Private The Broken & The Drifter

[Liam Wickens]

​

Location: Adrift in deep space aboard the Growler​

Equipment: Civilian clothing, vibroknife​

Tag: Dashara Horizon​

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Liam had stopped off to get some supplies on the trip out. Dash never seemed to stir, which was a good thing, he supposed. Food, fuel, and more. It ate into some of his currency, but it would be worth it.​

​

The girl slept for near a full day. It was midday the second day out, Nar Shaddaa time when she woke up. She came awake to the smell of cooking food, despite the best efforts of the air cyclers. It wasn't hard to find the 'fresher where she could relieve herself and also get cleaned up. There were fresh clothes in her size that he'd left. A few were various changes that he figured she would like, but next to the bed, along with a couple of towels, was a set that was more athletic gear.​

​

By the time she got cleaned up, he was finished with food. Having heard the shower, he'd added another plate and had food ready. It looked to be a mixture of vegetables, some meats, and some kind of pasta with a thick creamy sauce. While not terribly rich, it was full of energy and everything the body needed. And it smelled divine. Next to it, he sat a bulb of caf and a bulb of water.​

​

He set himself up with a similar plate but changed the caf for tea instead. When she joined him in the galley, he gave her a small smile. "Morning. Well, afternoon, technically," he said, checking the chrono on his wrist. "I figure you didn't get much sleep before. It's a small luxury but... I'm pretty sure you needed it."​

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Around them, the ship was almost silent. The engines didn't seem to be under thrust by the vibration of the deck plates. The powerplant, of course, still hummed away quietly. The ship itself was on low power and adrift.​

​

Picking up a fork he gestured to the plate. "Dig in. I tried to guess as to what you would eat. But it's all good, especially the noodles."​

​

 

[Dashara Horizon]

Location: Adrift in Space on the Growler
Tags: Liam Wickens

Deep in her dreams, Dashara's emotions sank deeper into sorrow and helplessness. Fear, rage, and depression stood out among the relentless internal storm. The exhaustion became a painful numbness.

She found herself in the center of an empty room. Darkness surrounded and watched her in an intense, haunted way. Above her, a solitary light beamed down and illuminated her submissive figure. Dashara looked up to locate the source, but it blinded her and forced her blink it away. A shallow breath escaped her chest. Her heart pounded in her ears as she lowered her arms to her side.

"Hello?" Dash's voice cracked the silence.

"Hello?!" Louder this time, but her echo drifted off and increased the lonely sensation.

The half Zeltron hesitated before she paced in the reaches of the spotlight. She neared the edge, but she couldn't push past it. Each time try, her heart leap and raced. She pulled back like a frightened child.

"Dashara..." A familiar voice caught her attention.

Her green eyes widened. Without any strength to resist, she jerked about to face the origin. The air caught in her throat enough to choke her speechless. A human in his early forties with salt and pepper hair watched her. His lips curled into sneer as confidence and arrogance oozed off him. Upon spotting her, he stepped toward her.

Dash backed up then ran. Her arms smacked against the stone wall to push herself forward. Ahead of her was a dark figure distorted by her blurred vision, but she didn't hesitate. A sense of safety urged her to reach him. She couldn't explain it, only trust it.

Any sense of time became lost. Pain never reached her legs nor did she gain much ground. Dash's eyes lowered. Her legs sank into loose sand and it inched up to her waist. It weighed her down to a complete stop.

"No… NO!" Dashara pleaded as she struggled.

Her arms thrashed about and shifted, but she sank quicker. The sounds of her persuader became louder with each moment. Another strangled cry escaped her throat. She couldn't get free. Why couldn't she get free? The question haunted her. The sand reached her lower ribs now. Her eyes lifted to look at the mysterious strange, but he vanished.

Her hope gone with him.

Dashara's eyes snapped open. She jerked halfway up, her right arm propped her off the bunk and glanced about. Air poured into her lungs rapidly, her heart beat irregularly and thumped hard against her ribs. A dizziness washed over her immediately. When her stomach threatened to rise, Dashara laid on her back. Her hands combed her hair off her eyes. A little difficult since her sweat plastered it in place.

