A Slap on the Wrist

[Valgærd]

My heart was in my throat.

I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. I swung my pack over my shoulder, trotting to catch up to Father as we left the building. He was so big and tall, with such long legs, it was hard to keep up. Especially when he was mad.

And today, he was mad.

I had changed out of my dress, put on a sensible tunic and pants. My head was down, hair braided. I so desperately wanted to turn around behind me, to throw one last glance at the building we’d just left. But father wouldn’t approve of me showing even the littlest bit of weakness.

Sith are not weak.

I grimaced as I hurried to keep up with him, biting my lip so I wouldn’t look behind me. All around us, the city bustled. People moved down the streets. Airspeeders roared overhead. There was shouting and droning and bargaining and ads and it was all so loud.

I couldn’t help it.

Keeping one shoulder shrugged to stop my pack from slipping off, I put both hands over my eyes. I just wanted to drown it out. Father was a few steps in front of me, black robes billowing behind him, his white skin and hair my beacon to follow. At six and a half feet, it was easy to follow him through the crowd.

So, follow him I did, keeping my eyes on his back so I could pull my hands away from my ears if he looked like he was going to turn around.

Something caught my eye, a stuffed toy hanging from a vendor’s stall. I turned, instantly feeling drawn to it. It was silly, just a fluffy white bantha. Maybe it was the fact that it was white, or that it was fluffy or cute. I didn’t know. I didn’t care. My chest hurt, a pang shooting through it. Father would never let me have such a thing. Toys were for the weak.

Sith are not weak.

So, I turned back around.

And there was father.

“I’m sorr—” I tried to cry in a panic.

My world was suddenly flipped as a hard slap across my cheek sent me sprawling to the ground. I cried out, shrieking as the pain lashed across my face and up my arms from where I’d hit the pavement. I was hurt, confused, disoriented, winded… I stayed on the ground as his shadow fell over me.

“Emberly.” He boomed, his deep baritone crushing me as his shadow seemed to smother me. “I am disappointed. Why am I disappointed?”

I took a shuddering breath, forcing myself to speak around the lump in my throat as tears spilled down my cheeks,

“B-because” I began, my voice tiny and cracked, like a little broken glass, “because I showed weakness.”

I yelped as he suddenly swooped down, his hand grabbing a chunk of my hair and yanking me up to my feet,

“No. Emberly. Again.” He spat, holding his head close to mine.

“B-because I am weak.” I whimpered, choking back tears.

He dropped me. I landed with a gasp in a heap. I just wanted to cry, to curl up into a ball and block out the world. But I dare not show anymore weakness now, father was angry enough already. Even saying sorry could push him over the edge. I pulled myself to my feet, keeping my head bowed low, clinging to the straps of my bag.

And yet through all of this, everyone around us just seemed to keep walking. They all just proved father right; no one cares to help the weak.

And sith are not weak.


[member="Zephyr Carrick"]

 

[Garza]

Eshan was a world owned by a corrupt government. One that seemed a little fishy. While I might have normally gone through the channel through the CIS to figure out why the planet was seemingly all of the one mind, I was already here. Doing this of my own accord. Maybe it would look good on my record, but more so I needed to do my job for my family and my clan. They required that I fulfill my duty to protect them. While some people may think differently about what protecting means, I saw it as a means of prevention. Preventing potential threats from ever encountering us.

Honestly, I had no clue where to start. Part of me wanted to just charge in and demand answers, but that would get a target on my back very quickly. Moreover, it would draw attention to the Confederacy. I didn't want that. Walking through the street, I would just simply look about. Attempting to find anyone who would glance my way. Or attempting to flee away from me. Using intimidation as a tool instead of asking. People who would squirm under pressure hid away from those who carried themselves with force and with conviction. Standing there, I could barely feel the breeze through the clothing of my armor. I did know that my scarf was waving a little in the wind. Just a bit for me to notice, but not standing horizontal to the ground.

So many emotions. I could feel them all. I fed on them to increase my own powers in battle, but currently, I could just feel them. However, I got a sense of dread. One of almost fear. A small signature that created such a massive range of those emotions. Untamed potential. At first I thought it may be someone who I could recruit. Yet as I walked towards the source, I found a man. He stood well taller than me. Maybe by a couple inches, but his force presence was powerful enough. I could have a problem with him if he were to fight, but not all too difficult. I sized the man up. Clearly a Sith or a darker individual than some I have seen in the past, I did notice a child walking behind him. Clutching her ears. The sounds of the city must be worrying here. So this is where I could feel the sense of fear and dread. However, that must not be it.

The child was looking at a toy through a window. All children desired toys of some kind. It was kind of like a Mandalorian and his rifle. It was his play thing and something to keep him busy. However, the figure in robes walked back over to the child and slapped her. She fell upon the ground hard. Instantly, I checked the roads. Crossing the street, the man yelled as who I assumed was his daughter. Yanking her up by her hair. My senses were flooded with pain. Pain of this being done more than once. Upon getting closer I could see some of the bruises she had. They were there for quite a while. Some were fading.

As a man who cared deeply for his own family, and a man who desired all people to be treated respectfully, even more so a girl, or a woman, I entered myself into the equation. I could hear her whimpers of being weak. How Sith are not weak. As the man turned around to once more walk off. I stood in his path. Well prepared for this confrontation.

"You should treat your daughter with respect. She is not a slave."

The armor I wore was meant for battle against other force users. My armor was built to inspire others to run away from me. If this man was going to treat his daughter like a slave, beat her from what I could see, and instill in her that people are not allowed to show weakness, then I will only return the favor to him.

Tenfold.

[member="Emberly Carrick"],

 

[Valgærd]

Father turned away from me, resuming his stride through the city.

It was strange, the feelings that I got when he did that. I was relieved, because it meant he was done hurting me for now. I was sad... no... I was drowning in sadness, guilt, because I'd disappointed him. Loneliness crept in, because he wouldn't even look at me. And I was guilty, because I'd failed him again. My face and arms were still stinging, my throat still strained from the lump that had formed.

