#26 - home - nisaki
Title: Heart & Home
Author: jibunnohana
Theme: 26. Home
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ni~ya x Sakito (Nightmare)
Disclaimer: Absolutely nothing in here will ever be mine.
Comments: AU, sci-fi. In fact, it's a Star Wars crossover. 8D Hope that's allowed....
Two blazing suns beat down on the dusty street, baking even the meager shadows that the low buildings managed to cast. If there ever was a day Sakito didn’t want to venture out doors, this was the day, though he could probably say the same for essentially every day of the year. This planet was just too damned hot and he didn’t care for it. Somewhere in the slender junk dealer’s distant memory were rolling green hills, waterfalls, and…clouds, but that was another story altogether, long before he ended up here, on the godforsaken desert hell of Tatooine. These days, Sakito spent his days selling secondhand debris - broken parts, worn out clothes, odds and ends that were more or less useless to everyone but him. He lived in a little energy efficient house that wasn’t so energy efficient as the crooked realtor had led him to believe, and shared a bed ninety-eight percent of the time with his lover, the self-proclaimed jack-of-all-trades (and master of none), Niya. The remaining two percent Niya ended up passing out drunk on the floor of the Mos Eisley Cantina, where Sakito wouldn’t bother to pick him up until morning. A hateful place, filled with the sort of inconspicuous lowlifes the Old Quarter was rife with, Sakito avoided it as much as possible, though he did have a fondness for the local jazz band employed there. Unfortunately, Niya had turned into a regular customer.
“Remind me again why I have to come on this little excursion?” Sakito hurried after his lover, shielding his eyes and glancing around nervously, wary of getting mugged at any moment this close to the old Dowager Queen wreckage. Not that the neighborhood they lived in was much better, but at least it was borderline New Quarter where the residents were ever so slightly more respectable.
Sighing, Niya glanced behind him and repeated his reasoning for the third time. “I owe Chalmun money from a bet I lost, and he probably won’t rip my arms off for paying him off so late if you’re with me. Stop worrying, honey. It won’t take long.”
Stop worrying? That was much easier said than done, with the sudden vision of his lover spewing his life blood from each leftover stump of arm that crossed the junk dealer’s sight momentarily. Sakito had met Chalmun once, and was frankly quite terrified of him for that very possibility. Niya, on the other hand, had for some unfathomable reason become his habitual gambling buddy, and they had become quite ‘friendly’ despite the language barrier. Falling into stride next to his lover, Sakito’s eyes darted back and forth at the passerby as they moved closer and closer to the cantina. Bounty hunters, drunks and perverts, the whole lot of them, he mused sourly while calculating how many of them the diminutive knife tucked into his boot and Niya’s faulty blaster could take out if said ruffians decided to hassle the two. Not very many, he decided, and prayed nothing would go wrong.
The door to the Mos Eisley Cantina was overshadowed by more than just the low-slung entryway - there was an aura of dark debauchery flowing from the building, uncomfortable like being watched by a thousand unfriendly eyes. Or, at least that’s what it felt like to Sakito as he practically cowered behind the taller Niya, who was walking into the room with an air of enviable nonchalance. By the time their eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, the perceptible rustle of alien heads turning to scrutinize who was at the door had dissipated, leaving the cantina in its usual state of foggy, sluggish activity.
“Okay, we’re here. Hurry up,” Sakito said in a soft, urgent voice to his lover, while at the same time catching hold of Niya’s hand, partially for safety and partially to keep track of his oft wayward companion.
Niya rolled his eyes, but thankfully for him the expression was lost on Sakito, who happened to be eyeing the sloppy floor with distaste. Reaching over, he patted the young man’s hand reassuringly, then offering a sociable wave to scowling bartender. Stepping up to the bar with Sakito in tow, Niya addressed the fat man “Hey, Wuher. I’m looking for Chalman - is he here?”
“Rip-roarin’ mad’s what he is. Get your ass back to the office before he comes lookin’ for you instead of the other way ‘round,” was Wuher’s gruff reply, a spark of malicious amusement in his piggish eyes. Sakito turned several shades of pale at the bartender’s words, briefly toying with the idea of shoving Niya out the door and hopping the first transport of that rock.
“Great,” Niya replied with a laugh that sounded more confident than he surely felt. At least appearing on his own free will would be a more honorable sight to Chalmun than waiting for the Wookiee to come to him. Turning, away from the bar, Niya made his way through the sluggish crowd, Sakito in tow immediately behind him. The closer they came to the proprietor’s office tucked into the back of the cantina, the louder his incoherent roars and the sniveling whimpers of his current visitor assaulted their ears. Clearly, Chalmun was angry at someone else, which didn’t bode well for poor Niya, who would likely only serve to make him angrier.
Mere feet away from the partially open door, Niya stopped and guided his lover to a seat a few feet away from Chalmun’s office, squeezing his hand before letting go. “On second though…you better stay here, angel.”