She closed her eyes then focused on her breath. With a little effort, she worked back into a steady and regular pace. Dash twisted in place on the bunk.

"The Growler. Liam." The female hybrid uttered the words softly to collect her emotions.

Relaxed at recognizing her location, Dashara pushed herself into a sitting position. Her legs twisted about to dangle off the bunk's edge. After another breath, she pushed herself upright to clean up and prepare for the day.

Brief Time Later​

Dashara's long, red hair hung down in front of her shoulder. She trailed the towel from her roots to the tips while she patted it dry. Thankfully everything she needed, had already been set out for her. The woman made a small note in the back of her mind to thank Liam.

She casually strolled toward the clothes set out for her. When her hair felt completely dry, she pulled it away the towel then disposed of it properly. It disappeared into the laundry while she focused on her choices.

It hadn't been hard to notice the subtle hint to the best choice. Garix did it all the time, but only when special occasions or customers required it. Otherwise, she had been free to chose within a limited selection. She bit her lip as she turned over the pair of gray shirt and pants, both form fitted. It felt strange not to be dressed up like a piffer. Dashara set that line of thinking aside as she took the clothes and began to slip them on.

When the refresher's steam fade, her nose caught a delicious scent. Of course, she followed it right to Liam in the gallery. She spotted the two plates on the tables, both filled with cooked vegetables, meat, and pasta. Beside them were a bulb of water and caf. Using the trained grace, Dashara lowered herself into her seat.

She looked up when she heard Liam speak and patiently waited until he finished. A smile returned in his direction as she observed him sit down. Her hand reached for the caf, a favorite of hers, to occupy her fingers.

"I did. It was a..." Dashara paused then took a moment, she pressed the bulb to her lips.

The warm liquid poured into then throat then centered her mind. Her eyes once more looked in Liam's direction as she changed the topic. She placed the caf to the side for now.

"I didn't know you cooked. What other talents have I yet to discover about you?" Dashara clung to the familiarity of the conversation.

She picked up a fork then stabbed a bit of everything then brought it to her mouth. A thoughtful chew and swallow flooded her face with surprise. It began to fade with each new bite, but it was obvious the woman enjoyed it. The meal quickly devoured until nothing remained.

For a moment, Dash shifted in place. Her left hand pressed tightly to her lips, and she measured her status. It had nothing with the quality of the food. In fact, she would've had seconds if the heavy sensation in her stomach didn't warn her against it. Usually Dash kept her portions small to both please clients and stressful situations. Small amounts were easier to handle than larger ones. Especially when they refused to remain down.

Once the brief discomfort passed, she took a napkin and wiped her lips clean. The next topic soured at the back of her thoughts, but she needed to address it sooner than later. Most of the last day had become a blur of emotion, so she questioned her memory.

"So... how are you going to ensure I don't feel... helpless again?" She fought with herself to utter the words.

Her green eyes studied him for his answer as her anxiety built. Liam couldn't be like Garix, could he? Dashara didn't want to believe it, but she had misjudged a situation before.

 

[Liam Wickens]

​

Location: Floating in deep space, aboard the Growler​

Equipment: Civilian clothing, vibroknife​

Tag: Dashara Horizon​

​

"There's a lot I know how to do," he said brightly. "But 'learn to cook' is practically the first rule of the mercenary handbook. You're gonna live off rations a lot. And they'll keep you alive, but they aren't exactly the most palatable, or even easiest to uh... process... in the field. So if you're going to be out for a while, you learn to feed yourself. Especially in a foreign territory where the food and water is iffy. Or when you're home, you know you've always got something you want to eat. And you're not always guaranteed access to a meal any other way." He gave a small shrug. "And it's easier to feed two people, rather than just one."​

