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| Location | Lianna, Outer Rim Territories
| Objective | II - Delenda Est - Locate the Data Vault Itzhal VolkiharNiijima Izumi
[ -- Wait wait wait.] Avast immediately began, the grin hiting her voice before anything else, sharp and bright. [ Mand'alor… got a betting pool on his love life now? ]
Oh how did her pearly white teeth flash behind the visor in utter, pure, devious delight at that bit of tea on Aether Verd
.
[ Aether, really? My vod out here missin' dates bad enough people puttin' credits on it? ] A quiet, incredulous laugh slipped through. [ Nah, nah… you not droppin' that and movin' on. Who's the lucky one, hmm? ]
The Pathfinder leaned in just a fraction towards Itzhal, her attention fully hijacked.
[ Don't tell me I've been off-world and missed the best clan gossip -=]
The shift was instant as if a switch had flipped within Avast. Her heavy blaster pistol came up at the ready position.
[ Yeah… I feel it now, ] she muttered as her voice dropped low. That helm turned towards Itzhal.
[ You got what we came for? ]
Avast let her stance widen just a bit slightly, covering the corridor. And even as her mind was fighting the desire to keep asking more about who this love interest her brother had going for her, so much that whether or not he would flop a second date was a matter of a betting pool, there was no mistaking how her body settled into one ready for action.
[…Alright.. we can finish the gossip after I make sure nobody else in here's breathin' wrong. ]
Her attention remained where it was; on the man slumped against the console, his breathing shallow, uneven in a way that spoke of minutes, not hours. Her fingers moved with quiet precision, unfastening part of his armor, checking what little she could without tools or time.
The words did not meet deaf ears; for the first time, she hesitated. Not outwardly; her hands did not stop, her posture did not falter; but something quieter shifted beneath it. A pause that wasn’t visible so much as felt, like a breath caught between two decisions.
Another cough tore through her, harsher than before. She turned away slightly, pressing the cloth tightly to her lips as her shoulders dipped with the force of it. This time, it didn’t pass cleanly. It lingered, dragging something deeper with it, until she had to brace a hand against the floor to steady herself. When she pulled the cloth away, there was no hiding it. A deeper, darker crimson marked the otherwise pure white cloth. Her breath didn’t recover right away.
And in that moment, kneeling between the two of them; one dying, one demanding; Na Ri felt it clearly:
She did not have the strength for both. The man beneath her hands was slipping. She could feel it in the faintness of his pulse, the way his body no longer resisted. He would not last long without her. But neither would she. And behind her, the terminal still hummed. The way he had looked at her; not as someone to save, but someone he needed.
Her fingers stilled for a second. “…I know,” she said softly. It wasn’t clear which of them she was answering.
Na Ri’s eyes swept up to meet Prisoner’s. The quiet certainty she carried had fractured, just slightly, under the weight of reality pressing in on all sides. “If I stay…” she murmured, almost to herself, “…he dies slower.” She swallowed before continuing, “If I leave…” her voice thinned, “…he dies alone.”
The words would settle between them, fragile and unresolved.
Another tremor shook the room; stronger this time. One of the overhead panels sparked, then went dark entirely. The hum of the servers dipped lower, unstable.
Time was collapsing around them.
Na Ri’s gaze flickered, just once, toward the terminal behind him. Then back to the man beneath her hands. Then back to the Prisoner. The equilibrium of choice was slipping, she knew well. Her hand shifted; no longer actively treating, but not withdrawing either. “You said they kept you there,” she said, her voice softer now, threaded with something deeper. “That place… it mattered.”
She swallowed, the motion subtle but strained. “…So does this.” Na Ri didn’t expect him to understand, nor did she expect him to stay behind for her or for the injured. She knew full well who she was insisting to heal, and how much many of those she interacted with loathed the Imperials. But she was a healer above anything else. ”You don’t have much time…take whatever you can and leave…” her voice trailed as she inhaled deeply ”Now.”
CT-312 caught the small wrinkle appearing at the bridge of the newcomer’s nose, along with a hint of irritation as it smoothed away in a restrained single-word answer. “Daella.” The Scout repeated. Her helmet dipped once in acknowledgement as Daella returned to what appeared to be a meditation. BARCA responded to the name, pulling up the received dossier into view across the lower corner of CT-312’s HUD. Two windows expanded as BARCA highlighted only the most relevant points while lines of additional text scrolled in the second window.
