Untouchable: Tea and Tension

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Ten years ago...

The air all around was something in and of itself; full of the aromas of life. Spice and all other manner of flavorful scents swirled in and around themselves to create something wholly new - something wildly intoxicating for those who weren't used to it.

Exotic and feral, Cathar was a world apart from every other place in the galaxy. It was rich with mysticism and steeped in a mythos that could only be experienced first-hand.

Every day was to be welcomed with arms wide open. There was danger here, yes, but that was a part of life.


The woman who now made her way through the markets of Joffa was one that had been seen many times here, though whether she actually bought anything was still a mystery. It seemed she only came through to eat at her normal haunt, then leave once more to wander back out into the desert to the west.

She was still relatively young, though it was easy to see that her years had been hard. She lowered her small frame into a chair, having chosen a seat at one of the tables that sat outside of the main restaurant.

It was a fine day after all, and she enjoyed the heady, spicy aromas of Joffa's marketplace. A server, one of the myriad of natve Cathar, bustled by with a nod. No order was needed, as she knew that the offworlder who often stopped by ordered the same thing every time; spiced tea, two thin strips of ustu steak, and a small bundle of nolo berries.

Another day, another cup of tea, and more time to reflect on the solitude of life.

And no one would know; no one would know that once she finally died, there would be no more like her. No more to carry on her blood..

[Mr. Dust]

At 16 years of age, Mr. Dust is embarking on his first mission alone. He has been trained by the best. The Guardians have been defending others against the Lupine scourge for almost longer than recorded history. He has been preparing for this day - no, longing for it - for some time now. A week ago, the order came down to investigate rumors of "beast-gods" on Cathar. His elders thought it a good training mission.

In all honesty, he is not terribly worried. He has been on a few missions like this while apprenticing under his master. Generally, a local has seen a large animal, run into town screaming his head off about a "twenty foot tall beast with eyes o' flame," and the rumors have continued from there. Still, the Guardian Council generally likes to monitor such things. The Lupines are dying out, but one can never be too careful.

Dust has been searching all day, trying to gather as many stories of this supposed beast as he can. Worryingly enough, the stories do not sound like the general flights of fancy. Still, he's tired, and he'd like a drink.

He rounds a corner to see a small cafe in the distance. There are a few outdoor tables. One is occupied by a small woman. He decides that this restaurant will do as well as any. All he really wants now is a good cup of tea. Where it comes from matters little.

He trudges toward a table, when he is suddenly hit with the feeling. The feeling. That dropping sensation in the stomach that lets him know his ancient enemy is in range. The small woman's head pops up, suddenly alert.

All weariness flees from his body in a flash. He nearly draws his saber before calming himself. A Guardian never attacks a Lupine without due provocation.

He slowly walks toward the table, eyes locked on the woman. When she does not attack, he decides to take the seat opposite her. With infinite caution, he slips into the chair. He removes his hat, placing it on the table beside him.

Well... we won't be having any problems on this planet, now will we? You shall be leaving the planet and returning to your homeworld at the earliest possible convenience.

From his inflection, this is obviously not a request.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

She had sensed him, seen him, and with a bit of growing mirth in her eyes, s'Il watched as he approached her before sitting down. She noted how he was so focused on caution, how his movements seemed to come from careful planning and training.

He was young for an A'kha'ru; barely grown, and the Lupine hid the curiosity she felt.

At his words though, she paused before letting out a chuckle.

"A'kha'ru," she replied calmly, her voice smooth as she called him not by name (even though she knew not what it was), but by the common slave name given to his people by her own kind, "You're awful young to be giving orders."

[Mr. Dust]

He dips his head slightly and chuckles a bit, smiling in that polite little smile his people have perfected over the years.

Indeed, I am not what one would call aged. But, lest you forget, my people have been fighting yours for centuries now. We know your weaknesses, your... limitations. And we know how to exploit them.

