Past in flames

[Zaca Vintaka]

Emotions ran over her in ways she hadn't experienced till then, dragging her into a whirlpool of undesired feelings. Her stomach rumbled, causing her to look over at the plate of food next to her which she had left untouched. Despite her body urging her to, she couldn't touch it, let alone eat it, with the previous night fresh in mind.

Where had this all even started? Her mind swept her into her memories, trying to pinpoint precisely where things had changed. Where she had lost the easy smiles and encouragement, the joy and praise of her surroundings whenever she excelled. Slowly she noticed it hadn't been a singular point. It had been a gradual decline as she grew older, or actually it had less to do with her aging.

At young age, she had been mediocre. Standing out neither positively or negatively, she was simply average. That said, she remembered that that shifted when she started growing into her force sensitivity. At that time she didn't know what it was, even if she knew something was changing. If she was swimming against others and really wanted to win, she'd win. If there was a bit of a scuffle between kids, she'd often be the stronger kid, even against the boys. If she got angry during a fight with her parents, things broke. Those were the most occurring instances of her force sensitivity showing itself, through emotions spiking. At a later point, on her birthday, for just some time, her experiencing the world seemed to sharpen. The cake was just a bit more sour than she had expected, than she had wanted it to be. Her drink was just a bit sweeter than it had ever been. Both her parents had been surprised at her reaction, saying it was the same as always.

A nauseating, slithering feeling nestled into her stomach, then coiled around her hearts. She hadn't taken to the isolation well, she knew that much. As she'd grown older, her place within her group had shifted. No longer middle of the group, instead standing out in most things physical. And when it came to the social side, she wasn't oblivious to the whispered words where words were used. With senses that seemed to be sharper than her peers and even the adults, she'd started taking notice of things others hadn't. The growing distaste of the ones around her, the label of 'freak' which she seemingly couldn't escape. The looming feeling of not belonging, not even with her parents, the frustrations from both sides causing arguments more and more often. She was different and they just couldn't handle her.

She shifted, burying her head in the palms of her hands and feeling the tears falling from her eyes drop onto her hands as she sobbed, the tears feeling more akin to acid than anything. The isolation had caused fear and distrust. She had done her homework, leading to the fearsome thought of being caught in the war between Republic and Empire, Jedi and Sith, if her force sensitivity became known. Surely that won't happen, she had said to herself. Jedi and Sith are basically creatures of myth. The chances of them actually entering her life in any form were close to zero.

Yet here she was, having woken up on a shuttle after a rest which had been far too deep. The woman who had spoken to her after she woke up, as well as having brought food, seemed friendly enough. The moment she mentioned Zaca going to become a Jedi though, all other words were blurred out.

After an eternity there were no more tears to be shed. She missed the water so much it felt like her hearts were about to snap, her breathing rapid and panicked till she took a series of deep breaths. Her newfound calm was shattered though as the shuttle rocked back and forth, sending her flying from her seat and into the side of the cabin. What appeared to be an alarm started ringing its awful shrieking noise, a set of lights turning red. Immobilizing dread returned, flooding her veins alongside her now pounding headache as she realized that the ship was under attack. There was nowhere to go.

 

[Zaca Vintaka]

What was there to do? Zaca knew she should run, flee or fight. This was her life on the line and precisely that, alongside the knowledge that she had no means to protect her life, was pinning her on the spot. She had never piloted a shuttle, she didn't even know the general layout of a shuttle, let alone this one. She had no experience, no weapon, no tools, against attackers which she presumed had experience Leaving her cabin could mean she'd walk right into the attackers. This could be her end, or worse.

Something was slowly wrapping around her hearts. Something subtle, smooth and bitter, sliding underneath her skin. It wasn't as motivating as anger, yet it was invigorating in a different way. This emotion she didn't understand, yet she knew what caused it. Understanding caused it. Not only had her kind rejected her, she had also been abandoned. Thrown away because of fear. Because she didn't fit in. Because she was different, because they didn't know how to handle her. Not only had they thrown her away, they had pushed her into a war. They would rather have her die somewhere out of their sight than have to deal with her themselves.

