#nymphwrites

A/N: A small snippet of a larger Billy Hargrove piece I'm planning to write.. his name is mentioned, but he's not included in the snippet. kinda not sure how to tag this. . .

She seethes, biting her cheek until blood bathes her tongue. White hot anger leaving her numb as she turns on her heels.

"He's good," she shouts, rage feuling her outburst in ways somber her would never have imagined. The words hopping from her throat, burning through her before spilling from her lips, "You're just mean"

A heartless chuckle sounds, pushed from bitter lips stretched in a familiar sneer. Papa's dark eyes gleaming down his nose. No amusement in his eyes, only distain. Like a bitter taste leftover in his tongue. A stain against his tastebuds, burning against his cheeks. The words spat from his lips, "mean?".

He barks out a laugh, sudden and loud.

A tiny snippet of something larger

She grasps the hilt, the silver stinging against her palm. The frost of travel unforgiving against the exposed blade.

It sits heavy in her hands. Blade biting into the earth, unmoving.

She tries against, pulling at the sword until it lifts. The blade unsteady.

Was this the weight he carried everyday?

The weight that failed to protect him im battle?

Were her prayers not loud enough? Were the gods not listening?

Warnings: None

Summary: Before there was anything more than blinding lights and suffocating fear, there was Alby. The boy with warm eyes who offered a hand without question. The boy who's touch burned against her skin as he pulled her from the darkness and into the light. Before there was anything, there was Alby, and that's all that's important.

Darkness. That’s all that she remembers. An all-encompassing darkness that reached out and pulled her tight. A darkness that licked her cheek like an apex predator, teeth bared and promised to eat her alive.

Nothing but darkness.

Until there was more.

Until the light came. Light so bright it pulled the air from her lungs and left her gasping like a newborn babe, taking in gulps of air as if for the first time.

Blinding light, that make her whimper. Make her cry out, shielding her eyes. The light pulled her from the darkness. Unwound the slithering scales and lingering claws of nothingness that clung to her, pulling her forward.

She blinks, wincing. A dull ache throbbing behind her eyes. Disorientation settling in her belly as she forces herself to blink again.

Once. Twice. Thrice.  

The ache begins to dissolve, and everything comes into focus.

And the first thing she sees is the sky.

Clear and blue. Not a cloud in sight to diminish the warm of the sun as it shines down.

For a moment she can see nothing else. Her wide eyes transfixed on the clarity of the blue. The heaviness within her belly forgotten as she sees it for the first time. All thought quieting within her. And for a moment, peace. Blissful peace.

She is so entranced it takes her a while to notice everything else.

Voices.

The whispered voices. The gasps.

And above her, peeking down, eyes. Unfamiliar faces peering down, their eyes a variety of different colors. Blues, greens, browns. Yet the thing that ties them all together, is the look mirrored within them. Eyebrows furrowed; mouths set in tight lines; others dropped open. Surprise, to say the least, trepidation.  Uncertainty. Hesitation.

Fear.

For a moment, silence.

Not a sound but the chirping of crickets and the softly blowing wind. Just the eyes and the faces peering down at her. And her peering up at the faces.

It only takes a moment for everything to change. All calm she felt at seeing the open sky, forgotten. Baring her teeth, she tucks in on herself, pushing a hiss from her throat. The sound is gargled and feral. Pulled from the depths of her belly. Animalistic, at best, meant to discourage and frighten.

But the result is the opposite. Above her, a bubble of laughter sounds. The spell of nervousness and danger dispelled as amusement takes over. Eyes crinkling, and mouths upturned.

“Awe, look at the poor pussy cat”

She jolts at the sound. Her eyes darting this way and that amongst the faces, unable to pinpoint just where the voice had sounded. Her heart pounding like a drum within her chest.

