Private Don't Pretend

[Arris Windrun]

"Neriah knows," she answered.

There wasn't time to explain more than that just yet. She glanced at Kirie, who made sure to let Arris know that there was no 'us' in the equation. It startled her, because that was exactly how she would think; she did still think that way, mostly, but something had started to change. In a small way she felt proud of the acolyte. It was growth. It would help her at the academy, and in her dealings with other Sith. But...

'Think on your plan, Arris. I'm interested to hear it.'

She nodded once. Firm and committed, even as coolant began to leak from her synthflesh like discolored sweat.

When they neared the entrance, their way was blocked by scavengers. Arris held the heavy gun at her side, but it was a question of whether she had the strength to use it in her condition. Unkillable as Kirie might have thought, the Dark Horse was still hollowed of Sith power.

To her surprise, Arris heard the hiss and saw the crimson glow. Kirie now stood in front - a guardian postured like an apprentice. To the scavengers, all Sith were the same; killers and thugs of a caliber that even syndicates knew to fear. Their own fear was palpable in the Force. They paused like prey caught in an open field, before one, two, then all turned and ran away after Kirie threatened them.

The cyborg felt her heart drop. Whatever violence she was ready for never came, and it made her feel small. Still; stimulants coursed through her veins. Arris operated under a different chemistry than before, and it reflected in every subtlety about her.

She replaced the weapon in its holster and turned to Kirie still stanced like a guardian frozen in time. The obvious signs that her chemistry changed too, but unlike Arris, she wasn't yet acclimated to the rush. Would she like it? Would she feel awful? Would it make her chase impulse just to keep it going?

The cyborg reached out slowly, one finger pad extended towards the humming tip of Kirie's lightsaber. As it inched closer, the outer metal shell began to steam and glowed orange before finally the crimson was swallowed back inside the hilt.

Arris slouched against the entrance frame and drew a cigarette, bringing her cooling finger to light it before the glow subsided. She took a drag, then offered it to Kirie.

"What a dangerous weapon."

Her eyes never left Kirie when she said that.

"I was half your age plus a few when I first felt that way. Do you hate it?"

Arris asked with such interest.

She feared the other answer - the one she expected. How silly... Especially when this version of Kirie exhilarated her in a most unhealthy way, and Arris couldn't even hide the fact. Not with how she reached out to taste the woman's violence a moment ago; she felt herself a freak, and hoped smally that here was a kindred woman, someone to finally understand her. Hoped and abhorred.

 

[Kirie]

Location: Nar Shaddaa
Tag: Arris Windrun

"Do you hate it?"

"Yes." Kirie lied. She extinguished her saber.

Kirie gave Arris a long look. She seemed to have perked up a little, taking a drag from her foul-smelling cigarette and leaning against the door. The street outside was eerily quiet now, deserted with a flickering lamp causing long shadows to appear and disippate every second. The quiet wouldn't last long, she knew. Bolder, stupider, better armed scavengers would be along soon.

Kirie secured her saber at her hip. She closed the short distance between herself and Arris, sad to find the air was not much fresher here than it had been in the depths of the Gank killing-ground. She gave Arris a searching look, then reached out and flicked the cigarette from between Arris' fingers. It arced through the air and landed in a dirty puddle outside with a hiss. Kirie smirked.

'You really think I'm like you?' Kirie asked her.

The thought disturbed her a little, because from everything she'd seen of Arris, the woman had no reason to lie.

Kirie looked past Arris, head turning sharply. The street outside remained empty, silent, and still, but a feeling of unease stirred within her. They wouldn't have much longer before she had to ignite her saber again. She didn't want that. She wanted anything but that.

But, Arris was a wreck. She was putting on a brave face, but Kirie could tell she couldn't even stand on her own. She sighed inwardly, and tapped Arris on the shoulder insistently.

'If you tell anyone about this, I will end you.' Kirie told her, before leaning forward to scoop Arris into her arms, grunting with effort before she was able to balance herself out with the Force that still flowed richly through her.

Without any further words- both her hands were occupied- Kirie stepped out the door of Network Access, and began making her way to the lifts back to the higher levels.

 

[Arris Windrun]

"Yes." Kirie lied. She extinguished her saber.

And Arris didn't believe her.

But it wasn't the time or place to make this a lesson of 'I know you better than you think I do.' She hadn't the strength or mind for it.

Then, she watched as Kirie tossed her cigarette into a puddle. The way Arris watched it douse in an instant... Eyes a little wide, jaw loosened. A look of a woman on the verge of tears that never came. Not because she refused, but because the instinct not to was drilled into her from an early age. And, in this cyborg's case, she had her tear ducts removed with her eyes.

When the acolyte asked how alike they were, Arris turned her head, if slightly.

"I'm a survivor."

Could there be an answer more naked than that?

The Talusian watched her examine the street ahead. She could sort of sense the younger woman's anxiety, even if those senses were never Windrun's forte. She was about to reassure her that she was safe - Arris wanted to present strength - but before she could, it was Kirie who stepped up and took that place. With a little girlish yelp, quickly swallowed by embarrassed silence, the cyborg found herself aloft, curling instinctively into Kirie's arms.

She might've been flushed if it was physically possible for her. What she did offer, upon being threatened, was laugh. Only, it wasn't a laugh that took it as a joke... Nor was it dismissive. Maybe, hell, maybe that was her next best thing to crying. Fuck. Arris realized something she hated. She needed trust. And she wished so badly she could go back in time and undo every mistake that got them here.