((Wouldn't be the first time I've done a Trek and Wars crossover, probably wouldn't be the last. Got an idea in mind? :D?))

One day, theoretically, Delia would crash somewhere nice. Like a resort planet or something. Or maybe into a treasure trove of riches and rare artifacts.

That day, however, was not today.

While Delia had been keen to avoid too many specifics with her strange story, as she said she encountered some sort of spatial anomaly, which set her off course, and sent her craft crashing down onto this not-so-fun planet.

There was clear surprise when her distress signal was detected, when the stranger arrived. Delia didn't immediately recognize the clothes or technology she was carrying (to say nothing of the fact that something in the planet's atmosphere played merry hell with just about everything but her translator).

"I managed to get the blast shutters closed over the broken windows, and most of the water drained from the forward hull, so we won't be in ankle deep icy water anymore at least." Delia explained as she sat back down with a soft grunt. Truth be told telling her she looked a little like hell might've been a compliment, her uniform and jacket were already torn, to say nothing of the fact that she was, frankly, fucking drenched.

That said, the other woman did speak sense. With the ship crashed (and at a slight forward leaning position besides), the only thing Delia could get power to was some of the emergency lighting. Of her crew, she wasn't the accomplished engineer--as there was a reason she had two of those.

Delia tilted her head, regarding her with that one good eye of hers, the other hidden by the leather eyepatch, and her eyebrow quirked upwards slightly. In both mild amusement, and a sort of inquisitive way. "Alright, but I should probably warn you. I don't know how much, if anything, you know about my species, but I'll start by asking: Does the word 'Orion' mean anything to you in that context?"

If they were going to be in close quarters for an extended period, this ....might get complicated. As stated, Delia doesn't recognize the clothing Mal's wearing, or any of their icons of affiliation. She has, honestly, no idea what to expect from her.

All that said, Delia's already shrugging out of her jacket, briefly regarding it with a frustrated look, before dropping it aside to lean forward and unzip her boots while she awaits the other's answer.

As Delia tugs off one of her boots, she underhand tosses it to land next to the heating unit, and as she works on the the other, she debates how to phrase what she wants to say next. Especially since this woman had no idea. There's a brief moment where she shivers when her bare foot touches the deck plating as well.

After she tosses the other boot over. "My species, in general, exude a kind of pheromone. Mine in particular aren't super strong, but if we're going to be keeping one another warm underneath a thermal blanket, I feel like I should warn you."

She starts on her belt next, unclasping it and working it, and the various holsters off of her hips. "It... tends to induce arousal, if you find yourself attracted to me." Delia cuts a sideways glance at Mal, snorting a little at the curse. "Knowing about it helps with ignoring it, but since we're going to be in very close quarters for at least several hours, I think full disclosure is necessary."

It was one of those stereotypes about Orions Delia wasn't super fond of--she believed in consent. Sharing a moment. Intimacy. And doing so willingly, and at one's own desire.

Admittedly, Mal didn't know this, not being familiar with Delia's species, but still.

It was Important. Especially important, that she tell Mal.

"As to where I'm from that's ...Complicated." Delia set the belt aside. "And may take a bit more explaining once we're more settled."

Ungh. Her shirt and trousers were equally soaked, and, frankly, so was her underwear. Delia cut another glances towards Mal, and moved to take off her uniform top and shirt next, exposing more of that deep, jade green skin.

"Not familiar with that species, but if they exude pheromones, it's probably similar." Delia explained, reaching behind her back to unhook her own bra, this one was also utilitarian, probably closest to an Earth sports bra.

Indeed, more of Delia's skin was revealed, a deep jade green over sensual curve. She, too, had scarring here and there over her torso and stomach, lighter green scars over deeper green skin.

She had to stop and stare for a moment as Mal caught her shirt with the force. "Hm. Telekinetic. Interesting."

Now, it was time for Delia's trousers. There was a bit of a snort at more of Mal's cursing, as Delia shook her head. "Nngh. Don't like the cold.." She grumbles under her breath as she unhooks, and pushes her pants down the swell of her hips. The underwear beneath is black, high cut, and simple, as Delia hadn't really planned on stripping today.

But best laid plans and all of that. "And to be fair, I don't mind a bit of extra warmth, I don't tolerate the cold very well." There was a playful smile on her face, shifting her own weight a bit to try to avoid sitting down while taking off her pants. And also keeping only one foot on the cold, metal floor.

This took a bit of bending, a little bit of finagling, and maaaaaybe a bit of bouncing, but she got one leg, then the other, out of the trousers, which she then went to drape over the line herself.

Of course, being behind her, this also gave Mal a view of Delia's back, and the mild scars that criss-crossed the expanse of her back, here and there. There weren't many, but.

