Nightsister Merrin

the guy had apparently flown some cargo for the empire but never minded telling anyone else some intel - for the right price of course.

And now Cal, because she supposed that Cere and Greez did not count for this.

The Empire made sure of it. 

"I have considered it." She replied, in the end. "It would be useful to know."

She would have learned from her people, in another life. Now...

"But the healing I know asks for life given, first. It makes people squeamish." And made people notice her too much, and bacta was easier and had far fewer inconvenients. "I am told sacrifices are not good bedside manner."

⸻ ⛧ 𝘍𝘖𝘙 𝘖𝘕𝘊𝘌, 𝘏𝘌 𝘋𝘖𝘌𝘚 𝘕𝘖𝘛 mind answering her questions. It would seem that neither of them had expected something similar of the other. Similar, not the same. But he cannot help but let his intrigue give way to hers. ❝ Where I come from, there is a period of time when all our days are dark and the large felines tend to roam the city streets to try to steal our stray offspring to feed their own. We make wards like these to deter them. More than a suggestion, but a strict line. It can wear off over time, though. ❞

Rather than looking for a stick to draw in the dirt, he brushes away dead leaves & grass with his foot to provide an unobstructed surface. Then, without bending down, he makes a subtle motion with his hand & a symbol sinks into the dirt. It is an example of what he had done truly, but a more visual form so that she might be able to see for herself. Perhaps compare. ❝ This is what it looks like, what it's called. ❞

He remembers that the name of her planet had not sounded familiar, not that he expected it to. But not everything about his people's history was hidden from him. He had, after all, be one of the few who kept the archives in Tal'Zehra. ❝ I am curious as to whether our gifts might be, for lack of a better word, cousins. You said you were from Dathomir. Where is this? ❞

A strict line, and it stands to reason: it's a useful sigil, and not unlike those her sisters would have used to keep the coven safe. Different, yes, but the word cousins is not entirely wrong. It will do.

"The Outer Rim." She tells him. "The Quelii sector, they call it."

It was not a name her people had chosen, but she had learned of it anyway. And it was warded and protected, but there was little to steal now: there would have been a time where it would not have been hers to share, but now she unfortunately can.

"Is that close to your planet?" She asks, nevertheless.

She knows it's not, or her people would have known about his, but still she asks. And then,

"I would learn more of your magicks. Do you have a name?"

⸻ ⛧ 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘔𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘐𝘖𝘕 𝘖𝘍 𝘚𝘗𝘌𝘓𝘓𝘚 𝘚𝘌𝘌𝘔𝘚 to have piqued her interest though he wasn't sure if the threat was over just yet. Being asked to see his spells was... different. Usually he kept things hidden, though he was not sure that his could compare to what she could do.

Offering a single-shouldered shrug, he slowly lifts his hands as not to startle her, ❝ It's more for talismans, omens, and sealing stone but... ❞ With his hands, he draws in front of him with trained precision that was second nature. Something overly practiced & muscle memory enough that he did not need words, even if they did ghost across his lips.

Before him, a symbol of glowing goldish-orange would form. A cross between geometrical & floral. A ward against beasts, if she had any ability to catch the meaning despite their differences. Something to redirect a crazed animal from bothering. But the brief light would not stay. It would fade just as he puts his hands down, though the intent would remain. ❝ I am not sure if that is what you were looking for. ❞

She does not relax, she does not go easy: she's not so reckless so as to do that, when someone could use an illusion -magicks or not- to distract her attention and then attack. But she's curious, and wary, and then she knows that something is happening.

She has not, until now, met magic that was not that of her sisters' or that of the Jedi. The Force, as they understand it and wield it, and the craft of her people. And while the Force already felt like witnessing someone writing in letters she couldn't read, but the shape of which she recognized enough to know they were letters, this is closer to hearing someone sing in an accent that is not hers, a language that differs, yes, but with some pieces that can be inferred.

It's not what she was looking for, but only because she wasn't looking for anything.

"What is that for?" She asks, thoughtful. "It is a suggestion. It compels, does it not?"

Yes, her curiosity is piqued, and so is a certain heartache: this is the closest to her skills that she has found ever since she left Dathomir.

⸻ ⛧ 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘞𝘖𝘙𝘋 '𝘚𝘜𝘙𝘙𝘌𝘕𝘋𝘌𝘙' 𝘋𝘖𝘌𝘚 𝘕𝘖𝘛 sit well with him. Call it pride or something about masculinity or Nythra, he wasn't sure yet. But he would, at least, admit to the former, ❝ Know my limits. ❞

What was there to surrender to other than admitting that he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, looking for what might best pay his bills. Though it did not usually attribute to finding someone else capable of magick so... obvious.

Dathomir is not a familiar name. But with a galaxy so large, & plenty of histories he had yet to grow familiar with, he considers that this was just one of many. Offering her a shrug, he realizes that asking the question had been useless. Often he asks the question & is met with an answer that meant nothing.

