First Reply The Nature of Yearning | Phaseera

[Amara Zambrano]

FBL​

Aside from the birds and the shaking of tree limbs up in the canopy from the occasional breeze there wasn't much sound this deep into the jungles of Phaseera, maybe a dim buzz of insect life that she had already tuned out and no longer noticed but otherwise not much of note. She could easily hear her own ragged breathing over the rather quiet surroundings, itself quite an unnerving pivot from the rather loud and lively state it had been in only just some dozens of minutes earlier, and leaning up against a tree to check herself for any actual wounds resulted in an echo of a small branch breaking under the weight of her foot. She took a minute or two to gather herself, replaying the violent struggle through her mind while she caught her breath, and then slowly sank down to the base of the large tree to rest.

"Chit." She breathed.

She'd been dressed for exploration, some minor protection against the potential wildlife, but not for an actual serious fight - this was meant to be a sort of training excursion, an exercise in survival in the elements. Instead a bounty hunter had seemingly tracked her all the way here from her trip out of Sith space, with the difficulty of leaving there an entirely different adventure that just added onto the stress of the last forty-eight hours, and followed her deep into the Phaseeran jungle. She didn't know when she'd been tailed, or if the hunter had been following her the entire time since she'd stepped off the shuttle that had brought her here just waiting to strike, but what she did know was that the man who'd tried taking her in was dead. Face-down half-submerged in a shallow stream, the rustling of leaves and undergrowth off in the distance likely a few animals moving in on his corpse for an easy meal. It wasn't clear who'd put out the hit, but then it wasn't really going to make a difference considering who her family was. They might have even mistaken her for the dead strandcast that'd borrowed her face for the better part of a decade, Vesta Zambrano - that is, Darth Mori.

There was more rustling, growing closer to her now, but Amara made little effort to move - she was lucky she was even alive after the last fight, she wasn't exactly built for drawn out physical confrontations.

"Kark it." She muttered from behind grit teeth, pushing herself up from the base of the tree to face whoever, or whatever, was coming her way.

 

[Taregh Garon]

The Imperial Confederation had an impressive array of satellites. Many operating within the region of space they claimed for themselves, others outside of it and far removed monitoring the hyperlanes and territories of foreign polities. The ISS was always eager to apprehend or eliminate potential threats; Jedi, Rogues----Sith.

Phaseera was actually something of a centerpoint, within reach of the Galactic Republic, the Mandalorian Empire and the Confederation itself.

It hardly mattered where she had been recognized, only that she had. The Confederation had an extensive database. Once she'd been identified, an Inquisitor had been dispatched along with other operatives; Bounty Hunters for instance.

The Stygian-Class Corvette had come into orbit not long after her own craft had dipped below the planetary atmosphere. A Shuttlecraft deployed, descending down past the atmosphere towards the surface shortly thereafter. It had more than a single occupant.

The Jungles of Phaseera were thick, vegetation had grown unchecked and dense here amidst the valleys, the plateaus. Insects, the humidity; just two of the things that made travel more laborious in the jungles. There were animals too of course, predators that sought to consume, to rend flesh from bone and tear at sinew.

Closing in, tinder breaking beneath his feet while a powerful arm swept branches aside, snapping them. He came into view as she pushed herself up from the base of the tree, a goliath that stood heads above other men with limbs thick with muscle. It made no sense to dress in armorplast or heavy durasteel plate; he looked more an explorer dressed for the environment---not unlike herself---with a tunic stained by sweat, breaches and heavy boots fit to hike the terrain. Only the oversized hilt of a lightsaber, larger than normal in his right hand set him apart from another traveler. His eyes set upon her, a dark smile touched the corners of his mouth...

"I have sought her, I have found her."

...the words were meaningless, unless you understood the euphemism behind them.

 

[Amara Zambrano]

Thriving​

A chill went up her spine and down her arms, like ice had set in her veins. Taregh Garon pushed his way into view with the same sort of dark charisma she'd learned to expect from his ilk. For all the animals that she'd prepared herself for on Phaseera there were few that struck her as predatorial as he did, the hint of a smile that tugged at his lips reminding her of a something reptilian and cold - made her already small frame seem even more insignificant. She didn't know who he was, she almost doubted he actually knew who she was, but that hardly mattered now given it probably wasn't going to make a difference for either of them at the end of the day.

"What even could the reward be for the both of you to show up in the same afternoon?"

She wasn't entirely certain there was actually a concrete bounty on her head, at least not for her specifically, but she figured a brief conversation might bide her the time she needed to figure something out. If she was being confused with the dead Shi'ido then there might be a chance she could talk her way out of this, but if he was after her for some sort of ransom - or her head - for being her parent's daughter then there was a fair chance she'd need to give him a good enough reason too keep talking for her to find the energy to fight back. Most of the, admittedly few, attempts on her life had been a case of mistaken identity, given her rather low profile even in her own family usually meant she was recognized as Darth Mori - a dead sith lord that'd used her likeness for quite some time before her end on Exegol - and once she'd convinced them she wasn't actually who they thought she was it was relatively easy to convince them she wasn't anything but a victim of identity theft.

