Coldest Glass Beckons

[Arage Bao]

[member="Blackthorne"]

The kiss was short, but intense as the pain drove him to nip at her lip.

"Felt like you had some experience with that knife." Valart commented before following along, pushing himself off the bed and onto the floor. There he stretched, lazily, while trying to avoid to pull too much at his neck - it only just got charred, the last thing the Twi'lek needed was to stretch the skin out and break the patch.

That would get... messy, fast too.

Bones creaked, muscles rolled and as Xian pushed to the air with his hands his spine whined pleasantly against the pressure. It had been a pleasant evening, his back cut-up by her nails, but amidst the scar tissue of the whip that was the least of his concerns, probably wouldn't even be noticeable in the long run.

"What now, 'Cap?" Maybe a nap after that or some food... time was strange when you were in space. No clear day and night to sync your body, so you were forced to just handle one desire after another.

 

[Blackthorne]

"Sleep," replied the Captain, "but not with you."

Striding across the room to the door, various articles of her own clothing flew into her unoccupied hand unbidden.

"I need to heal and you are..." she paused upon reaching the door, glancing back at him with a long look up and down, "distracting."

Stalking out of the cabin she followed their earlier route in reverse to collect her things and redress. Clothing wasn't typically an issue for sleep but as she was forgoing the warmth of a bemate and space was quite cold, extra layers were necessary for someone with an aversion to a lack of warmth.

It was a small ship and there weren't many places to go. While normally curling up in the copilots chair would have sufficed, the bridge was often cold and a location of activity. Neither suited her needs. The cargo hold, however, proved to be a perfect place. Small, dark, perhaps a bit cramped for a 2+ meter tall twi'lek, it felt quite cozy to the smaller k'paur hybrid. The warmth from the nearby engine blocks was a bonus. Blackthorne settled into an empty alcove in the wall: offered a view of the streaking stars through a narrow viewport, and tucked in for a long nap, leather jacket pulled snug.

 

[Arage Bao]

Xian smirked.

"Sweet dreams then, 'Cap." A lazy salute by the temple, before he followed her out and disappeared into the 'fresher.

* * *​

​

The next morning Xian was sitting at his desk in his cabin, back to the door and a pen scribbling furiously on flismiplast.

It was a morning routine for him, every morning sitting down and just write, no matter if he didn't want to, didn't feel like it or nothing came to mind. Even if there was absolutely nothing in his mind, if the drought ruled his thoughts, the Twi'lek forced himself to sit down and try to write something. It had definitely helped his writing, the poetry coming quicker and quicker to mind, needing only the briefest of touches, scent or sight, perhaps a taste and then his muse drew forward.

No surprise then that the last night made his hand dance across the flimsiplast and words appeared soon after.

The scratches on his back ached, but in the good kind of way. Smoke curled away from the tip of his cigarette and he took another puff, while re-reading the last few lines written down just a few moments ago.

 

[Blackthorne]

When she woke it was to the shiver of a breaking fever, cold sweat clinging to exposed skin. It was the graceless waking of a person after a long bought of illness all rolled into several long, restless hours of sleep. No sweet dreams to be had - only a freshly healed shoulder and a heavy fatigue to show for it.

She'd weathered through this so many times before that she'd lost count and this, most certainly, had not been anywhere near the worst of those fitful sleeps. Blackthorne spilled from the alcove feeling overheated and chilled at the same time, ankles and knees buckling beneath her weight to send her into a heap on the floor. The woman groaned. The recovery from the recovery was sometimes worse to wear.

Sort of like the vacation you needed after a vacation. Time to process and reboot to the normal way of things.

Deep breaths, she pressed clinging strands of black from her face and heaved herself up. The shoulder was still sore and stiff but useful now. The route out of the cargo hold and to the kitchenette was a bleak and stumbling one. Chair, cupboard, sink, glass. She filled it with cold water and guzzled. Filled it again, peeled her jacket off her sweat-slicked arms, guzzled some more. Cold ship air met perspiration and sent a new round of shivers along her skin. Second glass downed she filled it a third and retreated from the sink to the small table at the center, leaning against the chair there before plunking into the seat.

Something in her jacket pocket beeped and trilled, she stretched to retrieve it and pulled from a inside pocket her comm.

Eor.

Blackthorne blinked and answered.

"Ha?"
"I tried calling the Bane, they said you weren't there. Said you got caught in a firefight at a shadowport? Where are you?"
"Truth be told," the woman winced and lifted a hand to rub at her temple, "I don't actually know."
"But you're safe?"
"Aye."
"...and you're OK, right?"
"Mostly. I'll be more OK in about a half hour,"
"...Dahl."
"Vas te brazza, Eor, I caught a ride out. Tracking a target as we speak."

