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Percy Windsor: Striking Out
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| Percy_Windsor | Date: Monday, 16 Jan 2012, 7:46 PM | Message # 1 |
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| It was dark, it was dingy, and it stank of old sweat, rancid smoke, and stale alcohol; in short it was all the things that Percival Hiram Windsor despised. It was also his current favorite bar. He no longer remembered the name of the place or even how to get there, it was simply an automatic action taken every night - his feet literally led him there while his body remained in a perpetual state of drunkenness - and he remained there until he was forced out the door at which point his feet would lead him back to the bridge he had taken refuge under.
It wasn't that he was too poor to afford accommodations in the city, quite the contrary, moreover he simply stayed on the move enough that buying, or even going to the hassle of renting was simply too much for him. He was a man on a mission. At least that was how it had started. When Kijari had left the ship no one seemed to give it much thought, except for Percy. For him the ship was never the same. He tried, but he found himself growing more and more reclusive – if that were possible for Percy. Six months ago, however, things really made a turn for the worst when Aaron Rawls had decided to choose that woman over his entire crew. That was really the only thought that threatened to sober Percy up these days, that and the thought of finding Kijari.
Percy, like the rest of the crew, had been unceremoniously dumped off the ship when that swindler came into Rawls' life, and to make matters worse everyone but the Captain seemed to see what was happening. After some rather pointed words Percy left the ship with all of his belongings – including the arsenal that he'd kept hidden under the bed – and struck out in earnest to find Kijari, the only woman who he had ever...thought he loved. He'd made a stop on Coruscant to deposit the weapons in a safety lock box, made a healthy withdraw from the same box and purchased himself a ship. A quick stop at his parents home showed him that he was still a wanted man so, although he wanted to, he didn’t even spend the night.
From there he had immediately began his search. As a smuggler – although he was seldom the one actually involved in the 'deal' he still knew a fair few contacts who could get him the information that he sought. He, and the Spirit – the HWK-290 modified light freighter that he'd purchased – began running down leads starting from the closest point. That had been four months ago and all of his efforts had led him to this swampy dump of a planet where his ship had broken down. Percy knew a fair bit about the mechanics of most ships, problem was that what he knew usually had to do with the electronics and control boards. Mechanics were hard to come by here and any worth their reputation wanted more than what it cost to buy another ship.
Percy had given up, at least for now. His days consisted of buying cheap ale and listening to – and telling – some pretty far fetched stories. His leads had died with his ship and so he sat, hoping to hear a snippet about a drunken, beautiful, ship's medic.
Percival Hiram Windsor
Ex-Pilot; Aphelion
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| Kijari | Date: Monday, 16 Jan 2012, 9:07 PM | Message # 2 |
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| Hot didn’t even begin to describe it. The tiny planet, perched precipitously close to an aging and gigantic sun, was an explosion of life, all of it a perfect reflection of the planet itself, savage, brutal, and beautiful. Exotic plants and flowers teemed in steaming jungles, along with countless species of animals, both predator and prey.
One theme ran through most of the life on the sweltering, swampy planet, and that was poison. It existed in almost all indigenous lifeforms, dripping from the venomous fangs of tiny, emerald vipers, blooming in the petals of some of the most beautiful flowers, even puffed gently into the humid air by sentient, carnivorous plants.
The planet boasted a single large space port. It was bustling place, constantly under assault by the jungle that surrounded it. Nothing larger than a frigate could land, and crew members were advised against leaving the ship.
Invariably, crew members did leave their ships. It was a cruel thing, after months confined in a ship, to land and be unable to breathe fresh, untreated air. Such outings were Kijari’s bread and butter. She had grown well versed in the more common poisons found in the planet. The education had been worthwhile. Kij had discovered a few recreational uses for some dilutions of the rarer neurological poisons.
The medic was bent over her worktable, experimenting with her latest batch. Her pupils were huge, swallowing the blue irises completely, but that was hardly the point. The pleasant lack of focus in her mind, the tranquil sensation of being carried along in gentle waves towards endless peace, that was the true goal. Kij sat up straight on her stool, letting her head fall back slowly, feeling every muscle in her body hum and vibrate, even her hair felt alive, brushing her shoulders and her back as she breathed.
The frantic pounding on her door drew her attention, albeit slowly. She opened the door, and was blasted by a rush of humid, oppressive air. Sweat sheened her skin instantly, but Kij was used to sweating now. Damp was a way of life, she could barely remember anything else, not that she cared to.
“She can’t be the doc.” A blonde man peered at her, waving his hand in front of her face slowly. “She’s completely blitzed.”
“Who cares if she’s blitzed. This shit hurts man!”
Kijari turned her attention to the second figure, stepping aside and ushering them both into her workroom. Shutting the door, she moved to the sink and washed her hands. “Get him on the table. Where were you bitten?”
The blonde man helped his friend onto the gurney. “His arm.”
She cut away his shirt a little sloppily, examining the nasty bite mark on his right forearm.
“You ok doc? You don’t look so…with it.”
She chuckled at the absurdity of his comment. “Peachy. I’m not the one dying.” That quieted him down, and Kij treated him. Excising the poison was slow, bloody work. When it was done all three of them were pale.
Kij bandaged him up at last, “Well that was exciting. Keep it clean and as dry as you can. Infection is rampant here.”
The men stayed a few more hours, giving the wounded time to recover. Kij treated them to a sampling of her new discoveries, and they gave her so many credits she was almost embarrassed.
When they finally left, the blonde man shook her hand. “Thanks doc.”
“I’m a medic.” She didn’t know what made her say it. Perhaps some after effect of the drug she had taken, perhaps some need to be close to someone after the long, gruesome procedure.
“Medic?” The blonde man looked at his recovering friend, then back to Kij. “Ship’s medic?”
“Once.”
“Did you know Percy Wilder?”
“Windsor?” Kijari’s heart stopped. “Percy Windsor?”
“That’s it!” The blonde man grinned. “You have yourself an admirer miss medic. That man is looking all over for you.”
“Right.” His friend added, “Just climb into a bottle of beer and he’ll find you right away.”
“Beer? Percy?”
“He’s been sleeping under the bridge in the northern sector, if you want to be found.”
Kij nodded her thanks and sent them on their way. Without thinking, she grabbed a hand light and left just after they had. Percy sleeping under a bridge? The idea was preposterous. Someone had to be using Percy’s name. She hurried her steps, almost running to the northern sector. She skidded to a stop at the bridge, her boots sliding a little on the loose gravel. The light was a terrible idea, it drew a legion of insects almost immediately, but she was able to use it long enough to find a huddled shape beneath the bridge. Gravel crunched beneath her boots as she moved closer, risking the light for another moment to see a tangle of brown hair. The right color…her heart skipped a beat. “Percy?”
