TAG:
Arris Windrun
|
Mercy
|
Naniti
|
Lysander von Ascania
|
Marlon Sularen
|
Ronhar Tane
|
Amalia Visconti | Mira Rhory
|
Priesse Namada
|
Varin Mortifer
|
Defender of Order
|
Ufsa'zekhn'narun
LOCATION: Command Ship [New Alderaan]
____________________________________________________
Her hand lifted when
Mercy
moved to kiss her cheek to touch her arm in response. The wintry woman was slowly growing used to the affection expressed by her battle-sister. Echani were incredibly physical creatures, and it was rare that someone outside their species seemed to understand how to communicate without saying anything at all. It was a brief touch of lips to her pale cheek; she heard a half dozen questions.
How did you sleep? Did you get something to eat? Are you warm enough? Do you need anything?
Srina leaned into the hand at her back.
No—She was fine.
“You cannot leave me behind just because you think I need rest.”
She didn’t think that
Mercy
would deny her a battle against the Imperial Confederation, but she also wouldn’t think it outside the realm of possibility that she may take her attempted kidnapping and or assassination more personally than most. They were battle-sisters in the very untraditional Echani sense. Rather than mirror her—Mercy was her opposite. Challenging and brash. Emotive and passionate. Srina was cold. Distant…A barely there, far away star.
Her gaze fixed on
Arris Windrun
and offered to the cybernetically enhanced individual her full attention regardless of the interruptions. Srina had been on the eve of many battles, and this one had just as much depth and complexity as all the others. Even if it was hidden behind the zealotry of the Graspborn and a foolhardy recreation of their entrance on Coruscant. She didn’t flinch at the mention of the Covenant seat of power, but her stomach did turn just slightly. Enough, that her hand idly drifted to it.
Alarms blared, and a message from the Faithless cousins (
Ronhar Tane
) made itself known loud and proud. Her expression cracked into something that was layered with disdain. How dare this dog offer them retreat as if it were an option, as if it were some grand gesture of goodwill. They were already frightened of having their precious New Alderaan in harm's way against a potentially unknown enemy. Regardless…When the missive stopped? They went right back to business.
Nothing could stop them.
“Empress, a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“Little Lord…”, she greeted @Varin Mortifier with some measure of knowing.
“Fire Lord…” Not boy—A soft correction. They had not formally met, but there would be something in her gaze that spoke of recognition. The truth was that few spent any length of time within the Order that she was not aware of. The Lady Revna was a close friend and a woman she held in high esteem.
Lunaria Talon
had also mentioned him in passing with a cape swirling as he departed…He had left an impression, it seemed. She would have said more, but Arris took care of the greeting, plus the battle plan.
“If that is your wish...I will comply, Windrun.”
She would feel the hand at her back tense. Perhaps,
Mercy
did not approve of these arrangements?
Her gaze turned back to
Lysander von Ascania
, who seemed surprised or struck by the praise that Mercy offered. Gold-hewn orbs closed for a moment while she listened to the voice of the young one who had more than found his way since they had first crossed paths. When he made his requests, her head tilted while her gaze slid across the planes of a youthful face, the way water rolled down a window pane.
“The galaxy has already witnessed you on Coruscant—You were not forgotten. Accept the spoils and your truth…War does not wage without credits to burn.”
Not to mention that she refused to let him sell himself short. The words were noble…But foolish. Any advantage that could be gained was of benefit, even if his pockets were as deep as the Inter Galactic Banking Clan. If he absolutely refused, he could also give it to someone of his choosing. Perhaps the violet Togruta that was always within earshot. Her eyes lingered on
Naniti
while her soft insights came to light, and the Sith Empress tilted her head. She had no equipment.
Interesting.
The context of the information didn’t matter as long as it was accurate. Her right hand rose and came to lay over her heart, choosing that now was the time to ready her armor. It didn’t matter what the enemy brought to bear. She would bring them fear, from land, from sky—From any avenue in which they still dared to draw breath. The impudent children, these faithless, had dared to desecrate Brosi for the second time in a rather short span. It was time for their people, their kingdom, to know loss. To suffer as her young
Psilofyr had suffered. To watch while their people drowned in flame and endless fire.
From the bracelet around her wrist, her clothing suddenly rippled and took on a metallic sheen. The nanites within ate through the red dress and replaced it step by step with the armor that had been created specifically to see her through any engagement. It spread sleek and smooth along her shoulders and down her back, in an instant, wiping out red and replacing it with silver and bronze scales. The crimson of her dress fell away completely and melted behind her in a cloak that was easily retractable.
Her side arm re-assembled on her hip.
She could feel the battle-lust rise in the woman at her side, and she reached up with a gloved hand to turn Mercy’s face down toward her. The amber in her eyes was already anticipating violence.
“Try not to be too reckless…If I am with Windrun, I won’t be able to empower you.”
It was not a complaint. It was…
Concern. Mercy never knew her limits.
Because she thought she had none.