Chapter 5: "Drink Me"
The further Ahsoka stalked into the ruined depths of this Providence dreadnought the more her unease intensified. She knew how she looked to these people; desperate. Ratty clothes slicked in caked mud, coagulated blood coloring the filthy layers of bandages around her stomach, shoulders stiff and a slight limp in her step. A wounded predator separated from her pack.
Vulnerable.
But even a wounded predator can bite back. Ahsoka's lips twisted into a grim smile, orange fingers played along the safety lever on her holstered blaster as she passed by a pair of wasters looking her up a down from their place against the grubby durasteel wall.
In a twisted sort of way she hoped someone was stupid enough to try her right now. She had some negative emotions she'd like to express, and (this is the Anakin in her talking) the best way to bleed out negative emotions into the Force was through someone else's broken nose.
The leering pair of thugs didn't follow her unfortunately, nor did the sketchy circle of dreeko-addicts staring guppy eyed at any passerby with shaking bony fingers tracing the edges of rusty blades. One of the decrepit souls went to stand up but she was left disappointed when the cretin took one look at the toothy, shark-like grin on her face, and unfortunately thought better than to mess with her. With a sniff of disdain (and a crinkle of her nose from the stench of unwashed bodies) she limped away into the poorly lit corridor. Though as she pushed her way through the throng of scav's and wasters she noted with ever increasing concern the number of guards roaming the stalls.
The market street narrowed until she had to turn her body and shimmy around the settlement's denizens, keeping a grip on her blaster and an eye out for some kind of salvage trader among the confusing throng of vendors and screeching store-cryers. Her hackles went up several times when she felt fingers grab at her as she passed by, and her blaster went up with it on one occasion when a brute of a zabrak thought he could get handsy with her belt pockets. Her throbbing headache, stiff muscles, and painful wounds weren't doing much to help her foul mood either. The shaking in her fingers only got worse as did her thirst.
How hard is it to find a blasted salvage trader in a literal city made out of wreckage?!
Her question was answered when the corridor opened up somewhere near what was once the starboard battery magazine, where the ammunition for the broadside turbolasers were once kept. The firing ports were open and the guns that had once protruded out of them gone, now they only served as open doorways, streaks of muck trailing in from the outside with the murky morning sunlight filtering in, illuminating the interior in a haunting gloom.
Ahsoka's bitter mood lightened somewhat when she turned to her left and found bits and pieces of actuators, random blaster parts, droid torsos, limbs, armor plating, and (Thank the Huntress!) speeder parts hanging on display from hooks in the ceiling. She saw a few early morning customers trailing among the salvage but she didn't immediately see a trader, or for that matter any credits changing hands.
She was eventually approached by a sleazy neimoidian flanked by a large rodian and sneering trandoshan (or smiling, she could never tell with Trandoshans). Eager to sell off the speeder and find what she was looking for so she could be rid of this skugg-hole of a world she straightened her shoulders and eased her tight expression into something more amicable, though her fingers never did leave her blaster.
Her anxiety ramped up and her amicable smirk faded somewhat when the Neimoidian stuttered to a stop and traced the lines of her battered body with an almost hungry eye. Satisfied with what he saw in her his flat face pulled into a slimy grin and she fought the sudden and violent urge to kick that grin down his throat.
Welcome to Halvar's Refuge Scrap and Trade!" The Neimoidian declared, hands raised in a grand gesture. His two goons followed him, one behind each shoulder watching her every move with steely expressions. Ahsoka ignored them, for the most part. The Neimoidain leaned towards her in a friendly fashion and continued, " You don't look like you're from around here. We don't see you're kind around here often. What can this humble store-keeper help you with? Searching for something, or are you here to..." He paused and looked her battered appearance up and down again. "...trade?"
Ahsoka really wanted to kick this slime bag into the dreadnought's trash compactor but settled for a glower instead.
"Trade." She replied through clenched teeth. "I got a BARC speeder in the main hangar I'm wanting to off-load."
"Ah, you would be our early morning visitor!" He exclaimed in a sickly sweet voice.
Ahsoka's brows scrunched and her fingers tightened on her blaster. "What's it to you?"
"News travels fast in Halvar's Refuge." The Neimoidian waved a gray hand dismissively. "And it's not everyday we see a Togruta around these parts. Let alone such a…. charming specimen like yourself."
