Revoker | Tyra

[Darth Metus]

H U T T
S P A C E​

Location: Underground - Spaceport
Tag: [member="Tyra Fenn"]

Seek, and Ye Shall Find.

One of life's most uncanny realities is its relationship with the Lost. Whenever a man loses a trinket and scours his home in search, he often finds misplaced treasures that he was not looking for. Yet, that which he was hunting so diligently for would oftentimes remain unfound. As fate would have it, this common reality made itself grievously present one fateful evening. Above, the heavens wept upon the planet below in a meaningless effort to wash away its filth. The backwater planet was so vile, so sordid, that it was often omitted from star charts.

Yet, it was here that Rience's search began. For weeks now, the Lord Commander had been chasing echoes - whispers of might trapped within ancient holdings. He hoped to uncover a boon to elevate both he and his Knighthood to greater heights - and thus he graced the vile world with his presence. Even amidst the unrelenting rains, the stench of the streets invaded the man's nostrils the whole time. It mattered not how "gilded" a resident was, their unwashed hides were enough to turn any man's stomach.

But persistence was key. For hours, he braved the cesspits of this world, drifting from bazaar to bazaar in the hopes of finding his "lost trinket". Yet, he found a treasure that he was not seeking in the slightest. A market for slavery was amidst the hive of scum and villainy - and amongst those on display was a woman. Her hair was strikingly white - a stark contrast to her dismal surrounding. But beyond that, the tug of the Force ordered Rience's steps. While he was perfectly fine with razing the market to the ground, something pushed him to see that woman out of her cage.

Credits passed from his wallet to the handler - and soon, a measure of freedom was afforded to the girl. She was allowed to stand. Allowed to hearken to Rience's call. And when she stood before him, he gave her the means to decide. A knife was pressed into her hands - and with it, a choice. Revenge or forgiveness. Heaven or Hell. Straightaway, she chose blood. The sod who placed her in irons saw his life splashed upon the market's floor. Red flowed free as the woman struck true.

And as pandemonium began to unfold, Rience whisked the young woman away. In his wake, an order was given - burn it to the ground.

Several minutes later, as the din of his Knights wreaking havoc continued behind them, the Lord Commander guided the woman to his vessel of obsidian hue. The ramp was ascended, and in short order the pair were shielded from the rain. For the first time in...well, who knows how long, the girl was free of the stench and the cold. In the present, the man offered her a warm blanket to stave off the chill as he awaited the return of his subordinates. He wagered it would not be long, yet in the meantime...

"Do you have a name, oh apprentice mine?"

 

[Tyra Fenn]

Tyra was dead.

For all that it felt, the young woman with hair of pristine snowy white and eyes like piercing emeralds, had perished. The thing that had been put on display in the market may as well have been a hunk of meat for all it mattered, not a girl with hopes and dreams, but an object to be purchased, used, and discarded. For who could claim to live when their very spirit had been beaten out of them? Who could claim to be alive when the very act of doing so hurt so much?

And as long as everyone around her believed this, she was free to plot and plan.

It turned her stomach, they believed an echani warrior could be broken so easily simply because this one happened to have a womb. Perhaps if they'd been as harsh on her as they were with the male slaves, it might have been a different story, but for Tyra, she had learned to indulge the torment, let them think that they had broken her... then they would stop trying so hard.


Tyra was dead, but when he came, she came back to life, in chaos and blood.


Already she had resolved to murder the man that would buy her. Buy a slave? Turn a tortured, tormented human thing into your property? No. For that, you die. But... this man was different. A blade was passed into her hands, something she had not expected. Immediately she reacted, turning and plunging it into the man that had made her call him 'Master'. Sanguine blood, still hot and bright crimson, spilled onto her hands.

The chaos came a moment later.

She would have stayed, the rich, iron-scent of blood inciting the echani woman towards a violent lust for the destruction of her tormentors, all of them. If she would go down with them then so be it, she would meet them all gladly on the field of blades. She ran her fingers through her hair, leaving red streaks amid the white.

