𝗔𝗵𝘀𝗼𝗸𝗮 𝗧𝗮𝗻𝗼

Chapter Thirteen

⚠️ TW: again, not terrible but just in case — sensitive topics

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Darra wasn't stupid.

Far from it, really.

In fact, she prided herself on being decently intelligent (at least, compared to the majority of the slums who frequented the streets and taverns of the level — although, that wasn't exactly saying much).

She wasn't blind to the looks of the group of males aimed at the back of the Togruta — nor the corresponding bruises littering both the girl and the males bodies.

And, unfortunately, she also wasn't blind to the swollen red marks along the girls collarbone and neck, peeking through her shirt. Or the way she had refused to meet the eyes of the glaring men at the first sign of their malevolence (though Darra was proud to say that the girl had gotten over that part fairly quickly).

But the thing that really caught Darras attention was the raw fear that presented itself to the room as the piercing-adorned bartender entered the kitchens and spotted the small Togruta.

She stiffened, as if sensing his presence by the door even though her back was to him — though she seemed to forcibly relax her muscles as though nothing had even happened.

She turned, staring calculatingly at the man, as if judging more than his appearance.

His face paled and he turned, briskly forcing his way back through the double doors he had just come through.

The Togruta stared after him, the white face markings above her eyes furrowed, and her mouth slightly twisted in thought.

Then she turned back to her work like a fully grown man didn't just run away from her in fear.

Again, Darra wasn't stupid — but she was utterly confused on what was going on with this mysterious girl.

...

Ahsokas heart was pounding.

She wasn't sure whether or not she felt satisfaction from the bartenders fear or not — she really just felt numb.

It was nice, she admitted, that he most likely wouldn't be bothering her anymore.

But still — she really didn't know what to feel.

It was like her emotions were at war with each other — should she feel angry? Scared? What about shame? She didn't know, but she did know that she probably shouldn't feel proud or happy that she had caused his fear — otherwise, how was she any better than him?

The galaxy was confusing place, and Ahsoka was never one for philosophy — as proven by her abysmal Theory grade from her classes at the Temple (She had not wanted to face Anakin after that, though he hadn't even seemed too upset with her when he found out — though she guessed he just didn't want to be a hypocrite).

Even if the universe was too complex for her to handle at the moment, washing dishes was not. She got back to work, scrubbing the plates and ignoring the excruciating aches and the sharp burns of pain seeming to bring everything to a low buzz around her.

She heard footsteps behind her, but she didn't turn, too zoned out from her smarting body to really comprehend anything other than immediate problems.

She wished she had turned.

She heard shallow breathing line up next to her head, and felt sickeningly warm breath against the side of her face.

Warm breath wet the back of her montrals...

A cold hand wove it's way under her arm, gripping her hipbone.