True, you might possibly defeat me should we resort to violence, but my people would not rest until you were brought to justice. So why go through all this? You know it cannot end well for you. Abide by the unwritten rules. Go away, do no harm, and you will be left in peace.

Refuse, and judgement will come upon you with the swiftness of the Light itself. Do the wise thing... stand down.

He pauses for a moment, then starts slightly, as if remembering something.

And the name, madam, is Dust. Mr. Dust.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"Your name means little to me, A'kha'ru," she brushed him away as the server returned with her tea. A nod of thanks, and a few murmured words in the Cathar dialect, asking for another order of tea for her guest.

A simple nod, and the server left.

Alone once more with the albino, s'Il ignored her tea for the moment.

"I cannot leave, this is my home now.

"Besides," she blew lightly at her drink, "I'm the only one left. I would think you've little to worry about at this point in time."

[Mr. Dust]

The way she needles him, refusing to use his name, referring to him as "slave", is all starting to get under his skin. He knows better. An angry man is a defeated man. He knows that from his training. As well, anger is the first step to the Dark Side. The thought sobers him quickly. He calms himself once more before resuming the conversation.

You have no home outside Schwartzweld. You never shall. You once imprisoned my people there. It is now your purgatory. You will rot there. I shall see to it.

And I care little that you are the last. As long as one of you remains, we will not rest. Not for a moment. As long as there is one, you are a menace. Begone, before I become... uncivil. You try my patience sorely.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

At this she laughed aloud. The already beginning crow's feet at the edges of her eyes crinkled in amusement.

"Oh but you're a brave one."

Her gaze became stern then.

"I have no intentions of leaving. Whether my people enslaved yours is a moot point; you were there for the taking, and so we took. Do not place the blame of your own weaknesses upon me."

[Mr. Dust]

He waves a hand dismissively.

Of course it's a moot point. Several people have "vanished" in the last few weeks. The bodies... the ones that have been found, that is... were mauled almost beyond recognition. There are no natural animals that could have done that.

He leans forward slowly, locking eyes with the Lupine.

I can only assume some... abomination... is the culprit.

Last warning.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Now this was quickly getting intolerable, and her tanned face became tight with annoyance.

"There are many animals on this planet that could have done what you are talking about."

This new accusation was a bit of a surprise to her, as she had been making her treks across the Dune Sea during the times that he was talking of.

"Your false accusations do nothing but make yourself out to be more ignorant than you already are."

She canted her head to the side, regarding him more fully with her left eye; the other a disturbing white that seemed cut in two by vertical scar.

"Or are you looking to prove yourself, A'kha'ru?"

[Mr. Dust]

The fact that a Lupine would claim innocence almost shocked Dust out of his seat.

So, do you mean to tell me that you are not this "beast-god" the hoi polloi is referring to? Why, how could I make such an assumption? To think that a docile, law-abiding Lupine would ever do such things! Why, it must have been the other bloodthirsty, ravenous shapeshifter I saw a few streets over. How silly of me.

He places his hands on the table, slowly raising himself to full height, towering over the diminuitive woman.

The only thing I have to "prove" is that I will not sit idly by and watch you terrorize innocents. That is ALL!

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"Sit."

It was an order, and the Lupine lifted her hand from the table, her palm facing him.

His hat, which had been resting motionless upon the tabletop suddenly sprang into her hand. She caught it carefully though, holding it in such a way so that she made no contact with its' cortosis lining.

"Unless you would like to leave. I'll not abide such unruly behavior from a whelp such as yourself. You're nothing but a babe, and if you insist on acting as you are now," she waggled the hat at him, " I'll have to ask you to be on your way."

And at this, she waited. She wanted to see his reaction to her use of the Force...

[Mr. Dust]

Though trained to be stoic and formal in all situations, the use of the Force by this... animal... truly shocked him. His only outward betrayal of his shock, though, is a sudden widening of the eyes.

