Faction Remembrance

[Mercy]

Ishida Ashina

"And yet ya were so comfortable asking after mine." Slyly with a big crocodile grin that exposed sharp teeth. Gleaming white. A fitting contrast with the burnished copper of her skin.

Mercy shrugged.

"Contrary to what other people assume I think a lot." Oh, yes, everyone thought big strong dumb Mercy had no thoughts in her head. But some days she could do almost nothing to prevent them from overflowing her brain. "Y'all are boring, darling, defending core planets while the Outer Rim burns and struggles."

Not that Mercy cared much for their suffering.

"Where is the Alliance of old?" She practically purred there. "The one that appeared in the Galaxy and cut a line straight through One Sith territory? Where is that Alliance. The one that wasn't afraid to get their hands dirty and do chit. Instead of sitting on yar ass and waiting for the Imperials to come for ya over an' over again."

That was the pickle, wasn't it?

In effect she wasn't saying anything different than Ishida's Master had previously said.

Just... maybe... less diplomatic. Which was an achievement, because the Lord of Light hadn't been known for his diplomacy.

Then Mercy smirked.

"Or perhaps it's not about inspiration or being boring. Maybe... just maybe... you turned cowardly?"

 

[Ishida Ashina]

THE DAUGHTER OF DUTY
CORUSCANT | SENATE DISTRICT | BUFFET TABLES
Mercy | CLOSED

​

From the general shade of the woman’s presence, her uncannily alive tattoo, and the point of her teeth — Ishida was liking this interaction less and less.

Mercy’s last barb made her flinch involuntarily. In the wake of The Battle of Coruscan’ts memories, the piercing words hooked into a wound not-yet healed.

"Ishida, the Cowardly, or perhaps, the Weak."

Her desire for subtle conversation evaporated.

“Who are you?” She pressed, setting her tea down on the table and folding her arms across her chest. “Why are you here? What is it you planned on doing here today.”

---

 

[Mercy]

Ishida Ashina

She sighed disappointedly.

"I am Mercy." Taking one or two more crab rolls out and devouring them in between words. "No other name is necessary." Yeah, right, because this short interaction really showcased how merciful Mercy was, right? It was maybe the worst moniker a person could attach to themselves. Then again, maybe the best, if you were a fan of irony.

"Well, I was planning on feeding on the dime of the Alliance."

Mercy dangled the plate in front of Ishida before putting it away and back on the table.

"But it's rare a Jedi shows up in my face." A smirk there. "So I wanted to see if I could get a rise out of you." So honest. So earnest. Yet... was that really all that Mercy was doing here?

No grand terrorist schemes? No attempts to assassinate Auteme who had literally been at the same event as them only a short while ago? It was all too... much. Coincidences and surprises in both equal measures.

"And what's your plan, darling? You put the tea away. Ready to prove you are not a coward?"

 

[Auteme]

Zaavik Perl ​

"Sorry," she wheezed, "I think I'm having a panic attack."

"Chancellor?"

"I'm fine." She shut her eyes tightly and scrunched her brow. Hardly the best way to stop a panic attack, but the pain of trying to stop her own tears cleared her mind just a little, enough to remember what she'd learned. Symptoms: dizziness, nausea, increased heart rate, breathlessness, sweating. Nothing serious; nothing that could actually harm her. What she was feeling wasn't serious.

Of course, it felt very, very serious.

"Chancellor, are-"

"I'm fine! You caught me at a bad time," she huffed. "Just- hold on."

She tried breathing; it wasn't going very well for her.

Why now? But of course it had to be now. When else? What other day, what other moment? Her heart pounded in her ears. She forced her body to stiffen, even as she felt the world spinning.

The guards moved to interdict the nearby citizens. Auteme, in turn, warded them from herself -- waving them off until they were just out of what she guessed was Zaavik's reach with his saber. She trusted her work enough to believe she'd be protected, even in this state, but she wasn't sure about her entourage, much less the civilians nearby.

