[MillietheWarrior]

Dusty could feel the force of the wind as it batted at his protective armor.; With his all encompassing shell on, he could neither feel the cold of the storm, or hear the wind as it whipped by him. He’d turned on his internal heating system and turned off his audio. His rifle was slung over his shoulder, and he whistled cheerfully, tunelessly, as he surged through the snow, holding the reins of a fidgety and excitable Riopath that plowed along beside him. Dusty was not fond of the Riopath. It was too twitchy and skittish and he was certain that at the slightest sign of trouble, the silly beast would spook and be off before he could catch it. The creature raised it’s head and snorted, and Dusty looked over his armored shoulder at the bundle it carried, casting his gaze over the woman wrapped in the blankets and silks sitting high on the saddle. He turned back to the Riopath, and placed a hand on it’s neck. “Easy there, darlin’. Ain’t no need for all that fidgetin’. Yer just gonna make more trouble fer me.”

The creature eyed him derisively, it’s breath coming out in great, gasping clouds as it snorted again. He could see the whites of it’s eyes; it was frightened of the storm. With the wind howling and whipping through the bare tress of the high mountains, everything looked like ‘danger’ to the beast. Dusty silently cursed the fact that he was the one chosen for this ‘special mission.’ Also known as, ‘the mission none of his brothers wanted and forced on him.’ When asked to ‘escort’ an ambassador through the wilds of Basantha, Dusty was extremely leery of the job. After all, who just traversed the wilderness with only one man for protection? But the woman had been adamant about having ‘protection’ for some reason or another. Or at least, her boss insisted that his boss send someone to protect her. This just seemed like a waste of time. But Dusty did as he was told, and he did it with a smile, a song, and a spring in his step. Not that any of those was visible, audible, or even apparent at the moment, what with the raging storm around the three compadres.

Dusty lifted his arm, the scanner on his gauntlet showing that the temperatures were rapidly dropping. The storm had started up out of the blue about an hour ago, and it had caught Dusty by surprise. The wind and the snow buffeted the small group, nearly sending the sure-footed Riopath stumbled, and taking the soldier and ambassador down with it. Dusty was beginning to worry that any longer in these temperatures would mean certain death for rider and mount. In his armor encased haven, he couldn’t feel one bit of the cold, so Dusty knew he would be fine. But a delicate woman in the middle of a snow storm? Not a good combo, he decided. He turned to glance at the bundle over his shoulder, and had to shout to be heard above the roar of the wind. “We’re gonna have to head for cover, darlin’. This ain’t no fit place fer man nor beast. And I can’t have ya catchin’ cold on me, can I?” He chuckled to himself, and then jerked on the reins of the beast beside him. It gave a low keen, and turned, it’s giant ears flicking forward as it seemed to sense they were finally heading for warmth, cover and safety.

Dusty could just make out a large structure up ahead, and the coordinates on his HUD showed they were near the shrine. That must be it. Well, it’d be as good a place to make camp as any, right? Dusty surged ahead through the snow, swinging his rifle around and over his shoulder as he went and setting the charge. As they reached the shrine, he leaned back and looped the reins over the Riopath’s neck. It lowered it’s head, sniffing at the door as Dusty pushed it open. He stepped inside first, switching to night vision as he scanned for any life forms. It was pitch black, dark, and it smelled ancient, but there was no sign of anything living within the confines of the shrine. Twisting at the waist, Dusty grabbed the Riopath’s bridle and urged it forward. With a grunt, it stepped into the darkness, it’s claws scrabbling for purchase on the cold floor. “Stay here, I’ll get a fire started for ya,” Dusty said quietly, feeling as if any noise he made in the ancient shrine would be blasphemous. He slung the rifle over his shoulder, and slowly moved about, gathering chunks of rotted wood and old pews that might have once served for masses of worshippers. Now they’d serve well enough for a small fire.

