If perfection is stagnation, then Heaven is a swamp.

[Gabriel Sionoma]

She might have to give up this particular venture, have a go at another round. As far as he could tell, this game was heading towards a draw. Honey brown eyes stared back at her, the quirk of her eyebrow not missed nor the pressing of determination.

Holding out his hand for the pen, he scratched his brow sleepily, wondering what made her think to bring up this game. Sure, a distraction was fun, but tic-tac-toe? Maybe a habit picked up from childhood or maybe one born through adulthood, where idleness was needed without a commitment of time. Or maybe just a spur of the moment idea. He wasn't sure which option he would prefer.

For just a moment, he considered letting her win. But he assumed she would see right through that. Full steam ahead. O on the right edge.

O | _ | _
X | X | O
O | | X

[member="Cerusia Darke"]

 

[Cerusia Shamalain]

A mirrored conclusion had already formed in the woman's head just after seeing where he made his mark. They were equally matched it seemed in the game of Noughts and Crosses and there was little doubt in her mind that this particular match was about to come to a draw. She had a desire to simply tear, crumple, start over, but Cera was a woman that saw things through.

She crossed an X into the bottom center.

O | _ | _
X | X | O
O | X | X

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

To the very end, it seemed. He gave a smirk as she handed the notepad back over, showing the obvious conclusion. Taking a breath in, picking up an uncooked piece of vegetable, he crunched on it as he looked the diagram over. Ticking his tongue across the top of his mouth, he pursed his lips as he looked back towards her. Dragging his free hand across the paper, he ripped the piece out. Once free of the rings, he folded the paper in half and then back over on itself. Lifting the warm mead up, he placed the paper underneath and redrew the diagram.

O in the bottom right corner. Maybe mix things up a bit.

_ | _ | _
_ | _ | _
_ | _ | O

[member="Cerusia Darke"]​

 

[Cerusia Shamalain]

A good humored smile watched these things happen. Another bite of dinner, chewing of food and thought alike. These little games were a habit created out of necessity when Desdemona was but a little child. Noughts and Crosses. Cat's Cradle. Points and Boxes. Little strategic challenges that had come out of a woman whose patience had frayed beyond belief. She recalled now with great clarity the day it all began. Des had been tearing around their condo on Coruscant with her training saber at the ripe age of seven, wreaking every sort of calamity and chaos you could imagine. Cerusia had spent all that day chasing after her, admonishing the child, taking away her things only to find her with them again a short while later.

Des had been nothing short of a demonseed spawn and Cera blamed it entirely upon her father.

Desdemona Shamalain, sit down this instant.

Five minutes. It took only five minutes before the girl started kicking her feet at the table legs and pushing things off the table with the Force. If not for the extreme exasperation of her prodigal power and control of the Force she might've tried a little harder to nurture those things. Sadly at that point in her life Cera was less experienced and skilled with such things than her own daughter. She had no idea how to control her, how to give those abilities purpose. So instead, in a last ditch effort, she'd slapped a paper down with an empty set-up just like Gabriel now produced.

Strangely it worked. Des' curiosity and incessant need to win made her focus very hard on trying.

A smile of warmth, of fondness for such a pale, distant memory surfaced on Cera's face. Off-hand cradling her chin, she reached forward to mark an X in the top left corner.

X | _ | _
_ | _ | _
_ | _ | O

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

It was interesting how the tone of the circumstance changed so quickly. How his moments of her asking her questions were returned with smiles and mixed expressions of curiosity and furrowed brows. Now, there was a warmth to her that he hadn't known before, not really. Even her aura showed it and he only hoped that a portion of that was his doing, that his being there helped in some way. Not that it would have changed things, he was stubborn in that way. Incapable of knowing the limits and social norms even for those who were capable of vocally refuting him, he wondered what she would say to him if she could. He'd like to know the stories that moved behind those vibrant eyes, the experiences that pushed her hand to her chin now.

Raking his mustache quietly, he pursed his lips behind his hand as he tapped the pin against the notepad. The indents of former inscriptions could be seen in the right light, addresses written by former tenants or angry messages left for Sitka. Though he wondered what that woman could actually do to stir anything beyond the sense of familiarity and comfort. She was a kind spirit, even amidst all the recent misfortune.

