Entering The Dreamscape

[Lief]

"You're not fine," she said, largely against her better judgement in truth being that he already seemed to be having his patience tested by her, but sometimes what the patient wanted and what was actually best for them was not one and the same, "This is just a perigen patch, it's not a narcotic which means it will not affect you in any way other than to decrease the pain. There's literally no reason not to have it, so please... Let me apply it and your head will feel much better."

After giving him more information she attempted once again to administer it. Just a small adhesive patch, no needles, no tablets... Easy and pain free.

He seemed to retreat in on himself when she mentioned his lack of a name, and she took the moment to fill up his cup with more tea before offering it out to him. No sense in wasting a good pot of tea, after all.

"Do... You want a name? I couldn't imagine having that part of my identity missing..."

She stepped back over to him and slowly reached out in an attempt to part his hair and check over the wound which had effectively been glued together. No signs of any escaping blood, which was good. It meant she had fully sealed it first time around.

"You need to be careful," she said, "some drugs can mess with blood flow. Cause your blood to thin or even have it coagulate too quickly. I'm not going to sit here and lecture you, your habits won't change because of some strangers words, but I will ask that until that wound is healed you do your best to avoid any more."

For a moment she stood there with a contemplative expression on her face, thinking back to a certain Ithorian who had given her a glimpse into his culture. He had gifted her with a name, Keoz, it meant Hawk... And receiving that name had been quite the honour. She thought about other names she had heard along a similar vein, taking in a few key features about the boy before her.

Namely his hair.

"What about Akos?" she said, out of nowhere, knowing that the likelihood of him actually liking it was slim to none. But they had to start somewhere, and she was determined that he would have a name she could refer to him by... Even if he never used it again when they eventually parted.

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Slave retracted his arm once more, in part because of trust, in part because he thought he knew better. Opening his eyes, he gave her a stern stare; one that was backed by the piercing gaze of electrum colored orbs, a sign that he was fully submerged in the Dark Side of The Force if not every hint up to this point had stuck. They seemed to shift in shade, the slow churns of molten fire from beyond just an iris, but the recesses of an angered soul. Perhaps not at her, but they were irate.

“I said no.”, he said through a near scowl. It was harsh, but just as a wild animal with a wound; he was subconsciously on the defensive.

A long moment seemed to pass as she filled his cup up once more, and The Slave slowly reverted back to his relatively relaxed posture; head in his hands, eyes closed and oriented downwards.

“Do… You want a name?”, she had asked.

“I have plenty.”, he simply responded. “I just don’t care for them.”

The Slave seemed to ignore her statement about the drugs, his posture offering no inclination of even hearing her. His gaze was focused now towards the door, as if thinking of where in the star port he’d sit next, somewhere he might not be hit in the head by a glass bottle. He offered little more than a sigh as she offered ‘Akos’.

“Asha, I-”, he stopped. It was the first time he had said her name, but there was something far softer about his tone than he had intended. He wasn’t comforting to him, but it was faintly uniform and endearing outwardly; he quickly rectified it regardless and came back to a more neutral form.

“John, Dorian, Tai Fa. It’d just be added to the list.”

[member="Asha Hex"]

 

[Lief]

Ordinarily, Asha Hex was not someone who had to be told twice. It went without saying then that when he rejected her assistance a second time, even after being given the information, she backed off entirely and slipped the patch and the remainder of her medical supplies back into the wall mounted medkit.

"So be it, but the offer will remain until you leave my ship. You're free to help yourself to what's in the kit."

Nothing he could use as a narcotic. Just basic tools, bandages and the like, as well as the aforementioned patches. The heavier things could be found within her medbay but that was sealed up tight most of the time.

He seemed to ease up when more tea was poured, and this time she actually made herself a cup. Naturally she didn't need its more specialized properties, but she enjoyed the drink regardless and appreciated the soothing nature it produced within her.

Finding a seat in one of the two chairs the bunk room offered, she glanced across to him and listened as he spoke of the names he had known - and apparently rejected. It was... Strange to her, but she supposed that was her own bias showing. She had never had a reason to not use her name, aside from the handful of times she had tried to keep it from those who meant her harm, what sort of past was he trying to leave behind? Or perhaps the reason wasn't quite so deep as that.

Maybe it was simply a decision he had made.

"I apologize, I do not mean to push such things upon you. Just because it's not something I'm used to does not mean I have any right to try and remedy it. Is there anything I can do for you? Are you hungry?"

She opted against using any of the names he had just presented her with, feeling that she had pushed her luck enough with him. If he did not associate himself with any of those names then using them was meaningless. At this moment in time she realized there was actually nothing keeping him here any longer. If he stood up now and chose to leave she'd have no cause to make him stay... And yet for some reason she did not feel comfortable informing him of such.

