Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Like a Cornered Beast

Managing to shift to her knees and then slowly make her way to a sort of stand now that the troops were no longer holding her down, Saphir's breath came in heavy gasps. There were more reasons than one as to why she often avoided those outbursts of emotion. For one thing, she was much more a hands on kind of person. For another thing, in this day and age, everyone and their grandma could either also wield such power or know had the means to counter it.

Perhaps the more pressing reason, without the training in how to properly manifest such power, it took a lot out of her.

The curl in the mouth of the hulking woman before her had Saphir stumbling back a step or two, trying to gather herself for the onslaught that'd surely come. Her eyes flicked between that grin and the blade still protruding from her fist before focusing on that blade. It'd be a nasty ordeal trying to block it, just as it'd be quite a challenge trying to recover from that blade sticking itself anywhere.

As Joycelyn rushed in, Saphir's arms flew up in a sort of an X, meant to protect her face and chest and maybe grab the blade's arm if that opportunity presented itself. But that punch never came. Instead, Saphir had the wind knocked out of her. Her person folded over the area of impact, knees once again acquainting themselves with the ground with nothing beyond her attacker in range to use to keep herself up. For once, there was no attempt at a witty comeback or one-liner. All Saphir could manage was a pained groan, and probably not a particularly loud one at that.

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]
 
[member="Saphir Steele"]

After her punch landed in Saphir's midriff and the pained groan ever so lightly accented the air, it was as if the air had gone out of the fight. Joycelyn could feel it too, though she was the one still standing. Her vicious smile lost its energy as she felt slightly betrayed.

The fist with the protruding knuckle-blade now moved to grab Saphir's crossed arms and keep them up over her head, while the hand that had punched her in the gut unclenched and tried to curl around Saphir's jaw in a tight pinch.

"You will be alright." She looked into Saphir's eyes, observing her state of consciousness.

Then she turned her head half to the side, keeping an eye on Saphir while clearly addressing one of the legionnaires who had gotten a fierce kick from Saphir earlier.

"Get the restraints and let's get a move on. She's coming with us."

The restrains fetched were not of the most ordinary kind. No, due to Saphir's extraordinary ability to be a problem, and the blast of the Force she had released earlier, they fetched a piece of kit usually reserved for captured Jedi: A restrainment harness.
 
Breathing in the couple seconds immediately following the uppercut was quite the ordeal. As the air slipped away from the fight's fire, it seemed to avoid her, too, as her diaphram tensed after the blow to her person. The sudden lack of breathe was plenty a distraction for her arms and jaw to be grasped by the beast.

At first, she avoided eye contact, half in part to her own awkward self with the other part easily attributed to the specks of dark threatening to overtake her vision at any time. And then blue accidentally met yellow and in her daze, the fire flickering in that yellow was almost fascinating.

Her brow furrowed. Was that meant to be reassuring? After all that, too? "Alright how?" she questioned. Her head would've cocked to the side if not for the grip keeping her jaw in place.

With the mention of restraints, Saphir's arms, which were previously almost resigned to their fate, attempted to wrench themselves from Joyce's grasp.Yet between the woman and her troops, it seemed more to be prolonging the inevitable than making actual progress.

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]
 
[member="Saphir Steele"]

"Because I'm not about to rip you in half, that's how."

As the restrains were clamped on to Saphir's limbs, Joycelyn let go of Saphir's chin and picked up the polearms strewn on the floor. She inspected Saphir's stick quite closely, looking at the grain and density of the wood, and feeling the heft of it as a weapon. It was basic, but evidently that was its strength as well. The same analysis worked for its wielder as it seemed to Joycelyn that Saphir was a different kind of fighter whose basic mode of attack made her all the more powerful.

It was intriguing.

The troops retreated with a handful of prisoners, among them the very restrained Saphir. While most of the prisoners were brought directly to shared cells, Saphir was isolated in her own padded cell. It was cold, just so that it would be uncomfortable, but not quite to the point where it would lead to acute hypothermia. While it was padded enough to prevent self-injury, it was not so padded that it offered comfort. Once the door shut behind them, the room was dark, and every wall felt exactly the same if one slammed one's body against it.