That just cut it. Ahsoka's lips peeled into a snarl and she advanced towards the suddenly concerned scarp trader. "Alright, squiggly eyes up here bud, or I'll scrape them out of your face with a rusty spoon."
The trader's muscled lackeys pushed forward, looming over the shorter Togruta.
Ahsoka was hardly impressed.
"Simmer down there boys. I'm not in the mood to pick scales out of the bottom of my boot-treads. I just want to trade in my speeder and I'll be on my way."
The Rodian and Trandoshan frowned and differed to their neimoidian boss, who was now a mite more cautious of his Togruta customer.
"A-Ahem. Of course. Well, lead the way so I can appraise the merchandise."
Ahsoka nodded her head sharply and stalked towards the hangar with a supreme feeling of satisfaction as the passerby who had witnessed two large enforcers back down from a small Togruta female.
The former Jedi eyed the Trandoshan frowning down at her from a few steps away with a sick little knot in her stomach. The last time she had been this close to one of the reptilian predators it and others of its kind had stalked her and her men across swamplands just like this one during the Second Siege of Naboo, and she was loath to deal with any more of their kind.
The trip was much faster going back, since the crowd made way for her and the Neimoidian trader flanked by his lackeys, and that was all fine and dandy by Ahsoka, however she was growing less pleased with attracting so much attention. Specifically from the guards watching them pass. She hadn't noticed this at first, but she counted a disproportionate amount of scowling Gungans and Trandoshans among the goons in scavenged patrol armor. She didn't know what that meant, and she didn't like it one bit.
Ahsoka breathed much easier when they emerged into the main hangar and she laid eyes on a still grumpy Piecemeal straddled on the speeder. His sun-wrinkled eyes locked on hers and his tense expression lacked in relief; though only slightly. The grizzled war veteran kept their new friends within view and his fingers never left his unholstered blaster in his lap.
"Friend of yours?" The scrap trader asked, eyeing the twitchy human frowning at them from the BARC speeder. He looked down at the clone's foot and frowned. "Where's the rest of him?"
"Dropped his leg in the swamp." Ahsoka answered curtly.
"How does one 'drop' their leg?"
"Very carefully. Like plucking a nostril hair." Ahsoka replied dryly, not even bothering to hide her eye roll.
"They here to take a look at the speeder?" Piecemeal asked, wearily glancing between the neimoidian and his muscle-bound entourage.
"Yeah. start her up real quick?" Piecemeal stared at the scrap trader for a moment longer then bobbed his head and holstered his blaster. Sliding his missing leg back over the seat the clone thumbed the ignition. For a moment the engine sputtered in protest but thankfully turned over with a spooling growl. The clone looked over his shoulder and threw a thumbs up.
Ahsoka turned and gestured towards the speeder. "Side mounted blasters and nose cannons work, as does the data computer and navigation. Landing skids still extend and retract. Stabilizers are in good working condition and repulsorlift is smooth, even over rough terrain. BARC's are hard to kill after all."
The Neimoidian circled the vehicle, appraising it- and its owners. He pointed to the speeder's nose. "Where did you get this dent from?"
From side-swiping a Sith Inqisitor's face at 50 klicks an hour.
"Oh, that was there when I acquired it."
The Neimoidian hmm'ed and haw'ed for a few moments deliberating with himself. "Well, with its worn and clearly abused condition I'm afraid it's not worth much…"
Ahsoka was honestly surprised no one else could hear her teeth grind together. She very much wanted to give in to a more… aggressive style of negotiation but even through the unpleasant haze of painfully sore muscles, mounting headache, and an itchy blaster wound she knew it would only serve to dig her in deeper trouble. Instead she ground out, "Six hundred credits."
It was a reasonable price she thought, a steal really. Even taking into account the BARC's beaten frame it should be worth at least one grand easy, so the blank look of confusion on the Nemoidian's fish-like face only served to confuse her more (and ramp up that intangible wrongness that infested this whole planet, mud and people all.)
The trader quickly wiped the confusion off his face, once again replacing it with his salesman smile. Ahsoka could feel the slime ooze from his grin. "Where did you say you were from Miss?"
Ahsoka felt her shoulders stiffen on reflex, and she cursed herself when she saw the Trandoshan and Rodian notice too.
"I didn't." She replied coolly.
The Neimoidian hummed, looking her up and down, clearly seeing her from a different angle this time, less a customer and more of an… opportunity.
