Sweet Agony

[Shakti Sweet]

Location: Unknown Confederate Ship
Objective: Seek Medical Attention
Tag: [member="Ephraim"]

---

The last day had been a series of extremely rookie mistakes. From thinking she had any place on that damned, worm-infested ship - to allowing herself to be crushed by a bank of metal lockers which had almost certainly broken her ankle. Shakti was not on top of her game. She'd had several long moments to reflect on all the stupid things she'd done as the escape pod they rode in rocketed them through empty space, between the Dance or Die studio and the nearest CIS ship. She also took the time to reflect on what it meant for her that she was now firmly in the grasp of a man she assumed was part of that same organization. The moment didn't linger, however, as Ephraim returned to her, asking her name and providing his own.

As he demonstrated the full sign for his name she allowed her brows to raise in a facsimile of surprise. Fruitful? Her eyes dipped as she gave him a quick once over - curious as to whom he had allowed to give him that nickname. The merc looked like he was more likely to shoot the fruit bowl than be compared to it... But that was the things with signs. When he was kind enough to give the shorthand for his name she returned the favor, seeing that he obviously understood. She lifted both hands at once, one hand rising to press the edge of her index finger to her lips, the other crossing it at the palm before she brought them both down. Silent. Fitting.

The shudder that announced their docking with the CIS craft was enough to halt the meet-cute for the time being as once more she was whisked off her feet and escorted to their med bay. She took note that fruit-boy seemed perfectly fine with lying about who she was to other CIS staff as they hurried to get her treatment... For whatever reason, he didn't seem in a rush to have her hauled off to the brig or off to interrogation... Though perhaps he didn't know about her heritage - and assumed she'd need the medical attention immediately. She wasn't about to correct anyone if they thought she needed the assistance in a rush.

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It wasn't long after they'd taken her into a small, private room that Ephraim was allowed in once more. As was often the case when she ran into medical professionals they were both thrilled and frustrated to learn of her expediated healing abilities. It meant that they didn't need to be as cautious usually - but it also meant that her ankle had started to 'heal' with the breaks still in place. They'd needed to rebreak several of the bones before they could be set and because they needed to hurry there was no time for anesthetic. Thankfully no one could hear her scream...

She sat upright on a simple, metallic medical bed, what was left of her boots and pants in a tattered wreck in the trash near the door. They'd been kind enough to provide her with a gown, and she'd elected to toss her cowled jacket onto the bed beside her to allow for the gown to fit. There was a promise of new clothes to come, soon as they'd had time to deal with some of the other injured parties that had fled the media station. She assumed with the damage that had been done she'd likely be out of commission for a week or two - though not terrible considering what could have happened.

Deft fingers slid down to where the gown lay across her legs and gathered it up, tugging the fabric up around the tops of her thighs as she gazed down at the beautiful array of bruises that were starting to bloom across her legs. The gold of her skin helped to hide some of the more sickly yellows and greens - but the dark blues and purples were made all the more vibrant as she frowned down at them. No shorts for a while, she mused...

 

[Alexander]

Location: CNS Freedom Cry, Neutral Space​

Tag: [member="Shakti Sweet"]​

Silent.

There were not many instances that the Ghost of Endelaan would actively attempt to commit something to memory. At least when sign language was considered. Though his lessons in the militant art were a lifetime ago, he retained enough that he could tell a squad to breach a door in a pinch. But, when it came to the fiery-haired woman he had maimed, he made certain to burn the motion of her fingers and hands into memory. Perhaps it was simply guilt eating at the lining of his gut...Perhaps it was just the fact that they had literally dodged a defoliator by the skin of their teeth, but Ephraim was feeling generous when it came to Shakti. Responsible, even. Sure, she had "incurred" her injury by not stopping when he yelled, but she also did not have the means to easily and effectively communicate that she was not apart of the plague of worms aboard the station.

Nonetheless, after their pod shuddered against the Confederate vessel, the time for getting to know one another had briefly drawn to a close. [member="Shakti Sweet"] was promptly carted away on a stretcher - and after a few corridors, their ways parted. Though he had taking responsibility for the woman at the forefront of his mind, he also had his duties to perform. Being an Obsidian Knight kept the bills paid, after all, and slacking after an event like this certainly wasn't good for keeping the credits flowing. Thus, Ephraim departed after the Wildling disappeared beyond the point where only legitimate family were allowed. His itinerary was the nearest comm station, where he would make his report from his perspective. It was...doctored...to best prevent his peers from digging into the woman's history. For, after all, the Knights Obsidian had the Bothan Spynet at their disposal...and her fingerprints.

She would be pleasantly surprised to find that no one was digging into her past while her bones were being broken back into place.

After Ephraim made his report to his superiors, he wasted no time in returning to the medical wing of the Freedom Cry. For one, he wanted to see how his newfound charge was doing. For two, there wasn't really chit else to do aboard the ship to do. Save drink. So, calmly, he strode into her quarters with a bottle of icy water in hand and a bottle of Corellian ale in the other. He offered her the one that wouldn't kill her when mixed with painkillers before seating himself at the edge of her bed. His now-free-hand would make the shorthand version of good morning - or least a butchered version of it - before committing to popping the top off of the bottle. "From what I hear, you healed up quick." he began, punctuating his greeting with a swig of the ale.

"Which is good. It's a slow flight back to Geonosis, but by the time we get there I'm sure you'll be right as rain." He nodded, as if to convince himself that her speedy recovery was somehow going to do something about the fact that he put her in the bed. "And listen...I'm sorry. Was just doing my job and, well...yeah. I'm sorry." He quickly changed gears after averting his gaze from her face. He allowed his eyes to wander about the room, culminating with the remains of her previous attire in the disposal bin in the corner. He made a mental note, but did not say anything on the subject.

