Flowers for the Dark Mage

[Vereshin]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SnyYKN_nEqs​

Bastion welcomed the evening. A lavender sun disappeared behind behind melancholy clouds and Vereshin berated himself for his stupidity. The aftermath of a downpour coated the city in a glossy mist beneath the garish contrast of waking lights. Stabbing pain wrenched his abdomen and heat rose to his forehead. Despite a fever and a bleeding tummy, he braved the outdoors and swallowed the pain to buy cigarettes. He stood in the line before the checkout in a convenience store on a street corner, sorely waiting for the customers to disperse.

Arching his head backwards, Vereshin breathed deeply and concentrated on objects and lights to distract himself. Wearing his favourite coat, a scarf wrapped around his face and sat inside the standing collar. Beads of sweat gathered above the veins visible on his throbbing temples. The stabbing pain in his stomach constricted him like a vice and grew ever sharp with the passing moments. He appeared a civilian with the other customers inside the store, the sickly pale hue of his skin suggesting otherwise.

The line moved slowly and the wayward mage gazed over the cover of a magazine advertising an article on astrophysics. He decided not to forsake his spot and could not wait any longer to go home and curl up. The time was past five and Vereshin awoke not long ago. He tried to sleep away his illness and wait until the next morning to no avail. For all the Force he only hoped the store owner thought he was a spice addict. His turn arrived and he placed the box of cigarettes decorated with woman dressed in an Imperial uniform, splayed in a risque manner, on top of the counter with a credit chit.

Eyes rolling back in his head, Vereshin barely stayed to collect his change and dragged his feet outside into the mist. Pedestrians passed by his aching form and he stopped to lean against the wall inside of a waiting alley. A shudder traveled through his spine as he felt a bead of sweat fall from his face and onto the pavement. He breathed deeply and gripped his stomach, swallowing the extent of his corruption with a brief moment of regret. Standing upright, Vereshin turned away from the alleyway and followed the path home.

The sorcerer lived in a small block of apartments, outdated and decrepit, in a part of town seldom visited by the populations. Overgrown trees grew outside a large door with a great brass handle. Wrenching the handle, Vereshin pushed himself inside and greeted the desolate reception office. Striped wallpaper fell away from plaster and a young indigo woman with hair curled into rolls sat beneath a faux fur stole.

"I need you to contact a healer, I am poorly." Striding forward, Vereshin rested a hand on the counter and requested medical aid be sent to his apartment. The receptionist knew him well, though not quite well enough to assume he was Sith. She nodded her head and reached for the communicator. The Sith dressed as a civilian made for the elevator and traveled to his apartment as quickly as his feet could carry him.

Since his health declined, Vereshin slowed behind the more astute Acolytes. The wages for the lowest rank of Sith did not allow him to live well outside of the temple. He chose to keep his own home and pursue his studies without the threat of unwelcome Sith. He found his room in the roof floor and unlocked the door. Gas lamps illuminated the chipped walls in place of the electricity he reserved for hot water and his cat, a tortoiseshell with long hair greeted him eagerly. His name was Exar and he lived with the Sith as his only companion.

"Hello darling." Vereshin sighed and struggled to bend down and stroke the cat's ears. Shelves and floorboards were strewn with books and paper. No carpet covered the floor and candles melted over surfaces. He Exar kipper and took a painkiller before retreating to the bathroom. The pain inside his abdomen grew fierce and he watched the toilet fill with blood as he stood and relieved himself. Cursing under his breath, he undressed, took off his glasses and curled up beneath the thick covers of his bed, waiting for the healer to arrive.

[member="Pom Stych Tivé"]

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Entranced, molecularly induced. This particular potion, with its rare ingredients and lengthy incantations, took six months to concoct. One plans when they will use it because it hold its user to strict demands. No outside interruptions, or physical ramifications might incur. The witch anticipated no interruptions. There never was anyone to come calling. She had no servants, but the poison ivies growing along her front path protecting the herb garden and the front door from unwelcome inquisitors. The denizens of the vast forest, within which her dilapidated cottage rests just beyond its outskirts, added great wards of protection from unwelcome wanderers. That is, those who have no learned skillet to defend against.

