Drol Raw Redux [Wildlands Game Reserve]

[Blackthorne]

"Just that one... and a few," Dahl pointed upwards to the arched ceiling above their heads where numerous beady little eyes watched silently, "Tailrings to help with the deep-space parasites."

Behind Mal the sounds of the hssiss snapping up the steak could be heard. There was no chewing - it swallowed the entire thing whole. A pleased smile cross her face as the lizard turned and stalked off to a terrarium on the far end of the chamber.

"Not much for getting in touch with nature, are you Stripes?"

 

[Darth Osano]

Maleagant snorted. "I spent a month and a half on Dathomir. Alone. In a forest. On a hill," He replied, idly drumming one hand on the table. "I'm done with nature."

Yes, it was amazing what forty five days of getting chased around by rancors and giant spiders could do for one's sense of outdoorsmanship. Especially when it culminated in the organized slaughter of a Nightsister raiding party. The stories that could be told of that sequence were as many as they were long. But that was not what they were here to discuss.

"Don't you have a planet you want to take over? Are you going to do that with lizards?"

 

[Blackthorne]

"Really?" a hint of disbelief, "You ...on Dathomir?" Dahl could not help a snort of laughter, "I spent a year there with the witches. Don't tell me a week was too much for you." Her mother was practically family with one of the nightsister tribes, albeit several generations now removed. Her apparent connection with the Decuirs had not seemed to weather much over the 400 year darkness.

"Fascinating planet - did you manage to find a saarlaac? Their spores and digestive enzymes are worth a pretty credit on the black market. Used to challenge the other Initiates who could harvest the most..."

The woman smiled as she recalled this; fond memories of time well spent learning under the tutelage of the Nightsister Witch Masters. She would have liked to stay longer, but the Great Migration called her home - her first ever Culling. An entire month spent wrangling rank beasts from the Demon Moon as they flew in along shared atmosphere between the sister planetoids. Then, just like that, the smile faded as the homesickness settled in, thick and spiny in her chest. A scowl grew to cover the frown and with a sudden movement she was out of her chair, striding across the room to the desk area.

Yanking open one of the desk drawers she withdrew a book and turned to stalk over to the Rattataki, coming to a halt directly beside him and holding the book out for him to take. Ensnared in her grasp, she didn't give it up at first attempt but instead leaned over to speak into his ear.

"I realize you think very little of me and that we had a bit of a ... rough start, but I am not without a sense of civility. Since you're being so charitable," she pushed the book at his chest, roughly, "I was going to send them home, but I think you'll appreciate them more for what they are." Dahl leaned up and crossed her arms, "It's from the Queens' Manor. We collected three whole shipping crates of them. They're yours, if you want them."

 

[Darth Osano]

"The difference is that they weren't happy to see me," Maleagant replied with a sour tone. He apparently did not appreciate being implied a wimp. "And they weren't Nightsisters either."

He would say no more. Then again, he wouldn't have to, because she was already talking about saarlaac spores and... What? Enzymes? The thorn woman was switching gears entirely now, much to Maleagant's cautious delight. Sense of civility, she said. Maybe she was just a little too well fed from that meal, now she was trying to give him a book. He shielded his chest with his hands and caught the book. "I... Thanks, captain... What am I looking at here...?" Once she relinquished it, he cracked it open to peak at a few of the pages.

It was a mostly automatic question. Maleagant would find out in the next few seconds any way.

 

[Blackthorne]

Dahl couldn't imagine why anyone wouldn't be happy to see his chipper self, approachable as he was. Why didn't that mask just simply scream come talk to me about your day over a cuppa? She smirked and leaned her hip against the armrest of his chair, head canting to look downwards at him as he leafed through the book.

"From the ruins on Rattatak," her eyes traced the line of his arm upwards, following the curve of those delicious stripes over his scalp. Bald. Mnf. She was surrounded by bald men. Oh the cards life had dealt her.

