Private The Auction

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Lightsaber
Tag: Rayia Si

“Is that wise? I understand what you’re trying to do, but won’t it give us away? Especially with how anxious you seem.”

"Some things are worth the risk."

Logic dictated that he keep her collar as snug as possible, to keep their charade as foolproof as possible. But morality dictated that he loosen it—or rather, that he outright remove it. Gatz chose to land somewhere in the middle of that scale, and just... untightened it by a few holes. If anyone noticed anything... maybe he could just play her off as having accepted subservience.

The idea made his skin crawl but—

Suddenly Rayia was pressed against him again, clawed fingers guiding him down to nuzzle against her cheek. Gatz blinked, and found himself mired in a confusion of three parts: genuine surprise, the lust that uncoiled in his core, and an overwhelming yearning for the simple affection that the Cathar was faking, but was so absent from his life this past year. Her cheek was soft and warm, and Gatz had to fight the desire to gather her up in his arms—whether for something innocent or not he didn't know.

He wanted to shake his head to clear his mind, but with wandering eyes on him, he had no choice but to stay put and play along. It wasn't particularly hard: Rayia was an attractive woman and she was soft and warm and gentle. The hard part was remembering this was a falsehood, and not deepening the act into something more.

Her question, his addled mind managed to think, answer her question.

"Atticus Wrest," Gatz whispered in her ear, "a Devaronian with a reputation for being particularly... debauched with both his slaves, and his enemies. If you end up dancing for him... well, let's just say you'll be in his tent for a long while. Something to avoid entirely."

 

[Rayia Si]

Gatz Derrevar

---

Rayia opened her mouth to protest at his words and closed it again. If he felt that strongly about it, she could say nothing. Besides, there was a good part of her that was distinctly grateful that he had decided to firmly choose loosening the collar. Instead, she turned her mind to the problem at hand.

“Atticus Wrest…” she mouthed, repeating the name Gatz whispered into her ear as if it might help her to better understand the person behind the name. ‘He sounds like quite the snake. To shudder at the mere mention of his name…,’ Rayia thought to herself.

Then a thought sprung to mind. Rayia voiced it, an undertone of urgency lacing her words. “You don’t think he knows we’re here, do you? I mean he would have no knowledge of who I am…” Rayia said, trailing off as her gaze drifted past Gatz’s shoulder again. Her tail had picked up on movement in the vicinity. Rayia could feel their watcher leaving. There was the soft clinking sounds of feet on metal grating as the individual on the walkway above them slowly turned from their perch and began to descend the inset, metallic ladder leading back into the complex walls.

Rayia stayed pressed against Gatz’ cheek a few moments longer. ‘I’m not getting caught by the oldest trick in the book,‘ she thought. The individual could double back and try to sneak a glance that way. Only when Rayia was sure that they weren’t spotted did she pull away.

Her cheek still tingled with Gatz’ warmth. Perhaps it was the look in his eyes, but she thought to ask. “Are you alright? You seem… dazed.” Reaching up towards Gatz’s face, Rayia would place the back of one hand on Gatz’ forehead as if she was checking for a fever.

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Lightsaber
Tag: Rayia Si

You don’t think he knows we’re here, do you? I mean he would have no knowledge of who I am…”

"But he might know who I am." Gatz explained, "I worked for an associate of his, back when I did that sort of thing."

Still, would he know that they were here today? This was a Jedi assignment. The details of which weren't exactly easy to get ahold of, if you weren't one of the aforementioned Jedi. It seemed unlikely that Wrest could know they were planning to start a jailbreak in his camp.

But it was still entirely possible for them to be spotted within the camp itself.

"I doubt he knows we're here, but that doesn't mean he isn't keeping a close eye out in case anyone starts trouble."

Rayia then turned the conversation to him, and his compromised state of mind. And if she'd noticed, then he really wasn't playing his role well. Or acting the part of a Jedi well. He was far too easily swayed from his task by a pretty woman in a skimpy outfit. He couldn't exactly explain that to her either, not without coming off as some kind of creep.

Gatz didn't think she'd understand. It had been so long since anyone had held him, act or not. It was better that way though. Everyone who'd ever loved him had died, and that was his fault.

