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Tread Lightly [closed] - Printable Version

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Tread Lightly [closed] - Kat - 04-28-2015

<img style="avatar" src="http://i.imgur.com/FXQBglf.png" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;]From dim to dark, the room showed a sort of dread in the time it took Demagol finally to release her. Rhailo's body immediately slumped, unable to stop itself from sliding back into the pillows and the partially intact covers so she could do what he asked of her. Just tired. That's all she could think about, even with all those questions buzzing like flies over a carcass. Just sleep. When nothing could be done of their current circumstances, wasn't that the only true answer to unspoken inquiries? Ignore them; ignore the whole mess they had made for themselves. If only for tonight, they could be quiet and introverted, and inevitably, hurt. Physical pain had a way of jarring the woman, but the mental anguish was the real kicker. All that emotion with no release-- her outlets were closed in his custody.

But her Mandalorian commanded she sleep, and for once, she was compliant. No argument, no bitter snark or rude remark. The Auroun sniffled softly where she faced the windows, illuminated gaze flickering projections upon the walls with every blink she made. They danced like shadow silhouettes, these strange shapes her vision created, and if one were to watch their movements, they might make out figures in the mesh. But with the heaviness to her lids, the show came to an abrupt end. Snuffed out so she could chase the possibility of sleep she had flirted with briefly before Demagol's lecture. Her thoughts, as diluted as they happened to be, linger on her companion. Recollections of his taste, of the feel of skin against her finger tips.. Focus on blue eyes that spoke more of his thoughts than he seemed capable at times. Rhailo wanted to believe him a monster, really she did, but his eyes seemed to belie excessive cruelty.

It would just take time to find what drew her to him. Even now, after what had happened.

Maybe in the quiet of their bed, he felt as she did. In some ways, she expected the male was settling on his own thoughts in an attempt make sense of where they were meant to go. He wanted them off Nar Shaddaa, and Rhailo really couldn't protest leaving the planet, given there wasn't a single thing she particularly liked about it. The night life, the pulse of the people, the drug wars, and territory lines... None of it fit what she had envisioned for herself when she was younger. More optimistic. This wasn't her home, and though she had been in the belly of this beast for some years now, she had yet been digested. Her spirit refused to succumb to the landscape being soaked in acid rains, and if they were to part from the city, Rhailo wouldn't shed tears for it.

As it was, the Auroun had roughly 1800 credits, a thong, and one pair of three inch heels to her name. Probably not even her name. Demagol's name. Taking inventory in the dark was interrupted when a now familiar voice cut through like a sharp knife. Even if it seemed like a passing quip, made only to ease tensions the two were struggling not to point out, Rhailo accepted it. Soaked it, more accurately, as it was swallowed through a tired inhale on her part. Beyond crying, it was hard to gauge her emotional level over his apology, but it wasn't frantic. At least there was no elevation to her vitals. Just, perhaps, mild surprise. The Auroun hadn't expected him to say anything of the sort, and she definitely felt like she needed to reply, even if that meant speaking again-- The act she had pretended she could avoid doing ever again. Obviously, Rhailo wasn't very good at keeping her comments to herself.

"I forgive you." Her lips remained parted in that slow panting she was making, inaudible strains for breath through a still tender windpipe. "I shouldn't have said what I did. You have been... Helping me." If one considered trading one slave collar for another helpful, her words were accurate. "I'm just... Trying to cope." As it was, and as it had been, her retorts had been a shield to keep him at bay. With distance, there was no chance he could hurt her, be it with his fists or with his promises. When overwhelmed, Rhailo ran; that was her way. Now that the option wasn't possible, the Auroun was coming to find existing around another to be tedious. Foreign. A sort of exotic one would dabble with, but inevitably claim wasn't of their taste. She had always been alone, and with him, she felt it. If that wasn't punishment enough, she couldn't imagine what more was in store for her.

"I won't fight you anymore. We both know I can't win." A hand lowered to drag the covers higher up her figure, hiding soft curves beneath the nondescript patterns of the hotel linens. "I'm sorry, too." And Rhailo stopped there, because in that time, she thought it seemed forced on her part to say such things, given he was trying to express his own regret. This wasn't the time to apologize to him. Now, it just looked like she was sorry because he had reacted poorly to her, but that wasn't the matter at hand. In retrospect, Rhailo was sorry for lashing out at her only lifeline. Sorry for other things as well, like their impromptu sex. Using her natural appeal to entice him wasn't something the Auroun fully promoted, and had she been in a sounder mindset, such a thing never would have happened.

It was just, collectively, a depressing evening in several regards, and for it, Rhailo felt guilt. Shame. Truly apologetic. Gods, she needed sleep...

---

Something was wrapping itself around her legs. Suctioned in the invading entity's hold, slippery tendrils dragged her low in the darkness. A sea, perhaps, where the bottom was leagues below her. Floating through murk, she tried her best to struggle, but serpentine appendages continued recoiling towards the bottom, and the woman mouthed screams that she couldn't hear. There was no sound here, no light. Just blind terror and impossible cold. Down she went, lower and lower, until her body met with the obsidian nest of horrors, and suddenly-

Rhailo shot up in the bed with a ragged howl, hands clutching at the covers wildly. Lids blinked back tears, lips quivered, and with a weak whimper, the Auroun realized it was over. She was awake now, breathing coming as shallow inhales she had to count seconds between to keep steady. Features were bowed to meet her grip on the comforter, and the woman buried her frightened visage in the material to muffle whatever discontent she suffered. Some places she wished never to visit again, even in dreams. Anywhere without the light of stars above seemed to breed a sort of anxiety in Rhailo she often considered unbearable. it would ebb away to a recollection within a few moments, but only after it dissipated did she remember where she was, and whom she was with.

Hesitantly, white lighted eyes sought for the figure of the Mandalorian. She hoped he slept through the outburst, but as far as her luck had gone recently, she didn't bank on it.

Tread Lightly [closed] - Kat - 04-28-2015

<img style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;" src="http://i.imgur.com/FXQBglf.png" style="avatar]In the shock of awaking abruptly, perhaps Rhailo hadn't been as watchful over the Mandalorian as she could have been. His rising in defensive stance was partially noticed on the peripherals of a frightened consciousness, but it didn't entirely register what had happened until the calm returned, and her cheeks reddened quickly. With another quiver of her lips, the Auroun looked away from him so not to make a big deal of his reaction, as she hardly had any place to do so. At least, not when they stood on such shaky ground. "I-I'm sorry, I just.." But as quickly as he had risen, he was returning to the bed, his knife placed on the bedside nightstand where it gleamed under the lights behind her gaze. The weapon didn't necessarily scare her, but what the male could do with it did, and that lingered loosely in the back of her mind for a period.

It didn't occur to her the message was never finished, but there was no real need to get into detail. Especially when Demagol had returned to rest on the mattress, though with the addition of a motion made to grab for her. The woman audibly squeaked as a strong arm wrapped around her, and with it, she was brought to rest with her still bare body spooned by his. The warmth was almost too sensual, and instinctively, her figure squirmed against Demagol. It wasn't at all unpleasant to be so close to him, despite everything. Despite the embarrassment tinting her cheeks, or the widening of her oculars where they were forced to stare out towards the windows once more. No, it was welcomed, even if it meant suffering a bout of confusion in it's wake. Inhaling through her nose, she breathed in his scent, and melted into the hold. Eased while her exposed curves were met with the hard tone of the male's physique.

This was new. This.. Was not frightening.

Silver strands strayed from their collective to fall over her visage, a veil of moonlight obscuring pale flesh. The Auroun didn't think herself more attractive than any other Auroun she had met, but theirs was a race where physical perfection was sought after. There were no ugly Auroun. Only sky clad individuals who seemed to resemble distant stars; beacons in the darkness due to their ghostly glow. Modifications to their genetic makeup wasn't uncommon at one point or another to attune selectively bred psionic capabilities, but such alterations also extended to outward appearance. Vanity at it's finest. So where she lay against his partially clothed front, it was a new experience for both, in some sense. Rhailo wasn't just another naked woman to share the sheets with Demagol, and she had never been so close to a hunter in her life. Not that she would know this, or even appreciate it had she known. No, she was much happier contemplating how it had gone from such a terrible nightmare to suddenly being comforted by the person she least expected comfort from.

Her head bowed slightly to smell his arm again. Possibly a weird thing to do, but at the end of the day, Rhailo was a bit odd and there was no avoiding it. Attention lingered over the bicep before it drifted the course of his skin, looking. For scars, for tattoos, for veins. Memorizing what had been offered her way as an olive branch. Rhailo wouldn't forget what he was doing, even if he didn't give it much thought of his own, as it secured that distant hope she had harbored. Demagol wasn't a monster-- Just.. Something. Something she needed to learn more about. Even beasts could be tamed. As the two were covered beneath the layers of linens, her arms were brought to wedge beneath the pillows to boost them in some sense, and the Auroun laid against the fabric with her pigmentless locks a mess curled around her shoulders.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Rhailo began carefully, fearful she might chase him away if she wasn't concise with her thought process, "So please don't be angry with me. It happens sometimes. It's not a big deal... I just had a long day." In that second, the woman would have given anything not to wear that roseate flush, as it did nothing but solidify how ashamed she felt. When she was alone, it was a private shame that no other soul needed to witness. Now though, captured in the Mandalorian's embrace, Rhailo was once more vulnerable. Be it the lack of clothing, or the fact she had caused him to worry, it didn't matter. Everything about it seemed to wear against her pride like a sandpaper. Eventually, the woman would have to do something right. She couldn't always be seen as a massive mistake in his eyes, if only to save herself from self criticism.

"You don't have to hold me if you don't want to.. I mean, it's fine if you'd rather lay on your back." While the words were meant to reassure Demagol, they sounded resistant. She didn't want him to let her go. "I'll just go back to sleep, and you know, be quiet again. I don't want to keep you up. I really didn't mean to wake you up, or anything..." Rhailo closed her eyes, a frown stealing over her features. "I'm sorry. Just my nerves.." Absently beneath the covers, her legs sought to rest tangled with his, finding a way to nestle between in the space available so he was even closer now. As close as he could be, that's what Rhailo wanted, and those small maneuvers she made in between thoughts gave her away. Was she trying to hide that much from him? Whatever it was she felt concerning the male was still a mystery, perhaps even to herself, but with every subtle grind and brush of limbs, it spoke volumes of her appreciation.

