Private Fiery Promises

[Mercy]

SOMEWHERE WITHIN THE FIREFIST COMPANION GALAXY
Srina Talon

After the Sith campaign on Firefist, the Order was formally in control over the region.

But if you knew Mercy, you knew she'd always be able to find conflict somewhere, sometime. No nation could control every shred of territory they formally ruled, there were always rougher areas, or places that the army still hadn't gone around to. Even more so when the campaign spoke of a whole galaxy. A companion one, but a galaxy nonetheless. Mercy didn't mind, in fact, she liked it.

Conflict was her bread and butter and for this particular display she had needed something that was within the Sith region. A newly annexed and conquered territory was perfect for her particular sort of aims.

Mercy didn't know the name of the planet she was on. Nor the continent and neither the settlement. She had been told the Keep's name, but it was in a strange alien language and Mercy hadn't bothered to remember it. Apparently its translation roughly went as: The One That Shall Always Stand. In Mercy's opinion you sort of asked for trouble when you came up with that sort of names for your defensive structures.

It was as if you looked up at the heavens and basically screamed a challenge at the Gods.

The Graspborn were loitering about, doing what cultists usually did. Gathering up the loot, recruiting new souls to worship Mercy and the struggle that Mercy personified. She had conquered this keep by herself. Which hadn't been the wisest course of action. The amount of damage to the fortification had been significant. But Mercy didn't like depending so much on her warband all the time.

Sometimes she wanted to cut loose.

Now Mercy was on the ramparts of the Keep. Overlooking the land. She had invited one particular Empress to enjoy the view along with her. She had asked for her ear... and in return she'd showcase the sort of gift Mercy could give.

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Mercy
Location: Firefist

____________________________________________________

The wind was all wrong.

Srina felt it before she saw anything else, a pressure, moving against the skin of the Force deep enough to hit bone. It wasn't violent or chaotic, just different than what she was used to. The weave that she was used to from their galaxy felt as if it had been shredded and rebuilt, with Firefist, manipulating the threads that bound them. But Mercy…Mercy wasn't hard to find at all.

She had a way of leaving fingerprints on things, places, like heat-marked metal.

The pale Empress arrived without ceremony. No fanfare. Just the faint shift of air as space folded enough to allow her passage from one location to the next. Her cloak was dark and travel-worn with a hem that blushed pale with the dust from a dozen other worlds that had mostly been full of disappointment. Firefist was intriguing, but it seemed far less populated than what they came from. Beneath it, silver-threaded armorweave held skin-tight to her delicate frame. It was elegant rather than heavy, made for speed, with quiet sigils that muted the way her power bled into realspace.

Her hair was long, white-gold, and was braided back into a loose Echani knot that seemed to have partially come undone somewhere in transit. A few long tendrils slipped free, catching the wind that was oh so wrong, framing a face that was far too calm for unknown territory. Unfamiliar terrain, with an unfamiliar person. There was a cut on her cheek that looked fresh, with dirt and fading bruises, smudging her typically pristine appearance.

She looked hardened…She looked—Like War.

Srina walked across the scorched ramparts that were uneven under her boots. The pale woman didn't comment on it, nor did she look at the Graspborn that lingered. Their devotion had the sour and overripe tang of things that wanted to worship, or be worshipped, far too much. The flaxen-haired Echani let them exist the way one regarded an insect, not worth addressing, unless they began to crawl where they shouldn't. Her gold-hewn eyes lifted instead to follow the line of Mercy's gaze across this strange, broken land that existed beyond the Keep. "Interesting choice…"

Mercy could have chosen any location. Any, at all. What pulled her to this one? Irony? Convenience?

She turned her head just enough to look at her unlikely companion, to really look at her.

Her gauntlet still made the beast wrapped around her spine twitch, uncomfortable, and angry. Their last meeting hummed in the back of her mind, not as a threat, but a memory of fire, burning skin, and threats that had fallen on deaf ears. Srina had meant every word. Pain was only so promising until it put the recipient permanently in the ground. The Empress…Would not hesitate to bury this woman.

The pull of Firefist made her volatile.

Srina did not step any closer.

