Jonnie ⚜ Merritt (angryjonnie) wrote in thegalaxy, @ 2016-07-01 14:17:00 |
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Entry tags: | dee, issan ren |
the sound of loneliness turned up to ten
Who: Dee & Issan
What: A Nightsister's mission is cut short.
When: a few days after this
Where: Virmire
Rating: PG-13 for brief violence
I.V. to D3, 6102226 16:18
Your next stop will be Virmire, to collect ingredients for the attached ritual. Use whatever means necessary to complete this task.
Shortly after completing the mask ritual, and after a brief sojourn to speak with the 'ally' that Issan refused to name to her sister witches, their leader had continued to grow distant. She inundated them with reading, forced them to practice endlessly, and left each lesson with less tact than she had originally treated them with. If either of them made the smallest of mistakes, Issan would berate them, only to stop halfway through and apologize. Her demeanor was, at best, confusing, ever since she had donned the mask. Now she sent both of her fellow Nightsisters to different locations, working on a fresh spell that she would tell neither of them about.
How quickly the bonds of sisterhood had seemed to wear thin. Dee remembered a time where they had felt like peers, like accomplices coming together to complete a great work. So recently it had felt as though she had found a new family, new sisters to help her face down this strange universe. Now Issan seemed eager to become just another stranger, a distant leader instead of a friend. Even Hannah at her most determined had stopped short of that. It was disappointing. But there was work still to be done, and Dee would see it through.
Does this mean you anticipate difficulty? she sent back. What can you tell me of what I might find here?
You may be questioned for your interest, and other items may prove too expensive, but you must do whatever it takes to attain what I've sent to you. The reply was short, and somewhat terse in tone.
Dee's lips thinned. She wrote and erased a number of replies before deciding on Very well. Her heart sank the moment she sent the message. Something felt lost between them. Though she had not known the Nightsister long, she keenly felt the absence of the warmth she thought they had once shared. After a moment spent with her thumbs hovering over the keys, she quickly typed out You can trust me, you know, and sent it before she could change her mind.
There was no reply, which could have meant a million different things. Issan either didn't agree, or held herself back from saying something too sentimental, or had put the holoreader down in favor of another task. Whatever the reason, the screen remained blank all the same. Dee sighed, and slipped the device back into her pack.
She shifted on the bunk allotted her, pulling the pack up into her lap. She was dressed in black, nondescript enough to blend in nearly anywhere. Her hair was bound and hidden beneath a heavy hood. She was already hot, sweat standing out in beads along the ridge of her spine, but it was a small price to pay for something close to anonymity. The crew had been vouched for, but they were still unknown to her, as was the planet they would soon touch down upon. Anxiety coiled in her gut like a snake waiting to strike.
The ship first slowed, then felt as though it stopped entirely. The crew stirred behind walls too thick to clearly make out what they said, but excitement was plainly in the air. Virmire was a few steps away, and somewhere on it, the task Issan had entrusted to her. Dee slipped down from the bunk and moved from living quarters to corridor the moment she heard the gangway extend. She nodded her thanks to the crew, but her fare had already been paid, so she said nothing and called as little attention to herself as was possible.
She clasped her fingers tight around the strap of her pack as she descended the gangplank. Slipping into the throng moving from hangar to market beyond, she fell easily into the expression she had carefully cultivated when approaching any new city: observant interest, with just a hint of boredom.
The planet offered a tepid atmosphere, and while there was greenery to be seen, it nowhere near reached the levels of Naboo. The sky overhead was a musty yellow as though it were dusk, but the sun was at its zenith. Passersby brushed past Dee, none giving her a second glance even as one accidentally shoved her back a pace. Creatures and humanoids at their stands hawked their wares, each offering a variety of sights, smells and possibly tastes, were an observer interested in stretching their coin. For the most part, it looked as though no one was as interested in the cloaked figure as she might have thought, each keeping to their own.
Dee was grateful for the noisy peace she found in the market. For a moment she could pretend she was a normal woman in a normal place, seeking a simple souvenir from a new destination. She did not find what she wanted at the first few stalls, and in truth had not expected to.
After wandering into a musty stall whose shelves groaned with woven carpets and wraps, her gaze alighted on an item she recognized from the list. It was a hand-spun cloth, its deep red drawn from human blood. Dee recognized the object at once; she could sense its power even from a distance. A young Rodian woman reached for the garment, but Dee cleared her throat and shouldered past her, one arm already extended. She pulled the scarf from the shelf and moved toward the seller. The Rodian mumbled something that sounded quite uncharitable, then slipped from the stall as Dee paid from her small collection of credits.