Having no one meant he couldn't get anyone else killed.

"I'm fine," Gatz lied, as Rayia pressed a soft hand to his forehead, "we should get back out there, and start snooping around."

 

[Rayia Si]

Gatz Derrevar

---

Rayia’s ear twitched and she let out a contemplative hum. ‘That’s right. He mentioned that he had smuggled spice before,’ Rayia reminded herself. “True, that’s a possibility. But did you two ever meet face to face? Or pass by each other? Or does he just know of you through… reputation, so to speak?” Rayia asked. This job would be more difficult if their identities had already leaked.

Rayia had to admit that Gatz’s explanation made more sense and she paused to take a breath. Their close encounter with the surveillance of the mysterious watcher had her nerves frazzled. The heat didn’t help either. She could quite literally feel the collar sticking to her neck. And sundown was still a while off. With no respite in sight, Rayia was just going to have to grit her teeth and bear it.

Rayia frowned as Gatz attempted to lie to her, and assuage her that he was fine. “Mmm,” she murmured dismissively. She didn’t need the Force to tell her something was wrong, but now wasn’t the time to discuss it either. Still, the marginally raised eyebrow she gave Gatz told him exactly how much she believed him. In other words, not at all. ‘If you’re fine, then I’m a bantha,’ she thought to herself.

But there wasn’t time to dwell on it. Like Gatz said, they needed to get out there. Rayia resolved herself to ask about it another time. In the meantime, she gently removed her hand from his forehead. Placing her lead gently in his hand, she gave Gatz a slight smirk. “Well, as they say, lead on.”

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Lightsaber
Tag: Rayia Si

“True, that’s a possibility. But did you two ever meet face to face? Or pass by each other? Or does he just know of you through… reputation, so to speak?”

"No," Gatz clarified, "I never met him. But my old boss slapped a hefty bounty on my head, before I... took care of him. It's small, but there's a very real chance he could recognize me."

Irritation bloomed in his chest. Of all the crime lords to take on, it just had to be one of the few who might be familiar with him. Nevermind the fact that there were thousands of planets and millions of crime lords, no, the universe just had to conspire to make his life that much more difficult. Knowing his luck, Atticus Wrest might actually catch wind of him and recognize him.

Gatz had a bad feeling about this.

Rayia pulled her hand away from his forehead, and he almost immediately missed her gentle touch. He hated that: that some part yearned for that comfort. But instead of focusing on that, he chose to fixate on the look the Cathar gave him, which very much told him that she wasn't buying his bullshit. Unsurprising. He was a terrible liar these days.

She placed her lead into his hand with a pun... and Gatz groaned.

"Come on," he shook his head, "I want to circle the camp, and then find us a private tent."

 

[Rayia Si]

Gatz Derrevar

---

As Gatz’s fingers cinched around her lead, Rayia couldn’t suppress the fanged grin that slowly curled across her face. ‘He might be moaning and groaning, sure, but he seems to have gotten over his other distractions,’ Rayia observed as Gatz reminded her to return to the mission.

‘It does sound like there is more here to the story though. Gatz veers between distracted and… angry? No. That doesn’t feel like the right word,’ Rayia thought. She hoped she could get the full story sometime. It didn’t seem to be doing Gatz any favors to be bottling it in. But that wasn’t going to happen today. And it was incredibly risky if it happened within the encampment, private tent or no. No, all heartfelt discussions were going to have to wait until they were back aboard Gatz’s ship, at the very least.

Rayia resumed walking as soon as Gatz did. They were about halfway around the camp when trouble came for them again.

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Lightsaber
Tag: Rayia Si

Gatz was rather unimpressed with the camp. There was no rhyme or reason to it, and no structure. Tents were set up sporadically and wherever they would fit, instead of being in neat rows. Ironically, that would actually make it harder for the guards to keep an eye out for escaping slaves... but it would also make it difficult for escaping slaves to figure out where the hell they were in regards to the rest of the camp.

So maybe it actually served a purpose, this camp being as scattered and random as it was, but Gatz doubted any of that was intentional.

He'd led Rayia halfway through the camp, before trouble found them—which was actually pretty good for him. A Weequay guard approached them, and stood right in their path.

