[/img]"http://i.imgur.com/FXQBglf.png" style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;]What Demagol said concerning the deceased wasn't taken lightly. If anything, it made all those back burner thoughts more pressing; heavy on her conscious. To lose all those people, what had that done to the Mandalorian? How does one change in the face of such immeasurable loss? Rhailo had no means to compare her own woes with his, and it stung realizing this, as it meant what she didn't like admitting. Her problems paled in comparison to those of other races, of other worlds. Her freedom was attainable even in that ship, despite whatever measures her companion could take to isolate her, and they both knew it. There was no cell in this galaxy capable of keeping a desperate Auroun from making a run for it-- So, problems suddenly became ignorant complaints. Milky orbs continued to flash shapes towards the ceiling, though what whimsy and mirth had been shared in them was extinguished in favor of dark, amorphous blobs.
This wasn't the best time to mention Braxiskroi.
Without realizing it, her features wore a worried expression. Had she been more presently concerned, such a thing would be shifted to that harsh neutral visage she had found useful in the company of sorrow, but perhaps Demagol needed to see her care. To show it wasn't a crime, and it wasn't pity behind her gaze. No, it was more akin to longing. Somehow, she would ease his troubled mind without ever setting out to do so. It was just the way of things. Either she would make him better, or she would make her worse, in which case she would very quickly become scarce. A bad memory. Another runaway. Rhailo had been running so long, this didn't even seem problematic to their overall hopes. Knowing when things were over was part of her cooperative nature, and kicking the dead horse in hopes of reviving it was beneath her. Tears would be shed if reason arose.
Until then, maybe they would pretend to like one another. His tone, that low pitch peppered with absolutes, made her uneasy.
"Right." Rhailo murmured softly, dreaminess dashed in wake of the topic. Now she sounded empty. Drained. "Silly of me to ask."
---
<<Rhailosioabhan!>> The voice connected to her cerebral channel barked angrily, <<GET MOVING!>>
And she moved. Ran, actually. A sprint, a dash, a darting stride that led her through the winding stalactite treeline that dipped with small hills and downed crystal shards. Everywhere, energy signatures forced from the misty ether, creating bodies that immediately played chase after the woman. Countless figures, assembled to look like familiar members of the council, made for the woman where she was headed. Rhailo could remember screaming when hands made near grabs at her appendages, at her hair, but she didn't stop running.
On the horizon, through the thick stalks of rock fixtures, was the checkpoint.
<<FASTER! FASTER!>>
And then, from behind, a tackling body brought her down. Hard. Right into the dirt so her front skidded rough along the earthy dusts until both of their figures came to an abrupt halt.
<<Another fail! Release Rhailosioabhan Taicho Destros from simulation.>>
Bloodied and battered, Rhailo was forgotten as the army of clones dissipated back to their perspective owners.
Strike one.
---
"I can do that."
"Only, you haven't yet, so maybe you can't." Rhailo's mother, C'aneleste, shrugged her shoulders. "Why do you care anyway? This is a man's field of work, and you are no man. You can't keep up with Braxiskroi. Why not look into the arts? Music? Divination? A skill to find a mate?" A chuckle followed, though it was obviously made at Rhailo's expense. "There are opportunities available to you if you will just set your standards slightly lower-"
"I CAN do it, and I'm tired of hearing I can't. Brax has scholars teaching him, so of course I can't learn at the same pace. Of fucking course I'm at a disadvantage, but like, do you really want to sell me off like some fucking pet?" Angrily Rhailo rose, her unfinished meal pushed away. "There is nothing wrong with me. I can do it."
"Have you no respect for our wishes?" C'aneleste chided with a huff. "Your father worked a lifetime to ensure you would be safe. This planet is our home, Rhailosioabhan. You have no reason to leave, and even if you could, where do you plan to go? You know the rules for traveling. You know just why we're here, and why this place cannot be found! Why are you so sure you wish to leave? This is all you know. Stories, myths about other planets-- For Gods and house, Rhailosioabhan, none of it is true! It's dangerous work!"
"But... But you think Braxiskroi can work off planet?" There was a pause between them as the tension grew. "You think he is capable, but I'm not."
"Because he is different."
"NO! HE ISN'T! He is my twin! We are the same! If I had his opportunities, I would show you!" Rhailo's hand shot out, and from the force of the shockwave, their dining room table crashed sideways; contents spilling across crystal inlaid flooring. "I fucking hate it here, Mesmurr, and I'm not going to stay where I'm treated like less!"
C'aneleste didn't speak. Not to stop Rhailo from tantruming, nor to keep her daughter from leaving the room. Long ago, hope had been given up on the fiery youth.
Strike two.
---
"I can get you off planet-"
"STOP! STOP! PLEASE!"
Two bodies lay on the floor, the darkness betrayed by their glowing skin. Both Rhailo's thighs were spread while her arms were secured above her head. A larger figure kept her pinned, and she cried. Gods, she cried more than she had ever cried before. Invasive lips shut her up when they weren't speaking lies. Even with one of her eyes swollen, the woman could make out grinning incisors between thin stretched lips. Mocking her. A society personified, laughing in her face while he fucked her.
"You're so fuckin' tight, I wish I had done this sooner... All that bullshit you promised me, all those hours I listened to you bitching about your fucking family. All worth it. All of it, you fucking slut-" His hips bucked hard enough to knock her against the flooring, the blood from her nose streaming; collecting in a pool to the side her face was turned. The hand at her throat didn't seem to want to release it's grasp, and air was struggled over. "Gasp for it. Better yet, beg me for it. Beg me to let you live, Rhailo."
