Bent But Not Broken [Zenva Vrotoa]

[Blake Morrigan]

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Space Station​

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| [member="Zenva Vrotoa"] |​

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Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wHXacd0L_0Y

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Her days always started slow now, never did they start late...not anymore - She awoke at the first signs of light, which was to say at the crack of dawn. The early risers tended to prepare themselves quickly and leave early to do their duties. She would not follow them in their rituals of daily normality. The air in this station was cold, it bit at her nostrils and clung to her skin. The artificial lighting of this place never providing the warmth she so desperately desired...

Silver eyes flickered and flared...this was part of her own private ritual. So many steps she'd learned in her all too depressing life, things designed to keep her healthy in body, soul, and mind. Ever since she was young, still on her mother's teat, she'd practiced certain techniques. It was an act of balance, an equalizer. She stuck to routine as often as she could, an upstart threatened much worse than a bad start to a day.

The girls heart beat differently than others if at all. She'd known this almost as soon as she began to have conscious thought. Her mother was a rock, her heart beat was steady and slow. As early as she could remember, she could remember sinking into the sound of it, wrapping herself in the comfort of her life-giving breath. Back then, she took every opportunity that presented itself to fall asleep with her head cradled against her bosom. The thought of seeming childish never entered her mind.

Each morning she sank into herself the way she had sunk into her mother. Her breathing grew slow, controlled. Each breath was deep, filling her chest cavity to capacity. She held her breath for several seconds before slowly exhaling, looking inward. Her heart beat was hollow... but still powered the weak body she called her own. The beats were slow...blank...and cold, the sound not as deep and robust as she yearned it to be. There was a slosh, always a worry, blood leaking from where it was meant to be. Every morning she felt unsettled. Her heart was cold and the blood that ran through her veins were made of ice...but she would not let that change her. Not in the slightest.

'This is me.' was the thought, 'And I can be as strong as I want.'

Her heart agreed, compromising on a steady if weak beat. Satisfied, she pulled himself back to the present, her breathing slowly returning to normal. Her light bright silver eyes opened, greeting the small collection of beings who seemed to populate the space stations tavern...and as she ran her hands over her face and pulled her messy strands of hair back into place Blake sighed tiredly...she had been here for about a full day and a half now...brought to this place after bounty hunters had begun chasing her on her homeworld Ke'lai...after the...incident with her government. The memory made the girl shrink in her seat a bit, pulling her red scarf up and over her mouth nervously.

She tried to avoid places with to many people walking around...luckily this place had a random tavern that did not seem to get a whole lot of traffic that she could hang out it. Sitting in the far back of the room at a booth with her back facing the rest of the room, Blake simply stared up at the Holovid News. Trying to decide what she was going to do next...while she appreciated the Shark creatures help from her dire situation on Ke'lai, fact of the matter was she was stranded out here in the middle of the Outer Rim...she did not own a ship, she had never flown before...and she certainly did not have the money to ask for a ride somewhere. And even she did where would she go? It seemed she had a real problem on her hands...

Either way, Blake ignored these problems for the time being, just trying to relax and calm herself down after a full day of having her life at risk 24/7.

 

[Zenva Vrotoa]

Spoiler

Warning: Not Suitable for All Ages

It was the folly of the young, inexperienced as they are, to expect that true change could be won through force. They lacked the forethought, or perhaps they simply lacked the intelligence, to understand what would come to pass once they were through attempting to change the world around them. In a flash of flame and smoke the structure of an entire planet had been destabilized. Congratulations, the corrupt leadership had been purged in hell fire.

Yet, what had truly been accomplished? New figureheads were already scrambling to take control of the void left by their dead predecessors. Men equally as corrupt as those who came before, only they had lacked the strength and cunning to take control by their own methods. Thankfully some foolish youth had done their work for them, leaving their hands free of the blood stains. Well done.

The Blood Matron sighed heavily as she scanned the interior of the cantina. She knew, before her technicians could even begin running facial recognition programs, that the Terrorist she sought was here, having studied every photo and artists rendition of the young woman the police had released. Terrorist, she thought with a scoff. Why, the poor thing was barely out of girlhood. Little more than a child, a product of harsh circumstances and an abusive environment. It was a small wonder there weren't more like that girl back on her planet.

Fate had dealt the youth a cruel hand indeed. Who could blaim her for playing the cards she had been given? Still, she had committed murder, cold and premeditated, regardless of the lack of thought put into what would happen after the bomb had been detonated. The girl was a fugitive and no amount of pity from the Zabrak Matron could change that.

Zenva walked casually to the bar while voices buzzed confirmations in her ear via encrypted comm channels. Again she sighed to herself, albeit less heavily and obvious than before. With a word and a gesture the Zabrak acquired two drinks, double shots of a strong whiskey she favored. With a glass in each hand she turned to the far corner and began to cross the room.

She was armed and no mistaking it. Pistols flashed at her thighs while a pair of swords bumped against her left hip with each stride that carried her toward the young woman sitting alone. The Zabrak's blood red trench coat swayed with her hips, adding another rhythmic layer to the symphony of death that her equipment sang to her as she moved.

She placed the two glasses, each untouched, in the center of the table. "Hello Morrigan." Her voice rang like cold steel in the quiet of the cantina. Already people, the wise or the most cowardly, were rising from their tables to leave. "Or do you prefer Blake?" The Zabrak slipped into a chair across from the young woman, all liquid grace and sharp features. "Have a drink. You look like you need one."