"I think, if we had met under different circumstances, you'd like me more." Followed by a quiet laugh, Rhailo sighed inwardly. "You know, even though I'm just a petty criminal.. I'm really not that bad. Really."

Tread Lightly [closed] - Kat - 04-29-2015

<img style="avatar" src="http://i.imgur.com/FXQBglf.png" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;]Rhailo was in heat.

This was one of the many reasons her ass refused to stop it's slow grind against the tight fabric keeping Demagol from taking her as he had in the shower. It wasn't even a conscious action, but one that came through carnal needs ingrained in her genetics. Call it the season for such debauchery, but every second he remained within short distance, the Auroun was finding herself more aroused. Perhaps she could have overcome the feelings after a moment of clarity, but this wasn't permitted, as digits dragged between her breasts languidly in ascension. Pushing against the mounds of shapely flesh in his efforts to move her features, the woman panted weakly and braced for what she thought might be another throat related episode. Only, this time, it wasn't anything so violent. On the contrary, lips moved inwards and brought a kiss down that she immediately lost herself in. Nipples peaked and legs shifted restlessly, sparking a newfound desire that wasn't quite so easy to smother.

Oh, how she wanted to taste him...

No. No, she wanted to express gratitude and something else. A feeling akin to lust, but not so... Lusty. Rhailo didn't know the feeling, but it was nagging at her thoughts with the continuation of the kiss. Her lips would part only slightly to allow her tongue space to move, to caress against his mouth to sate that desire growing in the pit of her stomach. Damn it all. He was being endearing, and all the Auroun could do was lower one of her hand achingly slow to squeeze between her tight thighs. There it sat, waiting, hesitant if he would allow her to even continue with the plan. But the more he pressed and pushed, the warmer she burned, and the inevitable came as her eager digits ran against newly slick folds. Gods, he got her so wet, it was almost unfair. The touching was discreet, perhaps missed through the duration of the kiss, but when Demagol broke free from Rhailo, her flushed face seemed to give her away.

Caught in the act.

Rhailo stopped her idle grazing, though one finger remained pressed between her slit, nestled mischievously over her clit. If she was quick, she could make up some excuse for her behavior, but there really wasn't anything that came to mind. Not when she met his gaze and saw it as sultry, rather than sleepy. The need to taste him returned, hunger for more than just his arm around her body demanding she do something. Anything to make him reciprocate the feelings. Why couldn't he just do what he had done before, and take her? Blinking a few times, the Auroun finally gathered her now coated finger from where it had been gathering juices. Without pause, it was lifted to run against his lips, prying them apart so he could taste her excitement. In that moment, Rhailo knew this was another way to push his buttons, but it had to happen. This wasn't done out of spite or malice. She didn't mean to make him suffer. Really, she just wanted him, and nothing he did made it any easier to wipe her mind clean of such thoughts.

"You could like me now.." The message was breathed, her voice a strange mingle of desire and desperation, smoky between panting inhales. "You did before, didn't you? So, you could again." Her other hand traveled along Demagol's side before it snaked inwards to rest over his sex, teasing the digits against the outline of his potential erection. Something behind her white hues flared to life, expressing a sense of longing he would soon some to realize was ingrained in her very being. An Auroun's libido was nothing to wave off. She had real instinctual demands that needed satisfying, and in him, she saw the means to find release. The palm against his covered shaft ran the body in slow strokes, only gripping when her fingers were able to wrap the head in her embrace. To feel him pulse against her hold made the woman all the more wanton. Her boldness wasn't natural, but somehow, when the need was so dire, it brought an entirely new sense of self over the creature.

"I want you so badly.." Rhailo admitted as her ass came to replace the affections of her hand, cheeks spreading so his cock could fit between them. "I know you want me too. I know it." Bliss would come when the demands of her cunt weren't screaming their reverberating pulses. Over and over. Fuck me. With the Mandalorian so close, it was almost implied he should already be doing as such, but Rhailo continued trying to persuade him. To make him see he wanted her, just as much as the woman wanted him; maybe even more. "I'm your property, right? You can do what you want with me.." The Auroun had no idea if that angle would work better than any other she had thrown out in her struggles, but perhaps it would strike the right cord and Demagol would left his guard down again. If the kiss was any inclination to his wants and desires, she was offering the male a whole new experience.

Just to be taken again by the rough, wild hands of her captor. In a sick way, she didn't want him tamed then. Just passionate. Lost in his reactions. Feral. All those scars and tattoos, every rippling muscle and rough limb. Slowly, Rhailo's eyes closed and she released a breathy sigh while her ass dragged his length teasingly between plump cheeks. "Please.."

Tread Lightly [closed] - Kat - 04-29-2015

Rhailo knew from moment one, when she had taken his company back in the club, she would never be free of Demagol again. In one way or another, she was his, and to even hold up that mask of indifference she wore at times was taxing. That buxom physique of hers squirmed to meet his, writhing while lips conquered hers. The Auroun wasn't completely in control of the movements, sly hips snake-like and wanton to steal his attention like there was no other focal point between them. There couldn't be. Not with curves and supple flesh pressing eager to the outline of his arousal, it was paramount the Mandalorian reciprocate her affections. The woman could taste juices on his tongue, and how he had licked her fingers clean to savor them... Oh, she was so wet for him, Rhailo practically dripped her adoration in a slick coat between her thighs. Fatigue wasn't an issue anymore.

There was no room to be tired in their bed.

Gentleness wasn't sought in this meeting of tongues, hers flickering wildly to drink down hungry vocals. Whether Demagol reminded her of beast or machine, his hands felt all too human, and hugging her close with fondling palms and exploitative digits released an urgency in her whimpers. So breathy and pleading, the sounds hitched from her raw throat and crawled their way towards his lips. There they could be swallowed, stolen, claimed. Taken by the male to do as he wished for him, to fuel a demanding libido with the utterances of a creature blind to her deviancy. This was the only way Rhailo knew, tangled among sheets with a body larger and more powerful than she ever hoped to be, and she was his. All his. There was comfort in that sort of possession, and the Auroun had unknowingly been in search of such luxuries.

Crossing boundaries was all too easy when in this state of mind. That sightless, weightless trance.

A hand parted from her body to edge down his skin tight cover, releasing a thrum of warm girth that immediately nestled back between her cheeks. How right it felt, cradling the pulses of his member so close to her tight hole. Almost unfairly so. Rhailo shuddered between attempts to drag her hips as a means to guide Demagol's sex through the cushioned embrace, but he had to pull off the mess of his garments, and it made the act difficult. In one hand his fingers would be taken, and she made her intention known with sucking messy taunts against the tops of his digits. Forming a seal with her mouth, the Auroun slurped the index finger in her grasp, throating it with a flutter of pigmentless lashes. Every part of him burned hot against the expanse of her back, reminding the woman of being pinned to the shower wall; ensuring there would be more memories made in this captive hold.

Demagol was right in his assessment. The Auroun knew damn well what to expect as his mouth parted to produce a globule of spit, moving the fluid low when there was enough lubrication to jerk along his member. Harsh strokes with no pause. The kind that hinted at his urgency, giving way to words she wanted to collect individually and frame in her mind for future recollection. Never in her wildest dreams had Rhailo thought the hunter would be giving in to her, as just a few hours before, there was a bounty looming over that angelic frame. A price tag. To be bought and sold and hustled between countless organizations dotting the Nar Shaddaa skyline like unholy effigies of ulterior motive. Now though, with his length saturated in applied saliva, Rhailo was his. Not theirs. The woman eased as best she could when the head was crowned by tight rings of constraints, her lusting hole spreading while he pushed through the taut gathering of muscles.

Naturally there was resistance, but Demagol slid through it, past her body's attempts at pushing him away. Rhailo found herself gasping around his finger she sucked, letting it be forgotten briefly while messy kisses covered her mouth again and again. Taking every moan, every harsh hiss and ragged whisper of desire, these were hard earned by the Mandalorian. To covet them wasn't selfish-- No one else made her feel this way. However she may have felt, it was new and invigorating. A surge of enlightenment that transcended the boundaries she often tread. Treading lightly was their game until now, with the fear of a fall looming in the background to sober her senses. It wasn't until he had buried himself deep in that craven tightness that she truly, and irrevocably, accepted him.

Just as Rhailo was Demagol's to use, so too was he now an instrument at her disposal. A weapon. More. Something more she didn't know how to express in this hazy cloud of senses. Something hot and bestial and provoking. He made her think and he made her yearn, to be more and to have more. It was intoxicating how close the two had become in such a short period of time, but the Auroun was willing to overwhelm her senses with every inch of him. Was this how it felt to be his? To be absorbed by these foreign emotions that couldn't be contained? Meeting his hips as they eased to base his cock, cheeks parted for better access, spreading to envelope the invading force with ardent squirming. How tight she was around his circumference, riding it with the shove of her body back into the Mandalorians. How incredibly devious the woman seemed in that state of requited longing.

And he sang for her with that groan, pleaded back with that deep sound enhanced by intimacy. Her waist struggled, thrashing her lower half in an involuntary manner where he was sheathed, drawing the most desperate of whimpers with such ease. Every slicked inch hurt her, setting off the alarms of pain through confused nerves, but there was pleasure in that pain. There was more than ache. Riding back up in a brief attempt to escape, Rhailo slammed herself back down to swallow his cock again; forcing both individuals to revel in how the hold felt. A sensual escape from the rest of their woes; she found closure hidden behind sharp blue orbs. Gods, she wanted everything he had to offer. All of it. Every violent tantrum and every debauchery. Every kiss and soft spoken word. Every worry and fret and feverish demand...

Rhailo wanted Demagol in ways she had never thought herself capable.

And it was mutual, wasn't it? When the Mandalorian uttered that promise, Rhailo gave the fingers she refused to remove from her features a long and lusty siphon of appreciation. Trying to fill as many of her orifices with his affections as she could manage while still receiving his kisses. While still being passionately overwhelmed by that normally stoic visage. No one else needed to know this side of Demagol; she wouldn't share him. Never. That much she promised him in return, the unspoken message sealed with flickering orbs opening in half lidded ascension. To peer over his expressions while her sideways form was fondled and fucked by this man. This man, who would never have fit the bill before that chance encounter, was now hers.

And Gods, she wanted him to fill her with every bit of that essence until there was no true definition between their writhing shapes.

