Pilot Error

[Denarr Sepphist]

Travel was always an uneasy event, especially for a Miraluka.

She could feel the vibrations through her seat, hear the 'beep' of the navigator; yet could tell nothing of how far she had come, or how long she still had to go.

The shuttle was destined for a small planet on the Outer Rim, something low-profile where she could get away from the Teta feuds. Gang-wars were becoming all the more frequent, and considering her standing with the Gye'gots, well, it was worth the credits to disappear for a few months... On the opposite bunk sat a pair of humans, chattering away and making a point of ignoring the bedraggled youth; not that she really minded. Denarr was far too concerned with trying to stay calm under the rather unusual circumstances...

Force-sight didn't help her read computer screens, as there was no dimension for the force to flow around; the feeling of 'blindness' not exactly something the girl enjoyed, especially when it inhibited her ability to keep track of time and estimated arrival. She knew it wouldn't be much longer, yet the wait (and lack of entertainment) was beginning to eat away her tolerance, and even forced her to try and rope the couple into a game of Sabacc - which of course, ended miserably...

Settling back against the hull with a sigh, Denarr contented herself with tweaking her hand-held translator; the little gadget able to transfer computer data into audio files, at least when it felt like working. It hummed to live with the tell-tale beep, the small buttons embossed with basic braille that she could read with little effort; the Miraluka mumbling nonsense as she tested the pitch and battery. Everything seemed to be working.

It was then that she saw the shuttle's depth begin to warp and flicker, and knew enough to realise that the lights had just gone out. Darkness didn't bother her, as it didn't exactly affect her sight - yet the two humans began making such a fuss that Denarr couldn't help but get nervous.

Somewhere , lost beneath the rabble of the passengers, the ships navigator began to beep at an increasingly rapid rate.

Something had gone wrong...

Something had gone very wrong.

[Denarr Sepphist]

The marsh gurgled as the hull sank slowly into the earth; the perpetual stench of tree-rot overshadowed by burning plastic... Smoke billowed in beautiful, ghostly ropes; curling elegantly about the air as fire consumed what remained of the ship.

What... what happened?

Her entire body ached, as if a thousand tons of pressure had been set upon her back; the Miralukan opening her eyes to the blurry sight of trees and darkness. She tried to flex her fingers and nearly screamed in response to the pain; her skin torn and bleeding as she felt out for any handle... She found she was on her stomach, and the pressure was in fact a portion of the hull that had fallen on her during the crash; the thick metal groaning as the girl crawled out on both elbows.

I remember beeping... Then the lights went out. Screams... something about the engines...

Mud clung to her body, fusing with her blood that dripped freely from multiple cuts; the worst of which being a large gash just above her eyebrow. It dribbled into her eyes, yet she needed them not and closed them in one slow, wet blink; her sense of sight unmarred by something so trivial as eyelids. Her clothes had been burned and her hair smelt of smoke and soil; the Miraluka finding the strength to roll on her side and face the wreck behind her, the picture so unusually illuminated by the inconspicuous night beyond...

What was left of the shuttle lay in pieces about the scene; shards of metal, consumed with chemical fires, streted out in agony towards the starless sky. What remained of the bulkhead was, by now, half swallowed by the bog, with wires and cables bursting from every broken panel in a way that reminded her of innards. A savage tear, clean through the middle, had split the vessel in half; with twisted sheets of metal curled inwards - indicating they had grazed something on their descent.

Opened like an old tin can...

Her boots had partially melted, the thick soles sticking to leaves and twigs as she dragged herself to a tree; Denarr's cries falling into the buzzing night as she forced herself into a sit. Nothing felt broken, surprisingly, yet the pain that flared through her every limb was enough to throw her into unconsciousness; that forgiving world of numbness where one didn't care if they would live or die...

Her body was smeared with mud, her dress now naught but rags; the white-eyed girl alone, bleeding and most probably dying - somewhere on an alien planet.

What a way to go, eh?

[Denarr Sepphist]

Darkness had crept its way into the sky, accentuating the moon that sat swollen in the clouds; it’s silver glow streaming through the canopy. Insects buzzed in noisy harmony, attracted by the fire that had all but been extinguished; the wreckage eerily still against the lunar half-light... Denarr lay motionless, her chin against her chest as every weak breath brought fresh air into her lungs. Her lids refused to open, their lashes sealed by blood; the girls dry lips smacking together painfully as she slowly came into consciousness.

