This Day All Gods Die

[Skye Mertaal]

“One can only get so much of IronChef protein and medicine bars ‘fore you start to get sick of it.”

Practiced fingers would cut wedges from the apple, drops of juice sticking to her fingers. A sheepish grin would grace her face.

“I’ve a few indulgences.” she admitted, taking a slice of apple to pop it into her mouth. There came the flick of a tongue to wipe a rebellious drop of juice over her forefinger. She’d chew thoughtfully for a moment before swallowing.

“Most of my credits goes to fresh produce,” she’d point to the platter in front of her with her shiv. A moment later, Skye would give an amused shake of the apple in her hand, “But mainly on this.” indicating that the red fruit was of a special affection.

“I try to keep as much as I can in between ports without it going to waste.” the dark crown of her head would dip a bit as she focused on getting another wedge of apple to eat, before that silver and red cybernetic eyepatch would lift to [member="Ember Rekali"] ‘s face. She would pause half way into her apple, giving a slight frown as soon as he mentioned the Tyus Cluster.

“A time warp?” it was clear that concept was foreign to the woman and she was taken aback as she processed that. It’s not everyday someone discloses that they missed the entire Gulag Virus to begin wing. Much the less eight hundred years.

Then again, she’d seen her fair share of improbabilities come to life. “Well that brings a whole new meaning to the term well aged.” she’d say in dry humor, only to pause thereafter.

Skye would frown some, mulling over what he said about his daughter. “My mother used to say that life was a series of fragile moments strung together with diamond thread, and how she believed those threads led to a defining moment that forever changed a person’s life.”

The edge of the shiv would slowly carve out another slice, “It is in those defining moments that can determine just what kind of mettle we got.” Ember may not realize it, but they were going into a territory the bounty hunter held a measure of intimacy with. Kidnapped from her own home, sold into slavery, years of abuse to culminate in the razing of her home as she fell to the dark. Then the oblivion that came after.

“Sure, she’d have been dead a long while ago, but from what I’ve seen, ” she’d glance up at him, locking her gaze into his indigo Vahla eyes, “and what I know, if we survive this, whatever they may have done to her can be overcome.

S’long as you keep fighting for her Rekali. Be her rock. Her foundation. No matter how long it takes.

And you will get your little girl back.”

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

"They say the Sith, the real ones, can bend reality, take what is and twist it into a new shape. Not something I've fought, not that I know of, but something I find myself envying. No, not envying." His knife slipped into red fruit, though his eyes were elsewhere, wandering. "I've got it in me to make things happen the way they should, I know that, so maybe it's a sort of inevitability -- ah feth, I don't even know if I'm speakin' metaphor or-"

He put down the knife. The bottle floated to his hand, and he refilled his glass.

"I think I can force outcomes, and how can that not be the right thing? But how many Sith have said the same? Naw, Mertaal." He swirled the glass and drank half. "She's not the only one that'll need an anchor. If she's done, if this fails, if I go off the edge on this, off the reservation, I want you to put maybe a quarter clip, at least a couple dozen shots, right into my back or the back of my head with one of those E-11 guns. My armor can take the heat, I think, but I'll forget everything from here on in. Wouldn't say no to rememberin' this, though, so maybe a little less fire than that."

 

[Skye Mertaal]

Skye's gaze went shifting over [member="Ember Rekali"], perusing his set expression, from the long shaggy hair curling down over his collar, to the way he swirled that glass in his hand.

"Is this the part where we pick a safe word?" she'd say softly, that cherry glow rising up to meet his gaze. Humor lined the seriousness of the question, were she to actually have to venture down that path. That he'd be so far gone she'd need to erase parts of his memory to get him back to the Rekali she knew.

Her shiv came to rest against the surface of the table along with the rest of her apple as she took to finish the rest of the amber liquid in her glass. With the rim hovering over her lips, she gave a nod. "I'll do right by you, if that comes to be the case."

She'd lean over, one hand extending her empty glass for a refill, cheeks rosy and her face warm, "Won't rough you up too much. Promise."

