Maybe I'm Waking Up Today

[Rory Naasade]

Liya had lost track of just which planet they were on by this point. Their names and flavors all ran together in her head, mixing up into a soup of one thing after the next, all muddy and tasting the same. The only place that wasn't mixed up in it was the market she was hurrying through now. It was busier, more cosmopolitan than their previous stops, and she would stop every now and then to look up, a certain set of lights or a strange sight catching her attention.

It was the biggest city she had any memory of. If someone had tried to explain Coruscant to her, this is what she would have imagined it as, writ in larger scale. The truth that this was barely a city by galactic standards would have floored her, leaving her wide eyed and open mouthed.

She and Gideon had split up for a few hours. The city was big enough that it was necessary if they were going to track down all of the supplies they needed. The terrible events on Maena had yet to occur, and while Gideon had some misgivings, it had worked out fine the last time (if on a smaller scale) and they were on a budget of both credits and time.

Liya paused, looking up and frowning slightly. A big, fat raindrop hit her square between the eyes and she wrinkled her nose at the increasingly stormy sky. Hunching her shoulders as umbrellas came out through the crowd around her, she kept moving. She had a task, supplies she needed to find and a very, very bleak handful of credits with which to manage it. Her hand went up, thumbing absently one of the spots on her ear- the only one of the piercings that was empty, sold on their first stop to pay for fuel. She had already decided, no matter what Gideon said, that if she needed to, she'd try to sell some of the others. In most things, she simply nodded, letting him make the decisions, take the lead. But every now and then, a streak of stubbornness a mile wide reared its head and then, well, there was simply no dissuading her.

With a crash and a shudder, the sky opened up fully above her. Dodging quickly into the nearest shop, she was already soaked by the time she ducked through the door. With a sigh, she wiped the rain out of her eyes and peered up and out through the door. People scurried back and forth, escaping the rain..... while Liya was trying to figure out which shops in this row might have what she needed..... and preparing to dash back out into it.

She had a job to do, after all. She'd let Gideon down in too many ways already.

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Slave was fully cloaked, a stranger in the crowd with a coat that shrouded his iconic appearance. Despite the somewhat progressive stylings of the galaxy, especially on a planet like this; he still managed to stick out with his obviously corrupted eyes and silver hair. Leave alone the faintly attractive features many thought he possessed, he’d prefer to not be seen in those moments as he scoured the lower levels of some unnamed planet in a fit of angst.

Still, as he turned around from the vendor he felt something familiar. Something he couldn’t place but for a second before letting his eyes wander to what he sensed; the soft features of a woman covered in tattoos and piercings, blonde and ethereal in nature she seemed almost like a dream. Not because she was beautiful, but because she was loved before he even knew her.

Something wasn’t right.

Confused, The Slave moved to intercept her, but as he considered violence as a first answer there was a nagging sensation to cease and desist the tightness in his hand. She wasn’t an enemy, he didn’t need anymore. Not now; not her.

He paused only a few feet from her, his body suddenly relaxed. What was he even going to do? He didn’t even know why she upset him, only that she stood there now as a figure so close he could touch her, but emotionally so distant. There was no name to the face, no personality to mind; only the soft features and waif features she carried that held him at bay.

And even yet, his blood ran cold as her eyes met his, forcing him to avert them like a child caught staring. First reaction dictated he tried to act natural, but the aching anxiety in his heart stopped that from happening.

[member="Liya"]

 

[Rory Naasade]

She squinted, frowning up at the skies as if by sheer force of disappointment alone she could cause the clouds to close up and cease their deluge. Nothing happened of course, and she sighed, debating the merits of getting her only change of clothes soaked through again or waiting it out. Mulling it over, she glanced around, something tickling at the back of her neck, like the weight of someone....

Watching her.

Their eyes met for a moment and before she finished blinking he was looking away again. But it hadn't been the casual sweep of unintended eye contact. No. More the guilt of someone caught with their hand in the candy jar.

Her brow furrowed and she looked away, suddenly worried. Not unlike a certain someone else, once upon a time, she wore her emotions plainly on the surface, pinned neatly to her sleeve.

Did he know her? The person she had been?

Sith. Murderer.

She cringed inwardly, shaking her head once. Not anymore. Not ever again. She'd given that up, even if she didn't remember it. She'd woken up with blood on her hands and the witness of Gideon to her crimes. She'd learned of the meanings of some of her tattoos, of the stones in her ears. Long history of violence, of blood shed.

Did he know her? And if he did.... what was he expecting of her?