She wasn’t dead.
Not yet, anyway...

The world was spinning, the dizzy waltz of stars and trees far too much for injured eyes; the Miraluka managing to turn aside and empty the contents of her stomach in one lurching, unsavory motion... Spitting the taste from her mouth, Denarr felt suddenly better. Not perfect, mind you, but better. She found she could move both arms, her long fingers prodding here and there to test for any fractures, and finding nothing serious...

I can’t believe I’m still alive...

It took several minutes to find the will to stand; the tree behind her a welcome aid as Denarr came shakily to her feet. Her boots were ruined and she could feel the earth on her toes, whilst the girls clothing looked even worse. The once-red dress had been torn and burned and her head scarf was entirely missing; the humid air slapping her unmasked face as she fought to keep her balance.

One step, and then another... It was slowly becoming easier. The girls jolting stumble took her to the wreck, for she hoped to find something in the ruin that may help her find some aid... Without her audio translator the computers were entirely useless, yet the girl managed to collect a small bag of rations, some undamaged strips of wire and the internal navigation chip; all of which she stored in a torn-open storage box, tucked beneath one weary arm.

Where do you think you’re going?
You don’t even know where you are...

If she had been human, chances are she would have wandered off and died in the marsh - yet the amplified gift of force-sight allowed Denarr to spy past the trees and dark, and catch a glimpse of outlines that vaguely resembled a structure... Another piece of the wreck? Who knew? But it was a direction that held the promise of something other than swamp, and that was enough for her.

The Miraluka began her injured stride, leaning on every tree she passed. Her feet sank ankle-deep into the mud, yet she couldn’t allow herself to stop. The dirt had gotten into her wounds and formed a crude, possibly infectious bandage that had stilled the flow of blood. But it wouldn’t do for long - she needed to find something, and had to find it fast... Onwards she hobbled, past endless trees and unknown shapes that crawled about within the dark; Denarr’s breaths labored as she forced her feet to move - driving her towards the ever approaching shape, still unable to define it...

The girl’s eyesight suddenly blurred, as if she had wandered into a dream; the impeccably sharp outlines her vision was so used to now seemed warped and faded. Confusion stole her senses, and would have made her panic had it not been for some unusual, unexplainable voice calling in the back of her mind.

Just relax.
Try to focus.
Don’t let it scare you...

She couldn’t have hoped to see the mist, considering her form of sight - yet she knew something had changed around her, something in the air that distorted her sense and turned the world into this awkward, surreal scape.

Oh, but it was beautiful.
Terrifying, but beautiful...

[Asherah]

The mist was attracting more and more outsiders these days. First Kerrigaise, who mother had promptly tucked away for some reeducation, and now someone else had stepped forward. This someone had fallen from the stars in a burning, twisted ball of metal that had been observed by the guards posted at Aurilia's boundaries.The mist had become tumultuous then, shoving heated whispers into the open ears of Udossta Ilhar's devout, barbaric followers.The Nightsisters, seemingly on edge because of the silken voices, had their weapons brandished and their defenses strengthened.

Asherah, however, was the only one among their number who didn't seem alarmed by this newcomer, this outsider. Her armor was light, as she preferred, and her glacial force signature seemed to pulse rather than outright throb. She had chosen to be stationed at the western gate of the village where the ship had been spotted last. There was no doubt about the outsider's current condition; living but injured, adept but untrained. And there was something else the mist kept screaming at her. Seeing but unseeing?

A soft sound that was something of a scoff escaped her flesh colored lips and she hastily flipped down from the massive tree she was perched in. While the ground was made of the murkiest of sludges, she did not sink even an inch. When one spent so much time in the marshes, proper navigation was a must.

"Where are you going, Asherah? The threat of this outsider... Matier hasn't told us to move out yet." Came the raspy voice of a boundary sentinel. The woman leaned heavily against the metal pike she wielded. It had been a long night for the guardians, she supposed.

"Then stay here, nadorhuan." She replied in her slightly deeper but still feminine voice, flashing the woman a rare, arrogant smile. "I didn't want your company anyway."

