[01.06.35, night, The Pit] Crows and Sparrows (O)

[Jagram Pendharma]

It was a dare. Jagram Pendharma was in a club listening to-- he couldn't really call it music, could he? He didn't like it, certainly, but he had to go and find proof that he'd been there all night. How old was he, anyway, doing something because someone dared him to? An unbiased third-party observer would have thought he was, at most, fifteen, not a twenty-seven-year-old man with a job and everything. Jagram pulled his collar up higher around his ears. What, Shuranhatha preserve him-- what was he even doing here?

If he didn't tower over everyone else, this was only by the grace of his usual slumping posture, made more severe by his discomfort. The bet had been that he had to stay in this place-- the Pit-- for as long as he could. The longer he stayed... well, it had never really been made clear just what he would get out of the arrangement, other than the possible respect of his peers.

Not that they thought he'd be here. Ha! Just goes to show what they knew about him, didn't it? Yeah, yeah it did. Jagram hunched a little more, trying to be inconspicuous and succeeding about as much as a crow trying to pretend to be a sparrow.

[Nalin ibu Avani]

The Pit was one of those places that his mother said was Not A Very Nice Place. But, that was the thing about Not Very Nice things of any stripe -- Nalin was, inevitably, drawn to them like a magnet. They had amrita, the sweet-sharp disinfectant-y stuff his ava drank, and lots of lonely people to talk to. And, mercifully, very few Ralasi.

They crawled all over Milk and Water, all those perfume-y painted Jagat-Natha with dizzying squiggles on their arms and those queasily bright Svatantra who smoked thick rolled cigarillos packed with strange smelling something and stank up the place. And the Sihabahu -- well. He didn't want to even think about them. The others at least were more strange and interesting than they were terrifying.

The Pit was free of them, most nights. The Pit was the only place he was comfy enough to get sloshed. Dark and loud and packed with warm bodies and too loud music was just how Nali liked it. He would slash off his skirt dangerously high, wear his shirt too tight, cast off his stupid veil and stupid scarves -- he'd stare any Ralasi full in their face, because they were on his territory now. The drinking made him bold like that.

Nali milled through all the lovely people, shivering and laughing when he passed under one of many huge air conditioners groaning on the ceiling, when some smiling eyed drunk would reach out of the darkness to clutch at him -- okay, that bit was more than a little unnerving, but it still made him feel good, in that funny warm-feeling-in-your-chest kind of way. The shots of amrita made him so open, so sleepy -- like he could smile at the whole starry universe and say, 'You know what, I really like you. I think you're okay.' Everything was blue and ivory.

Every inch in the crater of the bar was packed with people, the throb of music drowning out any coherency from their babbling voices. Nalin stumbled around, jostled by moving bodies, bumping into things, smiling beatifically at every immovable object that collided with his thighs. In time, his hip discovered the sharp edge of one of the numerous plastic tables.

"Oh, fff-- owww," Nali crooned into the smoke-thick air, plump hand darting down to clutch at his new ache. Teetering about like top losing momentum, he balanced the palms of his hands on the edge of the offending table. Smoothing his hands across its scarred top, he flopped his belly onto it -- well, really, he stumbled a bit too far -- and rolled over onto his back. His limbs and hands were so shaky and warm; the could barely shunt him up onto the table.

On top of that, one of his boots was falling off.

"Hey! H-heyy. Sa'eedaaa," Nali flopped his hand at the closest bodied, some spindly black-clad thing that very well might have seeped out of the shadows, for all he had noticed it before. "Tie my boooot. S'fallin' off or whatever."

[Jagram Pendharma]

Startling, this sudden appearance of a warm body on his table. For all the The Pit was crawling with people, most of them Danava, Jagram himself seemed to be given a relatively wide berth. He'd expected the night to go on in much the same fashion, people taking note of his aberrant height and obviously Sitala fashion and knowing to stay away. Jagram squinted as the circuits etched into his flesh gave off a cool blue light to compensate for the poor lighting in the club.