No. She glanced back at him, frown deepening. That wasn't the look she had caught in that single flash. It was something else. Something that.... she didn't know, not really. She debated, for a moment, walking away. She had work to do, after all. But she didn't move. It wasn't enough, she already knew on a deep and intrinsic level, to simply abstain from doing harm.

She had to do good.

It would never make up for what she had done. But it was a start, wasn't it?

"H-hey," she said softly, tilting her head slightly to look at him. "Are you okay?"

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

“Are you okay?”

No, he wasn’t. It wasn’t what she looked like, it was the very scent she gave off, the way her aura passively moved through the air to entangle with his ever so gently in the metaphysical winds of The Force. Looking away did nothing to help the lie she wasn’t standing in front of him, no matter how he tried to submerge the thoughts into some internal well he stuffed most of his emotions. With a pained, but hidden, expression he looked back to her with a very weak smile.

“No, I uh…”

What was he going to say? It wasn’t like him to be at a loss for words, but as he tried to form them the guilt he had for losing control with the initial Irajah came back to him in a wave. An annoying one at that as his thoughts stumbled to regain control of not only his internal monologue, but the muscles that allowed his jaw to move.

“... Just thought you looked nice.”

A pained cringe fell upon his face as he couldn’t help but realize what he said. Usually, he was a pretty flirtatious person, but something about it, right here right now, didn’t seem right. With every awkward instance The Slave normally passed up catching up to him in these few moments, he desperately tried to change the subject as fast as possible.

“Are… you okay?”, he said, once more annoyed at his response.

[member="Liya"]

 

[Rory Naasade]

When he looked back at her, there was a certain open earnestness on her face- no smile but a certain urging that his answer did matter. It wasn't personal, perhaps, but it was genuine.

Of course, his answer wasn't exactly what she'd expected.

"O-oh," she blinked, face flushing slightly.

That.... she didn't know what to say to that. It was probably the nicest thing someone had said to her since she could remember.... perhaps not a fair timeframe to look at. Most of it spent with Gideon.... and she didn't blame him for not really liking her very much. He tried, she knew he did. But she also knew that every time he looked at her, he saw the blood of his fellows on her hands. He'd never said as much, but it was written there in moments he thought she wasn't looking, or wasn't paying attention him. It came out in small ways.... and sometimes more, when the night was dark and everything was quiet.

That she could accept. Take it onto her shoulders because, well, she deserved far worse than that. Honestly, she didn't really understand how he managed to stay as cordial as he did.

So a compliment, genuine if awkward and poorly delivered, gave her pause and a certain amount of confusion.

It didn't help that she hadn't decided how she felt about the way she looked. The tattoos, the piercings, all laid a path that stank of the darkside. Of the person she had once been and was now trying not to be. She was, if she were being honest with herself, ashamed of the tattoos.

Awkward, unbalanced a little herself now, she moved her hands behind her back in a subconscious gesture, fingers fidgeting there.

"Th-thank you," she stammered, not really sure what else to say to that.

And then she frowned again, no more sure of how to answer his question than in how to answer his compliment.

"Um. No.... I mean.... I'm okay. Just.... waiting. You know, for the rain to stop. But I don't think it's going to let up. I'd been hoping to compare-"

She stopped, suddenly self conscious. It was.... oddly easy to talk to him. And yet.....

"I'm sorry, yes, I mean, yes I'm fine."

For some reason, it was perfectly okay for her to ask him, and hope he'd tell her whatever was bothering him. But to tell someone else what was bothering her?

She didn't deserve that.... shouldn't waste his time.

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

“Been hoping to compare what?”

The Slave seemed to blurt it out, far past his own means of self control. Reprehensive, The Slave quickly quieted down and watched her for the various subtle reactions of someone he assumed would be annoyed, even somehow remember him for the monster he was.

It was true they spoke time and time again far past the beyond, a place they had endless conversations and untold journeys into the depths of each other's mind, but it was obvious now she didn’t remember those. It wasn’t his place to force that upon her, to ask ‘What about what you told me?’, or even ‘What about what I told you?’. No, what she needed now wasn’t a cruel reminder of her death, but a tender hand. A faint glimmer of guidance he never had.

The Slave swallowed hard before speaking once more, his piercing stare dulled now to nothing more than a soft feather as it washed over her features. He spoke once more, hoping to clear the air after his rude interruption;

“You were just… on a roll is all. I didn’t meant to interrupt.”