Kijari Beregal
Message edited by Kijari - Monday, 16 Jan 2012, 9:18 PM |
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| Percy_Windsor | Date: Tuesday, 17 Jan 2012, 10:38 PM | Message # 3 |
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| Those who had known Percy in his other life – at least that what he thought it had been, of late he'd been perpetually drunk in such a manner that he wasn't sure if he'd died and started over or if this were some bizarre nightmare – knew how persnickety he'd been about his clothing and grooming procedures. The man never got dirty unless a member of the crew were in danger; in fact, there had been more than one occasion where Percy had taken what the others had called the 'long route' to a location just so he could avoid getting his shoes muddy. Those who had known Percy then would never recognize him now.
His once cleanly shaven face sported a rather impressive, albeit tangled and matted beard; his once short, clean, and precisely parted hair was now a mane of dirt, grime, and something that looked suspiciously like blood; and his designer clothing that would normally have sold in a second hand store for enough money to feed a small family for a week were now torn, tattered and stained so much that no amount of washing would ever reveal their once gleaming white. Even his glasses had been broken and were glued – and taped – so that they sat crooked on his dirty face.
For the first time in a long time he wished that he'd kept himself more presentable. He found himself embarrassed enough that he wanted to duck under the table and hide, but at the same time he wanted to jump atop the table and shout for joy. A lithe body pushed confidently through the crowd, her angelic face bore a smile on full lips as she drew near the table at which Percy sat. There was a faint glow about her, an aura of sorts, and everyone inside the bar stopped whatever they were doing to watch her. When she reached the table Percy – finally realizing that she could clearly see what he looked like – tried to stand to greet the woman that he'd been searching for. That's when he noticed that his legs didn't seem to work.
He had just enough time to wonder about that when a large hand came down on the table like a gunshot and Percy recoiled in shock, bleary eyes – at least one of them – squinted open and his ears filled with a raucous laughter. He sat up and rubbed his face where it had been pressed against the table in a puddle of what he hoped was ale. “You in or out,” a rough voice sneered from his right. He looked that direction and found a beard nearly as shaggy as his pressed in his face. Even that didn't bother him, it was as if he just didn't care anymore.
“I thingomonna ssitissunout,” he mumbled.
More raucous laughter brought on a terrible pounding in his head as the bearded man eyed him even closer before turning towards the bar and shouting “Whiskey, and make it the good stuff...on me.”
In a moment the curvy little waitress appeared with a shot of amber liqueur. She gave the ex-pilot that 'to-die-for' smile along with a little shake of her backside but Percy didn't even seem to notice. It wasn't that she wasn't attractive – Windsor had flirted with her plenty of times – this time though he pictured her against the woman in his dream and knew there was no comparison. She sniffed and slammed the drink down in front of him so hard that a few drops sloshed out and and sizzled on the table.
Percy eyed the drink through his left eye – his right one didn't seem to want to open – and wondered if his sagging mouth would even hold liquid but his 'friend' boasted that this drink would “make everything right” so he grabbed the glass, tipped his head back and emptied it in one pull.
True to his word the whiskey had him out of his chair and screaming through a raw throat in a heartbeat. The roar in his ears drowned out all the whooping and hollering and men slapping the table riotously. The glass slipped through his fingers as he raised his shaking hands to his throbbing temples trying furiously to massage the headache away. Then, as quickly as it started, it was gone. Percy sat back down, fully awake and focused on the here and now.
“Now,” bearded man said. “Are you in or out?”
Percy knew that the only reason that this fellow had bothered to get him 'back in the game' was because Percy was loaded and steadily loosing that wealth on the game. He just didn't care.
“I'm in.”
Percival Hiram Windsor
Ex-Pilot; Aphelion
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| Kijari | Date: Wednesday, 18 Jan 2012, 11:00 AM | Message # 4 |
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| Risking the light again, Kij moved a step or two closer. The figure, seen so briefly as she approached, was well…undulating was probably the correct word. Sounds she had heard, but hadn’t really registered came into sharp focus. There were the wet, usually unmistakable (at least to her) sounds of tearing flesh, and the hiss of whatever creature it was that fed. A head reared up suddenly from the darkness beneath the bridge, turning towards her and hissing savagely. Kij’s hands shook, going for the blaster at her hip that wasn’t there, and hadn’t been there since leaving the Aphelion. Shutting off the light she backed away as slowly as her rising panic allowed. The snake marked her departure, its great head swaying back and forth hypnotically as she fled, turning back to the prey that could easily have been her only when it deemed she was far enough away.
She was trembling, her heart pounding. The pleasant effects of the drugs she had taken were gone now. She was left bereft and alone in the cruel, too bright clarity of her own mind to face her incredible stupidity. She couldn’t stop shaking. Even in the relative safety at the heart of the port, as she reported the location of the attack, she shook like a leaf. She told the guards that the snake had been feeding on what looked like a humanoid. That was a lie. She knew it was a humanoid. She knew the color of the hair, the sex, and she could reasonably guess at an age. If she tried, she could recall some of what the boy had been wearing.
It wasn’t Percy. She knew that too.
The guards offered to escort her to her quarters, but she refused. Alone was the last thing she wanted to be right now. Actually, that was wrong. Sober was the last thing she wanted to be, alone was a close second. The exhaustion that inevitably followed adrenaline rushes set in, twinning nicely with the withdrawal symptoms her body was experiencing and making for a miserable and slow walk to the bar. A couple times she almost turned back. The drugs worked faster than booze. Once she did, and she had backtracked almost half the distance to her quarters when she found the small capsule in her pocket. She swallowed it, heading back to the bar once more. She needed noise and a crowd, anything that could dull the awful sharpness of her unclouded thoughts. What had she been thinking? There had been a moment when she’d thought it was Percy beneath the bridge. She did not want to examine the emotions she had experienced in that brief moment. But she could not keep them out of her head.
She quickened her steps, jogging the rest of the way to the bar. The pill would take a good twenty minutes or so to work, she slipped into the bar, the coolness of the air inside raising goosebumps on her bare arms. She shuddered bodily, both at the sensation of the chilled air and the wash of relief that flooded her as the loud, raucous sounds of drunken revelry quieted her own screaming thoughts.
She found a seat at the bar, glancing over her shoulder as one of the patrons at the gambling table screamed. It sounded like Percy, but she dismissed that out of hand. Her mind was deceiving her, as it had deceived her beneath the bridge. She ordered a whiskey from the pretty, curvy barmaid and pounded it down. The bartender poured her another, and then another, and only then did she feel sufficiently dulled enough to turn in her seat and take in the rest of the thronging crowd.
The fourth whiskey she drank much more slowly, leaning back against the bar and watching the ebb and flow of the patrons. She had decided already that she wasn’t sleeping alone tonight, and so she considered the crowd with that thought in mind.
