Not About Angels

[Tydeus of Tion]

"Trandoshans," Korr muttered under his breath in response to the aside.

The Jedi Master always heard, but seldom truly listened. A boulder in the forest might hear the wind whispering across the mossy surface, but where the trees rustled and bent at the wind's cloying demands the boulder remained rooted fast. An immovable chunk of weathered stone, scarred and pitted by the elements. Lightning flash and thunder rumble. Still the boulder would remain.

And still I sit. Ryan tried to recall the names of those from his padawan class who were still alive and in the light. Too few. Too fething few.

He stared sullenly at his captor as she approached, wondering what Quinn would do if she found herself in such a cage. Probably throw herself against the walls until she could no longer stand. Strange how he always ended up falling afoul of the most stubborn women in the galaxy. This captor looked to be of a similar manner. Few words. Little sympathy.

Ryan scooted forward slightly, eyeing the food hungrily, stopping only when she demanded he remain still.

"Scaldingly so, I'd imagine."

The Jedi licked parched lips.

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

 

[Skye Mertaal]

"Enough to be uncomfortable."

One finger hit a code, followed by a biometric scan. The red light switched to green, and in the next second, the shimmering walls of the Force cage came down. Crouching down, she set the plate beside him.

The cup of tea, however, she brought forward towards the Grand Master's hands. Cuffed as they were, he wouldn't be able to move much other than take a hold of the mug and bring it to his lips. By all accounts, he could toss the hot tea at the Hunter and perhaps make a break for it. It was a risk, but it was also a sign. She wasn't out to kill him. Harm was another thing, but that depended if he tried her patience.

"Drink slowly. You'll start to feel it soon enough." she very carefully set it between his hands, ensuring that they would curl around the warm mug. Once done, she sat herself cross legged on the floor. Taking a rather wicked looking shiv from her boot sheath, she took the apple in her left hand. Without further ado, the sharp edge of the blade cut the golden waxy exterior. Swiping it from top to bottom, juice beading along the blade, the Hunter cut wedges large enough for a few bitefuls.

"Eat." she told him, handing him one of the wedges, very much aware that his hands were currently busy. Yes, she was holding the wedge of an apple to hover just over his lips.

Staring at him through that grey eye and cherry red ocular patch, it was enough to make one wonder. Wonder if she was watching him in daring or outright challenge.

Come on Korr, would your Jedi pride outweigh your need to eat?

[member="Ryan Korr"]

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

The energy shields deactivated with a welcome hiss. A single, questioning brow arched a fraction. The other lowered. Few mercenaries he knew of would be so bold. He felt the Force swirl through him, a river of calming light and purity that brought him centeredness. A simple gesture. A pressing, invisible hand crushing her against the wall. Ryan, walking free. So easy. Too easy.

A lifetime spent fighting Sith leaves one wary of traps and illusions, with things almost never what they seemed to be at first blush.

Ryan accepted the cup with outstretched, cuffed hands the surface warm to the touch. He held it to his nose, sniffing deep, wondering if he had been wrong about the poison. The woman herself sat cross-legged directly in front of him. This close, he could better see his captor.

A single disc of silver glinted beneath a web of chestnut strands. The other eye gleamed a disconcerting red. Sun-kissed skin glowed an olive hue, telling of days spent beneath the elements. Hunting bounties like him? The lines of her face curved exotically. A slightly upturned nose above pouting lips. Short of stature, but body lithe and hard as a whipcord. Rude of him to stare, but it had been established that the woman cared little for common niceties when it came to her captives.

The shiv sliced through the apple. Korr's eyes fell to the fruit as she offered it to him, fingers over his lips. He caught the faintest scent of lemon, or was it pine? The smell of hydraulic fluid pervaded the entire ship and quickly smothered all else. Ryan took the wedge of apple in his teeth and bit down hard, crushing the fruit between the back molars. A rush of crushed juice spilled into his mouth. He chewed, swallowed.

Too trusting.

In her ability to subdue him, or in the assumption that he would comply willingly.

"Well," he held out his hands, still holding the cuffs, "you've got me cuffed, caged and compliant." ​Eating out of your hand, more like. "Do I get any explanations, or will this be a long walk and a short drop?"

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

 

[Skye Mertaal]

That single orb of slate rose to meet twin storms. A shadow swept over her eye, and if possible that red crimson light flared just a millimeter.

