Private Serenno Nights

[Sycamore Warrey]

Carannia City, Serrano, Imperial Space.​

That damnable flash of red. That was what had started it all. The unnatural sight of red light dancing off the polished metal of the walls of the alley and the stone underfoot, waxing in one part only to wane in the next, moving this way and that. A sight peculiar enough to allow curiosity to overtake caution.

The sound of blasterfire, though, was what darkened the curiosity to suspicion. A dark, bitter taste that left a foul taste in Sycamore's mouth which led him deeper into that maze of alleys that were so narrow that two troopers would have found difficulty in marching shoulder to shoulder.

Without that eerie red light acting as a beacon of sorts to follow, losing one's way in the back streets of Carannia was a true, and as ill at ease as Sycamore would have been to admit, a happenstance that had befallen him a number of times.

Not tonight, though. Venturing closer was as simple as following whichever junction led him closer to the light, to the sound of blasterfire, and to the sound of…

It was a noise barely on the edge of hearing, so unmistakable that Sycamore chided himself for not knowing what it was from the outset yet so unplaceable then and there that the question only gnawed at him. A hum, of sorts, one that vibrated with power. It was so familiar that failing to place it darkened his expression with a frustration that only quickened his pace.

The final corner was rounded…and Sycamore's breath caught.

It all made sense now. The sound, the light, the earlier din of battle that ought to have been so foreign to a place like Serrano.

It was a scene that told a tale without a word needing to be spoken. An imposing, fiery haired woman with a twin bladed lightsaber in hand, the blade the color of the most brilliant of sunrises and the color of blood in the same instant. Around here, scorch marks from blaster fire on the walls and ground, around her fallen foes, muggers by the fit of their clothes and the quality of the blasters that lay about them.

A robbery gone wrong. Yet, who would be bold enough to try robbing a…

"Sith!" Sycamore snarled, hand already moving to the hilt of his own blade. Here, on Serrano, in the heart of the Imperial dominion? The bastion of safety and security that the Empire offered? It was maddening. Infuriating.

"Drop your weapon and come quietly. You'll not be asked twice."

Saff

 

[Saff]

It was at times miraculous to Saffron that she was alive. On a good day, that was due to splitting headaches, the results of bad sleep, a concussion or way... way too much to drink. On a bad day, it was the nightmares, but today - today was because she was downright unlucky. Sometimes an idiot would approach her in the dark of night, blaster in hand and demand she hand her credits over, but that was when she seemed wounded - because you had to be an utter imbecile to call for a fight from someone as utterly enormous as her.

Today though... today felt like a hit. They were muggers, sure. They seemed to be a collective of idiots drawn together from their little rings of thieves who had deemed her a good target, but no muggers came in a group as large as this, in an alley as out of the way as this, on a day where she felt as fit as this. She was in her element. The force flowing through her as she breathed, wreathing her musculature in its brilliant, comforting embrace. Near every attempted robbery against her was when she was a child, or after a bounty had been handed in, and she looked worse for ware, though she supposed she might have looked a touch haggard now as she whipped aside streaks of red that had fallen free of her braid.

"bloody hell," she said, more as a vocalised thought than a cohesive, tangible statement. She had almost forgotten her saber was ignited, nearly nicking her shin as she tilted the weapon back, having it stand vertically, the hum of power so constant it nearly blended into intangible white noise.

Then footsteps rushed to her, and she expected to find herself the target of another ill-fated attempt at her purse.

"Sith!" an unfamiliar voice boomed and her head whipped about, seeking the called out target. Really? A sith too? She thought, but soon realised that that was not a warning, it was a threat.

So, instead she looked tot he source of the words and let her one, lone brow raise.

"Surely you don't mean me?" She asked, the insatiable urge to gawk was a bit too much in the moment, but with a few breaths, she could control the impulse.

"Because if so... I'm not coming with you."