Ask Dig Through The Ditches, Burn Through The Witches

[Willa Kanz]

Tracking down a Sith should have been easy.

Just go to Sith space by stowing away on a refueling corvette, masquerade as a crew worker and get off at the next fuel point. Avoid suspicion by acting confident. Swagger after leaving the station and finding a small planet that no one knew you. Pilfer some credits, buy someone some cheap booze and begin asking questions.

How the hell that landed her here, she had no idea.

In a small underground called the Blue Slicer, two opponents squared off. One was a Devaronian male, naked to the waist. In the other corner...

Willa sat.

Credits were passing hands. It had been a few weeks since she left Yavin, grieving and broken. She wanted answers. She wanted out of an Order that would never do anything to figure out what, exactly, happened to her friend. Cold rage shriveled up in her chest until she was burning with it, until not even music could ease it away. The nightmares never stopped, and so she curled up tighter in her shell.

Truthfully, this was just the kind of thing she needed. She just wanted to smash something.

She had no idea if she was being watched, and thankfully, she didn't care. Cheap liquor shots from earlier lit her nerves like tongues of fire; as the big red guy started dancing, she sighed, pulling on her headphones over her ears. Blocking out the sounds were what made her feel like she could adjust. She could adapt. And she could sense his movement better.

A bell would ding, but she didn't charge forward yet. Instead, she began shifting side to side, waiting...

But for what?

@Altaris

 

[Darth Tempest]

Increasingly, Vahliri found herself with little downtime on her hands. The half-Annfyn was more ambitious than most of her peers, and it was reflected in the missions and objectives she set for herself. Goals that she prioritized with the exception of little else in her life. Thus, there was little hesitation in taking the opportunity for an evening at the Blue Slicer. The underground tavern - with its thrumming music, dance floor and fighting pit - was a welcome escape from the demands of her career.

The half-Annfyn was seated on a barstool, overlooking the fighting pits below. It wasn’t so long ago that she’d found Kadriye in a similar location, and opted to watch the current match with mild interest - in between sips from her fruity beverage.

She was dressed casually enough - sporting a black pantsuit, with a few rings and necklace to accessorize. Her black hair was left to cascade to the middle of her back - tumbling down her shoulders in loose waves.

As the contestants entered the ring, Vahliri allowed her gaze to flick between them. It only took her a few moments of observation before leaning over to the bartender, who also happened to be the man organizing the match.

“One-hundred-and-fifty on the Devaronian.” She said flatly. Fully expecting Willa to get knocked on her ass, the half-Annfyn was prepared to cash on an easy bet.

Within the ring, the Devaronian didn’t hesitate to move forward. The man was clearly spiced off his ass, eyes bloodshot and dilated. The moment he came within reach, the man swung his arm forward - attempting to hit the Padawan square in the jaw.

 

[Willa Kanz]

The problem with spice users was that they could scarcely feel fear, or pain. But Willa was calm, even clear-headed. When the Devaronian made the first move, the Padawan didn't wait.

She moved aside effortlessly, ducking the punch as though it were an inconvenient tree branch. It was her follow-through that would really cut.

Though half blind, she used his steps like echolocation through the Force; she could pinpoint weaknesses. Turning on a heel, she slammed a punch to his left ribs, just hard enough to feel bones shatter.

However, she couldn't hear a thing. With her headphones in, it was all vibrations and senses. The beat of the music pouring through made it easier to time her punches and movements. Just the slam of fists to flesh and a low pulse of bass.

Hopefully, this would dull some of the aggression she'd been battling the last few weeks.

@Altaris

 

[Darth Tempest]

Was it a slick punch? Yes. Was Vahliri happy about it? Not a chance.

With deadpan countenance, Vahliri watched as Willa exceeded expectations, ducking the Devaronian’s swing and deftly executing her own counterattack. It was a blow that carried enough force to shatter bone, and it was reflected in the way that the Devaronian reeled and grasped for breath - agony clearly coursing through his body.

He was moving slower and injured, and the half-Annfyn practically watched as her credits were flushed down the toilet, right then and there.

Of course, Vahliri couldn’t deny that her attention was now firmly fixed onto Willa. The woman had proven herself to be far more capable in the ring than expected - and the grace in which she moved certainly piqued the half-Annfyn’s interest. Thus, she leaned forward a bit over the table - carefully inspecting the Padawan’s every move and strike through the fight.