Skepticism lingered and curiosity was not too far from it. Potentially useful, giving them a huge advantage… if it actually worked. There were worse things to bring on a mission than a prophet.
One brow lifted slightly behind the visor at Eira’s remark that included the Mandalorians with the Sith whom not to be trifled with. Just as the apprentice was mentioning strapping in— the shuttle lurched hard enough to grab everyone’s attention. Its metal frame shuddered as it entered the thick of the firefight. CT-312 raised her voice just enough to carry over the noise. “If we keep cruising through this in an Imperial Shuttle without hailing anyone or asking for assistance, that's going to look suspicious and raise some questions.”
“I doubt the Imperials will let us pass through cleanly with a lone Sith fighter riding our tail for that long.”Thud. Thud. CT-312’s mag boots activated, keeping her in place as if the turbulence didn’t exist. “Intel. Data. Anything that points to where the rest of the fractured Imperial Confederation forces are hiding.”
The shuttle groaned under another hard maneuver. Shaking violently as it cut through the expanding debris field. BARCA finally caught a reply. A sharp chimesounded as the speakers crackled.
Secondary hanger. “Daella,” CT-312 turned her helmet toward the meditating seer. “What is your assessment of the secondary hanger?”
Before BARCA could chime, Caligo surged through the bond. Rage came through, slamming into the Scout all at once. She could feel it enough pressing behind her eyes. The Dûr’ashaarai strained hard against its leash as it sensed what was coming, wanting violence.
[ INCOMING ]
[ THREE HOSTILES ]
[ THREE TIE FIGHTERS INBOUND ]
On CT-312’s HUD, three Imperial TIE fighters peeled away from the larger formation and headed straight to intercept the Sith Fighter. She could feel the hunger pulsing, demanding release. CT-312’s jaw tightened beneath the helmet as she exhaled slowly and controlled. Her eyes skimmed over the highlighted enemy tags—TIE FIGHTERS— before BARCA’s feed switched again, bringing back the Planetary Defense Systems back into her display. An idea began to take shape. “And… ships.” CT-312 isolated the three inbound TIEs and shared the image for the others to see. “Specifically those kinds. The more the better.”
The compartment rattled around them. Red emergency lights started to flicker. BARCA’s let out a series of loud warning chimes and beeps. The Imperial Shuttle banked sharply, then dropped.
[ DANGER: FRIENDLY FIRE ]
One of the allied fleets that appeared began firing in their direction at the Eye of Helvede, the ship they were boarding. A near-miss shockwave and blast battered against the shuttle's frame. Space outside the hull had become full chaos. With that new complication, CT-312 began reworking the plan in her head— A faint tug brushed across another familiar bond.
Her visor angled barely a noticeable fraction toward the viewport, in the direction of Voss. In the direction of Quinn. A distant uneasiness. It was small enough that she would have dismissed it under normal circumstances. But for the span of a breath, CT-312 second-guessed whether volunteering for this mission had been the right choice— Caligo tore across her senses again, overlapping the distant unease. A second sharp pull hit her mind as the Dûr’ashaarai strained against BARCA’s remote control, impatient to be unleashed.
Annoyance and Caligo’s influence crept into CT-312’s tone as she muttered,“Time to drop the act.” The command went out.
The Dûr’ashaarai immediately changed its behavior.
It had remained on the shuttle’s rear quarter, maintaining the illusion of pressure. Now it began to slow, just enough to suggest the Imperial Shuttle was slipping away. The shuttle finally entered into the secondary hangar of the Eye of Helvede. BARCA replaced the external feed with live images of the interior bay. Its welcoming party already waiting inside.
CT-312 studied the live feed in silence. A handful of TIE fighters rested in orderly rows along the bay. “It looks like we have ten Troopers” her eyes narrowed slightly as she counted, “and…” BARCA isolated the squad leader, zooming in. “An Imp handler.”Thunk. Thunk. Her mag boots disengaged. CT-312 made her way to the closed ramp that stood before her.
The reverberation of returning fire and incoming barrages raining down upon the Imperial fleet, rolled through the Secondary Hanger. “Change of plans.” The Scout looked back over one shoulder toward Daella, Eira, and Scherezade. “Keep this shuttle running. I’ll be right back.” Her gloved hand reached into a pouch, pulling out a smoke grenade. A loud hiss emitted as ramp’s locks disengaged and began to lower. CT-312 tossed out the primed grenade, throwing it through the gap as it opened half-way through.
