Saffron
Deceased
Smoke would rise to the ceiling with a lazy curl, flowing from the tip of a glowing cigarra held between the slender fingers of one Danger Arceneau.
The scene would be different. Instead of being saturated with the scent of blood, blasters, and burnt flesh one would recognize the light delicate spice of incense and her cigar.
The room that they were in would not be littered with bodies, but with opulent furniture upholstered with the finest of fabrics. Decorated with bodywood bed stands and tables, all carved intricately by hand.
The most extravagant would be the large king sized bed in the center of the room. Carved bodywood posts would tower overhead, the faint pulsing red lines streaking across their surface a spectacular view, bedsheets made of glistaweb a sinful delight, with enough pillows to feel as if one was slept amidst the clouds.
Or so it would be, had the blasted individual who had decided to get a slug on his gut and his back burnt to a crisp were not in it.
A small harrumph would flow from Danger’s lips as the companion at Jared’s side tended to the unconscious man.
Long weeks had passed since that fateful night, in which Danger’s own managed to come pull them out of the devil’s den they’d managed to fall into. Her boys had made quick of the situation, and soon they were enroute to Tatooine.
But not before stopping by Geonosis.
In there, Danger’s highly paid medics and the Kaminoan cloning expert made quick work of gathering genetic material from Lord Ovmar for the production of cloned flesh; skin grafts for his back. The wounds had been so serious that mere bacta would not be enough. Synthflesh was an option, but let’s be frank, nothing healed faster than one’s own flesh.
Besides, it was a tit for a tat. She owed him for what he’d down for her. It was the least she could do.
Her mother’s nagging voice wouldn’t let her forget it.
Along with his rather curious drug induced mutterings. A small hmph came as those fiery emeralds darted over the unconscious Sith Lord.
Curiouser and curiouser.
"Keep him company, Saffron." Came Dangers drawl through a cloud of smoke.
"Will do," came Spenser's, better known as Saffron's reply. Hazel eyes went drifting over the unconscious man as Danger left. A hand went to lightly graze the stubble on the older man's cheek.
"My oh my," came her sugary drawl, her expression a delighted sense of devilry. " ain't you a sight for sore eyes. "
The scene would be different. Instead of being saturated with the scent of blood, blasters, and burnt flesh one would recognize the light delicate spice of incense and her cigar.
The room that they were in would not be littered with bodies, but with opulent furniture upholstered with the finest of fabrics. Decorated with bodywood bed stands and tables, all carved intricately by hand.
The most extravagant would be the large king sized bed in the center of the room. Carved bodywood posts would tower overhead, the faint pulsing red lines streaking across their surface a spectacular view, bedsheets made of glistaweb a sinful delight, with enough pillows to feel as if one was slept amidst the clouds.
Or so it would be, had the blasted individual who had decided to get a slug on his gut and his back burnt to a crisp were not in it.
A small harrumph would flow from Danger’s lips as the companion at Jared’s side tended to the unconscious man.
Long weeks had passed since that fateful night, in which Danger’s own managed to come pull them out of the devil’s den they’d managed to fall into. Her boys had made quick of the situation, and soon they were enroute to Tatooine.
But not before stopping by Geonosis.
In there, Danger’s highly paid medics and the Kaminoan cloning expert made quick work of gathering genetic material from Lord Ovmar for the production of cloned flesh; skin grafts for his back. The wounds had been so serious that mere bacta would not be enough. Synthflesh was an option, but let’s be frank, nothing healed faster than one’s own flesh.
Besides, it was a tit for a tat. She owed him for what he’d down for her. It was the least she could do.
Her mother’s nagging voice wouldn’t let her forget it.
Along with his rather curious drug induced mutterings. A small hmph came as those fiery emeralds darted over the unconscious Sith Lord.
Curiouser and curiouser.
"Keep him company, Saffron." Came Dangers drawl through a cloud of smoke.
"Will do," came Spenser's, better known as Saffron's reply. Hazel eyes went drifting over the unconscious man as Danger left. A hand went to lightly graze the stubble on the older man's cheek.
"My oh my," came her sugary drawl, her expression a delighted sense of devilry. " ain't you a sight for sore eyes. "