Private Of Budding Vengence

[Oleander]

//: Mercy //:
//: Attire //:

Nothing survived.

The garden, the greenhouse—gone. Her life's work was reduced to a choking haze of smoke and ash in minutes. Oleander stood in the wreckage, brushing her bangs back, red eyes wide, trying to decide if she should scream or just start billing someone.

It hadn't even been that long since the Alliance tore through Hapes. The Queen Mother then? Dead. This new one? Probably already dead, too. Hapan royalty had the shelf life of a ripe fig. Oleander didn't mourn her.

She was irritating.

Tradition had its uses. Some people seemed to exist solely to ruin them. Especially whoever decided to rain fire on her viper plants. She knelt, listening to the last faint crackles, the dying whispers only she could hear.

"Shh, I know…" Her voice softened, even as her jaw tightened. When the final thread of life snapped, she straightened, rubbing her face.

The Alliance. Obviously. First, they shove Jedi into places they don't belong; now, they can't keep their enemies from torching the very people they'd harassed months ago. What use were they? The home could be replaced. The plants couldn't. People depended on her tonics, her poisons, her careful work. Now? All gone. For what—more war, more ash?

---

The landing ships weren't hard to find. Nor was the one in charge. Broad-shouldered. Hair like fire.

This was when she wished she hadn't ditched her teacher's more... combative lessons. But Sith politics were exhausting, and she'd never seen the point. She hated confrontation. Truly. But this woman had killed her garden, her income, and her peace of mind. At this point, her life was just another thing she could afford to lose.

Seedlings curled into her palm, twisting into curved daggers no bigger than her fingers. She started toward the woman—half a jog, half a march.

"HEY!" she called out, voice sharp over the chaos.

"You—You owe me a lot of money!"

The math ran in the back of her mind: thousands of credits in losses, not counting replanting costs, not counting the months of growth time.

"Hey! You need to listen to me right now!" She groaned in frustration and let one of the dagger-thorns fly, aimed for the eldrich arm.

 

[Mercy]

Oleander

Mercy didn't immediately respond.

It wasn't the first time she was walking away from a warzone to the lamentations of the suffering. Usually they didn't have the boldness to attack her however. Her eldritch arm responded before Mercy could. Tendrils ripping out and curling around the hilt of the knife. Before it was brought in front of Mercy's face.

Head tilted there and then the large woman turned around.

"Do I?" Unclear if she was asking about the money or having to listen. "Well, then make me." Again, still not clear. However her arms spread out, almost as if to welcome her home.

"The strong force the weak. Show me your strength, girl, and maybe I will listen to what you have to say."

Her blood was running hot still. They had done a lot of killing, but in the end she hadn't ripped Koda Fett 's head off and that was still annoying her a little bit.

This was a godsend.

 

[Oleander]

//: Mercy //:
//: Attire //:

"G–Girl?"

Oleander blinked as the woman turned, all posture and power. Shame the dagger thorn had been thwarted — though it was a 'friendly' reminder that she might have bitten off more than she cared to chew.

Maybe losing a few thousand credits wasn't the end of the galaxy. There was that new casino opening she'd seen on the Holonet. She could sell a 'good luck' tonic, make it all back, maybe even come out ahead.

Right now, though, she was standing in front of a tyrant with nothing but a thorn and a 'fuck it' attitude.

"I've made it past puberty, you know," she muttered, not entirely sure why she was even doing this.

It had been a while since she'd used the Force for anything other than coaxing flowers to bloom. The rust flaked off as she stepped forward, feeling the surge in her legs, momentum coiling. She didn't go for a head-on charge; it was too suicidal and messy.

Instead, she angled to slip past her, where a dagger thorn to the back might actually work.

And preferably not get wrapped up in that grotesque tentacle arm.

The moment her body twisted, she flung the rest of her arsenal — four dagger thorns — toward different points on the woman's very well-sculpted back.

Oleander wasn't much of a fighter, but she was still alive. That had to count for something.

 

[Mercy]

Oleander

Her skin suddenly flared up in blue fire and the knives pushed in hard before falling down to the ground without killing Mercy.

Mercy turned around and smiled.

