Casus Belli (Part 1)

Posted on Fri Aug 2nd, 2013 @ 12:11am by Morgo Le'Shaad & Berry
Edited on on Fri Aug 2nd, 2013 @ 6:45am

3,178 words; about a 16 minute read

Chapter: Chapter IV: Rezer's Edge
Location: Red Raptor
Timeline: Pre-Chapter IV (after "Noble Propositions" )

OLD


Blinking slowly, trying dispel the smell of disinfectant, drugs, and expensive alcohol from her memories, Morgo smiled to cover the sudden, dull throbbing of her needle point scars.

“When you learn how to properly ask for someone’s help and the meaning of reciprocity between crewmembers, come find me. I may have something for you. Even without your data chip.” Pink tongue darting out to wet her lips, something hard flashed behind Morgo's eyes as she stared impassively down at Thane, “And allow me to clarify something. I am not your prisoner, for you do not hold my chain." She informed him lightly, as she would the weather, "Try to yank it again and you will regret it. You are not my only ally aboard this ship, Thane.”

And giving him her most artificial of smiles, Morgo inclined her blonde head and left, quiet as a shadow down the corridor.

As the door swept shut, Thane's typical half-smile took shape on his face as he reclaimed his seat and returned his attention to his tome. "You have no allies, Duchess," he said quietly with no fear at all of the others on board, the music once again building up to something climactic. "Not real ones."


NEW


The cloying feeling of warm moisture in the air was surprisingly welcome as Morgo stepped from the shower, toweling the dripping water from herself before slipping on a soft white robe. She'd been surprised that the ship was equipped with actual water showers, rather than the usual standard sonic shower, but who was to say that smugglers didn't appreciate a little luxury for their bi-weekly baths? The humidity in the air reminded her a little of the summers on Dromache…and if Morgo even remotely missed the vast oceans, the lush trees swaying in the breeze, and the mountain view from her terrace suite of rooms back in the family palace…she’d never tell.

That had been freedom. What was this she was doing now? Blinking, Morgo squeezed the water from her long, damp hair into the utilitarian sink (splattered with who-knows-what by the unclean heathens that were her crewmates). Was she a prisoner? Indeed, Morgo had been saved by Thane from the authorities on Coruscant, supposedly out of the goodness (ha) of his heart. That and apparently, she had a brain that he wanted to take advantage of. So she was here on this starship out of a debt owed to Thane.

And her recent conversation with Thane in his quarters had neatly outlined exactly what he thought that kind of relationship would entail. One of disparity and coercion. Leaving his room had left Morgo feeling vaguely dirty. An irrational sensation, but one that would not be ignored. She'd taken a shower straight afterwards, hoping that the water might wash away that familiar, violating feeling of being used. Just like before. And before.

Amidst the sharp words exchanged by Thane and herself had been a tension, fraught with the tightness of barely restrained emotion. And unbidden, the scent of her childhood had come to her in all its terrifying clarity. The scent of antiseptics, new plastics, clean metal bindings, and her own blood.

Scent, as all human biologists knew, was closely linked to that part of the brain that controlled memory. The olfactory nerve being quite close to the amygdala and the hippocampus of the human brain—the respective houses of emotion and memory—Morgo was not surprised that memories of a darker time had come running back when Thane had not so subtly threatened her for her services. What had surprised her was her own reaction to them.

She had expected such an unsavory response from Thane, confirming a personal hypothesis Morgo had formed about the man. That beneath aristocratic features and dry smiles was a cruel and ugly face that would rear its head more and more often now that he’d touched the Dark Side.
What she had not expected was her own irrational reaction upon seeing six men she’d once known, reflected in Thane. For in that moment, for just a split second, Morgo had felt fear. Not of Thane, no, but of a memory. Conjured from a time when she was young and hadn’t yet mastered herself, nor come to see her own body as a simple vessel for her mind. To be used for the furthering of her goals.