Intent on not being the gentlemen, as he felt inclined, he gave a shrewd smile, looking up from the notepad to the woman. As he placed an O in the bottom left corner.

X | _ | _
_ | _ | _
O | _ | O

[member="Cerusia Darke"]​

 

[Cerusia Shamalain]

Didn't need to have Farsight to see where this was going. The shrewd smile was enough to tell the woman exactly how this would end. A game far too simple for minds like theirs, no doubt. For a child like Desdemona? It had been a challenge the first few times for the little 7 year old until she figured out strategy. Hadn't taken long - it was a skill she had already been practicing since the day she could walk, she just wasn't consciously aware of it at that point.

A soft puff of breath was the only sound of silent amusement. Cera took the pen and hovered over the tablet.

Here? No. Here. No. Perhaps here... no.

Here.

The woman placed the tip of the pen against pad at the bottom center...

and drew a circle, and then a line through all three.

She fixed [member="Gabriel Sionoma"] with an easy, wry smirk.

X | _ | _
_ | _ | _
O | O | O

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

He stuck out a bottom lip, just a bit, enough to give some semblance of pouting. She had taken the fight out of the match and did so with an almost sarcastic smile. He couldn't hold his feigned expression for long before a frown slowly turned over, forming a slight smile, as he looked towards the woman quietly. She knew she had lost as soon as he put the second symbol down, a clarity that each move and placement would have been followed by another aggressive move on his part. For all his attempts at humility and pacifism, he was spiritually aggressive. Much to Ava's chagrin, it was the fibers woven into his being. But in the same vein, he knew when to win and when to lose. And despite his advantage, he would have been fine with the latter.

Taking the pen in hand, he filled in each circle before drawing a smiley face beneath the diagram. Letting out a sigh, food grown cold, he replaced the tin and pushed away from the table. With a stretch and a now normal scratch of the beard, he approached one of the knick knack stands. Stroking the hair of a wooden doll, made of dried hay and thatch, he smiled and rubbed his eyes.

"It's getting late. Got an early morning tomorrow, might be smart to head to bed." He placed the wooden figurine down and approached the table, finishing off the cup of mead before placing the half full bottle back into the satchel. "See you in the morning?" He looked at her with a slight raise of the eye brow, unsure of her morning habits. As far as he could remember, this was the most amount of time they had ever spent together. Relaxed and quiet, her nature still wasn't entirely familiar to him. Especially with her item gone, he would have assumed she want to get straight to it.

But in the same thought, he realized that such loss could bring an exceptionally sleepless night. The sort he had known back on Sullust, sitting in a chamber near the breath of volcanoes and the maddening sound of a planet constantly churning. For Cera, that ache was within her, planet sized void constantly turning over, looking for that lost piece of herself. At least, that's how he imagined she would feel, left alone to think on her thoughts. Hopefully, for the moments that passed, he had provided some small measure of distraction.

[member="Cerusia Darke"]​

 

[Cerusia Shamalain]

Cera had no expectations of getting any sleep tonight for the very reasons that Gabriel supposed she might not. But, given a glance towards a clear sky with a waxing moon, it wouldn't matter much anyway. Eyes of pale blush watched his movements as he packed up and her own hands moved to mimic, covering containers and tins to keep the contents fresh for another meal. Hunger had not been a driving need tonight - not nearly so much as finding solitude in a day full of turmoil.

She was content with what had been found and, yes, it had been his own doing. Surely a night without pleasant company, spent alone reading books would not have lifted her mood this much. Gabe had successfully re-routed what could have been a drop into a downward mental spiral for her and for this she was grateful. A gentle smile indicated this much as she stood and gave a nod. Here ... or perhaps outside. It was difficult to say just where she would be when the sun rose again, but it would not be far.

That was the plan, anyway.

As Gabe made to pack away his things she took quiet steps towards him, pausing just off to the man's side. A moment of hesitation held her there, arms loosely crossed beneath the folds of her shawl. Cera waited for him to still in his movements before slowly leaning inwards, upwards, to plant a kiss on his cheek. It was the only way she felt she could communicate her thanks for his help. Without him there the shop would be naught but smoldering cinders and she would likely still be out cold in the swamp - her stolen artifacts half a starsystem away and lost to the great expanse of the galaxy. The tuskcat would have died, too, drowned in the muck.