Tread Lightly [closed] - Kat - 04-29-2015

<img style="avatar" src="http://i.imgur.com/FXQBglf.png" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;]Responsive and willing. Rhailo could feel the traveling of his cock as her inner workings ushered to envelope the invasion. Wrapping, wanting, they were insatiable. The muscles bunched then retreated for a split second, repetitive between thrusts. The back and forth game their bodies played was magnetic, and neither wished to part for very long from the other. Saliva coated the member, but it was still expected to fight to push away any resistance, and this was done with an eagerness she had yet experienced from Demagol. How badly he wanted her to feel every inch stuffed tight between those muscles, milking every twitch and spasm without pause. There was no stopping her acceptance at this point; the Auroun cooperated with legs splayed and breath tight in her chest. Any tension she felt waned in that intimate embrace, and were it up to her, he wouldn't leave her side again.

A silent promise. A physical dictation. Never. Separation just wouldn't do.

So their dance continued, hips moving in tandem at times; parting no longer than was needed to build momentum. Driving deep, demanding submission of the coils and restraints that wished only to hug the body of his cock. To mold, to fit-- Demagol was forcing Rhailo to fit him, and in such, she was made for him. No doubt in the Auroun's mind that her body would become his personal project, and with enough sessions clocked, the woman wouldn't remember the touch of anyone prior to the Mandalorian. He cast aside all her previous experience, stripping away the stigma and the history and the shame until what was left was raw, unbridled passion. Only for him, concentrated in that moment. She battled the desire to make him cum for her. If it wasn't obvious in that exact moment, it would be in time. On the same note, she wanted to show him what he was starting, an elevation to levels of lust she often reserved for the privacy of her apartment.

Her insides were a caged animal, desperate to break out while they twisted with pangs of pain and a growing sensation of pleasure. Just havoc and carnal wants that ripped breathy coos of affection from her throat. "O-oh, Dema-" Rhailo stopped mid thought to bite her lip, lashes fluttering as if trying to emphasis the effect of his fingers, as they had just come to tease their tips against her slick folds. He barely received resistance when two fingers dipped into her cunt, and a throaty purr reverberated from the Auroun's throat as her back arched through the penetration. Features moving out slightly, they met with his other hand where she wished it to rest just beneath her chin, and returned to their previous efforts. To suck and savor the taste of his skin, tongue undulating along the pads of his digits. Every hole was his, and Rhailo intended to prove this as often as possible. In some ways, it was a self imposed challenge, but the woman knew he appreciated it. If not, would they be doing this in the first place?

A gasp escaped Rhailo where she was pinned, her actions a mess of movement all aiming to further the pleasure his adorations brought. There were no subtlety in the swiftness of his poundings, without question, but her own anchoring commands brought supple cheeks to spread with taut slaps. How spoiled could the Auroun get as that thumb of his dug messy circles along the outline of her clit, bringing an entirely different sensation into their foray of senses she couldn't fully comprehend. Pressure everywhere-- a static of erratic currents building in her center like those lightening storms plaguing the cityscape beyond their hotel room. He brought out electricity in her veins and it forced her eyes to open, wide with surprise as several more gasps trickled through her gagging lips. All those noises Demagol loved hearing continued to pass the woman's makeshift gag she made with his fingers. Every flex of her throat and roll of her tongue cradled the digits, making them just as slick as his cock was.

Watching him then, Rhailo fell into another spell of moans when the hunter's affections to her cunt were ceased. Demagol pulled away, and as that basting of her excitement found a means to coat his lips and tongue, she was impossibly satisfied with herself. Any sign of acceptance was welcome; she craved validation above all things. To see him revel in her juices with such wanton curiosity brought a weak rise to her chest, breasts bouncing under the thundering jack hammering of his buried cock. As she was, captured to lay above the arm she had claimed from him, the Auroun could already feel that shift in gears starting to noticeably tickle the muscles gripping her partner. Her stamina wasn't quite so attuned as the Mandalorians, and though the woman wanted nothing more than to continue being forced along that thick girth, her body was straining to keep from climaxing too quickly.

Something about the way he took her so boldly made her cheeks burn and her heart swell. Rhailo didn't know why Demagol was so important to her. Outside of their current circumstances, he had a strange appeal that the Auroun was drawn to. Be it the way he was so forceful with her, or how that force ultimately translated into urgency, and eventually, genuine care. Everything about that strong pummeling embrace made her forget the rest of their worries, which left her drifting on choppy waves of sensual bliss. Again his hand snaked low to bury itself within the wiggling of her thighs, and two fingers crammed themselves in that soaked entrance without missing a beat. Rubbing, enticing... Rhailo whispered small praises through the strumming affections, through a mouth full of his fingers, through a battery of toned hips rocking her figure against his. All she could do was slowly pull his hand from her mouth for the time being to return her visage to the males.

There the woman panted in paused closeness, lingering just near enough to hint at the kisses she wanted. Perhaps to simply study what a marvelous face her partner possessed. Eyes skimmed rugged features, finding them more attractive by the minute, but her vision seemed to flicker frantically the longer she stared; her panting increased with the speed of his thumb over a delicate cluster of nerve endings. Eventually, Rhailo was unable to keep her lids open while her curvaceous form wildly writhed in attempts to base his cock and feel the scribbling fingertip rubbing her clit. He made it difficult for her to concentrate on anything but the dedication of his appendages, all working so desperately to get her off. Oh, how she wanted to get off all over those sheathed digits of his. The walls were constricting as she muttered a soft plea into the barest of kisses.

  "Please..."

Tread Lightly [closed] - Kat - 04-30-2015


[/img]"http://i.imgur.com/FXQBglf.png" style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;]It was through the drip and flow of eager juices his fingers pushed, wild while they thrusted to keep walls from sinking in to swallow strong digits. Her body spoke to him, pleaded that he continue to force a way through the tightness to satisfy that surmounting urge for release. To be felt by Demagol's fingers, to coat them in her nectar so he needn't ever dwell on whether her affections were true. Rhailo didn't know what she felt besides those bestial cravings, but in their time together, those demands grew in his company. Having thighs squish and press their squirming impatience against his palm, the pressure kept her anchored. Secured. There was no pause to the whispers, the begging, the words that seemed to find a way from a throat marked by his previous lust. The Auroun wore teeth marks like a collar, framed by her long moonlit locks, and with every ebbing sensation attacking her senses, her neck was craned so the kiss wouldn't break.

This time, when her name was spoken, it wasn't a slight against her person. No insult, no drawn out title that sounded stuffier than it needed to be. Just Rhailo, wrapped in groans, demanding and sensual. Gods, she couldn't help herself.

Backing up hard into his cock, Rhailo braced; muscles tightening in a rippling effect that encompassed all those penetrated holes. Cheeks spread where they based his girth, embracing that pulsing member in a series of squeezing undulations that refused to cease their assault. In time with her cunt, her lower body was electric as the swells of orgasm crushed the air from her throat. Gasping into their kiss, the Auroun sucked his tongue to taste herself among collected saliva. How soothing it was to know Demagol carried in his mouth her essence, and with it mingling along her taste buds, some sense of peace was found. The Mandalorian had captured his prize, and she reveled in his embrace without question concerning the validity of their duo. If this wasn't real, Rhailo didn't want to know what reality had in store for her.

Not now, not ever.

Arching along the ridges of taut flesh comprising Demagol's form, the Auroun moaned openly. Her stomach tensed as the Mandalorian continued his rubbing of sensitive nerve endings of her clit, driving her towards the brink. That edge, which she had danced along countless evenings before this one, was in view, and every adoration from her partner pushed her closer to the peak. In that dutiful manner she often displayed when it came to the doting touches of this male, Rhailo allowed herself to be guided. To seek an end to her anxious wait, to succumb to the grind he sustained throughout this whole endeavor. To cum, for him, and only him. Perhaps this was the beginning of her conditioning, as she was already in awe of his strength and stamina. He couldn't mistake those pleased responses as anything otherwise, and with every shallow pant she managed, it proved testament to her dedication.

Around his intruding digits, the inner works of her sex clamped down as rolls of spasming muscles made themselves known. How tight she became then, but not only around fingers and tongue. No, those ringed restraints smothering his cock seemed to mimic the action, packing the length of his manhood with soft, receptive tissue that silently screamed for his release. Her own was a spectacle of sorts, causing her features to wear a lusty mask of cooing compliance. How accepting she was, thirsty for the writhing of her figure against the Mandalorians, though it didn't seem to stop there. Thighs clamped around his palm to lock him in place while her fingers all wrapped tightly around the wrist of it's partner she still clung to. To drag his grip to her throat in an almost affectionate way while her tongue lashed messily into their kiss. Her eye lids closed tight as the waves struck, causing shivers to travel through her limbs in ecstatic submission.

This was the second time Demagol had earned such a response from the Auroun, but as their days continued together would pass, there would be more. It was almost guaranteed.

So Rhailo held him helpless, slick in her folds and her rear, refusing to give him any means of escape. To have him in such a possessive way was her goal in this instance. Kneading his cock, demanding it meet her demands while her own orgasm persisted as an enthralling courtship of flesh, she was whimpering his name among the strings of half spoken sweet nothings. Words of praise, of how good he felt inside her, of how bad she wanted him to finish. The Auroun wanted him to coat her insides in his juices, to place claim to another wanton orifice in dire need of his attention. Did she succeed in pleasing him? A thought to ponder between the static of pleasure, mixed with all those little quips and concerns that never really went away. To sink or to swim, it didn't matter this night.

Only Demagol mattered, with the force behind his pummeling hips, and the hiss to his kisses as groans leaked between their two sets of features. The louder his noises grew, the more feverish she shook at his side, nails lightly digging into his forearm as just another reception of his dominance. Was she overly obvious in how she worshiped him, going so far as to present the male with every fiber of her being as offering? To whisper his name in the dark of their borrowed hotel room through love chapped lips. "D-dema.." Just that utterance to ignite his fueled personage; to tip him over the edge. Rhailo deserved praise of her own-- earned it with how lovingly she milked the head of his cock in hopes of siphoning all that warm seed. Be it greed or desire, the woman knew it was hers to claim, and she meant to take what she was owed.

Every last drop.