But I ignored it all, channelling all that raw emotion into concentrating on just walking.

We didn't get very far.

Someone stepped in front of father.

He was not quite as tall as father, but that didn't seem to phase him. He squared up to him, telling him how he should treat me. My heart stopped for a moment. My entire body was filled with a torrent of emotions. On the one hand, I wanted to cower from him. He was challenging father, threatening him even. Hardly anyone risked doing that, and even fewer survived to warn others. This stranger, this man who challenged my father was a better Sith than I was. Shame, hot and viscus, crept up into my cheeks. That was what father expected of me. On the other hand, I was terrified. I had watched father kill men before. I hated it. He had to show me what it was like, what I would be doing in my future, but that hadn't made it any less horrible. I could feel the knot of dread tightening in my gut, my neck tensing, begging me to look away.

Yet, beyond all of that, there was a tiny part of me that flickered with... hope? Hope that... that someone would swoop in to rescue me, to carry me away somewhere safe? No, it couldn't be. I'd given up on those fantasies a long time ago.

Father simply stopped, staring down at the man. He cocked one eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest. His eyes narrowed, studying the man before him. I came up beside him, standing timidly just behind his robes. In that moment, I honestly didn't know which of them I feared more.

"How is it any business of yours, outsider?" He asked, that deep voice rumbling into the air.

I bit back a squeak, doing my best to remain still. But father wasn't done. He uncrossed his arms, reaching down with one arm to slide back his cloak, revealing the lightsaber on his belt.

"You step up to a Sith, and presume to command him on how to treat his own flesh and blood?" He watched the man before him, studying him for his reactions, "seeing as you're so interested in our family affairs, perhaps you'd like to know what I did to her mother? Tell me, boy, do you really want to do this?"

[member="Zephyr Carrick"]

 

[Garza]

Oh the man radiated arrogance. An aura of an ego if I ever saw one. His daughter was slowly hiding away from me, yet was also curious as to why I was here. Speaking about her in the third person to who I could only assume was her father. I could see her from the side of my vision while my helmet faced the man. The one orange eye faced him completely and he was left to stand there as he moved to fold his arms. Taunting me as I entered into his affairs. He then unfolded his arms to reveal a lightsaber he carried. I simply stood there. Unphased by his taunts. Calling me boy and even proclaiming himself as a Sith.

It seemed my time as an Exile has made some forget of my family name and what we have done to Sith, and their kind. I simply waved my hand down to my own belt where there were two lightsabers, and on my left thigh was a pistol. I clearly knew my way around weaponry to carry a pistol as a force user. Mandalorian training always told me to be preapred for anything and trained me to fight well. To respect those who are dear to you. If his flesh and blood was not dear to him, then he deserved no right, no honor to call himself of this innocent child's blood.

"The little girl is defenseless, and I doubt her mother died with a weapon in her hands. I will not so easily be bested."

If this really was going to get to it, then I was more than well prepared to face him. I had various skills he did not know of, and with my training of a Sith, Jedi, and Rogue force users, trained since birth in lightsaber and swordsmanship, with my heritage as a Mandalorian. I knew two hundred ways to kill him with a pen. Let alone two lightsabers and a pistol.

"Draw your weapon as fast as you can Sith. You won't get a second chance to hit me."

I didn't move from my spot. I didn't tense or move a muscle. I hardly even moved anything other than my jaw to speak to him. I would not move on this at all. He knew when I spoke, I meant it.

"That, is a promise."

[member="Emberly Carrick"],

 

[Valgærd]

Father smirked at the man.

I felt my heart trying to escape through my chest, beating so fast it had begun to hurt. I wanted to cling to father's robes, to bury my face in them, to hide until it was all over. But two things stopped me. The first, was the fact that I was still sore from a few moments ago when he'd punished me for showing weakness, no, for being weak. I was not about to do that again. Second, if father was about to attack the scary man in front of us, I didn't want to be holding onto his robes.

So instead, I laced my fingers together in front of me, biting my lip so it wouldn't tremble, and keeping my eyes on the scene before me. I didn't want to see anyone die. I didn't want father to hurt this man. I didn't want blood on my clothes again. It was warm and red and yucky and smells metallic and gross. I don't like blood, but... it's easier than focusing on... the other thing.

"F-father..." I began, taking a moment to stop my voice from quivering, "don't kill him, please."

Father turned from the man to look directly at me. I could tell by the way he kept his neck rigid that his attention was still mostly on the man before him. He scowled,

"What did you say, girl?"

His words rumbled with warning. He wasn't asking me to repeat what I'd said, he had heard me perfectly. He was giving me an opportunity to change it, a chance to correct myself. I shuddered, breaking his gaze and looking at the ground.

"Nothing, father."

I did correct myself. As much as I hated the prospect of him killing the man before us, as much as I was afraid for his life, guilt-ridden that he was going to die because of me... I would rather put up with all of that than turn father's wrath upon myself. I tasted blood in my mouth... my lip. I was biting down on it so hard it had begun to bleed. It stung, but rather than let him see, I sucked my bottom lip, the blood flowing onto my tongue so he wouldn't notice it. It tasted bad, like metal and salt, but in that moment, I didn't care.

Father turned back to the man, smirking once again.

"I could draw my saber against you. I could cut you down in the street if I wished. I sense power in you... You might even put up a decent fight. But... I have a better idea."

In the blink of an eye, father reached into his boot, pulling out a vibroknife. From his crouched position, he scooped around, slicing the blade through the air towards me. He continued the arc, turning completely and racing off into the crowd. For a large man he moved incredibly quickly.

At first, I didn't even feel anything. I wasn't quite sure what had happened.

Then, the blood.