Her lid fell, turning to the apple. The blade rose, swept across and sliced another wedge. This one she brought to her mouth.

"You are trouble and bring trouble, Korr." she said simply, chewing quietly before taking another swipe at the apple. The bridge of her forehead furrowed, the dark slash of that singular brow sliding forward. She held out another apple wedge.



Kotsokshhâskatulnwit.

This time, what she said next was said with a mild sense of confusion. As if the Hunter were busy trying to discern why.


"Someone is after you."

That was putting it lightly. No Trandoshan would off themselves with little disregard to the Scorekeeper. That didn't make sense. That grey disc shot back up. At this distance, she couldn't miss the distinct characteristics of his face. His jaw was a straight shot of bone, his lips full, the hollows under his cheeks casting heavy shadows. One could not miss the rather aristocratic air about him, as if he were looking down at others, holding himself aloof.

Which could very well be his Jedi Training. In her experience, that was exactly how they carried airs about them. Ryan Korr being the Grand Master was no different.

Skye had her prejudices; there was no denying that. There was bad history and bad blood between her and the Jedi Order. Between her and the Republic. Enough to colour what she thought of them and their methodologies of acting, or more appropriately, standing on the sidelines while worlds burned.



[member="Ryan Korr"]

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

Muscles writhed in his jaw as he ground his teeth. Easier to tame a nexu than drag an iota of information from this woman. Her words provoked an unbidden stab in his heart. Trouble, yes. Trouble followed him like a plague followed rats, like fire followed the wind. A list of names lay etched into his mind, every bit as clear in his mind as the scars upon his body. Of the ones who'd died and of the ones he'd failed to save.

Ket Vistas. Who might he have become if I'd been stronger? How many would I have saved if I'd struck him down before he became that monster, Odium.

"Tell me something new," he growled, irritated by the way she managed to poke at old scabs while simultaneously revealing nothing.

He scowled at the offered wedge. "I don't know who they are. I don't know who you are and I don't know what you want with me. I am completely and utterly in the dark."

And I very much doubt you'll be shining any light on me.

Out of his other list, the one full of enemies, he could name very few who wanted him alive and whole. She'd shown him a certain precise measure of kindness. No more than was necessary, he thought. "Why feed me? Why bandage my wounds?"

Gray eyes glared at her, defiant as drawn steel.

"But if you'll not answer my questions, then I'll not waste my breath."

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

 

[Skye Mertaal]

His voice was a low, deep rumble in his solid chest. Those arching brows drew down, thick lashes against his high, regal cheekbones. Like a Bha'lair prowling the borders of his cage, he glowered at her with the stormy defiance of a man frustrated by the situation.

Not a Jai.

Her eye narrowed, an a cherry ocular zoomed in on his face in tandem. In that, he managed in a few seconds where most failed. He piqued her interest. Since he scoffed at the apple wedge, she gave a shrug of her shoulder. Drawing it back to her lips, she slipped it into her mouth. Sticky juice saturated fingers were licked by the flare of her pink tongue before it swept over her teeth in contemplation.

"I'm taking you to Clan Rekali." she told him, setting the apple down beside him. The shiv pointed to the tea. "Drink." a reminder, one said as if she were a medic reminding her patient to take his medicine. A flash of silver and the shiv came down to stab at a chunk of cheese. Drawing it up, she glanced up, as if silently asking if he wanted any.

One would wonder if she was doing it on purpose now simply to get a rise out of him.

Likely.

The steely expression on his face would suggest she was pushing a line. Truth be told, the Hunter wanted to continue. The Jedi were always about restraining their emotions. About deadening themselves to the realities of the galaxy. One wondered if they truly could ever feel real compassion if they had never suffered.

Suffered as the rest of those outside their pious temple of meditation and inaction.

"You need food to settle the tea." Mertaal told him calmly. "As for your wounds, I'm sure you are attached to your life." in regards to tending to his wounds. Taking the cheese from the tip of her shiv, she split it in half.

""I'll check your bandages once you are done." Skye couldn't risk healing him on her own again. She had a strict regimen to adhere to. Things she couldn't risk.

She was doing more than enough already.