He cringed once more, the usual suave nature he held so close to his heart just a mere meek form of what it usually was. Every time he seemed to open his mouth, he only disappointed himself more; but in a few senses maybe it was for the best. Better she remember him not for ‘The Slave’, but a boy without a name, something he so desperately hoped to return to sometimes.

[member="Liya"]

 

[Rory Naasade]

"Oh!" She said, blinking in surprise.

She wasn't used to someone looking to understand better what she had stopped herself from saying. There was no annoyance, just surprise. And certainly no trace of 'monster' when she looked at him.

"Um. I mean. So there are a lot of places around here that sell rations? Sturdy stuff, for travel. I'd been hoping I'd have the time to find the best deal. But with the rain it's either get soaked or settle and maybe get less than we need."

She peered back out at the rain, habitual frown deepening. That was one, very clear place they differed. Not the only, but where the place she had come from was easy to smile, that worried frown was the more common expression on Liya's lips.

"Probably just going to have to make my peace with a soaking," she said a bit sheepishly. Gideon would be disappointed in her if he knew she'd shirked because of some rain. It probably hadn't even given him pause. He was a Jedi, steady and stoic, and while she was trying, so hard, that part didn't come easily. Not really.

She looked back at him, grey eyes blinking slowly at the look on his face when their eyes met again.

"I.... I'm sorry.... do.... have we.... met?"

There was both trepidation and a certain hesitant hope in that question.

She knew, without doubt, that the person she had been, had been bad.

A monster.

Murderer.

Sith.

So anyone who did know her would know her as that. And either they would be the same, or it would be what they saw when they looked at her. She wouldn't be able to blame them, in that case either. But then someone who knew her would know where she had come from. Maybe, even, her actual name.

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Slave paused and mulled over his answer before responding. He knew he couldn’t tell her the truth, perhaps for his own sake rather than hers, and even then he could only guess where the correlation might have come; in truth, he could be wrong in his entirety and she could only seem similar on the surface. With a shake of his head, he offered a quiet response, one meek but constant;

“No, we’ve never met.”

It hurt saying it, but on some level it almost felt like a new chance at something he missed out on. A faint opening into a life he was never able to live due to his corruption, his originations, his choices. Still, there was a distance he’d have to keep if he intended to let her become his idealized life on a pedestal. With another passing second, he offered a kindred smile to liven up the two’s mood, letting his normal iconic tone break the tension between them;

“You don’t need to look for the best deals. I have plenty of credits, if you need some help.”

He paused however, raising a hand from beneath his cloak as if to pause the conversation;

“First, could I ask your name? I just realized I never got it.”

[member="Liya"]

 

[Rory Naasade]

She smiled a little, bright, unaffected, even if a little confused. There was something about his answer that seemed off somehow. She couldn't put her finger on it exactly. He wasn't lying. Just something.... well.... off.

Of the parts that made up Liya, one of them was an openness and wiliness to trust. To believe someone when they said something, unless given specific reason not to. A trait disposed of as something dangerous, weak, foolish. It had been left behind with the rest, coalescing into the sliver that inhabited this body here and now. So she tilted her head, and accepted him at face value, smile widening- surprised, bewildered, but genuine.

"Oh! I.... That is... that's very generous. I'm.... I don't think I could- I mean, I don't have anything to offer in return...."

She paused, blinking and cheeks colouring slightly in embarrassment. But it turned to a full on flush a moment later.

"Oh geez, I'm sorry!"

Juggling the one small package she'd already managed to procure back and forth awkwardly for a moment, she finally tucked it under her left arm and offered her right to shake. She'd been seeing people doing that and wanted to try- though honestly she wasn't entirely certain she was doing it right.

"Um, I'm Liya. Just, well. Just Liya. What's your name?"

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Slave moved to reach hers, his grip offering a faint comfort with the pressure. Although pale in tone, it carried with it a contradicting warmth that washed over her skin, and nearly up her arm. Likely the result of a man known for heavy activity, in whatever it seemed he did best.

“A pleasure to meet you, Liya.”, he responded.

At her question however, he seemed to ignore her. He certainly heard what she said, but he didn’t want to risk the off chance she might remember him by nickname alone, that in some odd way his pseudonym would ignite some deeply seeded hatred she might’ve held for him. No, telling her his ‘name’ wasn’t on his agenda, at least right now.

To push past her inquiry, he quickly moved to pat down his pockets as if looking for something. With a sigh of relief, he pulled from beneath the rain cloak a small data chip that held some vague amount of credits on it; the text was far too small to read at the distance he offered it. He spoke as he offered it to her;

“This’ll suffice for today. C’mon, lets go look for some things you want.”, he offered, coaxing her in some off direction with his head, and a smile to back it.