"You caught me at a bad time," she repeated. "But it's not about me. Or my- my- strength, weakness, whatever. You talk like you still have something to prove."

She wheezed again, trying to find her voice. "Talk, then," she said.

 

[Ishida Ashina]

THE DAUGHTER OF DUTY
CORUSCANT | SENATE DISTRICT | BUFFET TABLES
Mercy | CLOSED

​

Ishida tilted her chin in respectful salutations for the exchange of information. Mercy. Was that her real name? Or was it a moniker like Ashina the Undying, Invincible, or Undefeated? The mountain seemed just as proud of her moniker as the patriarchs of her clan had been of theirs.

She considered this while eyeing the platter. Normally, someone would need two hands to balance a dish that size, and that full (or, had been full) — but Mercy frolicked the dish about with alarming ease. All the movement seemed to make the tattoo on her arm swim and dance. For half a moment, it appealed Ishida’s attention until —

"So I wanted to see if I could get a rise out of you."

A breath puffed out at the casual admission. Not a hard thing for anyone to do. Her patience was as thin and sharp as her katana — an imperfection her late master had struggled with up to his untimely passing. It remained….unsolved.

“Prove I'm—?” Ishida repeated, as if she’d never heard the preposterous word before. So preposterous was the idea that she couldn't even say it. The shake of her head, no, that came thereafter was immediate and she rested her hand flat on the tablecloth next to her teacup, as if to indicate its emptiness and how it no longer served her.

She drew in a breath to steady herself. Trite though the challenge was, it was...so close to being effective.

"No." She itched to retaliate, but a polite society and her duty to protect was easier achieved when she wasn't wearing her latest accessory.

“Not here. It is not my place to disturb a respectful event."

The Alliance’s dime would be spent either on cleaning up from a disastrous confrontation, or an insane amount of consumption. The budget seemed to have preferred the latter, with all the silverware and spread that remained untouched.

"Better to reflect on those who already chose to prove themselves than to outshine or join them."

Ideally the mountain, Mercy, would live up to her name today.

---

 

[Zaavik Perl]

CORUSCANT, SENATE PLAZA
CLOSED (Reopening NEXT POST)| HIDDEN​

[WHO DARES TO COME AND GET ME?]​

---

"You talk like you still have something to prove."​

"Don't I?" he asked, balefully enlivened by the assertion. A chuckle inhibited by closed lips hummed bitterly. "One flick of my thumb and I prove more in an instant than most manage in a lifetime." With another small press, the hilt's pressure on Auteme became ever more insistent as if to emphasize her unfortunate position. "Five years' worth of recovery and hopeful sentiment, and I could kill it all like it's nothing. Anticlimactic, don't you think?" Above the obvious changes wrought by the advent of the dark side, Zaavik's characteristic flippancy seemed a clear constant. As such, a profound effort was expended not to again titter at his own queries.

From beneath his supernatural shroud, Zaavik scanned the oblivious security detail that encircled from a distance. "All this insulation, and for what?" he mocked rhetorically. Wrenching his grasp on her arm, Zaavik tugged Auteme closer, his lips now only an unsettling inch from her ear. "Don't you ever get tired of this game?" asked his sinister whisper. "Empire at your doorstep, Maw at your throat. Having to carry on two fights you know you can't win, and all the while you're expected to spout hollow assurances whilst playing the idol to their credulity? Doesn't it frustrate you, knowing it's all going to burn anyway? Knowing that you can never undo what Fossk has done?"

A grin crept across Zaavik's face, hidden from all. "Knowing that without Price, everyone's losing confidence in you?" A dark ripple resonates through the Force with his appending proposal; "It doesn't have to end like this, you know? I've acquired the power to see the bigger picture, a perspective the Jedi and the Alliance both fear. Come with me, just like old times, and bear witness to this power, this knowledge."

Auteme

 

[Osarla Ridor]

GENERAL RIDOR
222ND NOVA CORPS | 512TH LEGION | 312 ATTACK BATALLION
CORUSCANT | SENATE PLAZA | FIELD OF HEROES
Sion Lorray

Osarla frowned through Sion’s freeform thoughts of apologies and expectations. Not wholly because of his words, but because of a distant discomfort she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She was like a brick in the best of ways, and the worst.