The pill had begun to work, coupled with the whiskey, Kij was deliciously content, if still a little cold. That made her chuckle a bit. Who’d have thought she’d grow used to the temperature in hell? Her long hair was bound up in a ponytail; practical given the climate. She had entertained the idea of shaving her head when she had first arrived, but even she had certain vanities. Slipping the ponytail holder from her hair, she finger combed her sable, sweat-damp locks. At least her neck would be warmer.
Kijari Beregal
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| Percy_Windsor | Date: Friday, 20 Jan 2012, 7:52 PM | Message # 5 |
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| Percy was a terrible gambler, always had been. Ki said it was because he was awful about showing his emotions; if he got a good hand he could never keep from smiling or at least raising his eyebrows and if he had a bad one his eyebrows would furrow with concern. It happened every time. Tonight, of course, that was not the problem. With his full mane of hair and shaggy beard the only part of his face that was even visible was his deep brown eyes, and they held no secret, only sadness and a deep sense of tired. Still he was loosing money hand over fist.
Moments after sitting down he'd glanced through the thronging crowd towards the bar. The press of bodies parted for just a second allowing him a quick glimpse of the bar where the attractive waitress – apparently already over his slight – waved and winked at him. He had smiled at her just before noticing woman seated to her left with dark sable locks of hair. His heart leaped immediately and he was halfway out of his seat when a rough pincer-like grip tugged him back down.
“Going somewhere, cheat?” A raspy voice asked; he'd stood in the middle of a hand as if preparing to make a run for it.
Percy did not even register the slur, his mind was ablaze with possibilities and arguments as to why those possibilities were false. Kijari was here...Kijari could not be here...she found me...she was not even looking for you...beautiful sable locks...she's not the only one who has dark hair...I clearly saw here...you're just dreaming again...
In the end logic won over hope and Percy slumped back in his seat. He played a few more hands but his heart was no longer in it and the stories – which were a large part of why he played – no longer held interest. Finally he stood into a haze of thick smoke and announced that he'd be going for the night. He fended off the arguments and offers for more drinks – that was only a ruse to make him stay and get him drunker in hopes that he'd lose more money to them. Not that he wasn't loosing plenty as it was.
Finally, after a few good natured slaps-on-the-back – these people had become nearly like family – he turned and wormed his way through the crowd and to the exit. Once outside he filled his lungs with acrid, sweltering air and somehow felt better for it even though he hated the place and the climate. His feet started their customary journey back towards the bridge where he would sleep for the night until one thought seeped through the drunken fog. He stopped slowly and turned as if trying to remember something. Finally he started walking back the way he'd come.
It was a much shorter walk to his derelict ship but finally it clicked that – though the ship did not run – this would be a much better place to sleep than underneath a bridge amongst some of the vilest creatures – and people – he'd ever come in contact with. It was as if the dream had sparked something within him. His determination returned along with a fervent desire to get cleaned up – the problem with that was that he had no place to actually do that. With the ship no longer functioning he had no way to run water so his best hope was to wait until it rained - which would not be long – and take advantage of the water.
He sighed and wondered towards the engine room with a wry thought. Who would have ever pictured Percival Windsor missing Norrick Doohan?
Percival Hiram Windsor
Ex-Pilot; Aphelion
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| Kijari | Date: Sunday, 22 Jan 2012, 8:27 AM | Message # 6 |
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| Rav was the bartender/owner/operator of the bar. A constant presence, he monitored the comings and goings of the space port through the shifting bar patrons he catered to. He ruled his little bar like a fiefdom, replete with a monarch’s sense of entitlement. Surveying his kingdom from behind the bar, absently wiping greasy glasses with a grimy rag, Rav watched Percy stumble out into the night. Plastering a wide, friendly smile on this thick-lipped face, Rav poured a tumbler full of whiskey and slid it down the bar to the pretty medic.
“For you, darling.”
Kij picked up the glass, tipping it towards him and bringing it to her lips. “Free drinks from you? You must need a favor.”
Rav laughed too loudly. He didn’t particularly care for Kijari, she was too clever by half, even dumbed down the way she kept herself, in a constant state of disassociation, she never lost her sense of self preservation, or her skepticism. Rav liked to be the smart one. He was used to whispering pretty words in a woman’s ear and having her eat out of his hand. When Kij had rolled in all those months ago, he thought it would be the same with her. And when he found out she knew medicine, well that just made him work that much harder.
“From you Kij? You know I always need something from you.”
She drained the glass, pushing it back across the bar towards him, studying him with unfocused eyes. “Has anyone been looking for me?”
“Not that I’ve heard.” Rav answered quickly, knowing right away he’d made a mistake. “Well, for the doc, people ask about you all the time, yeah.” He poured her another whiskey, not meeting her gaze. The truth was, he had been asked about her, by some shaggy guy with broken glasses and too many credits by the name of Percy. He’d told Percy he’d never seen her, but he’d keep an eye out. He’d told his staff to give Percy the same answer if he asked. Rav watched Kijari closely, it was a moment of truth, he knew her well enough to know if she didn’t pursue the subject with him now, it wouldn’t come up again. “Earlier today I sent a couple fellas to you. One of them was bitten.”
She nodded, sipping her freshened drink, “That was a messy job.”
Rav waved his towel, grimy and parseps away from white. “Don’t tell me! You know I hate that stuff Kij.”
He expected her to laugh, but she didn’t. She only nodded again and turned away. Rav resisted the urge to grab a handful of black hair and yank her by it. This was his port dammit, and he wasn’t finished with her. He hated being dismissed by anyone, least of all a strung out junkie of a doctor who had no better place to go in the whole galaxy than this piece of crap sweatbox of a planet.
“So listen.” He kept his tone light. It wouldn’t do to show her just how irritated he was. “I did sort of need a favor.”
She turned back towards him, leaning closer, “What favor?”
“More of your product. I found some fellas who’re interested in purchasing some.”
“Send them to me.”
“Well, the thing is, they want to deal with me.” Damn, Rav really hated her.
Now he got the laugh he had been expecting earlier. “Then I guess you should start making some.”
That did it. Rav pounded his fist on the bar. “Listen here you stupid bitch. I have bent over backwards trying to help you get started here. The least you can do is help me out with this one little sale.”
Had Kijari been sober, she would have been furious. In her state, the best she could manage was slightly irritated, and a little bit sad that Raz was ruining her perfect buzz. “Relax.” She couldn’t help chuckling, even knowing it infuriated him. “Let’s talk tomorrow. I’m not thinking straight right now.”
They both knew she’d be no more clear-headed tomorrow, but Rav nodded, plastering on his fake grin again. “You got it Kij.” This time it was Rav who turned away.