She had barely gotten the last word out before taking, once again, to the thick canopy of trees. The wiry branches served as her footfold and the force oiled her agile motions, coating them with a fluid grace not usually afforded by the savage warriors of her clan. Her eyes slipped to a close and the mist, washing over every one of her senses, guided her forth.

There.

Her palms curved around a particularly straight branch and she thrust her legs forward through the cool air. Curling around the tree limb like some feral forest animal, she launched herself upward into the clearing of the canopy. The rate at which she fell was impressive, as was the ever adjusting angle of her curvature. She smashed, feet first, into the fog strewn marsh and locked her eyes upon the battered creature that filled her clan with such violence.

She knew basic, her mother had taught her. But for this particular situation, she didn't want to be the first one to speak. After all, this woman was the invader in her home.

[Denarr Sepphist]

Her hands stretched out before her, those delicate fingers curling about the mist in a most adoring fashion, enjoying the distortion of reality. It was as if the air was visible, tumbling in it’s own chaotic display that, to Miralukan eyes, was something so unimaginably beautiful... She had never seen or felt anything like it, for the atmosphere encased everything in such a way that allowed her to gaze upon the world in ways she never thought possible... It was as if she were looking not only through the trees, but inside of them in. She saw rot-worms crawling beneath the bark, drops of dew falling from the leaves, and most importantly; the harmonious vibrations of it’s ‘heartbeat’... She could actually see it breathing...

If she had been used to the mist, Denarr may have known the sudden change of air was in fact a descending body; yet the girl could only see what looked like a collapsing storm, and so stood still to admire the scene... She watched as the haze enveloped form, flesh and features; until - with a graceful silence - did a female come into being not ten feet away, crouched and intense, having fallen from the sky...

Her aura was unable to be ignored, a bright and awful flare that destroyed any other glow and forced the Miralukan to stumble back in fright. Both legs came out from under her, sending the waif to the marsh; it’s cold scarring her hands as they were swallowed greedily to the wrist. Denarr could do little else but sit in the mud and stare; her eyes closed and lips agape; as if she were looking upon a ghost.

“Hello?” she called in a trembling manner; her body beginning to feel the effects of the crash as violent shakes ran unattended along her nerves. “Do... do you know where we are?” she didn’t know if the woman could even understand her, however desperation often led people to do seemingly stupid things; such as crawling slowly forward...

“I’m.. I’m injured. My ship crashed somewhere... Do you... can you help me?” the words were breathless, the girl having exhausted what little energy she had; the overwhelming power of the mist having sucked the life right out of her.

“Please...” the final sigh, barely more than a whisper as Denarr fell to the earth; darkness swallowing her once more - pulling her back into a dreamless, numb unconsciousness...

[Asherah]

Do... do you know where we are?

Asherah tipped her head and continued to observe the girl silently, slowly working through the words she had spoken. Apparently, the planet in which the ship had crashed to had not been the original destination for the crew. Any who targeted Dathomir generally knew the climate and terrain. It was not a hot spot for vacation or even a place to take business. Most of the planet had yet to be settled and that which was, was still quite primitive.

I’m.. I’m injured. My ship crashed somewhere... Do you... can you help me?

The Dathomiri's pupils dilated as more words spilled forth and she took a step forward, fighting back the urge to go steady the stranger. The scent of blood, the scorched tones of death, clung to the outsiders flesh and her ragged clothing. Another forced word and then unconsciousness. She could feel the fight go right out of her as the darkness claimed her mind.

In the next instant, slender fingers began to trek across the stagnant flesh stretched over the woman's structure. The inspection was curious, not tender, and was executed swiftly. Nothing seemed broken but she would still need ample care and rest. She could already tell she would have to bring Matier into this and that was not pleasing at all.

Managing to pull the young woman onto her back, she stood rigidly and took a deep breath. By the time she was exhaling, her feet were already pounding into the soggy earth, carrying her closer to the village of Aurilia.

Home.

[Denarr Sepphist]

3 Days later...


The first thing she noticed was the smell, something earthy and natural fused with a sweet smoke curling lazily from small burners; the scent drifting through the fog of sleep to tease her into consciousness.

It's warm.

