Speaks to Me of Comfort (Fem!Smug/Corso)

[Achraya]

OR: Five times tattoos made Corso look at Tial different, and one time Tial reconsidered Corso.

 

 

.1.

 

Corso stood in the small front room of the shop, eying the various decorations hanging on the wall. He saw a Mirial flag pinned above the counter and a collection of what looked like antique stone pots lining a series of shelves along the wall. There were shimmering holos of mountains and expanses of desert that he was willing to bet were shots of Mirial, if the area they were in was anything to go by.

 

He and Tial had just finished up in Black Sun Territory and were considering turning in the night verse continuing trying to close in on Skavak verse going to have a few drinks (Corso's vote was for that option), when she'd gotten a holo from her sister, Leta. Tial had walked away from him to take the call, leaving him to trade dirty looks with Darmas, then declared they were done dealing with Skavak for the evening. She'd said good bye to Darmas then hauled Corso over to the nearest taxi.

 

They hadn't gone back to their room, or even that district, but had instead gone to what Tial called the Miri district, obviously so named because it was densely populated with Mirialans. The streets had been lined with green and yellow faces and he had stuck out like a sore human thumb. Wandering the streets with her while she looked of this shop had been...uncomfortable, as he'd felt like everyone was staring, wondering what he dared to do in Their District.

 

He wondered if that was how Tial felt most of the time, surrounded by humans.

 

They'd entered the small shop and found Sergeant Aric Jorgan sitting in a chair in the front room, looking amazingly uncomfortable. He'd nodded an acknowledgment to them before informing Tial that her sister was in the back waiting for her.

 

“Do you know if Tymar is coming?” Tial had asked, eyes gleaming. The only time he ever saw her look that excited was when she was detailing the ways she would torture Skavak when she got her hands on him.

 

Aric shook his head. “He said he was too busy with his master.”

 

“Too busy?” Tial's eyes narrowed for a moment, full lips twisting into a scowl. “****ing useless.”

 

She stormed past the curtain into the back, clearly angry. Corso could hear voices, Tial's sharp with her anger and Leta's a soft rumble, but couldn't make out the words. Then silence that stretched out for what felt like forever. Corso eventually found himself in the chair next to Aric, staring blankly at the wall.

 

“You should have brought something to do. From what I understand Mirialan markings can take a bit of time.” Aric didn't look up form his holopad when he spoke and his voice was toneless in a way that was, actually, kind of unnerving.

 

“Is that what's going on?” Corso asked, frowning slightly. Had Tial rushed him down here so she could hold Leta's hand while she got a new tattoo?

 

Aric's eyebrow went up in a way that made Corso think he was being judged. The fact the Cathar couldn't be bothered to look up to address him added to the feeling. “Mirialan tattoos are symbols of a life well lived. They begin receiving them when they reach 'maturity' and then get new ones with every great accomplishment. Having a witness for the additions is important because it legitimizes the accomplishment.”

 

Corso hadn't known any of that, of course. He had thought it strange that the few Mirialans he'd seen all shared a taste for facial art but he'd never really put that much thought into it. It did make him consider Tial and the marks she wore across her cheeks and down the center of her forehead. Each was a bar pattern, formed of two rows of black triangles carefully fitted together. He wondered what they all meant.

 

He knew she'd had an interesting life before landing on Ord Mantell but he'd never considered that she wore the evidence of that life on her face.

 

 

.2.

 

Taris was probably the worst place Tial had ever had the misfortune of visiting. As if being on the utterly depressing dustball wasn't bad enough by day, but being out at night was a totally different ordeal. Even if she ignored the pirates, the Imperials, and the natural wildlife that still left the issue of Rakghouls. They roamed Taris freely, acting with almost human-like intelligence.

 

She'd heard stories of how they herded men, surrounding them and slowly backing them into areas they couldn't escape from before striking. They tore their luckier victims apart, eating even the bones and leaving nothing but ribbons of flesh behind. The less lucky ones were left alive, infected with the plague, and eventually becoming Rakghouls themselves.