As she’d look at the small screen on the credit chip, it’d come alive and offer her a glimpse into what he carried on him casually. The number was large, followed by a few too many zeros for comfort. Just where had he gotten all of that?

[member="Liya"]

 

[Rory Naasade]

It was pleasantly perplexing. She shook his hand back, perfectly at ease despite what ought to be a rather peculiar interaction. As she withdrew, she caught sight of the tattoos on her wrist, peeking out from beneath the fabric of her shirt, and quickly, hopefully casually, she tugged the sleeves down. It was a familiar gesture. One taken from somewhere else. Someone else. Self conscious and swift, and pretending she hadn't done it at all.

A little bewildered by the whole thing, she reached out nonetheless, a little hesitant but mostly because she had no frame of reference for anything like this- like him.

Grey eyes widened slightly as she caught sight of the number. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. It was several orders of magnitude more than what she needed, but she nodded, honestly figuring that she would gratefully allow him to help her find what she needed, and return the chip to him when they were done.

"Um, yes, okay, thank you- I, I can't really thank you enough..." she said, still sounding surprised but letting him indicate a direction. The rain hadn't really let up, but they scurried just to the store next door, only getting a brief shower. The rain was warm, and not unpleasant, in truth, and she tipped her face up to it for a minute, enjoying the sensation before they stepped back under cover.

"So.... you didn't tell me what-"

But then the shop keeper was there, half falling over himself in his eagerness to help them- no, Liya realized- to help him. She looked little better than a ragamuffin and she knew it. Stepping back slightly, she glanced questioningly over at him, his smile warm and reassuring as she starting explaining what she needed to the shopkeep.

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Before she could finish her sentence, her inquiry into his identity, the shopkeeper came by with the predatory stance only a merchant could. Instantly, he began to draw her in, getting what she needed or wanted with little quarrel and throwing it in a stack on the table. There was no need for The Slave to step in, only watch mindfully from the side.

And so he did, letting his eyes watch the way she tugged her sleeve down just as he remembered Irajah doing so long ago, attempting to hide what she was fearful of. Yet, his gaze never judged, never demanded, only appreciated. Appreciated the way her lips seemed to move, the way her lips would curl as the stress was lifted away by his credit chip, even the fondest color that flushed into her face.

It was familiar. Comforting. He could almost hear the piano music playing in the background, and a soft hand on the back of his guiding his fingers through song after song, symphony after symphony as the soft sun of Blackwater kissed his skin.

Eventually, The Slave shook his head and broke his little day dream, taking the moment of her occupancy to walk close and nudge her just slightly as though he were looking over the various products on the table. Food, rations, whatever it was, it didn’t really matter; his real goal in the bump was to reverse-pickpocket a separate credit chip into her pocket. It was certainly smaller than the one he had on him at the time, but it was for emergencies.

The Slave supposed this would count, if Cybele ever asked where it went.

“Well, sure, this might be what you need, but what do you want?”, he said, offering her a warm smile from the side of the table.

“What about this?”, The Slave offered as he moved to pick up a surprisingly shiny rock.

It almost glowed a very dull blue as he held it, small cracks covering its surface as he flipped it through his fingers. Feeling the smoothness of it, he offered it to her, his normally piercing gaze so much softer than usual, so much more glad she was here.

“A gift. From me to you.”

[member="Liya"]

 

[Rory Naasade]

Pleasantly bemused by the whole situation, Liya and the shopkeep discussed, occasionally haggling (Liya poorly and the shopkeep clearly getting the better deal but making her feel good about it). The necessary items piled (surprisingly small, it was clear that despite what amounted to more money than she had ever seen, she was still only choosing the things they needed), she looked up at the Slave in surprise when he he spoke again.

"What.... I..... want?"

She blinked, looking at him like maybe he wasn't speaking basic for a minute. Then her brow furrowed, frown that had been banished for a short while returned.

"I....."

For a moment, Liya didn't know how to react, what to say.

Slowly, almost unable to help it, she reached out. Fingers pulled back, just short of the stone in his open hand and she looked up at him, searching his eyes, still clearly off balance. Then she frowned a little harder, fingertips just brushing the stone but not taking it.

"It's beautiful," she murmured softly. Grey eyes flickered over it, cool and gleaming in his pale hand.

"You're already doing so much.... I can't accept this."

