[/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-"
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-"
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I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
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