“Kij.” She repeated her own name, watching his retreating back. It was wrong, wasn’t it? He called her Kij, everyone called her Kij. Except for the important people. Percy and Rawls had always called her Ki. She’d never acknowledged the subtle difference (that her typist can remember :P ), but she had noticed. And now, for the first time in well…forever, she ached to hear it.
Pressing her hands to her temples, she massaged them, closing her eyes. The drugs and the booze weren’t working, neither was the crowd. She couldn’t stop herself from remembering. Why would Percy be looking for her? Why would anyone?
“Hey doc!” It was the blonde man from earlier. He grinned at her, his grin slowly fading as he took in her stricken expression. “Man, what’s wrong?”
Kijari shook her head, rising and winding one arm around the man’s neck, bringing her body in close contact with his. “Nothing now. How’s your friend?”
“Sleeping.” The blonde, whose name she did not remember, let his hands fall to her waist. “You saved his life you know.”
“Let’s get out of here.” She was determined to push down the feelings that had been threatening to surface all night, since the man who was currently holding her against him had spoken Percy’s name.
“Sure thing doc.” The man wasn’t going to question his good fortune. “Say, did you see your friend, Wilder? “
Kij kissed him, tasting bourbon, and some strange spice. She couldn’t think about Percy, she couldn’t think about the past. It was all gone. She had nothing left but here and now. That idea, combined with healthy doses of booze and drugs had saved her many times, and allowed her to move on from a nightmarish past that would have crippled some people for life. Why was it not working now?
She broke the kiss, leaning against the willing, and, judging by certain factors she was able to discern based on the proximity of their bodies, more than able man. It hit her suddenly, why none of her usual methods seemed to be working.
Before, she had been trying to shut out something bad. Now, she was trying to shut out something good. The realization rocked her, and Kij leaned back, studying the blurred outline of the blonde. “Have you seen him?”
“Who? Wilder?” He pulled her more tightly against him and she nodded. “I think I saw him tonight, yeah. He was playing cards.” He picked her up, walking towards the door. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”
Kijari Beregal
Message edited by Kijari - Sunday, 22 Jan 2012, 8:29 AM |
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| Percy_Windsor | Date: Sunday, 22 Jan 2012, 6:47 PM | Message # 7 |
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| True to his prediction it was not long before it rained. Percy took the opportunity to stand just under where the wing met the fuselage of his ship – which made for an impressively high pressure shower – to get himself cleaned up. He spent a long time, slowly scrubbing months worth of muck off his body and relishing in the memories of how the crew of the Aphelion would get mad at him for taking the longest showers of the bunch, including Ki.
It was not a perfect process by any means, first, he was still clothed – Percy was far too prudish to run about naked, even in the dark – and second, the water coming off the ship was only slightly cleaner than he was. Finally, he was still horribly shaggy; he'd lost his razor several planets ago and never bothered to replace it, and he had no way to cut his hair – there was simply no way that he was giving himself a haircut with a dull kitchen knife; the old Percy was coming back and his hair was not to be trifled with. That, he'd just have to wait on until he could find a reputable barber.
As he cleansed he allowed his memory to go back to Kijari. From time to time he would wonder about his reasoning for chasing her down. They rarely got along, in fact, one of their last conversations had been a heated argument so stupid that Percy no longer remembered the topic, but that was they way it was with him and her. Ki had a spirit that Percy seemed to connect with. She'd lived her life – sometimes – in a manner that Percy could not accept and that made him angry because he knew that she was so much better. But the other part of her, the spunk, the good nature in which she handled things – except when she was drunk – sparked Percy's natural child like curiosity.
Perhaps that alone was why he was drawn to her. Percy was naive in a lot of ways that Ki was not: she had lived her life while Percy had been at home comfortable with his parents. She had experienced things that Percy would never likely understand – although his stint with the Aphelion had certainly taught him a fair few things about life 'out there' as he'd once called it. One thing was certain though; Ki had a vast catalog of experience with ...relationships. At least Percy thought she did. It wasn't as if he'd never been with a woman, there were actually a fair few..well...a few... But Percy had always tried to keep those relationships more traditional and that, coupled with the life of a smuggler never seemed to work out.
Perhaps the answer was there. Percy had found someone who he though he could have a traditional relationship with, if only she'd tone down some of her more eccentric activities. Probably the thing that bothered him the most about her – aside from all the drinking and carousing – was her obsession with body parts, something she loved to show Percy because – he thought – she knew it made him sick. Still though, there was clearly something about her that attracted him, besides her backside; Percy was interested in more than that.
A mouthful of oily water broke his reverie, he'd forgotten that he was not on board the ship with clean water. He looked down at his body and sighed. For all his efforts – and an entire packet of soap along with some creative ways of washing below the clothing – he was still filthy, but at least he didn't smell filthy. He shrugged and went back into his ship. Though he had no water he did at least have a clean set of clothing and a dry towel. He disrobed and dried as best he could, turning the towel a sickly shade of brown, then he dressed in clean black trousers over a white shirt with a black and gray checkered overcoat.
It was night so there would be no barber open but he could at least check out a good place to eat, at least the spaceport diner would be open and, come to think of it, that was probably the only place he could get into looking like he did. He sighed again as he entered the port and found himself a table. Once he had eaten he'd find a mechanic – he supposed that if he could afford to loose thousands of credits to gambling he could spend them on something useful – to get his ship going so he could get off this rock. There was nothing to be found here and if he could find no more clues as to her whereabouts then he'd just stop on the next rock he could find and start asking questions there.
Percival Hiram Windsor
Ex-Pilot; Aphelion
Message edited by Percy_Windsor - Friday, 27 Jan 2012, 0:05 AM |
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| Kijari | Date: Saturday, 21 Apr 2012, 8:27 AM | Message # 8 |
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| He carried her out of the bar, her long legs wrapped around his waist. Outside, in the humid night air, he set her down, leaning over her and putting her back to the dirty, damp wall of the bar. It had rained, and the air was thick with moisture. This time he kissed her, and Kij tried to respond.
She wound her arms around his shoulders, parting her lips for his insistent tongue, making all the right moves. But it wasn’t right, and she knew it.
Breaking the kiss, she ignored his small huff of irritation. “Tonight? You saw him tonight?”
“Who?”
“Percy.” She slid out from in front of him and he backed away a step.
“Doc, that guy…he’s a mess. Forget him.”
“A mess?”
“He smells like a rotting tonton. I don’t even want to know what kinds of things are living in his shaggy beard, especially on this planet. Listen, let’s go back to your place, have a few drinks, a few laughs. Tomorrow, I’ll help you look for him.” He tried to draw her back into his arms, but she stepped away.
“I’m sorry.”
For a moment, she thought he might get angry. He raked his fingers through his golden hair, his eyes narrowing in a way that caused her own body to tense. But the moment passed, and he shook his head ruefully. “Your loss doc. I hope you find him.”