"Where will you go from here?" he asked. But instead of waiting for her to sign a response, he offered his hand. She would feel that power emanating from his flesh, but it didn't invade her mind this time. There was no icy prodding, but rather an offer to make communication a touch more...Seamless. It was up to her if she took him up on it or not. But, regardless, he was here for the answer.

 

[Shakti Sweet]

Location: Unknown Confederate Ship, Neutral Space
Tag: [member="Ephraim"]

---

Piercing green eyes lifted as the man strode into her room, and the heat that had faded following his icy excursion into her mind earlier appeared to have returned to it's full, roiling brilliance. She fought the urge to glare at him as he offered her the decanter of water, not taking it from his hand and instead, working to suppress the desire to plant her foot against the side of his hip and kick him off the bed he'd decided to just perch himself onto. They'd known each other only a few hours and this perfect stranger was comfortable enough to seat himself in pummeling range of her near-naked self. Bold. Stupid, but bold.

She allowed one of her brows to arch smoothly as he mentioned her healing, her toes on the freshly re-broken and set foot wiggling nimbly at him. Anyone who'd suffered broken bones before would know the pain that came as a result, but she seemed utterly fine maneuvering the digits. All with no pain killers to boot... Woo-hoo for that accelerated metabolism as well. Speak of.

Shakti leaned forward as he finished his first swig of the ale he'd brought and snatched that from him instead. She lifted it to her lips and took a swig, wincing a big at the flavour but not hating the resulting warmth that it left behind. For her second time trying alcohol, it wasn't terrible, and the sort of soft fuzzy feeling it left in its wake was comfortable compared to the bone breaking sans anesthesia she'd had earlier. Perhaps this was why people in her field of work tended to drink so much... If it could ease the pain of ending up on the wrong end up of fruit basket over here, why wouldn't you?

The bottle of ale was thrust roughly back into his hands as she reclined back onto the bed and sighed, the sound only the exhalation of air without the exacerbated huff that might have come along otherwise. So they were headed for Genosis... Couldn't get much closer to the smack-dab central CIS space than that. No doubt she was in a fair amount of trouble then. Ruminating on that thought for a moment she watched as he extended his hand, her eyes narrowing a touch as she felt that same energy from before in the air - apparently he wanted to chat.

Another of those silent sighs escaped her as she leaned forward and placed her hand into his. Despite the massive amount of personality the woman managed to pack, her frame was quite small, and her hand was a good deal smaller than his as she rested it in his palm. That buzzing hum in the air she felt seemed to settle as their skin met, and that same shattered and painful voice came to his mind.

"Genosis. You said. No choice, yes?" As before the voice was not in the least bit pleasant - almost like someone was raking low grit sandpaper with thumb tacks stuck through it across his mind. It was hard to pick out among the noise that was her 'voice', but there was still anger there - not as intense as it had been when she'd been trapped, but she certainly wasn't coming across as happy currently.

 

[Alexander]

Location: CNS Freedom Cry, Neutral Space​

Tag: [member="Shakti Sweet"]​

There was a small part of the Ghost who wanted to protest.

Now, this was not due to the sudden altruistic bone that had been throbbing ever since he liberated the Wildling from the locker. Anyone with a remotely basic understanding of medical bays, painkillers, and what not to mix with them would have shuddered at the notion of Shakti seizing the ale bottle. However, the first thought on Ephraim's mind when the beverage was stolen out of his grasp was that's mine. It took a concerted effort on his part to remember that he was the reason that she was laying in the hospital bed; but that reminder was enough that he turned a blind eye to the defiling of his drink. Though, in truth, if there was anyone aboard that he would be moderately okay with drinking after, an attractive stranger wasn't a bad choice. Nonetheless, the woman did not seem nearly as...pensive...as she had been within the escape pod.

Though, after being poked and prodded by strange physicians and their even stranger droids, he couldn't blame her. After a moment, the beverage was returned to his grasp and Ephraim wasted no time in taking a hearty swig from the bottle. Shortly thereafter, he found her hand accepting the offer that he had made. Her seemingly tiny fingers rested within his grasp as the understanding flowed freely between them. Shakti's "voice" was just as jarring as it had been aboard the Station, but at least he knew what to expect now. Though her words were brief, he could read between the lines. Or, at least he thought he could. No choice meant she probably wasn't thrilled with the notion of being cooped up on the Confederate capital in the slightest. It was probably not her ideal...aesthetic.

Ephraim shook his head. Typically he would have responded verbally, but given what he had to inform her of, he opted to respond using the contact between them. His voice was identical when sounding with her skull to when he spoke aloud. For you, it can be temporary. he began. I made certain that my peers didn't go digging through your information. Everyone has you stamped as just a civilian - wrong place, wrong time. I could arrange a ticket for you anywhere you want to go when we get there. Given the damage he caused to her legs, he figured that was more than warranted. A moment passed between them in quiet before he asked the obvious.

Just what were you doing on that Station anyway?

 

[Alexander]

Location: CNS Freedom Cry, Neutral Space​

Tag: [member="Shakti Sweet"]​

There was a small part of the Ghost who wanted to protest.

