Strangers ── qimir

CHAP. I

Kiera Velaris' pouch of credits sang out a seductive melody, cutting through the bustling cantina as it landed on the bar with a definitive clink. "I need information," she said.

"Regardin' what?" The besalisk behind the counter regarded her with apathetic eyes. One pair of his hands meticulously cleaned the inside of a glass. Leaning forward, Kiera shielded the pouch with her elbows, casting a wary glance over the cantina crowd before returning her focus.

"A scroll," she said in a subdued tone, as though sharing a secret with one another. "An ancient one. Ya heard any whispers pass 'bout it?" The besalisk straightened, stowing the glass in a cupboard with deliberate movements.

"'M afraid not, lady. Where'd ye get that idea?" He frowned, resting two of his arms on the bar.

"It's been goin' around," Kiera shrugged, "They sayin' the Hutts got it."

The man cackled. "Then ye truly got some nerve poppin' in here askin' 'bout them. Nal Shaddaa ain't no place for those lookin' to take from the Hutt."

"C'mon, you're Ohnar, aren't you? Thought you were the best source 'round these parts." Kiera's hands traveled back to the credits. She pushed the pouch towards him. "Sure you don't wanna take me up on that offer?"

Ohnar scoffed, pushing the pouch right back at her. "Pleasure doin' business with ya," he spat sarcastically before turning back to his drinks.

Swimming in disappointment and rejection, Kiera pursed her lips and sighed, snatching the pouch from the counter and returning it to her coat. She was clad in a smuggler's outfit—tight and dark, far from what Jedi were expected to wear. The council had sent her on an undercover mission to retrieve an ancient Sith scroll allegedly in the hands of the Hutt clan.

Though which Hutt possessed it exactly, she wasn't sure of. She was growing restless in her search. This had been her third possible lead already, and none had brought her any closer. She rubbed her forehead in defeat. Great. Now what?

A drink appeared before her, pulling her from her haze. She looked up at the besalisk. "I didn't order this—"

"'S not from me." The besalisk nodded towards the end of the bar. She slowly turned her head in the direction he was pointing at. A dark presence—a pathetic-looking man clad in loose robes—sat slouched comfortably over the bar, playing with an empty membrosia glass.

Something alluring surrounded his presence, making Kiera's eyes stick to him like caramel. Only when the man did look up and right at her, did her gaze snap back to Ohnar, questioning. He shrugged in response. Not his problem.

She took a sip from her drink, feeling the sweet burn of alcohol trickle down her throat, and stood. A Jedi shouldn't waste time entertaining frivolities such as this. Against better judgment, her feet carried her to the empty seat beside the stranger.

Sitting down, she turned her body towards the man. She didn't say anything, only studied him. His hair was long—reaching just beyond his ears—and greasy. His arms were completely hidden beneath his clothing, revealing nothing of his physique. Only his shoulders betrayed him: wide and imposing, even in his hunched-over position.

Kiera wasn't sure how long her eyes were dissecting his figure. There was something distinctly unusual about him. The longer she looked, the tighter the air seemed to get, coiling around her like vines. There was an uncanny itch enveloping her, waiting for her to dig her nails into her skin for relief.

He shifted beneath his moss robes. Colored like poison ivy she unintentionally grazed herself on. With his movements, it almost seemed as though the fabric was alive. Slithering onto her, exacerbating the prickling sensation that tickled her nerves.

She wanted to get rid of it.

Her fingers twitched.

"Nice smuggler accent you had there... Little flawed though," he spoke up finally, and her attention shifted. His voice was smooth and lyrical, like a song. The timbre of it sent vibrations through the air. She could feel his presence overwhelm her in the force. He was everywhere, and it was suffocating.

He leaned back and locked his eyes on her and at once she was itching again. His eyes weren't of any notable color. Only a dull void. Despite that, it seemed as though something more was swirling in them. Something she couldn't figure out. Something that had her taken aback.

His gaze held a question now, a challenge. He was trying to read her. She shifted in her seat. "Who are you?"

"Someone who can help you." He leaned in closer as he said it.

Kiera blinked in surprise. "Why would I need your help?" she muttered with a frown. Looking up at him, she attempted to analyze the expression in his gaze, searching for motives and reason.

He tilted his head and let his eyes roam her face. The vines coiled tighter. Her breath hitched. It was embarrassing. The whole ordeal was embarrassing. The thought of simply standing up and leaving the cantina at once was a tempting one.

"I work for them," he whispered. So close now, their breaths were mingling together. Even tighter. "The Hutt?" she wondered aloud.

He scanned the cantina before giving her a curt nod and leaning in further. "I know what you're looking for and I know where to look. I've got intel and resources that are highly valuable to you."

"What would you be getting out of this? Payment?"

"You aren't the only one looking to... 'retrieve' some items. And stealing from the Hutt isn't a one-man job, I assure you." His eyes shifted to her lips. "...But with the right partner, the risks become that much more enticing, don't you think?"

Kiera leaned back, his words hanging in the air like a torturous promise. The intensity of his gaze unnerved her. She couldn't breathe.

She turned to her drink and downed the thing in seconds. The vines around her neck disappeared. She could breathe again. But leaning on the bar, she didn't see him raising his eyebrows at her actions. Didn't see his eyes shine with the same pride hunters do after having caught their prey.

Would consuming alcohol at this rate clear her head as intended? Not likely. But she was tense. And desperate. Her mission so far had not been a success—it had stalled, and if this man had knowledge about it, word must be spreading. Speeding up was an imperative now, and an accelerator for those plans had conveniently appeared before her. Albeit a distracting one.

She was certain this was the riskiest decision she was ever going to make. But she was not stupid. She knew what she would be getting into. Besides, she was a trained Jedi knight. What harm could some smuggler possibly pose to her?

"I don't even know your name," she said, shifting back to him.

"Qimir," he smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "Pleasure to meet you."

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•     reminder!     this fic is also available to read as an x reader on my tumblr! fic link is available on my profile. since it also is originally being posted on tumblr, chapters won't be too long. that way i can focus on 'pumping out' content more consistently! tumblr chapters will usually be published a day or two before they are published here.