Kij watched him walk away. It had been a long time since she’d second guessed herself, and she wasn’t completely sure that she did so now. She only knew she felt a small pang as she watched the blonde man disappear into the mist.
Whatever it had been, it didn’t last long, and Ki turned her attention to the task at hand. This time of night, there weren’t many people out, but those she did find she asked about a man named Percy Windsor.
Percy's meal was bland. In fact, bland may have been giving it credit. Percy had eaten crackers with more flavor than the noodles – in what he hopes was a very watery broth – in front of him. The drink, which purported to be some type of fizzy, sweet drink was equally as watery with just a hint of a metallic taste as though it had come from a rain bucket out back. It was however, non-alcoholic...perhaps that was the problem. He had just switched to a harder drink as he began thumbing through local listings for mechanics.
He was into his third when irritation started really setting in. True, the hour was late, but as most of the so-called mechanics professed to work on call at any hour – so long as you were willing to pay – he figured he could give it a go. So far everyone he had tried was either not poor enough to work the night shift or just too drunk. On this rock Percy figured it was the latter of the two.
He sighed and closed the book using his free hand to rub at his eyes. He'd not yet noticed the tell tale signs that he was slowly getting drunk – perhaps living his life as he had for the last few months had dulled his senses to the point that he'd never get that 'woozy' feeling again; a small part of him truly hoped that was not the case. The other part of him told him that another drink would solve his problems; that was the part he listened to.
Before long he was staggering out the door accompanied by some well chosen words about his hair which Percy thought were completely unfair. How long he wondered the streets he was not sure but he did make sure to stop in a few more pubs, at least long enough to make sure that his drinking hand was never empty. By the time he made it back to the bridge – he'd forgotten about the ship already – the authorities and medical crews were there with their loud noises and flashing lights that served only to make his head throb. Percy stumbled back the way he'd come heedless of whether he'd been seen or not.
Strangely – or perhaps not so strangely – his feet started their journey back to the old bar.
Jorin couldn’t get off the piss poor excuse of a planet fast enough. The whole place stank. He was sure once he got this place a few light years behind him, the doctor wouldn’t look as good. He chuckled, raking his fingers through his damp, blonde locks. He was sick and tired of sweating, Piers had almost died, and the doc had gotten him all wound up and then sent him away empty handed.
It was his own stupid fault. He’s the one who’d told her about Percy-tonton breath-Wilder. Jorin kicked a convenient trash can, jumping back quickly when whatever creature had been inside of it feasting hissed. He really hated this planet.
Almost as if summoned from the swirling anger in his mind, a figure solidified out of the mist. Jorin stared, stunned. “Well well well, if it isn’t Percy-tonton-breath Wilder.” Jorin had decided he liked that nickname. And once he did, he determined to make it stick.
Percy rocked back as though punched in the face. “I ate what?” He asked stupidly, however upon thought it could well have been Tonton, and, if it had been then it could have only been one part of the creature. He thought of the noodles and broth again and his stomach churned. Bile rose and he leaned forward and emptied his dinner directly onto the shoes of the blonde.
Jorin leaped back, swearing savagely when Percy vomited up what looked like worms onto Jorin’s shoes. His first thought was that the man was stricken with some parasite, then he decided he didn’t care one way or the other. Sick or not, Percy had thrown up on his shoes. He swung, a right hook aimed for Percy’s jaw.
Percy was not much of a fighter under the best of circumstances, he could hold his own generally – only because he was usually fighting someone who was plastered drunk during a bar brawl. When he was drunk there was no question, he was in for a bad day.
The Blonde – Percy had decided, somewhere in his alcohol addled mind, to call him – twisted Percy’s head back and caused him to stumble into the can that the Blonde had kicked, further upsetting the creature within. Lucky for Percy the blow had him nearly unconscious as the creature – all fur, talons, and horns – rose slowly from the overturned cylinder. It took a long look at the seemingly dead man then turned its attention to the only other living thing in the alley.
How this creature – the nightmare – even fit into the bucket Percy would forever wonder. Eventually he decided that his mind had played tricks upon him and that the Nightmare had not really been that large, surely his drunken state had somehow over-exaggerated the body…and the sounds coming from it. Percy pictured a feral cat – only the size of a dewback – with matted fur covering every inch of its body not covered by horns. The sounds that issued from its maw were that of a nightly Coruscanti horror show; a mix of a rip saw in a bind, several women screaming, and the same feral cay clawing against metal. Percy half hoped he was dead as he lay in the rotting garbage of the alley.
Jorin heard a scream, realizing in some dim recess of his mind that it had come from him. He watched horrified as the creature bore down on him, moving almost preternaturally fast. Drawing his blaster, Jorin fired, not surprised when the shot went wide. The flash of the blaster though, served to blind the nocturnal hunter, buying Jorin another second or two to steady his aim.
His next shot did not miss, and the creature rolled over, dead. Jorin lowered his blaster, shaking, then turned to vomit all over his shoes. He was still vomiting when station security arrived in a speeder.
“Yep, you were right Lor, it was a howlcat.” One of the security officers toed the beast’s body over. “These things don’t show up often in the station.”
The one who had to be Lor nodded, patting Jorin on his heaving back. “You were lucky. Howlcats are deadly. He didn’t bite you did he? Or scratch you?” Jorin shook his head faintly.
“Get the gloves out boys and load her up.” Lor noticed Percy then, moving over to him and crouching. “You ok man? No bites on you, I hope?”
“To the dump?” One of the security detail asked.
“Nah.” Lor was still crouched by Percy. “Take it to the doc, there’s credits to be had if Kij can extract some venom.”
There was a part of Percy that registered the word Doc and the name Kij used in the same sentence; that part of him was in sleeping, knocked unconscious by a well-placed right hook. Of course, to be fair, he never really liked it when people called Kijari by that nickname anyhow. Her name was Ki.
He nodded weakly and mumbled something that he hoped would be taken as an ‘all clear’ signal to the security guard but he made no efforts to stand. Looking towards Blonde he noticed that the fight seemed to be gone out of him; that was fine with Percy as well, he’d been finished with the fight before it had begun.
Lying there in the muck and having had the life nearly beat, and then scared out of him he made a resolution: once he could walk again he’d be on his ship and off this planet as soon as he could. Of course, there was the small matter of the vehicle still being inoperable, and the fact that currently he could not remember exactly where he’d parked it.
He waited until the guards were gone before bothering to stand – if it hadn’t been for Blonde he’d have likely spent the night where he was – and move in the direction that he thought the star port was located. Blonde made no efforts to follow him; Percy thought he was shell-shocked. He’d seen that before, during his military days.
