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Thread: The Rainbow Connection (Lyydea)

  1. #21
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    It took Lilaena a moment to shake off the shared vision. She'd observed Lyydea's memory from the sidelines, but it was a powerful and emotional touchstone for the Zeltron, and some of that had leaked through to her. She blinked away tears of her own, steeling and grounding herself in the present, in what she was doing. "Lyydea. Lyydea!"

    Her voice was sharp. Loud. Had to be, to break through the girl's mantra of I'm a good girl. Lyydea paused, peeking out at her master. Lilaena looked stern, forced herself to look firm and sure of herself. "It was an accident. Of course you didn't mean to - you were just a child."



    oh what a tangled web I weave


  2. #22
    My eyes were wet, wide. I felt my tongue dart across my lips, the heat of the fire scorching them, making them dry.

    Then master was calling to me. Speaking to me. Firm, strong, something to hold to, something to grab onto. So I did. My arms clutched at her, my face buried against her chest, my eyes leaking large pools as my breath slowly came back to me. I hate, hate, hated that memory. I hated it. I wanted it dead, I wanted it gone.

    "It was an accident. Of course you didn't mean to - you were just a child."

    The words stung, they bit my ears like insects. I was a child, how long ago had that been. How long since I'd been a child. I wasn't anymore, I knew this. No amount of smiling or candy or dresses could change that. I pulled a bit harder against her, and slowly brought my sleeve to my face, wiping away the warmth and sticky residue from my face.

    "She... she's gone." My words trembled against my lips, and I felt my teeth dig into the lower one, staining it a pretty shade of red. "I can't get her back, can I?"

  3. #23
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    Lilaena, caught by surprise when Lyydea threw herself into her arms, held the girl awkwardly. There were more than a few red curls in her face, but the Dark Jedi managed to ignore them and speak to the former slave. It would be easy to promise her that she could see her beloved master again. The mysteries of the Force, forbidden knowledge, all those sorts of things. But it wouldn't be the truth.

    "No, you can't. Accepting death is part of growing up, Lyydea." She wondered what exactly the cognitive dissonance was between this first death, and the girl's fascination with blood, and making it leak out of others. "Have you killed others?"

  4. #24
    Kill. Kill. The word was so wicked. It was so easy though, so, so easy to hear the music in my head - to let the gentle fog pour over me, to smile and play with those around me. Some of them broke so easily, that wasn't my fault. Not like with her, she was important, the others weren't.

    I dug the toe of my shoe into the floor, a sheepish look spanning from ear to ear. "I like their colors." I said softly, head tilting. "And some of them..." I remembered when I'd first been acquired, or, well freed as Mistress De'Ville was so adamant in calling it. The man with the rodent face, he'd dripped on me, spoiled my first dress - the one I'd managed to keep so long. He'd certainly deserved to go away. Was, was it wrong to do that to the others? No, no, no. It couldn't be wrong, it made me happy. It made me happy. It was different.

    "Sometimes I break my toys."

  5. #25
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    "And the woman in the fire - she was not a toy to you? What is the difference?" Lilaena smoothed Lyydea's hair out of her face and pushed her away a bit, sitting her back up on her own.

  6. #26
    I giggled, soft and sweet at the question. It wasn't funny, not really funny. Not ha, ha, ha funny where you laugh and smile and are happy. No it was funny in how much I hadn't seen it before. "She was like you." I nodded at my own realization, certain in it's rightness. "She wouldn't let me call her my owner either, I don't think anyone had me call them that til after her. I don't remember anyone before her, though. It was her, and then the fire, and then the others."

    I twisted a red lock around my pinky and thought, face all frowny from going over it all in my head. "She was different, I was different - I think. It's so hard to remember though. She never taught me like the others would, not with chains and painful hugs that make you feel smothered and sick." I brought the smile back across my face, swallowing down the revulsion of the memories. My lips turned down again, and I put my hand to my eyes, I was leaking again. Why did thinking about her make me leak. I hated when I did that. "Its funny." I let out a soft, almost whimpering laugh, "She's the only owner that looked like she did." I tilted my head, a weight crashing in my chest as I felt the tears welling up again, "Why did she look like me?"

  7. #27
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    The answer came crashing through, easily pushing aside the girl's misconceptions that had clouded the memory she had witnessed. Lilaena found this to be uncomfortable territory to be walking Lyydea through, but did her best to be gentle.

    "Because she was your mother," she said softly.

  8. #28
    My eyes wouldn't stop dripping. I hate, hate, hate this. Wipe your eyes, dry the tears, good girls don't cry, good girls don't... good girls don't... my shoulders slumped, I felt my lip quiver, not like when I wanted something and made the face that said "buy me this or I'll cry" no, no, no - this felt too, too real. I hated this.

    "That's mean..." I said, quiet, not wanting to mean it, not wanting to say it. Mistress De'Ville was so, so nice, so why was she being mean now. "I don't have a mother. Slaves don't mothers." He'd said so, he'd known better - taught me, trained me, explained it all to me. I was a thing, I was a slave, I didn't have a mother, I was property.

  9. #29
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    "Even slaves have mothers," said Lilaena. "Why do you think that you don't have one? Do you have a father?" Part of her was afraid to hear the answer to that question, knowing how twisted the girl was from her life in slavery, subject to the whims of perverse masters.

  10. #30
    My lips tightened, my body shrank, I didn't like this question. I don't like this question. "My second... my second owner. The one after the nice lady, he.. I... he was." I pulled my fingers through my hair, twisting, tightening red hair, pulling, pulling, pulling. "Daddy, yes daddy. Anything daddy. Good girls obey daddy." I tucked my legs to my chest, it was hard to breath, tight, tight, tight chest. I don't like this, I don't like this.