Though it is not quite an attack, the Lupine is becoming more aggressive. Her use of the Force is nothing if not a threat.

He would yank the hat back out of her hands with the Force... if he could. His talents with the Force lie in much more... unusual areas. He has attempted every diplomatic means he is able to. It is time to resort to force.

Mr. Dust, like the other Guardians, use a saber which is different from most. It is smaller and lighter, almost rapier-like, and designed to be used one-handed. He extends his left hand, the saber shooting from a small holster up his sleeve into his hand. The blade is ignited before it completely settles in his grip. The thin, glowing white blade rests a mere inch from her throat.

Stand down, beast.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Well then. Apparently there was no room for words any longer. At least, none bordering civil for her. She had kept her patience, held her frustration in check, but now it seemed that she would need to give a lesson.

Without standing, the Lupine brought her right arm up, the familiar sound of a second sabre engaging cut the air. And yet, it was a unique sight, as the balde - no, blades sprang to life from the gauntlet she wore on her arm. Dual orange blades crackled agains't Dust's own, and s'Il applied enough pressure to move his weapon's tip to the side and away from her throat.

"You are sorely testing my patience, A'kha'ru," she growled, "Do not insist on testing my skills."

[Mr. Dust]

The sabers are a surprise, but seeing as she is Force sensitive, not entirely shocking. Mr. Dust's patience is at an end. Even by the Guardian's strict standards, the woman has started this fight. And Dust will finish it.

Why madam... I believe you have finally forced my hand. I'll have my hat back, if you please.

Before completely finishing his sentence, he flicks the rapier-like blade across her left wrist, scoring the flesh slightly. It is not enough to maim. To do so, even against a Lupine, would truly be bad form. It is, however, enough to cause her to drop the bowler hat she had so rudely taken earlier. As she is stunned from the pain, he snatches his hat up in his free hand, spinning away from the woman at the same time. He comes to rest a few meters away, saber at the ready.

Now that I am once more properly attired... shall we dance?

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"Ahh... "

She exhaled only slightly at the feel of cauterized flesh. The acrid smell that filled her nostrils was wretched, and in a small bit of angered shock at his actions, the Lupine rocked up to her feet, kicking her chair to the ground behind her.

Her sabre blades were held behind her as she turned her left shoulder forward to face him.

She smirked at him then. "And what will do when you've killed me? Will your kind rest easy knowing that they no longer have a purpose?"

s'Il slowly paced to the side, away from the minimal protection offered her by the table she'd once so quietly been sitting at.

"Why don't you come home with me? I can give you the purpose in life that you were meant to have... " she paused then, her smirk growing feral as her eye flashed tawny yellow, "... A'kha'ru."

[Mr. Dust]

His eyes narrow at the attempt to rile him again. She won't get the satisfaction from him.

We will likely defend others. We will find another cause. You act as if we "need" your kind to have purpose. Our whole purpose is to ensure that none need ever fear the Lupine scourge again. With your death, we will finally rest easy.

Without another word, Mr. Dust wades into the battle.

He leads in with his saber, tip pointed at her eyes to mask the true length of the saber. Instead of immediately going for a killing blow, he makes several rapid feints and slashes. Whenever she dodges one slash, he nicks her with a flick in the other direction. His purpose now is simply to keep her on the defensive.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

She let him come in, let him play his sword games. For now, she would see what he could do. The Lupine watched his movements and how he used his sabre, making note of anything that would catch her attentions.

He was quick, she had to admit, and his blade had seemingly been constructed to facilitate his own physical abilities.

A dodge here, and hop back there, she watched through it all. She waited patiently, as he drove at her. And then, and opening.

Surging forward in a burst of speed, s'Il brought her dual sabres around in a smooth arc that seamlessly transformed itself into a flowing dance between body and blade.

She came in fast, driving hard with precision strikes meant to put the most strain upon his wrist every time he blocked.