But there was an underlayer of chagrin in her voice, something she tried to hide.

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

“Well what am I going to do with it then?”, he said with a sarcastically confused tone.

“It's already yours.”, he chuckled as he nodded to the merchant behind the stand.

The merchant offered his own jolly guffaw and moved through the rest of the transaction. Although meager in terms of how much he offered, The Slave was still subtly proud that he was able to offer her so much. As he thought about it, he never really did buy Irajah anything but a few notebooks and such. In the same manner, she was always super hesitant to anything out of courtesy.

With the hood still covering most of his face, and only a small pittance of alabaster hair peeking out, The Slave glanced to her with a bright smile and spoke once more;

“What’s something you've always wanted, Liya?”

[member="Liya"]

 

[Rory Naasade]

She accepted the stone as he tipped it into her hands. She cupped it there, still warm from his touch. One thumb traced over it, the action reflexive.

"Thank you," she said quietly, looking up at him, a shy smile on her face as she did.

But his next question cut through the somehow pleasantness of this particular confusion, and the smile faltered. Closing her hands over the stone, she held onto it tightly. Even the shopkeep noticed the shift, and he turned away, ostensibly to package up the purchases, but at least to give some modicum of privacy to something with more weight than the warm question had truly sought.

"Nothing you can buy," she said softly, her tone chagrined. "Nothing I could find on the shelves of a shop."

It shouldn't be this easy to trust him. Gideon had been fairly stern about being careful, how not to be taken in by a con. But trust came easier to Liya than distrust did, and this person, in particularly....

It was like she already knew what it was like to talk to him for hours on end. Why was that?

"My name..... isn't really Liya," she admitted. "I'm sorry. It's just.... it's what I'm using, so, I didn't lie to you. But I don't...." she looked a little frustrated. "I don't know my real name. I don't know anything that happened before two weeks ago. Just that....."

She looked away, chewing on her lower lip. "Just that I apparently wasn't a very good person," she finally said, her thumbs rubbing the stone in her hands absently.

Gideon's witness, the slowly accumulating knowledge that pointed to someone who killed, again and again. The guilt, one of the few truths she had woken up with. All signs pointed to that. She had no reason to disbelieve.

"I want...." She trailed off, about to say 'to know who I was'- but she already knew that, didn't she? Maybe she didn't remember, but she knew.

"I want to be better," she whispered instead, looking down at the stone in her hands. "And no one can give that to me. That.... that's on me."

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Instead of responding, letting his voice fill the void, The Slave simply rested a hand on her shoulder and smiled. He knew the concerns how she felt, and instead of turn away as he had before, he could only stand his ground and hope for the best. There was, deep inside, the nagging sensation to run away from the problems she faced, to selfishly turn away from everything they had conversed and discussed for months prior to this destined meeting. It was a quiet voice that spoke those insecurities, but one that he could ignore.

He wouldn’t run away again.

“Your name is Liya so long as you care to use it.”, he said in the most comforting voice he could muster, a surprisingly well attuned tone considering his usual demeanor.

“So long as you seek to be good, to attain that redemption, you’re already great.”, with that, he let his hand slip from her.

“You’re already better, Liya.”, he finally reaffirmed before turning to the merchant and offering him the credit chip.

The Slave didn’t speak for the next few moments, ensuring everything was packaged and paid for before being sent off for delivery back to the docking bay the Liya and her compatriot had set out for themselves. After everything was said and done, he turned back and spoke once more;

“Are you hungry?”

[member="Liya"]

 

[Rory Naasade]

She didn't really believe him. It wasn't that easy. It couldn't be. If it was then she wouldn't still feel the overwhelming guilt of actions she could not remember. If it was then Gideon would have forgiven her. If it was, then there would be no underlying fear to this journey- waiting, wondering, just what the Alliance would decide as her fate once they heard the crimes leveled.

That didn't mean that part of her didn't like hearing it though. There was a comfort to it, like a child being told that of course there were no monsters beneath the bed- even though they knew they were were. It was still nice to hear, good to feel, even if she knew the feeling would fade again once the lights were out and the door had closed..... once the remembrance that the monster under the bed was her. And that there was no escaping it.

Still feeling more bemused by the whole, pleasant but perhaps slightly insane series of moments, it took her a minute to really register his question.

"Oh! Um. I am, but, I mean-"

To be fair, she was often hungry. Or at least, not satisfied. It was one thing to have enough calories in the form of meal bars and protein packs, but real food had been few and far between over the last weeks. But Gideon would be waiting for her-

She paused, and blinked. No, he wouldn't be. She'd finished this errand in a fraction of the time she'd expected to.

