It was so different. Where his olfactory, and especially his tactile and auditory sense had guided him in the darkness, now his visual sense eclipsed as he had to learn, her anew.
Watching her as her eyes raked up and down his body had him squirm. Watching her as her head fell back with a moan boosted his passion. Watching her come undone increased his own high.
But what was different. He couldn't place it at first, all he knew was, where he had pleased, he wanted to please more intensely, where he had enjoyed, he wanted to enjoy longer.
The difference was, that their vows were a proof for him that she was all his and all she wanted was him, the difference was that he had never felt more at home than with when he was with her.
The turquoise water served to cool their heated bodies and the content of the container satiated their thirst and hunger in the most delicious ways.
"How did they know," she mused as she had finished the last bite of the delicacies. Her head rested comfortably on his abdomen. His hand was buried in her hair and absentmindedly his fingers massaged her scalp. He liked the little sounds of pleasure he could draw from her that way.
"They had had bets ru ….," he bit his tongue – Har'chaak! Stupid – how do I get out of that now.
"Who had bets running?" He blew out the excessive air trapped in his lungs, her tone was amused, her eyes were sparkling when she threw him a glance.
"Obviously the whole covert … obnoxious pack … for months," he sighed suddenly disgusted at the ever-present gossiping within the covert. With more hiding than action there had not been that much to be done to pass the time.
"And how would you know about it?" Her voice was teasing him.
"Asked Tharam if …," he stopped dead – Osi'kyr! – how was she even able to make him reveal everything.
"You asked him for my hand?" She had been silent for a long time – was she testing the waters, was she disapproving, was she appreciating – He couldn't tell.
It held him enthralled until the air burnt in his lungs, until he found a way to explain himself: "As you are a clan of two, I wondered what his plans were and somehow he managed… we then …"
When she started to snigger softly, he was able to breathe again.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disregard you. Just wanted to make sure the family approved."
She rolled over and folded her arms under her chin as she eyed him from her position on his lower chest. The smile didn't vanish as she studied him, neither as she used his shoulders as a leverage to pull herself up until their faces were on the same level.
He became almost cross-eyed when she got so close that their noses touched. His eyes danced from one pool of molten gold to the other. Her hands felt soothingly cool on his cheeks.
"You know that I'm a grown woman who makes her own decisions … shhh … but I think it was considerate … and sweet."
She had shushed him when he had opened his mouth just to clap it shut again. She puckered her lips to catch his. He closed his eyes as she pampered him with kisses. Only when she pulled back, he blinked. She was moving off him and turned to the two still wrapped packages.
He sat up and waited for her to choose which one to open first. He didn't wonder when he was handed the longer and heavier one. Together they started unwrapping simultaneously.
"Wayii!" He was wheezing as he stared at the display. An E-11 blaster rifle with a telescopic range-finding sight, a folding three-position stock and the modification to house the glowrod along with a box of power cells and another with plasma cartridges lay on a new oilcloth.
He was too stunned and stared at the gun, running his fingers carefully, almost reverentially along the barrel: "This must have cost … a fortune."
"Not only yours." Her awestruck whisper made him look over. A fully equipped medkit, larger than the normal compact field care packages, of a size only to be found on the really large star ships, lay open in front of her. Scanners, different sprays, several vials, bandages, a sonic scalpel, a laser cauterizer and a sewing kit, a bone stabilizer compound and other medical items were neatly stacked in their proper places. Additionally, several smaller boxes labelled Bacta and one saying Kolto.
When he saw her eyes glistering, he wrapped his arms around her: "Whoever got this, they are just kriffin' crazy. They are definitely up for something." He had to use anger to compensate the other emotions swelling up in him.
He knew that she was not completely altruistic when she made him stay longer, her excuse to give her brother and Vayra their sweet time was well chosen. Neither was he completely unselfish when he made sure that their time was more than well spent.
Beneath her helmet she was scowling. Of course, she had seen how pitifully skinny the Boetay looked, of course she had felt the pang of sympathy when it looked up as if it could see and recognize them. But she wouldn't just give in without a fight.
The protective stance, looming in her back, his hand hovering over his holster while the other was placed on her pauldron, had made her grin. Of course there could be hidden guns pointing at them, he certainly had never encountered that many people who didn't want to be rid of him in the most effective way, but she was certain that these were not the intentions of these Sundari.
She might not have felt the squeeze on the protective piece of Beskar, but what transported even through it was the almost imperceptibly increasing shaking that originated from his hand. It made her tense.
The tension didn't lessen when she had to watch the unpredictable animal and the brave. The first for the obvious reason what it was capable of, no matter how weak and hurt, the latter for the increased respiration and unsteady movements.
More than once her heart summersaulted at the mammal's reaction, tearing her from one emotion to the other – from dread to sympathy and back. And when the predator lapped at his glove and it huge head moved further up his arm her finger was curling against the trigger.