Now, this was not due to the sudden altruistic bone that had been throbbing ever since he liberated the Wildling from the locker. Anyone with a remotely basic understanding of medical bays, painkillers, and what not to mix with them would have shuddered at the notion of Shakti seizing the ale bottle. However, the first thought on Ephraim's mind when the beverage was stolen out of his grasp was that's mine. It took a concerted effort on his part to remember that he was the reason that she was laying in the hospital bed; but that reminder was enough that he turned a blind eye to the defiling of his drink. Though, in truth, if there was anyone aboard that he would be moderately okay with drinking after, an attractive stranger wasn't a bad choice. Nonetheless, the woman did not seem nearly as...pensive...as she had been within the escape pod.

Though, after being poked and prodded by strange physicians and their even stranger droids, he couldn't blame her. After a moment, the beverage was returned to his grasp and Ephraim wasted no time in taking a hearty swig from the bottle. Shortly thereafter, he found her hand accepting the offer that he had made. Her seemingly tiny fingers rested within his grasp as the understanding flowed freely between them. Shakti's "voice" was just as jarring as it had been aboard the Station, but at least he knew what to expect now. Though her words were brief, he could read between the lines. Or, at least he thought he could. No choice meant she probably wasn't thrilled with the notion of being cooped up on the Confederate capital in the slightest. It was probably not her ideal...aesthetic.

Ephraim shook his head. Typically he would have responded verbally, but given what he had to inform her of, he opted to respond using the contact between them. His voice was identical when sounding with her skull to when he spoke aloud. For you, it can be temporary. he began. I made certain that my peers didn't go digging through your information. Everyone has you stamped as just a civilian - wrong place, wrong time. I could arrange a ticket for you anywhere you want to go when we get there. Given the damage he caused to her legs, he figured that was more than warranted. A moment passed between them in quiet before he asked the obvious.

Just what were you doing on that Station anyway?

 

[Shakti Sweet]

Location: Unknown Confederate Ship, Neutral Space
Tag: [member="Ephraim"]

---

The Wildling, as he'd taken to thinking of her as, didn't seem the least bit disturbed by the startled response to her taking his bottle of ale, nor did she seem upset by his displeasure when she returned it to him. It was unlikely he'd know that there was no painkiller outside of perhaps someone being inside of her mind that could take hold long enough to be effective with her species as pain mitigation... But she also didn't particularly care if she put him out with her actions either. If he was going to come in here and drink without offering to share, he could get fethed.

She allowed one brow to raise curiously when she spoke into his mind, noting that he didn't flinch now when the sound of her mind touched his. Perhaps the alcohol was helping to dull his senses against the grating nature of her very broken 'voice', but in any case, it was notable that it didn't need to hurt when she spoke into his mind... Interesting. As he explained that they wouldn't be digging into her past she scoffed, her lips moving but the sound coming through their connection again, harsh and crackling.

"They find nothing. I am no one." She wasn't wrong on that point... In a galaxy where so many people were warriors, leaders, warlords, magicians... She was literally no one. Any digging into the name she'd provided would prove fruitless because in truth it wasn't even her name. It was one she'd chosen, one she'd heard and committed to memory years ago. It was small comfort to her now though - knowing what this man seated at the edge of her bed had done. She remembered the ice-like feeling of him crawling inside of her head to steal what she had not given freely... She tried very hard not to think about how easy that had seemed to be for him.

Her eyes narrowed a touch now as she regarded him, that heat back into her 'voice' as she spoke to him, "Not your business," she spat in response to his inquiry about why she'd been on the ship. It seemed that the momentary reminder about what he'd done had soured her much more neutral mood. It had been a nice change while it lasted though... Her hand returned to the surface of the bed they both sat upon, fingers curled into her palm, the sudden urge to lash out at his strong, though she knew better. Her ability to wield the Force was a joke, and fruit-basket had an expansive knowledge of how to use it in comparison.

She pinned the edges of her tongue between her teeth and bit down solidly. The taste of blood came to her almost instantly, but she could feel the small indents in the flesh seal up almost instantaneously. The moment of pain and that lingering copper flavour grounded her, however, and the urge to swing at him passed... For now anyways.

 

[Alexander]

Location: Medical Bay, Confederate Ship​

Tag: [member="Shakti Sweet"]​

They find nothing. I am no one.

The Ghost of Endelaan made a genuinely concerted effort not to scoff in response to the words which echoed in his mind. The countless shards of metaphorical glass grated against his psyche, painlessly enunciating what she believed to be true. Perhaps she had cultivated a persona of her own design and thought that the Knighthood would not be able to determine who she really was. Perhaps she was simply a civilian, and thereby a "no one." But the fact remained...she just didn't understand. The organization, despite being a source of consistent pay, was damn good at what they did. They bragged about their efficiencies all the time and were able to hunt down a shadow-y Empire, not once, but twice without missing a beat. And for her to think she was no one would mean anything? Ha.

You aren't no one. he said, correcting her as gently as possible. And furthermore, these Obsidians are damn good at what they do. I wanted to make sure that you didn't have anything to worry about while you mended up - geez.

Shortly thereafter, Ephraim's inquiry seemed to have an affect upon the woman. Her brusque demeanor only intensified after he dared to question why she was on the Station in the first place. Now, the warrior was no professing empath, but he could feel an inferno bubbling up underneath her skin. If another was present, they may have hardly believed that the Ghost was able to keep his head on his shoulders, just based upon the "heat" that she radiated. But, Ephraim did not take offense to this, nor the way she answered the question. Clearly, she was sore about the elephant in the room...which was that she had to be in this room, recovering from an injury he caused. No amount of kind gestures would make up for the fact that she was wounded and on the mend.