"You asked for my ear…", her voice carried, siren song, no matter how softly she spoke. The wind, odd and fierce, tugged at her cloak and tossed platinum hair like moonlit ribbons. "And you promised me a view…"

Molten orbs of decaying corruption were already ringed in fire.

"Show me what you have made."

 

[Mercy]

Srina Talon

Her head tilted slightly as the quality of the air shifted yet again. Ripping a hole from one end of the Galaxy to the other had a tendency of changing more than just the Force.

Heat, smell, touch, these things shifted all the same.

"You know, I have tried that trick a number of times." Mercy murmured lightly as she repositioned her body slightly. Angled now towards the presence that joined her at the rampart.

"I usually get flung several clicks off course if I am lucky." She continued as her eyes returned to the scenery in front of them.

"That's if I am lucky. This one time I was aiming for Denon and somehow landed in Dathomir. Awkward meetings aplenty there, but at least they hate men almost as much as I do."

The choice of aim hinted at Mercy's way of working. She didn't so much as carve a hole between places as much as the Sith picked a spot and launched herself through the fabric of the Force.

No wonder the accuracy of it was left wanting.

But Mercy had other talents and they were surrounded by its expression. An impressive keep in tatters, made solely with her might and joyful fury.

The mountain range in front of them had a fracture running through it, which left a valley that might have been a natural occurance.

An earthquake, perhaps.

Except for how smug Mercy was looking at it that hinted at more.

"Mm, I did promise you a view." Her steely eyes lingered for a moment longer on the valley. A trace of amber bleeding in from the sheer pleasure.

Then she turned around, settling herself against the rampart, leaning as she gestured forward.

From out the shadows stepped several pale creatures.

Nagai.

"You wished for a demonstration. These are several of the Nagai people that inhabited this place. I have been slowly working their minds with assistance of my... gifts." The golden claw flexed almost as if waking up a touch.

"They are loyal, they are subtle, they will follow any command you give and yet they have a mind of their own. No drone, no slave that cannot function on their own."

She pushed herself up and flopped down on the edge of the rampart. Precariously lounging there as she watched her creations that came to stand in front of them.

There were a score here. More elsewhere.

"Test them if you wish."

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Mercy
Location: Firefist

____________________________________________________

"I could teach you."

The words fell from her as easily as rain fell from a heavy, gray, and cloudy sky. Her travels by slipping through the space between had begun small, amplified by the wedding ring Darth Empyrean had placed on her finger. It taught her to use anchor points and memories to accurately predict where and when she might enter realspace. The signature that flooded from Mercy was like a beacon in the glom. Unmistakable. Traceable. She didn't try to hide, frequently leaving a path of destruction that could be followed like breadcrumbs. "But…It would require stillness of mind."

Corrupted golden orbs flickered up toward the much taller woman.

"Patience."

Her fingers ran along a smooth stone railing, barely standing, with a certain purpose. Testing. Ensuring that it was still real while other elements shifted around her like sand through a sieve. Firefist kept doing that, making everything feel provisional, as though the ground itself might decide to slide out from beneath her if she stepped too hard. The wind pressed at her cloak, pulling more silvery hair free, leaving shining threads drifting. She looked tired in a way no one had a right to be. Tired but…Unbroken. Strong. Effortlessly, untouchable.

Even with a cut on her cheek.

Mercy's voice rolled on beside her as the Nagai emerged and subsequently tore her focus away from the slice in the valley. It made her squint. If Mercy weren't present, she wouldn't have thought it to be anymore more than the result of a natural disaster, but a silent assessment made her start to suspect that the large female was the natural disaster. She didn't have proof, of course, but…It was an easy bet.

Srina watched the creatures as they pulled from the shadow with the same quiet focus that she used when reading casualty reports. Not because she instantly liked what she saw, but because missing any detail was exceedingly costly. They weren't broken. That was the first thing she registered. They were certainly altered, tuned to Mercy's hand, but still cognitively present. They held themselves together—Even in the presence of strange, off-worlders. It reminded her unpleasantly of the younglings she'd found in warzones over the years, Force-scarred, but still breathing.

Still able to flinch when someone raised a voice too quickly.