It lay down trapping more or less the brave – second time her finger curled. Its head shot up – third time her finger hadn't uncurled anymore. Only his command held her in place.
She could understand him only too well, the whine was heart-tearing, and he did his best to rival the Boetay when he pled on behalf of the animal, but she had to step her foot down. The others were to be considered, especially those who could easily and defencelessly fall prey to such a big predator.
There were other ways to make sure that the animal survived without taking it back to her ship. She started to wonder how his sister dealt with his antics – she would definitely have to ask her.
She was too concentrated on the animal which moved back to a crouching position when he came to a stand. What was it with the quick step that he took backwards – was it to balance himself after pulling out his feet from under the heavy body, was there more to it?
She was just sitting down in the pilot's seat when she heard the sound of metal on metal. Alarmed she turned, the green-blue pauldron was leaning heavily against the door of the cockpit and the helmet shook from one side to the other like a drunk Rancor.
"Are you ok?" Her eyes darted over his body in a try to read its language.
The helmet swayed a bit more before it focused on her and he nodded. She scrutinized him when he bodily pulled himself towards the co-pilot's set and sat down heavily.
"Jusht a dizzhy shpell. Rose t'quickly." He sounded drunk, words slurring.
"Will take you back to the ship immediately." She watched as he lifted one leg after the other to place them on the console in front of him and slumped down in the seat. With a thump his helmet fell back against the headrest and lolled to the side.
She was out of her seat and with one step at his side. Her hands reached to his pauldrons as she saw his Adam's apple work beneath the cowl, his chest heaved with deep, measured breaths.
"I'm fine. Jusht need a minute."
She placed her hands on the dented cheek parts: "Do not lie to me."
She must have sounded insistently enough when his tired voice answered: "Draar."
Almost without losing sight of him she initiated the starting sequence and had the ship rise. A quick look down revealed that the Boetay was still where they had left it, feeding hungrily off the meat. He must have got a glimpse too as he hummed contently.
As short as the sound was it punched her in the gut. She was thankful for her helmet as she threw him another look. And another when he untangled his legs and sat straighter in his chair. She tilted her head as she had seen him doing when he vocalised a question without using his voice.
"Better. Told you, just dizzy."
She thought that it was a kind of amused snort that she heard and felt more at rest when he reached for the data pad to pull up a map of the surrounding. From the corner of her eye she saw the helmet scanning the pad then the outsides.
"What are you looking for?" She wondered if she had missed something.
When he showed her one of the old craters she sighed: "Really?" The nod she got for an answer was vigorous. "The ship would be the better choice, given what you just …"
"Please. Gedet'ye." She was thinking, pondering. "Pretty, pretty please?" He stretched his plea, his baritone a brook's soft murmur, a rising sun's soft rays, velvety and irresistible. It was worse than when he had plead about the Boetay.
She glowered at him from beneath her helmet, silently accusing him of the next punch to her innards, then she changed the course. There was this humming again that punched her low and deep.
He was a good navigator, it felt familiar to follow his concrete instructions, down to height measurements and time of set-down. His quiet voice started a mechanism running in her, muscle memory set in.
Instruction here: "Set-down, five feet, smooth surface, solid beneath."
Confirmation there: "Aye, roger that."
"Set down in five, four, three … set-down."
"Roger, D …" Her head ripped back and towards him, her teeth clenched shut. The searing pain in her mouth and the metallic taste of having bitten the inside of her cheek did little to distract her.
A little more distraction was given by the helmet of the warrior, conversing with her without words. He had swivelled his head equally fast towards her, the visor was staring, then the helmet sank until its lower end reached the cuirass, but quickly it came up again, wiggled from side to side and came to a rest in a tilt.
She didn't know what to do or how to react, he made her cry and laugh at the same time – she restricted herself to a snort, slightly distressed yet also amused enough.
From the outside it could be missed easily, the walls surrounding the crater were steep and unforgiving. From the air it was just a small green spot. Only once within the complete beauty could be taken in. The middle of the crater rose, densely forested, the rim overgrown in a high blooming meadow, the tallest grasses and flowers easily reaching the front screen of her shuttle.
The lowering ramp folded the grasses over, preparing a carpet of green speckled with all the colours of a rainbow, yellows, reds, blues and more. A puff of pollen gushed up, hovering in a cloud. The various scents invaded her nostrils in an intoxicating way.
She scanned the area for lifeforms, but there was nothing bigger than the size of her hand. She confirmed twice, trying different settings of her HUD only then she was put at ease, which didn't mean that she hadn't attached her rifle.
In a sea of swaying green, they wove their way towards the middle of the crater. The Nevarro brave hat activated some kind of scanner, its soft beeping sounds, the buzzing of insects, the birds' songs and the breeze of the wind were the only acoustic surrounding.
