essenceofhispenance.

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As the wormsign increased, the cinnamon smell of the spice did tenfold. No one in the Republic had linked the worms to the spice. No that was a secret the Sevari kept closer than any other.

She could feel the sand shifting beneath her feet, a rhythmic noise sounding like a loud drum. The vibrations, the sound- they needed silence! She’d told the offworlder to silence his blade, slow his steps, where was this rhythm coming from?

                               It betrayed them.

She motioned with a hand from him to be silent, but glanced back at the shift in his voice. His filter was not akin to those the offworld miners used. Theirs had been silent, at least they were smart enough to know rhythm of any kind would only advance their time of death.

 Chani let out a huff of exasperation as his sword ignited again. “ Fool!” She breathed, already moving away from the Makers so distractedly intertwined with each other.

She admired his awareness, his skill, but she has no respect for the fool who would place a target so easily upon himself.

She was still moving, rhythmless as she drew her crysknife. With one swift inhuman motion  she plunged the bone-like blade into his wrist. If he would not turn the machine off she would make him incapable of holding it. It was not so deep to remove the appendage, but merely sever  the vital muscles that formed a fist. She was not wasteful. Not of flesh nor blood. The blade was sheathed as her spare hand came to rip the rhythmic mask from his face.

Spice addiction be damned. If he was so certain his companion was alive, then this man needed to stay alive long enough to find him. She tossed the machine towards the combating  worms, held fast where she had stabbed him to stay any blood and ran.

They had to get to the rock caves. Only that promised safety.

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               UNPREPARED FOR HER attack, the blade sinks mercilessly between metal welded && fastened to act as bone, unstringing the mechno sinews that hold his hand tight around the pommel of his lightsaber. Anakin drops the weapon with a scream borne more of frustration than pain. 

               Anger builds up behind his eyes, shards of glass sticking into his skin && twisting like knives. Darkness licks the edges of his vision, heat fining through every capillary, erratic sparks that tease up fleeting fires. && all Anakin can think about is how much he wants to hurt her for attacking him. Had she stabbed his flesh hand his reaction would have been much more visceral.

              The oxygen filter falls between the loose sand, crushed beneath the ever-shifting shapes created in the dunes by the sandworms. Anakin doesn’t have time to mourn the loss, instead diving for his saber with his working left hand so that it too isn’t lost to the sand. 

               Anakin doesn’t allow her to pull him along, && yanks the Fremen back towards him, something ragged && dangerous burning beneath his dark brow. ❝ You’re lucky that was my mechnohand. ❞ He attempts to curl its fingers around her wrist, but the interface module embedded in the wrist of his arm had been destroyed by Chani’s knife. 

               He turns his lightsaber back on, extending it to Chani’s throat as he holds out his short-circuiting hand for the knife. ❝ Give me your weapon. ❞ They still have a few minutes before the sandworms notice them, && Anakin intends to make use of it.

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