Title: Xerarch
Author: pronker
Era: Before 9 ABY, but not by much.
Summary: Fennec Shand has a situation to deal with; Boba Fett withholds judgment. (Loose followup to "Pusher.")
A/N: Three double drabbles from a challenge's prompts on theforceDAHTNET. Titles are from Paulina Rubio's Fire (Sexy Dance) Fennec Shand is a prominent character in Book of Boba Fett in that Fett saves her life and she feels indebted to him. Helping establish House Fett on Tatooine is one way of paying back as she uses her assassin/bounty hunting skills.
IOIOIOIO
~Even in the stars above~
Anybody catch the license of the juggernaut that smashed me? I moan to myself because nobody must hear me cope. I grab my guts that aren't really mine anymore. Oh this hurts. A puny modification lays me low, xezops. Now I need and I hate needing Snub's product. I hate help; I hate the galaxy. If it weren't for Fett trusting me to build House Fett - not that I owe him a life debt or anything - I would be long gone. Gone to where, Shand? You have nothing: no ship, no destination, only a small amount of credits. I know I might scam Fett out of a loan to visit my ailing grandmother or something. He had a family worth knowing when I can get him to say anything about his past. Strange how alike we two are eh let's not go there. I bite my fist around a groan. This hurts. I go all fetal again and I hate that position because it's like I need protection when it's others who need protection, from me. The juggernaut wins, I comm Snub, get dressed and sneak out to where Snub lies in wait, in the alley under the stars above.
IOIOIOIOIO
~I'm here with you again~
You lost your bellybutton. You lost your guts, too, but you could not see them. After surviving Cad Bane, you bought your first tat: a dragon emerging from a cave, tongue flicking, tail curling, from your bellybutton. You even named it: Fee sprang in coppery scales from the soft cave fuzzed with hair and you got the tat when you valued modesty because nobody, nobody would ever see it except you. You waited weeks for the artiste to finish; you love that tattoo, tagwa. You lost other tats, too, but the dragon stayed special.
"Come to the den tonight? No cover charge."
You growl, "No way, Snub. Give me what I came for."
You play with the credits before passing them over. Shiny new credits, suitable for fun at Garsa's paigow table. Not for spice. You hate how Snub always plays the gentleman, never counting. That's what comes of power, the power to hunt you down like an akk on your own front porch if you slick him.
At least your needs plateaued last month. You feared as nothing before Fett summoning an undertaker if your pain did not respond to the spice, if you flamed out in your need.
IOIOIOIOIO
~Even if we're not in love~
One morning after breakfast, Fett cups her chin to run his thumb over its point. Shand doesn't resist as he shepherds her towards the window.
"It's a tat."
"Doesn't resemble one."
"It is."
"Why sienna?"
Shand thinks fast. "In case I rust, this will blend in."
Fett thinks faster. "Modifications don't rust unless the cybernetics turn kyorla with the real you. I got you the top mod-artist so you'll never rot."
Offense bleeds from his tone as Shand speaks the truth, mostly. "I know you got me the best when Calican blasted me. I wanted my tats again and this is better than before, where everyone now sees them. I earned them." He'll understand acclaim, reputation and all that. It's probably Mandalorian.
Fett takes her hands, studying the delicate spaces between her fingers. All show spice stains, irregular marks that brand her as a user. She pulls away to curl one fist loosely. "See this?"
grunt
"Now see this?"
She advances her forefinger inside the fist, then clamps the fist down hard.
grunt
"It's a dragon returning to its cave. Look, here are eyes." On one knuckle rest two spots.
He takes her hand once more. "Where was the original?"