Things Past (A Backstory Thread)

Monkey Kitty
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Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm

Re: Things Past (A Backstory Thread)

Post by Monkey Kitty »

Kismet Dineen
Twelve Years Ago


Kismet spent most of the trip to Nar Shaddaa thinking about her target. She repeated his name over and over. Marisotis Frey. She went over everything she knew again and again. Devaronian. Male. Hiding out on Nar Shaddaa. Known associates. Habits - drinking problem. Marisotis Frey. Devaronian. Male...

She had to kill him - but how? The terms of the deal allowed her no weapon. No blaster, at least. She would just have to improvise something when she got there, or steal something... But the lack of specificity made it hard to plan. That worried her.

The rest of her time, she was expected to spend in Neshdo's bunk. The Rodian's support wasn't free, it turned out - nor was the trip to Nar Shaddaa. Kismet gritted her teeth and did what was expected. It was demeaning, but Neshdo's demands were unexceptional, nor was he particularly cruel to her. It was bearable. And soon they arrived on the gaudy, glittering city-planet.

Blending in there was the easy part. No one gave a second look to a Twi'lek dancer in a slave collar. She could go anywhere, and was assumed to belong.

Finding Marisotis Frey was harder. He was lying low, and there were limits on how much a slave could question people or seem to be searching for information - it didn't take much to raise suspicion, or worse. Kismet started to feel she'd checked every dive bar and drinking hovel on Nar Shaddaa. Her feet ached. Neshdo was getting impatient. Time was running out.

Eventually, miraculously and largely by pure chance, she found him in a disreputable saloon. He was sitting with a drink in his hand, but she could tell he was less drunk than he pretended to be. She would have to be careful.

"Care for a dance?" she asked Frey, brushing a barely-clothed thigh against his leg as she passed too close.

He nodded, and Kismet danced for awhile. Her movements were practiced, mechanical as her mind raced. How was she going to do this? There was nothing to use as a weapon. But she was so close. Something would come to her soon. Surely...

"Shall we go someplace more private...?" Frey suggested, motioning toward one of the rooms reserved for discreet client use.

"You got it..." Kismet murmured. But she had mixed feelings. She couldn't kill him in the middle of a bar - but going into an unknown, unscouted location alone with him was a major risk.

Exactly how risky soon became apparent.

As soon as they were alone, he began fumbling the clasp of her halter top.

Kismet shook her head. "Slow down there, buddy," she said, trying to sound playful.

"Stop being such a tease," Frey growled. "You know what you're here for."

"I said no..."

He grabbed her shoulders, hard, and abruptly bashed her face against the side table. She saw stars, and felt blood begin to drip from a cut that opened on her chin.

"Know your place, slave!"

He grabbed for her again, but she ducked away. Did he have a blaster she could try to take from him...? She didn't see one. No heavy objects. No convenient glass bottles to smash over his head...

As Frey grabbed her wrist and started to drag her, something caught her eye. Above the bed, there was a curtain. The curtain itself wasn't important - but it was secured with a cord. That was what she needed. She spent so much of her time chained to a Hutt; she knew what to do with a tether.

Kismet pulled away from Frey and took a few steps back, and yanked at the fabric. The curtain came off the wall as she tugged, and she fumbled for the cord till it was in her hand. Frey advanced on her. She wrapped the cord around his neck and pulled.

It seemed to take a long time. He fought. It took all her strength to hold on. But eventually, Frey went still.

Her chin was still bleeding when Neshdo came to collect the corpse.

Neshdo beamed at her. "You won me some credits, slave girl."

She clasped her hands together, trying to stop them from shaking.

By the time they presented Marisotis Frey's head to Vintuu on Nal Hutta, though, she wasn't trembling anymore. Her face was calm and her voice was even as she told her Hutt master, "I don't dance anymore. I fight now."
Monkey Kitty
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Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm

Re: Things Past (A Backstory Thread)

Post by Monkey Kitty »

Kismet Dineen
The Years That Followed


Kismet hadn't expected it to be easy, and it wasn't. She'd won her argument - now she had to learn to fight. That meant hours of training. Blasters, hand-to-hand combat, calisthenics... the list of skills she needed to acquire went on and on. She worked from before sunrise until long after dark, trying to cram in all the information and practice that her peers had been gaining for years.

No one ever offered to fix the scar on her chin, and she never asked. Before long, she had more scars to join it.

At first, it was just bounties for her Hutt master. He pointed her at a target. She fought. She won. Still not free. But she was... happier. Life was more on her own terms. She did as she chose, more. She no longer danced in the cantina, and the times when she was ordered to someone's bed became fewer and fewer as she demonstrated her use in other ways.

Kismet had never intended to remain a slave, even a slave in a better position. As a slave, she wasn't paid for her missions, but there were always credits to be scrounged when she went after a bounty - or stolen, or earned on the side. Eventually, she was able to present a sum to Vintuu for her freedom. It burdened her soul that Vintuu still lived... but at least she didn't wear a slave collar anymore.

There was still much to do. Establish herself as a bounty hunter. Obtain a ship. Build her client base. A free agent who would do any job quickly and efficiently.

Kismet learned to detach herself... mostly. She fulfilled the terms of every bounty... except one. It was when she was working for Nemro - a loathsome Hutt, and Kismet loathed the Hutts in general, but she needed him. Every time she spoke to him, she had to grit her teeth. Not just because of his casual cruelty and amorality, but because of the two slave girls who were restrained at the Hutt's side. A Twi'lek and a human, barely dressed and on display for all gawkers, defeated by life, bound by slave collars, and subdued with Spice. They reminded Kismet too much of herself. And yet there was nothing she could do for them but hate the Hutt enslavers.