She finished off her third glass of water while Eor murmured his reply.

"I was worried, I haven't heard from you in a month. Thought you went off the deep end again."
"You should try it sometime, it's better swimming. Lots more interesting fish."
"This isn't a joke, Dahl."
"Set-sane', I'm just trying to make you feel better. I haven't gone off the deep end."
"You swear it?"
"I swear it."
"...could you just ... call more often, send a message,.. something? That would make me feel better. It's like you've forgotten all about me."
"I would never forget about you."
"I'm not sure I believe you."

Blackthorne frowned and swallowed the rising sensation of ...something. Goddamnit Eordahn.

"I have to go, ma-wena salai, Eor."

Clek.


A few minutes later she stepped down the hall, backtracking as she strode by the cabin, caught him at his desk out of the corner of her eye. Scribbling away.

"Writing a poem?" she said from the door, a curious quirk of a brow following. It was clearly asked in jest.

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Blackthorne"]

Valart froze when her voice filtered through his muse and the words shifted towards distinct meaning.

How did she figure it out? Not that the Twi'lek was self-conscious of it his writing, he enjoyed doing it and that was all that really mattered to him. But it made him wonder what else Thorne had figured out about him without him telling directly. There were distinct things that he'd rather have in the past. If this was some of her magic that would complicate things for Xian-

Then he looked over his shoulder and noticed her shet-eating grin at the end of it.

"Yep." Xian responded matter-of-factly, before returning to his writing. "You look like crap though, starting to reconsider using you as my muse this time around." Not really, he knew that she had a hard time with her shoulder.

Even though that same shoulder looked better now?

It was strange.

But then again, Thorne sucked blood and seemed more powerful than most mortals like him, so what did he really know about what she could and could not do? Maybe his blood had helped her heal or something. That would have explained the intensity of her lips and teeth against him, once the flesh was offered to her freely. It had been... a strange sensation to be sure.

"Feeling better?" Didn't look like it, other than the shoulder.

 

[Blackthorne]

"Yep." Xian responded matter-of-factly, before returning to his writing. "You look like crap though, starting to reconsider using you as my muse this time around." Not really, he knew that she had a hard time with her shoulder.

"Mmf," replied the Pirate, leaning against the door jamb from where she stood just in the hall. The grin had settled into a sleepy smirk, "apologies for ruining your image of my projected perfection," she stifled a self-deprecating laugh, "I admit to being as flawed as everything else."

"Feeling better?"

"Better than I look, apparently. I suppose a hot shower is in order - I'd hate to be disappointing on my first run as someone's muse."

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Blackthorne"]

Heh.

Lady had some good humor.

They hadn't actually... talked a lot during the entire shindig- which was fine by him, he wasn't much of a talker. More of a do-er, get in there, accomplish the tasks set and then go home to enjoy the rum or similar things. "Mmhm," He hummed softly to himself in acknowledgement before pushing the flimsiplast away and pushing himself up, leaning against the desk to watch her in slightly more detail.

"Need some assistance in there? I am sure I can reach places you can't by your own." Grin spoke volumes which places he was exactly talking about and none of them seemed to refer to the center of her back.

Which... probably meant that they wouldn't get much cleaning done.

 

[Blackthorne]

A languid gaze rested, pleased, on the figure of the leaning twi'lek, smirk half-cocked at the suggestion.

"Why do we fear rejection," eyes closed, she leaned her head against the door frame, nuzzling against it.

"rejecting the chance for positive projection,
projecting an image of our own detection,"

The nuzzle pressed lips against the surface, a hand sliding scandalously up the durasteel trim.

"detected by the other's...inspection."

Green eyes slithered back to him, Blackthorne peeled herself out of the door frame and slipped back into the hall out of sight.

"Take a look at your own reflection," the woman's voice echoed.

Thud - a boot came free.
Thump - the second followed.

"reflect on your eyes' connection,"

An article of clothing flew in through the door, landing just inside.

"connect to the true perception,"

and then a lone, slender hand beckoned from beyond before disappearing.

"perceive yourself as perfection."

Voice faded to the sound of running water from the fresher.

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Blackthorne"]

Head slowly tilted while all of this was happening.

Lips moving as he softly repeated the words in his head and found them to be perfect. To say that the Twi'lek was impressed as eyes drank in the sight would have been an understatement of some proportion. From one moment to the next clothing dropped, a hand reached out and beckoned for him to follow the lyrical lady.

