialan nodded to the captain, feeling a twinge of guilt. At least the pirates hadn't been her fault. Still....she felt responsible for these people. Wanting to fall on her own sword and not let others get hurt for her was a constant struggle, as Gabe knew.

She'd almost refused to leave Barkesh.

Eyes spotted something buried beneath a chunk of their starboard wing. "My bag!" Kneeling down, she scooped it up. Lightsaber was still inside along with a few other things. She preferred her staff but it had been too bulky on an undercover trip like this.

Pack went gingerly around her shoulders and she clipped the lightsaber to her belt, pointedly looking away from Maalik. She needed it to be ready, for easy access. Chin tipped toward the knobby woods and roots. "City should be that way."

Worried look flashed to the captain. It would be hard to made on two good legs let alone one and a crutch.

 

[Atham'aali'kema]

He watched quietly as she lifted her bag to her shoulder, removing the lightsaber from her bag and clipping it to her hip. The way she shied away from his curious gaze, he immediately wondered if it was because of the way he described his origins. Or the way he looked at her when she grabbed him with that alien presence. It wasn't so much that he hated it, it was simply something that felt foreign and wrong. The cold hand of something that had forever forsaken him, only to be forced back against his flesh without any effort towards reconciliation. Given time, he was sure it was something he could learn to appreciate for its utility.

He looked towards the way Harla motioned, the City in the horizon between parting leaves. The wind was cool on Varonat, despite the temperate environment. Moisture hung in the air but moved with them, like an ally that persisted despite everything fighting against it. Without a cloud in the sky, Maalik was sure that rain would threaten their hike before arrival. Which drew concern for the captain, who was moving slowly through the forest.

"You shouldn't be walking, so soon." He stated in monotone, absent any form of emotion. Despite this, it was clear he held her in high regard.

"Not m-much of choice...huh!" She stated angrily, almost to the point of screaming, as her crutch caught a root and she was flung forward. She did her best to lift herself, angling against a tree, but was having very little success.

With that, Maalik knelt before her and placed his hands under her armpits. Anchoring her with a strong grip, he pulled her up from the ground before throwing her over his shoulder. "MAALIK, WHAT ARE YOU DOING! PUT ME DOWN!?" Head towards the middle of his back, she began to beat her fists against him. Maalik looked quietly towards the Mirialan.

"Do you have any sedatives in your med pack? I don't think the Captain is thinking clearly."

"Ok, ok." The hitting stopped as she hung limp. "You...you can carry me."

He allowed something resembling a smile before taking on a steady pace through the woods. "Come now, Harla, we must get you back to your Order."

[member="Taheera Sollo"]​

 

[Taheera Sollo]

Taheera gave Maalik a pointed look that made it clear she would not be stepping in the middle of his actions with the captain. "Hey," she grumbled as he stepped swiftly on by, captain shooting the Mirialan a none too pleased look as they passed on ahead. Her face was mostly resigned.

"If your leg is hurting you badly, I can take another look," it would come at a cost and drain the healer a bit. But the Mirialan didn't really think about that. She'd always been focused on defending and protecting others. Serving where she could.

"I'm with the Alliance,"she corrected. "Although, I suppose you're right. The order is housed within the larger group."

Bag shifted on her shoulder as she kept up the brisk pace, sticks and vines snapping and crunching beneath her feet. A green palm pushed the sweat that was forming beneath her brow away. Above them, clouds rolled lazily in, beginning to build. She could feel the tension and a part of her wanted to tap into the weather and urge it along.

It was a foreign sensation and one she tried to tune out.

"How long have you two been together?"

Probably not the best phrasing of the question.

[member="Atham'aali'kema"]

 

[Atham'aali'kema]

"The alliance?" He looked over, expression filled with a certain curiosity. "Is that related to the Galactic Republic?" He stated quietly, turning back towards the path ahead of him. While they could spend their time blazing a new path, he had found himself on the footpath of small and medium game. He could tell by the clods of earth, moved freely about, and the way the trees grew in path form - as if instructed by nature itself.

The foraging path provided an easier means for trudging through the woods. "When I was created, the One Sith were waging a great war against the Galactic Republic...for reasons I didn't understand."

"Created?" The woman lifted her head off of his back. "You've never mentioned anything about this."

Maalik looked over to Taheera, weary filled his expression. He was not accustomed to sharing information with others or more importantly, not accustomed to conversation that would prompt it. It kept others at a distance which helped, considering the ephemeral nature of his work. "I have been part of the captains crew for several months. Though I have never known her...romantically. She was always fond of...someone else." He stopped mid thought as he looked over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Captain, for your loss."

The captain had gone quiet, a long stare that shot out towards the jungle. "It was...just a crush."

Ironic. As that was what killed him. A crush. Maalik kept that thought to himself.

[member="Taheera Sollo"]