 

The very thought made her flesh crawl in disgust. Tial couldn't even begin to imagine how Corso thought she was going to fall asleep out here, in the middle of nowhere, where groups of those monsters could be lurking just out of sight. She'd wanted to head back to the nearest outpost but they were far out and, as Corso with his stupid logic had pointed out, it would take hours to get anywhere.

 

Corso had started a fire and started chattering about camping out with cousins and friends in his youth, seemingly unaware of the fact that they're weren't in some field on Ord, but on a grassy patch of grass on a vaguely toxic planet that was overrun with man eating monsters. She'd prefer to be in a busy city dealing with gangsters any day.

 

She said as much, tone more snappish than she would have liked. Corso just smiled at her, cheerfully ignoring her anger. He set the camp up for the night, reminding her that the tent was built to withstand the claws of animals. She just pouted.

 

“Captain.” Corso finally finished and came to stand in front of her, smirk far too amused for her liking. She let out a quiet hmph and looked away from him. He sighed and crouched down to her level. “I wouldn't let anything happen to you Captain.”

 

Tial narrowed her eyes, hating him in that moment more than she'd thought was possible. She hated a lot of things about Corso, actually. She hated how attracted she was to him, she hated how he was always able to break her out of a bad mood, she hated how he always made sense and never let her do anything dangerous unless he got to walk into it first. She hated how he touched her and the way he confessed to wanting to be with her when he got drunk but refused her when sober. She hated that he said he wanted to take care of her and, worst of all, meant it.

 

He must have sensed that he'd won their little 'argument' because he flopped next to her on the ground. The fire cast strange twisting shadows on his face but he seemed at ease, as if they weren't likely in unimaginable danger.

 

“So, farm boy, what we do now?”

 

“Well,” He drew the word out with that drawl of his and Tial's stomach clenched. Hatehatehatehate. “S'pose this is the part where we tell stories.”

 

She crossed her arms over her chest, fully aware of how childish she probably looked. “I don't know any stories.”

 

Corso reached for her and she didn't flinch away, a marvel in and of itself. Instead she sat still, stiffening up more than she would have liked, as calloused fingers brushed over her face. He lingered over her markings then moved his hand to the other cheek, thumb brushing over the tattoos there. She felt her face growing hot but told herself it was the fire.

 

“What do these mean?”

 

Tial swallowed thickly but didn't try to end the contact. She tried to focus her brain on the question (anything except how warm Corso's hand was!). “What do you know about Mirialan markings?”

 

“Not much.” He admitted. “Just that you add ones when you do something big.”

 

“Sort of.” She reached up, pushing her the dark red hair bangs from her forehead. Her hair was growing long and it was impossible to deal with at the moment, so it fell in one single braid down her back. She touched the two triangles right below her hairline. “These were the first ones, when I turned fourteen. My father and Tymar both came back from Tython for the ceremony and to give their blessing to my 'ascendance into womanhood'.”

 

Tial frowned at the memory. Tymar had left for the academy the year before, after this own fourteenth birthday, and had come back a completely different person. So stoic and withdrawn in his plain brown robes. It had hurt her to have her big brother so distant from her after so much time apart.

 

It hadn't gotten any better when Rynard, one of Tymar's former friends who'd become interested in Tial when Ty had left for the temple, had come by to witness. He'd made some joke along the lines of 'too bad you won't be around to keep all the boys away' and had earned himself a black eye for his trouble. Tymar had been sent to his room until he could 'learn to control his emotions' and would remain there for the rest of his trip.

 

That had pretty much ruined the day for her. Leta had stood at her side, holding her hand as the woman they'd booked to do the markings began her work. The first ones were always the most detailed and Tial's had been no exception. Family markings were passed down from the mother's side and for her that meant double triangles. The left one had small circles at each peak, meant to represent the all-encompassing nature of the force (Years later she would hate that element but, sadly, her mother's family had been Force worshiping traditionalists) The right triangle had a small oval lying against the right side, the marking of her father's family.