A boy, then, a drunk one and-- Jagram swallowed around a throat suddenly dry, and cast his eyes to the table. Pretty thing, Jagram was terrible around pretty things, extremely weak to them. And Danava or no, this was a pretty thing. Bad thing to think! Stop it right now! Jagram cast his eyes away from the high, high line of the skirt, down to the offending shoe.

"I-- ah--" Touching, that was bad, he knew that. Dirty and wrong. He could come here and sit at this table, but wasn't touching a bit too far? Jagram just wasn't used to saying 'no', really. He'd been ordered about all his life, by people various and sundry. It never occured to him that he didn't actually have to do something just because he was asked, and it was only by degrees easier to think when the order came from some strung-out Danava boy. (Maybe he should stop drinking.)

[Nalin ibu Avani]

It might not be a person at all, he reasoned. Seeing as it wasn't talking. Nali slammed his little brown paws onto the table, leaning on his arms towards the offending shape and squinting at its periwinkle phosphorescence. He was a few inches back from the thing's face in the dark when a squeak of surprise escaped him.

A Sitala! A cyberthing! Glowing wires all over its face!

Whatever, Nali wondered, was it doing here? He'd seen peeks of them bustling about their work when he was carting garbage around below decks. Cold, blank-eyed, fastidious. They breezed past him as if he were nothing more than a shadow bleak on the wall. Perhaps that was why this one wasn't talking to him.

Well! Ostentatious prick! This was not below decks. His cold wirey self shouldn't even be here. This was Nalin's proper place, and he wasn't going to let himself be ignored by some uppity cyberthing. The hallucinogenic dancing merrily about his veins didn't quell these thoughts of boldness.

"Sa'eeda! I said hey! Fix my boot. It's...it's gonna fall off. If it falls off I won't be able to find it. Because it's so dark," he crooned; there was genuine alpha level distress in that sweet, slurred voice.

Wobbling immensely, Nali hauled his legs around to the other edge of the table, where the Sitala was seated. His loose boot thumped incessantly against the spindly thing's knee. He was clutching at the edge of the table as if that was the only thing keep him from toppling to the floor.

"Puh-lease?"

[Jagram Pendharma]

"Ah-- sorry." Jagram bit his lip and tucked his face into his collar again. It was-- lacing up a boot couldn't hurt, could it? Telling someone 'no' when they asked him to do something always made Jagram uncomfortable. Too many times the consequences had been more dire than he really had the fortitude to put up with, like the time when all his coworkers stopped inviting him to lunch when he stopped buying the RavUP. In retrospect, that was clearly a situation in which he was being taken advantage of, and his rare show of spine had been both healthy and completely warranted. He still ate lunch alone, however, so he wasn't sure he didn't entirely regret it. What little dignity he had was surely a small (very, very small) price to pay for the companionship of his peers. Even if they made him throw everything away, too.

A look of desperation crossed his face briefly as he bent over his knee and the offending boot. It simply wasn't in his character to not do as he was asked, he really couldn't be blamed. There weren't any other Ralasi here to see him, he reasoned. No one to see him--

See him do what, exactly? Just what was it that he was doing that was such a big deal? Tying a boot? They didn't send you to prison for tying a boot. Not even a Danava boot. He was almost entirely certain of that fact. As long as he made sure to keep any of his increasingly habitual aberrant thoughts under control, he'd be fine. No soft brown thighs would affect him, no sir. Especially not Danava ones, because that was gross, and Jagram was a fine, upstanding citizen who did not engage in such filth, not even in his mind.

If he said it enough, it would be true.

Slim spider-fingers fumbled, his bare wrists coming dangerously close to contact. For a moment he had a brief, irrational surge of panic. Danava weren't inherently contagious, were they? No, that was stupid. You are an idiot, Jagram Pendharma, even a child knows that isn't true. You are also in a Danava club. There are usually Danava in them. Perhaps you should have considered this before. His face did all sorts of shifting underneath the protective shelter of his collar, from a grimace to a nervous smile.