It was a curious reaction that Morgo had picked apart and studied as soon as she’d left Thane’s presence. A visceral reaction that she’d felt raise the hairs on her neck and pain her old scars—so bone deep it had compelled Morgo to scrub it clean from her skin with water, soap and fingernails. The red of where she’d dug her nails deep into her skin streaked down her forearms and hands.

Morgo smirked to herself as she looked up into the fogged mirror. With a hand she wiped away the excess moisture and stared into her reflection—noting what she saw. Staring back at her beneath dark lashes were two grey eyes, so pale that they seemed to get mixed up with their whites. Her face was thin—a little too thin, for Morgo’s tastes. Six months in a maximum security prison and a few more on the run had affected her. Not one to eat (much) under normal circumstances, being in prison without servants doggedly forcing her to eat everyday meant that Morgo ate when she wanted to—which meant it could be days in between meals and Morgo would not have minded. Eating slowed her mind. And she had preferred the company of her mind rather than her body in those transparisteel and force-field walled days.

And then when she had escaped prison, hiding from bounty hunters day and night, trying to stay hidden had taken up all her hours. Food had never been scarce—not with the amount of money Morgo always had within reach of her fingertips, but the problem of actually eating had become something she scarcely found the time for.

Looking into the mirror, Morgo huffed at her reflection. In all the days of her life on Dromache, she had never been this slender. Not since before puberty, before she’d officially ‘became a woman’ and all those bodily things that nightmare entailed. Though not unhealthy, such delicateness did not suit her, she knew; it made her face too sharp and brought out her eyes too much, like a stately painting or a sculpture in stark lighting. Morgo didn’t like being remarkable.

It made her too memorable. And even before she was forced to truly value anonymity as a fugitive, she’d always preferred it. To be one of the preening and beautiful, fluttering ladies of the court with their painted faces and perfumed hair had never been a life goal—even if they were usually quite well educated.

Of course, that was not to say Morgo was not vain. She was. Very. Something Morgo was not above admitting. Smiling into the mirror, one of those many close-lipped smiles she’d perfected back in court, it occurred to Morgo that this was a real as any of her smiles got these days. And braiding her still damp blonde hair, Morgo huffed a short self-deprecating laugh.

She had been a fool to believe that perhaps Thane might be different than the others, might treat her like an equal. She hadn't drove a hard bargain, when they'd spoken. He'd wanted information, and she wanted something more than a vague promise in return—reciprocity. A transaction.

Favors were for those Morgo could trust. And trust came seldom, if ever, to one like Morgo.

Finishing her braid, Morgo tied it off with a strand of blonde hair, and pondered the mystery of trust. When she’d left Thane, she’d declared that Thane would do good to tread lightly, that Morgo had allies aboard this ship. But did she truly? Or were those empty words spoken in her own compulsion to have the last word after being threatened?

Walking out the ‘fresher doors, Morgo padded barefoot down the ship’s corridor to her room, the cool dry air on her warmed skin prompting her to pull the robe around her closer.

Under normal circumstances, Morgo would have dropped her line of thought, unproductive and useless as it was. But as she was in an unusual mood, Morgo indulged in her thoughts—and did not notice the skulking creature sneaking up on her.

“A BOOGA BOOGA BOOGAAA!!” the part-Aquar grunt-yelled in a manner similar to primitives on a strange planet.

To make things worse, she was busy hopping around and shaking a tattered rag with a crude drawing of some kind of skull face on it hidden among the mess of scribbles…making the “skull” seem like an afterthought.

However, none of that mattered when paired with her stupid yelling and that stupid eager face.

Morgo absolutely did not scream as shock and adrenaline lanced though her heart. Spinning on her heel, open hand outstretched, her knee jerk reaction was to defend herself. Morgo's vision barely settled when she realized that her surprise attacker was not in fact an attacker, but Berry (the utter imbecile ), realizing it too late to stop her flying hand.