But it wasn't to be. Instead, the man that had presented the opportunity to her had whisked her away, removing the choice he had given her. Rain, mud, surroundings passing by in a blur, a black ship, the hiss of hydraulics as a ramp ascended. By the time her reeling mind caught up, and the cold began to draw violent shivers from her lean figure, the woman found a blanket draped around her shoulders, and a question planted in the air before her.

Emerald eyes narrowed, her gaze finally turning to the man before her.

He was like the embodiment of a dream, specifically, the one where a strong, handsome knight came to rescue the girls from their plight on the darkest, most difficult nights. However, it was not a dream that the echani had shared, and he was not the kind, righteous man the slave girls would dream about.

A hand shot out from the blanket, still gripping the bloodied knife. Her other hand pulled the blanket more tightly around her shoulders. No use being prideful and throwing it away. She was cold, tired, confused and scared, but all that had to be shoved into the back of her mind, for if the man knew, he might change his own on what to do with her.

"... Tyra." She replied.

Her voice cracked, uncertain, but the word was short and sharp. Her knuckles turned even whiter, a drop of blood falling to the floor,

"Who are you?"

A question that would have earned her a sharp reprimand back in the slave pens, she had the scars to know that. But, their meeting had been anything but typical, and as he had tested her upon their initial encounter, so now, she tested him.





[member="Rience"]

 

[Darth Metus]

Location: Underground - Spaceport
Tag: Tyra Fenn

The response was...not surprising.

Rience would never assume to truly understand the plight of the enslaved. It was one thing to read on a datapad the suffering that they went through - it was another entirely to stand upon a foundation of mutual understanding. Yet, throughout the man's storied history, he had never felt the cold of iron restraints upon his wrists. Nor had he ever felt the lash of a whip across his back. It was true, yes, that his own mentor was a brutal instructor. It was true that failure and weakness was punished with pain and blood - but he always had a choice. He always had the option to rise and fight back.

The woman before him knew no such luxury. He knew not how long she had been the victim to the hive of scum and villainy, but her initial reaction gave him an estimation. She did not react as a soul who had been recently plucked from her home and pressed into abuse. She acted as one who had been dragged into Hell and tormented for a lengthy span of time. Though he had been the one to free her from the jaws of this suffering, the knife that he had granted her stood ready between them. However, she did not shrug off the initial peace offering: the blanket was pulled tightly around her.

In response, Rience did what little he knew to do. His Master always spoke of cornered adversaries and how they would fight with the utmost ferocity when their backs pressed the wall. Thus, his first course of action was giving the woman room. For too long, she had existed within the cold walls of a cage - thus, Rience made it a point to step back from her person. His hands raised, slowly. Deliberately. To denote that he was not a threat. In this moment, she had the power to move about the space between them as she saw fit. He made no movement to close the ramp behind her. He made no motion to snatch the knife from her hand.

And in the end, she responded to his question. Her name: Tyra.

Above the symphony of falling rain, the woman uttered three additional words. A question - one that was certainly warranted given the circumstances. For a moment, he mulled over the best way to respond to her question. He knew not how much the woman knew of her surroundings, or if titles would mean anything. No. For the moment, he settled upon the simple, honest truth. "My name is Rience." He then motioned his offhand - slowly - towards the opening of the ship. Towards the rains and the Hell that she had just emerged from. "I come from a place that loathes slavers. A place where they are executed for daring to make others suffer like this."

His offhand was then extended towards her. "I have come to take you from this place - and to make it so you bow to nothing." His hand then returned to being raised in its nonthreatening manner. Given the circumstances, he did not continue in full just yet - but rather turned attention to what she would need in the moment. Tomorrow would come, but today? Today he had to prove he was not her enemy. "Do you hunger? Thirst? There's plenty aboard if you'd like."

