Spider Folks

[Cedric Grayson]

Witches weren't the nicest sort. Darius had come to understand that all too well back on Dathomir. If he had his way he would never return to that forsaken world. Unfortunately, Dathomir would be coming to him.

They'd just returned from their escapades on Ord Vaug when the Witches came. It was only two; both quite skilled in their magicks and each very dangerous on her own. Together, they were something to be feared. The duo stalked their quarry for some time - a young Nightsister who had brought shame to their clan. The Clan Mother was killed, and the clan itself had wiped out the aggressors' clan in retaliation.

Yet still she breathed. That fact alone was enough to infuriate the elder sisters, and they had taken to the star in search of her. They would return to Dathomir with their clan's sacred stone and the harlot's head.Their efforts brought them to one of the older homesteads deep beneath Sullust's surface. It was here the Nightsister stayed with her Jedi companion. The two awaited the moment to strike.

Meanwhile, Darius was returning from a trip to the market. Ord Vaug had brought them an influx of credits; ones that he was happy to put to good use in enhancing their quality of life. Tehra and [member="Mediha"] would want for nothing while they stayed within his home.

When the last of the groceries were brought in, Darius locked down the speeder, and made his way to the living quarters. No one. He tried the balcony. Nothing. Breathing a heavy sigh, the padawan went on to Mediha's room, cracking the door partway and knocking as he did so.

"You awake?"

 

[Mediha]

Mediha still didn't like being underground, but she was at least tolerating it while she stayed with [member="Darius"]. This situation would also end sooner rather than later; she needed her own space, one she where she could lock out everyone, including Darius, as she needed to. She would debate inviting Tehra to come along, but she missed having a hut of her own. When they had been spending much of their time on Darius's ship, it made sense that she was following him and living at his expense; now that they had settled-- at least temporarily-- there were more options. [member="Darius"] had been very generous, as he usually was, and he did his best to give them space, but Darius was an emotional man and had a desire for companionship and 'bonding' that Mediha didn't share.

Her point was proven at the casual, firm knock on her door moments later, and she set aside her datapad as Darius stuck his head in through the crack in the door. Mediha surveyed his face, then finished turning toward him.

"It's nowhere near late enough for sleep. What do you want?" The words were said with a minimum of superiority.

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Charming as always.

Darius had learned to shrug off her rather bitter greetings. This was normal for Mediha. If she suddenly started acting nice out of the blue, he might have been worried. Stepping through the door, Darius patted down his jacket, and offered the Nightsister a small object bound in plastic. "I was out shopping. I figured you might like something," he tilted the wrapping so that its contents could be seen - a little ball of chocolate drizzled around a creamy vanilla core. It was a simple treat, but one he'd come to love.

He'd made it a sort of peace offering.

"If you don't like it, that's fine," he smiled, "Just figured I'd try anyway." Something shifted on the ethereal plane. Darius could feel it; a subtle change within the force. There were people present that had not been there earlier. His smile faded. "Someone's outside," the padawan frowned.

He cast a look over his shoulder on instinct alone. That someone was multiple someones, and they were fast approaching the household entrance. With a hand resting on his lightsaber, the padawan made his way toward the door...

Meanwhile, the Witches were moving to surround the house. In moments, they would breach. Their goals were simple: retrieve the stone and assassinate the harlot who had taken their clan mother's life.

[member="Mediha"]

 

[Mediha]

Mediha stared at the offering, brow furrowing slightly. Her skin crawled. What was that? Some kind of food? Was he trying to poison her? Had her attitude been particularly offensive lately? No, he wouldn't do that. Was he looking for a favor? Suspicious still, she hesitated before lifting her hand to take it.

Her motion stopped mid movement as [member="Darius"] lost attention. With all of the Force users about, Mediha had taken to keeping up blocks that kept the energy signatures of others from her; constantly feeling that much non-magick had annoyed her and so, when she was safely ensconced in Darius's home, she often protected herself from it for her own comfort. Her partner's comment and the continuing feeling of discomfort in her flesh prompted her to drop those shields and let her awareness expand. Her skin no longer crawled; now the pressure rippled through her body, physical and spiritual.

Darius was right. They had company. This, though, was not the Jedi. This feeling was home.

As Darius left the room, she lurched out of her chair and ran for the box, snatching it up and tossing open the lid. She had deactivated the trap on it weeks ago; inside lay the stone. Mediha wrapped her hand around it, ignoring the urge to use it, and shoved her hand under the neckline of her dress, tucking the precious object into the pocket sewn there.

