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Thread: The Stowaway

  1. #101
    The sudden arrival of the natives had drawn his attention from the ground he'd hoped to distract himself with. The emotions of the trio in such close proximity was like the beatings of waves against a ship in his head.

    Curiosity and concern but under that something deeper. Anxiety.

    She was anxious? There was an energy among them like they were waiting for something, or for some moment. The right moment. His muscles went tight in his back and he felt the anger erupt - driven on by invisible hands pushing him forward to take their vengeance.

    "And if they mean US harm?" He snapped sharply, violently, all but lost in the building fire inside. He wanted to pull back from it, to temper the anger that once again seemed to be all he could feel, but it simply wouldn't be silenced this time. "They're in our way." He growled with vicious intent, hands balling tightly enough to dig his nails into his palms and leave thin rivers of blood dripping down to stain the sand beneath him. There was no hiding what he was to anyone present, least of all the former Jedi standing beside him. This was Jirettai manifest, an anger looking to burn everything around him down to scorched earth.

    He could feel the cold smile starting to grow, the old song in his ears. He could kill them. All of them. These three nothings who had wandered into his path, the sanctimonious not-Jedi who had taken advantage of his kindness to lead him to this dead world, the irritating toy that had given him nothing but attitude since he'd met it. He wanted to, he was sure he did. So why wouldn't his body let him do it?

  2. #102
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    "Easy," she cautioned, her voice dropping momentarily.

    The bleedout of his emotions was undeniable now, and the Lupine found herself pausing in her gait, sending a sideways look to him.

  3. #103
    Zela gripped her pike, unsure of what to make of these three - one of which was a waspish, spindly-looking droid. The other two, a man with fire-red hair and the eyes of a predator, and a woman in a uniform.

    "We don't have anything of value for you," she finally called out as the distance between them all lessened.

  4. #104
    His eyes, blurry at the edges now with strain and anger snapped to the not-Jedi. Once again making demands of him, telling him what to do, what she'd do for him. Who did this woman think she was? Before he could respond the head of the approaching band spoke again. This anxious one, this likely attacker. Kill her first. Protect himself, then the not-Jedi for trying to command him.

    You were freedom, you were anger, you were... are... Jirettai.

    Mike's foot dragged forward a step and his body felt like walking through concrete, muscles taught in pained resistance. This had to be the Captain's doing. She was surely using the Force to keep him still. His attention returned sharply to her and found her simply casting a concerned glance in his direction. He ground his teeth hard enough he was certain they'd shatter, internal rage burning with desire for wanton destruction.

    "I..." He tried to start, the words dry in his throat. "I can't..." Labored breathing choked him as two sides of him fought for control, his body locked in statuesque stillness. "It's too much." He panted out between gasps of air, "It's all too much... this place... the... weight of it... I can't shut... I can't shut it out." This was worse than Fey'dann, worse than being near that frelling urn. He was going to lose himself here, fully and deeply. He was sure of it.

  5. #105
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    The verbal admission was all that she needed, and grinding to a halt, s'Il let her body relax, let her thoughts wash outward to splash over the frantic emotions that were radiating so heavily from Michael.

    "Breath," she soothed, her gaze sweeping around to take in the wild tendrils that were writhing from him. She knew those feelings well, and gave him space while still pressing in gently with calm surety.

    "Let the old ghosts pass through you. Let them speak, but never forget who you are. You are Jirettai, but you are also Michael. Feel the sorrow around you, but always remember that you will never drown in it... "

    Her hand moved then, to rest a palm on his shoulder even as her thoughts pushed through the mental din that surrounded him. She guided many of the voices away, hoping to lead by example for him.

    "... I'll not let you."

  6. #106
    Mike's emotions were a maelstrom in the moment, and he could feel the tenuous grasp he'd managed to pull back long enough to cry out for a lifeline slipping. He would fall here, finally smash upon the darkness bellow and simply be Jirettai. No more Michael, no more razor's edge dance with his own dark natures, merely the wallowing of an animal in his base desires for destruction and death.

    "Breath"

    The word cut through him like a gust, pulling the swirling emotions still enough to find purchase and hold onto himself. To see what all had encircled him in this moment, on this world. He clung to her words like a life raft.

    'Let the old ghosts pass through you..."

    He tried to focus on her words, on the instructions. He had never been a good student, but he had also never had a proper teacher. He felt it, still ever present and upon him, the weight of this planet, and for a moment he felt he was going to lose it all again. And then it passed, and instead of being thrown around by it, he felt it move around him, through him. His breathing began to slow, the grip of his fists which had cut gashes into his palms loosening as he began to relax.

    "Feel the sorrow around you, but always remember that you will never drown in it..."