Dathomir.

That was an interesting place to have wound up, though, Srina knew quite a few witches. Mercy must have either been extremely lucky, or, wound up making an impression they found favorable. She wouldn't have thought "hating men" to be the catalyst but she couldn't clam otherwise. She shifted her weight on the damaged stone—Soundless. The valley that cut through the mountains sat in her peripheral vision like a wound she couldn't stop touching. A scar that refused to stop itching. Yes. Mercy…Mercy was definitely responsible for that. "I don't care if they follow orders."

"Anyone with imagination and access to basic torture groups can make something obey."

One of the Nagai looked at her, not with fear or reverence, just the wary attention of something that had been taught to watch. Srina met its gaze for a second, then looked away. She had learned, a long time ago, not to stare at things she might have to break later. "What I'm trying to understand…"

"Is what you've left them with. If they still know when something is wrong…If they can still hesitate."

The wind shifted again, carrying the faint, metallic smell of Mercy's work. The longer she became aware of it, the more saturated the area became in the warrior's pride. It was a touchable, living thing. Her voice was quieter now. Not insulting…Analyzing. It would take her time to understand the truth of what had been created, and she couldn't afford to accept it at face value. "If all you've given them is loyalty, they won't last. Someone else will come along and peel them open the moment you're not looking. They need skill. Fear. Knowledge that there is something worse than death."

Acceptance that beyond all things—She was far crueler than the destructive, sociopath at her side.

They would love her first and last, not because she willed it, but because…It seemed to happen whether she wanted it or not. So many fell in line behind her will.

So many died.

She turned her head toward Mercy, studying her, in that unblinking Echani way that wasn't quite hostile and wasn't quite kind either. "If they are not bound to me…What stops you from taking them back?"

It was the conundrum, the stalemate, that always left her looking. She could not have the support she needed because she refused to cultivate a cult. Refused, to endorse zealotry in her name. It left her open to attack by any servant or soldier who could be swayed. She had ice in her blood and a heart made of stone, barely alive, but still breathing and aware of her mortality.

Success was about control. In this scenario, Mercy had it. Srina did not.

"How would I test the faith of a creature that ultimately belongs to you? Even if they are unaware?"

 

[Mercy]

Srina Talon

A little smirk playing on her lips.

"Oh, yeah, you want to be my teacher, darling?" Mercy drawled lazily. The offer didn't insult her, but neither was she particularly interested either. It was nothing personal. Mercy had chaffed under the tutelage of others, even under Ashin, and the day she was finally Knighted had been the day her life trly had become.

"I will keep it in mind. But I rather enjoy not knowing exactly where I will land up." She said with a shrug. "Keeps things interesting, great way to make new friends all the time."

Mercy watched as Srina approached them.

She was rather proud of this particular work. Usually Mercy brute-forced them, breaking minds and rearranging them. She wasn't a mentalist, after all. Brute force came more natural to her. But her arm... could do more, if given the time and effort. In this case Mercy had spend several days with these creatures, influencing their minds. Bending rather than breaking. Adding rather than erasing.

"They are still their own creatures, darling. They have hopes, dreams, fears, ambitions." She pulled her pipe out, starting to smoke as Mercy shrugged there.

"You were pretty clear you don't want cultists or slaves. So, these creatures will feel fear for much more than just death."

The million credit question came and Mercy smirked.

"Who says they aren't bound to you? Give them an order and they will follow it. I have made sure they see you as their leader. As for taking them back... why would I ever do that?"

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Mercy
Location: Firefist

____________________________________________________

Srina remained beside Mercy, not close enough to crowd, but near enough to witness the Nagai. She wasn't pretending that they weren't part of the conversation, but she still didn't trust what the Warlord had to offer. It wasn't anything that Mercy had done…It was just a survival instinct. She could list the number of people who had her complete faith on one hand. Mercy's little "darling" comment slid past her without reaction. Not because it didn't register—but because it wasn't worth the oxygen. The pale woman had already expressed her displeasure; now, it was just an act to get under her skin.

