"You've got all your things?"
"Yes."
"Packed a canteen?"
"Duh."
"I don't see a canteen."
"I can find water, geez."
"Alright, alright, ay, just, look— remember what I said about this place, ay? I dunno if you've ever been to anywhere all steeped in the Dark Side like this but you gotta be careful how they can mess with your head, make bad feelings worse or…"
Sera grunted at her companion, tuning him out yet again. She'd been doing that a lot on their trip here in favor of sharpening her weapons or imagining the upcoming adventure and its success. She pressed her face closer to the viewport glass and watched in delighted awe not even the grumpy green menace could dampen as they broke through the atmosphere and a whole world of glowing, crazy-colored jungle opened up beneath her.
"Whoooa…"
Beside her, Ruka commented, "We're here."
"I know," Sera snapped, because obviously. She'd felt them descending too, she'd been right up against the windows while Ruka droned on for several minutes now, did he think she'd somehow missed the surface coming up?
The Mirialan Sith did some more grumbling as the Zabrak leapt away from the cockpit as soon as they touched down in a creepy, bone-filled, forboding-looking clearing in the middle of the trees. She ran for the exit ramp, bouncing impatiently on her toes while Ruka fussed with telling his droid to watch the ship and other boring kark.
"Come on!" Sera demanded.
"I'm coming, ay, ay, slow down. The bones aren't going anywhere and neither is Karran so a few more minutes ain't gonna hurt nobody."
The mention of her friend — and the reason they were both here — dimmed Sera's mirth, and she glared at Ruka sideways when he wasn't looking. Stupid Ruka. Ruka, Ruka, Ruka. It was all about him, wasn't it? He was the one who'd known how to take care of Karran when her Zabraki brother-in-arms was fever-sick, when all his housemates had been able to do — all she'd been able to do — was muck things up worse. Ruka was the one Karran gravitated to so easily, always looked to and respected so much. Even when they were training, just him and Sera, it was "Ruka said this" and "Ruka said that." Well who cared what Ruka said?
Karran, duh, her mind supplied, and she viciously kicked that little voice in its little voice face. It wasn't helping. All she'd wanted to do was make it up to her new family for being so useless as a friend when he'd been brought low, and of course karking Ruka had to come right then to visit and overhear her plans and swoop in and take charge like he knew better there too. Bossing them all around while he took care of Karran hadn't been enough, oh no, now he had to hijack Sera's plans.
Even if his idea was better, since she hadn't really had any that seemed very good. Sparring, sure, Karran loved that, but they did that all the time. Running? Dancing? Did it, did it. A new weapon? But he had many. Ugh, why couldn't she come up with anything better? She'd been venting those frustrations aloud to Sully and Yezid when stupid Ruka had dropped in to be stupid and intervene and now here they were.
"You wanna get him a gift?" the Mirialan had asked, sauntering in like he owned the place — which he didn't — and looking around like he wanted to clean up — which was unnecessary, they were doing just fine, thanks, he didn't need to come clean up everything again.
Sera had crossed her arms over her bare chest from her folded sitting position on the mats. "Yeah," she'd admitted, because he'd just heard her.
"That's nice of you," he'd commented, while levitating some dishes into the sink like a jerk. She was getting to those. "You know, I know this place, only been there once, but...I bet he'd like something from there if you wanna look. Ain't a shopping center or nothing, but...ever seen a rancor boneyard?"
And dammit, that did sound AWESOME. Of course he'd had such a good suggestion. Of course he just knew what Karran would like— and he would, he loved beasts and such artifacts, Sera knew, this was a great idea. But it was Ruka's idea. And that just made her gut clench harder along with all the babying. Still, Sera's mouth had moved before the rest of her, per usual, and she'd said, "Okay," thinking he'd give her directions and she could be on her way.
But no. He expected to take her himself. Like she needed a chaperone or something. Not that he said as much, but it was pretty obvious, the way he stared at her and muttered like she was some kid about putting on clothes and packing supplies and being careful, blah blah blah.