It struck the hanger floor several feet from the foot of the ramp. Bouncing a couple times before spinning. A second later, thick smoke began pouring out from its canister in an aggressive white-grey cloud. The smoke spread quickly across the deck. Billowing outward into the Troopers’ and Sergeant's line of sight, making visual confirmation difficult.
— As the three TIE Fighters entered attack range, Caligo’s engine ignited with a sudden intense brightness. Its wraith-phase cloaking mantle shimmered once, a ghostlike distortion rolling across its hull, before the fighter vanished entirely into stealth. Any sensors or visual confirmation would have found nothing.
—
Before the foot of the ramp had fully settled against the deck and became swallowed by the smoke. A sharp whine rose from the repulsor pack on the Halcyon Armour. Power surged through the system as the faint glow from its vents radiated. CT-312 took two quick steps down the ramp. Light bent across the camouflaged plating as its distortion swept over, its cloaking activated. By the third step, the repulsor pack flared to life.
With a sharp burst of force, CT-312 was hurled forward in a sudden violent lunge, driving her off the ramp and straight into the cover of the smoke.
—
For a moment, an eerie quiet seemed to settle within both the Secondary Hanger and out in space. BARCA marked CT-312's HUD with multiple blips as the Halcyon's sensors pinpointed the stormtroopers’ position through the smoke.
— Caligo reappeared. Directly in front of the center Tie Fighter. Its cloaking mantle and shields disengaged as the TIE was close enough that the Imperial pilot would have had enough time to see the shape of death bearing down on them. To be close enough to see exactly what was happening and still be unable to stop it. Caligo wanted to taste fear before it drove its frame through the opposing fighter in a shriek of twisting metal and fire.
—
Out of the smoke, the Scout came in a low with brutal speed. Driven forward by the repulsor pack’s amplified force and velocity, CT-312 went straight for the Trooper in the middle of formation. Closing the distance within a few arms length, her gloved hand snapped back behind into a fist. Shhnnk. A vambrace blade housed in her gauntlet sprang free. At the same time her cloak disengaged, materializing CT-312 in front of the Trooper.
CT-312’s left hand grasped out forward to grab hold of the Trooper. Her right hand thrust the blade forward, aiming to plunge through the Trooper's chest plating with the repulsor-driven momentum.
Caligo’s appetite for destruction bore down on her, and this time… CT-312 did not resist it as she let the sensations washed over her.
I'm big dumb, don't look at me its just spelling and grammatical fixes
At the very least, the clone had pronounced her name correctly. That was a positive development, suggesting that the squad as a whole would be competent enough to understand and act on her premonitions. The success of the mission ultimately hinged on that ability, in addition to the seer’s own responsibility to transmit her visions to her squadmates in a manner that was clear and coherent.
“Let me remind you all again, that everyone will be receiving select images of what I see in my visions via direct telepathic communion,” Daella explained. The seer had given the warning once during the pre-mission briefing, but felt compelled to repeat it just in case her words had been misunderstood. “I will be filtering my visions before transmitting them, in order to avoid overloading your minds. You will also receive telepathic warnings, if something is particularly acute.” She finished.
It was then that a notification appeared in Daella’s HUD, indicating that they were being routed to the flagship’s secondary hangar. Anticipating CT-312’s request, the seer immediately slipped into a trance, focusing her metaphysical sight on the vessel before honing in on the designated area. She tuned her farsight as if focusing a lens, at which point the hangar swam into crystalline clarity within her awareness.
“Ten stormtroopers, a scanning crew, sixteen technicians, and fifteen mechanic droids are waiting inside the hangar.” Daella stated. “The stormtroopers are on high alert and are waiting to receive us. Their squad leader is presently conferring the scanning crew.” She added, her features momentarily pale as a deep exhalation of pent-up breath slipped from her lips.
A few moments later, the shuttle’s interior shook as a blast rocked its frame. However, as they were only a few thousand meters from the magnetic field that separated the secondary hangar from open space, the shuttle slowed down, lurching under deceleration before touching down inside the bay. At that point, the small-statured seer unstrapped herself from the seat and rose to her feet, her movements fluid despite the lingering tremor in the deck. All the while, BARCA’s live feed of the bay confirmed the veracity of her farsight-derived divinations.
A finding which Daella herself had never doubted.
