Poison & Power || Qimir/The Stranger x OC

Chapter Three: The Meeting

Riyah had barely slept, tossing and turning in the small, cramped bed of her rented room. The inn was shabby, the linens rough against her skin, but it was better than sharing space with Qimir in that stuffy little apothecary shop. The idea of lying beside him in that one undersized bunk made her cringe. She had learned to tolerate him, even enjoy his company at times, but there were limits.

Morning sunlight seeped through the thin curtains of the room, casting a pale light on the worn walls. Riyah sat up, stretching, her muscles stiff from the night's restless sleep. The inn's lavatory was cramped and smelled faintly of mildew, but it would do. After washing up, she began packing her bag, tossing in some essentials provided by the inn. It wasn't stealing, she told herself, considering she'd paid for the night. Her hand lingered over a small, rough towel as she tossed it into her bag. The innkeeper might disagree, but that was hardly her concern.

She slung her bag over her shoulder, dropped two credits on the counter as she passed, and ignored the innkeeper's grumbling. There was an urgency in her steps, a pull in her chest, as though the Force itself was nudging her forward. Something was telling her to hurry back to the apothecary shop, and Riyah had learned not to ignore these instincts. Perhaps it was her master reaching out, calling for her.

The walk took longer than expected, her thoughts tangled with the unresolved tension from the night before. Eight years of following him, and still, she had nothing to show for it.She shook off the bitterness creeping into her mind, trying to focus on the present. As the shop came into view, Riyah quickened her pace, her hand hovering over the door before pushing it open without bothering to look inside first.

She stopped dead in her tracks.

A group of Jedi stood in the center of the shop, their brown robes swirling around them, their lightsabers glinting at their sides. At the center of it all was Qimir, his hands raised high in mock surrender, pleading in his usual way.

"Please don't do the Jedi thingy and wipe my memories," he was saying, his voice laced with desperation...and amusement?

Riyah's breath caught in her throat. Her first instinct was to back away, to turn and flee, but before she could, a tall man with locs, dressed in the unmistakable garb of a Jedi Knight, grabbed her arm, guiding her back toward the group. She was caught.

The Jedi Master—she knew he was the master by his tabard and the way he carried himself, with an air of authority that felt like a suffocating weight in the room—turned his eyes on her. His gaze was sharp, intent, as though he could see through her skin and into her soul. Riyah froze, instinctively wanting to shrink away, but she stood her ground.

"Who are you?" His voice was calm, but it held an undeniable command.

She didn't reply. She wouldn't. Her eyes flicked toward Qimir, seeking answers. Why are there Jedi here? What are they doing?

Qimir, always quick to answer, stammered out, "They're here for Mae."

Riyah's heart raced. Mae.

Her heart tugged in two directions at once. Fear gripped her stomach, but there was something else too—a small, cruel sense of satisfaction. Were they here to arrest her? The perfect Mae, the one who was chosen by their master. It felt like the universe was balancing the scales, just a little.

The Jedi Knight holding her arm leaned closer, his grip firm but not painful. "Who are you?" he asked again, his voice softer this time. "And what is your connection to Mae?"

Riyah swallowed hard, her mind racing for an answer that would get her out of this situation without putting her neck on the line. She didn't need to lie—at least, not completely.

"I just... help her with credits and knives," she said, her voice steady, though her insides were twisting. It was true. She had helped Mae with small things, menial tasks. But she was leaving out the part that mattered, the part about their master.

The Jedi Master studied her for a moment longer before nodding to the knight holding her arm. "Let her go, Yord."

The grip on her arm loosened, and she pulled away, feeling the burn of the Jedi's gaze on her as she stepped back. But when she looked up, his expression had softened. His eyes, dark and intense, flickered with something she didn't expect—recognition. A sense that he knew her, or knew something about her.

Riyah felt her pulse quicken. She didn't like the way he was looking at her, as if she was more than just a nameless figure in the background. She had spent her life blending in, hiding in the shadows. Being seen by a Jedi, of all people, was not part of the plan.

Her mind raced. What did he see? Could he sense the connection to her master, feel the dark threads of the Force that bound her to him? She couldn't afford to be careless, not now, not with Jedi breathing down her neck. The last thing she needed was for them to dig deeper. She forced herself to meet the Jedi Master's gaze, keeping her expression neutral.

"Mae will be questioned by the Council," the Master said, his tone still controlled. "I suggest you stay out of this if you know what's good for you."

Riyah nodded, but the satisfaction she had felt moments earlier had faded, replaced by unease. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot. The Jedi wouldn't leave until they got what they came for, and their presence meant that everything—the balance Riyah had carefully kept between her, Mae, and the master—was about to shift.

As the Jedi moved their focus back to Qimir, Riyah slipped out of the shop, her heart pounding. Something in the Jedi Master's gaze lingered in her mind, an unsettling reminder that her secrets were only ever a breath away from being uncovered.