Character
The breath between his acknowledgement to return to their previous conversation and the words that followed told Tessa he was rattled, more so than he appeared to be letting on. But that was the beauty of the buy’ce. You could hide a thousand things behind an emotionless t-visor.
“Me too.” she said quietly in response.
Her eyes flicked back to the screens just as the shot shifted, focused on her mother as she’d removed her helmet, blood staining her face. Tess drew in a sharp breath and turned away, pressing her back against the stone pillar as something tightened in her chest. Memory of a holovid flickering across her mind.
Tess blinked, forcing it aside, pushing the feeling that came with it down as Itzhal’s visor angled as he looked at her silence stretching between them. She found herself filled with an overwhelming urge to punch him, not for any particular reason other than the fact that he chose that exact moment to look at her, to see her and that angle of his head meant he was thinking.
Thinking of what? What was wrong with her? What to say to her? Or maybe he was just analysing her. Her expression hardened, and she forced herself to look away, trying to rationalise the anger in her as her gaze swept over the gathered clans, smailing and celebrating, clapping each other's shoulders and exchanging hugs in solidarity for the new mando’ade.
It should have warmed her heart, should have made her happy. She should have been celebrating with them.
But Tess had never been with them.
She had always been on the outside. Always been chased, ostracised or regarded as something she wasn’t, all because of who her mother was.
A hand passed over her face as she pushed off the wall.
“I need to get out of here.”
She didn’t wait for a response, she didn’t much care if Itzhal followed or not, she just needed to not be in a sea of armour.
Itzhal Volkihar
