Done for day 1 of @oc-growth-and-development‘s OC-tober event. This takes place 43 years before the main story begins, shortly before Titabec and Tashth join the protectorate. Content warning: attempted murder and mild suicide ideation
Prompt: journey
Titabec was about to die.
Bran’s crew had stopped by a forest planet on the journey to Earth to make a delivery. They had brought Titabec and Tashth to the surface with them to stretch their legs and, Bran’s words, “hunt or whatever.” Even professional spacefaring florans had trouble with being stuck in a big metal box for extended periods of time, much less these two, Bran had had the right idea...in theory.
The two florans had walked among the trees, taking in the gentle breeze and smell of pine. Titabec had taken care to stay ahead of Tashth, they couldn’t bear to look them in the eyes, not yet.
Titabec heard the familiar series of clicks of Tashth extending their collapsible spear. They turned instinctively, and were met with a face full of red and blue light, spinning and flashing, making them dizzy. Before they could process anything else they were being slammed into the dirt back first. They should have known better than to turn their back on the enemy, even if they weren’t technically enemies anymore.
Titabec looked this way and that, trying to find a way out of this. Tashth had gotten the drop on them, and they were unarmed, pinned to the ground by the head of Tashth’s spear with the two side-blades digging into their ribs. Nothing surrounded them but a few patches of grass. This didn’t look good.
Over the years Titabec had come to think of Tashth as something of a “nemesis.” They had clashed many times, by all rights one should have killed the other by now. But Desha’s orders had been clear: don’t waste time on one opponent, go for the weak ones first. Get in, do as much damage as possible, and get out. Tashth was not weak, what they lacked in raw strength they made up for in skill and that fancy spear of their own invention, they had even been clever enough to get it aboard Bran’s ship without anyone noticing. Including Titabec.
Titabec looked up, steeling themself for the price of their oversight. To their surprise, Tashth was crying.
“Time’ss up Titabec!” Tashth spat through their tears, putting more weight on the spear’s handle and stepping on Titabec’s stomach, knocking the breath out of them. Titabec had terrorized their village, taken the lives of so many people they loved without hesitation, without a shred of mercy. They were finally going to get their revenge on this monster...they were going to... “Why?!” They half hissed, half sobbed. “We never did anything to you! We just wanted to LIVE.”
Titabec was crying now too. They should say something to Tashth, beg them to spare them or at least make it quick, but the words would not come out. Because they knew they didn’t deserve either of those things. Because Tashth was right. They had known from the beginning that something was off, that Desha didn’t really have their best interest in mind, but they had followed her anyway. They had simply let things continue as they were until it had affected them personally, and when they’d had enough, leaving had been so sickeningly easy. That cut deeper than anything else, knowing they had not been forced, they’d done what they’d done of their own free will. All they managed to force out was a raspy, “ssorry.”
“Sssorry?” Tashth repeated in enraged disbelief. They raised their spear high above their head, keeping Titabec down with their foot. The other floran closed their eyes and clenched their fists tight but didn’t try to get away.
Tashth stopped their spear just short of fatal, the joined blades just barely making a crack in Titabec’s chest. Their claws clenched the handle hard. This was not the final confrontation with Titabec they’d been imagining... They couldn’t do it.
Titabec opened their eyes to stare dumbfounded at Tashth. They had been so sure that was it. Three days away from Desha they were going to die. They hiccoughed as more tears came, overwhelmed.
Tashth held their spear an inch above Titabec’s chest, hands shaking violently, heart racing a mile a minute. Titabec was crying, but not from fear. From remorse. It was...vindicating! Even having raised them from a seedling, Desha hadn’t completely broken their brain, or their sense of morals! Titabec had been Desha’s weapon, a cog in her horrible machine, but they weren’t just that, they were also a person. A floran just like them. A floran that would have been a tribemate if it weren’t for her. A hundred conflicting emotions swirled in their chest as they stared down at Titabec, who still wasn’t fighting them despite being given an opening. It made their head hurt. “I should kill you! I should cut off your head and EAT IT!” They all but screamed, tears still streaming down their face, falling down and soaking into Titabec’s shirt.
Tashth tossed their spear into the grass and dropped to their knees. They took Titabec’s hand and pulled them into a hug. “But I won’t.” They held them tight, sobbing quietly into their shoulder. They dug their claws into Titabec’s back, not out of malice, just needing them closer. Needing to hold someone who understood how they felt. They would not be with their tribe again for several years and, in a way, Titabec was all they had left until then.
Titabec blinked numbly at the embrace, more than a bit shell-shocked by the intimate gesture preceded by promises of a gruesome demise. Slowly, tentatively, they wrapped their shaking arms around Tashth. They looked up through the trees at the sky above, then buried their face in Tashth’s shoulder and cried themself hoarse.
In which Han goes desert rose hunting with a desert rose. And a desert camellia. This is actually the first time I’ve drawn my three floran characters side by side, it was pretty fun
#project hail mary
