Private This Weapon is Your Life

[Kita]

“And you said this belonged to you?”

The shop keep took one half-hearted glance at the rifle then up towards the child who had unceremoniously plopped it down on his counter. His eyebrow arced up in what could only be read as generous skepticism.

“Yes. Like I said before, your hearing is just fine.” Kita was quick to respond, pale arms criss-crossing in a sign of defiance. What about this was so hard to believe?

“Uh-huh.”

Failing to scrounge up the sternness required for this situation, the kid instead waffled between concern and exasperation, “Can you tell me about the model or not? The insignia? Anything?” The man huffed, seemingly out of amusement, which only made Kita feel the need to shrink back into herself like a dog being scolded.

“Only that you could probably pocket a good number of credits if you decided to pawn it.”

“That won't be necessary.” The girl frowned, her clipped accent hitting a particularly high note as she pulled the rifle back with a touch of possession. So, this was a dead end. Phenomenal. It was almost like she could feel her resolve begin to flex and bend from beneath her in real time.

If anything, Kita should’ve felt relief. Maybe not at the current situation, but as a general sentiment. She was on solid ground again, not cramped into a pirate’s cell counting her days with tally marks. Kaila had fitted her with new clothes, given her food, and left an open door to crawl back to if need be. All in all, she’d been in the best position of her life…considering her memory stretched back a modest two weeks. But there wasn't much point in sticking around, not if she couldn’t make progress where it mattered. Slinging the rifle over her shoulder, the girl awkwardly adjusted the weight. It was comically oversized for a kid with her build, but she seemed intent to lug it around anyway.

“Thanks for the help.” She mumbled, making way towards the door.

While she was certainly looking healthier, there was a part of her that looked a little too thin, a little too pale, and still gave the impression of a fawn stumbling through the world with fearful novelty. If not for the maelstrom of dark emotions circling her–blistering, fiery, and entirely unable to funnel into something productive– she may have seemed entirely out of place in a world chock full of Sith.

Kasir Dorran

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Kita

From the training grounds, where the Force echoed with his every step, he merged; his power honed and honed again, until it was a blade that gleamed with malevolent intent.

The rays of Jutrand's sun bathed the streets of the capital city, as though its warmth masked the true darkness lurking deep within. Through the crowds strode Kasir, his black robes swirling in his wake. The surge of power still coursed through his veins, a lingering reminder of his grueling training session that recently ended. Hidden beneath his hood, his face betrayed nothing, but the glint in his eyes suggested a darker force simmering below the surface. Weeks on this planet had almost felt like a brief respite from his never ending duties, but even here, the weight of his responsibilities still had a way of looming heavy.

Through the city, Kasir roamed, his senses drinking in the sights and sounds that surrounded him, though his mind remained solely focused on seeking solitude. A sense of detachment washed over him, merely an observer to the many mundane lives all around him, and he paid no heed to the lingering gazes that occasionally followed his step. He often found his thoughts drifting to the tasks that awaited him upon his return, but for now, this stroll would be more of an indulgence. Here, in the heart of Jutrand, he could immerse himself in its thriving life, even if only for a fleeting moment. The capital was alive, and so was he.

Approaching a grand fountain, he halted and closed his eyes. Perching on its edge, he allowed himself a moment of utter calm; a rare luxury in his life. In the silence, his mind churned with thoughts, each one a piece of a puzzle that struggled to fit together. The calm waters reflected his inner turmoil, throwing back images of a past filled with fateful decisions and different paths. Inhaling deeply, he let the air rush through his body, grounding himself in the present moment, and bracing whatever new trial lay ahead.

 

[Kita]

Eyes to the ground, Kita barely took a moment to register her surroundings-- far too preoccupied with her own scattered thoughts to make space for much else. Especially not basic spatial awareness.

Which was perhaps not the best sacrifice to make when alone on a Sith-occupied planet.

It wasn't until a hand was already yanking her rifle from its strap that the girl even thought to look over her shoulder. Panic surged through her in the next moment, every fiber of her being snapping to attention as the culprit, rifle now in hand, spilt the lane. There was barely a mental lag before Kita bolted after, not even finding the time to shout out some punchy string of expletives. Sliding through vendors and nearly pancaking against a wall or two, it wasn't long before an alley directly funneled them into a wide-open forum. Coincidentally one with a fountain at its center.

