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.

 

[Amara Zambrano]

show and tell​

She frowned.

Seeing so many people die through the eyes of their murderer, and then to see that person - the woman that'd worn her face and took her name as her own - take her own life as if they'd shared the same mind, made her more intimately aware of what death was than anyone had any right to tell her what they thought it was. Still, he didn't know, and keeping herself from immediately lashing out rewarded her with a follow-up; a question that exposed a chink in his phrik-like facade. It happened naturally, the subtle shift in the corner of her lips that'd tugged them into a frown that hinted she was struggling not to let the fact that she was pleased with getting, essentially, what she wanted from being quite so obvious.

The finger resting against her temple, sensation of physical touch in a place she considered incredibly personal, ripped her from the momentary reverie - and she smiled all the same.

"Amara - Amara Satev." She said, leaning her head into his touch just a smidge. People were social creatures, even the little tin soldiers that pretended they were anything but, and even a little physical touch went a long way when it was paired with concessions that fed to people's egos. Fortunately for perhaps the both of them, however, Amara's disposition for emotional manipulation wasn't brought about by whoever, or whatever, it was that she might've thought Taregh Garon was working with. There wasn't quite so much a wealth of galactic knowledge for Amara to draw from aside from the understanding that the Sith Empire she'd been born under had collapsed some time shortly after her birth and whatever she'd learned second and third-hand in her day to day life over the last ten years.

Twenty years of her life had been robbed from her by a coma she'd been effectively been born into, put under when it became clear her bodily functions couldn't support themselves - the result of two relatively incompatible species trying to have a natural child together. Her parents were sith, of course, and she'd become one relatively recently, but the sort of groupthink and sense of belonging that came with that sort of thing hadn't quite set in yet.

"I'm on a hiking trip, I am.. I was.. working as a sm-- a shipping specialist.. for Hutts."

It wasn't a lie, though it wasn't the entire truth either. Over the course of the last ten years Amara had been shaped into who she was by the many failures she'd experienced as a smuggler with the Black Suns, usually working on jobs for Hutts, but life in the underworld just wasn't for her - it'd chewed her up and spit her right back out with far more problems than she thought she'd had when she woke up, alone, in a sterile room with no one waiting for her. The name was a consequence of that, one she'd made for herself - first and last - when she decided she didn't need a family that seemingly had given up on hope of her waking up, and in a sense it was the only part of her that was real.

She noticed him looking for the source of the sound, whatever animal it was, but if there was an opportunity for something she easily missed it.

"I'm a nobody, you can run the scans on my face over the holonet - the only hits you'll have are some lunatic shi'ido that stole my face while I was in a coma. If you search my name you won't find anything except a story about a warehouse I was working in that got raided by the Black Suns."

That much, at least, was the truth. It was how she got roped into that life, though she thought she'd gotten out of it. The last job she'd been on had been a simple delivery of shimmersilk, and though she'd never came back to the Suns there was an unspoken understanding that she was going to disappear and they weren't going to look for her. Something about friends in dark places, though right now she'd much prefer friends out in the open.

"Is the hand wrapped around my throat attached to someone with a name?" She asked, a little more flirtatiously than maybe she intended - it was a force of habit, the genuine article peering out from behind the curtain.

 

[Taregh Garon]

---

If he suspected her of lying to him then his facial expression didn't betray his thoughts. Truthfully he detected nothing though, the woman trapped between him and the solidness that was the tree at her back may just been Amara Satev, exactly as she said. Of course not everything she said rung true.

His eyes were impassive but if she could read the subtle cues well enough she might note that he was thinking.

She'd leaned into his touch. A small motion but one he could detect. If he had continued using a technique to read how earnest her answers had been that concluded when he shifted his hand. She'd feel his finger slide back initially, away from her temple then large, calloused fingers began to weave through the tresses of her hair beginning at its roots and then climbing higher; his hand had turned into the contour of her face, over her cheek.

He admired her, openly though this made him no less dangerous. In his grasp she was small, a tense of the fingers could apply an unrelenting pressure to her. Not right now though.

"A Hiking trip."

...he repeated the words, she might see how coming from him this part of her story was not entirely believable. Phaseera, a world a dense jungles and predators was not entirely hospitable for someone hiking alone, someone who claimed to be 'nobody'. There was also the matter of the Hutts. Of course he didn't entirely believe everything she told him but something about Amara Zambrano had connected with him...

"My name is Taregh."

...no last name, no titles. She needn't know to much but he had given her something, little by little. Maybe that little bit of flirtation had gone further than she intended.

The way he'd cupped the side of her face, staring down at her as his immense frame threatened to engulf her smaller one; he was like a predator trying to decide if he would feast on his prey or if she was something other than what he'd been seeking.