"You got spirit, lady." She stated with a hungry chuckle. "But you are lacking that killer instinct." There was no hesitation. One breath she was there, the next every muscle in her body pulsed and Mercy was launched forward towards Oleander. The force was enough that the rock between her heels crumbled.

In the next breath Mercy was already on Oleander, her fist slamming up, to hook into her stomach before her elbow would come down at her head and send her crashing into the ground.

 

[Oleander]

//: Mercy //:
//: Attire //:

Oleander watched the woman's flesh burn bright blue. Her dagger thorns hadn't done a thing.

Not good.

She reached for more seeds, but the Sith was already on her. Everything blurred into slow motion — heels back, bad stance, old teacher in her head yelling about form. And the woman? Those muscles weren't just for show, much to Oleander's disappointment.

"Oh no..."

The first hit landed. Nothing between it and her insides except some soft flesh and a couple of ribs she probably didn't need. Her stomach and maybe her liver, though… those might've been nice to keep.

Her guts felt like they'd been rearranged by a particularly violent gardener. The second strike came in — this time she dodged enough to take it in the shoulder instead of the skull. Pain still bloomed, but she was already swimming in it.

Hands found purchase on the woman as she closed in for more. Oleander's mind went blessedly blank except for one thought: do something stupid.

She leaned back, tightened her neck and back, then slammed her forehead into Mercy's face.

Good plan? Probably not.

Going to die? Probably so.

 

[Mercy]

Oleander

Her forehead smashed itself into Mercy's nose and broke it easily. Blood gushed out, splattering both the young woman and Mercy, but that was where the trap fully sprang.

She had to get really close to do that to Mercy's face and the mountain of a woman wasn't a shy maiden of the fight. After so many fights a broken nose didn't even faze her. So even as her nose broke, her shovel of a hand grabbed Oleander by the throat and then yanked her up, forcing her to dangle in the air in front of her.

Forcing her to witness as the Queenslayer cackled and laughed while the blood ran down her face, lips, down her neck.

"That's the spirit, little spitfire." She purred softly as she shook her in the air. "You I could turn into a weapon." Tongue lapped up some of the blood and she swallowed.

"You I could make strong..." Thoughtful there, weighing if the annoyance would be worth it. Which gave Oleander time to respond.

 

[Oleander]

//: Mercy //:
//: Attire //:

There was a satisfying crunch when her forehead hit Mercy's nose. It was confirmation that she had hit the brute. A far better display than when she was a young tyke at the academy. Blood gushed on her face and on Mercy's, which was not as pleasant but an understandable effect from her headbutt.

Oleander felt the pressure first around her neck; her eyes widened as she looked at the fiery woman. Her smile faded, and a fit of regret filled the Hapan.

She coughed, the moment pressure got tighter around her neck, and she tried to hold onto Mercy's shirt. If she could keep herself closer, she wouldn't be at such a disadvantage. But her lackluster grip and Mercy's biceps meant she was now dangling like a scurrier caught in the grains.

"W-What?" Oleander struggled to choke out as she kicked her feet, trying to wiggle her way out of the vice grip. "I'm not a weapon, I'm an alch-alchemist!"

She stopped moving as the wheels in her brain started to churn. The woman was strong, and now her blood was exposed — this could easily be manipulated into a tonic of sorts.

Make millions.

Both of her eyebrows raised as she stopped fighting against the hold.

"Um… could you maybe not waste all that?" she asked with unsettling sincerity. "Save me a sample?"

No hint of humor. If Mercy didn't hand it over, Oleander could always make do with what was already dripping down her own face. Contaminated? Sure. Problem? Not for her — she'd mapped her own genetics three times over.

She reached into her pocket carefully with as much sleight of hand as she could and dropped a few seeds. They didn't seem as impressive, but with a bit of wiggle of her fingers, the seeds would sprout at a rapid rate and shoot up, trying to wrap the woman in thick, blue, spiked vines.

"Say hi to Barb," A little knowing and devilish grin cracked Oleander's face as she returned to try to pry the woman's grip from her throat.

"She's a viper plant."

 

[Mercy]

Oleander would realize she made a mistake the moment she drew upon Plant Surge.