The next thing she went for was the lightsaber on her nightstand; as she secured it, she felt the first swell of magick and activated the traps she'd put around the house as safeguards. She had been blinded by her selfishness where her senses were concerned, but she was not such a fool as to think no one could turn on them.

The witch magick instantly dissipated as the windfalls rose, towering walls of rushing current. Mediha turned and followed Darius's lead. There could only be one reason they were here. Could she ask him to get involved? Unless he left while she had them distracted, they would involve him whether he wanted it or not.

Practically, she could use the help, and she knew he wouldn't say no. Something in her hesitated for half a heartbeat as she moved to get a view of the witch in the back. They had chosen to split their forces as a way to cut off her escape. They would come to wish they hadn't.

"Don't," she snapped as she saw him reach for the door. "They're witches. They must have come for the stone." That seemed incredible, for them to come so far, for them to have found her, but it was the only thing that made sense. Darius was unlikely to have upset any Dathomirians lately. That meant this was about her; that meant Singing Mountain witches.

Something softly seethed inside of her. Retribution.

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Witches?

They had come this far for the stone? It seemed Darius had greatly underestimated their tenacity. Biting back a curse, the padawan set his lightsber in his hand and locked the door. He was sure it wouldn't last. Luckily, the alliance would pay for whatever damages were incurred; they were being assaulted after all. He gave [member="Mediha"] a short nod as a sign he understood. Talking would give away their exact positions.

Glass broke on the left side of the house. Darius whirled about.

One of the witches stared him down, lightsaber whip in hand. She was clad in a heavy red tunic, and her face was shrouded in a hood and mask. She very much looked the part, though she was entirely anonymous. That wasn't going to save her.

The woman made a hissing noise as the whip came to life. Darius' lightsaber did the same. Then he charged, and she snapped the energy whip. Darius ducked, just barely missing the scathing edge of the weapon His lightsaber crossed along her arm. It did not sever the limb, but it did wound and severely hinder her ability to use the whip. Snapping a curse in the Dathomiri language, the Witch let forth a wall of telekinetic energy that caught the padawan right in the chest.

It felt like he'd been hit by a speeder.

He was sent tumbling back into one of the bathrooms, groaning as the Witch began to close the distance between them.

Then the other two witches broke their way into the house.

"Take the stone and go! I'll lead them off!" Darius snapped, gritting his teeth as he batted the whip away with his weapon. The second Witch was eager to join the fray, her spear raised to gore the padawan the moment she had an opening.

The third was after the stone, and more importantly, the woman who held it.

[member="Mediha"]

 

[Mediha]

They had broken through the defenses, clearly.

Mediha ducked away from the sound of shattering glass, taking shelter behind furniture as someone tossed a sizzling ball of witchfire in her direction through the broken window. From her cover, one hand over the stone, Mediha sized up the over dramatic whip-wielding witch who had picked [member="Darius"] as her target. Her hand glowed as she prepared a spell to take some of the pressure from him, but he was in the way-- and then he wasn't.

She glanced briefly after him as his body went shooting past and half-rose as the witch pursued Darius, still hoping to take advantage of the distraction. With uncanny timing, the cavalry arrived. Mediha tossed her spell at them instead; the net she had fashioned was easily caught by the spear-wielding witch and cast aside. A gesture from her companion saw the melee fighter turning her fervor toward Darius instead, leaving Mediha with one sharp-eyed opponent. Anxiety built alongside the anger in Mediha; two experienced witches against Darius. They would have him for breakfast and finish the meal off with her.

"They can understand you, you know!" She replied heatedly to his suggestion, a protective aura repulsing the fireballs her most fervent attacker threw at her. Mediha fell back before her, but her free hand was busy building runes. Hand runes were tricky and dangerous, but, without other options, Mediha fell back on them and prayed. Darius would be alone until she had dealt with her own problems.

The Allaya Stone pulled heavily against the fabric of her dress. Mediha activated her lightsaber and, as she raised it in defense, flicked her fingers at her opponent.

The magick washed over the witch, who forced it to break apart around her, leaving the cast-off pieces behind. Mediha put both hands on the hilt of her lightsaber and kept backing away, waiting. Seeing the blade in Mediha's hand, her opponent manifested a witch-blade of her own; from experience, Mediha knew its edge was sharp enough to cut crystal. She had no interest in reliving that experience.