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

All things considered, he usually had serious difficulty staying drunk, but for now he could work with the heat in his gut, the careless quality that was overtaking his thoughts like a war-bow unstrung until battle. A part of him still raged, but that animal would have all necessary rage when it woke up, and he was content to put it to rest for the moment.

"Well," he said, leaning over to pour two fingers, "a promise like that sorta defeats the purpose of a safe word." He eyed the bottle, just over half-way empty. Good progress, all things considered. He set it down on the floor by his boot. The back of his head hit the wall above the shock couch, and he closed his eyes. "But I know you'll do right by me. Wouldn't have called otherwise."

 

[Skye Mertaal]

[member="Ember Rekali"]

Mirth would play over her silver eye, "A time and place, Rekali." she'd say with a quip, joking in turn to suggest each had its merit. She'd go leaning back against her own seat to nurse her whiskey, chest rising as she took a deep breath. Here she held it for a moment, before letting the air slowly flow out of her nose in contemplation.

"I'm surprised you did," she finally told him, liquor making her honest about his call. The request. There were any other number of Mandalorians who'd she'd have thought would have closer ties to the Keetael Hunter. Her finger would tap against the side of her tumbler, the pad of her finger coming to rest to then trace a small circle across its surface in contemplation. She kept a low profile for a reason, and only a handful really knew much about Mertaal to begin with.

"Ordo comes to mind." she'd say. "Or Skirata."

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

"Ordo's got his daughter, my apprentice, to worry about, and all a Field Marshal's responsibilities. That," he admitted, eyes still closed, still leaned back against the wall, "and I taught him to be strong, not subtle. Not a lot of finesse. Whoever goes in with me needs to understand both, be good with both. Skirata wants to trust me but hasn't yet, and he's got all the Mandalorian Territories on his shoulders. That means he'd need to do any given thing a certain way for repercussions' sake. Priorities. He's got'em, there's nothing wrong with that, just not a good fit for this fight. Baggage is the word. But you..."

He cracked a squint and snared a couple of crackers, layered cheese and jerky between them, took a bite.

"...you," he said after swallowing, "strike me as the sort of person that can make decisions for the moment without gettin' weighed down by concerns elsewhere. Someone who can keep her head in the game."

 

[Skye Mertaal]

That's when she would give a rather dry bark of a chuckle at that. A shake of her head would come next, followed by the deep chug of Whyren's. If the Captian had heard Rekali even put the words subtle and finesse along with her, he'd be rolling round the floor laughing his arse off.

Granted, that was another lifetime and she'd learned a few tricks or two. Had to, in order to do what she did now.

"Not all the time, Rekali." she'd admit, her head leaning back to stare at the bulkhead. Her eye would go skimming across the steel grates and over the various electrical pipes that lead to the heart of the Phoenix.

"I've had my fair share of responsibilities and folk who depended on me. On my actions -- and the consequences that came after." past tense, "I don't have it all figured out." Another swig of the whiskey would come next, the bite easier to down now with alcohol running through her veins.

"Still don't." she confessed, taking a deep breath. "One can mentally prepare for every kind of situation, but it is all for naught if it goes out the window when in the thick of it."

"Just a role to play. What needs to get done. It isn't heroic. It just is."

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

He shrugged easily. "Still don't mean I'm wrong about you. If I wanted focus without a second thought, I'd call Preliat. Or a witch."

With a grunt, he shoved away from the shock couch to stand. His heel caught the bottle, but he stooped and snatched it up before it could spill more than a mouthful. "Feth, sorry to waste." He gestured at a napkin just out of reach; it trembled, but wouldn't come to him. Alcohol and the Force didn't mix terribly well, in his experience. He leaned over to snag it, wiped up the mess, chucked it in the recycler. "I'm blundering. Bad omen, maybe, or maybe it's just that I've lost track of how many fingers you've poured me. There's relaxing and then there's making a fool of yourself. Think I might turn in."

 

[Skye Mertaal]

Preliat. Or a Witch. The irony.

Oh that irony.

Her brow would silently arch, an unreadable expression washing over her face. Granted, it was what it was and there wasn't more to it. A hand would rise, shaking the sin of the act off while the other would set her glass down.