"I thought you might like to have them, fiercely as you defended them before. No?"

 

[Darth Osano]

"Hmm..." Yes, this was one of those books.

Although at the time he had been planning on going through them first to determine which ones were worth keeping and which should be left behind. Well, if she had taken all of them out of the mansion and put them into three storage crates, he would have the opportunity to do so later. As it currently stood, he was holding a compilation of a research studies entitled The Whey of the Warrior: On Rattataki Dietary Practices. Apparently more attention had been paid to fill the bookshelves than what went onto them. Maleagant sympathized - empty shelves were not aesthetically pleasing.

He shut the book, looking back up to Blackthorne. Her emerald eyes appeared to be staring at something else for a minute, then they focused back on him. Strange. "That's... Generous of you." He had almost said "uncharacteristic." Again, must have been something in the steak. Also it felt like it had been decades since he'd received an earnest, actual gift. Maybe his etiquette was a bit rusty. But this was [member="Blackthorne"] here! There must have been an angle, but since he already agreed to help...?

 

[Blackthorne]

"Don't tell anyone," the woman replied, leaning down slightly.

Had a reputation to maintain. Let it slip and next thing she'd know the whole crew would be planning a mutiny. Can't be giving away their earnings, though in this case the books meant very little, if nothing at all, to any of them. Kiin might've liked to have a bit of Rattatakan history to own, but he only had so much space in his locker.

Her eyes wandered to his stripes again, circling his skull and winding down to his neck where they disappeared from view beneath his robes. Just how far did those stripes go? She was very curious to find out.

A hand lifted to lightly trace a tattoo near his temple, "...generosity isn't a very becoming trait of Pirate Captains"

 

[Darth Osano]

Maleagant's eyebrows arched with the maximum amount of possible skepticism. It was all a man could do when the emerald-eye'd terror of the Seven Sectors started touching your face. "Oh, really?"

Fortunately, he was actually a Shi'ido. He reached up to touch that wandering hand of hers.

"And what passes for becoming traits among pirate captains?"

 

[Blackthorne]

A mischievous grin shortly pulled at her lips in response to his expression. Didn't trust her, did he? She supposed she couldn't blame him. Apparently he'd had a run in with her Master during that faithful day on Rattatak and his inclination to keep up his guard was a good one, despite being annoying in ... certain times such as these.

Her fingers slowly followed the line, stroking over the rim of his ear and tracing it down along the back of his head towards his neck where his own hand found hers.

"Mmm, don't you know? Tenacity, fearlessness," she leaned further down till her breath spilled over his temple, she could smell the whiskey on his skin, "a penchant for dismissing the rules..."

 

[Darth Osano]

Normally he might have regarded [member="Blackthorne"] as flighty, sporadic, an ill-tempered. Probably because she was. Just like Thengil, come to think of it. Must have been a pirate thing. These usual opinions ceased to register, naturally, and Maleagant completely forgot that she hadn't answered most of his questions regarding her planned takeover of Rattatak. This had happened someplace before, hadn't it? Someplace underground. There had been a bird woman...

Well, now his mind was on other things. Blackthorne's proximity and breath was electrifying, to say the least. "Hmm..." He leaned back a bit to get a better look at her; he did not let go of her hand. "I'll bet I know which rule is about to be dismissed."

 

[Blackthorne]

"Your rule maybe, not mine," she was sitting on his armrest now, coiled over him like a viper holding his gaze, free hand slithering to take the book back from him in order to place it on the table. He wouldn't be needing that right now. This hand then moved to his chin, coaxing it upwards to bring those lips that loved spouting derision, discontent, and the folly of his counterparts. Such things he said.

Time for silence - Dahl would hear nothing more. A short nuzzle across the side of his face filled her senses with the smell and taste of spilled Reserve. She kissed him briefly, long enough for a taste but short enough to give him a fair chance for escape.