On came the Singing Mountain crone, her eyes fixed on Mediha, and the younger witch watched as her spell reformed behind her opponent and drifted forward to gently settle in a blanket over her from crown to knee, a hooded cloak of power that sank into her skin.

Mediha turned herself sideways to the witch and held her ground, braced in one of the stanches Darius had taught her. One more step... As the witch's foot settled down and her arm came up for the first slash, Mediha triggered the spell.

Ghostly spiders sprang from the cloak, skittering down the woman's arms, hanging before her face, dropping into the back of her shirt. The older sister writhed as she tried to get them off, panic in her movements. Mediha took the opening and swept in with the blade, but the witch mastered herself enough to deflect it, albeit poorly. Her skill with a blade was clearly about equal to Mediha's, perhaps slightly more inferior. A brief, heated exchange took place, the two blades crashing together, Mediha's lightsaber protesting in static spitting. Still dripping spiders, her opponent took a step back for space and slammed a foot into Mediha's thigh. The small woman staggered back, nearly falling to her knees, and glimpsed the movement of her opponent coming in out of the corner of her eye. She threw herself sideways and barely rolled away in time-- deactivating her lightsaber to avoid cutting off her own limbs-- and stumbled to her feet, clumsy in her skirts. Instinctively, she shifted aside to dodge whatever incoming attack was making her mind shriek in terror.

A very real scream tore from her throat as her arm burned in sudden agony, washing out every other consideration. She glanced down, horrified, at the edge of the blade penetrating through her bicep; she had felt it slice flesh and grate against bone on its passage through her arm. In almost the same breath, Mediha yanked her arm forward to cleanly remove the blade from the wound and staggered forward with the motion, tears welling in her eyes and spilling over as she let out a convulsive sob. She clutched her injured arm awkwardly to her side, the lightsaber impeding her; she could feel the blood oozing between her fingers, blood pumping from the gash in measured pulses. It stained the clean silver of the hilt, smearing across it as she turned around, unwilling to leave her back to an opponent.

 

[Cedric Grayson]

[member="Mediha"] was too caught up in her battle to flee. Part of Darius believed she wouldn't have left anyway; despite his earlier thoughts. The whip wielding witch raised her weapon to carve right through him. Darius made his move. He was larger than the woman, and she had not expected him to shoulder charge her. The woman man an audible 'oomph' noise as the padawan smashed into her midriff and cracked on of her lower ribs. She was sent tumbling to the ground, lips parted in a silent pained scream. Darius raised his lightsaber to deal the final blow - only to have the weapon bounce off his second opponent's spear.

The whip-witch took advantage of his momentary pause. She reached out with fingers sharpened with the powers of the powers of the magicks, and stabbed her nails into his shin. White hot pain coursed through his leg; amplified by the vile spell she had cast on her nails. It was something designed to cause pain, though no great bodily harm would come to the victim aside from bleeding.

Darius doubled over from the overwhelming agony. The spear raised to gore him.

Mediha screamed.

Darius' hand shot forward. The pain was an afterthought - it fueled him. Ghostly tendrils encircled around the witch's neck, crushing her windpipe and stressing the bone. Her ethereal spear evaporated as she reached for her neck in vain. Her sister reached out to help; Darius lopped off her arm with his lightsaber. He paid no mind to the woman's screams; Mediha was his priority.

The padawan closed his fist; a loud cracking noise emitted from the spear-woman's throat. Then she slumped to the floor, naught but a warm corpse. The whip-woman was too subdued to put up a fight. Darius left her where she lay.

He marched toward the sound of Mediha's scream, lightaber raised high above his head, purpose in his stride. The third sister would suffer for what she had tried to do today.

[member="Mediha"]

 

[Mediha]

Darts of light manifested before the triumphant, hateful face of the witch and cut across the intervening space. Mediha threw a transparent wall up before herself; the points of light shattered against it, creating a screen that blinded her to her opponent's movements until the witch, now armed with two sabers, was around the edge of the wall, blades cutting in. One caught Mediha across the shoulder as she twisted away, eliciting a hiss of pain, and the other caught her across the back of her hand, leaving a shallow gash as she danced backward. Instinct took over for training and a hoarde of illusion creatures, small and capable of flight, twisted into existence and flew into the witch's face, leaving tiny cuts of their own as they distracted her long enough for Mediha to put more distance between them and begin regathering her magick without needing to do it second by second.