Within her room, her state of mind felt so damn good, succumbed to meditation with an euphoric state. She could become an addict to its effects. Willingly? Maybe. Maybe not. The work entailed in creating this potion was a pain in her neck. In a blissful state of meditation, above the lace sheets covering her thick down mattress encircled in carved oak upon the dusty floor planks of her forest cottage, hovered in mid air, the young sorceress Pom Stych Tivé.

Hours she rested there. Her body sleeping life away, but her mind reaching new heights. Reaching out. Full concentration. No distractions.

It began outside the edge of the forest, towards civilization. Someone took the initiative to seek out the sleeping beauty. But she was not one to desire to be disturbed. Not quite yet. Not ever. It would have been ignored, the cry for help. But sometimes events set in motion just seem to spell out the unfolding of a bigger picture. Pom Stych Tivé could feel it, even though she wasn't even trying to see.

Distractions. Distractions. The screaming. She found it unavoidable, piercing her senses. She would want to rise slowly, twenty minutes to regain her consciousness. Her breathing had been utterly slow and relaxed; thirty seconds inhale, thirty seconds to exhale. But that wasn't happening. Stych’s body plummeted into her soft feather bed. When she stood, she stammered awkwardly. Her vision was blinded. She cursed the renderer of the uninvited commotion outdoors. As she headed towards the main door, she saw nothing but stars before her eyes. She needs time to recover!

As she abruptly swung open the cottage door, she cursed robustly, ”Cease that infernal caterwauling!” She added under her breath, ”Or I will put your bones to better use.” Waving a hand, she cast her spell to retract the tussling bushes which revealed a lone person trapped within its thorny branches, and which laid the captive out onto the bare dirt. Stych looked onward, but she could not actually see a thing. ”What have you come for, waif? If you’ve funds, I have something for a brave soul.”

A young boy knelt where he was set upon the ground. ”J-just t-to deliver a message, M-Mistress.” The boy cowered. Stych is quite proud of the stories the towns folk tell about her. It guarantees her solitude!

Stych raised a brow slowly. She watched the boy’s reactions. She enjoys the theatrics! ’Must not disappoint!’ ”And that message is…?”

”Word is going around a young Mage has requested a healer. My Master strongly feels the Force urging a…professional do his mending.”

”Mm-hmm. I see. Very well. I shall gather my apothecary.” Stych still cannot see, a minor imposition. ”You will remain here, and lead me to this individual.”

It would take some time to reach the one in need. Method of calling her was performed through whispering down the lane. Eventually they were pointed to the direction of the originator of the request. Stych came first to the apartment desk clerk, who gave her the room number. Lead carefully by the slave boy, Stych climbed the stairs and stood facing the door to the entrance of the apartment, her medical bag in hand dangled at her side. She is finally seeing shapes, but only through darkness and haze.

The boy stood next to her, rather afraid to be here. He took the initiative to lightly wrap upon the wood door, bidding the Mistress entrance, when he would hope he might take his leave of her. If she should pay him, he would try and hide his earnings from his Master who had sent him for the Sorceress. She certainly will not pay him, a mere slave. The boy shall then need rely on the mercy of the one afflicted inside for a token of his time and trouble, if it is meant to be!



[member=Marf][member="Vereshin"]

 

[Vereshin]

The cold of the decrepit apartment drifted through the floorboards as Vereshin stirred beneath the covers. He heard the sound of the door unlocking, through the noise seemed very far away. The sweat on his forehead grew thick as the stabbing pain in his stomach heightened. Taking deep breaths, he closed his eyes and tried to ignore the sensation as voices drew closer. A young boy and a woman clad in darkly clothing crept into the dull candlelight. The Sith physicist peered over the covers and caught the sight of the child leaving. The woman closed in, leaning gently over his side.

"I'm bleeding inside..." He managed in a tiny voice, barely audible as the whimper of a child. "I can't walk." Feeling the caress of the woman's hands as she helped him to sit upright, he shook his head slowly and tried to gather his thoughts. Wearing nothing but white short-sleeved shirt and shorts, he suddenly felt disgraceful that she should witness him in his most vulnerable state. Candles flickered across surfaces and books and paper strewn over the desk and floor, baring endless scores of equations and arcane formula. Vereshin heard the paper rustle as the sorceress avoided it with her boots.