In his right hand the lightsaber lowered, he'd have clipped it back onto his person indicating that he at least considered her less of a threat for the moment. It also implied in all likelihood that he did not intend to eliminate her at this very moment. None of that meant she could relax though, he was still capable of crushing her with his hands if necessary.

After a moment of silence, contemplation if you will he would have said...

"Come with me, I have a ship. Perhaps if we run the scans through the holofeeds all over again we might find a way to help one another, Amara."

...of course he didn't mention that he wasn't alone, a squad of twenty Purgetroopers had accompanied him planetside though he'd ordered them to remain back. Of course it would take them hours of trekking through the jungle to reach it.

His thumb rolled over her cheek, sliding it it down until it brushed the corner of her mouth. Then his hand slowly started to slide away from her, releasing her as he invited her to come with him in what could either be her doom or deliverance.

 

[Amara Zambrano]

Control​

She tensed, it didn't sound he like he'd believed her with the way he repeated her words back to her.

His name, however, put her immediately at relative ease. Something resembling a smile returned to her lips, if only fleetingly, but it was clear she was still wary of what it was he intended to do with her. There were hundreds of thoughts running through her mind in the moments that followed, not least of which were wondering if there was anything she could say to immediately get him to let her go or if there was any way to arrange for help in case things went sideways, but perhaps the loudest thought in her head was the internal relief at watching him clip his weapon to his side which was met with an immediate loosening in the muscles around her neck and shoulders.

"Lead the way Taregh."

There was a tinge of suspicion in her voice, genuinely from a place of concern and distrust, but there wasn't much of a choice for her either way. The gesture, his thumb tracing her cheek to her lip, might've been sweet, affectionate even, if it weren't a thumb attached to the man who'd been holding her by the throat against a tree. Still, if she was at all bothered by it she didn't let it show - over a decade of being careful around powerful men's egos meant quite a bit of practice in hiding her true feelings regarding contempt or simple distrust whenever she was alone with them. A trained soldier, a bounty hunter, either were dangerous on their own but the same danger was just as present in every day life - or at least the implication of it was.

Eventually he let her go, his grip slackening until his fingers weren't evening touching the now-reddened skin at the top of her neck. Something he had suggested, however, stuck with her and her curiosity quickly got the better of her. "What help do you think I can give you?" Amara asked, genuinely uncertain what she might have to offer him - or what he expected to find on her. She doubted he knew who she actually was, in terms of her actual identity, so unless this was an improvised kidnapping rather than an actual attempt at collecting on a bounty that she wasn't actually, to the best of her knowledge, included under, then she wasn't sure what angle Taregh Garon was approaching this from.

'Maybe he thinks I'm someone else?'

It was a thought, certainly, but she didn't know anyone other than the dead strandcast that she considered a sibling who really resembled her - not that there weren't likely other people, she was her parents actual biological child after all, but she didn't think any of her living relatives looked close enough to her to make that kind of mistake but there was always room for surprise.

 

[Taregh Garon]

---

She couldn't have thought it would be that easy, even if what she'd said had been completely innocent.

He'd regard her, silently then he would take a step back and slowly arc around to one side leaving a path open for her to move past him. The intent should be clear to her. He still did not trust her and he would not make the mistake other men had; she was beautiful after all so it would be easy to see how one might lower their guard and allow her an opening for her to strike.

Even if she was not the person she appeared to be Taregh sensed the force in her and if she did not serve the Empire that made her and the Inquisitor enemies in most circumstances.

"That way."

...he'd tell her, his head craning briefly to indicate the direction he'd come from...

"I'll let you know where to go."

Presumably she would move in the direction that he indicated. Once she began he would follow her, only a few paces in her rear and off to one side so that she would be able to see the massive silhouette of his figure in her peripheral. The Jungles of Phaseera were dense, it could make for a slow forced march unless she proved willing to keep an adequate pace. Predators could also make things more difficult if they ran afoul of any of them.

They wouldn't have been long into the trek before he answered her...

"A Name----"

....he'd tell her...

"---has value even if it isn't the right name."

...a bit of cryptic answer but she'd said it herself, a Shi'do had stolen her face while she was in a coma. If this was the actual alert that had brought him here from the Imperial databanks then her face still had value. All that said, Taregh may have also been more cunning than a simple beast or monster as his stature would project; any help she gave him would likely serve an as of yet unexplained purpose.

A Howl in the distance drew his attention, local fauna calling to one another. Predators, maybe but it would be uncertain to this point.

There was something she'd said earlier, something he hadn't touched on but she'd hear him behind her inquiring...

"You'd mentioned 'both' of us earlier?"

Amara Zambrano

 

[Amara Zambrano]

'Both?' She wondered to herself.

