First Reply The Second Hand is Mine

[Vesta]

Bad For Me​

She could see it like it had been only minutes ago.

Fires raised to the tops of skyscrapers, explosions deafening the screams that surely cried out in vain as bombs and missiles collided into residential streets down below, and her eyes peered out through the stained glass window, the last she'd ever see, while her home at the time was slowly taken from her. It had been so different, she had been different, then. It was before she had been called Mori, before she was anyone's voice, before she had even been known by the galaxy proper - she was just Vesta then, and hardly even that. Two identities, one a male gaze meant to distract from her father's oh-so-innocent daughter and the other the secret killer that masqueraded as little more than an innocent teenage girl, now faced with a crisis that only one mind could face.

Bastion was nearly a decade behind her now, little more than a pebble near the base of what had formed the foundation of who she was today, but it still felt so raw to her. Even here, now, on the surface of a completely different world she could only see the same echoes, feel the same pain, as she had that night. Her face was different, her resolve too, but the dark lord of the Sith was still the same as she ever was, loathe as she was to admit it. There were things about her that she doubt anyone knew, even her father, as, despite her closeness with so many, so few were allowed within arms reach of the dark voice. In truth there had always been a part of her that was reluctant to take up a static truth, an identity of her own, as anything she took for herself in that regard would always be little more than a pale imitation of what she had originated from. There had never been a "real" Vesta Zambrano for the same reason her parents and her looked nothing alike - or, perhaps more accurately, none of the many people that thought they had known the person who possessed that name ever truly had, in a far more literal sense than they had been led to believe by her in more recent years.

-

The jungles of Teptixii were proving a daunting trek, the shi'ido brushing aside ferns and low-hanging branches with mounting irritation. It had been an excursion on the Sith lord's part, an escape of sorts, as the lull of activity within the Maw settled into a deadly quiet. This was something she had done often, once, more in the past than the present, in an effort to center herself whenever she felt herself straying too far from the path she had set herself on. Last she had ventured out in such a primitive manner it had been to force herself to acknowledge the truth of why her mother - brought back from the void of death - hadn't recognized her. The sensation of wet leaves brushing against her face, a feeling that most would find natural, felt alien to her - like she was experiencing its touch second-hand. She scowled, letting out a steady stream of angrily hot air from pursed lips, with recognition that it was precisely the way she would describe it and her life as a whole.

Her own person, an identity she possessed, but a life created as a replacement for another that didn't quite make it through birth.

Did that change who she was? Make her any less of a person, or any less real?

Her hand wrapped around the soft branch that held onto the long leaves that dangled down in front of her face and tore it from the tree as she walked by, tossing it and the thought to the side as she put off answering that existential line of thought yet again.

 

[Arcturus Dinn]

It was the unexpected cracking of a branch and accompanying crinkle of leaves which drew his attention elsewhere in the jungle. There were plenty of sounds about, avians chirping strange calls in the canopy, unnamed simiiformes swooping this way and that balanced by long tails amidst the boughs, amphibians croaking down below. A veritable symphony of nature, the Force stretched all around. Yet that sound seemed to jump out from the rest. Decidedly more... Destructive.​

​

Settling down the creature he held within his palm, a miniscule little reptile that scurried back into the decaying leaves of the undergrowth, he sniffed at the air and felt the beast within begin to writhe in response. A hunger like no other gripped his gut, whatever or whoever made such a disturbance was rich with Sensitivity. There was no blood in the air to help spur him on, but just the presence alone was intoxicating.​

​

Momentarily forsaking his attempts at expanding his menagerie, he followed his senses toward the source of the noise and had to fight back the gutbeast to retain control. He was not a monster. He would not be a monster. A steady breath was taken, and fast exhaled. No hunting he firmly told himself. This was a quest of curiosity now, not satiation. The beast might have been the first to sense and try to claim the presence, but Arcturus would always remain the one truly holding the reins.​

​

As he crept forward through the brush, a figure in the distance began to come into view. A woman, he realized, hair pale like snow. His head tilted to one side as he regarded her, and glanced past her in search of any sort of accompaniment. Guards, or friends, or... Well, he didn't rightly know what else. He sensed no other though, just her.​

​

He purposely stepped upon a branch when he took his next step forward, hand primed toward his dagger lest she lash out in surprise. You never really knew in this Galaxy. Looks could most definitely be deceiving.​

​

Darth Mori ​

 

[Vesta]

Honing in her mind on the singular vision of who she was meant to be was an experience that was quite like meditation in the separation of herself from the bother of an outside world. In practice, however, it was far from the sort of serenity that was expected with that sort of a comparison. There was little in the way of the natural world that could pose a significant threat, at least at this point in the series of events she had orchestrated for herself, but in this primal journeying away from prying eyes and political schemes she felt less like the galactic hunger and more like the woman she'd buried deep inside. The rustling of paper-thin blades of grass by pad-footed animals and leathery reptiles kept her mind sharp, her attention on edge, though she looked ever inwards with little focus on the literal vision of the world her eyes caught sight of. It hardly surprised her that she hadn't noticed something far larger approaching because of this, caught reminiscing of the night in the caverns after Bastion.

"Do you approach all women with a weapon drawn?" She asked, slowing down while carrying on in spite of appearing caught off-guard.

It wouldn't be difficult for her newfound audience to either cover the distance or keep up if they so desired give the pace she had reduced herself to now, . At the height of an ego inflated by personal success without intended failure she had somehow reasoned with herself that she was personally aware of the only threats in the galaxy that would pose her lethal harm - not recognizing Arcturus Dinn meant, in this logical framework, that there was little cause for her to feel concern. The stench of death, a stale air that seemed to linger around her like a miasma wherever she went, might have still clung to her but with how seriously she had been forcing herself to maintain control over the urge to merely consume everything in this month of fasting only served to reinforce this notion, the idea that even if this stranger intended her harm that he even had an inkling of what to prepare for. For perhaps a passing moment longer it might've seemed like she'd have continued this with the same open disregard as the start of this possible exchange implied was being afforded to him but the subtle droop of her shoulders while she turned her head ever-so-slightly to the side revealed at least some of her attention being placed on him, even if only her eyes.

"It isn't like I intend to eat you."

 

[Arcturus Dinn]

"Technically," he began, his pace soon matching her own in order to keep a surprisingly respectful distance between them, "It is not yet drawn." Certainly that was not a lie, his hand hovered by the hilt of his dagger to be sure but fingers had not yet made contact. She walked and talked and did not reach for any of her own, so with that in mind he brought his hand away entirely.​

​

If nothing else, he could draw upon the Force should he need a swift retaliation.​

​

Her comment concerning eating him brought forth a soft chuckle of irony that he couldn't quite contain. He could smell it on her, the lingering scent of death which told him that she wasn't to be trifled with. That she was no stranger to taking a life. Consuming it..? That he wasn't so sure, but the fact that she'd immediately mentioned it as a non-starter certainly made him consider it.​

​

"Nor I you" came his retort, and even as the gutbeast squirmed and sought to prove otherwise he maintained his composure. "Do you often wander the wilds alone?" He might have questioned the sanity in that, the lack of safety inherent in exploring strange worlds without company, but was he not doing the same? He could trust in his own abilities... No doubt that meant she could too.​

​

Certainly she seemed deceptively strong, the Force wouldn't give him a firm enough reading to confirm such though.​

​

Darth Mori ​