The Devaronian, meanwhile, was just barely managing to catch his breath. The punch had likely shattered ribs, as sharp pain wretched through his chest with every intake of air. It was an injury that would exhaust and debilitate him before long, and meant his loss was almost assured. Almost. With a flash of metal, the Devaronian drew a knife from his belt - pointing the tip at Willa. While it was technically a ‘hand-to-hand’ match, the rules were especially vague in places like the Blue Slicer.

Spectators wanted a show, and it didn’t really matter of things became lethal to achieve that goal.

 

[Willa Kanz]

When he pulled out his blade to point it at the Jedi, Willa merely raised a brow over her unseeing eye. It was clear that pointing sharp things would be the name of the game...

She wasn't one to let others have the upper hand for long.

Putting up her hands as though to mock surrender, her voice came up low, quiet, even despite the noise-cancelling headphones.

"You put that down now, and I won't break something vital."

The man wheezed out a snort, then spat off to the side in a bloody gob. "You broke my ribs, bitch. I'm gonna slice you up like a Kath hound's dinner!" He lunged forward as he yelled, charging forward.

It was so easy.

She slid on her heels, twisting her torso out of the way with practiced ease as the blade flashed forward towards her midsection had been. It would almost seem fluid, like water flashing by stone. Continuing her movement, she wrapped a hand around his wrist, and flowed his momentum through. The beat hummed in her blood, and she was highly focused, her features in a neutral mask as though he was just some piece of rock to chip, another piece to whittle until it achieved the form she wanted.

That would end abruptly.

His weight was already being thrown forward with the vibroknife to a target that already moved. She didn't stop moving, but maintained a grip on his wrist, stepping back as he staggered forward, and gave his arm a brutal yank as he stumbled to catch his feet.

A sickening pop could be heard as she used a combination of her own strength and his momentum, and a blood-chilling yell could be heard as his upper arm bone seemed to twist and snap, forcing the blade to clatter to the floor.

She released his wrist, and kicked the blade away.

"Warned you. Now let the show begin." Her knee slammed into the same place the ribs had broken before; she could feel the squelch as organs were impacted with broken bone. He shuffled on one knee, managing to land a hard punch on her hip, and she staggered back, catching her feet before the crowd could grab at her, though a few hands almost did.

She knew she could finish this now, but... she wanted to play with him a little longer. It went against everything she was ever taught, everything she once stood for... but her grief, her anger, and her regret were enough fuel to push on ahead. He was an insect crawling in an insect world, and now she ached to stomp him into the ground.

Clenching her fist, she slammed it down hard into his temple, snarling.

"Get up. I'm not done yet."

@Altaris

 

[Darth Tempest]

Vahliri watched from - quite literally - the edge of her seat as Willa sprang into action. If the half-Annfyn was curious before, she was outright fascinated with the woman before her now, amber eyes following with every brutal punch and bone-shattering kick. Through the Force, Vahliri could practically feel the anger that radiated off of Willa - pent-up frustration and emotion poured into every strike. Curiously, she could feel the own energies that radiated off the girl as she tapped into those emotions, untrained and undisciplined. It was impossible to tell whether or not Willa was even aware of it.

It was glorious to behold, and the half-Annfyn couldn’t help the smallest smirk that began to tug at the corners of her lips. Clearly the woman had some rudimentary martial training, and Vahliri couldn’t help but consider how it might be leveraged to her own advantage.

Taking another sip from her glass, Vahliri rose from her seat - walking around the bar to stand at the railing that dropped into the arena. While her hands knitted together against the small of her back, her gaze lingered on Willa - the Force snaking outwards to coil around the fallen Padawan. The Darkness swirled around the girl, amplifying those sensations of anger and malice that manifested towards the Devaronian. Vahliri wanted to drive the girl completely over the edge, pushing her past any previous breaking point. He was nothing but an insect on the ground - nothing to compare to her own strength, and entirely at her mercy.

“He deserves it,” The faintest voice echoed within the back of her mind, smooth as silk as it echoed across her consciousness.

The Devaronian whimpered and moaned on the ground, his entire body broken and aching with pain. He attempted to crawl away from Willa, slumped onto his left side in hopes of avoiding any follow-up kick to his ribs. “I-I yield..”

“It would be so easy,” The same voice barked in her mind.

 

[Willa Kanz]

She couldn't hear the Devaronian's whimpered pleas to end. The rules were simple; you kept fighting until the opponent stopped moving. The bass pulsed in her headphones, but something else was humming to the music that sang in her blood, in her thoughts.