[member="Ryan Korr"]

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

Clan Rekali? He watched her chew, a little frown troubling those thin, dark brows. I'd heard rumor of their collective descent to the Dark Side. No doubt largely in part to Aaralyn's death. They blame the Jedi? I cannot say they are wrong. Twice the fools, dancing to the strings of Lasedri, then Hadrix. Seems my snipping of the puppeteer's lines came too late to save the marionettes.

Korr could not imagine he would find much mercy at the hands of grieving Mandalorians, but perhaps more than he might in the clutches of the Sith. Hot pincers and blunt instruments, or nightmares made real. He wondered how their techniques would compare to the Yuuzhan Vong's embrace of pain.

Still, perhaps they only wanted to talk. His eyes found the edge of the energy cage, flicked to the shiv in her hand, then stared at the cuffs around his wrists. Unlikely. He felt it horribly unfair that it was he who sat here in handcuffs rather than the war criminal Hadrix, but life brought rain on the good and wicked alike.

We all pay for our sins. Some sooner than others.

He lifted his hands, mouth meeting the lip of the mug. Warm liquid trickled down his throat. Refreshing, he begrudgingly admitted. Korr peered over the rim of the mug at her, herbal scent soothing.

"Why all this? I've no quarrel with the Rekalis, nor any love left for the Republic. Are you just keeping me fattened for the slaughter, or is this to soothe your conscience for when Grandfather Ember makes good on his name and sees whether Jedi burn like other men?"

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

 

[Skye Mertaal]

A heavy snort immediately followed at the mention of 'no love for the Republic.' A scoff came to her then, and she rolled onto her feet. Taking the bite of cheese she'd claimed and leaving to the rest, Skye popped it into her mouth. Chewing furiously, she gestured with the tip of her shiv, emphasizing the following.

"Hold your tongue when it comes to Rekali, Jai." the term was said almost as an insult, the rasp of her voice turning into gravel. There were few in the 'verse that would hold a candle to that man, and Mertaal won't have his name sullied. "There are few I can say held themselves with as much honor as he, fewer Jedi still who kept their promises of being the guardians of the galaxy."

Tension lined her lithe form, it ran down her spine, her chin lifted in defiance. "Trust me," she gave another scoff, "If I so wanted to fatten you up for the slaughter it wouldn't be Rekali I'd be sending you to."

Oh no. There were others who would be far more interested in the make of a man such as the Grand Master before her. She might be a Hunter, but she wasn't dead. His body was all striated muscles and hard cut veins. She'd seen the scars. The claw marks that wrapped around his upper arms and chest. The puckered keloid scar that lanced across from his right shoulder diagonally down his chest. To the five pin point marks over his belly that told a tale of of physical agony.

No, she knew exactly who would be interested in a man like he. One who had survived so much. One whose strength and physical ability could be breed unto daughters of the next generation.

The Witches.

That cherry disc seemed to glow brighter in her growing ire. Why was she even bothering telling him this? She could have simply left him there until she delivered him at the way point.

"I'd suggest you finish your tea and the rest of the food, Korr." she bent down, sheathing the shiv into her boot. "We'll be at our destination soon enough."



[member="Ryan Korr"]

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

The reaction from his captor told him he'd touched a point of contention. It was clear she thought herself in the right, stubbornly so. And Korr could not say that she was entirely wrong. The Jedi had failed in many regards, but there were some among them who shone bright enough to push out the dark. Wraith, Grayson, Matteo, Voidstalker, Watts. A host of names that glinted, diamonds in the rough.

He did not believe that his captor was a bad person. Misguided and misinformed, perhaps, but well-intentioned. ​And yet the road to the Dark Side is paved with good intentions.

"Wait," Korr set the mug down and stood, swaying slightly for a moment before he recovered. Pain etched lines across his features, but he shunted his body's complaints aside. Gray thunderheads whirled in those two eyes. "Rekalis might be honorable, but they are not forgiving. What do you think they'll do to me, thinking I had some part to play in Aaralyn's death?"

Did I?

The Jedi grit his teeth, searching for some shred of an argument that might turn her from this course. He stepped forward, a features pinched against pain and irritation, hands held down unthreateningly.

"There are many who fail the title of Jedi. I do not claim to be an exemplar of virtue, but I see you're no sadist. If it's not Ember who does for me, it'll be some other angry clansman with an axe to grind. What do you see in me that makes you so certain I and all others like me deserve this?"

Have I not suffered enough?

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

 

[Skye Mertaal]

When he swayed, Mertaal acted instinctively.

