| abstract
| - Cort A human male, in the between stages of adulthood and the teenage years. A good guess would put him around the ages of eighteen or nineteen standard years. His facial features are finely chiseled, high cheek bones dominating his face. His nose is thin and comes to a point, giving the young man a smug look. Sharp hazel eyes scour his surrounding and have a slightly unusual look to them. Strangely, they seem to be the eyes of someone much older than the boy. The kind of person who has seen and known much of this galaxy. Light blonde hair, almost white, cascades back to his shoulder blades. It is pulled into a tight pony tail at the back of his neck, allowing it to flow free behind his shoulders. He stands at an even six feet and his frame can be best described as average, not thin, but not overly muscular. The boy does not appear to be the healthiest of specimens. His skin is extremely pale, almost deathly. Pink bags painfully rest beneath his eyes, making him look as if he hasn't slept in days or if he is the victim of some epidemic. The thin lips that surround his mouth have grown cracked and chapped, but with the look of him, it's probably not from the weather. Currently, he is clad in flowing black robes which cover the majority of his body. A black belt is wrapped around his waist to prevent the robe from becoming too free. Black boots, shined with stunning perfection poke out from beneath the robes on occasion. His hands are also gloved, wrapped in shiny black leather which are woven so tightly it's like a second layer of skin. Kacela This tall woman moves around with trained, athletic grace. Her skin is slightly tanned and her features are slight and almost angular, giving her a somewhat exotic appearance. This woman's hair is a little shorter than shoulder length and is black with a very slight indigo sheen. The hair is tied up in a small ponytail at the base of her neck and two longer tendrils frame her face. Eyes of a deep blue, with lighter flecks, shimmer with intelligence and alertness.. and occasionally a cold smile. A relatively clingy, black outfit graces this woman's powerful, and athletic form. Her top is half covered by a new, dark brown nerfhide jacket which is long enough to reach her hips. A utility belt is slung casually around her waist and contains such useful items as a datapad, tools and an ornate, yet well used, vibroblade. Strapped to her thigh is a heavy blaster. The blue eyed woman moves with the gait and deliberation of a predator on the prowl. _______________________________________________________________ Mira sits in a cell not far from Simon's. But, of course, she doesn't know this. Having decided that the cot did not suit her well, she had taken to sitting on the filthy floor in her prisoner jumpsuit, which she found rather snazzy. She was, however, still very bitter about the loss of her cloak, and the contents of the pockets. As she sits on the floor, she hears a scuffling noise coming from a small hole in the wall of her cell. Not sure whether this was unsettling or intriguing, Mira inches towards the hole, looking around for something she could poke at it with. Unfortunately, the Imperials were good housekeepers and there were no twigs or straws lying around. This was unsatisfactory. Standing up from the ground and not bothering to dust off the dust all over her jumpsuit, she walks over to the door and starts tapping on it. Not a loud booming noise. Just a tiny annoying, but very persistent tapping. The sound echoes through her cell. Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. Isolated. Tossed into a cell as one might toss a salted pork into a goodwife's pantry. A prison of steel and wires surrounds Simon Sezirok as he lays motionless on the black slab that would serve as his sleeping platform. Motionless he lays... yet aware. Without opening his eyes, Simon stretches out through the True Source tentatively, probing his surroundings as if his invisible touch might set off an alarm. For several moments, despair lingers in his heart like a lead weight, until the familiar, warm brilliance of Mira's spirit comes into his perception. She was still alive, which meant that it was not all such a waisted effort. She was alive... and not far off... Combing through the files of the recent battles, Cort had made a stunning discovery. Simon, the man he had fought with upon Caspar, the man he saw much of himself in, had been captured. According to the report, a woman was also brought in with him - most likely the woman who was throwing handfuls of whatever toxic and disgusting waste products from within the dumpster she had chosen as safe haven. It didn't matter though. Destiny had once again brought these two men together. But for what