This was the tipping point. Crossing this, she wouldn't be able to go back. Not that there would be anything to come back to. Haldir's face floated to mind, but almost reflexively, she would beat it back down. No. If he was like the rest of the Order, he would be smart about it and let her go.

Down was the only way to reach the vengeance she so craved, and down she would go.

Her fists balled up tighter, knuckles straining white against the dark. The sinister other voice hissed in her head, so similar to her own that she was blind to its' alien origin.

He deserves it. The insect.

She paced over to him, and gently pressed her foot into his spine, feeling the floor vibrate. With his whimpered pathetic gasps, with the stomping feet of the crowd, with the canned music that pulsed outside her own little bubble.

"Goodnight."

Her fist cracked into his temple again, and he went limp. It didn't matter anymore. The vows she made with Max, the promises with Haldir, with Crix; they all shattered like broken chains. The moment she stepped back, reality came roaring back, and she suddenly felt ill to her stomach.

So that's what this is like.

The hunger of it twined with her senses, sharpening it, yet she felt alive, more clear-headed than she felt in months. Her ribs ached where the Devaronian had managed a punch before, and she stepped away, out of the ring. Hands gripped at her biceps, at her sweat-sheened back, over her head, patting her, pushing her back to the bar, where her cut of the bets was laid out.

Slumping to the bar, she watched listlessly as the Devaronian's body was carted away, and she flicked her gaze away, aimlessly panning at the crowd, before turning to pick up her piece of this bloody pie.

"Corellian Sunrise. Neat."

@Altaris

 

[Darth Tempest]

Vahliri had to suppress the grin that tugged at the corners of her lips. Through the Force, the half-Annfyn could feel the negative emotions that roiled off of Willa - feeding into every sadistic and bloodthirsty strike. It was a path she wouldn’t be able to turn back from. It would fester within her and hunger for more, corrupting absolutely. It was glorious to behold, and all it took was a single push.

Somehow, the half-Annfyn forgot all about her lost credits.

She lazily leaned against the railing, watching as the Devaronian was carted off like freshly slaughtered cattle and Willa swaggered her way towards the bar. Her amber gaze followed, brow arching once the drink was ordered.

“Put it on my tab,” She called over to the bartender, flashing Willa a faint smirk. “Well deserved, after the show you put on.”

 

[Willa Kanz]

The smooth voice that pricked past Willa's earbuds gave her pause. The fury was still singing in her blood, addicting and hungering. She wasn't up for conversation, for playful flirting. She wanted to punch something else, someone else. The floodgates were creaking under the strain, and she could feel the pressure between her shoulderblades.

Was this... an answer to her problem?

Giving the woman a side glance with her one sighted eye, she panned the woman up and down deliberately, slowly. Drinking in curves. Taking in features. The half-smirk, the confidence. A world away from her, crumbling apart and barely hanging onto the edge of rationality.

Hell, by this point rationality was gone. It was only a want for more. More faces to smash in, more of whatever this high edged off of. This Darkness. It felt like power.

Picking up her drink, she cocked her head at the half-Annfynn, perking a brow. "Not into ladies, if that's why you're buying," before taking a slow sip. She couldn't really think of any other reason why she would approach her, unless...

Perhaps she was really the answer to what Willa was seeking. A keyhole, a crack in the door.

An answer..?

@Altaris

 

[Darth Tempest]

A few moments ticked by, and Vahliri didn’t miss the way that Willa’s gaze panned up and down - causing her lips to tug upwards and sideways ever-so-slightly. She could practically feel the other woman appraising her, and the half-Annfyn relished in it - practically oozing with self confidence and poise. Her amber eyes lingered on the former Padawan, drinking in not only her facial expressions, but all of the emotions that radiated out through the Force.

For a Sith Master, the woman was all-too-easy to read. Vahliri could practically feel the conflict and flurry of emotions that roiled within Willa, driving her towards the deep end. They practically begged for release, and they manifested in the Force during the course of her spat in the arena. Whether the woman realized it or not. It was glorious for Vahliri to behold, and kept her interest in ways that the physical simply didn’t.

“Afraid not,” She replied coolly, watching as Willa picked up her drink. Vahliri waved a hand, casually pulling her own glass into her hands with the Force when no one was really paying them much attention. The half-Annfyn took a drink, tilting her head towards Willa. “Far more interested in your fighting, though - and what brought you all the way out here.”

“I quite literally bet against you. Have to say I was surprised.”

@Killa Ree