Coldest Glass Beckons

[Arage Bao]

[member="Blackthorne"]

Xian snorted.

"You broke the last couple of shackles I had last night, 'Cap." Another lazy stretch, before brushing some of her hair away, tips scratching behind her ear for a quick jaunt. "As for food- got a ton of nutrition bars in the-" The dirty look she send him was enough to stop that line of thought, before it could get away from him too much.

"Got about two weeks of frozen meat in one of the compartments." The hidden ones, where he usually put the drugs that needed to remain cooled, but also hidden from scanners.

Surprising how many drugs went foul at room temperature.

"You cook?" Xian could cook, but right now he suddenly got curious about that little factoid. Did this little spitefire know how to cook? How to prepare her own food and take care of herself in other ways, besides beating the ever living crap out of everyone. It wouldn't really change his opinion overly, but it was another thing that gave you some insight.

 

[Blackthorne]

There was no shame to be seen in the smirk that grew in answer to the broken items.

And then he mentioned nutrition bars and he might as well have told her he ate bantha shet. Did she look like a nutrition bar kinda girl to him? Oh - meat, better.

And then there was a hand in her hair again, scratching, Much better.

"Mm," Blackthorne ran her tongue over her teeth and picked a piece of jerky from a front molar with a nail, "some. Wasn't much need to cook at home - raw was always first choice in my family, but for everyone else that couldn't stomach it we learned to cook." The Captain smiled at the thought, leaning forward to nuzzle along the twi'lek's jaw, "Do you want me to cook for you?"

 

[Arage Bao]

It was almost instinct that pushed his hand down her side, brushing past thin fabric down to shapely form and pleasant touch as she nuzzled against them.

"Mmhm, I'd like that." He mumbled, pulling her a bit closer to share a kiss. Short but deep and wanting for more later. It was strange how easily they shaped together, no effort, no fuss, it was just instinct, desire and experience guiding them along. It hadn't failed them yet... just made them spend a lot of time on playing and little time for anything else.

"Maybe I will learn something, so I can stop eating those bars."

They tasted like shet, but were incredibly easy to handle. He flicked her nose when she tried to escalate ny biting him gently, "Cooking first, more play later."

Both of them insatiable.

The Twi'lek pushed himself up, snatching a shirt from the chair.

 

[Blackthorne]

Freezer.

Solid frozen blocks carefully stashed.

Chilled fog spilled from the compartment, green eyes catching view of other items packed away towards the back. No questions - the game was done for the evening.

Kitchenette. A woman swallowed by a twi'lek's sweater, belted at her waist and so big it became a dress. She rolled the sleeves and shrugged the collar off one shoulder, attention turned to stove. Oven. Dethaw the brick.

Cabinets of scarce ingredients. Simple. Basic necessities. She could work with this.

Knives.

A game for the wait that lead to distraction.

Further distraction.

Somehow the belt at her waist ended up around her neck...

Ding.

...later.

Pan to stove. Cooking stock. Rum. Spices and salt. Bring to boil then simmer. Bit more rum.

Carve the slab - prime rib cut bantha. Tender, not much fat, lean. Cut into small bite-sized pieces, dropped into pan. Let cook, stirring occasionally.

Serve to hungry looking twi'lek.

Grin.

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Blackthorne"]

It was a chaotic mess of experience, teaching, distraction and eventually.... sitting down at the small little table in the equally small kitchen.

As she settled down the plates on both sides of the table Xian couldn't help but be impressed. It had looked pretty complicated - when to put the spice, the rum, the salt, when to stir and when to let it simmer, the details where difficult and eventually Thorne just snorted... telling him to start with eggs and bacon before going for bantha steaks and the sort.

"You look way too pleased with yourself." The Twi'lek commented as he pulled one of the plates closer to himself, letting the knife cut through the meat in a few portions. His teeth could bite right through it, yes, but it was far more pleasant to cut it in little pieces.

Far more enjoyable. "Kark, nevermind, this tastes great." The proof that he hadn't been just stroking her ego (this time) again showed itself by the lack of conversation.

He was completely focused in his meal.

"So I am guessing you got a plan for when we get there?"

 

[Blackthorne]

She made no effort to make the pieces smaller. They were bite-sized as it and tender enough to require very little chewing on her part. Popping a morsel into her mouth she indulged in the taste of the juices and let it sit there for a moment while the twi'lek went quiet. Mmmmmyes. Never thought she'd miss cooking, if she were honest with herself. The gesture had never really been made for her own gain but for that of others. Given the choice she'd make a meal out of an enemy. She'd hunt her own game, skin and gut it, collect her own rations.

No cooking necessary.

But this ... this was different. Somehow.