I felt warm wetness on my chest, spreading rapidly. In the next instant I felt the pain, at the exact same moment I realised what had happened. It was a searing, tearing pain that lashed through me, sapping away all my strength. I opened my mouth to cry out, but instead of making a sound, I dropped to the ground. My heart raced, but my body was suddenly weak, like that knife had taken all of my strength with it. With one hand on the ground to keep myself up, I lifted the other to my neck. As tears rolled down my cheeks, I felt it,

A long, angry gash along my throat.

[member="Zephyr Carrick"]

 

[Garza]

The man continued to exude confidence. Standing defiant against my words. Yet the silence broke when the child spoke up. Saying not to kill me. I turned to her. Feeling the heart that this child had. She really didn't want any of us to die, nor any of us to be injured. She was innocent. A being that was pure of heart, and yet still being tainted by the man who claimed to be her father. He spoke up. Asking what she had said. She responded with nothing, but I knew the man heard her. He intimidated her. Bullied her. I was about to speak when the man spoke up. Just before drawing a knife and headed right to her.

I chased after him for a second. Trying to stop him as he spun around to stay away from me, swinging the knife. I ran after him into the crowd for a moment. Turning back around to see the child, I saw red. And a lot of it. Much more than I cared to see. Chase after the man, and make him pay for his crimes, or stay here. Aid the child. My heart was torn. I shook from pure anger for the man. I turned away, rushing over to the child quickly to pick her up and prevent her from falling over.

Holding her against my chest as I knelt down to pick her up, I spoke in a soft tone.

"Its okay. I am right here. Try not to move too much for me. Okay."

I didn't want her to move anything, or even try to speak. She was injured along the throat, and I didn't know how deep it was. Holding her aloft with my right arm, I reached with with my left. Biting down on the fingers of my left glove to yank them off. I slowly and gently pressed my hand to her neckline. Using a finger, as gently as I could, to feel how deep the wound was. Moving some skin aside to see it was deep enough to barely pierce the windpipe. She was going to have trouble breathing with blood entering her system. Blood was all over my fingers by now.

"This might hurt a little, but just hang on okay?"

I then gently covered my hand over the top of the wound. Others may have seen what we were doing, and it seemed none really cared. I hated that. Using the fear, dread, and the pain from the girl, I fueled myself to heal her. Slowly healing her windpipe first. Closing it off so that no more blood got into the system of her lungs, and stomach. I then slowly worked my way to healing her muscles and fibers to prevent more of the bleeding, but then stopped. Taking the glove that I had bitten off, and placed it over the wound and then held it down on her neck.

As much as I wanted to heal all of the wound now, The little girl has a fragile body. Healing all of it in one fell swoop could prove more harmful if I were mess up, or worse, Heal her too much and close her air way, or give her some form of a growth upon her neck.

"You should be fine, it will hurt, but I will take you somewhere safe okay? Only nod if you understand. Don't speak."

[member="Emberly Carrick"],

 

[Valgærd]

I tried to breathe.

The sound that came out was a horrible gurgle, it blocked my throat, spilling into my lungs, making them heavy. Panic was rising in my gut, my whole body starting to tremble. I was afraid. In that moment, I didn't care about being weak. Horrible pain tore through me, sapping away my strength. I tried to cry, but... my throat, something was horribly wrong. The edges of my vision had started to go dark. What was happening? Was this...?

People moved about the street, circling around me. At least... I think they were still doing that. I wasn't looking anymore. I was... I don't even know what I was doing. Just, crumbled in the street, scared, alone.

Something moved against me.

I was being picked up, cradled. Fighting to keep my eyes open, I looked up. Was it father, come back to get me? No... it was... the other man. I wanted to cry, to ask where father was, to fight my way out of his arms, but I was heavy all over. Everything hurt. Things were starting to go blurry. He spoke, telling me to keep still. I obeyed, not that it was difficult. My mouth opened and I tried to speak, to ask who he was, but nothing came out. He put his fingers on my throat, making me wince from the pain. It felt... wrong, like his fingers were touching something that they shouldn't be able to reach. I squeezed my eyes shut, whimpering

He spoke again, telling me that whatever he was about to do next would hurt. At that, my stomach tried to jump, my body wanting to raise my hands to protect myself. But everything felt so heavy. I could only nod.

The man pulled off his glove, placing his hand on my neck.

I tensed, wincing again as a new kind of pain seemed to lance through me. I wrinkled my nose, keeping my eyes shut. I have no idea how long he was there, making it hurt, but after a while, he pulled his hand back. I wanted to move a hand to my neck, to touch where it hurt, but I didn't. Maybe I was still too weak, maybe I was afraid of what he'd done. I don't know. But the pain had now subsided to a steady throb.

At his command, I nodded slightly, tilting my head as much as I could.

Who was this man? I stared up at the armor, the helmet, that one orange light. Should I stay here and wait for father to come back for me? Should I go with this man? I guess it was lucky that I couldn't really decide, there was no way I could walk on my own yet, let alone run away. I didn't believe in safe places. Nowhere had ever been safe enough from father, he had always found me.

But for now, anywhere seemed better than the street.


[member="Zephyr Carrick"]

 

[Garza]

The little girl attempted to speak. I shook my head at her as she finally understood that speaking was not going to help. Blood was covering all of her clothing, and it was covering me mostly on my breastplate, and hands. Pressing the glove against the wound in her neck, I was trying to prevent her from bleeding out. Taking her own hands, I placed them onto her neck and pressed down a moment.

"Keep that to your neck."

I then righted myself underneath her frame. Using one arm under her shoulder blades, and the second arm underneath the crook of her knees. Picking her up, she was... lighter than I expected. Malnourished if I ever saw it. The father, queen that he is, barely kept this girl alive as a slave. From what I could tell, the man was training her to be strong and to show no weakness. Yet, in doing so, he failed to take care of her, and properly keep her body from destroying itself. Let alone teaching her anything useful.

