botgals.

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   “Mechanics? Just the type on speeders or are you interested in other things?”    SHE BRINGS HER metallic arm into view, placing it in front of him. It’s rough, made of stained metals, some that should have stayed in the scrap heaps where she had found them, but they did what they needed to, which was give her another arm. It was still sometimes hard to move the fingers, and she’d had to repair it five times in the last three weeks, but she didn’t exactly have much to do when she wasn’t on duty. It wasn’t as if she’d be allowed into the nicer areas of Coruscant. All they saw her was as just another barmaid. Or whatever they called it here. It wasn’t as if she was native to this planet after all. She’d travelled a lot way to get here, and yet, still ended up here. 

She could always go home, but that would just be another type of defeat. Not to mention the small fact of her poorly maintained and worked upon arm. It wasn’t as if the arm had been lost in the glory of war or anything of that sort. A sigh befalls lips before she feels something coming over her, like a thick fog and then she’s forgetting completely what she had been thinking. It doesn’t matter why you’re here.” A nod and another blink before a pink hand is reaching to play with glossy hair, before fingers reach for the plait, running gentle fingers over the beads, practically with awe. “Would you like another drink. On me.” 

It’ll get taken out of her wages, but she had enough to fall back on. Just not enough to get her arm properly and completely recreated. You would think she would have made someone swoon into fixing it for her, but there was the thoughts driving through her mind. She should probably get around to it, there were plenty of men with credits to their name who wouldn’t miss them. And it wasn’t as if she was stealing. She was using her natural abilities to help herself. There was nothing wrong with that. Did Jedi even earn credits?

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     ❝ SPEEDERS, SHIPS, DROIDS. Anything mechanical. ❞ He turns towards her more fully, suddenly willing to dedicate much more attention to this conversation when mechanics are involved. His eyes shine, passion && liquor alike setting the steel irises aflame. ❝ I built my first droid when I was seven. ❞ Those eyes claim a measured distance over Vi’s shoulder, && then drop to his hold on his glass. He rolls it between two fingers, a third finger tapping a slow rhythm against its side. It follows a different timing, counterpoint to the synth-bass rolling out from the cantina walls && through Anakin’s bones. He can feel it in his stomach when he swallows.

     ❝ It was a mouse droid. Didn’t get to keep it long. ❞ He adds aimlessly. Watto had been so angry he’d used the spare parts to build himself a friend, he’d beaten Anakin’s backside raw. A bloody reminder of the profane mantra slashed into the skin of every slave. You own nothing, have nothing. A philosophy that’s transferred into his life as a Padawan learner, much to Anakin’s chagrin.

     ❝ What— ? Oh, are you supposed to buy people drinks? I thought it was the other way around. ❞ The warmth of her fingers on his braid sends a tingle down the line of his neck. Her touch shivers into the strands with a subtle pulse that fans out through his nervous system. 

 
independent & private roleplay blog for anakin skywalker/darth vader of all star wars media. written by scout. || est. feb 2016.