Demagol's lack of words was entirely uncomfortable, and in the time it took for him to carry her from the shower to the bed, Rhailo silently prayed he hadn't planned to do anything rash. No swipe or jab. No slap. No punch, or kick, or maiming blow. Again, the fear ballooned in that buxom figure until she regretted ever breathing a word his way. Mostly, the Auroun wished she had never met him. If she could take back all those desperate acts that lead her down a path of self destruction, she would've kept her nose clean and her head down. Sadly, even the most skilled Auroun couldn't backpedal through time, and that certainly meant Rhailo was stuck with the decisions she had made in her reckless youth. But, in some sense, those very decisions were the foundation for who the hunter had chosen to save, and those glimpses into his personality weren't entirely lost. At times forgotten, but clearly planted in the back of the woman's mind.
Gods, she wanted to sleep.
Barely present where she had been placed, Rhailo watched him slip back into his undergarments, mesmerized. He was so mechanical in motion, one might question the integrity of his body. Did he harbor synthetic parts? Was he more than just a man in a suit? Shifting, the Auroun brought the covers down and slipped beneath them so her long legs could be stretched without attention returning to them. As awful as it showed signs of being, Rhailo would rather he cover his goods and keep his space, if only to allow her thoughts to stay unclouded. Pretending she was invisible had always worked for her in the past, as she could actually become invisible in some sense of the term, but the Auroun was drained. The burden of over expending energy made her feel like she had been awake for a week, and there wasn't a muscle in that shapely shell that wasn't screaming.
It was such a great and overwhelming wall of fatigue that she didn't even acknowledge the clothing he set out for her. Tears had collected on her lashes, warm and harsh, their travels leading them in a steady flow down her still reddened cheeks. Crying sometimes helped take the edge off the pain, after all. Sometimes. Now it just added a whole new level of vulnerability into the mix. One arm wrapped over her stomach while the other was brought to mask her vision; to hide the flow of emotion he had no right to see. Rhailo didn't care if he was her owner. There was no man in their whole deity forsaken universe that had any sway over what she did on a basic, biological level. If she meant to cry, so be it. That was between her and the spirits.
Unfairness over clothing was near laughable, but she didn't even react in such a way. Just laid there on the far side of the bed, masked beneath splayed fingers.
Mattress movement was really the only way she could tell he was close, and it immediately caused a tension in her spine. There was no way she could get away farther away from Demagol in the bed, so she remained where she was. Still as a statue, wishing to disappear. When the Mandalorian was settled, he spoke, and in such, Rhailo listened. Every word of it scrutinized by a woman too heartbroken to cope, and too worn out to fight. She bore a face of silent apathy, yet still the tears came, disregarding of whether she cared to continue pouting or not. Nothing for him, that was what he pressed with his message. The woman wasn't a slave-- but she had no freedoms either. In truth, Rhailo had nothing. Not even the peace of mind death brings. So when he finished with the additional quip of disregard, this didn't seem to surprise her. Rather, it cemented what she had already presumed true.
Demagol didn't care. Not for her, and not for what he had done.
The S'zari would probably receive her in the morning through a courier, though with how the hunter worked, he might just walk the Auroun through their front doors at high noon and dump the bounty at their feet. What a hero he must have felt he was, picking up a woman known for her debts. How this Mandalorian must've gotten such a stiff cock over the thoughts of her in chains, forced into servitude until her appearance was unsatisfactory to their standards. At that point, the cartel would end her, and feed the scraps to the other slaves. In that brief glimpse at possibilities, a frown twitched at the corner of her lips. With a sudden motion, Rhailo turned away from Demagol to face the wall where they had broken through the window, and seemed perfectly content never to meet his unmasked face again.
"Whatever you say." In a hoarse whisper, the Auroun spoke. "I don't care anymore. You... Just, I don't care. Just leave me the fuck alone. I don't need your fucking pity clothing, and I don't need any of your bullshit excuses. Why would I ever believe someone who kills for credits? You've gotta be fuckin' delusional." A cold laugh sprung from her throat, hollow of any true amusement. "Just wake me up when we're headed for the S'zari, okay? Until then, I don't wanna talk to you. I have nothing to fuckin' say." And with that, as best she could with so little of the bed available to her, Rhailo brought her knees up to her chest to hug. Maybe he would respect her wishes and allow her to sleep-- Or maybe he would attempt to smother her with a pillow. Rhailo honestly thought that was a better option available to her; Preferable to being turned in to those seeking her head.