"Stop," his voice was a deep baritone, "I don't see a tag on this slave."

"A tag?" Gatz blinked.

"Yes, a tag. You didn't check-in at the reporting tent. Every master has to register every slave they bring in. The slave gets searched for weapons, inspected to make sure they aren't bringing in some sort of sickness, and then they get a tag that must be worn at all times."

A roadblock, but one Gatz didn't see himself being able to talk their way out of. So he sighed and gave a nod. If nothing else, it would give them an excuse to check out this "reporting tent."

"Back that way a hundred feet." The guard pointed, "and make sure they have this one checked for fleas."

 

[Rayia Si]

Gatz Derrevar

---

Rayia had noticed the maze like aspect of the camp as well. In fact, she might have gotten turned around in it were it not for the fact that she could feel every vibration of movement around her. No, her impression of the camp was different. Rather than the sprawling peppering of tents that it masked itself as, Rayia got the sickening impression of a bunch of flies cloistering around a source of food. Sights, sounds, and vibrations of movement all blended together. ‘Like a maddening buzz,’ Rayia thought to herself.

Rayia came up short as a leathery skinned Weequay halted Gatz. As the pair conversed, the Felacatian did her best to maintain her air of naïveté. Keeping her eyes large and luminous, she blinked quickly as it was revealed that she would have to wear a tag as part of their ruse. More importantly, it meant she had to be registered which involved a fairly intimate inspection as the guard described it.

The fur on her nape started to prickle. She wasn’t sure how well their story was going to hold up. Her body was lithe, muscled and athletic. More than a simple woodcarver from Cathar would warrant. But it also didn’t seem as if they had any alternatives. The guards did not seem like they were going to suddenly start being cooperative. ‘Any excuse to the contrary isn’t going to hold water. It seems like a blanket rule, which leaves us with exactly one option if we want the mission to continue,’ Rayia pondered, before turning reluctantly towards the guard tent.

Rayia’s reaction to the guard’s final proclamation was almost imperceptible. To anyone who wasn’t directly beside her as Gatz was. The slightest stutter of a missed step as her whole body tensed. Facing away from him, he would not be spot the alien gleam of menace in her eyes. Somehow not humanoid. Somehow feral. Nor would the guard be able to hear the grinding of fangs that looked slightly longer than before and too many. Then a heartbeat later, her expression had smoothed. Just a blank expressionless mask, as if her anger had never been there.

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons:
Tag: Rayia Si

Gatz could feel Rayia bristle.

He didn't blame her. The 'fleas' comment was ridiculously racist. Gatz would never understand how these people could so easily treat others like trash; how they could take part in slavery and feel nothing for those beneath their boot. Rayia wasn't even really a slave, and already all Gatz wanted to do was rip the collar off of her neck and end this façade right here and now.

But that would spell death. So instead, he gave a tug on her lead, trying his best to seem authoritative but not harsh. Here, in the middle of the camp and in view of the guards, Gatz couldn't show her the kindness and reassurance he wanted to give her.

Instead, he had to play the part of the slaver, and lead Rayia to the tent in question.

He ducked under the flap and into the tent proper. It was sparsely furnished: a makeshift desk with a woman sitting behind it, and two guards at the other end, presumably to inspect slaves. Gatz saw no other furniture of equipment. Surprisingly, he saw no other slaves or owners either. Maybe it was a slow day? He didn't know, but something about it didn't sit right with him?

"Another for the big auction?" The woman behind the desk didn't even glance in his direction, "we'll need to inspect your property. Remove her dress, we'll make this quick."

"I—" Gatz was stunned for a moment, "surely that's not necessary? She's clearly healthy."

"Maybe. But I'm not about to let a slave smuggle a shiv into this camp."

The gears started turning in his head immediately, looking for ways to bribe or convince the woman and her two guards. He wanted to ask Rayia for her opinion... but an indentured servant didn't get to have those. Either Gatz solved this himself, or Rayia had to play her part. He was hoping to pull off the former.

"And I'm not about to let your guards have a fun time with my slave for free. So what are our options here?"