The pipe smoke curled across the wind, bitter and metallic, mixing with the aftertaste of destruction. It made the back of her throat ache, and her hand moved, sending the pipe flying out of Mercy's hand and down into the valley below. Her expression remained still, but gentle words carried from her lips while golden, corrupted orbs slid over the much taller woman. "…You should keep a better grasp on your possessions, Mercy."

Perfectly impassive and Innocent of all things.

Her attention returned to the Nagai, and she drew a deep breath, now free from the abhorrent scent of tobacco and spice. It was still marred with the scent of burning…But it was better, somehow. "I think you might be mistaking unpredictability for freedom of individuality…They're not quite the same. They need to be convincing as their own entity…"

Her eyes drifted over the Nagai again. They held themselves with a strange and careful poise that unsettled her. They were completely aware, but changed, and that kind of awareness or lack of it was its own kind of wound. "Hope, fear, and dreams survive a great many things…The Light perseveres no matter how many of them we destroy. No matter how many of their worlds, their planets, we burn. These emotions can exist simultaneously…That doesn't mean a mind is untouched—"

"—Or safe from intrusion."

When Mercy implied that these creatures might be bound to her, something small and cold settled behind Srina's ribs. Not surprise. Something closer to resignation…"Explain.", the soft word referred to the state of the Nagai. She wanted to understand the depth of what was done so she could assess how valid this new workforce would be. It was clear that, regardless of what happened with the Sith Order, she would need a reliable source of information. The High Republic was desperate to figure out what was happening behind the Blackwall…It would only be a matter of time before they made a move. Before the strange, isolated Imperials decided to show their backsides again.

Srina did not like to be surprised.

Elegant brows drew together when Mercy asked why she would take them back. The answer seemed obvious, even to someone who lacked certain social graces and understanding. Why wouldn't Mercy try and take back an entity that held her secrets? No matter what else they were, even if there was burgeoning respect that went beyond simple curiosity…They were Sith. They were cruel.

They were ambitious.

"…Leverage."

Mercy had sought out Solipsis and was part of a new Sith Faction that held no loyalty to her other than a shared vision of the dark. Traitorous behavior was commonplace, even more, because she was the current reigning Empress. It would have been a notch on the much larger woman's belt that few others could claim. Srina did not like to be in debt, nor did she indulge blackmail.

It was a foolish game in which the perpetrator would likely lose their head if they annoyed her.

"I would not blame you…It is natural for our kind to betray one another."

 

[Mercy]

Srina Talon

Her pipe flew out of her hand and for a moment Mercy looked at her hand. Now empty. Then back over her shoulder into the canyon. Mercy couldn't even see the damn thing anymore. Then finally to Srina. Once upon a time her fury had been hot, burning and scorching bright, causing her to lash out without concern or hesitation.

She would have thrown Srina into the canyon even a few years ago.

Instead? Mercy stepped forward and grabbed the Empress by her throat, yanking her in close towards her, glancing down at her.

"Should I truly?" Mercy murmured there lightly, giving a squeeze around her neck in response. "I can... grasp quite tightly when I have a reason to, you know."

Then a smirk, nothing innocent about that, nor the amber bleeding into her eyes.

Golden suns gazing down at Srina.

"You burned me so exquisitely last time, darling. If you think I can't take that... and align their minds to your presence, you truly do underestimate me. They merely need to feel you and they know, that you are their ruler, their Empress."

The question by Srina was a reasonable one. But Mercy... did not think as a regular Sith. She did not truly believe in treachery, betrayal, base things like that. Not because Mercy thought she was better than that- actually, exactly because Mercy thought she was better than that. The idea of betraying someone felt filthy to Mercy.

Disgusting and cowardly.

"I am no coward, Srina." She murmured down at her. "If I come for you, I won't do it from behind. You will see me coming and I will do it personally. No henchmen, no servants. Just me, going for your head."

Then a smile.

"But luckily we are becoming friendly, don't we?" As if not noticing the way her hand had made Srina's neck disappear inside of it... until she let go again. "And friends have little to fear from each other. So no, I will never even think to take them. They are my gift to you. It would be rude and cowardly to resort to something like that."

And there was no sarcasm in her voice. Mercy... was being entirely earnest.