Tread Lightly [closed] - Kat - 04-30-2015


[/img]"http://i.imgur.com/FXQBglf.png" style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;]To be used in such a manner wasn't beyond her willingness. On the contrary, Rhailo meant to catch every drop of pent up cum where Demagol was buried in her ass. Perhaps a smile crossed her lips as he unleashed his load into her, even if it was bare of any context he might understand. Just to feel him quake in the tight hold, to shiver and bend against her figure in that possessive mesh of bodies. Never was there a time she didn't crave his rough touch, and to be taken in such a way only furthered her orgasm. Every twitch, every sway and jerk of bucking hips, it all earned a series of breathy, desperate moans she didn't bother trying to stop. Let him hear every cry his dominance wrenched from her throat while the fabric of her insides stretched and molded to fit him entirely. Owned by her Mandalorian, with scars on display and tattoos scrawled in a text she couldn't read; the Auroun was beyond satisfied. She was...

Infatuated.

Around her neck the fingers tightened, and in a surge of sudden pleasure, a new wave hit her with a force she couldn't explain. Just a blinding white push of climax that blocked out the rest of her senses to cater to lust. An ancient reaction to such things, really, leaving her cunt of tighten enthusiastically around his sheathed fingers with another series of spasming undulations. Like this she remained until thundering strikes stopped and his hand, in all it's appreciated involvement, came to rest calm in that slick cavity. For only a moment there was silence, save for kisses and coddling and the ragged breaths they both managed to steal. Rhailo could have laid with him in this euphoric state of post decadence for all time, comforted by the strong beats of his heart. Thrumming were her own distant drumming beats, pumping blood in circulation so loudly, it flooded her ears with blanketing noise. A moment would be taken to recuperate in the quiet they were allotted, her nostrils flaring in light draws while her lids were pried open.

To watch, to learn. In some sense, to better understand what was happening.

Demagol hadn't pulled himself free, as though he meant to grant her wish to remain closely entangled with the male. Rhailo, in turn, didn't immediately work to push away the arms enveloping her curvaceous body. There was no real want or need to do so, so why would she? The Auroun merely accepted what she was given in that period, and was content. Satisfied-- But also complacent. In some ways, more at peace than she had been for a day's time. Such was life, after all. A random series of events that all lead one down a path towards their end... But Rhailo hadn't expected to find her beginning with the hunter. At his side or under his command, this was never part of her plan. Much like her times spent peddling in, gambling on, and inhabiting Nar Shaddaa, a more naive woman never pictured the Mandalorian as part of that puzzle. Yet, if the piece fits, it must be right.

Features swiveled ever so slightly rest her head back on the pillows, mouth still agape to gather air and allow space between his visage and her own. Rhailo found herself staring again, fixated in what may have been seen as mild confusion; had what had occurred not been confusing? She wore it well, and it inevitably shifted to a smile as he spoke. Words she could cling to just as tightly as those he had made involving her freedom. He hadn't implied she was his property-- He had assured her that was the case. Partially, the woman had wondered when this payment would be made, and if there would be consequences for the action. After all, it couldn't all be copacetic cuddling in their borrowed bed. For now, yes. Tomorrow? The next day?

It took her longer to collect herself than she would have cared to admit, but her mind was elsewhere to some extent, and it needed to be reeled back to his words. Yes, that reassurance, how it brought upon a warmth to her weary frame that bordered the conditions of his sexual deviance. Replacing the heated aura of lust with one slightly less suffocating, Rhailo beamed her acceptance with a flash of pristine teeth. "If you plan to pay 50,000 credits for me, I'd hope not." Easing her thighs apart to give his hand enough freedom to remove itself from the capture, the Auroun blinked a few times while accumulating more to add to the response. Even now, her message was guarded; cautious to some extent. "I'm sorry if that was sudden. I just, I don't know. Got into a sort of mood..." Well aware his cock periodically twitched where it was held in her ass, a flush of embarrassment was imminent across angelic portrait.

"But- I mean, you liked it, didn't you?" It was a question she needn't ask, but with the hint of a smirk accompanying her vocals, the teasing inquiry was meant to be answered. After all, who didn't want to gloat over their conquests? Rhailo certainly wasn't above such means of self fulfillment, and with the inch he had given her, she was liable to run miles. Ever curious, there was more to learn from Demagol than how much he enjoyed fucking her ass-- But that would come after he was allowed time for response. Only then did the woman ease comfortably in their shared embrace, one of her hands over his at expanse of throat to dance delicate digits against the veins. Her lighted gaze flickered elsewhere, off to the ceiling, and the light show began anew as a mural of blurred silhouettes moving as ships across a choppy ocean. Silly tricks that meant little more than the blinks that shut them off for split seconds at a time.

"We can't stay here forever." She said, stating the facts as the woman saw them; obvious ones first. "I don't know what your plan is though. We can leave Nar Shaddaa, but where do you want to go afterwards? Do you have a home?" Rhailo bit her lip in thought, fatigue returning as she tried to compile all those wayward questions she had been afraid to ask previously. With every ride he took her for, she ate up another bite of energy-- at this point, she was running fumes and aching willpower. But he was unknown to her, and she wanted to remedy that as much as she could before sleep returned. It would, and it would knock her out for hours, but she could stave off resting in favor of questioning so long as she was allowed to. It really relied on his willingness to cooperate with the Auroun.

"What's going to happen to us now?" Emphasis on 'us', as they were in this together-- For better or worse. "I mean, I've never done this before. Not like this, not with someone like you.."

Tread Lightly [closed] - Kat - 05-01-2015


[/img]"http://i.imgur.com/FXQBglf.png" style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;]Sometimes, it was easier just to listen to the silence than it was to shatter it, though whenever Demagol spoke, Rhailo considered these messages to be exceptions to her general rule. As he was, assisted by his stoic air, the Mandalorian imposed indomitable will upon the situation without ever intending to. He just had a way of making her want to please him, and while there was nothing immediately pressing about his demands, they were still habits she would have to ponder. To not apologize to him would be tedious work. To be herself around him might prove even more difficult. Still, the Auroun could learn, and at the very least, try to the fullest extent of her capabilities. It was a constant battle to ignore the fear of vilification that made the woman uneasy, as though she could lose what interest he garnered in her by granting him that wish. There was more to Psionics than she cared to train for, and even more to that route than she cared to explore. The S'zari knew what she could potentially do, though.

Perhaps Demagol didn't. She could only hope this remained a buried mystery for the time being.

It may have been fortunate that Demagol had no idea how little confidence Rhailo had for herself, but neither brought it into the open, and in such, it wasn't a topic of interest. Another time, another place. Certainly not with the Auroun clinging to the edges of consciousness, letting him maneuver her actions without even noticing the changes in their positioning. "I can only be me." It was a soft musing, laced with that half awake playfulness one could only convey when they were exhausted. "Only me, only for you.." Wrapped in that warm embrace, features were leaned lower to nuzzle at his hand, lips parting over finger tips for wet kisses. Her tongue flicked with teasing licks, swishing remnants of juices from the imprints. Hers was a strange sort of affection, all gentleness and spit, and she seemed all the more content when he refrained from dislodging his cock. The muscles worked against the embedded member even now, a naturally attempt to try and remove the invasion, but Rhailo was firm in her anchoring.

He promised to never let her go, after all.

"I wasted your time." The Auroun said right before a brief yawn struck her, causing her affections at his hand to cease for the time being. Turned back towards the window, the light show was ceased while her lids closed to the dark room, leaving those fantasy sailors and their ship on the weather ravaged ocean to fend for themselves without audience. Rhailo loved silly tricks, and sillier stories, and mostly, she loved what her eyes could do. So mundane compared to the plethora of options the rest of her skill set was capable of, yet she had never striven for more than safety. If she could get away with trickery and foolish illusions, what more could there really be to learn? "I'll always waste time though. Yours, mine... Procrastination's my middle name." Though, that wasn't true. Her middle name was Taicho. "I just want to leave Nar Shaddaa..."

But for someone so keen on running off in a hurry, Rhailo was quite literally hanging on to consciousness by a thread.

All these kisses came to a very tired woman, but she would press feather light responses to his lips in their wake. Over and over until his last words came. How he sewed together this plan for the two of them, she couldn't really know. In such a short time, she had gone from being a credit chit with legs to something far more valuable-- but why? The negatives of their arrangement never left the rear of her mind, as all horrible thoughts tended to stick around longer than they were welcome to. Her kind weren't easy to come by this far outside of their native galaxy, and while the S'zari offered chump change, she knew there were other parties still searching for an Auroun. Many reasons were common, each less savory than the last, but those requests put their duo in harm's way regardless what purpose others might have for a Psion.

Pangs of guilt trickled across her features like a sign of pain, but they dispersed with a shake of her head. She sighed.

Pillows played crown to her messy locks as she replied, "Just don't leave me behind." But in the farthest reaches of her mind, the comment translated to 'Don't let me leave you behind', as she had others over and over again. Demagol saw her run through the city without a friend to call upon in her state of dire need, and he was partially right in assuming she couldn't trust anyone with such a task. Not because it was impossible to find someone willing to submit to her-- On the contrary, the Auroun was skilled in the art of persuasion. One of the few mental abilities she had honed over the years. She just didn't care to bring anyone into the fray of her nomadic existence. Cutting ties had been as simple a task as walking down the street, and when she wronged someone by letting them get too close to her, it always ended poorly.

Mostly, Rhailo wasn't a killer. She had killed, of course, as this was a dirty planet full of scum. Herself included under such a tagline. But, her regrets branched further than such acts; centralized on those she led astray who wanted nothing more than to help. People died so she could live, over and over, until the woman stopped letting anyone close enough to put themselves at risk. Such was, and always would be, her life. Rhailo expected Demagol to experience these hardships first hand, but it was that selfishness she harbored that kept the creature from stating as much. Pretending he knew what he was getting into was the best she could do to calm erratic nerves. As things were, she was too tired to express true guilt anyway. Profile was placed into the pillow as her body curled into the fetal position, leaving him with little option other than to curl around her accordingly.

"Good night, Dema." Murmuring these words, the Auroun followed instruction afterwards, and slept. Comfortable doing so until he was ready to direct her otherwise.

Tread Lightly [closed] - Kat - 05-01-2015


[/img]"http://i.imgur.com/FXQBglf.png" style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;]Rhailo courted many concepts while dreaming; playing hide-and-seek with the imagery as escape from reality. The Auroun didn't consider this time any less real than her hours of awakeness, though she could see why others might be less or more inclined to argue the differences. To most, there was the whole gamut of senses to back up their perceptions of what life was, and had capability of being-- But Rhailo had such tangibility in dreams. To drift through their stories, and assume the role of captain in the events of past, present, future, and possibility-- That was treading through the unknown at it's most dangerous. Stalking the lines, seeking the frightening corners where the unspeakable lurked. This hunting in lucid landscapes could be bountiful, or it could kill her just as quickly as a bullet to the temple.

