Wakey Wakey (Carré)

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Carré Inirial"]

She'd wanted to feel like a mastermind, just for once. Got a taste of it running guns into Asahi and Coruscant, and a few other One Sith and Fringe-controlled systems. She'd put together a handful of adaptable plans and a crew of Underground thugs, then drifted the Garden of Unending Delights into the Neutral Zone aiming to put all of the above into practice. The modified Huttese light frigate, larger and slower than what she normally flew, had some temporal wonkiness to it that she hadn't fully quantified. Suffice it to say, there was this one closet where she'd lost a crewer and found a skeleton. For that she blamed her father and the planet Abeloth. Not a ship one shrugged off, not with Dominus fighters and flame carpets-

So she'd put the job together, only to have it pre-empted. No big battle, no complex plot unfolding, just the wreck of a Fringe ship that wasn't supposed to be in the Neutral Zone any more than Alec was. Survivors, one, and she'd been mopping up after her crew ever since they took the woman aboard. The puddles of saliva just kept accumulating outside the medbay. So when the call came in -- "She's awake, Cap'n" -- Alec had to shoo a couple of crewmen away from the bay with brass knuckles. The prisoner was hot, but not that hot.

"Morning." The door closed behind Alec. "Welcome to the Garden of Unending Delights."

Force-proof cuffs locked the lady to the hospital bed. Better safe than sorry.

 

[Carré Inirial]

[member="Alec Rekali"]

There was little worse to her than feeling like she simply didn't belong. Carré knew she didn't, no matter what her few acquaintances in the Fringe tried to persuade her to. It wasn't her time or her place - that had all come crashing down on her head over five hundred years ago. Back then, she'd been certain of her status, confident in her power, and reveled in the things the Dark Side revealed to her.

Not so much anymore.

This sojourn into the Neutral Zone was supposed to have been a quick jaunt. Simply a meeting to give payment and accept delivery of a datacron containing the personal journals of a long-dead Sith Lord known to the galaxy at large as Darth Maleficus, but known to Carré as Opir. She'd left her heart with him in the past and needed some form of closure before it slowly tore her mind to shreds in the present.

But the Force, it seemed, had other notions for her that would not be undermined. The datacron had turned out to be real, but no sooner had she gotten it into her hands than her ship had come under attack. From who, she had no idea, but it had been an effortless slaughter on their part. Amazing what shrapnel could do to flesh, and how poorly the head reacted to severe blunt force, she mused, slumping unconscious to the floor in a small, vac-sealed chamber.

With any luck, she'd die this time.

But not even that was with her. Eyes opened slowly and the Lorrdian woman instantly regretted the decision, shuttering silver orbs quickly. Why, for the love of the stars, could she not just die, for once? Was it just too much to ask? Pain lanced through every nerve ending as she tried to shift and sit up, opening her eyes far more slowly this time. It was difficult, Carré realized, because she was cuffed to the bed. Splendid.

"If this is a garden, it is sorely lacking in foliage and blossoms." she muttered in response to the greeting offered, raising her gaze to meet the one now looming over her. Lofting a dark brow she blew and errant lock out of her eyes and sighed as it returned to torment her nose again. Ignoring the sharp pain emanating from the palm of her hand, she returned her attention to the woman who had entered.

"I suppose I should thank you for saving me, but I'm not feeling particularly thankful at this moment."