Her connection to flora magnified.

Suddenly she'd see Mercy in a whole different light. A fracture as she saw beyond the slabs of meat, heat of flesh. She got a glimpse inside Mercy in a way few people had. Around the core of her being something was coiled. Pulsing, gyrating, a fractal and it possessed many maws. Each hungry, each biting, each whispering meatmeatmeatmeatmeatmeatmeat. Over and over and over again. It was almost impossible to distinguish Mercy from whatever she had inside of her.

And now it was inside of Oleander too. Not just a glimpse but a root driven deep, wrapping around her own will for a heartbeat, squeezing until all she could hear was the chew and slaver of a thousand unseen maws. For that endless breath she felt the hunger not beside her, but as her own. It was the certainty that the galaxy was nothing but prey waiting to be stripped to bone.

Then, like a snapped tether, she was back. But the phantom pressure of vines and roots remained under her skin and perhaps would make her wonder if she had really left at all.

"She's a viper plant."

Mercy looked down at the plants growing so fast. For reasons spoken above... they didn't try and hurt Mercy. In fact, she reached out and gently patted one of its leafs.

"She is a cutie." Mercy murmured softly before glancing back up to Oleander. Did Ole notice a green shimmer behind those amber eyes? No, that must have been her imagination. "As are you. But if you don't stop struggling, I will accidentally break your neck and that would be such a shame, wouldn't it?"

 

[Oleander]

//: Mercy //:
//: Attire //:

Today had been a day of misfortune.

Oleander had always assumed her talents and skills were enough to keep her alive in the galaxy. Limited, yes — but sufficient. Until now.

The moment the energy from the plant surge hit, she found herself face to face with something she'd only ever heard about in stories.

Fear lingered in the back of her throat as she stared at what the titan of a woman truly was. It gripped her chest so tightly she could hardly breathe.

It was terrifyingly beautiful.

The endless hunger and the constricting vines of a creature she'd only read about. One she had dreamed of seeing. And while the sight fascinated her and sent her hearts racing, she still didn't want to die. It was the way the hunger looked at her, ready to devour, that made her see the woman holding her differently.

The woman's mouth opened, but no sound came. Her hands clawed at the arm that pinned her in place, nails digging into Mercy's flesh, while her legs thrashed in a blind desperation for some footing so she could escape.

And then, just as suddenly, it was over. Wide red eyes darted around as she gasped for air. She saw Mercy pet the cooing vine as it nestled against her like a loyal pet.

Traitor, Oleander thought, glaring at the vine.

Her gaze slid back to Mercy — and there, behind the warm amber, a glimmer of sickly green. What she saw was real. More real than she wanted it to be. Yet her curiosity began to edge out the panic, cooling the worst of it.

Her legs stilled. Her nails eased from Mercy's skin. She found herself wondering why a predator would call their prey cute. But if playing along meant living another day, so be it.

"Who?" Her voice was smaller now, her weight sagging in Mercy's grip as breathing grew harder.

"Who are you…?"

 

[Mercy]

Oleander

"I could be a friend." Entirely unaware of the effect her hidden friend had on Oleander. "Or your worst nightmare, depends entirely on how obedient you are going to be from here on out."

Finally Mercy dropped the woman on the ground.

A slow stretch there.

"So what's all this about me owing you credits, darling? You were a bit ambiguous, what with the knife throwing and general... attitude." Her hand ran along her face, gathering up her blood and watching that with interest. "Mm, I ought to be used to the sight of my own blood these days." Then Mercy ran her tongue along her finger with a soft hum.

"And to the taste of it, I suppose."

She pulled out a rag that was already bloody- after all, she had already fought Koda Fett and murdered the Queen before that. Cleaning up her face as she listened to Ole's response.

 

[Oleander]

//: Mercy //:
//: Attire //:

Obedient.

That meant Oleander needed to follow the rules — something the woman was not a fan of. The Hapan's lips pressed together tightly as she looked at Mercy, eyes narrowing, searching amber for that sick chartreuse. She couldn't find it, not anymore.

Before she could speak, Mercy promptly dropped her. While Oleander might have liked to think she could land gracefully, the truth was less flattering — the moment her heels hit the ground, she stumbled and landed squarely on her butt.