She lingered there longer than was probably normal, thinking that these dinner dates were becoming increasingly more unorthodox with each meeting, before stepping away to her door.

[member="Gabriel Sionoma"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

Eyes widened at the expression, the kiss against his cheek, as he caught just the hint of her scent. Perhaps the moment was long, perhaps it wasn't long enough. Perhaps it was a nice way to end what felt like an excruciatingly long day, with a nicer dinner date to top it off. As she pulled away from him, he met her eyes with his own quiet stare, a small smile at the corner of his mouth. She wasn't one to say thanks, not in the usual sense. Which was fine, this felt more meaningful.

"Morning then. Good night, Cera."

Finding the door to the hallway, he opened it and closed it quietly behind him, pausing in the hallway to think for a moment. Shaking his head, he opened the door to his room and laid down in bed. Restless, stuck in thoughts of the days and other time spent on Annaj, he tried his best to get some rest.

~~~​

​

"Yeah?"
"Yeah. We found him holed up in some abandoned building down in the business sector."
"Yeah, I know the area well enough..."
"Really?"
"Mm-yeah. Did you find any particular items on him?"
"No, nothing except a few weapons and an empty satchel."

Gabe leaned over the table, sunlight shining through to a view of what was left of the village.

"Empty satchel...covered in mud?"
"Yeah, how did you know?"
"Nevermind. Some pretty important items were in the satchel, we need to find them."
"Gotcha. Well, we can start our interrogation but my hands are pretty tied. Ever since the Fringe departed from the sector, we've been adhering to a safer code of conduct."
"Fair enough, that adheres to Alliance guidance as well. Though we may need to get creative."
"Nothing wrong with a bit of imagination."

Gabe gave a laugh and sipped the ceramic cup of caf, provided earlier by Sitka. "Listen, I appreciate the help with this. I owe you."

"Not a problem. Bastards, the whole lot of 'em. I'm sorry we couldn't have helped more."
"Don't worry about it. We'll get it all sorted out."
"Sure thing. See you in a bit."

Shutting the communication device, he looked towards the satchel and the half drunk bottle of wine. Thinking back to the night before, he smiled and gave himself a bit of time to wake up. Finish his drink, get ready to take the Viper to the Ayrou police headquarters.

[member="Cerusia Darke"]​

 

[Cerusia Shamalain]

"I've got this liniment salve I found in the cupboard. Not sure how old it is but... smells fine. This stuff never goes bad. It'll be here after the cockroaches take over."

Cerusia stood by the head of the tuskcat, holding the beast in a state of calm while Sitka tended to the blaster wound on its haunch. There wasn't much in the area for animal wound care, so rummaging through the inn had been this morning's great effort. Some gauze, old towels to clean the gashes, a frozen leg of something to keep the cat occupied while the alcohol stung away bacteria.

"This has got to be the biggest cat I've ever seen, and I thought my old tomcat was a big one. I don't imagine keeping her fed is really an easy task," the woman shook her head, scooping a large dollop of faded yellow salve onto her hand and smearing it across the cat's haunch. A glance over to Cera as the motion of her hands gave her a cracked smile, "what on earth is she hunting in the swamps? Rats? No...don't tell me, I probably don't want to know. If it's rats she can have 'em all. What do you call her anyway?"

A wayward look from the reticent woman. Cera had never a need for a name, though a name it had. She communicated with the cat through empathy and that had been all she needed to bond with it. She thought back to the name given by her young sister Amore and lifted her hands to sign out the letters. Sitka peered at her over the cat's rump.

"T...u...l - Tulla?"

Tuskcat perked at the sound and gave a swish of her tail.

"Well isn't that pretty. Tulla-cat. Your sister named her, didn't she?" Sitka sneered and gave a bark of a cackle at Cera's nod, "well I can't say much I suppose. I named my tomcat Stubs because he was missing half his tail. Why don't I grab the hose and we can clean off the rest of this mud..."

Fifteen minutes later Cera was trotting down the main street after a half-drenched tuskcat trailing its chain. Apparently even tuskcats weren't a fan of hoses.

[member="Gabriel Sionoma"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