That memory brought with it a strange sense of nostalgia; he’d not thought of the military in years. Sometimes old memories would creep up, but usually they were of Kijari, the doctor. Surprisingly Percy did make it back to his ship but by the time he made it there he was fairly lightheaded from the stress of the night…that and having been nearly knocked unconscious by Blonde. He’d stood by the entry of the vessel for nearly half an hour before he finally gave up trying to remember the code to the lock.
He’d lost a fair amount of blood from the wicked cut on his bottom lip and his neck was starting to ache from where Blonde’s fist had ratcheted it around. Perhaps it would be a good idea to go see this doctor everyone kept talking about. Percy set off with no real idea of where he was going, having had no one to ask for directions. After yet another half hour of walking in circles around the port Percy’s aching head got the better of him,
Before he hit the ground Percy finally put two and two together. Kij, the doctor was somewhere on this planet. It struck him as almost humorous that he’d been searching all this time and here she was. Of course, he thought as his eyes closed, he still could not find her.
Kijari’s own search had been frustrating, if uneventful. She had managed to learn two things. One, Percy was on the station. Two, Percy stank. Beyond those two facts, no one seemed able to help locate the man.
She had a pounding headache, and her high was fading away at an alarming rate when she gave up for the night. She would start again tomorrow. For a moment, she considered finding the blonde. She hadn’t wanted to be alone tonight. But her thoughts were far too unfocused. For the life of her, she could not fathom the idea of Percy looking for her. And the state he was reported to be in…it didn’t make sense.
Kijari was not used to worrying about other people. She had been drawn into the camaraderie aboard the Aphelion; but she had been so certain that would fade after she’d left. It hadn’t. Even in her darkest hours, she’d had fleeting thoughts about the crew. Fond thoughts, if she truly stopped to consider. But Kijari very rarely stopped to consider anything.
She had avoided personal relationships, meaningful ones anyway, forever. But here she was, wasting half her night, a perfectly good buzz and a willing bed partner, all for a friend.
“Doc?” She was almost to her door when someone called her. She turned, and Lor materialized out of the steamy mist. “Got a howlcat here, it was on base. Thought you might like to have it.”
Kij nodded. Howlcat venom was a particularly potent neurotoxin. The nocturnal predators were deadly and very difficult to trap. “Bring it in.”
Lor hauled the carcass to her makeshift lab, and Kij slipped on a lab coat, rolling tight fitting gloves over her sweaty hands. Lor stuck around while she extracted the beast’s venom, watching over her shoulder, fascinated. It was a good yield. She managed to get almost 14 milliliters of poison.
“He didn’t bite anyone?”
“Nope, it was a lucky night. You actually like doing this?”
Kij chuckled, peeling off her gloves. She fished around on her work table until she found the bottle she was looking for. Opening it, she took a couple pills, then offered some to Kav. “I like the end results.”
“I hear you.” He took the offered pills, tucking them into his pocket. The security officer lingered, watching Kij clean up. “You could just pay, like everyone else.”
Kij looked at him sharply, wondering if the threat she’d heard was real or imagined.
He seemed surprised by the intensity of her gaze, and backed down a little. “I mean, it seems like a lot of work. Nasty work, too.”
“I can do it.” Percy had always hated her hobbies too. She shrugged, “So why not?”
“So you don’t have to be elbow deep in blood and poison, that’s why not.” Lor laughed, shaking his head. “That would be enough for me.”
Kij didn’t respond. The carcass was disposed of, the blood was gone. She slipped off her lab coat and washed her hands. She did have reasons for her chosen profession. But none she was going to share with Lor, or with anyone for that matter. The fact was, she could do things that some people did not have the stomach for. That mattered to her. It gave her a sense of strength that she had not always possessed. More importantly, it had helped her to survive.
She had forgotten Lor was there. Not that she cared one way or the other. For his part, Lor was working up the nerve to kiss the crazy doctor when someone knocked on the door.
“Busy place.” Lor chuckled, going to open the door. Two men stood there, supporting a third, obviously unconscious man between them.
“We found this guy passed out. Thought he might be bit or something.”
Lor stood aside and two men carried in the third, setting him ungently on the same table Jorin’s friend had lain on hours before.
The man moaned, saying something unintelligible. “Donmssmycjkt.”
Lor and the others laughed, Kijari only shook her head, moving to the table and peering down at the man. Jorin had been right, Percy’s beard was crawling with parasites, and Kij prayed briefly to gods she had never bothered with before that that was all.
She cut off his clothes methodically, meaning to examine him for any bites, or any signs of infection.
“Aww, doc, he said not to mess up his jacket.” Lor tried to bring her attention back to himself, but he had clearly lost her.
Kij found no major wounds on Percy that might suggest poison, and no infections either. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought he was drunk. He had a cut on his lip, and what looked like the beginning of a black eye. The black eye made Kijari chuckle. How many of those had Percy gotten on her behalf in some backwater space port or another? “Oh Percy…” She could close her eyes and remember half a dozen of their conversations that had started just that way.
And now he was here. He had come looking for her, for whatever reason, and he had landed on her examining table.
At some point, the others left, and Kij gave Percy a quick once over with a low powered laser that would kill the worst of the critters residing in his hair. He was still a filthy mess.
The irony of the situation was not lost on Kijari. Countless times, Percy had cared for her when she had been in a similar state. She cleaned him up as best she could, and managed to manhandle him into her bed, covering him with a light blanket. Finally, she curled up herself in a chair and slept.
Percy was crouched in a corner, breathing labored and palms sweaty from fear. Something – he was not yet sure what it was but he though perhaps….no…that was silly – was going to kill him. Of that he was sure. Someone else was there too; at least, he thought so. He could hear voices at least, though those could be in his head.
He did not see the creature but suddenly something slammed him back to the ground and ripped his jacket off. He spared far too long thinking about his jacket, it had been a favorite. No matter that the monster was sure to rip out his throat next; it had angered him. Furious he fought back…at least he thought he did. His mind seemed numb, possibly because his head was pounding.
There were voices again, he was certain this time. One was female and he could not have imagined that…or could he. He’d certainly wished to hear a woman’s voice for some time: one woman’s voice. His mind finally wondered back to his current situation: he was cornered by some wild beast…or person…something, and his jacket was torn up.
He squinted ahead trying to per into the gloom where the attack was sure to come from, he could hear the growling now, coming closer…but wait, hadn’t he already been attacked? Wasn’t that why his coat was in shreds? Wasn’t that why he had a pounding head and labored breath? He tried to shake his head, confident that that would clear it but he couldn’t move so he sighed, resigned himself to die in the attack that was sure to come from the way those snores sounded.
He sat bolt upright in a bed he did not remember going to, the movement nearly splitting his head in two and threatening to empty his stomach. No, that had already happened as a powerful growl of hunger reminded him. It was all starting to come back now. He’d gone to get his ship fixed but there were no mechanics for several days. He’d started to drink, a regular pass-time of his lately, but there must have been something in the drink, or perhaps it was just stale.
