Fresh scars

[sIlancy]

The fight with the group of Dark Jedi was over, or so s'Il hoped. She wasn't in any sort of condition to carry on, and neither did the bar. It looked as though a wrecking ball had been taken to it.

Standing for a moment, s'Il stared at the mess all around her while setting the bottle she'd blindly grabbed for on the bartop. The lighter she merely let fall to the floor as she leaned against the back wall, exhausted from her exersions.

A moment passed, then instantly the slash on her stomach made its presence painfully known, and she bent over, cradling the wound while sliding to the ground. Frak. Frak frak frak frak frak frak frak. Her eyes closed tight as she applied pressure to her stomach.

Thankfully it was cauterized, but it was still fresh; and it still burned. Burned like nothing she'd ever experienced, except for once; a very long time ago. The last time she'd been cut with a lightsaber, she'd died. That was where her fear for the weapon stemmed from.

The searing sensation coursed through her senses and nerves, and she clamped her mouth in a desperate attempt to shut out the pain.

Ten seconds later she passed out.

[Cirrsseeto Raurrssatta]

One person's massacre was another cizerack's bounty. Cirrsseeto sat hunched over one of the Dark Jedi he slew, hungrily tearing flesh away by the mouthful. It was always a "taboo" issue with the hyuu-manns on consuming large, live prey...but in this situation, it seemed appropriate. Cirr was as happy as a pig in a slop bucket, gorging himself on the dead dark jedi, picking the bones clean. However, he soon saw a hyuu-mann female collapse on the floor. His ears perked up and he licked his lips, crawling over to her. She had strange colored eyes...maybe she was one of the bad people too. Cirr grinned like the cat that ate the canary, leaning forward to sniff out his latest catch.

[sIlancy]

Her breath shallow, s'Il managed to claw her way from the dredges of her subconscious to maintain a weak hold on reality, and her eyes opened to narrow slits.

Her small field of vision was filled with the face of a Cizerack, and a ghost of a smile touched her features only to be replaced by wincing pain. Then, with surprising force, she reached out a hand and grabbed the male by the front of his collar, pulling him toward her until their foreheads touched.

"...Get.... me....alcohol....." she muttered through gritted teeth.

[Cirrsseeto Raurrssatta]

Cirr fluttered his ears, making a confused face for a moment. But then he growled, pressing her hand to the floor. This one wasn't dead yet...and Cirr had a habit of playing with his food. Still sniffing, he poked at her with a clawed finger.

[sIlancy]

"I said...." s'Il muttered grumpily through her pain, "get me alcohol!"

Her one free hand, the one she'd used to cradle her stomach, grabbed at his left ear. She pulled. Hard. "Now!!"

She was starting to slip into blissfull uncosciousness once more, but faught it as well as she could, and stared at the Cizerack, her metallic eyes glittering both in pain and frustration.

[Sanis Prent]

(I set a bottle of Maker's on the floor, next to s'Il, but not without a plug for nostalgia's sake.)

Its no use, s'Il, he couldn't read a bottle even if he wanted to.

(Cirr looked up at my voice)

Cirrsseeto, she's one of the good guys, back off.

(Almost reluctantly, the Cizerack left the wounded woman alone, returning to greener pastures)

[sIlancy]

s'Il shifted, trying to sit up a little farther, but gave up with a tired sigh. She watched the retreating Cizerack, then looked at Prent. "Thanks."

Reaching out, she grasped the bottle he'd set down while lifting her shirt a little ways to expose the slash. An older scar, running a vertical trail from her belly button to just the top of her jaw, barely intersected with the new wound to create an upside down T.

s'Il lifted the bottle up and tipped it slightly, pouring some of its contents over her stomach. It might have been useless, but she didn't care. It cooled the burning she was feeling, and right now, that was all that mattered.

"Haven't seen you in a while," she mumbled, teeth set.

Setting the bottle down with a dull thunk, s'Il gazed at him once more before finally giving in to uncosciousness.

