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.

 

[Meya Liefi]

Tag: Brandyn Sal-Soren​

The research facility emerged into Meya's view gradually through the curtain of rain. It had clearly been built with function rather than beauty in mind, so its broad duracrete walls were broken only by narrow reinforced windows and security lighting that cast pale reflections across the flooded pavement. Fences crowned with sensor arrays enclosed the compound.

Meya regarded it for only a moment. So this was where months of intelligence had been pointing.

One of its security personnel stood under an overhang protecting the main entrance. He noticed the approaching group almost immediately.

"Ma'am," he called through the thunderous sound of the rain, raising a hand towards her. "This facility isn't open to the public. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Meya did not answer. As far as the guard could tell, neither she, her personal guard or the servant holding the umbrella had any intention of stopping.

This caused the guard to frown deeply and shift one foot forward, squaring his shoulders as uncertainty gave way to authority. "I said you can't..." His words died in a strangled gasp.

Without breaking stride, Meya raised her index and middle fingers no higher than her waist. With that movement, the man's boots left the ground. His hands clawed instinctively at his throat as an invisible force closed around it with merciless precision. His weapon slipped from numb fingers, striking the soaked pavement with a dull metallic clatter. His face darkened. His legs kicked helplessly.

Meya's expression remained unchanged. A sharp crack followed, and his body fell like discarded cargo. It struck the concrete heavily before lying motionless as rain washed blood from the crooked ruin of his neck, carrying thin crimson ribbons toward the nearest drainage channel.

Only then did Meya stop. Her eyes drifted briefly across the facility, measuring entrances, external conduits, and the thick bundles of power lines disappearing into a reinforced service structure.

"This is it." She touched two fingers lightly against the concealed comlink resting under her dark hair. "Cut external power. Cover every visible exit."

Meya knew it was possible there were underground routes for escape and otherwise, but those were secondary. Shutting down the facility mattered most. The research mattered too, though not as much to her as it could already be stored elsewhere. Her men knew to recover whatever could be taken, kill those who they could, and destroy everything else.

Acknowledgements through her comlink answered almost immediately before dissolving into static. Her people began leaving their transports without further instruction. Some of her men vanished into the rain toward infrastructure near the facility.

Then...

Darkness.

The floodlights surrounding the compound vanished all at once. The security lamps lining the walls blinked once before dying completely. Interior windows that moments earlier had glowed with sterile white light became black mirrors reflecting only rain and lightning. Ventilation systems and countless unseen machines inside the facility wound down into silence.

Meya's hand disappeared into the folds of her dress when the building went black. Her slender, pale fingers wrapped around the hilt of her lightsaber, unclipping it almost delicately.

A quiet breath escaped her lips as her thumb brushed the activation plate, and with a violent snap-hiss that cut cleanly through the noise of the storm, crimson plasma erupted from the emitter. Steam burst outward wherever the blade met the falling rain, hissing into the downpour while the weapon's deep, predatory hum joined the storm's relentless chorus.

When her man blasted a lock apart and forced the front gate open, another guard burst from the building, already raising his blaster.

Meya reacted to the sight immediately. The Force gathered around without spectacle, flowing into every step until her pace became something difficult for ordinary eyes to follow. She did not sprint. She seemed instead to glide, each stride carrying her farther than it should, the distance between her and the guard collapsing in unnaturally fluid movement.

The guard fired once. Scarlet light swept once through the air. The blaster bolt struck her crimson blade and ricocheted high into the storm, briefly illuminating the falling rain before disappearing into the darkness.

Her next stroke arrived before the man understood what had happened. Momentum carried him one final step backward before her lightsaber separated him cleanly at the waist. A heartbeat later both halves of his body collapsed heavily onto the rain-soaked ground.

Another figure emerged from a nearby doorway, shouting for reinforcements. Her crimson blade described a smooth horizontal arc, cutting the cry short in a single effortless motion.

Meya never slowed, and behind her, her servant remained astonishingly composed, umbrella still held despite the bodies now littering the rain-soaked entrance.