[Mr. Dust]

The smaller woman was stronger than he would have thought. He would not be able to simply overpower her. In fact, it is quite likely that she would win any test of strength he would put her to. Time to change tactics.

He waits for her to swing in one of those arcs again, and raises his sword as if to block. Instead, however, he flows with her weapon, barely making contact with her blade. He continues in the same direction, causing her to overbalance slightly. As soon as she does, he flips his saber around to the other side of hers, adding a bit more force in the direction she was already heading. The move causes her to pull even further off center.

They end up facing almost the same direction, both of their sabers pointing toward the ground in front of them. The difference is, Dust still has his balance. He shifts backwards, yanking the saber toward her butt first. The endcap of his saber slams into the side of the woman's forehead. Unfortunately, that is one of the strongest places on the body, and the impact will likely do little more than cause a headache.

Fortunately, the saber casing is made of silver.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Reflex took over in that instant, and at the first sensations of searing, burning heat, s'Il instinctively jerked back.

She had become careless, and was paying the price.

Yet she was far from done, and jerking her arm up, elbowed him feircely in the same spot on him that he had so kindly made contact with upon her.

The Lupine pushed him away then, putting distance between the two. The rational portion of her mind was ordering her to stop; that fighting against a fellow Lightsider was blasphemous, and yet her very being, the blood in her veins, demanded that she do just the opposite.

Her voice was calm as she reached a hand up to brush over the silver burn. "Such a devious nature in one so young; and your people pride themselves upon following the Lightside."

[Mr. Dust]

He shakes off the blow before responding to her comment.

Only an abomination would be harmed by the touch of an elegant metal like silver.

He should have known to get better position after that attack. He had simply gotten cocky... admiring his well-placed attack and got caught watching.

Time to stop dancing and start fighting. She may have strength on him, but he likely has speed. Not to mention, the fact that his saber isn't strapped to his wrist allows him to attack at angles she may not be expecting.

He steps back in, almost cautiously, blade extended. He parries about before appearing to stumble. He leaves an apparent opening on his right side to draw a stab from her. She does so, but instead of parrying with his saber, he simply turns perpendicular to her so that her blade goes in front of him, her right arm over his left. He does not judge the distance perfectly, and recieves a searing line across his chest. But he does gain the position he had hoped for.

He traps her arm against his chest with his right hand. Her gauntlet makes a good handle to hold the weapon fast. His turns his saber in his left, pointing it at her heart. He lunges quickly, but she is able to drop her elbow. The movement deflects his arm lower, piercing her abdomen on her left deeply.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Eyes wide, the Lupine let out a shocked breath as she felt his blade bury itself within her. She coughed, her previous annoyance now changed to a full-fledged anger. Such a thing was forbidden, but she couldn't help the situation now.

Her good eye tracked lazily to his face, and she grinned.

"A'kha'ru, I'm impressed. Your abilities are well-developed for someone who was meant for nothing but servitude."

And then, she struck. Not by any physical means, no. She opened up with her mind, letting it wash over her adversary like a spray of water before releasing it in full force. He was thrown then, away from her and through the air to crash against a wall. She held him up, content to take her time in examining the wound he'd inflicted. Mildly disgruntled, she hmphed before taking a careful step forward.

"In any other situation you would have been a fine one to have, A'kha'ru. Unfortunately for myself, you've been brainwashed into believing that you deserve to be free." A flick of her wrist and a cylindrical object appeared in her left hand. Thumbing the actuator switch, she let the amethyst glow wash over her.

The Lupine released her hold on him then, and he fell to the ground.

"I do not take pleasure in killing you; know that. It goes against what I was taught. But, what I was born into demands nothing less now."

She held up the second sabre. "This is my old training sabre, A'kha'ru. I kept it with me always It saved my life during the Purge, and now it will end yours."

[Mr. Dust]

The wall knocked the breath from him, rendering him nearly senseless for a moment. The woman's words wash over him... the name... the comments of slavery... the threats to take his freedom... take his life. It is more than he can bear.