The Sith healer stroked his hair as she helped him move his legs over the side of the bed. Clutching his stomach in agony, Vereshin felt his lips tremble as beads of sweat dropped off his forehead and onto the floorboards. His bare legs, the size of a child's, moved slowly to find the floor and he sat crouched on the bed while the Sith healer reached for her medicine. His cat wandered about and meowed, seemingly knowing his friend was suffering and leaped onto the other bed to pad over to Vereshin, who slung an arm over his side and stroked the marble fur. As the sweat grew thicker on his back, he greatly desired a bath to ease the pain and struggled to move his lips while the sorceress set to work.

"I'm embarrassed." Vereshin lifted a hand held his forehead in his palm, looking down at the floor and feeling sorry for himself. He winced as the witch gently placed a hand on his stomach. "I'm sorry you have to see me like this." He continued while he shifted on the mattress, trying to make out the appearance of the healer through his poor vision. The assault on the Ophia cult took a toll and while the Sith Knight grew in power, such feats of magic still cost him physically.

[member="Pom Stych Tivé"]

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

His houseboy had said her patient’s name [member="Vereshin"] at some point, which Stych only heard its beginning syllable. “Vi, do not fret over such things petty.” The sorceress knows embarrassment! Not on a usual basis. But when embarrassment rears its uncomfortable head, it often replays the moment inside her mind to remind her! “For some purpose we are meant to meet in just this manner,” the sorceress soothed.

As if she were sighted, the sorceress gripped a chair back and spun it around to sit herself down facing his bedside. She removed her bag from her hip and opening it, held it out to the houseboy so he could view its contents. “The blue vial,” she demanded yet in a gentle tone, matching how she spoke with her patient.

The boy quickly complied by lifting one of light luminance and only half filled, and set it into Stych's awaiting palm. She removed the cork, and smelling the contents further directed, “Not this one. Another. One prior untouched.” She reached out with the tested vial, towards where she heard the boy rustling through her bag once again. “You may put this one back.”

It was not until his third attempt, that the houseboy located the proper tincture. Stych was pleased to smell the proper contents. She turned toward her patient and held it out to him to take from her. “Drink this to prepare your body for healing.” She felt obligated to share, “My name is Pom Stych Tivé. I am not often requested for healing. Most are ill at ease with my methods. It takes a special type to accept me; I sense you know what I mean.” She referred to having darkside tendencies.

Stych could not see so much as a spark in his darkened room. She trusted her instincts to guide her hands. “Please do not hold it against me that I cannot see you. It is not often I am caught in such a predicament myself…my embarrassment,” she concluded with a smile.

She had the houseboy remove a number of other items from her stash, potion vials and herbs. She rose from the chair to blend them with a bone in a nearby stone mortar left sitting upon Vi’s bedside table. “Lend me your palm, Magus,” she guided. She lightly etched runes into both of his palms, with the bone she used in the mortar, dripping with her mixture. The sorceress sang her incantation softly.

She lifted the mortar again and informed him, “This is needed to electrify your bath water. Let me help you (walk), but you will need to guide the way.”

 

[Vereshin]

Wrapping his thin arms his frame, Vereshin sat on the bed and rolled his head back and forth while he tried to repress the fever. He reached over and grappled at the side table for his glasses and set them over his ears wearily. The pale face of the Sorceress came into view above the gaslight. She was beautiful, like a timeless doll set in porcelain and framed with lace. Everything about her appealed to him. Her gentle touch, her quiet voice and cautious nuances, her long black gown and high collar. His hands trembled while she handed him the vial and he eyed the glass suspiciously, before downing the blue substance.

After a few moments, the fever subsided and he arched his backwards and stretched. As the servant boy helped him to stand, he sighed heavily through a long pause and let Pom assist him in removing his under clothes. He remained thankful for the dark and coiled sheepishly, trying to cover himself by force of habit. He trusted her confidentiality, she was a professional. He managed to stand up straight and both of them helped him walk to the bathroom. His cat remained too comfortable to move. The servant boy ran ahead and began to run the water while Pom guided him to the room. Tiles peeled off the chipped floor and wallpaper hung from boards. As the boy lit gas lamps, Vereshin's countenance, and his form, came into view. Steam rose from the water and he blushed amidst the rising heat.

The ill sorcerer grabbed a towel and wrapped it around himself while he sat on the lid of the lavatory and waited for the bath to fill. The subsiding moments were painful and humiliating and he glanced downwards over the towels and avoided the eyes of the beautiful witch. Once the bath was filled, he set the towel down and Pom helped him stand again and step over the edge and into the water steaming with healing salts. The bath was antique and stood on rusting gold feet, candles dripped over the shelf above the sink and set the room in a yellow balm.