"Th-there. Boot all tied." He leaned back a little, studiously staring into his-- whatever he'd ordered. It was strong, a lot stronger than what his mother kept in the cooler at home. Not a strong drinker to begin with, he was starting to worry that his judgement was rather... impaired. This was a stupid bet. Granted, his coworkers didn't intend him to actually take it. And he was pretty certain no one knew how shamefully deviant he was. Probably. But still. Did he want to leave? Yes. Did he want to win the bet and possibly the respect of his peers? Shuranhatha preserve, he wanted that more than anything. He took a strong, deep gulp of his something.

[Siba Suriyanaa]

Siba knew she had no hope of being unnoticed in the Pit. She was, almost by definition, noticeable anywhere on the ship. This went double for anywhere in the Ghetto. Especially in what she knew to be a sanctuary for the wretches who had to deal with the other families in the outer ring of Zinzana. So, having known all these good reasons to stay away from the Pit, as noticeable as she was, why was she here anyway?

Honestly, it was for the music. No, really. She had to keep convincing herself this as she watched the young men going about, apparently having some contest to see who could dress the sluttiest. No, it was because of the headliner group that was going to be playing in thirty minutes. It was apparently some all female group. Their lyrics were a bit... well they weren't very nice, but the way they recorded was like something out of history books. Apparently, their studio producer was an old man who had a few musical artifacts from back before the ship even started, things that were smuggled on by the first Danava, so that they could make their own music here in the Zinzana. Drum machines, and even an old recreated analogue mixer. THAT was why she was here. Sure.

She had done her best to, if not look inconspicuous, to not incite a riot by her appearance. She was wearing her long sleeved training jacket, and had a big dark red scarf wrapped around the bottom part of her face. Her hood was pulled over her hair, hiding the sular marks her aunt had shaven in and partially hid the tattoos that wreathed her head. She wasn't drinking anything, wasn't eating anything, and the other Danava had given her a wide berth.

She would have been perfectly happy to have stayed here for another two more hours, listen to whatever the heck these women were called, do a few recordings for later listening, and sneak back into her barracks like nothing happened. But then she smelled something that wasn't quite supposed to be there. Or more specifically, a lack of something. All the Danava had heady scents of cheap perfuming oils, strong scents that almost overwhelmed her advanced senses. But this... for a moment she smelled a decidedly sterile scent. Something that she could only equate with...

What in the name of Radhartta was a Sitala doing in the Pit?! It only took her a moment to find the idiot, his head half submerged in his giant collar, talking with a... oh no, it was the Crow whose sister she helped find not even a few days before.

Even here, even with her, she was a patrolman, and her first and foremost mission was to protect the families safe in the Zinzana. And the Pit wasn't safe for anyone. If she was being completely honest with herself, she shouldn't have been in there either. Still though, at least she could defend her self. The Sitala looked like someone she could have shattered with two fingers.

Not even thinking, she got up, plowed through whatever dancers and revelers were in her way, grabbed the cyborg's shoulder and leaned down into his face. "What are you doing here?!" she hissed at him, keeping quiet enough not to start a scene. "You're in the innermost part of the ghetto! Talking to a Danava?! Do you want to die that badly?" She wasn't nearly as angry as she was worried. If he died and she was discovered to have been there, she would be looking at something worse than extra duty hours. This was a serious breach of both her code just for being there, and a gross failure on her part to do the duty her unit was assigned by allowing him to come to harm. The jagged teeth of her Dog's Jaw tattoo furrowed into her brow, making her look a lot fiercer than she honestly was trying to be.

[Nalin ibu Avani]

"Hey. Hey. He's...like. He can do what he wants." Slurred, serious words! His mouth and tongue felt a bit swollen but he still had an opinion on this. Nalin glowered up at her, it, her.

He was vigorously, unforgivably strung out. And nothing, no one -- not even some massive Sihabahu woman -- could shake him. Everything was soft and distant, viewed behind a sheet of water. It wasn't really real, all of this. It was like one of his hologames. Press reset. The scene starts over. New life. Play again. So whatever could she mean by 'dangerous'? Nothing was dangerous when you had a restart option.

"I bet he's like. Twenty or. Whateverr...they can't even like...sweat or feel like real people can so I don't what is even..." He rocked his feet against Jagram's chair before drawing them up to his chest, all of him folded up nice and soft on the tabletop. "He is nice, ya see."