Around a corner, the Rodian spoke a garbled code into a device that resembled a dwarven-crafted wrist sundial, and received a reply to which she nodded to no one in particular. Large, black eyes watched Dee complete her purchase and move on from the stall.
As the black-clad witch wended her way back into the crowd, another dressed in equally un-eye-catching garb followed, threading past people with a singular purpose. Dee moved on to the next block of sellers, oblivious to her tail. She dipped in and out of the stalls she passed, quickly scanning their wares before moving on to the next. She did not stop until she had neared the end of the row.
There, far back on a shelf laden with secondhand jewelry, a small glimmer of something bright and true caught her eye: a stone, perhaps, or a bit of metal coiled to look like one. She sidled past the only other patron and reached back, back, until her fingertips brushed the little knot of color and pulled it gently toward her. She palmed the object -- what looked like an amethyst, coiled in copper wire -- after a quick glance at its price, well above and beyond what credits remained in her pack. There were no eyes upon her that she could feel, and she saw fit to keep it that way. She drew the Force around her, a cloak further veiling her in black, and slipped quietly from the stall, dropping the bound stone into her bag as she went.
As she did, her tail followed, moving into her peripheral vision. The figure was on her right, closing toward her person; the only discernible detail was that the figure was humanoid. Beyond that little more could be understood beside their intention, which was clearly to apprehend Dee as they moved toward her through the crowd.
At first the priestess tried to keep a veneer of outward calm. Her heart thundered in her chest. The fine beads of sweat along her back began to roll slowly downward. She clutched her bag a bit tighter, walked a bit faster. With one hand she drew her hook up closer around her face, hiding herself as best she could. The crowd and the Force swallowed her up, but it was not enough. She felt her stalker's eyes upon her, felt their ill intent radiating out toward her in harsh waves.
She reached the end of a row of stalls and sharply turned. Her slippers made little sound on the dusty ground; she quickened her steps, moving toward what appeared to be a reasonably well-trafficked cantina.
The humanoid was quick to follow, clearly unconcerned with the lively spot Dee had selected as a potential hiding place. As their quarry moved toward the cantina, the hunter glanced to Dee's left and made contact with a second person, who nodded and stepped away from the wall they'd been leaning against. This one was clearly human, dark-skinned and dressed in a simple vest with voluminous pants that wrapped around their legs. The man pushed forward through the crowd, headed for Dee as she nearly beelined toward him.
Her eyes snapped wide as she saw the man almost a moment too late. "Sorry," she mumbled, quickly sidestepping. Her black shoes kicked up dust as she skirted around him, her head down, her eyes on the ground before her. The hair at her nape rose. Her hand raised, then fell at once: It was too crowded here to open another portal. There were too many eyes, and there had already been far too many upon her. The portal might save her, but if one of those close to her made any move at all, they could be on her before she could slip through. Numerous potential scenarios ran through her mind, none of them ending well for her.
The cantina cut off from easy access, Dee spotted another alley, echoing loudly with voices. It was not her first choice, but it seemed the only one left to her. She turned on her heel and darted down the corridor, giving up all pretense of nonchalance.
The man and the figure who had been following her trail continued to do so as she moved down the alley; their pace did not increase, which spoke to the idea that they had intended she come this way. The figure's head tilted to the man, who nodded in return; he broke off from their dogged steps and disappeared through a doorway; a moment later, he was visible atop the low buildings, following Dee as they continued through the alley. He seemed to be carrying some sort of weapon, the details of which were difficult to comprehend from such a distance. The covered figure reached into a fold and pulled loose a lightsaber hilt. Though they kept it close to their body, it was clearly in sight enough for Dee to see it. The number of people around them was slowly dissipating, leaving the prey to her own wiles.
She swore under her breath. It had been foolish to come this way, foolish to come alone. She stopped short, nearly skidding into place in front of one stuccoed wall. She raised her hand and began to chant. White light edged in purple began to flicker in the wall. A tear appeared in its surface, small at first, like a knife slash. Then it widened, and the Nightsister drew closer, one foot raised and ready to enter the moment the entrance was large enough. She did not know where it would take her, nor did she care. Away was her only thought, growing louder and more frantic by the second.