He slumps down where he is dropped, face down as if too stunned to move. He does not have to act to a great degree... he is indeed hurt. But he does not even feel the pain. He feels the anger... the white-hot, searing, powerful anger. His teeth grit in rage that this... this... ANIMAL would try to kill him. His right hand reaches into his coat, as if to clutch at some pain. His hand closes, instead, on a small handfull of cortosis dust.

She comes toward him, sabers lit, ready to end his life. HIS life! The life of a Guardian... one who protects. How dare she!

The rage breaks through, clouding his mind. He rises like storm, a bellow of inarticulate anger issuing forth from his mouth as his right hand flings forward. The dust would be bad enough on a normal person. For a Lupine, it is like breathing in solid fire. He presses his attack before she can recover, the wordless scream never ceasing. He beats her back, and then down to ground, barely able to fend off the vicious overhand strikes he rains down upon her. With a flourish he flings the violet saber away to clatter on the tiles. As she weakly attempts to bring her gauntlet to bear, his foot kicks it roughly to the side and savagely stomps down upon it, pinning it fast.

He drops to a knee, pinning her free hand in the process. With his right, he takes a handful of her hair, roughly shaking her head until her eyes lock with his. He punches her with his left, silver casing rasping across her face. He finds the words, finally, delivering each with a measured cadence.

MY

A blow to the temple...

NAME

... another to the chin...

IS

...to the nose...

MR.

...a backhand to the cheek...

DUST!

On the last word, he raises his hand high, ready to let his hand fall like judgement. With one strike, he can end her wicked life, and once more protect...

...protect...

He looks up in a moment of sudden clarity. He blinks once, then again... seeing the world as a newborn. The fight has brought a small number of spectators. Most are hiding behind corners. He sees a girl, no more than 10, staring at him in shock... no... in horror. He can see the fear in her eyes.

He wants to speak... to tell her how the Lupines are evil and wicked... killers. He wants to tell how they deserve this punishment. He wants to tell her... and then he looks down.

The Lupine is almost unconscious. Her face is a mass of blood and burns. The stench of burning flesh assaults his nostrils. He wants to protect. But he is not a protector. Not now. He sees his hands. He sees the blood. Suddenly, with the clarity than only comes from the truth, he sees. His mind plays back the last few moments... those awful seconds... the movements of a monster.

He leaps from the woman as if she is fire. His saber tumbles out of nerveless fingers. His eyes are open wide, but he sees nothing. His brutal attack plays itself over in his mind. He stumbles back like a drunkard, leaning against the wall.

He has never been so afraid in his life. And the source of this sense-numbing fear is himself.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

There was a weak cough, followed by a light groan as the Lupine rolled to her side. She spit out a stream of blood onto the dusty ground she lay upon, propping herself up on an elbow.

Tenderly, s'Il wiped at her face, feeling for anything too terribly out of place. Satisfied that all would heal, she let herself fall once more to her back, bringing in lungfulls of air. That wonderful, spicy air; so exotic and powerful...

She cleared her throat finally.

"You scared yourself, didn't you; more than any number of my kind could ever hope to."

[Mr. Dust]

He barely hears the woman. For that matter, he barely remembers who she is, or that she is even there.

His eyes finally focus after a few moments. His mouth works soundlessly for a few more before even a few words eke their way out.

I... I...

He clears his throat almost shyly.

I... know not. I... why did I... protect... I failed... why...

His mind is still reeling, unable to grasp what he has done, and how close he almost came to being consumed by the Dark Side.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

She sat up slowly, propping herself up against a wall.

"You didn't fail," she coughed out, the ghost of a smile upon her lips as she called her fallen sabre back to her hand. The sound it made as it skittered over the dust-strewn street seemed almost earshattering.