❝ Is it unique to you or are there more of you? I only ask because... ❞ carefully, he puts a hand to his chest in gesture, ❝ It seems a little familiar, is all. But different. I know my spells but they are not... green. ❞

Not surrender, then, and so she prepares for battle. Not immediate, not yet, but the risk is there and she won't be caught off-guard.

She is not in Dathomir anymore, and so she's not as easy with her perception and with her surroundings as she'd been on her home planet. No, what she can read is what her eyes tell her, and what she can gather from his questions.

And while she's not about to talk of her family, of her Clan, her expression turns into a frown again, in a quiet question that is answered soon enough, and brings forth even more questions now.

"Show me those spells of yours." She asks him.

And as a token of goodwill, she even turns the spear into a dagger again. A threat, or less so than one, as she expects and even dares to hope for an answer. Because this could be a trick, but if it isn't... well, the one before her isn't talking about the Force, like a Jedi, but about magick. And this is a first for her.

⸻ ⛧ 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘎𝘈𝘓𝘈𝘟𝘠 𝘕𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘙 𝘊𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘌𝘚 𝘛𝘖 surprise him & this meeting has turned into an unexpected endeavor. The kind he isn't actually sure he will do well with. She has power he has never seen, even if a familiarity comes with it. Such a gifting would match & likely exceed Casimir's own prowess.

So he makes an educated decision, partnering well with his preference of defense rather acting on the offensive. Hands lift slightly, not as a full surrender but a gesture in good will, ❝ I do, actually. ❞ Glancing at her... magick spear... he can't help but ask...

❝ Where did you learn to do that? ❞ he asks with a slight gesture of his head.

He does, he says, and her frown is a cautious thing.

"You know your limits," she asks, "or you surrender?"

She's not above fighting him, for all she'd rather not: she's already made enough enemies and she was here searching for something. Running into the Crystal Priest, well: she'd been wanting to locate him, in case Cal or Cere found the intel useful, but she knows the risks of notoriety.

Still, his gesture is clear enough that she points the spear's tip towards the ground, and only circles him some more steps, the slightest hints of magick still in her hands.

But she gives him an answer.

"Dathomir." She tells him.

Time to see if there will be a reaction to it, for all she does somewhat doubt it.

She wouldn't have given her planet's name, if anything remained that someone without a connection to it could find it. But now, it's something she can share.

a collection of quotes from t. kingfisher's sworn soldier series . i may change some quotes to make them more rp friendly . feel free to change pronouns as needed ♥

“Tomorrow, in my experience, is only worth worrying about when there’s something you can do about it.”

“Why must you keep sending me innocent monsters?”

“A poet once wrote that these woods are as deep and dark as God’s sorrow, and while I am usually skeptical of poets, I feel this one may have been onto something.”

“Something bad happened to both of us, too. We don’t deserve to fall apart either.”

“May we always have the choice to err on the side of mercy” 

“May they shit pinecones in Hell.” 

“There is nothing supernatural about it. Nature creates horrors enough all by itself.”

“I am skilled at preparing exactly two meals: handful of dry stuff pulled from saddlebags, and burnt thing on a stick.”

“Grief does strange things to people, and there isn’t always a logical explanation.”

“People think a war is an event, something neatly bounded on either end by dates. What anyone who’s lived through one can tell you is that it’s actually a place.”

“We don't always know what we should be afraid of.”

“Paying one's condolences sounds well and good in theory, but in practice you have to walk up to a stranger and effectively say, "Ah, yes, that person you loved so much? Remember how that died horribly? So sorry about that.”

“Look, if you don't make a fool of yourself over animals, at least in private, you aren't to be trusted.”

“The dead don’t walk. Except, sometimes, when they do.”

“If we don’t pretend we’re laughing, we might have to admit just how broken we are.”

“Headache is always preferable to heartache, and if you’re focusing on not throwing up, you aren’t thinking about how the friends of your youth are dying around you.”

“If we run then we would have to admit there is something to run from.”

“The war had been hard on my feet and my knees and my faith in humanity.”

“You know how bad news grows in villages. Sneeze at noon and by sundown the gravedigger will be taking your measurements”

“They ask questions, but what they really want to know is what’s in your pants and, by extension, who’s in your bed.”

“there’s a price you pay for being good at some things.”

“The dead may walk, but I will not walk among them.”

“This place breeds nightmares.”

“I have killed so many people and seen so many die, and what if none of them are peaceful in the ground? What if they are roaming around? What if I will have to face them and explain?”

"Perhaps it is only in dreams that I am sinning.”

“We cannot habeas the corpus.”

“Ha, yes, of course the enemy has cannons, why wouldn’t they? Oh, and we’re out of bullets, you say? Ha!”

“I have, as I have told you, the psychic sensitivities of mud.”

“Sometimes when people hurt for a long time, they start to think that hurting is part of who they are. And then anything that helps the hurt, even healing, feels like it’s trying to strip part of them away.”