Death was always possible. For the Auroun, she doubled her chances. Tripled them. The older she was, the more exploratory her roaming became, and while her body recharged the energy she so greedily spent in her day to day activities, the woman's mind was a well oiled machine. Traversing the cob webbed recesses of tranquil space, waiting for the calm to revert to jagged fissures of distortion and warning. A mind would suffer to keep it's curious consciousness half sedated; there were things the humanoid psyche simply couldn't handle. Yet, in her infinite investment in discovering the new and secretive factoids in relation to her life, Rhailo hungrily soaked her fair share of knowledge from the veins and arteries of the subconscious. To siphon such detail from the core was almost sexual, and in that way, her body moved sensually in that deep sleep.

Writhing, whispering, panting- A feverish appetite on display.

But even such mental trekking ceased during the daylight hours, replaced by idle flickering of lashes to the various outside disturbances. Demagol left her in their accumulated juices as a sexual sprawl of bare flesh, but the Auroun wasn't at all phased by his abandonment. After all, she had lived a lifetime of separation from the rest of the populace, just an outsider who occasionally peered in out of sheer boredom. The Mandalorian could have left her there to conduct business without her present, and the Auroun would have continued embarking on her journey through sleep and it's realms, as that was a trance the woman never could get the hang of breaking free from in a timely manner. How many times had someone come so close to snuffing out her life force because they used her exhaustion to aid their actions? Rhailo wasn't always unlucky, but she did seem to have a sense of ill preparedness that botched many of her otherwise sound courses of action.

The message cut through her distanced consciousness like an icy prod, stirring her where she lay. "Get off on the planet-" Rhailo started sleepily, mumbling, "We did- we got off. Twice." Wild hues opened with a bright flashlight-esque blast of radiance through their still dim hotel room, though the Auroun blinked several times to lessen the intensity. Sometimes, parts of her body just illuminated, and it took concentration to keep their otherworldly glare from becoming problematic. Honestly, this forced any sort of covert operating on her part to eat away more of her power than she typically felt comfortable burning through, but disguises were generally as immersive as one could become in the underbelly of such cesspools as Nar Shaddaa; at least for one as fair and full as Rhailo Taicho Destros.

They would eat her alive here.

As realization seemed to seep through the fog of her moments struggling to obtain full consciousness, Rhailo rose to sit up, nails raking against her scalp lightly. Her movements didn't pause as legs swung out to the edge of the bed, and after a slightly shaky wobble to stand, the woman headed for the bathroom. This time, the door was not left open, and the sink ran to create ambient noise for him to filter through-- Otherwise, it was private. When the Auroun returned afterwards, it was apparent her face had been washed to some extent, as had other achievable places in the time frame. Combing back silver strands, their collective was held in a messy ponytail that left only wispy strands to frame her neat features. Observant opalescent hues lingered over the male's armor in the time it took her to close to gap between them, though she made no efforts to touch or appear tender to the fellow in the suit.

The space between their two forms was noticeable, and likely uncomfortable. She ignored it.

"I just need clothing, I guess..." Rhailo shot her attention back to the nightstand where Demagol had placed that second set of elastic covers the night before. Feet padded inaudibly along the carpet of the room until long arms reached to assess her options concerning wardrobe. As it was, these weren't something she really wanted to wear-- But the alternative was less appealing. So begrudgingly Rhailo dressed in silence. The upside to this was how well the fitted garments worked in her favor, compared to her initial thoughts that they would end up like a set of tents the woman would be in constant worry of losing. What the mandalorian filled with his muscled physique, the Auroun filled with curves, and the paper thin material accented that buxom body without limiting her movements. Even Rhailo seemed impressed when she was done squeezing into the material, heels slipped on as an after thought.

Swiveling back to face the male, manicured fingers produced the tips her mock waitressing had brought in, offered to Demagol. "I have nowhere to carry these, so just hold onto them? Scan them in for your accounts, I s'pose." Rhailo didn't seem put off in the slightest handing the remainder of her monetary assets to the hunter. As it was, if she really needed to make more credits, there were a thousand different ways to do so, and Rhailo had tried her hand at several such ventures over the years. Money could be made if money was needed-- Not in the quantities Demagol received it, but surly enough to skate by in pseudo comfort. One did well to dabble when they were forced to fend for themselves. When this transaction was initiated, and hopefully completed, the woman lingered outside of arm's length, waiting for his input on their plans.

At this point, Rhailo let Demagol lead their duo. It was only natural under these circumstances.

Tread Lightly [closed] - Kat - 05-01-2015


<img style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;" src="http://i.imgur.com/FXQBglf.png" style="avatar]Part of the woman seemed hesitant as the blade was passed over, as this was the first time she had held anything of the sort, and thinking about the damage it had done to others seemed a gruesome reminder of her partner's past. Rhailo was careful in how she held the weapon, though it remained in her hands with awkward positioning as she was unclear where it was supposed to go. Did Demagol mean for the Auroun to just carry it out in the open? Certainly seemed plausible but... That would draw more attention than they could likely afford focused on their travels. Still, her head dipped with a nod, signifying she would do what he asked her to do, as there was little room to argue while he prepared. "Thank you." And that was all there needed to be said on the matter, even if she was meant to hold the Kal like it was a fashion statement; idly dancing it through skilled fingers as watchful orbs wandered over gear being fitted in segments across the Mandalorian's frame. Her inability to evade Demagol's capture didn't entirely take away from her agility or cunning, as even the most acobatic of tricksters wasn't meant to fight a one on one against armored assailants.

But they greatly differed in their styles of combat. While Rhailo could bend time and space to ensure she was at a distance from those wishing to reach her, Demagol was a beast in metal armaments who closed gaps by tracking his prey. Ah, and how she found that entirely too attractive-- Even if the Auroun always wore such a questioning look when it was presented in that critical light before her. Wasn't this her life now? Hadn't blood, sweat, and tears solidified this coalition between their two existences, ensuring that where one went, the other was to follow? Would there be a pause in her steps to keep close? Did she expect doubts to arise among the fighting, and the running, and the escape they both desperately needed? Rhailo would be a fool if she expected perfection from their connection, but she harbored the semblance of hope beneath those plaguing thoughts. It was safer not being picked at with the rest of her theories and assessments.

Hope was better suited for private, personal settings anyway. Now she just took initiative, and kept herself quiet while listening to his check offs. All those pieces of gear she hadn't been able to investigate thoroughly were now counted almost lyrically while Demagol prepared himself. His ritual was far more entertaining than she felt necessary to express, though the ghost of a smile was slipping over lush lips by the time the bounty hunter finished. How imposing he was, taller now with the armor, and bulkier in some sense. It took the edge off those cravings of hers at the very least, as his lack of visible skin made touching an impossibility. Not that there was time for any sort of sensual break for the pair, but such musings were worth pondering over. She liked knowing he wasn't completely irresistible-- That there wasn't some malfunction to her person leading her into looped temptation in his presence. Between the coverage, and the remnants of fear the suit sparked through her buxom frame, Rhailo could easily keep clear headed in that manner of thought, if only as long as it took them to get away.

When they made a clean getaway, perhaps she would change her tune. Fear certainly tasted saccharine sweet when he kissed her...

Blinking, the Auroun returned to statuesque observation in an outfit reminiscent of paint splattered across canvas. Tight, much like the rest of her figure. She resisted the urge to hum a small note, instead shooting milky oculars to the far wall to create a shadowbox effect, complete with faux treeline and figures crawling through it. An idle gesture, but it amused the woman while she was left to wait in silence. Who was really at harm by it? It's not as though it was intentional, or overly distracting, as her company faced the opposite way from Rhailo to communicate with the messenger. In a way, this was her honest attempt to avoid eavesdropping on what could be considered a private conversation between Demagol and the S'zari whom he worked through. But, the attempt was poorly executed, thus she heard the important details as he finished turning in the bounty. Rhailo was officially Demagol's property.

Yet, in that strange measure of elation, she returned to his previous statements. All unanswered questions would be answered. What did he mean?

The sound of tech being ripped from Demagol's helmet snapped her vision back towards where he stood, and helplessly, the Auroun watched the male break through the door to the balcony again to chuck aforementioned device off towards the cityscape below. Rhailo was obviously disoriented by such actions, but in a sense relieved when he spoke again, even if the words were ushered to imply he wasn't fucking around. "Okay, yeah. Just, I guess, take me?" It wasn't like she couldn't travel alone-- Actually, she could travel completely cloaked the entire way, but he would be forced to trust her to actually remain with him (in that dual dimension overlapping way), and there wasn't time to explain the mechanics. If he wanted to trip on some Ookranian spliffs and learn the wonders of the universe, the Mandalorian would have to catch her somewhere the citizens were less eager to see her captured.

So, because of this, Rhailo closed the gap between them and shuffled onto the balcony, arms raising as implication she expected to be carried. Not because the creature couldn't walk (or float, or levitate, or glide, or slip between dimensions), but because Demagol was perfectly capable of carrying her to his planned rendezvous without overburdening himself. Also, she didn't want to leave him alone. Especially when he had let her hold that dagger, which was probably a very important piece of equipment to him considering it was listed in his arsenal of accountable objects. Maybe Rhailo had the same thing going, though hers seemed childish in comparison. Heels, thong, credit chits(which had been absorbed into mystery funds), borrowed under armor(or something similar), Kal(which she couldn't lose for fear of incurring his wrath).

"Dema, just don't drop me, okay?" Rhailo commented last second, her gaze widening slightly. "That's an awful waste of 50,000 credits."

Tread Lightly [closed] - Kat - 05-03-2015


[/img]"http://i.imgur.com/FXQBglf.png" style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;]Danger had a way of numbing one's approach, and while Rhailo did as she was asked to do, and wrapped bare arms around the neck of Demagol's suit, there was no more she felt obligated to share verbally. Mentally, preparations were made so the ride wouldn't tax on her weariness, as she didn't particularly enjoy this method of travel-- But it was his method, and he was the law. This was something she was beginning to appreciate outside of the bedroom sense, as her initial thoughts on the subject directed her to fantasy scenarios involving him growling his orders to a subdued Auroun struggling to free herself from bindings. A strong will did wonders to the libido, didn't it? Now though, as his seriousness bled over what she was met with, her impression of the Mandalorian didn't change. If anything, this was the coldness she was accustomed to, save for the way he was so firm holding her against his chest plate; that was new. Of all the things to come, this was probably her favorite part.