 

[Rayia Si]

Gatz Derrevar

---

Rayia tried to tamp down on the stirring surge of emotion in her chest. Like a bubbling cauldron, it threatened to spill over. A fact that would surely get them discovered. Rayia could feel the beast within slowly being shaken awake, and forced herself to breathe. She imagined a closed fist, and slowly peeled away the fingers to open it. Tricking herself thus, she felt her own hands relax in response.

That and the authoritative tug Gatz gave on her lead helped to distract her. Understanding that Gatz was trying to help keep their cover, Rayia let him drag her towards the tent despite the bad feeling that was starting to creep into her bones.

‘There are way too few bodies for a mandatory station,’ Rayia thought to herself. She could feel the motion of three individuals within the tent, idly waiting within. ‘That means it’s a trap. But what kind?’ Rayia wondered to herself.

If she had to hazard a guess, these guards that had just stopped the pair in their tracks probably had some sort of deal with the people inside the tent. ‘Either a cut of the profits or…’ Rayia trailed off as she stepped inside the tent and was halted in her tracks by the woman’s request.

Rayia blinked, covering her lapse by making her eyes extra large in the dim light of the tent. Fortunately, it would appear that neither the woman nor the two guards were particularly interested in her at least for the moment. In fact they only moderately paid attention to Gatz’s arguments, refuting them rather succinctly with an excuse of safety in the face of smuggled weapons. Not that Rayia would have needed a shiv.

The two guards got up and started towards her. They leered openly, even as the woman pinched her nose with thumb and index finger resting her brow on one fist. Rayia stared at Gatz, deciding then that she didn’t like the way the men were looking at her. And that, she would remove their arms if they touched her.

“You know how this works. This is a routine search for every piece of property that comes through the door.” The woman says, shooting a scowl at the two guards. “Besides, a Cathar like that would fetch a high price on the market. The boys know that Mr. Wrest would flay them alive if they were to do anything, don’t they?” The two seemed slightly more dour, though the crude smirks never leave their faces as they approach. Rayia presses back, trying to keep out of their grasp as Gatz continues negotiating.

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Lightsaber
Tag: Rayia Si

He didn't have much time to think.

Rayia was getting flighty, and Gatz suspected that 'flighty' to her was more like 'fighty.' They couldn't risk that. Sure, she'd probably tear all three of these scum bags to pieces, easily. But even together they'd be doomed if they tried to fight the rest of the camp. But the lady and her two goons weren't giving him any leeway either, and that trapped them between a rock and a hard place.

Gatz pressed his hand to Rayia's back to keep her from stepping out of the tent. He'd have loved to have let her just run, but that would look very out of place for a slave owner, wouldn't it? So his other hand dug into his jacket pocket for a credit chit, which he then tossed to the woman running the tent. It wasn't much, but it was all he had on him.

"A bribe? Certainly you realize this won't—"

"You can perform the search," Gatz cut her off, "you specifically. Your boys step outside. The credits are for the trouble."

It was the best he could do. He hoped Rayia realized that. Later, once they'd broken these slaves out and escaped, she could tear him to shreds with her claws if she liked. He'd accept that punishment.

"...very well. Gentleman?"

With dour expressions on their faces, the men shoved past Gatz and Rayia, and stood guard outside the tent.

"Thank you," Gatz smiled, "I'm glad we could come to an arrangement that suits the both of us."

"Yes, yes," the woman sighed, clearly annoyed, "now bring her here, and then we can both move on."

Gatz, with his hand still on Rayia's back, gave her a little shove toward the woman. He made no move to leave the tent, because that too would look suspicious. But he did keep his eyes firmly on the woman in charge, if only to give Rayia as much modesty as the situation allowed.

 

[Rayia Si]

Gatz Derrevar

---

The beast within was stirring. Rayia could feel her aggression and anxiety feeding it. If she didn’t manage to get her emotions under control soon, she risked shifting in the middle of the tent. The buzzing, prickling sensation of her bestial half coming to the fore filled Rayia. She felt it creep across her shoulder-blades and down her arms as her tail twitched frantically.

It was fortunate that Gatz had distracted the woman by flicking a credit stick over towards her, for a low, creaking, tearing hum started to emanate from Rayia’s body. Rayia’s skin was almost burning as Gatz’s palm pressed into the scar tissue that marred the smooth skin of her back. Beyond that however, Gatz would feel the muscles and bones beneath Rayia’s skin fracturing and reknitting. They were changing shape, becoming thicker and stronger as the strength of the beast within awoke.