At first she was confused, firstly because she was certain she hadn't exactly put any emphasis on her question earlier - about how she could offer help to him in return for help from him - and secondly because the way he'd said it caused her to think it was a continuation of the conversation they'd been having. It only took a couple of moments for her to realize she'd misunderstood him - and forgotten she'd mentioned it - which was slightly embarrassing, forgetting something she'd said herself, but it was quite a bit less stressful than it probably would've been if she was perhaps anyone else.

"There's a saying in the underworld - there's no getting out." She said, as if it somehow explained itself. Of course it hadn't, not without the previous context she'd given about the nature of her leaving the Suns a handful of minutes earlier, but it also occurred to her that she hadn't exactly linked the two together. "Some people were a bit unhappy that I 'retired' and hired some thugs to pressure me to come back, one of them followed me here and pushed me a bit too far - I thought you were one of the others, naturally." Amara explained, gesturing with a shrug that she didn't exactly fault herself for it. Of course that was only half true - she thought it was a case of mistaken identity, which it looked right now to be, but the other one had been after her for the job they'd been hired to perform.

It just turns out they thought she was also Vesta and tried to kill her for some loved one her sister - strand-cast, really - had murdered, the job was just a vehicle to get to her.

She looked over her shoulder - naturally she'd gone in the direction he'd given, but she was wondering why he'd asked. Had he thought it was anything other than the reason he'd been after her? In her own mind she would've just assumed anyone else in her shoes saying the same thing would've been under the impression the previous bounty hunter had made the same mistake, so if there was something that was making her suspicious she wondered if she could glean it from the look on his face.

'No, too stoic.'

She looked away, staring straight ahead now. Normally she'd already know what to say next, or at least what to do, but right now there wasn't much coming to mind except to just keep walking. There was a bit of an exaggerated sway in her hips added to her stride, a little something that she figured was better than nothing, but for once she just kept her mouth shut waiting for him to say something else. Assuming Taregh Garon would.

 

[Taregh Garon]

---

He'd heard the saying she'd mentioned. It was the same for the Manadalorian culture in some sense, no one truly left and if they did they were often branded an outcast and a traitor. They called them Dar'manda, now if he ever met his kin again they would call him Inquisitor and it would likely not be a pleasant reunion.

If her answers appeased him it would be difficult to ascertain. Looking back at him would reveal much of the stoic visage she'd been treated to prior to this. The Man was a stone and as another saying went you could not squeeze blood from a stone.

Of course, some stones have a smoother surface than others and can be polished over time.

Naturally his eyes were drawn to the exaggerated sway of her hips. He was a man after all and she was a woman, an attractive one at that. Under differing circumstances if a woman of her beauty, one might even say a refinement if they studied the way she moved and carried herself walked in front of you swaying her hips like that you look.

It seems fate may have other ideas though. Perhaps it considered the idea of the Inquisitor processing Amara Zambrano to be to boring.

As Amara moved ahead there was a subtle movement between the vegetation at their feet like something slithering. She may have seen it or it could have gone unnoticed but Taregh saw it through narrowed eyes. An arm reached out for her, it would clasp over her left shoulder and draw her backwards until she pressed against his side like he was shielding her.

Immediately afterwards a pallid and slimy head, its mouth a sickening tangle of hooked teeth and tentacles would rise from the foliage to lunge at Amara. He'd shift, his right side swinging forward and a massive hand reaching out to grapple the head of the creature. It was a mixture of plant and animal, some kind of strange creature that combined a leech with a plant. A Leech Plant(?).

Lifting it in his grasp his jawline transformed into a frown. his eyes inspecting it...

"It must have sensed your blood or your sweat and been drawn to you."

...the same could be said for him, if he had been walking at the fore the likelihood was that it would have sensed him first...

"It is a creature of instinct not one of any particular cunning."

...as he spoke his fingers tensed, he squeezed the next of the Leech Plant until its body was almost flattened in his palm and a strange and sickly mucous came out of its sickly mouth as it slumped over lifeless. He'd discard it shortly thereafter.

All that almost made him forget that he'd went to pull her closer. Her form would seem tiny against his side with a powerful arm shifting from her shoulder to wrap around her but when the danger passed he released her. Tilting his head he regarded her again...

"....."

...he might have started to say something but for another of fates circumstances.

The Jungle was hot, the foliage and canopy trapped the heat underneath itself. Looking up Taregh thought he heard a low rumble, piercing just past the canopy of trees through a small opening he saw what appeared as dark clouds rolling in. Weather patterns could change quickly, the jungle loves rainfall. In heavy rain it seemed unlikely they could reach his ship.

"You know this world?"

...he asked, maybe she knew of shelter. Perhaps a cave or outbuilding. She might also lead him into a trap. That might be better than being trapped under a heavy rainfall, different kinds of danger usually came with that.