Recent content by Dr Ilana Morata

His hunt wouldn't be for very long. It didn't hurt as much as she anticipated. There was pain, yes, and someone else screaming with her voice, but... it was like shutting the door to a room she wouldn't be able to enter anymore. All her memories, all her thoughts, fears, and inner turmoil...

She could feel her heart thundering wildly in her chest as his first question pierced the air, then the second. Rage, barely constrained fury was contained as her fists clenched into her palms, nails digging deep. A singular thought slipped into the Force, through the echoes of time and space...

She wasn't sure at first what drew her back. A low, instinctual feeling of something wrong. A sense of dread, of foreboding, that crawled up the back of her throat, that settled a durasteel weight in her chest. The smell of blood was achingly familiar. Its' sticky resistance treaded with her...

And just like that, she was gone. She was gone. The shatter of glass impacted into the wall. Her throat was raw from the mindless shrieks that she ached to release. The first person she could love, the first that held her heart tightly since her brother's slip from reality, had run away...

She wasn't blind to others' attraction to her. It was always vague, superficial lust, like one would feel for a model or someone like President Thorne. Old Ilana would have indulged him; in fact, she could see it play out in her head like a bad holo. Fingers scraping against his jaw, cold hard...

Dr. Morata watched the news report without flinching. Thankfully, Silvi was in school. She didn't need to see this broadcast. Or maybe she did; maybe then she would finally listen to her mother and drop the ridiculous talk of becoming a Senator. But either way, whether she liked it or not, wars...

Beer and a retro game...? Somehow, this felt oddly like her early college days, when people thought she could 'loosen up' after a few drinks. Picking up a beer, she hummed once in curiosity, then perked a white brow. "Operation..?" she murmured, then glanced up at Shane. Golden eyes...

She mostly watched Shane by this point; having been distracted enough, she didn't even bother putting in the effort for a real shot; it also grazed a shoulder. However, at Shane's words, she chuckled. The holograms flickered out, and the final score had been given. Shane had been the better...

She wasn't aware she was holding her breath until his arms wrapped around her in return; exhaling quietly, she tilted her chin to look up, and frowned at seeing the exhaustion there. Reaching up on her toes, she placed a hand against his cheek, stroking her thumb against the bridge of his nose...

She took a deep breath. Aimed... And the blaster malfunctioned as the shot was laid out. "Fuck!" she snarled, putting down the blaster. The shot went wide, pinging against the droid's chest armor before dissipating. Sparks flew from the old heavy blaster, singeing the synthskin of her...

She chuckled once, dryly, at Korre's statement. She could only hope that Silvi would chill out; the girl was headstrong like her father, with that same sense of black and white judgement. And Ilana, with her manipulation and tangled web, confused that right and wrong. But Silvi took after her...

When the baton clattered to the ground, at first she was about to scold him. The words died on her lips at his look, his pose. And when she was pulled closer, she stiffened but didn't fight back, merely scowling up. She kept her grip on the baton... but slowly, it too clattered to the ground...

The Rodian reminded her of a certain Syndicate crime boss. She had to admit... She would have no qualms shooting. She held up her blaster levelly, staring down the sights. A trio of neat shots blasted out, focused on the Rodian's blasting hand. With the heavy blaster, the AI calculated the...

Was he disappointed? Perhaps so, but they didn't have a lot of time to talk. She had to test his reflexes and see how his hand/eye coordination held up since their last visit. Still, a glint of humor glimmered in amber eyes, and she held her heavy blaster. "Whoever racks up the most head shots...

She disliked the fact that even now, even when she wanted to hold onto her petty anger and vent out her frustration, a small piece of her still melted a little at the briefest warmth in his gaze. She could remember a time they were as frigid as a snowstorm on Hoth, and his ears doing the little...