The muscle and bone of legacy did not immediately attack. Instead, through the same mask he’d worn on Teta the first time — she only recognized it from a glimpse of a ceremonious exchange — he spoke unhurriedly.
Ishida remained braced. The after-effect of her telekinetic push still warred the winds, rolling against the sea breeze into clusters of whirlwinds, like a cold and warm front colliding to make knee-height storms.
'Welcome, Jedi.... Once Shriven I was, but now - you may refer to me as the Bloodhound.'
Silence and a sneer met the politeness of the brute warrior.
'I was sent away before I could catch your name last time, so I ask.... Who honours my blade, on this night of nights?'
The question was stupidly simple.
But she was stupified.
A name? For so long, she’d proudly identified herself as the Scion of Ashina. Heir to Atrisian Steel.
But then she’d realized that was an empire of falsehoods and atrocities on a foundation of men too weak to acknowledge the truth of their own mortality.
"Our tenants and virtues have their merits, but the truth of Ashina is itself, a lie."
Was that who she was? Or was she to cast that aside for someone who she truly admired? And learned from?
"...I never had a daughter... but... I am glad."
"-that my last act... was to save the daughter I never knew I... needed."
Or something, or nothing else, altogether?
having renounced my family name."
Or was it a title, he sought?
The Shriven and
Bloodhound were merely titles. She’d never achieved her Ashina the superlative name. But the Sith..they’d titled her many times over.
"Ishida, the Cowardly, or perhaps, the Weak."
"The sneaky mouse of Jedha."
Or..Sardun’s final words.
Serve them, lead them. A true leader serves first. My last lesson to you... Lord of Light.
But that still felt wrong. In her eyes, that was still who
he was. It felt inappropriate to wear the same words so many used for him.
Despite the sudden incoherence that flashed behind her eyes and the tight pang that shot through her heart, Ishida’s warrior posture never waivered. Any flinch of her stoic expression was concealed by the steady rainfall, and wisps of white hairs that clung to her wet skin.
“You want my name?”
Slightly, she lifted her chin and a tiny curl etched its way to the corner lines of her mouth and deflected her internalization back outward.
“In exchange for your titles?”
Existentialism had no place on the battlefield. Especially not when provoked by a tongue she planned to silence within a few strokes.
She made a sound at the back of her throat, drowned out by the elements that roared in the skies above. Lightning crashed through the silver clouds above, flaring the two scions in half a second of auroral white.
His guard was low, inches above the sand. He’d expect her to go high and take advantage of his wide-open zones.
“That doesn't seem fair.”
Eager to transition from pleasantries to productivity, Ishida moved quickly. In a blink of an eye, her whereabouts changed from the jaw of the skull to right in front of The Bloodhound. Her sabre angled down, with both hands, to keep his blade low to the sands while one foot planted and the other kicked upward to his throat. Crushing his voicebox with her boot might prevent further distracting dialogue.
ALLIES | GA | NJO | THE COMPANIONS|
FOES | BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW | THE NEW SITH ORDER | SCAR HOUNDS | Thomas Barran |
Kyrel Ren
Mi'la Undari
Jasper Kai'el