“Don't'cha worry. It's an overdue withdrawal. The Pryce family, The Vice Chancellor included, have returned to Corellia to re-evaluate their priorities.” She stated, feeling the pang of a failed aunt as she spoke. Gabriel’s injuries and recovery had shaken the family, unsettling their foundations and last shed’ heard from her dear friend Dracken, they needed time to themselves to re-evaluate the importance of their work and the balance of their family.

“It’s a difficult balance to find in this galaxy,” She continued with a sigh, “Devoting your life to protecting and fulfilling families around the galaxy, or cultivating your own.”

She remained unsettled about it, hoping only for the best outcome for both Ava and Dracken, and, by extension, the twins. Getting there would take time.

“At some point, you begin to wonder which you love more. The fight, or the purpose.” An uneasy, sad smile settled on her lips and she looked down to Sion. That nagging feeling still felt undefined, but it wasn’t going away.

“Do you sense something? Through the crowds, something…darker.”

 

[Auteme]

Zaavik Perl ​

Auteme closed her eyes, breathed in for five, and out for five. She began some old mental meditation exercises, but it was like moving muscles she never used, and it was hurting her now. At least she could trust Zaavik to talk for a while. Pained as she was by his words, she forced that away, doing her best to, step by step, regain her composure.

Fossk.

That one hurt. Still hurt. She was sure it always would. And who was he to speak like he knew anything of what she'd gone through? Her heart rate rose; she forced it back down.

His offer hung in the air for a good few seconds. She glanced around. The civilians were far enough away; some of them looked a little confused as to why they weren't allowed to get closer. She fidgeted with her free hand. The other was locked to her side unnaturally. The guards around them were quiet.

"Zaavik," she said softly, yet with a returning strength, "I miss you. Very much.

"I don't know why you're here, really, but I know it's not for this- whatever your offer is. You know who I am. I've become a pretty good politician, but I probably couldn't lie to you about something like this, even if I was feeling my best. You already know what my answer is. And you're not just here to kill me, either, otherwise you would've- flicked your thumb.

"You can do it now, though. You've taken the path of least resistance. No need to stop now. Go on. But don't forget this. It's easy to -- that there's always hope. There's always forgiveness.

"But- today's a day for remembering."

She closed her eyes, took one more deep breath, and prepared herself.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora listened carefully to Jasper as he spoke, wide blue eyes searching not only for the meaning in his words, but for the way his facial expressions and body language shifted as the story unfolded. She had the impression that this wasn't particularly easy for him to talk about.

Sometimes Jedi spoke cryptically, and Cora spent hours trying to decipher whatever it was they were trying to impart. Not Jasper. Instead of waxing philosophy, he spoke plain and true.

Cora smiled awkwardly, but it came a little easier than she'd imagined. "It sounds like you've had quite the journey."

For someone who grew up in a court where words were often ambiguous and vague by nature, she appreciated his honesty.

"Thank you, Jasper. It does help to know that I'm not alone in this." Cora still had a tangle of emotions to sort out, it was nice to know that she hadn't been the first to question her path.

"If it's not an imposition…I would like to join you and Ja-"

A wave of dread pulsed through her. Cora paused mid-sentence, nervously scanning the crowd. Something was wrong, but she couldn't put a finger on it. No one seemed to be panicking, so she assumed that the somberness of the event had gotten to her.

"I apologize." A hand came to rest at her stomach. "It appears that the sandwich is not sitting well."

Jasper Kai'el

 

[Zaavik Perl]

CORUSCANT, SENATE PLAZA
OPEN | HOSTILE​

Auteme | Jasper Kai'el | Corazona von Ascania | Osarla Ridor
Sion Lorray | Alex StormWolf | whoever else

[SOUL DECAY]
​

---

"Zaavik, I miss you. Very much."