Laser fire and air chases were not as well received as comfortable embraces. It was mid air that Rhailo strained to open her then closed hues, trying to make out blurring shapes on the horizon. Their path had become turbulent because of the shots sent towards their pair, and in this, it was almost impossible to discern just which speeder belonged to what syndicate. The chaos was full of colors, banners, shades of devotion as hired guns and loyalists alike butted heads. The firefight resembled a fireworks display, sparks dancing off metal chassis to rain towards the carnage soaked streets of the grid. All those neat rows of streets now catered to the fallen victims, their twisted corpses indiscernible from wrecked speeders and shattered business fronts. A pain carved out her stomach, replacing imposed calm with the guilt of their deeds.

"Dema-" But he wouldn't hear her as their rocketed forward, and perhaps she preferred he hadn't. Her eyes closed again to their settings, the Kal curled beneath tight digits where they clung to Demagol. The shield around them resonated a sort of energy she was familiar with, and it made the tips of her ears twitch like grazing follicles of wayward hair. Focus on such trivial things kept her from panicking, from flailing, and hopefully from distracting the male from what he needed to do. At least the crowds were thinning in the sky the farther they headed towards their destination, though Rhailo expected it was still a close call considering the male had literally yanked a speeder out of their trajectory line. The Auroun felt their party ease into a hobbled landing, and with Demagol using his body to block her from sight, they waited as those tailing them passed.

Hesitantly, Rhailo brought her gaze to flicker through the darkness of the tarp covered scaffolding, where the beams and bars created a maze of half finished construction around them. At least they seemed alone for the time being.

While the rain was a nuisance, Rhailo chose to ignore it for the most part, having lived within the metropolis long enough to expect this sort of weather. Of course, she usually dressed for conditions, and even with the covering lining the outline of the gutted building, she felt a bit chilled. He promised clothing if they could make it out alive; she wouldn't pass up that offer. Not after her apartment was torched, and her last wearable pair of pants were lost in the chase-- Times like these, she really missed having pants. A small, inaudible sigh escaped the Auroun as she was placed onto the ground, and there, left to stand slightly distanced from Demagol, she waited. The air crackled with residual energy, the drones of engines, and the whining travel of blaster shots. In a sense, this way probably similar to many of her companion's previous encounters, but to Rhailo, it was unknown.

War didn't come to Auroun. They either escaped, or they perished. Such was life.

Wincing with every sound she couldn't place, the woman settled her attention on the words from the Mandalorian, and considered keeping her comments entirely muted. After all, it wasn't really her place to give additional input on what he deemed appropriate. Yet, in her usual manner, Rhailo couldn't ignore the opportunity to share her thoughts, however scattered and disjointed they may have been. Perhaps he wanted acknowledgement from his charge. If only to consider the message received, she would begin with, "So, I guess just lead the way." The hand not holding the Kal directed his attention forward, and her heeled steps clicked precisely against the grating and metal framework. "I don't know this area very well. Never had all that much reason to be on this side of town..." After all, her home had been on the exact opposite side of this sprawling metropolis, though she had no doubt her neighborhood would feel similar backlash in regards to the syndicates.

This was encompassing territories in strife, giving little to no choice but to join in the bloodshed. Ironically, neither herself nor Demagol seemed keen to test the waters, despite this whole dispute having been caused by them. Technically, by Demagol, but in his care, she was considered an accomplice. So collectively, both were now at fault for civil war on Nar Shaddaa. A pale hand rose to wipe her eyes, lashes blinking to ensure nothing had gotten into those milky oculars while they were airborne. In times like these, it was the small things that mattered most, and though she seemed more relaxed than she was, it was probably to keep from stumbling over herself in confused dismay. As long as the hunter knew where to go, Rhailo would follow him as closely as she could, illuminated hues casting a somber light through the darker stretches of the pathways.

Maybe they had made good distance before she spoke again, though in that robotic follower mode, she didn't gauge distance well. All the same, the creature felt they were getting to safer sections of the city, and her mind demanded there were more words between them. Something to pass the time, to fill the silence that only hurried steps seemed comfortable shattering. Anything. "So, do you always work alone?" How smooth Rhailo must have sounded as she attempted to break the ice, unconcerned with whether he chose to answer her or not. "I mean, you have a ship. Is it just you.. on the ship?" Fishing for basic information wasn't something she felt herself above doing. The last thing she wanted was to be taken into his care, only to find he had a family circling the planet. What a cruel twist of fate that would have been.

Tread Lightly [closed] - Kat - 05-05-2015

[/img]"http://i.imgur.com/FXQBglf.png" style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;]Rhailo was slowly beginning to understand the sort of lengths her companion would go to in order to keep her out of harm's way. Perhaps she would be more appreciative when methods didn't seem so sudden, or so forced. At least Rhailo hadn't been blown to bits in the wake of wayward plasma grenades, or torn asunder by distant laser rifle rounds. For the time being, the two could presume there was a hint of safety in their approach, even if that meant Demagol hovering over her walking figure like a greedy dragon guarding his trove of gold. The Auroun could appreciate his consideration, but simultaneously felt a strange defiance in place of fear, as though she could persuade him in some manner that there was more to this trek than shaky scaffolding and almost injuries. One grew tired of being a tagalong sometimes, and while she wasn't the same manner of beast her duo was, there was a specialty to her skill set most would be in awe of.

Impressing the Mandalorian was near the top of her list of things to do. Just beneath such things as 'Surviving' and 'Not getting captured by the S'zari'. Rhailo passed the time with more conversation, though the woman noted his hesitation; it was just ignored in some sense.

"Was that your attempt at flirting with me?" The Auroun quirked a pigmentless eyebrow while something of a grin found itself resting over angelic features. "You really need to work on your social skills, Dema. I think it's really cute of you, you know, being aggressive and all... But, really, you have to get tired some time." Stiletto'd steps clacked pleasantly against the grating the pair followed, like trackers left en lieu of the rain. Attention bounced back and forth between Demagol and their path, the light from her alien hues an energy saving means of keeping their travels on course. It was the least she could do, after all. He was the weapon, she was the cargo-- But to have more purpose than a trophy would be a preferable start to their relationship.

Whatever it might have been.

Almost second nature to the hunter, he downed a speeder like it wasn't an obstacle, and Rhailo accepted the destruction with little more than a wince. So be it. "I'm a pretty decent cook, you know... And I can clean, if you need cleaning done. It's up to you, but I mean, I'll earn my keep." Though one would quickly learn the Auroun was blowing smoke out her ass with such claims, as she wouldn't be caught dead cleaning anything... And cooking? She didn't even know how to navigate her way around a kitchen. Spoiled as they came, her attitude was a positive one, but she lacked all the experience needed to fit the bill of merry homemaker. Curves didn't lie, and in that fact, the woman could offer what she knew. A twist on reality, and an over eager libido that didn't particularly care what the situation was. At least it wouldn't be dull for the two.

All too comfortable, the last stretch of their journey was looking to go smoothly, and the creature let her guard down. It wasn't uncommon for Rhailo to underestimate the amount of danger she was in, as her life was wrought with such precarious endeavors, and one grew complacent in the face of consistency. A habit it was, thus hard to break, and it seeped into the way her figure eased and her motions seemed calm. Unfortunate for her, they were nowhere out of the line of fire just yet, and the meeting of a shot to Demagol's person jostled her back to reality. Shifting to see what had been hit, a sense of relief washed over the woman, though only for a split second as commands were barked from her comrade. Rhailo nearly stopped in her tracks to once more wrap slender arms around the Mandalorian, those peculiar orbs of hers brightening beneath the stormy skies.

"Let me show you something."

Suddenly, a vortex spun around their bodies, and within the eye of the spinning tangle of energy, the two proppelled forward with a crackling pop. And there it was, the darkness of space, though without such spacial differences. The other side of reality had a presence of cold, and the inverted shapes of the area they had just been standing in seemed to echo with distorted sounds. Like being underwater, they were beyond the reach of the firing guns and S'zari agents, but what spirits they both possessed surged with aqua shaded illumination. They didn't stop, but instead barreled through the hole in time until fluid movements had bypassed their followers, leaving rampaging gang members scrambling to try and play chase to ghosts. There was a half second of this, no longer, so when reality melted back into the tangible semblance of normality, Rhailo had brought them to the agape mouth of the uncloaked ship.

Static continued to emit from the Auroun as she stumbled away from Demagol, shaking in her heels as she made to enter the ship. Up the ramp and towards safety, even if it meant fighting the waves of nausea accompanied with her teleportation. A hand reached out to grab the wall, to keep her level as a ragged cough rattled her scantily clad figure, making note of the water that had drenched her hair and skin during the escape. Not wanting to look at her companion, or to bring any attention towards what had become of them in that split second of astral bounding, focus was instead fixated on the Kal she carried. At least she hadn't lost it in the moment, as a great many things had been swallowed up by the umbra in her years finding passage through it's darkness. This wasn't hers to lose though, and in that strange vein of loyalty her actions seemed to hint at, it was protected. A keepsake he wouldn't regret loaning her.

"I feel sick.." Rhailo chimed after a particularly wild spin of her equilibrium, legs quite suddenly buckling under her weight. Crumpling, a dizzied glance was given to the hunter, laced with confusion. "Fuck-"

Tread Lightly [closed] - Kat - 05-08-2015


[/img]"http://i.imgur.com/FXQBglf.png" style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;]Always felt like deja vu struck in the most inopportune times for Rhailo, and this occasion proved no different as wide translucent orbs stared vacantly at Demagol's body bouncing off the interior wall of the ship. The incident certainly didn't look comfortable, and with a noticeable wince, her vision followed his course until he had managed to fall onto his knee nearby. A hand was cast towards her companion, the arm attached shivering under residual shock of their dimension jump. "Dema.." Voice a ragged whisper, the Auroun tried to clear her throat, but felt it tighten in response; a natural means to cease the action before it did more harm than good. Alas, his Kal would be returned to it's proper segment of armor, leaving her hands awkwardly lacking in graspable materials until strong arms sought to lift that battered frame from the grid work cargo port.