“Pussycat?” Another sounds, scoffing. His eyes dark as they gazed down at her, lips open in a laugh “More like a rabid dog”

Another bout of laughter sounds. Loud and joyous. And carefree. Oblivious to the way she sits beneath, breath coming in pants. Teeth still bared. Eyes still narrowed. Her tiny body beginning to tremble.

Help, she wants to shout. Anyone, please, help me. She wants to say, but the words elude her, stuck within her chest, suffocated by the overwhelming pounding of her panicked heart.

“Slim it!” A voice booms, and instantly, everything quiets.

All laughter ceases. All chatter falls away, leaving nothing by the chirping of crickets in the distance and the rustling of wind as the crowd slowly parts, and another figure comes forth, revealing a boy.

No, not a boy, a young man.

His skin the color of freshly tilled soil, sweat glistening from a thin sheen of sweat clinging to his skin. And his eyes, oh his eyes. How they peered down at her, so unlike any other. So warm and inviting. So open, yet beneath them, she senses something. Something she can’t quite name but finds the tension in her shoulders easing none the less. A dull ache left in its wake as she uncurls, her lips slowly falling, shielding away her teeth as the hiss dies in her throat, leaving silence.

She watches, eyes keen, just as he watches her. His expression stoic, but not threatening. No, quite the opposite. How strange.

Slowly he bends down, booted feet disturbing the edge of the box. His form hunched over; arms rested upon his knee. And for a moment, all is still.

Everyone simply waiting.  Simply, watching.

Watching her. Assessing her. Reading her.

The heat of his eyes makes her tremble. The reaction abrupt, catching her by surprise and drawing a whimper past her lips. But still, she says nothing. Simply watching, as he watches her.

And then, he’s reaching down. Extending a hand toward her, palm outstretched facing the sun. A detail she can’t help but notice.

A bumble of gasps sound from behind him, but he pays them no mind. His attention solely on her. Dark eyes boring into her own. Eyes with such warmth that she feels warm inside. A warmth that begins to simmer deep within her, sending tingles beneath her skin.

And for a moment, she can’t breathe, and everything melts away. All the chatter. All the eyes and unfamiliar faces. All the tension. All the dull aching pressure behind her eyes.

Everything tunnels out to a single point. The man.

The man with the outstretched hand, and dark eyes.  

She blinks. Wasn’t he afraid? A quick look at all those surrounding him, shows the fear in the air, radiating thick and heavy. But from him, nothing. There is no heaviness. No weight. There is no fear as he watches her, hand outstretched.

Why wasn’t he afraid? Everyone else seemed to be she mused, taking a breath, the decision seeming to happen before she even realizes.

She shifts, pulling herself from her crouch, her eyes locked on the proffered hand from above. A collective gasp sounds from behind him, as they seemed to take a cautious step back.

She isn’t sure why she does it. Though, really, she isn’t sure of anything, is she? But with her heart pounding in her throat, she reaches out, fingers trembling as she places her hand in his. The warmth of his palm pulling a gasp from her throat. So warm, she notes, momentarily distracted as his hand encases her own. And with a gasp, she’s moving. Body suspended; time seemingly frozen as her heart seems to freeze as he effortless pulls her from the pit. A series of gasps, hissed out whispers, shuffling feet and curses fall onto deaf ears.

“Hey there, Greenie” The man grins, his face now mere inches away, so close she can see the warmth of his eyes, the plump of his cheeks, and smell the sweet scent of sweat glistening on his skin

“The name’s Alby”.

She sits frozen, blinking at him. A single word. Soft, and quietm rolling from her tongue. Taken by the wind as it leaves her lips.

A whisper. A prayer. Every letter kissing her lips as they spill forth.

Rating: G

Warnings: non

She still remembers the day it happened.

A/N: hopefully the beginning to a larger fic. . . I don't know. Unbetad & unedited.

The mandalorian sighs, biting down the whimper curling in his throat. The pain in his leg sending white hot pins shooting through him with every step. The blaster wound at his side oozing, sending a chill trembling through him, despite the way he fights it.