Yeah, it ain't my business. he said, though his tone had taken on a fiery edge. And, though she was doing everything she could not to swing on him, Ephraim was not about to make it easy. You got a problem? Alright, let's settle this. He motioned to her with his dominant hand before rising to his feet. He made certain to stay within arm's reach of her for what he was about to do. You want to swing on me? You're mad because I didn't leave you to die? Fine. Swing. But you better knock me the feth out. He didn't finish the threat.

 

[Shakti Sweet]

Location: Unknown Confederate Ship, Neutral Space
Tag: [member="Ephraim"]

---

---

---

His blatant contradiction of literally everything she said or did was not helping her mood. When she insisted that he would have no luck tracking down the origins of the young Ferrerrio, he insisted that wasn't true. Insisted that she would find herself gravely mistaken should she assume that they wouldn't be able to suss out who she was... She had to stop herself from visibly scoffing at the man as he continued on, [SIZE=10.5pt]instead[/SIZE] forcing herself to stillness and just letting him have his assumptions. Certainly, there was a record of her, but nothing that would lead him to what he seemed to think it would. There would be records of the bodies she'd left in her wake, the villages she'd left in ashes... She'd left some very visible footprints in the sand as of late - but nothing that would lead him to who she really was.

She kept that to herself, however. Especially since this lummox of a man seemed hellbent on provoking her. She watched with a small degree of near shock as he stood up off the bed, his own voice now carrying a tone of heat that would have matched her own had she not been chewing on her tongue a moment before. Though his sudden insistence that she, currently laid up in bed because he felt the need to play commando on that space station, should deck him in the face was enough to reignite that flame. She felt that warm, comfortable smolder in her chest as she took in a slow, steady breath.

She didn’t wait for him to finish his thought, hearing him only halfway through his assertion that she better make the punch count before she had swung on him. She wasn’t exactly accomplished in many things; her knowledge of the Force was extremely limited, her working knowledge of how well rounded and functioning adults behaved was shaky at best, and her ability to dress herself as anything other than a knock-off goth assassin wasn’t exactly stellar - but if you gave the redhead a jaw, she could damn well dent it.

Her right hand rose, the fingers not curled tightly into the [SIZE=10.5pt]centre[/SIZE] of her palm, but loosely held, her thumb wrapped around her knuckles just as loosely, as she struck out and pounded that fist into his jaw as hard as she possibly could. She twisted her body on the metal bed to put all her available weight into the hit as well, using her other hand to catch herself so that she didn’t go sprawling off the bed and onto the floor. The hit, should it land, would deliver with it all that steely strength he’d felt earlier that day when she’d clung to him on their way to the escape pod.

The expression on her face was serene, no hint of the obvious anger that came along with the blow, other than her eyes of course. Those piercing jade depths were aflame with an indignant rage that seemed to wash off of her in waves, should someone have the ability to feel such things.

 

[Alexander]

Location: Medical Bay, Confederate Ship​

Tag: [member="Shakti Sweet"]​

Starlight.

The heat burned into being long before the Wildling made her move. That quiet, smouldering wrath which raged beneath her skin intensified at the challenge of the Ghost. He stood, ready to receive whatever her form could deliver. Ephraim did not underestimate the woman, however. He had been a member of the Knighthood long enough to witness plenty of feats performed by women much smaller than he. As a result, he remembered only to slacken his jaw before the impact - silently hoping that he read her move enough to prevent himself from biting off his in tongue. When her knuckles collided with his flesh, the immediate agony was a testament to his teeth slamming against one another with nowhere to go.

His head back in response to the blow. His vision was momentarily adorned with lights which rivaled those of the room. She appeared as serene and still as a Jedi in that moment, but they could both feel differently. Both knew differently. The inferno which burned underneath her skin seemingly burrowed into his flesh upon impact, and now that quiet fury rumbled into being within Ephraim. Tact. Care. The burden of her injuries. All were consumed by the voracious angst which came from spontaneous pain. The taste of his own blood within his mouth spurned the response forward - an immediate and devastating strike to match the wrath that was given. Once Shakti's blow followed through, she would find his offhand attempting to clutch the offending limb.

Whether he succeeded in giving himself additional leverage for his response remained to be seen. But regardless if he could wrench her body forward with a harsh tug, his dominant hand coiled into a fist and exploded forward. The blow was aimed square for her nostrils and carried enough force to lay some men low permanently . She, however, had genetics on her side. No matter how hard he hit her, she would manage to bounce back. But this, Ephraim did not know. All he did know was the language this woman seemed to understand more than signs or telepathic voices. She understood violence and lived in that bloody world where wrath was law. She was fortunate, then.

For Ephraim was a card-carrying citizen of that world and was happy to give her a tour.

 

[Shakti Sweet]

Location: Unknown Confederate Ship, Neutral Space
Tag: [member="Ephraim"]

---

The feeling of her fist colliding solidly with his jaw was like a melody in her soul. It hurt, certainly – she could feel the initial slam of flesh into flesh, but she’d learned over the years that you didn’t stop when you hit something. No, you followed through. She imagined in her mind her fist going straight through his face and out the other side, which meant that when her knuckles did collide with his face, they just kept on coming. She felt his teeth slam into one another, and watched with a sense muted exhilaration as is head snapped back.

She’d been so very pleased that he’d let it happen that she hadn’t expected his response. Almost as quickly as she’s struck him, his hand rose up and wrapped his fingers around her offending wrist, her eyes widening a touch as he dragged the arms down and across the front of her body, getting it out of his way and putting her off balance. She could feel her body tipping forward with the force of the tug of her arm, and as the other was pinned down with her weight she couldn’t bring it up fast enough to stop him as he brought the fist towards her face.