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Mercy
Location: Firefist

____________________________________________________

The moment a hand closed around her throat…The air changed.

Not explosively. Not theatrically…It was just heavier. Srina did not struggle, nor did she try to claw at the taller woman's wrist for freedom. Her breath caught with something other than panic. Irritation? That wasn't quite the right sentiment, but when her eyes lifted to meet Mercy's, as they darkened, her own remained crystalline. Clear. They were bright and luminous in the way that lightning abruptly brightened the sky when it cracked through the atmosphere. Her stare remained unflinching…

Even held like this, lifted off balance, she did not feel smaller.

The wind that felt so off to her, so wrong against her skin, snapped colder and began to carry the scent of ozone and something other. Something old—Unfathomable. She could feel the Force resonate in Mercy now, in a way she hadn't before, and it gave the impression of an explosion continuously going off in a confined space. Everything was so tightly focused into her form that it came to a head like a galactic wrecking ball…

Interesting.

Clouds gathered where there had only been a dull, scarred sky moments before. They rolled in with the inevitability of an unstoppable act of the heavens while the temperature dropped just enough to sting. Ice began to form, not in jagged spikes, not in violent eruptions, but in thin lines of frost that crept across the stones of the rampart. It flowed across Mercy's boots, climbing the hem of her gear, and then higher still—Up her arm, slow and deliberate, like a hand that was learning the shape of her.

The Nagai shifted. It was subtle and unmistakable while a ripple passed through them as Srina's presence tightened, their attention flaring toward Mercy's grip on her. Not attacking. Not yet anyway…Just waiting.

"Careful…"

The singular word was a soft caress that would feel both silken and sharp. It was a svelte murmur that was almost a growl, a purr in the back of her throat, made thin by the pressure on her larynx. "Perhaps you're used to dealing with weaklings. Thinking that they will submit, because you are you, and mind-numbing death is just a breath away…"

Her gloved fingers lifted and rest lightly against Mercy's wrist, not trying to pry it away, just acknowledgment. Feeling the strength there when delicate fingers rolled up the radial side of her thumb. She could feel it all, then. The restrained anger. The control. The advantage that Mercy thought she had with her body as a weapon, she never needed to set down. Were Srina not who she was, not Echani, she might have been intimidated. She might have felt that slow quiver of fear…

But Srina Talon bent, broke, for no one.

"This is not how you get my attention."

The frost crept higher, unnatural, and was coupled with a bite that signaled conventional means wouldn't be able to stop it. It sucked the warmth from the air, stole the heat from Mercy's blood rolling hotly beneath her skin. The storm above them deepened while thunder rolled distantly, shaking the ground, like the rumbling roar of some great beast. Her eyes never left the bleeding amber gaze of the warlord, and everything about the diminutive woman seemed to become less human. The quiet and emotionless façade melted into something that was too gaunt, too skeletal, with perhaps a few too many teeth. "Perhaps…You should follow the lesson of your Nagai."

To feel her—To know, exactly what she was and wasn't. Patient…Perhaps. Forgiving?

Never.

"Friends…Are we?"

The ice moved along Mercy's arm, thickening, faintly fogging her skin to the point that when she let go—The action would feel stiff and slow. As if Srina didn't intend for the Sith Lord to let go of her at all. The cold didn't stop, her eyes slowly turning hollow, while stalagmites began to fall from the sky. They crashed into the stone and broke into a million pieces, sharp, and spraying the area with shrapnel.

Srina had warned Mercy on Jutrand…There was a difference between growth and being put in the ground.

She would likely, as before, play it off.

"…I believe you…But you still chose to put your hand on my throat. I do not belong, to you."

It was a simple thing, to accept death, to realize it was an end. Her tone never rose in pitch or volume as the sudden hailstorm deepened, hard, icy pellets that stung when they struck skin. Ticking against stone and armor like some sort of countdown. The frost coalesced around Mercy, not enough to cripple, but it clearly drew the line of where Srina's influence began and ended. She was not slow by any means. Echani eyes did not let her avoid the knowledge that she had recognized, realized, this woman would react. Would move to strike out at her in some way.

If Mercy had spent any real time on Eshan?