After all she still wasn't certain if he was well enough to head back out into Nadir. Nor could she trust him to remain drug-free while he healed.

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Slave rubbed at his temple pensively, the pain at least keeping him aware of his surroundings. He couldn’t help but imagine what soothing the pain would feel like, but with the constant draw on his psyche from the likes of the Darkstaff, there was little he could do to help himself in terms of comfort. The moment he slipped was the moment he’d fall to it again, and he couldn’t let that happen.

“Is there anything I could do for you?”

Was there? He’d spent weeks without the usual amount of credits he had on backup, nor the amount allowanced to him by Cybele from the company. Simply put, he was back to square one in all aspects; though he still lacked a master to chain him to their will. He shook his head, almost smiling at the fact that at the very least, he was free. Free to do what? Nothing good it seemed, as he remembered just what he’d done with his freedom.

Overthrew a government, genocided a city out of anger, nearly killed his best friend, and now threatened the entire galaxy because he didn’t have the skill nor fortitude to hold onto himself any longer.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as he came back to reality, his voice equally as soft. It’d lost too much of its harshness to be seen as annoyed, only tired as his gaze still avoided Asha directly.

“I am, actually. I’m not that picky either…”

[member="Asha Hex"]

 

[Lief]

Though she had been the dedicated cook between herself and [member="Jericho"] for as long as she could remember, the fact that she had been raised on a ship meant that much of what she knew how to make relied heavily upon staples and non-perishables.

She didn't have the feeling he would mind too much, just as her Father hadn't, but all the same when he expressed the fact that he was in fact hungry she began to contemplate all the things she had in her stores. Knowing that this venture would be longer than most she had undertaken in a while she had stocked up well, but after weeks of journeying most of the good, fresh stuff had been used up.

"Okay," she said with a genuine smile, happy that she was actually able to help in some way as opposed to standing there frustrating him, "I'll go fetch something. There are clean clothes in that locker over there if you need any. And there's a refresher through that door."

After all his clothes were no doubt lined with blood at this point, and who knew when he'd last had a chance to change. The door she mentioned was across from the one she proceeded to exit through, on the other side of the room he was resting in. As with everything so far she doubted the refresher or the clothes would see use but it would have been wrong of her not to offer all the same.

This time Asha did not lock the door. Whether on purpose or by mistake could not be deduced, though truth be told now he was doing a little better she didn't feel quite so hellbent on keeping him here if he wanted to leave. He was a patient, not a prisoner. In her eyes at least.

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

It’d been some time since The Slave was offered much of anything in the way of charity, by either man or nature. There was a point in his life The Slave didn’t believe so much in karma, but today was not that day, as all the sins he had committed came back unto him tenfold; or so it seemed. Where he stood, he was the clay feet of a golden statue, the end all be all of target practice for the grand universe.

An inner pity party hosted by his internal monologue, he thought.

With Asha walking off to check on food or some sort of nurishment, The Slave pondered if he would actually use either the refresher or the clothes. For a short time, that’s all he thought about before simply shrugging and laying his sword off to the side of the bed; the handle unwrapping only slightly more. Lifting himself, he grabbed a towel and locked the refresher door behind him.

He took extra care to avoid looking at himself in the mirror, but after stripping and running hot water; he began the slow process of washing the dirt, blood, and shame from his skin. How could he have fallen so far simply because he had created something he never should have? Shaking his head, he rinsed soap from his hair and idly let the water run from the cut on his head off the sculpted surfaces of his body. Just a moment to relax, to feel safe in the comfort of even water’s warm embrace.

Hanging his head low, he waited in the slowly humidified lavatory; waiting for the external call of Asha for his return, to check up on him. Something to remind him he was needed, anywhere at all. Putting a hand to the cut, he’d feel trace amounts of blood mixing with water and threatening to stain the paleness of his skin. To be as altered outside as he was inside, he supposed.


[member="Asha Hex"]

 

[Lief]

Asha was surprised to discover her stores not entirely depleted of fresh food.

Any excuse to eat something properly prepared, as opposed to formed through a synthesizer, was eagerly grasped at by this particular Hex. Far from the greatest cook, she still enjoyed experimenting and found the act of cooking very relaxing. Methodical. Usually she would play around with combinations and flavours, but she wasn't exactly certain what her guest preferred even if he stated his lack of pickiness. As a result she stuck to tried and tested ingredients.

The resulting tray of food was actually a bit of a hodgepodge. Being near the end of her fresh supplies she had to make do with what she had... But thankfully it was a balanced meal if nothing else. Two plates and cups were carried from the kitchenette through to the crew quarters where he was presently housed within.