 

[Tyra Fenn]

Curled like an injured lioness against the corner, Tyra crouched.

One hand kept the blanket pulled around her, the other wielding the blood-stained knife between herself and everything else. Here she stayed a moment, bright eyes intensely watching the man that had plucked her from the cage. She... had to remember that. As panic and rage and violence and fear all ran rampant through her mind, she had to remember that. Was he dangerous? Absolutely. But for now, all he had done was unlock her cage and retrieve her from a bloody fate.

And now he had a name.

"Rience."

She replied with a slight squint to her gaze, testing the name, the way he reacted to her saying it. One of the first lesson's she'd learned was that names were off-limits: her captors were "Master" or "Sir". She had to prove to herself that this was different. What else was different was how he gestured to the ramp, where the curtains of rain still drummed down onto the dull metal. No move had been made to lock it behind her, he did not purport to stand in her way. It seemed that he really would allow her to simply leave if she wished.

Her eyes darted back to him.

The man who called himself Rience spoke again, his posture and gait non-threatening, inviting, as he offered to take her away, to give back the fight and power that had been stolen from her. Another offer was presented to the blood-stained, snow-haired woman; food and rest. It was only now that she swallowed, her throat dry as sandpaper and the aching in her limbs beginning to throb as the adrenaline faded. After being cooped up for so long, the sudden exertion had taken a heavy toll.

A moment of silence, then another.

Then she nodded. slowly but surely, the knife was lowered until she dropped it to the floor of the ship. It clattered a little way away from her as she kept her eyes on him.

That felt... strange. She had expected to feel vulnerable without the weapon, but something about the gesture of dropping it, of returning Rience's kindness with a measure of trust, felt comforting.

"Yes." The reply was short. Tyra frowned. She used to be better than that, she was once well-spoken, even. Adjusting the blanket, she tried again, "Yes please, Rience. I could... I'd like something to eat and drink."

Better. Already she was beginning to feel a little more like herself.

[member="Rience"]

 

[Darth Metus]

Location: Underground - Spaceport
Tag: [member="Tyra Fenn"]

Ah, the tension.

In truth, the Lord Commander did not know which direction the snow-haired woman would take. With the ramp fully extended and the bay doors open, there was the possibility that she would have turned tail and bolted back outside. While an option, Rience sincerely hoped that she did not make this decision - but rather hedged his bets that she would take this as a sign of good faith. That her time of being cooped up and abused had come to a close. That she had the freedom to choose her path from this moment forward. It seemed that, as the seconds rolled by, his strategy had worked for the moment.

The quiet was broken with the utterance of his name and the clatter of the knife upon the vessel's floor.

Rience did not yet react. He made a conscious effort not to make any sudden movements, lest he encourage a retreat into the sordid conditions outside. He watched as she clutched the blanket about her form...and smiled when she accepted her offer. Her voice was certainly husky and the words were uttered through aching lips. To say that she was famished was an understatement. Now, he had something to work with. He returned his hands to his side and motioned his chin towards the adjacent corridor. "We have a cooking area back there."

He then took a simple step towards that door. And another. And another. He kept his movements as nonthreatening as possible - and made absolutely certain to stay far away from the ramp controls. He also did not order her to stay or to follow. She was free to make that call on her own now. Assuming that she did come along, she'd kind a simple kitchen area before her gaze. Rience now stood before the cooling unit and opened the door. A bottle of water was retrieved, as was a chilled rations bar. In the moment, it wasn't the most glamorous meal - but it was far better than what scraps were fed to slaves these days.

"Here you are!" he proclaimed, offering his find to her. "Now, if you prefer I can get you something warmer to eat though it will take time to prepare. Whatever works for you." He then motioned towards the chairs scattered about the room - as his subordinates were clearly not the neatest when it came to pushing chairs back under their respective tables. "Feel free to get comfortable as well. You're safe here." He did not press the woman any further than that just yet.

 

[Tyra Fenn]

Rience was kind.

