"Siria!" The woman could see the man in her mind already looking with some expression of limited patience. She hadn't thought about lessons or training in ages. "A Zale doesn't give up so easily." The rest of her memory came to the front of her mind as she saw herself having been knocked down, opposite the aristocratic outfit paired with a vibrosword that was her father. Siria had her dueling weapon on the floor and inert. She had been disarmed again.
The blade was so heavy to swing.
"I said, get up." His voice echoed in her head. It was easier just to stay down. Then maybe it would all stop.
Her father took a step towards her. She tried saying his position in the family like it was a question. 'dad?' she mouthed, but in this dreamed memory it was as if her vocal cords were muted. "...fight..." The blurred vibrosword held in the man's hand rose over his head as his voice seemed to boom unnaturally with the weight of rolling thunder.
Looking around, the woman tried to make heads or tails of where she was and what had happened. The last thing she remembered was being in Dac City. The senator almost spoke to herself but it only lead to more coughing. Siria became aware of how thristy she was, how hungry, how tired. Maybe she would just rest her eyes a bit and let the currents take her.
The Senator of Tirahnn pushed those urges to the back of her mind. Somehow she had made it out of that hotel. The thing had gone tits up and before she knew it they were taking on water and separated. Aside from the clothes she had been wearing that day which were now much worse for wear, Siria was without any resources.
Her work and personal commlink were both in her pockets but turned out to be too soaked or damaged by the salt water. The datapad she carried was cracked and while it had a charge, the screen was useless. The remnants of what used to be the woman's family pendant was flash-welded to the chain it had been connected to. The clinking cold metal now grasped tightly in her hand. On her chest, where it had blocked a blaster bolt meant for her heart, now sat a sizable bruise making it even harder to breath than normal. Some of what had happened was coming back to her. But it would take time, and none of that would matter if she died of starvation or dehydration on Mon Cala. Everyone probably thought she was dead.
Pieces of wreckage and debris from a damaged ship lingered in the waves around her. The crests lessened with the passing of time but it would be a small respite for Siria. The woman had never been in this type of situation. She had no idea how to get out of this.
@vamp