"I have," the woman replied before taking another bite, "you're going to sell me to the slaver that bought the tree."

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Blackthorne"]

Brows rose a fraction, but that was the only sign she got that Xian hadn't been expecting that.

"That so." He mumbled in between bites. "Suppose that's gonna be my pay for this entire thing?" Already his eyes were studying her. Not with the hunger of desire exhibited earlier, even just a couple of minutes ago, but with the practiced eye of a man who traded in meat.

The lean of the muscle, twinkle of intelligence in the eye, the flex of the shoulder, there were a lot of signs there.... Thorn would fetch a brilliant price.

"Gonna need a better collar then, maybe some beskar."

Doubt they would be comfortable buying her this... free and feral otherwise.

 

[Blackthorne]

"Catch on quick, don't you."

Blackthorne had no idea what sort of dime a slave such as herself would fetch for the man, but she liked to think there was a rather profitable market for young, pretty women. Not that it mattered - he wasn't selling to the proper market, he had to sell her to the proper slaver. The comment about the collar was ignored, though Beskar was overkill. She was only pretending to be a slave, the buyer needn't know exactly how strong she was. After all, that might put a damper on her eventual escape later on down the line.

"Best do your research on the buyer. I'm sure I don't fall into the same category as useless old trees. You'll need the right angle."

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Blackthorne"]

There was a mock sigh of condemnation in it for her.

"And here I thought this week would be all play." Xian relayed, before taking another bite from the meat. It was very well done. Which mildly surprised the Twi'lek, because Thorne didn't seem like the... cooking type. But people often surprised him with their depth. There was always another secret, another layer, another shade that they hadn't revealed immediately.

"Might get you to cook for me more often though."

He supposed that was another angle Xian could play here - she was pretty, but not the beauty that some slaves had. Intelligent, but not as intelligent as some slaves were.

It was her spirit that defined her.... and that wasn't a quality slavers usually looked for.

But maybe all of the qualities combined, the skills she possessed, all of it... could make her seem more interesting. "I think you are gonna be the most challenging sale I will have ever made, truth to be told." He eyed her from above the plate before chuckling. "Too fierce, maybe we need to make you a bit more........ cuddly?"

 

[Blackthorne]

"Wot?" Blackthorne straightened herself with an eyeful of offense, "I don't know what you're talking about mate, I happen to be extremely cuddly." Another bite, fangs ringing off metal fork, she gave an indignant sniff.

Plate clean she stood from her seat and moved to put it in the sink and then, with the added dramatic flair of flipping the tail end of the belt at her neck over her shoulder, turned on her heel and stalked out of the kitchenette. She sidled down the hall and made way to the cockpit where she slunk into the co-pilot's chair and brought up the display of their route.

ETA: Five Days, Seven Hours, Thirty-Six minutes. Give or take.

Well, plenty of time to research.

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Blackthorne"]

About half an hour later they were both sitting on his bed again, but this time with a few datapads around them as they tried to research the slaver that had bought the tree.

They had managed to get some information: An Umbaran, middle-aged and apparently a lover of the finer arts. This was to say music, poetry and modern art. This one considered himself refined and as such better than the usual brand of slaver. The former could be to their advantage, but the latter would definitely complicate things to one degree or the other.

"A ponce." Xian remarked with a measure of distaste. "So fat, he can't even move around without a repulsor lift to assist him." The Twi'lek shook his head as he thought about how his people would view the Umbaran.

Probably with awe.

They had always valued obesity as a form of success, but Xian didn't really understand how a sentient could give up his ability to move around and have his freedom.

 

[Blackthorne]

The Pirate was on her back, short-ways across the bed, bare feet propped up on the wall, long hair draped over the other side. She had a datapad in her hands held over her head and another resting on her stomach.

"He's got quite an extensive collection of-" her eyes fluttered as she read a sentence.

Orlan Whiik, in his entrepreneurial years on Umbara, also boasts the largest collection of fine art paintings outside of Kuat proper by the then Heiress to the Kuatian Throne Amorella Darke. Though she later abdicated her throne, the pieces retained their value and appreciated significantly with her untimely death following the Omega Crisis. Whiik's collection of 17 framed paintings is valued at an estimated 732m credits.

"-art..." Blackthorne rolled that chunk of information around in her head, eyeing the datapad as though it were a viper threatening to strike.

Lips drawing thin and pale she rested the datapad against her chest while she thought, "These trees are so rare they're thought to be a myth. Why else would he buy one as a slave other than to have something no one else has. As a status symbol," pearled hooks grabbed at lower lip, green watching the ceiling and counting the tiles, "I need to be something no one else has...or something he wants but can't get."

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Blackthorne"]

Xian blinked.

