Private Where the Light Doesn't Reach

[Nysa Veilwalker]

Nysa did not answer immediately. The words lingered in the humid air between them as she steadied herself, one hand curling subtly against the damp fabric over her ribs. The world had not begun to spin, but it had grown quieter. Every time she reached beyond herself in such a way, something was left behind. It was a familiar cost.

"It is enough," she replied softly, though whether she meant herself or his concern was difficult to tell. Those green eyes of hers, lighter now than a moment before, crashed against his lighter blues.

At his question, her expression shifted into one of quiet contemplation. "It's old," she paused,"the language of souls." Not untrue. She left it there. She needed water. She needed to sit. She needed to get to the extraction point. That whirling of the world only continued in the corner of her vision. Fingers tightened into the fabric of her damp tunic. Her boots dug into the mossy jungle ground as she turned her back on the jedi and his noble brow and cut a path into the tangled mire surrounding them. She found comfort in its depths and darkness.

Her frame was all delicate lines, narrow shoulders tapering into a willowy figure that seemed better suited to drifting through the world than enduring what the jungle had to offer ahead. And as the spinning in her vision increased, she began to fall sideways.

Loren Ardemark

 

[Loren Ardemark]

Language of souls....

Perhaps that was why it sounded so beautiful. And so dangerous. The chant lingered in his ears like silver chimes. A frown perplexed the Jedi's brow as the strange woman turned away from him and ventured deeper into the mire, boots pressing down the flora where she trod and leaving a trail of footsteps in which he followed.

Still clutching a hand to his side, Loren could scarce believe what she'd managed. He traced a finger across the burn scar where once he'd been lain sorely open by the Sith's blade. His thoughts were clouded by pain and the presence of the Dark Side in this place just as much as his exhaustion. Mystery clung about this woman's narrow shoulders, wrapping around her lithe frame as though a cape.

But it seemed her power and mystery did not come without a price.

Loren felt her fall a moment before it happened, a flicker in his mind's eye in the Force.

The Jedi darted forward, oversure of his abilities in his state. He wrapped his good arm about her waist and caught her before she toppled into the mud and the mire beneath their feet. But his boot stuck in the mud and the wounded Jedi toppled over as well. The best he could manage was to land on his back so that he might cushion her fall and keep her from the mud by using his own body to break her fall. His shoulders struck the ground hard and he grunted in pain, his newly healed wound flaring with white hot agony.

"Ah," he gasped, laying there panting for a moment before he could manage more, "Nysa... are you alright? I'm sorry. This is my fault."

Nysa Veilwalker

 

[Nysa Veilwalker]

The world came back in pieces. And a familiar voice from far away. First came the sound of insects droning somewhere beyond the reeds. Then the damp heat pressing against her skin, the scent of stagnant water and moss. Lastly came the dull ache that settled through her limbs, heavy as though something essential had been drawn out of them.

Nysa's dark lashes fluttered as she sprawled across the hard lines of the jedi beneath her. Her dark, wavy hair would tickle the skin of his neck and cheek as her head shifted. Her mouth dangerously close to the corner of his. A small breath against him.

"Water," her voice seemed as small and far away as she felt.

 

[Loren Ardemark]

Water...

Loren fished in his utility belt. Jedi did not run about with canteens, but the Order did not send him off into the hot marshes of this place without any means of sustenance. He clicked open the flap of a pouch and pulled out a small packet. Using his teeth, he tore open the top and carefully held it up to her mouth and tipped the contents in.

"Drink this,"

A teal liquid poured out.

"It will hydrate you while I..." he looked around, his brow knitting together in apprehension. They needed a better source of water. Nothing but bog around them. Had he not crossed a creek to get here? He could purify the water from there with the Force and she might be able to drink that.

"There's a stream not far off. This should hold you for now," he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

"Can you stand?"

Loren answered by getting to his own feet and trying to help her up. The mud and brackish muck squelched underfoot. The back of his robes were now coated with the filth. All around them was naught but the incessant buzzing of insects. Millions of them. The very trees around them seemed to be alive with strident hums and chirping. Loren grimaced. The heat here was oppressive. What sort of people called this planet home?

"Come on, let's get moving."

Nysa Veilwalker

 

[Nysa Veilwalker]

Loren Ardemark

Head tilted and lips parted. The strange teal liquid slid across her tongue, cool against the dryness in her throat. She swallowed slowly, her brow knitting for only a moment at the unfamiliar taste before the relief of it settled through her. Dark lashes finally fluttered open.