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Tag: Meya Liefi
Attire: Link​

The primary power grid collapsed with a heavy, metallic groan, plunging the sterile corridor into total darkness.

Brandyn didn't blink. His cybernetic eye whirred softly, shifting seamlessly to thermal tracking. In his display, the fleeing scientist was a blooming silhouette of heat against the rapidly cooling durasteel walls. The man was running, breaking a fresh promise dictated by fear.

Reaching out with the Force, Brandyn gripped the escaping warmth and hauled upward. The scientist left the floor with a sharp yelp, sailing backward through the dark to crash hard against Brandyn's combat boots.

Brandyn hauled the man up by his tunic, the metallic scent of fresh blood sharp between them. "The Force-sensitive children," Brandyn rasped, his voice dropping into a dangerous register. "Where is the research facility?"

The man's surface thoughts were a chaotic jumble of panic and obfuscation. Brandyn didn't waste time on a conventional interrogation; he bypassed the man's expected respone entirely, cutting through a maze of thoughts to tug on the truth.

"Tund," the scientist gasped as the mental intrusion broke his resistance. "The project...it's on Tund."

A forgotten world. A perfect blind spot.

Brandyn reversed his grip on his lightsaber hilt, bringing the heavy pommel down against the man's temple. The scientist went limp. Before Brandyn could hoist the dead weight, a sudden prickle of static warning flared along his spine. The Force curdled. A cold, structured, and deeply malevolent presence had just breached the perimeter.

He threw the unconscious captive over his shoulder and burst through the rear pressure door into a wall of driving rain. Mud sucked at his boots as he sprinted across the yard, straight into the path of an unflagging sentry raising a blaster rifle.

Brandyn's green blade ignited with a crisp hiss, boiling the raindrops instantly. A single, mathematically precise diagonal slash bisected armour and bone. The guard collapsed into the mud as Brandyn turned toward the storm.

 

[Meya Liefi]

Tag: Brandyn Sal-Soren​

The crackle of static brushed against her ear before a familiar voice cut through. "My Lady."

Meya touched two fingers lightly beneath the curtain of her dark hair, activating the concealed comlink. "Report."

"Green lightsaber. Male. Rear perimeter."

Odd was the first word to come to her mind. The last thing she expected here was a Jedi, or, if not that, at least someone else wielding a lightsaber.

"Assign two to keep him under observation. Do not engage." Meya’s golden gaze drifted away from the research facility for the first time since the assault had begun, searching through the rain where darkness and the downpour swallowed all but the occasional flash of movement.

"Yes, My Lady."

The transmission dissolved back into static.

Meya altered her course without another word. Her bodyguard instinctively moved to follow, boots splashing through the flooded pavement before she lifted a single hand. The gesture was small, almost absent-minded, yet absolute.

"Remain with the operation."

He hesitated only a heartbeat before inclining his head. "As you command." Though he obeyed, she could sense his reluctance without needing to look. A moment later his voice was already disappearing into the storm, issuing fresh orders as he returned to the assault.

Meya continued alone. Then… Another light. Green. It shimmered through the curtain of rain some distance away, brilliant against the darkness.

The distance between them steadily disappeared until she could make him out through the relentless downpour. Crimson and emerald cast shifting colours across the rain-soaked ground between them, opposing blades hissing softly as countless droplets met incandescent plasma.

Her eyes briefly brushed over the unconscious figure slung across the Jedi's shoulder. The injuries marking the man's body. The white laboratory coat. A scientist. This sight quietly deepened her curiosity toward the lightsaber-wielding figure.

Experience had taught Meya not to underestimate those trained in their arts, but her posture remained as it almost always was. Straight. Controlled. Every movement devoid of unnecessary motion.

Her right hand remained around the hilt of her lightsaber while the other swung only slightly at her side. Though her fingers seemed relaxed, there was a quiet certainty about her that violence could erupt at any moment.

There was remarkably little life in her expression. Neither her brow nor the corners of her mouth shifted by so much as a fraction. Golden eyes regarded him with the detached attention one might afford an unfamiliar specimen rather than another living being.

When she finally spoke, the words emerged without inflection, stripped almost entirely of emotion. "What is your purpose here?"

