Kira Veylan
Just a Scratch
Dee’ja Peak slumbered beneath the weight of stormclouds, the sharp ridgelines swallowed in sheets of rain. The Abrantes estate, built into the cliffside like a sentinel of old Naboo stonework, stood lit in scattered fragments. Patrol lamps tracing the grounds where guards made their rounds with steady discipline.
From her perch in the upper shadows of a carved terrace, Kira watched. Continuing to catalog movements. Updating timetables. Her eyes faintly glowing behind the contacts she wore. The guards moved with practiced rhythm, their patrol routes precise but now predictable. Her cybernetic arms, armored from shoulder to claw, held her in place against slick stone as easily as if she were perched on level ground. She had been still for hours, head tilted, crimson neon glow from a distant city-reflector painting sharp edges across her wet hair.
Her gaze was fixed not on the guards, but on the woman beyond them. The Mandalorian Representative Sibylla Abrantes of Naboo. Kira had tracked her movements from the council chamber to the estate, noting the ease with which Sibylla masked her nerves beneath practiced poise.
Even here, in her ancestral home, she kept her shoulders square, her steps measured, as though performing for an audience that never left her sight.
Kira gave hints of her presence throughout the day, small signs meant to gnaw at composure. A glint of metal in the rain-dappled window glass earlier, gone when Sibylla looked again. The faint scrape of steel on stone as Kira shifted her weight above a balcony at the council chambers. Too fleeting to confirm, too pointed to ignore. Attempting to plant the kind of dread that rooted itself in the mind and flowered long after darkness fell.
She continued to watch. Continued to wait. A single moment that would make Kira move forward with her mission that had yet to arrive as rain continued to pelt her.
Cold and dense as the metal in her arms.
Later, deeper into the night, the storm thickened. Guards drew their cloaks tighter, their lights cutting narrow tunnels through sheets of water. Sibylla, restless, had retired early to her private chamber at the far end of the estate. The incense of Naboo flora hung heavy in the air, sweet and calming as it fought the scent of rain and earth outside.
The lock on Sibylla's door was strong, but strength was a relative thing.
Her body moved with the practiced ease of crawling through the packed density that made Denon what it was. Hunting her targets through alleys, rooftops, and the inner workings of buildings. This was just a more opulent, if isolated, location.
Her claws cut into the building as she descended carefully. Her timetable was on schedule as she reached a booted foot against the railing of the balcony. Crouching by it in silence as guards passed below her, foot-long claws extending with a whisper as they slid through the mechanism. Metal yielded with a muted click, the sound so delicate it could have been the storm outside.
And not the predator moving through the stormy night.
She entered without ceremony, a shadow gliding across the polished floor as the door hung open now. Rain clung to her hair, dripping onto the rug, but she made no sound otherwise. She smelled faintly of storm and steel, a sharp tang at odds with the floral perfume of the chamber.
Kira crouched at the far edge of the light that didn't quite reach the door, a figure of dark hair and gleaming cybernetics as lightning flashed behind her. Cybernetic arms ending in claws that brushed the floor, their edges catching the glow of the room's light.
Each claw threatened the floor beneath her as they settled rather than gouging to hold her fast. Her claws retracted with a muted click finally when the thunder cracked moments later. No longer the foot long curved blades. Returning the hooked fingers that were normal for Kira as she slowly rose to stand upright.
She said nothing, only watched the woman, the tilt of her head predatory as the sound of thunder faded.
From her perch in the upper shadows of a carved terrace, Kira watched. Continuing to catalog movements. Updating timetables. Her eyes faintly glowing behind the contacts she wore. The guards moved with practiced rhythm, their patrol routes precise but now predictable. Her cybernetic arms, armored from shoulder to claw, held her in place against slick stone as easily as if she were perched on level ground. She had been still for hours, head tilted, crimson neon glow from a distant city-reflector painting sharp edges across her wet hair.
Her gaze was fixed not on the guards, but on the woman beyond them. The Mandalorian Representative Sibylla Abrantes of Naboo. Kira had tracked her movements from the council chamber to the estate, noting the ease with which Sibylla masked her nerves beneath practiced poise.
Even here, in her ancestral home, she kept her shoulders square, her steps measured, as though performing for an audience that never left her sight.
Kira gave hints of her presence throughout the day, small signs meant to gnaw at composure. A glint of metal in the rain-dappled window glass earlier, gone when Sibylla looked again. The faint scrape of steel on stone as Kira shifted her weight above a balcony at the council chambers. Too fleeting to confirm, too pointed to ignore. Attempting to plant the kind of dread that rooted itself in the mind and flowered long after darkness fell.
She continued to watch. Continued to wait. A single moment that would make Kira move forward with her mission that had yet to arrive as rain continued to pelt her.
Cold and dense as the metal in her arms.
Later, deeper into the night, the storm thickened. Guards drew their cloaks tighter, their lights cutting narrow tunnels through sheets of water. Sibylla, restless, had retired early to her private chamber at the far end of the estate. The incense of Naboo flora hung heavy in the air, sweet and calming as it fought the scent of rain and earth outside.
The lock on Sibylla's door was strong, but strength was a relative thing.
Her body moved with the practiced ease of crawling through the packed density that made Denon what it was. Hunting her targets through alleys, rooftops, and the inner workings of buildings. This was just a more opulent, if isolated, location.
Her claws cut into the building as she descended carefully. Her timetable was on schedule as she reached a booted foot against the railing of the balcony. Crouching by it in silence as guards passed below her, foot-long claws extending with a whisper as they slid through the mechanism. Metal yielded with a muted click, the sound so delicate it could have been the storm outside.
And not the predator moving through the stormy night.
She entered without ceremony, a shadow gliding across the polished floor as the door hung open now. Rain clung to her hair, dripping onto the rug, but she made no sound otherwise. She smelled faintly of storm and steel, a sharp tang at odds with the floral perfume of the chamber.
Kira crouched at the far edge of the light that didn't quite reach the door, a figure of dark hair and gleaming cybernetics as lightning flashed behind her. Cybernetic arms ending in claws that brushed the floor, their edges catching the glow of the room's light.
Each claw threatened the floor beneath her as they settled rather than gouging to hold her fast. Her claws retracted with a muted click finally when the thunder cracked moments later. No longer the foot long curved blades. Returning the hooked fingers that were normal for Kira as she slowly rose to stand upright.
She said nothing, only watched the woman, the tilt of her head predatory as the sound of thunder faded.