You could feel it in every move he made. It felt like a heater had been turned up to full or you were laid on the Tatooine desert dressed in full winter gear; when he entered the room a slither of sweat would worm its way down your neck and into the...
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The Finalizer passed a sun in the early hours of the morning. It's bright, warm and both you and Alika had cowered from the windows as though the last place you want to be is in the light. The air of Alikas room is damp with heat and muggy with stale perspiration, and she constantly wipes her brow with the back of her sleeve, all the while walking up and down the cabin with her strong gait and perfect balance. Neither of you had said anything all night, unsure how to broach any subject of trafficking or witches or – gods forbid – what to do next. You had both worn holes in your shoes from walking and Alika had bit her manicured nails to stubs until her thumb bled. The lights had transitioned to day tones signalling the start of the morning, yet neither of you had descended into the throng of waking bodies. Instead, you had sat on her bed, watching the galaxy go by with an emotional blankness while Alika would sometimes pause her walking to open her mouth then close it again.
Light hits the floor from the window and highlights the dismal scene of two exhausted Lieutenants.
Alika nods to herself, running a hand over her shawn head wiping the sweat away.
You open your mouth before she can."We need to tell people"
"We don't know who to trust." She says voice unnaturally shaky with the burden of the secrets you hold. "I don't even know if I trust you"
She stares at your hands, the one brimming with a witches power. It should have been obvious really, that your gift was not like others. When others use use the force, it was not visible. It was just a strong moving of particles that a layman could not see. Yours was bold, drawn from the earth itself and flowed with the liquidity of a river, it was not a Jedis strength or the Siths darkness that gave you this.
Your blood was witches' blood.
There's a cough outside the door and you heart almost sinks. A prodding of feet and the sound of hands clapping on backs, laughter and 'mornings' signals worker movement and you look up at Alikas stern brow, the knife-style earring pointing dangerously close to her neck. The image seems rather poetic for your situation – always too close to the slaughter.
"We shouldn't talk here. Someone could be listening..." You nod your head to the door. "...It will also be suspicious if we miss work"
"There's a room. Down by the cargo hold where the stormtroopers like to gamble. We'll meet there tonight. I'll rustle up Laylan and Callin. They need to hear what we found"
You nod, picking up your crinkled jacket. "Ask Ushar to come too"
"He's a knight"
She says it like you don't know.
"His strength is worth the risk" you convince yourself. "If anyone knows what we know and takes an attack of opportunity, we're going to want that man on our side"