Berry instinctively met Morgo's soft hand with her forearm in a block. The move surprised Berry as much as it surprised Morgo, and her dark eyes widened. "H-hey!!" Her grip lessened on the rag.

Realizing that this was that half-wit's idea of a joke, and still half-possessed by the surge of adrenaline, Morgo snarled as she grabbed the stupid rag with the drawing of the deformed skull (which looked like it had been drawn by a drooling moron with two fingers-width of forehead who gripped the pen in his nostrils) from Berry's hand, looking positively murderous. A grand departure from her usual fare of calm and composed and vaguely smug.

"Oh my—!" Morgo raged at Berry, unable to finish her thought, hands gesturing violently, "What is WRONG with you?!" she ultimately decided on shouting to Berry's stupid stupid smiling face, her own heart racing, ready to burst from the sheer alarm.

Berry couldn't help but giggle at Shady Lady. She herself smiled, a little bit smugly. "I scared you."

"Yes." Morgo stated flatly, exasperated, glaring down at Berry, "Yes, you did. Mind telling my why you felt that necessary?" She asked tartly, though it lacked heat.

Berry just gazed back at her with wide eyes. "Huh?" Necessary? There was never a necessary with her...Berry shrugged, smiling. "I dunno, I just felt like it." Then she grinned. "It's so boooooring here, so why not a little excitement?"

Morgo sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose in an attempt to soothe the growing ache in her head, closing her eyes. "Yes, well," Morgo replied dully, "Do try to leave me out of your next bid for excitement, hmm?"

She'd had far too many attempts on her life back on Dromache to take any amusement in being sneaked up on, anymore. Not that Berry knew that, so who could fault the girl? Morgo continued to ponder whether she had to worry about assassins now that she was off Dromache as she turned to resume the path to her room—beckoning Berry to follow her with a twitch of two fingers.

"Walk with me." She said, momentarily slipping back into the skin of the Duchess, speaking in that effortless and quietly arrogant way that was second nature to so many nobles, the expectation that their demands be obeyed implicit in the air. Luckily, Berry lacked the sense and the pride to notice such subtleties in tone, and thus it didn't even occur to her to feel offended.

Berry padded after her with a faint hope with food and at least something amusing.

Looking down at Berry walking at her side, Morgo's smirk was faint, "Inappropriate as your prank was however, I do sympathize with your predicament. Such a dull crew we have, don't we? No fun or amusement to be had anywhere." She mourned, tsking lightly under her breath as they came to Morgo's door and stepped inside, "Though I suppose your definition of 'fun' and mine might differ significantly." And sitting on the bed as she disrobed, Morgo pulled on different clothes—more appropriate apparel to be having a conversation with than just simply a robe.

Crossing her legs, Morgo's expression was thoughtful as she spoke, "I must confess that I don't know much about Velusian culture however, so I'll have to guess that you pirated for fun. Pillaged and robbed like the outlaw you were." Morgo said airily, smirking at Berry as she tried to imagine the girl doing anything remotely immoral. It was admittedly hard.

The twinkle in Berry's eye at the sound of fun immediately vanished upon that insinuation. "Hey," she began with a frown. "We never pillaged. All that gold was given to us, or maybe Nimo stealing it, but we never did that." She began to smile, though. "But we had fun. That's why I wanted to become a pirate, to do what I wanted to do without anyone telling me what to do. So did my crewmates..." The part-Aquar chuckled. "Yeah, we'd sail on the water and blow up rocks and fight sometimes—all in good fun, though." Especially since they were almost as strong as her. Quite a challenge!

Then Berry stared at Morgo. Wasn't Morgo supposed to protect her? And how could a Shady Lady do that if she wasn't at least close to Berry's strength. She continued to stare at the slender lady. "Heeeey, we never fought before, have we??" The twinkle returned as she grinned. "Let's go do it!!"

Morgo stared at Berry like the girl had at last, lost her mind. "You're even madder than I thought if you think I'm going to spar with you." She spoke, saying the word like it left a bad taste in her mouth.