Some time went by before the door opened again and Joycelyn entered. She no longer wore the black armour, but a crisp uniform and a short, fur-trimmed cape. In her hands she carried a tray, the contents of which were obscured by a large, domed lid of black metal with a distinct brass top.

"Comfortable?"
 
Whatever struggles the smaller woman put up aside, Saphir's body slumped as the restraints locked into place, both defeat and fatigue weighing heavily on her shoulders. There was one moment, where she was being dragged to her feet, where the temptation to remind both the woman and her troops that she was only leaving freedom behind if she was carried was nearly overwhelming. However, a small electrical pulse from the harness keeping her limbs in check suggested otherwise.

Saphir had little way of knowing how long she was in her cell. Her head throbbed with various degrees of pain, to a point in which she wasn't sure sleep would be possible, let alone safe, even with the seemingly perpetual embrace of darkness. There wasn't much to be done about the cold, either. Her robes were meant for mobility, the mere idea of sleeves being almost an insult.

She'd slid to the floor shortly upon realizing any assault on the walls would be futile, at one point attempting to bring her knees in as close as possible without the help of her restrained limbs. Her arms were ripe with gooseflesh and her teeth chattered in what'd otherwise be silence.

When at last the door did open, there were several long moments of staring before recognition shown in Saphir's eyes. First, the sudden light was a shock. Secondly, the lack of armor hand her momentarily struggling to place the familiar face. When at last she did catch on, she leaned back against the opposite wall, head cocking to the side with Joyce's question.

"Is that supposed to be a joke?" There was a slight shake in her voice, though perhaps moreso from the cold and lack of use over intimidation. Her eyes flicked from Joyce's face to the tray, an eyebrow raising.

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]
 
"I take it you prefer my serious voice then."

-Joycelyn sounded exactly the same as when she had told her initial joke. An ambient light lit the padded room without giving a clear source, while the door closed behind her.

She approached Saphir, but remained at approximate kicking distance when she decided to kneel down and set the tray between them. She had not brought any torture implements, weapons, nor syringes of truth serum. Instead, there was a bowl of some kind of foodstuff, piping hot, with a spoon seemingly made of a plastic. There was also a tightly rolled fabric and a bottle of clear liquid with two small glasses.

"I brought you food."

She gestured to the grey mush in the bowl. It didn't smell bad, mostly because it was entirely flavourless.

"If you cooperate, I may be convinced to give you the blanket."

She put a hand on the cap of the bottle to keep Saphir from taking it.

"If I like what I hear, there may be a treat in it for you." "How does that sound?"

[member="Saphir Steele"]
 
"There's a difference? Nice cape."

Her muscles tensed as the woman approached, half expecting another onslaught or at least some sort of pain to follow as the cell door was sealed once more. Her position didn't ease up, either, as the tray was set down, eyes scanning for weapons and eventually coming to rest on the bottle of liquid when she found no weapons to speak of.

"You beat a person, let them freeze, then bring them food?" her brow furrowed, sizing her now unarmored captor up as she finally shifted into a more comfortable, more mobile, position. One hand reached for the bowl, eyes never leaving the woman before her, not doing much in terms of navigation as said hand landed next to the bowl rather than grabbing said item.

"What's your game here?"

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]
 
"I assure you, there is."

There was a hint of a smile gleaming in her eyes.

Joycelyn was quiet through the rest of Saphir's questions, looking right at the woman's face with a casual confidence. She remained seated on her knees, back straight, head high, and shoulders relaxed, but far from slouched. Her military upbringing was evident in her posture. She did not look down to see where Saphir put her hand, but knew it was on the tray.

"I admit, we got off to a rocky start. I had my orders and we ended up in conflict."

Her hand did not move from the top of the bottle, nor did her eyes stray or waver.

"Now, I just want to talk, find out the facts. That's all."

Oh it was all deliberate. The beating was necessary to drag her on board. The freezing was to weaken her, and the tray was there to pull out a gleam of fellowship between that she could then use to extract information without relying on pain. The blanket was normally afforded to begin with, but she had opted to make it an extra kindness. The booze? Just a hunch. These travelling folk were often ardent alcoholics.

Even the way she rested her palm on the bottle was intentional as it could be wielded as a weapon against Saphir, should she decide to attack Joycelyn.

[member="Saphir Steele"]
 

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