Several times he stopped, and she waited patiently behind him until he spread the way through the thicket for her again. The closer they came towards the cluster of trees the more often he lingered.
She called out to him inquiringly, he barely turned his head and took up his path again. She tried again and called out to through the HUD-com, the only answer she got was a wheezed static before he shut the system off.
"Not far anymore." He sounded winded as he reclined against the first sturdy tree trunk. Hearing him she knew why he had switched the vocoder off.
"This was a bad idea! We should have gone back to the ship. I shouldn't have listened to you." She was pulling out a small med scanner from her utility belt, but he pushed off the tree and headed on.
"Atin utreekov! Will you kindly wait instead of running off!" The flaring impatience turned into dread when he stumbled over a root, barely able to catch himself from falling.
She didn't need the enhancing systems of her helmet. She could hear his panted wheezes even from the distance.
"Te-Di'kut! Stop your antics! Wait till I drag your sorry ass back to the shuttle! I'll see to it that your sister confines to you the med bay for at least a week!"
She felt helpless as he dragged on, she managed to grab his arm, but he shook her off, he managed to stay at least a step ahead of her. How he did it, as winded as he sounded, was beyond her.
She lurched forward and grabbed his arm again, but this time he stopped within stride and she clashed into him, staggering him forward until he caught himself again.
Within the grove a small cluster of rock rose, several pillarlike constructions proved to be columnar basalt under her scanner. She didn't wonder, after all they were in the crater of a cold volcano.
The ground was jet-black, there were bright green dots randomly strewn on it. She stepped forward, passing the warrior who had been in lead. She drew another step closer, pulling the brave with her.
Together they took their first step off the forest moss and onto the dark surface, a first column rising high in front of them. She let go of his arm as she picked up several of the small green stones.
"Chrysolite, but where do they come from, lying around like that?" She looked around and back at the stones in her hand.
"The vol … the volca … no." The front of his flight suit was sweat-stained, he stood bent over, his hands clutching his knees as if they were the only thing anchoring him.
"Idiot, told you we should go back."
A groan, a whisper, a rasp, a wheeze – no!
She felt the blood shooting up into her head, the droning in her ears became a deafening noise as she watched him clumsily reaching out fumbling for the basalt pillar to support him.
"Gaa… Gaa'tayl!" – No!
"NO!" She stumbled forward, reached out. His knees buckled and gave in. His weight fell against her and tore her down with him. His arms hung over her pauldrons. His helmet knocked into hers.
"Ner … ner ko-kovid." It was more static than words.
"Lidye'ri … k-kovid." She had to readjust the inter-com to understand him over the crackling.
"Aalar dush." He was groaning, but the sound was interrupted by something that came from deeper. She heard him suppressing a heave.
"Don't get sick in it! "
"Tryin…hmpf."
"Get the helmet off!" She had to help him to lower down. Only when he had safely put his hands on the ground she reached under the edges of his helmet.
"No. pl…"
"Won't look, promise!" She hastened. The seal hissed and she closed her eyes as she started pulling blindly.
She shifted awkwardly, pressed her own helmet against the cold metal on her lap and one hand high on his back, circling slowly as she tried not to listen.
"W-water."
She had to pat along her belt and pull the canteen forth. Reaching round the helmet she unscrewed and handed it to him. She heard him slosh and spit before he finally gulped down the liquid.
She was still pressing her forehead against the Beskar, holding onto its sleek form for dear life, when she felt his hands on hers demanding the helmet wordlessly back. As it left her grip, she lowered her head even more.
"Vor entye … par yir." There was a soft pressure on the crown of her helmet, and she squeezed her eyes even tighter.
"Feeling better?" Without the modulation she could hear how raw his voice sounded.
"Hmmm … just good I haven't eaten anything. That would have been messy." There was a self-satisfied chuckle which became almost nondescript with the modulator.
She clawed at the top of her helmet in frustration: "You are going to be the death of me." She was waving her hands around expressively to accentuate her words: "You do realize that you lost a good portion of your blood. Eating, regularly and healthily is a necessity. You just can't go running around and then break down on me like that."
She heard him shuffle and scrape at the ground with his boot: "I'm sorry."
"If this is going to … if I'm … we … … I need you … to take care of yourself." Inhaling deeply helped to keep control on herself.
"Will do." He helped her to a stand, and she didn't know who was helping who to keep standing.
"Those stones, they are worth something … a lot." He had guided her a few steps away and they stood in their midst.
"If I can't hunt, I can provide that way." She felt his grip around her arms tighten.
"Is it getting worse?" He didn't have to answer, she just recognized it by the way he stood: "Back down, lie flat."
She had ordered him around until he was finally stretched out on the ground and stood holding his ankles: "Sorry, the only thing I know to do right now."
Although he was lying flat on his back, she could see that he didn't relax. It took some time before his breathing became slower and deeper.