 

[Darth Osano]

It was a chance at escape that wouldn't be taken. Maleagant hadn't felt the need to escape from anything recently. Running away was something for people without a lot of firepower and personnel behind them. But he didn't need either of those things to keep him from turning tail now - [member="Blackthorne"] 's kiss and proximity was more than enough incentive to keep him around.

"Well," he said, electing to pull her closer - off the arm rest and into his lap. "Better not stop now."

 

[Blackthorne]

To say that she wasn't entirely pleased with this response would have been to spout a lie through that cheshire grin. There wasn't a rule written in any book that she wouldn't break to have every stripe of this bourgeois bald man to herself. She would start with his lips and slowly, piece by piece, claim every inch of him. What would begin so strangely quiet in the chair would grow like the smolder of flames taken from kindling to proffered fuel.

It moved to the table, dishes and silverware cast aside for dessert. Layers of clothing joined gleaming platters on the floor; slashes of black across alabaster met with swathes of tribal patternwork etched upon a canvas of faded bronze. A brief pause at the unveiling of the blackened handprint wrapped across right forearm, the corruption of the Darkside having caused it to spread towards her wrist and up her arm. Still leery of her Master, it seemed. Sharp memory, that one.

"It's just me, luv," fingers curling around his belt pulled him back with a jerk in a forceful motion that did not match the gentle, soothing nature of her voice, "just Captain Blackthorne."

It moved to the wall, hot breath lingering over chilled skin. Green eyes rolling beneath their lids, fingernails clawing without mercy for purchase of flesh in response to the strength of the hands on her skin and in her hair - the fervor in which they clung and held. He drew out of her such sounds through fangs bared in sensory ecstasy. All that anger, she could feel it. If only he had given her a fraction of this passion when they first met they might've found this far more agreeable place much sooner.

Hit me.

Don't make it weird.

Was it weird now?

"Bite me Captain."

"...wot?"

Now who's making it weird.

Not that she was opposed to the weird or the very rare request of a feeding; so she sank her fangs into his neck and felt the weight of the man pressing her into the wall shudder beneath her.

It moved to the bed where blood stained the sheets and a sated gladiator made use of her physical prowess. There was not a stripe on his body that did not receive some form of attention and his laughter wasn't the only sound he would make that evening that she'd never heard before. Dahl relished in the tune...

~~~

It was said that a beast was often calmest after the kill and if the placidity and lassitude of the snoozing K'paur hybrid was anything to go by, it had been a very successful hunt. Dahl stretched luxuriously across sheets of Atrisian Silk, perfectly complacent with the bloodstained state of them. The pillows were missing - at least from her side, and she cared not at all. Dozing on her belly, arms looped forward in lazy repose, she stirred faintly from several hours of deep sleep in which the marks from the evening slowly healed.

A single green eye slivered open, pupil wide and color cool like the early morning jungle, to take in the spot on the bed next to her and was curiously surprised to find the striped man still there.

 

[Darth Osano]

Maleagant was sat upright in the bed, facing away and peering into a mirror situated on the other side of the room. He had one hand to his neck, fingers tracing over a pair of scabbed over puncture marks. While Shi'ido were gifted shapeshifters, regenerating lost blood was not something they had been gifted speed in. "Not doing that again," he muttered to himself - clearly thinking Blackthorne was still asleep. He felt light-headed and in need of a drink. Not alcohol; probably something that ended with -ade. Electrolytes, right? He had donated blood once in, what, secondary school? Couldn't remember what they gave him. There had been a free meal involved.

Well, heedful beverages allocated to charitable teenagers probably weren't going to be on this ship.

He thought about going to get his clothes from wherever they had gotten off to, but then Maleagant remembered the lizard. He had lost track of the lizard and now there was blood in the air. Coughing nervously, he laid himself back down and prepared to... Wait.

 

[Blackthorne]

Dahl smirked into her arm at his muttered words and allowed her slivered eye to close again as he settled back onto the bed. It wasn't often she came across a willing meal, though a few select members of her crew had played party to the role before. Wasn't unusual to listen to their lamentations. For creatures not possessing her enhanced healing capabilities the sting of her bite lingered for days if left untreated.

At least she wasn't venomous.

"Do you want a bacta patch for that..." the woman murmured into her arm without opening her eyes.

 

[Darth Osano]

The movement made his head spin. Nothing severe, but he had to take a long blink before responding. "Nuh," he said, paused, and tried again. "No, no. No problem."

He would just lay here, perfectly still, until the feelings of dizziness faded. Here, with the blood stained sheets, blood-thirsty (now literally) pirate, and ever-present threat of reptilian assault. All this had seemed like a good idea at the time. Later on, and upon further reflection, Maleagant would realize it had been the best idea another person had ever had in the same room as him. But that time was unfortunately not now.

"I'm fine." Maleagant swallowed hard. His throat was hoarse. "How are you?"

Just trying to fill the silence.

 

[Blackthorne]

"Mmf," a husk of a laugh muffled by her arm, Dahl slowly pushed herself up from the bed to fluidly slip off the side, "you're a terrible liar, Maleagant."

She slunk off, tattooed backside fully bared, coiling in a lazy stride as only a raltiir tiger might in the comfort of its domain. Fingers lifted a black satin gown decorated with ornate embroidery in red and gold from the ears of a carved ebony statue. With a shrug it was upon her shoulders, deft hands cinching the waist with a knot. Movement from the ceiling, the snappy fluttering of webbed wings. Two tailrings swooped down to where Dahl stood before a cabinet withdrawing glasses and bottles, vials of of various color liquids, ingredients, powders. She filled a gleaming goblet of silver with water, dropping in the contents of vials and jars to the tune of the tailrings chirruping and warbling on her shoulders.

Before much longer she was approaching the bedside of the Rattataki, green gaze glinting as she watched him. Her fingernails lightly tapped at the silver goblet, considering the man who looked as though he'd taken a trip to Zeltros unprepared. The smirk faintly pulling at her lips said that it wasn't so far from the truth.

"Here," the woman moved to sit on the edge of the bed, her pets taking flight as she did so, and held the goblet towards him, "drink. You'll feel better."

 

[Darth Osano]

Maleagant blinked slowly and carefully accepted the proffered goblet. Great, now he was hallucinating. There were two tiny dragons on her shoulders. Maybe [member="Blackthorne"] was venomous and now he was hallucinating as a result. Maleagant continued to play this cool and decided not to say anything about the... Dragonlings. Whatever was in the goblet couldn't be as bad in comparison. He took a sip, testing the contents, and upon realization that he was quite thirsty, drank more deeply. He drained the contents in one sitting and could feel the wider world coming back into focus. For the most part. He would remain off-kilter for a while, but at least some of his bearings had returned.

The dragons were still there, although those were actually Tailrings. If he remembered correctly, they were good for helping with ship maintenance. They ate mynocks or whatever. Not surprising they would be on a vessel owned by a beastmaster, then. He still couldn't believe they were perched on her shoulders like that. It was all very mystifying.

"Wasn't lying," he said, handing her back the goblet. "But thanks for the drink."

And for not sending it through his nose.

 

[Blackthorne]

"Of course you weren't, luv," replied the Pirate as she stood with goblet in one hand, the other reaching to stroke along the arched neck of the tailring on her left shoulder.

Of course he was.

She made her way back over to the cabinet and began putting the ingredients away, "Have you ever heard of a man named Seresh Mar?"

 

[Darth Osano]

Maleagant's gaze lingered inappropriately for a moment, but then he put his hands behind his head and made himself comfortable once again.

"Hnn..." He thought about it for a moment, trying to remember anyone by that name. Nothing. "Nope. Friend of yours?"