For the Nightsisters, there were no real lessons on how to handle pain; that came with experience and was no guarantee that it couldn't be overwhelming in any given situation. Mediha, thankfully, was made of tougher material, but it was impossible to keep the tears from dripping down her cheeks, and it was noticeable to Mediha-- and likely to her opponent-- that part of her mind was on her injuries.

Furious at being injured a second time, Mediha's magick bore down on the witch's blades, pushing against the resistance of the spell until the blades snapped under the pressure. The witch tossed the hilts aside, letting it vanish as she finally struck aside the last illusion creature. Rather than manifest new weapons, she reverted to her original attacks. Mediha shook her head faintly, mostly at herself. She would not lose. She would not be cowed by so many small nothings. The wound in her arm throbbed, and she automatically raised her hand to it again.

"Enjoy it," her opponent spat, grinning at her. "It won't last much longer."

Behind her, something moved, but Mediha couldn't risk looking away from her opponent. She took a step to the side, providing herself a better peripheral view and limiting her opponent's field of vision as well. A blue sword glowed above the person's head and something in Mediha relaxed. Darius. The knowledge that [member="Darius"] was there to support her steadied her and lent her courage that had been flagging. It was one thing to fight for survival fueled by fear; another to fight fueled by courage born of certainty. Mediha jerked her chin up, teeth bared in defiance and eyes flashing, in an aggressive challenge to the witch before her. Chains shot up from the ground and out from the air, tying themselves unexpectedly around the Singing Mountain follower's arms, ankles, and neck. Mediha saw the shock hit her for a brief moment before the chains went taut, yanking her arms down and in, cementing her feet to their places on the floor and cutting off most of her air. She made a faint choking sound as she was pinned and her head was forced back slightly under the tension of the bindings, but, though Mediha could see her muscles straining to break it, she was unable to move or break the spell. Mediha wove the magick of fortitude more deeply into the chains and felt magick designed to "rust" the spell slide away. Behind the witch, Darius loomed.

"Enjoy it," Mediha hissed, the light of triumph now burning brightly in her eyes.

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Darius was ready to assist [member="Mediha"] if need be, though it seemed she had things under control. Blue eyes drifted over the small woman's form. There was a particularly nasty gash along her arm, as well as a few smaller wounds here and there. It wasn't as bad as he had expected given her scream, but it certainly wasn't good. Adrenaline helped him ignore the dull ache pusing in the center of his back, but it would be something to look into later. The witch had thrown him rather hard.

"One is dead. The other one is still alive - she's missing an arm," his gaze shifted to the chained witch, "Make that two alive. We should hand them over to the alliance officials. Then they can bar their clan from alliance holdings. This won't happen again." Darius frowned. He wasn't the type to execute a prisoner. The one that had died was killed in self-defense, or...she was, wasn't she?

She'd been out of the battle. Darius' worry for the Nightsister had made him hasty. Killing her was the quickest and safest option, but he felt nauseous all the same. Ending the other two witches' lives would just make things worse. That wasn't what Jedi did. It felt wrong - it felt like the moment he'd brushed minds with [member="Kinsey Starchaser"]. Her use of the dark side effected him negatively, but he had learned to cope with it.

He missed her.

"Are you okay?" He asked, concern clear in his voice as he eyed her wounds, "You need to get that wrapped up."

 

[Mediha]

Mediha saw the moment [member="Darius"] faltered. As she glanced up at his face, he lowered his lightsaber slowly, and Mediha felt some of her bloodlust dissipate. He had remembered his needless moral objections; found his ‘conscience’. Disappointment rose in her, and she averted her gaze back to her prisoner, and then to his two victims as he spoke of the future. He had killed one; neatly, too. The witch whose arm had been chopped off seemed to be in shock, one hand grasping at the stump of her arm as, wide-eyed, she tried to rise from the floor.

"I’ll see to it later.” His concern twisted something in her, gave rise to a set of emotions that felt less like vengeance and logic and more like... Her eyes closed for a moment. “And no,” Mediha agreed lowly, eyes flinty as she watched the maimed witch get her feet under her. "It won't happen again."

The chains shifted slightly tighter on her prisoner; the woman’s eyes bulged. Mediha cast a sidelong look at her as a conflagration suddenly burst into life around the one-armed witch, sending echoing shrieks of agony through the house. Mediha held her stare with the trapped witch, though the woman glanced continually at her burning companion, anger and hate in her gaze whenever she brought it back to Mediha.