Wincing, she groaned and listened to the woman's ramblings.

"Obedient?" she echoed through a breathy groan as she pushed herself upright. "From here on out…?" It didn't make sense.

Was she going with this woman?

Her gaze drifted past them to the fire, the aftermath of the raid, the death of the Queen Mother — all of it terrible for business.

"Am I going with you or something?" she asked finally, one hand already digging through the small bag strapped to her back.

She pulled out a small red vial and offered it to Mercy.

"It's a potion… to help mend whatever's ailing you." Oleander sighed softly, watching the woman wipe away the blood.

There went her sample — and anything she could salvage from the rag would be contaminated with Maker-knows-what.

"The potion… It's one of my more popular tonics. A mix of Barenth healing plant — I cultivated it in my greenhouse… which is now destroyed, which is why I wanted compensation." Her voice stayed even, but the memory burned. She had been shown mercy; she'd return the courtesy.

"It's also blended with bloom fruit," she added, a note of pride slipping in.

"So it heals you while giving heightened senses — a good battle tonic."

 

[Mercy]

Oleander

She carefully plucked the vial from Ole's hand and glanced at it with interest.

"Mm... aren't you? Do you have something better to do here?" Mercy was making the assumption, because someone who had a life worth living wouldn't be throwing it away by throwing themselves at her. It had seemed like a death march. Unless Oleander assumed she really could kill her, which was either an impressive feat of confidence or ignorance.

She plucked open the vial and breathed in the scent.

"I don't really need any assistance..." Oleander would suddenly notice that was true. The wounds that Mercy had? They were already knitting themselves back together but slowly.

Then without a second thought she drained the vial while tipping her head back. Smacking her lips there in satisfaction. "Mm..." Eyes opened again and watched Oleander, the black of her eyes were suddenly shot wide as the Bloom Fruit hit her system. Everything became more and Mercy's senses were already heightened.

Her wounds? Began to knit themselves back together even faster.

"That's delicious, darling." Then her hand reached out to help the woman up. "So, are you coming?"

 

[Oleander]

//: Mercy //:
//: Attire //:

As she was questioned, Oleander glanced past Mercy toward where her home, garden, and entire life had been. It was gone — nothing left for her on Hapes. The realization drew a slight frown. Fifteen years, up in smoke.

Literally.

Her eyes drifted lazily back to Mercy — who, by all accounts, was right. Everything was healing quickly, while Oleander sat there with a forming bruise and a lump on her forehead. Blinking, she realized she'd also lost a contact lens somewhere along the way.

With Mercy's help, she felt the rush of everything and nearly lost whatever was in her stomach. The potion enhanced every bit of the woman — a good find. That meant the batch was ideal. Oleander made quick mental notes, cataloging the effects.

Reaching into her pack, she pulled out a pair of silver-rimmed, rounded glasses. Sliding them on, she narrowed her eyes and gave a slight, confirming nod.

"I think your assessment is correct." Her frown returned as the loss hit her again.

"There's really nothing here for me. I'll go with you…" She paused, resting her chin in her hand.

"As long as you don't try to kill me."

Self-preservation was paramount now that she had test results to finalize.

"I'm Oleander." Her voice was small, cautious. It was an alias — one she could drop if needed. But it was a favorite, so she hoped she wouldn't have to.

"Who are you, really? Because I don't think 'friends' or 'nightmares' count as names. And frankly, they're a bit generic."

 

[Mercy]

Oleander

"I don't make it my business to kill those who follow me." Then a soft smirk as she tapped Ole on the nose, cute, especially with the pair of glasses on her nose.

"I am Mercy, pleasure meeting you, Ole." Not even using her full name, but that was par for course with Mercy. She always was searching for the cutest and best pet names to name her pets. And she certainly was already starting to think of Oleander as a pet. A rude one, no doubt. Someone who would need to be taught manners.

And a healthy dose of sense, because the way she had approached this entire thing verged on the suicidal.

"Anything you need to take with you before we go? We won't be back on Hapes, until the new Queen Mother has been crowned."

Until it was time to have her due from Aurellia .