I felt a rage in my heart flaring for the man. Turning my head around to see the direction in which the man fled, I knew that I would be back for him. He knew it too, and so he would be running. He wouldn't stop until he knew I was dead. If I was willing to get into the family affairs like this, then he knew I would not stop with him running away. Standing up straight with the child in my arms, I tried to walk as fast as I could towards the spaceport. I didn't want to run because that would jostle her and excite her. Prompting more blood to be flowing. Breathing in, I used the force to try and ease some of her pain and discomfort. It would calm her down somewhat, and prevent so much from happening.

"Try and breathe easy."

Even if I stated that, she was being carried by a stranger, after being struck by her own father, and was being carried somewhere she did not know. How else did I think she would feel? I knew all of this, but wanted her to try her best. The little girl needed all the help she could get. The reason I headed for the spaceport, was because I had medical supplies upon my ship. Any hospital would ask to see identification of myself, the girl, name and everything else. Then when she was given the help, it would take a very lengthy process to get her back or to let alone even see her.

I cared deeply for this girl for some unknown reason to me. The feeling of having a father that treated your poorly, the feeling of having them betray you and treat you less than a slave. It... hurt in ways I never thought of. This girl needed my attention. She needed it now. So I would give it to her. Even as we passed through the hangar, the man yelled at me to get her to the hospital.

"She needs medical aid!"
"I know dumbass! She is bleeding over me."
"I'll call them to come get her."
"NO!"

Even as I walked past him, he was thrown up into the air and let to drop back down. This was probably a stupid decision on my part, but I had to get her out of here. The ships ramp was already open. Walking up, I heard the sirens starting to go off. I focused through the force. Using Telekinesis to start the ship and prepare it for lift off. It was already leaving the hangar before I even laid her down upon the bed in my quarters. Setting her there, I pointed for her to stay.

"Stay here, and don't move. Keep the glove on your neck."

I turned and left the room. Racing to the cockpit. Still standing as I pressed buttons and flipped a few switches. Then some female voice came over the com system.

​"Sure, you have an unauthorized departure. Turn your ship around."

I didn't answer it. I just kept pushing the ship to move faster and faster. Taking us towards the atmosphere. I threw the ship into hyperdrive sooner than I normally would. I could hear the stretching of space as we were flung into hyperspace.

[member="Emberly Carrick"],

 

[Valgærd]

I was wet.

My clothes were warm and soaked through. Opening my eyes, I could see that this man was wet too, on his chest and hands… and it was red. I was so tired, my head felt heavy. I was hurting still. But it still made my skin crawl.

That was blood… and if it was on him, that meant I was too.

I was scared. There was so much red; too much, in fact. Had that all come from me?

The man took my hands, placing them over something he’d pushed onto my neck. It was his glove, I think. The fabric felt strange under my fingers. Or maybe my fingertips had begun to go tingly. I wasn’t sure. Everything was so confusing and scary. I was cold, the bright lights of the street were starting to hurt my eyes. My neck hurt. I didn’t know where father was, who this man was, or what was going to happen next.

I managed to nod obediently, just a little, and focused whatever strength I had left into keeping the glove over my throat. But even as I did, my cheeks grew hot as fresh tears spilled down them. Father would be so disappointed; after all, sith are not weak.

But even as the hot, awful tears ran down my cheeks, the man picked me up, cradling me in his arms like I weighed nothing. I knew I had a pathetic little excuse for a body, father had reminded me often. But if the man was equally as disappointed, he didn’t seem to show it. I was so tired, so heavy. Waiting for him to get mad at me for being weak, for not behaving like a proper sith, it was exhausting. He walked on, while I finally rested my heavy head against his chest.

Try and breathe easy.

I tried to respond, opening my mouth to acknowledge the command, but I just couldn’t, managing only a distorted squeak. So instead I nodded lightly. Focus on breathing. I could do that. Father had begun to teach me to focus on breathing to channel my emotions through the force. I focused on his lessons, just breathing. It hurt, feeling the air go into my throat. But I used that pain to fuel my concentration. Just breathe.

When I next opened my eyes, we were in some sort of hangar. It took me so long to piece together where we were that I completely missed the brief confrontation between this man and another. That stopped him. He yelled, making me tense up, but I was still too disoriented to do much else.

He entered some sort of ship, laying me down on a bed. The engines below us roared to life, and immediately I began to panic. He told me to stay there, to keep the glove on my neck. But I shook my head as vigorously as I dared, my eyes widening. He left the room in a hurry, leaving me alone in this strange place.

“B-but father…” I croaked to the empty air, “what if… he comes back… for… me?”

I tried to pull myself up, I had to leave the ship before it took off and left Eshan for good. How would father know where I was? I had to find my way back to him! Holding the glove to my neck with one hand, I used the other to try and push myself into a sitting position. I just felt so heavy. It was so hard. I lay back down, vowing to try again in a few minutes when I was stronger. I had to get up. I had to leave. I had to get back to father.

I had to prove I was not weak.


[member="Zephyr Carrick"]

 

[Garza]

The ship raced out of orbit and through the stars. Right now, I just threw us into CIS space. It might take a few hours for us to get there, but that allowed me time to talk and work with the girl. Render her medical aid and even see what was going on before she was hit on the street and almost killed out in the open. Once we were well on our way, and well out of range of any tractor beams that could yank us out of Hyperspace, I finally sat down. Sighing heavily as the chair reclined back due to the weight of myself and the armor. Reaching up, I undid the straps under my neck, pulling up on the various layers of clothing around my neck and chin to remove my helmet. Finally pressing upon the side, the face plate actuated on a hinge to allow my head to be pulled out.

I then closed the face plate and sat the helmet down on the dashboard of the console. I started to rub my left hand upon my face when I felt something wet. Oh crap the blood! I stood up quickly and rushed over to the sink in the bathroom. Just down the hall from the ship. Turning on the water and cleaning my hand and face for a moment. Trying to get most of it off. Looking up into the mirror, I saw the familiar purple tattoo of the Xesh symbol from the Aurebesh written language. I remember the night I got it. Where I applied it upon myself. X was the term that it stood for. X for Exile. A symbol that I will always carry with me.

