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Literature Text
The Medical Droid whirred and coldly enunciated, "The unit is regaining consciousness."
Blackness became light, hard and painful, as her eyes slowly and opened. Lyssia made a quiet groaning whimper noise, blinking her eyes painfully, and felt very thirsty and very much more confused. She tried to twitch her wrist, but she was restrained.
The Med Droid continued examining her, tapping a probe wire hooked against her skull and reading a strange readout. The machine itself was a cobbled hobnob of mixed sundry medical machines and parts and colors unidentifiable by any moniker or make except its function. It was simply 'the med droid'. "Unit maintains normal blood pressure, but thought synchronization is malaligned. Conjecture: Prisoner is insane or has amnesia. Unit is also pregnant."
Lyssia blinked large brown eyes and strained a little, weakly voicing, "What? How could- when did- where am I?"
The Med Droid ignored her and continued its report to the gray armored and green skinned Nikto mercenary eyeing the prisoner. "Unit is excellent physical condition otherwise."
The mercenary dryly responded. "I can see that."
The warrior for hire thought aloud, like the machine ignoring the poor woman who could hear their every word. "Jemmbha probably wouldn't want her working the space-docks again anyway- too easy to escape, loss of acquired skills or not."
Then he turned and gave her an awful grin nearly directly in her face. "So, pretty slave, he's going to want to keep you close when he gets you back."
He patted her her head none-too-gently, ignoring the droid's wires. "You're either going to be his little Jedi if you remember anything, or his chamber-dancer, ..."
She bit her lip and breathed harder as he leaned in closer and whispered, "Or a snack. He's not known for leniency with escapees."
He smirked with ruthless amusement and patted her head once again, curling gloved hands through her soft dirty-blonde hair. "But you being full of unexpected merchandise has made this an even more profitable trip! I suppose I'll have to thank you if the slug pays."
Lyssia cringed back from the mercenary, shuddering at the dark promise in his voice in regards to being a snack and the lack of leniency She winced away from the unwelcome taunting motions to her head, disoriented, scared, and upset. "Who- who's Jemmbha?"
The mercenary's smirk became a greater grin. "Your Master. You were a baaaad girl, running away; then you made it worse by killing some buddies of ours when they tried to... bring you home, as it were. So now it's our job and pay. Hope you get along with Hutts."
Lyssia quailed and whimpered, almost tearing up. "I don't remember- I don't know- I-"
The other mercenary in the corner gave a disgusted noise and came to her defense. "Hey, lay off. No need to scare her just because your buddies were dumb enough to get themselves in a situation where they could get offed by Jedi. They should've known better."
The kinder man removed the restraints after looking at the medical droid's injectors, then tossed Lyssia an extra jacket, which she studied for a second before pulling it on. The space was cold, and she somewhat lacked her original clothing- it had been removed to examine her more closely. The bitter Nikto mercenary shrugged and wandered off.
The Med Droid spoke once more, continuing its analyzing. "Application of select medicines may allow her to reacquire memory; acquired skills will return of their own accord in time. In this circumstance, return of memory is not advised. Subject is more docile and equally of value to the Hutt without it."
The remaining mercenary growled at the droid. "When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it. Is there anything else of note about her that we should know?"
Lyssia huddled in the gifted jacket, feeling thoroughly miserable and unhappy. She shuddered as the droid reassessed her one last time. "As before informed, subject is Force Sensitive, and subject is pregnant. It is conjectured twins will also be Force Sensitive. Subject is currently experiencing anxiety but has no physical damage."
With a whir it scanned its data again. "Subject may have trace alchohol in system, but not of amount to affect behavior. Subject's blood may be too low in iron to handle pregnancy unharmed; without specific dietary measure, HELLP or other blood conditions may occur, but are not presently a factor."
The mercenary glared at the droid, the job continuing to leave a foul taste in his mouth, but not so much as the attitudes of the equipment and companions toward it. "No skriffing surprise she's experiencing anxiety. But noted for iron. Get me a good diet supplement suggestion by the time I return."
Then the human man gently unhooked the wiring and parts, picked Lyssia up and all but shoved her forward, ignoring her yelp. "You get a small crew room out of the way - it's better than the cargo hold, so be happy."
The young woman allowed herself be pushed, too confused and overwhelmed to throw a fuss. He didn't feel as scary as the Nikto. At least not when he wasn't growling.