A quick glance towards at the look on his face, though, told her she probably wasn't going to be getting away that easy.

"Like I told the last one - I'm not whoever it is you think I am, you won't be getting anything from anyone for whatever it is you're here to do."

You couldn't blame a girl for trying, though.

 

[Taregh Garon]

It turn out she wasn't wrong, this was a case of mistaken identity. The Databanks that had identified her had identified her as Darth Mori, a Sith Lord. All that said a misidentification would be less a concern to him than it may have anyone else who crossed paths with her as she'd soon learn.

She'd have her chance to speak.

Once he'd emerged from the foliage of the jungle to set eyes upon her he regarded her. As the predatory smile played over his features he scanned her, impassive to her wordplay as she wondered aloud as to what the bounty could be on her for two of them to have shown up. Given time, depending on how all this played out perhaps she would come to call it kismet.

His chest would heave, he took a deep breath. A momentary respite not only for her but for him as well, the trek through the jungle had not been easy; something she could likely sympathize with. Then his muscles tensed and he began a forwards stride towards her.

To make matter simpler he would extend his left hand, palm wide in her direction and she would feel a manifestation of pressure reach out to grasp her.

Telekinetic force.

If she was caught then it would, quite simply lift her up off of her feet and draw her towards him until her throat found its way into his open palm where he'd squeeze her neck. Not uncomfortably, more in the sense that it would have supported her weight rather then stolen her breath seeing as how she'd likely find herself dangling inches above the ground....

"It's not whom you are, it's what you are."

...answers that created more questions, did he mean a Zambrano? No. An Inquisitor had uncomplicated directives; hunt down Rogue Force-Users, Jedi or Sith and deliver them to the Confederation for reconditioning. That or eliminate them. Of course there was wiggle room, the Empire didn't need to know everything and Inquisitors had been known to collect 'assets' of their own.

It would be difficult for Amara Zambrano to tell what his cold eyes were contemplating.

 

[Amara Zambrano]

Just A Girl​

Out of all of the situations to find herself in, bounty hunters were by far the worst. A man or woman in uniform, even a Jedi, could be played quite a bit easier to get her way - but the kind of filth that went out and hunted people down like animals rarely saw the appeal, even in someone like her, like the average person might. She supposed it was some kind of coping mechanism, she'd met Sith who were very much the same because they had to be in order to stay sane, but it made it an occupation that she hated almost as much as she hated the woman who'd put her into this kind of precarious situation in the first place by masquerading as her for so many years. There'd been hardly a moment to really ready herself for the situation when she suddenly felt her feet leaving the ground, not really realizing what was happening - the adrenaline rush from earlier starting to wear off now, though the tunnel vision keeping quite a strong hold on her for at least the next couple of moments - until she was dangling in the air right in front of him.

She gasped as fingers curled around her neck.

"A woman?" Amara asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm, though she wasn't sure that was really a smart idea given the kind of vulnerable situation she found herself in now. There were a few options available to her now, none of which were really quite appealing with a man's hand wrapped around her throat, but the one she decided to choose, against all better judgement, was to throw as hard of a kick as she could towards the Taregh Garon 's chest - not that she'd accomplish much, the man was clearly capable of wielding the force and she wasn't exactly physically strong. It'd be trivial to keep her still if he tried, and even if she was able to land a blow it probably wouldn't even hurt.

Her feet were probably even smaller than his hands, after all.

 

[Taregh Garon]

Kicking him would be akin to striking a wall made of flesh and muscle. It would land, squarely against his chest and register similar to how it might feel if a babe struck you. His expression changed, the smile fading until his features seemed to sour as his eyes swept downwards where she'd struck him.

This wasn't to say Amara Zambrano wasn't strong, though she had the physique of someone who was swifter than she was sturdy according to his examination.

Looking at him though, Taregh was immense. Giant came to mind when many wanted to describe him. It would take more than a kick.

As his eyes rose to meet her own once more he'd move forward, carrying her by the throat in his outstretched arm the entire time until she felt her back crushed against the large tree she'd been slumped against when he'd discovered her...

"No."

...his voice was rough, deep and reverberating...

"Because you are dangerous."

...the sarcasm she'd spoken to him only a moment ago before kicking him wasn't lost, his own response seemed to be wreathed in its own kind of dark sarcasm.

There was an edge of truth to what he'd said though. Force-Users, regardless of the type were considered dangerous by the Empire; why else would the Inquisitors be tasked with hunting them down? Now if he'd only known her last name was 'Zambrano' and she might full the full weight that recognition of lineage brings with it.

Up against the tree he would have studied her, his eyes wandering her features as though he were looking for something...

"The Empire sentences you to death----"

...it sounded so finite...

"---or reeducation. Choose."

If neither choice sounded appealing that would be because neither were. Death was self explanatory whereas reeducation was closer to brainwashing, a painful conditioning to ensure loyalty to the Confederation and the Empress. There were other options though, if only she found them on her own.

He was holding her in his left hand, arm outstretched against the tree. In his grasp she was light, his arm wasn't even shaking from exertion. As for his right hand, it still held the oversized hilt of a lightsaber; something that she could have been able to hold in a half dozen of her own hands. It hovered down at height with his hip languidly, revealing he didn't consider her a threat.