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As he spoke he ate, pacing himself, and watched her as he did. He could tell she was fairly ravenous but she stuck to table manners but still ate as fast as she dared. Cleaning her plate, he watched her turn a little green for a moment then seemed to settle as she wiped her mouth. "Eat a little too fast," he asked with a small smile, finishing up his own plate. There was still some left, but he got up and went to put it away into an air-tight container and then into the conservator.​

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Tossing the dishes into the autowasher he sat back down across from her. She asked the question, and he'd been coming to the answer already but was glad she was being proactive. That was a good sign. "Training. But not like what you went through. I'm going to teach you to use your hands, use that knife, anything that comes to hand really. I will teach you to shoot. And not just standing still at a range, but to shoot from almost any position, in many situations. To be able to clear a building by yourself. I will turn you into a predator, rather than prey. You will be a ghost, a glimmer in the dark that others fear the very sight of. I will teach you how to listen to your enemy from over the horizon. Track, and leave no trace. you will learn to fly, fight ship to ship. Crack computer systems, and topple organizations if you wish."​

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"You will be able to go anywhere, disappear anywhere, and choose if you wish to destroy or simply... move on. Even resist torture. Enhance your ability to gain information." He shrugged. "But a lot of it is going to be hard. There's likely to be a fair amount of pain and discomfort. But noone will ever lay a hand on you that you don't want to. But more importantly, we will find what you excel at and what your weaknesses are, and mold things to make you the best you can be. If you are willing to put in the work." As he spoke, he meant every word. He was vehement and enthusiastic, but serious as a heart attack. He did not leer at her, and there was no hostility, only optimisim, and looking forward to new opportunities. The desire to follow through and make her as strong as she could be radiated from him like warm sunlight.​

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[Dashara Horizon]

Location: Set in Deep Space, on the Growler
Tags: Liam Wickens

The mention of training caused Dashara's skin to pallor from its healthy pink. Her eyes locked on him in unsettled silence. She only began to relax when he reassured it wouldn't be the same as Garix's lessons in obedience. The very thought of made her blood ice over. She gave a small shiver then brushed it off, her fear started to thaw.

Her eyes broke from his and lowered to the table's surface. A submissive reaction to the thoughts in her head. Dashara wanted to believe him, but if she failed? The idea of failure drew a dark anxiety to wrap about her chest as she pulled her arms around herself. With a little effort and a moment to collect herself, she managed not to spiral too far down.

Now she had to chose how far to trust this man. Her teeth bit her bottom lip, and she lifted her head up.

"I will admit, I'm not nearly as confident as you are. The idea of a blaster makes me nervous and flinch whenever I hear one go off. They are also painful to be grazed by too." The last part she spoke from experience.

"I can help with some of that. I know how to use a vibro-rapier with some decent skill. It was three years of basics before I lost my parents. I picked it up again around the age of sixteen, but I was heavily restricted and under supervision. Not even allowed a blade outside of lessons. A reward for my good behavior."

She paused for a moment, debating on something.

 

[Liam Wickens]

​

Location: In the galley, Growler​

Equipment: vibroknife, civilian clothing, wit, charm, panache​

Tag: Dashara Horizon​

​

He watched her carefully. Knowing how to read body language was a skill learned for all sorts of reasons. People told you more with what they didn't say than what they did. Helped in gambling, interrogation, and just general conversation. She was clearly nervous, even worried about upsetting him.

As she spoke about prior training, he tried not to be dismissive. Fencing was one thing. What he had to teach her was far more efficient, practical, and less civilized. But it was something he could work with. "Good. That's a start. I can work with that. But we'll kind of be starting over," he said. How many bad habits had she picked up? Or had it been so long since she touched such a weapon that those habits were mostly forgotten? He hoped the latter.

Seeing her thinking, fighting not to chew on her bottom lip. Her apprehension was easy to see. "Come on, out with it," he said gently. "I can see there's something else you want to say or ask. Don't be afraid. I'm not gonna jump down your throat. Have a little faith."