Nali furrowed his brows for a moment, contemplating how to prove this. Wobbling on the edge of the table, he leaned back on his hands and scissored one leg ludicrously high into the air, flimsy skirt dragging up ludicrously high too. Bringing his booted foot as close to her face as he could; it was hard, though, because this lady was like some sort of impenetrable tower.

"He's a real good at tying boots. See?"

[Jagram Pendharma]

Panic, that was the word Jagram was looking for. What a stupid place to be, what a stupid bet-- and here he was, caught by a Sihabahu patrol officer! If Jagram could have sunk any further into his seat, he would have. This was the last thing he wanted-- stupid bet!

"I-- uhm-- ah-- thank you," he muttered, not sure who he was addressing. At least the feet were off his lap and firmly planted on the table. No one could accuse him of inappropriate touching now, could they? No they couldn't, because he would say "see, those feet are not on my lap they are on the table, I do not care what he is or isn't wearing, he is on the table".

And then he would be thrown in jail, possibly by this massive wall of lady. "A-a-apologies, Sihabahu-erha..." Truth be told she intimidated him more than a little. Definitely more than a little. It almost certainly showed on his face, if one were to look. Though he almost-- twenty? Did he really look only that old? He was just now twenty-seven.

[Siba Suriyanaa]

Siba didn't even bother looking at the Danava boy, curled up like a little kitten on the table. She was having enough trouble concentrating as it was and she needed to DO HER JOB.

...

Why did she even look for a second? More importantly, how did he get away with wearing his skirt cut so high?! She slowly, painfully, turned herself away from the smooth brown thigh that had been shoved into her field of vision unknowingly and back to the Sitala sitting there shaking. Geez, this boy was pathetic, and he was older then her too!

"Look," she said, keeping her face serious. She dropped her voice down to a whisper so that the barely lucid little thing on the table couldn't here. "Look at me. I am not angry. I'm not, I promise. Don't- don't tell anyone." She bit her lip before she continued. Oh to heck with it, he'd probably figure out eventually. Sitala were such geniuses. "I'm off duty. I can't arrest you without explaining why I'm here, WHICH I WOULD DO IF I COULD. So don't worry. But you have to leave. Not everyone's as nice as..." Don't look at him don't look at him don't look at him. "As nice as some. In general, the Danava DO NOT LIKE IT when you are in the inner circle. You might not get hurt here, but you will almost certainly on the way out."

She looked dead at him. "Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

[Nalin ibu Avani]

“You can just...you can jus’ take your saliri self and get out if...if you’re not gonna be cool,” Nalin growled, as coldly and a condescendingly as one could while teetering barely lucid on the edge of a table. No, scrap that...sprawling back on a table. He felt a bit like one of those tipped over insects, with its feet in the air and wiggling about in vain.

Nalin huffed a frustrated sigh. He noodled his arms up at her or him, all weak and barely serious. Peppered with plenty of quiet kittenish keening. They flopped back at his sides, limp.

“Somebody. Somebody buy me a drink, please,” Nalin piped to the ceiling, tilting his head and smiling alluringly as possible.

[Jagram Pendharma]

Jagram swallowed, lips suddenly dry. He hadn't really thought of the venture as-- dangerous. Not to his health or personage, that is. A little dare, maybe some trouble with the law but not with any sort of real... pain. Jagram's fingers folded nervously together, unfolded, folded again. Of course it was dangerous, this was the ghetto, wasn't it? All sorts of crime here that they didn't tolerated in the nicer districts of the ship. He was even farther in than most of his coworkers had been before. To hear a Sihabahu officer, even an off-duty one, tell him that...

Still Jagram almost got up to buy the wasted little thing on his table a drink. Habits were hard to kick, he supposed, though it made him wince to think how easily he obeyed commands. Especially from... Jagram wasn't looking, he really wasn't, not at that little sarong and not at-- nope. "I-- ah-- yes, I'll-- I'll be right back." Going to the bar was better than lingering around this table, wasn't it? He hopped up and sort of unfolded, all his spindly height drawn up as full as he ever did, standing a head taller than most of the room. He shuffled off in the general direction of a bar or a cocktail waiter-- whichever showed up first.