A frown shifted her features when the clone announced a sudden change in plans. Still, the seer knew that she had to support. The shuttle’s ramp disengaged and began to lower as a smoke grenade was tossed through the widening gap. Thick smoke diffused across the deck in a billowing cloud, obscuring lines of sigh. Daella’s tri-spectral eyes pierced the haze with ease, allowing her to pick out the stormtroopers and technicians’ infrared signatures through the cloud. She knew that the clone trooper could do the same with her helmet, and doubtlessly Eira and Scherezade would have technology or an ability that would allow them to see through the smoke as well.
For now, they would not need her sight. Rather, they needed her vision.
A Wave of panic washed over the bridge as the call went out from one of the stations...
"Captain multiple contacts leaving hyperspace! A Mandalorian Fleet!"
...holofeeds on the bridge lit up, identifying the fleet that had entered the combat zone at their aft. It was large, composed of many sizeable ships equivilant to a Battlecruiser-Class.
Once he'd received as much information as he could the Captain was running to the flickering form of Barragh Nenn's hologram which remained on a central emitter...
"A precision jump, Lord!"
...he called...
"They must have been fed data from the Commonwealth forc---"
...if he had meant to say more his words went unheard. The Eye of Helvede was rocked by the fire from the Lunarfang's. An impressive array of deflector shielding which included particle shields and an overlap of the Celox-class Frigates and Lianna-II class Corvette helped the Eye of Helvede stem the tide. Nonetheless the spinal mounted weapons left their mark.
As the Captain recovered he was already relaying information from across the bridge...
"Our shields have taken a beating, we have reports of superficial hull damage as well. The Celox Frigates are reporting that their overlap has been substantially drained."
...the Eye of Helvede was built to absorb damage, anything that actually passed through the shields would have to contend with thick quadanium plating and the carbon-durasteel underlay reinforcing it. Too, the plating was ablative, layered meaning that damaged sections would actually be shed before a primary layer beneath was encountered.
Reports came in that the Commonwealth Fleet was likewise repositioning to fire on them.
The Umbaran finally spoke...
"Turn us into the atmosphere of the moon and engage our hyperdrives. We've done as much as we can here given the circumstances."
...his hologram flickered in and out of existence briefly before stabilizing.
Orders were relayed to the fleet. The Maphoreen Fleet was also headed towards the moon but from an obviously longer distance that the Umbarans. Trajectories were calculated to ensure ships would not run afoul of one another.
The Eye of Helvede, its powerful sublight engines blazing into evident life would turn into the industrial moon of Tion it has originally used to conceal its arrival alongside the rest of the Imperial Fleet.
It had always been a tactic that Barragh held close. The Moon had served the secondary purpose of escape every since his arrival. Interdiction and Gravity Wells were notoriously ineffective in the atmosphere of a terrestrial body, acting as a natural defiant or bypass which is why as soon as the Eye of Helvede banked towards the atmosphere its hyperdrive began to charge so that it could make its exit.
Elsewhere, in the secondary Hangar Bay another scenario was playing out.
The Smoke obstructed the vision of the Stormtroopers.
Blaster Rifles fired at random angles attempted to hit hostiles, especially after one of the Troopers collapsed backwards onto the deck of the hangar once his chestplate had been run through by a vibroblade. Accuracy was not paramount here only successive fire.
The Sergeant called out over comms...
"Fall back, defensive wedge. Fire, fire!"
...acknowledgements were heard, the Stormtroopers would start a slow backpedal out of the smoke while firing into it hoping to catch a target.
Technicians and Pilots ran for exits.
A Deck Officer would hit an alarm near a set of blast doors leading out of the hangar deeper into the ship. In response an automated turret would descend from the ceiling, its optics would seek out and identify targets. Anything that didn't correspond with an Imperial would be fired upon by the repeating heavy blasters integrated into it.
TIE Fighters hung ready to launch as well but given the change in the atmosphere it was doubtful they would.
In the black the Eye of Helvede and the Hammer began to recall their squadrons, calling all fighters and bombers back to them as they prepared to jump out of the system.
The Eye of Helvede and Fleet begin to turn into the atmosphere of the Industrial Moon they'd originally used for cover on entry into the battle zone to use as a bypass for the enemies interdiction fields and gravity wells.
In the Hangar Bay combat erupts and an automated turret is brought on line to assist in combating the intruders.