The pressure of Gatz’s hand on her back caused Rayia to suck in a calming breath. The tremors started to ease as she realized that Gatz’s plan was working, and the changes seemed to slowly dissipate as if they were never there. ‘She’s at least considering it,’ Rayia thought to herself watching the woman carefully.

Rayia stepped out of the way as the men filed out. The deal having been struck, she wasn’t expecting the slight push that Gatz gave her. Stumbling forwards, she tries not to collide with the woman in front of her. ‘Somehow, I believe that she’d renege on our deal if we irritate her too much,’ Rayia thinks.

A few moments later and Rayia is gathering her sheer costume up from the floor. The woman, pacing around her now, withdraws a loop of plastic from a drawer on the desk. She fastens the loop around Rayia’s left ear which squirms and flicks in protest as it is pinched by the tag. The tag reads C-58.

“Very well, now that that’s been taken care of, I’m to inform you of the rules within the camp, as well as your quarters during your stay with us. This is Quarter C. You will be stationed in one of the tents within this quarter and will similarly be bidding against other members of this quarter,” The woman explains to Gatz as she shoos Rayia out of the way with a dismissive wave of her hand.

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Lightsaber
Tag: Rayia Si

Gatz felt something shift against his palm. He chanced a glance while the woman was directing her bouncers out, and his eyes widened ever so slightly as he saw something warp and distort under Rayia's skin. Maybe it was an odd comparison, but it reminded him of Inanna Harth 's physiology, and how her body was malleable in a way most other species' weren't.

Then, suddenly, it stopped. And Gatz was left wondering if he hadn't just imagined all of it.

The woman went on to conduct her fairly intimate search of Rayia, to make sure she wasn't smuggling a shiv into the camp. Ironic, really, considering the Cathar (if she even was a Cathar, because Gatz was beginning to doubt that) could carve someone up with her claws alone. But he was smart enough not to bring that up. Instead, he stayed quiet, casting a bored gaze around the tent—meant to give Rayia what little modesty she had left, without it looking like he was trying to protect her modesty.

It'd be odd for a slave owner to care about something like that. Because basic sapient liberties were a silly thing, right?

“Very well, now that that’s been taken care of, I’m to inform you of the rules within the camp, as well as your quarters during your stay with us. This is Quarter C. You will be stationed in one of the tents within this quarter and will similarly be bidding against other members of this quarter.”

"Sure. You got a map? Because I'd love to find my tent and relax before the auction."

Mostly, he just wanted to give Rayia some time away from the leers and gazes of the slave masters. Plus, it would give them a modicum of privacy to discuss the next step in their jailbreak.

 

[Rayia Si]

Gatz Derrevar

---

Following the search, Rayia gathered up her clothes from the floor. Her eyes remained downcast, staring towards the floor. True, she knew that this charade was for a good cause. If they managed to pull it off, they would free hundreds of people from a horrible fate. But she couldn’t help the prickling feeling that she had lost something this day.

Neither the woman nor the men paid much attention to Rayia as they focused their attention on Gatz. Rayia could see though that the men were still wearing a dour, pinched expression. Clearly they had been looking forwards to their fun and having it stolen away had made them bitter. ‘I’ll need to watch out for them,’ Rayia thought to herself. She waited patiently as Gatz asked about a map.

The woman clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “Must be your first time here. Mr. Wrest doesn’t allow maps of the grounds.” She paused and pursed her lips, glancing at the credits in her hands. “But since you’ve been so generous… here. We don’t want no trouble with Mr. Wrest, understand?” The woman grabbed a scrap of parchment and drew a simple but functional view of the quarter, labeling their tent with a large X.

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Lightsaber
Tag: Rayia Si

“Must be your first time here. Mr. Wrest doesn’t allow maps of the grounds.”

Gatz had to fight to keep his expression neutral. First the disarray of the tents, and now no map? He'd originally thought that Atticus Wrest just ran a less-than-professional business. Now though... he was beginning to wonder if both those things weren't intentional. No maps meant it was harder to memorize the layout of the camp, and the scattered tents meant it was hard to find logic or reason to the paths of the site.