One that will be a curse as well as a blessing. It reminded me of my past, and how I need to look forward to the future. It also reminded me of the deep past. The man who I was slowly beginning to understand. Tau. A young man who had been with the Je'daii Order just after having been kept as a slave to a species who wanted to rule all of the galaxy. Either way, I shook my head and moved out of the room. Moving towards my own bedroom to see that the child was slowly trying to pick herself up.

She started to fall over and throw up blood and whatever she happened to have in her system. I got to her in time to prevent her from falling anywhere but back onto the bed, but in the process, got blood and bile all over my armor. I sighed once more. Sure, helping a little girl out is my priority, but having to get blood and guts out of chinks of armor and the smell out of the cloth was going to take quite a long time. Setting her back down, I reached out beside me. My hand opened up and into it came a cup with water moving from the tap in the bathroom into the cup to fill it.

Sitting the little girl up, I inched the cup towards her lips and nodded my head to take a drink.

"Only sip. I don't want you throwing up again. Not the greatest feeling in the world."

Sitting up was fine. Since the wound was above the heart, it would be harder to pump blood up to the wound and the brain. Seeing as how when flying ships fast enough made you feel G-forces that could knock you out due to lack of blood circulation to the brain, she would be fine just sitting up.

"Lass, I know this is difficult, but I need you to try and be calm. You need your wound to heal. That is not a weakness to stop to heal."

Considering how her father seemed to yell at her about being weak, and she was always fearful of him through the entire altercation, I had a feeling that any sign of emotion or weak actions such as taking a wound was considered bad. I wanted to try and calm her down some. A racing heart rate will not help the situation.

[member="Emberly Carrick"],

 

[Valgærd]

I laid back down on the bed, focusing on breathing for a few minutes. In, out.

Concentrate. Feel your anger, the energy, coursing through you. Channel it, focus it, use it.

Father's words swirled in my head. It was easier to disappear into the memories of his lessons, than it was to try and face whatever was going on right now. After a few minutes, I felt a little stronger, a little more focused, a little less broken. So I tried again. Keeping one hand on the glove on my throat, I pulled myself up slowly from the bed. Even though I was trying to take it easy, I felt a wave of nausea and weakness wash over me. I was fed up. Why couldn't I just move normally? Why was I so pathetic? I grimaced in frustration, grinding my teeth together as I tried to pull myself off the bed. I had to go, I had to get back.

Suddenly all the swirling, roaring emotions grew too much. My mind was throbbing, everything hurt, my stomach flipped, turning inside out.

I fell, coughing as burning blood and bile clawed its way up my throat.

But rather than hitting the ground, I was caught, by the man. The man that had rescued me, saved my life, and stolen me away from father. I'd spewed all over his armor, but he didn't seem to care, putting me back on the bed. Part of me was relieved to have him here. This ship was big, unfamiliar and scary, and it was good to have him here. He was gentle, caring, something I wasn't used to. He reminded me... of mama. But there was another part of me that felt only dread. This man, I didn't recognise the way he looked, the way he smelled, the sound of his voice. He was a complete stranger, and he had stolen me away from father.

"I'm... s-sorry." I managed to croak. I hoped he knew I was talking about his armor, it still hurt to talk.

I tried to let out a sigh of frustration, but as I took in a deep breath, my chest shuddered. Oh no. I let out my breath, my shoulders quivering with sobs as hot, salty tears rolled down my cheeks. I tried to stay as quiet as possible, I didn't want this man to see how weak I was right now.

He handed me a cup of water, telling me to sip it slowly. So I did, gently taking it in one hand and tilting it back just a little. The water was cool and refreshing, soothing my dry lips and beginning to wash a little of the blood from my mouth. I wanted to gulp it down, but besides the man's warning, my throat hurt a lot, and I didn't want to risk it. He kept talking, telling me... that it was not weakness to stop and let myself heal. Father would disagree. The predator that lay down to lick its wounds would become prey, as he'd taught me.

"W-we have... to go... back." I whimpered between sips of water and choked sobs. "F-father, I h-have... to get back... to... father"

My voice had dwindled to just a whisper. Everything felt heavy. There was some huge weight that seemed to crush me from the inside, leaving just enough room for pain and little else. The sobs grew a little more violent as my mind whirled. Everything had happened so fast. I hadn't let myself remember what had happened. This... had to be one of father's lessons, right? Did he really...? My heart felt like in its racing that it shattered into a thousand pieces, each of them floating in my chest. My hands tingled, my shoulders shook and my chest shuddered. I turned up to the man, the man whose name I didn't even know, the stranger whom had saved my life and stolen me away from my home.

"Why?" I whispered, before giving up on holding back, and letting the wailing take over.

[member="Zephyr Carrick"]

 

[Garza]

I couldn't believe this. The girl still wanted to be with her father. She had this feeling of wanting to return to him. The feeling that his side, is the only place she belonged. My heart broke. To see an innocent soul, a child so young to believe that she owed, and was owned by this man. It hurt me on so many levels more than just seeing her beaten and treated worse than a slave. She still attempted to get to him. She started to break down and cry. Trying so hard to hold it back to not show emotion. She was trying to hard to not be weak. She didn't understand that crying, pain, and wounds were not weaknesses. They were trials, and obsticals that needed to be overcome through hard work and dedication.

Walking around to the other side of the bed as she laid there crying, I sat the glass of water onto the endtable. Removing my armor piece by piece to reveal a thin set of pants and a shirt. It was held together as a bodyglove that would regulate my temperature, but at this moment, I didn't care how I looked to this girl. She needed my help. Even if she didn't know that she did. Sliding into the bed, I laid next to her, and held her. Wrapping one arm around her and then gently pressing my hand against the wound.

"Its okay to cry. I promise not to tell your father about this."