"We… don't take credits here I'm afraid." He sighed regretfully. His bad act at empathy irked her in the same way being treated like a child during the Clone Wars had yanked her lek.
"However, I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement." He leaned in, conspiratorial and upbeat, like a friend tilting closer to clue her in a good joke or juicy nibble of gossip. "...Perhaps I can even assist in locating whatever you are looking for?"
She didn't want to deal with this sleemo. She really, really, really, didn't want to deal with this sleemo… but she needed his help. She hated how her beaten and filthy appearance made her look desperate, vulnerable.
As it turns out though, her appearance didn't lie this time. As much as it infuriated her she was desperate, and there is no telling if she could find another trader on this ship. Despite the way his sleazy grin sent shivers down her spine he did seem well off in comparison to the other denizens of this wasted city. He must have connections. And she was desperate.
She hoped she wouldn't come to regret this.
"Transport off-world." She answered, voice unyielding and serious. "Safe passage for both of us to the nearest starport."
The Neimodian's expression never faltered for a moment, not even a flicker of change from his sleazy knowing grin. "I'm afraid passage off-world is worth quite a bit more than what you are trading."
Ahsoka glared, meeting his unsettling squiggly eyes. He didn't say anything more, leaving her offer hanging. Ahsoka fought to keep the feline growl building in the back of her throat. "Fine." She bit out. "A message then. Ten minutes on a private long range comm terminal."
"Hm, I'm afraid Communication Terminals are few and far between out in the wastes." The trader straightened up, shooting the Rodian a look. Ahsoka couldn't read what that look meant but the green scaled humanoid apparently understood, turning and making his way towards the aft of the ship, the opposite direction the trader's shop was. Her fingers tightened on her blaster. Welp, that tears it. Time to leave.
"We 're done here-"
"Wait, wait." The Neimoidian halted her, waving his arms, saying, "I may not have one, but my benefactor does. I can simply arrange a meeting, an opportunity if you will."
Ahsoka didn't like this. Not one bit. It seems her 'simple' escape plan was quickly spinning out of her control. "...Is that where your friend is going?"
"That's right, It does not speak well to just interrupt the boss. He is a busy man after all." The trader chuckled at himself, though it came out more like the sound a tooka makes when it's drowning.
Ahsoka eyed the trader, her lips pulled into a thin line. She shared a look of her own with Piecemeal, the clone clearly as enthused with the current situation sliding through their fingertips as she was.
She gave a miniscule tilt of her head, stay or run?
The clone thought for a moment then bobbed his shoulder in a tiny shrug, we're kinda screwed either way. Your call, Commander.
Ahsoka frowned, a little irked that even when having a silent conversation she could still hear Piecemeal calling her by her old rank. spotting the tiny curl of a near imperceptible grin on the clone's face, she suspected Piecemeal knew exactly what was going through her head. Ass.
The exchange did serve to ease the edges of her biting tension, her stiff shoulders relaxing marginally.
The Rodian didn't keep them waiting for long, emerging from the quickly growing crowd milling through the hangar interior with a smaller man in tow. When the Rodian stepped aside to let the man join their discussion Ahsoka's breath caught in her throat.
He was human, lightly bronzed skin with light brown hair that cascaded down to his broad shoulders, framing a handsome clean shaven face and a pair of startling blue eyes. He was very handsome, and to Ahsoka the stranger bore a striking resemblance to…
Anakin.
Ahsoka swallowed and choked the name back down her throat. Yes, this man was human and had brown hair. Yes he had blue eyes and a handsome face, with a strong jaw and high cheekbones, but when she looked closer the differences quickly became apparent.
His hair was straighter and darker than Anakin's, and even though this man and her old friend both shared blue eyes, Anakin's were deeper, mesmerizing and sparkling like staring into a far off blue hued star in a clear night sky. This man's jaw was squared, where Anakin's was sloped and angular; and though his face was handsome, this man lacked the scar across his right brow that had marked Anakin's rugged features as a seasoned warrior (she wouldn't admit it, but it appealed to her more... base instincts as a female member of a predatorial race).
This man, no matter how similar he is to her old crush, this man was definitely not Anakin… though, if I squint enough… No. No, stop that.
Shaking away those old memories clinging to the fringes of her thoughts, Ahsoka straightened her aching shoulders and squared her jaw facing down the Skywalker-imposter.