Before Sakito could protest this new plan of action, the previous recipient of the proprietor’s wrath scrambled out, leaving space for Niya to enter. With a reassuring smile, he disappeared through the door, leaving the junk dealer to his increasingly gloomy thoughts. Sighing, Sakito leaned sullenly against the palm of his hand, skimming the faces of the customers without much interest. Music drifted over to him, growing in volume as the band warmed up, and eventually striking a cheerful tune that drown out the majority of unpleasant conversations going on within the bar. Sakito only spoke broken phrases in half the languages surrounding him, enough to hawk his wares, but comprehended quite a bit more. He wasn’t entirely sure if this was a gift or a curse, especially listening to the inhabitants of Mos Eisley’s most infamous bar.
Seconds stretched into minutes, and Sakito’s stomach was beginning to twist in anxiety, coupled with periodic glances in the general direction of Chalmun’s office, but there was no sign of what was occurring behind the closed door. Determined to take his mind off matters to which he had no sway, he took to testing himself on the origins of the different aliens species in the room, coming up blank on the vast majority of them. It was then that he noticed the two newcomers warily approaching the counter, an elderly man dressed in strange garb and a young man with blond hair that Sakito had seen around before. In fact, he may have sold parts to him once or twice, but for the life of him couldn’t remember the kid’s name, only that he was a brush pilot. Curious, to see those sort of people in a place like this, especially when he was relatively sure they didn’t live in the city.
A change in song caught Sakito’s attention, and he turned to watch the band play, enjoying an old favorite of his, until a laden silence fell over the entire room, stilling music and conversation alike. The prickling up and down the back of his neck told Sakito there was an unfortunate reason for the sudden void, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash followed by a distinctive pained wailing. Hardly daring to breathe, he turned his head ever so slowly to the gruesome sight of a dismembered Aqualish writhing at the feet of the strange old man. Blood poured in rivers over the floor, staining the shoes of many nearby spectators and it was all Sakito could do to keep a handle on his consciousness with every nerve in his body telling him to get the heck out of there.
Time stopped for only a brief moment, the cantina bursting back into activity without so much as a second thought for the injured man. In the crowd, Sakito lost sight of the two humans, though he could have attributed that to the way his vision seemed to be getting a tad fuzzy around the edges, enough so that he didn’t catch Niya’s reappearance in his periphery.
“Okay, that’s taken care of,” Niya began cheerfully, before he noticed his lover’s expression. “Er…Saki? You look a little pale….”
Afraid if he moved he might have the urge to vomit, Sakito sat perfectly still where he was, responding in a firm, no-nonsense tone. “We’re moving.”
Author: jibunnohana
Theme: 26. Home
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ni~ya x Sakito (Nightmare)
Disclaimer: Absolutely nothing in here will ever be mine.
Comments: AU, sci-fi. In fact, it's a Star Wars crossover. 8D Hope that's allowed....
Two blazing suns beat down on the dusty street, baking even the meager shadows that the low buildings managed to cast. If there ever was a day Sakito didn’t want to venture out doors, this was the day, though he could probably say the same for essentially every day of the year. This planet was just too damned hot and he didn’t care for it. Somewhere in the slender junk dealer’s distant memory were rolling green hills, waterfalls, and…clouds, but that was another story altogether, long before he ended up here, on the godforsaken desert hell of Tatooine. These days, Sakito spent his days selling secondhand debris - broken parts, worn out clothes, odds and ends that were more or less useless to everyone but him. He lived in a little energy efficient house that wasn’t so energy efficient as the crooked realtor had led him to believe, and shared a bed ninety-eight percent of the time with his lover, the self-proclaimed jack-of-all-trades (and master of none), Niya. The remaining two percent Niya ended up passing out drunk on the floor of the Mos Eisley Cantina, where Sakito wouldn’t bother to pick him up until morning. A hateful place, filled with the sort of inconspicuous lowlifes the Old Quarter was rife with, Sakito avoided it as much as possible, though he did have a fondness for the local jazz band employed there. Unfortunately, Niya had turned into a regular customer.
“Remind me again why I have to come on this little excursion?” Sakito hurried after his lover, shielding his eyes and glancing around nervously, wary of getting mugged at any moment this close to the old Dowager Queen wreckage. Not that the neighborhood they lived in was much better, but at least it was borderline New Quarter where the residents were ever so slightly more respectable.
Sighing, Niya glanced behind him and repeated his reasoning for the third time. “I owe Chalmun money from a bet I lost, and he probably won’t rip my arms off for paying him off so late if you’re with me. Stop worrying, honey. It won’t take long.”
Stop worrying? That was much easier said than done, with the sudden vision of his lover spewing his life blood from each leftover stump of arm that crossed the junk dealer’s sight momentarily. Sakito had met Chalmun once, and was frankly quite terrified of him for that very possibility. Niya, on the other hand, had for some unfathomable reason become his habitual gambling buddy, and they had become quite ‘friendly’ despite the language barrier. Falling into stride next to his lover, Sakito’s eyes darted back and forth at the passerby as they moved closer and closer to the cantina. Bounty hunters, drunks and perverts, the whole lot of them, he mused sourly while calculating how many of them the diminutive knife tucked into his boot and Niya’s faulty blaster could take out if said ruffians decided to hassle the two. Not very many, he decided, and prayed nothing would go wrong.