He threw the saddle bag over his shoulder and pulled the door open, cracking his neck. He got a few hours of sleep, maybe more than Cera, least he had that silver lining. He still thought of her though, worried sick over her item. Absentmindedly, he spun the ring on his finger, closest thing he knew to a holocron or item of that caliber. Closing the door behind him, he met Sitka as she was moving back into the lobby, clapping her hands free of some grime.

"You seen Cera?"

He scratched his nose and looked at the fire sleepily, then back to the woman.

"Aye..." She spoke, almost suspiciously. Likely so cause of the drowsiness, despite the claims of the strong cup of caf in Annaj. "She's out walking Tulla, drying 'em off I think."

"Tulla?"

"Aye, Tulla-cat."

"Tulla-cat?"

"The Tusk cat, you oaf! Don't you pay attention?" She waved at the air, chores taking up her attention as she walked down the hall.

"No, I guess I don't..."

And old man piped up from the countertop, scratching his bald head. "Don't mind her. She's just taking it out on you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Seems I burned the eggs this morning. But between you and me, I kind of like it that way."

Gabe gave a smile and shook his head, walking out from the lobby into the morning sun. It wasn't long before he found Cera, walking quietly with the tusk cat trotting behind. Smirking, he approached with his hands clasped, wincing in the sun. He gave the beast a bit of a look, noticing the attempts made to heal its wounds. By and large, it looked like it was fairing well. That was good.

Eyes diverting from Tulla back to Cera, he bobbed his head, looking for the words.

"They found the pirate. Have him held up in police custody." He paused. "He didn't have your items, but they have to still be on planet. He's likely just hiding them somewhere, to use for leverage."

[member="Cerusia Darke"]​

 

[Cerusia Shamalain]

Cera had no sleep to speak of, but it wasn't something written on her face. She looked awake, fresh, happy to be back in her own clothes - the same traveling garb he'd seen on her when picking up the supply shipment in town before. A long brown duster of soft leather over black fitted pants and a pale blue blouse. Shawl wrapped over her shoulders and pulled as a hood over her head shielded the woman's face from most of the sun but he would feel an undercurrent of energies at work around her.

The Force staving off the ruin of her skin from the sun's harmful rays. Her cheeks and hands were a bit pinker than usual, were he to look close enough. The little chase down the main road after the cat had been distraction enough to keep the protective aura going.

Eyes of soft violet met him as he approached, blinking shortly at the news before narrowing as he continued. So close...and yet so far. But she would not abide by some criminal using her personal affects as leverage for anything. A sharp gleam took her gaze, fuchsia bleeding into that baby-purple hue while brows set rigidly down over top.

Tulla nudged Cera at her back with a rumbling grunt. Woman ignored cat, fingers tightening over its lead. A moment was taken to break eye contact with him before she burnt a hole straight through his head, allowing it to glance hither-tither as she struggled with the emotions beginning to boil unchecked within. They landed on him again, striking and expectant. Clearly she was not ready to simply sit idle while the local militia handled this situation.

[member="Gabriel Sionoma"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

He tongued his teeth as he matched her stare, like watching a pot of water boil. Scratching his chin, he looked up towards the burned rooftops and pursed his lips.

"I had mind towards taking you to the headquarters, we could question him together..." He looked back towards her, that fire burning quite evidently. "Unless you'd rather stay here, let the chief handle things?" He smirked as he raised a thumb behind him, pointing in the direction of his vehicle.

"Star Viper is over there. We can take it and be to the sector in half an hour." He readjusted the saddle bag as he narrowed his eyes towards the woman, looking after her with a lowered chin. Despite everything, she seemed refreshed if not slightly relaxed, despite this flare up. It was an odd dichotomy, and properly fitting clothes to boot. He had changed, but his outfit carried the same flack vest he wore the day before. A few nick knacks, a shining badge and identification card, and a ring upon his finger. Beyond that, he was dressed in unremarkable fashion.

Nothing indicative of his position as Hound. More closely resembling the garb of a Sheriff, just trying to keep the peace.

"We wont stop until we get your item back."

[member="Cerusia Darke"]​

 

[Cerusia Shamalain]

A very small voice at the back of her thoughts told her it was probably a better idea to stay here. To wait it out. Let the locals earn their paychecks, do things their way. Stop tempting these dark compulsions within - they won't lead to anything good.

