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The first time the Padawan cracked may have been the first time in history (that still mattered) that Trilla truly felt something meaningful. There was always the thrill of a hunt, or momentary flashes of rage when her traitorous mind wandered to her past master, but this? This was something else.
The energy that coursed through her when she hunted usually died down once she had caught her prey in her grasp. When cornered, it was disappointing how often all hope would leave the body of those unfortunate to have been marked as a target, and they almost seemed to bare their throat in surrender, asking for this all to be over.
Initially, that is what she had expected from this one – Cal Kestis. A poorly trained Padawan was unlikely to last long when faced with a true threat, and she had imagined that things would end rather shortly for him. It was unlikely he was even worth leaving alive for the Empire to try and put to some use. She had been delighted to discover she was wrong.
His defiance had been almost endearing. He hadn’t come in without a fight – his pretty face would be sporting new scars from the struggle that had resulted in him coming in. Covered in dust and his own blood, it was clear that underneath it all he had exhausted himself before he had been brought down. That didn’t extinguish the challenge in his eyes, nor the way he had tilted his head up to stare back when she had first observed him. She didn’t humor him long before ordering him dragged off to high security cells. There would be plenty of time for that later.
The first week passed without seeing him. There was no point, not so early on. She’d left him to the tender mercies of the typical Imperial hospitality. Let him get a taste of what was coming, decide how much of an issue he was going to be. According to the reports she received nightly, he was doing rather well. He had so far resisted the usage of drugs targeted at making a victim weak and pliable, and he’d handled more hands-on methods about as well as to be expected. It was good to know he was either stupid or brave. It was no fun to play with the ones who gave up at the first sign of pain.
The first time she’d stepped into his cell, it reiterated her idea that this one would be fun. He still hadn’t lost that core of bravado, the burning belief that he would be leaving her in a capacity that wasn’t in imperial blacks or a body bag. The Second Sister had to suppress a smile at the thought. Oh, to be so naïve; she had been like that too, at least at first. Maybe he thought Cere herself would be coming to help him. It would be poetic to watch his face fall as he realized his previous mentor had abandoned him, much like another young Padawan who had once been in his position.
She caught the flinch when she approached him, barely. Bruised and battered, he was still trying to hold himself up straight, to maintain that mask of perfect Jedi calm. Neutrally, she picked up his hands and observed the binders that sat around them. “I don’t imagine you’ll be needing these much longer,” she commented offhandedly, letting them drop back against him.
“Planning on letting me go?” Oh delightful, his voice was sounding rather raw. Maybe it had been a mistake to miss the earlier show. She wouldn’t have it she’d known he’d screamed, and she made a mental note to make sure that kind of slip that didn’t happen in the future.
She just hummed thoughtfully in response, eyeing him with a professional eye. It was becoming more and more clear that he may have some potential, and therefore while she had no issues aggressively correcting his attitude, she wasn’t looking to do any damage that would impair him in the future.
The Second Sister stepped back, clasping her hands lightly behind her back. “I’m going to give you a choice now, Little Jedi. You can either spend another week with the Imperial interrogators, or I can see to you personally.”
His eyes narrowed as he stared back at her. She idly wondered what that hidden temper would be like when she uncovered it. “I’m not afraid of you,” he hissed back.
“That’s not what I asked for.” Brave, but a liar she noted wryly. When he clamped his jaw resolutely shut, she sighed and shook her head in faux disappointed. Turning on her heel, she strolled out, throwing a sing-song farewell over one shoulder.
“I’ll be seeing you in a week, Padawan.
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This occurred a few times. She would watch him dispassionately and offer him a choice. He would try and keep up his little pretense, while avoiding being put into her care at all costs. Every time she returned, he looked just a bit worse. By the fourth time they’d played this little game, he had developed quite the little shake in his hands he couldn’t manage to disguise.
As per usual, she offered him his options. This time, his eyes down, his breath seemed to pause for a moment. “Cere is coming for me you know,” he finally breathed out.
That got a laugh from her. “Oh, still on this are we? I’m not sure if you’re aware Padawan, but you’ve been here for quite a few rotations now. Cere has probably already found another half-trained rat to get killed by now.”
“She hasn’t.” He snapped back, before flinching back as though he regretted his own hastiness. The Second Sister tilted her head, and reached out for his chin, grabbing sharply when he tried to pull his head away.
“You poor thing. Imagine being alone in this galaxy with absolutely no one who cares about you,” she sighed dramatically, bringing up her other hand to brush a stray hair off his cheek. “Perhaps it’s for the best though. I’m sure Jaro Tapal would be so disappointed to see how you’ve repeatedly failed.”
A sharp intake of breath and then he roughly pulled his face from her hands. She just smirked. So predictable.
Now, as well as his daily trips to a interrogation chair, he would be greeted by her languishing against the wall when he returned so they could have some more conversations. Sometimes she would stay silent while he tried to recover himself from the day. Other times she’d offer mock sympathy or advising him that perhaps he should try to work on his meditation in order to combat the pain.
He had tried to ignore her at first, and then had slowly begun to get snippier with her. She assured him that she really didn’t have anything better to do – Jedi were so rare these days, a tragedy wasn’t it- and then get right back into ribbing him for not releasing his pain into the force.
