Don't Call Me Baby, Baby

[Arya Ravenwing]

ooc: looking for someone to embroil Arya in mystery and keep her on her toes. Punctuation, full sentances and coherent dialogue a must. Weenies need not apply. /ic:

Arya eyed the shot on the table as the big man across from her picked it up in his thick fingers. He chuckled, alchohol glazing his eyes, and put it to his lips in the momentary hush of the bar. The bright green liqour slipped down his throat in a rush, and the crowd erupted in cheers, bets being placed again and credits changing hands.

The smuggler looked at her little row of glasses, eight empty shots to his nine. She allowed the trace of a smile to draw the corners of her lips upwards as she picked up her ninth shot of Green Sin, the name the bartender had given his homebrewed moonshine. Tasted worse than sin, but sparkled in a glass like nothing she'd ever seen.

She hesitated, picking up the shot glass, and someone catcalled from the back of the crowd. Then she threw it back, slamming the empty glass upside down on the table next to the others. Arya brushed her short black hair out of her blue eyes, and winked at her opponent, Grogin something. He leered drunkenly through the cacophany of noise, and nearly spilled his tenth shot as he grabbed for it. He recovered, finishing off the shot and setting the empty shot glass next to the others.

"C'mon place your bets! I've got three hundred says she pukes after this one."

"I'll see that!"

Calls and jeers filled the small bar in the underbelly of Coruscant, people jostling for position as Arya downed her shot. She tossed the glass into the air, and snatched it up with her left hand before setting it on the table. "Place yer bets, boyss.." There was a little bit of a slur to her tongue. "I've got double or nothin' on my wager that I beat your hometown favorite." Arya indicated the neat stack of chits that were on her side of the table. The crowd erupted in a fresh round of wagering, and Grogin was feeling the heat.

Sweat was erupting from his brow and pouring down his face as he reached for the eleventh shot. Reached... and kept on going as he plopped face down on the table, scattering empties all over the floor. His buddies shook him, but Grogin was out. Arya simply smiled, putting her chits back into the inside jacket pocket of her coat.

"Not so fast, baby - you have to do the next shot first." The man who'd grabbed her hand had the look of someone who'd bet against her.

"Fair's fair." Arya raised an eyebrow at the hand on her wrist, and he let go. "All right boys - for the win." She stood up, kicking her chair back and made a show of blowing out a breath of air. Then she licked her lips and threw back two shots, one right after the other. She tossed the empty shot glasses up over the table, and swiped one out of the air before it landed. The second one fell to the ground where it cracked. "Looks like I won."

[Mortie]

In the din of the angry losers the chirrupy little giggle went unnoticed.

On the floor the cracked shotglass that Arya had discarded rolled forward slightly, as if on an incline, and stopped closer to the womans booted foot. An affectionate coo drifted upwards before the glass suddenly was sent tumbling from the inconsiderate kick of a husky barfly, who slammed down a handful of credits before stalking away mumbling under his breath.

With an indignant whistle the shotglass flew into the air by an unseen force and smacked the man in the back of the head. "Hey!" he growled, putting a meaty paw to the nape of his neck. Narrowing his eyes he scanned the crowd and finally rested his gaze on Arya. The damaged glass now lay on the wooden plank flooring at her feet. It giggled.

Pointing an accusing index finger at the smuggler the man barked, "What kind of black magic, low-down tricks are you playing here witch?"

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya burped, and stared along her nose to the pointing finger. "What?"

"You heard me." The man stood up to his full height and glared down at her. "Jedi."

The smuggler's nostrils flared, but she didn't move from where she was standing, scooping credits into a bag with her hands. "You got the wrong person. I suggest you sit down before you get yourself hurt."

[Mortie]

The mans eyes burned brightly as he took a menacing step forward. Several of his ghoulish compadres followed suit, crossing their burly arms over their chests behind him. Never letting his gaze move from Arya, the brute's voice raised a decibal. "Who here saw her throw that shotglass at me?"

No one stirred.

"And who here saw it hit my head?"

This time a few hands raised hesitantly in the bar, accompanied by low murmurs of agreement.

"And who else here would want to throw something at me?"

A lone limb climbed up hesitantly, only to shrink back like a withered plant as the man glared at it's owner. A glimmer of triumph flashed over his flat grey gaze. "Only Jedi can throw things without touchin' them... and only Jedi can call things back to them without movin'." He stared pointedly at the glass on the floor, which seemed to quiver for a split second. The man narrowed his eyes into puffy slits and took another step forward.

"I don't like Jedi. And I don't like uppity women--you're both."

[Arya Ravenwing]

She quickly and securely fastened the bag of winnings into an inside pocket of her jacket, standing nonchalantly while the larger man advanced on her. "Like I said, you should sit down."

