It was more than safe to say that Chiasa had not been expecting the juggernaut that was Emberli in a rage to come crashing down on her like an avalanche. Granted the Mando's all had their damned beskar on, but she didn't recognize any of the suits as belonging to the top dogs in her security reports. Reports that had been programmed to leave Emberli out. In the small part of her mind that was still thinking calmly and coherently she supposed it was possible they'd gotten a new suit or a new paint job. What would she know about Mandalorians and their habits?
Droids were brushed aside as if they were nothing instead of heavy, solid threats in his incandescent rage. Chiasa, quite frankly stunned by this sudden attack for all that her combat experiences were growing, froze for just a fraction of a moment, and that moment was enough that he was there. A massive hand found its way to her throat and gripped with enough force that he was bodily lifting her from the ground.
Fear and confusion were warring within the Twi'lek, fear originally winning out as her airway was cut off only to be railroaded by confusion when he snarled out the bit about a daughter. She had no idea who this man was, nor what he was talking about, and gods alone only knew how he had managed to confuse one of the most recognizable Twi'leks in the galaxy for someone else, but just because she didn't know why he was doing it didn't mean he wasn't going to kill her.
Dimly, over the pounding of the blood in her ears she heard security roaring. Cries of '
Back off!' 'Put your weapons down!' and Declans bull-roar of
'Let her go!'. They were going to advance, one side or the other would open fire, it would be a bloodbath. Time seemed to slow. This was partially because of adrenaline and partially because the Twi'lek hadn't lost all affinity for force speed yet.
Two entirely different sets of instinct were rising, and it wasn't yet a sure bet which would reign supreme. Self preservation and the single minded territorial drive to protect what was hers.
Self preservation said to let them open fire. Let the bloodbath come. The invaders were outnumbered and outgunned. It would cost lives but all she had to do was survive. Dodge and duck and escape. She'd gotten good at that. Let others do the fighting and the bleeding.
Territorial protective drive said that Declan and the others were her responsibility. That it was her job to protect them regardless of what their job descriptions said. There was even a warring part of her that said her attacker and those he had brought were also hers to protect, and she was having trouble justifying that. Would have had trouble even if she was being allowed oxygen. She'd marked him as untouchable. There had to be a reason. He had to be
someone. This was a tenuous fact, but it was all she had to justify something that didn't make sense.
Decisions were made, and fear and confusion both were pushed aside to make room for certainty. For fire.
~HOLD!~
This roar was sent through the Force, ripping into minds. Her usual impeccable control was fraying. The subtlety was lacking. It was meant for her own security, but she could not target them. Any not force-dead in the vicinity would hear. Only Declan was a familiar enough presence that she might have been able to pick him out through the rising haze and the chaos.
"Ma'am!"
She could feel his rejection and denial. It was tiny, a pinprick of refusal compared to the supernova of rage battering her when her mental walls were down from the Mando, but she felt it all the same.
~Not dead. No deaths. Fight Smarter. EMPS. Nytinite. Sonic. OBEY.~
This to Declan. In other situations she might have felt bad for forcing him in this way, but the message wasn't even words. It was ideas, ideas and orders from an alpha predators who's words was damned well law in her own home.
Hands rose to his wrist, back arched and feet kicked out in one fluid and sudden movement, wrenching herself out of his grasp. The marks of his fingers still imprinted on her slender neck, redness from the fingers, it would well and truly bruise later, scratches from where she'd pulled herself free. She turned the backwards fall into a tumble and came up on her feet, eyes blazing and teeth bared. Ignoring the other Mandalorians, ignoring her own security. There was only the threat.
Her throat was raw, and it hurt to speak, at first there was no sound at all, but she had no time for injury. Her body would obey.
"You are mad. I've no daughter to abandon."
This was snarled, spit out, voice rough.
[member="Bear"]