Gently moving her hair out of her face, some of the tips were matted with blood and were wet with tears. The little girl shuddered as she cried. Trying so hard, and so deeply to not show weakness. Slowly, focusing upon the force, I began to mend her wound. Working slowly with the muscle fibers, the connections between them, The glove on her neck was soaked through, but was still there to help prevent too much from leaving her body. She lost quite a bit, would likely be lightheaded and dizzy for hours or even a couple days as she would try and make blood in her system.

"Don't worry about your father. I will talk to him about the situation after you have healed up. Okay?"

Her voice was faint. Barely there with the destruction of the windpipe, it would hurt to move, gulp or even talk. Agitated, yes. Bleeding? Not so much. The pain upon her neck would stay the same, Altering her injury by healing it, but also reducing the pain through the force. Having limited skills with healing, I tried my best to work slowly so all of the regrowth wouldn't cause a huge pain, or to rush through it and mess up. Either way, I tried my best for now. Likely leaving just the skin layers to heal on their own so that I could simply bandage it up and let the body do the rest of is work.

[member="Emberly Carrick"],

 

[Valgærd]

Never had I felt so hopeless.

It was like the void of space had seemed to just dump itself all over me, swallowing me up and drowning me and covering me all at the same time. I was scared, confused, alone. I was trapped on a strange ship with a strange man, my body hurt all over. Even breathing was difficult. And then there was... no I wasn't ready to think about that yet. Crying seemed... to ease it all a little bit. As the tears spilled from my eyes, my shoulders racked with sobs, I felt as if all the horror I was feeling was spilling out with them. I didn't know what would be left, maybe I would just cry until everything went black, I didn't know.

The man slid into the bed next to me, wrapping an arm around me. I wasn't even thinking anymore. I just reacted. No one had done that since mama. He put a hand on my wound, but I just rolled into him, burying my face in his chest. He told me it was okay to cry.

So cry I did. It all came out. I just... let it all go. I didn't care how much it hurt, I didn't care how weak I was. I needed this.

"My daddy tried to kill meeee!" I wailed, voice muffled as my tears soaked through his clothes.

There it was.

Finally, I confronted it. Father had... had... cut me. He was excellent with a blade, an expert martial artist. There was no mistake. He'd done it deliberately. My father, my daddy... tried to kill me. I continued to bawl my eyes out as this man who didn't even know me began to fix the wound on my neck. I barely even felt the pain. My whole body was just overwhelmed, beginning to go numb. The more I just let myself cry into his chest, the more the numbness seemed to creep up over me. But I didn't care. I was too tired to care.

The man said he would talk to father when I was better. I tried to nod, to let him know that I heard him, but the sobbing had taken over now, I couldn't do anything else. Almost without me realising, I lifted my arm, grabbing his shift and pulling myself closer. I hadn't been hugged since mama... I hadn't been weak enough to need one in some time. But right now, I just wanted to feel safe. I just wanted to feel arms around me. So I tugged on his shirt, inching myself as close to him as I could get.

I just wanted to be comforted, for once in my life.

I needed that right now.

[member="Zephyr Carrick"]

 

[Garza]

The girl clung to me. Pulling me close to her and crying deeply into my chest. Even if she was bleeding all over my bed, myself, and herself, she didn't care. Her tears and the fear, and complete anguish that she felt. I could feel it just as easily as she could. While I knew not where this pain truly came from, that was until through her sobs she almost wanted to scream out that her father attempted to kill her, I didn't do anything but just sit there. Holding her against me. Letting her tears and blood wet my clothing and my bed. Letting her get this all out of her system.

This was likely the first time that she had ever been able to cry. Considering the very short introduction of her mother and what may or may not have happened to her, I doubt that the father took time out of his day to console and love her. I pitied her. I felt horrid for her. I wanted to just take away the entire galaxy and let her be in her own little room where no one could hurt her. To be where no one, not even I, could harm her. Yet here we are, in a galaxy controlled by war, disease, famine, death, and destruction.

Maybe, just maybe I could keep this girl from it for a little bit. To show her that not everybody is as... disgusting as her father. Just thinking about him, his actions, how he was so easily able to kill his own flesh and blood yet argue with me that he owned her, it all brought me to sickness. A taste in my mouth that was filled with pain and agony. I loved and cared for my own father. While I grew up in my teen years without him, he came back. Rectified his mistakes, and attempted to be the best father he could. He knew he wasn't the best, nor was he ever going to be perfect in his choices. However I knew this, I knew the man's heart and how he always vowed to put aside the Silver Jedi, to teach us to be better, and to help us in whatever we needed.

I loved my father dearly.

For this girl, to not have that. To not have someone to cry on, to not have someone to hold and to cherish, pained me on so many levels, I was trying to hold back tears of my own. Even as she was burying her face into my chest, I had to keep my head up to prevent the tears from falling. I felt a pit in my chest that physically hurt me. As though I were having a heart attack for the pain that this girl had suffered. Taking my hand, I removed it from her neck. All that I wanted to get healed up was done for now. Running a bloody hand through her white hair, I held her against my chest, and tried my best to calm her and speak easily.

"I'm uh.... I'm right here. It's okay... it's okay to cry hun."

I just held on, and let us lay there, crying her heart out to a complete stranger, in a strange world, without the fear of consequences.

[member="Emberly Carrick"],

 

[Valgærd]

I cried and cried.

I hadn’t even cried this hard… after mama. I would not have dared let father catch me doing that, no sir. But now, here, it all seemed to catch up. I thought I’d been too strong for tears back then. I thought I had made father proud by not having any tears. But they had been there. They had been there this whole time, and now they were finally coming out.

The tears just kept coming, pouring out of my eyes as I just clung to the mans shirt. It felt… actually it felt soothing. Just letting go of it all, just letting myself cry as loudly and for as long as I needed to. All the pain, all the fear, all the anger and hurt… all the betrayal, it just all poured out without stopping. The man, the one I didn’t even know, moved his hand from my neck and ran it through my hair, holding me close.