"I start to feel my knees. And … This is somewhat … humiliating"
She gave his ankles a profound squeeze when he started to wriggle: "Yeah, I know, and a pebble is digging into your shebs. Nag nag. Remember, you brough this onto yourself."
She had to balance herself at his next wriggle: "Now stop it or it will become even more humiliating."
He growled at that remark: "As if it could get any worse."
She only gave him a short warning with a very low chuckle. Her arms were getting lame anyways. Without any further prelude, she went onto her knees and replaced his ankles on her shoulders, angling his legs at more or less forty-five degrees. She had to keep a tight grip on them as he immediately started to shuffle with a surprised yelp.
"Gev! Just think about something nice."
"Seriously?!" She had to snort at his stressed puff and almost whined reply.
"Yeah. I in your position …" She was cut short, his helmet jerked up to look at her.
"… Oh yeah?" She just knew he meant it to sound as lewd as it came through his vocoder.
She rolled her eyes and sighed before she started again. Admittedly, she had just played into his hands: "If those stones are that precious, I'd be collecting some, if I were in your position."
Whatever he answered to that was lost in the static that came out of his helmet. But dutifully he started sweeping together the stones he could reach on either side.
She waited some more and watched as he let the green stones dribble through his gloves, scooping them up again.
She wondered what he was thinking about while they were silently waiting for his vertigo to leave.
His T-visor was watching the fall of the green stone when he suddenly mused: "They remind me of your eyes."
His baritone had changed, it was dark, rich even husky, not even the modulator could hide that. Her innards reacted to it in their own way, the warm coil tensed again.
Slowly she set his feet down and pulled back to sit against one of the pillars: "My eyes?"
With the help of his elbows he propped himself up: "Uh-hu. Like on Ossus. In that temple … same colour."
"You remember that?" She was astonished that he had had time to register something like that: "It's still a haze for me, just like back then. Only thing I clearly remember is that voice, though couldn't say who or what it belonged to." She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them: "Much clearer is that dream."
She clutched her arms harder and he propped himself up on his hands. Taking his time to do not get dizzy again.
"The one you said it was a good one?" From the tilt of his helmet she knew that that it was her time to be scrutinized. He was just sitting there, with his legs outstretched and resting his weight on his hands.
She was only able to speak about it when she didn't see him watching her, when she felt as if she were talking to herself: "There is still so much I'd like to know. I still do not get what I actually dreamt about there. I remember being on Dxun … I mean … we really did spend some days there. Other things I saw, dreamt of did also happen. The hunting. The wine. The campfire."
She paused as she recollected, separating her dream from her past: "Me asking what our next destination was. I had asked Jurann and Mayh the very same words – where do we go from here. But back then they had told me, they hadn't just pointed and then left."
"What did they point at?"
She looked at him and then up to the crown of the trees: "Upwards, to the stars. Like this." She pointed just like she had seen Jurann doing it and the brave sitting with her in the grove lifted his helmet as if seeing what she was pointing at.
"Still don't know what he was meant by that. Tried to look it up on maps even." She shook her head, her search had been fruitless.
"What if … he was showing you … that your ways were separating. Like … they go there and you there?"
She looked up at him, he had seen something that she had missed: "A foreshadowing of their death?" She had to be sure what he meant.
"Not really a foreshadowing. … Everyone would have done everything to prevent what actually happened. And he didn't do it when you were on Dxun, only now … in your dream. No, more an explanation to those questions haunting you ever since. You asked them were you were going, he showed you two different destinations. They went into the Manda, you are still here."
She had to inhale deeply to digest what the Nevarro brave said. It felt like he was filling a deep hole, but although this was an answer she had been looking for, she felt like it dragged her deeper with its unfamiliarity.
"This wasn't all you saw in your dream." He moved closer until his feet could touch hers.
She lowered her head again, staring between her feet: "When I turned, Denx was standing next to me. He hadn't there … when I talked to them."
"You hadn't found him where they had died." His words had come carefully, but there was a conviction in his statement.
"No. They had split up … or been separated." She knew he had died fighting. The battlefield had told her that much. "He died a warrior's death, but alone. The Imps … their tactic had worked out."
She couldn't help the bitterness that crept into her voice.
"What did he do in your dream? Also point?" He shuffled a bit closer, the toes of their boots touching as he imitated her position to sit.
"Yes, but not up, just to the front. And he … I heard his voice." She was closing her eyes to get a hold on herself.
She had to move, sitting with her knees bunched up had become uncomfortable. But there weren't that many options. She tapped her toes against his, he shuffled his feet until she could stretch her legs more. She could feel the steady warms of his calves against hers.
When she looked at her listener again, she gazed at his hands which he left dangling over his knees. She could grab them, hold them. Once again, he showed her with his body language alone that he was ready to be there for her. With a single measured nod, he invited her to continue.
