Private Hair-Trigger

[Zaavik Perl]

On the surface, Zaavik didn't particularly seem phased. He returned a firm, indifferent regard to her glare. At once he could tell he crossed a line, but he wasn't going to show it. Why give up ground that you've earned? Small victories, and all that.

"She is only. My master. Call her that again and I'll slap that pretty pink skin of yours till it's red. Got it?"

Zaavik threw his hands up, palms toward Aradia in pacifistic, dismissive concession. Spinning back toward the front of the cockpit, he stretched his legs out under the console and leaned. A hand retrieved his holophone from an inner jacket pocket and he began fidgeting. When she burst forward, he didn't even so much as blink initially.

"And knowing none isn't knowing any! Feth-- I bet they teach you from outdated text books."

Another sideways glance, eyebrow raised. Did that really go over her head? Ironic. His eyes drifted back down to the holophone where they lingered as he tapped on it in silence. There were a few moments before he said anything, a light going off in his head.

"We learn something new every day. Like that I was taught from chitty textbooks, and that you think I'm pretty. What a world."

He smirked to himself with a smugness that was as well ever-so-slightly hostile.

 

[Darth Daiara]

His indifferent energy was the best thing he could have done for the moment. Without the opened confrontation she sat back, her arms crossing back over her chest.

She huffed into his pacifistic silence, resisting the urge to glance sideways at the device he fiddled with. Her foot twitched in agitation, shaking against her chair. What was he doing? Why wasn't he fighting with her? Didn't he know--

"We learn something new every day. Like that I was taught from chitty textbooks, and that you think I'm pretty. What a world."

"Wh-what?" She sputtered, her tension bursting into a more harmless avenue. "I do not-- I did not-- I said your skin is pretty, not your face. I don't like you-- it's just pink. It's a fact!"

 

[Zaavik Perl]

That wasn't the reaction he expected.

Even if he'd pretended to drop it for a moment, the opportunity to jab back was hard to resist. He was never one to simply sit and take anything. Furthermore, umbrage for her outburst had only made him more belligerent. It was much less instigating than it was trying to deny her the last word in their dispute. If not only because she seemed the flavor of stubborn that craved that kind of triumph.

Where he expected her to continue rebuke, instead she gasped and sputtered as if only just now noticing the red on her hands. His head turned halfway, eyes squinting her direction. All at once, he struck a subtle pose: man considering. "Uh-huh," he articulated slowly in a tone equal parts confused and skeptical. A blink broke eye contact and his gaze fled, leaving an awkward intermission.

Looking down at his right hand, he stretched it out for indication. "Yeah, pink, whatever- We gonna drop your massive vault to a conclusion now?"

 

[Darth Daiara]

Her eyes narrowed as he left her to squirm, the way he looked at her reeking of mischief or ill intent. They looked away in sync. She let out a shuddering breath, bristling with agitation.

"whatever- We gonna drop your massive vault to a conclusion now?"

"What does that mean?" She snapped back, his nonsensical words throwing her for an abrupt loop. That wasn't the bite back she was expecting. She turned, giving him a look that spoke volumes.

'R u on spice'

 

[Zaavik Perl]

He knew that look. That was the kind of look you gave spice-head when they started raving. Zaavik made an indignant frown. He'd never done spice in his life, despite the countless opportunities.

"What does that mean?" he echoed for emphasis, snarling.

"You know, the whole 'you can shove it up your ass' sentiment? Or did you get so flustered you suddenly forgot what we were arguing about? Huh?"

Asking if they were going to drop it only to argue about it again.

Nailed it.

 

[Darth Daiara]

phone posts for the day, if you snooping don’t judge

Aradia sputtered, the slight disorientation turning to a full tilting fall into confusion. How did she always end up here with him?

“What-EVER, if you weren’t so bipolar we wouldn’t even BE doing this so!” Pretty sure she had been the one to start this all, but he was the one that opened his mouth and started on her master!

Smoke coiled from her clenched fists, her anger surging to a sudden wave of gripping darkness. It was intoxicating, promising her justice. The wars had groomed her for its call. By habit, she nearly dived right in and set a ring of flames around-


She jerked up, cold freight killing the tension as she seemed to realize where she was. In her ship. Unharmed. Having a simple spat with-...

She looked down to her fist, the smoke dwindling to steam...

 

[Zaavik Perl]

"What-EVER," he mocked, doing his best to feminize his voice to her pitch. Throwing his voice was executed perhaps too well, nearly convincing aside from the exaggerated tone. A sharp exhale exited his nose with misguided contempt as he turned to his head back away. Chin rested on fist, blue light illuminating his face as he went back to the holodevice he'd been fidgeting with earlier.

Was there any reason not to get up and go to a different part of the ship and be done with it? Not unless you counted spite as a valid reason.