 

Without Tymar the whole ritual had felt strangely hollow. Growing up Tymar had been their father's child and Leta had been their mother's shadow, but Tial had never related to either of her parents. Instead she'd worshiped her older brother, thinking him the center of the universe. Instead of feeling like an adult when the marks were in place she'd just been sore and disappointed.

 

It would take years for her to learn that there was no magical switch, or tattoo, to adulthood. She wasn't sure why she kept up with the stupid tradition but she did. After the first set she'd followed the pattern of her mother's family, adding a pair of triangles to her forehead and under each eye with each 'major' event, thought she hadn't had anyone witness them.

 

She trailed off, smiling wanly. Corso was looking at her in the way some people regarded a particularly difficult math problem.

 

“It's not a very good story.” Tial muttered by way of apology.

 

Corso's answering smile was so sincere it hurt. “I liked it.”

 

 

.3.

 

Corso was surprised when Tial sent him a message saying to meet her at the tattoo shop in the Miril District but he went anyway. He figured that, with everything that had happened recently hanging over them like a dark cloud he could really afford to deny her requests.

 

Skavak was dead and Tial's name was swiftly gaining notoriety with all the wrong people. She'd had to fend off two Bounty Hunter attacks in as many weeks and it was making her edgy. Worse than all that Leta had called to tell them that Elara had been hurt during of their missions and the knowledge that her sister's girlfriend was in bad shape really seemed to be dragging Tial's mood down.

 

There was also the small matter of passionate drunken sex that they were steadfastly ignoring, and had been ignoring for some time. Ignoring as best they could anyway, which wasn't all that well when you got down to it. Tial was jumpy around him and anytime they touched or even came in close proximity she became like a wild animal, falling over herself to skitter away.

 

It was his fault. Too much to drink, too much want, and a little bit of jealousy had potentially ruined their friendship; the thought made him physically ill.

 

Tial was waiting in the front room of the shop, talking to an older Mirialan man. She flashed him a shaky smile when he came in.

 

“Thanks for coming kid.” Her hair was loose, a waterfall of red ripples. He never saw it like that anymore, not since that night, and his fingers itched with the urge to reach out and bury his fingers into it. “I wanted to add more, in celebration of ending Skavak. I...well, I couldn't have done it without you so I wanted you here.”

 

He nodded, more honored than he could have communicated at the moment. She flashed him a nervous smile then, with a nod at the man behind the counter, headed back behind the curtain. Corso made to follow but the man held up a hand to stop him just short of the curtain.

 

“I rarely let humans back there.” He was staring at Corso with deathly serious blue eyes. “Only when they're getting the markings of marriage or intent.”

 

Corso knew about the Markings of Intent. After Taris he'd spent some time on the holonet, learning more about Tial's people. The Mirialan were a matriarchal society and so most things were passed down from the mother's family. When a man intended to marry a woman in their culture he was basically becoming part of her family and leaving his own behind, so he'd get the woman's markings on his hands or inner wrist.

 

Corso frowned slightly. “Does that mean you'll only let me in if I let you tattoo me too?”

 

“And face her wrath?” The man actually laughed. “She was very insistent. Just something for you to consider, young man.”

 

“I'll do that.”

 

 

.4.

 

Corso boarded the Aditi, unease soothed a bit by being back on the ship he'd come to think of as home. He wasn't sure when Tial's ship had become home to him but that was exactly what it was. It was one of the few dependable things he had now and even with the sometimes cramped conditions he couldn't think of anywhere else he'd want to lay his head at night.

 

He could hear Risha, Tial, and Spar speaking in the engine room and headed in that direction, needing his captain to see what he'd been up to. He knew the woman was in a bad mood, a state that was becoming common these days, because of a conversation she'd had with Risha earlier.

 

The would-be-queen had suggested that, since Tial and Corso now had a huge bounty on their heads that was attracting every two-bit Bounty Hunter with a blaster to their doorstep, that they consider a change in appearance. As it turned out Mirialans with dark red hair were an anomaly and it had become something of an identifying mark for Tial, as had her markings. Descriptions of the two of them were all over, though actual video or pictures of them weren't.