This voice was very easily lost within the roar of emotions tied to her loss and that criminal's gain. Gabriel's words fanned and fueled those flames. She nodded, eyes darkening, and gave Tulla's lead a tug to garner the cat's attention. A short walk later and the tuskcat was returned to the shed. Sitka was kind enough to provide a frozen roast to keep it complacent.

"Give him hell," the inn keeper called after Cera as the woman strode, reddening hands in her jacket pockets, to join Gabe and follow him to his ship.

[member="Gabriel Sionoma"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

The ramp descended from the ship like a metal tongue. A bit bigger than a bomber, the craft was modeled after the original Star Viper but given extra room to act more closely to a cargo vessel's need. And allowed long distance travel in a more comfortable manner, sleeping arrangement and eating area, but nothing luxurious. It was a refit and rebuild Gabe had procured from his brother, a standing project within the heart of Selvaris.

Stepping up the ramp, Cera followed with her usual quiet self, the words of encouragement from Sitka still ringing in his ear. The woman was nice, to Cera. Seemed Gabe would simply get the brunt of her attitude, never managing to do anything right. Felt like home, for some reason. Too bad they weren't taking the Star Viper. Grabbing the keys to the speeder, the bike descended from the belly as they strode back down the ramp. Recent restrictions still weren't allowing movement in air space without specific clearances. The likes of which neither of them currently had.

Mounting the bike, he motioned for Cera to sit behind him and hold on. When she was ready, the vehicle would peel out from the village en route to Ayrou Sector. The wind cut hard against his face as the glass shield came up, deflecting insects and the like. Knowing she'd likely not hear him over the sound of wind and the bike, he spoke as he had back in the swamp, to Tulla.

A couple hundred years ago, I ran with this mercenary group. The current boss wasn't born during my initiation but...he eventually joined and ascended the ranks. Somewhere along the way, he betrayed me. The squeal of the bike erupted as he cut hard, dodging a fallen tree on the main road. And I repaid him by killing his grandson. Or maybe it was his great grandson. He shook his head. It was over ten years ago. And it effectively ended his blood line. He sniffed, looking over his shoulder to the woman for a brief moment. I don't know if it's related, I expect it isn't. But this prisoner wears the crest of that same mercenary group.

[member="Cerusia Darke"]​

 

[Cerusia Shamalain]

She could not remember the last time she'd been on a speeder. As a matter of fact Cerusia had a hard time recalling if she had ever. Surely it had happened, but for failings of her present mind and memories traipsing through her thoughts like sand through fingers she couldn't say. Brief flickers of images showed her visions of her daughter on the back of a speeder bike, arms latched around the middle of a young Devin VanDerveld, peeling off across the sands of Korriban for yet another day of exploration. Her brows knit as she took the seat behind Gabriel and notched the heels of her boots over the indicated pegs.

Her arms wrapped loosely around the man's middle just below the shell of his vest only to grab tighter as he sped off down along the town lane.

Hunkered down, face pressed against Gabe's back to keep out of the wind, the tension of her grasp could likely be felt. It didn't ease up as his voice entered her thoughts - opening an inherent connection back to his own mind that exposed him to all manner of emphatic energies she gave off, consciously formed and not. The story grew in her a desire to do to this criminal the same thing that she'd done to his accomplice in the swamp and it caused her fingers to curl into fists where they clutched at his abdomen.

That tiny voice was back, reminding her this probably wasn't a good idea. Cera felt a twitch of distaste and forcibly shut that voice out for good.

[member="Gabriel Sionoma"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

Feeling the rise and fall of her body, breathing, against his back. He suddenly realized that he hadn't been as close to this woman as he had now, even in the dimly lit confines of the room in the inn. Playing a simple game of tic-tac-toe, he felt he had gotten to know her more than he had on any other occurrence preceding it. Still, no words were spoken, but he was coming to comfortable terms with the notion that they didn't need to be. The flash of expression, the movement of cogs behind vibrant pink eyes, it was enough to remind him that she was in fact speaking. He was just in need of learning her language. Something he felt he was making decent strides in.