"You are wonderful for coming at this time of night." He spoke as he eased himself down and into the water. The contrasting warmth of the water instantly soothed the pain and brought welcome relief. He leaned his head backwards and soaked, removing his glasses and dropping them into the bathroom mat.

[member="Pom Stych Tivé"]

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Caring for the comfort of her patient, Pomsty twiddled her finger and lit the hearth as she walked [member="Vereshin"] across the room. She sensed his uneasiness and thought he understood that she is currently blind as a bat, but suspects that he in his ailing state simply could not comprehend her’s, temporary though as it is.

She could not help but be secretly amused at holding something like this over a man. How he might cringe at this memory every time he see her from now on. Its not something that happens to Pom every day, having a naked man in her midst! Now she wished she could prove herself well composed, yet when he had slipped into the tub and she felt for the rim to sit at his side to render his potions into the water, she slipped over the edge herself and ended nearly up in the water with him. She had caught herself, thankfully.

“Forgive me, Magus,” she immediately apologized for her offense. She pondered how such luck is typical for her!

Time is most necessary. The potions required a lengthy amount of time fully activated to perform well. Pomsty charged the bath brew with incantations which she sang, her voice quite lovely and practiced, and the fluent swaying of her hands and bodice in her magical trance. After a moment of this, she had leaned over the water and sent a charge of electricity into the concoction. She then drew electrically charged forces back into herself.

The whole ordeal, including the steam of the bath and the burning fire made her feel overheated. The Sorceress had tended her patient diligently and now found herself quite tired. She began to be able to make out the fire in the hearth. She looked at it for some time admiring its dance, how it seemed to devour itself and revive again. She rose from Vereshin’s side and removed her jacket, bearing her arms and shoulders which she just simply does not do.

“How do you feel? A little better?” she asked him.

She had been holding a crystal in her hand as she tended to him. It had turned black with drawing the black magic from him, into Pom herself, and finally into the crystal. Waving a hand, she cast it into the fire which erupted all the more viciously, momentarily burning blue black flames, before finally cracking amidst the intense heat.

 

[Vereshin]

Slowly, the dark mage let his body slip downwards and into the bath water, immersing his head and his silky black tresses beneath the surface. Red candles flickered across the sink bench and danced in the glassy mirror of the water. Vereshin rose upwards and brought his hands over his face, washing his hair and eyes. He looked around and watched Pom sit on the edge of the bath, blushing fervently as she nearly slipped and fell in. She collected her posture and rose to her feet as Vereshin looked away coyly at the chipping tiles. He breathed slowly and watching her moving shape from the corner of his eye. Recoiling, he exhaled and held his legs together.

As the witch sang, Vereshin found himself relaxing. He gripped the edge of the bath with one hand and let his breathing slow. She released the surge of electricity into the bathwater and he jolted slightly, releasing an audible gasp while receiving the sharp sensation. Pom removed her jacket and her pallid shoulders and sternum reflected like the moon against the candles. Vereshin's heart leaped into his chest and his face grew hot. He held his legs together again and brought them up against his chest, wrapping his arms around them in a foetal pose.

"Much better, thank you." The healing tonic in the bathwater began to enter his pores and soothe him internally. He barely noticed and averted his eyes away from glistening light on Pom's arms and chest. She left to tend to the fire in the living room and he found himself sighing again, using the moment alone to calm himself. He grabbed a bottle of shampoo off the side of the bath and ran it through his hair while he waited for her to return at her full strength. He rinsed and beheld Pom as she arrived in the doorway, while running his fingers through the inky strands.

[member="Pom Stych Tivé"]

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

His darkness was intriguing, but she had no idea exactly with what magick he had been involved to cause such a wound. As a Nightsister, she dealt with dark magick herself, but never something that turned her crystal black and explode them. That always seemed to be an exploration for one who has developed an obsession. She was not about to ask him either, but she sure did wonder which remarkable accomplishment he lusted after. The crystal shard had absorbed his sickness, but she had not anticipated she would lose it altogether! Maybe he would make it up to her with the promise of a good meal? However, from what she could tell about Vi, she assumed he needs a good meal himself, more than she. Pomsty called for the Master’s servant and specified him to prepare a spread which would very much accelerate Vi’s healing process.