The man reached for her collar with his meaty hands, moving surprisingly quick for such a big human. Arya's hand shot forward, grabbing her assailant's hand before he could reach her. A few deft movements later and she had him kneeling on the floor with his arm bent out to the side, sweating with the pain of the position. The smuggler held him in place with only one hand.

"Had enough?" Her foot nudged the broken shot glass, and she frowned at it. It couldn't be making aface at her - could it? Must have been a reflection of Meathead here.

[Mortie]

An angry howl rose from the floor at the taunt, but Arya's captive did not move for fear of getting only a broken bone for his trouble. Everyone else in the bar stared silently at the women; a collective step back was taken.

Meanwhile, the little glass on the floor began to tremble and a series of loving sighs and intoxicated giggles floated up. The shaking intensified until nothing but a blur and a clinkety-clink as it hit the floor testified to the little shot's position. Murmers rose among the patrons, a few dirty glares were shot in the smugglers direction, and the lunk on the floor strained to see what everyone else was staring at.

Then, as if it could no longer be contained, the glass dissapeared in a fit of pink bubbles which, twisting like a tornado from the heavens above, shot into Arya's face! The smuggler was enveloped in a sea of rose as the bubbles charged around her. Finally, with a little pop! she could see clearly once more.

Snuggled against her neck and purring affectionately was a small, rotund, pink ball with eyes. It gazed up at Arya with admiration and then with new gusto settled it's cool jelly-like body into the groove of her shoulder.

[Arya Ravenwing]

The shotglass turned into something pink and burbl which proceeded to float up to her face level. Arya tried to back away from it, but to no avail as the pink sphere nestled against her neck on her shoulder.

Her first reflex action was to knock whatever it was off of her, and sent it flying. Unfortunately that meant that she'd let go of Meathead's arm. Arya realized her mistake as he punched her hard in her midsection. She doubled over and gasped for air, vaguely aware that the sound level in the bar had gone up by a few decibels. Meathead grabbed her by the hair and yanked her upright. His breath... was terrible.

Arya's sensitive nose crinkled even as tears pooled in the corners of her eyes from the stomach punch. "You really... should look. Into... breathmints!"

Meathead kept a painful grip on her black hair with on hand, choosing to squeeze her face painfully with the other. "Gonna take you to the garrison, Jedi. But first I'm goin' to have some fun."

[Bandage]

As the thug tightened his grip on the woman, a beer bottle sailed across the room, landing on its mark; the bottle erupted with an explosion of glass and leftover beer on the side of Meathead's head. In pain, he keeled forward, holding the side of his head. At the moment, he was not worried about the thrower, only at the pulsating pain in the side of his head. But his friend, on the other hand, was already looking in the direction of the origin of the flying bottle.

He saw a man in dark clothing, primarily a tattered, black trenchcoat, a button-up Oxford shirt, black slacks, black boots, and a black, wide-brimmed hat. But it wasn't the clothing that caught the most attention. It was the bandages that wrapped around the man. The form was tall and firm, clearly masculine, but wrapped in yellowing bandages. The skin that was visible was quite blackened and scarred, as if severely burned. It was a mere miracle that this being could even be alive, let alone be able to walk around with no trouble. As the thug ran forward, Bandage was ready. Producing another full beer bottle in his left hand, he swung it, connecting solidly with the man's head. As he pitched backwards, Bandage twisted the bottle cap, opening the beer. Instead of taking a swig, he douses the man, kicking him to the ground. Being in a smoking section of the bar, Bandage grabs a lighter sitting on a nearby table, lighting the alcohol-saturated clothing on fire. Bandage then takes this time to speak.

"You will be doing nothing of the sort."

[Mortie]

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

The little rose blob was sent sailing across the bar, squealing indignantly the whole way, until it connected with a small splat on the opposite wall. It slid to the floor way it lay unnoticed for a few moments, and then in woozy wide circles floated up again. Large bluish eyes rattled dizzily, and the little orb drunkenly floated about trying to get his bearings again.

Which happened rather quickly when he saw the big galoot attacking Arya. Puffing out what would have been it's chest (if it had had any recognizable body parts, that is) the creature zipped forward full speed ahead, incensed with fury...

Only to narrowly miss being throttled by a flying beer bottle. A surprised screech and a sharp climb upwards saved the little thing, and the bottle hit it's intended target. Seeing that the thug was distracted, the miffed ball of pink descended upon Arya in a cloud of reproach.

The smuggler suddenly found herself on the recieving end of a very long, very loud, and very squeaky dressing down. The blob had now become a condemning finger that was pointing at her and darting back and forth--just in case she decided to bat it away again. Finally, after a good five minutes of berating, the finger morphed back into it's rotund little blorb, who "hmped" and turned away from the woman, tucking into itself (giving the impression of a pair of crossed arms).