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Tag: Meya Liefi
Attire: Link​

The rain hammered mercilessly against Brandyn's shoulders, washing over the dead weight of the unconscious scientist draped across them. Mud claimed the leather of his boots with every heavy shift of his weight. Blood, a dark blend of his own and others', had long since dissolved into the downpour.

With a sharp, final hiss, the green blade in his hand vanished back into the hilt.

For a silent moment, he simply stood beneath the weeping sky, studying the woman through the veil of the storm. The ache behind his ruined face had settled into something old and familiar...a constant, rhythmic throbbing. The mechanical implant resting in his left eye socket cast a sickly yellow luminescence across his wet skin, while the phantom heat of old burns flared underneath, feeling as though they were being scraped raw from the inside out. The agony did little for his temper, wearing away what fragile threads of his patience remained.

His gaze drifted briefly to the crimson light humming in her hand, then rose back to her eyes.

"None of your concern," he said, his voice as flat and unyielding as iron.

Brandyn shifted the scientist's weight on his shoulder, securing his grip, and took a slow, deliberate step backward. "I'm leaving with him."

He took another step, opening the distance between them.

"Whatever business brought you here is your own. Whatever business brought me here is mine." His expression hardened, setting like stone beneath the artificial light of his eye. "Permit me to depart, and there need be no blood spilled between us."

Thunder rumbled low in the belly of the clouds overhead as his yellow gaze locked onto hers.

"Stand down."

 

[Meya Liefi]

Tag: Brandyn Sal-Soren​

Meya did not answer immediately.

Curious, she thought.

Men, particularly those accustomed to power, so often announced themselves with it. This man did none of it. He had extinguished his weapon. He warned rather than attacked. Even now, with her crimson blade between them, he continued to withdraw. Either he had no interest in proving himself to her, or whatever purpose had brought him here mattered more than his pride.

With a subtle movement of her thumb, the crimson blade vanished with a hiss.

Darkness rushed into the space it had occupied, leaving only distant lights and the intermittent violence of lightning to illuminate her. Yet Meya did not stop. As the man stepped backward, she continued forward, steadily reclaiming the distance he sought to place between them.

There was something predatory in the way she moved. Not hurried. Simply persistent. Her boots passed through the shallow water gathered across the pavement, each step sending small ripples outward.

"Anything to do with that building is my business," she explained. There was no heat in the words, nor, strangely, in the breath that carried them.

No mist formed before her lips despite the cold. Air was colder where she stood; minuscule warmth leeched from the rain and wind around her.

"And you have something that belongs to me now." Her golden eyes shifted towards the unconscious scientist before returning to the other man.

Whatever this man’s connection to the facility was, he had piqued Meya's curiosity.

"I could try to stop you from leaving by force." Words that left her lips cold and clinical. "But that would be tedious."

"I’m in the process of taking this facility," she continued. "Its records. Its personnel. Whatever secrets remain inside it. You may find that I have something more useful to you than one man."

Meya's golden eyes were fixated. Unblinking. "We may be able to help one another."

If this was a Jedi, she doubted he’d welcome any arrangement proposed by a Sith. Yet Meya had found that principles sometimes became more flexible when someone wanted something badly enough.

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Tag: Meya Liefi
Attire: Link​

He felt a mild annoyance at the idea of being a tedious problem for the Sith. She was possibly correct, which made him all the more annoyed. Saber combat had never been his strong suit. Though improvisation, and stealth would certianly come in handy with the construction site not far away, and the dark of the storm covering his possible escape.

"Poor timing," Brandyn said, in a tone that would normally have an accompanying Corellian smirk — this time it was absent.

He ran the calculus in his head, weighing his options against the dropping temperature. Fighting a Sith while protecting an unconscious scientist was a fool's errand. The crossfire alone would kill the man. Worse, masking two distinct presence signatures in the Force while simultaneously cloaking his physical body from a dark sider's apex senses was a stretch. Even for him.

And she had those sort of eyes. The type that did not let her prey go.