The Eye of Helvede - Command Carrier/Battlecruiser
Shields - 75%
Armor - Superficial
Superstructure - Undamaged
The Hammer - Imperial I-class Star Destroyer
Shields - Undamaged
Armor - Undamaged
Superstructure - Undamaged
The Hounds Tooth - Tyrant III Class Missile Cruiser
Shields - Undamaged
Armor - Undamaged
Superstructure - Undamaged Celox-Class Frigate (1)
Shields - 55%
Armor - Undamaged
Superstructure - Undamaged Celox-Class Frigate (2)
Shields - 55%
Armor - Undamaged
Superstructure - Undamaged
The Prizar - Lianna II-Class Corvette
Shields - 60%
Armor - Undamaged
Superstructure - Undamaged
Objective: II - Delenda Est Sub-Objective: Secure Quasesitorum assets, Assist in defense of Lianna Location: Hangar level of IE Tower, Lianna City, Lianna Equipment: See Bio Tags:Ronhar Tane
| Darth Carnifex
| Mia Monroe Dialogue Key:”Galactic Basic” | <<Telepathic Communication>>
The streets of Lianna were alive with ruin. Firelight danced across shattered transparisteel, the distant thunder of bombardment rolling through the skyline like a dying heartbeat. Teckla moved through it all with measured purpose, her stride unbroken, her presence cutting a path through chaos that the Vigile instinctively maintained around her.
The Force roared.
It pressed against her senses—violent, swelling, converging. Two presences, immense and unrelenting, drawing together like colliding stars. One she recognized in nature if not in familiarity—ancient, suffocating, a weight that bent the very current of the Force around it. The other burned brighter, sharper, defiant in its resistance.
Her path had already been chosen. ”We are close,” Teckla said, her voice low but certain.
A Vigile at her flank stiffened suddenly, one hand rising to the comm unit embedded along the side of his helm. His head tilted slightly, listening—then he stepped forward half a pace. ”Archon-Prime,” the filtered voice came, sharper now with urgency. ”Priority transmission. Direct from Ronhar Tane.”
Teckla slowed—but did not stop. ”Put it through.” A brief burst of static crackled across the channel before the message resolved—clipped, controlled, unmistakably deliberate. The words were relayed through the Vigile, precise and unembellished.
”Ronhar Tane is advancing toward your vector,” the Vigile reported. ”He has identified the same convergence point. His directive is to link with your unit prior to engagement. He will intercept along your current trajectory if you maintain course.”
Teckla’s gaze lifted slightly, scanning the ruined skyline—not for presence in the Force, but for lines of approach, for movement patterns, for where a disciplined advance would cut through the chaos.
A calculation. Clean. Immediate. ”Understood.” The pull of the confrontation ahead remained—relentless, insistent—but it was no longer something to meet alone. Coordination would sharpen the strike.
She turned sharply, her path adjusting by degrees rather than abandoning momentum entirely. ”We adjust our approach. Shift to intercept.” The Vigile moved without hesitation, reforming around her as their vector changed through the fractured streets.
”We link with Ronhar before entering the engagement zone,” she continued, her tone firm. ”No fragmentation. We go in coordinated.”
The Force surged again as they moved, the convergence growing heavier with each passing moment. The presence of Darth Carnifex loomed like a collapsing star—immense, devouring, inevitable. Opposite him, Mia Monroe’s resistance flared—fierce, unyielding, refusing to be extinguished.
Teckla’s expression hardened as she advanced, her focus narrowing. ”Stay tight,” she ordered. ”We are entering a high-intensity convergence. Maintain formation and await my command once we link.”
The sounds of war seemed to dull beneath the pressure of what lay ahead, each step bringing them closer to the epicenter. ”Let them gather their strength,” Teckla said quietly, more to the moment than to anyone beside her.
Her gaze fixed forward—toward the intercept point, toward the battlefield where power was already beginning to crest. ”We will meet them prepared.”
The Prisoner watched the crimson bloom across her cloth, the evidence of her own body failing. The room heaved again, and a heavy ceiling panel slammed onto the main terminal. Sparks showered the floor as the screen went black, taking his history with it. The mission was dead. All that remained in the flickering red light was a dying Imperial and a woman who refused to see reality.
He stared at the officer, his jaw aching with a suppressed roar of frustration. All the pain he had endured, the risk of the breach, and the hope of finally knowing his own name had vanished into a heap of scrap. "He's dead anyway!" the Prisoner shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of his anger. He looked at the Imperial and saw every jailer who had ever turned a key. He saw the reason he was an empty shell of a man.