Then it saw Meathead on fire and the strange... being standing there. With a frightened whistle and a rush of wind Mortie--for that was what the pink alien had dubbed himself--darted behind Arya and peeked cautiously around her neck at the vigilante. Heroism, for the moment, was forgotten.

[Arya Ravenwing]

Well you know what they say about the better part of valour... Arya had no idea why a stranger was getting into the middle of the situation, but welcomed the distraction. The bar went from hostile to a warzone when their favorite son went up in flames, and Arya didn't have time to get irriated at the pink thing that was following her, squeaking something that might have been words.

The smuggler dove under the nearest table to avoid the mad rush from behind her to put out Meathead and attack the bandaged guy. Someone noticed her under the table trying to crawl nearer to the exit, and grabbed her ankle. Arya flipped to her back and kicked her other foot out, connecting solidly with her assailant's nose. It broke with a spray of blood, but other hands were already pulling her out from her hiding spot.

Set up on her feet once more, Arya headbutted a second man, and grabbed the collar of a third being that was holding her shoulder. She pulled his head down to eye level and bit his ear. Hard. He let go of her in a hurry, only to receive her boot in his groin. Broken Nose tackled her at the knees, and she fell sideways on top of One Ear who was curled up on the floor. A hard shot to the jaw stunned her for a moment, and she disappeared under a pile of mean, drunk idiots.

[Bandage]

Some rushed to put out the man on fire. Others went for Bandage.

Figures.... The thought shot across Bandage's mind before a fist came crashing against the side of his head. Pain exploded in his mind. Shaking off the first strike, Bandage stumbled backwards, kicking outward as he did so. He struck his assailant in the groin, and used it to launch himself into the crowd. He caught another assailant in his launch backwards, knocking him to the ground. Continuing to travel backwards, Bandage rolled backwards, bringing his feet down hard on the second man's chest. In a crouched position about seven feet from his previous position, Bandage jumped, kicking the jaw of a third assailant, and with the continued momentum, the left ear of a fourth. Blood flowed from both men, but the fourth did not fall. As the fourth crouched in pain, Bandage landed, planting a solid right boot kick in the center of the fourth assailant's chest. He hits the ground, and the first wave is down. But behind these, a second wave saunters forward, armed with bottles, pool sticks, legs of tables and chairs, basically whatever was on-hand. Bandage almost instinctively went for his saber, but that would cause panic, or worse still, reveal his identity as a Jedi. Better to be anonymous.

Reaching outward with his left hand, he snatches a pool stick, immediately bringing it to bear. Swinging forward, Bandage trips one man, but is hit in the ribs by a second. Kicking the knees of the second, Bandage spins the stick violently, catching all in the immediate vicinity. Amazingly, they all stagger back, and Bandage leaps forward, bringing the pool stick downward in an over-the-head chop. It splinters over the man's head, knocking him unconscious. This leaves an opening, and Bandage sprints through, going straight for the pile of drunken idiots. Yanking two off, Bandage finds the woman. Grabbing her wrist, he pulls her upward, practically dragging her as he did so.

"I think it's time we called it a night...And to think, I didn't even get a decent drink...."

[Mortie]

Mortie had lain painfully under the sweaty bulk of a drunk pilot, one end of his little body bulging as the other was squashed. Finally the strange... man? thing? managed to pull the pile apart, and Mortie found himself free. The blob wasted no time in shooting up and away from the dogpile, where he quickly gulped in large breaths--giving the distinct impression of a balloon being puffed and de-puffed.

Everything was fine until the man-thing pulled Arya along with him. Eyes widening (if that was possible) Mortie darted after the pair, whizzing beneath the smugglers feet and inbetween her and Bandage. With an irritated huff the little thing began to bubble again, and suddenly Bandage found his hand separated from Arya's wrist by a tiny crescent-shaped shield.

It was pink.

[Bandage]

Bandage suddenly felt unencumbered by the extra weight that was the young woman. Looking down at his hand, he saw a strange, crescent-shaped disk. It was a strange and gelatinous pink. Bewildered, Bandage spoke.

"What the hell?"

[Arya Ravenwing]

Battered a bit, Arya was liberated from the crush of humanity by the bandaged creature who'd disrupted things earlier. Blood from her nose was running down her face, and the thing holding onto her arm was gripping so tight that she was bruising.

Furious, she tried to yank her hand away from her unwelcome rescuer, and found that there was no resistance. She tumbled backwards onto her rear as the bandaged man found himself holding onto the pink bubble-thing that had started the whole mess. The Lupine rolled to the side to avoid a chair that smashed onto the ground next to her, and took advantage of her position on the ground to kick the legs out from underneath the guy who'd been pulling her.

As he went down she came up, pulling on his body to right herself even as he sprawled on the ground.