purpose? Only time would tell. Fetching Mira had been an easy task. The dark Jedi had walked right past the sentries which guarded the detention center, a perk of his gift. He had asked if she wanted to see Simon and not surprisingly, she had agreed. As Simon's mind sifts through the immediate area, searching for his friend, Cort is keying in the combination of Simon's cell. The durasteel door slides open, revealing his black robed form, with Mira at his side. Not much has changed since the men had last met. If anything, Cort looks exactly the same, being the creature of habit he is. "So we meet again, my friend," he says in his soft, strangely accented, voice. "I knew you'd come back to me, but certainly not in a predicament such as this." The young man, who some would still consider a boy, looks back to Mira and motions her inside. Something has beckoned the hunter to come to the ship, and subsequently to the cells that hold the prisoners that she helped capture in the most impressive battle that she had ever had the pleasure of being involved in. The effect of the battle on her is evident, as her usually graceful gait is somewhat marred by a pronounced limp thanks to a nasty injury caused by Simon. The former moff allows her eyes to rest on Cort for a moment and she frowns slightly, he looks familiar.. but.. there's something about him, "I see you've found the fruits of my efforts.." She says cooly, stepping behind Cort and into the cell to join the others, feeling proud to have brought in such a catch. The first sound of Cort's voice in Simon's ears brings stabbing pangs of regret, thinking that he'd somehow given away his false slumber despite his precautions. The Imperials had injected him with some sort of toxin which he was ultimately able to defeat, though he couldn't be certain how long it had taken him. Then Simon recognizes the man's voice, and the dark, tormented face that he'd first heard it eminate from comes to mind. He couldn't have fainted sleep for long against that one. Straightening from his prone position, he turns from where he'd been facing the wall to regard the one that had called himself Etrigan. His eyes find the man... and then he freezes, when he sees Mira. His heart fills with despair and skips a bit. They were going to torture Mira in order to break him. Simon opens his mouth to respond to Cort, then stops, snapping it shut with a click at the appearance of the Kacela. His hands ball into fists at his side, and he wishes dreadfully for his lightstaff. With his heart pounding in his ears, Simon finds his voice, and it is soft. He says quietly, "What do you want, Butcher? You are sided with the Corrupter, are you?" Mira is pleasantly oblivious to the thoughts plaguing Simon about what the Imperials may or may not intend to do to her. She is just glad to see him and to get out of her cell, and away from the scruffling noise from the corner of her cell. "Simon!" she exclaims as she sees him, pushing past Cort to sit on the ground next to where he lies on his cot. She falls silent as the Hunter walks into the cell and simply turns to stare at her in an unfriendly manner. As Morganna appears, Cort can't help find himself a little angered with the situation. His plans here were only to talk, to hopefully befriend Simon. But now, like a tourist, Morganna had shown up to dig a thorn into his side once again. Yes, he remembers Selene. He remembers it all too well. Nothing had insulted him so greatly, as when she had tried to purchase him, as if He was for sale to a lowly Moff. At first, he ignores both Morganna's and Simon's words, simply glaring at the woman for a good amount of time. However, he knows now is not the time for such petty rivalries. He has bigger fish to fry. "I take no sides, my friend. I only serve the religion which has bestowed upon me my gift," he replies crypticly, ignoring Morganna for now and concentrating on Simon. As he steps forth into the cell, he realizes that he doesn't even know where he came up with something as lame as that. "But, please. There is no need to use such insulting terms with me. I've only come to talk, if you'd like me to leave, just say so." His words seem genuine enough, but would simply asking him be enough? The hunter, or Corruptor as she is now being called by the sounds of things, looks at the nasty scar on the top of her left wrist, caused by the whirling blades of the talented Simon. Her eyes move from the scar and then they burn into Simon, with a milder version of the fury she possessed during the battle, but it is nonetheless still frightening. The gaze is then passed to Mira and She lifts her lips in a snarl, letting loose an animal like growl that makes her seem more like a beast than human. There's a definite flicker of