Berry just laughed, a bright peal echoing throughout the ship. "I'm not mad—I'm happy!" She offered Shady Lady a hand. "Let's go."

Morgo raised a dubious eyebrow, "Uh..." She said lightly, pretending to consider it, "No."

Berry pouted. "C'mooooon!"

"I refuse."

Then the part-Aquar gave her a playful glare—her only warning—before she grabbed the hand out of that robe anyway and started pulling her to the training room, like a child pulling its mother to look at a toy. Except this toy warranted a few bruises, no doubt...

"Wait, what—!" Morgo sputtered as she tried to yank her hand out of Berry's surprisingly tight grip, forcing her to counterbalance and use her bare feet to pull herself back towards her room. But Berry's strength was like the force of the tide, unrelenting but gentle at the same time. And as Morgo watched as the door to her room grew farther and farther away, she began to despair.

"Berry!" Morgo shouted, her wrist starting to ache from the pulling, "Let me go this instant! This is not funny!"

"You're right," Berry replied over her shoulder as she let up on her grip a little. "It won't be funny when you get pummeled." She stopped and turned, a golden green finger wagging at the duchess. Her gaze looked borderline admonishing. "I mean, I won't be laughing. Will you??"

Morgo sighed, giving a final useless pull of her hand before they entered the Training Room, having been dragged half-way across the ship in a matter seconds.

"Aren't you going to be there to protect me?" Morgo asked, vaguely mocking, irritated for having been dragged somewhere yet again.

Berry shook her head as she started stretching. "I can't if I'm busy with the bigger bad guy, OR if I got caught." Her eyebrows rose as she gave Morgo a look. "I mean, I don't even know how strong you are. I gotta figure that out first."

"I'm not strong. Simple as that. I work well from a distance. Or better yet, not being stupid enough to be caught in a fight at all." Morgo said, though she was aware sometimes trouble just sought you out, and there was no escaping. In such a case, Morgo usually ran. But even that didn't work all the time.

At that Berry nodded, a thoughtful frown appearing on her face for once. "Yeah, some pirate captain told me once that the best way to fight is to take out the enemy without fighting." She laughed, smiling at Morgo in half-disbelief. "Sounds pretty crazy but I guess it makes sense, since then I'd have more energy to do other stuff like exploring." But then she frowned. "But sometimes you can't do anything but fight...or run. Anyway, I'm not that good at running but I can help you fight better so you don't break your promise with Mr. Rezer." She cracked her knuckles as she gazed expectantly at Morgo.

The woman scoffed, "Just wait 'til he finds out he's brokered a deal with the weakest fighter on the ship. I imagine he'll be endearingly distressed to know he's getting very little from me in return for his protection."

And falling into the only fighting stance she knew, a defensive stance, Morgo angled her body so that she stood how she would have had she been wielding a spear or staff, her empty hands held out in front of her. Wearily, she wondered why she was humoring Berry at all.

The fact that a child been able to drag her off across the ship with no trouble at all had something to do with it, she supposed. Had Berry been a bounty hunter or an assassin, Morgo was sure she'd be chained somewhere. Or dead. So perhaps this little training exercise had practical use after all.

"I'd appreciate it if you avoided my face, girl." Morgo said dryly, her lips quirking at the corner, looking at Berry across the mat from her, "I still need it pretty, after all."

Surprisingly, Berry pouted at that. "But the head is where the brain is so it will hurt you the most and knock you out," she protested, almost whined.

"Yes." Morgo replied, "But since there is little to no chance this ridiculous sparring session of ours will improve my hand-to-hand combat skills anyways, I'd really rather not get a scar for nothing. I happen to like my face."

The part-Aquar blew out air in a sigh of concession. "Fine. We gotta start out easy first, after all." She blinked. "Even though your enemies won't." She shrugged that wisdom off and assumed her own fighting stance.


Things, it seemed, were about to get interesting .

RSS Feed