Dusty hauled his catch back over to the Riopath, and piled it nearby. Using his blaster, he sent a shot straight into the wood, lighting it immediately, and then set the rifle on the ground, before moving towards the beast. He grasped it’s bridle and lower red it’s head. The Riopath’s body followed, and like a massive camel, it sunk to the ground to allow the precious burden it carried to step off. “There ya are, darlin’,” Dusty said kindly, though it was unclear as to whether he was talking to the beast or it’s rider. “Safe an’ sound an’ warm.” he glanced at the woman. “Might wanna make yerself comfy by the fire. We ain’t gonna be goin’ nowhere anytime soon. That’s a regular ol’ devil of a storm.” He patted the Riopath’s head, stroking the creature’s silky nose as it rumbled quietly and contentedly, nuzzling his hand as he pulled a cloth from a pack at his waist and began to rub it along the creature‘s overworked body, cooling it down. He seemed far more concerned over the Riopath than the ambassador. Trust Dusty to think of an animal over a woman. Dusty paused in his work to pull a blanket from the pack at his back, and toss it to the woman. “Better wrap yerself up, darlin’. It won’t do to have ya getting’ sick now.”

[Flame]

Perched atop the Riopath and sunk deep into the saddle against the howling gale was a figure, swathed in furs and so heavily enveloped in the nest of blankets that she hardly looked like more than a shapeless bundle of cloth balanced precariously atop her mount. The only part of her that was visible amidst the blankets was the upper half of her face and occasionally her hands as she steadied herself to keep from falling off, mostly due to the fact that there was more weight in cloth on her than what she actually weighed, making staying in the saddle a…slight challenge. The storm seemed to have appeared out of thin air, and although icy temperatures were to be expected at these sorts of altitudes, no one could have anticipated the raw frigidness which they were now confronted with. Even through the layers upon layers she wore, the young woman could still feel the bitter bite of the cold as the glacial wind assailed the group, flinging tiny, needle-like splinters of ice and snow into their faces.

This hadn’t exactly what Amphitrite had had in mind when she’d decided to set out to see the land. Currently, she was playing the role of an ambassador from a foreign country (which wasn’t a total lie, to be truthful…it just wasn’t the entire truth), and she was surprised how easily the part came to her. A well-dressed, soft spoken, and pretty young lady, others found her quite easy to get along with; an invaluable resource when it came to negotiations with other leaders. She found that she rather liked this occupation, at least compared to several others that she’d tried (office jobs just didn’t quite have that same ‘interesting’ factor), but like everything else, she probably wouldn’t stick with it but for so long before she flitted off to try something new. However, while she had the opportunity, she didn’t see any reason not to use what benefits she had to her advantage, namely the right to travel the world and go wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted.

Her employer, however, was somewhat hesitant about the idea of letting her wander on her own, which resulted in what turned out to be her own personal guard, consisting of at least one person who was to accompany her wherever she went and ensure her safety. She, for one, found it all rather excessive; after all, she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, and she was sure whoever it was that was stuck in her company really didn’t want to be here in the first place. However, it wasn’t her place to contest the will of her boss, so she just went along with it. During the course of this current ‘escapade’, she hadn’t really had the opportunity to speak to the armor-clad man who was currently leading her steed through the mountain ranges of Basantha. After all, it was rather difficult to speak and be articulate at the same time when you had several inches of cloth barring your face. So, all-in-all, the trek had been a somewhat quiet one, to say the least. Amphitrite wasn’t sure how comfortable she was with the silence, or the fact that she didn’t even know his name. It just felt all too…detached for her.

However, she had other things on her mind as well, concerns which kept her company throughout the ride, despite how much she wanted to dispel them. The one which stood out most prominently in her mind was the fact that this was probably the farthest she had been from the ocean, at least altitude-wise. Although she enjoyed experiencing life above the surface, she couldn’t help but feel the tug of the sea at her very soul, and being this far away from her beloved home only served to intensify that yearning. Nonetheless, there wasn’t anything that could be done about that now, if the intensity of this brewing storm was any indication of what was to come, at least for the next few hours. If anything, she was just as glad as her steed when her escort announced that they’d be sitting this squall out.