"It is unlikely that I have much to offer you," he said, hoping that she did not know who he was, "but if you believe so...then I would prefer cooperation to spilling unnecessary blood." That wasn't entirely true. Not anymore.

 

[Meya Liefi]

Tag: Brandyn Sal-Soren​

Meya offered no response to his assessment of his own usefulness. She continued toward him until only a few paces remained between them. At her side, one pale hand lifted only slightly, two fingers making a small gesture through the air.

"Do not resist." The words were calm. Matter-of-fact. Not a threat. An instruction.

Should he choose otherwise, Meya was already prepared. Golden eyes remained fixed upon him, searching for minute shifts of muscle and intent.

If he did not resist, emerald mist would erupt around him.

It did not pour from the ground nor descend from above. One heartbeat the rain lashed against stone, the next the world dissolved under a tide of luminous green vapor. The sensation lasted only an instant. Neither falling nor flying, but something stranger, as though the space between two places had simply ceased to exist.

The mist withdrew as quickly as it had come.

When it did, all three- the Jedi, his hostage on his shoulder and Meya- were now within the laboratory.

Emergency lights pulsed crimson along the ceilings. Here and there, sparks hissed from severed conduits, briefly illuminating scorched walls blackened by blaster fire. Bodies lay where they had fallen, scientists in white coats and armoured security alike.

None of Meya's attention lingered upon them. They were locked on her guest. The Jedi.

No one questioned Meya's arrival. Several inclined their heads in brief acknowledgement before returning immediately to their tasks.

"So, tell me then," she said, her voice carrying easily through the cavernous corridor. "What is your purpose here?" He’d rejected her question earlier. Now, she was expecting an answer.

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Tag: Meya Liefi
Attire: Link​

And resist he did not.

The moment the mist spilled over him, enveloping and transporting him, Brandyn whispered too himself alone. "Damn witch."

Standing back in the building he had just exited, led Brandyn to the realisation that cooperation was definitely going to be in his best interest. So, she shrugged off the limp form of the scientist, as he placed the man down with all the care of a toddler playing with their jumptrooper-doll.

A puddle of water was already forming beneath him, something for which he offered a half-effort apologetic shrug. "I wanted this scientist...clearly," he said, Corellian smirk in full swing again.

He turned, surveying his surroundings, and making plans for potential escape. "You think they got a spot for a guy to dry off in here?" He said. The cover story for his scoping the setting was a B plus at best. Though, he really could do with drying off.

"The scientest knows something about the Unblessed...I am hunting those that have previous connections to them," he said, upon seeing what was probably the most unamused Sith ever.

 

[Meya Liefi]

Tag: Brandyn Sal-Soren​

Most people emerged from Dathomiri transit with at least a moment of hesitation. Confusion. Disorientation. This man did neither. It made her suspect he had encountered Dathomiri magick before.

The observation settled quietly into the growing collection of details she had begun assembling about him. If cooperation proved temporary and plasma eventually replaced conversation, it would be useful to know he understood at least some of what a witch could do.

His humor, however, found no purchase. The corner of her mouth did not so much as threaten movement. Her expression remained exactly as it had been outside in the rain.

"Yes..." The single word answered his remark regarding the scientist. Her gaze drifted from Brandyn for the first time since the start of their encounter and went to the unconscious man at his feet.

Around the same time, disciplined footfalls approached from somewhere behind her. The bodyguard she had dispatched earlier came to a halt at her shoulder, remaining silent as his gaze settled upon the Jedi. Unlike Meya, his face betrayed no shortage of suspicion or distaste.

Brandyn’s request to dry went mostly unnoticed by her. Instead, her gaze narrowed almost imperceptibly. The unconscious man's body stiffened in reaction. His blue eyes snapped open. The scream came immediately.

Not a cry of pain alone, but the ragged, instinctive sound of a mind being forced open. His back arched against the polished floor as broken images and memories were dragged violently to the surface by the intrusion of Meya's will.

The screaming lasted only seconds. When it stopped, the scientist collapsed limply onto the floor. His chest still rose and fell, but his eyes had become vacant, unfocused.