[Siba Suriyanaa]

What? Was this guy even serious? She just told him he was in danger and the first thing he decided to do was move away? Sitala were supposed to be smart! Siba was often tasked with instructing her younger brothers and sisters in patrolling, she admitted she was more than a little protective of them. And here too, even with this pathetic half machine boy, older than she and acting like an idiot, more than professional creed was telling her to look after him. No, it seemed like he hadn't even thought this through. She had to make sure that he'd be able to learn from this mistake.

One hand was brought down on Jagram's shoulder, a hand that stretched from his right shoulder, to across his neck, to the thumb resting easily on the other side. It was a heavy hand, built like a sledge. "You are staying right here. You will stay until the place has emptied out enough that I feel safe taking you back to Ambara Chavna. Then I will. And neither of us will talk about it again." Her voice was gentle, not angry, not reproaching, but very very serious. "You really have put yourself in a bad spot, I hope you know."

She took a moment to look at the purring Danava boy on the table, smiling beatifically at her. Her hood didn't protect her face as well as her helmet did, but hopefully her hood and the dark lighting of the club was enough. "You... ehm... you look like you've had enough. And please get off the table, your... ahn.. your skirt's..." Siba did all she could to tear her eyes away. Still not enough, she really had to work on that.

[Nalin ibu Avani]

“My skirt innit any of your concern,” Nalin piped, muzzy smile melting away into something beyond his usual pout, into a fully realized scowl. Honey eyes swam in the viscous stream of lights and bodies, trying to find the correct face to poke holes in. He propped himself up on his elbows, as much as his watery muscles could allow.

Avasha was always telling what to do, how to think, what to wear. Nalin wasn’t about to stand for some girl – some Ralasi girl, all plain-clothes and whatever – bossing him around. He’d hike up his skirt high as he wanted! Take his underthings off and slingshot them across the bar if he wanted! Who did she think she was, the crotch police?

“Jus' who d’ya think you...you is, anyhow?”, he slurred. His knees felt woobly when he tried to draw them up; all the good parts of his brain told him to clench his thighs together, but fuck that. Nalin let them flop open (it wasn’t like he had much of a choice at this point, really). "Th’...th’ zakar police or somethin’?” If Nali had been a cat, his fur would be all fluffed up in righteous, adorable rage.

[Jagram Pendharma]

A little "eep" might have come out of Jagram's mouth when he felt Siba's heavy hand on the back of his neck. He really couldn't help it. All Sihabahu were intimidating to him, with their tattoos and the whole "trained to fight" thing they had going for them, and this girl was... huge. No two ways about it, she terrified him at least a little bit.

Jagram tried, he really did try, not to look at the Danava boy on the table. This was becoming simply unfairly difficult, with his thighs splayed like that. Jagram barely knew how to control his train of thought as it was, without living feely vids sitting on his table in a stupid club that he didn't even want to be in anymore. He was being escorted home, apparently, which would be wonderful when his mother came to the door. She'd look disappointed, even more so than usual, and somehow his coworkers would all hear. Back to fetching sandwiches while they all laughed for him, he just knew it. He had the worst luck that way.

"M-maybe you should g-go home?" He piped up to the little slice of perfect all liquid-drunk on the table. He didn't know how well that would go over, but surely it wasn't the best idea to be in such a... state, in a place like this? He folded his left hand over his right, switched them. A nervous gesture. Somehow he found he couldn't turn his head to look at the Sihabahu girl, though he did try and see as much of her expression as he could out of the corner of his eye. Expressions told one a great deal about how much trouble one was in, he'd learned.

[Siba Suriyanaa]

It wouldn't be inaccurate to say that Siba was almost held in rapture by the sight of the Danava boy's thighs. She was fighting every single one of her basest instincts. It was just the way he acted, the way he felt absolutely no need to be decent. Every one of the muscles in her body was pulling her towards him, telling her "GO! GO NOW! TAKE THIS LITTLE BOY AS YOUR OWN!" but at the same time, hundreds of voices in her head were shouting "KUMA! KUMA! KUMA!"