She’d heard of the Shrine before in her travels, but not much about it. What little she knew was sketchy and hardly anything to go off of, but if anything, that only made her feel more wary about it. However, she trusted that her companion knew more about it than she did, so she just went with it, preferring what shelter the ancient building provided over weathering the storm outside. As they entered the dark monument, it took her eyes a moment or two to adjust to the lack of light. From what little she could see, it was as decrepit inside as it looked from the outside, but despite its general disrepair, the structure itself seemed sturdy enough, and at least it appeared collapsing would not be one of the worries they’d have to deal with.

The soldier quickly had a fire burning, and soon came over to help her off of the Riopath, for in her current state of ‘bundledness’, she wasn’t capable of doing much except wait until she could extricate herself from her straitjacket of blankets. When her steed had lowered itself close enough to the ground for her to be sure that she could take a tumble, if it came to that, she carefully disentangled herself from her nest of furs (there was no way she was moving anywhere with that deadweight on her shoulders), and now clad only in a heavy winter coat and boots, dismounted and made her way over to the fire, shivering in the cold that permeated the inside of the stone shrine. She was grateful for the light and warmth which the fire provided, the one comfort in the otherwise cold and bleak interior of the building. Catching the blanket that the man tossed to her, she dipped her head graciously to him, accompanied by a quick “Thanks”.

Sitting down tentatively as close to the fire as she could safely get (the stone floor itself was deathly cold as well, after all), she huddled under the blanket, working the bits of ice and snow that had gotten caught in her long, tousled blue hair out. As she did, she glanced over at her companion, her light blue eyes mildly curious as she watched him. She had the feeling that it would be a while before the storm finally blew itself out, and she, for one, didn’t fancy spending the next few hours in awkward silence. So, she took it upon herself to at least try and converse with him. If nothing else, it would help the time pass faster. “So, have you any idea how long this storm might take to blow over?” A simple question, but a start, at least. Her voice was smooth and mellifluous, much like the ebb and flow of the tides upon the shore. There was a distinct accent in her tone that no one seemed able to quite place, but it suited her well. Her expression was amiable and polite as she watched the man go about tending to the Riopath, head tilted slightly to one side as she focused on keeping her mind on anything but the bitter cold.

[MillietheWarrior]

The quiet of the shrine was unnerving, and might have spooked a lesser man, but Dusty found the silence comforting. His whole life had been spent with the sounds of blasters and the hum of a ship’s drives or the cacophony of battle droids all around him. He welcomed a little peace and quiet. The steady rumble of the Riopath beside him filled the silence, and Dusty patted it’s neck gently with a dark, gloved hand. It turned it’s head to regard him with it’s large, intelligent eyes, before it lowered tucked it’s nose under it’s tail and curled up against the cold. Dusty turned slowly, somewhat surprised by the voice behind him. In the time he’d become her ‘personal guard,’ she hadn’t spoken more than a few words to him. Dusty didn’t mind; he figured she had her reasons and her right not to speak to him.

The silence might’ve been a bit awkward from time to time, but Dusty didn’t seem to notice or care. He went about his business, doing his duty as he was instructed, and keeping to himself. And whenever he felt the need to chat, he just commed one of his brothers; Eyes was usually his best bet, as both Blue and Solus were terrible conversationalists, and Recoil spent his time doing who knew what, who knew where, and never answered the comm. Dusty eyed the woman through the visor of his helmet, debating on whether he should answer her or pretend he hadn’t heard. It wasn’t really that he didn’t want to answer…he just figured it was better if she didn’t speak to him at all. She was a woman of class and sophistication, and he was a simple-trained clone soldier. Why did she fell the need to talk to him?

But Dusty felt it was better to answer her than let the questions hang in the air and make everything more uncomfortable than it was. With a sigh, Dusty reached up and unclasped his helmet, lifting it off his head to reveal a head of dark brown hair streaked with dark orange. His face was hard, and weathered, and it looked as though he’d spent quite a bit of time outdoors in the sun. He regarded the woman with a copper gaze that glinted with good-nature and indifference, though it was not unkind. “Reckon I don’t know too much, ma’am,” he said, discarding his habitual and affection way of using the world ‘darlin’.’