[Mortie]

Bandage was saved from a decidedly fierce ninja attack as Mortie's attention was affectively diverted back to Arya. As the smuggler was sucked back into the fray he'd just rescued her from the little alien had to muster up all his self-control (which, admitedly, wasn't much) not to dive after her. He watched with worried eyes as the woman neatly maneuvered her way back up, leaving a smashed up chair and Bandage on the floor in a heap.

"Croooo!"

Apparently the diminutive blob was impressed. He flashed a pink thumbs-up accompanied by a brief rushing sound that resembled applause, before nervously approaching Arya again.

[Bandage]

Bandage fell to the floor, still bewildered. He was trying to give her a hand, help her out, and he gets kicked and pulled to the floor for his trouble? And then there was the strange pink blob.....

Getting up, and shaking the dizziness from his head, Bandage turned and walked away. If she didn't need his help, then fine. She wouldn't get it. And neither would the blob. Dusting off the dirt clinging to his garments, Bandage moves a man aside with his arms, exiting the building.

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya lurched to her feet, the buzz she'd been riding slowly filtering out of her body as her advanced metabolism broke down the alchohol she'd consumed earlier. She seemed to have made it out on one side of the brawl that was overtaking nearly the entire bar. Satisfied, she hardly noticed as the bandaged guy got to his feet and shoved past her, his earlier heroics forgotten.

The smuggler dug into the inside pocket of her scuffed nerfhide jacket and pulled out a credit chit, flipping it to the furious bartender. "Sorry about the mess!" she called out over the ruckus, and ducked out of the door before anyone could stop her.

Once out in the cool night air, she pulled out a cigarra and lit it up, enjoying the fragrant smoke. The pink thing, she noticed had followed her. Again.

Arya jabbed at it with the glowing tip of the cigarra, and frowned. "What the frell are you?"

[Mortie]

ortie lurched backwards at the nefarious advance of the red hot cigarra, but miscalculated his own strength; he tumbled into the outside of the bar, flipped around panicked (surprised by the sudden appearance of the wall), and ran into the face of an exiting patron. The man yelped and swatted at his face. Mortie was stuck in limbo for a moment, dodging the man's large hands, before he finally swooped away and floated before Arya, panting.

Calamity, it seemed, followed the alien closely. Either that or he was just plain retarded.

"What the frell are you?"

Thrilled that she was actually talking to him, Mortie zoomed up until he was inces from the smuggler's face. He sucked in a breath, preparing for a lengthy explanation... and then deflated looking just as, if not more, confused as Arya.

Before the human eye could register it, Mortie dissapeared and a tiny little Arya hovered in the air. The likeness was exact, right down to the worn boots and the impatient scowl. Little Arya shrugged, and then wiggled her fingers gleefully. She giggled, and then pointed to herself.

"Mortie."

The scowl returned, and suddenly the mini-smuggler was holding a miniscule cigarra. She jerked it at Big Arya with overexagerated force.

"What the frell are you?"

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya narrowed her eyes and grabbed the alien with her fist. Her reflexes were faster than a normal human's, and the mini-Arya's eyes popped wide as she squeezed. "None of your damn business. But hey, you're a good lookin' woman and I'm feeling generous so you get to live."

She laughed uproariously at her own joke (okay, so not all of her buzz had left yet) and released the little shapeshifter. "So you can talk, and you shapeshift, hmm?" Arya was walking away from the bar, towards a dark alley across the street.

[Bandage]

Bandage was sitting in the alley, dabbing with a cloth some blood that had began to trickle from his nose. It wasn't broken, but it did hurt a bit. No matter. Looking up as he cleaned himself up, he noticed that the same woman was making her way to the alley. And with her, was the pink bubble, but at the moment it was in a shape that he could not see. They were still a fair distance away. Bandage leaned back against the wall, barely noticing that he was further in the shadows this way. The small cloth red with blood, Bandage went for another.

[Mortie]

Mortie--or Arya II--scowled at the back of Arya's head, feeling his--or rather her--ribs gingerly; they were troublesome, these bones, but the little alien couldn't speak basic unless he had a real mouth--and Arya most definatly had a real mouth.

Satisfied that nothing was broken, Little Arya swaggered behind the big one, waggling her hips. She made sure the big smuggler wasn't looking before sticking out her tongue and twisting her face in mockery.

"So you can talk, and you shapeshift, hmm?"

Quite suddenly Arya II was in front of Arya I, where she dissapeared and was replaced by a Coruscant city cab, a potted purple vegatable, and a pair of dirty socks, one after the other in perfect miniature. There was a pause before Mortie, quite enjoying the warm fuzzy feeling of being a pair of well-worn socks, changed back into Arya. Just for fun, he wiggled her hips again.

"Obviously." She eyed Arya cockily. "What can you do?"