The sorceress returned to the bath from the great room, stepping slowly so she would not stub her toe on something yet unseen in her path. She perceived the light quite dimly, still. Her sight should begin to return soon, she anticipated. She did not know how much time Vereshin might require of her, as most patients have individual needs and their general health beforehand is a big component.

She returned to the farside of the loo and sat down, giving Vi his space. “So…is there anything you are just itching to share about yourself?” She fidgeted with the black lace of her skirt. “Unless…you’d rather just relax.” Its not like she brought a book.

Just as she began to inquire, his bath water began to fizz. She knew it would not be long now before Vi would begin to feel replenished. The room soon began to fill with the potions’ therapeutic aroma.

 

[Vereshin]

The lounging mage settled down comfortably beneath the water and closed his eyes, soaking every particle of the healing salts and wrapping his thin hands over his chest. As Pom inquired about him personally, he opened one brilliant green eye and looked her up and down before closing it and turning away. He felt the water surge around him and the pain in his abdomen had completely disappeared. The water grew lukewarm and he slipped downward, immersing his head beneath the surface to rinse his hair. Upon rising, Vereshin paused for a moment to acknowledge Pom, gripping the sides of the bath while preparing to stand.

"Perhaps over supper." His white lips parted to reveal teeth, completely black and he offered her a coy smile before lifting himself out of the water and standing upright. The feelings of invasion returned and he leaned over to grip Pom's arm while she rose herself to help him out. He pulled one ankle out of the water and set it down cautiously onto the bathroom mat, before removing the other from the water beside the first, loosing his balance slightly and falling into the chest of Pom. He coiled his wrist together and trembled in the cold while the sorceress wrapped a towel around him. She gave a moisturizing lotion to smooth over his hands and face, which he coated over the dry surface of his skin.

Vereshin leaned over to grip a second towel from the railing and dried himself up and down. He felt the touch of Pom's soft fingers on his bony ribs and shoulders while he rustled the towel over his hair. She handed him his comb without him even asking and the sorcerer noted the woman's deep consideration. Pom did not snicker over his form and remained modest and dutiful, serving him with the utmost respect and care. Vereshin seldom found such fondness in another being. Tonight, he experienced a pang of attachment towards the dark little witch. He combed his hair back and made himself presentable before dressing.

"Yes, the grey shirt and my suit pants." With the towel wrapped over his shoulders, Vereshin walked with Pom into the bedroom where she helped him find his clothes. He never wore robes unless conducting heavy rituals, preferring elegant comfort within his own dark tastes. The thick, black cardigan he usually wore was strewn over the bed. He sat on the edge while Pom shifted through the chest of drawers for his undergarments, shivering with a mix of cold and embarrassment. She handed him the shorts and he looked at the stripes on the wall, blushing fervently while he let the towel slide away and slipped into the clothes. He buttoned the cardigan over the grey, long-sleeved shirt and welcomed the warmth again.

[member="Pom Stych Tivé"]

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

There is nothing Pom loves more than the smell of a properly brewed healing draught such as the Waters of Life potion at work. It is a prize staple among the Nightsisters of Dathomir. They make a public sport around how it's key component is gathered. A newcomer is set on a quest to battle an ancient, gigantic swamp beast. Pom silently pondered how many lost their lives before a victor finally gathered the necessary clippings from the beast, in order to create the potion. Festivities are often weeks long!

The brewing takes far longer as it requires 3.75 moon cycles exactly. Now in a matter of mere minutes, the entire potion has been utilized for Vereshin, someone she had never even met before today. Up till this point, he had not spoke much to her at all. She did however, find the spiritual sensations which emanated from him, to be most familiar. She secretly, and quite unrealistically, -for she possessed no reasoning behind feeling so,- hoped this not due to any vulnerability on his part and that he might possess a completely different personality once he is well. It is not every day, the sorceress finds herself interested in those around her. His circumstance had indeed peaked her interest.

The ordeal an embarrassing predicament posed to the both of them, as [member=Vereshin] stiffened each time she approached him, regardless that she could not see him in much detail all along, and he in turn slid his cheek across her bare bust. She was far too hot just yet to grab for her shawl. After he was finished with it, she borrowed a corner of his towel to dry bosom.

