will you sink down to me?
Void.
…Ashla.
She barely remembered to correct herself.
Looking at a downed starfighter - X-wing or TIE or gunship, or, or - never lost its edge. There was something about falling out of the sky that could not not twist up your gut, even if you hadn't ever had your wings clipped by enemy fire firsthand. Damsy glanced up from the angry blast holes chewed through one of the foils up through the clearing at the clear sky, but didn't find the reprieve she was hoping for. A number of tree trunks were permanently bowed by the ghosts of trajectory, branches snapped off at jagged angles from entrance velocity, patches of leaves missing and never to bloom again by way of ion heat. Though her eyes saw fluffy cumulus clouds and warm sunshine, her mind imagined what must have been - the dark gust of war, raining bits of earth.
It was why the air had been hanging heavy since touchdown. Or, rather, aura had been hanging heavy. Somewhere among her studies of the Sith in the Jedi Archives, Damsy had happened upon an abbreviated account of Dantooine. If she was going to start probing the outskirts of Sithy space for fellow spawn, she might as well start with the forest planet. Even if there was no work to be done here that could further her budding movement, it would be well worth a trip just to pay her respects to the Alliance's fallen. And maybe a few of the Confed's too. Maybe she had a special force tenure with the latter under her belt, still loved the hell out of
Luna Terrik
and the Omegas, but she couldn't get over the Confederate-Sith ties. That was one of the many benefits of being out of the service - being able to think for herself. Plus, she was taking up the GA flag. For how long, she didn't know. For now, it would do - that was all she cared to know.
But now, in the field of bygone battle? Aura crushed, squeezed at her heart, and wouldn’t let go. The Force sung to her a melody she was all too familiar with; of death, of suffering, of void-cold and -empty hallelujahs.
At least the mud did let go as she picked up her feet to approach the wreckage stretching before her. She paused only long enough to climb from one foil to the next so she could pass over the creek trickling below the entire wing. She was about to jump back to the ground as soon as it was dry, but a beam of light caught her eye. It was gone as soon as it had come, but she had seen enough to be able to follow it to its source; she took a knee on the cockpit's canopy. With the careful placement of a gloved hand on the busted-in starshield to avoid glass, she peeked into the cabin.
Blood had dried into the upholstery and coagulated on the dashboard, but the smell of bodily metal had long since diffused. Even if it hadn't, much worse had failed to upset Damsy's iron stomach, but much less had tugged on her heartstrings. There was just so much indifferent that this veteran could be. Her mouth pulled into a frown, then she leaned further inside, her gaze taken by something solid. And shiny.
A set of dogtags.
Sharp pain shot down Damsy's arm towards her shoulder. Chit! So much for getting out of here uncut. Quickly untangling its neck chain from the hyperspace lever, she pulled back into the fresh air with dogtags in hand and landed on her backside in a patch of moss ever-so-slowly overtaking the outer hull. The pendants were both rusted over pretty good. Damsy couldn't read but a few Aurebesh characters:
No, no, they'd kill ya, Damsy corrected herself again. Stop bein' dumb. Just 'cuz you're spawn you don't have a free pass.
At least in that case being uncovered as a spawn wouldn't matter much from that point onwards.
Dagon Kaze
might come under some scrutiny, depending on how things swung, and for that Damsy felt responsible, a little sorry even, but not nearly enough to alter her trajectory. A goal was a goal; Sithspawn had to be freed. If he was half as smart as she thought he was, he wouldn't get involved.
She fumbled to find the amulet that dampened her natural connection to Bogan under her scarf, even more to unclasp it with a bleeding hand. When the talisman had been shoved into her jacket, static was allowed to crackle from her palm, dance across the dogtags and jump in between fingers like they were the prongs of her electrotrident. Orange-red sluffed off in flakes and blew away in Damsy's breath. She gave a finishing polish to one of the chrome faces with her thumbpad. She blinked at what she had revealed.
No. She couldn't watch the half of her former squad that Rodia hadn't decimated taken from her here. With a heave of energy, Damsy found the corners of the vision, gathered them up, and cast them away. She then threw her weeping palm across her chest, trying to abate the sudden burn erupting in her décolletage. A rumbling voice gripped her mind:
Ssssssee?!
Damsy didn't have time to say her name, but just did to stagger to her feet.
N-not now...
Sssssselfissssh Jedi!
Wait, wait, feth-!
The electricity was back in her hand before she knew what was happening, but with none of her control seconds prior. White bolts surged from her skin to split the sky. Damsy might have seen how far they traveled above the tree line if she hadn't had to look away. She had to drop the dogtags in her hand as they began to whiz with heat.
Our men are ccccccindersss!!
They had killed them. Why else would one of their pilots have Santori's identification?
Damsy shook her head and stumbled back, trying to jar Syreni's influence out of her head.
Of course, the spawn wasn't wrong, but she - the she that was altogether one - was better than throwing a Sith tantrum. That was such a Father thing to do. And she emphatically wasn't her father.
…Ashla.
She barely remembered to correct herself.