She lay in a grave of fur. The soft, inviting texture soothing her flesh as she forced a trembling stretch; the motion sending bursts of pain throughout her calcified muscles and promoted a hazy groan. The room about her was in a state of chaos, a mess of metal parts cluttered every empty space not occupied by crude furniture, their jagged spires and twisted ends all too reminiscent of the crash.

The crash. That's right... I was in an accident, then the air changed... And a girl. She fell from the stars, didn't see? Dark hair...red eyes... Was I dreaming?

Pulling herself up into a sit, Denarr was given the opportunity to inspect what had been done to her wounds; the girl rather surprised to find thick, white gauze wrapped about various parts of her body. Long fingers probed cautiously along her form, trailing slowly up her chest and to her face, where a thin layer of cloth had been bound about her eyes. Whoever tended to her must have thought they were wounded, the assumption not at all ridiculous considering how much blood was in her lashes, not to mention her blazing lack of pupils...

The willowy femme managed to roll onto her side to better view her surroundings, the hut’s door framed in a soft light that gave her some indication of the time; other than that, however, she was rather at a loss... Who had managed her injuries? Where was the girl who saved her? And, most importantly, where the hell was she!?

[Asherah]

"Bel'la dos, dalninil. Usstan khaless ussta szeoussen xuil dos."

The deep but still quite femine voice came from just outside the doorway haloed by the rays of afternoon sunlight. There were a few more soft, private exchanges between the two women and then, ginger shuffling of booted feet against the dirt strewn walkway. After another moment or so, a slender hand pushed aside the gold and black tapestry that served as the makeshift door and a young woman of tenuous frame entered the chamber.

Asherah Ziiv'arel's bestial glare burned like underworld pyre and seemed to large differ from when she had first discovered the offworlder three days ago. In her hands was a wooden bowl, quite substantial, that emitted whorls of aromatic steam. Tearing her gaze away from the bandaged woman, she glanced down at the hearty stew that had been requested. Fresh bolma meat chopped into choice slices, recently picked forest carrots and mushrooms, and swampy broth full of flavor.

The Dathomiri narrowed her eyes slightly. A perfectly delicious meal defiled by disgusting vegetables.

Sweeping forward suddenly, she stopped a mere few inches from the outsider and then knelt down in front of her. Her eyes roved, quite gruffly, over the fresh patches that had been applied to the areas with the most damage. After her brusque inspection was completed, she thrusted the bowl forward.

"You are well enough to feed yourself, it seems."

[Denarr Sepphist]

The foreign tongue, much like the smoke, curled about her senses and forced the Miraluka to crane her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the figure in the doorway.

A girl. The girl, the one who had saved her from the marsh! With renewed clarity, Denarr could much better view her savior; a woman of terrifying beauty with eyes that burned like fire. Her stare was intense, and would have made the Miralukan crumble had she not been as confused as she was; the dark-haired invader watching in silence as her rescuer approached with a meal...

Her common tongue was sharp and seemed to compliment her features; Denarr's hidden eyes rolling curiously down to the bowl before taking it into possession.
"Thank you..." She wanted to ask what was in it, for who knew what these strange people ate? Yet the growl in her stomach was enough to stay her tongue and force her to swallow the smallest portion - just to test it’s edibility...

“It’s good!” she found herself smiling, her eyebrows arching with delight over the crude, slightly itchy cloth bound about her face. “It won’t kill me, will it?” she asked with a small smirk, the Miralukan unable to hold back the natural jest that tied much of her charm together. “I didn’t survive a shuttle crash, just to be killed by soup.”

[Asherah]

This outsider did not react to her blindness which could only mean that such an injury, if indeed that is what it appeared to be, must have happened previous to her crash landing on Dathomir. It was something of a relief, for Asherah knew that it was difficult to manage such individuals after the incident. Many of the women here had similar ailments on account of their harsh banishment from their clans and Matier had taught them each how to use their detriments to their advantage. Advancements of combat through the way of the Force.

The crimson eyed Dathomiri allowed a small smile to slip past her defenses as the young woman complimented the meal and exuded a bit of foreign charm.

"It will make you stronger, friend. I am called Asherah Ziiv'arel." She introduced herself in Basic, moving through the unpracticed words slowly.