Private Locked Rooms and Old Fires

[Allan Alhune]

She adapted fast. Light on her feet, fluid movements and precise strikes. She had talent, that was evident. The way she adapted made it hard to read her next moves, a technique he taught himself that usually worked well. He had to do away with it, at the moment all it would be doing is waste precious energy.

Her precise cuts were met with perfect response from his end. The blades clashing and slashing off each other sending sparks into the air. She was trying to force him to fight on her terms.

How entertaining.

Then her foot hooked for his ankle that was met with a strength that would not budge, nor did his balance. Of course she would never be able to sweep his leg.

A sharp pain ran up his spine causing him to sneer as the robes over his ribs were sliced open. Dark black ichor slowly spewed from the wound as her elbow came next.

He stepped back his clawed hand gripping her arm, claws dug into her skin through her shirt and with a quick jerk, a resounding pop reverberated from the walls as his other hand palmed her shoulderblade, dislocating her shoulder.

His hand flicked pulling one of her legs forward as his hand shoved her torso downward, shoving her to the floor.

“Valiant effort. But still, not enough.”

He stood over her then looked at Varin, slowly he stepped toward him, his hand outstretched, ready to claim his prize. Then a slight movement from the Chiss woman caught his eye, once again.

Shade​

 

[Shade]

The pop of her shoulder echoed through the cell, a hollow, sickening sound.

Pain detonated through Shade's body like a thermal charge. For a fleeting second, the world dissolved into a blur of white heat, her vision fraying at the edges as the nerves in her arm screamed in protest. Her fingers spasmed, a useless, involuntary twitch, as the joint slipped free of its socket.

But the pain did not stop her. It never had.

When Allan forced her down, she struck the durasteel floor with a jarring thud that rattled her ribs and stole the air from her lungs. Her dislocated arm hung at a grotesque angle, heavy and unresponsive, yet her good hand clawed at the cold floor. She began to push.

It wasn't fast. It certainly wasn't graceful. But it was movement.

Her crimson eyes remained locked on him, tracking every step he took toward Varin. Through sheer, practiced discipline, Shade forced herself up onto one knee. Her breath was ragged, hitching in her chest, but her focus remained absolute. Even with her arm hanging limp, the shoulder visibly ruined beneath the fabric of her shirt, the rest of her shifted with purpose.

Blocking. Again. Always.

She planted herself between Allan and Varin once more, though the effort cost her a shudder that rippled through her entire frame. Her working hand found the hilt of the knife at her belt. The blade slid free with a hiss of cold promise.

She didn't throw it. She held it low, a steady threat in a failing body. Blood from the claw marks on her arm began to seep through her sleeve, warm and wet, but her grip remained iron-clad.

"Then you will have to keep proving that," she murmured. Her voice was thin, strained by the agony of standing, but it did not tremble. "Because I am still here."

Her stance was brittle. Her breathing was a heavy, labored rasp. She knew, with the cold clarity of a soldier, that she could not win this fight, that the next exchange would likely be her last.

It didn't matter. Shade simply reset her footing, lifted the blade, and narrowed the path between Allan and the man behind her. She didn't stay because she expected victory. She stayed because she had given her word.

Allan Alhune

 

[Allan Alhune]

Allan's gaze flicked to Shade, a look of slight intrigue as a chuckle of amusement escaped him.

“Look at you. Already broken, yet you still think you can fight on.”

He lifted his arm where the wound from his ribs were revealed, the dark ichor slowly being absorbed back into his body as the wound seemed to stitch itself with muscle fibers and flesh.

“How long can you keep it up? Exhaustion and pain already threaten you. Even now, your body betrays you.”

He slowly turned to face her as the wound from his side fully healed, like nothing had happened to him.

“I said I was taking Varin, and unlike you, I will always keep my word.”

The smirk upon his lips lowered, an emotionless scowl as he looked at his breaking opponent.

“Normally I would be done with playing with my food by now, watching you hobble around like an injured animal, it sucks the fun right out.”

He slowly stepped closer, a predatory step that seemed to echo and vibrate around the walls as the Force within and around him flexed and stirred like a restless beast.

“But I won't kill you. Death is a release, a gift. Not something you have earned yet.”

He stopped just in front of her, his eyes looking down at the blade in her hand, held tight, trying so hard to remain composed, so hard to be in control.

But you can't control ruin.

“I will let you suffer with failure. You will look at his eyes as he watches you let him walk away with me.”

His hand slowly lifted palm up, his clawed fingers curling slowly into his hand.

She would feel a heavy weight over her whole body, slowly increasing in force around her. Her legs would buckle or break. She would feel just the very forefront of his power over the Force. As if gravity itself truly bent to his will.

Shade​