Private Orphans of Nar Shadda

[Riven Korr]

Steam hisses from a ruptured vent, curling around Riven's boots, dampening the hem of his coat. Neon spills down the walls in sickly colors that never agree with each other. Pink arguing with green. Blue bleeding into rust. Nar Shaddaa doesn't bother pretending to be pretty where it doesn't get paid to be.

Riven's hands shake.

He tells himself it's the cold. Or the hunger. Or the way the streetlight flickers like it's judging him. It's easier than admitting he dosed too early and too hard.

"Where is he?" he snaps, fingers digging into his pockets, searching for a stim he knows isn't there.

 

[Kaia Korr]

Kaia doesn't answer right away. That's always how it starts.

She leans against the wall instead, arms crossed, posture relaxed in a way that makes him itch. Like she's not stuck in the same filth, like she hasn't slept in a maintenance shaft two levels down.

"You're pacing," she says. Calm. Always calm. "You look desperate."

 

[Riven Korr]

"Because we are," Riven fires back. "Because you said he'd be here."

 

[Kaia Korr]

"I said maybe."

 

[Riven Korr]

He laughs, sharp and ugly. "You don't say maybe when someone's fronting product."

 

[Kaia Korr]

The alley shifts. Footsteps somewhere above. A speeder screaming past on a lower level. Nar Shaddaa listening, always listening.

Kaia's eyes flick up, then back to him. "You're already high."

 

[Riven Korr]

"Don't start."

 

[Kaia Korr]

"You promised you'd wait."

 

[Riven Korr]

"Plans change."

 

[Kaia Korr]

"So do people," she says, and that lands harder than she intended.

 

[Riven Korr]

Riven's jaw tightens. He hates when she sounds older than him. Hates when she looks at him like she's already grieving

 

[Kaia Korr]

Riven is unraveling. Again.

Kaia clocks it in the way his shoulders twitch, the way his gaze keeps snagging on nothing. She knows his tells better than her own. Knows when he's about to explode or disappear.

She doesn't move closer. That's a mistake she stopped making last year.

"He's late," she says, keeping her voice low. "That doesn't mean he's not coming."

 

[Riven Korr]

"Everyone's always late until they're dead."

 

[Kaia Korr]

"You're projecting."

 

[Riven Korr]

He scoffs. "You learn that word at one of your pretty little club jobs?"

 

[Kaia Korr]

That stings. He knows it does.

Kaia exhales slowly through her nose, grounding herself. She can smell the alley. Oil. Rot. Burnt circuitry. The fire crawls up her spine uninvited, a memory with teeth. She presses her back harder to the wall like it might keep the past from reaching her.

"I'm trying to keep us alive," she says. "Both of us."

 

[Riven Korr]

Riven turns on her, eyes bright and wild. "I didn't ask you to."

There it is. The knife.

 

[Kaia Korr]

"You didn't have to," she replies. "Mom didn't either."

The word hangs between them, glowing hot.

For a moment, she thinks he might hit something. Her. The wall. Himself. Instead, he laughs again, too loud, echoing off the metal like a challenge.

 

[Riven Korr]

"Don't do that," he says. "Don't use her."

 

[Kaia Korr]

"She's not a weapon," Kaia says softly. "She's the reason."