"In fact, you performed quite well - even if, as it seems to me, you pulled from the Dark to fuel your actions." She gingerly rose to her feet, already feeling as her body began its' healing processes. "But, this is my home; I have been here for almost ten years now, and no one; not even you, A'kha'ru, will ever be able to persuade me to leave."

[Mr. Dust]

Her words come at him as if from a great distance. As much as he hates to do so, though, he must do his duty.

I fear... that I must still ask you to leave. I have no desire to fight any longer. I did not wish to fight you earlier. I will ask nicely once more. Please leave.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

A measured stride brought her in close to him, and the Lupine regarded his features pensively. He was taller, yes. But she held years over him; in fact, twice as many.

"You would resort to the Dark to force me into leaving; what does that lead to? I'm sure that even you know the answer to that."

A gentle hand came up then, and she ran slender fingers along his neck.

"I can't allow that," the quiet emitters of her sabre gauntlet came to rest against his chest, ready to spring forth with a brilliant orange as her hand suddenly clamped over his throat like a vice, A'kha'ru."

[Mr. Dust]

His eyes narrow. She was using the Dark Side as well! He could sense it! But she used it on purpose. His was an accident... a loss of control.

He had always been warned of the seduction of the Dark Side. How easy it was to fall, to slip into the anger and rage. Now he has seen it first hand. He stares down the smaller woman.

You use the Dark Side at a whim. I used it by mistake. Never again.

He eyes her once again, and then the strange smile slips onto his face once more.

You may have wondered why I have used no Force abilities against you. No pushes, or telekinesis of any sort. You see, my talents lie in a different area... there is a reason I am known as Dust...

His voice trails off as he becomes... fuzzy. It's as if he has suddenly gone out of focus. With a wink, he steps backward.

Into the wall.

Another step leads him out of range of the woman's blade entirely.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

s'Il stood rooted, staring with a slightly befuddled expression on her face.

The lines at her eyes hardened then, and she drew back from the wall with a frustrated snort. She looked a sight, she knew that much; nearly impaled, her face not quite as unmarked as before. Her good eye was once more its' normal metallic blue, and she sniffed at the air for any scent of the Guardian that she could find.

He was near, that much she knew. But his words - that she herself used the Dark - were enough to insult her greatly.

"You lie."

She knew he could still hear her. "I survived the Jedi Purge, I've lived through the Darkness, I've even been touched by it. And yet I am still here," She stood straighter then, her head held high with pride, "I am still a Jedi."

[Mr. Dust]

Her little speech delivered to the air gives Mr. Dust just the amount of time he needs to get into position. He sinks into the ground, still in his incorporeal state, and maneuvers himself behind her. He rises silently, fully rising from the ground just as she states that she is still a Jedi.

The statement is rather surprising, indeed. So, instead of delivering a finishing blow, he simply locks the woman in a choke hold from behind.

A Jedi? I find that hard to believe.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

She took everything in stride, his re-appearence, his arm around her neck, everything. She offered no struggle or any other movements to extricate herself from his grasp.

"Yes, a Jedi," she rasped quietly.

One hand came up then, her fingers on his arm as her other reached behind to his face. She could have kicked back, catching him with the heel of her boot, but to resort to such an underhanded tactic did not suit her. Instead, the Lupine hooked her thumb into the side of his mouth between the fleshy inside of his cheek and his teeth. Her pinky dug its' way into his ear canal, and she pulled firmly at first, applying a gentle pressure.

Her efforts doubled then, and she felt his grip loosen around her neck. Her torso twisted then, as she continued to pull him down and to the side. Shifting her feet, s'Il found herself face to face and in the closest of confines with the Guardian, her fingers compensating as her own arm lay flush against his own neckline.

She stared up at him, a wild conflict bared for him to see raging in her gaze; her one-eyed gaze. As a Lupine she was in her rights to end his life, but as a Jedi she was sworn to uphold life. This Guardian; this A'kha'ru, thought that what he was doing was a noble thing. And he was so young! The youth was still in his eyes, plain as the sunlight around them. Her stern gaze softened then, if only for the barest of seconds as she briefly recalled her own youth, and that same life that used to shine in her eyes - both of them.

s'Il gripped his body with the Force, rendering any movement against her impossible.