All of which would, of course, make it harder for slaves to escape. Wrest was more competent than Gatz had originally assumed, and that only made him even more dangerous than his already frightening reputation suggested.

Still his bribe had done wonders, it seemed, because the woman sketched out directions to their tent.

"Why, thank you," he winked at her, "don't you worry your pretty little head, I'll make sure this gets disposed of properly."

Then he scooped up the lead that was still attached to Rayia's collar, and gave it a light tug. He made no move to address her, not yet, not here with the woman and her two thugs staring at them. Instead, he led the way out of the tent, and used the hastily drawn map to figure out where their own burlap lodgings were.

Only when Gatz was sure that the two of them were away from any guards did he speak up.

"I won't ask if you're alright," he prefaced, "because I know that's a stupid question after being searched like that. But would you like a little time to lay down and relax? Our tent should be safe-ish. I don't think we can spring any jailbreaks in broad daylight anyways."

 

[Rayia Si]

Gatz Derrevar

---

Rayia was fighting to keep her face neutral as well, for an entirely different reason. A haze had settled over her surroundings. The conversation within the tent was so close, and yet so far away. The words hovered in the air, yet they seemed fuzzy to Rayia’s normally exceptionally keen hearing. She did wince internally as she heard that there weren’t any maps allowed of the grounds.

Rayia’s golden eyes studied the map inconspicuously as she kept her gaze directed towards the ground. ‘Wrest obviously doesn’t want anyone knowing their way around,’ Rayia concluded as well, before continuing to watch the woman as she sketched a map.

When the deal was concluded, Rayia followed Gatz out from the tent. The burlap flap brushing against her skin sent a shiver through her and she clutched both arms around herself. The only response that Gatz received to his questions was a muted nod.

The tent itself wasn’t located too far away. The pair would find it easily enough, sandwiched as it was between two other temporary shelters bearing placards with numbers C-57 and C-59. It was small enough that Rayia could stand comfortably, but Gatz’ head would brush against the dual walled sloping ceiling. The inner layer appeared made of the same burlap material as was scattered throughout the camp. But the secondary sheet covering it appeared to be weathered and worn. Debris clung to its opaque, flexible surface. A zippered mouth of an opening hung loosely open, waiting for them to enter.

Almost immediately as she slipped over the threshold, Rayia claimed a corner of the tent. Pressing herself against the walls lent her a measure of strength. They were flexible but still taut enough to provide enough resistance to bear her weight. And about the only thing that kept her from shattering into a million raging pieces of glass in a sandstorm. Lying down on the warm sand, she squeezed her eyes shut. A slight tremble wracked her shoulders, shifting the sand in small waves as Rayia fought to keep her breathing under control.

“W-wrest is pretty clever. I’m starting to see why his operation has yet to be shut down,” Rayia whispered to Gatz if he had entered the tent with her.

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Lightsaber
Tag: Rayia Si

Well, the tent was as bare as it possibly could be, and it wasn't even tall enough for him to fully stand up in, but Gatz figured he could be annoyed with those things later.

Right now, what he was most concerned with was Rayia. He knew this mission would take a lot out of her, but even he couldn't have guessed how far she would have to go to play her role. The fault for that, and the guilt, was his and his alone. It gnawed at him, chewing him from the inside out, but there was nothing he could do about it—not now.

One of them had to stay strong, and resist despair. Usually, that wasn't him. Today, though, it had to be.

With the way she was curled up on the ground, he was glad to be able to bear at least that burden. He couldn't give her all the time in the world, no matter how much he wished he could, but he could grant her a few hours of relative peace to gather herself. And once their mission was done, she could tear him into shreds if she wanted. He'd take it.

“W-wrest is pretty clever. I’m starting to see why his operation has yet to be shut down,”

"It ends today." Gatz's voice was soft, "I promise you: what you've endured today will not be in vain. We'll set them all free, and Atticus Wrest will rot in a cell for the rest of his life."

He approached Rayia slowly, crouching next to her, but far enough that he was still a few feet away—in order to give her some much needed space.

"Let me get that collar off of you real quick, and then you can get some rest."

 

[Rayia Si]

Gatz Derrevar

---

Rayia's ear flicked as she heard Gatz' response to her quiet whisper. She didn't say anything, for what was there to say. If Rayia said anything, it felt as if it would somehow lessen Gatz' oath. No, she would save her response for when they were out of this situation and Rayia could set aside time to sort her personal feelings about her role in the mission. Right now, it was all too much to think about. Rayia felt like a pane of glass stretched far too thin. As if each shuddering tremble that pushed her shoulders into the sand would be the one that finally caused her to snap.

Her tail bristled as Gatz drew towards her. The faintest hint of fluff puffed up from its sheath at the base of Rayia’s spine. Rayia was thankful that Gatz stopped a few feet away from her. She didn’t quite trust herself from lashing out. Instead, as Gatz knelt down towards her trembling form, Rayia rolled over onto her stomach and tucked her hands under her. Then she laid still, waiting for Gatz to remove her collar.

The granular, gritty blanket beneath her flowed between her fingers as they burrowed deep into the dune’s surface. Rayia could even taste sand, as it collected on her coarse tongue. She spat, trying to get rid of the taste of the “local spice”, brushing her tongue with the back of one of her hands.

She did however take a moment to examine Gatz’ expression before rubbing her tired eyes slowly. Gatz was falling back into those unreadable funks of his. “It’ll be…good when this is over.” Already, she could feel her eyelids slowly creaking shut as a fuzzy, dustiness slowly started to crawl around her vision. It wasn’t long until Rayia dropped into a fitful sleep.

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Lightsaber
Tag: Rayia Si

Gatz removed the collar, and let Rayia be. A few hours rest wouldn't distance her from this place, but it might do her a little good. He wasn't going to leave her in the tent alone, however—not when every man within a mile radius would do anything to get their hands on her. No, the only way to ensure that she was safe while she slumbered was to play the part of her bodyguard.

So, Gatz meditated.

It wasn't something he was typically 'good' at. Gatz struggled with keeping a quiet mind. His was often moving at a mile a minute, and the only way to shush it was to force it to focus on a mundane task. But there were no mundane tasks to accomplish in this sparsely furnished tent, and so mediation would have to do. It still didn't come easy to him, as it never did, but he found that it was doubly important to accomplish today.

Because this place was quickly turning him into who he used to be.

That was the conflict he was fighting—that to survive this place, he had to play a role far worse than the smuggler he used to be. And that said role was far easier to perform than it ought to be. It almost felt like wearing an old suit, except he'd never actually worn the suit before, and somehow it was a perfect fit.

And that disgusted him. To his core.

Slowly, and with difficulty, he managed to slow his breathing, and quiet his mind. He lost his sense of time, hours passing him by in silent contemplation. The Force swirled around him, like a comforting blanket, warming him from the harsh realities of the world outside this tent.

This place was hell. And Gatz was hardly one for serenity. Yet, in these few hours, he managed peace and clarity.

 

[Rayia Si]

Gatz Derrevar

---

Rayia’s sleep was fitful as was evident enough by the fact that the creases of her pinched brows didn’t smooth away as her eyes closed. There would be no escaping the awful clamor nor the smell of sweat that lingered like smog in the air. Still, as Gatz released her from the collar, a small sigh of relief slipped from Rayia’s lips. Already, an enflamed ring of mottled puffiness was starting to show around her neck. Likely a reaction to the perspiration soaked leather used in its construction and the friction.

Rayia dreamed of nothing and awoke with a start. Her golden eyes creaking slowly open to glance about her surroundings. At first, the sight of the musty tent flap confused her. Her gaze latched onto the cracked, worn toe of a boot in her peripheral vision. Tensing like a taut cable, Rayia turned to find Gatz in the midst of a deep meditation trance.

Opening her mouth, Rayia finds the words dying on her lips. ‘This is the most at peace I’ve seen him. Better give him a bit. I don’t know why but it seems like he could use it,’ she thinks and pushes herself up. Unwilling to disturb him, Rayia finds herself mirroring Gatz’ pose. Crossing her feet beneath her, Rayia drifts into an awaiting silence letting the soft sound of their breaths be the only sound in the tent.