 

Tial had been furious, cursing Rogun the Butcher and Skavak, claiming she wished she could bring the useless pile of Hutt crap back so she could kill him again. Spar had interjected here that vanity had lead many people to their grave and that Tial should consider Risha's suggestion. Tial had, true to form, just yelled more before stomping off to her quarters.

 

Corso had slipped out here, knowing that Tial would need time to let her rage subside. He could probably get through to her if he was so inclined (and was the only person who could when she was good and angry.) but sometimes it was better to let her work it through alone. Besides they were docked on Nar Shaddaa and he was pretty sure he could find a way to show his support for Tial down there.

 

He stopped in the doorway of the engine room, brow furrowing. Tial had her back to him, talking to the other two woman about the next planet they would be visiting, but her hair was now shorter, done in a prim looking bun, and colored an inky black. He couldn't help but feel a flash of longing for the long red locks he'd gotten so used to winding around his fingers when no one else was around to see.

 

Spar noticed him first, nodding in his direction. “Riggs. We weren't sure if something had happened to you or not.”

 

“Nah, just went out for some air.” Corso said, watching the way Tial's shoulder stiffened at the sound of his voice. “Looks like I missed something.”

 

“Just your captain coming to her senses.” Risha said loftily. Sometimes Corso really wished Tial had just airlocked the woman back when they'd first met her, fortune and notoriety be damned. “Right Tia?”

 

Tial sighed then made a rude gesture at Risha while turning to face him. He couldn't stop the noise of surprise from escaping his lips. Her face was a smooth green, unmarked by the tattoos that told the story of her life. She looked strange and...well, more naked than he'd ever seen her.

 

Also miserable. Her lips were pressed together tightly, her deep purple eyes were downcast, and her left hand was clenched into a fist.

 

“Well? What do you think.” Tial muttered, eyes darting up to look at him.

 

Corso looked past her to see Risha and Spar looking at him, one expectantly and the other with a careful mask of indifference. Back to Tial, who seemed suddenly smaller than she normally did. He wanted to reach out and pull her close; partially to comfort her and partially to be sure that she was the same person.

 

He was in full armor though, not wanting to be caught off guard on his trip. He couldn't have this conversation looking like this.

 

“Can we talk in your room Captain?” She nodded tightly then moved around him, careful to not make contact, then headed down to her quarters. He followed, resolving to do something to make Risha and Spar hate their lives later.

 

He found Tial sitting in the middle of her bed (their bed?) starring at one of the walls intently. She didn't say anything, or even look at him, as he shed his armor down to the protective tunic and pants underneath then crawled into the bed. He sat behind her, pulling her into his lap and wrapping his arms around her small frame. She seemed to become undone, all tension leaving her body as she sank into him, fitting her head under his chin and sighing.

 

“Your markings-”

 

“It's makeup.” Tial said, voice clipped. He was oddly relived by that. He touched her hair, finding the tie keeping the bun in place, and tugging it free. Her hair felt the same, thick and soft, though it only fell to just above her shoulder now. “It's going to take me forever to grow it back out.”

 

He chuckled. “I can relate.”

 

“Huh?” She twisted around, looking at him for the first time, and her mouth fell open. She moved fast, hands on his head and she crowded herself even closer. He laughed in spite of himself; her wide-eyed expression of shock was too absurd to not laugh at. “Corso. You. Hair.”

 

What she was trying to say was that he'd gone out and gotten rid of his dreads. His hair was now a close cropped fuzz. Tial's fingers moved over his scalp for a moment longer then she moved her face closer to his, until they were nose to nose.

 

“You didn't have to do this.”

 

Corso swiped a finger over her face, cringing at the thick green gunk he came away with. He could now make out the shadow of a black triangle. “I hate it.”

 

She kissed him softly, a change from the usual frantic passion she displayed.

 

 

.5.

 

Elara and Leta's wedding was a small, but lively affair. Even Jorgan managed to shed some of his stiffness for the occasion, showing up out of uniform and having a entire two drinks after, which according to Leta was something of a minor miracle.

