Leave a “Love Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a fluffy drabble about our characters. @fyrencwaeth
“I fail to see how exactly this is a bonding experience!” Shaak shouts as she ducks yet again, silently praying to the Force that the bit of makeup she had on wouldn’t begin to run with the sweat beading on her forehead.
It wouldn’t be the first time Tol’s idea of a good time had directly clashed with hers, in this case, what was meant to be a quiet dinner out had turned into a full-fledged fire fight, with Shaak hiding behind an upturned table cursing herself for not bring her lightsabre along. She was horrendous with a blaster, enough so that Tol had given up on teaching her and just laughed.
“Ah, c’mon Shula,” He called with a fierce grin as he took out a few men with the blasters he duel-weld with terrifying precision. The name is a call to when they first met on Nar Shaadaa, and changes her emotions from frustrated to amused as he calls back again, “Don’t tell me this isn’t exactly what you thought would happen!”
“Perhaps not,” Shaak calls back, just holding back a laugh, “But I had hoped for a mellower evenin--”
Her words are cut off as he takes his eyes off the prize for half a second, catching a blaster shot to the arm - she’d later realize it was the same arm she had injured when they first met - and he fell back. Not terribly injured, but there was blood, and she felt her heart drop into her stomach at the sight. The onslaught doesn’t stop there, there’s another hit to his torso, but the armor he wore protected him from that. This time.
Shaak doesn’t even give their opponents a chance. She stands upright, the silver-grey dress she was wearing clinging to her in all the right places, falling loosely to mid-thigh and showing off some superbly muscled legs. She throws her hands out in-front of her, an invisible wave billowing out from her and throwing them all back into the wall, knocking them out cold.
With the immediate threat removed from the picture, it takes very little for Shaak to lift Tol into her arms, despite his protests, and carry him from the little cantina. She fixes him with a glare, and he shuts right up, letting her take him to the apartment where they always meet. It takes a few minutes, with some interested looks from passerby, to get there, but not long for him to relax into her arms. She knew he would deny it if asked, but he definitely nuzzled into her shoulder.
She makes quick work of fixing him up, bandaging his arm with practiced precision. Her eyes are tired, old even, she can feel it. Tol knew better than to speak first when Shaak was quietly furious like she was now. He knew better than to think it was his fault. She sighed, unwrapping her lekku where they were pulled away from her front, and when her violet eyes meet his they’re shining with tears.
“Tol, I... I can’t keep doing this,” She says her voice quiet while she looks at her hands, “I... I can’t keep coming this close to loosing you.”
He opens his mouth to speak, but Shaak cuts him off, “I don’t care if you were wearing your armor. What if..... What if next time you don’t have your armor? What if next time they get lucky and find one of these?” Her finger traces one of his tattoos, “What... what if next time you don’t skate by and I really do loose you?”
She’s a terrible Jedi. And, although she managed to curb the tears, everything in her heart is screaming at her to get out now, while she still can. To not form an attachment deeper than it already is. To not name it and move on, before she falls to a side of the Force that, quite frankly, scares her.
She doesn’t realize she hasn’t spoken any more, her fingers just tracing along his tattoos. Tol doesn’t say anything, but he pulls her into the tightest hug she has ever been in, in the entirety of her life. She refuses to let herself go, she refuses to let herself feel anything.
Anything more than his arms around her, and the warmth he provided.
In this moment, all she wanted was to be there with him, in one piece.
SEND A 🍷 FOR MY MUSE TO SHOW UP DRUNK AT YOUR MUSE’S DOOR.
Bad decisions were made. Well, decisions she would pay for in the morning were made. Her bare feet are slightly unsteady beneath her as she makes her way across the street, carefully avoiding other passerby, not caring if they see on of the Jedi High Council members drunk off her ass. The stripes of her lekku are more green than blue from the alcohol coursing through her system, as if the stifled giggle fits aren’t enough to give that fact away. The more puzzling fact is why she’s stumbling to this… friend’s particular residence. There are better people she could go to, more upstanding citizens to say the least. People who haven’t broken more laws than years they’ve been alive. It’s a thought that vanishes as soon as the door is opened at the request of her finger on the buzzer, and her lips curl back in a toothy, giddy, very much inebriated grin. “Tol,” She says, dragging out the ‘L’ at the end a little longer than necessary, playing with the feel of his name on her tongue, “Fancy seeing you here.” The words slur together as she leans on the door frame, poking him with one finger and trailing it down his chest.
There was, admittedly, a part of her that had always enjoyed the hot and cold nature of their relationship. She’d never been fond of men who were docile or submissive. As much as she disliked arrogant men like Tol, they also had a bad habit of being the only ones who could stoke her fire.
But-- their taciturn romance had been a long time ago, and if he was trying to win her back, this was the wrong move to make. She struggled against his grip, sinking her teeth hard into the soft flesh of his lip-- hard enough to make him BLEED, hopefully.
The rumors about Nar Shaadaa had not been softening the reputation of this world. Every words had been true, every story about this wretched hive of scum and villainy had a basis of truth, she could see that much now.
One arm is wrapped in a makeshift sort of sling, held tight to her as she weaved through the crowd in this cantina. A slight miscalculation had her closer to a table than intended, and bumped her arm against it. She hissed, wincing and baring pointed teeth for a half a moment as she glanced around.
Those vulture droids had gotten lucky, catching her unsuspecting on the edges of a battle now long over, with the Republic forces little more that victorious and the Separatists beaten - for now. The only problem now was the lack of transport, seeing as hers was in a smoking pile of rubbish at the edge of the urban sprawl, no doubt being picked apart by scavengers at this very moment.
Her lightsabre weighed heavily at her waist while she slid into an open seat at the bar, speaking indirectly to the Chiss on her left.
“I understand you have been known to offer transportation to those in need.” She says, nodding in thanks as the barkeep placed a glass of an amber colored liquid before her.
“That depends on who’s asking,” He said, voice smooth as he looked her over, “For you, I think we could work something out. Maybe over dinner, just me and you. After dessert, of course.” One of of his hands wraps itself around her waist, and it’s no surprise to her. In fact, she responds in kind with a fist to his jaw, her own set as she stands and watches as several others stand up, eyes lighting up at the chance to brawl.
Fantastic.