The fury boiled over. He didn't think, he simply reacted to the waste of it all. He raised his carbine and fired a single, sharp bolt into the Imperial's chest. The body lurched once and then went still. The Prisoner didn't feel relief, just a cold, hollow finality. He had ended the debate. He had removed the anchor that was dragging her down into the grave.
He lowered the weapon and reached for her again, his hand trembling but firm. The building let out a shriek of bending metal that suggested the upper floors were finally pancaking. "Please," he pleaded, his voice losing its edge and turning into a desperate rasp. "The terminal is gone. He is gone. We have to go now or we're done for." He braced himself, ready to pull her toward the exit whether she was willing or not.
Minerva listened to Mig before slowly nodding. "Fair enough," she answered.
As soon as the ship landed she drew her blaster rifle and rushed out with Mig's crew, Mandalorians and spacers alike. She can feel the heat even from the far distance as the carnage consumed the city around them. Even a blind, deaf Gungan would know this world was lost. Minerva silently concluded.
Turning to Mig she then asked. "What do you need me to do?"
While she can provide first aid she wasn't a medical expert. Minerva obviously had a few ideas, either sentry duty and search or rescue. Though since this is the first time Mig and her were cooperating she thought it best to ask him first. Miles away to the north an explosion rocked a building and caused it to collapse in a great cloud of smoke. The warrior made sure her rifle was prepped once more just to be sure.
//: Tags in Post //: OPEN //:
//: Objective III //:
//: Voss //:
//: Attire //:
Aerik Lechner
leaned close to her. He was affectionate at times, but she didn't figure he would say anything with their closeness. The room around her shrank as his breath, his words, brushed the shell of her ear. She didn't look at him, but he would feel the sudden tension of her grip. It was the only indication of her reaction to what he said.
Her eyes would flicker for a moment towards her fellow Echani. The tone in his acknowledgment screamed volumes about what he was thinking. It was easy to assume it was an ideal match, to the point that she was surprised her own Mother didn't suggest it. Yet, it didn't work.
No one worked out.
It seemed the group continued to grow larger, as a voice that echoed in Quinn's mind like metal grinding against metal chimed in. She kept her composure, despite wanting to distance herself from Irina Jesart
the moment she decided to wander over. It was an obvious reason why she did. Aerik stood here, and she sought his attention. She hadn't sensed Gerwald in the vicinity and assumed he sent his hapless apprentice.
And she chose to cling near Aerik. It seemed her words didn't find weight in the girl's mind. But that was Gerwald's problem, not Quinn's.
Her eyes moved towards Aerik's face; she saw it, and it drew her attention as the room suddenly felt even smaller. The scar, the place where her hand had caressed before. That evening was one she replayed often in her mind, haunted by how it ended. Was this her doing? Was it because he cared? Her eyes trailed along his face to his eyes for just a moment, now wasn't the time — she looked away.
Her arm would slip from his hold as distance was instantly created again between them on a level that no one in the room would realize. He had reminded her of what burned in his heart — and the curse that followed anyone who reached for her.
Lysander von Ascania
's words were a welcome shift in conversation; he spoke of the consolidation to the Core. It made sense, but Quinn was a little sad by the revelation. She had hoped they would work closer together and that her gift would have been more meaningful. It wasn't important.
"I'm glad the academies are still flourishing. Rivalries seem to be a common element in most academies. While Jutrand is considered elite, the students are still pitted against each other to climb the rankings."
She didn't indulge further; a part of her hated the ranking system. It broke her heart seeing students do well, and then, the following class, they're not there — forgotten because they weren't strong enough. Quinn thought quietly of her own academy days. She had been lucky; she was capable of hiding behind her own name and Vesta's. No one was going to interfere with a Zambrano's paramour.
A voice (Vytal Noctura
) she didn't recognize spoke. She looked towards the new addition, a woman who was clearly from Dathomir or followed the Witches' tradition. She reminded Quinn of the grandmother she had only met once.
Quinn smiled.
"I can speak for Jutrand, but we focus on several aspects of the Force, ensuring our students are well-versed. I was one of the professors at the Jutrand Academy. I'd love to hear your thoughts as a fellow educator."
Her own master was a user of the Dathomirian magicks; it was an interesting concept, one that Quinn never dabbled in.
If things couldn't get any more complicated for the woman, another presence entered. She could feel him through the Force more than she wanted to; she felt his attention. It wasn't hard; he was much like his father with a gaze that burned. Over her shoulder, emerald eyes would glance, giving him just a moment of acknowledgment before her attention returned to the conversation.