She would know that. She would know…Srina had allowed it.

"You cause me pain, my friend…Such pain."

It wouldn't be clear about what pain she was referring to…But it would be clear that the air was getting harder to breathe.

She didn't want this.

She never wanted this...But it always ended the same way. Always in blood. Always, in death.

Asha'vor nasha.​

​

 

[Mercy]

Srina Talon

Mercy was impressed by the display of power and had no hesitation in showing it.

Licking her lips, glancing up to the sky for a brief moment before looking back down at the Empress. That glance up was the reason why she hadn't been given the grace of seeing the transformation of Srina's face in real-time.

"Oh..." Mercy murmured softly as the temperature began to drop. Cold seeping into the air, trickling along her gear and up to her arm. She felt the frost as something external. As something that was not part of her. Something to be observed, but not feared. The reason for that became clear very quickly as the frost began to melt as quickly as it was growing.

Her body self-regulated.

Her body, which Mercy had mastered above everything else.

It began to heat up without Mercy's input or conscious decision. Her eyes were only for Srina in that moment as she listened and her smile became just a touch sad. She didn't... directly respond to any of it. Not because Mercy didn't want to, every fiber in her body was bursting at the seams to struggle and to fight and to tear with teeth and taste blood.

But the monstrous mountain felt insight and thought she saw something, something that she couldn't not act on.

"My heart, such as it is, goes out for you, Srina Talon." Mercy murmured softly... and reached out again. This time, her fingers ran along her shoulder, having let go of her throat just a moment ago. "You are so strong, so fierce and powerful. It must be exhausting..." The large woman practically whispered so gentle.

A sotto voice that should not be possible to be uttered by a feral and violent monster such as the one in front of her.

"To always have to show... that you do not bend, do not break..." Her golden hand, terrible and made of great violence, now gently brushed along Srina's cheek, where Mercy had spotted the cut. "Being forced... to always be Empress and nothing else, lest those around you take advantage."

Her free arm, real and flesh, began to wrap around Srina's waist.

"But you must be so cold... and so alone... and even one as great as yourself... needs a hug every once in a while. Does she not?" And there Mercy pulled Srina into a surprising embrace. Heedless of the frost, the cold. Accepting the bite of ice as it carved into flesh... because in truth pain was an elixir she enjoyed to sip from regardless.

And why not reward a deliverer of pain with something to staunch the frost... and offer some warmth?

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Mercy
Location: Firefist

____________________________________________________

Warmth hit the air, suddenly, a foreign element to the wintry hellscape she was creating.

Mercy's body seemed to be refusing the cold, almost on instinct, in an enviable way. Heat bloomed beneath her skin, blood moving faster, muscle and bone asserting themselves against the creeping frost. Srina could feel her way through the Force…But it was her Echani eyes that filled in the blanks. That noticed her vitals thrumming and frost melting away as if it were little more than a holiday sprinkle.

The touch was a mistake.

The instant Mercy's hand slid across her shoulder, not in threat, not in challenge, but in that quiet, almost intimate way—The air around them collapsed. She did not understand the expression that Mercy wore now, having made her trespass, having sealed her fate. The words that fell from the Warlord were filled with something that made her teeth clench together, sharpening her jawline, making her even more fierce. Was that pity? Did this woman have the audacity to pity her when she was two steps from the grave?

Her shoulder pulled back abruptly, out of reach, only to find the damnable golden-gauntlet reaching for her cheek. Was Mercy mocking her with this act of faux gentleness? Had she not just snatched her up by the throat? Had she not just leveraged her strength while manipulating the disparity between their size to attempt to make Srina feel small? Her head tilted while she peered up at the woman whom her daughter held in such high esteem. Looking for something. Someone…Beneath the clear, pure insanity.

Srina backed away when Mercy reached for her waist, her body tensing for attack, but her movement wasn't fast enough, and she was pulled forward again. Something old within her, something Echani and honed for war, reacted violently in the split second before the distance between them was forcibly closed. Not with fear, but answering with immediate force.

The ice did not retreat with an embrace.

