(no subject)

[violencetobasic]

She could be proud, at least, of this: not all the blood in her mouth was her own. She was covered in bruises and still snarling insults in four languages when she hit the rather dank ground in the relative darkness.

She looked around her, and knew she was probably going to die horribly in this place, and didn't regret a thing. A girl had to have Standards.

Comments

[dhrakon]

"I think they were intended to kill me. And as a pack at the time, probably would have."

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[violencetobasic]

"Reasonable assumption." A pause. "So the Sith would talk with you, when they were down here before they died?"

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[dhrakon]

"Not all of them. But some."

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[violencetobasic]

"Did they...say anything about ..." she nodded toward the nexu. "Them?"

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[dhrakon]

"Mostly, very little. But apparently it is one of the gifts the force can provide to some."

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[violencetobasic]

"I guess that figures."

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[dhrakon]

"Gifts and curses. I learn what I can, when I can. The code... simple as it is, remains helpful."

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[violencetobasic]

She listens and nods. "But something like that... don't you worry that it could give the overseers some kind of hook in you? They do those things too."

[dhrakon]

He nods. "Always a concern. The Sith are, by nature, duplicitous. But I suspect few are worried about a pit slave. There are too many measures in place to deal with escapees and revolts, after past experience."

[violencetobasic]

"They shouldn't be so secure in themselves," she mutters, quieter. "But nice if they are, I suppose"

[dhrakon]

"I agree. But in the meanwhile, we must first survive, and wait for the right time."

[violencetobasic]

She nods, then thinks quietly until the food comes, at which point she eats, still crouch-sitting oddly to accomodate her still slightly sore backside.

Eventually, after looking around again, "Dhrakhon? If the time comes... what will you do when you get out?"

[dhrakon]

He's quiet for a few moments.

"Find a place, find those who would help - and then repay the Sith tyranny for lifetimes of suffering. For this place. They will burn."

[violencetobasic]

She watches him as he says it. "I believe you." Pause. "Well, then." She shifts position to extend a hand to shakes his. "That's settled."

[dhrakon]

Apparently familiar with at least the basic idea, he grasps her forearm, pressing his own to her hand in turn.

"Through victory, my chains are broken."

[violencetobasic]

And, clasping his arm, hearing his words, she believes him. Following his lead, sparring morning after painful, exhausting morning, she believes him.

And when they put a blade in her hands and throw her in the arena alongside a dozen others, when even when she doesn't have to kill, she has to rend flesh and get bloodied yet again, when thoughts of being a grimey, gorey puppet for People Like That start to well up with despair, she catches sight of Dhrakon, and she still believes him, putting the horror and the anger behind the swing.

When it's over, she turns to Dhrakon and, still filthy with bloodspatter, presses an impulsive, chaste kiss to Dhrakon's jaw, leaving red lipmarks as if from cosmetics.

[dhrakon]

Dhrakon's usual quiet menace and intensity turns into, apparently, all out ferocity in the arena. Only those wching closely, or who know him well can see sparing those he does not have to kill - but never hesitating in the least when the killing blow is necessary - or perhaps the more merciful option.
He wields the twin axes he's given before every fight as if born to them, and likewise, fights with pack tactics, both with the nexu, and with Son'ja, like he was born with the instincts for it.

Covered in blood, roaring in victory - and ever the showman when on the arena floor - he reacts to the gesture by driving one of his axes point first into the gore-spattered arena floor, raises the other axe in victory, and with the now freed arm, pulls her in close for a kiss that's anything but chaste.

[violencetobasic]

And Son'ja finds that in terms of yielding in his arms and adding to the show, she has -- in this particular circumstance, no others need apply -- absolutely no problem at all.

[dhrakon]

Once they've been led back at gun and shock-spear point, and have a chance to start cleaning up, the first real hint of privacy, Dhrakon grins.

"Well done. Now they'll let us fight together more often."

[violencetobasic]

"Well," she said as she hurriedly tidied herself up, and quickly tried to help him do so, "I'm glad."

[dhrakon]

Cleaning him up is relatively easy, mostly in that he doesn't wear that much in the first place - and practical as he might have been about the kiss in statement, he's definitely not complaining about her hands on him either.

[violencetobasic]

Getting the gore mostly out of his hair is probably the biggest challenge. And in the cleaning process, her hands aren't reluctant to be there, either, pressing and kneading into his scalp, temples, neck shoulders

[dhrakon]

There's something of a groan-growl in response, sounding quite content. He stretches out a little, shifting to give her access to keep on with that.

[violencetobasic]

Continue she does. Once she's worked over his head and neck enough, Son'ja soon focues on getting the tension out of muscles on either side of his spine and both arms. After she works thoroughly onhis right hand, she holds it a little toredly and gives it a quick kiss.

[dhrakon]

The continuing massage draws more of the small, content groans and growls, and his hand is offered up readily for both the massage, and the kiss.

"You serve well. I can see why those in power wanted you - and am glad they weren't worthy of you."