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When I Wake

EverSteam's Avatar

12.09.2012 , 01:55 AM | #231
If you get too excited, Hoyden, you might just get disappointed...

Around midnight...

Second last round. Then, it's the final round. Try not to think about my next opponent. Guess my Voss vision might come true after all.

We are in the middle of a large, broken dance room. The roof is half collapsed and walls are missing. Just another building on Correllia really. The Mando'ad stand around the outside of the oval that has been roughly cleared for the fighting. Some stand on giant piles of wall or sit on large pieces of broken statues. Small fires are splattered around and between spectators.

Torian watches next to Corridan and his friends. Corridan is talking to him, his hand on his shoulder, and his other across his own stomach. Corridan and Torian had just had their bout. Torian was the victor. Pride doesn't begin to express Torian's emotions. But his eyes never leave me. I can feel an unforgiving anger coming from though I'm not the target. Hopefully, I'll get through my entire life without being the object of such raw spite.

And my stern eye lingers on his watching form, I notice Corridan's hand on his shoulder a show of friendship but a restraint as Torian's tense body pulls against it. And seeing him ready to fight for me only makes me want to run to him. Kids just too irresistibly sweet. Guess he's my spice. I only hope I never have to experience the agonizing convulsions from abstinence of my wonderful drug.

I draw my eyes back to my opponent. This tournament isn't to the death. Just until one is knocked unconscious or calls 'kyr'. But accidents do happen... I think with a wry smile as I stare into the pathetic face of Jogo.

Only some Mando'ad enter after every hunt or battle. Those that have no watch duties or are willing to test themselves and their honour. These aren't like normal challenges. Rules are universal. Weapons are chosen by each opponent for their opponent. Classically, sticks are drawn to decide who chooses first. Usually if a person chooses a ranged weapon for their opponent, their opponent does the same for them. Same for melee and hand to hand. Not a written rule. More a matter of unspoken honour.

Any weapon present can be chosen. And there are a lot. Some are new and high tech, others are from ancient civilisations that are gone or merely adapted to the new tech. I couldn't believe some of things they had. Rivalled the collection of my tutors. Lost. But still came close. I doubt any here can fight with even half of them. I can fight exceptionally with half. Decently with almost the rest. And amazingly with a few. Not boasting. Fact. I had my favourites. Seems ludicrous that Mandalorians transport this many weapons with them to every op just for the celebration days. Seems a waste of time and resources. And very presumptuous.

Jogo circles me slowly. I go through the movements as well at first. He moves the large war hammer from side to side. But then I don't move. I close my eye and concentrate on his the sound of his feet. His balance. Breathing. Pulse.

'Come on, Jogo.' I hold out my hand and curl my finger in twice; a blatant challenge to attack. 'Make your move. Make your stand. Make your win. Ha! Like you can.'*

I think I like this way of sorting our differences than a late night ambush. Corridan can't interrupt the inevitable this time.

Jogo only sneers in reply. It twists his stern, plain features into something ugly. He doesn't stand a chance, I think as he readies to attack.

I can feel when he is about make the first move before he does. He takes a step forward and does a practice swing. I jump forward onto my hands, my jump clearing his hammer. Spin around on them like they were feet and I bring my foot down on Jogo's back, and continue the motion, using his back a board for a flip back to land behind his stumbling body. It was only a moment. But the cheers it causes are defeaning.

If my hit had been to his head, he would be dead. There is blood seeping through his practice armour. It is just a layer of hard foam, not durasteel. I wear one similar. I know he won't hit me once. I'm confident and good. Not dumb.

There is a dent from my hit. I am using an ancient weapon. Assassins of old made weapons for the feet they often kept bare. They are pieces of padded metal that span the width of an average foot. On them, at differing intervals, are either long razors or tall spikes similar to spear heads. The weapon is placed between the toes and sits by itself. No need to grip with toes. There can be just five or ten spikes on each. The spikes can stick out from between the toes or up, deadly blades pointing to the sky.

Ten spikes is more flexible. Enables you to kick and do damage in a wider array of kicks. It was used for hand to hand combat, when acrobatics and kicking was as relied upon as much as the use of hands and ranged weapons were rare clumsy things.