"You-"

Teeth clenched together, silently choking back a retaliatory sentiment. Something he'd believed buried long ago began to stir, twisting his gut into a harrowing knot. Voiceless, whimpering trembles began to resonate with every breath. Every passing sentiment from Auteme's lips fueled a deluge of pain, remorse, and anger all vying for supremacy over Zaavik's will. A sudden interloping caprice announced by the tight nasal intake of a deep breath subjugated every contenting feeling. Reigning over them was something far less discernable, something dark, alien, and domineering.

" -- that there's always hope. There's always forgiveness. But- today's a day for remembering." ​

The cerebral tyrant that had placated his trepidation spared room on its throne for but a moment, allowing a recollection of the past. Sat beside it was the memory of the love he'd once felt for Auteme. The same love that had been cultivated with the likes of Ryv, Maynard, Loske, and so many more whose names he could hardly bear to recall. A single tear, contrary to his malice, was shed for the death of the past and the love that had defined it. For a moment, Zaavik allowed himself to remember.

"Forgiveness," Zaavik echoed weakly. Vigor returned to his articulations as the voice of trespass once again made itself known. "No... No, don't you give me that shit." Alas, remembrance wasn't an insurmountable force. His heart thundered in his ears, drowning out all but the strongest thoughts. "I knew you'd repudiate me, in the end. I just... I had to be sure." A sigh escaped, absent of the turbulence he'd shown before. "This is the way it has to be," he asserted. "You understand."

The grip on Auteme's arm released and quickly snapped to cover the bottom half of her face. A diabolic surge shot through every inch of his body, envigorating him with the will of the Dark Side.

"I-"

"I'll see you in the next one."

His thumb flicked.

Crimson candescence materialized, bringing Zaavik out of his cloaked state along with it. Plasma endeavored against the Chancellor's protective clothing, a small pause preceeding a breakthrough. Saber vivacity waned into a flickering, hissing strobe of faltering form yet skewered Auteme all the same. Sparks flew in all directions, a cerise fountain spewing forth from the exit portion of the wound he'd dealt her. With one jolt, Zaavik used his grip on the Chancellor's face to toss her aside and liberate her body from the blade.

Screams and clamor broke the stunned silence at the moment crimson was reconstituted into a full blade. Senate guards had little time to strike, falling quickly beneath a thirsting blade and deflected blaster fire. Fatigued from the sustained bout of stealth, Zaavik could manage little more than bursts of imperceptibility as he wove around, snuffing out retaliator after retaliator with repugnant speed. In seconds, he was back over the writhing form of Auteme, posture inflecting the enervation that was overtaking him. Sweat glistened on his vermillion brow, dripping alongside a few clandestine tears.

A few moments. That's all I need. A few moments.... and I can hold it long enough to get out of here.

Saber in hand, his arms shrugged outward widely in a goading fashion toward horrified onlookers, late reactors, and those still surging to his position. A wide grin flashed white teeth to contrast against the tone of his visage.

"Goooooood morning, my friends!" he shouted, sardonically echoing the first words of Auteme's speech.

 

[Lady Venge]

(wrong account- OOPS!)

 

[Alex StormWolf]

Alex's Danger Sense suddenly flared as Zaavik's Dark Side cloak dropped and he skewered the Chancellor from behind.

"Damn it!"

Shoving his way through the panicked onlookers, leaving Seku behind to act as rear guard, Alex approaches Zaavik, drawing his matched sabers and igniting them into cohesive blades of orange fury.

"I don't know who you are," Alex growled. "But this ends now!"

Zaavik Perl

 

[Jasper Kai'el]

Coruscant
Tags: Auteme , Corazona von Ascania , Zaavik Perl , Alex StormWolf

"That isn't your sandwich," Jasper told Cora, a look of dread spread across his face. "Stay here."

With that, he bolted up to the stage, wading his way awkwardly through the shocked crowd. Another Jedi had gone to face the man who had just impaled the Chancellor. Jasper would let him deal with that. What mattered was that he kept her from dying.