To save herself the trip, right next to the line is where Delia pushed her underwear down, letting the cloth drop to her ankles, which she stepped out of, and kicked upwards to toss into her hand, and hang on the line, she was starting to shiver a little in the cold. "Nngh. Fuck this godsdamned cold planet. Couldn't have crashed somewhere warm...."

That really is the thing, isn't it? Delia's clearly not recognizing certain key terms she should be, if she was from Mal's area of space. As it is, Delia's not questioning too much of it as of yet, as she's figuring out what she doesn't know from context clues. Jedi, for instance, is either Mal's race or species, or some organization she's a part of.

She suspects the latter, more than the former, but isn't one hundred percent sure (closer to like. Eighty-five percent).

Delia, meanwhile, whether it was an Orion thing, a Delia thing, or the likely combination of both, had no real strict nudity taboo. She didn't mind being naked, and certainly didn't see it as nearly a big deal as others might've. She simply understood this was not exactly the norm for most species.

That said, clothes were definitely convenient. Pockets, for instance, or to accent one's appearance. And she had a fondness for pretty clothing, as well.

Nude, but for the eye patch she was wearing--which, being leather, wasn't as wet as the rest of her clothing, Delia looked Mal over with a thoughtful nod, and padded over to join her under the blanket. "For the record, I do appreciate this," The Orion stated as she settled down onto the thermal bedding to get under the blanket with a soft groan, glad to be off of her feet. It had been a long day.

Up close, Delia wasn't simply curvaceous, there was clear muscle beneath the curve, while not a runner or dancer's build, the green skinned woman was clearly strong in her own right. "Not everyone typically goes out of their way to save some stranger to your neighborhood like this."

Hopefully Mal doesn't have too many personal space issues, because once they get settled, Delia's shifting to cuddle close for skin contact. She's behaving herself, at least, for the moment, but she's also cold, and Mal's a source of shared warmth.

That, and any text Mal can see is in some language she likely doesn't recognize, with icons she's probably never seen before, given most of the language is in tlhIngan Hol, as it's a Klingon shuttle from Delia's ship.

Delia settles in, nice and close. All soft and sensual curve against Mal's side. The Orion sighs a little, her shivering already starting to lessen. To say that Mal's athletic form against hers is having no effect would be a lie, but they're still largely strangers, despite the intimacy of the moment.

Scars aside, Delia's skin is nice and soft otherwise, though her hands are lightly rough from handling weapons, whenever Mal feels them brush against her when Delia readjusts as she gets settled.

"Mm, the job of a Jedi?" Delia asks, an inquisitive eyebrow quirking with the curious tilt to her voice, as she leaned up slightly to rest her cheek on her palm, so she could watch the other woman's face. "I've been assuming it's an organization of some kind, but I might be wrong, since I'm inadvertently new to the area."

Delia is, among other things, a very tactile individual. She enjoys contact for contact's sake, to say nothing of the fact that she's not freezing her gorgeous green ass off as much anymore. The thermal blanket and the combined body heat of both herself and Mal making things a bit more comfortable and easier to relax.

Of course, this is relevant, because when Mal shifts to look at her, some of the other woman's hair falls a little in her face. Delia reaches with her other hand to gently brush it aside so it's not in her eyes. "Well, it's as I said, although my statement was semi-accurate." Delia explains, with another sigh, although this more an irritated one at the situation that lead her here--even if the current result was pleasant. "I crossed through the spatial anomaly. Theoretically, if we find it again, I can cross back through and get home."

Delia glanced towards the pilot's seat. "Having my sensor logs would help, but something about this planet, or this storm, or both, is causing my ship's systems and most of my equipment to throw fits. I was lucky I got the lights to work, or we'd be laying in the dark."

A shrug of a bare, green shoulder. "I'm hoping the damage isn't too serious, windows aside. With the blast shutters closed, it's airtight, but I'm not exactly an engineer, even if I can manage a hack-job here and there."

If Mal's touch starved, Delia's a buffet lounging pressed against her side. Soft and warm in so many places, particularly a pair of which pressed against her arm with the way Delia's now laying on her side, her cheek against her her own palm.

"Mhm." Delia hums a bit. "My crew is likely trying to figure out how to cross it safely, since I'm reasonably sure they detected my shuttle flipping out when I crossed the threshold." To be fair, she survived. And didn't turn into some kind of weird lizard.

Delia nods tapping the side of her head thoughtfully, "Those're largely the conclusions I've come to as well, too." She replies, her tone thoughtful as well. "I didn't really get a good luck at the exterior damage, with the ice and snow covering broad portions of the outer hull."