“I told you to not move.” her voice was a low rasp, her arms latching to help him balance himself. There was a surprising amount of strength in the woman, especially for her size. She stood at least twenty centimeters shorter than the fiery maned Grand Master, her raven head barely reaching under his chin.

Unfortunately, that also placed her close enough to not avoid the rest of his contention, the gravel of his voice by the shell of her ear. The mention of [member="Aaralyn Rekali"]’s death darkened a shadow over the angles of her dusky face. She had felt it then. She felt it now.

Ember surely would have been wrent in two.

Her lips drew into a thin grim line, jaw clenching stubbornly. Hot fire ran through her veins, and she suddenly jerked her head up. A growing tempest stormed in her eyes, a glinting dark slate flecked with silver that locked onto a mirror of his own.

“As if the Jedi were entirely blameless?!” she spat out. “Just like on Contruum? Standing to the side while the Republic waged war on a neutral world? Where were the Jedi then? “ the death toll alone had been said to create such a wound on the Force upon the world.

“How many times has your precious Jedi Order done nothing” her grip on him tightened, and there was a fine tremble that came to her. Memories came to her then, titanium chains whose links came tumbling out without mercy. They lanced through her mind, bringing forth shadowy images of names, faces, loved ones lost. Of choices made and the severe consequences that they had wrought.

No one was without sin. No one without their demons. No this was personal.

“Nothing but allow the Republic to wreak havoc across dozens of star systems simply so they could line their pockets on the illusion of democracy… your Lasedri is proof enough of that.” Rumor had it that Korr’s predecessor had let the woman walk.

What did that say of the Jedi Order as a whole?

Jerking her head away, she found herself staring at the bandages of his chest. Her displeasure deepened as she noticed that they would need changing earlier than intended.

“Lean on me, I'll take you to the cot," a jerk of her head would indicate the bed at the far corner. "Your bandages need changing.”

By those words, it was clear that she was done with the conversation about the Republic and his hypocritical Jedi Order.


[member="Ryan Korr"]

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

Korr was not.

Hot blood flushed pale cheeks. Ryan's features set into a hard cast. Flesh might as well have been carved from marble, but for those twin, brooding storms he called eyes. They glared down at her, snaps of lightning flashing in their depths.

Those words of hers had reached far and torn at angry, red scars better left untouched. Scars that ached to the very bone.

"Ord Mirit, Telti, Prakith, Kashyyyk, Manaan, Alderaan, Teta, Carida," Ryan spoke coldly, words pouring forth like a sheet of icy rain. Enough to soak the body and make it shiver.

"Coruscant, Korriban, Ossus." The last name nearly stuck in his throat, coming out with a rasping, bitter choke.

He stepped forward, looming over her, nearly touching. "That's where we were. Dying." He seethed, voice a hissing wind. "You think you and yours were the only ones to suffer under Halcyon's regime, under Lasedri?"

Korr held up his cuffed hands. "My fingers were drenched in the blood of my friends. Again. And again."

"And as for your Mandalorian masters," he snorted. "Where were they when the One Sith rose from the shadows? Sacking the last vestiges of a defunct Empire. Looting until they sated their greed, then content to sit back and watch the Republic burn. I watched my home crumble into ruins while our so-called allies made false promises of aid. Only rising at long last from their laurels when he turned. You remember him? I do. The Dark Lord, straight from Manda'yaim."

"So don't you dare presume to lecture me on injustice."

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

 

[Skye Mertaal]

A far more rational mind would have agreed to disagree. To leave it at that, cut their losses and move on.

Unfortunately, rational did not quite make its way as a descriptor for the Mandalorian Hunter. Not when she was already running hot, her ire fanned by the fury blazing within the thundering orbs of the Titan before her.

His words were a methodical, surgical knife slicing at the Hunter, taking their kilo of flesh. Oh this went beyond the current circumstance now. It was a line of demarcation both had crossed. What manner of physical pain had been swept from Korr's stone faced expression, and when he'd stalked closer, it forced Mertaal to crane her neck up to face him, until she could feel the heat coming off his broad, hard body. Fury suffused her, and she stiffened, her hands drawing from him to fist at her sides.

Her jaw clenched as his anger built, but she was beyond caring.