Despite everything, it was here, on a stranger’s ship, held tightly in his arms, that I noticed that I felt… safe, for the first time in perhaps my entire life. He spoke softly, telling me it was okay to cry.

I… I believed him.

It felt like hours passed as I just lay there, holding onto him and sobbing.

Eventually, finally, the tears ran out. I was exhausted, my entire body felt heavy and fatigued. My chest hurt from all the crying. My throat ached. My face felt hot, my skin red and irritated from being wet and buried in the fabric of the man’s shirt. The crying slowly faded, as I was finally too tired to continue.

My eyelids felt heavy. The fear of where I was, the desperation to get back to father, the agony from my wound, it all faded into some incomprehensible, black mass in the back of my mind. That would probably have to be dealt with eventually, but for now, it could just stay there, locked away.

“I…” my voice was just a croaked whisper, I hoped he could hear it, I was too tired to make it louder, “I’m so tired… Who are you?”

I tried to tilt my head up to look at him, to see his face, but everything seemed to be blurry. Maybe there were still tears in my eyes, or they were just too tired to focus.

I couldn’t even look at the face of my saviour.

[member="Zephyr Carrick"]

 

[Garza]

I tried my best.

Holding her gently against me, simply brushing her hair with my bloodied hand. Some of her hair was deeper red, with shades of pink here and there. I would likely have to bleach her hair so that I could get the bloodstains out. I felt bad for her having this perfect hair color, that even if dirt was found in it, you could tell it was there. Her crying of the pain and the final release that I could only assume was years worth of pent up frustrations, and anger, and sadness. I didn't speak. There was no need. Nothing I could say would ever make her feel better. Actions alone could only do that. With this in mind, I kept doing this. Even as she started to slowly fade away from the loud sobbing tears to snivels and whimpers.

Finally she spoke. Her voice haggered and clearly hurtful to speak. I held up my hand to my lips Shushing her as a sign to not talk. She didn't need to. She needed to rest and to let herself heal. However, the question she posed I would answer and also do something more.

"My name is Zephyr. Zeph is okay to call be by."

Pulling her close to me, I simply laid there with her. A man like myself, a warrior, a soldier, Someone who killed for a living, was cuddling with a small child to keep her from crying. I guess it really did show how much of a heart I had left over. I spoke softly. Continuing on and explaining some things to her.

"You will be tired and sore for quite a while. Go ahead and sleep. If you want, I can stay here with you."

Even before she answered, I had a feeling that she might want me here. Someone who was finally able and willing to protect her and hold her. To guard her life with their own. Be that as it may, I wove the force around her mind. Slowly working on relieving her pain to make it easier for her to sleep, while also giving her as much time as she needed to do so.

[member="Emberly Carrick"],

 

[Valgærd]

The man put a finger to his lips, a silent gesture to tell me I shouldn't speak.

No... he was telling me it was okay not to speak. It was strange, I guess, but that's how it felt, it was okay to just let the exhaustion take over for now. It was not wrong to let myself drift off the sleep, to fall quiet. I didn't have to do anything right now. It was comforting. I let out a sigh, letting my muscles just relax. But letting them go soft and actually relax was difficult, like I'd been holding them so tense for so long, they didn't know how.

Zephyr.

That was his name. I wanted to say it back to him, to make sure I got it right. But I was so tired, my throat hurt, I couldn't even conjure up the strength to respond. But I thought it over and over in my mind, making sure I wouldn't forget it. Zeph. The man who rescued me from... from my own father.

The man called Zeph spoke again, telling me that I would be tired for a while. That was good to know. I didn't like hurting like this, I didn't like not having energy and being tired. It was frustrating not being able to do what I needed to do, like living with weights tied to my arms and legs. But I could live with it for a little while. Because thanks to Zeph, I was alive.

He offered to stay. I was so tired, I could already feel my body begin to feel like it was falling. But... I wanted him to stay. I didn't want him to move. Speaking was too hard, so I just curled my fingers around his shirt at his chest, the only place I could reach, and leaned close to him. There was no way I'd have the strength to actually hold onto him if he decided to leave, but I hope, as the sensation of falling overtook my mind, that he would understand that I wanted him to stay.

As the feeling grew stronger, another sigh escaped my chest, and my eyes drifted closed. I let my head fall onto his chest, as everything went dark.

[member="Zephyr Carrick"]

 

[Garza]

The little girl didn't speak, nor utter a word. I could see the drowsy eyes of her face ever so slowly close. Clinging tightly to my bloodstained shirt. I held her close. Feeling her small chest breathing in and out against me. Her form slowly relax from all of the shaking and shuddering. I simply laid there. Adjusting myself to lay on my back and have her clinging arm lean onto my chest, and moved her head to rest on my pectoral. Gently, I combed my fingers through her hair. Eventually changing it to be rubbing and patting her back. Her breathing slowed, and eventually was deep within sleep. I waited some more. Letting her rest her body.

Eventually, while she still slept, I slowly moved her off of me, Replacing my chest with one of the larger pillows I had. I watched her frame as she suddenly closed herself up into the fetal position in her sleep. Clutching the pillow as though it were me. I breathed in slowly and began to work. Moving to the other side of the room, I grabbed one of my old t-shirts that I had not gotten rid of. It would still be large on her much smaller frame, but to me, it was small, and I could no longer fit in it. I also grabbed the medical supplies.

Gently, and slowly, I removed the pillow from her. Turning her head and upper body just enough so that I could clean her wound. Using various tools, and even applying fresh bacta to the wound to aid in the healing process, I didnt know her tolerance so I use a very small amount. Upon doing so, I took a pair of medical scisors and cut some of the hanging flesh from the wound, as well as a scalpel to remove any crusting blood around the edges. Slowly cutting pieces off so that I could suture them back together. Before I started with the sewing, I took out a small sedative. Taking a hold of her leg, I plugged it into her thigh. Her arms were so small, that I didn't want to hit the bone. I needed a little more thickness to her skin so I wouldn't worry so much.