Never once did Rhailo dare take her eyes off Demagol through this encounter, as there was a sense of awe blossoming somewhere behind that quizzical stare, and it wouldn't allow such insults. To see him then, as tired and adrenaline charged as he was, it was almost akin to her youth among her own kind. How beautiful they were, embodying that ethereal mist they all placed claim over-- something she tried to deny herself the pleasure of. In the umbra, she was completed, but one would be considered wise to remain cautious of such dangerous refuge. The stakes were stacked against her from moment one, and with every second she set foot outside their current dimension, the path towards dissipation was fast approaching. Auroun were not meant for this world, or any world within this cosmos. Theirs was elsewhere, and they all knew this. Rhailo included.

In this vein of thought, she did her best to tread lightly on unstable footing... Perhaps to prolong her stay in this dimension. Even so, the sands of the hourglass slipped through uninhibited.

Heavy steps guided them through the ship, Demagol's directions to the AI made clear as their presence on Nar Shaddaa faded to nothing more than a bitter memory for the denizens. So this was life away from the Hell she had inhabited for so long? How strange and how wild. To think, two days previously, the woman had been conning a Nornimer fellow into investing 12 thousand credits on a false business venture involving embezzled Ta'Taul silks. Faint amusement snuck over angelic features, giving her a slightly dazed appearance when she was finally settled onto the bed in his room. Every muscles in her physique was screaming, straining to reconnect with the coil of the mortal realm they both resided in, even if they were parting from the closest planet, and would likely have several hours ahead of them before another was within range.

To connect and disconnect, and then reconnect to reality-- That was the task at hand.

Everything felt heavier. Her arms, in their willowy way, had become leaden and hard to move. Every motion made was slow, methodical, intended to go just as she planned at a snail's pace. Laying flat on her back with her head tilted towards the male, his changing was monitored with immediate curiosity, as she had never actually seen him react in this way. A hotel room wasn't much to judge someone's interactions off of, so when he undressed, there was great attention to the details of Demagol's routine. Her way involved learning through observation, and when that was unavailable to her, trial and error also proved effective. Subconsciously, the Auroun's back curved against the mattress while fatigued appendages stretched in attempts of easing their discomfort.

"I'll be okay. I just need a few moments.." Rhailo seemed sure this was the case, though it wouldn't have been out of character for the woman to simply pass out after such an excursion. It wasn't like she couldn't traverse the Umbra on her own without such difficulties. No, it was the extra cargo-- The man and his suit. That was what taxed her to such an extent, making that vivacious beauty wilt like an unattended house plant. Yet in this state, her vibrancy remained intact; skin and eyes unfaltering in production of their otherworldly glow. It may even have been brighter on the spacecraft as there was no natural light to suppress the radiance. Rhailo couldn't tell, just as many individuals never noticed their own scent. It just was a part of her packaging, without thought put towards it's functions.

"I expected your ship to be bigger." The Auroun commented softly, the corners of her lips curling into a playful smile that existed just long enough to be noticed, though her palms soon removed themselves from behind her head, and stifled the gesture. Face buried in her hands, Rhailo groaned audibly, sights finally stolen from the Mandalorian's toned figure as though she could inadvertently keep her mind from seeking reasons he should be forceful with her. Staring at him while he was nude didn't help that hunger looming in the back of her thoughts, and though she could make excuses for her affections, it seemed to rude to treat her company like a piece of meet. Whether he owned her or not, Rhailo considered herself respectful in some regards, and did her best to avoid becoming too obsessive. At least for now.

The bed rocked when he joined her in it, and with a small gasp of surprise, the creature was swept back into that possessive embrace she had become familiar with. Held to Demagol's chest where they lay on their sides, Rhailo was half aware of the commands he made for the AI's benefit, though her consciousness was all too eager to exaggerate the sensuality of their two bodies pressed so close together. Simply swallowing, hands were lowered to rest lightly over his forearms, stationary. "Wait, did you..?" But the rest was left unsaid, as she knew exactly what the male called her. The heat to her cheeks was enough to ensure Rhailo that she was blushing, though perhaps Demagol wouldn't be able to see, given the angles. Settling her profile into the pillows, her lids flickered lazily as the usual light show commenced on the far wall, drawing spectral shapes against bare shadowing.

"I didn't really do anything." Admitting this wasn't modesty. It was fact. In the grand scheme of things, Rhailo couldn't fathom how much effort Demagol had put forth to afford them safety, but all credit was due to him; this wasn't negotiable. Still, she didn't mind his words, as they seemed to give her something to hold onto besides his physical presence. All the hope that had been harbored had seemed distant on Nar Shaddaa-- a dream she wanted to make reality... But if the hunter saw worth in her company, was it so far fetched to believe those dreams a possibility? Questions always seemed to sprout up when she was bed ridden, though in this case, they weren't random tangents brought upon by a drug induced stupor. Idly, her hips wiggled where they were pressed against Demagol's groin like a reminder of their previous escapades.

Sometimes, she couldn't control herself. "I s'pose this is the part where you put me in hand cuffs and lock me in those cages, right? I don't know what being someone's property means.."

Tread Lightly [closed] - Kat - 05-14-2015


[/img]"http://i.imgur.com/FXQBglf.png" style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;]Despite all those technological advances the galaxy had prided itself over, there was no short supply to the basic needs of the individuals chasing star dust through the cosmos. Rhailo still required nourishment and rest from traveling dimensions. Seeking such in present company would prove difficult though, as Demagol had a way of enticing her into a state of ignorance towards bodily demands. At least any such demands that did not involve his muscled figure tangling around her own. Compared to the hunter, this Auroun was so soft and delicate, her thoughts were always drawn back to the contrast in physiques. To run eager hands against his body seemed a manageable goal, but she was too timid to attempt it currently, and he was always so keen to engulf her in possessive embrace. There was safety in this action, even if their footing was shaky at best. Where were they going? What plans did they have?

Something of a smile presented itself when the opportunity arose. The Auroun was quite aware of how well endowed her companion was, and perhaps this had bled through to her preconceived notions of his choice in lodging. She expected extravagance and sophistication, but instead found it very uniform-- bare of anything but the essentials needed for his profession. Tragically, her thoughts on the matter immediately circled over options for redecorating this home of his. Not that Rhailo had intentions to share such concepts currently, but they would come as minor tweaks to the drab, isolated atmosphere of a space faring vessel. Their future held endless possibilities. "I guess I hadn't thought about it before." And in such, she admitted nothing of her opinion on the subject. It was filler content at best. A way to avoid offending him, should he choose to find such commentary offensive.

Even in that comfortable embrace, Rhailo was on guard. The farther they flew from her previous home, the more real their circumstances became. Demagol was now in his comfort zone, and the Auroun was a guest within chrome interior-- but for how long was she welcome to stay?

It took a great deal more effort than the woman cared to admit to cease grinding against the hunter's front, and though thin layers of spandex seemed easily bypassed, the ones they wore were a barrier she couldn't bring herself to cross immediately. Almost too aggressively Demagol brought attention to his manhood, and his warmth made the skin exposed on her arms and legs raise attentively. Rhailo swallowed before taking a desperately needed breath, attempting to calm that quivering thrum in the pit of her stomach. "I do not want to be caged." Admitting this wasn't necessary, but it was fact. Whether she enjoyed being cuffed wouldn't be discussed. "But I can share the bed with you if you trust me... I just don't understand what you're hoping to get from me as payment."

Or maybe she did understand, and it was in that way the woman knew there was no backing out of this bargain. Not that it was a bargain in the usual regard, but it certainly didn't feel like slavery. All these preconceived notions were catching up to an overactive mind, and the outcome was surprisingly mundane in retrospect. Not boring, no-- Just ordinary. Comfortable in it's own right. If there was one thing Rhailo sought to find in her endless struggle to be free, it was a sense of calm she could settle in to. Comfort didn't seek out those on the run, but instead eluded their path, and teased them every so often with false havens and brief refuge. Demagol spoke so highly of her, and she didn't think he meant much more with the message other than 'I enjoyed fucking you'. It was what it was. Sometimes, relationships of varying degrees of intimacy started so boldly, and they ended up working out for the better.

Rhailo had yet to be in such a relationship though... Hence she was now receiving kisses to her flushed cheeks by someone she barely knew. Yet, despite everything, it did feel right. Confusing and painful and utterly outrageous, but also very cozy. In honesty, Rhailo could lose herself in this dream if she wasn't careful, and that would put more at risk than herself; that would put the hunter in harm's way.

Sighing softly, her opalescent hues continued dancing shapes through the dark, picturing hunched bodies and sacks of goods they toiled to carry. Silent stories no one else was allowed to know the moral of, shown through eyes few individuals were capable of really appreciating. Rhailo was more than her body, even if she did little to accentuate such facts. Maybe at the corners of her lips, a smile was forming, but it didn't blossom at any hasted pace. Demagol's words were hard to rejoice over, yet a swell of elation rose in her chest as he continued speaking. "I get bored." The images dragged their bags across the ground, now making towards a set of cartoon-y hills depicted as jagged triangles. "You never made shadow puppets as a child?" Slowly her hands, from where they had been idle, rose to shape together an attempt at a rabbit's head.

This shadow paled in comparison to those her eyes created, but the message was clear enough.

"I don't know about that..." Rhailo paused as tightly wrapped curves dragged against the Mandalorian's groin, letting attention linger where her rear cheeks spread for his girth. It was an irritation and a gift. Nothing could cut off her train of thought quite so successfully as having a cock she craved be so close, but kept from her. The Auroun closed her eyes abruptly and inhaled deeply through her nostrils so everything she wished to express wasn't thrown to the wayside for another romp in the sheets. It became a challenge to deny him, and if it meant denying herself, the woman wagered it a possibility. At least for now. Space is what they needed-- Distance between them so it wasn't so inviting to lust after his cock like a pheromone crazed bitch in heat.

"Are you hungry?" Of course, Rhailo was trying to move the topic along, but she was also starving. It had been a day or so since her last meal, and though it seemed strange to have to remind another living being of this sort of basic necessity, Rhailo was at the point of no return in terms of energy stores depleting. The Auroun stopped her squirming against the male just long enough to blink her eyes back open and add, "I'm really hungry... And I want another shower."