The sickening crunch as his fist crushed her nose was accompanied with a vibrant gush of blood that shot down across her lips and chin, staining the front of her gown as well. Her vision matched that same brilliant colour for a moment, everything a wash of red as the pain from the break completely numbed her ability to think for a matter of seconds. It was glorious, those few moments of silence and calm – the rage and pain distant as her body struggled to cope. Then she tried to breathe…

Blood was pouring down her throat and she choked once, sputtering as she coughed blood directly into the mercs face. She leaned forward instantly, wrenching her arm from his grasp as she leaned over the edge of the bed, blood pouring from her nose and mouth. Already she could feel it started to heal, the flesh and bone starting to knit together below the skin and she knew if she didn’t set the break she’d end up with a wonky nose. She lifted both hands and set them to the bridge of her nose, steeling herself as she pressed on either side of her nose and formed the bones back to their original spots.

If she could have screamed, she would have screamed… But as always, there was no point and there would be no relief in it. Instead she kept her body hunched forward, blood slowing a touch but still dripping from her face as she glanced up at him, glaring from above two quickly purpling black eyes.

 

[Alexander]

Location: Medical Bay, Confederate Ship​

Tag: [member="Shakti Sweet"]​

The Crunch...was satisfying.

If the world which had nurtured the Ghost could see him now, disapproval would be an understatement. It was not that Endalaan was a matriarchal or progressive land, mind, but rather decking a bedridden patient was not socially acceptable. Frankly, that sort of decision wouldn't fly in most civilized corners of the Galaxy. However, in the moment, Ephraim couldn't give less than a damn. The inferno was raging just beneath the skin, coaxing him forward like a sweet seductress. Upon the instant that his knuckles collided with the Wildling's face, Ephraim did just as his "adversary." He followed through. The full weight of his form was chucked against her face in that punch, causing a very satisfying cacophony to erupt from the point of impact.

Cartilage was pulverized. And the Ghost could feel her nose giving way in response to the blow. The fiery-haired woman reeled back in response, only to lean over the bed in order to steady herself. Blood poured from the freshly inflicted wound as a river, pooling as thick droplets on the floor. Yet more moved in the form of a sudden spray, unleashed by a sputter from the young woman's lips. Crimson splashed against the Ghost's face, covering a solid portion of his cheeks and lips with her life blood. Ephraim did not react in the slightest, but rather leveled his burning gaze upon her. She, in turn, glared back up at him with eyes that were rapidly darkening from the impact.

There was quiet. Save for the drops of blood racing from her nostrils. Shakti would go on to repair the damage by herself - setting her nose with the second most satisfying crunch in the past five minutes. When her glare ultimately returned to the man "responsible" for her sorry shape of being, Ephraim parted his lips slightly. What she found were no words. No apologies. Nor any sign that he was finished in bringing her to that pain-driven world he called home. Instead, his tongue slithered forth and licked clean her blood from his lips in one, meager motion. The way she looked at him told him quite simply...that one punch wouldn't extinguish their fires. If anything, it was fuel to keep the wrath burning.

And in the moment, Ephraim was happy to oblige.

***​

Time had been lost.

There was certainly something uncanny about the Wildling herself. Something that was beginning to facinate Seren for the few moments that Sparks flew between them. Though both had scored blows, what erupted into being was a small scale brawl within the room. Yet, after several minutes of scoring heavy blows against her body, the Ghost realized that she did not appear damaged along the way. Her bruises all seemed to vanish as quickly as they came. On the other hand, Ephraim appeared visibly battered. For every strike he landed against her body, the Wildling would match. In time, however, it became apparent that energy was not apart of the uncanny restoration prowess of his adversary.

For even he noted the ragged breaths and the slowness of her blows as their fight continued. However, things came to a temporary stay when they managed to shatter the rail of the bed itself - a move which created enough noise to rouse the Ghost from the stupor of battle. "Got it out of your system?" he asked, between heavy breaths of air. What the woman decided next would either take them into yet another round, or bring to an end their madness.

 

[Shakti Sweet]

Location: Unknown Confederate Ship, Neutral Space
Tag: [member="Ephraim"]

---

---

She could feel the acute changes each moment; the bones and flesh starting to knit together, the blood stemming and the pain slowly easing as those rage-filled green eyes of hers remained locked on his. Both of them narrowed as she watched his tongue dart across his lips, cleaning the blood she’d coughed up from his face. She felt something tighten in her stomach as she lowered her bloodied hands away from her face and planted them on either side of her, against the edge of the bed. She straightened once more and used her hands to shove herself up and off the bed.

The weight on her injured ankle made her waver for only a moment, but she didn’t bother to take a moment to consider if this was a terrible idea or not. Instead, the redhead pivoted on her still [SIZE=11pt]whole[/SIZE] leg and lunged at the merc, bloodstained hands reaching for him with that liquid hot rage roiling in her chest.

---

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The room was a mess. The loud snap of her back hitting the railing on the edge of the bed and shattering it was enough to make her opponent surface once more, the Ferrerrio sunk slowly down onto the floor with a wince, her ankle protesting loudly from the time she’d spent fighting on it. Her chest was heaving as she breathed heavily, her arms laying heavily at her sides as she slowly tilted her head back to lean it against the side of the metal medical bed. The cool metal felt wonderful against the back of her head, which was pounding despite the multitude of bruises and small cuts that seemed to be healing up almost before Ephraim’s eyes.