  11. #31
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    "And what happened to him? Did he sell you?" Her voice was hard. One didn't need to use telepathy to understand the subtext of Lyydea's words, but Lilaena was having trouble not picking up an image or two from the girl's mind. With effort she closed it off, leaving just an emotional echo from the former slave. She knew abuse, had had her back torn apart by the whip, but this...

    "Tell me, Lyydea. Where is he?"

  12. #32
    "Too old." I whimpered, I wasn't a bad girl, I wasn't trying to be, I really wasn't. "I'm too old. Doesn't want me." I pulled harder at my curled up strands of hair, red lengths tugging with my hands. Focus, focus, focus. I have to focus, Mistress is talking, can't be weak, can't be bad. I rapidly blinked, tears clearing from my vision as I watched her, listened to her, heard the hard words, the question.

    "Tell me, Lyydea. Where is he?"


    Where? Away, far away, finally not on her, not on top, no hugs no... NO. Be good, focus, be strong, focus. My tongue darted between my teeth, flicking as I pushed the pain aside, shaking my head - trying to remember, trying to think.

    "Ship, he has a ship. Always, always flying. One place, then another - always different people. He shakes their hand, they laugh and their eyes watch me, want me..."

    I tugged my shoulders in a bit tighter again, but forced myself to keep going, going, going. "Then they bring in boxes, lots of boxes and he takes those someplace else, shakes a new person's hand and smiles cause he's happy. Always happier after. Food was better after, problems would be fixed on the ship after."

    I clenched the sides of my head, "I don't know the words. I want to, but I don't. He, he, he took the boxes to people and then he was happier and could do more, I don't know what that's called."

    Anything could help, anything. I knew that, I wasn't even sure how I knew that, but I knew that. I didn't want to hide this from Mistress, she was so nice to me, dresses and food and comfort. So nice, like the first lady. Fear. She remembered how mad he'd get, yell about patrols about checks, about security.

    "He didn't like soldiers. Always afraid they would take the boxes, always mad when they were around, took it out on me, on me, on me."

  13. #33
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    "So he was a smuggler," mused Lilaena. She stood up abruptly, holding out her hand to the girl. "Come with me, Lyydea. Can you read a starmap?"

    They walked through the ship, leaving the galley behind and entering the bridge where she waved off Bretak who was the defacto 'captain' of the ship. He made sure things were running smoothly, even if running a village and running a starship were different...they weren't that different. He nodded at her, and left her alone.

    Lilaena led Lyydea to a console off to the side of the bridge, and accessed the navigational charts. "Do you know what systems he operated in?"

  14. #34
    Tight, tight, tight. I clung to her hand like I would the last sweet piece of candy I would ever be offered. I wasn't sure what she meant. I could read, some. Was a starmap different than a book? I liked books, especially the one where the naughty little boy falls into the Rancor pit after running away from his protective Hutt owner. He had deserved it.

    I blinked when she pointed at the screens, blinking flickering lights and lines, this wasn't like my book.

    "It's pretty..." I said softly, running my hand over the images, a heartbeat between the words in my brain and on my lips I realized I was supposed to read this. To answer Mistress' question. I felt my cheeks redden with embarassment. I was bad, so bad - I couldn't do what she wanted me to.

    I shook my head slowly, sadly. "I... he. I wasn't... he didn't like me knowing..." I bit into my lip, stammering as I stained my skin crimson as a drop of liquid fell from between my teeth to splatter on my shoe, just as red as my lips now.

    You had to know something! Think, think, think! Somewhere in that dusty, ditsy, musty, rusty head is something to answer with! THINK!

    My eyes lit up. I could not read the lines and lights, I did not know the direction. But I remembered a name. A name he always said.

    "There was a man! A man who told him where to go. He would talk about him, complain about him. Always smile and nod when he was on screen and then frown and fume when off. I know his name. Would that help?"

  15. #35
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    "Yes," she said, hiding her frustration at Lyydea's illiteracy and also at herself for not realizing the girl could not read. "Yes, a name would be very helpful." Lilaena smiled.

  16. #36
    Name. There was a name, he had a name. What was his name? My head wouldn't clear, I couldn't think, think, think!

    "Sticky!" I all but shouted, electric feeling tingling in my brain. Memory, memory I found you!

    "Icky sticky. Stk'ick. Mr. Stk'ick. Always Mr. Stk'ick when he was near, always Icky sticky when he was gone. Spit the name, hate the man. Had to do what he said, had to comply, awful, awful."

  17. #37
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    "Stk'ick..." she said slowly, trying out the name on her tongue. It was a harsh name, hard to say, and no doubt fit the man who owned it. "Right, let's see now. Mr. Stk'ick, some sort of broker or information dealer perhaps, giving jobs to smugglers..."

    Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she input commands and queries into the holonet. A couple results came up, due to not being exactly sure how one spelled a name like Stk'ick, but Lilaena selected the most likely and enlarged the pictures that went with the names. "Is he one of these men?"

  18. #38
    I tap, tap, tapped my finger across the screen, trailing over the pictures that were given to me. "Face of rat." I giggled softly at the first, and shook my head biting into my lower lip, "Not him." Tap, drag, tap. Another image popped up, "Face of flat." I smiled inwardly as the next oddly proportioned face was shown across the screen and I swiped it away, still not him. Tap, drag, tap. Pause. Stare.



    "Face of fat." I ran my entire palm across the image, pushing it away. "Icky Sticky."
    Last edited by Lyydea Amarra; Dec 31st, 2016 at 12:28:39 AM.

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