“Ain’t  nothin’ we can do but wait it out. Considerin’ how bad the storm is, I’d venture ta say we’ll be here fer a while.” He settled down opposite of her and the fire with a grunt, wincing slightly as he tried to get comfortable in a set of armor that pinched some very interesting places. Once he seemed settled and comfortable enough, he placed his helmet beside him, and draped his elbows over his crossed knees. He grabbed a small stick, and prodded at the fire, watching as sparks jumped and flew and dissolves in the air. His eyes strayed once more to his charge, and he frowned slowly; she had to be cold. Now that he’d taken his helmet off, he could feel the bitter chill biting into his cheeks and formerly warm skin. She must be freezing. “Are ya warm enough, ma’am? Kin I getcha anythin’?”

[2]

[Flame]

The silence in the shrine was profound; each person had their own thoughts to occupy them, but  although the quiet wasn’t awkward, per se, it still felt somewhat unnatural to Amphitrite. Throughout the duration of the trip, her companion had remained just as taciturn as he was now. Even considering the fact that she’d been swaddled up to the point where she wasn’t physically capable of speaking for the better half of the journey, her ‘bodyguard’ hadn’t seemed all too keen on conversing with her either. Perhaps there was just something about her that put him off. Whatever the case, it made her feel slightly self-conscious, but she refused to let that hinder her. They were going to be spending a considerable amount of time together as it was – judging by the intensity of the storm, they wouldn’t be getting out of here anytime soon – so she felt that it would make the trip a little less arduous for both of them if they both had someone to talk to. She wasn’t aware of the fact that he could simply sequester himself in his helmet and talk via comm to his squadmates, but as she well knew, her knowledge of those who lived ‘above’ was very limited.

That had been the main reason for her leaving her beloved home in the ocean to walk amongst humans. Although she did a surprisingly good job of fitting in wherever she decided to go, she still found many things odd, but fascinating, namely the strange things that people did and their technology. Besides the occasional ship, oil rig, or submarine, she had never really been exposed to the ‘advanced’ machinery of this era; after all, electronics and water generally didn’t mix. Also, the whole concept of armor intrigued her. When she’d first caught sight of one of these entirely armor-clad soldiers, it took all she had not to stare. Although she could understand the concept of wearing armor, she still found the habit rather…odd. Why would one confine themselves so if they had a choice? It didn’t even seem as if they used the armor most of the time…they just…lived in it.

She’d been highly curious about the man who’d been assigned with her care and protection. She couldn’t help thinking that he rather resembled some sort of large crustacean, albeit more unnatural and considerably more intimidating-looking. However, it was still a flesh-and-blood person beneath the casing of metal, and she’d been perplexed by how the soldiers were treated by those who she assumed were their superiors. Being an uncannily perceptive person, she’d noticed that they weren’t treated as equals, or daresay even as fellow humans. This was one of the most puzzling things she’d come across in her time spent amongst this peculiar and unpredictable species, and although she’d had no problem accepting and overlooking the many quirks which defined humankind, this particular attribute didn’t sit quite as well with her. However, it was not her place to question what she didn’t understand, so she refrained from doing so, albeit with a grain of unease.

Finally seeming to come to terms with the fact that she’d extricated as much of the ice as possible from her hair and that the rest would probably just melt, she tucked it back behind her ears, with only limited success, as most of it just cascaded down to frame her face once again. Wrapping her arms around her knees in an attempt to conserve as much heat as possible, she let her gaze drift back to her companion, who had chosen to reply after a brief moment of hesitation. At his response, she nodded lightly in quiet assent; she’d guessed as much. So now it looked relatively certain that they would be spending at least the next few hours cooped up in this rundown old fortress of a building. She smiled softly at his considerate questions, her features lit up in the flickering warmth of the fire as she shook her head. “Not unless you can conjure a space-heater, bed, and down comforter out of thin air.” She laughed lightly, feeling some of the chill in the air that had nothing to do with the temperature melt away. “I think I’ll make it.”

