Post by Krissa on Feb 11, 2007 23:07:03 GMT -5
I got the idea a little earlier, I probably won't finish writing this one, but I thought I'd see what other people think of it first. I may explain more later. Comments? :-)
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Disclaimer: Star Wars does not belong to me, though most characters and settings in this story have been created by me.
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He groaned, trying to shelter his eyes from the low light. He quickly decided against it when he realized he could hardly move his arm, and worse that a sharp pain errupted along his side when he did so. What in Corusant had happened to him? For that matter, what was a Corusant? It sounded like a bread... and he was hungry, too. His head pounded and he heard footsteps outside, now if he just knew who it was, and where he was, and why he was there with a splitting headache, and...
Who was he? His eyes shot open, which he instantly regretted, cringing and rolling over. That question... who was he? He had no memory of what had happened or the past events. The first thing he remembered was the footsteps and the dim light which didn't give him any break from the headache. That, and a soft voice whispering. He didn't remember the words, not yet.
He finally managed to open his eyes enough to tell that the room was bare except for a few boxes and crates scarred by scorch marks. He was wearing a blaster, he realized, and a simple robes. That didn't tell him much about himself, except that he was cold.
"Want some clothes?"
"I'm wearing..."
"I don't count robes as clothes." He would have argued, except that his head was now pounding again from her voice. Her voice? He looked up. A woman leaned against the doorway, smirking. "Here, change into these, and when I come back, I'll bring food." She tossed a pile of clothing onto the floor in front of him.
"Who are..." She slammed the door. "You," he gritted his teeth.
After a moment he began rifling through the clothes. Pants, heavier than his, a shirt that looked like it was made with a biorestorative underlay, and a thick jacket. Also include was a belt with a holster for his blaster. He sat back, not sure who the woman was and why she had given him the clothing, nor any closer to his name.
When the lean woman came back, she found him in the clothing she had set aside for him. "At least your obediant. Most scoundrels I find unconsious on the ground usually give me lip and run." It took a moment for him to register what she had said, from the look on his face. She sighed. "Of course, they usually have some faint idea of why they were on the floor."
She twirled the blaster she had in hand before setting a plate of food in front of him. "Any idea of why you are here?" He shook his head blankly. Apparently he wasn't very talkative. "Oh well then, do you know your name?" He shook his head again, but took a bite of food. "Um, I guess I could name you, would you like that? I don't think I've had a human for a pet before."
He glared at her. "So you do have some sense left in you, I was afraid that had gotten knocked out. "How about we call you Cabe?"
"Why are you helping me?" he asked suddenly, startling her.
"Because," she flipped her short hair backwords, "I need allies. Particurally where I'm going."
"And that would be?"
"If you don't remember your name I doubt you'd know this place."
"Try me."
"Edfanter." He raised an eyebrow. "I didn't think so. The clothes look good on you, not that it matters." He glanced down, and the woman leaned up against the wall again. She was starting to think that not only was he not a threat, but that he wouldn't be any help at all. "Well, listen. I'm going to Edfanter. I need someone to... watch my back. There's a bunch of Sith who don't..."
He had flinched at the name Sith, but he didn't know why. "Sith," he whispered, feeling faint. "What are..."
"The opposite of Jedi, but just as annoying."
"Jedi..."
"That head wound must really have been a doozy. Did a skyrack beat you up?"
"No..."
"So you know what a shyrack is?"
"No..."
"Oh boy. You stay here, enjoy your dinner, sleep, get rested. I'll be back after a game of pazaak."
"Of what?"
"Forget it," she turned around to shut the door behind her. "Nighty night," she muttered through gritted teeth, shutting the door hard behind her. He groaned. When was she going to stop doing that?
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Disclaimer: Star Wars does not belong to me, though most characters and settings in this story have been created by me.
__
He groaned, trying to shelter his eyes from the low light. He quickly decided against it when he realized he could hardly move his arm, and worse that a sharp pain errupted along his side when he did so. What in Corusant had happened to him? For that matter, what was a Corusant? It sounded like a bread... and he was hungry, too. His head pounded and he heard footsteps outside, now if he just knew who it was, and where he was, and why he was there with a splitting headache, and...
Who was he? His eyes shot open, which he instantly regretted, cringing and rolling over. That question... who was he? He had no memory of what had happened or the past events. The first thing he remembered was the footsteps and the dim light which didn't give him any break from the headache. That, and a soft voice whispering. He didn't remember the words, not yet.
He finally managed to open his eyes enough to tell that the room was bare except for a few boxes and crates scarred by scorch marks. He was wearing a blaster, he realized, and a simple robes. That didn't tell him much about himself, except that he was cold.
"Want some clothes?"
"I'm wearing..."
"I don't count robes as clothes." He would have argued, except that his head was now pounding again from her voice. Her voice? He looked up. A woman leaned against the doorway, smirking. "Here, change into these, and when I come back, I'll bring food." She tossed a pile of clothing onto the floor in front of him.
"Who are..." She slammed the door. "You," he gritted his teeth.
After a moment he began rifling through the clothes. Pants, heavier than his, a shirt that looked like it was made with a biorestorative underlay, and a thick jacket. Also include was a belt with a holster for his blaster. He sat back, not sure who the woman was and why she had given him the clothing, nor any closer to his name.
When the lean woman came back, she found him in the clothing she had set aside for him. "At least your obediant. Most scoundrels I find unconsious on the ground usually give me lip and run." It took a moment for him to register what she had said, from the look on his face. She sighed. "Of course, they usually have some faint idea of why they were on the floor."
She twirled the blaster she had in hand before setting a plate of food in front of him. "Any idea of why you are here?" He shook his head blankly. Apparently he wasn't very talkative. "Oh well then, do you know your name?" He shook his head again, but took a bite of food. "Um, I guess I could name you, would you like that? I don't think I've had a human for a pet before."
He glared at her. "So you do have some sense left in you, I was afraid that had gotten knocked out. "How about we call you Cabe?"
"Why are you helping me?" he asked suddenly, startling her.
"Because," she flipped her short hair backwords, "I need allies. Particurally where I'm going."
"And that would be?"
"If you don't remember your name I doubt you'd know this place."
"Try me."
"Edfanter." He raised an eyebrow. "I didn't think so. The clothes look good on you, not that it matters." He glanced down, and the woman leaned up against the wall again. She was starting to think that not only was he not a threat, but that he wouldn't be any help at all. "Well, listen. I'm going to Edfanter. I need someone to... watch my back. There's a bunch of Sith who don't..."
He had flinched at the name Sith, but he didn't know why. "Sith," he whispered, feeling faint. "What are..."
"The opposite of Jedi, but just as annoying."
"Jedi..."
"That head wound must really have been a doozy. Did a skyrack beat you up?"
"No..."
"So you know what a shyrack is?"
"No..."
"Oh boy. You stay here, enjoy your dinner, sleep, get rested. I'll be back after a game of pazaak."
"Of what?"
"Forget it," she turned around to shut the door behind her. "Nighty night," she muttered through gritted teeth, shutting the door hard behind her. He groaned. When was she going to stop doing that?