Before she could ponder more on her feelings though, the situation changed. For a moment she didn't know what happened, only to notice several things at once. The ship had become heavier in a way, as if there was suddenly an increased presence on the ship. As realization of them having been boarded hit her, there was a sound outside, underneath the wailing of the alarm. The drawing closer of something, only for the baffling thought of 'someone is wearing heels' to confuse her, as the click-clacking became more audible.

Zaca stared in horror as the door to her cabin slid open, the sound of heels soon enough entering her cabin. She was staring at a human woman who seemed to be dressed more for a gala than anything. A black dress which swept over the floor. What seemed to be a set of golden cuffs on her arms, gloves covering her fingers. An odd piece of metal linked to her sash. Everything seemed subtle and smooth, till Zaca got a look at the face of this intruder. What she saw was a patchwork of long scars, carving away what had seemingly been a set of relatively gentle features at some point. Her nose wasn't quite right either, seemingly having been broken and broken again. And upon noticing Zaca, as if she hadn't already known where she was, her face seemed to split open with a grin that would make a vine cat proud.

"Oh hello, you." The words were soft as silk, the tone a singsong, yet somehow Zaca understood clearly over the screeching of the alarm. This person was completely out of their mind. Was it her conducting this attack?
In a dress, on heels?

 

[Zaca Vintaka]

"Please don't ki-" Zaca's words trailed off, her hands in front of her eyes. Through the little slits between her fingers she could see that this new person had already turned away.

Only one word was said to her. "Stay." As if she were a pet. Someone who would get hopelessly lost otherwise. Not that the soft word had any mocking to them, it was just Zaca's mind filling in the blanks. The fear she felt was fighting against sparked indignation, as well as her mind screaming at her not to be stupid.

"Kay, a mask, please." Confusion was followed by a gasp as she saw a bony hand slip from the shadows, handing over the requested object. It wasn't just one attacker, there was a second. A second individual who she hadn't even noticed, someone who she knew must be there but even with the flashing lights of the alarm, couldn't properly make out from the darkness.

"No, that's the wrong mask."
"Wrong mask?" The individual in the shadows spoke, their voice as sandpaper sending shivers over Zaca's body.
"Yes, it's the wrong mask. It can't be Love. Jedi are loveless."
"Which one?"
"Hmm. Good question. I think I'll be Death today. Fitting, no?"
"Again?"
"Oh, don't be so melodramatic. Just give me the mask."

Zaca just stared at the woman as she simply turned. Then the singing started. Low reverberating notes in a language she couldn't understand. While she had no clue what the words meant, the grim nature was clearly meant to remember the dead. This funeral dirge rang through the ship, somehow drowning out the sound of the alarm as if the screeching was drawn into a void. Zaca could feel her head spinning. None of this made sense. Being Love? Being Death? It sounded like the ramblings of a madwoman to her.


With no means of keeping time as it passed, Zaca found herself lost in thoughts again. Wondering what to do, wondering how to do anything, dreading what would happen. Time stretched on and on and on, feeling so extended that she could feel panic bubble back up again with the confusion having left. At least till she could hear the clacking of heels.

"Death doesn't need help, you big oaf. Death is inevitable. Inescapable." Unlike previously, the female voice seemed annoyed, every word spoken as if through gritted teeth.
"Right."
"So precisely why did you feel the need to involve yourself, huh? You have no sense of theatrics, of arts, of humor. About as much sense as that Jedi had."
"Because time."

Zaca stared at the entrance to the cabin as the clacking came closer. A squeak slipped from her lips when the first thing that came through the cabin was some stretched out object that she didn't notice. Not because the object was scary, but because it was floating. Sure, she had thrown things around in a fit or emotional high, but she hadn't made things float in a controlled manner. It was as curious as it was unfamiliar and thus frightening.

Only when the clacking entered the cabin did the object fall to the ground, allowing Zaca to take a proper look at the object. She could feel her hearts skip several beats, her stomach contents lurching up as she realized it wasn't a thing, it was a person. Or had been a person.

It didn't matter that it had been a clean kill. That Jedi she had briefly interacted with was now dead, eyes wide in shock, face twisted in pain. And moments later Zaca threw the previous night's dinner up, right next to the corpse.