"Injustice?" her voice was as soft as silk but it slammed like a sledgehammer. "You talk of broken promises? It was your Republic. Your Jedi Order who broke them first. The ones who brought the ruin and the taint of the Sith to worlds that didn't even want to be in your bloody gorram war to begin with." every fiber of her being was humming, nearly palatable waves of righteous anger seething from her slender form.

A hand would bat at the cuffed hands he had shoved to her face, and she snapped, " You want to talk about Manaan? You want to talk about Matsu Ike? You want to talk about how you so bitterly are quick to condemn and judge when your own Jedi Order looks the other way?"

That singular disc narrowed cruelly, "You lament the dead yet seek to do nothing for those who were at fault. For the very Republic you so desperately latch onto regardless of the corruption that spreads like a putrid disease." A hand rose gesturing as if to point out towards the direction of Chazwa, turning to run through the thick mass of her hair and push it back with a frustrated swipe.

"Then history repeats itself, as if you've learned nothing." her voice was low, fierce, and on the verge of guttural. There was almost a primal aura about her, the lines of her face drawn taunt. Maybe it was the overhead light, maybe the way the shadows danced, but the storm in her eye raged enough to seemingly flicker with streaks of gold.

"You stand on the perch of your Jedi Temple, believing yourselves to be the only good in the galaxy. It's salvation." a heavy snort then a shake of her head.

"Yet all you are is its damnation with the insatiable need to prove yourself the one and only power capable of rendering peace."

Her fell an octave then.

"You have your dead. I have mine. At the very least I admit my share of the sin at the cause of their death."



[member="Ryan Korr"]

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

"Ike? Ike?!"

Righteous indignation flared within his chest. A thunderbolt striking true. "It was on Grayson's order that Ike was banished from our Order. On mine that the sentence was continued. I know full well what she's done. What would you have me do, put her head on a pike and mount it for the galaxy to see what Jedi call justice?"

Nothing would satisfy these wretched people. Fall on his own blade to atone for his failures and they'd still find fault with the manner in which he'd done it.

"We tried to save the Republic. To stave off the corruption and weed out the criminals. When it grew beyond our saving we severed ties."

A vein stood out in his forehead.

"I couldn't stand on the perch of the Jedi Temple if I wanted to, because all that's left are ruins. You think you're not part of the war? You think the Sith will be content to keep their treaties and play nice? Tell that to Ordo. Tell that to your hero Mia Monroe. Neutrality is a lie you whisper to yourself so you can sleep at night. I am not your enemy. And I'll not have you scapegoat my Order based on the few who fell so far."

He grit his teeth until it hurt, forcing himself to release the well of anger. Let it go. Korr took in a breath, let it out, wounds stinging beneath the tight adhesive of the bandages.

"Would you have me judge all Mandalorians on the conduct of the Deathwatch?"

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

 

[Skye Mertaal]

Disbelief erupted over the Hunter's face, the dark slash of her brows drawing forward.

"Sever ties? The Jedi Order severing ties with the Republic?!" Her short bark of laughter, echoed within the small confines of the main deck of the Phoenix. "After all this time? After everything?" needless to say, Skye had heard no such thing. In her mind, the Jedi Order was still standing beside the Republic even in the wake of Roche.

"Pardon me if I find it hard to believe."

She truly didn't know. The new too fresh. Too soon. With all the chaos in the galaxy in the wake of Roche, it was not difficult to be kept in the dark. However, there was a tang of truth to his words that made a voice in her head question it. He was too indignant. Too absorbed in his righteous stubborn fury, to have said such so carelessly. No, he was practically breathing hard enough to open his wounds, the veins at his neck and forehead coming to stark contrast against his skin.

It planted a seed of doubt.

The wind taken from her sails, the Hunter's lips thinned, only to jerk her head up at his last.

"As if you don't judge already?" her head tilted to the side, staring up at him through the veil of midnight tresses and that stubborn cant of her chin.

"Fine. I'll grant you that perhaps you are not my enemy," she continued, jerking her chin back up again, chest heaving, "But that doesn't make you my friend."

Her jaw clenched tight enough to hurt, flexing in her waning outrage. Cherry red and a disc of slate settled upon the bandages in need of tending across his chest. A few splotches of red already bleed through. A curse ripped from her mouth, intelligible but not Mando'a.

"Now, if we are done, your bandages need changing." impatience lanced through her expression, ironic considering the figment of concern when it came to his wounds.



[member="Ryan Korr"]

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

Korr glanced down. Spots of red seeped through the gauze. A tightness in his chest that had nothing to do with their argument. The winds relented. The storms moved on, taking their thunder and lightning elsewhere.

"Fine," Ryan let her maneuver him to the cot, leaning on her small frame for support. He collapsed onto the small mattress, gritting his teeth as all his host of injuries seemed to cry out at once.

A frown scrawled across Korr's features. Grand Masters should not be so easily riled. When was the last time he had been so thoroughly roused in umbrage? Not since he'd been on the Council, surely.

He hissed as the bandages peeled free and glanced down at her. Dark, tangled strands obscured her face. The white tank top still rose and fell quickly as the breath sawed from her lungs. This close, he caught the scent of lemony pine again and managed to place a name to the smell. Juniper berries. She smelled like juniper berries. Ryan took in a breath, let it out. Winced as the movements of her fingers on his chest sent a spear of pain through him.

"I don't judge you, you know. Despite all that. I don't," the words came soft, tired. The frown deepened, introspective. "Maybe I do deserve this."

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

 

[Skye Mertaal]

One argent orb snapped up to peer through the veil of thick umber tresses. A shadow would pass through it, thoughts that provoked the Hunter. Her lips would draw thing a moment later as she stood. Leaving him sitting there, the woman strode towards the small couch where her medicine kit sat.

The heady aroma of dried herbs and botanical remedies wafted in the air as she picked it up, cradling the box in her hands. Turning on her foot, she caught sight of Korr’s deep furrowed frown. Pensive to the point one would imagine his image etched in marble.

For a Jai he had a temper that lashed out like a monsoon. Coming up beside him, she left him to his troubled thoughts. I have my own to deal with, she mused, setting down the medicine box beside him. It wasn’t a typical med-kit that was for sure. Upon initial inspection, one could discern it had seen better days, but the craftsmanship indicated a measure of skill despite the primitive etching of the design.

Carefully bending close, Skye began to gingerly peel away the soiled bandages. It would have been easier to use bacta, but it was expensive and truth be told, Mertaal could do better with what she knew.

There was a brooding air about the fiery-maned man, his jaw flexing in his thoughts. Within the silence, at this distance, the Hunter was once again reminded of the manner of the man that was before her. Not by his looks. No.

It was his scars.

​

Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls seared with scars. ​

“Everyone has their prejudices.” her voice cut the silence, perhaps a surprise. “Whether they know it or not; judgment is always cast.”

The length of herbal saturated bota and botanical herbs peeled away from the weeping lacerations on his chest. Remarkably, they were in a better state than most would have expected with bacta. Perhaps even with the Force.

“Even if the judgement is for oneself.”

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

The way she spoke told of currents hidden beneath the surface. Some part of her did not want this, but she was too stubborn to accept that fact. As if the very concept of letting him go might show a shred of weakness. Out in the wilds of space, weakness left you prey to raiders, Sith and the whims of the galaxy.

And her? Those words showed some inkling of condemnation toward her own actions, though he doubted the majority of it was over his situation. Korr felt that a venture into her mind would be treading deep waters. How could any be deeper than my own? One might think those depths are black, but they might as well be made of crystal. All I have to do is look down to see the corpses resting at the bottom.

The things I've done.

​The things I'll still do.

The Jedi pursed his lips and raised his hands slightly, fingers just barely brushing against the surface of her shirt as she bent over him and tended to his wounds.

"Still sticking to the plan? 'Deliver him in cuffs'?"

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

 

[Skye Mertaal]

Only her lid rose at his last, cast in a thick fringe of sooty black lashes.

They stared at the Vahla with a penetrating gaze, a hawk eye attempting to peel back layers and discern some form of sense. A moment later, it fell, caught once again upon the task of tending to the claw marks across his chest.

"Is there another way you'll be less trouble?" came her counter, her perk of her dark ebon brow rising in distinct challenge. Turning to the medicine box, Skye then plucked a vial from within. With the critical eye of one well versed in medicine, she brought out fresh gauze, saturating it with the herbal liquid. It had the scent reminiscent of willow trees, earthy and fresh. Bending back down, the tips of her hair brushed along his side and right arm, moving to gently dab and wipe up the excess blood.

Upon contact, the Grand Master would feel a slight cooling sensation, followed by a numbness. A natural anesthetic and antibacterial serum. With gentle fingers that belied her earlier venom, the Hunter's dark head bent closer while she worked.




[member="Ryan Korr"]

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

A weary nod came in reply. The resolve of the nameless woman looked to be unwavering. With or without handcuffs, conscious or unconscious, Grand Master Ryan Korr would be getting his due. Straight to the Rekalis.

Korr stretched out with his mind, trying to get some sense of her. Again, he encountered that slippery aura, like looking at a face beneath a pool of shimmering water.

Gray eyes tracked down, fixing on the opening of the tank top. Nestled between her breasts lay a length of leather cord. He frowned. Slowly, cautiously bound hands reached up as though to touch the muzzle of a Vornskr, moving toward the thin strip of hide.

Ryan found his fingers quickly batted away as the woman leaned back, glaring at him. The Vahla shrugged.

"Curious."

The fight had taken a toll on him. Even the mere act of breathing, calm and even, sent stabs of pain through this chest. Still, in the end he'd only received a few gashes and a couple bruises. Nothing that would kill him. The Trandoshan could not say the same.

Ryan's lips pressed into a thin line. He had no intention of being dropped on a Mandalorian doorstep, trussed up and with a bow on his head. Jedi looked for other paths first before they took any violent action. And yet all the other doors closed before me, or slammed in my face.

The attack came without warning.

One moment Ryan was staring at her as she cleaned his wounds, the next he'd reached out with the Force and grabbed her bodily. An outpouring of energy flooded from the Jedi as he immersed himself in the river of light. Pain fled, washed away in that current. Strength surged, filled his muscles with newfound vigor.

Korr rose from the bed, bearing no longer that of a haggard captive but of a master of the Force. He rolled back bare shoulders, features hard as iron, but devoid of any trace of ire. The anger he felt earlier was well and truly gone. If he'd taken action before then it would have only led him close to the penumbra of the Dark Side by emotionally fueled aggression.

This came not out of anger, or resentment, but out of necessity. He gestured, seeking to pin her against the wall and hold her there. The effort took a greater test of his focus than it should have, her slippery presence making the action difficult.

"I'm sorry, but you left me no choice. I'll not be served up on a platter to the Rekalis. You'd have done the same in my situation."

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

 

[Skye Mertaal]

This is what happens when one lets down their guard.

When one is stupid enough to let their bleeding heart take over practicality.

I should have just drugged him, was the singular thought as Skye's body went slamming back against the wall. He'd moved quickly, the Force surging through him to strike like a Jeco, deftly and methodically.

"Haar'chak !" the curse ripped from her throat, and it was only muscle memory that prevented the back of her head from cracking against the wall. She wouldn't be unscathed, as pain went lancing like ice shards down her spine, her hair falling over her face in inky black strands. The only thing going for her when she was thrown was that the main cabin of the Phoenix was small. The distance between the Grand Master and the Hunter was a little less than three meters.

Anger blazed, a storm cloud thundering within that singular disc at her own idiocy and the cold, hard truth that he was right. She would have done the same. The only difference is that she'd have been a little less merciful at that.

This was going to hurt.

The Hunter's jaw set into a cool deliberate clench, her lips thinning into a straight line. Now wasn't the time for words, she had precious few seconds to react in turn and get him subdued. At the very least, he would not be able to pull those cuffs off. No he'd need a key for that.

And I'm not giving it.

The Taozin amulet would grant her a measure of advantage. He wouldn't be able to completely hold her in his grasp for too long, it would be as if his hands were covered in oil, making her too slippery to maintain her on one place and lock her down. Rolling her shoulders back, Skye grit her teeth, anger rising in her in waves as she studied him through the raven strands of her hair. That bright red cherry ocular laser whirred and zoomed in, calculating distance and avenues of attack with precision.

"You really shouldn't have done that Jai." her voice was a thick growl in emotion. Had she had the Force then, Skye would have lashed out in a frenzy in contrast to the turadium-clad control the Grand Master exhibited upon the chiseled marble of his face.

With a grunt, she surged as soon as she felt the hold slack due to her slippery presence. At that time she'd feint right to attempt to distract his concentration to attempt to hold her still in an effort to close the distance between them. One didn't need the Force to move fast, but it certainly helped. Good thing Skye spent a decade learning how to do well without the Force to tackle a man down.


[member="Ryan Korr"]