[Arya Ravenwing]

The dark haired woman's nostrils twitched as the heavy scent of blood came up out of the alley. "I can talk too, but I really enjoy squishing annoying creatures that follow me around."

Arya yawned and stretched, shrugging out of her jacket as she reached the alley. It was dark and quiet in here, and she needed to run. Too long on the Wing of the Raven with no respite meant that her legs needed to be stretched. "I'll give you ten credits if you'll watch my jacket for me. Better yet, take it to my docking pad and give it to my droid, Twopio. Oh, and my pants too. Can you handle that?"

[Bandage]

Bandage, by this time, had stemmed up the flow of blood from his nose. It had finally stopped. Looking down the alley to the woman, he noted that she was in earshot. Getting up from his seat, he walked closer to the woman, until she is within earshot.

"Glad to see that you made it out of that skirmish. Figured you might've gotten hurt...But it is apparent that you can take care of yourself."

Bandage continues walking, until he is within good conversation range.

"Bars are always so unruly...I'm Bandage. It's a pleasure meeting you, ma'am."

[Mortie]

Mortie had not been on Coruscant long. He had not been around humanoids long. But, from what he knew, most did not take their pants off in dark, dingy alleys. Especially the girl ones.

Little Arya raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. Though she was an exact replica of the smuggler on the outside, there was still a conniving little pink heart beating on the inside.

"If I'm gonna haul all that," And comparitively the clothes were a heck of a lot bigger than he/she was. "I want twenty credits."

He was about to try and get some chocolate thrown into the deal when a familiar voice floated over.

"Bars are always so unruly...I'm Bandage. It's a pleasure meeting you, ma'am."

In a flash Mortie was back to his globular self, hovering menacingly between the two.

[Arya Ravenwing]

She stopped in the middle of undoing her belt, and frowned. "D'ya usually introduce yourself to women in alleyways? Look, thanks for tryin' to help, but I don't need any. And if you know what's good for you, you'll leave me alone. I'm hungry."

Arya's eyes flashed yellow in the moonlight as she stretched and cracked her neck.

[Bandage]

Bandage shook his head.

"Honestly, you left me little choice. You didn't seem to be in the mood for introductions at the time, being that your backside was being handed to you."

Bandage noted the change of eye color. the flash of feral yellow, but it did not bother him in the least. He had seen stranger in his days as a scarred man.

"And it was no problem offering you a hand. If you need anything, give me a call. I'll be there to help, when you're ready enough to admit it. Have a good night."

With that, Bandage turned to the alley and walked out of sidght into the darkness.

[Mortie]

"Hey, Lady, we gotta deal or not?" Arya II growled. With Bandage gone Mortie had shifted back to his previous role. The little smuggler held a hand out greedily. For the size of a large cup of stimcaf, the creature was pretty darn bold. In fact, Mortie as Arya was nothing like the adoring little pink sphere. He was harsher, sarcastic... it was tiring the little guy out.

Suddenly the eyes of the tiny identity crisis lit up. "Tell you what, forget the credits. I'll take care of your stuff, and watch your ship... if you gimme a lift."

[Arya Ravenwing]

"Fine. Deal." Arya growled, her voice huskier than normal. She unfastened her pants and let them drop to the ground as she stared after the nosy being who was disappearing further into the alley. The cigarra fell to the ground, the lit end still burning. Tiny Arya squeaked as the jacket was dropped on her, and Arya stretched, bones creaking and joints popping as she changed.

Like a giant sneeze, she shook out a thick covering of black fur as her feet narrowed and waist thinned, dropping into a crouch for the half-moment of confusing differences before her body settled into that of a large canine. Her tail whipped around, the stinger on the end just visible in the moonlight. The jet black vornskyr stepped neatly out of Arya's boots, and sniffed the jacket on the alley floor. It was moving in a very interesting way.

[Mortie]

The weight of the jacket made bantam Arya drop like a stone. She lay pinned to the duracrete, muttering obscenities while punching at the heavy fabric sea. Finally the little smuggler managed to beat enough of a fold in the jacket that she was able to stand up. It was hot, and sweat beaded on her forhead as she caught her breath.

"'Take my jacket to my ship', she says. 'Oooh, take my pants too', she says." Outside the lump under the coat began to move, bumping it's way to the outer edge of the garment. "What kind a person takes their clothes off in an alley anyway?"

Arya punched her way out of the coat, scowling, and crossed her arms. She was just about to bubble back into Mortie, when she felt a prickle along her spine. Slowly the woman turned around...

"AhhhhhhhhhHHHHHHH!"

[Arya Ravenwing]

The vornskyr's ears laid back and the beast almost fell back on it's haunches with surprise as the little thing crawled out of the jacket and screamed. Curiousity overwhelmed it, and tiny-Arya was treated to a huge lick as the beast tried to determine whether the noisy bug was edible.

