Ask Sugar, We're Goin' Down

[Soleil Altan]

Considering neither he nor Zoella were especially soldiery types, Soleil wasn't quite sure how they'd gotten into their present predicament. He only understood they needed to fight their way out of it. During a transitory step of their travels, they'd found themselves on a backwater planet in a little-traveled section of space in the south. It was there they met a contact- a contact also being tracked by another pair of sentients.

The two were Jedi, and the contact was followed with the intent to find and capture Sith. Now they were trapped in some dark, moonlit corner of hilly, grass-covered plains. The contact lay dead on the ground. There was no easy way out, but they must avoid capture.

Smoke trailed from a collection of small grazes from a lightsaber, save for one across Sol's curled-in left arm. His lips curled into a snarling sneer toward the Jedi across from him, several cuts from the Wrean's vibroweapons trailing blood. His nostrils flared from the scent, further incensed that his usual dirty tactics hadn't been as effective as he'd like. At this rate, it was a test of who fucked up or wore down first, pure attrition.

Behind him in the alley, back facing his, Zoella was facing down the second Jedi. Calm and confident, the Twi'lek woman dueled Zoe all while suggesting peaceful surrender in monotones that vaguely suggested the tiniest hint of empathy. Sol wasn't buying it, but he also couldn't afford to pay too much attention to that half of things. This Jedi boy was annoyingly persistent in his bladework, something Sol was less practiced at, and the acolyte was running low on options for trickery.

Everyone was to some degree physically and Forcefully worn down. Sol tried to take deep breaths and control a body that wanted to pant for air and rest even with regular rushes of fresh adrenaline. One way or another, he didn't think it'd last much longer.

Soleil's guard dropped further down as if his arm was struggling to hold a weapon, shoulder drooping, a defiant strength mixed with fear behind his eyes. He took a step toward Jesper, hoping to use his apparent weakness as bait. Somewhere behind him the Twi'lek Jedi rushed forward toward Zoella, a continued pattern of aggressive combinations and retreat to wear the other acolyte down. It began with an overhead diagonal swing toward Zoella's saber-side as soon as she was in range.

@llamallove

 

[Zoella Dorran]

OOC Note: Sorry, @Mr. Teatime . This is not much of a post, but I don't have the will or the muse for Zoella to even write a proper death scene for her... forgive me lol. :)

"I thought you said... this would be like taking clams from a Gungan?" Zoella muttered over her shoulder, voice hoarse and words fragmented.

The Acolyte stood behind Soleil, shoulders squared with the Wrean as they faced down the enemy. It wasn't really a fair match, a Jedi Knight with at least five or six year's worth of training on Zoella, but the Acolyte had somehow managed to hold her own. Adrenaline, the will to survive, instincts—call it whatever you wanted, but she had a feeling that the Twi'lek opposite her had been holding back, pulling her punches while she tried to persuade the Sith to drop their weapons and surrender. She must have rehearsed this speech a million times because she almost sounded sincere.

Jedi were so predictable—the galaxy's perpetual conscience, judge, and mother all rolled up into one deceptively sweet package.

Suddenly, and without warning, the Twi'lek charged her. Zoella knew that it was only a matter of time until she caved, until one misstep sealed her fate. She was exhausted, mentally and physically, and her prowess with the blade, her footing, her instincts—they all paled in comparison to the Knight's. If Zoella wanted to make it off this planet alive and not in stun cuffs, she'd need to get creative. She'd need to play dirty.

Before their blades could clash, Zoella rolled out of the way, using the force to give her the strength she no longer possessed. The Acolyte reached into the pockets of the old bomber jacket the dead informant wore, her pale hands searching desperately. Come on, you old codger... I know I saw a frag grenade on you earlier... Her hand found purchase, slender fingers closing around the chrome shell before the Twi'lek could make another advance.

Zoella struggled to stand on her own two feet again, tripping over the dead informant's lifeless corpse at the worst moment possible. The frag grenade, set to detonate on impact, tumbled to the ground.

A flash of light, followed by a painful, invisible shove sent Zoella flying back. The Acolyte rolled to a stop, her body burned and bloody. She wanted to scream out in pain or cry for Sol, but she couldn't find the strength for anything more than a quiet whimper. Green eyes fluttered open briefly, watching a blade of tall grass float to the ground beside her, still burning. Gradually, her gaze grew unfocused and distant, a single tear running down the side of her face, and Zoella fell silent at last.

 

[Jesper Trevil]

This was the first time Jesper had ever faced an actual Sith in combat, so when he was able to inflict a few wounds and stand his ground against the Sith opposite him, he was pleasantly surprised. Not only because it filled him with a sense of pride but because it kept him alive, which was probably a lot more important.