"It was your hands." The words came quietly, almost absentmindedly. Her gaze remained on the ruined scientist another heartbeat. "A children's facility..." A slight furrow touched her brow before her eyes finally lifted to Brandyn. "Tund..." Her fingers flexed once before becoming still again.

"What other details have you neglected to share?"

Before he could speak, Meya turned her head only slightly toward the guard at her shoulder.

"Dispatch several men to locate his ship."

If he had landed near the facility rather than at a spaceport, they might come across it easily enough. Otherwise, the search would prove considerably more difficult, if not impossible, unless she acquired the ship's registration... or his name. Either way, it was meant as another point of pressure.

“And have someone look into possible facilities on Tund. We might be making another stop.”

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Tag: Meya Liefi
Attire: Link​

Whoa.

His hand came up in what he inwardly admitted was a futile attempt to get her to stop. When Brandyn looked down upon the eternally distant stare of the scientist, he felt his stomach churn. That would be him...soon enough, unless he divulged everything. But everything had a limit.

The smell of the room came to the fore. Smoke. Acrid, burning smoke. And the hint of bile that was purely his own doing.

Finally, upon hearing the woman's instructions, he looked up towards the Sith. His face, and neck, were taut. Muscles tightened as his eyes narrowed and he examined the woman.

A true Sith.

"So much for helping each other," he murmured, before clipping his saver back to his belt. He did not want to need it.

A long, exasperated sigh was the only precursor to the information dump that followed. "Name's Brandyn Sal-Soren..."

He paused for a moment, to see if the name meant anything to her. Either reaction would be disheartening for its own reasons.

"...for member of the Jedi Council on Naboo...leader of the Shadows..."

His hands moved in a manner as to insinuate he was hoping she could fill in all the gaps without him having to tell her everything.

"...you heard about the attack on terrorist Coruscant some years ago? That was because of my dad...Hand to the Queen of Naboo...Baros Sal-Soren..."

For a moment, he stopped to pick at the non-existence sleep in the corner of his eye. He hoped that perhaps she had seen the news a few years back about his father, and the Unblessed, and their terrorist activities.

"I am hunting down remaining members of a group known as the Unblessed. They take..."

His head tilted back. "Look...that's enough, right? Sufficiently caught up?" He said, hands waving her off. He did not want to be spilling all his secrets about the Unblessed...and in particular...Gianna.

 

[Meya Liefi]

Tag: Brandyn Sal-Soren​

There was an unnatural stillness to Meya as she listened. Predatory, possibly. Even as Brandyn began listing names, titles, and responsibilities, her expression betrayed nothing. Golden eyes remained fixed while she weighed every word.

As far as she was concerned, they were helping one another. He wished to reach Tund, as far as she was aware, and she would likely be bringing him there. She had wanted information, and he had given it... at least enough for the present.

"So..." Meya's voice cut through the cacophony that had long ago become white noise to her. The exchange of blaster fire, the occasional scream, and the storm raging beyond the walls scarcely registered to her in the moment. "Your role within this galaxy is a significant one. You may be disappointed by mine in comparison."

Not that she planned to give him much information.

Even with her soaked hair, some of the golden chains woven through it chimed against one another as she turned to walk again. Her bodyguard, brow still furrowed with suspicion, fell silently into step behind her, though his eyes never left the Jedi.

"For now," she continued, "I won't push for more details. Now, come,” another order that left her lips as naturally as the rain fell.

How long for now would last.. well. It might survive the walk back to her ship. It might survive the journey to Tund.

Scattered puddles still marked the polished floor where rainwater had dripped from boots and clothing, including her own. Her dress was still heavy with rain, and the damp fabric clung insistently to her pale skin, but she gave the discomfort no outward acknowledgement.

"You'll join me on my ship," she said without looking back. "I'll have you washed, your clothing dried, and any medical care you require administered."

She paused only briefly before adding, "If you require a meal, you'll have that as well."

Meya expected him to question the offer, outwardly or inwardly. Whether suspicion, confusion, or reluctant acceptance greeted her words mattered only insofar as it revealed something about him. It would not alter her decision. The Sith had already made up her mind.