No... Kind couldn't be trusted. Kind had an ulterior motive. Reince was... understanding. Tyra watched him intently, green eyes burning with bright, intelligent fire as he stayed as calm and non-threatening as he could. The man spoke, mentioning a cooking area further into the belly of the ship. A moment later, he turned and made his way towards it. Naturally, the echani woman stiffed as he took a step, but watched as he avoided the ramp controls. He just... walked off, neither commanding she follow nor dictating that she must stay. The choice, in fact, was left entirely up to her.

Well, it would be, but a hungry growl from her belly drew the young woman to stand, still clutching the blanket around her, and follow him.

Her footfalls were soft, quiet, and she followed at a distance, keeping the man in her vision the whole time.

He hadn't fooled her; he was dangerous. She knew that much from how they'd met. He was gifted in the force, moreso than she. He'd... just given her a blade, a gesture that implied more wisdom and power than perhaps it seemed. He'd picked her out among the slaves present, knowing that she was the one that had not broken, that would turn around and slay her captors. He was observant, he was wise... he was dangerous.

But, the thought continued as he entered the simple kitchen. Was he trying to fool her? He hadn't made any outlandish promises. He hadn't attempted to pressure her into anything. He... just was. The man offered her a ration bar and Tyra visibly fought the urge to lash out and snatch it from his hands. She was hungry, starving even, but she was no animal. Her captors could say what they liked, but she would not let them degrade her to that.

So she reached out slowly, gently accepting the ration bar.

"Thank you."

Taking his advice, she lowered herself into a chair, unwrapping the ration bar and forcing herself to consume it one mouthful at a time, and to chew and swallow before she spoke again. When she did it was with a long, slow breath, her free hand dropping its grip on the blanket to run through her hair. Warm, safe, fed, she felt more like herself for the first time in years.

"I would like that," She answered his question.

A test of her own, not unlike the one he'd given her. Had it been an empty gesture? Was he truly willing to cook for her? The young woman shifted, adjusting her posture and taking another bite of the ration bar. Gods above, it had never tasted so good. She vaguely remembered having distaste for these once upon a time, but that was so long ago. This one was pure ecstasy in food form and a soft moan erupted from her lips as if to prove it.

Blushing, Tyra swallowed and shook her head, that was plenty weakness to show now, he didn't need to know just how hungry she was.

"Why did you do it?" She asked, continuing to watch the man before her, "what do you intend to do from here?"

Are you going to expect me to repay this?






[member="Rience"]

 

[Darth Metus]

Tag: [member="Tyra Fenn"]

Given the circumstances, the Lord Commander felt a modicum of relief worm into his stomach as the sound reached his ears. It was faint - especially when compared to the clatter of his boots upon the durasteel floors. The quiet patter of bare feet upon metal, trailing behind his form towards the cooking area. If nothing else, Rience felt as though he was succeeding in making himself appear nonthreatening to the woman. However, that did not mean he could congratulate himself or anything of the sort. Rather, he simply kept true to his mindset:

She was free now. She had a choice when it came to everything.

And given the choices, she chose to accept his kindness. It came in the form of a ration bar and having a seat among his subordinates' common area - but accept it she did. This was certainly a decent start if the man did say so himself. "You're welcome, Tyra." he began. Though he had never been clasped with irons, his understanding of a slave's suffering was that...their humanity was stripped away. They became little more than beasts at the hands of their masters - and thus, their names eroded into things of memory.

He imagined that addressing her by name was a solid sign that things were different now. But, he did not dwell on it for too long. Rather, when the alabaster woman mentioned that she would like something warm to eat, he gave a nod and turned neatly away from her. This was just in time, as she began to dig into the ration bar. Though they were the furthest thing from glamorous cuisine, to one deprived of even basic care...it probably tasted as heaven. The slight moan of approval which reached his ears affirmed that in short order. Rience said nothing to that of course, but rather produced a pot from underneath the stove.