The man glanced at Piecemeal and the BARC, but when he turned his eyes towards the Togruta his Rodian Guard warned him about what he saw gave him pause. His eyes trailed over the weary and beaten woman, standing proud and strong despite her obvious pain. A smile brightened his face and Ahsoka swallowed around a thick knot of lead.
The Handsome Anakin-lookalike turned to the Neimoidian, "Nalvar, your guard failed to mention how enchanting our surprise guest was."
The Neimoidian's fish-like face quirked into a half-grin. "Of course, sir. Apologies."
Ahsoka wasn't sure what to make of the indirect complement, given that it was someone else other than some slimy scrap trader or thug.
"Hm," The stranger returned his blue eyes back to her and Piecemeal and introduced himself, "Well met Miss, I'm the… Well I suppose you could say the Boss around here." The man glanced at the BARC speeder then back to her. "My man Nalvar here tells me that you are in need of our long-range comm terminal. Correct?"
Ahsoka liked dealing with this man better… looks aside of course. (No, really. She told herself, His charm and resemblance to you-know-who has nothing to do with it.) he gave off a much more earnest impression. One much more her speed.
"That's right." Ahsoka cautiously unwrapped her fingers from her blaster and shook the hand he offered. Faint tingles of lust shivered up her arm and she stamped down on the filthy emotion. This man wasn't Anakin. But, if I squint enough…
She cut off that trail of thought hard and released the boss's hand. His smile widened as he gestured to the BARC. "Well met Miss…?"
"Ashla." Ahsoka lied easily, using a common Shillian name she was rather fond of.
"Well Ashla, Shall we take this discussion to a more private venue?" The man asked. He looked at Piecemeal. "Your companion should join us as well." He turned to the Rodian. "Get our guest a crutch."
"I'd appreciate that." Piecemeal spoke up, gesturing to his missing limb.
The Rodian gave his boss a small nod and walked away to complete his task. He returned a moment later with a hollow metal strut repurposed into a crutch. Piecemeal took the tool and settled it under his armpit easily enough.
"Nalvar, you may go." The man dismissed the Neimoidian.
"Of course, Chief." The scrap trader gave the man an overexaggerated bow that, to Ahsoka, looked more like a fowl pecking a morsel from between its feet before he strutted off with the Rodian in tow. Ahsoka noticed the Trandoshan stayed behind, a step back and to the left of his employer. He never took his eyes off of hers, reptilian slits burning trails across her bright striped montrals and lekku.
"Follow. We can speak in my private conference room." The Anakin-look alike said, leading them away towards what she recalled from her days in the Clone Wars to be the Providence's secondary command deck near the center of the downed vessel.
It was a long walk, with the Mag-lifts inoperable. Nothing but cramped staircases and sketchy walkways carved through the bulkhead. Ahsoka did her best to keep track of the route in the case that they would have to make a quick exit but ten minutes in she found herself hopelessly lost.
Part of that was her pain and exhaustion distracting her, the other was the Trandoshan making hungry crocodile eyes at her from behind the entire time.
"Is he making you uncomfortable?" Ahsoka jumped at the sudden question, and nearly took a tumble down the stairs before catching her balance and turning her eyes from the staring Trandoshan to the front. The Chief was looking down at her with a smirk on his face.
"What?" She asked.
"My employee?" The man repeated. "Is he making you uncomfortable?"
Ahsoka scoffed. "This long maze you call a staircase is making me uncomfortable."
The Chief chuckled at that, "Well most of the ship cracked into pieces so patch jobs are our only option." He led them over a gap between two smashed sections of hallway, bridged by a rusted durasteel plate that creaked in protest as they stepped across.
"Thankfully though, we have arrived." He announced, coming to a stop before sealed blast doors at the end of the hallway. Hitting a button the doors shuddered in complaint as they slid languishly open, their motors worn and in dire need of servicing they probably won't get.
Ahsoka and Piecemeal followed the Chief into the conference room dominated by a wide table bolted to the floor at its center, with a command console, strategic holo-display set into the back of the room. At the far end of the room was another sealed door that if Ahsoka had to guess leads to their goal, a Comm Terminal.
The Chief took a seat on one end of the long table and Ahsoka and Piecemeal gratefully fell into their empty chairs opposite him. The Trandoshan bodyguard took up his position behind his employer, continuing to eye the both of them. Ahsoka's anxiety spiked when a female and male human walked into the room, dressed in matching gray servant garbs.
Ahsoka wanted to get these talks over with as soon as possible, eager to get away… that is until the Chief said the magic words.