    His vision began to clear, the storm calmed, less a maelstrom throwing about a ship and rather waves crashing against a dock. It could shift, it could feel the pressure, but it stood strong enough to let the waters move past it. Aware of the forces at play, but not a slave to them.

    "...I'll not let you."

    He managed to look up slowly, feeling for the first time since they had arrived like himself. No, more than that - he felt stronger than he had before, more sure of his position. His eyes focused on her, and he finally saw the former Jedi for who she was beyond his own insecurities and doubts. Darth Sudoku had called himself Michael's master, but it wasn't until now that he actually understood what the word meant.

    "I... thank you." he said weakly, appreciation and awe present in his eyes. "Thank you." He wasn't certain he'd ever meant words more sincerely in his life.

  7. #107
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    Her eye remained locked with his own for a few more moments, and eventually she gave a sage nod. Her fingers gave a final squeeze to his shoulder before releasing.

    "All you need is to ask, and I will help you however that I can, Michael."

    Her voice was hushed, and she was aware of the other three watching intently at the interaction between the two.

    Finally, she allowed a smile. It was a wisp of a thing, but it was there for him. And then she looked from him to the woman at the head of the greeting party.

    "I am Captain s'Ilancy," her voice raised in volume, "... my friends and I are only wishing to get to Fellspire. We do not want to bring you harm."

  8. #108
    It was a strange thing to watch, this bizarre secret interaction of whispers. The red-haired man had seemed tense, his body taut like a wire about to snap... and then he seemed to calm himself. The other woman's words - whatever they were - seemed to smooth the look in his eyes. Zela's own grip on her pike loosened at the site, and when the woman addressed them, she let out a long breath.

    "I am Zela," she started carefully, "... if you wish passage to Fellspire, then you are on the right path."

    She sent a look back over her shoulder, to the two behind her, and the meager, brightly-colored tents further back along the tunnel.

    "We do not wish to fight, and only wish to camp in piece for the night, until our wounded are healed."

  9. #109
    Mike took the few moments of continued interaction with the Captain to compose himself, fighting back the embarrassment of his actions. When she turned from him to continue the conversation that had begun, Michael could finally see that the emotions he had misread were concerns for their own safety - and that they were already dealing with injuries and difficulties.

    There would be time for apologies later. For now he did as Captain s'Ilancy had asked and let her talk. The driving pain that had started when he arrived had finally eased down a dull ache, a sensation of over-exertion rather than outright pain.

  10. #110
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    "We have no wish for altercations either," she assured.

    The trip to Fellspire would be hopefully uneventful, if the rest of those who were camped along the tunnel held the same tendencies. Of course, that was certainly not a foregone conclusion, and s'Il let herself descend into a thoughtful silence as she mulled over their choices.

    "If you could help us reach Fellspire, I may be able to help your injured," she finally offered.

  11. #111
    Biting her lip, she looked back momentarily to her comrades before looking back to the three.

    "I would prefer not to leave my people," but... the hope that by offering help, they would be given compensation was enticing.

    "... but if by doing so means that I can get help for my friends, then I will help you."

  12. #112
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    s'Il gave an encouraging nod, then turned her attentions once more to Michael.

    "It will be good, to have help during our short trip. I do not know the nature of those who live here, and it may be best to employ one of their own to assist us."

    While not nearly so overpowering, she could see that he was still operating beneath the veil of discomfort. For a moment she fell silent, mulling over her next words. Eventually, she let out a long breath.

    "Be calm, above all else," she furthered, hoping to help him gain more confidence in his own abilities, "... neither you nor I can help those of the past; we can hear them, but beyond that, there is nothing that we can do. And sometimes... sometimes all that the old voices wish is to be heard."

  13. #113
    Mike nodded once, taking in her words. No snark-filled response, no rolling of the eyes, no disregard for what she had said or even trying to hide his own concerns and issues. Simple and naked listening to what someone who clearly knew more than he did had to offer. He rubbed the back of his neck, a touch of shame for his actions present, but managing to keep himself together significantly better than he had when they'd arrived, and in truth more than he had felt in a long time.

    That feeling resonated deeper than he was expecting, in fact. He felt more like himself than he had in a long time. Not Darth Jirettai. Not Michael Cline, Black Sun enforcer. Just... Mike, some scruffy pilot's son from Coruscant. He hadn't known he could still feel like this, didn't know there was any of this side of him left to feel.

    "I'll do my best." He offered, looking in the direction of Fellspire before adding, "I'm sorry." He wasn't sure if it was the time or place, but the words had been eating at his gut since he'd been put back to his senses.

  14. #114
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    She gave him an encouraging smile, soft and gentle as it flitted across her features.

    "Do not apologize," she half-chuckled.