"Don't worry about it." she'd say, rising to her feet a bit unsteadily, but still able to stand on her own two feet. She'd lean forward to take the bottle, bringing it over to the safety of the table.

"It is fine." Her hair would fall forward a bit, shielding her flushed face along with the other pensive thoughts that ran through her mind.

A nod would follow, in agreement perhaps. "I'll check on that broker. See if I can get anything started tonight." Fingers would lift to pinch the bridge of her nose, then to rub her face.

"Get as much rest as you can." she'd say in advisement. "The upcoming days will likely see nil to none of it."

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

"Nil to none, aye." He reached out when she swayed, but caught himself before he could catch her. "Yeah, I'll turn in."

He paused at the airlock, turned back, snared her eye. "Thanks for lettin' me be human for a minute, Mertaal. See you in the mornin'."

The airlock cycled and he was gone

 

[Skye Mertaal]

A curt nod at Ember Rekali's direction would be Mertaal’s reply, and long minutes would pass after the hiss of the airlock confirmed his departure. She’d stand there, head deep in thought and in the thick of what was to come.

It was only the beep of an incoming message that drew her from her reverie. Took her a bit, what with the whiskey in her system. Hunt would tease her that she was a lightbody, and ain’t it the truth.

None the less, the insistent cry of the comm would blare until she made it up the ladder well and into her seat. Flicks of toggles and a push of a button would soon reveal the holographic visage of a scoundrel she knew all too well.

One who clearly wasn’t too pleased with her at the present time. He went by many names, various aliases, but only a couple would know him by this one. Jonathon Patches.

“Captain…” She began the duel with a curt acknowledgement.
“Miss Mertaal.” He countered with a clipped tone. “You’re late.”

“Coming from you that’s a riot,” Skye began, pushing the dark waves of hair away from her flushed face.

“I’m the Captain, double standards apply. Hence… you are late.” he said with a childish smirk this time around.

“Didn’t we already go through this? I don’t have a curfew.” An arch of a brow came next, along with a small pointed gesture of her finger indicating the Firespray she was in. Despite herself, she couldn’t help but give a faint smile at the banter.

This was familiarity. Her constant. Her rock.

“And last I checked, this is my ship. Ergo, I’m the Captain today.”

Patches would paused for a moment, giving her a funny look with his head tilting to the side, as he remembered finally, that he wasn't speaking to a rational human being.

He was speaking to one Miss Skye Mertaal, who threw rationale out the window long ago, along with logic and patience, and preferred to live her life by defiance and insubordination.

"Ahhh... I forgot... you seem to think this," he said, pointing from himself to her, and back to himself, "is a democracy…" he said with a chuckle, then motioned to his head as if to relate to her own head for any potential bruises or trauma, "did you hit your head out there, while you were out past curfew?" he asked, feigning concern for a moment.

Maybe it was the whiskey. Maybe it was the banter. Maybe it was realization that this debate about her curfew would likely be the last.

It would show in her expression, in the subtle hesitation.

“No..head’s fine. Do you got the info?” she’d say, prompting a probing inquiry from the Corellian observing her. A lifetime of brokering gave a man a keen sense in observation, and he had the latest version on the decoder on his bounty hunter to pin her moods. The serious ones. The kind he wasn’t too fond of.

“Depends. What are you going to do with it?” he’d cut straight to the chase.

“Aggravate people.” she’d quip back, drawing her knee to her chest in her seat.

“While I know you are fantastic at poking a slumbering Rancor, this is more of [member="Tahira Solo"] ‘s levels of instigation.” his eyes would narrow.

“You catch up to her? Did you have a little sleep over party, get into the bubbly, and decide to take on the One Sith Empire?

No, wait.” he wagged his finger, “ Let me guess, she already played her super woman cosplay and decided to take on the One Sith herself...and now needs you to bail her goody two shoes out?”

A matching grin would mirror his, and the bounty hunter would simply let the flow of the conversation take her.

Ember had it right. Sometimes, one needed to feel a little bit more human. A bit of humor. Something to feel alive.