“I would kill the other one if I didn’t think you’d try to stop me,” she commented to Darius, voice laden with disappointment. “Leaving her alive is asking for more to come. You risk our safety to do it.” But do it he would. He was too soft-hearted. “She'll be enough for your Alliance."

 

[Cedric Grayson]

"So she will." Darius mumbled quietly.

The woman's screams made him shiver; the sickly sweet smell of flesh being cooked made his stomach turn. If she was intent on killing them, he would have preferred she gave the woman a quick death. Instead the witch was burned alive to satisfy the Nightsister's desires. At the very least, she allowed one to live. Darius grimaced.

"Sooner rather than later, Mediha. I don't want you passing out on me," his lightsaber made a low hissing noise as it was extinguished. He clipped the weapon to his belt, and shifted his gaze down to the chained witch. At the very least, she would live. The alliance would put her on trial for her crimes, and it was likely she would never see life beyond prison walls.

"I'll let Tehra know what happened," he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, "We need to leave. The alliance will be here soon, I'll explain things to them. There's an inn down the road that we can stay in while they...clean things up," the padawan frowned, "Now sit down, please. I need to bind that before you start to stain the carpet," He hid his concern with humor, though it was easy to pick up the worry in his voice. His gaze fell to her wounded arm; smaller cuts could be treated later - this needed to be taken care of now.

[member="Mediha"]

 

[Mediha]

"It won't be long," she promised, voice still sounding heavy. Even with the clear justice taking place before him, [member="Darius"] didn't protest her actions. He just seemed... resigned. It was unlike him. That might not have bothered her, but for that, on some level, she had expected-- wanted-- him to understand, to share in the victory of smiting their enemies so efficiently. Not to mention that it was a victory which was largely thanks to him. Her brow furrowed briefly at her own disquieted emotions. She tried to shake them off as she forced herself to look at the wound in her arm. The blood and her torn sleeve made it hard to see much detail, but, for all that it hurt intensely, she didn't know why he was so upset. It was clearly much less concerning than she had thought when it first happened. The breadth of the stain growing on her sleeve was likely similar to water; it was simply spreading, not intensifying in volume.

The one-armed witch had stopped screaming, her body overcome by either damage or shock, and Mediha very briefly gave her attention to the corpse that now slumped to the floor. Darius's hand on her shoulder drew her attention back to him. Tehra. That was right. Well, seeing the bodies may have done her sensisbilitites some good, but that couldn't be helped now. With Mediha and Darius, there would be other opportunities for her to experience the realities of the galaxy. Head pounding suddenly in inexplicable weariness, she silently decided to obey Darius's suggestion, no matter what the motivation was.

On her first step toward the couch, her ears roared, her head swam, and her vision went black for a moment, sending her reeling; one hand reached out blindly for purchase as she gasped faintly.

 

[Cedric Grayson]

He wanted to get away from this house. The show of anger, the need to protect regardless of the consequences, that wasn't him. He was a Jedi, soon to be a Knight, his actions should have been led by the force rather than personal outrage. Yet he had killed that woman without a second thought; marched on to slaughter Mediha's own opponent before her body hit the floor.

The flow of it was gone now. His body felt like it had been drained of all its strength. His hands trembled meekly as he tried to recenter himself; to find some semblance of calm within his own being. Instead he was met with an overwhelming feeling of wrongness and dread, like he had witnessed something unholy in nature. Except he had caused the source of his revulsion rather than simply witnessed it.

He did not share in Mediha's pride. He did not share in her thirst for victory. He wanted to curl up into a ball and forget this had happened, to run far away and never return.

Of course, there were other things that needed to be taken care of.

[member="Mediha"] dipped forward and would have hit the ground if not for his reflexes. He cuaght her with both hands and just barely managed to keep her from slipping out of his grasp. Perhaps the blood loss was worse than he had expected. With gentle hands, he half-helped-half-carried her over to the couch and set her down gently.

"Talk to me Mediha," he cooed as he tore off the sleeve of his tunic. His eyes shifted to her wound. He couldn't treat it properly right now, but he could stem the flow of blood. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, the padawan moved with deft hands to tie the soft fabric tight around the open wound and partially above it. If he could keep her from bleeding out, then this could be considered a victory.