“So, since we have all this time to kill and nothing better to do while we wait for nature to run its course, why don’t we get to know each other a little better?” The warmth in her voice was genuine as she glanced over at the soldier, her light blue eyes bright and inquisitive. “I’m sure they probably told you more about me than they told me about you. For starters though, I’m Amphitrite, but feel free to abbreviate that as you see fit. Take my word, it gets a little onerous to say after a while.” With an amiable smile, she fell silent, allowing her companion to pick up the conversation as he liked. As she waited, she made to scoot a little closer to the fire, but as soon as she had laid her hands on the frigid stone floor to shift herself forward, she yanked them back with a brief sound of surprise. She winced slightly in dismay as she watched a small trickle of crimson form from a surprisingly wide gash on the palm of her right hand, caused by a stray shard of glass –or perhaps it was crystal – that happened to lay next to her, probably from a broken window, or something of the sort. Luckily, the wound was wide, but not very deep; it was more the surprise than the pain that had gotten to her, and for a moment, she was thankful for the numbing cold which masked the throbbing sting of the fresh cut. Well, she thought to herself with a touch of ironic humor, it seemed that being cooped up in here was already proving to be more eventful than she had originally been expecting.

[MillietheWarrior]

Dusty laughed, a rich, deep sound that was sweeter than honey and full of warmth. He seemed like nothing more than a good-natured man, a man who enjoyed the simple pleasures in life and asked and wanted for nothing. Dusty wasn’t the kind of man who got riled up easily; his even temper, and sense of humor often led him to be one of the most easy going people one could hope to meet. But it wasn’t all smiles and sunshine with him; Dusty was a solider, a killer, a man who fought and bled and would even go so far as to die for a war that was not his own. There was a closed off darkness that he kept hidden away deeply inside himself. It was a darkness that was born of bitterness, guilt, and anger at the unfairness of his life, but there was no one who could ever say they either knew about this secret part of him, or had ever seen it. For all intents and purposes, Dusty was a well-meaning, and kind-natured man.

“Reckon I can’t do that fancy trick, ma’am. Ahm jes a simple solider, not a magic man.” His eyes flickered towards her, catching the glow of the fire and turning a warm, copper brown. He regarded her with something akin to curiosity and confusion, though his gaze was kind as he studied her. “I don’t if that’s a good idea, ma’am. We ain’t exactly on the same level, ya know. Ahm not really the kind o’ man ya’ll wanna git to know, Miss Amphitrite.” He seemed hesitant, looking from the fire, to her, and then out to the darkness, as if maybe the emptiness of the shrine held the answers he sought to tell her and make her understand that fraternization between a simple clone and an ambassador was taboo. “But I don’t see no reason I can’t tell ya my name, I ‘spose.Ain't no harm in it. Ahm RC-Five-oh-seven. But muh brothers call me Dusty.”

He fell silent again, as if he’d now said his peace and felt no more reason to speak. But the startled sound that escaped from his charge’s mouth had Dusty leaping to his feet, drawing his sidearm and glancing around. But it was silent, and there was no movement in the vast emptiness of the shrine. Confused, Dusty glanced down a the woman and holstered his weapon, staring at her with a concerned expression. “Somethin’ wrong, Miss Amphitrite? What happened?” He stepped around the fire, and kneeled down beside her, looking her over with a keen gaze and searching for the source of her pain. He found it in a small black crystal, which he held up to observe in the firelight. With a growl, he dropped it back on the ground with a clatter, and his gloved hands found her own as he lifted her injured palm for inspection. He hissed in sympathy, and grabbed a bacta patch from the front pocket of his belt, gently laying it over the cut to keep out infection and help the healing process.