Then came the question of motive. Why did he do it - free her. What did he intended to do from here - with her? She did not have to put it all into words for him to understand. These were obvious concerns to have given the circumstances. The Lord Commander did not immediately answer, for he opted to fill the pot with fresh water for a moment. Once the faucet ceased under his touch, he settled the vessel on the stove and turned on the heat. "Slavery is abhorrent to me and to those I lead." he said.

Knowing that it would take some time to boil, Rience paused only to season the water with a pinch of salt before turning to face her once more. "We seek to put an end to the practice wherever they hide. That is what brought me here today. To you." He stepped to the side slightly and leaned upon the sink's edge, arms folding upon his chest. "Without words, you spoke to me. The gift in you was like...a flame to the gift in me. I was like a moth admittedly." He chuckled aloud at the thought, before motioning towards her with his offhand.

"My intention is to see you off this rock and given a fresh start. You are free, after all, so what happens next is ultimately up to you. If you need credits and a way back home, that we can provide." He pushed away from the counter and returned his attention to the now boiling water. A package of noodles was promptly torn open and deposited into the waters. A quick stir here. Seasoning there. Soon, a delicious aroma would reach her nostrils. Like the ration bar, it was not five star cuisine...but after her ordeal, it would certainly appear to be. "However, if you'd be open to it, I can show you how to use that gift in you. I can show you how to never bow again."

Turning, he pointed the utensil in his hand towards her. "What would you like to do, Tyra?" The choice was hers.

 

[Tyra Fenn]

The young woman finished off the ration bar relatively quickly, even with the way she tried to pace herself.

She took to gently folding and unfolding the wrapper as her emerald gaze stayed on Rience. He busied himself in the humble galley, pulling out a pot and preparing a dish she hadn't seen in some time. Noodles. It was such a simple choice; nothing grand or epic. It was a far cry from the magnificent feasts her Masters had held, at which she had been forced to dance or serve, but never partake. No, this food hadn't been tainted by such memories. It was simple, hearty, a memory from a purer time.

Tyra visibly perked up as the tantalizing aroma reached her nostrils.

She raised an eyebrow as he answered her question, delivering some words about how slavery was abhorrent and that he wouldn't abide it. Noble, to be sure, especially seeing as he appeared to fully believe what he said, rather than simply be saying what he expected would placate her.

But then he went deeper.

Why her, why the knife, why the blood and the chaos? Because he had felt it. He had sensed the force in her, the swirling, wrenching emotion and desire for revenge and freedom. He had freed slaves and seen their captors dead because the practice was wrong in his eyes... but he had chosen her to be the weapon because of what he had sensed in her. Tyra's brow furrowed as she wrestled with the thought for a time.

Then it was his turn to ask a question of her, and the woman's features changed to an expression of surprise, her head canted to one side.

"You'd give me back what they took?" She asked, "... just like that?"

She bit her lip in thought, what indeed? She knew exactly what she wanted to do. She wanted to lead an army to the gates of her Master's house, to raze his wealth and estate to the ground. She wanted to burn the cages and slay the guards. She wanted to march up to the man himself and feel his life leave him in her own hands. Until now these had been desires she never dared to entertain. But now...

"I'd like to stay."






[member="Rience"]

 

[Darth Metus]

The Lord Commander was listening.

Though the man did not dare intrude upon her mind or the thoughts therein, he did open himself to the atmosphere of their cozy surroundings. And as he took the time to procure a plate to deposit the freshly cooked meal onto, he could feel confusion storming about the woman. That was...perfectly normal given the circumstances. Though Rience was doing everything in his power to demonstrate that she was free - that she had agency - a few minutes was never going to be enough to dispel months of torment.