 

Others, people affected by Havoc Squad, had come and gone through out the day, wishing the couple well. Now, with the sun down and a slight chill beginning to creep over the outdoor pavilion the event was winding down, with only the assembled crews of the Aditi, Chaos, and Yuga still present, aside from the band.

 

The normally reserved Dorne had been dragged out for another dance with her new bride and though the blond human had fussed and moaned about it getting late she was still smiling brightly. Tial had allowed Theran to coax her out, gracing Corso with a look that said, very plainly, 'No violence' before heading out.

 

As it turned out the doctor was, while under the careful watch of Corso and Tial's older brother, a perfect gentleman. At least from what they could see; considering how loudly Tial was laughing he was probably saying something that would offend most people.

 

Tymar just shook his head. “If I didn't know for a fact that Holiday has him wrapped around her fingers I might be concerned.”

 

Corso frowned, thinking about the holographic woman who'd been hovering at Theran's side most of the night, not sure if the Jedi was implying what he seemed to be. A shrug from Tymar told him that it was exactly what he thought. “I...see.”

 

“Not that I think Tial would ever do anything like that to you.” Tymar added lightly, but his eyes were narrowed seriously. Corso was immediately suspicious of the redhead.

 

He liked the Jedi these days, now that Tymar had let go of a lot of the idealism and stiffness he'd exuded when they'd first met. He considered him a friend, a good friend even. He was always willing to hear Corso out and offer his thoughts without judgment, even when it came to Tial and Corso tried to do the same.

 

“And you wouldn't do anything to hurt my little sister, would you?” Wisps of golden light drifted between Tymar's fingers, a casual display of the power he wielded. Corso wasn't impressed, or at least not as impressed as he would have been once.

 

“Of course not.” He hesitated for a moment, eyes finding Tial on the dance floor. She was smiling, eyes bright, as she whirled around the floor with Elara, having traded partners with her sister at some point. “I love Tial.”

 

Tymar's expression softened. “I know. I...look, I think of you like a little brother, but not really because you're sleeping with my sister.” Corso laughed and the Jedi offered up a small amused smile. “Which is why I haven't killed you yet. For you to be with her for so long but not have declared any intentions is a serious insult. It means you don't think she's worthy of marrying.”

 

Corso stared, not sure what exactly to make of that declaration. Was Tymar really giving him some kind of 'Do right by my sister or else' speech? Corso had a few friends who'd gotten married at blaster point after getting a girl 'in trouble', or getting caught with her, but he'd never imagined he'd been in that position.

 

Finally he found his voice again. “I don't think Tial is interested in marrying me.”

 

“I think you'd be surprised.” Tymar leaned back in his chair, dark purple eyes staring forward at something Corso couldn't see. “And I didn't say you had to. Marks of Intent are about...saying that you want to be with someone and only them. It doesn’t mean anything to you humans, I guess, but the tattoos are apart of who we are.”

 

Corso was saved from answering by a red-faced Elara coming to stand in front of their table, eyes dancing with mirth. “Tia wants you to come out Corso.”

 

“I don't dance.” The response was automatic and had been stated no less than twenty times that evening. Elara sniffed, voice taking on a hint of an Imperial accent.

 

“Tia says that's an order from your Captain, Riggs.”

 

Evil woman. Corso was going to tell Elara exactly what he thought of Tial's orders but the woman turned her head slightly, exposing the small double triangle markings right behind her ear. He'd never seen them before, probably because they were in a place that was easily covered with hair, but they didn't look new.

 

“Well. I wouldn't want to defy an order.”

 

Elara smiled again then headed back to where Tial and Leta were waiting. Tymar sipped his drink primly, but wasn't able to smother the smug smile. Sadly all the loosening up in the world hadn't changed the fact that the oldest Chraya child was a smug bastard.

 

“When are you going to declare your intentions towards Risha?”

 

Tymar choked, loudly. Nadia, who was engaged in a intense conversation with Aric, looked over in alarm and all but flew over, ready to attend to her master. Tymar had confessed that he thought his padawan had a crush on him and that it made life on his ship endlessly awkward. Now, as Nadia began to fuss over him, Tymar glared at him balefully, eyes promising pain.