Tread Lightly [closed] - Kat - 05-16-2015


[/img]"http://i.imgur.com/FXQBglf.png" style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;]Far be it from Rhailo to consider herself untrustworthy, but the words still brought something akin to shock over pristine features. Even in that present blanket of fatigue, the Auroun exuded an aura which managed to dust away inherent drowsiness in attempt to instill a sense of calm. There was no danger present between their pair, nor had either of them unleashed waves of discontent in hopes of rocking the ship. No, this was tranquil, and Rhailo clung to the wreckage of her previous life like a wayward survivor lost at sea. Did she trust Demagol? What a question to ask-- The answer could be one of many depending on the context... Now she did, in that moment while he pulled away to make towards a kitchen his vocals activated. If it wasn't trust she felt, it was just as delicate and malleable, so whether it would be kept between them depended solely on the Mandalorian's actions in the near future.

After all, actions spoke louder than words. What he said could easily be forgotten in a fit of rage.

A bed felt entirely different when there wasn't another body to share it with. One would do well not attempting to articulate such a feeling, but Rhailo felt it all the same, explanation readily available or not. Obscured oculars blinkered at the paneled segments of the wall, and just as a few meandering shadow shapes drifted over chrome detailing, Demagol was speaking of her options in regards to a shower. Then, abruptly, there said shower was in a bout of technological glory. With a translucent veneer, he would easily be capable of seeing through the clear divider to where the Auroun was if he found himself curious. How crafty of her companion. Opal gaze flickered quickly to the man's back, making out as much of that toned torso as she could from the angle she laid at, until the urge for a shower was too great to ignore. Rhailo buckled so not to seem resistant, though had she been honest, she didn't appreciate being his trophy anymore than she had appreciated being a petty criminal.

One does what they can to survive.

At least at this point, there was a modicum of comfort the two could backtrack to, and fantasized over, and envision to be greater than it may have been previously. His hands had yet to find themselves wrapped around her wind pipe any more, and she wasn't darting through parallel dimensions as a means of losing his attention. If Rhailo could stomach the subtle changes that came attached to living with someone, there was still hope for their blossoming relationship; even if it meant showering in the open with an audience. Rising to her feet, the Auroun glanced around to see if he was truly gone-- To the kitchen or elsewhere, it didn't matter. When it seemed Demagol was assuredly preoccupied in the other room, the woman cleared her throat and began undressing with an inaudible hum teasing her lips.

So far, so good.

But as the clothing was discarded and her shapely figure crossed the threshold between their bedroom and the shower stall, a phantom pain ebbed at the back of her head. Rhailo's eyes widened abruptly while the wall closed her within the stall, mouth slightly agape in question. No... No, this was the worst possible time for something like this to occur. The absolute worst-

<<Rhailosioabhan.>>

"Fuck!" Rhailo cursed softly as water began pelting her face, causing her lids to squint against the pressure. How thoroughly it soaked that buxom shell, she glistened with contained light like an aquatic luminescence one may come across at the bottom of the sea. Another person could find her glow eerie, but it was no more obtrusive to her than freckles might have been. Anomaly's rarely lingered over their uniqueness, and as Rhailo could attest time and time again, she was nothing special among her own kind. Queue in the voice who spoke, who was indeed that special sort, even if they used their obnoxiously long ranged telepathy as a means to bombard a woman while she was naked.

<<Link with me.>> The voice didn't ask; it simply stated that she should do this, and reluctantly Rhailo did so, though it likely looked like she was preoccupied dragging tired digits through milky strands. The struggle to find shampoo was a real one.

<I am busy right now> Rhailo began softly, testing the connection while trying to fight off a relay of static paired with each syllable. Had this particular Auroun not been such an underachiever, her transmission wouldn't sound like the stations one hated ending up on when they tweaked their radio receiver. All scratchy and distorted, she knew a scolding was in order, but it took everything in her power to keep up with her thoughts-- so the quality of her projection was secondary. If the voice on the other end understood, that would be enough for both of them. <Busy in the shower actually. What do you need?>

<<I need to know why you are no longer on Nar Shaddaa>> The voice said in a steady monotone, <<and I thought you would be happier to hear from me.>>

<But I'm not.>

<<Is that so?>>

<Honestly.> Shampoo was finally discovered in her half attentive state, and upon lathering her hair with a thick coating, the woman released a frustrated sigh. Otherwise, all silent on her end. <And I'm in the shower.>

<<Yes. I heard. What shower? Where? Why did you leave the planet?>>

<Well... it's a long story. You know, the sort that involves a great deal of explaining, and I just don't have the time->

The voice, as monotone and steady as it may have been, seemed to raise an octave in response- obviously done to cut her off. This meant her thoughts were quelled in favor of new, stronger inputs from the other entity, and a mind silenced was naturally better at listening. So be it; Rhailo wasn't new to this game.

<<If I have to drag you back there, neither of us will be happy, but my unhappiness will pale in comparison to yours.>>

<Okay! No, I can't. I'm in space. It's still a long story, but there was a bounty on my head, and now there isn't.> Rhailo was blind while her eyes were held firmly shut to keep chemicals from making contact with them, and her patience for rinsing was likely the only thing saving her from stumbling out into the bedroom. It didn't seem all that exciting to whoever was watching, though her bumbling was cute in a way; like how new born kittens bumped into things while they scooted around. Only, Rhailo was an adult woman and her hands were locked on the walls the entire time so not to topple over in this unfamiliar environment. <But I'm fine now. I am, really. Please don't send anyone after me->

Again, Rhailo was cut short mid explanation so the disembodied bully could pelt her with a new set of inquiries regarding the finer details of her excursion. <<Did you run away again? Who is with you?>>

<I had to run, or I would have been caught.> The second question didn't receive such a quick response, which likely meant she was leading herself down a road she hadn't meant to head down. Coming off suspicious would mean she had something to hide, but the Mandalorian wasn't a secret-- Not really. There would be note of his purchase, even if it was held with the S'zari, and Gods help her if the speaker on the other end of the telepathic link found anything involving syndicate records pertaining to the purchase of an Auroun. Rhailo had ONE job, and she fucked it up. Lashes were blinked furiously to test whether the water ran clean of cleanser, and when satisfied, mechanical movements began anew to scrub any filth from her pale flesh.

Running from the S'zari had been messy business in more ways than one.

<I'm with someone, yes, but I don't want to talk about it with you.>

<<Are they dangerous? Why can't you tell me?>>

<Yes. They are. That's why.>

<<I'm not afraid of them.>> The voice said quickly with a whine in the pitch. <<Neither should you be.>>

But if Rhailo was being honest with herself, it wasn't Demagol she was most afraid of in their current circumstances. Rather, the Auroun was settled over what may happen to the hunter if his existence was made known to those seeking her. A life on the run was never a truly peaceful existence. <Please leave me alone, Braxiskroi. I'm fine.>

<<Then why do you worry your blood? I care what happens to you, even if you do not.>>

<I don't mean to worry you. I didn't even know you were free of the scholars.>

<<Well, that is a story for another time, isn't it?>> The voice paused for a moment, leaving static-y silence between their two persons before it asked, <<Are you headed for Ixxin'lo?>>

Rhailo pursed her lips and looked out through the glass as though she could determine just where in space their ship was drifting through. An image of Rhailo projected itself from her person, and much like a ghost in terms of incorporeality, it hovered from the woman towards the room where a navigation console was located. The maps and readings were foreign to Rhailo personally, but the voice on the other end of the link could see them as the spectral copy did, and they seemed confused. After, the copy dissipated from all planes, re-infused with it's maker.

<<So you are near enough to the center, but not headed there? Where are you going?>>

<He didn't say. I don't know if he has a destination yet.>

<<Well, when he does, tell me. I will come. I will not cause problems for you, but I will also ensure you are safe. This is my job. Please don't make my job difficult.>>

<Please don't treat me like a child, Brax... I don't need my brother to be my babysitter.>

<<Then act like an adult. You had a bounty on your head, and now you are running to where? Oh yes. That's right. You don't know where you're going. That sounds like you need as much help as you can get, and a babysitter might be in order. You do not have the freedom to argue this fact any more than I do.>>

<Will it just be you?>

<<I work alone. You know this. One of us needs to be competent, and while you're gallivanting with aliens you don't even have the courage to share the names of, I must uphold my duty. Not to you, but to our kind.>>

<Why does this always turn into a lecture?> Rhailo asked after a moment, rinsing the last of her figure free of suds and soap. <Why can't you just take my word for it?>

<<Because you have lied too many times to have a clean slate in my book, Rhailosioabhan. If it were up to me, you wouldn't be allowed out of the Scholar's sights. It isn't though. So I will come, and I will ensure you are not lying to me, and if I am satisfied, you will be free to enjoy vacations the rest of your family are unable to take. This universe has no place for our kind. You know this. You know this just as well as I do.>>

<But I have made space here.> The water stopped unceremoniously as the silent woman stalked from her lengthy shower with accompanying towel drying silver locks between patting down as much of her form as she could manage while moving. There were no clothes for her to wear, but at least Rhailo could wrap herself in half attempts at modesty. Small blessings in face of very real problems. <I will see you when you decide to come. Be well, Brax.>

<<And you, Rhailosioabhan. We will meet again very soon. This is a promise from the one who never breaks their word. Trust me.>>

<I do.>

A shock of sorts coursed through Rhailo when the link was broken, and she hissed her discomfort before taking a seat on the end of the bed. Perhaps the starlit creature was more stoic than usual, it was hard to say, but her attention directed itself back to the Mandalorian in the kitchen. By now, he was likely done with his preparations, meaning he would return for her company. Beneath all the confusion and worry, Rhailo was growing accustomed to the eagerness thoughts of Demagol brought out in her consciousness. Underlying care for someone she had been adamant about escaping just days beforehand. Why did she want to protect him? Or, a better question-- Would he need protecting?

"Do you have any family, Dema?" The Auroun asked quietly, almost too quietly for her companion to be expected to hear, but Rhailo didn't seem to notice. "Or friends? Do you worry about others when you're working? I think this sort of life could be lonely. I mean, a ship to yourself..." A smile stole her features as she allowed herself to flatten backwards with her legs dangling off the mattress. "Why am I here, Dema? Were you lonely? Am I here to alleviate that loneliness for you?"

Rhailo didn't actually know if his answer would comfort her, but in this frame of thought, she expected it to be an honest response all the same.

"Do you know why I am alone, Dema? Why you found me alone?"