Thus, he held his peace as she posed her questions. He placed his attention upon the pot before him and carefully raised it to deposit a healthy portion of the noodles onto it. If she wanted more, he would keep the remainder warm on the stovetop for her. Silverware was procured next, as was a bottle of water from the adjacent cooler. Turning neatly on his heel, Rience strode forth and presented the meal to her - clearly pleased with his culinary "abilities."

"Just like that." he repeated, denoting that he would in fact return what those slavers had stolen. "I'll give it all back. Plus interest." A light chuckle escaped him as he quipped. But then, she spoke with finality. He could feel the wrath boiling into the air - the bloodlust. The desire to make them pay. Oh, and he would gladly provide it.

"Then consider yourself home, Tyra. I shall teach you. And when you are ready - you'll be able to eat your fill."

They would both know he was not referring to noodles or ration bars for that matter.

"But for now, eat. Drink. Refresh yourself. You've been through...so much."

[member="Tyra Fenn"]

 

[Tyra Fenn]

The girl's eyes widened as Rience piled a plate high with a larger serving of food than she'd been allowed to have in years.

There was a time, a time before the slavers, where she'd indulged in hearty meals with her crew. The slender, toned woman had laughed, enjoying their shocked expressions as she matched their portions... and went back for seconds. That time was long behind her, maybe even forever, but she found the corners of her mouth tugged just a little in a nostalgic smile. That had been a good time. Besides, she was hungry, and the man brought the plate before her, resting it on the table. A feeling of pride seemed emanate from him that the woman picked up on, her tiny smile becoming almost a full smirk for a time. One of her duties as a slave had been cooking for her Master's esteemed guests and diplomats. She had learned to throw together the most magnificent of feasts. Yet, somehow, this simple, humble meal of his seemed a million times more appetizing than her most praised creations.

Her smile broadened at his quip, Tyra reaching out to pull the plate closer to her and grab a fork.

It was with a soft sigh that she let down the first of her walls. Not much... just enough, just enough to reach out and feel the force aura around Rience. At the same time, her own would be revealed, but that was okay. She wanted it to be. She'd kept it so hidden from the slavers, but there was something... almost rebellious about it, about giving freely to this man who'd known her barely an hour what her Master of six years had never managed to take.

She felt the raging storm that mounted within the man across from her.

Her own aura mimicked the bloodlust, Tyra closing her eyes as a tiny "mmm" escaped her lips. Perhaps... perhaps one day the two of them would march into that dark place and side by side rend heads from shoulders, to make them kneel, to be the powerful one... finally.

"Home" She echoed, glancing around.

She began on the meal as he spoke, her eyes drifting closed and a moan of utter pleasure escaping as the first mouthful graced her lips. It was nicer than anything she'd had to eat in years, hearty, warm, and filling. Beyond that, it had been made... for her, a meal to which she was wholly and solely entitled. Nothing could have compared to the bliss of that moment.

Until he spoke those last words.

Tyra glanced up, a surprised expression on her features. She canted her head to one side, snowy hair tumbling over one shoulder. She paused, fork hovered halfway to her mouth, lips parted. She stared at him, her eyes glistening in the soft light. Of course, he hadn't said anything surprising, Tyra knew more than anyone that she hadn't exactly had it easy. But... there was something about him acknowledging that, dragging that uncomfortable truth into the light instead of sweeping it aside in gestures of comfort and safety.

"I'll make it up to you." She stated, her words matter-of-fact but her tone burning with the same fiery determination of his force aura, "train me, teach me, give me back what they stole and I'll give you anything you want, anything you can imagine."

Around Tyra, a few strands of her hair began to rise, a scrap or two of paper, a lose pebble, and the unused knife beginning to rise from their resting places and float around her as the spoke, a the sheer magnitude of her conviction manifesting in the force around them both. Her breaths had become deep, almost ragged, her eyes burning with fire.








[member="Rience"]

 

[Darth Metus]

This one has Spirit.