"I mean, that would be nice, yes, thank you."

She took the moment to say what she wanted to, and it felt good to do so.

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

She may not have believed him, but The Slave spoke what The Slave knew to be true. He felt cruel for hiding the truth from her, disregarding the sin she thought she held, but he had to comfort her somehow without offering her even the faintest idea he was who he was. The thought of her face contorting, fear striking her innocence, or even anger filling this friendly void hurt his heart. Even the mere thought of the situation forced his heart to almost stutter at the anxiety of it.

Resting a hand on his chest, hoping to seem somewhat nonchalant, he offered her a gentle rolling smile and glanced around towards the street. The rain kept up, but it slowed to a faint drizzle compared to the downpour it was prior, allowing a few more people to walk the streets than before.

“Well, what would you prefer? Naboo food, Lorrd food? Perhaps even an Aing-Tii themed meal?”, he chuckled.

Price wasn’t the concern for him. He didn’t care if she asked for a hundred thousand credit meal, or one that cost five; right now his concern was keeping the two in contact for as long as possible before separating. He knew the reality was that she would return to her ship, travel off with her partner and do whatever she felt must be done in the long run; but for now, it was his turn to be selfish.

Only a few more minutes is all he wanted.

[member="Liya"]

 

[Rory Naasade]

"Oh! Um-" Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment that she couldn't have hidden if she'd tried.

"I don't... I don't know what the difference is.... honestly. I.... the only thing I really know is, well, things like the ration packs," she said, as if she were apologizing for it. "I'm sure.... I must have... but I don't.... I don't remember, I'm sorry."

She looked around, grey eyes scanning the shop fronts that arrayed in front of them, and picked one, seemingly at random, hating not able to give him a simple thing like an answer when he was being so kind to her.

"How about that one? Is that one.... is... is that okay?"

It was a Mon Calamari restaurant. One of Raj's favorite types of cuisine. Sweet and spicy noodles, seafood. When he nodded, she smiled, one part shy, one part relief.

They threaded through the newly growing crowd, starting to make their way back into the streets as the rain let up, dodging puddles first and then a trandoshan in a particular hurry that ended up spinning Liya around at the shoulder- but she just laughed, shrugging. No harm done and in a moment they were inside the cafe.

Pausing, Liya breathed in deeply, eyes closing and a certain tension ebbing from her face as she scents hit her.

Familiar? Not quite. It wasn't that easy or straight forward. But the clear interest and curiosity on her face as she walked up and peered through the glass case at the offerings was all too familiar. The cafe seemed to be a noodle bar, different kinds available with different toppings and she just absorbed all of the choices with a certain intent seriousness, as if contemplating something far more serious than *lunch*.

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Letting her lead the way, she took the two to the Mon Calamari Cafe with a certain excitement he was envious of. It was the joy in her step, the hesitant way she kept her smile hidden about her; feeling as though she didn’t deserve what was given to her. Although she looked different from Irajah, she was beautiful in every way he remembered.

He couldn’t help but feel a lump rising in his throat as the pain in his chest continued.

As the two stepped into the cafe, he pulled off the hood to fully reveal his face and hair, a peculiar mix of ivory and gold that made him seem far more luxurious than he truly was. Gaunt and dedicated features lined his face, but the emotions behind his eyes remained well hidden to all but a Zeltron. He was notably good at hiding such emotions now, growing much since his last ‘discussion’ with Irajah.

Glancing to her, appreciating the raw hunger in her eyes, he laughed just faintly enough to be heard before a Mon Calamari waitress approached the two and asked how many they would be. The Slave responded, and as soon as they had come in they were moved to sit at their own table; following suit a native chef of the cuisine approached and turned on the stove. It was an almost hibachi styled setup, letting them cook the food in front of you; a show to the meal some would say.

The Slave kept careful tabs on her, making sure she was comfortable through empathy alone before speaking up as the Chef began to cook their noodles and perform this trick or that. His voice was soft, as he had constantly kept up with her as though he might accidently agitate and scare her off by simply speaking too loudly;

“Do you have any dreams, Liya? Things outside of redemption.”, he asked hopeful.

He asked in part because of interest, he wanted to see where she truly wanted to go, but he also asked because he needed his own goals. It felt nice to ask someone who didn’t know his reputation, let him act on a clean slate; this being a semi-perfect opportunity to do so.

[member="Liya"]