The man atop the building roofs saw the tear the witch opened, and moved quickly to intercept her. Stopping, he took aim with the weapon; a moment later, a weighted net was hurtling in Dee's direction, aiming straight for her form. It wrapped around her middle, the weights carrying the netting around her arms and trunk several times, tying them securely to her form. The tear in front of her shuddered, stopping its growth.
"No!"
By slow degrees the portal began to shrink. Dee scooted closer to it, but dared not raise her foot and risk losing her balance. But the closer she drew the smaller the portal became, until at last it was little more than a pinhole through which she could see her chance of escape disappearing. She turned, wrists rolling beneath the net, and tried to move back toward the alleyway from which she'd come. But the weights were heavy, and already she felt overheated and exhausted.
"Help!" she cried. She knew better than that; she knew no-one would answer. She tried again. Tried something else. "Thief!"
The humanoid who had been closing the distance between them hit a button on the saber they held in their right hand; a long line of yellow twisted out and eventually spooled on the ground, creating a whip. With a twist, the humanoid wrenched back the laser whip and struck at a place between her and the slowly folding tear, forcing her back and away from it. If anyone heard her pleas for assistance, they did not answer; either they were well and truly alone, or anyone nearby knew enough to keep to themselves. The man on the roof had put the net gun down and lifted a second weapon, which looked to be an ordinary blaster.
"Well," Dee sighed, blowing a black curl from in front of her face. "I'll be Bogined." She drew a deep breath, wondering what Hannah would do, what she herself would do were Hannah at her side. She raised her hands as best she could beneath the net, splaying her fingers to show herself unarmed. She hoped that would buy her some good will with her would-be attackers, even as she took a few more steps backward, away from the whip and the now thoroughly solid wall. "So. What is it you want, hm? I know I stole the little rock, but this seems like overkill."
The whip curled back toward its owner like an obedient pet. The humanoid walked closer, closing the gap between itself and its prey. A three-fingered hand reached up and pulled back the cloth covering its face revealing a muzzle covered with brown fur, looking more akin to a lizard than anything mammalian.
"That's not what we're interested in," it replied, even its voice failing to give away a gender. Green, oval eyes with slits for pupils appraised its catch. "You fit the description of someone sought by the First Order. There's a high bounty on your head."
She laughed. "The First Order?" she scoffed. "There's no way. I'm nobody. A pickpocket." She canted her hip, pushing her pack out toward her reptilian captor. "I paid for the scarf, but the other thing… it's probably worth something. Turn it back in to the seller. See what you can get for it. I guarantee you it's more than I'm worth."
The humanoid gave what possibly passed for a grin among its people. "I don't care what you stole. I think we'll take you to General Hux and see what it is he has to say. There's a First Order outpost twenty clicks from here; it won't take us very long to reach it. Then you can convince them you're not worth much." It tapped a button on the laser whip to deactivate it, and pocketed the weapon. Moving forward more still, it took the proffered pack from her side, upending its contents into the dirt. The red cloth followed by the spool of metal, accompanied by a myriad of other things Dee had brought from her homeworld, fell. She swore in a foreign tongue.
"Illirium? Hardly worth what the First Order will pay for your flesh. I have to wonder what a simple pickpocket did to warrant such a price."
She struggled for words, and more for the bluster she had seen allow others to escape more dire circumstances. She straightened her shoulders the best she could within her tight bindings. She managed a tiny shrug. "You don't look as stupid as you sound," she said. "You've mistaken me for someone, else you've been outright lied to. Let me leave. Save yourself the embarrassment of bringing the wrong woman back."
The humanoid eyed Dee for a moment, his comrade suddenly joining them on the ground as he exited through a doorway. The net gun was gone, but he still held the blaster in his right hand. He eyed Dee, a smirk coloring his features.
"I've heard Kylo Ren is looking for this one. You don't have the dots, and you're dressed different, but I think he'll recognize you all the same."
"You mean you hope," she said. A fresh sheen of sweat slicked her brow. She was losing her already hostile audience. If she couldn't find a gambit that would work, by night's end she would be staring into a face she'd hoped to never see again. "He's a Force user, you know. The second he looks in my head and sees I'm nobody, he'll throw you in a dungeon somewhere."
The man grinned. "Lookit how she sweats. She's the one."
The humanoid seemed to consider his partner's words for a moment, then nodded. "Prep her for shipping. If she's the one, she's a Force user. We need to take precautions."
His partner nodded, and strode up to Dee. Whatever promises or excuses she might have made were lost as he raised the butt of his blaster and struck her across the temple, knocking her out cold.