"The big problem's the engine. If we can't get that started, even if she's spaceworthy, getting her to move is also an important part." Delia's eyebrows furrow as she frowns, her hand resting so near Mal's shoulder, but so, so far. "We might be able to jury rig something, but 'hyperspace' is a term I'm unfamiliar with. I'm assuming from context, that's your counterpart to a warp drive?"

She shrugs a bit, then gives a bit of a winning smile. "But I am adaptable, particularly with amenable company. So if I'm stuck here for a bit, I can adapt."

There's a playful, flirty tone to that, but honestly, half of anything she she says has that.

To be fair, they're not very hard at all, Mal. They're very soft and quite warm. And they're right there.

"Fair, even if they do cross over, it's likely to pick me up and immediately leave. Getting involved in the affairs of another dimension is bound to be messy." Delia makes a bit of a face, "But I do understand. If we can get the comm system working, we might be able to send a message."

Delia's purview includes tactics. Flying. Information. And knowing people gives her a hand in diplomacy.

She knows ... some engineering.

Delia's eyebrows shoot upwards in surprise, "Twenty-five thousand years? Gods above."

As to how to explain warp drive.... Admittedly, this is in her purview as a pilot! The Orion woman thinks for a moment, for the simplest way to explain how one warps space to go really fast.

Delia brings up a hand, two fingers pinched together, "You ever shoot a seed or smooth stone from between your fingers like this to send it a distance? It works kind of like that, generating a bubble-field that uh. Interacts with Subspace, if you know what that is, to send our ships at interstellar speeds."

"Something like that, yes." Delia nods, clear amusement on her face, good eye alight a bit "I don't know the exact mechanics of how the drive warps space, I just know what it does, and how to make it do what I want it to do. I've always been more of a pilot than an engineer."

There's another shrug on Delia's part, as she shifts to get a little closer again. Mal's excited sitting up having let some of the cold back under the blankets, and her rolling onto her side.

Oh hey, they're pressed up against Mal's chest now. Isn't that neat?

There may also be legs brushing against legs. Mmm. Warm.

"Most of the civilizations in my reality use some version of this engine type or another." Delia adds. "So while we haven't been at it for twenty-five thousand years," She boops Mal's nose with a finger playfully, feeling a little silly in face of her excitement, "There's been a lot of refining it from different angles."

"I've usually had friends who were more engineering-ly inclined, so it was something I didn't need know too much on how to do." Delia snorts a bit, a little amused, "Of course, it does lead to occasional problems like this, a solo mission, a crashed shuttle, and I have to wait for a pick-up or something similar."

The Force is Weird™ that way, and it's not as if all Jedi are absolutely required to be celibate, right?

When Mal changes the subject, Delia quirks a curious eyebrow again, watching the other woman carefully. "Well... It's not really something I have explicit control over like your telekinetic powers or something similar," the Orion explains, "Most Orions' Pheromones are airborne, mine, through some weird quirk of genetics or another, are mostly in my bodily fluids. My sweat, saliva, so on and so forth."

Delia makes a sort of vague, accompanying gesture with one hand as she explains. "So I can't really... control how they make you feel, or intensify the effect, except, well."

Her bright blue eye meets the Jedi's eyes, "Through prolonged intimate contact."

That said, Delia's arm is starting to trail along Mal's arm and over her hip. "I mean...."

There's a slow, playful smile, Delia's eye alight with mischief, "There's something to be said about both generating more warmth through action, and furthering relations between two individuals who just met."

If there's one thing Delia Battista lacks, it's shame. The Orion wiggles a little, tangling her legs with Mal's, arching to press her body more tightly to the other woman's. Delia's voice dipped lower, more sultry, "Which is to say, my daring rescuer, I say yes." And she closed the distance, kissing the other woman softly, and sighing contentedly into it.

There's an amused, low, throaty chuckle at Mal's reaction as Delia leans in for that second kiss, humming contentedly as they meet again, hands sliding through the other woman's hair, nails raking and exploring.

"Mmmm." Delia hums as the kiss s l o w l y breaks, her forehead resting against Mal's for a moment. "Been a while for you?"

The Orion woman is many things, observant is probably one of the highest things on the list, she saw the signs--that Mal seemed a little touch starved.

In addition to that, Delia's shifting, to gently urge Mal onto her back, so the Orion can both straddle her, and lay atop her. She tugs the blanket with, so that it stays on top of them both when she gets resettled, she slides both hands through Mal's hair, tilting her head to kiss gently at the other's palm as she touches her face.

All wamrth and soft curve, with muscle beneath. Delia continues gently playing with Mal's hair, letting her other hand lazily explore along Mal's arm and side. Where does she like to be touched?