She had never felt more scared for herself in her entire life, her body almost being physically pulled in two ways. In an act of desperation, she pulled her hood down and wrenched her eyes away from the slurring little ball of sparkles and hallucinogenics and back towards her unfortunate ward.

Her eyes softened a bit, looking at him. He wasn't THAT much older than her, and he'd heard about what the Sitala were like. The way they acted when they ever were called in to do surveys or to re evaluate the unit equipment, so cold in their manners and clipped with their speech. The poor guy probably had nothing to look forward to going back home. Maybe a little solidarity was in order.

Smiling slightly she said, "I know it's scary, and my warnings probably aren't helping you. But I am Sihabahu, and of the Suriyanaa patrol unit. You'll be safe with me, and you shouldn't be thinking about what will happen when you get back home. Just focus on getting there, okay?" Taking a very slight side long look back at the thighs resting on the table, she blushed a bit and turned back to him. The Sitala boy was safe, looking at him brought her base instincts right back to being completely zeroed. "And I agree, he will most certainly hurt himself stumbling back. That stuff he's drinking is called Amrita. It's strong, even by Danava standards, and as small as he is..." she shook her head. "You're both idiots."

[Nalin ibu Avani]

"Hey...hey! Don't tell me...don't tell me what to do," Nalin slurred. Again, he made little attempt to make himself decent. All his muscles were too warm and watery. He probably couldn't close his legs if he wanted to. And he didn't! If his thighs made these stupid Ralasi saliri nervous, well good. Shame on them for wanting slip it to a little Danava boy anyway.

"I...I'm not going home unless somebody takes me home. I wanna go home 'cause The Pit is crawling with...with...kusu...zakari...mmf. An' I like this band!" he huffed. The wonderfully lush sisters of Mussah Min were belting out something about how the best head comes from an Inner Circle khabi, something about 'fuck that, kusu, get on your knees'. Nalin liked that song. "An' Khida knows you...you oggly-eyed Crow-chokers would...would like that too much." What a terribly stupid thing to say to a Ralasi of any stripe, much less a patroller. But Nalin was dizzy, hot, and annoyed. Common sense need not apply.

The boy braced his hand on Jagram's shoulder, trying to heave himself up. "Mmmf...help me up, Sitala-erhi..." Nalin mewled, pawing needily at Jagram's hair.

[Jagram Pendharma]

Jagram looked from the Sihabahu patrol officer to the little mewling thing with his hands all tangled up in Jagram's hair. He wasn't sure which one of them scared him more. Possibly the littler one. Sihabahu-erha represented only the danger of physical harm-- the plush creature crawling about on the table was a danger to the very soul of him. This was a bad place to be, a place of nothing but fleshly pleasures. His mother, he knew, would slap him so hard across the face his head would spin if she knew he was here.

Or maybe she would do nothing at all. Which might be worse for different reasons entirely.

Jagram did his best to help the catching, clawing boy to a more upright and stable position. He was unsure how to go about it, really, but the habit of obedience would let him take no other tactic. "M-maybe we-- or, er, you-- should-- maybe well-- take him home?"

[Siba Suriyanaa]

Siba gripped Jagram's hand at the wrist. In the same way she spoke to him, so too did she grip. It was gentle, there was no unnecessary squeezing of bone or ringing of skin. But it was a firm grip, with more strength in that hand then the spindly Sitala probably had in the whole of his arm. Slowly, gently, she guided it away from Nali. "You're right, he's going to need some help back. But, Sitala erhi, as I understand the ways of your people, touching a Danava is... frowned upon, isn't it? I don't want you getting into needless trouble. Please understand." She held his wrist for a moment longer and squeezed it a bit, as if as a warning. He was now under her charge, and she'd make sure that he'd get out of here alive. Running hands along a drunk Danava boy probably would not do well to engender any good feelings with the residents of the inner circles. "It is, however, a part of my duty to handle Danava. Especially when they are getting out of line. And you," she looked at the boy. 611744, clearly this was a cursed number for her, why did she keep seeing this boy? "I think it is time we escorted you back to your house. As I have come to think that you can't stand... or sit up... or even close your legs, I hope you don't mind if I carry you."