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Tag: Meya Liefi
Attire: Link​

Brandyn glanced down at the man at his feet one more time. It was enough of a warning that he simply shrugged. "Don't have to ask me twice," he said, though not truely flippantly.

It wasn't that she was asking, but it felt nicer if he framed it that way. Becoming a prisoner of a powerful Sith was not his idea of a fun time, but it seemed he had no option.

"I will warn you though...I am a married man," he said, mostly to himself. The trademark coping-with-quips had fallen flat previously, so he kept it mostly to himself now. The soft klinking of gold chains pulled his attention the Sith as she turned, and his eyes lingered long enough to bring him shame. "Happily married, I would add." Her said, chastising more than quipping to himself now.

He started to follow, and caught the eye of the guard, who seemed stern as should be expected. Brandyn slapped the man on the arm, and gave him a smile. "Be a good lad, and take care of this poor soul," he said, gesturing back towards the scientist, "he deserves more than laying dead in a puddle...not much more...but we owe it to ourselves to do better."

༺ ✧ ═════ ❈ ═════ ✠ ༻​

Every moment on board the Sith's ship felt like someone was looking over his shoulder. Something irritable seemed to be crawling up his back, only for it to be nothing. It was most unpleasant.

The unflattering dark robes that were made available to him were, at best, able to be described as frumpy. It was far removed from the refined fabrics and tastes he had grown up with — such was the luxury of growing up wealthy, and with a father who had made his fortune as a tailor.

Walking from the closet of a room that passed as crew quarters, Brandyn was still drying his hair, but the towel was promptly discarded into the arms of the snarling guard.

"Please tell your master, Lord Sal-Soren is ready to see her," he said, though his smirk quickly evaporated as the guard flinched like he was about to punch Brandyn in the face. "Right...then..."

Spinning on his heals, Brandyn started slowly down the hallway. The ship felt like it was dripping ill intent, and dark and sinister scent fell upon the air. Every movement forward sent his better judgment into overdrive. However, Brandyn had never been known for heeding his better instincts.

His wanderings took him to an alcove, not far off from what looked to be meditation room. Within the alcove sat an array of artefacts, Dathomiri he supposed.

A specific dull glass-like orb took his fancy, and he did not hesitate to pick it up and begin examining the relic.

 

[Meya Liefi]

Tag: Brandyn Sal-Soren​

Meya's steps came to a halt altogether before she turned to look back at him. Then came another first since their encounter. A flicker of emotion crossed her otherwise impassive features. Confusion. Her golden eyes searched his face as though expecting to find whatever had prompted the remark written there.

Marriage? The ritual clashed rather strangely with Dathomiri custom, as far as she was aware. Was that why he brought it up? But why to her? She had known the Jedi for scarcely minutes. How odd.

"...You needn't worry. I am not currently looking to claim another male." The words left her with complete sincerity, delivered no differently than if she had been correcting an inaccurate statement of fact.

Without another word, she turned and resumed walking, apparently satisfied with her reply.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

Meya's dress had been exchanged for dry robes of black and crimson, and fresh golden chains were woven neatly once more through dark strands that now all rested against her back instead of partly in a bun.

It did not take her long to discover Brandyn’s location. Golden eyes, as unreadable as ever, drifted to the Jedi in that slow, predatory way they often did. One of her recent discoveries rested in his hand.

The orb promptly vanished in a plume of green mist. One heartbeat it rested within the Jedi's grasp. The next, it hovered above Meya's outstretched palm.

"...It is not for your hands." The words were void of malice but also void of the why. Meya didn't think he'd be all that interested in it, nor was she certain she wanted to explain.

Polished tips of her black nails clicked softly against the orb's smooth surface as her slender fingers closed around it. "We'll be departing for Tund shortly." She allowed the statement to linger for several moments, giving Brandyn the opportunity to speak should he wish to do so before continuing.

"There may be something to occupy our time before we arrive. I've been informed there is... an irregularity affecting the left side of your face." Her gaze moved over him with the detached scrutiny of someone examining an unfamiliar specimen. The observation had come from the physician who examined him. He had apparently decided the matter fell more within Meya's interests than his own so he hadn't pried. "Explain."