​

 

[Dashara Horizon]

Location: Set in Deep Space, on the Growler
Tags: Liam Wickens

Dashara took another moment of silence. Finally, she lifted her head and looked at him, a softness in her expression. Her hope had fallen when he mention starting over, but she quickly hid it. Not a difficult thing since certain clients lashed out at it. A strong part of her suspected even with the lessons, she couldn't protect herself. That thought added to her disappointment.

"I'm sorry," the words sounded practiced in her ears, "some habits are hard to break or forget. I'm honestly not use to saying everything out loud. A lot of individuals that requested me, enjoyed the fact I could be social or quiet."

She cleared her throat.

"I'm trying to figure out if any skills I have are of any use, but it's been so long. After my parents died, I got the full experience of Nar Shaddaa street life. Including learning how to navigate the streets and stealing from others. It left me with a few nightmares even on the best of days."

The caf found its way into her hands again. Dash thought better when she had something in her grip. Usually a small trinket or something else, but always something to grip. The small bit of control steered her from darker thoughts for now.

"It feels like another life. I doubt I still have any of those skills or could still do them at the same level." She took a drink of the lukewarm liquid.

 

[Liam Wickens]

​

Location: Aboard the Growler​

Equipment: civilian clothes, vibro-knife​

Tag: Dashara Horizon​

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Liam made a mental note of one more thing he might need to add to her list of skills. The art of movement. It sounded like she had prior training, but it would help her cover a lot of ground quickly with, ideally, the least energy expended. He could do it as well, though he hadn't had to in a while. "Habits change, and skills can be grown and expanded, or forgotten in time." He took a sip of his caf then sat the cup back down. "Skills are kind of like muscles in that regard. The more you use them the stronger they are. The less you use them, the more they atrophy." Shrugging he took another drink.

"So yeah, no. Probably not. That's why we're gonna train, and figure out what you still have as solid skills, what we need to work on, and so on. It's as much training as it is evaluation. And we'll figure out the right way forward as we go. It's a give and take. But I will try to at least make it fun where I can. Challenging, rewarding." He patted the galley countertop.

"You may get hit in the course of training. Sparring, for sure. Applying personal combat tactics, for sure. Some of it will be a demonstration. Some for toughening. But only what you can handle. You'll get to determine that. You'll have control of that. And it will never be out of malice. And I trust you'll know the difference. If you do get injured, we stop and take care of it." He shook his head a little. "You'll never have to truly be afraid of me. I'm more likely to hurt myself than lay a hand on you outside of specific instances."

"As for sparring, we'll start off light. It's more about application than trying to beat each other to a pulp. You determine how hard you wanna go. Hit as hard as you wanna be hit. You want to go faster and harder, then you'll get it back." This he said with a small smile. It was a golden rule of sorts, and in truth, the ball would be in her court. He could go full out when he wanted, but this was about her.

"Toughening drills and such will start easy but then get harder. Partially to build up your tolerance for your nervous system, but also to physically make your bones stronger. Your body will be able to take more punishment. Though I know you had to deal with some before. You might not need much toughening as far as that goes. You'll be expected to push through as much as you can, but if you have to tap out, you can. If it's too much, you can tap out. But there may be times when I feel the need to push you, where you might not be able to tap out. I will only do that when I feel you've plateaued for a while. Or, we might change tack and go a different direction at those points. Let you come back to it later."

He took another sip of his caf. "Point is, there's an exchange. Back and forth. It's not like what you were in before. And the more you progress, the faster you grow and get better, the more even that becomes, or even the more you have your hand on it." He gave her a small, but reassuring smile. "I expect you to fail. I expect all kinds of failures. Mistakes happen. But you correct your mistakes. You press on. Learn from them. I'd rather you make them with me than when you have to depend on them. Or someone depends on you. Failing will suck, but you won't be in danger. But you might get smoked for a while." At this, he grinned wider, but it wasn't dark and sinister. It was instead almost nostalgic, thinking back to his own training and how many times instructors had smoked his entire cadre for one person's mistake until they all hated but respected, and... after a time, loved their instructors.