But as he spoke to her, through the force, he felt a vacuum filled by the musings within her mind. Not words so much as feelings, the sense of grief and loss that fueled an anger. The sort he had seen in the swamp, prior to his bludgeoning, and the occasional flash of it through pinned eyes and deep intent. It wasn't so much darkside as it was resolve, desire to have what she wanted and desire to seek revenge against those who would take from her. And what she wanted, right now, was her holocron and the writings held within the satchel. And he wanted those things too, if only to see her no longer parted with them. To no longer feel her anger in expression and aura. Releasing his right hand from the throttle, he pressed his palm against the top of her hands and breath a sigh of peaceful aura. The best he could do, to stall the tide.

We will get your items back. I promise.

The speeder raced through the cut path before arriving in the sector, forests and swamps overtaken by an insurgence of framed structures and sky scrapers. Even so, it closely resembled a marriage between nature and framework, long and thick vines crunching into the duracrete structures with stabbing runners, ascending upward beyond the light suffocating infrastructure. They arrived at the precinct within the promised time period and were greeted by a dark skinned human, one who seemed to recognize Gabriel immediately. The Hound stepped from the bike and met him with a handshake, looking back towards Cera.

"Any luck?"
"None, he's kept quiet and our hands are tied."
"Right." Gabe scratched his chin.
"Yeah, I know. Tough situation."
"Yeah, but I think I have a solution."
"Oh?"

Gabe pulled out some paperwork and directed the man over to the bike. He looked towards Cera with dark eyes and gave a smile. "You must be Cerusia. Gabe here has told me all about you. Sorry to hear about your loss and the damage."

"Here..." Gabe waved him on over. "Paperwork here has me listed as a leader of the Hounds, member of the NJO and Galactic Alliance, and task leader of the Sulon Law Enforcement Expeditionary Group. Pertinent one being the Galactic Alliance and SLEEG."
"I don't know where this is going..." The Chief crossed his arms, smiling. "But I like it so far. Keep going."
"In our charter for SLEEG, one of the components provides that inability to adhere to transfer of jurisdiction when a threat, considered One Sith or Sith in nature, is foreseen, it is considered a declaration of concession for the Sith. And an act of war towards the Galactic Alliance."
"Are you claiming these figures are One Sith or Sith in nature?" The Chief looked towards Gabe sternly. "I'm assuming the Galactic Alliance can use whatever means necessary for questioning?"
"Yes and yes."
"Well then. I guess you leave me no choice." He waved Gabe and Cera on approvingly, with a laugh. "We'll get you in and get this sorted out. I'm assuming under your charter, you can't be filmed during questioning either?"
"Not under charter, but it's a preference."
"Of course."

He looked towards Cera and cracked his neck as they entered the precinct and were escorted to the back interrogation room. He would have to be on guard with her, he had no intent on using whatever means were necessary. And he had no intent on letting her, either.

[member="Cerusia Darke"]​

 

[Cerusia Shamalain]

What little calm had been offered, any assurance at all, quickly dissolved at the exchange between Gabe and the man in charge of the investigation. It wasn't that Cerusia had no faith in the people of Annaj ... but she had no faith in the people of Annaj to get her things back.

Frustration. That slow seething of anger. She felt her bones begin to redden like hot coals, starting her blood to that low, steeping simmer. The woman maintained herself by keeping her focus on the here and now, following the words back and forth with nothing but the tracking of her gaze, and when Gabe moved to enter she followed in a prickly silence.

[member="Gabriel Sionoma"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

He could feel the anger in her, the frustration. Not that it wasn't warranted, it just felt somewhat unprovoked. Like she had no faith in the matter at all. But she had been on Annaj for longer than him, maybe she knew something he didn't. He still retained hope, hope that with the right plying, the matter would be solved quickly.

"Here."

The Chief handed them a jacket and a clipboard of papers. Gabe looked it over and flipped through the pages, looking back towards the Chief. "His possessions, I take it."

"Right you are. Now, I can't tell you how to go about this. But I will say that he doesn't respond to threats."

