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*:･ﾟ✧
"He deserved it. He was an issue, and issues are destined to be dealt with," Farren utters, observing Gaia from the other side of the cell — the safe side, from behind the beams of blood-red lasers. Gaia is focusing down at The Child in her lap, avoiding direct eye contact aboard her captor's starship — a few miles between them and the planet of a lush forest, of feathered creatures and lakes harbouring vicious leeches. "Just like those whose blood has stained your hands for such a long time."
Gaia's eyes are closed, the chime of despair ringing in her ears. "They deserved better."
"Then you regret it?" Farren inquires bluntly with a frown. "You regret taking their lives?"
Fury and guilt swipes at Gaia like honed talons, surging her with pent-up rage as she yells, "I regret everything, damn it!" Her gaze swerves up towards Farren, and the pain stinging her expression and her mind is like a scar; old yet unforgettable. "I was fighting for my life at every waking moment because I knew I could die in the next. You're animals, all of you. Your precious Empire sickens me."
"You should be sickened by yourself, too, if that's the case. You were once a part of it."
Gaia cannot hold Farren's stare anymore. Her eyes seek the floor as she rubs her fatigued skin, feeling the darkened bruise upon her temple ache and shout, a headache forming.
Footsteps resound down in the basement level of the ship currently holding Gaia prisoner, and they soon recede as the compressed air of an automatic door slams against her eardrums. She's now alone with The Child who whines softly in dejection, his elongated ears becoming sloped like a green hill as the declaration from their captor remains stuck in Gaia's head on a crude loop.
My name is Farren Yelfir, she had disclosed to them, and I've killed your Mandalorian.
Gaia's face scrunches together in private heartache. She can easily comprehend the hot tears compiling against her closed eyelids, a lump seizing her throat while she lies down against the raw chill of the floor. The coldness seeps through the thin fabric of her jumpsuit although she never flinches, simply holding The Child close to herself when he quickly joins her for warmth. It's then that the usual gleam reflected upon Mando's helmet comes to mind, the memory of his voice and touch which finds her in the dark, reminding her of happier times because unlike those wonderful settings — from what she's gathered so far, the kid and her are being led back to Nevarro, back to the Client and back to the Empire. . .
Farren, as the Kessurian had introduced herself as, returned not even half an hour later from when she departed, the ridges of her palms suddenly dipped in crimson — the color of blood. There wasn't a single piece of Beskar Steel to be seen, however, Gaia speculated she must've changed her mind halfway through disposing of Mando: a habit the Kessurian seems to possess for herself.
