Through the City in the Clouds

[Lavi]

There was something that Izzy was hiding from her. It was not difficult to determine that much, though as Izzy tells her to give him the child, Marisa hesitated. She knew that she was letting her own emotions conflict with the mission. Even so, it was difficult to let go of the boy who was choking up tears.

Marisa kneeled down to the boy's level, trying to catch the youngster's gaze with an apologetic smile, but it wasn't enough to calm the boy's nerves. One didn't have to be a Jedi to feel the fear in the boy's sobs. She gave a resigning sigh as she looked up at Izzy, releasing her hand from the unnamed boy's. Marisa could not decide which action would feel more painful to the boy: handing over the reins to Izzy or forcing Izzy to take the boy himself.

Reluctantly, Marisa took the boy's hand and placed it in Izzy's. As she did so, the boy's wails grew exponentially.

 

[DeathToll]

- Immolation -​

They boy cried, Ereshkirgal snatching the child's hand into tight grip with a slap of skin. He had to make himself the villain, make himself fully committed to the cause, else he not fulfill the deed. It was something he'd never faced before. All those years ago, in basic training to some day serve the Emperor. He would find no task in shooting another soldier in battle, for they had earned their death and Eresh had full belief in his purpose to serve the greater good. But what he did now, regardless of the greater good, he could not help but sweat. So he swung the boy into the door with one arm, and pounded his other fist into the door one demanding time. Silence ate at Ereshkirgal's wonder, clawing at the hope that nothing was wrong here.

"Where's my ship!?"

Silence. Ereshkirgal gripped at the back of the boy's neck to keep him in check as cries became screams and tears became rivers. His fist raised once more to reach back and pound even harder, but the sound of gears shifting and grinding caught his motion still. A sheet of rigid steel began to lift in the background, revealing a light freighter of dark and angular scheme in its care. Ereshkirgal's head began to turn slowly over his shoulder as he saw it. It was his ship, or rather the ship he'd acquired most recently. Eresh's head lingered there, just watching. Clamps released sharply from beneath the ship, almost as if their release caused more harm than good. Eresh could not breath any slower. His heart was speaking to him. The hairs on the back of his neck were rising, and he could feel every single one of them as if he could realize the trees growing in the forrest from seed to full grown in a matter of minutes. He turned back to the door, just as slow as before, still unable to give himself over to this. Regardless, he was going to.

"Leave him and go..."

The mechanical voice over the wall comms sounded angered, no doubt due to the state in which the 'package' was presented. Eresh's own neck was tight in pain from tension, as he squeezed the boy's neck like an animal. He pushed the boy forward and into the door, flushing the child's cheek against metal uncomfortably. He would let go, and then make a run for it. He was envisioning every step to get there before he even made the first step. In hesitation, it might look as though he could not let the boy go, but in fact it was twice as difficult for him to consider both that as well as the impossibility of his escape. No, there was a possibility; he tried to convince himself to ignore his confliction. Years in practice and meditation of the Force, and here he was doubting it all in hope and fear of his own self damnation. But there was no time. He'd gotten himself into this situation and needed to get out of it. And now, with this woman behind him, he'd have to consider her as well. It was now or never. Ditch the boy and make a run for it. Here we go.

"He's yours..."

"Go..."

Eresh gave one last light shove to the boy's neck and turned away to grab Marisa and force her to run with him, but then the unspeakable happened. Everything slowed to a standstill as events unfolded like dominos, one right after the other. The sound of a metal panel scraped the door from within, behind Eresh now, as it slid to reveal the dock manager's eyes looking out. Armed hunters and soldiers began filing out of the stairwell where Marisa and Eresh had entered. Eyes locked and the end was seen by all. The outer dock hatches fell shut with a metal clang, as if their holding chains were cut. Multiple wall panels clicked, then spun freely inwards to reveal emerging turrets on nearly ever axis and angle. And one heavy mercenary stepped forward with a grenade launcher and fired straight at them.

"NO!!!"

Ereshkirgal suddenly shot out in front, his arm pushing Marisa into the wall to his side, as two silver beams of light shot straight up in his grip accenting the projectile in contrast when it exploded right in there into Ereshkirgal. But instead of harming him, the billowing oranges and fiery reds of the black rolling cloud was restrained by a light blue light. And Eresh fell into the wall from the strain of the act, before attempting to reengage the incoming blaster fire. For at least a moment, the black cloud would offer some cover as Eresh had revealed his ability.

 

[Lavi]

Even with Izzy's protection, Marisa was stunned by the shock of the blast. As she regained her senses, she realized how tired she felt. Getting tranquilized, swinging just outside Cloud City's walls, sneaking through a guarded warehouse, and now this. Marisa drew her blaster pistol from its arm holster as gunfire erupted, though her expression showed her fatigue.