"It's a long way of saying a lot of your training is going to be on you. I'm only here to help, even if sucks, and you occasionally wind up hating me for a bit. I hope that doesn't happen. But if it makes you the force of nature I think you can be, then so be it."

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[Dashara Horizon]

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Location: Aboard the Growler ​

Equipment: Clothes​

Companion: N/A​

Tag: Liam Wickens ​

Dashara continued to watch him. Her empathy reached out and measured his intentions, a weak attempt to weigh the truth. In the end, her confidence failed her. She couldn't help questioning everything now. She sighed then forced herself to relax.

At least his behavior didn't reflect the harsh demeanor of other teachers. By now, Garix would've taken his cane and slapped the Sithspit out of her. Her grip tightened on the mug at the thought. To stop herself from breaking it, she twisted it about. First clockwise then back, her mind tittered on the edge of uncertainty. Would I ever be whole again? Or forever a broken, mangled mess?

Her green eyes closed as she scolded herself causing it to stop for now. At the mention of hate, she shook her head. Dashara opened her eyes once again, her emotions drifted in and out over the conversation. If Liam did anything, it was make her feel safe.

"I don't think I could hate you, even if I tried. You could've left me to die, but you didn't. I can't say that when it comes to others." She paused long enough to sip her caf, a small meek smile on her lips. Her fingers kept twirling it in circles on the countertop.

"I do know one thing, I'm tired of feeling scared, alone, and helpless. Even now, my thoughts don't feel like mine. I hate this feeling and want it to stop."

 

[Liam Wickens]

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Location: Galley, The Growler​

Equipment: Civilian clothing, vibroknife​

Tag: Dashara Horizon​

​

Liam listened, watching her quietly. He could feel the uncertainty, how scared she was. It pressed against him, just a little. It only brought out his desire to protect further. As she took his hand, he gave it a squeeze. "Well, you're not alone. You've got me, and I'm not going anywhere," he said, slipping around the small table. Touch was a subtle but powerful thing. It connected people and could convey so much through it. He let go of her hand. At the same time gathered her up in his arms, drawing her into an embrace from the side. It was loose and relaxed but warm, tightening only a little, just to impress upon her that he had a hold of her. She was secure and safe with him.

"It's okay to be scared. We all feel that way. What matters is how we process and deal with it," he murmured. It sounded like one of the therapists he listened to, but it didn't mean that what he said was any less valid. "And we all feel helpless from time to time. Even with lots of training, there are times we can feel that way. It's never going to fully go away. But you're going to have more options. And you'll have a better way to respond. The more options you have, the more control you have." Liam patted her side just to emphasize the point then spent a few moments rubbing her back softly, smoothing out a little of the tension. Then he stepped back, reaching out to take her chin gently with thumb and forefinger. Tilting her face up, then turned to one side, then the other, he looked over the pattern of bruises, then the cuts and scrapes on her arms and hands a little, mostly seeing how they were healing. Her body worked fast, but she looked worse now than she did when he rescued her. But she had to feel somewhat better, being on the mend.

​

 

[Dashara Horizon]

​

Location: Aboard the Growler​

Equipment: Civilian Clothing​

Companion: N/A​

Tag: Liam Wickens ​

A small smile lifted Dashara's lips when Liam squeezed her fingers. No matter how much she wanted to believe his actions were genuine, a familiar phrase ruined it all. It lingered in the back of her mind.

Every male was a gamble.

During her four years as an escort, she lived in wariness of this fact. Some clients treated her nicely, but others treated her less than sentient. It put her on edge and left a dark stain on her soul. She looked back on it and realized it destroyed a few years of her childhood too.

Within the moment, Dashara's guilt returned. She questioned why it was so hard to ignore the negative worries or thoughts pounded in her head. The more she interacted with Liam, the less he shared in common with those horrible individuals. Even when the fear flooded her system and dragged her down, he brought a fragile sense of safety into her mind.

Dashara still dreaded how long it might last before everything crumbled away.