There it was. He’d gotten drunk far quicker than he’d realized and then tried to make his way back to his vessel. Some guy…blonde…yes, that was right. Blonde had sucker punched him and then…and then there was a hideous noise that…Percy shuddered and tried not to think of that. He remembered making it to his ship and then trying to find a doctor.
YES! It was her, it had to be. Kijari was somewhere on this planet – though Percy could not imagine why in the blackest pit of despair she’d choose this rock. Still, it was a foolish hope to think that he’d find her anytime soon. On to more important things.
After a cursory examination of his surroundings Percy started to get out of bed, that’s when three things hit him. Hard. First, his jacket was lying on a nearby table cut cleanly in two. A flash of anger started deep in his gut and would – perhaps have even surface if the second thing had not dawned on him right on the heels of the first. He was naked. The third thing hit him almost the exact same time causing him to squawk in alarm and jump back onto the bed. There was a woman asleep in a chair just next to the bed.
He landed with a thud and, aided by the momentum and the spring of the bed, found himself flying across the bed. He hit the opposite wall and crumpled to the floor in a heap along with the blanket.
Under the very best of circumstances, mornings were never good for her. Waking up with a mouth full of cotton and a pounding headache was standard. Sometimes as a bonus she had tremors, the first stages of withdrawal. And sometimes, on the really bad days, she had a man she did not remember or particularly like. One or two of those men had informed her that she snored. But that was impossible. She did not snore. No way, no how.
This morning, she was awakened by a loud thud that had her up and on her feet in an instant. It was a bitch to wake up so quickly, her adrenaline pumping before her body was ready for it. She raked trembling fingers through her hair, calming herself as best she could. For once putting another’s needs before her own. “You’re ok Percy.”
She didn’t approach him, but she peeked over the far side of the bed, seeing him sprawled there with a blanket. She knew he’d be mortified about being naked, but there had really been no help for it. His clothes had been biohazards. A tiny smile tugged at the corners of her lips, but she forced it down. “I’ll make us some breakfast, and we can talk. I’m sorry about your jacket. If I could have saved it, I would have. My clothes are in the closet, see if something fits you. “
She turned to leave the bedroom, pausing at the door and turning back towards the bed. “It’s good to see you Percy. I’ve missed you.” She wondered if he knew how hard those words were to say.
Closing the bedroom door behind her she walked into the small kitchen. First and foremost, she made herself a drink to calm her shaking. Then she set about whipping together something mostly edible. She wasn’t a chef, and Percy knew it. As an afterthought, she made him a drink too.
Landing against the wall was unceremonious enough, cracking his head against it was just an insult. Stars exploded in front of his eyes and a blinding pain erased them; he took a moment to steady himself before he heard the voice that he’d been dreaming about. “Ohhh I did it this time,” he mumbled rubbing the tender part of his head. “Now I’m dreaming about her and hallucinating…”
Then Kijari was there, peeking over the edge of the bed and Percy became aware of two things. One, she really was there – though how that was even possible was far beyond him –and two, he was really, very naked, and all his tumbling with the blanket had left it completely under him. He tried to say something – preferably witty – but all that came out, with the effort of trying to pull on the blanket, was something akin to a strained cat.
Kijari was talking again, apologizing for his ruined jacket, but the monster had done that so he couldn’t be mad at her for it. Then she spouted off some nonsense about him wearing her clothes…naked though he might be he was certainly not wearing women’s clothes! Perhaps she’d hit her head too because as she turned to leave she said that she missed him and he knew that was not true, even if she had done so she’d never have let emotion show like that.
Then he realized that he was still dreaming because Kijari was now offering to make breakfast, and unless that meant the spleen of some night lizard or something like that Percy knew that was impossible. Kijari could not cook. He smiled to himself and lay back in the floor against the wall musing about what Kijari would look like wearing only an apron.
That dream didn’t last long either because Percy started hearing clanging coming from what he assumed was the kitchen. With the thought of actually seeing Ki in only an apron too strong to resist Percy got up and wrapped the blanket around his waist as best he could and walked to the kitchen still rubbing his aching head.
He gaped when he entered the kitchen knowing for a certainty that he was dreaming for Kijari was cooking breakfast. Dumbfounded, and not knowing how he could wake himself he simply settled into an empty chair and waited for his dream to run its course.
He would be disappointed in her attire. There was no apron. She was dressed as she always was, in cargo pants and a tank top. Her boots were missing at the moment, and her feet were bare. Other than that, she looked exactly the same as she always head. Perhaps a little more tan, from so much time spent planet-side.
When Percy entered the kitchen, Kijari stopped cooking and stared at him. Actually, the term ‘cooking’ was largely inaccurate. It was more accurate to stay that she stopped stirring the goo she was preparing. Her culinary skills were not much improved. She was however, capable of adding water to some freeze dried powders and coming up with a mostly edible, albeit salty meal.
To her practiced eye, Percy looked much better than he had the night before. His color had improved markedly, his eyes were clearer. What she could see of them behind his broken glasses, that was. Chuckling, she moved to where he sat wrapped up in the blanket, setting down the drink she had made him.
“Drink, it will make you feel better.” She picked up her own glass, taking a sip, still studying him thoughtfully.
It was all crazy. The state that he was in, it was… shocking for the normally fastidious pilot. It was crazy that he had tracked her down and was sitting right in front of her, on a planet neither of them had any ties to. It was crazy that he had survived the planet’s hostile environment, given his recklessness. But craziest of all was how she felt now, looking at him.
“Oh Percy…” The words brought on such a powerful wave of nostalgia, she was taken by surprise. She moved to him, hugging him tightly, practically sitting in his lap. His long shaggy hair tickled her cheek as she hugged him. “You’re here.” She whispered the words, still astounded by the truth of them.
Kijari. Could. Not. Cook. And she was not wearing an apron. Pity that, really…both. Still it was nice to see that ready-to-go-from-casual-to-combat look again – other than her bare feet which was also oddly nice to see. No one could pull it off like Kijari.
Percy say in a daze watching in sheer fascination as Ki tried – with limited success – to stir something on the stove. He was feeling much better now, other than the throbbing headache from where he’d hit earlier but still certain things did not make much sense. Like how he’d wound up here. And why Ki was here. And why she was cooking. Thinking about it all started to make Percy feel nauseated so he quickly went back to staring at her in silence, a vacant expression on his face.
When she brought him his drink his first thought was that it was a little early for alcohol. This though was quickly chased away by the pain in his forehead, and that knowledge that if Ki knew what he’d ben up to that accusation would never fly. He tried to thank her but all that came out of his parched throat was a grating sound like dry leaves blowing across duracrete. Instead he tried to smile through dry, cracked lips but that just made them crack more and his smile was reduced to a pained expression, like the one you’d expect to see on someone who was constipated.