"Drinks?"
"Yes!" Ahsoka's body had jerked awake all on its own just at the prospect of sating the vicious edge of her thirst.
When she saw the weird expression Piecemeal was giving her over outburst she sank back down, tempering her enthusiasm and cursing herself for her slip-up. "I mean, yes I wouldn't mind."
Piecemeal eyed her for a moment longer before shaking his head.
"Very well." The Chief waved a servant over and retrieved a glass decanter from their tray and poured a measure into two cups. The swill was strong. The aroma of alcohol burned at her nose even from across the table. Against her wishes felt her heart start to pound at the smell, her mouth gone dry as an arid desert.
He slid her drink over and Ahsoka was both simultaneously shocked and ashamed at how much effort it took to temper her excitement as she lifted the cup to her lips and took her first sip.
The liquid burned the moment it spilled over there tongue and rolled a trail of fire down her throat, and euphoria and warmth spread down her arms and her tired legs tingled. She drained the cup dry and set it down with a slow satisfied sigh. Her body relaxed as the alcohol spilled through her system, easing her shakes and numbing her pain.
The Chief had been watching her while she drank, blue eyes not missing a thing over the rim of his own cup as he sipped at a much slower pace than his newest customer.
"Another?" He asked.
Ahsoka hesitated a bit longer than she probably should have, doing her best to mask the confliction warring across her thoughts as she stared down at her empty cup. Her thirst won out. She held out her cup to the servant. "Please."
The servant took the cup and she turned to begin the meeting.
A loud crash of smashing china and before her mind registered it Ahsoka's blaster was already drawn and leveled at the Trandoshan and his boss, both who were regarding the weapon trained on them with a calm disregard. She shot Piecemeal a glance and saw he had drawn his blaster as well, only his was aimed behind her back at the servants, one of which was scrambling to clean up the shattered remains of the cup she had dropped.
"Clumsy girl." The Chief purred. The Servant flinched at his soothing tone, eyes down and dedicated to her task, never daring to look up at her employer. "Clean this mess up, then leave."
"Yes Milord." She whispered meekly, setting the tray on the table and picking up the cup shards scattered on the ground.
Ahsoka holstered her blaster sheepishly then went to get up and help the girl when the Chief stopped her.
"Let her work, my dear." He said kindly, "Sit, and I'll get your drink instead."
Ahsoka hesitated, looking between the servant girl and her boss. Ultimately she reluctantly sank back to her seat. The Chief nodded in approval and got up, going to the side wall and perusing a selection of glasses before choosing one on the end of the table and returning to his seat. He uncapped the decanter, refilled her drink, and slid it back to her.
Ahsoka accepted the drink but this time she took a sniff of the concoction first. Not smelling anything out of the ordinary, besides strong spirits, she took a swing, savoring the way the drink seared down her throat this time instead of inhaling it. She didn't know exactly what it was, the drink tasted like bad repulsor engine oil and kicked like a Tauntaun with the god-awful smell to match. If she had whiskers they would have curled, but instead her leeku spasmed in displeasure weakly slapping her sides in protest at the horrid concoction.
The bone-deep throb of thirst drowned out her body's rejection and she took another swig.
"Are your needs sated?" The Chief asked, amusement pulled his lips into a confident smirk. Ahoska found it a little aggravating rather than charming.
Coughing once she set the cup down with a smack her lips. Her previously sour mood lifted somewhat as her headache subsided. In fact, everything felt numbed, like static buzzing through her skin.
She shook her wrist of the odd sensation and leveled a considering eye towards the Chief as the servant boy leaned forward and refilled her cup.
"Let us speak more before we get down to business, yes?" The Chief prompted before she could get the conversation moving. At her disgruntled expression he leaned forward in his seat beseechingly, "Oh come now, you wouldn't deprive your gracious host of a little conversation in exchange for a little drink? It is so very rare to speak with travelers out here in the wastes…"
Truth be told, Ahsoka could care less about being polite seeing how she would never see this slimeball of a planet, or those that inhabit it again once she does call for help. However, there is no telling how long they will be forced to wait for pick-up. Could be a few hours, or a few weeks. Emperor's mossy armpits, she didn't even know where here is!
"Fine." Ahsoka sighed, leaning back in her chair. The Chief beamed at that, pleased at her reluctant agreement.
"Wonderful! Now, forgive my curiosity, but where are you two coming from?"