When she heard Liam's feet step from his position, she intently watched him navigate from his chair to her side. The young Zeltron pursed her lips while she forced her body to remain still. Her calmness struggled with her fear as she fought her flight response. In the back of her mind, she reminded herself Liam meant no harm.

As he lowered to her level and leaned in for a loose embrace, her breath retreated into her lungs. His chin rested on her head as his words vibrated into her heart. Each heartbeat tallied the seconds that ticked away before it finally slowed to a reasonable pace.

A climax of terror passed over her then flew away.

She sat there in silence. Her head turned and pressed her face into his chest. Her nostrils took a deep inhale of his scent. His emotions filled her spirit, and she soaked it in to replace her own frayed ones. Liam's touch passed over her budded bruises and cuts underneath her clothes. A subtle pain surfaced into her attention. Dashara bit her lower lip, but she didn't protest. She didn't want this feeling to shatter.

A small sigh escaped her lips when he stepped away. She let him tilt her head up then side to side. His eyes roamed across her skin to assess the damage. Though it wasn't in a sensual manner, his glance still caused her nerves to rise.

On a reflex, her hands found the chair end. Several delicate fingers wrapped about the edge into a tight grip. Dashara steeled her body to remain perfectly still until Liam finished.

When it ended, her sudden shock began to drain out, and exhaustion crept into the void left behind. She collected her scattered emotions once more. Her fingers gradually loosened and returned to her lap, her left leg crossed over her right. A deep breath purged the sensations from her as she spoke.

“I’m sorry. I’m still aching from yesterday. All the adrenaline helped to numb it away, but now I can feel it all.” Dashara only stated a half-truth.

Deep down, she knew it would take time for the darkness to dissipate. She hoped it would happen sooner than later.

“Liam, I really don't want to wait too long. If we do, I might lose my courage.” Dashara knew if she did nothing to quell her inner demons, her confidence would wean.

 

[Liam Wickens]

​

Location: The Galley, Growler, somewhere in space​

Equipment: Civilian clothing, vibroknife ​

Tag: Dashara Horizon​

​

"Well, I planned to start as soon as you were able," he said. "Stay put. I will be right back." He'd felt her tense, and her tension. It wasn't hard to recognize the signs. Slipping into the med bay he paused at one of the mirrors, staring into it. His face transformed into a death mask slowly as a kind of quiet rage began to build. It was people like this that he swore to wipe out, that would do this sort of thing to another person, just because they could. Because it made them money, made them feel powerful. They deserved to die in a puddle of their own crap and piss, begging for their lives.

Bowing his head he forced himself to breathe slowly, in through the nose, out through the mouth. The wash facilities were in front of him. He focused on the bulkhead, the paint flecks that were chipping off from the years of use. Casting about, he located the medic's bag. Opening it up, he took a deliberate moment to look through the supplies, diving into the task. The last thing he needed was to go back to Dash in such a state,. She would think it was because of her. In truth, it wasn't her fault. She was just caught up in the same crap. Carefully he put that side of himself away until he could let it out again later.

Making his way back to her a minute later he dropped the bag onto the counter and looked over at her. "Alright, let's see what we can do," he murmured. "Lift up your shirt. I felt you flinch when I touched a couple spots. I'll treat those first. Then get to more superficial stuff. Get some meds in you, and then once those are doing alright, we can start. Alright?"

She could refuse, of course. He wasn't wanting to put any pressure on her, but she did need looking after. With it came concern, and a measure of compassion, but some measure too of clinical detachment. He wasn't interested in her body for anything more than fixing or repairing. Well, she was still easy on the eyes, but that was only in the back of his head. Getting her in a better state was far more important.

​

 

[Dashara Horizon]

​

Location: Aboard the Growler​

Equipment: Civilian Clothing ​

Companion: N/A​

Tag: Liam Wickens ​

​

Dashara held her breath in her chest. The recycled air burned, but she feared to release it and once more retreat into herself. Deep inside, she knew the war had only started when it came to her independence. Inner demons taunted her at the edges of her mind as if to prey upon her insecurities and trauma. She wished they would simply leave her alone. A wish too good to come true.