It was worse to repeat the words than to just remember them. Yet, while she recited them to the warrior opposite her she found that she understood them more and more: "He said that it was time to rest and to say their remembrance."
The brave's interpretation had given her a better insight on the whole dream: "He said that he's in my heart, that it's my coordinates"
"And then he left too." It was as if he had seen what she had seen in the dream. His understanding of it sounded in her ears as if he had been with her instead of just listening to her retelling it.
"Did he tell me to go on? To move on with my life?" She just couldn't trust herself, her intuition and interpretation.
"I think it sounds like it. But it isn't important what I think. What you think and feel is important."
"I've lived as if I had marched on, too … despite still being alive." She needed to hold something, to feel that she could touch something with substance.
He squeezed her hands back: "Yes, you are."
"Saying their remembrance is only worth something when I really walk the way of Manda'lor." She watched him as he solemnly inclined his helmet.
"Can you … will you…" At his nod she gave his hands a tug.
It was an awkward way to move. She slowly stretched her legs completely as he inched closer. He had to position his legs over hers. On either side of her hips his angled knees came to a stop.
It was an intimate way to sit, so close. She had to spread her legs to make room for him to sit. Their thighs, their hips almost touched. In spite of their proximity he made sure to not press against her. Entwined they stilled, she was reading him and herself, getting used to this closeness, to feel his warmth.
With the new self-confidence she felt she reached round his neck and tugged again. When their helmets rested against each other they stilled again. She didn't flinch when she felt him reach for her sides and hold her.
"Are you okay? Is this okay?" He had reached up to his helmet and his tender baritone reached her, no longer modulated through the vocoder, almost in its full naturalness, only quieter and slightly obscured by the physical obstacle of the helmet.
"What did you do?" She hadn't expected this. She pulled back and put her hand on the vertical line of his visor. Her finger traced where his mouth lay hidden underneath.
"Switched it off. I want you to hear me. Is that okay?" Without the modulation there was nothing that hid the emotion in his voice.
Sincerity, longing, insecurity, hope. With each word she could hear and identify what moved him. Each word tugged at her inner self, each word blanketed her and made her long for another to wrap herself into.
"Yes … please. It is … beautiful … soothing." She had heard indications and hints of his true voice before. She had come to like the way he pronounced certain words in a melodic singsong.
More and more she got used to the impact it had on her. More and more she gave way to the longing it induced on her.
"Can you …" She didn't know how to form her request. Somehow it seemed off to ask and impossible to realize.
"Can I what?"
"Can I hear you … more often?" After her brave start she had hurried through her last words. She feared that she had sounded like an awestruck youngling.
"Gladly, whenever possible."
"You mean, whenever we are alone?" Shortly she calculated the likeliness, and her smile sank. She would have to practically steal more time to be able to hear his voice like this.
"Yes, when we are alone … always."
"You have …" She got more flustered, she didn't want to make it sound like an accusation.
"I have what?"
"You have heard Dargak use my name, but you have never … used it." A sudden sensation of disappointment stole itself into her heart at the realization, a sudden yearning to hear her name roll off his tongue.
"No, I haven't." The soft squeeze against her padded gambeson made her look closer. Her perception had made him sit straighter.
"Why?" She couldn't bring her voice above a whisper. Her heart told her that she didn't have to fear his answer, her brain didn't cease to work against it though.
"You never gave me your name."
It was so simple and so true. She had never given him her name, just like he had never given his to her. He only knew because of her father and she only knew because of his sister.
The secrecy of his tribe, their turbulent escape and the following events on Ossus and Garos, everything had prevented them from really having time to get closer acquainted, to share more of themselves. And, she had to admit to herself, she had barred herself, too.
"Will you use it when I give it to you?" She was wondering genuinely, something told her he would be reluctant.
"Gladly, … when we are alone."
"Because of the privacy which your tribe values?" She couldn't find any other explanation.
"Yes, secrecy ensure … d our survival." The shift in his voice, in his emotions was easily heard. He was struggling with the recent past, with the fate of his tribe.
"Will you … share yours?" Again, she felt the soft squeeze on her sides, a tension that had come reflexively. She could feel the tension under her hands as the muscles in his shoulders worked.
"I …"
Her thumb stroke along his neck, eliciting a soft hum from him. She didn't want him to feel pressured: "You don't have to."
"I want to, but …"
"But the secrecy … I understand." She really did, her brain did, her heart did not, it protested. "It won't be against your standards when I tell you mine?" There was still so much she had to learn, worlds seemed to separate them.
"No, it won't … I would like to hear it … from you, to … call you by it, but ..."
She felt the soft pinch again, but it was different: It sent a different signal, less reluctance and tension, more affection and eagerness, and something else. She was still learning about the small variations of expressions and modulations.