Immediately, and with no discernible reason as to why, Kita decided a full-body tackle was the best course of action. Her frame, entirely dwarfed by her target's, sailed its way into his mid-section-- forcing his knee to buckle into the marble trim of the fountain. Their combined weight tipped up and over the edge before collapsing down into the shallow basin with a resounding thud.

For anyone unfortunate enough to be lingering close by, that meant a torrential downpour.

Flailing around for a brief instant, Kita then surfaced--stance rigid and blonde hair swept to one side. With the kind of desperation she was slowly growing more and more inclined to, the girl clawed the rifle back into her arms, stopping just before she could ram it back into the guy's jaw.

That would be violent. And maybe a little distasteful.

Instead, Kita stood there a moment, chest heaving and muscles taunt as her mind violently ran from one outcome to the other. In place of a poignant, intelligent remark, the girl finally coughed up a simple "Feth you."

Kasir Dorran
​

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Kita

With each passing moment, Kasir's mind twisted, like tendrils of a storm, diving into memories long forgotten, seeking guidance and purpose in the depths of his thoughts. His time on Jutrand was nearing its end, and he found the events that would follow heavy on his mind. While he could have easily engaged in the activity within his own loft or even the cargo bay of his shuttle, part of him yearned for a slight change from the daily routine, and the capital city seemed to offer just that.

The assassin attuned himself soon to the shifting energies he could feel in the air around him. The feeling was unmistakable, like a storm approaching, whispering to him and trying to awaken the darkness that thrived in his soul. Unfazed, he decided to remain rooted in place, exuding a sense of calm. And then, when a splash shattered the silence, he not only heard the impact, but felt it upon his cloak and exposed flesh. Still, the Kasir didn’t feel the need to move; he was a predator, always waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

A surprise awaited him; rather than some sort of foe, stood a frail girl carrying a rifle that appeared as though it weighed more than she did. The other figure has a more mysterious aura, one he was still trying to read. In an instant, while still processing everything, he quickly stepped in between them. The spectacle unfolding before him would surely attract unwanted attention, if not swiftly dealt with. He didn’t care to be involved in any questioning, either, should it happen. The Sith wasn’t exactly the type to give a statement to any form of authority.

The words of the young girl were like an echo of the very frustration now surging through him. "Feths sake, what madness is this?" His voice dripped with venom as he spoke.

Naturally, Kasir was inclined to indulge in any violence that surrounded him, always relishing in the carnage and bloodshed that followed. More often than not, he was unconcerned with the consequences, and momentarily savored the thought of dispatching one or perhaps both of the figures before him. Inhaling deeply, his gaze shifted to the girl first, being sure to silence her with a single stare. "What possessed you to run around with that weapon?" His words were as sharp as the saberstaff under his cloak. Turning his gaze to the other figure, he would continue with equal disdain. "And I have a strong feeling that you have no business being here either."

 

[Kita]

Kira had little understanding of what a force signature was, or that such things existed in the first place.

So when a new figure approached—sliding between the two like a wall of obsidian—she chalked up the overwhelming sensation of ice as a figment of her imagination. Regardless, when the man looked at her, whatever retort she was working up towards died on her lips.

He looked like the kind of person who could snap her rifle over one knee like a twig.

So she didn't respond to him at first, instead tracking his gaze down to the thief still half submerged in water. She felt suddenly very overcome with the dark impulse to rest her boot on his chest and not lift it until the bubbles stopped. It scared her a little, enough to take a shuffling step back. Considering the ease she'd killed those two pirates during her escape attempt, Kita was beginning to wonder what kind of track record she held before her memory wipe.

The girl shook her head of such musings, letting the rifle slip into an easy balance in her arms like a writer with their pen or a Sith with their lightsaber. There was no mistaking that she knew how to handle such a weapon, even if she'd forgotten exactly how she knew.

As the man scrambled to his feet, opening his mouth in some inflamed response, Kita pointed the rifle square at his chest. The nose of the gun flicked over to the side, pointing out of the fountain and into some nondescript distance like a direction. The message was clear. She wanted him gone.

Not dead, she reminded herself. Gone.

"It's my rifle." She finally responded, in part to the cloaked man's original question and in part to the thief. "He stole it."

"So don't lecture me. I hardly see how any of this is your business."

The girl paused, immediately regretting the words the moment they left her mouth. She must have had a generous amount of audacity or entitlement in her former life if she could manage this amount of attitude while standing next to a stranger who reeked of homicidal urges.