It shattered.​

The seemingly harmless frost that swept the area exploded outward in a violent bloom with dozens of crystalline spears ripping free from lethal flowers. The Nagai stumbled backward from Srina in surprise, in shock, while they scrambled away in a panic. They might have been "loyal" to the diminutive white-haired woman, but basic self-preservation instincts told them to move. The spears pressed in from all sides and tore through the air, some melting, some striking home even as they melted. Mercy would feel it when they ripped into muscle, into bone, grinding and puncturing the softest parts of her with sharp, ringing cracks.

A spear streaked across Srina's shoulder, toward her face faster than the eye could follow…

But it stopped.

Hovering, suspended, and turning, a breath from the center of Mercy's forehead. Few creatures could survive such an injury to their brain, let alone if the spike fractured again. This woman might have been the exception…But Srina had always operated with one truth in combat. Removal of the heart, removal of the head meant victory.

Srina remained still in the chaos. Her hands were trapped between them, and her breathing had not changed…But Mercy was against her now, arms around her, heat soaking into her armor, into her skin. The sensation was wrong in a way that made her instincts snarl. Not from pain or threat…Just from the contact. Her body knew what to do with enemies.

It did not know what to do with this.

The Nagai had gone quiet, making themselves scarce, even though they lingered close by. They were listening, not kneeling or advancing, just fixated on the two of them as if time had come to a standstill. What did they do? How did they…Survive? This world was already trembling from its first blush with Mercy. This new one, this hit…It was excruciating for the denizens to endure because the hailstorm was growing. Worsening by the second.

The pale woman could feel Mercy's blood steaming where the ice had bitten into her. Could feel through the cage of the Force that she hid herself in, through the strength, to a pulse that was steady regardless of the damage that had been done. Regardless, the damage Srina could still do. One of them should have been dead. Either from Mercy crushing her or Srina skewering her…One of them should be dead.

But Mercy wasn't trying to kill her.

Mercy was holding her.

Ludicrous.

The spear at her forehead trembled. A killing line, ready. The frost tried to claim the taller woman again with renewed fervor, creeping back where it had been, but Mercy's body fought it. She let it. Quietly, watching the tug-of-war between their natures with sharp, detached awareness. Her chin lifted just enough to meet Mercy's, pale and luminous…

Dangerously calm.

"Don't touch me and pretend it's kindness. You have neither the right nor the privilege."

Mercy did not get to assume who or what she was, who she had become for the sake of their people. This new tactic was a game of mentalism that she wanted to end. She burned herself on a pyre each day, sacrificing knowing her children, sacrificing following her husband for the sake of keeping his legacy alive. For the sake of keeping the Order standing. She was not alone.

She was buried.

Mercy didn't care about that. Mercy, didn't know her. Why would she? The mountain of a woman barely knew her name beyond what it might be able to do for her. For example…This business transaction. The spear at Mercy's forehead inched closer until the point only barely kissed skin. She could not be soft. She could not be weak.

She could not allow the insult of being dragged by her throat lest anyone think it a simple task to bring the Eleventh Empire down. Srina did not know the goals of her newest children in the Covenant, but she was certain it didn't involve making outright war with the Order. Not yet, at any rate…Not yet. So then, why all of this?

Her hesitation wasn't caused by anything Mercy had said. Srina was used to words, threats, promises, devotion, and it all slid off away from her the way rain slid off glass. People lied when they spoke. Even when they thought they weren't. It was the stillness that stayed her hand. Mercy was bleeding. Heat was fighting the ice buried in her in ugly, undoubtedly painful bursts, and yet, she wasn't pulling away. Again...she wasn't…trying...to hurt her.

Not even with a weapon aimed point-blank at her head.

Srina breathed inward, and something in her seemed to find equilibrium. With that…The winds became less harsh. Less biting, bitter cold. The spears that remained frozen in the air fell to the ground as if they weren't harmful at all. Brushing away in the wind like soft, wet piles of snow. Her voice was barely there, airy, as emotion drained out of her and the sky looked a little less gray.

She understood now...This wasn't a fight she needed to win. It wasn't a fight at all.

"I'm warm enough...You can let go, now."

 

[Mercy]

The pain laced through her body as frigid cold fought against the natural heat of her body amplified by the Dark Side surging through her body.

