"Break me."
It had been a simple thing, the outing in the forestry, with all intents of friendly quiet over boiled leaves and citrus. Sly was a fellow lover of teas, a kindred spirit in that way alone, and it had been his own invitation that saw her at his side.
The gunfire rang hot and load, a deafening sound that threw both the Aurin and the snowy-haired expatriate to the ground in search of cover. How had he not known? He heard her hard breath beside him, heard her snarl of insult, but the dryness of his mouth stopped him from calling out to her.
Stop.
Too late.
Fury threw her forward, stalker’s claws bared, but they faced a Mechari, and the edge of blade only scraped the surface of solid chassis. A backward strike of steely hand sent the little Aurin sprawled upon the dirt before scarlet gaze leveled on him.
On him.
No.
As she struggled against the pain in her side, Valkurius rose with breath tight and golden eyes narrowed. “Target: Known traitor - Valkurius Salonius, capture is imminent. Surrender yourself and the Emperor may find you worthy of leniency.”
The aging Cassian rocked forward on his feet, narrowing his eyes and baring his teeth. “As if I do not know the treatment of turncoats under the Dominion’s thumb. Your fight is with me. Come and claim me.”
But the movement nearby drew his attention and the Mechari’s own as Sly surged forward with dangerous intent. Claws scrabbled against pristine chassis, tearing away armored fabric as she scrambled up, up toward the lesser armored make of his neck. Again he grasped her, throwing her to the ground, and Valkurius found his voice catching.
Again, again someone..
She did not scream. She did not stop her fight until the extended blade slid through the soft flesh at the back of her neck, as spinal cord severed and scarlet blood stained the fine fabric of her leathery attire. A woman so lush, so full of fire and fury an—
Her end.
Another death, another injury, another failure because of a past he tried to run from.
"No…"
His anger was cold as the steel he grasped, and fury flared in his gut. He owed this to her, owed it to those she cared for, owed it to those who cared for her. He would not go down here, not like this.
When the Mechari lay still on the stained ground, Valkurius knelt beside the lifeless lady, head bowed. “This is why, Ms. Sly… this is why I told you hope was left behind. This is why I do not stay.” Nimble digits swept her hair out of her face, and he half-closed his eyes with a soft exhalation. Gingerly, as if the slide of her limp arm was just as full of life as before, the Cassian turncoat lifted her frame—so small, so delicate—and drew a deep breath.
"I owe you this much." He owed them.
The navigation through Thayd was simple enough with her body draped in his coat, as if she was resting in his arms. The stony path led a familiar way, but even the surrounding shadows of the buildings did not comfort.
This was not the first time he had the weight of this news upon his shoulders, but it was never easier.
Never.
The door to Mr. Forthill’s office was closed, but Valkurius did not care for the hour. Balancing the limp body in his arms, the Cassian raised a hand to rap on wooden panels as he drew a deep breath.
It was never any easier.