The servant returned with the foods of her request, and more. He took the cart out onto the balcony where a small café table was set out in the slipping sun, veiled by scattered clouds along the horizon. Pom had enough of her sight back at this point that she could see what was presented. She gathered what foods would have been detrimental to Vi's healing, and had them returned to the kitchen. She arranged the spread before him before moving to settle herself down in a chair beside him, surprised that he put forth the effort to pull out her chair for her.

The slight breeze was welcoming, compared to the heat and humidity inside. It would get Vi’s blood pumping and help him eradicate whatever toxins might be left lingering within his bloodstream. She noticed he looks a bit perked up now, a stark contrast from his ailing the moment she first walked through his doorway. She was not surprised by his turn around, as she has faith in her craft. “Your feeling tired should pass after a good night’s sleep.”

She wondered how he got hurt, and how he ended up in this apartment building of all places, in addition to all manner of intrigues. She did not speak anything more, to risk appearing that she were making demands. For the moment, she is just grateful for the meal. She hoped he would share anything about himself once his energy is replenished. If it would be till tomorrow that he should make her wait, then she would return just to hear him reveal whatever he would like.

 

[Vereshin]

As Vereshin finished dressing, Pom approached and helped him to stand again. She held him by his shoulders and he rose to his feet, the upper length of his arm colliding with her chest above the thin layer of sheer chiffon. Sweat gathered on the back of his neck and his cheeks heated, the pace of his heart quickening and he froze in his stance and allowed his arm and elbow to move slowly across the perfect surface of her breast. Darkness enveloped the room, marred only by the dying embers of candles and disallowing each Arcane user to coherently gaze upon the form of one another.

Vereshin turned away. With a jolt, he moved his leg forward and crossed his thigh over the other, letting his arm slide across Pom's ribs and into the curve of her soft waist. His Force signature radiated while his shape remained unseen. A maelstrom of otherworldly power coiled tightly beneath a meek visage. Beads rolled from his hairline and dampened his collar as the Witch moved and lead him in her direction. The light from the balcony drew them out of the bedroom and Vereshin soon found his feet, walking forward without Pom's aid. They met the setting sun and a cool breeze over the Bastion skyline, pausing for a moment to behold the sight.

Chairs sat around a table with a small meal on each place. White peony steamed in a glass teapot before two black and silver cups. As his strength gradually returned, Vereshin pulled a chair out for Pom and helped her to sit down, before taking a seat himself on the opposite side. He did not respond to her suggestion of sleep, having awoken far too late then he cared to admit and felt rather spirited after the healing bath. Vereshin picked up his cutlery and eyed the savory pastry cautiously, slicing away a small bite and managing to swallow. He extended a skeletal wrist, baring the thin tattoo of an inverted triangle on the underside of his pallid arm and gripped the handle of the teapot, pouring himself a steaming cup of the light liquid.

Pom seemed to eye him curiously, making him assume she expected conversation. He felt his toe caress her ankle beneath the table and offered her a silent and mischievous smile, lifting the teacup to his lips to savor the ethereal taste. They beheld each other clearly for the first time and the dark mage failed to divert his eyes away from her beautiful countenance. He decided against revealing the truth behind his state to avoid frightening or discouraging the woman. Vereshin could not comprehend such an attraction, failing to recognize the need to possesses the close presence of another within his life. He sat silently, confused and euphoric, welcoming the feel of Pom's ankle against his toe while struggling to confront his internal response to the sensation.

[member="Pom Stych Tivé"]

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Pom felt [member=Vereshin]’s state. His silent smile said so much. A Nightsister takes advantage of men in the most degrading of ways imaginable, which most men actually find a thrill and long for more. Pom however, fought through her desires just now. She knew that should she relent to wantonness, Vereshin would find her cheap and irrespectable. She would not have it. For some reason she sensed an honest connection with him.

It is for the better, that a man keep his business dealings secret. She is entirely accepting of his silence in response to her question. She just wanted to talk really, to get to know him a little. He already spoke volumes without uttering a sound. Why rush? Pomst is very patient, like a wild cat stalking her prey. She would forget her questions, and accept what is freely granted. He is brazenly playful, and not brash like most men she knows on Dathomir. His differences are quite welcoming, she feels.

Pomst sat back in her chair and simply looked back at him, her eyes softened as she did so. Her own reaction she had not expected. She had not expected him to react to her in this way. She blushed deeply.