Whatever trade of information would eventually come to pass from the broker to Mertaal. At the end of it, nonetheless, would be the parting shot. A quip. But one that relayed his concern clearly.

“Curfew, Miss. Mertaal. One week from today.

Don’t be late.”

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

Come morning, after a good half hour of pushups and meditation -- the two were more or less the same for Ember -- he'd managed to shake the hangover Forcefully. He set up in the hold, at a data terminal in the stealth fighter's shadow, and started going through files. He mulled over [member="Talon Vosra"]'s contribution, among others.

A handful of half-built talismans, like antique pcketwatches, received the blood samples, and he would be meditating over them when Skye called or came looking.

 

[Skye Mertaal]

Unlike Ember, Skye wasn't the sort to be well used to dealing with hangover herself. However, instead of pushups and meditation, she went the tried and true method the witch of the Helm knew. A thick green cocktail of herbs, juice, and shaman's brew known to take the bite out of the perils of the morn after imbibing a bit too much to drink.

Thermos in hand, the bounty hunter's figure would soon appear before [member="Ember Rekali"]. Well, at least the boots would first, seeing as his attention was upon the pocket watches placed in front of him. He had a few piles of folders here and there, scattered datachips, and -- were those blood vials?

Her brow would perk in curiosity, left hand jiggling the datachip that held the initial wave of information sent to her from Patches. There was something familiar about it all. Couldn't quite place it. Reminded her of her great aunt's abode. Knickknack's everywhere, all special and all rooted in superstition.

Her voice would break the silence, "Morning," she'd then sink down, crouching down in front of him. Her hair would be tied back in a loose ponytail, bringing to focus the glint of metal over the right side of her face. A frown would draw over as she peered at the closest pocket watch by her.

Still had that nagging feeling...

"Got news about the chatter going on in there."

 

[Chloe Blake]

Fourth Moon of Yavin
Lost Jedi City

One Access shaft later…

A grunt would fall from the Warden’s lips as her blue eyes would rest upon the YTA-1300 before her. There it was docked, in an access shaft that reminded her too much of Corsucant’s Underworld Portal and Level 1313.

Granted, at least this particular portal didn’t have the scum and villainy of the galaxy. Then again, the occasional bats and rare lost beast could be found from time to time.

Around her neck she wore the necklace Ember had sent her, the small pendant riding the humble cleft of her chest under her blouse. After Rekali had sent her the comm message, her focus was on gathering and securing what she could. There wasn’t anything safer than the vaults deep in the Lost City, and while she was sure a ship could hold it’s merits in safety and security, she didn’t know it like her Aurora, and nothing could beat the resin lined vaults deep underground.

Now, all she had to do was get inside. Since Ember had brought the ship over, she had the access codes to get in.

Now was just a matter of searching every nook and cranny of the ship for anything remotely looking to be a hiding place for ‘crons and the like.

With that thought in mind, Chloe made headway, lightly jumping from the first step that would lead her on over to the walkway where the YTA-1300 was at. A few minutes later saw her posed over the access door, and a small console being her only barrier to what lay inside.

Nibbling on her lower lip, the Warden went to work. The hiss of a sliding access door brought a hoot of success…

At least until the string of hoots, beeps, and a rather aggressive jitter of binary tossed at her direction.

It’s origin? A small little astromech droid brandishing his electric arc welder at her direction demanding she put her hands up.

In an instant, Chloe’s hands were up in the air by her head, “Oh.. Hi!... I’m Chloe.”

Her fingers would wiggle. “Ember sent me.”

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

"Whatcha got?" He opened his eyes and rested his back against the stealth fighter's landing gear. "Me, I've had a very interesting morning. Seems the One Sith oracle I ran into a while back has got her hooks in a Jedi Council member. Sees what he sees, knows what he knows. It's amateur hour over there. He expects me to get back to him; ain't no way in hell. As for this clart-" He tapped the pocketwatch-like talismans. "These here are Talismans of Finding. Not things I like playin' with, but they'll do the job. Got blood in'em from the Jedi that got taken. So far I'm not gettin' much sense that any of'em are too terribly close to here...well, maybe. This one, Liadain. Uh, Kiara Liadain." He rechecked the file. "Kira. She got taken a bit ago, dropped off the map, but I think I'm gettin' something.

"But anyway -- what've you got?"

 

[Skye Mertaal]

There was the slight widening of her eyes, a faint hitch of breath. A Talisman of Finding. There was that nagging thought again, familiarity. Whispers in the dark. Chants to the Fanged God. Only a shaman would be able to enchant such a thing. Right?

I know he had witch training, but… Confusion would be fleeting over her face as [member="Ember Rekali"] repeated his question.

Skye would blink a couple of times, her attention drawing away from the talismans to lock on indigo. Fingers would play with the datachip in her hand before she set down her thermos on the deck, freeing her hand to tug her datapad out.

“There is a Sith Oracle alright,” she said in confirmation, “Few know her face, she rarely leaves the vicinity of the newly constructed Senate building or Imperial Grand Hall. “ There came the click of the datachip sliding into place, illuminating the display with the information.

“Or more aptly,” an image of the newly constructed Temple of Vahl on top of Manarai Mountains.

“The newly built Temple of Vahl.” her lips would draw into a grim line. “Word has it that they are utilizing the One Sith and the Ember of Vahl cultists to create a Dark Force Nexus.”

A push of a small button would activate the small holographic feed on her datapad, revealing the near completion of the temple.

“Business is as usual for companies based on Coruscant, the One Sith have not commanded them, instead they’ve proceeded to draw new contracts with them, encouraging their business to grow and to remain. Likely to prevent any excuse of rebellion.”

“My contact is still searching for information about any prisoners, but a few names did stick out -- mainly Jedi. Jannik Morlandt… Avalore Eden..”

She shook her head, and gave him a small apologetic glance, “Nothing on your daughter yet. It seems after Teta, no reference to an Aaralyn Rekali exists.”

 

[Ashin Varanin]

T+4 days

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

"Hell." He shoved a couple of talismans into a belt pouch. "These're the ones I made for Morlandt and Eden. If there wasn't a prisoner issue, I'd white-current-cloak some baradium and just orbit drop that temple to ash. Temple of Vahl. Hell."

A grip on the stealth fighter's cannon got him upright with a grunt. "All right. Here's the other one -- the Lorrdian." He tossed and caught the talisman. "I hate these things, but sometimes there's no alternative. Lived too long, Mertaal. Too much buried in my head."

He made for the cockpit. "If you're good to go, I'll have to make these jumps by gut. I'll send you the coordinates for each before I go. Feel free to ride along, or follow in your own ship. We get Liadain, we see what's going on there, fix what needs fixing, then it's time to hit the Temple. The Neta'norac here has a passenger seat, thank goodness. Not sure I could survive your bony rear all the way to Coruscant."

 

[Skye Mertaal]

To say she was confused about what he meant about White-Current cloak was putting it lightly. There would be a quick questioning quirk of her brow to relay that, but that faded as her attention would follow his course.

Legs would straighten and she too would get on her feet, her thumb pressing the deactivation button of her datapad. Tucking it into her belt pouch, she gave a grim nod. A wary eye was cast at the Talisman he tossed, but it was what it was.

However, it did plant a seed in the rear of her mind of just what sort of witch training [member="Ember Rekali"] had.

“I’ll take my own,” she told him, not for wariness at his gut instinct jumps - then again, meeting someone with that ability certainly made her pause and there was that might smidgen of concern - but because she wasn’t one to leave the Phoenix behind this early on yet. Besides, one never knew if Ember would need back up with another ship.

That’s when she registered his last. Bony rear?!

A bright cherry laser would suddenly start scanning Keetael Huntmaster as he made his way towards the cockpit. From the tops of his dusty boots and all the way up to the tousled locks of black gray streaked hair.

A heavy snort would echo behind him, scan complete. The respective data processed in two seconds. One parting quip coming up.

“You’re one to talk, Rekali.”

With that, Mertaal would make her way over towards her Firespray. Time to play connect the nav points.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

He didn't turn back as he passed into the cockpit, didn't show the halfway grin that tugged at the corner of his mouth, just tossed a two-fingered wave over his shoulder and slung himself into the pilot's seat.

