Samka Derith
Decitus Ren
It was a beautiful day at Blackwater Reach.
The rain from the night before has passed by and replaced by a bright sun ushering in a warm morning. The gentle cries and chirping of the local wildlife were the only sounds to be heard.
It all seemed wrong. The galaxy continued as normal, it didn't stop to mourn. That much was clear by the pleasant sunbeams shining down through the solarium onto the two women.
Or more accurately: the one woman and the corpse.
The minutes had ticked by and the young Ren remained immobile, looking intensely into hazel eyes, now so empty.
It finally seemed to sink it, [member="Irajah Ven"] was dead by her hand and it was nothing less than she deserved. She hadn't just made a mistake, she'd knowingly and willingly passed information to the enemy with the intent to damage the First Order. She'd resisted interrogation and had the gall to believe she could walk away from this with all the secrets in her head and the desire for revenge. It was Samka's duty to do nothing less regardless of the relationship they had built before. Duty. That was all that mattered.
Slowly, the teenager pulled back from the body and gently wiped the guilty blade clean on the victim's own clothes. Removing the blood-stained glove from her left hand for a moment, she next took a firm grasp of a lock of the Doctor's hair and swung the knife once more, severing a bundle of raven strands from Irajah's head. Sam tucked them neatly into a pocket on her breast before slipping the leather glove back on, a final memento.
But now it was over.
The Ren rose abruptly to her feet. The confessions were done with only a dead woman as witness. Things were back how they used to be, how they were always meant to be. She had no friends, no loved ones to mourn nor would mourn her. It came with the role, all part of the responsibility thrust onto her shoulders. Attachment was weakness. That lesson never was as meaningful as it was now. So she'd return to being cold and aloof to the day's situation. It could have gone better but there nothing she could have done to change that. The Doctor had made her bed before Samka had walked through the door.
She turned, surveying the beauty of Blackwater Manor once more. It truly was a grand building, exactly the type Sam would have enjoyed for herself. A pity then, she thought, that it would all have to burn. The next hour was spent wandering the rooms, doing all that should could to fan the flames. Flammable materials slathered all over the floors and walls where ever she could find them. In the kitchens, the stoves all powered to their maximum and piled with items to catch alight, ovens were left open while elsewhere candlesticks were lit and knocked to the ground. None of this was done by hand, the Ren simply walked the halls, still admiring the building as she used the Force to kinetically quicken its end. Once she was satisfied that the flames could not be stopped, she was out the door, satisfied that Irajah's body would be burned beyond recognition to hinder any curious friends who wouldn't buy the official line, whatever Samka would decide that was.
She never looked back as the smoke rose over Blackwater and the flames licked from out the windows. She was satisfied that she done the right thing for the right reasons. It was like Irajah had once told her: she was a deeply decent person.
The rain from the night before has passed by and replaced by a bright sun ushering in a warm morning. The gentle cries and chirping of the local wildlife were the only sounds to be heard.
It all seemed wrong. The galaxy continued as normal, it didn't stop to mourn. That much was clear by the pleasant sunbeams shining down through the solarium onto the two women.
Or more accurately: the one woman and the corpse.
The minutes had ticked by and the young Ren remained immobile, looking intensely into hazel eyes, now so empty.
It finally seemed to sink it, [member="Irajah Ven"] was dead by her hand and it was nothing less than she deserved. She hadn't just made a mistake, she'd knowingly and willingly passed information to the enemy with the intent to damage the First Order. She'd resisted interrogation and had the gall to believe she could walk away from this with all the secrets in her head and the desire for revenge. It was Samka's duty to do nothing less regardless of the relationship they had built before. Duty. That was all that mattered.
Slowly, the teenager pulled back from the body and gently wiped the guilty blade clean on the victim's own clothes. Removing the blood-stained glove from her left hand for a moment, she next took a firm grasp of a lock of the Doctor's hair and swung the knife once more, severing a bundle of raven strands from Irajah's head. Sam tucked them neatly into a pocket on her breast before slipping the leather glove back on, a final memento.
But now it was over.
The Ren rose abruptly to her feet. The confessions were done with only a dead woman as witness. Things were back how they used to be, how they were always meant to be. She had no friends, no loved ones to mourn nor would mourn her. It came with the role, all part of the responsibility thrust onto her shoulders. Attachment was weakness. That lesson never was as meaningful as it was now. So she'd return to being cold and aloof to the day's situation. It could have gone better but there nothing she could have done to change that. The Doctor had made her bed before Samka had walked through the door.
She turned, surveying the beauty of Blackwater Manor once more. It truly was a grand building, exactly the type Sam would have enjoyed for herself. A pity then, she thought, that it would all have to burn. The next hour was spent wandering the rooms, doing all that should could to fan the flames. Flammable materials slathered all over the floors and walls where ever she could find them. In the kitchens, the stoves all powered to their maximum and piled with items to catch alight, ovens were left open while elsewhere candlesticks were lit and knocked to the ground. None of this was done by hand, the Ren simply walked the halls, still admiring the building as she used the Force to kinetically quicken its end. Once she was satisfied that the flames could not be stopped, she was out the door, satisfied that Irajah's body would be burned beyond recognition to hinder any curious friends who wouldn't buy the official line, whatever Samka would decide that was.
She never looked back as the smoke rose over Blackwater and the flames licked from out the windows. She was satisfied that she done the right thing for the right reasons. It was like Irajah had once told her: she was a deeply decent person.