Within a sentence he was able to give her security, to raise her hopes and to shatter both completely with a single word of limitation.
She was reluctant to prod him for further insight. Barely above a whisper he could decide to ignore her voice: "But…?"
He breathed shallowly for what seemed an eternity to her. When he inhaled deeply, she knew he was finally going to answer: "But I would like us … both to be able to use … our names ... I …"
She quietly tapped the vertical part of his visor. An instant warm feeling crept into her face as she realized that her hand had never left his helmet, it made her remove her hand.
"What do you feel comfortable with to share?" She desperately hoped that he would come up with his family name that his sister had shared. Being always on guard to not reveal her knowledge of it had proven difficult in times of stress.
"I think … I could get used to … hearing my family name. I guess my sister gave it to you already."
She knew how alien it must be for him to hear an outsider address him, but if he had been completely opposed to it, he would have come up with something completely different, she mused.
"So …what will you call me? Kryban or Vayra?" Somehow it felt ridiculous to discuss something as simple as a name so thoroughly that it made her snigger.
"It will be Kryban … for the time being, until I …"
"Good. Until then." She didn't want him to elaborate further. She could guess what he was referring, but with her problem of letting the people of her past go she felt this would have been a step too large for the moment.
"Kryban." He muttered her name and when she hummed in response, he just repeated it several times, trying it, testing it, rolling it off his tongue until she snorted.
"Careful, it might rub off." She gave his neck a pinch that made him pull up his shoulders.
She was not prepared when his hands reached up and pulled her helmet against his. Once again, she heard her name leaving his lips, but with much more depth, so deep in tone that one might have mistaken it for a sigh or even a moan.
It felt like it echoed within her with all the vibration of his sonorous baritone when a lone breathed syllable interrupted the sensation welling up in her: "Tern."
She had to digest it first before she hummed in response: "Won't abuse it." At the growl he answered her with she giggled.
He waited until she had settled again and only the sounds of nature and their breathing broke the silence to whisper his request: "Please, say it, just once."
Even in his whisper she could detect the unmodulated, presented emotions. He really wanted, longed to hear her say his name, now that he had shared it.
"Tern." Her voice was also barely above a whisper and if his hands hadn't still clutched her helmet, she would have felt his grip harden crushingly. That way she only felt the slight tremble that ran through his body.
It was her time to ask: "Is that okay?"
"I … I think so. … It's strange, … no matter how … how much I've been looking forward to it."
"You sound so … distressed. Is really everything okay?" Another violent shiver ran through him as she nestled her fingers beneath his neck scarf to find his pulse. She found it and it was rapid.
He grunted amusedly: "Distressed is the wrong word. Nervous, yes. Excited, definitely. Embarrassed, maybe."
"Whatever it is, it made your heart race. Do you still feel dizzy?" She was about to peel her fingers back when he trapped her hand beneath his.
He guided her other hand from his shoulder and placed it over his Beskaryc Kar'ta: "You … and yes, a bit … because of you."
She had to huff in amusement: "Don't make me responsible for it. Most of it is because of your blood loss."
"Maybe before not now. Your presence does that to me. Can't control myself when you are that close."
"I can …" If she was the reason why he felt uncomfortable she had to do something against it, she could shuffle back, bring more distance between them.
"Don't … please." It hadn't been his intention but intuitively he struck the right chord within her, it resonated through her whole body.
So, she stayed until she felt his breathing slow down, just his heartbeat kept pulsating under her fingers. She stayed until he placed her hand back on his neck, just to move his back to her sides. She stayed until it grew darker in the grove.
It made her realize how much time they had spent in a complete silence, completely absorbed in each other's presence.
"Tern, before we leave, can I …can you …" Her fingers traced over the vertical blue line.
His hands left her sides and reached up, halted for a moment, reached beneath and she heard the releasing hiss. Then he stilled again.
It was her turn. She removed her helmet and placed it next to her. Her eyes searched his visor as she ascertained within herself that she was ready. Her heart was thumping loudly, matching his in its speed.
But today she was the one initiating, acting on the feeling that it was right. With a final deep inhale, she closed her eyes.
Fatigue caused by the loss of too much blood made his world spin, sometimes fast and sometimes slower. Cowering next to the animal for some time and then rising made his vision blur so much that he was just happy to reach the co-pilot's seat.
When the droning in his head had subsided, he was finally able to register how anxious she had reacted. She did care, this knowledge sent a warmth deep down into his innards. It was not only that she cared about his well-being, but he noted that she did make sure that his furred charge was well too.
What made his heartbeat accelerate again was a small crater and the information about it that lit up his data pad, he had to go down there. It hadn't been easy to convince her to steer her shuttle there and the look she must have thrown him from under her helmet – he made sure that she couldn't hear his smile.
