Poison & Power || Qimir/The Stranger x OC

Chapter One: Apothecary Shop

The sun filtered through the grime-streaked windows of the apothecary shop, casting a dappled light across the worn wooden floor. Riyah, now 25, sat on a stool near the counter, her long cloak draped over her shoulders. She toyed with a small, empty glass vial, her gaze drifting to the man sleeping behind the counter. Qimir, her fellow apprentice and occasional irritant, was sprawled out on a makeshift bunk, snoring softly. The effects of the evening's alcohol were evident in his relaxed posture and the faint smell of liquor that lingered in the air.

The shop's doorbell jingled, snapping Riyah's attention away. Mae-ho Aniseya entered, her commanding presence filling the room. Dark clothing and weathered boots accentuated her striking features, and her long, loc'd hair swayed with every step, emphasizing her authoritative stride.

Riyah stood to greet Mae-ho with a curt nod. "How did it go?" she asked, her tone a blend of curiosity and formality.

Mae-ho's gaze shifted to the sleeping Qimir, her eyes narrowing with disdain. She approached the counter, picked up an empty stew bottle, and sniffed its strong, alcoholic aroma. Her face twisted in disgust before she hurled the bottle at Qimir.

The bottle crashed to the floor, jolting Qimir awake. He blinked groggily, eyes darting around in confusion. "What's—" he began, only to be cut off by Mae-ho's stern glare.

Riyah watched, her expression unreadable. Mae-ho's disdain for Qimir was palpable, but Riyah focused on the task ahead. The day had just begun, and Mae-ho's arrival signaled that the real work was about to start.

Qimir, still half-asleep, pulled himself up from the bunk, his limbs sluggish. "Hey-ah," he muttered, wiping sleep from his eyes. "I waited up all night. Where—uh—where have you been?"

Riyah, sitting quietly on her stool, rolled the vial between her fingers. She had witnessed this dynamic before—Mae-ho's dismissiveness, Qimir's casual demeanor. It was a familiar tension.

Mae-ho's voice cut through the room, sharp and dry. "Out there risking my life," she said bluntly, her gaze barely meeting Riyah's. Mae-ho's dismissiveness stung, a constant reminder of her perceived status.

Qimir, barely phased, shrugged. "Oh." He looked down at his ill-fitting tunic, a patchwork of fabrics that clearly weren't his.

Mae-ho's eyes narrowed, and she raised an eyebrow. "What are you wearing?"

Qimir puffed out his chest, a grin on his face. "Took it off the guy who owns this place. Thought I'd blend in."

Riyah let out a soft snort of amusement before quickly masking it. She leaned back against the counter, the vial still rolling between her fingers. Mae-ho's gaze flickered to her, a familiar prick of disdain.

"You," Mae-ho said, holding up another bottle and pointing it at Qimir, "can blend in without sampling the merchandise."

Qimir rubbed his neck, sheepish. "Well, we had to do something while we waited." He glanced at Riyah, hoping for support.

Riyah shook her head. "Not me. Didn't drink a drop."

"We were so worried," Qimir said, his tone unexpectedly serious. His usual mischief was replaced by a genuine concern.

Mae-ho's focus remained on the task at hand. "I was this close," she said, demonstrating with her fingers just how narrowly she had missed killing her target, "but couldn't land a single blow."

"Find his weakness?" Qimir suggested.

"He doesn't have one." Mae-ho's frustration was evident.

Riyah sighed, her gaze thoughtful as she leaned against the counter. "Everyone has a weakness."

Mae-ho's frustration bubbled over. "He's impenetrable. I need a weapon."

Her eyes shifted to Qimir, desperation in her tone. "I need you to make me a poison. Bunda."

Qimir blinked, surprised but amused. "Really?"

"I'm running out of time," Mae-ho said, her voice wavering slightly. She began pacing, her boots thudding on the worn floor.

Qimir, now gathering ingredients with focus, shrugged. "You're running out of Jedi. If you think a sleeping monk is tough, good luck with a Wookiee."

Riyah, unable to resist, muttered, "Wookiees are a different league entirely."

Mae-ho's pacing quickened. "I have two Jedi to kill after Torbin. I'll manage one without a weapon and please the master, but I need this one."

"Hmm," Qimir muttered absently as he mixed liquids and powders. "Torbin isn't as serene as he thinks. He only thinks he's found peace. What he needs is something only you can give him..."

"Absolution," Riyah whispered, watching the potion swirl.

Qimir sealed the vial, holding it up for Mae-ho. She reached for it, but he twisted the cap shut before handing it over.

Mae-ho took it with a quiet "thank you" and turned to leave. She paused at the door, glancing back with an unreadable expression.

"You two know... it wouldn't bode well for the three of us if you told him about this."

Riyah opened her mouth, but Qimir cut her off with a smooth, charming grin. "Of course."

Mae-ho gave them one last look before disappearing into the night. The door swung shut with a soft thud, leaving Riyah and Qimir in a thick silence. Riyah glanced at Qimir, her expression hardening. Keeping secrets from him was unsettling, but Qimir's smirk remained, as if he were already planning their next move.