From there, it was a matter of undocking -- ohmy -- and charting a course on instinct. This wasn't his primary skill, not by a long shot, but he'd had occasion to dust it off and teach it to Anija Ordo not too long ago, shake off the cobwebs. The Niathal-class shuttle leaped to hyperspace, jump by jump, transmitting each hop to Mertaal as she followed him.

It took a good nine hours to get back out of the Core and zero on in wherever it was that Kira Liadain had wound up.

 

[Kira Talith]

Geonosis
Petranaki Area
Slave Cell Row

Time was nothing but fleeting shadows here. Slits of dried lids would part as consciousness came in degrees. But along with that came the protest of muscles. The strain of healing tissue drawn taut and crudely bandaged. The pain over her stomach and ankles had eased from the torture of screaming nerves, to flesh and blood pain, which was more bearable. But all in all, she was too weak to move.

Her cell was sandwiched between cells on both sides, with bars separating each cell, the dank scent of unwashed bodies, excrement, and festering gangrenous wounds lingering over her like a death shroud.

A dead slave is a worthless slave. Those were the words that had been spoken over her head for what seemed a lifetime. There was no sense of time in this place. Hours feel like days. Days felt like months.

How long had I been unconscious? How long had I slept? How long did I have to go?

Questions would plague her amidst the lingering fear and anger. At herself. At what they had done. To her. To Oliver. To the rest of them. All of them.

It was in those times she would flash back. To that white room. To the ministrations of their tender care. Reliving every second. Every moment. Every cut.

It was during these moments that Kira would realize that it wasn’t the actual act in itself by Nemene that would leave an impact. Not the puckered pink healing scars that lined the lower half of her body, that made her unable to walk until recently, and even then painfully so.

No, it was the fear. The fear of the unknown. Of the horrors that awaited at the new dawn. The unspeakable uncertainty of when whatever would trigger her flashbacks would take root and send her back.

Back to where she was clinging tenaciously to the side of a tiny escape pod of optimism in her sea of pain. Where she’d tell herself that everything would be all right. The pain would stop. That she wouldn’t die here. That her life wasn’t over.

Until Nemene twisted that scalpel a little further. Until she took just about all Kira had left to give.

How Nemene in Kira’s pain addled state told her to forget about the Jedi, if that was her hope, if that was what was keeping Kira from succumbing to mindless panic and to the Darkside, because nobody was never coming for her.

Nobody.

There was no a single chance that the Jedi or anyone else would ever find or rescue her. That Kira was forgotten-- lost to the galaxy. That it was now her and her alone, in the mercy of the slavers, until the bitter end.

She wouldn’t even realize she was shaking. Lorrdian that she was, high emotional distress would relay in twitches and flutterings of her hands in gestures, as much as she could. Only that along with this came the crackling of energy, the arc of electricity running down her arms and settling in her palms. In that white room she’d been chained in a universal Force cage, preventing her from using the Force and her powers.

Not out here. In here she reacted. Instinctively and sometimes rather violently, her mind attempting to bring to a halt what demons plagued her due to the chip implanted in her head.

The ceiling shuddering and shaking would draw her from the approaching nightmare. In the distance the shouts of a thousand Geonosians would howl in blood thirst. The roar of beasts and the quickening snuff of lives through the Force.

Phrases like “Executions and gladiator fights” just were not working well for her. Not in her delicate and nearly fractured state of mind. It was in these moments that she realized she was capable of illusion beyond what Samara had taught her. Not the kind of illusion that affected others, but a kind only she could see. Of clouds.

It was enough.

With her mind, she would paint pink clouds and a blue sky upon the red clay stone ceiling of her prison, and she could breathe again.

Hope is a critical thing. Without it, we are nothing. Hope shapes the will. The will shapes the galaxy.

Hope strengthens. Fear kills.

Kira added a sun and a dazzlingly white seashore to her illusion, dressing herself in the only bright blue dress she owned. She painted Talon and Jannik into the picture. Hion by the beach. The younglings…

Moisture would collect in her eyes, burning hot and painfully aware.

Eventually she slept.