"Thank you," she said quietly. The words did not come easily. Any discomfort at being atop him or this close proximity was not revealed. She watched him search the marsh with an urgency he tried to hide beneath calm instruction. It struck her as curious. He had every reason to leave a stranger to her fate, yet he remained. Whether it was duty or simple compassion, she could not tell.

Nysa hesitated only a moment before accepting his help up. She allowed him to pull her to a stand, her elegant fingers, still cool to the touch, sliding into his own. The world had stopped spinning. Though she found herself leaning against his support longer than she would have preferred. A faint breath escaped her as she steadied herself.

"I can walk," she assured him, her voice a balming breeze in the humid air.

Her gaze drifted across the endless marsh, lingering on the stagnant pools and twisted trees. There was life here, hidden beneath the stillness. She took a few careful steps. Boot squelching in the soaked muck. Fingers brushed along her thigh for a moment. She felt that subtle shift in the air around them. Then she froze.

"We're surrounded," her whisper was calm even as her stomach clenched. A slow glance upward. "Get to the trees but don't run."

 

[Loren Ardemark]

Loren's spine stiffened at her words and he tried to avoid immediately glancing around. His nostrils flared as he inhaled, then he steadied his breathing as best he could in his state though the drum of his heart still beat a quickening tattoo.

Glancing briefly up at the treetops, he thought he saw a rustling. It must be a rustling, for there was no wind here to grant slight relief from the accursed heat. Loren ran the back of his hand across his brow to wipe away stinging sweat.

He walked swift as he could beside Nysa, their passage through the marsh slowed on account of the boggy nature of the soil beneath them - mostly muck with scant few patches of hardened earth.

"What are they?" he said in a whisper as he leaned close to her.

This close, through the stench of the marsh, he caught a note of smoke and incense from her and those dark tresses. His brow furrowed and his fingers moved almost of their own accord to rest on the hilt of his lightsaber at his belt.

The Force warned him of looming danger, a tingle down his spine. But its nature was amorphous. As inscrutable as the morning mist in the marsh.

Ahead, as they made the treeline, he took another step only to go completely still at the sound of a rumbling, low growl from the bushes.

Nysa Veilwalker

 

[Nysa Veilwalker]

The low growl that rolled through the trees was not the uncertain warning of a frightened creature. It was deeper than that. Older. A sound that carried hunger, territorial anger, and the certainty of something that had already decided what stood before it.

Her eyes shifted toward the brush.

"They are hunting."

The bushes ahead trembled.

Nysa's gaze narrowed slightly as the shape within the foliage moved. Too large. Too deliberate.

"Tigers," she breathed. Powerful predators that did not hesitate when they had chosen their prey. Her attention moved briefly to Loren, catching the way his hand hovered near his saber.

"Do not run." A simple instruction. Not because she doubted him. Because she knew what fleeing from a predator often meant.

"They will see it as weakness." The first flash of fur appeared between the trees, eyes reflecting in the dim marsh light. Incantation in that language was muttered on her lips and the shadows grew and lengthened around them even as the second tiger appeared. With a blink, her form seemed to melt away and into the shadows themselves.

 

[Loren Ardemark]

Loren almost scoffed.

Run? Him?

He was a Jedi Knight, a scion of Tapani. He would not run.

A low growl emanated from the depths of the trees and seemed to vibrate through the depths of Loren’s entire being. His knees felt like liquid and his heart fluttered. The urge to run grew almost overwhelming as his blue eyes stared ahead, wide and afraid.

He breathed in and out quickly, the air sawing in his lungs. Two enormous furred shapes approached him.

Loren looked over, “Nysa we-“

But she was gone.

“Nysa?”

Loren looked back at the still approaching beasts, they had their maws open and fangs flashed within.

Struggling to recall his animal training, Loren reached out to them in the Force and tried to blanket them with a sense of calm and peace.

“Good kitties,” he started backing up, “Shh. Stay.”

Nysa Veilwalker

 

[Nysa Veilwalker]

Nyra's figure flickered into existence near the edge of the trees across that small, misty clearing. A high-pitched whistle sounded and arms waved at the tigers before her figure darted across the grass like a ghost gliding across the ground, heading toward the midnight depths of the gnarled trees. One of the tigers near Loren turned, and pounced after the movement it saw. Powerful muscles taking it away.

The other one stayed locked on the jedi.

A different set of invisible eyes watched not too far away. The hilt of a familiar weapon clutched in the witch's hand.