Kasir Dorran
​

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Kita

In the stillness that began to envelope the scene, his eyes darted between the two figures, both of whom somehow managed to find themselves splashing in the fountain just moments before. For a heartbeat, everything else faded away, and he was lost in the spectacle.

But even as he struggled to make sense of it all, his attention was drawn to the girl, still holding her rifle, her gaze fixated on the other man. And yet, he couldn't help but feel a sense of annoyance now being caught in the middle of this deadly little dance, especially in the heart of the Sith capital. As Kasir stood before the problem that wasn't solved through bloodshed, the unfamiliarity of it all gnawed at him; for he had always been one to rely on his blade, rather than his words, in situations like these.

The thought of obtaining the weapon without further conflict seemed unlikely, for the figure still lurking in the fountain did give off an air of deceit and mistrust. Between the two, he at least knew that he liked that one less. As he pondered what course of action to take next, the girl by his side found her voice once more.

Her words were sharp, laced with a bite that mirrored his own tongue; his gaze narrowing slightly at her then, before turning to the figure in the fountain, who appeared frozen in the midst of the confrontation. "You need to leave," he spat in a harsh tone, making a gesture with his hand that mimicked the barrel of her rifle only moments ago. Kasir then gritted his teeth. "Now." The other man reacted promptly, finally finding his footing on drier land and disappearing into the crowds. He followed him for a moment, his jaw now clenching, before turning back to the one holding the rifle.

His hand reached out and found the barrel, pushing it down until it pointed towards the ground. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he lowered the hood of his cloak. The Sith’s lips curled into a smirk, but it was devoid of warmth. “He stole it, you say? Sounds more like an excuse for your failure to protect what is yours.” There was a subtle shake of his head. “Your business,” he continued, his voice low, "became my business the moment you and the other imbecile dove into the fountain, trying to draw attention from the entire city.”

A quick glance around confirmed that no patrol was in sight, which hopefully meant no signs of other eyes that may have seen it. “You should consider going home, little one.” The way he spoke was more than a suggestion; it was a command.

 

[Kita]

“He stole it, you say? Sounds more like an excuse for your failure to protect what is yours.”

"Pardon me?" She turned, head canted up in an attempt to remain dignified in the presence of the looming vulture above her.

"None of this was my fault!" A partial lie. "And I am not an imbecile." also probably a lie. Kita huffed, petulant like the child she was. She almost appeared ready to stomp a foot and pout-- her adrenaline peppering out to a far more potent crossness.

“You should consider going home, little one.”

Little one.

It was patronizing, with the bonus of reminding her she was, in fact, without a home. Those words seemed to deflate her with a painful immediacy. The protective blanket of anger she'd wrapped around herself fraying until all she was left with was a familiar, consistent sensation of dread. "You should consider shutting up. I have no interest in unsolicited advice." The statement was noticeably weaker than her other retorts, lacking any punch-- like a mumble.

"Not everyone has a home to go back to."

Kasir Dorran
​

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Kita

"No," he drawled, his tone dripping with mockery now. “I’m not going to shut up.”

Kasir's mind began to tangle with confusion as regret festered within him, just like a wound. Now, he longed for the simplicity of the training grounds, where at least he could have suffered alone, without the added weight of this situation.

“No home? Well, a home can be more than just walls and a roof; think of it as a fortress of the mind, from your own making. At least there you would have a place to rest your head.” Skeptical eyes roamed over her as he struggled to believe in any sort of innocence within their galaxy; he knew all too well that none were truly innocent.

Emotions rarely ever held any sway over him, who, devoid of compassion, was now only concerned with pushing past the current circumstances and working towards something more productive. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, as though it were from the burden of it all. With a dismissive gesture, he threw his hands up in frustration. “Look around you. Perhaps there’s a shelter somewhere, I will make sure you arrive in one piece” he said, as he pointed toward neon lights further in the city. “Somewhere… safe.” A shadow of doubt flickered in his mind. “But I doubt anybody would welcome a girl with a rifle, wouldn’t you agree?”

As usual, he felt the stirrings of conflict within, leaning towards a more natural inclination for being ruthless. However, there was also an unexpected flicker of empathy for the vulnerable girl before him.

"Just hurry up and decide," he said, impatience slowly creeping into his voice now. "I don’t have all day to waste on this."