That hatred was part of the only bounty she failed to deliver. An Evocii freedom fighter - and why should he die for that, for seeking to liberate his people? Kismet might have crossed moral lines that would make others balk, but she wasn't a slaver. She delivered the head of another Evocii - one who had died in the fighting with Hutt forces, not even a corpse of her own making - to claim the bounty, and then delivered the freedom fighter to her friend Frenka to deal with. The Rattataki woman was a fierce protector of the Evocii; giving the rebel leader to her was as close to a guarantee of salvation as an Evocii could get.

Thus, the rebel leader lived. It didn't entirely surprise Kismet to receive a wedding invitation sometime later; Huttsbane and Frenka had gotten along quite well indeed, as it turned out.

Kismet's life went on too.

She courted the favor of the Mandalorians, and was accepted as one of them. She finally had the life she wanted. The freedom of the skies, an income, a tribe of her own, a role in life she could be proud of. Finally...

But then there was a complication.

The complication's name was Torian Cadera.

It quickly became clear that Torian was in love with her. Torian was honest and open about his feelings. Kismet was used to displays of attraction from men, of course, but not the way Torian showed it. He made no demands. He had no expectations. His gaze held only appreciation, and never entitlement. That was not to say he was self-deprecating, though. Torian was bold, confident, sure of himself. It was the combination - openly emotional, and yet brave - that first intrigued her.

Before long, she had to admit to herself that she had feelings for Torian too. But that wasn't the plan. Getting involved with someone wasn't the plan. And anyway, she was too old for him. Torian was an adult, certainly, but young. She had at least a decade on him. It was inappropriate, wasn't it?

But Frenka, of all people and to Kismet's surprise, had disagreed. "When it's an older man and a younger woman, no one says anything, do they? Why should it matter if it's reversed?"

It wasn't just about what people would say, though. Kismet had been all over the galaxy. As a Twi'lek slave, she'd ended up in so many men's beds. She hadn't asked Torian his history in the romantic department - it was none of her business - but he hadn't had as many years under his belt, regardless. Surely a young man wanted to keep sowing his wild oats, and wouldn't want to be tied down.

Torian was so kind, though. He made her smile. He made her laugh. He had that husky voice. That smile. That windswept hair that was perpetually tousled, that she wanted to run her fingers through...

Eventually, her resolve weakened, and she invited him into her bed.

Kismet had assumed it wouldn't last long. Torian would satisfy his lust - or curiosity, or loneliness in the vastness of space, or whatever brought him there - and move on. Very gradually, she realized that wasn't happening. She started to become used to waking up beside him. She started to... trust him? Yes, trust him.

Torian didn't move on. Instead, he started talking about marriage. About children.

And Kismet found herself realizing that maybe some changes could be made to her plan.
Monkey Kitty
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Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm

Re: Things Past (A Backstory Thread)

Post by Monkey Kitty »

Kismet Dineen
After the Battle of Odessen


After the battle, Kismet had two major problems - and those problems were related.

The most pressing problem, of course, was that her husband was grievously injured. Torian was recovering in Bacta, and Kismet was beside herself with worry. Worry about whether he would be alright. Whether he would survive, even with the best of interventions. And worry about what his time in Bacta was doing to him. People reported strange dreams from Bacta, nightmares and strange feelings of dread and fear. Torian was all alone in there. He had to be alone, and she had no way to comfort him, or even know what he was experiencing.

Kismet didn't leave his side, though. When she slept, it was in a chair by the Bacta tank. When she got too tired to sit up, she leaned against the glass.

"K'atini," she whispered to him.

K'atini was something Torian said to her often. Endure. But the Mando'a word was a bit more nuanced than its translation into Basic. It meant something like Stay strong combined with You've got this. Kismet knew Torian couldn't hear her. He was unconscious, and wouldn't have been able to pick out words through the glass and liquid even if he was awake. But she hoped that somehow, the sentiment got through.

Gradually, he healed. His eyes opened, and he saw her face. Torian's own facial expression was hidden by the breathing apparatus, but she could see the smile in his eyes when he realized she was there.

When he was finally able to be released, she was there to take his hand, to press his wet skin against her as she wrapped him in a fierce but gentle hug.

Torian was barely able to speak, but he managed to gasp out the word, "Beloved."

Kismet's other problem was that she needed to try to hide the seriousness of Torian's injuries. If the other clans found out what bad shape he was in, Clan Cadera - their fragile family that was being built back so painstakingly - would be vulnerable to attack. To sacking for resources or takeover. Kismet couldn't let that happen. They wouldn't lose all they had built... and she wouldn't lose Torian, either.

As soon as she could, she got him on a shuttle back to Tatooine, Bacta tank and all. The Alliance had offered medical care as soon as they realized Torian was alive, but Kismet had declined on his behalf. In an Alliance hospital, rumors about his injuries would spread. Kismet knew Torian wouldn't want that - not if it put the clan at risk. Back home in the nearly-inaccessible cliffs of Tatooine, Torian would have the privacy he needed to heal and regain his strength away from prying eyes.

Torian needed that time. Even once he emerged from the Bacta tank, the freshly knit-together nerves didn't work quite the same way they had before his neck was broken. He needed to learn to walk again. To grip. To hold a weapon. He needed to build back his strength.

Kismet knew it was a frustrating process for him. Torian wasn't used to being incapacitated or dependent. She couldn't take that pain away from him... but she was there for him every step of the way. When he began walking, he leaned on her. He practiced gripping her hands. When he was able, they spent hours in the training yard, as his muscles remembered how to fight and his endurance built back up.

She didn't mind a moment of it. The time she spent with him felt like a gift. After how close she had come to losing him, her every instinct was to hold him tighter. But he would be alright. The clan would be alright.

K'atini. Endure.
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