The Deepest Scars

[Llkt'tudrin'wyshd]

A dry, small branch broke with a sharp snap that rang out through the silent forest, echoing off of the thick trunks of trees and weaving through leaves. The cause of the sudden, silence breaking sound was a heavy, black combat boot. Soon after, another crack rang out as the boot's partner stamped down on another dry branch. The sounds of snapping branches continued to sound out throughout the area of heavy and thick forest, the owner of the boots uncaring about keeping quiet when venturing through the Wilds of Kashyyyk. Eventually, the sounds faded into the distance as the owner of the boots left the area.

Said owner of the mud caked, black combat boots was currently a very annoyed and frustrated blond haired male. Currently, the male was dressed in a heavy, black leather duster coat, lined in deep pockets, that hung open. Beneath the folds of the duster, a thinner and darker leather jacket was settled over the top of a skin tight, grey shirt that clung to the wiry muscles. The shirt as tucked into the waist of a pair of old and slightly fraying dark blue jeans. The jeans themselves were tucked into the boots that had been the source of the loud cracks that had been ringing out into the forest. Around the male's neck hung a silver chain and, fastened to the inside of the leather coat, a silver and old fashioned time piece shone in the weak light that fought its way through the thick canopy of the tall trees. At his waist, a pair of old slugthrower pistols were holstered within a pair of leather holsters. Slung over his shoulder by a simple black strap was a sleek, black rifle - another slugthrower to match with the pair of pistols.

Scratching at the scruff that lined his chin and neck, the male sighed, focusing on releasing all of frustration he felt within that single exhale. Reaching to his ear, the male pressed against the comms unit he was, connecting him with the freighter that was currently flying a holding pattern above the stretch of Wilds he was fighting his way through.

"Y8, are you sure that reports place the plant within this area? Because, if not, if you are not one-hundred percent sure, if your possessors hold even the smallest hint of doubt, I swear to the Gods that I will tear you apart and place your consciousness within a simple caff machine. Understood?" While his tone was sharp and laced with suppressed anger, the man's voice was soft, holding an accent that spoke of a high upbringing.

"Addressee: Master Ydrin. Panicked Answer: Yes Master, the report placed the sighting within this area. Offended Statement: The very fact that you would imply that I would make such an error is hurtful Master." In the ship above, a large, red, bipedal droid shifted in place. Y8-S1 was the personal companion to Ydrin, serving as a medical assistant, sworn assassin and an ally in a fight.

Nodding, even though he knew that the droid would be unable to see such an action, Ydrin severed the connection between him and the droid. Rolling his shoulders, Ydrin set back off on his hike. He was currently searching for a sample of an extremely poisonous plant that had been mentioned in previous reports of expeditions into the Wilds of Kashyyyk. Ydrin's intention was to use the plants poisonous properties to create a cure for it before utilizing the poison for himself against his enemies.


[member="Fiore Cœur de Noir"]

 

[Fiore]

[member="Ydrin"]

[SIZE=10pt]The bushes around the path rustled with movement. Eyes had been watching the droid and the man as the entered her home. Moving quickly, a slender form moved up the trees to get a better look at the man and the droid. It was obvious they weren’t from around here and possibly didn’t belong from any nearby systems. Though, the more the girl thought about it, time had passed from when she used to travel the galaxy with her Master.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]Counting on her fingers, she thought of the years she had been in the wilds. Fiore frowned and remained in the tree as they passed. They continued to get closer to her small encampment, she wondered what they would do if they discovered her – she didn’t know if he was a friend or a foe. Sliding down the tree trunk she continued to move within the brush towards her home. Making it there before the man and the droid did, she started to pack things up quickly. Stopping she could hear the voice of the droid coming over the brush in a matter of seconds they would move through it and come face to face with Fiore and her small make shift tent made of different leaves of vegetation and a small campfire. The former padawan raised her hands with the small knife she had crafted from rock and wood.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]Standing there, it was obvious she had been left there by someone. Her Jedi like clothing was far too small for her, pants stoping at her knees ripped and repaired several times. The tunic clinging to her now adult figure, like the pants far too small and seemingly repaired several times over. Dirt clinging to her face, she spoke towards the man – her first human contact in over seven years. “Who are you!?” [/SIZE]

 

[Llkt'tudrin'wyshd]

Stepping through the line of this foliage that surrounded the clearing he had just entered, Ydrin was brought up short by the sight in front of him. A woman in what Ydrin guessed to be her late teens or early twenties stood before him. Sliding his gaze from the female human for a brief moment, Ydrin ran his eyes over the scene behind her. What was obviously a small camp was set up. A tent, comprised of leaves from the trees that towered above the pair propped up against wooden branches that served as struts, was set behind a ring of stones that encompassed a small mound of white and black ash - an obvious campfire. Returning his attention to the female, Ydrin ran his eyes over her now, taking in her appearance. He absentmindedly noticed her dark brown hair, the unique yellow-brown eyes and her muscled frame which was made obvious by her too short clothing. Instead, his gaze focused on the scars that ran across her arms, the dirt that covered her face, the tattered and repaired state of her clothes, the chipped nails that wrapped around the primitive looking knife.

Slowly raising his hands, ensuring he made no sudden movements, his gaze fixing itself to her uniquely coloured eyes and not shifting, Ydrin took a few steps backwards. His combat boots caused the sound of snapping twigs and crunching leaves to echo around the clearing he was vacating. It was only when the majority of his body was hidden within the thick foliage of the forest once more that Ydrin made to lower his arms, all the while making sure that his palms were being shown to the female so that she would know he wasn't going for a weapon. His entire body language was relaxed an open in an attempt to make him appear less dangerous. Every action he took, his retreat back into the flora of Kashyyyk and his deliberate shown of non violence, was to put the female at ease. Her coiled muscles were an opening sign of the classic fight or flight instinct.