In her distraction, her breath exhaled. Liam's words caught her attention again. She gave a gentle nod, then watched him fall back into the direction of the med bay. Even when he left her sight, she could faintly gauge his emotional state.

She wondered if she did the right thing to let him see her like this.

The woman pushed her dark doubts to the side for what felt like the millionth time. Times like she hated her ability to empathy. When Liam returned, she flashed him a reassuring smile. After Liam noted her injuries, she suspected an examination next, and she didn't show surprise when he asked her to lift her shirt up. Any other day, she'd flirt. Today didn't appear to be an appropriate time for it.

"All right. I'll try to be still." No promise had been made because she couldn't recall the last time she had been injected by a stim.

With another deep breath, she twisted about in her seat to face her back toward him. Her hands reached down for the shirt edge and lifted it to rest on the nape of her neck. Patiently she waited for Liam to apply stims.

She swallowed her anxiety to make a request of him.

"Liam, will you talk to me? I can't stand the silence." Dashara suspected he wouldn't mind.

She peeked over her shoulder and waited to see his reaction.

 

[Liam Wickens]

​

Location: The galley/commons, Growler, Somewhere in space​

Equipment: civilian clothing, vibroknife, medical kit​

Tag: Dashara Horizon​

​

Setting the kit on the counter next to her he opened it up and grabbed a couple bacta patches and placed them over the worst spots, as far as bruising he could see. At her request to talk to her he tilted his head. "Sorry, I didn't realize I was being so quiet. I suppose I'm used to operating alone. No real need to talk then. It's not you. I just... " He trailed off with a sigh. "People have gotten a lot harder since the incident. Harder for me to deal with, that is. Rarely do I know how I can trust. And most are so self-absorbed and just... too many with such small problems but they seem to make them into mountains. It's grating."

He placed another patch along her back where she'd hit something. The patches were almost cold at first but warmed immediately. They tingled, and then a warmth spread through them and into her that took the edge off. Breathing got easier. "This is not insignificant. So that's not meant for you," he explained. "At any rate, the bacta should have you back to rights in a few hours. And the yarrock in the meantime will keep the discomfort at bay." It was a pretty powerful narcotic. But it came in in a slow, time-release format like the patches. It wasn't going to knock her on her butt, only make it easier to live with the discomfort and knock the edges down to almost nothing.

"Okay. Done. You can put that back... if you want," he said with a tug of a smile at one corner of his lips. Sure she could have flirted, but didn't. Nothing wrong with that. And he seemed open to it, but at the same time, he wanted it to be because she genuinely felt something, rather than just trying to mess with him. Though a little playful flirting wasn't bad and was mostly harmless.

"So what did you want to talk about," he asked

​

 

[Dashara Horizon]

​

Location: Aboard the Growler​

Equipment: Civilian Clothes​

Companion: N/A​

Tag: Liam Wickens ​

Dashara held her head against her shoulder a bit longer. Her attention lingered on Liam’s crouched form and his voice, the deep tone soothed over her agitation. A subtle ache in her neck muscles formed. It forced her head to face forward once more. The pain started to numb, no longer a distraction. Her fingers kept her shirt up for him to apply the patches. When the chill touched her skin, she tensed with a soft hiss then forcefully exhaled the shock. Each bruise throbbed for a moment until the cold numbed and the yarrock kicked in.

As Liam explained, the half Zeltron reflected on his words. They reminded her of her days living on Nar Shaddaa’s endless layers. She learned quickly that trust got the careless killed. It happened more often than starvation or infection and her awareness grew to paranoid levels. Back then, she made decisions no child should’ve ever faced. The choice of who to look after or leave to die. A lump grew in her heart, but she ignored it.

In the back of her mind, Dashara’s fear hushed her. If Liam knew what she had done to survive, would he change his opinion of her? She took a deep breath to purge her emotions for the ‘billionth’ time. The turbo-lift called her mind continued to wear her down.

