Ara Zambrano
Sarathiel Ren
Location: Bridge of the Crimson Sparrow, Furious-class Crystal Corvette
Everything is grey
His hair, his smoke, his dreams
And now he's so devoid of color
He don't know what it means
And he's blue
Everything hurt but not in the way she’d expected. Eyes that were already sensitive to the subtle changes in light and shadows around them blinked rapidly against the flashes of neon and LED from the control panel. Occasionally, when her eyelids closed and darkness enveloped her vision, a handprint dominated, seared into her mind by memory and emotion. A low growl and slammed fist on the console caused the trooper standing guard by the door to shift slightly, the sound of armor scrapping the only clue she’d startled the man behind the white duraplast.
Despite everything, one side of her mouth quirked into a smug grin at the thought, her balled fist opening and shifting across the lights and buttons quickly, keying in a familiar code, even if the Knight had failed to use it in quite a while. While the screen flickered and attempted the long range communication, she sat back, borrowed helmet sitting off to the side, cloak settled comfortably around her shoulders, the weight of the fabric the only thing that kept her anchored to the ground.
The budding ache within surged with the moment of passivity, nerves burning from the lack of warmth of the Force, once so integral to the woman, now stripped from her being forcefully by a member of the Galactic Alliance during their mission to retrieve valuable data from the FIV Kingsfisher. At least that was her hope, that the information gathered had been worth the personal sacrifice.
Fingers played across the leather of the belt hitched across her hips, pausing as they danced lightly over the clip that normally held the hilt of her beloved Ba’Vanim, now bereft of it’s cool metal and obsidian. Anger burst over her, the feeling a shock of cold water with its lack of power. For almost a year, she’d trained in, fought with, and embraced the power of the Force surrounding the universe, now suddenly gone from her grasp, the hollow ache it left behind driving the Knight to tears. Her anger and fear had driven her further than she ever imagined, each emotion bolstering and fortifying her own reservoir of darkness, now empty.
Was this how her mother had felt on those nights where the drugs had run out and food was scarce? The gnawing ache in your gut that cries out to be filled but never can? The muscles cramping from lack of nutrients they have come to rely on despite the havoc they reek on one’s body. Arms wrapped around her lower torso, a few deep breaths keeping her from lashing out at anything and everything, the tell-tale beeps of a connection finishing shaking her out of her reverie.
Green eyes rimmed in sulfur and amber raised to the small screen, as she reached out to her former Master.
”Master….”
A paused, the knot in her throat keeping her from continuing even as much as the thought that the title was no longer appropriate, did.
”…Talon. I…need to speak with you.” Her eyes shifted to the side, disgust, embarrassment, and fury shining within them. ”If you….can we….” For someone so used to using words and wit to get what she needed, now her hands grasped at empty straws, looking for a way to ask for his assistance when all she wanted to do was run. That was not an option, abandoning the only family she’d known was not in the cards, not now while they were at war and so many wounded.
Reports had listed high casualties for the Order, Talon among them. Her name had been kept off of the data reports, mostly due to her insistence and the physical well-being of the knight. Clearing her throat and pushing back the anger, she straightened and turned back to the screen.
”It is a conversation better left to be had in person. If you feel well enough, may we meet? I…am in need of your guidance.”
A moment of silence before adding, "I hope you are well. The reports did not sound favorable."
She ducked her head once and waited for his response.
[member="Kriel Firin"]
Everything is grey
His hair, his smoke, his dreams
And now he's so devoid of color
He don't know what it means
And he's blue
Everything hurt but not in the way she’d expected. Eyes that were already sensitive to the subtle changes in light and shadows around them blinked rapidly against the flashes of neon and LED from the control panel. Occasionally, when her eyelids closed and darkness enveloped her vision, a handprint dominated, seared into her mind by memory and emotion. A low growl and slammed fist on the console caused the trooper standing guard by the door to shift slightly, the sound of armor scrapping the only clue she’d startled the man behind the white duraplast.
Despite everything, one side of her mouth quirked into a smug grin at the thought, her balled fist opening and shifting across the lights and buttons quickly, keying in a familiar code, even if the Knight had failed to use it in quite a while. While the screen flickered and attempted the long range communication, she sat back, borrowed helmet sitting off to the side, cloak settled comfortably around her shoulders, the weight of the fabric the only thing that kept her anchored to the ground.
The budding ache within surged with the moment of passivity, nerves burning from the lack of warmth of the Force, once so integral to the woman, now stripped from her being forcefully by a member of the Galactic Alliance during their mission to retrieve valuable data from the FIV Kingsfisher. At least that was her hope, that the information gathered had been worth the personal sacrifice.
Fingers played across the leather of the belt hitched across her hips, pausing as they danced lightly over the clip that normally held the hilt of her beloved Ba’Vanim, now bereft of it’s cool metal and obsidian. Anger burst over her, the feeling a shock of cold water with its lack of power. For almost a year, she’d trained in, fought with, and embraced the power of the Force surrounding the universe, now suddenly gone from her grasp, the hollow ache it left behind driving the Knight to tears. Her anger and fear had driven her further than she ever imagined, each emotion bolstering and fortifying her own reservoir of darkness, now empty.
Was this how her mother had felt on those nights where the drugs had run out and food was scarce? The gnawing ache in your gut that cries out to be filled but never can? The muscles cramping from lack of nutrients they have come to rely on despite the havoc they reek on one’s body. Arms wrapped around her lower torso, a few deep breaths keeping her from lashing out at anything and everything, the tell-tale beeps of a connection finishing shaking her out of her reverie.
Green eyes rimmed in sulfur and amber raised to the small screen, as she reached out to her former Master.
”Master….”
A paused, the knot in her throat keeping her from continuing even as much as the thought that the title was no longer appropriate, did.
”…Talon. I…need to speak with you.” Her eyes shifted to the side, disgust, embarrassment, and fury shining within them. ”If you….can we….” For someone so used to using words and wit to get what she needed, now her hands grasped at empty straws, looking for a way to ask for his assistance when all she wanted to do was run. That was not an option, abandoning the only family she’d known was not in the cards, not now while they were at war and so many wounded.
Reports had listed high casualties for the Order, Talon among them. Her name had been kept off of the data reports, mostly due to her insistence and the physical well-being of the knight. Clearing her throat and pushing back the anger, she straightened and turned back to the screen.
”It is a conversation better left to be had in person. If you feel well enough, may we meet? I…am in need of your guidance.”
A moment of silence before adding, "I hope you are well. The reports did not sound favorable."
She ducked her head once and waited for his response.
[member="Kriel Firin"]
I'm still on a semi-LOA but this begged to be written ^_^