I was surprised to see it amongst the weapons of the Mando'ad. I hadn't seen one since I left Tython. They gave me free reign of the weapons and training rooms. I used to train with the weapons in between missions. Was expected. Though that's not why I did it. I wanted to be the best at what I was being forced to do. I wanted to be a master. Perfect. And I wanted the power and skill. Natural for anyone who spent over a decade being defenceless.

I like these particularly. They have an ancient name that is long forgotten and lost. They were called spear toes in basic or at least that was label the Organisation gave them. I thought most of these weapons were buried or lost across the galaxy, or whatever happens to old things. But these are in good condition.

The Mando'ad were surprised when Jogo chose it for my weapon. Almost a dishonourable thing. To some with a stricter code, it was. He didn't know I had mastered such a thing. He just thought it was the hardest and most obscure by far of the weapons. Not sure any of them even knew what they were. So I got my revenge. I chose a war hammer for him; a weapon favoured by races such as Gamoreans that rely on their natural dexterity to other attacks allowing them to fight in close range. And their brute force, of course. They are slow and heavy to wield, not flexible or allowing agility. And weak against attacks that are.

Mando'ad were confused by my choice too: a melee against hand to hand. If you don't know any better, would seem the melee would have the upper hand. Especially if it was a shorter, lighter weapon. As I fight and twirl around his lumbering form, I wonder who his choice was trying to humiliate more: me or Torian. Either way, it isn't happening. If he wants to play, then I will play.

'To take me out you must like a man, Jogo. You've yet to prove that you can,' I taunt as I begin the circling dance again.

'Least I don't fight like a aruetyc moisture farmer, arue'tal riduur,' is Jogo's low reply.

'Is that really how you want to talk to Mandalore's daughter?' I ask mockingly.

He grimaces but doesn't get a chance to respond as I go for a low cut and shallowly cut his ankle. He dodged the worst but the heavy hammer hampered his ability to jump it. However, he loses slight balance but tries to hide the fumble and I take the opening to bring my left fist down on his neck, springing off it land behind him and quickly turn to bring my foot down into his back.

'The flinch in your eyes, calls you bluff,' I call I flip back to stand on my hands.

He growls and clumsily attacks me. I laugh and dodge it easily, provoking him into further rage.

I spin around him, doing flashy acrobatics as he swings and jabs in practiced but slow moves, his cut ankle slowly him down further. I move fluidly and bend in ways most can't. Sometimes, I walk and jump on hands as if they had always been my feet, springing into leaps that jab at his torso, legs, arms and back. At first, they cheered my every hit. An underdog coming up against great odds. Now, they sit in an awestruck silence. They realise he never had a chance.

Torian beams pride under his serious face. He watches me. My every movement. Every part of me as I bend and twist. I am constantly aware of his gaze. He is learning. Wondering. Wanting. Never really extended myself like this in battle for a long time. Don't need to with a blaster. Feels good. Wish it was against a better opponent. Almost makes me miss Tython.

Eventually, I end it. I hit his back again. Hard. He falls to his hands and knees. I twist my out stretched foot so the blades are against the back of his neck. He calls 'kyr.'

Something whispers to me to kill him now. I stare long and hard at the artery on his neck. There is silence in the arena. I look to Torian. He slightly shakes his head.

So I walk. I don't help Jogo to his feet. And we don't shake. I just walk. I won. And he lost in every way imaginable.

I step out into the cool night and move to a dark corner, out of the guards view. I will rest for now. Then, it's the next and final round. Against Torian.

I smile dryly. This will be more than a little interesting.



I stand and stare at the choice of weapons.

I think about what to choose for him. All the while, I listen to him talking to his friends. Jogo has disappeared. I'm not good at 'making friends'. Will try what I've learnt from observation once the drinking starts. It doesn't start until the end of the competition. The winner has the first drink. Not much of a reward, but they see gaining honour and status amongst Mando'ad a reward in itself: testing yourself against your peers and the best a invaluable prize.
Torian has always fought in them. Never won till recently. Only ever got to the second last round. Still pretty good. He was already an exceptional fighter. I just helped him realize his incredible potential.

Not sure what to choose for him if I'm first. Torian has specialised in mle, mainly staffs and other two handed weapons. Choosing this will give myself the highest challenge but might appear like I'm going weak since he's my husband. Also, defeat in a specialised weapon might lower their opinion as it would be expected for a victory or close win. It's a hard choice.