The door to the Mos Eisley Cantina was overshadowed by more than just the low-slung entryway - there was an aura of dark debauchery flowing from the building, uncomfortable like being watched by a thousand unfriendly eyes. Or, at least that’s what it felt like to Sakito as he practically cowered behind the taller Niya, who was walking into the room with an air of enviable nonchalance. By the time their eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, the perceptible rustle of alien heads turning to scrutinize who was at the door had dissipated, leaving the cantina in its usual state of foggy, sluggish activity.
“Okay, we’re here. Hurry up,” Sakito said in a soft, urgent voice to his lover, while at the same time catching hold of Niya’s hand, partially for safety and partially to keep track of his oft wayward companion.
Niya rolled his eyes, but thankfully for him the expression was lost on Sakito, who happened to be eyeing the sloppy floor with distaste. Reaching over, he patted the young man’s hand reassuringly, then offering a sociable wave to scowling bartender. Stepping up to the bar with Sakito in tow, Niya addressed the fat man “Hey, Wuher. I’m looking for Chalman - is he here?”
“Rip-roarin’ mad’s what he is. Get your ass back to the office before he comes lookin’ for you instead of the other way ‘round,” was Wuher’s gruff reply, a spark of malicious amusement in his piggish eyes. Sakito turned several shades of pale at the bartender’s words, briefly toying with the idea of shoving Niya out the door and hopping the first transport of that rock.
“Great,” Niya replied with a laugh that sounded more confident than he surely felt. At least appearing on his own free will would be a more honorable sight to Chalmun than waiting for the Wookiee to come to him. Turning, away from the bar, Niya made his way through the sluggish crowd, Sakito in tow immediately behind him. The closer they came to the proprietor’s office tucked into the back of the cantina, the louder his incoherent roars and the sniveling whimpers of his current visitor assaulted their ears. Clearly, Chalmun was angry at someone else, which didn’t bode well for poor Niya, who would likely only serve to make him angrier.
Mere feet away from the partially open door, Niya stopped and guided his lover to a seat a few feet away from Chalmun’s office, squeezing his hand before letting go. “On second though…you better stay here, angel.”
Before Sakito could protest this new plan of action, the previous recipient of the proprietor’s wrath scrambled out, leaving space for Niya to enter. With a reassuring smile, he disappeared through the door, leaving the junk dealer to his increasingly gloomy thoughts. Sighing, Sakito leaned sullenly against the palm of his hand, skimming the faces of the customers without much interest. Music drifted over to him, growing in volume as the band warmed up, and eventually striking a cheerful tune that drown out the majority of unpleasant conversations going on within the bar. Sakito only spoke broken phrases in half the languages surrounding him, enough to hawk his wares, but comprehended quite a bit more. He wasn’t entirely sure if this was a gift or a curse, especially listening to the inhabitants of Mos Eisley’s most infamous bar.
Seconds stretched into minutes, and Sakito’s stomach was beginning to twist in anxiety, coupled with periodic glances in the general direction of Chalmun’s office, but there was no sign of what was occurring behind the closed door. Determined to take his mind off matters to which he had no sway, he took to testing himself on the origins of the different aliens species in the room, coming up blank on the vast majority of them. It was then that he noticed the two newcomers warily approaching the counter, an elderly man dressed in strange garb and a young man with blond hair that Sakito had seen around before. In fact, he may have sold parts to him once or twice, but for the life of him couldn’t remember the kid’s name, only that he was a brush pilot. Curious, to see those sort of people in a place like this, especially when he was relatively sure they didn’t live in the city.
A change in song caught Sakito’s attention, and he turned to watch the band play, enjoying an old favorite of his, until a laden silence fell over the entire room, stilling music and conversation alike. The prickling up and down the back of his neck told Sakito there was an unfortunate reason for the sudden void, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash followed by a distinctive pained wailing. Hardly daring to breathe, he turned his head ever so slowly to the gruesome sight of a dismembered Aqualish writhing at the feet of the strange old man. Blood poured in rivers over the floor, staining the shoes of many nearby spectators and it was all Sakito could do to keep a handle on his consciousness with every nerve in his body telling him to get the heck out of there.
Time stopped for only a brief moment, the cantina bursting back into activity without so much as a second thought for the injured man. In the crowd, Sakito lost sight of the two humans, though he could have attributed that to the way his vision seemed to be getting a tad fuzzy around the edges, enough so that he didn’t catch Niya’s reappearance in his periphery.
“Okay, that’s taken care of,” Niya began cheerfully, before he noticed his lover’s expression. “Er…Saki? You look a little pale….”
Afraid if he moved he might have the urge to vomit, Sakito sat perfectly still where he was, responding in a firm, no-nonsense tone. “We’re moving.”