"Ayo, will it ever end..." she murmured.

Never mind the miracle of surviving an exploding grenade: it didn't entirely register in Marisa's head that the Force was more than with her. With her back against the wall, Marisa fired blindedly at the source of the enemy blaster fire. Her puny holdout weapon probably won't hurt the armored guards, but Marisa had no intention of dying at this point.

 

[DeathToll]

Eresh looked up, a ringing in his ears as the smoke smoothed the greasing sweat into his pours. Red lines zipped past, though raising to the more threatening turrets along the walls. It seemed that the turrets were all aimed at the stairwell, targeting the mercs and hunters; holding them at bay. And the intruders had lost immediate sight of Marisa and her hooded companion in the black smoke. Eresh managed to push his forehead off of the wall to look back underneath Marisa to catch the dock manager's door closing and no child in sight. Another projectile soared and smashed into the turret just over head. Fire concentrated on the next and nearest turret, but then a break in heat.

Fire nearly stopped when the heavily armed mercs realized they had been choked. Calls to cease fire came down from above them in the stairwell when city guards revealed their own chase of the two trouble makers. Of course it had taken twice as long for the city guards, with all their cameras and accessories. But the mercs didn't take to orders without pay and opened a split fire upwards and a continued defensive spray into the turrets. The authorities returned fire and pinned the mercs down. The smoke, however, was clearing around Marisa and Eresh fast, and Ereshkirgal's ship was right in sight.

Ereshkirgal, already lowered below Marisa's aim, retracted one of his lightsabers as he swooped up to her side and grabbed inside of her arm to pull a clasped lead towards his ship. He had to kick over the walkway's bars to fall down a couple feet and prop himself to look back up in case Marisa had not followed. Down there, they would be slightly more covered from the stairwell opening's limited view. Eresh mouthed his call for her to hurry, no amount of voice capable of carrying over the chaos. Though they seemed to have a straight shot for the ship, their terrain would not easily be traversed without care to mind the unleveled skis and sliders used for cargo loading and ship detailing. It would be generous to say that this level was not meant for walking.

 

[Lavi]

The last thing she wanted to do was to board someone else's ship; doing so on her own free will was even worse. But Marisa knew that she did not have much of a choice. The only known exits at this point was this ship that Izzy was taking her towards and the gauntlet of a doorway. She let out a cry of frustration, clamoring over the walkway rail that Izzy mantled and jumping down to the lower level.

Even though the drop wasn't far, Marisa's landing was sloppy. She stumbled as her feet touched down and fell onto all fours. For a moment, Marisa felt around for a handrail to lift herself to her feet, but realized that there are none. After getting to her feet, Marisa started at a quick jog, taking care not to stumble or trip on the various cargo-handling systems on the dock.

She cringed as a stray shot bounced by her foot. But the woman didn't slow or stop: the result of her own mental training. Most people would have the urge to take a detour, but Marisa knew that the shots were not aimed at her. Yelling in this din didn't help, so if Izzy turned to check on her, Marisa would only wave him onward.

 

[DeathToll]

Eresh continued on then, leading them into the sectioned garage of sorts and momentarily out of range from fire. The ramp lowered with the wave of his hand, opening up to the tail end and welcoming them in. The angular ship was colored a deep red all through the entire inside, like the inside of a beast's belly. Rolling red fabric covered the walls, short thick red hairs shielded the seats and lining couch seats, and blood red carpets paved the way towards the cockpit and various rooms. The controls, as the external hull of the ship, were a dark chrome; as if a shadow in itself. And its armaments finished the scheme, painting an intimidating picture.

Eresh, having retracted his second saber and clipped it to its harness, slapped his palms onto railing and hallway wall continuously to propel himself quicker towards the cockpit. Upon reaching it, he practically dove into chair and swiveled it to face forward; powering up and trying to get moving before any fire find them again. Though he seemed to know what he was doing, swiftly setting systems to go, he payed no attention to the closed loading bay doors shutting out any sunlight to them. He actually looked back to make sure Marisa was with him. But the ship's systems shown nominal, and green. The engines started, the ship lifted into a bobbing hover as it almost lowered back into its cradle, and he bent his attention down to the center navi terminal.

 

[Lavi]

Marisa plopped down in the co-pilot's seat and watched as Izzy worked the consoles. She wasn't an experienced pilot, so it was best that she avoided getting in the way.

"Fancy interior lah," she had to comment, referring to the red fabrics covering the ship's insides. Marisa had not seen something so excessively decorated since Nal Hutta. Ships don't have to be decorated to do its job, right?

As the ship warmed up, Marisa could only imagine the confusion between both Cloud City security and the mercenaries: whether to continue their petty argument or silently agree that the two of them were more important. Hopefully the former: she can't imagine the mercenaries backing down from confronting the police forces.

