Private To Sink Or Swim [Ala Quin]

[Balun Dashiell]

THREAD TITLE: TO SINK OR SWIM
INVENTORY: Spacer Apparel, Lightsaber & K-16 Bryar Pistol
TAGS: Ala Quin

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"Uh… what?"

The word slipped from Balun's lips before he could stop it, little more than a breath caught between confusion and surprise. He half-turned toward Ala Quin , but hesitated—unable to meet her eyes until he was absolutely sure he'd heard her correctly.

Anyone who knew Balun well—what few there were—understood that while he wore a calm, casual exterior like armour, matters of the heart or, worse, proximity with the opposite sex often unravelled that composure completely. Confidence, in those situations, had never been his strength.

He wasn't clueless, but he was cautious. Scarred. His experience with relationships was limited—two in total—and the second had ended with his life spinning sideways, leaving trust and affection tangled with the lingering sting of betrayal.

And now here he was, not in a romantic moment by any stretch, but caught in a situation that left him suddenly breathless. Ala's simple request to assist her had replayed in his head like a line from a scene he hadn't rehearsed.

"…Sure," he agreed at last, voice tight but steady enough. He risked a brief glance in her direction, making very sure to keep his eyes locked respectfully above her shoulders. He approached slowly, carefully, with deliberate control over his gaze and movements.

She was struggling with a few loose strands of hair caught in the inner seal of her diving gear, and he reached out with gentle fingers, doing his best to free them without disturbing anything more than necessary. His touch was cautious, almost reverent, as though he feared the suit might shatter if handled too roughly.

"This isn't awkward at all," he muttered wryly, the dry humour his only defence against the heat creeping into his face. A soft chuckle followed, helping to break the tension as he finally managed to untangle the strands and step back.

"There," he said quietly, already turning to give her space without needing to be asked a second time. Whatever awkwardness lingered, he had no intention of making it worse. Respect, to him, wasn't performative—it was instinct. Especially with someone who had offered him so much kindness in so little time.

Back turned once more, Balun fixed his eyes on the wall of the submersible, doing everything he could to steady his breath—and pretend his heart wasn't still hammering louder than the engine hum beneath his feet.

"Speech".
'Thought'.​

 

[Ala Quin]

She barely blinked as he approached—utterly unflustered, as though the moment held no weight at all. It wasn’t bravado. It was serenity. The same kind that had settled in her voice during every moment they’d shared that day. Even now, as his fingers gently worked at the seal where her hair had caught, Ala remained poised, her expression patient and amused.

“You’re very gentle,” she said with a soft laugh. “That’s a good instinct to have. But you can be gentle and still move with confidence. Especially when it counts.”

A few more moments passed before she gave a satisfied little sound as the last stubborn strand came free. She turned slightly, giving him a small, appreciative smile.

“You’re going to be in a lot of situations where someone needs you to act, not freeze. Sometimes they’ll be scared. Or in pain. Or embarrassed. If you meet that moment with grace, you can ease their burden. Even just a little.”

She paused, then added with a grin, “...Even if the moment is just a wetsuit emergency. You did well! Despite the slight panic.”

Then came the twinkle in her eye—playful, but sincere.

“Lesson....number one! After all..." A quiet breath escaped her, almost surprised at how natural the words felt. "I am your Master now," she said, tilting her head. "But never call me that. Just Ala, please."

She turned then to finish tugging the rest of the suit free, confident now that he wouldn't be peeking.

It was never about authority with her. It was about trust. And already, she felt it forming between them like light filtered through deep water—subtle, strong, and clear.

| Outfit: Dive Suit (half off now, thanks Balun) | Tag: Balun Dashiell |​

 

[Balun Dashiell]

THREAD TITLE: TO SINK OR SWIM
INVENTORY: Spacer Apparel, Lightsaber & K-16 Bryar Pistol
TAGS: Ala Quin

​

"Sorry. I just…" Balun began, voice trailing off almost immediately as the words tangled in his throat. He shifted his weight slightly, still keeping his back to Ala to give her the privacy she'd asked for. His hands hung loosely by his sides, but tension had crept into his shoulders, betraying how much effort it took to keep his voice even.

"It's the situation, that's all," he continued, though even as he said it, he frowned. It sounded like an excuse—weak, even to his own ears. "I… ugh. How do I put this?"

There was a pause, thick with the struggle to make sense of his own discomfort. Not because she had done anything wrong. Quite the opposite. But trying to explain the mess of awkwardness, he felt like stepping into a minefield barefoot.

"When it comes to a fight, I know what I'm doing. I know how to move, how to protect myself and the people around me. I know what's expected of me…" he paused again, his voice softening as it sank with a note of self-awareness, "But when it comes to women… that's a whole other story."

Saying it aloud felt like peeling back armor. He winced slightly at the sound of his own voice—too vulnerable, too exposed.

Trying to justify it only made it worse. Balun had always cared too much about what others thought of him, especially those whose opinions he respected. And now here he was, attempting to explain why his composure had cracked—not in the heat of battle, but in something as simple as assisting a friend.

"It's just… people are easier to read when it's a fight," he admitted, eyes fixed ahead into the dark water beyond the submersible window. "There's clarity in that. Instinct. But this? These kinds of situations? I get choked up. I never want to make someone uncomfortable or say the wrong thing. And I definitely don't want to give anyone the wrong idea about me."

His voice dropped again, quieter now—wary.

"I did have someone once. We grew up together. She knew me—knew how I saw myself, and the parts I tried to hide from the rest of the world." A long breath slipped past his lips. "But then she turned. And everything we'd built just… collapsed."

There was pain there. Not sharp anymore, but dull—the kind that lingers like scar tissue.

"She was the only one," he said simply. "So yeah, when you asked for help, I wasn't going to say no. Of course not. I just didn't expect you'd read me so easily."

A rueful chuckle followed, laced with self-deprecation.

"It's not personal," Balun said quietly, the words leaving his mouth with a measured gentleness. "I've just… never really been comfortable around people."

There was a pause, just long enough for the thought to turn inward. His brow furrowed slightly.

"Or maybe," he added with a faint, almost bitter chuckle, "it's more that I'm not comfortable in myself."

The admission surprised even him in its honesty—spoken aloud not for sympathy, but because it was the truth. The kind that slips out when the walls are down and there's no point pretending anymore.

He hadn't meant to make things awkward. Helping her had been innocent, practical. She'd asked, and he'd responded. Still, that moment—her back turned, the closeness of the gesture—had left him fumbling, not because of anything untoward, but because vulnerability always made his footing uneven.

And she had noticed. Of course, she had. Ala had a way of seeing straight through him.

Balun's eyes remained averted, his tone laced with a sheepish sincerity as he added, "There wasn't anything else in it. Just the moment. But yeah… I'd be lying if I said I didn't find it a little awkward all the same.", and it seemed that in his effort to rectify the situation, Balun arguably said too much in an attempt to explain himself.

"Speech".
'Thought'.​