The sound of his voice was like a cold splash of water as she started slightly, her eyes lifting to meet his own with a glare - the left eye a little swollen almost closed, though appearing to be getting better as she continued to glare. She returned tension to her arms as she lifted them and grasped the edge of the bed, carefully tugging herself to her feet before she sat back heavily onto the surface. She managed to maintain that glare the whole way up, however, that iron will of hers still firmly in place even if her body needed a break.

She took in a deep breath as she considered his question, taking stock of how she felt. She hurt, but she’d be better in short order… That seething rage that lived like liquid fire in her chest was roiling slightly less, however, and she felt she could breathe a little easier. She eased the glare that was plastered onto her face as she regarded him again, lifting a hand with bloodied knuckled to splay the fingers and press her thumb to her chest before she lifted the hand and moved it in an arch away from her chest.

Apparently, she was fine.

 

[Alexander]

Location: Medical Bay, Confederate Ship​

Tag: [member="Shakti Sweet"]​

The situation was not exactly...ideal.

After battling back and forth for so long, certain realities began to make themselves apparent within the mind of the Ghost. Predominantly the fact that he had essentially went toe-to-toe with a civilian who was on bedrest. He made a mental note to conjure a fitting explanation for the brawl later, but watched wordlessly as the Wildling reached for the best and began to right herself. At a glance, one might have used the fact that he was the one left standing as grounds to say that he had been the victor of their bout - but Ephraim sure as heck did not feel as though he won anything. In fact, he looked upon the fiery-haired woman with newfound, freshly blackened, eyes. There was a respect that could be found there; one born of the fact that she gave him a solid run for his money.

When the wrathful question escaped him, the woman signed that she was alright. And that was enough to, for the moment, pause the onslaught of flame which burned within him. His clenched fist slackened, allowing a throbbing pain to echo throughout the sinews. "You fight like Hell, Shakti." he admitted, that grudging respect bleeding through his mouth now. Though he had her by size and build, the realization dawned in his skull that there was nothing he could ever really do for this woman. Initially, he felt responsible for the Wildling and was going to go out of his way to atone for her battered leg. And now, while he certainly felt obliged to assist, it wasn't due to a misplaced feeling of responsibility.

She'd survive no matter what "help" he offered. Hell, she'd probably make out better than he on some occasions. She wasn't an invalid, no matter how busted her ankles were temporarily. Thus, he eased himself on the edge of the bed casually and rolled his shoulders. "You got any work lined up? The way you fight, I figure you'd be able to get a job done no problem." This was the sort of help he was wanting to offer. Something that she could benefit from. Something that wasn't a handout, but rather letting Shakti be great all on her own. "If you're interested, there's something coming down the pipe that you might like. Solid pay. Consistent. And you'd be doing what you do best. Want the details?"

 

[Shakti Sweet]

Location: Unknown Confederate Ship, Neutral Space
Tag: [member="Ephraim"]

---

His comments were compliments, she was almost sure of it. She turned narrowed green eyes that were now visible as the swelling lessened, in his direction. Yes, she could brawl. It was in the nature of her people, or so people had told her. Something about the way Firrerrios healed so rapidly meant that solving things with violence was something they often did. She hadn't been raised with any such teachings, but the little spitfire seemed to have figured it out all on her own over time. As her breathing began to calm she could feel as the aches in her hands and body began to ease and resolve themselves. Already she could sit a little straighter, and the off-coloured bruises were fading from her golden flesh.

She regarded him with a cautiously curious gaze as he spoke of a job he assumed she'd be a good fit for. This was a first. Usually, the people that ended up on the wrong end of her fists were more interested in either killing her or seeking medical attention once she was finished with them - not looking to offer her gainful employment. To his question about whether there was anything waiting on the other side of her appointment with the doctors in Golbah City, she lifted a hand and snapped her thumb against her forefinger and middle finger. It seemed there was nothing waiting for the woman after they landed.

There wasn't much that she had going for her at all coming out of this, actually. With extremely limited credits and no real power to speak of other than her ability to take and dole out a bare-knuckled beating - his Wildling was looking at being back to square one after all this was said and done, and no better off, because it was likely she'd be on some sort of radar for the CIS. She let out a silent huff as she considered it. If he was being genuine, at least she'd get the paycheque she so badly needed.

She leveled those piercing green eyes on him as she glared for a moment before forcing herself to soften the expression a touch. He'd been... Kind? Perhaps not kind - but he'd been better than she likely deserved considering. She could at the very least hear him out. Shakti lifted a hand and motioned for him to go on. He could make his offer and she would consider it.

 

[Alexander]

Location:Sick Bay, Confederate Ship​

Tag: [member="Shakti Sweet"]​

Her eyes reminded him of home.

Not in the sense that blackened, bloodied faces were indicative of his upbringing. But rather, the pools of green which momentarily narrowed when looking upon him served as a reminder of what was. On Endelaan, those of noble blood were often born with vibrant, green eyes that seemed to glow quite often. And though the Wildling's own did not feature anything ethereal about them, the hue alone, briefly, distracted Ephraim from his throbbing fists and aching bones. In the end, as the inferno of angst gradually ebbed away, the expression left in its wake was soft. Not in the affectionate sense, mind, but in the "I respect you and currently don't want to murder you."

Nonetheless, after the Ghost had made his offer to the fiery-haired woman, she eventually motioned for him to continue. To this end, he clasped his hands together. "We blend in, you and I." he began, attempting to phrase the offer creatively but accurately. "We can go to any world, to any system, and probably wouldn't turn too many heads. And you, if need be, can brawl better than most of them. The job description is simple - go to the locations specified, report what you see, or stop someone from breathing."