I already decided I would win. That was an easy decision. I tell myself my confidence in a sure win is well placed. His forms aren't perfect yet. But you know he has what you don't.

There would be no real victory or honour for him in me fighting to lose. And he would know. And I would know. He won last time. I still have a place of honour to earn. My other titles only get me so far.

But when it comes down to it, it's so repulsively simple: I like to win. A lot. Nothing else matters.


KimbriOnasi's Avatar

12.09.2012 , 07:22 AM | #232
Quote: Originally Posted by Adwynyth View Post
I loved them both. I like the first kiss scene best, but I adore the part in the second where both draw their blasters and shoot at Skadge.
I loved the kissing scenes. I agree that her taking the initiative makes more sense. Love his passionate response. I do like aspects of the alt version though as well--pulling the guns together on Skadge without breaking the kiss, him pressing her against the wall...

And that you got rid of that soul patch on his chin.

Trying not to rush through this fic too fast. Don't want to run out of posts to read. But can't help it. Sometimes I even forget to breathe while reading, I'm so engrossed.

EverSteam's Avatar

12.09.2012 , 07:20 PM | #233
Quote: Originally Posted by KimbriOnasi View Post
I loved the kissing scenes. I agree that her taking the initiative makes more sense. Love his passionate response. I do like aspects of the alt version though as well--pulling the guns together on Skadge without breaking the kiss, him pressing her against the wall...
Quote: Originally Posted by KimbriOnasi View Post
And that you got rid of that soul patch on his chin.
I know. I love Torian and all but... that needed to go in my opinion.
Quote: Originally Posted by KimbriOnasi View Post
Trying not to rush through this fic too fast. Don't want to run out of posts to read. But can't help it. Sometimes I even forget to breathe while reading, I'm so engrossed.
You just made me so happy I'm speechless...
I'm glad your enjoying it. I enjoy writing it so it makes feel really happy to know when others/that others are enjoying it just as much.


Ok, this is slightly AU because Gault isn't actually back yet but I had to post it and it won't fit in anywhere post end game. Also, since I went more for humour her personality is slightly off twice. Apologies if Gault's ever is as well. I was going to make it Mako instead of Gault but that was too complicated with the whole 'I hate your guts, you man stealing *****' thing happening on both sides. And Blizz wouldn't of worked and let's not even get into why Skadge wouldn't of worked.

I wrote it for the short fic weekly challenge thread for the Zombie Prompt: Hidden Talents but I got too nervous to post it there so I decided to just put it here.

So since it has nothing to do with anything, feel free to skip it. Of course, you know that curiosity will be too strong and you will have to read it, especially now I've said that (it's a Magician's Nephew situation). So enjoy


A bes'bev just seemed like the instrument she would play if she did play an instrument.

Will be posting the BH/Torian fight soon. Look out for it

EverSteam's Avatar

12.10.2012 , 04:32 AM | #234
Early apologies and excuses:

Half an hour later...

We circle each other slowly.

Torian's face is severely stern. Almost a scowl. But not quite. Torian has been catching up to me in competitions. His edge balances my enhancements and leaves us only experience and luck. I must not underestimate him. So I don't laugh or smile. I am as serious as he is. This is not training. And for hopefully the first and last time, he is my enemy.

I will not hold back.

My weapon feels heavy in my hands as I twirl it around my body. Two sticks attached on one end by a short chain. I switch hands and it blurs before the eyes. You must never let the movement stop. It is automatic. I don't look. I just stare long and hard into his eyes. Doesn't hurt to not see love there. Or pride. Or awe. Time for that after.

Torian did not take long choosing. Guess it was a process of elimination; blasters, and other ranged weapons, were out of the question. He knows I have a targeting system, not that I rely on it. Weapons relying on speed and acrobatics were also now a 'no'. That left other melee weapons. Only question was heavy or light, long or short. He went with short and light. Interesting choice for him to make. Far from my favourite weapon. Doubt he knew that though. Proficient but not skilled enough to brag about it.

He chose first. So I was free to choose mle as well. I chose a short pole axe. It has a long head that has been blunted for these tournaments. The head takes half the pole as the bottom of the blade curves down and past the small base to almost touch the pole at the middle point. It can be wielded with two hands or one. I can tell he hasn't used it before. A small advantage.