The wording was important. There wasn't any question there, she realized that she was the authority here, and deeper than that, these two boys needed her help. It was just common courtesy for her to escort them. Even if one of them had to be hoisted over her shoulder, as she did with the little Crow on the table. She rolled her eyes at his mewlings. The first meeting with him she started enamored and left angry. Now... the boy was just annoying. She gave a serious, sober look to the staring Danava, who parted like a wave for the tall patroller. She looked to Jagram and nodded to the exit that had just opened up. "Let's go, Sitala Erhi."

[Nalin ibu Avani]

“Ahhn! Put me down!”

A fountain of useless wailing spouted from Nalin, the sounds of a Baitun cat-creature ripe for breeding. “Si-sihabahu-erhaaa-ah!” A yelp broke all of his caterwauling, a hiccup whenever she’d take a particularly long stride. The world was spinning when he was belly up on the table totally still. It seemed like all of Shuri Pura Herself was breaking into pieces and spinning around his head like a small sular, now. The sudden shift like that pitched his stomach and he moaned sickly.

Nalin wriggled and writhed for all he was worth – which, really, wasn’t that much. Mewling and moaning in distress, squirming about like a slick noodle. It wasn’t a surefire plan of escape, really. His fists weakly pounded at her back...and when that didn’t work, he just started pawing and clawing at her. It was the desperate, clingy way like when people wrapped their arms around themselves and clawed their own back in a pantomime of sucking face. “I...I feel all puke-y! Let me g-goo-oh-ooh!” The vowels drawn out to their breaking point, almost lyrical. It had the hiccupy sound of someone about to cry.

The word was liquid and streaming past his eyes, but his gaze managed to kind of fix on what he thought was the Sitala. He wasn’t so bad, not bad as her anyway. He'd listened and done whatever Nalin told him to. That's all that mattered. He clutched at the air, making needy grabby hands at him.

“Help,” he squeaked.

[Jagram Pendharma]

"T-touch--" Who said anything about touching? Jagram certainly hadn't, and he surely didn't intend to! Touching, that was-- that was ludicrous, is what that was. Dangerous and wrong and against Sitala law. There was no way Jagram was even considering it.

When Siba hoisted Nali up over her shoulder, Jagram felt relief wash over him. Here was what he wanted-- the choice taken from him. He couldn't help the mewling boy because he couldn't do anything to overpower or outclass the Sihabahu girl. Easy, no choices, only reactions. He eyed those needy, clutching hands like they contained some dark poison in them, or would rot his flesh if he'd touch them.

"I apologize," he murmured, though he fell in line behind Siba perfectly. Brown eyes flicked up but then right back down to his toes again as his hunch grew only more pronounced. "Time to go home." For both of us.

[Siba Suriyanaa]

Siba stared forward. She had put her hood down, so she couldn't see the most awkward part of her wriggly cargo as she strode out of the Pit. The other dancers and drinkers and general patrons parted in front of her. There were whispers, little snickers. Her ears, heightened through training and cybernetic implants, were able to pick it all up. A few times she heard "Crow choker," followed by snickers. She didn't even bother looking at them. Her hood shielded her eyes and her tattoos and dark skin kept her blush from showing. Her lips remained stiff as she took it all in. Nothing new, some of it true.

She rolled her eyes at his threats to puke. His soft and the thighs waving in front of her were only moderately sexy when she could smell the sharp, slightly acrid smell of Amrita all over him. "I'll set you down when we get outside. If you want to throw up on the pit's floor, you're welcome to. This won't be the first time I've hauled drunk kids out of the bar." She seemed to slip into someone different when she had a job in front of her. She stopped thinking and let her training take over. She often wished she could always be like this, never have to deal with the other feelings. Still... that was a plump young boy's bottom bouncing inches away from her cheek. She mentally cursed herself at the thought, her face becoming hotter as she bit her lower lip to drive out those other feelings.

[Sponsored content]