40 Vaylin Tirall (1/2)

Pretending to sleep, she had actually fallen to sleep. She was oblivious of the world which was around her, completely oblivious of the man who woke up only moments afterward and picked her up in his arms.

His arms were warm, soft and comfortable. Silence had taken on her mind where she had once heard dry winds, sinister voices and felt herself being deprived of what it meant to be human.

Her sense of will was returning to her. She was no longer locked away, she was no longer prisoner. She would no longer be caged again. She smiled in her slumber, her arms lulling with the movement as she was carried like the Princess she was.

Clank, clank, clank.

The soft hum of the Scimitar could be heard as the life support was keeping the ship heated overnight. The sound of the airlift opening and swishing closed, made her squeeze her eyelids slightly in disturbance. Another door opened, much quieter than before. Suddenly she felt something soft beneath her head, her eyes opened partially. She felt something on her chest, a figure loomed over her.

Quickly her heart began to pound. She found herself in a confined sleeping compartment, but the door was open. She was cornered by warm hands and a handsome pair of eyes. Her lashes created an illusion of a bokeh effect.

She was too tired, withdrawn. She could barely move as she felt the front of her dirty vestments being undone. Her torso was soon bare, followed by her feet, legs and nethers. She breathed shallowly, playing the part of a sleeping opossum. She was afraid, despite the kind, slow and gentle movements.

Her sparse chest raised shakily, her eyes blinking slightly only open enough for her to see, using her lashes to make it appear they remained closed.

His finger tips graced and kissed her bare visible ribcage, her flat stomach. Vaylin was innocent in the sense that she had been imprisoned and had never been touched in this fashion. She had seen atrocities committed to steel her, to place fear in her heart. She had been tortured and maimed. She was never granted or allowed death.

Yet as she felt his touches, she took in a sudden sharp inhale. It was clear he already knew she was awake, he had a lack of reaction. His hand instead moved down to her hip and continued down to her knee, and to her small dainty feet.

She couldn't focus, her use of the force before during her fit made her weak in mental constitution. The touching, while it felt interesting, didn't help at all.

She went to bend one of her legs, to prop it up slightly, yet felt a incorporeal weight push it back down flat on the bed. Her eyes fluttered open further, trying to keep herself awake. She took in more of his features. The ocean green eyes, the messy hair. She moistened her lips as they were clearly dry, having not had much to drink in days.

Her throat was dry, it felt like it was about to rip due to how cracked it was. It was as if she had swallowed a desert whole. When she tried to speak, there was barely a squeak comparable to a mouse.

”Don't worry, you'll be fine.” His voice echoed in her mind and in the real world. Some sort of telepathic connection? She reached up to touch his abdomen as he traced his hand up her side.

Vaylin grasped at his torso and squinted up at him, gripping as hard as she could as if asking what he was doing, why she had been undressed by him. He seemed to simply look down at her for a few moments before his hand traced up her neck and to her cheek where his hand would rest. He caressed her now dry red eyes.

That's when she noticed there was a pile of clothes that resembled her old ones. Except they were a brilliant warm white and black. She stared at them for a few moments after lifting her head off the bed. Though he managed to place two fingers on her forehead after moving his hand from her cheek and pressed her head back down.

”We have less than a month before we go into battle,” He leaned down with his face close to hers, a patient smile across his lips. ”We are going to assist the Jedi, and I need you in tip-top shape.”

Vaylin hadn't been necessarily trained properly other than the sparring with the Knights of Zakuul. So she knew how to use a staff in battle, and she had immense prowess with the use of the force. That in itself, could be useful in turning the tides against Darth Maul. This would also spare Qui Gon Jin, which was Valad's idea from the very beginning.

Her hand fell lax on the bed, her eyes dully watching him, scrutinizing him.

Valad was just looking over her for the time being, his eyes looking at every inch, taking in everything. The ritual tattoos looked amazing, despite how much pain they had once caused. He took out a pair of boxers from the pile, they were skintight and seemed to have 'cooling' technology integrated into them. As he slipped them down her legs, she almost immediately arched her back at the feeling of them being fitted upon her.

Her mouth opened as if she were to moan, but of course nothing came out. Her eyes remained on him the entire time however, one of her lids twitching in the process.

”If we were to one day return to Zakuul, would you take it for yourself?” Valad asked as his eyes flickered to her, as her eyes had been on him the entire time.

She slowly shook her head, she wanted nothing to do with Zakuul or her father's Empire. She was free, that was all that mattered. She almost looked like she was about to start crying again, she didn't stop shaking her head until he placed a finger on her forehead.

Instead of putting her white torso garments on, he would prop her up against the cold metal which made a shiver run throughout her body, involuntarily from the thermal shock. Her mouth gaped open, her jaw shaking lightly.

Moments later she felt the use of the force being used, a sweat smelling steam found its way beneath her nose. She took in a deep breath, the moisture coating her throat and causing her to cough softly. Still, the coldness of the metal wall made her shiver subtly.

Her eyes glanced down at the item which had been brought to her, now held in the hand of Valad's. She stared down at the dark brown liquid, took in several more deep breaths, followed by suppressed coughs.

Gently blowing on it a few times, Valad would bring the mug to her lips and tilt her head back with his freehand.

The warm-hot liquid made her mouth explode into a saliva wonderland. There was plenty of water in whatever had been given to her. The sugar revitalized her senses merely with its presence. Yet she was too unfocused to even raise her arms with strength.

The liquid trickled down her throat, warming and softening the once dry desert with a moist sensation. She felt the warm feeling travel all the way down to her stomach. Every few seconds she would focus on this feeling, memorize it, savory it.

What he had given her was hot chocolate, mixed with peanut butter and nutrient paste rations that had been reduced to powder.