He then reached into the back pouch on his belt and pulled out an orange handkerchief. It wasn’t certain where it came from, but Dusty’s face hardened momentarily as he looked at it, before he tied it securely around her hand. “Sorry ‘bout that, Miss Amphitrite. Shoulda made sure it was safe fer you afore I let ya settle down some. Should be fine though; ain’t too deep of a cut, and that bacta will have ya fixed up sure as shootin’.” He stood and stared down at her, smiling in his warm, easy-tempered way. “You gonna be all right out here? I reckon it was plumb foolish of you to want ta come all the way out into the wilds, beggin‘ your pardon, ma‘am. But this ain‘t no place fer you.”

[Flame]

At his response, she chuckled lightly. “No, I didn’t figure you to be a man taken with that sort of hocus-pocus business either. You seem too down-to-earth to take stock in that sort of thing.” When he paused though, seeming to contemplate how to answer her question, she could see the hesitation in his face as he sought a reply. However, when he finally spoke up again, the curiosity in her gaze turned to mild concern, her eyes questioning, seeking an explanation for his sudden reserve. She felt like it wasn’t that he wasn’t willing to share, but rather the fact that something else was causing him to hold back and remain distant.

“Really? And why might that be?” There was only polite inquisitiveness in her voice as she questioned him, watching him for any telling signs which might give the reason for his guardedness away. “The way I see it, we’re both human, aren’t we? And after all, there’s not much difference between you and I besides what’s written in our job descriptions.” Well, that wasn't exactly true all the time, at least on her part, but it was right now, and that was what mattered. Sitting back slightly, she tilted her head lightly to one side as she observed him, as if trying to puzzle him out with her gaze alone. “Is that right? Then tell me, what kind of man is it that I should want to get to know?” She quirked an eyebrow lightly, but her expression still remained mildly amused. Being who she was, she wasn’t familiar with the unspoken rules and protocol which dictated the life of a Clone.

When he introduced himself though, his words brought an unpleasant surprise. They were designated by number? A brief flicker of dismayed disbelief flashed through her gaze for a moment as she eyed her companion, seeming to see him in a new light. She’d thought that the treatment they received was unfair, but this…this was simply inhumane. It was like numbering the products off of a manufacturing line; to be used, worn-out, broken, replaced. She couldn’t have known about the details of the treatment the soldiers received, how they were tossed about and treated like objects, not living, breathing human beings, but she knew that there was something sickeningly wrong about the current circumstances. However, regardless of what she thought, she felt as if it would be both rude and insensitive for her to ask about it, at least, not at this moment. “Dusty, hmm?” She tested the name, her own faint accent giving it an entirely different quality from when he said it. “Would you mind if I called you that as well, then? Numbers just seem so…callous. Detached.”

At his concerned questioning after she managed to injure herself, she simply shook her head, a light grimace on her face. “It’s nothing. Just me being clumsy.” She still wasn’t quite accustomed to this flesh-and-blood body yet; it was different, having to worry about physical injury. It was no wonder that all these people seemed to live in a constant state of paranoia and anxiety; you never knew if the next moment could be the last since a body was so prone to accidents. At least half of life was based on luck alone, a fact that was somewhat unsettling. As he kneeled next to her to examine her cut, she compliantly offered the injured hand for inspection. His gloved hands were cold against her skin, and she hoped that the armor was warmer on the inside than it seemed on the outside, otherwise, he’d be half frozen to death by now. When he took the blame for her wound upon himself, she merely shook her head lightly in reply. “No, it was just my own carelessness. The fault wasn’t yours.”

Her gaze followed his hands quietly as he patched her up, wincing slightly at the mild sting of the bacta before he secured it with an orange handkerchief. At his concerned question, she chuckled. “I’ll be fine. I wanted to come out here because there’s just so much that I wanted to see. You don’t get to see this sort of stuff, at least, not if you come from where I do.” Tucking her bound hand safely against the warmth of her body, she looked up at him, returning the relaxed smile. “I’m sure you know how that feels, don’t you? To want to break away from the familiar for a while just to see what lies in wait in the new, unfamiliar, untried?”