The shrapnel frost biting into her flesh, carving through skin, pressing in and delving.

One particularly sharp piece of ice angling towards her face.

Even as Srina Talon was contemplating, Mercy's attention shifted towards it with a curious look. She wondered if she'd survive it, if it rammed itself through her brain. Would her healing factor be able to keep up with the damage being done? Especially if it burst into pieces inside of her skull.

That... Got Mercy very curious and she was tempted to poke at Srina until she'd launch the frosty pike.

Just to see what would happen.

Instead? It melted in the air and Mercy pulled the one out of her shoulder. Looking at it curiously, bloody and cold. Then biting a chunk off it.

She chewed on it with a little mm.

Seemingly uncaring about the cold bite to her teeth.

"Hydrating is very important." Mercy declared lazily there as she dropped half of the icicle.

And then the large woman looked down at Srina. Considering and contemplating what she was telling her.

"Mm, perhaps you are warm, yes. But... You are tired, aren't you?" Mercy murmured softly, again stroking her jaw with her golden hand, brushing just underneath the cut.

"Even a fierce creature such as yourself... Needs some support every once in a while."

And then without further ado Mercy suddenly picked Srina up, lifting her up and bundled her in her arms.

"Let's see if we can find you a comfortable bed to rest in."

She gently twapped Srina's struggling hands away.

"Darling, I am trying to take care of you. Don't be so difficult. Even a mighty warrior such as yourself needs rest."

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Mercy
Location: Firefist

____________________________________________________

Srina went still the moment her feet left the ground, not rigid or limp, just…Still.

Surprised.

It wasn't often that things managed to surprise her, especially when she was already in a mode that was damned and determined to fight. Her hands had already begun to rise reflexively when Mercy batted them away, and that alone, normally, would have been enough to earn a broken wrist. The instinct was there. Sharp, immediate, and ruthless. The Force was there…That same cold pressure tightening at the edges of the world…Ready. Waiting.

But…She did not act.

Instead, she inhaled slowly. Deeply. It was a breath that she had learned to take, when suddenly, killing became easy…Because that was what it would take. Mercy had been injured by her attack, but it was clear that her ability to heal superseded the damage that had been dealt. There was no way to simply "hurt" her and take control of the situation.

Srina would need to kill her.

Was she ready to do that? Quinn…Quinn was very fond of this woman. She would not willingly harm her daughter if there was any other way. The cold receded another fraction. Not gone…

Just contained.

"You should put me down."

Her voice was even, unraised, and threaded with the kind of authority that did not need volume. She was used to being obeyed, and not at all, used to strange colloquial pet names like "darling" from anyone other than her husband—and even that was a leap. Her teeth ground together when her mouth snapped shut, and her arms crossed over her chest. Mercy's arm beneath her knees was solid, and her chest was a furnace pressed against Srina's side, heat bleeding through armor weave, through layers that were meant to be resist far worse than this. She was, truly, a creature made for war. They were alike in that regard.

But this? Being carried like this was unacceptable.

Being handled like this was even worse.

"I need nothing, Mercy.", she returned swiftly, perhaps, a little too quickly. Her fingers curled, not clawing, but her nails dug into her palms to remind herself not to overreact. She did not struggle again. That would have turned it into a spectacle…And Srina Talon, did not flail while being carried about like a sack of potatoes. There were very few people that she trusted to be this close to her…Very few. Mercy, was not one of them.

At the notion of being "tired" a long sigh drew from her…Of course she was. Who wouldn't be? The constant travel and carrying on? "I am only capable of stretching myself so thin. Of course…I am tired. I have been tired for years. But I do not require…"

Golden eyes flickered toward Mercy's face.

"Rescue."

What else could she call this? Spat out, like a cursed word. The whiplash she suffered from forcibly learning that Mercy did not react and think the way others did was enough to snap her neck. Srina fell silent after that, aware that the world around her was moving, but trying to understand the situation. It would have been easy to close her eyes and drift…But sleep was for the weak. Sleep in foreign territory was the whim of someone who wanted to die. "…What is it that you want?"

"You asked for my ear. This, is not that."