"Arstasiz-" Rhailo choked out with a sob, her lids shutting so she needn't see this cruelty. "Please let me go.."
CRACK!
All at once, her attacker slumped into her bruised body, a dead weight crushing her chest-- But his hand relinquished with that lack of control, and Rhailo was free to steal desperate gulps of oxygen for the time being. A shadow fell over both of them, standing as a sihlouette so she couldn't quite make out who loomed above. In her state, addled from abuse, she could only assume one of the guards had caught the incident on the data feeds. But then the one above them spoke, and a wash of shame surrounded her already dismal circumstances.
"Rhailosioabhan." In that announcement, Braxiskroi made it clear who had come to her aid. "You were supposed to be at the range."
How cold he sounded before his arms lowered to throw Arstasiz's body from atop his sister. Rhailo was shaking, distraught, and somehow felt to blame. How cruel. "I was going..."
"I see." In another fluid motion, Rhailo was lifted from the tiles and inspected, both her twin's hands keeping her steady at the shoulders. Her clothing was ruined, her body a display of physical traumas she couldn't bring herself to acknowledge. Mentally, she was trying to push it away-- All of it needed to be forgotten as quickly as was possible. "Come. I will take you home. We will..." His brow furrowed while he glanced her over quickly, "Can you stand?"
Rhailo tried, and despite the screaming pain between her thighs, she managed to do it for him. "Yes."
Braxiskroi removed his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, and then tugged the tatters of her skirt back down to maintain some sense of modesty between them. With this done, her appearance wasn't entirely obvious in what had happened, which would earn less backlash towards their journey home. Even so, Rhailo felt the tears as they came, warm reminders; paired with pain of several kinds. Her brother let his hands fall to his sides, defeated. "I feel what you are feeling."
"I know." Rhailo said weakly, sniffling. "I'm sorry."
"Not as sorry as I am." Brax commented before sucking down a few gulps of air to keep himself deadpan. "What can I do?"
"For me, or for you?" There was a hint of scorn attached to her question, but she couldn't help adding quickly, "Is he dead?"
"No." Braxiskroi cast a disappointed look towards the downed Auroun curled into a ball where he had been tossed. "But he will wish for such luxuries when I am done with him." His chin tipped towards the doorway, off to the hall of the library. "Stand outside."
"But, you can't just-"
"Go."
And, though uncertain of the morality of what was occurring, Rhailo did what she was told. Strangely, after what felt like forever in the hallway with the only sounds being tortured cries from her once attacker, the woman felt immense relief. Whatever her brother had done to Arstasiz had obviously been enough to flood her twin with such an emotion, and it spilled over to Rhailo, leaving her aches secondary in wake of their small victory. Soon after, Braxiskroi emerged covered in blood, but smiling. Their pair left the library in this state, back to their quiet home in the cubed city, with Rhailo leaning into her twin for support.
The trust they shared was earned.
Strike three.
---
Rhailo rose to sit up and do as she was told, taking one of the plates and it's accompanying cup, though the contents of the plate were not what she had expected. Maybe in her mind, she saw Demagol as less well rounded and more straight forward. The fact he didn't just shoot up with protein boosters and capsuled nutrients was refreshing, though caught her off guard. Hesitantly, the Auroun poked at the fruits before taking one of the apple chunks to sniff. Held there, it was investigated with prodding of her tongue, but it seemed safe and was eventually bitten into. Her silence wasn't intentional, but she rarely had someone to speak with over meals. Rarer still was there someone she wished to speak with at any real length. Her gaze didn't rise from the food while it was pushed around, nor did her commentary come until half the contents of the plate were hastily devoured.
"I'm sorry." A simple start to her explanation. "For your loses. I don't know those sort of loses. I don't know what I would do if I had to deal with them..." But this wasn't entirely true. After all, all those past friends and lovers were nothing more than crimson smears across the backdrop of her life. Rhailosioabhan Taicho Destros was a woman coated in the blood of those too blind to see the danger in her company. "We don't have to talk about it. I'm sorry I said what I said. I didn't know." More food would be picked at, dissected, and eventually eaten so there was no reason for Demagol to think she didn't appreciate what he had done for her. It wasn't a bad meal, just eaten in a melancholy mindset.
Memories were baggage she was stuck saddled with even after all her belongings and connections were thrown to the wind. How cruel.
"I was alone because I can't hurt anyone when I'm alone." The barest smile crossed her lips as she looked to the Mandalorian, though buried pain always found a way to display it's presence in her opal hues. A sadness she could never shake. "I still have family... I have ones who care to some extent. Only one of them matters to me, but he isn't aware of my situation with you, and would worry more if I told him the story. Family always worries, yes? He is family, and in such, he worries. He's made it his duty." Finished, the plate was set on the side of the bed away from the pair, and she took a few sips of water before the glass was placed there with it.
"My brother will come for me. He loves me." Only then did the smile seem genuine, and only there did relief find a home in her chest where her heart rattled with past woes. "Maybe in time, he could love you too. See you as family. You saved me, you know... You aren't the villain in this story. You don't have to be, at least." Freed hands were now able to find a place on Demagol's thigh, soft and cautious, as she didn't know how he would react to this admittance. Fear never truly left their company, even if it was only hers to claim. At least she had that left to her name; fear of reactions from a stranger. The hands suddenly recoiled to rest in her lap.
"Thank you for saving me. For taking me off Nar Shaddaa. For dinner."
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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