The Med Droid began composing supplement suggestions, recording them on the datapad, and shut down when its ordered tasks were completed. The human merc even set her down when out of the room, though he kept a live pistol trained on her in case she remembered any combative techniques physically. Better safe than sorry.
As the pair of humans passed, the same Nikto mercenary became visible, busily yakking at an increasingly infuriated-looking Togorian. The same Togorian who had helped snatch her from wherever-that-place was, the one the little boy had petted, Lyssia recognized. The Togorian growled at the mercenary, then looked up and glared with slitted eyes at Lyssia, who stepped back closer to her guide. In spite of his glares and growls he grinned widely at the human mercenary and queried in a very cat-like voice, "Showing the merchandise around?"
He raised his voice and stepped away from Lyssia, despite inclination to shield her. "What's it to you, Gore? Get back to getting your ear talked off by that barve over there."
The Nikto clenched his fist, glared at Gore, and grumbled something about cat-people.
The Togorian, who Lyssia gathered was named or called Gore, growled at the mercenary. In a low, menacing tone, he demanded, "What was that?"
The human mercenary took the opportunity to spirit away Lyssia to her quarters, down the dingy dented hallways and through the craft's cramped corridors. He took her by the shoulders and addressed her in a serious, civil tone. "If you ever need something, ask for Arron. I'll try to get to you as fast as I can. Your door will be locked from the outside - only myself and the captain have the keycard for it, so you should be safe. We don't want some of the more unruly members of the crew getting ideas with you- one way or another."
Arron sealed the door and left her in peace. Lyssia curled up on the bunk, rested her head on her knees, and tried - in vain - to remember anything about her past. To her terrible disappointment she could find nothing- and she knew, somehow, that even just knowing what they were talking about might have helped her.
The cruel mercenary trailing retort met Arron as he re-entered the rooms they were in. "Just espousing my opinion of your kind. You've said a few things about Nikto in return, as I recall. But getting into this again isn't going to help either of our faces, Gore."
Gore bared his fangs and claws, but stalked away after growling a little. "Fine."
Arron watched with narrowed eyes. "Well, at least I don't have to break you two up this time. You fight worse than an old married couple."
The nameless mercenary conceded with a sigh and changed the subject. "Yeah, yeah. Speaking of old married couples, your kids doing ok?"
Arron blinked, caught off guard. "Hm? Oh, good - Garret took to the swoops like a natural and Nika's doing well in school. I figure the profits from this job should cover their schooling for the next while - one less thing to worry about."
The mercenary yawned and nodded. "Right, right. Just don't get too sweet on the girl there."
He pointed emphatically at the locked room and tilted Arron's head to face it with his other hand, fond of physical emphasis to his statements. "She's just a paycheck."
Then he wandered off to his own devices, leaving the sighing human balling his fists behind him. Arron protested. "It's worth treating her like a human being in the meantime, though."
Arron grumbled under his breath in the dead silence following this declaration. "Or not."
Blackness became light, hard and painful, as her eyes slowly and opened. Lyssia made a quiet groaning whimper noise, blinking her eyes painfully, and felt very thirsty and very much more confused. She tried to twitch her wrist, but she was restrained.
The Med Droid continued examining her, tapping a probe wire hooked against her skull and reading a strange readout. The machine itself was a cobbled hobnob of mixed sundry medical machines and parts and colors unidentifiable by any moniker or make except its function. It was simply 'the med droid'. "Unit maintains normal blood pressure, but thought synchronization is malaligned. Conjecture: Prisoner is insane or has amnesia. Unit is also pregnant."
Lyssia blinked large brown eyes and strained a little, weakly voicing, "What? How could- when did- where am I?"
The Med Droid ignored her and continued its report to the gray armored and green skinned Nikto mercenary eyeing the prisoner. "Unit is excellent physical condition otherwise."
The mercenary dryly responded. "I can see that."
The warrior for hire thought aloud, like the machine ignoring the poor woman who could hear their every word. "Jemmbha probably wouldn't want her working the space-docks again anyway- too easy to escape, loss of acquired skills or not."
Then he turned and gave her an awful grin nearly directly in her face. "So, pretty slave, he's going to want to keep you close when he gets you back."