 

[DeathToll]

"Blood does not ask the air to paint itself so...!"

Eresh was worked up, spitting those words as he then returned to business and cranked back the conrols to reveal the main forward weaponry; pulling the trigger as he blast the garage door open into the winds of Cloud City's airways. He gritted his teeth, shaking his head up to release the uncomfortable clothed mask over his mouth and nose as well as stifling hood over head in order to breath more freely. First was his hair, white and tied up into a folded ponytail. His accentuated white teeth gnashed together as he flex his jaw bones, a gray skin marked by a thousand little scars. And still there were his yellow eyes, cat-like and fiery with the moment.

He took the ship out, jetting immediately out into the open air before quickly sinking into a short drop as he regained control from that freeing release out of confinement. He'd look back to Marisa once more, in this new state of exposure; still upset at her jest on account of the red colors he had not chosen himself... as this wasn't his ship to begin with, but he had in fact claimed possession of it soon after its owner had been killed.

Eresh did not want to wait and see if they were clear; instead, heading straight for the first shot at hyperspace. He preset Nar Shaddaa into the navi-computer, and made tracks. Feeling the heat disapating, Eresh reached down his neck and tugged at a short red material tied around his neck. Even that color he had not chosen, but it represented his purpose and reminded him of happier days gone.

 

[Lavi]

Marisa frowned at Izzy's jargon, realizing that she had forgotten that he spoke cryptically at times. For a moment, she allowed herself to relax. The day had been adventurous to say the least. Probably more than she she had in over a month. Izzy's face brought Marisa out of her moment of reverie. The signs of combat veterancy were easy to determine, in stark contrast to her own lack of combat experience. With the pale skin, various scars, and yellow eyes, Izzy almost looked like one of those so-called dark jedi, or even a Sith (though she couldn't say what the difference between the two are). Marisa wasn't sure whether that was true or not, but she was certain he is a trained Force sensitive.

She watched as Izzy punched in Nar Shaddaa and gave a sigh to herself. The second-to-last place she wanted to be was next door to the Hutts themselves. But it was already too late to correct Izzy as stars turned into the tell-tale hyperspace streaks. At least it's easy to blend into a crowd on Nar Shaddaa, given the number of shady people that frequent the moon.

"So," Marisa began, "what's with the Jedi antics, Izzy?"

She remembered the grenade launcher being shot at the two of them, but it just registered to her that there was no way a trained mercenary could have missed such an easy target with such a weapon. Also, Izzy avoided using the lightsabers that Marisa recalled from when they crashed into an abandoned warehouse. Izzy didn't want his background to be known, drawing the conclusions that he was either working undercover or hiding. More likely the latter, given the odd job that Izzy brought her along for. And the only group she could think of that is in hiding would be...

"Imperial Knight?" she guessed.

 

[DeathToll]

Ereshkirgal's face scrunched up at her 'Jedi' comment, free to express what he was capable of in this state of escape and now more able to relax. There were very specific things that got under his skin, and talk of the Jedi, or worse -comparison to the Jedi, was one of those things. He was nothing like those isolationist pacifists, or the so called 'fearless youth' that would always inevitably fall to the Darkside due to their passion. But just as quickly as Marisa had poked his bruises, so did she then find the heart of his pain. He could not, he would not let on to her discovery. But equally, he could not with all his might keep his features from sinking into sadness. Though less of a physical expression, the energy sweating off of face was nearly as evident as a frown.

"...Very good. Though only in heart, no longer in name."

Eresh took a deep breath before revealing himself to her, as fully as he could in this current form of alias. She had earned that much.

"Some call me Ereshkirgal. It is the name I now go by in exile. I am one of few left who know what it truly means to have been an Imperial Knight, before the true Emperor was slain, before the Sithhh returned."

Nearly biting into his tongue, he wished he could slay the term of those he wished dead. Still clinging to his righteous oath to serve the greater good, Eresh could not help but wish for his once true name to be heard. Even the thought of its pronunciation was like the pure cooling of an angel's breath directly into his lungs.

"Now, I am no longer. Nor was I capable within the Jedi, so do not remind me of my continued failure..."

All this time, he kept his eyes front; folding his arms tight in his chair with an attentiveness as though the ship might need his control at any moment. It was just too difficult to bear, surviving as he had yet unable to deal the killer blow to his brethren's enemies once and for all. If not for his brutal training spanning half his lifetime, he would have fallen to the maddening Darkness long ago. And yet, he still showed signs of humanity; instantly feeling some slight form of regret in the way he had addressed Marisa.

 

[Lavi]

Marisa felt an immediate sense of satisfaction that her guess was spot-on. Even so, that satisfaction faded as Izzy explained himself, giving her his actual name (now that she knew, Izzy sounds like a much better alternative) and a bit about his actual self. He sounded self-doubting, unsure of his own future, as though he had nothing to fight for. Perhaps that was why he went out of his way to help Marisa from the bounty hunter at the casino: to fill the void in his sworn duties.

