driftfleet | [ not that kind of sith ]

Entry tags:

[ not that kind of sith ]

Who: Cara + You
Broadcast: Video
Action: SS First Breath
When: Now!

[ She felt stiff. The surface on which she lay on was too smooth, too even. She groans, stretching her eyes and gazing at her surroundings, her cat-like eyes sharp and wary. This was not the Midlands. With a graceful leap, she lands on her feet in a careful crouch, reading for her weapons –

. . . Her agiels. Gone. She straightens, a scowl marring her face. Without caring who heard her, she speaks, her voice cold and deadly. ]

I don’t know how you managed to touch my agiels, considering they pay you back in pain tenfold. But if you are foolish enough to take them, I assume you are foolish enough to test my patience.

I’ll warn you though. Do not test it for long or I’ll pay it back, inch by inch. Now. . .

[ She surveys the bridge. She knows she’s being watched, even though she can’t tell how. Honed battle instincts whisper to her that this is a strange situation and there’s little she can do about it . . . for now.

In the most deadpan of voices. ]

Why is everything metal and why was it necessary? Did someone murder every architect? Because I would for this . . . lazy work.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Then I will simply make my own sharp and pointy things.

[ Though Cara would like to know how they managed to touch them. Only those tortured by the agiel have the power to hold them. ]

I am on a ship. A metal ship. In the space.

Hey- more power to ya. Arts and crafts isn't something i've seen them put their foots down about.

[ He offers a nod, though. ]

But, yeah. You are. Welcome to space.

I would have thought being among the stars would allow more freedom and less captivity. Though nothing on my world would have prepared me for this.

[ She gives him a curt nod though. ]

You and me both, and i've never even been big on the idea of space travel.

What is your world like then?

[ Oh. Well, crap. His.... absolute favorite question. ]

Not anything worth talking about, believe me.

[ She considers pressing and dismisses it. Cara's not one to pry and she takes people at face value . . . for the most part. ]

Mine had no such skill in metal and space. Does magic even exist so far away?

Exists for a lot of people around here, me included- [ that much he can give without feeling all discontent. ]

Can't say the same thing for the world's we vacation at.

[ She shrugs, hair falling to the side. ]

Not that it matters.

Are you a warrior?

[ Yes. The answer is yes, ofc. ]

Never called myself one before.

What do you call yourself then? I am a Mord'Sith.

[ She said it proudly - even though that pride has been long tainted. ]

[ Wait. Wait. He knows half of that word and for a moment, his little geeky heart flutters in his chest before he silences it and just tips his head a little curiously instead. ]

Don't really call myself anything, haven't in years. But, ah- Mord'Sith? That mean anything in particular?

To most? Nothing pleasant. Weapons, I believe, would be the best meaning.

[ Torturers. Fighters. Monsters. To name a few. ]

But I can own up to who and what I am. I have no shame in that.

You're the weapon?

Yes.

[ Her tone is flat. ]

I was taken and trained. We're meant to serve, not to . . . think for ourselves.

[ Here, her voice changes. It's slightly more impassioned, but still level. ]