 

[Kita]

His offer of help caused a mental lag in the girl

Sure, it was layered in the same annoyance and malice as every other word out of his mouth-- but that did nothing to change the fact that he did offer. Which was weird. He didn't seem to have any heartstrings she could easily pull on. But out of her depth like she was, Kita decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"...ok." She spoke slowly, one eyebrow raised as if she expected him to rescind the offer any moment now. As if he was holding a carrot over her head ready to snatch it away with a cackle.

“But I doubt anybody would welcome a girl with a rifle, wouldn’t you agree?"

"I think you're overly pessimistic. I'm just trying to go about my day, not shoot out someone's eye." A little less confidently she added. "I'm sure people would understand that."

Would they though? Her experiences thus far painted the world to be a rather callous, unforgiving place where justice was all but a foreign concept

With one hand she brushed a clump of wet hair from her face, slinging the rifle over her back with the other. "Do you have somewhere in mind?" Oddly enough, she felt a flutter of gratitude over all this. Kita couldn't come close to saying she liked the man, but he certainly lifted a weight from her shoulders. No one would bother her with him lurking around in that off-putting, villainous way he did.

Her lips pursed in debate before she finally added a reluctant but sincere, "Thank you by the way."

Kasir Dorran
​

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Kita

With a deep inhale, Kasir's head shook in skepticism at the girl's words. Time dragged on, and with each passing moment, he found himself losing interest and discarding any concern he may have once had. Whispers from the depths of his mind had seeped deep into his being, having a way of making him immune to some emotions that most felt.

"If anything," he started, "you seem like an easy target." The Sith's lips curled into a faint smirk. Despite Jutrand's being a bit safer than many Outer Rim worlds, he knew that danger often lurked around every corner. Even in a more lively city, crime could erupt at any moment. In the current moment, he felt like the girl before him was like a paradox–a rifle at her back, but vulnerability in her eyes. Perhaps the weapon was so that she could protect herself. Though, if he had to give her credit for one thing, at least in the face of overwhelming power, she dared to assert herself. The galaxy already had plenty of cowards.

"Truth be told," he said, his voice low, "I don't know of any places I can take you. I'm not a native to this city." He paused, studying her face. “You look like you’d know this place better than I do," he admitted.

"You also look like you haven't eaten in a long time.” With a sigh, he reached within his cloak, fingers brushing against cool metal as he snatched a handful of credit chips. He hesitated for a moment, contemplating the rare act of kindness he was about to offer. “Perhaps it would be but a small step in the right direction,” he suggested, extending his hand towards her, the chips resting on his palm. “Should fate favor you.”

 

[Kita]

“You look like you’d know this place better than I do,"

"Believe me, I don't." Kita grimaced, his words hitting some internal tick within the girl. As far as she knew, she wasn't a native to anywhere. The entire universe was new to her, untested, dangerous, and so far disappointing. "Haven't had much time to learn the layout considering I have approximately two weeks of memory to work off of."

She didn't know why she felt the need to share that, and part of her deeply regretted that she did. It was a poorly calculated display of vulnerability, not that the man thought that highly of her.

He then offered her credits for food.

On instinct, Kita almost refused. Something about accepting favors felt demeaning, as if she'd been trained out of the habit

You don't grovel. You don't beg. You rise above the masses having everything and wanting for nothing.

Kita shook her head, unsure where that memory came from— but shifting under the weight of it regardless. Still, her hunger was stronger then any long forgotten principles

A tentative hand reached up, accepting the credits after a prolonged moment. Clearly there was resistance on both sides.

The girl frowned, peering up at the much taller figure, "You don't like me." She noted bluntly,"Why are you helping me?"

Kasir Dorran
​

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Kita

His thoughts spiraled. The mention of “two weeks of memory” echoed in his mind, and he felt a twinge of something he couldn’t quite place—pity? Intrigue? It was unfamiliar territory for someone of his dark nature, a fragment of humanity buried long ago under his current identity.

The faintest smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. "You presume too much, little girl. Like is an insignificant sentiment," he said, then pausing so the weight of his words could settle. "Consider this a lesson in survival instead." he continued.

He wasn’t entirely sure what had compelled him to extend a hand in a world where he had learned to just take what he needed.

His life as a Sith, immersed in training amidst his duties, had dulled the value of any currency. To him, credit chips were just tokens, sometimes just a reminder of what he had left behind–warmth, compassion, and any human connection.

Finally, he spoke again, his voice a low murmur. “I don’t know of another way to help you,” he admitted, his tone carrying a hint of sincerity. “But I thought those credits might serve you in some way—perhaps for food, or to find a friend, or to escape this place.”