A Lady and Her Steed (Part 1)

Posted on Mon Dec 24th, 2012 @ 11:58am by Morgo Le'Shaad & Berry
Edited on on Mon Dec 24th, 2012 @ 12:35pm

2,881 words; about a 14 minute read

Chapter: Chapter II: Era's Dawn
Location: Merchant's Quarter, Coruscant
Timeline: 0600 Hours (Local Time), Day Seven

OLD

But....if Morgo brought Bería along to the Merchant's Quarter of Coruscant, Morgo's very own bull in a china shop when it came to being loud and conspicuous, perhaps no one would really take heed of a tall slender woman quietly buying medical supplies. Not when they had this monkey on their hands.

Berry's pout, however, disappeared as soon as her brain registered the offer being made to her. "Huh?" She blinked slowly, frowning in thought. "Food? Where? Do I have to pay money? I have some but I gotta save it up for...food."

"If you come with me ..." Morgo said slyly, pressing a hand to her chest, "...You won't have to pay."

The part-Aquar beamed as much as she could to the lady despite her sleepiness. It was like a hazy shot of light, with a fog of sleep to shine through. "Reeeaaalllyy?" Her eyes closed from sleepiness and the force of her grin. "Thaaaanks.....!" She nodded and turned and walked out. "Lezzgo!"

NEW


“That’ll be 200,000 credits, Ms. Birvenklaire.”

Running a finger over the neck of the microscope she had her eye on, Morgo’s eyes took in the lovely sight. Beside it lay all the equipment she’d need to power and run a small laboratory. If Morgo ever needed to do blood panels, grow cultures of bacteria, or have gels cold and set in seconds in order to run DNA tests, she could do it. All for the small price of 200,000 credits.

But Morgo sighed. Gone were the days when she could spend carelessly. Morgo had to be more frugal now. Tilting her head, Morgo undid the semi-sheer veil she wore to obscure her face from identification. Risky as it was, Morgo learned long ago that the best bargaining was done face-to-face.

“Make it 170,000 and I’ll buy the small cooling unit as well.” Morgo declared as the veil hung lifeless by her face, attached to the black dupatta draped over her head like a hood. Matching the sari she wore, the dupatta and veil were of black chiffon, its fine gold trimming like metal filigree.

The young handsome man’s expression was momentarily struck, blushing upon seeing her face for the first time, but he did not seem to recognize her, and his expression quickly turned confused, “But, uh, that would put your total up to 210,000 credits, Ms. Birvenklaire—not lower it in any way.” He said uneasily, laughing awkwardly, not understanding why she thought buying the refrigeration unit would make him lower her overall charge.

Morgo smiled prettily and blinked, long lashes fanning across her cheeks, “Yes, but I’ve got an eye for things…” Morgo’s gray eyes flickered down to the man’s name tag, “… Joren, and that unit is from your catalog three years ago. I’d be doing you a favor taking it off your hands. Most won't even pay for such a relic.”

"Uh, but you're not paying..."

Morgo shrugged, one bare shoulder bobbing lightly as she pushed a 500 credit chip his way to distract him...fluster him, "I'm paying you."

“Uh…” Joren began, embarrassed that she was looking at him so intently, and not really knowing whether to be upset or not that bribery had entered the conversation, “Well, um let me talk to my manager. He’ll know what to do.”

Immediately Morgo leaned across the counter separating them, placing a hand on Joren’s chest to stop him, “Is that smart Joren? He’s in the back, busy with inventory, probably.” Morgo looked into his red eyes, “Do you really want to bother him with something so trivial?”

Winking at the Chiss in his white, lab uniform, Morgo gently nudged him back, behind the cashier, her hand still on his chest, “I do imagine you’d be rewarded with a commission for selling so much in one day, no?" A small smile played across the bow of her lips as Morgo made her voice like honey, "So let’s settle this here. Just you and me.” she said smoothly, encouraging him back behind the counter.

Joren carded his hand through his raven-black hair, considering the woman’s words. It was true. For every major sale he made, he received 25% of the profit. In that way, Kovu Inc. certainly tried its best to outdo GalactaWerks when it could, and that included employee treatment.

“Fine, fine.” He conceded, very aware of Morgo’s hand on his chest and blushing purple. “I’ll lower the price to 190,000 credits if you take the refrigeration unit, Ms. Birvenklaire."

“Call me Darlene.” Morgo said, not missing a beat. Darlene Birvenklaire was a rather farty old name she’d cooked up when she was 14 years old, a name she’d given to one of the 1st generation, progenitor bacteria cells she’d grown fond of in the lab.

But arching her eyebrow, Morgo infused her voice with a bit of challenge, “But what do you take me for? All this equipment is a season old. You expect me to pay full price when GalactaWerks is already offering a discount for theirs?”

At the mention of one of their rivals, Joren’s spine went straight, alarmed. But the little spark of challenge Morgo had allowed to escape her (thoroughly soft) persona had put him on edge, and he arched his eyebrows to meet hers.

Morgo cursed herself for not being meek enough and changed tactics. If hard handing him wasn’t going to work, perhaps pleading would. Any attempts at seduction were clearly lost on the poor, virginal bastard. The block-head was too busy blushing at the first sign of contact. So putting on her best face, Morgo leaned even closer.

“Please Joren. If my Father ever finds out that I’m trying to have a mind of my own and cultivate it he’ll kill me! I have to keep this charge small or he’ll know !” And breathing softly, Morgo's voice was small, “And If he finds out that I’ve actually got a brain that’s not filled with air and flowers he’ll ship me off to the nearest planet and marry me to some fat, rich man!”

Inches away, Morgo was close enough to Joren’s face for their breathes to intermingle. “Please,” she whispered, eyes wide, “I don’t want to marry a perfumed lord! I want to be a scientist.” And looking at his blue face, tinged with his purple blush, Morgo made her eyes beg, “Help me, Joren. Make it 170,000 credits. I’ll tell my Father it was a pair of shoes and he’ll believe me.”

The poor man was conflicted, pity warred with duty. But Morgo knew it was a losing battle. Inches away from Morgo, she watched as his nostrils flared slightly, taking in her gentle, feminine scent—and watched as Joren’s expression softened…and became that wonderful expression of sound defeat. The expression of victory.

Dear Goddess, were all men so utterly stupid? One flash of skin, or a batted eyelash had the younger ones eating out of her hand. Though she supposed, biology was really to blame. Wonderful biology.

“Alright, alright, Darlene.” He said, looking at her with a dubious face, as if he still wasn’t quite sure what he was doing was right. Morgo decided to assure him and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek, her smile just for Joren, this magnificent idiot. When she drew back, Morgo could practically see 5,000 credits subtracting themselves from her total.

“Your total is 165,000 credits, Darlene.” Joren said, smiling kindly, probably thinking he was doing the universe a favor by helping this poor maid find her footing as an independent scientist. Morgo would’ve scoffed if it wouldn’t have blown her whole charade. As if noble girls just woke up and decided to do something with their pathetic existences in the name of science.

Morgo paid and watched as a droid loaded her precious cargo into bags, carrying them out of the store for her. After all, she’d bought quite a lot. Morgo flashed a smile at Joren, “Thank you my dear. I’ll remember this for all my days.” She said, with the appropriate amount of enamored bullshit it took to convince him. And turning, Morgo left the store and stepped into a grand mall, swarming with buyers and tourists. White marble with gold accents surrounded them, and five levels up as Morgo was, some of the others looked like multi-colored ants, rather than people.

Everywhere, shiny droids buzzed by carrying various loads of bought goods, bolts of fine silk, jewelry, and rare spices and teas. The Merchant’s Quarter of Coruscant. It ran for a good few miles in some parts, but this was the Indoor Merchant’s Market where many things could be bought in bulk. A small corner of the Quarter, yes, but a good and rich one that offered all the things Morgo needed.

The moment Morgo was out of Joren’s sight, her smile dropped off her dark, painted lips discarding the stupid expression as soon as she could get away with it. Some people around her who’d witnessed her sudden (and somewhat disturbing) change of expression warily made room for her on the walkway, and Morgo noticed enough to veil her face again, covering all but her gray eyes. It wouldn't do for the wrong person to recognize her.

Safe behind it, Morgo’s face soon returned to Morgo’s default expression—an airy combination of smug satisfaction and casual disinterest.

Had Morgo been the type to indulge in quaint little gestures of victory, surely she would have punched the nearest person in the face, in celebration of her small victory. 45,000 credits was no small amount saved, after all. As it was, the Lady Morgo was not that type of person, and kept her happy fists to herself.

“Berry!” she called suddenly, veil fluttering a bit with her breathe. Morgo hoped that her pack-mule hadn’t wandered too far off while she’d, ahem, bartered. For her size, Berry was really quite an impressive specimen, carrying all the things Morgo had already bought for the morning on her shoulders.

Berry's hair had been promptly flattened down when they were in the mirror shop, but she barely had any arm room left to straighten her hair now even if she wanted to. Slung on both her arms were bags holding the gloves, patches, bandages, you name it—light, of course, but the air movement was still hindered. Interspersed evenly on both arms were the dishes, gels, tools, which slung around as Berry rushed over to the strange lady. "Huh? What?" The part-Aquar had some dark green bags under her eyes but her eyes themselves were bright as ever, never having been at a market on Coruscant.

She glanced over at the hovercart holding the microscopes and fridge and her eyes boggled. No, not at the boring packages but at—"That's floating!!" She exclaimed, gasping in awe.

“Yes, Berry.” Morgo said levelly, “That would be a repulsor cart, or HoverCart if you want to go with the brand name.” and gesturing to it, Morgo smirked, “I didn’t think you’d last much longer if I loaded a small conservator, a heavy datapad, a binocular microscope and more onto your shoulders.” Morgo began walking and gestured Berry to follow, “Feel free to unload what you can onto it.”

At that Berry promptly dumped everything onto the cart. The bags slid off her arms, some even managing to slide to to the ground—fancy that. Berry smiled widely, chuckling. "Oops." Then she started to walk off, whistling a sea ditty.

"You know, Berry," Morgo began, leaning on a rail that overlooked the four levels of shops below, "Food comes to those who pick up their things off the floor."

Berry spun around and scampered to the cart, picking up the bag and placing it on the cart. "Yeah food!" she exclaimed, grinning.

Morgo brushed her blonde hair aside, "Food is an option, now that my shopping is done. What kind do you like?

"VEGETABLES AND FISH AND GOOD STUFF," Berry blurted, her words few but volume large, causing her to pant from the sudden gush of breath lost. Then she frowned slightly. "Yeah, probably everything. Except some wine-y stuff." She stuck out her tongue. "Blegh."

Then her eyes widened as she looked curiously over at the lady. "Hey, what's your favorite food?" She suddenly gasped, and would've dropped all the bags if she still had them. "Wait, what's your name??"

Despite herself, Morgo chuckled, wondering when Berry was going to get around to asking her name, "It's Morgo. Morgo Le'Shaad." she said quietly, not wanting others to hear, "But while we're not on the Red Raptor , don't call me that, alright?" Morgo looked around them cautiously, at each passerby with a small amount of suspicion, "Right now my name is Darlene, but it will change from time to time. See that you remember that." Morgo added pointedly.

So the girl liked fish and vegetables, did she? Luckily for the both of them, the Indoor Merchant's Market housed many restaurants of fine food—some of them specializing in seafood. But perhaps with one as unpredictable as Berry, Morgo thought to herself, the restaurant could wait. The food court was as good an option as any. As Morgo began to walk, she looked over a cloth draped shoulder and motioned Berry to push the heavy cart and follow her, "And if you must know, I'm quite partial to seafood as well. A dish of freshly caught and prepared Jewelgill, a cocktail of crystal shrimp, boiled right in their glass shells, and any full, white wine is peerless to me."

Berry was positively jumping up and down on the fumes of her consciousness. Fish! Shrimp!! Ew, wine, but fish and shrimp! "Yay!" she exclaimed as she followed the lady-not-named-Morgo-but-Darlene. "So Darly," Berry began, looking all smug with the secret she carried, "Why do you wear all those fancy clothes when they get stepped on and you go 'Hey! Don't step on that?'" She frowned confusedly. "Are you a noble or something??"

Morgo frowned slightly. Mostly she just glared at whoever was clumsy enough to step on her sari, "I am a noble, yes. By birth I was heir to the duchy of my father, and when he died I became Duchess of Dromache. That has has since...changed, however." Morgo finished dryly, mouth pressed into a tight line behind her veil. Looking down at little Berry, Morgo considered the girl, "Why do you ask?"

Berry shrugged, smiling. "Oh, just wondering. You kinda had that whole 'looking down the nose' thingy that nobles do a lot." Her eyes glinted slightly, before softening as she looked off. "Like Liam...he's an emperor, you know! Not a real noble, but close enough," She grinned at Morgo/Darlene. "He's a good noble. He wanted to marry me, too, but I had to go try to save my sister..." She quieted as they walked, her eyes a little distant.

The key word was 'try', to Morgo. Hearing the change of tone in Berry's voice, Morgo watched the girl with renewed interest, "You didn't succeed did you." It wasn't a question.

Berry simply shook her head, an immense sadness causing her ocean waters to be still. "No..." Then she quickly looked up at Morgo, eyes bright. "No, actually, we did! Because we took her from the execution platform and everything! But then..." She looked down, tugging her necklace and then touching her chest where the scar began. She heaved a sigh, then smiled faintly over at the moon lady. "Well, we almost did it. And I know that Asi would've wanted me to become stronger afterward, so that's what I'm doing now." She clenched a fist and smiled in determination. "And so I need to EAT to get energy to be strong!"

Morgo was not skilled at offering sympathy and probably never would be, so instead of extending fake condolences, Morgo nodded approvingly, admiring the young woman's strength, "And eat you will." she said, thankful that they'd arrived at the gigantic food court in time to avoid an awkward silence. The story about her sister had been undeniably striking, but Morgo was unused to someone being so... open with her—so honest. It almost made Morgo want to do something nice for the girl. Almost.

"Carry all my things to the Red Raptor later, and anything you eat here is paid for." Morgo promised, because it simply wouldn't do for her pack-mule to collapse in hunger and fatigue half-way back to the docks.

"No problem!" Berry almost shouted as she bolted toward one of the counters offerings loads upon loads of goodies.

And as Morgo watched Berry stare in perfect awe at the available food around them visibly vibrating with excitement, Morgo contemplated the absurdity that was Berry. There was an almost painful sincerity to the green-girl that Morgo found marginally unsettling.

Only time would tell if all that earnest goodwill would last.

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