Eventually, I make the first move. My weapon continues to blur as I quickly twirl them from one side to another. But as I was going to feign one way and then attack on the other, Torian blocks me. Dodges and gets under my defences. He hits my right side. Hard. Mando'ad cheer loudly. I look into his eyes for a split second as I drop into a roll and he passes me. I am shocked and pleased by what I see.

It's satisfaction. It comes from getting a hit, the first hit, that came from a knowledge of me and my fighting. He knew which way I would go before I did. The force of how in sync and how deep our understanding is, is a hard, warm blanket that is uncomfortable but pleasing. It didn't occur to me that since we fight as one and side by side he would know my actions. That I have been training him. A stupid over sight on my part. He isn't a stranger. My blood swirls faster as I think for a moment that he might actually win.

But this can work two ways.

It's his turn to come at me. I dodge and attack before he continues the move. I hit the back his left leg and across his shoulder blades hard.

And then a strange mind game begins as we exchange equal blows. We know the other knows that they can predict what the other might do, so we predict what they will predict based on their first prediction and make a counter attack that they may have predicted the other would make based on the prediction of a prediction of what their attack was. We both take hits. Neither is soft. We aren't holding back.

At some stage, our fight becomes more mental than physically. We watch the subtle shifts of movement and weight and neither ever really begins to make an attack. When we do, it is sudden in an attempt to not be as predictable, to take what small element of surprise there is. The Mando'ad cheer at every hit. I don't know who for. And I don't think they do either. They just like a show.

After a long while when the first signs of Torian tiring are showing, I let my thoughts go. And so does he. We dance an ancient and deadly dance. Everything else melts away. All I hear is his heart and movements. No more cheering Mandos. No walls. Just an infinitely wide space that extends as far as I can imagine. It is only us. He dodges, bends and jumps as I twirl, duck and sidestep, twisting my torso on impossible angles while continuing to twirl my weapon. I don't tire. I'm enjoying this. And I don't want it to end.

The moment I think that, my face yields into a fierce grin an electricity sparks between us. The heated friction of our early spars returns and I feel the same exhilarated glee. Torian looks into my eyes and his lips begin to spasm into a smile while his instincts tell him to frown and concentrate.

I see a break in his defences as his focus falters for a moment. But I don't take it. There will be more to come. I just want to savour now.

But eventually he begins to tire more. I think over an hour has passed. Not quite two. So I end it, before the breaks in his defences become too obvious and the Mando's know I am not taking every hit and victory I can. But more than that, I just don't want this dance and this feeling to end.

Torian jabs to where I had been standing a moment earlier. But I summer salted back then doubly forward to land behind him. I hit his back hard with one of the swinging sticks. Then one leg. And the other.

He coughs and falls to his hands and knees.

'Kyr!' The hoarse word rings through the silence.

I slowly stop the turning of my weapon as he rolls onto his back. I drop my weapon and grin down at him. I hold out my hand.

'Copaani gaan?' Need a hand? He smiles back and nods once. His face is flushed red from the exercise, it makes his pink scars appear like white tridents, and his blue eyes shine. He's so alive.

I pull him to his feet. 'Jate akaanir, ner cabur.' Good fight, my guardian. We cross wrists.

'Vore, Cyare.' And then we kiss. But he breaks away too soon and it leaves me frozen for a moment.

Torian takes a step back from me and holds my dry, right hand in his and raises it above our heads. Suddenly, there are Mando'ad around us in an oval shape and we stand in the centre. My mind is back in the building. Reality has returned but the strange dream dance still lingers, slowly slipping away and leaving me in a world a little less full of life.

The Mando'ad all cheer: 'kandosii!'

We have both earned honour tonight. Corridan brings out a bottle of ale. I scull it down in one and smash it on the ground. The sound is lost amongst the ringing cheers.

'Oya!' I cheer it loud and fierce.

The others reply in a deafening chorus. And in this moment, I know what it is like to feel part of something. Belong to a group of others. It is just a moment. A fleeting thing that will not last till dawn. But it's memory will live with me always.

KimbriOnasi's Avatar

12.10.2012 , 08:33 AM | #235
Question for you. I am on the part of the story where she and Torian are on Voss. She seems more comfortable with him. But when he was removing her shirt the one time, she pulled back, yet after that it almost sounded liked they were rather intimate.
Have they.....yet (at the point that they are on Voss)?