Fucking piece of shit bounty hunter ruined her life, and all she got was an 'I don't care'. Yeah. She heard him. Loud and clear.
Gods, she wanted to sleep.
Barely present where she had been placed, Rhailo watched him slip back into his undergarments, mesmerized. He was so mechanical in motion, one might question the integrity of his body. Did he harbor synthetic parts? Was he more than just a man in a suit? Shifting, the Auroun brought the covers down and slipped beneath them so her long legs could be stretched without attention returning to them. As awful as it showed signs of being, Rhailo would rather he cover his goods and keep his space, if only to allow her thoughts to stay unclouded. Pretending she was invisible had always worked for her in the past, as she could actually become invisible in some sense of the term, but the Auroun was drained. The burden of over expending energy made her feel like she had been awake for a week, and there wasn't a muscle in that shapely shell that wasn't screaming.
It was such a great and overwhelming wall of fatigue that she didn't even acknowledge the clothing he set out for her. Tears had collected on her lashes, warm and harsh, their travels leading them in a steady flow down her still reddened cheeks. Crying sometimes helped take the edge off the pain, after all. Sometimes. Now it just added a whole new level of vulnerability into the mix. One arm wrapped over her stomach while the other was brought to mask her vision; to hide the flow of emotion he had no right to see. Rhailo didn't care if he was her owner. There was no man in their whole deity forsaken universe that had any sway over what she did on a basic, biological level. If she meant to cry, so be it. That was between her and the spirits.
Unfairness over clothing was near laughable, but she didn't even react in such a way. Just laid there on the far side of the bed, masked beneath splayed fingers.
Mattress movement was really the only way she could tell he was close, and it immediately caused a tension in her spine. There was no way she could get away farther away from Demagol in the bed, so she remained where she was. Still as a statue, wishing to disappear. When the Mandalorian was settled, he spoke, and in such, Rhailo listened. Every word of it scrutinized by a woman too heartbroken to cope, and too worn out to fight. She bore a face of silent apathy, yet still the tears came, disregarding of whether she cared to continue pouting or not. Nothing for him, that was what he pressed with his message. The woman wasn't a slave-- but she had no freedoms either. In truth, Rhailo had nothing. Not even the peace of mind death brings. So when he finished with the additional quip of disregard, this didn't seem to surprise her. Rather, it cemented what she had already presumed true.
Demagol didn't care. Not for her, and not for what he had done.
The S'zari would probably receive her in the morning through a courier, though with how the hunter worked, he might just walk the Auroun through their front doors at high noon and dump the bounty at their feet. What a hero he must have felt he was, picking up a woman known for her debts. How this Mandalorian must've gotten such a stiff cock over the thoughts of her in chains, forced into servitude until her appearance was unsatisfactory to their standards. At that point, the cartel would end her, and feed the scraps to the other slaves. In that brief glimpse at possibilities, a frown twitched at the corner of her lips. With a sudden motion, Rhailo turned away from Demagol to face the wall where they had broken through the window, and seemed perfectly content never to meet his unmasked face again.
"Whatever you say." In a hoarse whisper, the Auroun spoke. "I don't care anymore. You... Just, I don't care. Just leave me the fuck alone. I don't need your fucking pity clothing, and I don't need any of your bullshit excuses. Why would I ever believe someone who kills for credits? You've gotta be fuckin' delusional." A cold laugh sprung from her throat, hollow of any true amusement. "Just wake me up when we're headed for the S'zari, okay? Until then, I don't wanna talk to you. I have nothing to fuckin' say." And with that, as best she could with so little of the bed available to her, Rhailo brought her knees up to her chest to hug. Maybe he would respect her wishes and allow her to sleep-- Or maybe he would attempt to smother her with a pillow. Rhailo honestly thought that was a better option available to her; Preferable to being turned in to those seeking her head.
Fucking piece of shit bounty hunter ruined her life, and all she got was an 'I don't care'. Yeah. She heard him. Loud and clear.
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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Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:27 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:30 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:38 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:40 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:41 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:42 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:44 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:46 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:47 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:49 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:50 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:52 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:52 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:54 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:55 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:56 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:58 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:59 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:00 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:01 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:02 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:03 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:03 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:04 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:05 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:07 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:07 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:09 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:10 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:13 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:13 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:15 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:17 AM