"Okay, eesh, let's go, then," the object of her jaded ire interrupted her wandering thoughts, finally slamming the button to lower the boarding ramp. Immediately, gray, heavy mist that smelled like stale rot and dry death rushed in around the opening, more and more pouring forth as the door yawned wide.
"Awesome," Sera whispered, and darted right out while Ruka coughed and grimaced.
She wondered what kind of wildlife Felucia had. A rancor graveyard had to mean there were live rancors too, right? How amazing would it be, to find one? Sera could totally ride a rancor. Oh, that would be great. And then maybe bring it back for Karran, way better than some bones to decorate with. A rancor could fit in this ship, right? She glanced back and eyed it. It sure seemed big enough. Maybe for a small rancor.
"Be careful," the Sith advised, souring her briefly happy mood again. "We don't know what's out here."
"I'll be fine," the Zabrak sniped. "This is easy as breathing for me. I am a huntress. I could tell you exactly what's out here, and where it went, and what it last ate." And she could too. She'd already spotted several sets of tracks.
Ruka grunted, looking around uncomfortably like the city-dweller he was. "If you say so."
Sera lifted her horn-crowned head, grinning. "Follow me," she said, with relish. Her eyes darted constantly about, searching. She would find the perfect set of ribcages or maybe a skull if she couldn't fit a whole rancor and it'd be just the thing.
They strode out into the sepulchral field, disturbing more dust with each step, mist hugging them like a phantom caress. The air was thick. She could taste grit on her tongue, and snorted at it.
"This might be a good time for you to practice not breathing with the Force, if you know how," Ruka murmured. A bit watching him as they walked revealed his chest just barely rising and falling every few minutes.
"Easy," Sera replied confidently, and with just a second to concentrate, did just that, keeping her hearts thrumming and lungs full even though she stopped inhaling the bone dust. The Mirialan actually looked impressed, and that seeming break in his own concentration made him sputter and cough.
"Nice— ack, work," he managed, heaving.
The Zabrak preened a little before remembering how dismissive and bossy and stupid he'd been up until then and scowled again.
"I can do things, you know," she shot back, and he looked up at her with a frown, straightening up from his hunched position back to his full height.
"I never said you couldn't."
"Yeah, you did." The small woman crossed her arms too, pivoting in place to face him. "Like a million times."
"Telling you to be careful isn't saying you can't do things."
"Yeah it is. It means you don't think I— we— can handle stuff! You're such a nag, but you're not my Master just 'cause you were Karran's. You're not in charge of me or any of us or him."
"Whoa now, ay, ay, where's this coming from?" One hand went to his hips, and he gestured with the other, nearly shaking a finger at her face. She wanted so badly to bite it.
So, she did.
"YEOW! WHAT THE FRANG, WOMAN?" yelped Ruka, hand snaking back and cradling to his chest as he swore in his own language. "Who BITES people, honestly, you kriffing twerp? Are you seriously being this big a brat in the middle of a gods-damned haunted jungle?"
Sera snickered, wiping her mouth of a teeny taste of blood. She squared her stance, fist slamming into one open palm. "Shows you. I'm not a twerp, and you're not my boss, and I can do this on my own just fine. You can go back to the ship where it's safe if you're so scared."
"You're really raring for a fight, aren't you, ccqeea? Bogan, you and Karran, like gizkas over a cliff." He rolled his shoulders back, grabbing his lightsaber. "Fine, if you need to fight just to listen, then we'll kriffing fight. Karran wanted me to train you some anyway. Maybe knock some sense into you, acting all like a child."
The Zabrak felt her eye twitch.
"I'm not a child," she snarled at him, and he just snorted, raised brows clearly challenging her assertion.
"You might be grown, but you don't act like it. Take a little responsibility. You're lashing out and trying to start a fight over nothing. Think I haven't seen that before? That's how my ten year olds show they're hurting. So why don't you tell me what's wrong and then we can fix it instead and not beat on each other, ay?"