She was a good pilot and he quickly fell into the routine of co-piloting. It somewhat reminded him of the days on the Crest. Involuntarily his thoughts turned to the other hunter. They haven't heard anything of him. Many questions were running through his mind – was he safe, had he tried to contact them, had he returned to Nevarro to find the covert destroyed.
Just a word, the beginning of a name, just the first letter of it – it tore him out of his thoughts, and it tore more in him. He was not the only one who had travelled back in time.
There was not much he could do. She had clearly giving away what she had been about to say. He could only distract her, show her that he understood and didn't mind. Wiggling his helmet in the end earned him a snort. It was the utmost he could ask for.
His scanner showed him the whereabout of his destination, it was in the middle of the crater within a cluster of trees. They had to land the shuttle at the rim where tall grasses were the only obstacle and then make their way across to the centre of the old crater.
It was not that far. But the short rest he got while flying there had not been enough. Only with setting the modulation of his HUD lower he was able to hide his shortness of breath. Whenever he became too lightheaded, he stopped. But he wasn't to be stopped by her inquiries.
Only when she became too agitated, he activated the system to tell her that they were near. But it was a bad idea. She had her scanner out. He knew without it that they should return. His hands and feet felt icy and a sheet of cold sweat was covering him. But he needed to reach the place that his scanner unerringly showed him.
Bringing his sister down on his ass was her worst threat and he know he would be on the losing side if the two women worked together against him. But, maybe, when she was able to see what he had found she would refrain from it. Although on second thoughts, he would have liked to see how she want to drag him back to the shuttle.
Her trying to keep him from carrying out his plan cost him even more of his remaining strength. He had to set a pace which he couldn't keep up. His ears were numb with the increased pounding, it was all he was able to hear.
Finally. The centre of the old volcano. He had made it. With a satisfied smile he noted that she knew of the value of his finding.
The green speckles on the dark ground weaved in and out. He bent and clutched his knees. On closer inspection the ground itself weaved and wavered and spun. He couldn't take it. It made him dizzy, it made his limbs numb. It made him stagger. It made his knees give in.
She was there. She was there to catch his fall. He couldn't get a grip, just hang on to her. The world hadn't stilled it still spun and careened. It changed the taste of his salvia. He tried to swallow the saltiness down, repeatedly. He couldn't get sick, but he felt the heave from deep down in his belly.
The world didn't stop, not even with his eyes closed. His stomach lurched again. Don't get sick in it – he wanted to laugh, as if he had any control left in him. Get the helmet off – he wanted to protest, as if he had any strength left in him.
It was unthinkable, impossible. But with her promise, a calmness settled in him. She had had the chance to look, several times already, but she hadn't. And he trusted her that she wouldn't this time either.
Having eaten anything had its advantage now, there was nothing but bile his stomach could turn inside out. It still left a bad taste which he needed to slosh out. His vocal cords were messed up.
He looked down at her as covered up what had left him. He didn't want to describe her as a picture of misery, but this portray was not too far off as she hunched there with her head pressed into the crook of her arms.
A wave of guilt washed over him, he didn't want to be the reason for her concern. She was right, he had to take more care of himself – for her. But right at the point he couldn't do anything but distract her with why he had insisted on leading her to the pillars.
It just took a few steps and a few words, and the feeling fatigue returned with doubled force. This time he didn't resist her command and stretched out on the ground. Relaxing was a different kettle of fish. He felt like one on dry land with the way she had grabbed his ankles and lifted his feet.
He tried to keep still, reciting that it was necessary to get his blood back into his head, to make him feel better. Be he couldn't, it was strange, it made him feel more helpless than he actually was, it started to strain his knees.
He wanted to be out of this position, get away from it. He could have kicked her off, of course, but this was out of question. His idea had been to wriggle enough, to annoy her enough to let him go. In his line of thought this couldn't get more humiliating.
Her menacing chuckle should have warned him. As soon as he heard it, he went still, everything in him went still. His only reaction was that his eyes widened in realisation as she moved, but his body was not able to react, to counter-act.
The only reaction his body gave was a sudden tightness and wave of heat in his guts as she knelt between his leg in a position he had dreamt of. But this was wrong, there positions were reversed. It still made his throat tight as his brain somersaulted and sent him pictures of his vivid dreams.
She didn't have to tell him to think of something nice. It was nice pictures, with him in her position. It sent more warmth in his loins and his muscles tensed. He swallowed down his groan. It was better to concentrate on something else.
Something like the stones. But even they didn't help much. The bright green of the stone – the bright green of her eyes. Not always were her eyes of such a shade of green. They didn't change in colour from one minute to the other, but he had come to know that in general her mood could be deciphered by the colour of her eyes.
He looked up at her as she released his legs, as sat back and as she curled up in herself. He had to read her body language well as she started to lay her dream bare. It was her dream, the only thing he could do was to ask questions, hopefully the right ones to help her to understand what she had seen.