Up above, the sounds of birds still and the sway of branches. Occasionally rays of sun crept through the canopy. A breeze would have been refreshing under different circumstances.

 

[Amara Zambrano]

Bad Idea​

'That was a mistake.'

She'd barely articulated the thought in her mind when she felt her back pressed roughly up against the bark of the tree, Taregh Garon 's hand shoved tightly against her throat now. Her eyes narrowed in anger, maybe defiance, at his response but she choked back the urge to laugh in his face when he gave her what was supposedly his actual answer. She wasn't exactly tiny given her height, but her physique alone made her unassuming - she hadn't even really fought back, aside from the pointless kick he'd taken to the chest. The slight ache in the tips of her toes suggested it'd probably hurt her more than him anyway.

Still it was becoming clearer that she'd been recognized as, at the very least, a sith. Likely still confused with a dead one, she supposed, but the lightsaber - which she'd dropped at some point in the struggle - probably gave her away as, at the very least, someone who probably could use the force. The sound of an animal off in the distance, something predatorial probably given the sound it'd made, reminded her there was a dead body quite a bit away from here that only served to cement that fact.

'Shame it isn't closer, might've dealt with him for me.' She thought.

His searching gaze didn't really give anything away to her that she could use to her advantage, as much as Amara usually took those kinds of looks as interest in her, he didn't really seem like the kind of person who really had standards; and then there was the ultimatum. There was an impulse she had to fight not to fire back with snark, smuggler roots and a spoiled treatment by rich and powerful parents made it almost second nature, but neither of the options he laid out for her were even remotely close to acceptable - not for her, anyway, and certainly not now. She lifted a hand, carefully, to pat at his - she wanted a slackened grip if he was looking for serious answers from her.

"I don't want to die," She managed, sounding just a tad more desperate than maybe she should have if she wanted to talk her way out of this. Amara's fingers curled loosely around the man's wrist that held her up against the tree, albeit cautiously, but if he was expecting any kind of fight from her there he was sorely mistaken - a soft thumb stroked softly, pleadingly, against his arm. It was difficult to be charming when you looked like you'd been dragged across the forest floor for half an hour, but a woman's got to work with what she had.

"You don't want to kill me, do you --?"

Amara had barely asked the question when she realized she didn't even know who she was talking to, so she let the question hang.

'Keep talking, make a connection - just give me something chit.' She thought to herself, looking for anything to latch onto to chip away at his stoic exterior - she knew how she looked on a good day, and this definitely wasn't that, but even on a bad day she knew she was easy on the eyes. She just needed him to give her a reason to give her own name to him, some way to get him to reconsider. Maybe she could still play the victim here, she supposed, otherwise it was looking like she'd need to work her magic through a cell to get out of this mess.

 

[Taregh Garon]

When her hand reached for his wrist she would have seen him tilt his head as though he were examining the hand she had lifted.

Still he said nothing. There was no response. No one wanted to die, why should she be any different?

She'd stroke her thumb against the rough flesh of his arm. It might interest her to know that she was not the first to have attempted to make some connection with him. There was something different about her though.

Tense fingers that had clutched her throat began to loosen deliberately. In an instant she'd feel her body begin to lower, tip toes would find the ground first and then her feet entirely. He'd set her down, leaving her back to the tree so that she couldn't just back away from him; she'd have to come forward or swing to either side of the lumber making escape more difficult.

He hadn't answered her though, not one word since she'd asked if he wanted to kill her.

Without an explanation he reached for her again. She'd see his hand coming for her, calloused fingers reaching for jawline so that he could turn her head to one side and then to the other. Maybe he was committing her features to memory or it could that he was starting to see that underneath the dirt and exertion brought on by the jungle that there was an obvious attractiveness to her. As he went to turn his head she'd be hear the deep rumble of his voice...

"Death is inevitable."

...but he must want something, he'd chosen not to kill her outright nor did she find herself in magnacuffs being marched back to his Shuttle where she'd find herself on route to a processing facility for reeducation...

"Tell me your name."

...he wasn't so much asking her, he told her like it was a command and lifting his hand from where he'd gone to turn her head he'd extended his index finger so that he could curl it around to one side and let it touch her temple...

"Tell me----about yourself."

...again, more like a command than a request.

Amara Zambrano might realize that Inquisitors, as well as other Force-Users were trained in interrogation. She would already know he was affiliated with the Empire. It seemed unlikely that he was an Imperial Knight so a member of the Inquisitorious or a simple Bounty Hunter with an affinity of the force was the most likely conclusion.

Too, Inquisitors were said to have training in interrogation. Their techniques could range from painful to subtle. In this case she might sense that he was focusing on her, her answers in particular and that unless she could conceal her thoughts or manipulate them the physical contact he'd made with her would allow him read her and whether she was being truthful or not.

He'd heard the sound in the distance too, an animal. When it came again, still in the distance he would have turned his head briefly to look back over his shoulder. On instinct he'd wrap his fingers around the hilt of the lightsaber in his right hand further as a precaution.