Location: Taloraan.
Equipment: Knives.
Tagging:
Adron Malvern
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Xobos Yakieer
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Danielle Mueller
It was quite disconcerting how a creature as small and harmless as the young changeling could exude such unsettling feelings. It oozed around her like waves of boiling water, unbridled and uncontrolled. A little flame of raw fury among so much darkness. She had been cheated. Lied to. The Jester, now Leven Jeyd, had been lured away from her home of colors and lawlessness, her den of lies where she had been in control of most that happened in her simple, mischievous life.
And now an inky shackle had been painted on her forearm. A cursed abomination forced upon her by the eyeless lady. The girl could feel venom and ire bite at her heart. Xobos Yakieer had found her and called her special, she had marveled at the changing skins of the Jester...and then she had stolen her gift. A vile, treacherous
thief. There was no respect in her eyes, only defiance, malice. A pup that bared its still growing fangs that had, luckily, just enough common sense to preserve its life. But what life was this?
The wondrous Jester was no more. No matter how hard she tried - and try she did - she could no longer shape herself as she desired. The Sith Knight's power mark had seen her severed from her own form of magic. Now she was stuck in an idle carcass, ordinary, vulgar. Leven was nothing without her changing colors and forms. She had been outraged in the vilest of ways, the temple that was her being had been defiled by the will of the one who claimed to want to teach her a better way.
Indeed, ever since the betrayal she had been silent. Yet her creative little mind was filled with many obscure little thoughts, mostly directed at the armored woman. She didn't know who the other two were, and her curiosity had been muted by her anger and her anguish. As Xobos sat meditating, Leven watched from the shadows. Her clear white eyes like sharpened diamond blades burning through the back of the Sith Knight's head. Plotting, and scheming, and biding her time. Feeling a hunger grow within her that threatened to consume her, although she did not yet know what it exactly it was that she hungered for.
And then the birds came.
Unlike the other three, the girl was not a fighter. One look at her was enough to know this, she was barely out of childhood. She was agile and sneaky, and she had thrown a couple of knives to amaze this person or the other during her time in the Acrophylia, but using them as weapons? Against immense, sharp talons coming at them from above? No.
The words of the woman she so despised rung in her mind.
Defend yourself, prove yourself worthy. Worthy of a thief. Leven would have bitten back with some retort, if it weren't for the fact that winged doom was incoming.
Thinking fast, the girl locked her eyes on the figures of the birds flying above them and began moving, adrenaline pumping through her veins as her hands gripped the handles of the knives way too strongly.
Both Xobos and the other young woman held on to those strange glowing sticks that made quick work of anything that came near them, lightsabers. She, had two small metal blades and an unrivaled will to live another day if only to scorn the one that had wronged her.
The regal looking man had said to capture the birds. Beheading them was neither within her abilities nor inkeeping with the...mission. Yet of course, not giving a single care to what had been demanded of her, all she did was use her smaller form in her favor to try and go unnoticed by the assailants. Leven possessed a deceptive strength and speed, but she had no chances in a battle of brawn against the birds and she knew it. So she headed towards some large crates that lingered nearby, looking for cover as her mind reeled to find a plan to get herself out of this hell unscathed.
She wanted to change forms desperately. Turn herself into something diminute, or into something so scary the birds would lose their feathers and scatter upon seeing it. But she couldn't. She
couldn't. And her chest began to heave because of the intensity of her angry breathing. Her fingers clawed feverishly at the mark that stained her skin, so harshly her short nails threatened to pierce it. Maybe the birds would get the blind woman, and the mark would disappear.
But Jester could only Hope.
Meanwhile, trying to act before any of the birds came her way, she lifted the heavy lid of one of the tall crates slightly, peeking to see if there was enough space inside to climb in. But what she saw bid the gears in her head to begin turning at full speed....a large, silvery net.