Problem Child
Open to anyone wanting to tussle with a Sith spawn or provide much needed relationship advice.
A heap of black hair and cryptic tattoos rag dolled against the wall at a bone-splintering velocity. If Capris had a tally sheet for the amount of times she'd let life narrowly slip through her fingers like this— with careless indifference resulting in major injury— the comically bare walls of her ship might finally have some decoration.
Dirt sanded her windpipes on impact as she fell from wall to floor, a plume of earth settling around her body. She groaned, tensed, and proceeded to roll over flat all while hacking up a lung. A hand, the one still made of flesh, smudged the cocktail of dirt, blood, and sweat into a less conspicuous spot on her jaw. It did nothing for the look of contempt drilled into her face however.
It was with that cheery attitude that she finagled herself back into something resembling a defensive position, meeting the crimson gaze of the Sithspawn who'd just tossed her like a chew toy.
It was a beast. Nothing like she hadn't hunted before and nothing which inspired particularly anxious feelings. Regardless of her opinion of the matter, ivory claws still came at her with the force of a fighter pilot. They took strips of earth with them, ready to shred and rip her apart like paper.
Capris simply pivoted.
This song and dance was stupid. Unequivocally so. But it did its job keeping her thoughts off the one immovable burr embedded in her brain matter. A lock of dark hair, unkempt. A passive blue gaze, the other half voided by scar tissue but no less beautiful..
The girl stifled a mental flinch, nearly matching the Sithspawn's own snarl as it reared back for another strike. She dodged and dodged and dodged until a claw snagged on her shoulder and sent her right back to the packed earth she'd just risen from. And suddenly she was alive again, heart beating, neurons firing, and adrenaline flush…
Kyric was there too, like he always was. Never angry, never disgusted, never reacting to her stupidity the way she deserved. He stood angelically calm at the corner of her mind, sending the occasional hunger pange of emotion through her chest like a javelin. Wherever he was, wherever she'd sent him, was a hell he survived despite her. A prisoner of four grey-slate walls as well as her own self destructive bender.
As if she hadn't tortured him enough.
It was at that moment rows of serrated teeth bore down on her only to be held back by the simple resistance of her own two arms. The girl clenched her teeth, forced to suddenly wonder if this whole thing was perhaps a bad idea.