"Yeah, I imagine he wouldn't. Not with the regiment he comes from." He looked towards the Chief and rolled the paper up, handing the clipboard back. "Don't worry, you'll have your prisoner when we're done questioning him. Shouldn't be long."

He looked towards Cera and handed the paper over for her to read. Fingerprint scans didn't reveal much, DNA scans revealed the haggard age of 35 and human descent. History of crime but nothing specific, everything was accusatory without any trials or concrete implications. Opening the door, the room had a slight buzz to it as the prisoner looked back from across the table. Gabe motioned for Cera to sit as he closed the door behind her.

"15 years?" He looked towards the prisoner, fanning out the jacket as he laid it across the table. Three chevrons across the shoulder, stitched patches, as he looked towards the man. His expression was enough to confirm it as he pressed his finger against the patch. "Pretty new, you must have been within a year of the recognition. Congratulations." He turned the jacket over, inspecting it. "When I ran with the group, everyone had mercenary armor. The chevrons were welded on to the pauldron. Boss liked to have it done while we were wearing it, made us strong he said. How's he doing these days?"

"Fine!"

"Oh, is that so?" Gabe scoffed as he looked at the forearm of the jacket, marks to account for number of kills. "Because last time I spoke with him, I was busy killing his grandson and everyone he had brought with him. Well, not exactly me, but technicalities really."

"That was you?!?" He tried to stand, cuffed to the chair and table. Shaking against the seat, he seethed. "My brother was in that group!"

"Well, my brother killed your brother. And then your bosses progeny." He held out his hands. "The circle of life." The answers provided were enough to tell him that they weren't here for him. So that left two options. One, they were here for Cera and were aware of her living in the swamps. And as such, that indicated some sordid history Gabe wasn't aware of. Or two, this was all simply circumstance and chance and Cera was a victim of misfortune.

"I'll kill you!"

"Maybe...maybe not. Who knows?" Gabe smiled as he leaned away from the table, still feeling the pulsing anger of Cera and how it resonated against him. Scratching his forearm, tattoos and scars alike, he cracked his neck. "18 marks, 18 deaths, 16 years of service. Within the group, you've had over one marked kill per calendar year. Not bad." He facially shrugged as he circled the prisoner, the training from SLEEG taking over, as he leaned over the back of the prisoner and whispered. "Jerrik has grown soft in his old age. Back in the old days, you got a lash across the back for every kill. And you wore it as a badge." He chuckled as he patted the man on the back, who bucked in response. "I'm sure you're quite mighty though."

"So here is the rub, John Carenter..." He cracked his knuckles as he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "I'm not going to offer you release. Or pardon, or escape from this planet. I'm not going to offer you a reduced sentence or any form of leniency. I'm going to offer you life. Tell me where you stowed the items or she..." He gestured towards Cera. "Is going to finish the work she started in the swamp."

Was it a bluff? Yes. Truth of the matter was that he was already feeling his way through the mans mind, the touch of the shoulder a gateway with pyschometry. Even mid discussion, he was stepping back through the mans steps to find the stolen items. And right now, he was treading across cavernous stone as the buildings faded away to the sight of darkness and the sounds of waves crashing against rock.

[member="Cerusia Darke"]​

 

[Cerusia Shamalain]

Despite being the victim of this man's crimes Cera felt herself as part of the interrogation as much as the man sitting across from her. Even as every question, every word poured with purpose and meticulously calculated syllables from Gabriel's mouth she felt the rising tide of simmering anger boil beneath the surface. It had nothing to do with being warranted and everything to do with an inability to keep that corrupted, broken side of her soul in check without her holocron near.

It was as if the man had taken her child and stowed it away somewhere.

Now she was here with him in reach, his putrid scent invading her senses, his voice cracking in her eardrums. Nails across a chalkboard that made her soul sizzle vehemently. Cera didn't have her lightsaber on her this time but she wouldn't need it. Fingers that had never once enacted violence upon another were willing and aching to rend him limb from limb.

Bringing her in with him might not have been Gabriel's best idea of the day.

[member="Gabriel Sionoma"]