Chapter Text
Daarin’s fingers danced over her arms, waiting impatiently for her delightful pursuer to make his next move. Instead, the cloaked man took a step back from her eyes, back to the shadows, making his presence scarce once again. She sighed over the inconvenience, then looked at her empty hand and groaned, missing the glass of alcohol that was so rudely shattered by her new guest. She really needed that one last drink to finish the day; the allure of intoxication was just too sweet to lose it over a pointless fight, even more considering the stranger didn’t seem inclined to bother her any longer.
“Now this is dull… ‘Wonder if I can just… serve myself one more drink… “She said with a smirk as she turned to the steel barrels that held the good stuff. It was still cold and fresh, just how she liked it.
“Hey, Mr. Tattoos!” She exclaimed with her hand extended beside her mouth. “I wouldn’t mind sharing a drink with you to soften all that stress in your head. What do you think?”
Nothing. Was he allergic to friendliness?
Not like an outsider would like that type of drink, even less a species with a good sense of smell like the Zabraks. The barman let her in on the details of his brew, which was whatever fruit he could import from the outside. Then he fermented it himself in some large barrel he kept hidden behind a locked door for as long as he could, and then he distributed it in the smaller barrels at the front of the shop. It wasn't a refined brew; it smelled awful too. It probably was a repellent for her poor stalker, or so she guessed.
“Never mind then. Help yourself…” It was clear she would soon get used to his absolute silence, considering he was watching her every move.
As she picked another jar and poured some alcohol in it, she saw her crimson eyes glimmering in the liquid’s reflection. They seemed brighter than usual. Strange; she was used to seeing pure opaque darkness in them.
“Hmmm…” she muttered, shaking her head and gulping her drink in one go. Once she was a little more refreshed and inebriated, Daarin looked up to the dim lights in the distance, which were turning into a redder tint as the minutes flew by. On the other side of the prison, the sky must have been a beautiful flesh color with bright orange tints of sunlight, but after so many years, she may as well have forgotten what that looked like.
“It’s late,” she said to herself, standing up and clearing the dust off her clothes.
She stood up quietly, patiently. She waited for the slightest breeze of dust to touch her skin and reveal the position of the stranger. But she was quick to admit that…
“I lost him.”
So she giggled, scratching the back of her neck as she walked in one clear direction: her home.
On her way, a pair of shiny, golden eyes followed all of her actions, even the most minute ones.
As the warrior walked the most populated streets of the fighting district, the people greeted her with great affection. They cheered on her strength and wished for her to win her next bout with no harm.
Others evaded her gaze, sticking their bodies to the shadows cast by the angled metal walls that stretched the path.
Once there was silence, the street became even more narrow, until there was only one way out in sight. And then a third group of individuals appeared, those who would confront her in her own ecosystem without fear or admiration. The quick eyes of the Sith, who had already evaluated the different districts that made up the inside of the city, guessed the stranger came from another territory altogether. He was a Weequay accompanied by two headless combat droids.
“Champ!” He hollered from the corner on which they camped.
The woman barely twisted her head back, eyes barely staying on his face.
“How have you been since the last time we met, champ? Have you made your decision about that thing I mentioned?”
Daarin looked upwards to the sky.
“I already forgot what you asked me…” she murmured.
“Ah, don't lie!” the Weequay exclaimed.
“I'm serious. Other things have kept me distracted.”
The woman looked straight at the roofs, almost spot on toward her amusing stalker, but just off enough to declare her ignorance of his true position.
“Alright, I'll explain to you all over again, so maybe you’ll have time to decide already. You know you never lose, and you know people don't bet 'if' you're going to kill someone, but 'how.' All you have to do is kill them exactly as we ask you to, right? All for a monetary bonus and territorial protection. You're gonna pop them anyway, won't you?”
By the way he spoke, it probably wasn’t even the second time he had to explain, but the third at most.
“And what if I decide to spare the next one?”
“Don't joke with me! You enjoy the blood! C’mon, sweetie. You can't possibly have an ego over this.”
Daarin chuckled, then breathed and exhaled.
“You wouldn't get it. You don't understand how it feels; winning is not what brings me joy. “
Maul's mind bolted with a sudden jolt of disappointment, dropping his eyelids as he stared at her face, a numb expression forming on his face. How could she be any challenge? She had a widely misplaced pride, and he couldn't help but look down on her.
“What a lack of purpose,” his voice murmured in his head.
“How can you reject something so damn… simple?” The Weequay turned away, touching his forehead with his hand as he walked away.
“Sorry, dear. Winners are assholes,” Daarin said, her feet walking her forwards and away from the offer. “And they never know when to give up.”
Finally, it was only the two of them again. A Sith who looked down on his prey with impatience, and a warrior who was still drunk, now evading even those who were friendly to her.