When he finished her torso, she had been about to lower her shirt. That's when his words caught her attention. Her hands paused and her body half twisted toward him. That smug look on his face drew a return smile from her, a flirty retort built in the span of a millisecond.

“If the night goes well...”

Dashara meant it too like she did that night. She slowly pulled down her shirt, letting him enjoy the sight a bit longer. Her fingers pulled at her sleeves while she rolled them up, a few minor cuts came on display. Most of them were superficial and healed. A few looked more questionable. As a bonus, the time he spent on her arms gave her an excuse to admire his looks more. She liked how his playfulness enhanced his appearance.

“Well, I’m not sure. I feel guilty for being this comfortable around you, but not knowing more than… well, how good you are at knocking boots.” Dashara knew she was being forward. Maybe the comfort had gotten into her head or glimpses of her old self started to surface, whatever the answer she didn’t dwell on it.

She continued with her line of thought.

“I think a good start might be… your favorite foodstuff then we’ll build from there.”

 

[Liam Wickens]

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Tag: Dashara Horizon​

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"Well, it's not like we made a lot of small talk that weekend," he said with a smirk, then planted himself next to her on another stool. "Corellian food is usually some of my favorite. Cuisine out of Ryloth is usually pretty interesting. Sometimes it can get a little spicy. Wookiee stuff will knock you on your butt though. Wow. I tried that once and I paid for it," he said with a grin. For the few moments it lasted, the grin erased the weight and worry on his face, and for a few seconds, he seemed so much younger and more lively. "I like traladon steak for sure. I like most anything that's savory, as far as main dishes go. I think some of the best things I've eaten I don't really have a name for. A few of them were my own making."

"What about you," he asked. "I know Nar Shaddaa is a huge melting pot, but ... with your situation I doubt you got much opportunity to try a ton of things." As they chatted, he stood once more and grabbed his cup of caf, sliding it across the island, and sat once more.

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[Dashara Horizon]

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Tag: Liam Wickens ​

At his comment about their night, Dashara pressed the back of her fingers into her lips. It stifled a chuckle threatening to distract her. She cleared her throat and swallow down her saliva, wetting her tongue in the process. She reached up and pulled the tie out of her head, the strands released from their ponytail. The red hair cascaded around her shoulders and settled into place. It felt good to release it since they were just chatting. She stretched the tie and placed it on her wrist, keeping its safe and accessible.

Her green eyes followed his board form until it settled into another stool. His face immediately softened when he spoke of the topic, obviously one of his favorites. The thought pleased her to have found something rather quickly. She listened to the voice sound change into a light-hearted one. All the emotions that flowed off him felt like a balm to faded wounds. She sat, riveted to his words jump from Corellian to Ryloth and even Wookiee. Light-colored lips curved into a warm, open smile when he mentioned how rough the latter could be.

Dashara wasn’t prepared for his redirection. She paused, shocked a bit, as she pulled her arms close to her. Her foot tapped a few rounds while in deep thought. The hybrid decided to be frank and she spoke with a reserved tone. A hint of guilt to now being as exposed as him to various flavors.

“You’re correct. Very few clients request my services for dinners or similar events. Usually a night in the city to show me off and flaunt at the nearest night club. The night usually ended in a room.” She left a bit unsaid, but Liam would understand what happened after those affairs.

Another deep breath purged the negative emotions building in her core. She gave him a reassuring smile that her emotional condition held steady.

“When I got the opportunity, I do regret not eating enough to enjoy it,” Dashara paused. Memories of being told never to overindulged or taking in too much rippled in her thoughts. Never embarrass the client was a firm motto she had to live by.

Dashara forced a chuckle then apologized. “I’m sorry, I’m bringing the mood down. I do remember 'borrowing' chewsticks and cushnip off the food stalls whenever I could. That aside, my experience with food is very limited. I wouldn't mind expanding on it with time.”