"Fleshcraft is among my interests, and if there is something I can do..." She offered nothing further for the moment. There wasn’t much she could without knowing more.

She imagined the Jedi would find little comfort in a Sith expressing interest in it. Whatever it was. Whether that discomfort mattered remained uncertain. Brandyn had yet to refuse her in any meaningful way.

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Tag: Meya Liefi
Attire: Link​

The failure to understand his joke about being married — whilst being invited to travel with a woman not his bride — gave Brandyn a greater understanding as to the workings of the Sith's mind. She would push back against purposefully humorous. But something sarcastic, but with the hint of possible seriousness — she would take the serious understanding. That was helpful, though Brandyn did not yet know in what way.

Now, turning towards her after the green smoke had dissipated from his hands, he found himself increasingly curious. "How long will it take to get there in this tub?" He said, eyes glancing about the bulkheads as if they would answer him.

The humorous defence dropped when she brought up the face. Most people were too polite to ask. She didn't even do that. "Explain," he muttered, walking to her left and ignoring eye contact. He let a huff of air escape, his only sign of disapproval.

"Took a plasma blast to the face while planting charges on the Death Star...the third one." He cast a glance back towards her, though avoided eye contact again. Instead, he examined his surroundings. Should this come to blows, knowing his environment would be key.

"The physicians said that the burn will continue. Something about the subspace nature of the weapon." Now he offered a shrug. As if it didn't bother him. The truth was that the pain was nigh constant. An ever present reminder of what was lost that day.

"But the charges went off and the Death Star was destroyed. So I call it a win. Sucked for the Dark Side, I'm sure."

She had offered her Sithly services. It was enough to make his skin crawl. The idea of a Sith working their magic upon his flesh was about as appealing as washing a Nexu. "If it's all the same to you, I will keep wound free of Sith...mingling."

Finally, came the eye contact. He needed to put her on the back foot, and take some level of control of the conversation. He didn't much care to discuss his life, or his past. Especially not with her. "Dahtomiri, huh? But not some bigwig in the Sith...you would have more lordlings and sycophants at your heels. Lone wolf?"

 

[Meya Liefi]

Tag: Brandyn Sal-Soren

​

“Approximately twenty-four hours,” Meya explained. She made no effort to judge his opinion of the journey. Tund lay a considerable distance away, and that had likely been intentional. Projects of this nature were best scattered across the galaxy, separated by vast expanses of space that made discovery inconvenient for anyone curious enough to go looking.

She listened without interruption as he explained the injury. His reluctance to meet her gaze did not escape notice. It suggested the subject remained uncomfortable, perhaps even painful in ways extending beyond the wound itself.

Sucked for the Dark Side.

Did he expect some reaction to the remark?

Meya had never cared much for choosing sides beyond whatever happened to align with her own continued existence. Empires rose. Orders collapsed. She fought for survival. For knowledge. For the continuation of her work. The rest was little more than circumstance.

Layers of black and crimson cloth shifted softly with each step, delicate golden chains woven through her dark hair chiming together in metallic whispers whenever she inclined her head. She moved enough to keep him within her line of sight and without exposing her back. Instinct had long since become habit.

Silence lingered for several moments after his observations. He had reached conclusions that were, for the most part, correct. Whether she confirmed them seemed unnecessary.

"What interests me more," left her first, a voice retaining its usual detached calm, "is your refusal."

"It's possible I could remove your pain. Ensure the damage progresses no further." Meya turned the orb slowly between slender fingers, polished black nails clicking softly against its smooth surface. In reality, it was possible she could also make it worse. There was no certainty in her offer– but there was possibly. "The cost would be my mark remaining upon your flesh."

The mark of ichor.

"Is that truly so steep a price?"

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Tag: Meya Liefi
Attire: Link​

The silence was entirely unnecessary. But that, Brandyn figured, was why she let it go on. It was a manipulation. Everything was like that for a Sith. The words of his mother replayed in his head: "The Dark Side always lies."

He was close to just speaking for the sake of it, when she finally broke the seemingly unending torture. Thank the Force. It gave him something else to focus on other than her.