He patted her her head none-too-gently, ignoring the droid's wires. "You're either going to be his little Jedi if you remember anything, or his chamber-dancer, ..."
She bit her lip and breathed harder as he leaned in closer and whispered, "Or a snack. He's not known for leniency with escapees."
He smirked with ruthless amusement and patted her head once again, curling gloved hands through her soft dirty-blonde hair. "But you being full of unexpected merchandise has made this an even more profitable trip! I suppose I'll have to thank you if the slug pays."
Lyssia cringed back from the mercenary, shuddering at the dark promise in his voice in regards to being a snack and the lack of leniency She winced away from the unwelcome taunting motions to her head, disoriented, scared, and upset. "Who- who's Jemmbha?"
The mercenary's smirk became a greater grin. "Your Master. You were a baaaad girl, running away; then you made it worse by killing some buddies of ours when they tried to... bring you home, as it were. So now it's our job and pay. Hope you get along with Hutts."
Lyssia quailed and whimpered, almost tearing up. "I don't remember- I don't know- I-"
The other mercenary in the corner gave a disgusted noise and came to her defense. "Hey, lay off. No need to scare her just because your buddies were dumb enough to get themselves in a situation where they could get offed by Jedi. They should've known better."
The kinder man removed the restraints after looking at the medical droid's injectors, then tossed Lyssia an extra jacket, which she studied for a second before pulling it on. The space was cold, and she somewhat lacked her original clothing- it had been removed to examine her more closely. The bitter Nikto mercenary shrugged and wandered off.
The Med Droid spoke once more, continuing its analyzing. "Application of select medicines may allow her to reacquire memory; acquired skills will return of their own accord in time. In this circumstance, return of memory is not advised. Subject is more docile and equally of value to the Hutt without it."
The remaining mercenary growled at the droid. "When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it. Is there anything else of note about her that we should know?"
Lyssia huddled in the gifted jacket, feeling thoroughly miserable and unhappy. She shuddered as the droid reassessed her one last time. "As before informed, subject is Force Sensitive, and subject is pregnant. It is conjectured twins will also be Force Sensitive. Subject is currently experiencing anxiety but has no physical damage."
With a whir it scanned its data again. "Subject may have trace alchohol in system, but not of amount to affect behavior. Subject's blood may be too low in iron to handle pregnancy unharmed; without specific dietary measure, HELLP or other blood conditions may occur, but are not presently a factor."
The mercenary glared at the droid, the job continuing to leave a foul taste in his mouth, but not so much as the attitudes of the equipment and companions toward it. "No skriffing surprise she's experiencing anxiety. But noted for iron. Get me a good diet supplement suggestion by the time I return."
Then the human man gently unhooked the wiring and parts, picked Lyssia up and all but shoved her forward, ignoring her yelp. "You get a small crew room out of the way - it's better than the cargo hold, so be happy."
The young woman allowed herself be pushed, too confused and overwhelmed to throw a fuss. He didn't feel as scary as the Nikto. At least not when he wasn't growling.
The Med Droid began composing supplement suggestions, recording them on the datapad, and shut down when its ordered tasks were completed. The human merc even set her down when out of the room, though he kept a live pistol trained on her in case she remembered any combative techniques physically. Better safe than sorry.
As the pair of humans passed, the same Nikto mercenary became visible, busily yakking at an increasingly infuriated-looking Togorian. The same Togorian who had helped snatch her from wherever-that-place was, the one the little boy had petted, Lyssia recognized. The Togorian growled at the mercenary, then looked up and glared with slitted eyes at Lyssia, who stepped back closer to her guide. In spite of his glares and growls he grinned widely at the human mercenary and queried in a very cat-like voice, "Showing the merchandise around?"
He raised his voice and stepped away from Lyssia, despite inclination to shield her. "What's it to you, Gore? Get back to getting your ear talked off by that barve over there."
The Nikto clenched his fist, glared at Gore, and grumbled something about cat-people.
The Togorian, who Lyssia gathered was named or called Gore, growled at the mercenary. In a low, menacing tone, he demanded, "What was that?"
The human mercenary took the opportunity to spirit away Lyssia to her quarters, down the dingy dented hallways and through the craft's cramped corridors. He took her by the shoulders and addressed her in a serious, civil tone. "If you ever need something, ask for Arron. I'll try to get to you as fast as I can. Your door will be locked from the outside - only myself and the captain have the keycard for it, so you should be safe. We don't want some of the more unruly members of the crew getting ideas with you- one way or another."
