The lower city of Taris felt particularly bleak this evening. Or perhaps it was just Cairo's perception. Now cast far away from the heights of Taris' Imperial Palace, Cairo scrounged across the streets, pathetically in search of another hit of wildfire.
Haunting images of the party he left played before him, in his mind, as he sullenly wandered. Him and Malou, embraced so closely. He had abandoned her to the party. Him and Veles, stupidly playing with vials of wildfire like it was candy. No, its sweet, chocolatey taste held something far more wicked behind its bitter aftertaste. Something he felt now.
It was as if every step aged him, wore him further into the ground. Covered in sweat, his body flashed between hot and cold as the pangs of withdrawal settled into him. His body felt terrible, like it was on the brink of collapse. It was as if he was a doll whose stitching was slowly being pulled out, revealing his fluffy guts to the world. Completely unwinding him. His mind felt worse. In between the stabbing pains of a migraine taking hold, he was consumed by shame. By anger. Anger at Veles, for brushing off his concerns so quickly back on Mataou. Anger at Xendor the Hutt, for having tasked them with this. Anger at Wildfire's creator, because who the fuck makes a drug for sale specifically to cripple force users? Isn't that psychotic?
But lying behind all of this externally-placed anger, Cairo felt most angry at himself. He had, in a moment of ecstasy, betrayed Altair. And not just betrayed him, but doomed him. Few knew better than Cairo how important Altair's Force Sensitivity was to him, and how it connected him with his family back on Bandomeer. How proud they were of him and his sister for getting off-world, displaying their talents before the Imperial Academies. Cairo had ruined that, for him. Cairo had ruined his life.
The wave of anger that Altair had sent in response was natural. In one moment, he had been betrayed by his two closest confidants - his Master and his best friend. Cairo was supposed to know better, be better. He was supposed to run dangerous ideas by people. He was supposed to be smarter, better, than he kept acting. Who was he? This child, who failed at every task the Sith demanded of him? Who had no control over his most base impulses, from moment to moment? Could he ever be more than this?
Cairo shuddered, rubbing his shoulders as he entered a small, dimly lit park. Even with the artificial lights of the city, dimmed bulbs in a working class part of town reduced it to darkness. Perfect. Cairo had slept on the streets before, and in that time, had come to the conclusion that a public park was among the better places to stay. They often had benches, covered awnings, public restrooms...it wasn't great, but it worked. He remembered telling Altair a story about him and his mother sleeping in a park, once, after their ship got stolen. She had eventually stolen it back from the hands of a Hutt. But for a week, they made a park just like this their home.
Unthinking, he tumbled over a parked swoop-bike into an alleyway. Shit. Taris was known for its swoop bike gangs, right? Cairo could barely remember through the haze of his own mind. He couldn't stop thinking. And he could barely register if anyone had accosted him for the trouble.
Cairo spotted somewhere to sit. He couldn't drag his feet any further. As he collapsed into a dreamless sleep on a park bench, he almost thought he heard a familiar sound. Or, felt a familiar presence. But, tired and confused as he was, it disappeared with his consciousness into a dark and dreary rest.
@Sreeya
