Poison & Power || Qimir/The Stranger x OC

Chapter Four: Running away from the Jedi

Nightfall descended quickly on Olega, and Riyah moved through the now deserted roads with quick, purposeful strides. The market stalls lining the streets were shutting down, the flickering lights of their lanterns beginning to fade as vendors packed up their goods. Children of all species were being herded home by anxious mothers, and men stood clustered near the alleyways, puffing on smokes and exchanging quiet, coarse words. The air was thick with the pungent odor of cigarra, but it wasn't the smell that bothered Riyah—it was the eyes. Always the eyes.

She could feel them watching her, those men, with their leering gazes. They stared as if they could peel back the layers of her cloak and hood, as if they could strip her dignity with a glance. Her body was almost completely covered—her long, dark cloak concealing her figure, her hood hiding her hair, her face shielded by a mesh that left only her eyes visible. Still, their stares bore into her, as though the obscurity only fueled their interest. One of them, a human with sandy hair and stormy blue eyes, let out a sharp whistle as she passed. The sound cut through the evening air like a predator's call.

She ignored it, quickening her pace.

What else could she cover to escape their gazes?

The question nagged at her as she walked, her steps growing more hurried. She needed to find Qimir, tell him they should leave Olega and its stifling, predatory streets behind. The center of this city felt wrong, too close to the Jedi for comfort. Even though her training in the Force was incomplete, Riyah could still feel its subtle warning—the tension in the air, the disturbance that gnawed at her thoughts and dreams. Something was coming, something she couldn't yet name, but she felt it. She always did.

If only her master would teach her to hone this ability. If only she knew how to harness the Force better, she could use it, make sense of these forebodings rather than being at their mercy. She had begged him for more training, pleaded with him to show her how to fully embrace the power she knew was within her, but—

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden pull, a sharp tug at her waist.

Before she even realized what was happening, arms coiled around her, yanking her body backward. Riyah let out a small, startled shriek, struggling to break free, but the man only laughed—a deep, mocking sound. She could smell the cigarra on his breath as he leaned in, his voice a low growl.

"Easy, babydoll."he murmured in a language she half-recognized, a slang used in the Outer Rim. His hand gripped her waist tighter, as though he thought she might enjoy this.

Riyah's heart pounded in her chest. Her first instinct was to scream for help, but she knew better. No one in these streets would lift a finger to save her from this man. No one cared. Desperation welled up inside her, but beneath it was a flicker of something else—something darker.

The Force pulsed through her, a wild surge of energy she barely knew how to control, but it was there, sharp and angry, fueled by the fear that twisted inside her. She could feel it rising, begging to be unleashed.

Without thinking, Riyah shoved her elbow into the man's ribs with all the strength she had. He staggered, his grip loosening for just a moment. Just enough.

She spun around, her eyes blazing beneath her mesh mask. "Let go," she hissed, her voice low, dangerous.

The man grinned, but his amusement faltered when she raised her hand. She wasn't sure what she was doing, wasn't sure she even knew how—but she didn't care. She needed him to back off, to stop.

Before the man could react, a sharp crack of energy lashed out from her hand, sending a small shock through his body. He stumbled backward, more in surprise than pain, eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and fear.