Arron sealed the door and left her in peace. Lyssia curled up on the bunk, rested her head on her knees, and tried - in vain - to remember anything about her past. To her terrible disappointment she could find nothing- and she knew, somehow, that even just knowing what they were talking about might have helped her.
The cruel mercenary trailing retort met Arron as he re-entered the rooms they were in. "Just espousing my opinion of your kind. You've said a few things about Nikto in return, as I recall. But getting into this again isn't going to help either of our faces, Gore."
Gore bared his fangs and claws, but stalked away after growling a little. "Fine."
Arron watched with narrowed eyes. "Well, at least I don't have to break you two up this time. You fight worse than an old married couple."
The nameless mercenary conceded with a sigh and changed the subject. "Yeah, yeah. Speaking of old married couples, your kids doing ok?"
Arron blinked, caught off guard. "Hm? Oh, good - Garret took to the swoops like a natural and Nika's doing well in school. I figure the profits from this job should cover their schooling for the next while - one less thing to worry about."
The mercenary yawned and nodded. "Right, right. Just don't get too sweet on the girl there."
He pointed emphatically at the locked room and tilted Arron's head to face it with his other hand, fond of physical emphasis to his statements. "She's just a paycheck."
Then he wandered off to his own devices, leaving the sighing human balling his fists behind him. Arron protested. "It's worth treating her like a human being in the meantime, though."
Arron grumbled under his breath in the dead silence following this declaration. "Or not."
Literature
To Repair the Broken
Trailing her fingers over the dusty hard wood counter top, the heart inside her expanded, swelling full of regrets, of anger, and of sorrow. Tears brimmed her eyes before cascading down her cheeks like small waterfalls, never ending as the rain kept falling from her eyes.
Her fingers picked up chunks of dust upon those small ravines on the pads, dirtying her once pure body, just as the memories soiled her peace of mind. To breathe in the musky air was to inhale poisonous gasses from the past.
She took three steps farther into the room, away from the counter, before she sank down to her knees, surveying the sight before her eye
Literature
Hospital oddities
i. ask your housekeeper if you require fresh fruit
ii. give me the words but not the pain;
give me the warmth of the fire without the flames
the future might change but the past stays the same
give me a life without any grief
give me hope without the need for blind belief
the past might change but the future stays the same?
iii. i don’t believe in the scars that I’ve got
or the spaces between.
there was once a whole person there.
i outgrew her aged four.
iv. water is a vegetarian option
(as is milk)
v. i am on my own
(i am always gonna be this way)
vi. we’re all angels here
(no love ,we’re all insane)
vii. did
Literature
2 Sentence Story
It was a dark and stormy night.
The Earth cradled itself in blankets of black clouds, awaiting its end.
Suggested Collections
'nother.
Goodness gumdrops, Jemmbha still hasn't emerged? .o
This, again (or not again. I don't think the author's note actually survived. ._.), is before most of the latter stories in the RP. Before Jakaan met Yillani or even Serue. Back before the twins were born. To re-emphasize, this be a history bit, not a new preggers.
Keiran, due to events of this segment of the RP which shall be uncompiled later, cannot actually make Lyssia have kids again
co-played/wrote this with several of her characters and was also the one to archive, and donate, this set of stories. Should only be a few more now.
A: [link]
B: [link]
C: [link]
D: [link]
E: [link]
F: [link]
G: [link]
H: [link]
I: [link]
J: [link]
K: [link]
Goodness gumdrops, Jemmbha still hasn't emerged? .o
This, again (or not again. I don't think the author's note actually survived. ._.), is before most of the latter stories in the RP. Before Jakaan met Yillani or even Serue. Back before the twins were born. To re-emphasize, this be a history bit, not a new preggers.
Keiran, due to events of this segment of the RP which shall be uncompiled later, cannot actually make Lyssia have kids again
co-played/wrote this with several of her characters and was also the one to archive, and donate, this set of stories. Should only be a few more now.A: [link]
B: [link]
C: [link]
D: [link]
E: [link]
F: [link]
G: [link]
H: [link]
I: [link]
J: [link]
K: [link]
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*whine* Save her save her save her!!