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#i keep making andronikos deal with shit like this and he is woefully unprepared Every Single Time
dragonheart-swtor · 3 years
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WIP Wednesday
I was tagged by @sleepswithvillains, thank you so much!!! It’s been a while haha
No-pressure tags: @pineaberry, @sith-shenanigans, @swtorcompanionsgoofin, and anyone else who wants to!
This is technically a WIP in the sense that it’s not really a complete standalone one-shot, but I’m not sure if I’ll actually finish it soon, so... have the whole thing with most of it under a cut xD But have a very upsetting scene with Eidorrah and Andronikos having to go undercover at a seedy cantina for... *waves hand vaguely* some reason I never bothered to figure out, it’s not important, it’s about the Feelings that happen when Eidorrah has to pretend to be a slave again because that’s really the most believable disguise they can put on with the face brand they have.
Tags: TW attempted sexual assault (doesn’t get any further than a grope and an attempted kiss),  hurt/comfort, triggering pre-existing trauma, gendered & sexually charged insults, misgendering. this one’s a doozy folks, read at your own discretion.
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Eidorrah scanned the room, a quick glance from under their lashes, hopefully surreptitious enough not to be noticed. Andronikos had stopped by the buffet table and was smiling slyly as a couple of other people laughed at some joke he'd made. The room was relatively crowded, people clumped into groups of a half dozen or so each socializing, noise from conversations and pazaak games melding into a nonsensical chatter.
A hand closed on their arm, interrupting their scanning – they whirled and stumbled as they were yanked off-balance, falling into the chest of the man who'd grabbed them – Human, middle-aged, wearing a second-rate suit and smelling of cheap alcohol. They scrambled to right themself, panic seizing in their chest, and he laughed – he'd pulled them down on purpose, and he wasn't letting go of their arm let go of my arm!
Sparks crawled under their skin, prickling along their spine, and they almost released the lightning on pure reflex.
They caught it at the last possible moment, swallowing the taste of ozone and squeezing their eyes shut as the man pulled them closer again, saying something that didn't process correctly in the blur of panic and the noise of the crowd. They couldn't shock him. They couldn't throw him away, couldn't make him let go, because they were a slave, not a Sith, and if they blew their cover now this would all be for nothing -
He looped his free arm around their waist to hold them still and released their bicep to grasp their chin instead, forcing them to look up at him. This time his words processed - “Hey now, pretty thing. Why so nervous? Ain't gonna hurtcha.” He leered down at them, the heat of his arm around their waist searing into their back, tightening their chest until they couldn't breathe -
Andronikos!
He was all the way across the room, distracted, he would never see them – Eidorrah flung out their senses, groping blindly for his mind in the mess of color and sound that so many people in one place created in the Force. There, umber and bronze and the steady hum of a string instrument marking his thoughts from the rest – they latched onto his mind and shoved, forcing their way in and pushing a flood of panic-terror-trapped-fear-help-HELP through the connection, unable to think enough to communicate more clearly.
Through the connection, because the sound shouldn't have reached their own ears, they felt his glass slip through his fingers and heard it shatter as it hit the floor, splattering whiskey across his shoes. He paid it no mind, swearing and whirling to search for them in the crowd.
Eidorrah snapped fully back into their own body in time to cringe away as the man holding them got tired of waiting for a response and leaned down for a kiss, turning their head away so his lips met their cheek instead. He growled and fisted a hand in their hair, making them yelp as he yanked their head back by it, forcing them to look up at him again.
Andronikos's fist connected with his cheekbone just as the hand around their waist moved down to grope their ass instead, catching him off-guard and snapping his head around. He let go of Eidorrah in his shock, and they stumbled backward, almost falling over in their haste to get away from him. And then their view of the sleazeball was blocked as Andronikos stepped between them, one hand resting on his blaster. “Back the fuck off,” he snarled as the scumbag recovered.
He scoffed, though he was touching his face like the punch had done some damage. “What, this little whore belong to you?”
Andronikos stiffened, and Eidorrah could feel him fighting the urge to just start a bar fight then and there. “Keep your filthy hands off them,” he growled instead, fingers tightening on his blaster where it was holstered at his hip. “They're not your property to touch.”
“Yeah?” Sleazeball asked, taking another step forward with a sneer. “What, didn't your mommy ever teach you to share?”
Rage coiled pitch black around Andronikos in the Force, a serpent begging to be allowed to strike. “No,” he agreed, quiet and low. “So I'm gonna give you one more chance to walk away before this gets ugly.”
Something in his face or voice must have made Sleazeball rethink it – his eyes flicked from Andronikos's face, to his blaster, to Eidorrah behind him, back to his face. Finally, he sneered, turning away. “Tch. Bitch isn't worth the trouble. Keep her, if it means so much to you.”
The rage-serpent in Andronikos's mind twitched again, hissing and demanding retribution, but Andronikos stood stone-still until the man had disappeared into the crowd and involved himself in another group. Only then did he turn to Eidorrah, the anger on his face belying the worry they could feel beneath – his face was blurring. When had they started tearing up?
He took their shoulder gently. “Come on,” he muttered. “Let's get out of here for a minute.” They nodded numbly and let him lead them away, out a side door into an empty hall.
There he finally turned them to face him full on, grasping their shoulders. “What were you -”
They hiccuped a half a sob, unable to hold it back completely now that the immediate danger was gone, and he stopped mid-sentence, letting go of their shoulders. Eidorrah scrubbed tears out of their eyes only for them to be immediately replaced with more, gulping unsteady breaths and trying to stem the crying before it could start in earnest. “Hey,” he said uncertainly, and they forced themself to look up at him. The anger wasn't gone, but they felt him set it aside, and instead of voicing it he said, “It's okay. You're okay.”
They swallowed hard and took a step forward into his arms, left open probably unconsciously as his hands hovered near their shoulders. He hesitated, slowly dropping his hands to pat their back uncertainly as they tried not to cry into his shirt. “I'm sorry,” they choked out through the tears. “I'm sorry. I couldn't – couldn't think of – I didn't know what else to – to do, I couldn't fight him or – or he'd know -”
He might have nodded; they couldn't really be sure with their face hidden in his chest. “It's – I know. We can talk about it later. I should've known better than to leave you alone in a place like this, dressed like that. I've got your back.” He snorted, stroking their back again. “Kriff, Sith. Quit making me get all sentimental.”
Eidorrah laughed – or, tried to; what came out through the tears was a horrid honking noise that made both of them start laughing in earnest despite everything. “Sorry,” they mumbled, pulling back and wiping tears off their cheeks. “Big, bad pirate. Big, bad Sith.”
“There you go. That’s the spirit.”
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