The time seemed to rush by in a blur for the two of them. Any awkwardness they might have felt prior to dinner was mostly gone, thanks to good food and drink. Instead, there was that ever-growing familiarity between them, which only increased the longer they talked.

Torian shared more stories of his travels with Corridan and clan Ordo, hearing himself embellish the tales slightly when faced with such an attentive listener. He hadn't quite reached the point where he was telling of how he wrestled a zakkeg bare-handed, but he could see himself start to head that direction. He supposed the flattery of such a rapt listener tended to do that to a person.

Wanting to keep himself from falling into that trap, he asked her about herself, and she obliged. She told him of growing up on Deralia, the middle child amidst four rambunctious brothers, all of whom eventually grew into hunters themselves. She spoke a bit of her parents, though she seemed a bit evasive when talking about her mother, promising to share more details in the near-future.

"I've been wondering," he began. "How did you get those scars on your face?"

He watched her hand reach up to the left side of her face, stroking the metal along her chin. "I received the scars -and the hardware in my jaw- when I was thirteen. Us three eldest siblings were visiting our grandfather, who was a retired hunter himself. He taught us everything we needed to know about hunting, and never passed up a chance to let us show him our skills.

On that particular visit, Grandfather asked us to work together and bring him back the biggest beast we could bring down ourselves. He preferred it alive, but dead would suffice if we had no other choice. We eventually tracked down a type of large forest wildcat, cornered it, and drugged it to bring back to him. It took a lot out of us to bring it down, but we were so proud of ourselves."

"So, what happened?" Torian asked, refilling his glass of Ne'tra gal.

"We were within sight of Grandfather's house when the beast woke up. I still don't know how it happened, we had measured out the proper dose of tranquilizer and taken every necessary precaution. But it still woke up. It tore apart two of the guards aiding us with transporting it, then it turned it sights on me. I tried to dodge when it raised its paw to strike, but I lost my footing. Next thing I knew, I felt pain, and the vision in my left eye went hazy. My brother Niel told me I was lucky, that it was just a glancing blow. Had it been a full-force blow, I likely would have been killed. As it was, I don't remember much of anything after that, even though I apparently helped distract the beast long enough for Grandfather to emerge with his blaster rifle and put it down. My next concrete memory was of waking up in Medbay two days later with half my face bandaged and metal hardware in my jaw."

"Must have been real bad."

"It apparently was. I learned from Niel that the hardware was necessary to replace the bone in my jaw the beast's claws had shattered. I also nearly lost my left eye from the strike. But I didn't let it slow me down, within a week of the accident I was up and ready to hunt again. At least, I was until my mother got wind of what happened."

"Was that bad? Thought most mothers would want to support their children."

She laughed softly, draining her glass. "My mother is most definitely not like most," she replied. "She's a beautiful woman, but very set in her own sort of traditional upbringing. She wanted me to be a lady, not a hunter, and that meant learning how to dress and behave like one. She also has a fierce temper; Niel said that he could face down the Emperor himself after having faced down our mother's wrath over this hunt."

"Impressive." Ky smiled as she noticed this drink sat idle in his hand, he was so focused on her.

"Not so impressive when you're thirteen, high on painkillers, and listening to your mother screech at you about how you'll ever find a good husband with those ugly scars on your face," she shuddered a bit. "I swear, my ears still ring a little from that tirade."

She started to continue, but suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious. Maybe it was the ale, but she normally didn't share this much about herself with others; it was better in her mind to keep people at arm's length lest they get too close. She averted her eyes, focusing on smoothing a hand along the glistening material of her skirt.

"I think she's wrong." She froze at those words, and at the gentle fingertips that reached out to lightly trace the scars on her cheek. "They're not unattractive, they show your strength, your courage. Two very attractive traits. Anyone who thinks otherwise is an idiot."

She smiled, feeling herself blush a bit. She looked up, reaching two tentative fingertips to trace one of the scars on his face. "I've wondered...what are these?" she asked softly. "Are they symbols of some kind?"

He caught her hand in his, holding it gently. "Yes." he said. "Symbolic of the past, of my stigma as aru'tal. A reminder of the price my clan has paid for the past, and to remain devoted and honorable for the future."

She smiled, looking at their clasped hands. "I think," she said, rubbing the thumb of her free hand across his other cheek. "I think you've more than proven your honor."

"Says you. Not everyone agrees with that," he replied.

"Are those people really that important?" she asked. "Because I think anyone who would hold you responsible for your father's choices is a complete idiot."

He laughed softly. He really didn't want to discuss the topic of his father, not on an occasion like this. But somehow she always found the right words to make him feel even slightly better. "You're sweet," he said. "Anyone tell you that?"

"Once or twice," she replied. "But I'm only this way toward the right people. Try not to let it get out; after all, I have a reputation to uphold."

"I'll keep that in mind."