One by one the articles of clothes still clinging to him were dropped to the side, until the door slid shut behind them and the water warmed cold skin, giving them some balm from the night before.

"A rhymin' renegade raising rich rhymes, while refusing rule and regulation," Xian whispered as he pressed against her. "How quick I quiver under your qualified queened quadrics."

He smirked, "I didn't know you rhymed, 'Cap, I may just have to keep seeing you now."

It was not always that Valart met a woman who could fight, rhyme and love as hard as this one did. Quite a pleasant turn of events, from being caught up in a gorram insurrection on a Shadowport.

 

[Blackthorne]

"They're not mine," hands found the marked hips of the man, eyes closed beneath the raining water, "I stole them from someone more qualified."

Like most everything else she kept now, except her ship. That was actually her own.

"I'm not the weaver of words, just a Pirate that enjoys them; a little poetry on the side," smirking, she bit at her lower lip as her hands wove their own way down across slashes of pink and purple skin, "call it a secret guilty pleasure."

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Blackthorne"]

Xian hummed pleasant noises at the touch, pressing closer as he nuzzled her neck upwards towards her ear. "Mmhm, I thought we were here to shower, 'Cap, not that I am complaining..." His breath hitched softly as the temperature and pressure of the water shifted slightly in response to rotation preformed.

Then he pushed her against the wall. "Then again, we got the whole week, why hold back now."

It devolved from there.

 

[Blackthorne]

In close quarters it paid to make the best of the situation. Xian returned to his cabin to find the woman had snagged a zip-up sweater and taken up residence on his bed, scrolling through messages on her comm. No shame, no apologies to be made, but a comfortable and warm Blackthorne was a happy Blackthorne.

And a happy Blackthorne was good and mostly civil company.

She even scooched over to make room as he slid onto the bed beside her and leaned back against the wall. Having been facing the opposite direction, the Captain saw the opportunity for comfort and claimed it like the cat she most certainly was; leaning across his lap and settled against the thigh of a propped-up twi'lek leg. Really it was the body warmth she was going for and she soaked it up, unapologetic.

"A game," the woman headed off the So what now Cap? she felt coming from him, "of questions. Ask a question, pass or answer truthfully. If we ever play again, you can't pass on the same question."

He did not seem displeased with the idea. Good.

"I'll start," said the woman, leaning forward with a keen eye, "what's that you're chewing on?"

Bantha jerky. Blackthorne leaned a little further forward - clearly interested - and smiled happily as he offered her a piece. Mmmm. She took a nibble and settled back against his leg again, "Your turn."

"What the kark are you?"

The Captain sputtered over a bark of laughter, "Good question. I'm not sure the answer will mean much," the peoples of her bloodlines from either side of the family were not common in the galaxy, nor was there a lot of common knowledge about them. Made no difference to her if he knew, unless of course he happened to be another abuser of knowledge like a certain Aunt.

"K'paur, on my father's side. Garhan on my mother's. Zeltron and human muddled in there somewhere, negligible genetically as far as I understand." Fangs tore into jerky like a blade through paper, biting off a piece to chew while she considered her own question.

"Most slaves that go free don't usually opt for the career path that formerly oppressed them," the humor of her answer did not bleed into the question. Head tilted to one side, eyes narrowed, the consideration turned to the man, "why a Slaver?"

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Blackthorne"]

Those names did not, as expected, mean anything to him, but Xian filed it away for later inspection. Maybe there was more information to be found on the HoloNet or maybe they were a rare species, difficult to tell with the forthright way she shared that tidbit of information.

"Right to the heart of it, eh?" His own sharp teeth punctured through a particularly tough piece of jerky while mulling over the question posed.

It wasn't something Xian was ashamed about. In fact, it was pride that caused him pause to really think out a reply that made sense. "Slavery, the struggle, my escape... they showed me how the Galaxy fit together and worked. The strong rule, the weak bow, rest is dust."

Hands wrung together for a moment, before Xian absent-mindedly scritched her behind her ear. "I was weak, but the struggle made me strong and allowed me to free myself. I became worthy of this freedom because I made myself strong."

Xian chuckled.

"Philosophy aside... I was taken as a little child. I could dance, kark and fight. So, it was either continue doing what I knew how to do and make money, or go back to some rundown village and be surrounded by the weak and meek again."

He scritched a bit lower over the sound of soft, subtle purring. "What is it that you right for, 'Cap?"

 

[Blackthorne]

Pirate leaned into the hand that so kindly scratched along her hairline, eyes closing in pleased contentment. She barely heard the last portion of his answer though she was trying to listen. It had been a curiosity since learning the apparent Slaver had once been a slave. Not too many slavery stories that ended that way - at least not that she'd heard.

