“I’ll make you bleed.”
@krxtaa | Physical Contact Starters
Ash and cinders fell around them like volcanic rain, disappearing into the earth and coating the area in a thin, shadowy blanket. The valley they stood in was mortared, the craggy landscape split open by the scars of battle- and in its center, the resulting scene of an epic clash between two dangerous Force-wielders, evidence of their conflict scattered all around by the burn their ‘sabers left behind.
Cody’s chest was heaving under the weight of his kit and the effort it had taken him to dig his heels hard into the dirt, effectively closing the distance between himself and the Zabrak standing menacingly over General Kenobi’s unconscious body. Moments before, the Jedi’s lightsaber had been knocked from his hand and had flown several yards away at Cody’s feet.
The Commander had never truly believed in the will of the Force, not really. But in that moment, after the panic had set in out of the fear of Obi-Wan being in imminent danger and his desperation had left him no other choice, part of him finally understood what it meant.
Obi-Wan’s voice reverberated in his head, like it had so many times before whenever they parted ways, May the Force be with you.
The blue ‘saber ignited with the hilt held tightly in his right hand, and he tested its weight by rolling his wrist, the blade easily following the movement by carving a circle through the air. Obi-Wan had shown him how to use it before, and as Cody held it now those hours they had spent practicing forms and avoiding the heat of its edge were fresh in his mind.
He was standing over Obi-Wan’s motionless body like a loyal dog guarding its master, his upper lip even curled to expose his teeth in a defiant scowl.
“You’ll have to hit me first,” he taunted, allowing his left hand to join his right on the hilt of the ‘saber.
All he had to do was hold Maul off until Obi-Wan regained consciousness. With everything that had comprised his life until this day, all the years of war sewn into the fabric of his soul, every moment of agony, and joy, and fear, he swore on it all that he would hold off just as long as necessary. Even if it meant this was his final stand.
“Your move.”