A few moments of mostly braindead tapping on the glassy screen were suddenly interrupted by a sizzling. Mechanical instincts became immediately alarmed. Several thoughts came to mind: bad switchboard, regulator fuse going out, hyperdrive transmission leaking, or worse. He flinched and began an erratic visual scan around the ship's control board and yoke modules. "Chit, do you hear-?"

Eyes caught smoke. He stopped. Lips pressed together flat, expanding in a straight line at the corners. A residual twinge of the dark hung in the air like a bad stench. Had she been about ready to fry him? Her eyes turned soonest to her fist as well, making her look about nearly off guard as he was.

"Uh."

The lower half of his face did a dance of uncertainty as he debated saying anything whilst still in mid articulation.

"You good?" he finally offered. There was a sincere dash of concern behind the leery reluctance of even asking. He braced for and expected another angry rebuke, as usual.

 

[Darth Daiara]

Her world walloped, the pull turning into a whisper that ran circles through soul. Use me.

Her eyes flickered closed, the ship fading out as the voice grew louder. His presence faded off. The reasons for her anger stopped mattering. She could have been in the trenches of a falling Academy for all she was aware, the precipice she stared down remained the same.

Her hand erupted into a ball of flame. She wavered, those blue eyes opening to a tinge of gold. Glowing gold.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

"Whoa," he cautioned. His eyes widened in cautious reverence of the conjured flame. A phantom sensation in his hand begot twitching of his fingers, a tactile anticipation of reaching for his lightsaber.

Did she want a fight? Surely she understood how terrible of an idea that was in a confined space, especially one that was the only shield between them and hyperspace. After the escape pod incidient, he figured they would have both grown a little in foresight. As far as he could tell, he certainly did at the very least.

The look in her eyes, though, may have betrayed ever her own intentions. The Dark Side of the Force rippled through the air with ethereal undulation. It felt more primal than malicious. If only he were a more trained empath, he might have gotten more nuance. As far as he could tell, though? Was she slipping?

"Hey, relax," he implored clemently.

 

[Darth Daiara]

"Don't tell me to relax," she hissed. If it wasn't for the look of panic in his eyes, the fire would have already been spat through the air. Something held her back from the spite that she spat through her words.

"I am relaxed. I don't care-- I don't--" Something tugged her attention to look around the ship, his concern finding its way through the force. The hairs on the back of her neck rose. Understanding awoke, but it was not as strong as the temptation.

She squeezed her fists open and shut, the fire flexing with the motion as she gave a confused jerk of her head.

"Stop playing with me, jedi." The words were a demand, but somewhere in there was desperate plea.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

"I'm not!" he insisted, shaking his head as he exclaimed with assured exasperation. He possessed enough self-awareness to know he could be dyspeptic, and sometimes confrontational without even realizing it. But surely he wasn't playing any game. Not even unintentionally, as sometimes manifested. There was no slip, no aggressive or acidic remark escaping before his brain could filter, no baiting tone of voice, nothing.

It took a moment for even the slighted inclination of her plea to register. "I'm not," he echoed. Softer, far more absent as he picked up on the voice behind her rebuke. Even if somewhere behind the curtain was a cry for help, what was he supposed to say? A direct approach might cause more problems than were already present. His brow furrowed.

"I'm not," A third time gave emphasis, though repetition was really due to a lack of any better sentiment. "Really. You sure you're good?"

 

[Darth Daiara]

Was she sure she was good?

She looked down at her hand, the flames of her fury still burning bright around her fist. How had she gotten here? She wasn't even sure. A voice in the back of her mind knew her temper was out of place. You don't smite peers over jokes. There was nothing here that called for the use of such power.

But it burned pure and strong through her, leaving her to feel large where a moment ago she had felt rather... small. She could blast a hole through this place. She could wipe that smirk away forever.


She swallowed hard, hearing herself just then. Another cold splash of shock hit her, the sith emperor flashing underneath her eye lids. Her nostrils flared, the fire snuffing out.

"Y-Yeah." She took a stumbling step back, paler as she tripped over her seat towards the door. "I'm going to-- bathroom--"

 

[Zaavik Perl]

Now it was Zaavik with the look on his face that questioned the sobriety of the one subjected to it.

"Uh-huh," he articulated skeptically as he watched her stumble back. He squinted, scrutiny and concern bore down, both blue, partitioned by a fleshy bridge in the center. Getting a read wouldn't be so easy, of course. The initial suspicion was that she wanted to burn him, and then reconsidered. But why? The plea he'd thought he'd picked up on would put a big chip in that suspicion.

Emotions and unspoken intentions were too abstract. Why couldn't she just use words?

Hypocritical as ever, Zaavik Perl.

"I'm going to-- bathroom--"

"Alright?" he conceded gingerly, still decidedly uncertain. He let her go without another inquiry, although he did surveil her retreat with an air of caution.

Was it a woman thing? A Sith thing? Maybe trying to simplify it was more of a hazard than a benefit. Before he knew it, he was feet on the dash, slumped into the seat in a way his spine wouldn't thank him for later. Contemplation sidetracked into useless holodevice fidgeting.