Private White Phosphorus

[Penny Rasalas]

It took a long time for her to speak again. Suspiciously long, if his mind was still alert enough to consider all the possible implications. The ragged breaths she continued to take were telling, however. A shudder at the peak of every inhale, as it brought with it more sharp splinters bursting around her ribcage. Simply remaining conscious was demanding the bulk of her energy. Had she been almost anywhere else, she might have passed out already, but she was just as wary of him as he was of her. Funny, since neither of them was capable of lifting more than a finger for the time being. Penny didn't know the full extent of his injuries though, and surely he meant to keep it that way.

"Truce..." He'd hear her croak eventually, with a wet-sounding cough. Turning her head, she spit an inky black substance on the ground. Blood...though it was more alien, than her own. Disgusting. That taste was going to linger in her mouth for days. With her head bowed slightly, still in a kneeling position, a hand reached for him. Sticky and dusty, like the rest of her. The intention might go over his head for a moment, but he was meant to shake on it. Of course, hand-shaking might very well be out of the scope of Sith practice, for all she knew.

"I don't care about you. I just want...off...this planet..." Unless he flat out refused the tentative offer--which he might, she couldn't safely guess--her other hand would start fishing around her tactical belt. Clumsily sifting through small pockets and pouches. He was still her enemy, even if she no longer cared to kill him now. She had already attempted to, and that was more than enough motivation to keep him in opposition. Sith were never trustworthy. Never a friend. At best, they could function as a necessary ally, but such relations were destined for exploitation or betrayal, and best left for a last resort. As much as she hated to come to terms with it, Penny realized she had arrived at the last resort. Further hostility would just invite her own death, one way or another, and she wasn't ready to go yet.

If he at least verbally agreed to a truce, she would finally find what she was looking for, and pull it out of a pouch. He was still very much a threat, but this was the path she had chosen, and the consequences were fitting. If she did manage to make it out of this damn cave, she was going to find herself a stiff drink.

"Come here." Procuring a small metal dish in her palm, she untwisted its lid, and it clanked softly on the stone below. No matter...she would be using the last of its contents now. Not something she used often, but it was helpful in a pinch. They both needed a hell of a lot more than was there, but it was all she had left on her person. It was a Bacta salve, whether or not he recognized it.

If he didn't listen, choosing to regard her with hateful suspicion, it wouldn't come as a surprise. With a irritated grunt, she would brace on one wobbly leg, and force herself to stand once more. Feeling as if she were fighting against double the gravity she was used to. Either way, she was scooping from the tin with her fingers, and kneeling again next to him to spread the gelatinous substance over the gaping wound on his side. 'Frozen' though it was, she didn't anticipate he had the skills to heal it like a Jedi would. The pass of her fingers would feel invasive and uncomfortable, but the medicinal properties would take effect almost immediately. Working to regenerate the damaged tissues.

If he decided to take a cheap shot at her in the process, it was really going to suck.

Darth Mutilice

 

[Darth Mutilice]

She was silent for a suspiciously long time. Long enough that he refocused his gaze on her and kept a weary watch over what she was doing. She didn’t seem to have the strength to start another fight though, as evident by her harsh breathing. She eventually confirmed his thoughts as she spat out the word truce along with some of, what he assumed to be, the monster’s blood. Silently, he agreed. “Fine.” He replied. “Truce.” He relaxed his posture once more and closed his eyes, trying to get a moment’s respite while he could. He ignored her call and almost missed the sound of a canister lid hitting the cave floor soon after. His eyes shot open at the dull clink. She was suddenly approaching him, scooping a substance from a metal dish and kneeling down next to him.

Long, thin fingers immediately clamped down on her wrist. His grip was not kind. Sith yellow eyes searched hers with a fierce intensity. It was hard to tell what he was searching for but he regarded her and the substance she reached towards him with open suspicion and hostility. His eyes flicked down towards the canister. It looked like a bacta salve, but how could he be sure? In the past others had approached him with “healing” items that later turned out to be horrible poisons or other deadly reagents. It was not an uncommon way of assassination in his experience. Many had tried to take advantage of him whenever he had been in a weakened state, and he had learned to never trust any so-called help from another Sith.

It took him a moment to process that he was being ridiculous. This was not the past, and she was not a rival Sith lord. Just some unlucky bounty hunter who had the misfortune of trying to hunt him in the worst location on the planet. He did not gleam any ill intent from her eyes either, only exhaustion and discomfort.

After a few seconds he relented, releasing the iron tight grip on her wrist. If this was some obscure plan and the bacta really was something deadly in disguise, at least he would die mildly impressed by her ploy. He hitched up his blood soaked shirt to the best of his ability, revealing a sliver of pale, scarred skin. The wound was gaping and nasty, and it slashed across the black tattoos that covered his entire left side. Keeping his eyes on her just in case she tried to take a cheap shot, or the salve began to hurt in ways it shouldn’t, he allowed her to spread the salve over it. It only took a minute but he was quick to push her away, uncomfortable with the feeling of someone being so close to him. The bacta worked quickly and he let out a small breath as he felt the wounded tissues begin to knit themselves together.

He did not thank her as he rolled his shirt back down. The fact that he would no longer try to kill her would be thanks enough. He eventually turned his intense gaze away and relaxed. It was a small change, he didn’t appear so outwardly threatening but his closed off posture remained. A silence passed over them.

“Well if you want off this planet, better get going.”

Regardless of the fact that night had fallen, Jaster was willing to risk it and continue his journey to the next town. He had also had enough of this planet, and despite their uneasy peace he wanted to be free of his original unwanted guest too. Convince her leave first so that he could be sure that she wouldn’t follow him, that seemed like the best plan. Or he could just set off now and hope she was too tired to follow him. He meant to put either plan into action right away, but remained seated where he was. Even with the bacta, he was still too beat to start moving right away. He just needed a few more minutes.

Penny Rasalas

((Sorry that took a bit long, I have a lot to catch up on. ^^' ))

 

[Penny Rasalas]

The iron grip on her wrist shouldn't have been a surprise. She should have anticipated something of the sort, but she didn't. Having never been immersed in the Sith Empire, with all its hostility, treachery, and subterfuge, she would likely never experience the level of paranoia that came second nature to him and his kind. Blame it on being half-dead. An impressive number of synapses were still firing, but definitely not all of them...as evidence by her insane and contradictory choice to offer him a healing salve, of all things.

Here, let me attempt to dismember you for twenty minutes, then let's fight a giant raging rock-octopus together, and I'll heal you when we're done. Because...reasons.

The irony didn't escape her. This entire event was just ridiculous. It wasn't a senseless impulse, though. Far from it. No matter what she did now, there was great risk attached. She chose the path--one she didn't even like--of potentially neutralizing the remaining tension and animosity between them, for the simple sake of stumbling out of there without further injuries. Let's face it. If he had any of that lightning juice left, she was going to be a crispy and angry corpse flailing off the ledge once and for all.

Naturally, he could very well attempt to finish her off as soon as she was done. Then she would be an even angrier corpse.

Because he didn't outright attack her, Penny merely stared at him with an almost bored look until he decided it was safe to release her wrist. Honestly, she didn't have the strength to wrench it away from him anyway. She'd just lose her balance and fall over again, if she tried.

When finished, the empty tin was tossed aside with a hollow clatter against the stone. The Force user sat there, attention turned to the thick veil of night beyond the opening of the cavern, with its dark red haze. Stars glittered the sky, a couple of them bright enough to appear as distant moons. Illuminating the sea of stone and sand below.

A heavy sigh fell, and then she was wordlessly struggling back to her feet. The journey back to her stalled ship seemed impossibly long and hazardous, after the battle they endured. If she ran into another creature, or nefarious wanderer, she was going to be in a pickle. Nevertheless, this cavern wasn't big enough for the both of them, and the scattered heaps of entrails and limbs around them smelled like death.

"Until next time..." Murmuring after a few staggered paces away from him, she turned her head slightly, and flipped him a lazy salute. A threat, or a bad joke? There would be no explanation. But he would get his wish this time. Soon, her dark silhouette disappeared, and she began her painstaking descent down the mountain from hell.

Only, she wouldn't make it back to her ship that night. Whether or not he sought to track her whereabouts, her signature would disappear near the base of the mountain. Not with the goal of deceiving him. She simply cashed her chips in. Yielding to the pitiful aftermath she found herself in, and hunkering down in a rocky nook to rest and meditate through the night. Slowly healing her own wounds, in the process. Something she hated to do, but right now, there was no other choice.

Darth Mutilice

 

[Darth Mutilice]

He would wait until she was long out of sight, and until her force signature disappeared before moving. Like her, he had no intention of remaining in this cave and allowing the putrid smell of the monstrous corpse to further permeate his senses. The bacta had worked wonders and he could feel some of his physical strength returning. Not enough for him to start another fight, but enough for him to to get up and start walking. He walked slowly towards the entrance of the cave, stepping lightly over the mess of entrails and severed limbs until he reached the crisp night air.

He paused to take a breath. The night was silent and he closed his eyes, taking a moment to enjoy the coolness of the night breeze and the refresher it was from the recent battles. Unlike her, he didn’t even entertain the thought of a next time. Let their paths never cross again.

The wind swept through his hair and it gently nudged him away from the way he had come, as if it was urging him to continue his journey. For now, he would listen. His eyes opened and he pulled up his tattered hood once more before beginning to make his way down the rock. Soon his figure and force signature disappeared completely into the soft darkness of the night.

--

END

Penny Rasalas ((Huzzah!))