    "We are both on this world, and here, I suspect that 'anywhere is'."

    It was a fairly odd thing to say, but to her it felt right, and an accurate assessment of the way things were on Scarif.

    Her gaze returned to the scarred woman, and she let her shoulders hitch back.

    "We are in your debt, Zela."

  15. #115
    * * *


    The trek along the tunnel was made mostly in silence, and she'd led them through a few other encampments; mostly traders who were either on their way to or from Fellspire.

    With the woman, the Captain, walking up ahead with her strange waspish droid, Zela let herself fall into step beside the red-head.

    "Your travels," she started slowly, "... how far from here have they taken you?"

  16. #116
    He had fallen into an easy pace with the others, content to enjoy the silence as he felt himself more able to handle the planet's unique haunting, for lack of a better word, and consider the circumstances around that improvement in himself.

    When their local guide, Zela as she had introduced herself earlier, spoke up to ask him about his own travels he found himself forcing breath out from between tight lips as he tried to remember.

    "Farther than I ever thought I'd be, honestly." He kept walking, "From major Metropolitan worlds like Coruscant or Corellia to forgotten places, Korriban and others. Though in retrospect I'm realizing most of them feel like worlds I've been taken to, rather than anywhere I choose to go myself..." He trailed off a bit at the sentiment, before managing to snap back to his new travelling companion. "And you? Ever been anywhere else, yourself?"

  17. #117
    He talked of far-off places that she'd only heard stories about. Tall tales from the older generation, that she'd sometimes scoffed at.

    "Only ever been here," she couldn't help the slight tone of self-pity that laced her words.

    "My mother came here soon after the Great Light. She used to tell me that she came with a group of... " a pause, as she tried to remember the word, "... aid. Aid... workers?"

    Her hand reached out to run a palm gently over the dusty outer metal covering of the tunnel they walked alongside.

    "My father didn't come with her; she said he disagreed that she come here while pregnant, but she did anyway. I've never seen him, since I've never been off Scarif, and he never came here."

  18. #118
    Mike listened to her story and felt pangs of empathy well up in his gut. She was stuck here, brought to a world she'd never asked to be a part of and now couldn't escape. It was wrenching a heart that he hadn't realized he still had. this whole trip was forcing him to reconsider some very real truths about himself, and what he understood.

    "I'm sorry." He said softly, letting his vision drift to the dusty ground for a moment, before looking back at the scarred woman. "Would you want to leave?" He asked, suddenly unsure as to why he was even asking a question like that. Asking her to come with them wasn't a decision he had the authority to make, and he was unlikely to ever return to Scarif after this. The planet was too much of a hotspot for him to handle. He was only okay thanks to Captain s'Ilancy's help and guidance.

    Still it felt wrong to simply say nothing, to shrug off her plight - if she wanted to leave, surely there had to be something the Captain could do.

  19. #119
    Did she want to leave? It was a question that hadn't ever come up before; at least, not in any real sense. Oh, they all had dreams of getting off Scarif, but those sorts of wishes were just that - wishes. In no way were they thought of as serious sentiments. Their lives here were hard enough without making existence unbearable with lofty thoughts of escape.

    "Well," she started slowly. Her one good eye blinked, and she pulled her hand away from the tunnel to rub lightly at the top edge of her scar. It was a habit, that was something she'd never been able to break.

    "... I suppose? I mean, we all want to leave, but it's just something that we all know won't ever really happen."

    Zela gave a shrug at that.

    "It's just wishes and dreams for everyone here."

  20. #120
    Michael wasn't going to get her hopes up by making any promises. It wouldn't be fair, not when he couldn't guarantee anything to her, but still he smiled at her. He'd ask the Captain about this later, see if there was anything that could be done for Zela. Where would he be now if someone hadn't once offered him a way out? Back in a gutter on Coruscant, picking pockets to survive? Maybe dragged kicking and screaming to the Empire's wonderful program for adepts.

    The Inquistoriate, no that wasn't right anymore, that's who it had been. These days it went by the much kinder name of the Knights of the Imperial Throne. Same product, better marketing. Still it was a harrowing thought to consider, himself in a military uniform at the beck and call of the powers that be? No thank you. He served Ms. Sasseeri and the Black Sun because she had earned Cline's loyalty. Given him a home and a purpose when all he had left was survival. Sure it had left him with stains on his soul, but there hadn't been much value left to that once the Sith were done with it.

    If he could help Zela find her way out of a wasteland like this one, then maybe there was still something good of him left. It was a nice thought.

    "Hopes and dreams are important." He said absently, "Don't let go of those."

    He couldn't remember his own anymore. He was sure he had them at one time, but these days his dreams were more frequently nightmares.

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