"Now the good thing is, the job doesn't just come with a consistent pay, but with all the tools you'd need to get the job done easily. You need a disruptor? You get one. Need a getaway ship? You get one. Skies the limit. They call this gig the Ministry of Secrets. Flashy title, solid pay, solid perks. And I'm sure there's a retirement plan in there somewhere."

Having said his piece, the Ghost settled to hear what the Wildling had to say on the matter.

 

[Shakti Sweet]

Location: Unknown Confederate Ship, Neutral Space
Tag: [member="Ephraim"]

---

As he went on about the details of the position he had available, those green eyes drifted - finding a point on the ceiling to consider as she leaned back, her palms flat against the metal bed, her feet kicking through the air as she allowed him to paint a picture for her. A position where she'd be given resources - and from the sounds of it, nearly limited resources - to do what she was best at... Sneaking around, stealing, and quietly ending a life or two. It wasn't the worst offer she'd received, and she suspected that now that she'd been keyed into this particular sub-sector of the CIS... It was unlikely she was going to be allowed to just wander out of here once their ship landed on

---

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[SIZE=10.5pt]Genosis[/SIZE].

[SIZE=10.5pt][/SIZE]
Her lips went through the motions of a sigh as her eyes dipped down once more, her head turning as she found his gaze once more. There was anger there still, but it seemed to be under control for the time being. She regarded him silently for several long moments, her eyes searching his, trying to find something there beyond just the words he'd offered. Whatever it was, and whether she found it or not, wasn't entirely apparent as she narrowed her own eyes [SIZE=10.5pt]a touch[/SIZE] and then nodded once.

Hands shifted back to her lap for a moment as she sat upright, considering him before she lifted one of those hands and pressed it against the arm that was closest to her. There were several long moments of nothing as she did her best to focus. She tugged at that same feeling that she knew could so easily help her to hone her hearing, and tried very hard to remember what it felt like when he could hear her 'voice.' The feeling of her pressing against his mind was not... enjoyable. It was like some picking, podding thing as she tried to sort out how it was that people communicated this way.

It was like trying to sort out a very delicate problem with a very large rock. It was crude and fumbling and quite painful - but her voice came through very faintly. "Answer to who?" With it coming through so quietly, it was almost a touch less horrific. There was something feminine under all that gravel and the sharp edges... And something very young. The voice in her mind didn't seem to match the woman that sat beside him, not the one under all that broken roughness, anyways.

 

[Alexander]

Location:Sick Bay, Confederate Ship​

Tag: [member="Shakti Sweet"]​

A Diamond in the Rough.

For several moments, the Wildling before the Ghost mulled over the offer that he had laid at her feet. And Ephraim did not say a single word to urge a response out of her. By his estimation, the woman who had earned his respect was not the type to take coercion or anything of the sort lightly. In fact, the straw, angry glance that he received after she stared at the ceiling tile was testament enough of this. To this end, Ephraim simply folded his arms and awaited the conclusion of her thoughts; fully expecting a response to be presented via the language of signs. What he didn't expect was to hear that voice of hers again...and to hear something not nearly as metallic or maddening as before. Sure, the Ghost had steeled himself for what Shakti's "voice" sounded like, but his eyebrow raised at the sound of her gentler tone.

The question was an important one - and he did his absolute best to portray the truth as accurately as possible. For a woman of this caliber, personal freedom was definitely something that he assumed she would take seriously. He assumed that the Wildling would prefer to determine her own fate, as opposed to being integrated into some strict chain of command that micromanaged her entire life. As such, when she asked her question, the Ghost simply shoot his head and responded aloud. "It's not as simple as 'who do I answer to?" he began. "There's a big wig politician at the top, of course, but that's to be expected with any government. However, they don't micromanage our lives or give us strict orders or whatever. We are free to do our jobs - and live for that matter - as we choose."

He paused, forming his hands into a somewhat square. "There's a role called Handler in this organization. Well, handler now, no chit what they're going to call it later. Anyway. Handlers get people like you jobs. Keep you out of trouble. Keep you informed and keep you alive. You wouldn't answer to a handler, but that's as close to an authority figure as you're going to see within the organization. You do the job, meet the parameters, get paid, and the Handler is the one handing out the paycheck - or in some cases helping out."

He offered a small smile. "They have me sleighted for a Handler, though I'd much prefer to get my hands a touch dirtier. So, if you accepted the offer, I'd take care of making sure you got jobs that were suited for you. Make sure you don't get ambushed or out-gunned. And make sure you get your cut. Now, if you're sick of my mug - which is understandable - there are other Handlers in the organization too. You aren't…stuck with me after we land." Though, after the round of punches she landed, he certainly wouldn't mind. "If it suits you, then we can get started."

 

[Shakti Sweet]

Location: Unknown Confederate Ship, Neutral Space
Tag: [member="Ephraim"]

---

There was a change in him when he heard her voice this time around. She'd seen it a few times, the crinkling of eyes when people heard her. The merc himself had nearly flinched the first time he'd slid into her mind and heard the torrent there, her voice like a hurricane trapped inside a broken jar. But this time there was no flinching, just a look of curious wonder. Immediately she became self-conscious and withdrew her hand back into her lap, the fingers curling into her palm, a tight fist resting against her thigh as she fought not to let anger bubble up inside her once more. It was tempting... He'd done nothing maliciously, but that urge to strike him again flared like someone turning up the gas on a weak flame. She could feel it begin to swell to fill her chest before she pressed her nails firmly into the soft flesh of her palms. It made her arms quake for a moment before the sharpened half moons bit into the skin there and blood began to pool. It made her shiver, but the heat ebbed, her chest becoming slightly less tight and her body relaxing in slow seconds.