After waiting a few moments, I started the procedure. Using the hook to loop through the skin and across to the other side, Holding her skin close, and then tightening it so that the wound would eventually scab over, and then heal. After going through all of the suture process, I then cleaned up the wound once more. Making sure no blood was leaking out or anything else. Taking some gauze and applying it around her neck, before taking a wrap and having it wrap around her neck as well. After cleaning her wound and everything else, I grabbed some clothes and left the room.

Changing into a shirt and pants that were clean, as well as putting the body suit just inside the door of my bedroom. Walking in, I grabbed a towel from the bathroom and placed it down on the bed. Soaking up as much as the blood that happened to get onto the sheets as I could. Removing them slowly, I threw them off to the side to be washed later.

I hated to do this, but I didnt want her shirt to stain my bed even more, or the clean clothes. I felt... weird. I was invading her space by doing this, but I had to, to make sure that it wouldn't stain, as well, I wanted to throw her shirt into the wash as well. Slowly, and gently, I removed the little girls shirt. I didn't dwell upon what I was doing, nor did I care to leave her like that for long. This was just wrong. Either way, I slipped her arms through the short sleeves of my old shirt and adjusted it on her so it covered her body. Taking her shirt, as well as the sheets from the bed, and my own clothing, I walked into a separate room. Applying stain removers and throwing them into the wash.

Even though I had not done much today, the stress, the emotions, and the situation tired myself out. Returning for the last time to my room, I slowly crept into bed beside the girl. Moving her back into the position I had her in before, head on my chest, and arm over me, I wrapped my arm around her, and tried my best to not replay that same moment over and over in my head again. A father intending of killing his own child. Eventually what felt like an eternity later, I stared to drift, and then nothing.

[member="Emberly Carrick"],

 

[Valgærd]

My head was pounding.

That was the first thing I felt as the blackness of sleep receded and my mind began to wake up. My head was killing me. My temples throbbed, my skull was aching, even my eyes hurt. For now, I kept them closed, clenching my jaw and waiting for the throbbing to subside... or at least, to get used to it. A few minutes went by, the aching didn't go away. Although, it seemed to soften just a little. I laid there a few more minutes, grimacing, as the throbbing dulled a little more.

Eventually, I let my eyes open.

My eyelids felt heavy, and the light hitting me seemed to zap my brain. I groaned and tried to swallow. My throat was dry, like it was coated in sand. Instinctively, I tried to swallow again, but that just made it hurt more. Why was my throat so sore? Why was my head pounding so much? Where... where was I? As I lay there, all the memories from the previous day came rushing back. Leaving my home with a packed bag, walking by father's side... stopping to look at a toy... I shouldn't have done that. Then we'd been confronted by a man... a man called Zeph.

My chest had begun to shudder and my eyes grew hot as fresh tears threatened to burst forth, however, as Zeph came into my mind, it seemed to calm me a little. He had been nothing but kind, he hadn't punished me for being weak, he hadn't demanded I show proper respect, even though I had been terrible at doing that since we'd met. He had... cared for me. He reminded me so much of mama.

I shifted a little, easing the arm that had gone to sleep out from under me. The fabric against my skin felt different than I'd expected it to. Glancing down, I realised why. I was wearing a different shirt; one of his. Although, it was more of a dress on me. My free arm I moved to my neck, feeling some sort of dressing or bandage of some kind. I turned my head to look at his softly sleeping face as the realisation slowly dawned on me.

Even after I'd fallen asleep, he'd continued to care for me.

But... why? I didn't understand, I couldn't understand. I had done nothing for him except make a mess and be a burden. I was weak, a pathetic, mewling thing as father would say, not worth the effort to raise. Father was the only one in the galaxy who would even bother with me. Why... why would Zeph? He was still asleep, and I dare not risk waking him. But... I just wanted to do something, to show a mote of the gratitude that I had for him. Even if the reason would come later, even if I was to work off my debt, that would all be okay, because he'd saved me.

I leaned down and wrapped my arms around his neck, hugging him as tightly as I dared without risking accidentally waking him up.

"Thank you." I whispered in his ear.

Now... time to figure out where I was. Focusing on my surroundings and what to do next was easier than recalling how I got here, what father had done. I glanced around the room, pulling myself up from the bed with a groan. My head spun, the pounding ache flaring up as I moved. But I pushed past it, pain was what would help me grow strong. Slowly and gradually, I pulled myself off the bed, cupping my head in one hand and using the other to steady myself. As my bare feet hit the floor I let out a slight gasp... I hadn't expected it to be so cold.

Looking around once again, I bit my lip, not entirely sure where to begin.

[member="Zephyr Carrick"]

 

[Garza]

I deeply dreamed of my past. The horrors of people, and men. How a red blade cleaved down upon an innocent man. The screams of my past came to me. However, in the midst of all of this pain, and destruction, I felt a very small pinprick of light. Soft but warm. It slowly came towards me from the darkness. Wrapping itself around me. Warming me to the touch, and calming my mind. Breathing in deeply, I could feel the dream fading and the pain of my body returning to me. I could feel movement. Likely the child moving in the bed, or getting up.

My eyes stayed shut. The amount of force energy I used to keep this girl alive had tired me. Fatigue hit me hard. Raising a hand from where it was, I found that the weight of the girl, as little as it was, no longer there. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I could hear very soft padding of feet on the floor. I opened one eye to see the little girl standing up, barely, but standing. I smiled a little. Knowing that she was a fighter made this much easier for my heart.

"Take it slow. Your body will be weak for a while. And yes, it is perfectly fine for your body to be weak. There is nothing wrong with it."

I slowly sat up. As I did so, my back popped a couple times. Twisting my neck to follow up with more popping noises. I groaned a little from the release, and then hunched my shoulders down to take a second. I was still tired, but I needed to look over this child. Make sure she didnt take the bandage off or wander and injure herself further.

"If you are hungry, I can make something for you."

[member="Emberly Carrick"],