 

 

.6.

 

“Marry me.”

 

Tial sputtered, hairbrush falling from her suddenly nerveless fingers. She turned to stare at her boyfriend, or whatever she was supposed to call him, who was sprawled out on their bed, watching her intently. His eyes were dark and serious and it made her stomach twist.

 

This wasn't the first time he'd asked her, that had been in the cockpit of the ship. She'd basically fallen apart, laughing nervously and telling him that she wasn't the marrying type before fleeing to her bedroom, locking him out for the night. He hadn't brought it up again, but she'd felt the distance between them even if the words weren't said. He'd taken to sleeping in his old bunk, which had been a source of annoyance for Guss and Bow considering how cramped the conditions were with three people crammed in there.

 

This was the first night he'd spent back in here with her, and she'd been hoping for sex, not a follow up proposal. He could be so infuriating.

 

“Damnit Corso.” She started to bend to pick up the brush.

 

“Tial.”

 

She groaned, glaring up at him through her bangs. He clearly didn't intend to play fair tonight; he knew what saying her name like that did to her. She was so used to him calling her Captain that when she'd first heard him say her name (No, it was more like he'd breathed her name, a soft gasping noise that had cut right through her) it had destroyed all of the careful emotional distance she had constructed between them.

 

He only called her by her name when they were alone, but it still had a powerful effect on her. In the heat of passion it could make her come undone, in tense moments it could relax her, when she was angry it was the only thing that could soothe her.

 

When had she allowed one person to gain so much control over her?

 

He was out of the bed, wearing nothing but his shorts, and was pulling her close. Hands on her hips then one on the small of her back, holding her in place while he kissed her. She gave up on the brush and focused on kissing him back, arms wrapping around his neck. His body was hard and hot, arms strong around her and it was so easy to just pull him closer and drink it in.

 

Kissing him always sent a flush of heat through her body and wrapped a fog around her brain. That was how they'd ended up in bed together to begin with; a little too much booze and a few fierce kisses and she'd practically forgotten her own name in her haste to get Corso's pants off.

 

It hadn't been her finest moment, but she supposed she didn't regret it.

 

His tongue touched her lips and she parted for him eagerly. The hand on her hip moved, cupping the side of her face with a gentleness that didn't quite work with the way he kissed her, but it was Corso so it worked perfectly.

 

She pulled back to breathe and turned her head to nuzzle his hand, happy that he didn't seem to be pressing the marriage issue. Something dark on his wrist caught her attention and she grabbed his wrist, sex temporarily forgotten as the gravity of what she was looking at sank in.

 

He had two small triangles in black ink on the inside of his wrist, one with small dots at the point and the other with an oval resting against it's right side. She breathed out, thumb rubbing over the marks. She could feel him looking down at her and knew his eyes were worried and that he was probably chewing on his bottom lip, waiting for her response.

 

Her stomach heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice and her eyes burned. She swallowed, willing the tears that wanted to betray her to stay put. Finally, the silence stretching almost painfully between them, she pressed a feather light kiss to the inside of his wrist.

 

“Fine. But don't you come crying to me if you regret it later.” Her voice wasn't her own, pitched oddly and wavering wetly.

 

0000000000

 

Finished! I'm not sure any of these moments fit into the 'Hot on My Heels' future storyline, but they were fun to write either way. Playing in Corso and Tial's head is always fun, especially when I get to leave the context of the Smuggler storyline.

 

Thanks to everyone who read and I hope you all enjoyed it!

[greypilgrim]

I still love this. Where did you come up with the ideas for the patterns and what they mean and whatnot?

[Achraya]

Well! That's a very good question, to which I can only say 'no idea'. I was considering a 5and1 for my Sith Sorc when this idea to write something about Mirialan markings got stuck in my brain. I logged into Tial, stared at her face, started doodling and the next thing I knew I had a diagram of her tattoos and what each one represented/what the shapes were meant to represent. The story just kinda...spiraled out from there.