After a long time of walking, Daarin stopped in front of a wall. The wall had a crack from which radiated a warm light of a pinkish hue. The crack was large enough for her to fit right through. It would be easy for him to follow her down the same path, but anything as predictable as that was, to say the least, tactless. An agent of shadows wouldn’t have trouble following an alternative way in, something his eyes hunted for on the roofs, following the trail of vents and tubes that could take him to her. Finally, his study allowed him to find a more appropriate course of action.
Maul jumped high up and then let himself fall down onto the cables and metal roofs that hid the warrior’s refuge. He easily evaded the obstacles on his way down until he was once again in the presence of that warm light, much brighter than before.
There she was, pacing around her lamp, as if she was waiting for something to approach. Once again, she seemed much sharper than what he gave her credit for. Daarin seemed to realize her hunter wouldn’t come in from the front door, so she shrugged without making a fuss.
Maul’s feet rested on a cut pipe of black iron, and from there he looked above her like a bird of prey.
She sat on a rug on the floor of precious golden and crimson colors and rested her back on a firm cushion of intricate black patterns. Around her, a plethora of items of unknown origins attempt to give her some company. From far away, they seemed to be trophies; objects such as broken necklaces, horns, and pieces of torn-up metal all piled up one over the other, everything adorned by the same warm light.
Long minutes passed in silence until she sighed long and deep. After a while, she pulled out a knife from a box and used it to open what seemed to be canned food. A very salty, wet odor filled the air, and whatever appetite Maul had been suppressing since his arrival at that place subdued even more in its presence. Daarin couldn’t care less, happily picking her meal with the same knife and munching it down. A most unrefined scene.
His weight dropped from the pipe to the ground, yet his feet didn’t make a sound.
Daarin smiled without trying to look in his direction; she really didn’t need to. She put on the most unenthusiastic voice and act she ever could to receive him.
“And the star of the show makes his presence. Everyone raise your haaaands…!” she recited. She knew the words from memory.
She glanced at the corner of her room. The hooded man looked straight at her with two golden, luminescent irises.
She sighed.
“Will you stay in that corner all d-?”
“I wouldn't need to if you weren’t trying my patience and time.”
He cut her words short, and his tone turned more stern than before. Daarin raised her chin up while Maul rested his back on the cold walls that protected the shed, crossing his arms as his eyes danced through the surrounding objects of her room.
“Fight me again. If you lose, you'll surrender before the coliseum match.”
She squinted. Did he really follow her just to pick a fight in her home? No, that was more than expected; the surprising thing was that he thought it would work this time around.
“No, kiddo. That’s not how it works.”
Maul stepped forward, his foot raising a gust of wind in her direction. The surrounding ornaments trembled, and some fell to the ground.
“It's about time you surrendered.”
“If you want me to comply with the game you’re playing, do it in the arena. I fight there every three days,” she said without even looking back at him. “Because you know the date of the match, don’t you?”
Maul looked at her sideways.
“I won’t repeat myself. Dialoguing with an ignorant mind yields no results.”
The Sith apprentice had practiced the arts of persuasion religiously, but more physical and immediate threats usually accompanied his attempts. The conditions he had to endure were making the task more complicated and annoying than what he was used to. After all, a fair, harmless exhortation made no sense to him. He attempted it just one more time.
“Nobody has to see you or me. Give up and gain your freedom. Use your strength to take revenge on your captor and be done with this life.”
Daarin saw right through him and smirked. Her face had a very prominent frown on it.
“I don't care if you take me seriously or not. You won't ever catch me in a fair fight. Ever. Now that's my threat, pretty boy.“ She smiled at him. She noticed his skin twisting a little, which made her smile even sweeter.
Maul kicked a pot at her and left. She caught it with both hands and sighed.
“You hate this, don't you? All of it.”
He must have heard her clearly.
“Can't say I disagree.”
Strength and control were everything for a Sith. Even the more twisted, unsettling forms of control proved to be beneficial to his teachings, and his task was merely a test of absolute control, and he knew it well.
And yet there he was, gazing over the woman's tent, cursing her for ignoring his ever-present threat. They told him she fought in the arena to gain her keep. Fighting there, perhaps, was the best method to subdue her ego… If she was weak, that game would've ended long ago.
Maul shook his head, resting against the walls that hid him from view.
Why couldn’t he just wait for the established time and date of his bout? Maul was sure that was his own pride making itself known. He found that performance unnecessary, the results even more so, so it wasn’t surprising he resisted what he deemed an unnecessary method of action. But now, given the temple and stubbornness of the warrior, he couldn’t but consider the possibility of participating in the game with a little less disdain. He had to see that arena; he had to see how it compared to the pits of combat he had already endured before and if they could even reach the same heights of danger he had already conquered.