"Hang in there Miss Chancellor," the young knight told her. "You're gonna be fine."

He was quick to turn and shout "Someone get a healer!" before drawing several stimpacks from his pocket, injecting two doses of the medicine into her side, then followed by a steroid shot. It was basic field treatment for wounds, and unfortunately all he had. Hopefully it could at least extend her life a little longer for a healer to arrive. With nothing else to do, Jasper began to emanate with force light. The Chancellor's assailant appeared to be a darksider, so it would at least keep him back. If anything else, it would help sooth the wounded Chancellor as well, even if only slightly. All he could do now was support.

"I don't think we've met," Jasper began, mustering as warm of a smile as he could. "I'm Jasper Kai'el."

 

[Frea Sheplin]

Now this, this was interesting. Frea looked at the feed for a moment before she tried to get a glimpse of the chancellor from where she stood. The distance was far too much for her to cover before someone else far more capable was able to step up to the plate, but the thought did cross her mind. It was a moment of being aware that history was written as she observed it.

And sure enough. Jedi skipped to action, or at least some sect of lightsaber jockeys. The crowd around her began to panic and Frea let in a deep breath. This moment would galvanize people, they either got a martyr or they got a failed assassination attempt on the head figure of a nation. If the lessons at the academy made sure of anything it was to let a soldier know the importance of their actions and why pulling what seems to be the most beneficial move might sometimes be the wrong one in the long run.

The irony here being that if this was an Imperial assassin looking to weaken the Alliance, what they very well might get is a whole Core-based hornets nest looking for vengeance. If this was just a displeased citizen however, well… There were worse fates than living on the run. Trapped in a sith basement, for one.

Frea moved to help refocus the crowds and usher people to safety. Her role had no need to take the main stage. The Jedi proved themselves plenty adept at that.

 

[Hex]

Tag: Iris Arani
Location: Senate Square
Objective: Remember the invasion

Spoiler: Equipment

• Powderpunk armor on loan from Daiya
• Guarderma HE suit metallic pink hex pattern with mag boots
• ap-25i SIMP pistol
• 'Candles' Heavy particle blaster
• 'confetti' Rocket launcher
• Party Poppers (1 explosive, 0 gas)
• Dancer repulsor board
• Dervish Knife
• Cheap data pad and communicator

Spoiler: Hex dialogue colors

Poor Hex hears voices in her head

Hex speech to others
Hex speech to herself

Hexes inner voices
'...Neutral...'
'...Doubt...'
'...Anger...'
Coloured '.....' are also words that Hex can hear , but I decided not to write them to reduce clutter

"Very true! I don't miss my parents at all. All I know is they dumped me and never came back, but screw-em because I'm a-mazing" she cackled a little imagining herself speak in her best friend's vernacular, then recomposed herself, remembering the sombre surroundings she was in.

"Sorry... i can get a bit.. y'know?" and she touched the side of her head. She paused for a moment and looked about her checking her pocket for a credit note bundled up with other scraps of paper and a bullet. She gave a slightly quizzical look as she did some sums in her head. She wasn't as poor as she once was, but part of lying low meant not using tracable electronic currency.

"Is there more statues you want to check out? Or do you wanna go and get a caf?"

 

[Sion Lorray]

Osarla Ridor | Auteme | Zaavik Perl | Alex StormWolf | Jasper Kai'el

'Their priorities'.

Two little words that hid a lot.

Sion wanted to pierce through it. To comfort his Master, but he knew that this would be a step over the line. Osarla didn't seem like someone who enjoyed to chat about messy feelings. She tried however. That was something that Sion would always appreciate. The amount of effort she put into trying to relate to him... it mattered.

As Osarla spoke? Sion's expression was growing distant.

Something... was pulling at him.

"Yeah." He mutters absently to something Osarla had said, but his attention was shifting elsewhere. Towards the crowds. Towards... a heated exchange between Auteme and Zaavik, even if he couldn't see them, hear them, he felt it.

"Do you sense something? Through the crowds, something…darker."