"Just look at me and talk. You need to stay awake." His voice was gentle. The worry, the fear, it had all left his voice. With trembling fingers he worked to keep the wound from bleeding further. There was nothing spurting, so he assumed she hadn't hit an artery. She'd just been bleeding too long. Then again, Darius knew very little medical know-how. The knife might have cut four arteries and he would never know.

 

[Mediha]

"I'm not about to fall asleep," she rejoined, leaning her head back and staring at his face as he worked. Her eyes went in and out of focus of their own accord. "I think this hurts too much."

Talk, he says.

"You need to stop being so compassionate. Your heart is going to get you killed." Mediha didn't dare shake her head; she might wind up passing out. Abruptly, her mind changed subjects on her and she let it carry her along.

"I need to work on my lightsaber training." Fleetingly, Mediha remembered there was still a witch tied to the floor who was listening to every word. She would temper her speech accordingly. She hissed as he pulled the bandage tight; even done with care, it stung. "I'll make more time for you, assuming I don't end up losing the arm. I don't believe the blade was poisoned." Almost positive. "Tehra has work she can practice alone or she can join the additional training, so she won't miss me." The thought sounded utterly ridiculous to begin with; Tehra was sweet and had grown rather attached to Darius and Mediha, but she was not entirely dependent. As her trip today showed, she could function on her own.

"The Alliance will give you the time if they think you're training a padawan or trying to convert me to your over-the-top ideals." There was no heat or purposeful insult in her words, and she let her head loll aside to inspect his work as [member="Darius"] tied off the bandage. "Very neat. What about this inn? How will you contact someone if we're going to be there?" She tried to twist to see the witch and flinched as she bumped her arm. Though her head still spun, she put in some effort to appear composed and hard. The chained prisoner had not moved or tried to use her magick yet; smart of her. She wouldn't like the backlash from the chains if she did. Mediha turned back and closed her eyes, her good hand reaching up to press against them. If she tried to stand again, she wasn't sure she would be any more stable than a moment before. The best option would be to stay still. "I can make sure she doesn't leave when we go, but do you really want to leave her alone until they get here? If you have to go, I would keep an eye on her until you returned. The situation doesn't repulse me."

Not the way it does you. Mediha was glad her hand blocked her eyes, as it gave her a moment to compose herself and prevented her from doing anything that might give her thought process away. She was not herself, and she could hear it. Sitting had helped stabilize the whirl of her mind caused by her attempts to walk. To put Darius back in a position where he needed to walk for her would be embarrassing. If this was a way to avoid it, she would take it.

 

[Cedric Grayson]

"I rather like my over the top ideals, thank you," Darius quipped as he finished wrapping her arm. It wasn't perfect, but it would keep her from losing too much blood until she could receive legitimate medical treatment. At the very least, she wasn't going to be bleeding all over the place. Then she mentioned leaving her side, and the padawan shook his head. Strong as [member="Mediha"] might be, she was wounded, and more importantly, struggling to focus. If this witch was smart, it would only be a matter of time until she found a way out of her bindings.

"I'm not leaving you with her, sorry," his tone indicated he was certainly not sorry, "And it might get me killed, but it's all a part of the charm isn't it? You wouldn't be so special if the entire galaxy was all doom and gloom." He snickered and cracked a thin smile. Anything to keep his mind off the the killings. The speeders arrived just a moment later.

The security officers wasted no time in slapping force cuffs on the witch and leading her out to one of their speeder buses. She would be interrogated, recorded, and jailed until the courts decided what to do with her. The officers then went to the task of covering the bodies and identifying corpses. Darius had a brief conversation with one of the men, and soon returned with a medical droid at his back.

"He's going to fix up your arm. Can you stand?" Darius lofted a brow. He would carry Mediha to the medical speeder if need be.

 

[Mediha]

Mediha was offended, instantly, by Darius’s refusal to trust her-- he thought she would break her word?-- but, in the next heartbeat, applauded his good sense. Truly, she might have killed her anyway. Good. Perhaps he was growing common sense around that soft heart of his. His sense of humor, though, left something to be desired.

She let herself be distracted by the personnel who let themselves into the home. The conflagration had gone out while they were speaking, but the witch’s body was still smoking, giving off the aroma of charred flesh. She purposely ignored [member="Darius"] as he got up and left her to her own devices, subtly shifting herself higher on the couch. The dizziness was still there, as was the desire to sleep that she had denied him earlier. Her arm was a steady throb, every movement sending a spike of agony through it, so she found a position which allowed her to rest it without leaning on the wound and stayed there. Her eyes drifted closed, brow faintly wrinkled. She felt Darius’s energy approaching and forced her eyes open.