[Sanis Prent]

(I just stared wanly as she passed out)

...uh...yeah, you too.

(Taking the bottle of Maker's from her limp hand, I took a few plugs down. Too good of a whiskey to use for antiseptic. I rustled up a pint of Evan, and replaced it at her side.)

[Jktal Anajii]

"You know what happened, Mr. Prent?" A cold voice asked from behind him.

Captain J'ktal Anajii stood, almost at attention, looking down at s'Ilancy on the floor. He was dressed as usual in a dark gray uniform, amlmost imperial in appearance, had it not carried trademarks of his homworld and the Nehantite forces, and the Death-Shadow mark emblazoned on his coatfront. It was a cold and uncaring looking uniform, but it was surpassed in imparsonal appearance by the man wearing it. J'ktal was a gray Nehantie, a mongoose-type species, and he shifted his gaze from s'Il to Sanis, his icy pink eyes looking into the other man's coldly.

"To her, do you know what happened to Miss Loklorien?" He persisted.

(OOC- Sorry, no sig pic of J'ktal yet, if you want to see him, check out www.side7.com/cgi-bin/S7S...INO=123298 for some sketches I whipped up)

[Sanis Prent]

Hell if I know...everything got pretty dicey in here for a bit. Looks like she took a saber gash, but nothing that'll kill.

[Jktal Anajii]

Unclasping his paws from behind his back, J'ktal nodded to Sanis before stepping forward and crouching next to s'Il and looking at the wound.

"She will need proper medical attention. Where is the nearest hospital? With a reputation like this bar had, I would presume there should be one nearby." He mused, though so darkly it was difficult to tell if he was joking or not.
Craning his neck to look back up at Sanis, J'ktal continued, "If you help me keep her stable until she can be moved, I will buy you a case of your precious Maker's Mark, if you like. She has to stay alive, I have further business with her."

[Sanis Prent]

She'll make it. Its just a flesh wound, and its cauterized up at any rate. Thanks on your offer, but no thanks.

[Jktal Anajii]

"Any particular reason? I can upgrade it to Johnny Walker Black Label, if you like. It is no big deal to me." J'ktal inquired before tapping s'Il's cheek to see if he could rouse her.

[Sanis Prent]

I'd rather not. Chances of getting jumped by another one of those guys outside of the bar is pretty high. I'd prefer to lay low.

[Jktal Anajii]

s'Il wasn't responding, so J'ktal stood back up, tugging at the base of his coat to make it ride straight out of habit and conditioning. "I see, I forgot how, shall I say, 'well known' you are, Mr. Prent."

[Sanis Prent]

Yeah, I suppose I am.

(I smiled, thinking about it.)

[Jktal Anajii]

"However, I only first heard about you last week, so, do not let your head get too big." J'ktal said to him, no trace of emotion on his voice or in his face.

"And it was mainly for an incident involving Cizeracks, at that." He added, as if he hadn't stated his point well enough the first time.

[Sanis Prent]

It figures

(I shrugged nonchalantly, pouring up a highball)

[sIlancy]

A single metallic eye opened at the sound of two voices conversing above her. Her vision blurred a little, but Prent she recognized. The other....it took a moment for her to decipher the stranger. His stance and posture were what gave him away.

"Not you," she groaned, her mouth still burning from the 151.

[Jktal Anajii]

J'ktal's mouth did not move as much when he smiled thinly as the outline of his eyes did. It was a minute change, but cast a completely different expression on his face when he did it.

Looking down at s'Il, he shook his head, "Yes, me. It appears you got yourself ventilated, there. Would that be what some folk call 'tearing you a new one'?" He asked cynically, then pulled one of the long drapes of his coatfront back over his knee as he squatted down to examine her wound.

"You should have learned to stay away from sabers after your first injury, I would have thought," he nearly mocked her, "But you should pull through, as Mr. Prent observed. Will you need help out of here?"