"I..." Sion grimaced. "Y-yes, something-"

Then the Padawan doubled over and gasped in pain. Right at the same time as Perl's lightsaber ignited through the Chancellor and gutted her. "The Chancellor," He cried out, grabbing for Osarla's armored wrist. "She's- there, hurry!" Pointing through the crowd where chaos was erupting. He did his best to stumble forwards to, already drawing his saber and trying to ignore the phantom pain still pulsing inside his body.

He breathed in, out, as Sion tried to close the distance. It felt like lightyears and the crowd panicking wasn't helping either. Already blastfire could be heard, sending people fleeing.

Sion knew he could do nothing for the Chancellor and whoever had attacked her? Was most likely beyond his skill as well.

Instead? Sion left it to Osarla, while he closed his eyes and attempted to expand his presence.

It threatened to overwhelm him. So much. Panic. The pain of the Chancellor, the hate of the assailant. But also... Osarla's grim resolve and Jasper's Light radiating out. Sion swallowed the bile and focused on the latter. Drawing strength from it and turning it into calm. Peace. Trying to amplify this, spread it across the crowd.

All that the young Padawan could think of doing was try and prevent a stampede.

 

[Mercy]

Ishida Ashina | Auteme | Zaavik Perl

Mercy was about to respond to Ishida when all hell broke proverbially loose.

The crowd filled with anger and fear and hatred and pain.

A new emotion began to seep in only a moment later. Joy. Mercy grinned as she looked past Ishida, through the crowd. It was too far to really see what was happening, but... it was something delicious. "Well, looks like not everyone agrees with you, doll." Mercy said with a bemused chortle. "Violence is ripe in the air... and escalation is so near..."

Part of Mercy was really tempted to join Perl in his rampage.

Her hand was already rubbing the pommel of her butcher's knife. It was wrapped in terentatek hide. And so its nasty influence wasn't perceptible, until it was out of its sheath.

Slowly Mercy stretched.

Preparing herself.

Could she take out a Jedi, before the Law came down on them all?

 

[Ishida Ashina]

THE DAUGHTER OF DUTY
CORUSCANT | SENATE DISTRICT | BUFFET TABLES
Mercy | CLOSED

​

Well, looks like not everyone agrees with you, doll."

A growl bloomed at the base of her throat, glaring at the red-head. The dismissive and cavalier pet-names were grating on the last of her nerves, making them rawer, finer, and tenuously held.

“Many don't.” Ishida replied, thinly.

"Goooooood morning, my friends!"

The podium was a way’s off but speakers had been installed throughout the main sector so the Chancellor’s heartful speech could be heard throughout the district. Unfortunately, that meant that the would-be Assassin’s broadcast was equally booming.

Ishida’s fierce gaze hardly flicked from the source of the sound. The Force murmured a swell in that area, the swell of Light above the panic. Lines of distresses skittered through her sight, all slender and unthreatening. They all pointed to one direction, however, glowing and humming around the fallen Chancellor. A few paces away, a shattering pattern glowed bright red — the lines were erratic and untamed. The day’s Shatterpoint.

And the smaller version of it was in the purview right in front of her. This creature standing across from her, huge and distracting, still beckoned to be put down. Her influence over the day was smaller than the burgeoning break near the stage, but if the crowd saw more than one vigilante or Sith ruin their day of respect…

Instead of reaching for either of her blades, sabre or katana, Ishida zipped forward with incomprehensible speed. It was only a step or two, but it was less than a blink, not even a thought, before Ishida was right in Mercy’s personal space. Her hand pressed down firmly, with strength that was not her own, on Mercy’s. Discouraging the withdrawal of whatever weapon she had concealed up until that subtle itch only another knight could detect.

“Do not.” Ishida glared straight up at the tank’s burning embers. “Lest you be a lackey.”

 

[Osarla Ridor]

GENERAL RIDOR
222ND NOVA CORPS | 512TH LEGION | 312 ATTACK BATALLION
CORUSCANT | SENATE PLAZA | FIELD OF HEROES
Sion Lorray | Zaavik Perl | OPEN

Reaching out to comfort her doubled-over Padawan was her first reaction. He grabbed back, explaining through gasps the reason for his discomfort.