His voice had gone from scathing and disappointed to soft, and it only dug at her nerves more. She grit her sharp teeth, baring fangs at him, and charged forward. A quick swipe of her fist knocked his saber from his hand, sending it flying, while her trailing leg arced high in a kick meant to jam his teeth up into his head. He jerked back, and the tips of her toes only scratched along his throat and chin. Another step, and she was already falling forward into a spinning elbow jab before his fist thrust up and an invisible punch, slow but too close, barreled into her, throwing her clear through the air. She hit the ground several meters away, crashing and crunching through some skeleton or another, stirring mist.
"Draw your saber," Ruka barked, lightsaber flying back to his wounded hand with an invisible tug that made mist swirl. "Karran says you've barely mastered your basics. We're learning today, ay?"
"....shut...up…" Sera wheezed in Zabraki, spitting dust and crumbled bits of remains and spittle, gagging for air. Thankfully, if there was one thing she was, it was hard-headed. Her vision didn't shake, and her breathing returned quickly, hearts beating double-time as adrenaline for a fight flooded her veins, screaming ancient war cries. She bunched her muscles, vaulting to her feet, and drew the little cylinder that extended into a golden blade.
For a breath, they were motionless.
Then, they moved. Sera jumped forward, whirling as if to spin into a kick only to bring her blade crashing down, fast and furious. Ruka was just as quick — if not quicker — as his blue saber caught and turned hers, following immediately for another passionate, full-bodied swing. The Huntress struck in kind, over and over, sweat quickly pouring down her body even in the graveyard's unnatural chill. Both of them just kept hitting, flurries of ferocious strikes. She tried to leap away, to kick or twist this way or that, but it was all she could do to dance backwards, trading blow for blow with no time for acrobatics at such close range to the storm.
"Sloppy, and weak, compared to that kick of yours," he commented, eye burning gold over their briefly locked blades when he stopped hitting. They both heaved dust-poisoned breaths. "Keep your bladework tight. It's not a sword. You can't swing it like its weight is going to carry the strike for you, and you can't swing it like it's going to stop like a blade either. Lightsabers don't usually stop. Not unless it's against another saber. And that's important. You can cleave right through something. Or someone. Be careful. Not reckless."
"Shut! Up! Stop acting like you know better!" Sera cried, shoving away and dancing back with brutally stomping steps, slamming into the dust like the wardrum beat of her Ancestors' songs. She tossed aside the damn saber, its yellow blade disappearing, and whipped her zhaboka off her back. The weight was a comfort in her hands, an old friend.
Ruka only tsked at her.
"Ay, ay, never let go of your weapon, especially not a Jedi's. You've gotta respect that. Don't you get what someone can do with it if they just picked it up?"
"Shut up," she hissed again, spinning her staff blade. "I get plenty. I know more about respect than you! It's in my blood."
"And yet," he replied, and held up his empty free hand. She braced for an impact of some kind, but instead there was only a flash of movement from the corner of her eye. The Huntress instinctively recoiled, one blade swinging up but cutting only empty air. Her gaze followed what she'd thought was some animal striking as her lightsaber flew into Ruka's waiting palm. He clipped it to his belt. "Maybe you can have it back, if you show me you can listen." A sigh. "Kriffin' repeating myself, I swear…"
She didn't let him continue his lecture. Sera darted forward. Leapt. Whirled in the air, staff spinning in her grip. Landed with a sweeping slash. Ruka hissed in pain even as he jumped away with supernatural strength, landing amidst more bones and brandishing his blade. He left a trail of blood in his wake, seeping from the line cut diagonally across his torso, from shoulder to hip. It was shallow; she'd only intended to hurt, not maim. A hunter didn't torture. They only did what they had to do.
"Maybe you should listen!" the Zabrak crowed, spinning her staff back around her body to let it rest at a ready position in her grip, knees bent, balance sunk low. Ruka wiped at blood that dribbled down his chin to join the mess of his shirt to no effect. His eyes narrowed.
"Lesson three," he spat, raising his off-hand, fingers curled like talons and sparking with light that had her skin pebbling. Energy crackled in his grip, barely contained. "Never let go of your saber, not just because it's dangerous, but because it, unlike most things, can ground lightning."
That explosion cradled in his palm burst free.