KimbriOnasi's Avatar

12.10.2012 , 01:28 PM | #236
Quote: Originally Posted by MilaniGrey View Post
Om nom nom Torian. I logged in to my BH the other day and just sat on the Fleet, clicking him over and over again, cus lol dat voice. @.@
My favorite is when he comes back and says "Ready"---ooooh so deep and growly. *swoons*

But yeah. I'm guilty of that as well. I REALLY wish we could have more converstaions with the love interests--or even just replay the conversations without having to re-roll. I was taken aback when the last conversation with him was the last conversation.

I still don't like that some sources cite him being 19. So young. But I am feeling a little better, having read more about Mando culture--how their coming of age is at 13 and are generally married at 16. So at 19, no wonder he is a bit defensive about being called "kid." To the Mando's he's an old bachellor.

KimbriOnasi's Avatar

12.10.2012 , 02:02 PM | #237
Quote: Originally Posted by KimbriOnasi View Post
Question for you. I am on the part of the story where she and Torian are on Voss. She seems more comfortable with him. But when he was removing her shirt the one time, she pulled back, yet after that it almost sounded liked they were rather intimate.
Have they.....yet (at the point that they are on Voss)?
Never mind. Apparently they have.
Just read #179 LOVE the conflicts between Torian and Gault--this one and the other that you wrote.

And is it just me, or is protective, aggressive Torian just hot !?

iamthehoyden's Avatar

12.10.2012 , 02:56 PM | #238
I liked the games! No disappointment here! Jogo's an idiot. Good to see him stomped into the ground.

Points for the CoN reference lol.

I love how their fight ends up being a chessmatch, and how neither of them let the other win. Warriors with pride, those two - good stuff
aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?
Fan Fiction: My Name is Solomon Crae The Man in the Box

EverSteam's Avatar

12.10.2012 , 09:52 PM | #239
Quote: Originally Posted by KimbriOnasi View Post
My favorite is when he comes back and says "Ready"---ooooh so deep and growly. *swoons*
Mines 'definetly' and 'with you all the way'. Though 'checking my form?' is good too...
I'm glad I'm not the only one that clicks on companions to listen to them.
Quote: Originally Posted by KimbriOnasi View Post
I still don't like that some sources cite him being 19. So young. But I am feeling a little better, having read more about Mando culture--how their coming of age is at 13 and are generally married at 16. So at 19, no wonder he is a bit defensive about being called "kid." To the Mando's he's an old bachellor.
Yeah, I've read that about Mando's as well but... it is so young! And if he were nineteen there would be an almost ten year age gap between him and my BH and that wouldn't really work. She could never like yet alone love someone that young.
Quote: Originally Posted by KimbriOnasi View Post
Never mind. Apparently they have.
Yeah, I didn't want to describe anything in detail and more just imply (there's a lot of implying on Corellia ) since I thought that might be inappropriate for this forum. Sorry if my implying wasn't strong enough at the start. You will have no doubt later.
Quote: Originally Posted by KimbriOnasi View Post
Just read #179 LOVE the conflicts between Torian and Gault--this one and the other that you wrote.
I'm so glad! I like writing them a lot but sometimes I wonder if I do it too much... I'm strangely addicted to writing about Gault and Gault and Torian conflicts. And I like to write the conflicts for the reason you pinpoint so wonderfully below.
Quote: Originally Posted by KimbriOnasi View Post
And is it just me, or is protective, aggressive Torian just hot !?
Quote: Originally Posted by iamthehoyden View Post
I liked the games! No disappointment here! Jogo's an idiot. Good to see him stomped into the ground.
I love how their fight ends up being a chessmatch, and how neither of them let the other win. Warriors with pride, those two - good stuff

I'm glad you weren't disappointed.


'Your fights were impressive.'

He moves closer. Suddenly, everyone else has left and it is us. And I know what this is. I repel against it. I lose the almost unconscious concentration I had on Torian's distant footsteps and words as he speaks to Corridan of something I can't make out. I can't find them again. The Mando is standing close next to me. He is a hard place and the destroyed wall I lean against is too similar to a rock.

Second day of the celebrations. I had been talking to some of the Mando'ad, trying to 'be nice' and 'make friends'. Seemed to be working. There were about five of them. Two were close to Torian. Remembered all their names though. Always make an effort to remember a name. Though, when your brain is half cybernetics it's not that much of an effort at all...

