[/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.
BDRP Admin. Writer. Villain. Personal Blog.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
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