With a thick mop of dark, curly hair and dark piercing eyes that stared out from a young but determined face, he couldn't have been any older than Jesper was, which was probably why they were more evenly matched. The blonde Sith was struggling against the Jedi Knight she faced, he could tell.

There was a lull in the fighting, just long enough for them to try and catch their breaths. Jesper's chest rose and fell with each ragged breath he took, a mixture of blood and sweat trickling down his temples. The hilt of his lightsaber grew heavy in his hand with each passing moment, sweat pooling around the hilt's fabric.

"She's right, you know," he said quietly, eyes moving from Soleil to the Twi'lek charging Zoella, echoing his superior's sentiments. "You should give up now. We won't harm you." Jesper was sure the Sith wouldn't give in, but it was worth a shot.

All at once, a flash of light temporarily blinded the Padawan as he faced the explosion. He stumbled backward, one eye reaching up to his eyes, his magenta lightsaber still ignited in the other.

@Mr. Teatime thank you again!

 

[Soleil Altan]

Soleil didn't have a reply to the Jedi standing across from him, not really. Not something he could put to words in that moment. Maybe not even if he had the time or some great and overwhelming inclination. Maybe if he had a voice there'd be some snippy joke or sarcastic insult to wield, sharper and more skillfully than his knives, spoken between labored breathing. Seem more Sith-like than he felt.

Instead, in his silence, perhaps he seemed just the way he looked. A curly-haired kid, dark strands soaked in sweat, chest and shoulders heaving. A kid not much older than the Jedi just a couple steps away, fear and anger admixed in his expression that he kept trying to cover with sharp-eyed determination. A kid who, from his perspective, was fighting for their lives.

There was a boom and flash of light that made Sol flinch, but it was the Jedi who flinched harder. Fear explosively transmuted to anger, the surge he needed most. In a sudden burst of speed, he shot forward, swinging his sword forward, clumsy but with strength and whatever focus he could muster. Jesper, blinded but not defenseless, swung in return. Plasma and metal arced, passing one another in the air.

Blood and smoke sprayed, painting fresh black and red flecks across the boot-flattened grass to join the rest. Burning pain shot through Sol from a gash across his side, teeth grit as his legs shook to keep himself upright, wounded and tired. He heard only a pervasive ringing in his ears, but he could see the mortal wound he'd inflicted on Jesper. He didn't hear the body as it collapsed fell limp to the ground.

It was the strangest thing, then. Soleil could've sworn, through the ringing, he'd heard a quiet whimper. With a silent snarl, he turned, drawing on some last vestige of strength in the Force to at least chuck something sharp at the other Jedi to help Zoella. But there that Jedi already was, flat on the ground.

Sol barely noticed, attention pulled to his fellow acolyte, bleeding and battered, fallen on the ground. His sword dropped from his fingers and buried tip-down in the blood-strewn soil. He scrambled over to her and fell to his knees on the ground despite his injuries, trying to drag her back upright with fingers already starting to shake as the adrenaline faded. His expression was shock and fear, horror at her injuries, a panic that wasn't hidden anymore as he fruitlessly pressed a hand against horrible, untreatable shrapnel wounds.

He felt her go, more than anything else. One second she was still half-there. The tiniest, most fragile flame, barely a thing at all. Green eyes still reflected the smoking grass that Sol'd trampled. A single tear tracked a river across pale skin painted with black ash. The tiniest and most fragile flame, barely a thing at all, represented that his friend was there.

Then it blew out. Soleil stared, stock-still, down at the young woman he'd come to know, wandering beaches and bantering. Just a few hours ago they'd be passing notes and playing cards on a borrowed ship. Now she was gone, just like that in a flash of light. Sol wished he could have said something, a reassurance or goodbye, something more meaningful. But all that was forced out was little more than a hoarse and wordless whisper of breath.

Through a stinging haze in his eyes, he caught movement from the Jedi Knight who'd also been hit by the grenade. Slowly his head turned to look at her, hands steadily raising from Zoella's burned body. Laboriously he stood again, limping toward the knight. He dragged his sword from the wet earth as he passed by. Sol stopped, staring down at the Jedi with a strangely blank expression.

"You...-" the Jedi began to whisper, just before Soleil planted the sword through her chest. He walked back, kicking Jesper's hilt along the way, and knelt back down by Zoe. Sol gently picked up the long, colorful cloth that'd fallen from her hair and wrapped it around her lightsaber. His expression finally crumpled as he pulled her up and lifted her from the grass. Face tight and shoulders shaking, he began his march back to the ship atop unsteady legs.

The ship set course for Arkanis. Soleil sat and stared at where Zoe usually sat across from him.

It was quiet as he cried.

@llamallove

//END THREAD