But suddenly, it was just me and him. Kemba he said his name was. Not sure what clan. And it hit me like a sudden wave: his arousal and his advances. I had ignored them. Thought it might be part of 'being nice'. I don't know how I could be so stupid to try to believe it wasn't Gault's idea of 'making friends'.

Torian had left me to talk to them, whispering something in my ear like 'got to work on something with Corridan.' Wish he was here. Despite our bout, he hasn't calmed down. He saw Jogo a while ago. Torian was quick to advance on him but Corridan was looking out for it and stopped Torian before he even got close. Being denied his confrontation only made it worse.

Normally, I would shoot Kemba where he stood. But that might cause more problems than he's worth. Or I would start a fight. Which I know I could definitely win. So I talk instead, while my mind races for a solution that won't shame Torian. For him, I would do anything. Even be on my best, best, best manners. Didn't really even know I had any to make better. I just thought not shooting people was a good start towards having good manners.

So I shrug. 'Not news to me.' I wish I could turn my back on him. Conversation closed. But I can't. So I just stand up and walk to where the drinks are. I pour myself a new glass. I don't turn and look at Kemba. He followed me.

'Wonder what else about you is impressive.' He stands close behind me. Almost pressing up against me. I side step and turn around to face him. I one of my knives and press it into his side. No one notices. I can be subtle when I want. To everyone else, it just looks like we're standing close and talking. Really close.

'Nothing you'll ever get to see or know. Alive or dead. So usenye.' **** off.

He tries to advance some more while moving around the knife. I don't give him the chance. He speaks basic. 'C'mon, you know you want to. Let me show you what a real Mandalorian can do. Arue'tal can't be much to entertain.'

I sneer. 'More than you'll ever be able to. So ne shab'rud'ni'. I press my knife harder. So don't mess with me.

He tries to hold my arm and move it away from him. Though his grip is strong, I am able to break from it and my knife back to his side. I move my hand other to his neck.

'I said. ****. Off.' No one insults my arue'tal. There is only one thing I want more than to cut off his dick at this moment. And it is the one thing stopping me.

Kemba doesn't get a chance to reply. Someone pushes him into the makeshift table. My knife cuts into Kemba's side. I look at the person. And my figurative heart stops.


Torian's eyes are filled with pure hatred and rage as he pauses at my side, coldly looking me over to see I'm ok. I sneer at Kemba. He has a hand to his side and blood is seeping through the cracks between his fingers. He is furious. And tries to straightens but it tears the cut open more. I hold up my knife wrist and twist it so the blood catches the light. But this is not my fight anymore.

Torian advances on him. Kemba tries to play tough some more. But doesn't try to straighten. 'Should keep your **** on a shorter leash, arue'tal.'

Torian's punches come hard and fast. Each is an electricity charge through me. I feel a strange, strong thrill. Watching Torian is more satisfying than doing it myself. A thousand times more satisfying.

Torian stops when Kemba falls to the ground. Torian looks down at him. I can hear a thousand retorts going through his mind as his body shakes with heavy breathing and fanatical, scorching rage. But he doesn't speak. He doesn't need to. He spits in Kemba's face and turns to me, taking a few steps closer. We look in each other's eyes and have a silent conversation.

'You ok, Cyare?' He reaches his hand out and touches my shoulder softly.


'Sorry I left you.' His hand tightens on my shoulder. I don't think him being there would have changed anything. I wasn't really the target of Kemba's advances. These days have made me understand how much Mando'ad will hate someone whose related to a traitor.

'Don't worry, it's ok, ner cabur. I had it under control.' I motion to my knife.

'I know. He's an idiot.' Torian jerks his head in the direction of the bleeding Mando.

I raise my left eye brow. 'You didn't already know that?'

'No.' Torian shakes his head slightly.

'Know now. Thanks for coming.' I give him a small smile.

He nods and then looks to Corridan. I suddenly realise most have stopped talking and are looking at the scene we must be making. They all glance at Corridan. He is looking serious. Eyes subtly shifting from us to Kemba.

Corridan motions to Kemba with his hand and grins. 'Ori'buyce, kih'kovid.' All helmet, no head.

There are some cheers that go up around the room.