He followed her example and drank allowing the burning acidic liquor to clear some of the fog from his brain. In time, he knew, he’d get to a place where his head no longer hurt…if he was smart he’d stop there. He took another long pull allowing the drink to do its work by uncovering layer upon layer of hidden emotion that Percy had buried over the months he’d been searching. Fear, anger, sadness, dread, fear, anger… Layer after layer they were shed until only one seemed to remain. Oddly it seemed to be fear, yet, here she was, what reason to fear?
The answer came when she choked out those simple four words. ‘Oh Percy. You’re here’. As Kijari leaned into her embrace Percy felt his body go rigid with shock, his breathing became shallow gasps and his hands curled into fists like those of a child terrified of monsters in his closet. He had no reason for this action that he could discern. In fact he’d dreamed of this moment for months, how he’d take her into his arms, sweep her off her feet and directly to the bedroom where he’d show her just how much he’d missed her. But now, when it came down to it, he sat like a child, petrified and weeping.
“Shhhh.” She rose from his lap, stroking his arms gently, the motion hopefully soothing. She was by no means an expert at this sort of thing. “It’s all right Percy.” It was amazing how easily she fell back into the patterns of being with him. His behavior was often inexplicable, but she had never taken it personally. He had his demons, just like she did.
Turning her back on him she stirred the quickly scorching goo, chuckling a little. She seriously doubted Percy would be able to eat it. It might be better to scrap it and try something else. The sweltering planet did boast a large array of fresh fruits. She proceeded to slice up one of those with a surgeon’s deftness . That made her smile too. Percy hated what she did. Glancing over her shoulder at the weeping man, she felt a surge of fondness for him.
“Turns out I still can’t cook.” She set a plate of fresh fruit in front of him. “But these are good.” She popped a piece of the ripe fruit into her mouth before hopping up onto the counter and crossing her legs. The medic in her wanted to take a closer look at his black eye, and the knot on his head. But she forced herself to keep her distance, for now at least.
“I have to say Percy, I like the shaggy look on you. It makes you all…mysterious like. But the glasses really need to be fixed.” Hopefully, she was making him feel more at ease. But she could never be completely sure with Percy. Briefly, she considered taking off her clothes and then just…taking him. But she didn’t want to traumatize the poor guy. She and Percy had never had an intimate relationship. She didn’t know if it was something he’d ever even considered.
Thoughtfully, she leaned over and took another piece of fruit off the plate. Maybe she should still go the naked route…
He allowed her to comfort him mostly because he didn’t have any idea what was wrong with him. He had searched for her for…how long? A month, two…a year? He no longer remembered anything beyond the search itself; the countless planets, the slowly dwindling money, the attempts at theft, the begging to survive, turning to alcohol and despair. Certainly he’d missed her, he’d have traded his life for her but this…this was absolutely not the way to get her attention, at least not the attention he really wanted.
He took a heaving breath and resolved not to play this part…ever again. What he needed now was something quirky and decidedly Percy-like to say but much to his – continued – despair he could think of nothing. Instead he just watched her attempting to stir the…food? He stomach twisted at the thought of it and he felt bad, surely he could overlook the cooking – no matter how bad it might become – for the woman who he claimed to love more than life.
It was then that the quirky Percy mind started working again and he nearly blurted out what he’d thought to himself. Had it been anyone else besides Ki he’d have said ‘Your cooking would be tolerable if you’d just change into an apron’. Of course Percy, the real Percy, could never say that to her so he resorted back to his drink. He did realize that his head no longer hurt, but that didn’t stop him from draining his glass.
Rather than make his comment – it was Kijari after all – he waited until she’d sliced the fruit and admitted to her lack of ability. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he managed as the first words he’d spoken to her. The first words?!?! He’d planned on a lengthy speech about how he’d loved her from the day he met her, how he’d dreamed about her ever since she’d left the Aphelion, how he in turn quit so he could search for her. He’d planned to make her love him with words.
To cover his shock at himself he took a piece of fruit from the tray and shoved it in his mouth as if he’d not eaten for a week, which, if you figured for the fact that he’d lost his evening meal – was it evening…how long he’d he been there – and that he’d been to lost to eat before it was possibly the truth. The juices from the fruit exploded in his mouth and his eyes popped open revealing – if one could look beneath the mane – an innocent boyish face, eyes twinkling with curiosity at the fruit that he’d never tasted before.
He turned to Kijari, now was the time, she’d have seen him wake as it were. If he were to truly impress her now was the time. He took in her lovely features, the way her hair tickled the nape of her neck, the snug but not over tight shirt that cupped her form and accentuated it in all the right places, the slight point to her nose, the narrowness of her eyes. It was all there words formed in his head. He sucked the juice from the fruit of his fingers and tasted…something metallic? He shrugged it off knowing that his window was sliding closed but he could not force his eyes not to look at his hand as he withdrew it from his lips.
“Kijari…” he breathed. His eyes widened in horror as his taste correlated with the filth on his fingers. He convulsed once and luckily had nothing to heave. He swallowed hard and looked into her eyes intent still on making his feeling known. “Do you have a shower?” He said instead.
It was a strange thing to sit there and watch as Percy emerged like a phoenix from the grungy, shaggy man before her. She almost laughed out loud when he bit into the fruit, but managed to just smile. Percy’s wide innocent eyes, even partially concealed behind filthy, broken glasses, reminded her of exactly why they had never had an intimate relationship.
Percy wasn’t an innocent. He was a grown man, and Kij knew he’d been with women before. But he still possessed a boyish charm that she never quite lost sight of. Even wasted out of her mind and ready to tumble any man she came across, she had never found herself in bed with Percy.
She was still lost in thought when he breathed her name. Her blue eyes focusing on him quickly and intently, hearing the rising panic in his voice.
“Do you have a shower?”
She didn’t hear him at first. He met her gaze directly, something that Percy had never really done, not on purpose at least. And meeting her gaze and holding it? She could not remember ever noticing how warm his brown eyes were, or how deeply they seemed to draw her in.
“A..what?” She stammered, breaking eye contact, her blue eyes intent on her toes, feeling herself blush..of all things. “Yes.” She waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the shower. “It’s a mess.” That last was unnecessary. Percy was familiar with her habits. No doubt he would have been more surprised to find the space bathroom (no idea what this is called ) clean.
She picked up her drink, quickly downing it and hopping off the counter, still not looking back at Percy. She was too sober, she decided. That, and the shock of seeing him again, under such crazy circumstances, was throwing off her equilibrium. She made herself another drink, refilling Percy’s glass as well.
Kijari Beregal
Message edited by Kijari - Saturday, 21 Apr 2012, 5:09 PM |
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