"Na, I thought Knights of the Empire were more disciplined than that," Marisa studied Izzy, growing a frown.

"A Jedi would shrug off what has already happened and a Sith would threaten to kill me for bringing that up. The Knights may have collapsed after Seoul IV, but if you were recognized as one and you act as one, you're still a Knight. 'Not in name, only in heart' makes no sense, Izzy," Marisa said, crossing her arms.

She turned the co-pilot seat so that she could fully face the ex-Knight and leaned forward to snap her fingers in the other's face to get his attention. Marisa knew that the other was listening, but she wanted to see his face as she spoke. It would be easier to talk to a face than a wall.

"Did you not kena difficulties while you served Emperor siah? No talk cock lah," she spoke loudly to ensure the other could hear her.

 

[DeathToll]

His eyes wandered at first, indeed behind a wall of doubt. He felt her remark of discipline like a stab, regardless of its intent, as he had once prided himself on the word. Discipline and duty once were his tenets, above all else. Life as a soldier was simpler, before leadership was thrust upon him with the death of Bellatrix; the second Knight-Commander to fall above him, third to the Emperor. It was strange to reflect on such times. Marisa's correcting perspective had silenced him, looking over every light and switch upon the panel as he pondered her insight in a daze. She had recognized him, and to an extent it did comfort him to be known as something he might never recognize in the mirror himself. But only a shadow of his former self. No, she was wrong. If not for his alias, he might have fallen into hope; but she didn't even know his real name. And that was because he was no longer that man. Zsaekriel Dtoahfre'Vuun no longer existed, a man who would've once very much enjoyed Marisa's presence and shown it; now just the shadow, empty and unable to shake its resemblance of what it caste. He would not be called so by his once brethren, those who actually mind what is and isn't of their own ranks. Now he was Ereshkirgal. The name tasted fowl even in thought. But still, Marisa did have something of a point. His purpose was driven by and for their name. Did that not make him still among the Knights?

His head twitched with strain to Marisa's snap, his eyes having sharply cut to hers. He was wound so tightly, his neck carried nearly a dozen knots and eyes burned with the souls of the fallen. If his ducts had not been blazed by the Sith's murderous brand, his emotions once purged by belief and bone-gnashing training, he might shed a tear for how far he'd fallen; looking into her eyes. But instead, he just stared with an emptiness quite like his cause. It had been some time since ripe words flexed across his cheek, though. And she did seem more knowledgeable than she let on. And it was always nice to hear the volume that backed up one's belief.

Eresh swallowed down his anguish, inspired to be stronger by this young woman who might even resemble the great Iona Peller herself. He swiveled his chair to face hers, looking straight into her as he did. It might look as though he were about to speak, even, But instead, he rocked onto his feet and stood up before her; then stepped aside to cross towards a control panel along the wall. It pained him that he no longer carried the strength of self that he once did. If he had, he would not fear facing his brethren once again. And now, with his back to her, he could once again find the words to justify his meaning.

"You wear your quality well. You are right. 'Life' is full of difficulty. Though I seem to have lost mine. Do not mistake me. For I have accepted a lower purpose. Though my failures, I fear, will supersede my success; should I ever.."

"And you? Do you search souls for the saving? Or do you simply charm men into believing they own you?"

Referring to the bounty on her head, Eresh felt it difficult to deal with someone caring; and so attempted to switch the focus of their conversation. Now in a duel of tongues, Eresh toyed with the idea he once held that even conversation was a form of combat. He could already feel the rust upon his instrument, incapable with it as he is uninspired. Instead, he would but ask her to give in return what he had finally agreed to reveal.

 

[Lavi]

When Izzy finally turned to face her, Marisa saw that there was something different about Izzy's gaze. It wasn't the hardened gaze she could easily recall for any number of instances on Bespin. A hint of remorse?

As quickly as she turned towards Izzy, Marisa rotated her seat back to the front as the question shifted the subject. She crossed her arms with a look of slight annoyance, as though debating whether to talk or not. However, the woman relented.

"Left a Hutt on bad terms is all. Hutt Council kena investigating him and he's trying to dump blame on me," Marisa said.

She refrained from telling Izzy that she was a professional thief or that her contract with the Hutts was the primary reason why the situation would come up at all. It was completely out of Marisa's comfort zone to be even talking about her work at all, for obvious reasons. Her discomfort showed as she subconsciously bit a fingernail, wanting to steer the conversation away just as quickly as Izzy did to her.

"Eh, I need to take a nap," Marisa finally decided, getting up from the co-pilot seat and making her way towards the belly of the ship. Sleeping in a seat was never a favorite of hers.