coldness behind that growl, as aided by her corrupt link to the dark side, in an attempt to make her seem more ferocious than she is. Suddenly, that something about Cort pops into her mind, aided by his memories an she can't help but grin at his anger and insult. As Cort deems to just /talk/ to Simon. Morg almost seems somewhat disappointed, but she shrugs and leans against one of the walls of the cell and some amusement crosses her lips, "Ahhh.. I remember now.,." she whispers with a positively evil grin. The exchange between Cort and Kacela was almost entirely lost on Simon as Mira makes her approach. As she drops to the floor, he slides off his cot to his knees, throwing his arms around the girl, taking as much comfort in her presense as he was hoping to give her. For just a few heartbeats, he takes his eyes away from Cort and Kacela, to study Mira for signs of abuse as much as to memorize her features. The Dark Jedi may say he just wants to talk, but there was evil and deceit at hand, and Simon knew that the only one he could possibly trust now, he held in a loose embrace. Holding an arm around Mira protectively, Simon turns his attention back up to Cort and Kacela, eyes narrowed slightly. Looking at them clearly now, they certainly did not seem to be the strongest of allies. Their cryptic comments to each other could be code... or it could be that there were undercurrents that Simon could not see. Undercurrents could be fast and deadly, sweeping a man away to his death before he knew what he'd stepped in. He would have to be cautious. "I do not think we have anything to talk about. Etrigan," Simon says, the last forced out, and even more slurred than his slurrying accent would account for. Accepting the embrace from Simon and giving him one of her own in return, Mira is glad to find that he seems more or less unharmed. After the injection the Imperials had given him down on the planet, she wasn't sure if he would ever wake up. And after spending quite some time fretting about his fate, she was glad to find that he was indeed alive. As she pulls away from Simon, she again turns to look at Cort and Kacela, simply narrowing her eyes and staring at them. Unforutanately, the Imperials had taken all her belongings when they exchanged her cloak for her snazzy prisoner's garb, and she therefore found hersefl with nothign to lob at their captors. "Yeah, let us go. We have nothing to talk about," she says, echoing Simon. "...And you would do well to forget," Cort says to Morganna, finishing her comment. He can't help himself though, turning slightly towards her, he adds, "because it will not ever happen again." The dark Jedi let's his words settle for a moment, as if saying, 'I dare you to try something.' But after a moment, he turns his attention back to Simon, finding it a bit disappointing that Simon (or his girl friend), don't want to speak with him. "Oh..." is really the only thing he can say at first, since he's not exactly used to not getting his way. "Well then, I guess this is goodbye then. Good luck with the interrogation officers that they'll no doubt be sending down here for the both of you." Whine. Whine. Whine. "Oh! The emperor's favourite child certainly has some spunk." Morganna chides with a positively condescending edge to her voice as she snorts. Nope, there isn't any jealousy there, not at all. An enormous grin crosses Morganna's face, a stark contrast to her usual nasty self, she's enjoying Cort's annoyance with her and she leans over to whisper in his ear, not that she really needs to do that. After all, she could just send her thoughts via her mind, "You would have been worth every credit.." and then she pulls back and smirks, speaking louder this time, 'I'll leave you with your little friends..." Morg snickers evilly, and she points a finger to Simon, "I owe you a couple of scars. and I promise you, that when you get them, you will be in extreme agony.." Without waiting for any responses, and knowing full well that her words will probably piss Ciort off, she steps out of the Cell to wander around once again. Ah. Simon was right. They were going to torture Mira in order to break him, or gather information from him, or perhaps simply to satisfy some sadistic nature. Had the Dark Jedi come to soften he and Mira up to the experience so that they'd be more pliable, or had he really come to offer a way out that was less painful? "Wait. Etrigan," Simon says, a little more hastilly than he liked. It's unclear if Simon added the man's name in order to sound more endearing, or if it's to show that he means for the young man to stay, and not the woman. "What is it they want to know? If it means Mira is spared, I'll tell you anything."
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)