[Mortie]

Miniscule Arya may have looked like Arya Ravenwing, but inside beat a cotton candy-coloured heart. When the vornskyr--where had it come from?!--helped itself to a taste, Mortie couldn't help himself anymore. With a piercing whistle and a loud pop! the small smuggler burst into a puff of pink bubbles.

He did the only thing he could think of.

There, standing with limbs splayed, was a very small, somewhat poofy, vornskyr. It looked up at the huge creature before it, and grolwed squeakily.

[Arya Ravenwing]

The whistling noise pricked the beast's ears forward, and when it saw the tiny vornskyr opposing it, Arya growled right back. The whatever it was hadn't tasted very good, and there was an interesting smell drifting on the wind, so the bigger canine bounded over the tiny one and loped to the end of the alleyway.

There was the scent of blood on the air, a colored streak of odor that stained the vornskyr's vision with the promise of food. The creature bounded down the street, keeping to the shadows.

[Mortie]

Momentarily confused, the small animal canted his head to the side and watched as the original vornskyr took off. Mortie had no idea what was going on; where had Arya gone? Where had that creature come from? And what the heck was he supposed to do now?

With a plop the little beast sat down on the jacket. He had to figure out what to do. The best course was probably just to go back to the ship and meet up with the smuggler whenever--

With a jolt Mortie jumped up, his paws sliding on the slick surface of the coat. What if Arya was so busy running she didn't realize that she was in danger of being devoured?! Oh that would be terrible!

The jacket and pants lay forgotten in the alley. With a short yip the little vornskry tore after the bigger one; he didn't know how he was going to stop it, but by golly, he would figure it out.

[Arya Ravenwing]

Her sharp ears picked up the patter of small feet behind her, but Arya was letting the vornskyr side take over, and all that really mattered to it was the smell of blood that was drifting through the air. She hadn't ingested anything except alchohol since dinner, and it was closer to breakfast time now.

The large vornskyr slowed as it came to a corner, black fur seeming to draw in the moonlight and kill it, rather than reflect anything. The tiny one caught up and was jumping up and down underneath the broad chest of the beast, but Arya ignored it until it managed to annoy her, and then she lay down on top of it.

Canine brain and human brain fought for a moment, and then the canine took over. In front of the vornskyr was a butcher shop, and it was late enough at night/early enough in the morning that the butcher was taking a delivery of fresh meat. The beast whined slightly, then growled as the little vornskyr squeezed out from underneath it. Arya nudged the little one with her snout, and then licked it's face again.

Stealthily, the creature slunk through the shadows towards the truck that was being unloaded. There was a lot of the blood smell in there - with her eyes shut Arya could paint a picture of her surroundings just using smell, and the picture she was painting right now was delicious.

[Mortie]

The fuzzy feeling he was getting wasn't altogether unpleasant (it kind of reminded him of the socks), and Mortie was beginning to rather like this new form. There was a sort of toughness settling in his chest that he heartily approved of and the bigger creature--much more affectionate that he had imagined--was growing on him. In short, Mortie was beginning to forget about Arya and think more about the lovely aroma that he couldn't quite track.

Strutting along underneath the big vornskyr (my but these legs were strong and long!), the little pup couldn't help but notice that the smell was getting stronger. Mortie hadn't realized quite how hungry he was. Licking its mouth the small canine weaved its way past the larger's paws and cocked its head curiously at the truck. Then, curious, it looked up at the big creature as if to say, so what do we do?

[Arya Ravenwing]

In answer, or rather, instead of an answer, Arya leapt into the back of the truck, back feet skidding a bit on the metallic floor. It was a butcher's van, and there were huge sides of nerf hanging from the sides, not to mention sausages and steaks packed carefully into boxes.

Scrabbling with front feet and claws, the vornskyr got one of the boxes open, revealing the huge nerf steaks stacked inside. They were separated by sheets of butcher paper, which didn't bother Arya much. She wolfed down one steak on the spot, and pushed her face in, licking another one. They were very fresh.

A noise from the building the truck was parked next to caused her ears to prick up, and the vornskyr nabbed two more steaks between its sharp teeth. It turned and leapt out of the truck, startling and knocking over a portly human who proceeded to curse up a blue streak.

[Mortie]

On it's first try, the little vornskyr hit the bumper of the van with a snort and toppled to the ground. It's belly hurt a little but it was a sturdy thing and after a dazed shake of the head and a determined growl the creature managed to scramble up after it's original...

Where it stopped in absolute awe.

For a moment the little thing could only stare at the endless walls of meat until a hearty slorp brought it out of it's spellbound reverie. A growl, a hop, and a wriggle later and the littlest vornskyr was happily drowing in one of the boxes. It was so nose-deep in fresh meat that it didn't even hear the approaching human, or notice when Arya took off in arms.