He was thankful that she was able to go through it. It took a hard toll he could tell. The only thing he could do for her, was to be there, was to be close to her, to provide more substance than this dream.
He hoped that she didn't feel boxed in, she still had ways to evade him. When she tapped her booted toes against his, he thought that she wanted to have more freedom there. He widened the stance of his feet, and she stretched slightly.
He could feel how warm her legs felt against his, but he concentrated on what she had to relate to him. It was something that would determine their shared time, future even. She had to feel comfortable with what she saw in her dream and in the message, it held for her.
To accept this message, she needed something that held her steady in the here and now. She wanted him to steady her. He readjusted his leg, moved them over her thighs as he inched closer. Only shortly his brain registered how she spread her legs to give him access to sit between them, how close they sat.
He was much closer, their way to sit much more intimate, but this time it didn't tighten the coil. There was a warmth that spread, but it was contentment, modest and chaste in its pleasure. Even he felt her body's heat seep into his gloves he concentrated on how relaxed her breathing was as their helmets rested against each other.
What he could do, something that was possible in their closeness, was to let her hear his natural voice. It would carry through the helmet. Her reaction made him smile at the small victory, she obviously liked what she heard, and it made his heart swell. Whenever possible he would let her hear his voice without the modulation of the vocoder.
But he also heard the disappointment when she brought up the topic of her name. He couldn't bring himself to using it. Names were so rarely used, mostly only in the closest circles, the family. His ultimate wish to make her one of his family made itself hurtfully known.
All he could give her was something he believed she already knew. But once she actually asked him for his name the longstanding conditioning made him tense up. The heavy thumping of his heart was not easy to calm down as he told himself over and over that he did want to share at least that much.
He wanted to hear her say his name as much as he wanted her to hear her name coming from his mouth. Kyrban – he rolled his tongue over the unaccustomed word, making it his own until he drew her reaction, he just had to repeat it once again.
And he made sure that she would never forget how much it meant for him to just call her by her family's name. How much more would it mean to be able and allowed to use her forename. He longed for that day, but it was not his to set the pace. All he could do was to rein in his desires and be ready when she was.
Hearing her say his name for the first time went through him like a blaster bolt. It was the fulfilment of a dream and a searing pain at the same time. It made his pulse race, it made him shiver and it blurred everything but her figure right in front of his visor.
All of a sudden, he became too aware how deeply he had fallen for her. Her fingers felt burning hot on his neck. One tension replaced the next as he felt her warmth edge into his skin, but for nothing in the galaxy he wanted to lose their contact.
He was comfortable, felt at ease, he wanted the time to stop. And it did, at least for them as they sat in silence until dusk drew closer.
He opened his eyes immediately as she addressed him. It was a tentative inquire, a never finished question, but the way her fingers run over his blue visor had him understand at once. A shaky breath made his nostrils flare as he reached up and opened the sealing clatch.
He felt his heart rate increase as he waited for her next move. He had to remind himself repeatedly that this time she had to coax him to bend to her wishes, not that he would resist, but this time it had to be all out of her volition.
He watched in silence as she readied herself. Entranced he watched her undoing her helmet, placing it beside her and gazing at him. When her chest heaved with her inhale, he knew that she had come to a decision.
He waited until she had closed her eyes to remove his helmet and to guide her hands back to his neck. He exhaled a smile as her fingers tickled at the back his head and his breath caught as her palm scraped over his scruffy jaws.
When her tug demanded him to lean in, he followed her guidance. His nervous smile ghosted over her lips until they met in a soft touch. He closed his eyes as her lips continued their tender exploration.
Following her lead, he reduced himself to mere soft reactions. It helped him to keep relaxed to be simply on the receiving part. To feel the curve of her smile against his lips, to feel their softness press against his, to sense her passion as she deepened the kiss.
He could have stayed like this for the rest of the night. But a quiet beep interrupted them. When she stilled, he could feel her quickened breath against his chin.
He could feel the reluctance to give up this moment of their own: "Guess our newly-weds want to be picked up."
When she groaned: "Don't they have anything better to do," he had to chuckle.
Mando'a
Har'chaak!: Dammit!
Osi'kyr!: Idiomatically Oh, Shit!
Wayii!: Good grief! General exclamation of surprise, good or bad.
draar: never
Gedet'ye: please
Atin utreekov! Stubborn fool, idiot (lit. emptyhead)
di'kut: idiot, useless individual, waste of space (lit. someone who forgets to put their pants on)
Gaa'tayl!: Help!
ner kovid: my head
lidye'ri: dizzy
aalar dush: I feel bad / sick
Vor entye par yir: Thank you for everything
shebs: backside, rear, buttocks (also rear of building etc)
Gev: Stop it! Pack it in!
Beskaryc Kar'ta: Iron heart, Beskar heart