strongvoice.

            anger comes first, seering through her throat. intent next. she can feel it, she’s the subject of it, and she yells for the men under her command to scatter as she takes to running, firing behind her and praying for a lucky shot. it’s the anticipation that kills, the raw fear riding through her coiled muscles. she’s nothing of the soft woman that she had once been. where once she had flesh and bones now she has rebar, fused to her muscle, no fat on top of it.

            can not, will not, must. so much of her life has been focused on avoid avoid avoid any attention that her actions might call upon her. keep her head down, play the part of a loyal citizen to the empire. think nothing of the resistance but cheer for it’s seldom victories like every other man and woman in the darkness that has fallen on the galaxy.

            why hutta   ——   she thinks again with that sort of simmering, beneath the skin anger that she had just a moment prior. there are death knells around her, the screams of dying men and she swears, because anakin was never good at leaving the questions he shouldn’t ask unanswered. a shift, her teeth bear behind the mask and ryoo throws down her blaster, pulling the force pike from her belt.            ( she remembers buying it. one of the few weapons in the galaxy that can parry a lightsaber. if he’s going to kill her, she’s going to go down fighting, she owes it to her children, flung into the galaxy with no mother, and a shade for a father. )

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            kill me,    she thinks, raising the weapon.    finish what you started.

               VADER MEETS HER on the other side of the swamp, an evocation of death hunkering down before the small bounty hunter, his weapon poised && whispering in ozone promises of pain. Whoever this woman is, she’d punctured his carefully-wrought solitude, a thick layer of ice with which he shields his heart && mind. 

               The light of the sun dips over the thick plume of trees behind them, trailing black night across the swamplands. It falls upon them like a lead blanket, heavy and scorching && windless. But Vader is blissfully numb within the isolated embrace of his mobile life-support system. Or at least as numb as one can be living as both metal && man && something not quite human at all. He stalks towards her, moving like a rancor amongst curved-horn cattle

              It would be sensible to kill the bounty hunter outright, he supposes, be done with this nuisance before it has a chance to grow into a more capable pest. But a voice within Vader screams he hold his hand, && though he has become good at ignoring the voice, the temptation to humor its plea is too strong not to bend to. He keeps his blade drawn, balanced in front of him like a tool of diplomacy, as ironic the parallel might be.

               There is no diplomacy anymore, no peace. The Empire does not believe in compromise, && yet its very blade makes no move to attack. The sound would seem to surround her, everywhere — the soft, even, mechanical intake of breath.

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     ❝ You have no power here. ❞ That voice could set a shiver in the bravest man’s bones. ❝ Who are you? ❞

 
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independent & private roleplay blog for anakin skywalker/darth vader of all star wars media. written by scout. || est. feb 2016.