The smell of cooked meat arose from the tent. A much more decent source of food than last time.
“I know Zabraks like this stuff… right? Hey, kid! Dinner’s served.”
She left the plate on the ground with a cheeky smile on her face.
“You gotta hurry before a little critter steals it. We have womp rats here, y’know.”
She stared at the faint glow of those golden beams staring back at her. She smiled.
“I swear it's not poisoned. You may not believe it, but I'm trying to get along with your dumb ass.“
It felt at least comforting that she could say whatever she wanted to him. His presence had an odd formality to it, too, following a strict set of rules that forced him to behave, even in a place like that, as if he had no option but to study her every move. No doubt about it, he was also a prisoner, even with all the open space around him. And just like two conscripts, she couldn’t think of anything better than to keep yapping to pass the time, resting her hands behind her head and dropping on the floor.
“It's so strange, you know. You really don't have it in your head to backstab me, do you? You could've done it so many times already, and yet you just… came right in front of me and asked me for a fair fight. That's pretty unique for someone who has done as much killing as you may have.”
She squinted. His eyes had disappeared from view.
“And somehow you still don't take me seriously... “She, considered by most a steeled, undefeated warrior, could only sigh at the attitude.
Time passed in a dead stillness between their presences. Distant chatter echoed in the walls; the sound of a fight reverberated in the ground, bodies stomping each other in an alleyway, music and screams all mingled in what seemed to be a party. All of it was too far away but ever present. It truly felt like living in the lower levels of a large city, where the light barely shone and the criminals escaped the watchful eyes of peace. Many planets of the outer rim followed that same structure of chaos, mostly the ones led by tyrants just like “The owner,” the difference being that his presence was but a rumor in the coliseum. Maul was one of the few who had ever had an encounter with the puppet-master of those criminals.
Still, considering the win rate of Daarin the warrior, it was easy to deduce she knew him more than most.
“You want to hear a bedtime story? It’s pretty late.”
She wondered for how long Zabraks could ignore sleep. Probably longer than she could; that was for sure.
“I guess not, but you’ll learn why you can’t scare me away.”
Daarin stood up. She kicked her lamp once to turn its light off, letting only the scarce roof lights illuminate her face from afar. Then she climbed up onto her own roof, putting herself at the same height he was, being separated from each other by a building’s length. She seemed to enjoy herself, laughing and stretching her arms once she got there. A stray ray of light made her red irises shine like a predator’s, just like his golden eyes.
“A long time ago, in this same cave of despair…”
She saw his eyes stare relentlessly at her, and she smiled.
“There was a Palliduvan and her human lover. They met during a coliseum fight, before the fanfare and the lies took over, when we fought for glory, for the promise, despite our worst mistakes. The lives we took, the things we stole…”
She smiled. That was not for him to know.
“The Palliduvan did her best to keep her love alive during every fight, taking injuries all over her body just to defend him against beasts and mercenaries alike. The animals bit her fingers off. She bled and bled, but she survived it all, even if she had to get her hands dirty. And she gained a lot of respect for it, and stories took form.”
“They said she could kill Rancors with her bare hands, that not even guns could stop her. But they all ignore how someone always had her back in the shadows. How she won all her fights as a team. They thought only one of them was the strongest, so their bets grew higher and higher. What used to be the personal entertainment of some crazy jail owner became a famous event on many planets in this sector of the galaxy.”
“Soon enough, their owner decided he wanted to continue their story and profit off their offspring.”
“So they disagreed.”
Maul frowned.
“Listen up, because I’ll tell you the truth. That day, I killed the one I loved just to spit on his fun. And my love smiled as well, happy to see his pathetic face twist with anger. We promised I would never give him what he wanted. It’s all there is to it.”
“It’s all just my pride. The kick I get out of that sack of bones suffering every time I mess up his plans.”
Daarin turned his back on Maul. He could try one last time to defeat her, and yet, he felt restraint. Anything that compromised his mission held him back just like chains..
It was the joy she found in her defiance that impressed him and stopped him for the time being.
“You endure suffering willingly. Isn’t that what you enjoy?”
Daarin’s eyes opened wide.
“You were listening to me?!” she gasped.
To her surprise, the moment she said that, she had already lost the Zabrak’s eyes from view. He could've easily sneaked anywhere he wanted while her own story distracted her. Daarin looked down to the ground and sighed, but before she did anything else, his voice resurfaced again like a sudden breeze.
“I’ll defeat you, outside or inside the arena. And you’ll do as your owner wants. Settle down and end of your futile resistance.”
“... You already said that like a million times. God, you’re bad on that spiky head of yours,” she pointed at her forehead.
She dropped and walked to her tent. She stole a look at the plate, which had now disappeared from the ground, and rolled her eyes.
