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10.27.2012 , 06:43 PM |
Miriah and Corso, no spoilers
“Corso, when you look at me, what do you see?” Miriah asked her first mate. They’d been together on the ship and off for a couple of months now, and she had noticed that he was very attentive to her and tried to help whenever possible. She also suspected he had started to have other feelings for her, and she wanted to put a stop to that.
Corso stammered, blushed, and looked for a graceful exit, but eventually coughed and said, “I see a smart, capable freighter captain. Why, you confused by that hit on the head you took earlier?” He looked directly at her then, concerned for her wellbeing.
“No, I’m fine,” she told him, staring at the stars streaking past the ship as they hurtled toward their next mission. After a few minutes had passed in silence, she tried again. “I meant, I know that you see what I do, but do you see me? As a person?”
Corso paled, had she somehow heard about his dreams? No, he thought, there’s no way she would know about that. He’d tried to hide his feelings for weeks now, and thought he was keeping things under control. He’d not said anything when she’d flirted with anything that moved on Nar Shaddaa, and just looked away. He’d also refrained from touching her when she’d had nightmares, since they spent a couple of nights sharing quarters in the field. He broke from his reverie to answer her. “I see someone who is independent and confident, loves kids and tries to do the right thing,” he said, looking at his boots. She accepted his answer and sat, silent. After a couple of hours, with her barely moving and remaining silent, he finally spoke. “I’m going to bed, Captain, unless you need me to do anything else?”
She looked at him and he realized she looked lost, the chair swallowing up her small frame and the muted lighting making her silver eyes shimmer. “No, Corso, rest well.” She sighed, and shifted slightly in her chair. He really doesn’t see the true me, she thought, the person who is so flawed that not even her mother loves her. The person whom everyone leaves, eventually. The woman who flirts and puts on a front so that no one can get close enough to see the cracks in her façade. She sighed and hugged her knees. He’s infatuated with an image, that’s all. That should be a good thing, she thought, but had to take a few deep breaths to keep the tears at bay. If that’s a good thing, then why does it hurt so bad?
She sat in that position, finally falling asleep after a bit, hidden in the disguise she’d spent years perfecting- the flirt who never followed through, the captain who always found a way to get a mission done, the woman who loved but hid it, since too many times it had been thrown in her face.
Love is the strongest magic of them all.