The Hand That Feeds

[Quietus]

Somewhere
On a Middling Ship
with a woman called [member="Vrag"]

This was a familiar sensation.

Drifting somewhere out in the stars, listless and carefree. Shai remembered it well, her time spent with the other woman called Ivy, and quickly settled back into the routine. Selvaris was behind them and so, too, was the realm of the One Sith and the nightmare that was Netherworld. A satiated beast lounged in the cargo hold, too large to comfortably do so anywhere else, and dozed amidst a pile of supply crates.

She dreamed of shifting sands and a desert landscape speared by the black spires of a temple now long destroyed and forgotten. Faces drifted in and out like words you know but can't remember because you've forgotten the language. Old wars, old rivalries, things brought back to the forefront of the memory under the influence of the Netherscape. Things she hadn't recalled in so long she couldn't be sure if they'd really even happened or were simply visions, dreams of another implanted to persuade her to this or that.

Deep thoughts for a creature like herself. Good thing there were new distractions to keep them distant.

Like food...

 

[Aver Brand]

The incessant creak creak creak of the leather was new. New, and annoying as all kark. For the longest time, her only companion during a stroll down the hall was the clink clink clink of hardened chitin against metal.

No more.

The thought nearly hurt. So did the memory of peeling them off for the last time in the foreseeable future (though quietly, she'd admitted to herself, in forever). She'd barely managed to utter the order, her tongue breaking and stumbling over the syllables she'd mastered nearly a decade ago.

And why in Nether was she so damn emotional about all of this? It was just a karking armor!

Sneering and scowling, the woman once known as Vrag came to a standstill in front of a very particular blast door. On the other side was a cargo bay, and in it, a beast. A beast the likes of which she'd never seen before, with spines and scales and a sharp twinkle of intelligence in its dark eyes.

Naturally, the firrerreo liked it.

Him? Her? Who knew.

With a drawn-out exhale, she purged herself of the muddied mess of anger and… something else, punching in the code with more force than strictly necessary. The door slid open with a hiss, and Aver Brand was left standing there, the steak dangling rather limply in her grasp as she stared at the scene before her.

She'd been half-expecting to be jumped by the creature the second the barrier was removed, but instead there was nothing but the peaceful – albeit massive – form of a slumbering monster. A saying about sleep and dogs tried to pipe up in the back of her mind, but the woman promptly ignored it, dropping into a crouch instead.

The raw slice of meat hit the floor with a wet smack a breath later, skidding to a stop just a few inches away from the creature's snout.

"Morning, cutie."


[member="Lying Hound"]

 

[Quietus]

Sleep didn't come easy in the Nether and neither did food. What felt like ages spent wandering the haunted wastes turned a creature of destruction into something much ... less. Something so smothered in exhaustion and starvation that it operated now not on blood and a heartbeat, but sheer will, instinct, and a distinct stubborness against death.

What is dead may never die, someone once said. Shai knew this cursed line all too personally.

Dry nostrils flared as the scent of blood and meat encroached upon dreams of dunescape. Maw twitched, ears flickered, tail swept briefly in the rousing moments of wakefulness and a resurgence of deep, insatiable, greedy hunger. Before the eyes even slivered there came a gruff rumble and that quiet animal seized the slab of meat with a sudden jerk, sending a stack of crates at its back crashing to the floor.

Wasn't until it had half the steak in its massive jowls that a sleepy, leery gaze winked open to shift quickly through surroundings where it landed upon the hunched figure of the woman.

Rrrrrrraaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu.

Clawed mandibles clamped around the snack, curved talons carving through it as though through butter and with not but the gentlest of pulls did the beast rip the lump of meat apart, clapping it within fanged hinges before swallowing a piece whole. Saliva coated the remaining ribbons within its paws to be promptly picked and swallowed only moments later. A red tongue slithered forth to lap at maw and forelimbs and floor - claiming every drop and morsel before succumbing to the stretch of a yawn.

Food gone, attention turned now to the only remaining distraction: [member="Aver Brand"] and her curiously changed appearance.

Steely eyes peered, intense with recognition and the very obvious glint of a predator predisposed to hunting humans. Brawn and sinew coiled, pulling bulk over limbs to rise upon all fours. The movement was slow, borderline lazy, toppling another crate nearby with but a sway of its long tail. Shai shifted forward a step or two towards Aver and gave the woman a long, unblinking look.

 

[Aver Brand]

Perched upon her hind limbs, the woman watched the hound feed with a curious glint in her eye, the tilt of her head reminiscent of a beast before the pounce.

Studying. Scrutinizing.

Aver was… interested. It was evident in the curve of her back, the set of her jaw. As the creature gorged on the meat (smack and slap and crunch, all so familiar to her ear)
the other monster observed, intrigued by the ebb and flow of its breath as it heaved.