"My name's Ydrin." Even his voice, oddly accented for the majority of the galaxy, was kept even and calm. "Might I enquirer your name m'lady?" A soft smile tugged at his lips as he asked the question.

Despite Ydrin's best efforts, not every action he was currently exhibiting was one of non violence. The corners of his lips were twitching slightly, a sign that his smile was nothing but forced. His brows had subconsciously furrowed, his eyebrows twisting the skin around his eyes into a furrowed sign of suppressed anger and violent thoughts. Within his mismatched, purple eyes a glint of hatred had formed, hardening them into two amethyst stones.

His signs of anger were the only things revealing the storm of dark emotions and thoughts that spun within his mind. It had not been hard for him to realise that the female, whoever she was, had been abandoned within one of the wilder sections of the forests that covered Kashyyyk. Nor had it been impossible to discern that such an event would have happened years ago, an easy conclusion to form from the wrongly fitting clothes that clung to the woman's frame - specifically the obvious signs of repair, each stitch an obvious improvement on the last as whoever repaired the cloth slowly improved. Taking the female's young age, her abandonment would have happened when she was a child. It was that simple fact that caused the current maelstrom of emotion. Ydrin was a rather callous person at times, but for someone to take action against a child, that was an act he could not forgive - no matter the reasoning.


[member="Fiore de Noir"]
OOC Note:

Spoiler

Just a little thing I noticed in your post. Y8-S1, the droid, isn't with Ydrin. He's/It's in Ydrin's ship. I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to write my post following what I set up in my first one. If you're not okay with this, just let me know and I'll edit. Also, sorry for the delay in posting, I've been struggling to write for the past few days. I would get bursts of inspiration, then lose it again.

Edit: Just went through this post and corrected a few details I noticed as being wrong.

 

[Fiore]

For being as primitive as she might have seemed, the girl was intelligent. She was still in her mind a Padawan of the Republic despite her now lacking of the Force. He showed no sign of hostility, but she remained prepared for him to strike. She had seen animals do the same to her and in the end they found an opening and tried to rip her throat out. They never succeed though, if they did she wouldn’t standing here in front of Ydrin trying to protect her small encampment. He asked her name after giving his, she coughed clearing her throat. Fiore wasn’t used to speaking and lived mostly in silence for the past seven years. Words weren’t beyond her though - she still had to trade and had learned wookie in the process.

“Fiore, my name is Fiore.” She looked at has clothing trying to pick apart where he was from. Nothing gave her any indication if he was with the Republic, or the Sith. Either would have been fine with her - she just wanted to get off Kashyyyk and go home. The thought ran over her mind as she remembered she didn’t even know where she came from before the Order. Her nose wrinkled as she became upset again at the thought of her situation. The knife remained in her hand clutched, but she had dropped it and took a step back.

She decided to take a chance, hoping that the man was actually looking for her. Maybe the Republic had sent out a search party and that her Master had told them where she was. There was hope in her voice as she asked him quickly, “Are you with the Republic? Did Master Trask send you to find me?” Though it had been seven years - the girl still held hope that her Master wasn’t the monster he seemed that day to be. [member="Ydrin"]


OOC:

Spoiler

Its all good, I misunderstood. I just went along with what you had going on.

 

[Llkt'tudrin'wyshd]

Ydrin felt the coil of tension that had formed within his gut slowly ease slightly as the shoulders of the woman, Fiore, relaxed slightly. From such an action, Ydrin could only guess that she had chosen not to attempt to gut and scalp him. If the atmosphere of his and Fiore's encounter had been lighter and more at ease, Ydrin most likely would of made a joke along such a line of thought, but easily thought better of it at the present time.

When Fiore had needed to cough to clear her throat, as evidence by the slightly scratchy tone that accompanied her words, Ydrin had felt his sympathy for her increase. For her to need to do so proved how long she most likely remained silent while awake, meaning that she had no one to talk to, no one to be around. However, the fact that he voice didn't sound unused helped ease his sympathies somewhat, but not by a lot, as she most likely did talk to some being every now and then.

When the knife was lowered from where it had been held pointed in his direction, the ball of tension in his gut almost fully disappeared, fading away into nothingness. But the hope that so obviously coloured her tone when Fiore next spoke caused that coil to reform, as heavy as it had been. He held no wish to dash her hopes, but if he was to remain truthful when addressing her, which was probably the best course of action, he would have to do so. His sympathetic thoughts reared their head momentarily, threatening to become pity, but he refused to bow to his emotions. Yes, Fiore had obviously not had an easy life, but who was he to pity her. She had survived, she was stronger for it and he was sure that any pity would not sit well with her. All he would allow himself to feel, all he ever allowed himself to feel for those who he came across with bad lives, was sympathy. Never pity.

"I'm sorry, m'ady." Once again Ydrin's vocal tic for addressing women appeared within his vocabulary. "But I know non with the name Trask. And I do not associate myself with the Republic. Nor any other established organisation, or Government, for that matter." For a moment, Ydrin hesitated, debating on what to say next. He licked his lips in a nervous gesture, he had no knowledge on how his next words would be received after all. "May I approach? I'm sure a conversation would be easier at a closer distance." His next words came out at a faster pace, as if to interject them into the conversation before Fiore could reply. "I can surrender my weapons to you, if it makes you more at ease."


[member="Fiore de Noir"]