Her second, was reactivating those who she'd previously dismissed.

Firm and unquestioning, the General’s persona took over and armoured her like the plates that outfitted her physique. Any emotion was withheld from the voice that boomed over the comms through the lines of marines.

<I need a medic on the Chancellor’s position now.> Getting an emergency vehicle through the crowds would be impossible. Even in the 222nd’s ceremonial armour, they were outfitted with the basic necessities. Just more ornate than typically sported on the battlefield. Practicalities were sacrificed for flair.

Her comms were abuzz with updates. Positions being taken, updates on the target, crowd reports. All those who had been content to have the ceremony conclude were reactivated and repositioned without hesitation.

Lines of armoured soldiers fell back to their basic crowd-control training, creating thick lines of themselves to create passageways for citizens. As a mass, they were both influential and impenetrable for those rushing from the scene in a panic. The infallibility of the Coruscant was tested time and time again, and on a day that honoured the fallen during the attack, they were attacked! Again! Fear bloomed, uncontained, and raced from person to person. In their blind anxiety, they all too readily followed the designations of the armoured.

<Only emergency vehicles get through — but not without an escort. I want nobody in that perimeter without defense force personnel by their side.>

<General! We have two friendlies on the scene. One Jedi engaging our target, another on the Chancellor.>

Osarla grinned proudly — grateful for the parallels of the Jedi's helpfulness to the senate. As had been the case the day of the Great Battle of Coruscant. <Get more reinforcements in there. I want this shut down immediately. >


<I’ll have someone on the roof in less than six, General.>

<Give me a report when they’re set to take the shot.>

<Copy. Standby.>

Sion was long gone by the time Osarla had confirmed a perimeter was established, a medic en route, and snipers (if they got ready in time) in position.

 

[Mercy]

Ishida Ashina

It may have been luck or a coincidence, but somehow Ishida managed to hit Mercy in the only area that could bring her back from the brink.

Her nostrils flared in almost furious annoyance. Eyes sharply looking down at Ashina right as her hand planted itself on her own. To keep her from drawing her knife and getting to work. Part of her, the petty child that was still inside, wanted to do it anyway. Just to prove Ishida wrong. Prove her that Mercy didn't care and would do whatever she wanted.

But a bigger part? Had been growing since she left Nar Shaddaa and its glorious gladiator pits.

Smarter, sharper, more ambitious... and not content to just be a lackey.

"You are playing a dangerous game." Mercy growled slow and punctuating every word. Suddenly the relaxed Outer Rim drawl was gone. Replaced with the sharp Imperialism of the Tionese Court. If Ishida cared enough to listen for it. The large woman leaned in there, slow, burning embers locking in with crisp steely ice.

"When someone denies me... I am only more encouraged to cause a mess."

Then something shifted behind her gaze. Boiling fury replaced by sudden mirth and amusement. The same speed that Ishida had taken in those two short steps.

"Then again-" Ishida might have been on guard for any number of reactions. All of them physical or Force-based no doubt. Perhaps Mercy would try to kill the Jedi. Maybe she'd try to cause as much civilian damage to force her to pick between bringing her to justice or render aid. It was this single-minded focus on Mercy's threat that would most likely cause her to miss it.

Until it was too late.

"-I can get creative." Sharp and teeth gleaming white for a brief moment before it happened. Her hand reversed on Ishida's. Fingers curling into the dainty wrist and pulling her in the rest of the way. But instead of grabbing for her butcher's knife or trying to choke the life out of Ishida's? Mercy moved in quick and pressed a hungry kiss against unexpecting lips.

It was wild, chaotic and the hunger that moved through Mercy at every heartbeat passed through her and was shared fiercely.

For a moment.

Then Mercy pushed her back with an almost uncaring shove.

"I will see you again." And then put her shades on, hiding the blood red glimmer out of sight, before turning around to leave the crowd behind.