And of course she had to touch on a nerve. A nerve more raw than the wound etched across the left side of his face. "Yeah. Like I am going to spill my deepest regrets to you," he said with a laugh, hand brushing his hair back. That was already, probably, too much information.

He moved, mostly to avoid the awkwardness of stagnation. Movement help avoid...eye contact...or being distracted by the subtle tink tink of all those damned chains.

"Look...as appealing as it is to be branded by a Sith..." He turned toward her briefly, hands gesturing broadly. "...but I am not looking to join any new fan clubs...today."

His eyes cast a quick look back towards the relics in the corner. "Though if you want to teach me some of that Dathomiri magick, I would not say no."

 

[Meya Liefi]

Tag: Brandyn Sal-Soren
​

Meya had begun to notice the pattern. The pacing, the restless movement, and most of all, the way Brandyn's gaze repeatedly slipped away from hers. She said nothing about it at first, allowing him to finish speaking without interruption. When he finally did, she addressed the last thing he had said first.

"Our magick is not meant for males." It was a mostly true statement. The men of her clan were permitted to learn a single, simple spell for the benefit of the clan itself, though even that was beyond many of them. They were never taught the foundations from which a witch's broader understanding of magick was built, and without those foundations, there was little opportunity for them to progress beyond what was given.

Meya did not wait to see whether that disappointed him. She stepped closer instead, a half-step really, closing some of the distance he had created through his wandering. Watching closely as she did, with her golden eyes still fixed, still hyper-focused to see his reaction.

"Why not spill them to me?" One finger rose from the orb before tapping it hard enough for the click to drown out the movement of the chains in her hair. At least for a heartbeat. "I am a stranger you will likely never see again once we have finished our task. Someone who can listen while you empty your thoughts that you may have bottled up. Yes, I am Sith, but what does it truly matter if my path is a lone one? Your information will go to no Empire, no Order, no Covenant."

She studied him for another moment before continuing, "You may consider me an enemy. I do not see you as one. An obstacle, maybe, if you become one to me." Her fingers continued to turn the orb slowly within her grasp, its dark surface catching the emerald light of the chamber as she took another step closer to him. If he allowed it, she would be close enough to feel the warmth of his body radiate from him. "To me, you are simply another part of the Force. We are both part of it balancing itself."

To Meya, it was not philosophy. It was simply how she understood existence. And she did not stop there.

"And why exactly do you keep looking away?" The question came without malice, though there was an unmistakable curiosity behind it. She shifted her weight as she took another step toward him, closing the distance just slightly more, with no fear spreading across her features despite how much larger he was than her. "What goes through your mind when you look at me?"

Meya's eyes searched his face again, this time with less attention to the wound itself and more to everything surrounding it.

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Tag: Meya Liefi
Attire: Link​

Meant not for men. Brandyn lifted his hands in mock outrage. "You could at least teach me that sweet disappearing trick I have seen some of you do before," again he said this with a smirk, and avoidance of eye contact.

When she stepped closer, Brandyn's neck grew taut. His jaw clenched. And he kept his eyes directed towards the decorations within the room. With entirely not luck, he tried to move. The Sith had cornered him.

She wasn't wrong. She was a stranger. Someone he was unlikely to meet again, Force be thanked, but it still was not in his best interest to divulge much or anything to someone steeped in darkness.

When he looked at her, it was really past her. "Grant you the very tools of manipulation on which you kind so thrive?" Brandyn said, before allowing a moment of strength, some eye contact, and some narrowing of his eyes, "I don't think so."

"The Light is balance, dearie," he said, breaking eye contact and signalling with a subtle backwards wave with his hand that she needed to back the hell up.

For one that had been using increasingly questionable methods to search for his daughter, his very own words felt like ash in his mouth. It was an unpleasant thing to feel so distant from Jedi dogma.

Then her final question was enough of a challenge for Brandyn to take the dear, stare into her eyes — as if it were a staring contest, and shrug. "There...you happy? My joke before was no a joke. And if you need me to piece it together...well...I would suggest you not bring puzzles on board your ship."