Sometimes the Twi'lek couldn't help but be surprised at what people spend their money on. North of seven hundred million credits for a collection of paintings, just some canvass, paint on it, get some elitist human with a monocle to wax on about how the abstract form of the cube suggested the painter was going through an existential crisis and wished to brand that into a colorful shape.

"My fingers itch, I think I want to rob him." He looked past his datapad towards Thorne. "Can we rob him?"

Obviously after the 'Cap had gotten her time in the sun with the sentient tree.

In the meantime the Twi'lek was considering what they could do to make her... special in the eyes of the fat hoarder. "Oh, look," His eye got caught by a stray excerpt in one of the interviews with Whiik.

"Says here he has an unhealthy fascination with Jedi and their magic crap?"

Because that was at least one thing that made Thorne unique.

Her command of the Force- well, unique in the sense that few people could simply manipulate the Force, relatively compared to the vast host of people rounding the Galaxy. A forcer slave that could be controlled? That could maybe do the trick, put a 'shock' collar on her so she wouldn't speak out of turn...

 

[Blackthorne]

"Mmf," Thorne closed her eyes, lips pursing in distaste, "Jee'dai."

She was just about the furthest thing from a Jedi one could be without being a Sith and she certainly didn't have the aura of a Jedi.

"Doable. Maybe. I suppose I'd have to memorize their code and practice talking like a disillusioned flower-picker."

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Blackthorne"]

Xian shuddered slightly.

"We will need to wrap you in some burlap robes then." The Twi'lek thought out-loud. "Is there any difference between a Sith and a Jedi? Other than the eyes, their skin looking like all-crap and both of their attitudes being shet."

This wasn't exactly his field.

Part of him still wondered if it had been maybe a hallucination... watching her jump as high as she did and the other stuff she had pulled. Then again, Xian doubted they'd be alive if not for that... shield thingie.

 

[Blackthorne]

"Opposing indoctrinations of the mind, really," replied the Pirate, "either way you go you're subscribing to the dogma of a cult following of various people who think themselves better than everyone else."

She scowled, eyes remaining closed, hands lazily gesticulating her point, "Can't say I've much personal experience with either of them. Neither kind were particularly welcome where I come from and for good reason. Nothing good comes from willing ignorance and purposeful blindness of the mind."

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Blackthorne"]

"Honest? This might be the second or third time I have come face-to-face with a forcer." Shrug followed later. "This magicka crap is pretty rare, unless you involve yourself into some of the more... prominent conflicts." Alliance versus First Order, Sith Empire versus Dominion, all those pretty governments with their beliefs.

Forcers swarmed those places.

They were like ants going for the honey or something like that. Xian almost thought that they liked the attention, liked to get the spotlight shone upon them, because outside of those places the Twi'lek didn't get to see them very often.

Good.

Thorne was... very alright, but for the most part forcers were a blight as far as he was concerned. "That means our guy probably isn't aware of the more... in-depth knowledge of the Jedi either. But I can probably get us some of the basic strictures, that crap, to get this role as authentic as we can for you."

 

[Blackthorne]

"Mm."

Thorne's nose twitched and the datapads on her chest and lap were pushed aside. Nap mode: engage. With a belly full of food, a chilly ship, and an only somewhat warm sweater, it was time to recharge. A person with better manners would have asked, or perhaps, offered - not this Pirate. Hands reached for the twi'lek's arm and tugged him over. He'd either end up using her as a pillow or laying across, but either result would grant her the man's body warmth. Confirmed twi'lek blanket.

"Nap now, Jeedai later."

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Blackthorne"]

It surprised him, but the amusement was stronger than the astonishment.

After some shuffling around, the roles of big and little spoon determined, the nook if his arm conquered by her sleep, they settled down in a comfortable humming silence. He kept on scritching her behind her ear, petting, nuzzling, until Thorne finally fell asleep. The moment the Twi'lek tried to carefully disengage himself from her body... she pulled him right back with a mmmhmmhmmmno, before tightening her grasp around him like some kind of fluffy teddy bear.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

He was fierce, he was strong, he fought and killed and tasted the blood of- oh, who cared. Instead Xian nuzzled himself against her neck, shaping himself against her sleeping body and let himself drift off into the void of night.

If there was one talent Xian possessed? It was being able to sleep wherever and whenever he needed to.

Just... the closing... of the... eyes.

 

[Blackthorne]

"There is no emotion, there is ...peace,"

Some time later.

"There is no ignorance, there is knowledge,"

The sweater was gone for her own clothing. She was back in her leather jacket, pacing barefoot several feet back and forth. Slowly recounting this absurd Code aloud, putting it to memory.

"There is no passion, there is ... what the feth is wrong with these people."