Torian is beaming beside me. Strong, angry, proud. But then I lose sight of him in the crowd that rushes around him. I'm happy for him. But a little sad for me. Been left in the cold too many times in the past. I didn't want this dream to end.


'Never showed me how flexible you were before.' Torian's breath is warm on my continually cold skin. It makes my neck ache in longing.

I smile into his neck. 'Got to have some secrets.' He stiffens a little. Arms slightly more rigid. I make a sound like a giggle. 'Surprises. I mean surprises.' I laugh as he relaxes.

'Let's find somewhere more private. Show me some more surprises,' he comments back, taking my hand and leading me away.

Torian takes me out of the main body of the camp and into a secluded abandoned house. He moves behind me and gently ties a piece of blue silk around my eyes, careful to make sure I can't see anything. I shiver and resist the instinct to turn and pin him to the ground.

He takes my hand and leads me into the house.

'Stand here,' he quietly calls, excitement lacing his voice.

I nod an assent and I don't move. I hear him move about the room and smell tiingilar and tihaar.

'Can remove it now,' he says from across the room after a few minutes.

I slowly remove it and I stand still for many moments in shock of how my suspicions and imagination fall so far short of reality. Torian stands on the other side of the room and I can only stare at him for many moments before looking around the small room.

He stands in a clean black shirt and pants, no armour in sight. He holds out to me a white flower and gazes at me with smouldering eyes. I glance around the room and see tihaar and tiingilar on a low table surrounded by blankets for seats. The moons let in a little light and the rest is from many small lanterns that litter most horizontal surfaces.

When I don't move, Torian takes a step closer, a look of worry passing across his face. I smile and run to him. I kiss him deeply and take the flower from his hand before he can crush it against me. He wraps his arms around me, his hand pressing into my lower back and his other against my neck to stop me from breaking away. His gentleness disappears.

'Only yours Torian,' I manage to mumble in between kisses as Torian refuses to let me go. He only nods and keeps kissing me.

'As you should be,' he finally replies aggressively before kissing me again. I raise an eyebrow at this but he doesn't notice. I don't mind in this moment.


A week or so later...

Tormen calls.

The sound of my holo makes my blood rush faster and the memories of everything we are doing and why come back. For these few days with the Mando'ad, I forgot everything else. And I became part of something more and separate from everything in my past.

But the Mandalorians are preparing to leave. Got a new target. Will be gone in three days. Torian is somewhere with Corridan. They've been with each other in spare moments. Haven't asked what they're doing. I don't keep Torian on that short of a leash. He does the same. No questions asked. Guess this is what trust is.

It gives me time to train alone. Relatively alone. No matter where I go with selected weapons from their stores for the competition, I seem to end up with half the camp watching and almost all the camp when Torian and I train together. But I ignore them and enjoy the free movements of these weapons. I have missed this. And that is a strange, horrifying thing.

Sometimes, if I feel like it my eyes will see a Mando in the crowd and I will beckon them over. I will give them the weapon and show them some basics. Only do it if they have the right spark in their eye; if the weapon calls to them; if a weapon suits them; if it is made to reflect them in every way possible beyond physical. I know what it's like to feel such a connection. It's like it completes a part of you you didn't even know was there, let alone imperfect. It makes you whole and undamaged. And when you use it... it's like freedom. An indescribable, liberal bliss.

I back flip over and over away from my opponent to the holo, wiping my brow as I answer. I don't know why I do. I don't sweat. Another pointless learned behaviour through observation and expectation that I can't break. I guess each movement makes me feel a little more human.

We have the information from Seros' datapad as they've finally decoded it. Tormen sends me coordinates and the plan for boarding the Chancellors ship. Standard boarding procedure with only a few extra twists. Nothing too hard.

I call Torian. He is shirtless and sweating. There's something dark smudged on his face. His hair is swept back and sticking on ends in many places. A wave of lust goes through me but it doesn't remove the odd feeling in my stomach.

I keep my face impassive as I report the news. I want him ready to leave within the hour. It's time for vengeance. I don't think I could make a mightier blow against the Republic.

And that is a sweet, sweet thing.



iamthehoyden's Avatar

12.10.2012 , 10:24 PM | #240
Ok, Torian defending her there - hot. Definitely.
aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?
Fan Fiction: My Name is Solomon Crae The Man in the Box