Astrid
Apr 20th, 2014, 09:44:39 AM
His hand could span the space between the wings of her shoulderblades as if it were a mere pittance, a civil gesture of anatomy that didn't count for much in the grand dance of the universe. He had placed it there many times, proprietary and aggressive, because from there it required no great effort to drive his will forward and cause her to bow beneath it. She bent easily to his strength. They all did. It kept the bruises to a minimum.
But was his anger and not his strength that was breathlessly impressive. His anger crushed them together and swallowed them whole, gathered the scraps of who they were and soldered them into something practically whole.
In the end, it was his anger that she missed most. The quiet, lumbering force of it.
She supposed that was the burden of regret. Or shame.
-
Corellia did not suit Astrid. There was a rolling lick of confidence festering in the spaces between the Coronet crowd, sickly sweet and more overpowering than the aromatic smell of roasting mutari seed and grilled meat that rose from passing streetcarts. If it had been up to her, they never would have stopped, but the head mechanic had insisted that the slipstream drive wouldn't hold out much longer and that this was their best opportunity to find a replacement at a reasonable cost. With no technical knowledge to speak of, Astrid hadn't been in a position to voice protest. Besides, she was only a kitchen hand. Her opinion was worth a pile of cheap, filling beans.
They had docked earlier that morning. Despite her reluctance, Astrid had been persuaded to accompany the designated party into the city proper. She was young and fit and, though the modest mess unit was well-stocked, it never hurt to fill in the pantry gaps with extra tins of caf and quick cooking starches. The bigger the port, the cheaper the prices.
The technicians had gone one way and Astrid another. She wasn't alone. Anxious to get a little shore leave, Isak Janth had accompanied her to the market. He was a tall young man, gangly with youth and so earnest sometimes that it hurt, but his exuberance had been tempered after two years abroad and was now a palatable, open curiosity. Astrid liked him. They didn't know each other well but conversation was easy and he had wide shoulders, good for hauling sacks from the market. They had luck. A vendor trying to close out to restock for the afternoon crowd had given them a discount, and they'd walked away with two crates of honey melon for practically nothing. Astrid had plans for a breakfast custard. A bit of fresh produce would put everyone aboard Apolinaris in a better mood. Even the most dogged survivor got tired of the rehydrated staples that made up the bulk of a long-haul traveler's diet.
With their purchases sent ahead to the docking bay, Astrid and Isak took advantage of the rest of the afternoon and headed for a pub. It was her first choice, his second; he would have preferred to take her gambling. The savage reliability of her... instincts were well known amongst the crew.
As they entered and eyes flicked in their direction, Astrid remembered why she disliked such large and persistently anonymous planets. They were always crawling with unexpected characters looking to make contact and impress upon someone - often her - the importance of their place in galaxy. There was something about the look of her or her bearing, Astrid had learned, that attracted people and made the disreputable try their hand at dominating her whenever she came into contact with them.
"You come from these parts don't you, Isak?" Ignoring the looks, Astrid shrugged out of her long coat and sat down in an empty booth.
There were no menus on the table. Isak paused to grab one from a neighboring booth, distracted by the blinking list of assorted cocktails. He offered a nod. "Born and raised. It's a pity we haven't got more time here. You'd like it if you had a chance to get to know it."
Astrid made a face. "I think you - "
-
There was no space for thinking. She threw herself in front of him, dirt in her hair and fear stitching her throat closed.
"Bruno. Bruno, please, stop," Astrid choked. Her hand trembled as she lifted it and pressed it against his chest, beseechingly. A trickle of blood ran down the side of her face from the stiff cut that traced the edge of her hairline, just there above her ear. "Bruno, they are terrified. They are terrified."
It wasn't until weeks later, when things had dropped back into a tense and uneasy normality, that there was room enough for contemplation. Dane came to her.
"We have to end this," he said. A grim determination had replaced the fear in his brown, brown eyes. Astrid wondered when he'd stopped being a child.
"No," when she turned from the water, arms crossed over her chest, she felt his relief rub against her like a grateful cat. "We have to end him."
-
" - are overestimating my ability to adapt," she shook her head. "Where I grew up is much smaller, much quieter. This sort of expanse is only appealing from a distance.""
"It's not all 'steel and swagger," Isak shrugged.
"No, there's also cunning deceit and a charming essence of reckless desperation."
The man rolled his eyes. "You say that like you're not secretly enjoying it. Hold on. I need something to drink before I convince you of the merits of my old stomping grounds. And you need something to drink, full stop."
Astrid grinned and tucked the ash-white fall of her hair behind her ears. On this, at least, they agreed. It had been months since either one of them had been anywhere that served real alcohol and it was hardly something they stocked in bulk on the ship, so it was an indulgence they allowed themselves (often too liberally) whenever they docked. Astrid nodded when he asked if she actually was in the mood for something, but left the decision of what exactly she wanted in his capable hands, watching as he made his way toward the bar. She was in no mood for the tedium she knew awaited her when the seekers in the pub finally noticed her sitting alone, so she used the lightest of nudges to gently deflect any interest that came her way.