"I take it you don't get many outsiders out here?" Ahsoka inquired.
"On the contrary," The Chief corrected, "many wasters wander in here on the daily." He gave a pause, then spoke, his voice laden with intent. "Off-worlders, on the other hand…"
The Chief and his reptilian guard didn't so much as flinch when their guests' hands went for their blasters. The Chief wore an air of casual indifference, crossing one leg over his knee and sipping from his drink.
"What…" Ahsoka slowly uncurled her fingers from her weapon. "What makes you think that we are off-worlders?"
The Chief and his trandoshan guard both chuckled, as if in on a joke Ahsoka wasn't privy to. He swallowed his sip and set his cup down with deliberate slowness, then asked, "Tell me my dear, what planet are we on?"
"...Look, all we need is to use the-"
"Well?"
Ahsoka felt tension twist the air like a winding rope, a noose tightening around their necks with every passing second. She knew they had been trapped.
"The price to use the Comm Terminal has already been discussed-"
"But not with me." The Chief cut in, his smirk never leaving his face, even as Ahsoka's lips turned into a deep frown. "Oh now do not give me that look, my dear." He admonished, as if speaking to a child. "In fact, I will allow you to use the terminal after this, Once we discuss the price and value of course."
Pleasant surprise churned with the funny numbness the strong drink brought. Drawing on her rusty meditation skills from her Jedi training she pushed the feeling aside to sift through the frankly suspicious windfall.
She cast a skeptical eye. "Then what price are you talking about?" She coughed again, the words nearly slurred as they scraped from her suddenly dry mouth. Was that drink stronger than I thought?
The Chief's blue eyes lit in delight as his smile broadened.
"Yours."
Ahsoka blinked in confusion. Then panic gripped her heart as it leapt up her throat and she was up and out of her chair, blaster cleared from its holster-
-Then the world spun and she found herself on her knees trembling like a newborn lamb, her blaster still skittering across the floor from slipping from her nerveless fingers. She felt shouting around her, but it was a garbled mess, drowned out by a screeching ringing in her montrals.
She made out Piecemeal as he tried to stand, then he was launched back into his seat, the chair and the clone tumbling to the floor in a tangled mess. The gunshot punching through her hearing like a pike.
Ahsoka tried to scream, but her throat ran dry. She clawed at her throat and breast, her chest flared as if her insides were on fire. Her eyes widened as she realized far, far too late-
Poison.
A hand grasped her left lek and she was dragged off her her feet, agony shooting up her montral and down her spine, adding to the already excruciating pain she was in. She let out another tortured, soundless scream. The trandoshan guard's lizard grin cleared through her muddled vision and she felt like she was sixteen all over again, fleeing these reptilian monsters through the swamps of Naboo all over again.
"Now, Now, Xil'brex, do be more gentle. After all, we wouldn't want to further damage our prize." Anger flared through her foggy mid at the Anakin-imposter's haughty tone. With a monumental effort she grabbed the scaly arm holding her aloft and lashed out with her foot, and with a supreme sense of vindication felt her heel connect with a solid thump and a satisfying grunt from the human.
"Oh, my dear. You will regret that…"
Her satisfaction was short-lived when a rock-hard fist slammed into the side of her head and she hit the floor hard with a strangled gasp. Smaller hands clamped around her throat and dragged her within a hair's breadth of the Chief's grinning face.
"Now, I just realized that I never did properly introduce myself, did I, my dear?" His fingers tightened around her throat and her vision swam dangerously, the ringing in her montral worsening as he continued. "Here, I'm known as the Boss-"
"But you can call me Jordo."
A/N: Untraveled here!
Finally, finally, Chapter 5 is complete! I don't know why this chapter took so long for me to write, but I hope you will enjoy this continuation of "What Could Have Been" as much as I have writing it!
I found that I loved exploring a darker, grittier Ahsoka and her struggles Post-Clone Wars. Drugs, alcohol, and sex are common (and unhealthy) ways of coping with the horrors of war among veterans in real-life, and I always imagine Ahsoka and other survivors would struggle with these things to numb their pain and haunting memories.
What do you think about this version of Ahsoka and her struggles?
Tell me! Comment below!
Shout-outs:
Shout-out to WingsTakeMeAway from AO3 on beta-reading this piece and all of your suggestions and support. Your positive attitude and energy made writing this piece worth it! You're awesome, thank you!