“Hello,” she said again, voice far warmer than any she used to greet her fellow sentients. “You’re a hungry one, ain’tcha? What’d they feed ya back home?”

A half-smile tugged at the corner of her lips, drawing her face into an odd grimace made all the more pronounced by the artificial light casting harsh shadows on her sharp features.

“Selvaris wasn’t home though, was it?”

Extending an open palm – the one steeped in steak and blood – the firrerreo tilted forward, catching her weight on one knee as she crouched there. Watching. Waiting.

For what? The beast to move? Nuzzle the peace offering?

Aver nearly snorted at herself, but swallowed the sound.

Watch.

Wait.

See.


[member="Lying Hound"]

 

[Quietus]

There were no whiskers on the beast to speak of, given the coarse nature of its scaled and armored hide, but if there had been they would have presented in a frill. Nostrils flared at the scent of blood expressed anew by this proffered hand, effectively snagging the hound's interest for more than a few seconds.

Bio-luminescent eyes glowed balefully from behind a secondary set of tinted, translucent lids. The very same that enabled the beast to traverse the dunes and wastelands of Korriban in the daylight hours without going blind, to pull away when stalking the underground lairs of ancient Sith tombs and catacombs. Home? The eyes switched to watch the woman's mouth twist and flex, lips forming words forming questions.

A rumbling sounded from deep within the creature's chest, tail swaying momentarily before falling quite still.

Nnnnoooooooorrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaauuuuu- the sound slipped into a yawn and without much further preamble the creature dropped to the floor with a resounding thud, licking its jowls. Eyes remained upon [member="Aver Brand"] with a form of recognition that was not quite beastly.

Kooorrriban, answered a disembodied voice to Aver's mind while the hound remained watching her, neck scales frilled.

 

[Aver Brand]

She was content to observe its lively eyes as the [member="Lying Hound"] stalked closer, interest written all over its features. Someone else in her boots might have been shaking at that point, when the hot breath stained with wet dog and fresh blood washed over her open palm, but Aver didn't. Quite the opposite, in fact; the woman was smiling, an expression so serene and placid that it looked positively alien on her features.

Unlike other people, however – even [member="Loray Tares"] and [member="Matsu Xiangu"], she suspected – the beast wouldn't judge her for the way genuine pleasure bled forth and curved the corners of her mouth. It was strangely calming to allow the smile to persist there, in the company of such a mighty, dangerous creature, but would be hard-pressed to scour her memory for a moment when she had been more at peace.

Communication seemed easy, natural, even, and whatever words needed to be spoken were reduced to a bare minimum. No small-talk, no dalliance, no disgusting pretense and pleasantries.

Her smile blossomed to reveal two sets of sharp teeth as the hound flopped to its side, clearly relaxed enough in her presence to expose its vulnerable belly like this. Deeply appreciative of the display of trust, Aver inched forward, intent on offering the rest of the meat that clung to her palm.

But then her hand stilled, and her breath caught in her throat.

Icy eyes widened to meet those of the hound, her accusatory glare lessened somewhat in severity as it passed through two sets of clear eyelids. For whatever inexplicable reason, beasts of all manner – whether quadrupedal or bipedal – seemed to be awfully fond of telephaty. Even more shocking, however, was her continued allowance of this peculiar demographic into her mind, as if their monstrosity somehow rendered them exempt of the usual penalties following such a tresspass.

Her brow furrowed a moment later, smile finally gone.

Who are you?

 

[Quietus]

The hand garnered a curious sniff but the hound did not elect to lick the mandible clean - a certain sense of pride showing in its gaze that further pressed beyond simple beastdom. Maw closed, fangs hidden behind twitching lips, the hound watched after [member="Aver Brand"] with confident awareness, ears pricked at the nuance of change in the woman's expression.

Mmmmnnnnnnn. An unvocalized rumble. A chuff of air. The statement of scaled tail slapping against duracrete.

What was she? Several years ago in the presence of a young Mandalorian the creature had a lengthy answer for this very question. Royalty, she'd told the little girl, created by the Sith Lords of the old. But that hardly mattered now and for all the time the soul residing in the tuk'ata's body had spent traversing this realm, the words escaped her, stolen by the wayward lands of the Nether only to be relearned again.

Muscles tensed, lifting a massive hind limb to itch talons at neck scales where the weapons slashed against a heavy leather collar that resisted damage with peculiar resilience. Were Aver to look more closely she'd find a curious array of metal studs hammered and stamped through the leather bearing the insignias of the forgotten Sith language. A flattened gemstone the size of her fist sat as the centerpiece exuding a palpable Darkside energy. One didn't have to be an Alchemist to sense the feeling of power, of age radiated from the stone.

 

[Aver Brand]

Head falling slightly to the side, the woman rocked on her haunches, back and forth, back and forth, watching. They were silent as they measured each other in kind, two minds tentatively skirting close before recoiling again. Wariness and experience drove them to pay precious care to the tenuous contact, circling in the mental arena with slow, measured steps.

Testing out the territory, the air, and the beast opposite as well. Trying to determine the weaknesses, the strengths, the purpose and will behind the cool glint in their eyes.

Aver peeled her lips for a show of teeth, all white points to contrast the tinted reds of [member="Lying Hound"]. A lie, clearly; a veneer of civility that anyone could see through if they cared to look. One of these days, she reckoned, she would stop bothering with it completely.

Then the glimpses arrived, faint and distant, little more than figures of shadow and dust awakened from rusted memory. Even through their feeble link, Aver could hear the creaking, as if old doors were being forced open by an inexorable will. Her eyes followed the sound, and she found her gaze settling on the circular contraption fixed around the creature's scaly throat. An object of artistry she couldn't hope to replicate, but could certainly appreciate, and one so steeped in darkness that she was nearly doubled over by nausea as it latched violently on her wandering perception.

Mentally and physically, the firrerreo yanked back, eyes wide and furious with betrayal, her hand clutched at her side.

"What are you?!"

It was a request no longer, but an insistent demand, fraught with confusion and anger and perhaps even a minuscule amount of fear.

What are you?

 

[Quietus]

Beady eyes watched the woman without blinking, calm and cool as a midnight sky over Byss and equally as saturated in the same darkness. What malaise affecting the woman was of no concern to the beast - it lived that corruption, created it even. That permeating onus of death, fear, aggression... that was her. Every single ounce of it.

Maw twitched at the outburst, ears leveling back. A low, guttural rumble was the beast's reply - a lengthy, coarse tenor split by the sucking of air through parted jaws. When silence fell again between them the hound's forked tongue lapped outwards to press across jowls for some remaining morsel. And then with a final lazy blink the scaled behemoth rolled back, massive skull hitting the deck with a resounding thud that made the entire cargo bay shudder.

It was not so concerned with defining things and, judging by the nonchalance of its behavior, neither should [member="Aver Brand"] be.

 

[Aver Brand]

She maintained her piercing gaze, searching its empty white eyes for some sort of meaning, though somehow she knew there was none. It was, ultimately, still a beast. A beast possessed by a strange intelligence that seemed to span centuries, but a beast nonetheless. And a violent one, at that.

When the creature rolled over to its side, the woman was momentarily overtaken by surprise before the tension in her features melted away to be replaced by another of those small smiles. Despite herself, Aver reached forward to run her fingers across the relaxed frills of its neck-scales, reaching to scratch the hound behind its softly twitching ear.

"You're something else, ain'tcha?"

After the quiet murmur, there was no sound from either of them for a long time. The two of a kind were content to recline on the floor of the cargo bay, the first one taking a well-deserved nap while the other pondered her aversion to the volatile darkness confined to the band around [member="Lying Hound"]'s throat.

"I'm not a Sith, you know," she spoke at length, glancing down to the slow rise and fall of the tuk'ata's massive torso. "I was always crap with all that religious stuff, really. Still find it hilarious that people bought my act. For ten karking years, too!" At that, the woman expelled a chuckling breath, grinning at the collection of memories dancing at the edge of her mind.

"But you... you were one, right? A couple of years ago, I think." More like aeons, to be fair, but she doubted it made much of a difference at this point.

 

[Quietus]

Even within the silence there was noise, there was exchange... communication. The long, drawn out migration of air through nostrils, traversing the alleys of windpipes into massive lungs. The dance, the mingle, the tension of muscle before it retraced its journey in reverse along a rumbling of vocal chords.

In - in - in - in - inhale.

Hmmmmmnnnnnnggggg-exhale.

A latent tap of a tail somewhere far away from snout.

To the woman's words a lazy eye batted open but gave her no more confirmation than a simple blink. If the creature had been Sith, was Sith, it seemed to make little difference to it, her, insofar as what titles were. Savage inclination and instincts heeded no title.

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Aver Brand]

"You… ain't much for conversation, are ya?"

Rhetorical question, obviously.

The woman unceremoniously rolled over to her side as well, sprawling across the floor of the cargo bay with the same amount of elegance and dignity as [member="Lying Hound"] (which is to say none whatsoever). Her lips curled into a lazy smile as she lay there, as if trying to tear a particularly stubborn thread of fat from a steak. Two sets of sharp teeth glittering in the half-light, two sets of bright eyes staring at the world with keen glares.

Two sets of beastly instinct, sated and laid to rest on the cool metal of a drifting ship.

Aver tilted her head to the side, cheek against floor, and locked her gaze with that of the monster opposite.

What should I call you?

 

[Quietus]

Lids sealed over keen eyes, the beast began to snore. Whatever it was Aver came to call it didn't really seem to be of much concern. But a halfway sated tummy and a good, long nap? That was certainly something to be concerned about, out here in the middle of nowhere.