She wondered whether Acier Moonbound
would grace them with his presence or continue staring.
Her lips parted momentarily as she paused; a woman's voice (Rowyna Galeway
) echoed quietly in her ear. Tion had started, and Quinn felt her shoulders tense. She knew who had gone to Tion; she knew the weight of Tion for some of them. A part of her was frustrated that she wasn't there, but her job was to be here.
They all had their parts to play, and this was hers.
Her silence was enough confirmation, but as much as she wanted to focus on the conversation, she couldn't. She could feel someone focusing softly. She reached, wanting to know if the one who often executed her will was okay. Something felt off, different from how the soldier (CT-312
) usually felt.
Quinn smiled tightly as she bowed her head slightly.
"Excuse me, I have to take care of something for a moment." She stepped back and felt the sudden tightness in her chest. Something was happening, something she had felt before, but not like this. As she turned, a hand quietly rested against her chin as her mind began to spiral. A sinking feeling burned as guilt settled momentarily.
Though she didn't have much time to excuse herself, Adelle Bastiel
and Aselia Verd
had finally decided to join as well. For the moment, Quinn felt the strain in her shoulders relax as she smiled and slipped back towards the group. She wasn't going to have a moment to step away to let herself fall apart.
Not yet.
Her Mother's voice echoed in her mind. This was the duty of their station.
"Ambassador, Aselia, good to see you too. I was hoping you two would join us." She smiled, different this time — almost relieved.
"Sorry, let me introduce, Lysander from the Sith Covenant, Kaelen, he attends the Jutrand academy, um," she looked at Irina, and then moved on.
"This is Aerik, Councilor Lechner's son," She nodded to Aerik, and sadly, she had to introduce Irina… mostly because she didn't know the Dathomirian woman's name.
"And this is Irina, Councilor Lechner's apprentice." Quinn's attention turned back to the Dathomirian woman at last and smiled.
"I wasn't able to catch your name earlier, my apologies… I'm Quinn Varanin," She paused for a moment. What title was she here? Was she the Queen of Eshan? A Dark Counselor? Both?
"I'm one of the Dark Councilors with the Sith and the Queen of Eshan."
Again, Sibylla's annoying little voice chimed into her mind, reminding her that not everything would remain like this.
The sound of the bullet didn’t echo. It simply silenced everything.
One moment there had been breath beneath her hand, stubbornly clinging to something that still wanted to live. The next, there was nothing.
Her hand remained where it was, resting lightly against the Imperial's chest, as if her body hadn't caught up yet. As if she was still waiting for the next breath to come…but it didn’t.
The absence of it settled in slowly, heavier than the chaos unraveling around them.
The building groaned as though in response, a deep, violent sound that crawled through the walls and into her bones. Somewhere above, something collapsed with a thunderous crack, the impact sending dust cascading from the ceiling in thick, choking clouds. It drifted through the red light, settling over everything. Na Ri tried to breathe. But the air caught mid-breath and it tore like shredding paper.
The cough hit her harder than anything before it.
It wasn't something she could suppress this time, tearing through her chest in sharp, jagged bursts, dragging her forward as her body folded in on itself. Her hand slipped from the Imperial as she braced against the floor, the other pressing the cloth tightly to her mouth. There was no muffling it this time.
Each breath scraped on the way in, shallow and incomplete, only to be forced back out again in another coughing fit that wouldn't settle. It lingered too long; long enough that her vision blurred, long enough that her shoulders began to tremble with the effort of simply staying upright.
When it finally eased, it didn't end cleanly. It faded into a weak, unsteady inhale that never quite filled her lungs.
She stayed there, bent forward, one hand still on the ground as if letting go of it might mean falling completely. Her grip tightened faintly, grounding herself in something solid while everything else shifted. For a moment she didn’t move, or perhaps she couldn’t. Her fingers curled slightly into the fabric before she forced them still, smoothing over the tremor that threatened to give her away more than she already had.
She straightened herself slowly and carefully.
Her hand lifted from the floor, then from the Imperial's chest with the simple understanding there was nothing left to hold onto. And then she allowed her pupils to move upward, to look at Prisoner directly. She looked…atthe tension still within him, the way his grip on the weapon hadn't fully steadied, the sharpness of his anger still lingering beneath everything else. But beneath that there was more….
A sense of loss?