Looking at a downed starfighter - X-wing or TIE or gunship, or, or - never lost its edge. There was something about falling out of the sky that could not not twist up your gut, even if you hadn't ever had your wings clipped by enemy fire firsthand. Damsy glanced up from the angry blast holes chewed through one of the foils up through the clearing at the clear sky, but didn't find the reprieve she was hoping for. A number of tree trunks were permanently bowed by the ghosts of trajectory, branches snapped off at jagged angles from entrance velocity, patches of leaves missing and never to bloom again by way of ion heat. Though her eyes saw fluffy cumulus clouds and warm sunshine, her mind imagined what must have been - the dark gust of war, raining bits of earth.
It was why the air had been hanging heavy since touchdown. Or, rather, aura had been hanging heavy. Somewhere among her studies of the Sith in the Jedi Archives, Damsy had happened upon an abbreviated account of Dantooine. If she was going to start probing the outskirts of Sithy space for fellow spawn, she might as well start with the forest planet. Even if there was no work to be done here that could further her budding movement, it would be well worth a trip just to pay her respects to the Alliance's fallen. And maybe a few of the Confed's too. Maybe she had a special force tenure with the latter under her belt, still loved the hell out of
Luna Terrik
and the Omegas, but she couldn't get over the Confederate-Sith ties. That was one of the many benefits of being out of the service - being able to think for herself. Plus, she was taking up the GA flag. For how long, she didn't know. For now, it would do - that was all she cared to know.But now, in the field of bygone battle? Aura crushed, squeezed at her heart, and wouldn’t let go. The Force sung to her a melody she was all too familiar with; of death, of suffering, of void-cold and -empty hallelujahs.
At least the mud did let go as she picked up her feet to approach the wreckage stretching before her. She paused only long enough to climb from one foil to the next so she could pass over the creek trickling below the entire wing. She was about to jump back to the ground as soon as it was dry, but a beam of light caught her eye. It was gone as soon as it had come, but she had seen enough to be able to follow it to its source; she took a knee on the cockpit's canopy. With the careful placement of a gloved hand on the busted-in starshield to avoid glass, she peeked into the cabin.
Blood had dried into the upholstery and coagulated on the dashboard, but the smell of bodily metal had long since diffused. Even if it hadn't, much worse had failed to upset Damsy's iron stomach, but much less had tugged on her heartstrings. There was just so much indifferent that this veteran could be. Her mouth pulled into a frown, then she leaned further inside, her gaze taken by something solid. And shiny.
A set of dogtags.
Sharp pain shot down Damsy's arm towards her shoulder. Chit! So much for getting out of here uncut. Quickly untangling its neck chain from the hyperspace lever, she pulled back into the fresh air with dogtags in hand and landed on her backside in a patch of moss ever-so-slowly overtaking the outer hull. The pendants were both rusted over pretty good. Damsy couldn't read but a few Aurebesh characters:
[ ---or-- ------
--- ------ -17 - -
P-- 1-- ]
Nothing a little electricity couldn't fix. No one was here to see her use the Darkside - at least not any Jedi - but she glanced over her shoulder anyway. She couldn't say the same of the Sith, being in their territory and all, but what would they do? Tattle on her?No, no, they'd kill ya, Damsy corrected herself again. Stop bein' dumb. Just 'cuz you're spawn you don't have a free pass.
At least in that case being uncovered as a spawn wouldn't matter much from that point onwards.
Dagon Kaze
might come under some scrutiny, depending on how things swung, and for that Damsy felt responsible, a little sorry even, but not nearly enough to alter her trajectory. A goal was a goal; Sithspawn had to be freed. If he was half as smart as she thought he was, he wouldn't get involved.She fumbled to find the amulet that dampened her natural connection to Bogan under her scarf, even more to unclasp it with a bleeding hand. When the talisman had been shoved into her jacket, static was allowed to crackle from her palm, dance across the dogtags and jump in between fingers like they were the prongs of her electrotrident. Orange-red sluffed off in flakes and blew away in Damsy's breath. She gave a finishing polish to one of the chrome faces with her thumbpad. She blinked at what she had revealed.
[ Santori, Tavrie
CIS Daunt. 117 - Ω
Pvt 1Cl ]
An echo of the Force drew over Damsy's minds eye. Santori with Mavr and Qorbin walking down a hallway in Libra Gold. Technicolor erupted from the left, barely around a corner and -No. She couldn't watch the half of her former squad that Rodia hadn't decimated taken from her here. With a heave of energy, Damsy found the corners of the vision, gathered them up, and cast them away. She then threw her weeping palm across her chest, trying to abate the sudden burn erupting in her décolletage. A rumbling voice gripped her mind:
Ssssssee?!
Damsy didn't have time to say her name, but just did to stagger to her feet.
N-not now...
Sssssselfissssh Jedi!
Wait, wait, feth-!
The electricity was back in her hand before she knew what was happening, but with none of her control seconds prior. White bolts surged from her skin to split the sky. Damsy might have seen how far they traveled above the tree line if she hadn't had to look away. She had to drop the dogtags in her hand as they began to whiz with heat.
Our men are ccccccindersss!!
They had killed them. Why else would one of their pilots have Santori's identification?
Damsy shook her head and stumbled back, trying to jar Syreni's influence out of her head.
Of course, the spawn wasn't wrong, but she - the she that was altogether one - was better than throwing a Sith tantrum. That was such a Father thing to do. And she emphatically wasn't her father.
Last edited:
