Junction Rumble within Dee’ja Peak | Plasma Wars [NEO/RNR Junction of Farstine and Nimban]

[Sibylla Abrantes]

// Objective One //

​

Dee'ja Peak Capitol
Underground Generators
Interacting with Lysander von Ascania | Eventually Tyrkhan
Gear x x x x x x

Adrenaline slammed through Sibylla's veins, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the roar of rushing water thundered in her ears as Lysander's grip tightened around her wrist, and despite everything, despite the danger, the uncertainty, the madness of it all, when he said, 'Trust me,' she didn't hesitate.

Not for a second.

By the time Lysander all but slammed her into the narrow maintenance corridor, sealing their escape with a violent crash of debris, her chest ached, her muscles burned, and it felt as if her world had just been flipped. She gave a grimacing wince as the impact rattled her bones, the echo of it vibrating through the metal walls.

It was getting to be a pattern now. Life-or-death situations, impossible odds, and Lysander at her side. Or, more often, dragging her out of the fire at the last possible second.

Then again, she was still alive. And that was saying something.

Sibylla sucked in a breath, forcing the chaos to the back of her mind. Her gaze flickered upward, meeting the bright green of Lysander's, who was still braced against the wreckage he'd sealed behind them. His chest rose and fell in sharp bursts, sweat glistening at his temple before it saturated the fabric of the wrap across the lower half of his face.

"You know," she muttered, voice breathless, as she shifted against the cold metal, "this is not how I pictured anyone sweeping me off my feet." The laughter that followed was half-adrenaline, half-disbelief, but it died quickly as she let her head thunk lightly against the wall, exhaling as she gave a grimacing wince at the pain that shot through her shoulder again.

A sharp beep cut through the moment. Sibylla snapped her head toward the flickering holomap on her wrist. A red dot blinked into existence -- a location marker, pulsing steadily.

The generators. Just up ahead.

She shoved away the aches and pains, straightening as the low hum of power vibrated beneath their feet. The emergency lighting flickered, casting long shadows along the narrow passage. They weren't safe, not yet, but they had a path forward.

She turned to Lysander, her expression set, determination hardening her voice. "Come on," she said, already moving toward the corridor's end.

"Let's take the city back."

Her words lingered in the stale air, less a command, more a declaration -- no, a promise.

With quickened steps, the pair finally made it, the soft hum of machinery filling the space along with the low, steady thrum beneath their feet. They had arrived.

The generators stood before them, the heart of the city's infrastructure.

And now, it was time to stop that heart from beating.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Sibylla Abrantes

Gear: The Honorblade | Theed Sharpshooter Rifle | Royal Standard (RS-29) | 2x Thermal detonator | Lightsaber

​

Lysander stole a quick glance at Sibylla. Despite the pandemonium, her laughter cut through it all, easing the tension in his shoulder he hadn’t realized he was carrying. With adrenaline still thrumming in his ears, he then drew another deep breath to steady his heart.

The boy’s gaze wandered to the ceiling as he took a moment to reflect on how conflict seemed to follow him like a shadow lately. Training was relentless, and chaos erupted literally everywhere he traveled. Though he typically thrived in such an environment, the brief interlude here didn’t actually feel so terrible.

Part of him wished to savor it.

The sudden beeping sound didn’t seem to faze the acolyte; his focus held, aware it wasn’t a threat. “I would much rather have offered you my arm to dance instead of running for our lives," he murmured in return, his voice carrying warmth. Lysander’s lips twitched upward. "Or an orchestra to drown out all this chaos. One day.. maybe."

When he found Sibylla once more, it was as if their shared goal was reflected in her eyes. Drawing from it, his mind sharpened like a blade, ready for whatever lay ahead. With a nod of acknowledgment and no need for words, he fell a single step behind her, following until their brief journey brought them to the power generators.

In many ways, it was a foreign, even humbling sight. The massive structures hummed with a life of their own beneath the capitol building. Much like webs, networks of pipes and control panels surrounded them. And like the currents of the Force, their energy pulsed in the air.

Lifting a hand, he removed the green veil from his face; the fabric was damp with sweat. Brushing his tunic’s sleeve against a brow, he could feel the cool air press against his skin. Her words filled the space between them, drawing him into a state of contemplation; now, he was calculating the different possibilities and their next move. For once, a shared victory had a nice ring to it, rather than achieving something alone.

The acolyte reached for one of the thermal detonators at his belt while studying their target. “We could set the timers on these in the weak points,” he suggested, his voice calm. “Between that the rising flood.. it should be more than enough to take this place down.” A pause followed so the words could settle. “Or we could even place them more strategically.. less risk. Either way, I’d say it still ends in our favor.”

His attention drifted back to the girl as if seeking confirmation; or perhaps, something entirely different. A hint of a smile touched Lysander's features. "Unless you’ve got a different plan in mind. I'm open to hearing it. Besides.. all plans have room for improvement. Let's make sure our energy reform doesn't leave room for negotiation.”