Loss that was different from hers, but nonetheless real. For a moment Na Ri wavered, not in belief but in the weight of it all. ”You didn’t need to do that…” Her voice was soft, but it carried differently now; more strained and thin, as though it needed to be pushed through to reach him.
A violent jolt ripped through the room, throwing loose debris from the ceiling. A section of metal paneling crashed down near the doorway, sparks bursting briefly before dying into darkness. Na Ri flinched, not from the collapse but from the onset that she knew was to come. She drew in another inhale, but it caught halfway; tight, constricted, like her lungs had forgotten how to open fully. The next cough followed quickly, shorter this time but deeper, pulling something raw with it.
She steadied herself against the broken console, her fingers tightening against the edge as she pushed herself upright. For a moment, her balance faltered, glancing once at the broken terminal. Whatever he had come here for… whatever had driven him into this collapsing grave…was lost. The realization settled in between them, unspoken but very real. The woman looked at his outstretched hand. She felt the urgency, not just to survive but the hollow space where something had been taken.
The next breath came, uneasy. But she held it anyway, steadying it as best as she could. "…We should go," she said, quieter now. Her hand lifted slightly, uncertain at first, hovering in the space between them, caught between acceptance of what had just happened and who she was. She closed her eyes, as though finally accepting that nothing could be done or said to change what was around them.
She stepped forward slowly, choosing to leave and carry the weight of the decision with her.
“More hairy? You will have to tell me how much the story has shifted. They used to call me a demon.”
His words to Kaelen Voss
were meant to form some kind of acquaintance. There was no reason to begrudge the fact Quinn would take on other students. It was her role and duty as someone who still taught at the Jutrand Academy. Aerik was certain she had heard the rumors as well, though she had yet to see the beast for herself. The pup supposed he had kept it from her for fear that he would either harm her, or she would find it distasteful.
It seemed they both feared something where the other was involved.
A familiar voice pulled him away from that thought. Irina Jesart
had made her way across the room to where they had gathered. She would be his lifeline in the way he seemed to be Quinn’s at the moment. Part of him did worry that this was the wrong place and time for the two women to be near each other once more. They were here to secure the Voss, and that meant they could not afford to fight or squabble amongst each other.
Aerik vividly remembered the outcome of the last time he was present with them both. Irina had hurt Quinn, and only reminded her of why the Echani could not keep Aerik close.
“Rin,” he did not immediately leap to her side, though his head inclined in a way that demonstrated they were more to each other than their shared proximity to Gerwald Lechner
.
Lysander von Ascania
spoke next, as did another who joined their circle (Vytal Noctura
). He did not recognize the Dathomiri woman, though there was something about her which made him think he should.
Whatever thoughts he had to explore came to an abrupt end.
He did not hear the words any of the newcomers had spoken as the most subtle of shifts to those who witnessed it had been devastatingly obvious and loud to the pup.
When Quinn’s arm slipped from his, the motion was so slight that those around them would assume she was making space for the growing group, unwilling to appear attached to any one individual.
Aerik knew better.
His mind returned to that night in her quarters.
"You can ask your Master... or your Father — if you cherish your own peace, your own life… You'll keep me, treat me as something beyond your reach."
It was what she had said before the distance between them had become something vast and impassable. He understood it before she would ever say it again.
Quinn had seen the scar.
His eyes closed briefly. It would seem like a blink to anyone else. Aerik felt her hand on his face, the soft touch of her finger, and the way it soothed yet almost tickled. The wound on his jaw was the exact line she had traced, and she would know it too.
She did know it.
His eyes met hers in a small moment of passing. No one else other than Irina knew him well enough to pick up on what the shared glance communicated. The stone veneer of his stoic nature would hide the anguish which caused his heart to pound within his chest.
It was there and gone in the same breath, but it was enough. He did not need her to say it. He understood.
Whatever had settled between them before had been pulled back behind the same line she had drawn from the beginning.
Aerik did not follow it.
He held where he was, even as the weight of it pressed in, even as everything in him wanted to close that distance again.
Aerik quickly pulled himself back to the moment and nodded at the introductions. Each one was greeted with an indifference that hid the pain his heart was being forced to endure. As he moved from one to the next, his eyes searched for the only person that had any ability to bring relief to the brokenness of such a small, subtle act.
When his fiery gaze fell into place with Irina, his mind reached to hers.
<< “Make an excuse… suggest my father requires my attention or something of the sort.” >>
Itzhal Volkihar
Niijima Izumi
Aether Verd
.
its just spelling and grammatical fixes