When she turned her eyes back to the merc at her side, they were calm once more, and she felt easily able to follow him as he explained what the job would entail, as well as how she'd be monitored. It had a lot of freedom, and she found herself questioning whether she could trust that or not. What sort of organization allowed its agents to basically be off-leash like that? If he was being honest... Well. She could very easily use these resources to complete the task she'd been working towards for years. It was extremely tempting, this offer he'd presented, so long as she was understanding him correctly.

The thought of a Handler wasn't her favorite, but if it was going to be the fruit basket, well... He had proven to at least be entertaining. She rolled her shoulders a touch, the ache in her muscles beginning to fade just as her bruises did, and she found herself fighting a smile that threatened at the corners of her mouth. She hadn't gotten into a real brawl in some time, and as far as sparring partners went, he wasn't the worst. He'd even been willing to take a couple of solid hits in the bout. He was someone that was worthy of some admiration if nothing else. Those luminous green eyes of hers regarded him silently, just as they always did, for long moments after he'd finished. Before she unfurled her fingers, the tips of the nails still rimmed in blood even through the small cuts had since healed over.

Shakti pointed at the mercs chest before lifting both hands, forefinger, and thumbs pointed upwards before she dropped them an inch or two - You'll do. She then flattened her left hand and took the pointer finger of her right hand and pressed it into the palm of her left, turning it once - Start. It seemed that the Firrerreo was amiable to the arrangement he'd suggested.

 

[Alexander]

Location:Sick Bay, Confederate Ship​

Tag: [member="Shakti Sweet"]​

As she looked away, the Ghost's brow raised.

Ephraim did not know if there was something that he had said or done to illicit the momentary response from the Wildling. However, this time, he did not challenge her - despite the fury which bubbled forth from her presence. Rather, the Ghost simply moved on with explaining what being a member of the Ministry entailed. As far as he knew, everything that he uttered was factual information. Shakti had the potential to make a solid living out of a role within the organization; and moreover would have access to a plethora of terrifying equipment. As a result, Ephraim hardly thought that the woman would say no - except to decline his being her Handler, maybe.

However, when the fiery-haired woman returned her gaze to him, what he found was a calmness in her expression. Moreover, she responded in her "native tongue", stating that he would do and that they could start right away. A soft chuckle escaped Ephraim at the confirmation and he eagerly signed back a quick "thank you." Yet, instead of going into further detail about what the organization would look like within, he offered the woman his hand. She would know what this meant by now - that he wanted to hear the voice behind her muted vocal chords. The gesture, given her entrance into the fold, would serve a dual purpose.

Firstly, it would familiarize Shakti with the sensations associated with having another in their mind. As the Ministry dealt with intelligence, having an iron mind would be an absolute must. Additionally, he hoped that it would build a level of comfort between the two as far as communicating was concerned. The reason being, if the Handler and Agent were hit by an EMP tomorrow or separated, they could always use this to bridge the gap. That, and the second voice was a hair...adorable in a strange way. But Ephraim had enough black eyes for the evening and would never admit as thus.

Whether or not she took his hand would dictate if his next words were uttered aloud or into her mind. "Once we've arrived and you've recovered," he began, "one of the first major steps is securing you a place to operate out of. Fortunately, Golbah City is swimming in decent places, so I don't think it will take too long to settle in. But even before that…" He set his gaze upon her eyes, and not the gown that - despite their brawl - yet retained its cover. Barely. "If you're up for a walk, we can get you something a little more comfortable."

 

[Shakti Sweet]

Location: Unknown Confederate Ship, Neutral Space
Tag: [member="Ephraim"]

---

Her eyes regarded that extended hand for just a moment before she slid her own, much smaller, hand into his own. Much as the rest of her was marred with scars and other marks of a rough go of things, the woman's hand was calloused and well worn - though decidedly warm within the confines of his own. Green eyes rose to find his own as he spoke into her mind, the edges crinkling a touch as she tried to get used to the feeling of him being in her head. The feeling wasn't unpleasant, but she certainly wasn't enjoying having to share that fiercely private place with someone else. Though all thought of that feeling faded as she watched his eyes dart down and then immediately elsewhere. There was a sense of confusion in her eyes and he could feel the question forming before he asked if she'd like to find some clothes.

Immediately the hand that had been hand in his own twitched and snapped back, fingers curling into a fist as she pulled back and sent it flying at his arm. Assuming he wasn't fast enough to anticipate the blow, it would connect solidly with his shoulder and hopefully send him tumbling off the edge of the bed. Her arms then immediately moved to tug at the fabric of the gown, ensuring that it was firmly secure and all of her skin was covered before she moved her arms to cross firmly across her chest, her hands resting against the front of her shoulders and clutching there to keep them firmly in place. It would seem that their earlier tussle had made her forget about the lack of proper clothing she'd been wearing, and she immediately very aware and very self-conscious with regards to that fact.

Piercing green eyes turned to the merc as she moved one arm, signing rapidly, her anger coming across quite clearly. It seemed that she had her own ideas about how they were going to go about getting her some clothes. You get them! She pointed firmly at the door, her other arm still crossed over her chest and a russet colour tinging the burnished gold that normally covered her cheeks. Out! Now!