She had been expecting him to be where she had left him, so imagine her surprise when she found the room empty and the sound of the refresher gracing her ears. It seemed as though she had been wrong about him, even if only in some small fashion.

Settling the tray down she took her own servings and placed them upon one of the surfaces away from the bed, close to the chair she had previously seated herself within. Then the tray was set upon the bedside table. She contemplated remaining silent, giving him as much time as he needed in the refresher, yet she did not want him unaware of her return and consequentially step out to find not only a cold meal but unexpected company. That seemed... Improper of her.

"Food is ready," she called out, "But... Don't feel obligated to rush out of there."

Her gaze drifted down to the offerings she'd provided them both: some sort of egg she couldn't remember the origins of, hard boiled since she didn't know how he'd prefer it fried (a controversial issue for many, she had discovered), a decent serving of colourful rice run through with a few rainbow vegetables, some shredded bantha meat that would likely melt in the mouth, and an orange all the way from Mandalore (or so it claimed!) for good measure. Then there was of course muja juice to wash it down, and the remainder of the tea from earlier.

Nothing to sing or dance about, but hearty and flavourful in the least. Just how she preferred it.

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

He heard her voice muddied by the insulation of the ship and the soft pattering of the water against his chest; overridden by what ran over his ears. It was relaxing, faintly recalling the few times in somewhat recent memory he was given the chance to stay warm and clean in any semblance of a refresher; all in part of his escaping custody from Cerbera, though even before this he was likely the least conventional slave anyone would own.

Thoughts passed to Imperia, the first owner he had that recognized his force sensitivity and sought to turn him into a weapon. The paleness of her skin and the cruel nights they spent together; evening after evening of fetish littered debauchery that he simply considered normal. In many parts, he still did, but as his fingers ran over the scars on his chest he couldn’t help but reimagine what his life would have been if he grew up without slavery, without the cruel imaginations of anyone bothering him. Who could he have become?

Sighing, he let his mind lose track of its own thought, turning off the shower and stepping out to the now humid refresher and fogged mirror. He avoided it, refusing to look at himself before grabbing the towel he had collected earlier. It took him only a few minutes to dry off and throw on new clothes, the blood on his head already hardening from its exposure to the air. With finger pressed against the button for the door, he hesitated and took in a deep breath before pressing it, coming back to main area with no smile; only a faintly placid gaze and apathetic expression.

“Is this mine?”, he said with a glance to her. Grabbing one of the two plates, he’d sit back down on the bed nearest the sword and cross his legs, resting the food where his feet connected and slowly beginning to eat.

He’d remain silent as he stared at his food, letting the soft sounds of his consumption fill the void.

[member="Asha Hex"]

 

[Lief]

In the time which lingered between her arrival back in the room and the return of her... companion?.. Asha did not touch her own plate.

Though she was hungry, and the smell of it was tantalizing to her senses, Asha had a particular set of rituals she held herself to when it came to guests. Or, honestly, just in general. She did not eat or drink until they felt comfortable enough to, they were always served first, whether it was dinner or tea, and the mere act of providing them with sustenance was basically an unspoken promise to do them no harm lest they deal the first blow.

Such was how it had always been, for as long as she could recall. Even as a child, when her Father entertained guests... Which in truth was rare. In fact, even when she had made something for herself and [member="Jericho"] she had always served her Father first.

It was no different in this case.

When he stepped back into the room she could tell he was doing better than he had been prior, though that same apathetic look remained within his eyes. His question made her smile, and as she watched him pick up one of the two plates she nodded her response.

"Every bite of it."

It was always a relief when her company ate. There was something intrinsically satisfying about it; perhaps that was her own experiences coming to light, how reluctant she had been to accept sustenance from those she deemed a threat, like Ae-- Master... She paused in her thoughts for a moment, before subtly shaking her head at herself. Her brows had furrowed in that instance, ever frustrated by her inability to refer to him by name even in thought. The impression he had left on her, even after several years of static silence.

Her already pale skin had turned almost ghostly, and in order to occupy herself she picked up a segment of the orange and focused on slowly eating it. Swallowing proved quite the task, and she subconsciously reached a hand to brush fingertips against her throat - checking to ensure that the thin band of metal had not somehow reappeared. She was met with just skin, of course, she had removed such bindings a long time ago.

"Are you feeling any better?" she managed to ask, after a few more moments of the silence which hung between them, her voice slightly breathless for the first three words before she caught herself and gave her head a mental wobble. The only power he has over you is what you permit him to have, Ash. The fiend was gone, it was best she remembered that.

[member="The Slave"]