Standing.

Mediha looked down at her feet, debating if they were capable of doing as he asked. Her mouth twisted in a grimace. "I would hate to say no." She leaned forward cautiously and then scooted to the edge of the couch, bracing her legs under her. This was going to end badly without a back-up plan; he would do. "Get my good arm, Darius."

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Darius let her move on her own power for all of five seconds. Then he caught sight of just how shaky she seemed to be, and laced an arm around her waist, settling the limb that was not marred over his shoulder. He had to dip down quite a few inches to meet her height - not that he had any intention of pointing that out to her. He rather liked all his limbs where they were.

"We'll get it fixed up. Sent a message to Tehra. She'll stick clear," he mumbled quietly as he led the Nightsister to the back of the medical speeder. Once aboard, the medical droid would begin cleaning, and then suturing the wound. It did not seem particularly serious, though [member="Mediha"] would need a blood transfusion whenever they arrived at the hospital.

"You fought well, as usual," Darius chimed as the speeder took to the skies, "You think more will come?"

 

[Mediha]

Mediha cringed and gritted her teeth as the medical droid began suturing her wound. The local anesthetic helped when it finished kicking in, but she could still feel the flesh pulling as the needle stitched it back together. She did not look, but other than the spartan inside of the speeder, the only thing to look at was Darius. His passing compliment earned him a small nod of acknowledgement, and his inquiry pushed her thoughts back to their recent victory.

Not if you put the other one down. "Not if you keep her locked away." She grimaced, but there was no way Darius could know that it was at her own convenient editing of the truth and not her wound. "As long as they didn't tell their clan where they were going, the clan should continue to assume they are hunting... until it is too late to pursue their course." Her free hand clenched into a fist, her expression twitching as the needle pressed where the anesthetic did not go and she ground her teeth together.

"You were impressive." Mediha regretted the word the moment it left her mouth, but she simply averted her gaze. "You held off two witches on your own and managed to subdue them in a very short amount of time. I wasn't expecting that given the onset of the conflict."

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Darius could do nothing to help her with the pain. The anesthetic would do its job the best it could; the force would offer [member="Mediha"] no aid today. The padawan was simply not capable of healing on any particular level, even the novice skill of numbing pain in others. He could barely do it to himself. So instead he sat alongside her, offering her some form of psychological support instead. Not that she really needed it.

"Then we'll be safe for awhile." He breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Blue eyes shifted to the suture on her arm. The droid worked with skilled fingers to seal the wound; he would need to learn the more useful applications of medical training soon enough. It was quite likely something like this would happen again in the future, and there might not be a droid around to patch up the wounds.

"You were pretty impressive yourself," he cracked a thin smile and leaned back in his chair. Neither of them were dead, and no limbs were lost. That was a win in Darius' book. "I...I choked one. Strangled her with the force." His gaze fell to the floor. "I heard you scream and I was worried. It was...wrong of me. I acted in anger; let my feelings get in the way of my common sense."

 

[Mediha]

"You acted out of good sense." Mediha's pale gaze was sharp on his face. It was still a strain on him, the thought of doing what needed to be done, but he had done it. Mediha had thought he might be able to kill as necessary, but she had never seen him live up to that expectation. She set aside his ridiculous accusation of 'feelings' for the more important aspect of their engagement. "If you had left them behind you as you came to my aid, they would have killed you. And they wouldn't shed a tear for you." Mediha paused, seeing in his face that he wasn't really hearing what she was saying, didn't believe her even though it was the truth. Her fist tightened briefly, and then she relaxed her fingers and reached out to set a hand over his arm. Her expression was firm, but not unkind. "Darius. Sometimes your feelings are the only way to common sense. Don't blame yourself for what their choices forced on you."

She glanced up as the speeder noticeably slowed. We must be close. "The Alliance will see that you had no choice; no one will blame you for this but you yourself." Her eyes shuttled between his, then she pulled her hand away and averted her face toward the other side of the speeder. "So stop it."

She felt their transport settle on some kind of platform and tried to sit up, the movement serving as further distraction for herself as well as shielding against the observation of [member="Darius"] or the medical droid.