Private Whispers in the Rain

[Meya Liefi]

Tag: Brandyn Sal-Soren​

Rain fell in relentless sheets from a sky consumed by bruised charcoal clouds. Clouds so thick that neither stars nor moon could penetrate them. Every few moments, veins of white-blue lightning tore silently through the distant overcast before the thunder followed, rolling across the landscape in deep, bone-rattling waves that seemed to linger within the mountains long after the flash had faded.

The storm possessed no rhythm. One moment the rain settled into an almost meditative hiss on stone and foliage, the next it redoubled its assault, hammering rooftops, branches, and the broad leaves of vegetation with enough force to blur the world beyond a few dozen meters.

Every breath carried the scent of rain-soaked earth and dense vegetation, while each gust brought a sharper, almost metallic note as lightning repeatedly found the countless stone spires rising from the valley.

It was an unpleasant place to conduct business. Which, Meya reflected, made it an excellent place to hide.

Meya walked without haste along a weathered stone roadway that wound through the outskirts of a settlement whose architecture had long ago surrendered to the climate.

Buildings sat low with heavy roofs designed to shed endless torrents of water, while gutters overflowed continuously into channels carved along the streets. Every surface glistened from the storm. Pools formed wherever the ground dipped.

Unlike those around her, she remained almost entirely untouched by the weather.

The reason was a servant walked half a pace behind and to her left, both hands wrapped firmly around the polished haft of an oversized umbrella. Its dark canopy caught the worst of the deluge. Rainwater spilled from its edges in steady curtains before splashing harmlessly onto the flooded stone below. Even so, the wind occasionally drove a fine mist under its protection, something Meya barely reacted to, besides the faintest hint of a frown at times.

With each flash of lightning, the gold thread embroidered across her dress shimmered subtly. Constellations and swirling galaxies seemed to come alive within the intricate stitching, only to vanish again as darkness reclaimed the black fabric.

Delicate chains woven through her dark hair caught the same fleeting light, producing tiny glimmers. Gold bracelets rested comfortably around both wrists, rings accompanied nearly every finger of hers, and a slender necklace disappeared under the high collar of the dress. Her black-painted nails appeared almost lacquered from the moisture lingering in the cool air.

Her attire might have seemed extravagant against such miserable surroundings. For Meya, however, it was simply how she dressed, much like how she almost always kept a dual-phase lightsaber concealed somewhere within its fabric.

To her right strode one of the Twin Suns' enforcers, wearing a dark waterproof coat whose hem dripped continuously with rainwater. A compact blaster remained holstered and hidden under the fabric, while a scattergun rested comfortably against one shoulder.

Despite the weathered stone and rain-soaked streets, her attention was mostly elsewhere. Intelligence gathered by the Twin Suns over the previous several weeks had pointed toward this world with increasing confidence. For what? Hidden researchers. Engineers. Biologists. Not the average kind. They were minds united not in service to the Force, but in opposition to it.

Anti-Force scientists.

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Tag: Meya Liefi
Attire: Link​

The blaster bolt struck Brandyn square in the left shoulder and spun him half around. Heat and pain erupted through his arm, the impact nearly taking his feet out from beneath him as he staggered through the rain. For a moment the world narrowed to a bright white flash behind his eyes.

Then the familiar agony returned.

The implant fused into the ruined side of his face whined softly beneath the storm, regulating damage that even months later still threatened to spread through burned flesh and shattered nerves. It kept the wounds from worsening. It did nothing to stop the pain. Every heartbeat carried it. Every breath fed it. Most days he endured it. Tonight, soaked to the bone and driven by desperation, it felt like someone was dragging a knife through his skull.

Ahead of him, the scientist burst through the rear doors of the facility and stumbled into the storm.

The construction site beyond had become a sea of mud. Trenches overflowed with rainwater. Piles of stone and duracrete sat half submerged beneath the downpour. Heavy machinery loomed through the darkness like sleeping beasts while lightning flashed somewhere beyond the mountains.

"Wait!" the man shouted over the storm. "I can explain!"

Brandyn didn't slow. Gianna's face flashed through his mind. Months of searching. The dead ends. The lies. Every lead leading nowhere.

The scientist slipped on the muddy incline and nearly fell. Panic seized him as he scrambled forward again.

Brandyn's hand fell toward the lightsaber hanging from his belt. For an instant his fingers brushed the hilt. Then his hand closed into a fist. He hit the man like a charging nexu.

Both of them crashed into the mud. The scientist cried out as Brandyn mounted him, driving a fist into his face with enough force to snap his head sideways. Blood mixed instantly with rainwater. Another strike followed. Then another. The scientist tried to shield himself, but Brandyn tore through the weak defence, each blow carrying months of frustration, fear, and mounting grief.

The man was sobbing by the time Brandyn finally stopped. One eye was swollen shut. Blood ran from a broken nose and split lips. "Please," he wheezed. "Please...I'll tell you anything. Whatever you want."

Brandyn stared down at him, chest heaving beneath rain-soaked robes. His knuckles ached. Part of him wanted to continue. Instead, he grabbed the front of the scientist's tunic and hauled him upright.

The man barely remained conscious as Brandyn dragged him through the mud, over loose stone and flooded ground. Every few steps his feet gave out, forcing Brandyn to simply pull him onward. By the time the facility came back into view, the scientist looked less like a man and more like wreckage being hauled from a battlefield.

Reaching the doors, Brandyn gave one final yank before hurling him back inside.

The scientist struck the floor hard and slid across the durasteel, leaving a trail of muddy water behind him.

Brandyn followed a moment later, rain dripping from his robes, looking far less like a Jedi than a man running out of reasons not to become something else.