It was just trying to drag a rather large steak out of the box, standing precariously on the edge of the crate and tugging mercilessly at it when a large, meaty paw came down on the scruff of it's neck. Mortie squeaked in surprise as the human, still swearing, shook him like a rag doll. For a moment absolute fear froze the shape-shifter, but then the vornskyr instincts kicked in and he growled indignantly. He was about to change when the human--stupid, smelly, absolutely stark-raving mad human!--gave him a rather savage shake that made his eyes rattle so that the only thing that happened was a streak of pink fur appeared on his right paw.

He really had no choice. He howled.

[Arya Ravenwing]

The vornskyr paused in it's headlong dash down the street, and turned back towards the truck that sat in a pool of light from a street lamp. It dropped the steaks behind a garbage collector, and loped back towards the high pitched howl. Stride lengthening, the beast was nearly at maximum speed when it launched itself into the back of the truck, slamming it's heavy chest against the back of the human.

Mortie, Arya, and butcher all tumbled to the ground in a mess of limbs and raw meat. The vornskyr snatched up the tiny one by the scruff of it's neck, and jumped out of the back of the truck and to safety. Returning to the stashed meat it exchanged it's load, giving the little one a mighty lick before picking up the steaks again.

The creature trotted off down another alley, vaguely in the direction of the spaceport.

[Mortie]

Shaking himself off with a great wiggle, Mortie quickly followed his savior, nipping playfully at the Big One's paws and jumping at the dangling steaks. The fright had passed but the solitary fuschia stripe across his paw remained. Mortie paused to look at it, canting his head and whining slightly in confusion as if he couldn't quite fathom how on Coruscant it had gotten there. Perhaps that great, smelly, lump of a human back there had--oh!

The thought and resulting worry was forgotten as the poofy bantam vornskyr spotted a scrap of tarp, pinned underneath a durasteel crate and rustling from a breeze rising from the grate beneath it. He poised, every muscle taut and straining with the effort of keeping still. Mortie narrowed golden eyes menacingly and with ominous precision lowered his head. Then, with a sudden intensity, all legs and fierce (at least, it would have been fierce if it hadn't been so squeaky) growl charged at the offending fabric, seizing it with viciously sharp teeth and jerking it side to side spastically. It gave a satisfying riiiiiiip! and the tiny creature strutted away triumphant, dragging a tattered section of tarp in his jaw.

He pranced beside Arya, his own trophy nearly tripping him as he stepped on a trailing end, and was so absorbed in his little victory that he scarcely noticed they were very close indeed to the spaceport. The scent change--the sharp tang of iron, the thick oily flavour on the air--alerted the pup, and he dropped his treasure. Something was whirring away in his mind; something about the spaceport. Why did he suddenly feel so alarmed?

A high keen rumbled from the vornskyrs chest, and he glanced down at his pink-striped paw again. Another little bell in the back of his mind clanged. Mortie winced, licked futily at his paw, and then sat with a heavy plop. Something about a spaceport, and pink... and a jacket.

With a surprised bark, the faux canine turned tail and tore away from Arya.

[Arya Ravenwing]

Halting behind a row of untidy garbage bins, the vornskyr wolfed down the steaks before anything else could happen to them. It realized the small one had run off, but paid it no mind. Once the steaks had been consumed, the vornskyr licked her chops and stretched a bit.

It was harder to run on a full stomach, but the small part in her mind that was Arya knew she had to get to the Wing of the Raven before she Changed back. The vornskyr loped down the alley, into a street, and down a pedestrian walkway. At this early hour there was little to no traffic, but she felt the press of time.

Hurry... Arya bounded through the sliding glass doors into the spaceport, scattering early morning travelers as she beelined for the docking bays. Startled shouts followed in her wake, and a luggage handler made a grab for the scruff of her neck before someone yanked him back.

She ran on, thrilling to the excitement of the chase. Arya focused hard on the route to the docks, forcing her canine body not to be distracted by such easy prey all around her.

[Mortie]

Somewhere between the dumpsters and the meat truck, the vornskyr had fizzled away and become a rosy blur that shuttled around the corner at supersonic speeds. With a nearly audible screech, Mortie came to a halt above the dark shadow that was Arya's discarded clothes. The rotund blob panted heavily, eyes rolling around in exaustion, before ducking under the clothes and coming to a wobbly hover once more.

They were heavy, the jacket especially, and the alien grunted and floated forward in a woozy zig-zag. He was still trying to figure out what had just happened to him; sometimes changing made him go a little wonky, but he'd never been so completely entrenched in a form before. He imagined he would have had a headache, if he had a proper head.