But was his anger and not his strength that was breathlessly impressive. His anger crushed them together and swallowed them whole, gathered the scraps of who they were and soldered them into something practically whole.
In the end, it was his anger that she missed most. The quiet, lumbering force of it.
She supposed that was the burden of regret. Or shame.
-
Corellia did not suit Astrid. There was a rolling lick of confidence festering in the spaces between the Coronet crowd, sickly sweet and more overpowering than the aromatic smell of roasting mutari seed and grilled meat that rose from passing streetcarts. If it had been up to her, they never would have stopped, but the head mechanic had insisted that the slipstream drive wouldn't hold out much longer and that this was their best opportunity to find a replacement at a reasonable cost. With no technical knowledge to speak of, Astrid hadn't been in a position to voice protest. Besides, she was only a kitchen hand. Her opinion was worth a pile of cheap, filling beans.
They had docked earlier that morning. Despite her reluctance, Astrid had been persuaded to accompany the designated party into the city proper. She was young and fit and, though the modest mess unit was well-stocked, it never hurt to fill in the pantry gaps with extra tins of caf and quick cooking starches. The bigger the port, the cheaper the prices.
The technicians had gone one way and Astrid another. She wasn't alone. Anxious to get a little shore leave, Isak Janth had accompanied her to the market. He was a tall young man, gangly with youth and so earnest sometimes that it hurt, but his exuberance had been tempered after two years abroad and was now a palatable, open curiosity. Astrid liked him. They didn't know each other well but conversation was easy and he had wide shoulders, good for hauling sacks from the market. They had luck. A vendor trying to close out to restock for the afternoon crowd had given them a discount, and they'd walked away with two crates of honey melon for practically nothing. Astrid had plans for a breakfast custard. A bit of fresh produce would put everyone aboard Apolinaris in a better mood. Even the most dogged survivor got tired of the rehydrated staples that made up the bulk of a long-haul traveler's diet.
With their purchases sent ahead to the docking bay, Astrid and Isak took advantage of the rest of the afternoon and headed for a pub. It was her first choice, his second; he would have preferred to take her gambling. The savage reliability of her... instincts were well known amongst the crew.
As they entered and eyes flicked in their direction, Astrid remembered why she disliked such large and persistently anonymous planets. They were always crawling with unexpected characters looking to make contact and impress upon someone - often her - the importance of their place in galaxy. There was something about the look of her or her bearing, Astrid had learned, that attracted people and made the disreputable try their hand at dominating her whenever she came into contact with them.
"You come from these parts don't you, Isak?" Ignoring the looks, Astrid shrugged out of her long coat and sat down in an empty booth.
There were no menus on the table. Isak paused to grab one from a neighboring booth, distracted by the blinking list of assorted cocktails. He offered a nod. "Born and raised. It's a pity we haven't got more time here. You'd like it if you had a chance to get to know it."
Astrid made a face. "I think you - "
-
There was no space for thinking. She threw herself in front of him, dirt in her hair and fear stitching her throat closed.
"Bruno. Bruno, please, stop," Astrid choked. Her hand trembled as she lifted it and pressed it against his chest, beseechingly. A trickle of blood ran down the side of her face from the stiff cut that traced the edge of her hairline, just there above her ear. "Bruno, they are terrified. They are terrified."
It wasn't until weeks later, when things had dropped back into a tense and uneasy normality, that there was room enough for contemplation. Dane came to her.
"We have to end this," he said. A grim determination had replaced the fear in his brown, brown eyes. Astrid wondered when he'd stopped being a child.
"No," when she turned from the water, arms crossed over her chest, she felt his relief rub against her like a grateful cat. "We have to end him."
-
" - are overestimating my ability to adapt," she shook her head. "Where I grew up is much smaller, much quieter. This sort of expanse is only appealing from a distance.""
"It's not all 'steel and swagger," Isak shrugged.
"No, there's also cunning deceit and a charming essence of reckless desperation."
The man rolled his eyes. "You say that like you're not secretly enjoying it. Hold on. I need something to drink before I convince you of the merits of my old stomping grounds. And you need something to drink, full stop."
Astrid grinned and tucked the ash-white fall of her hair behind her ears. On this, at least, they agreed. It had been months since either one of them had been anywhere that served real alcohol and it was hardly something they stocked in bulk on the ship, so it was an indulgence they allowed themselves (often too liberally) whenever they docked. Astrid nodded when he asked if she actually was in the mood for something, but left the decision of what exactly she wanted in his capable hands, watching as he made his way toward the bar. She was in no mood for the tedium she knew awaited her when the seekers in the pub finally noticed her sitting alone, so she used the lightest of nudges to gently deflect any interest that came her way.