[member="Blake Morrigan"]

 

[Blake Morrigan]

| [member="Zenva Vrotoa"] |​

Logically, it did not make sense. In a world of bonds, one would assume that any intelligent soul would have accomplished for herself and her true bond a greater household, replenished with the strength of numbers that even friends and acquaintances' could often provide...Blake could see it the second she entered this station. It was a hideout for criminals of all kinds...and like a vast majority of them, they often ran in packs. She took careful note of this...how every other person had at least two others along with them...Friends, partners...allies. They were everything here. Your family, your livelihood, even your trustworthiness and respect could be tied in to the beads through which you were strung. It reminded her of how thing tended to work back on Ke'lai...if you rubbed shoulders with the right people you'd be just fine. And perhaps thats why the silver eyed girl was so upset with herself...she had never bothered to enter the game like others had. She had a friend, and in the end Ivory ditched her for the Jedi...and so it was frustrating that Blake was so content being alone and isolated.

Then again, perhaps it was for the best....the girl had committed a great crime...there was no reason to drag anyone else down with her. If the girl were to pay for her crimes then she'd suffer the punishment alone...just as she always had.

Although she did wonder if anyone knew she was gone...she could only assume Von would. Perhaps Ivory if she was indeed watching from the planet of Voss...after the initial attack Blake did not 'see' anyone afterwards. Instead, she had disappeared, barely showing her face for the longest while, and eventually just vanishing from Ke'lai altogether thanks to a bounty hunter he had run into. The girl had only then put herself into a deeper darker corner and neglected to contact Ivory and, as a result, weakened the emotional ties that might have kept the two close. Blake was...disgusted with herself. Ashamed of her flawed logic. She was desperate...and in her panic she did whatever it took to set her people free...without even considering the aftermath. The people could not be trusted with their own survival yet alone their own freedom...and now because of her judgment her world had been thrown into discord and anarchy because her people did not know how to get together, shake hands and solve the big problem that needed solving.

You just didn't screw up an opportunity like that, should never ruin your single chance to have that which has been taken from you. Those circumstances came at most once, if ever and it was perhaps too late to repair the damage done....

Maybe it was to late for Ke'lai...perhaps it would be wise for her to simply move on, become a bounty hunter or mercenary...she would do what was intelligent by calculation and build herself a foundation for the future. Or what was left of it....honestly, Blake did not know what to do anymore. She had fully expected to die back on her homeworld...to perish along with the warlords who had taken over her world. But she survived...a tragedy in its own right.

Sitting, quite nervously, with a look of uncertainty decorating her features, she simply fiddled with her empty hands for a moment. Her brows sharp and narrowed in a cowl as those silver optics of hers flared like a full moon. Her peace however was disturbed when a woman suddenly appeared at her table...her gaze flicking upward quickly and watching as the woman helped herself to a seat across from Blake with two drinks in hand, mentioning Blakes name. Both her first and last...

Instinct told her this woman was a bounty hunter...or was it fear? Perhaps a steady mixture of both...regardless, the logical part of her that was sill functioning noticed that while she was armed...she did not display hostile behavior. And as she sat across from Blake and offered up a drink Blake simply looked around the cantina...examining the room and making sure no one was watching or hiding around a corner waiting to snatch her up. And when she felt like she was somewhat safe, she sat down in her seat and slowly just sunk down into her chair nervously. Pulling her scarf up over her face as she simply tried to make herself appear small.

Best not anger the woman by trying to appear dominant or strong right?

Silver eyes would examine the woman before her...she was tall, muscular...crimson red flesh and black tattoos decorating her features. The woman was beautiful...Blakes eyes went wide in awe as a noticeable blush heated her face. Her heart throbbing painfully in her chest as she clutched her arm tightly and tightened her free hand in her lap...lowering her eyes down to the floor as she remained silent for a long moment before answering the red skinned woman.

"Uh, B-blake, Mademoiselle." She stammered in her foreign tongue, lifting her free hand up and moving her bangs out of her visage and adjusting the crimson scarf around her neck.

This was certainly...the first time Blake had ever seen a humanoid as gorgeous as herself. Blakes favorite color was red and she had a passion for all things considered beautiful...she always enjoyed the works of artist and how they captured such things. Perhaps her day was looking up a bit.

 

[Zenva Vrotoa]

The Zabrak's coal painted lips curled in a small smile as she watched the youth fidget. Her yellow-red gaze flickered over the younger woman's features, studying her intently. How could this be the same girl from the terrorist reports? She squirmed and blushed at little more than the Zabrak's sudden appearance. To the Zabrak, battle scarred and war weary as she was, this youth seemed little more than that, a young girl, frightened, and alone.

Zenva kept careful control over her voice, calm and gentle, or as near to it as she could manage. "Alright, Blake." Still smiling slightly she gestured to the glasses in the middle of the table. "Would you like a drink Blake? You'll have to forgive me dear, I don't speak your tongue. Mademoiselle?" She waved one hand through the air, dismissing her own concern. "I trust you speak Basic well enough, yes?" Behind the Matron a trio of armored soldiers entered the cantina. Without a word or gesture to anyone they seated themselves at the table nearest to the door.

Zenva leaned forward, her gaze fixed firmly on Blake's. "Blake, you and I need to have a very important discussion dear. I know you've done something awful on your home world. People died. Granted, your actions killed only a small group of people, politicians who no doubt deserved much worse than the quick death you gave them. But the repercussions of those actions have spilled much more blood than I think you intended. More assassinations have taken place. More bombings, too. Riots, and gang wars are raging throughout the planet. Innocent blood has been spilt Blake, whole rivers worth of it."

The Zabrak leaned back in her seat with another gesture toward the glasses in the center of the table. "Have a drink Blake, and tell me what happened because right now the blame for all this blood shed is being laid on you. I need to know what happened to you to justify all the innocent blood that has been spilt. Behind the Crimson Lady another group of armored soldiers moved into the cantina, taking up more seats near the door.

[member="Blake Morrigan"]