It was a tiresome journey, fraught with many a near collapse, but sheer devotion to the sharp-tongued Arya was fueling Mortie and he bravely forged on, armoured with leather and buckles and pockets with spare creds jangling away. Finally the spaceport was in sight and, with a giddy coo of relief, Mortie wobbled over to a friendly enough looking bloke. He dropped the clothes and darted over the man's shoulder, chirping in greeting.

"Well, hello there, what're you then?" The man asked, surprised amusement bleeding into his voice. Ah, good. This was one of those humans that thought he was cute; Mortie liked those ones. In the blink of an eye the shapshifter had transformed.

http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a266/lizmclellan/Carrie-AnneMoss.jpg

There was a brief pop and he had shifted again.

?

The man chuckled heartily. "Ah, looking for your owner are you?" His gaze raked to the ground and over Arya's clothes. "Delivering the laundry, I reckon. Well don't worry, you're in luck. I've seen her, her ships only just here." Kindly picking up the clothes, the man led Mortie to a waiting vessel and set the cargo down gently on a nearby crate. Mortie chirped his thanks as the man departed, and then nestled down in the cool folds of the leather jacket to wait for his beloved.

[Arya Ravenwing]

Mortie was awoken rudely as the jacket was picked up and shaken out. Arya slipped it on over her naked body, stooping to grab her pants and pull them on. "Thanks kid." She flipped the shapeshifter a credit chit, and ran her fingers through her hair.

Pausing, she picked out a bit of raw meat from between her teeth. Gross. Arya flicked the offending morsel across the duracrete from her. Turning to go, she looked over her shoulder at the pink thing that was hovering expectantly as though it was waiting for something. About to tell it to get lost, she frowned. "What else can you change into? Anything? Like, say, keys or a watch?"

[Mortie]

"Mmmhmmm!" Mortie chirruped happily, bouncing up and down as if it was the single greatest question anyone had ever asked him in the entirety of his life. He took it as an invitation and gleefully bobbed closer to Arya before expertly popping into a long brass key with a thick handle.

The key twisted to the right, and then to the left, then both once more. Despite being completely ambiguous, it looked decidedly puzzled. For a moment the key hung motionless, and then ever so slightly the neck shortened. The key was still again.

"Hmmm..."

With a near inaudible pip! a matching brass lock appeared beside the key, which then inserted itself into the key hole and turned. The lock snapped open and then Mortie reappeared, bowing first to Arya and then to an imaginary audience. "Ta-da!" the little urchin crowed, eyes squeezing shut in the delight of it all.

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya grunted. "Well..."

The blob moved closer, almost as if it was encouraging her to move so it could follow her.

The smuggler coughed, and backed up a tiny bit, though it did no good. After a few more minutes of silence, she sighed. "If you're going to follow me onto my ship, I need to be able to call you something."

[Mortie]

His eyes, if it were possible, grew even larger until they completely dwarfed his body. The pair of suspended oculars shone brightly with reverential awe before pooling with tears. The little creature was so beside himself with joy that he could hardly keep still, bobbing about giddily and indeed even buzzing at the edges, as if a little motor were lodged inside the mass of pink goo.

She wanted to know his name.

If he'd stopped to think about it, though admittedly the frequency of such an action on his part was so low it was best left unsaid, Mortie might have considered that perhaps Arya didn't realize what she'd just done. If he'd stopped to think about it, he would have remembered that names throughout the rest of the galaxy were apparently (outrageously!) not considered anything important. They were hardly seen as soul-binding contracts. And certainly, anyone not from Mortie's world wouldn't have guessed that asking for a name was the equivalent of asking for eternal allegiance.

Nevertheless, Arya had asked for his name and the tiny alien could hardly fathom the simply stunning opportunity he was being granted. Nobody had ever asked his name before.


Positively swooning, Mortie composed himself enough to draw a dramatic breath and, with a grand pause befitting the sobriety of the occasion, squeaked, "Mmmmooortieee!"

[Arya Ravenwing]

"Alright, alright, you little menace." The hatch opened and the ramp slid down to the duracrete. The tiny 'shifter would certainly be handy to have around, especially since it seemed easier to take it along than try to get rid of it.

"Get your pink butt -" she paused, considering that the creature did not, in fact, have a butt. "Get in there. And don't touch anything. I'll keep you around but you'll have to work for your upkeep. Whatever that might be."

[Mortie]

A pink blur and the sound of rushing wind was all that was left of the creature as Mortie zoomed up the hatch and into the ship. Seconds later he returned, did several laps of Arya's head, flew over the top of the vessel, looped under it with the enthusiasm of a rabid Nek, managed to startle a passing mechanic by skidding across his bald head before finally spiralling, with all the force of a tiny tornado, into a chirping mass of quivering goo on the hatch.

It took several minutes for the orb to catch his breath and then Arya's own head appeared, floating in the gelatinous bubble in ghostly fashion. "What are waiting for?" the head demanded with a scowl before disappearing with a *pop*.