He managed to elicit a murmuring thrum of pleasure in response to the gesture; not a sound he'd heard out of her before now. This was spoiled cat feedback.

This was distracting.

"Hmmmmmnnnn-fight for?" a single eye barely cracked open as his hand scratched down along her neck, "...what do you mean?"

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Blackthorne"]

Valart was low-key amused at her purring - a feline indeed, but otherwise didn't comment on it.

"We all fight for something, 'Cap." the Twi'lek explained after a moment of thought. "Freedom, wealth, power, some to escape something, others to experience life to its fullest. Passion."

They all needed something to fight for.

Something to believe in, something that made them roll out of their beds after a difficult night and continue on. Everyone was different, but that belief? That reason? It could give valuable insight in what the person was about. What the things were that they valued throughout their life.

Might not have been a very fair question, to put it up as his second one anyway.

 

[Blackthorne]

Captain smiled and pulled from his fingers, considering her answer.

Why did she fight? Because she wanted to. Because she liked to. It was part of her, bred into her, an inherent instinct not readily denied or refused. What did she fight for? Wealth, power, freedom, respect, escape, passion? Everything above. But it was too easy to answer that way. Lazy, even. Boring. Blackthorne's lips parted with a breath as a better answer came to her. A favorite.

"Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul."

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Blackthorne"]

Half-way through the poem Valart started to hum along with the cadence of the rhythm, until the last refrain hit and his low baritone applied itself behind her voice.

With no hesitation the Twi'lek recited it alongside with her, until the poetry was finished.

Silence.

Then Xian smirked. "A very elaborate way to say: 'I do what I want because I can.'" but the pronounced smirk would show the tease for what it really was. He leaned deeper into the pillows, stretching out a bit before shrugging. "Good as answer as any, maybe the most honest answer there is."

"I do it for strength." Valart supplied without being asked, but the assumption was that she would turn it around on him anyway. "To become stronger and never be put in the position I was forced so many years ago."

The Twi'lek snorted. "Doesn't hurt that there is a lot of fun on the way there."

 

[Blackthorne]

It wasn't her next question but she'd take the answer without complaint, quietly chewing on the bantha jerky and shifting with him as he moved to stretch. He certainly was a rarity, she thought. A slave who claimed his own freedom and made his own way by putting others through the very oppression that shaped him. Dahl tipped her head to one side in consideration of all this.

"Aren't you the least bit concerned that one of your slaves may do the same to you?"

 

[Arage Bao]

Xian blinked.

Confusion apparent in his expression.

Not because he didn't understand what she was asking, but because the very essence of the question went against what he believed in. "Concerned?" The Twi'lek asked, pondering about that concept, mulling it over while his mouth shaped the word a few more times. "I would be proud, if they broke their shackles and rose up. I'd offer them a sword. To fight against me, to try and strike me down, to win their freedom in blood. If they succeed in that?"

Well, it seemed obvious to him.

"Then I never deserved my freedom to begin with." Of course, it wasn't as simple as that. If a slave revolted... they were offered another choice first - you can fight for your own freedom... or the freedom of your brothers and sisters. If you value theirs? Go put your shackles back on, they will be released. If you want yours? Fight me, win, and I will let you go. These ones? They will suffer for your absence. It wasn't a matter of cruelty, not an attempt to manipulate the ones rising up.

It was a test of character.

Were they strong enough to grab for their own freedom or would they allow themselves to be pulled down again for the sake of the weak? "Does it worry you who and what I am?"

 

[Blackthorne]

Interesting. So he welcomed backlash and open rebellion. Blackthorne wondered briefly if he'd seen it, if it'd happened already. He seemed a careful man and intelligent - not easily fooled. Was unlikely that someone had yet to pull the wool over his eyes, but what did she know? They'd only just met yesterday.

"Mmm," thought the Captain aloud, amusement evident in the lines of her expression. Was she worried about him being a Slaver? Considering how she intended for this little jaunt to end, worry wasn't the word at all. His station was purely convenient for not only herself in getting where she needed to be, but for him in that he was useful beyond getting her there. Instead of dispatching of him outright she had reason to keep him alive. He was a known entity in this circle, perhaps even trusted. It would make it all that much easier to insert her into the right place.

"No," an answer finally after some thought, "if the worse you can do is slap me in chains and brandish a whip ... well, don't threaten me with a good time."

"What else you got to eat in this ship?" the last of her jerky disappeared behind a grin.
"