Though the Lord Commander had settled for literally reading the room through means of the Force, the alabaster woman before him took matters a step further. Inquisitively, she reached out, poking and prodding to see just what the man before her was. As she peered into Rience's presence, she would find a maelstrom awaiting her. The man was many things. A Sith who had cast away the name of Darth. A warrior of many great battles. And as of most recently - a Savior. Of course, despite the fact that she investigated him, Rience did not return the favor as deeply. For one who had only just regained her dignity, it would not do to invade.

Thus, the man simply watched with satisfaction as Tyra dug into her meal. The display was a stark contrast to the bloodlust which had been unleashed into the room. While he could feel her blood boil - simply through the rampant projection of her emotions between the space - when she sank her fork into the meal she was a completely different person. Oh, she could kill. She could raze an army if he enabled her. But at the same time, she was very much so human. In fact, Rience offered a light chuckle as she moaned aloud after biting into the noodles. It was the first time any of his cooking had earned that level of a response. And y'know what? A win was a win.

Despite her internal fury, things were going quite well. Tyra had made the decision to come with him - and it seemed as though he had a new apprentice on his hands. This was good. Though, she paused and looked up at him. Surprised out of the blue. Her head tilted towards the side after he had acknowledged that she had suffered. Was she...not expecting that? Having never experienced such Hell, Rience had no clue how it felt to be so dehumanized that basic empathy was met with such a response. She began to outpour her intentions of paying him back - as if his kindness and tutelage meant that she incurred a debt with him.

Moreover...her might was beginning to show. Telekinetics - unbidden - began to manifest within the woman. T'was as if the Force was agreeing with her intention to return to him the favor of treating her like she was more than curves and entertainment. Rience reached out, slowly. Deliberately he did not make his movement sudden. And if he would allow her, he'd place his hand atop her head in a slight pat. If nothing else, he wanted to diffuse the presence of her potential before the ship was bowed inward. She was mighty, yes, but this was their main ticket offworld. "You do not owe me anything, Tyra. You do not have to make it up to me."

"But rest assured, I will teach you how to make them suffer. How to make them give back what they stole before you erase them from this world."

"However. For now. I need you to take a deep breath. Eat. Rest. And when you're ready, I'll get the refresher going for you. I figure it's been ages since you've had a room to yourself and a shower all to yourself, hmm?"

 

[Tyra Fenn]

She was barely seeing now, her emotions made manifest in the force as the woman proclaimed that she'd freely give everything to Rience. Everything that the slavers had tried to take by force. It was a spit in their faces, to take what she'd guarded from them so jealously and give it to someone else so willingly.

But then Tyra felt it.

A soft hand, gently placed on the crown of her head; the first physical touch from Rience. Perhaps back in the hangar bay it would have made the girl wince, retreat or possibly lash out with the knife. But here, in this place, where she'd already shared a mote of herself, the touch came as a welcome thing. It was gentle, but firm, comforting, but not coddling. He was reminding her where she was, that she could be calm, that the rage could (and probably should) be tempered for now.

The young woman let out a sigh, everything slowly and steadily returning to their original resting places. She focused emerald eyes on him, latching onto that calm voice.

Oh yes, they would suffer. Every beg, every scream they had extracted from her would be paid back... with interest. But Rience was right. Now, she was in no position to do so now. Hells, beneath the blanket, she was still wearing the rags they had her in. Even Tyra's hair was still streaked with blood. As she glanced down at her hand, she realized it was trembling a little, fatigued from the unintentional exertion of the force.

She gazed at Rience, her expression becoming a soft smile,

"Oh it's been years," she replied, "what I would give just to enjoy a shower alone..."

Rest sounded divine. Imagine not having to sleep with one's fingers wrapped around a shiv, to lay awake dreading the sound of booted footsteps approaching one's locked cell. True, restful sleep. She returned to the food in front of her, another forkful coming to her lips. The woman savored it, closing her eyes to enjoy it entirely before speaking again,

"You know, for my first literal taste of freedom? I couldn't have asked for a nicer meal."







[member="Rience"]