She shook him then, as if he was a toddler caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Don't you see?! You forced me to strike, to fight you. I only want to be alone and die in peace." Her voice fell to a hissed whisper then, as she pressed her body closer against his, "Yes I am one of the Beast-Gods that these people whisper about and tell stories of - yes. But they do not need to know this. Let them pass on their wild rumors and fairytales to their cubs at bedtime. I know my limitations, and I do not need you to use them against me."

She was inches from his face. "Do you think me to be so weak-minded as not to fight the atrophy since my Master was cut down? It eats at me every day that passes, and it is all I can do to salvage what he taught me. That is why I am alone and why I do not venture forth from this world.

"My people sought refuge here in their dying days," another shake to drive home her point, "... and so this is where I will be when it is time for me to join them."

[Mr. Dust]

He struggles valiantly against the woman's Force grip, but is unable to move. He can barely open his jaw because of their proximity. He forces the words out through clenched teeth.

You... are no... Jedi...

He cannot free himself from this by brute strength. Instead, he once more turns intangible, hoping to free himself from her grasp.

He succeeds, but far too well. He falls into her. Literally. As his body begins to drift through hers, he reacts with shock. Never has he phased through a living being before! Moving through solid objects is disconcerting enough. Moving through a humaniod is... indescribable. The closest he can articulate is to say that it seems as if you lose your own body, and can no longer tell what is self from what is not self.

He tries to maintain his composure, knowing that a lapse in his concentration could be catastrophic. The fear only causes his concentration to lapse further. He momentarily becomes solid once more, but it is enough to disrupt his technique entirely.

Whenever he becomes solid within something else, he is shunted to the nearest free space. With a "whoomph" sound he is shifted through her, where he promptly collapses. Anything within the solid object is subjected to enormous amounts of pain. Since most of his body was within her, his torso and legs are in agony. The only blessing he can see from this is that his head was subject to the shunt, as hers was. He can only hope to get away before she regains her composure. He's in no condition to fight now.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Loklorien s'Ilancy stood rooted, unwilling to move for fear of causing the intense pain she now felt to increase ten-fold. His passage through her body was shock enough, but the pain as he fell out was like nothing she could ever hope to describe.

Her legs betrayed her then, and the Lupine dropped first to her knees, sucking in a labored, painful breath before hitting the dusty street on her side.

Her lungs screamed in agony, yet she pulled in breath after breath. Such a thing was so new and unthinkable, that it was all s'Il could do to lay on her side, eyes accusatory as she stared at Dust and where he too had fallen.

After what seemed like an eternity, she managed to croak out a single question.

"What... do I have to do to convince you... that I am a Jedi... ?"

[Mr. Dust]

Mr. Dust turns his head slowly toward the small woman. In an equally agonized voice, he replies.

Time... it will take... time...

He slumps back to the ground, searching for his saber as he gathers his strength. He sees it in front of him, only a few feet away. A few terrible, painful feet. He lurches to his hands and knees and crawls to it. Once he finally regains his weapon, he stumbles to his feet and begins to shuffle away. Though the Lupine may be hurt more badly now, she will likely heal more quickly. He must get away for now.

He turns back to his opponent, tipping his hat in a polite goodbye. Were their bodies not screaming in pain, it would look like the exit of an old friend.

Until next time, madam...

And with that, he walks away.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

And with that she let her head fall. It rested against the dirt, and she closed her eyes. A few moments later she rolled onto her back. No words were given to the retreating Guardian, and s'Il all but ignored him, focused on her own body and the desire to simply rest.

A sigh escaped her lips, and she wondered if her tea - which was still sitting on the tale where she'd left it - was still warm.