The turning point had been one of those delicious days she could tell that they had decided to push the limits with what he could handle. He had been dragged back to his cell between two troopers, head lolled slightly forward and eyes off focus. He was even paler than usual, and on closer inspection, she could see reddening around his nose and mouth as though he had been bleeding. A rough day then.
After he had been unceremoniously dumped on the floor, she approached and nudged him in the side with one boot. “You’re no fun if you don’t do anything or die,” she informed him, prodding him again only to receive a groan. She huffed, already feeling boredom setting in.
Movement caught her attention and she blinked and glanced down. Oh. Now she was feeling very, very irritated.
“Did you just spit on me?” She drew the words out very slowly, glancing down at the red blob on her boots. No answer. She wasn’t letting this one slide, however.
Gloves fisted in the front of his jumpsuit as she dragged him up, shoving him back against a wall. Now she could see his face properly, she could properly see bruises forming under his eyes and blood staining his teeth. There was pang of vicious satisfaction that he’d be appropriately beaten like the dog he apparently was.
“I’ll ask again: did you just spit on me?” She hissed leaning into his face. Hazy eyes lifted to meet hers, and she felt a shudder of rage run down her smile as he had the audacity to get a slow grin on his face. She felt her bottom lip curling, revealing bared teeth, but before she could tell him exactly how much pain he was about to be in, the little rat did the unthinkable.
He spat at her face.
She froze for a moment, one hand instinctively going to wipe her cheek. When it came back in front of her face, there indeed was red smeared across it. The Inquisitorius was going to have to survive without a new member.
“What’s wrong Trilla? Thought you would be used to that in the Empire by now?” He rasped out, having obviously lost any last shreds of self-preservation. She stared incredulously and laughed.
And then she wrapped her hands around his throat.
Her life was going to be so much better when she took this trash out, she chanted to herself mentally, gritting her teeth as she applied pressure. It wasn’t like he was in much of a state to resist her anyway. She could feel him attempting to heave air into his lungs, and failing to do so, and that in itself was the most satisfying thing she’d felt in a while.
She truly believed for a moment that he was going to lie down and die peacefully. He could only struggle weakly against her grip, and he was already so weak. Another 30 seconds and she would have one less headache.
What the Second Sister had not expected was for a brief moment, when the baby Jedi looked into her eyes and she caught a glance of yellow bleeding. Nor was she expecting him to lunge forward in her grip, snapping her at face. Instantly she released him, letting him drop to his knees.
One deep breath after the another was her tactic as she stepped back. Maybe there was some worth in keeping him around after all. While she was still disgusted and furious, that feral look on his face…she found she would do anything to see that again.
There was silence while she watched him, and he remained on his knees, head low to hide his face from her. It reached between them for many more moments, as both of them recovered. When she finally spoke, she couldn’t keep a hint of breathlessness out her voice.
“Do it again.”
She wanted to see it again. She wanted to see him reached into that part of himself again. She wanted that uncontrolled wild animal that had suddenly leapt out when he had been worn down and threatened. She was willing to drag it out of him if he wouldn’t concede.
No response. Irritation began to bite at her heels again. She stepped in, ready to grab him, ready to painfully draw out the darkness she had just witnessed.
He lunged for her with strength she wasn’t aware he still possessed.
Both of them went crashing to the floor of the cell, and immediately began struggling with each other. She hissed in fury – the audacity of this brat- before driving one knee up to try and catch him in the chest. In response, he swung at her. She grabbed his wrist and threw him to the side, before rolling and trying to force her forearm down on his throat.
He fought like some kind of untamed creature, eyes alight as he snapped and clawed at her. The Second found that while she was annoyed by the arrogance of this little move of his, part of her was screaming in excitement. The rush of the fight, the rush to assert her dominance over this ill-tempered brat, was humming and making her feel almost lightheaded.
She managed to force him down, reaching out to grab one hand and pin it beside his head. A mistake really. While trying to grab for the other one, he twisted his head and bit down, eliciting an uncharacteristic yelp from her before she struck out at his head, hard enough to stun him for a moment.
It was all she needed to reach for his other hand and lock it down in the same manner. He struggled, and she dropped her weight against him, determined to hold him there until he decided it was time for his temper tantrum to end.
Eventually his head fell back against the ground with a huff, and he stared up at her venomously. She returned it, doing her best to stifle short breaths from the brawl.
“There is going to be hell to pay for that,” she finally said. He remained silent. She dug her nails slowly into his wrists, leaning in closer to his face.
“You bit me.” She hissed, a slight tilt towards where she could feel the sting of her skin where he had decided to behave like some kind of feral mutt. He leaned right back in, a shadow crossing his face. “You’re welcome.”
A laugh that sounded more like a snarl escaped her throat. “I am going to rip you apart little Jedi,” she informed him. “I am going to break you so many times that there won’t be enough left to put back together.”
He seemed to do a lot of things she didn’t expect today. Perhaps he had sustained a head injury. She certainly didn’t expect him to lean in close to her ear and whisper, “I look forward to it, Trilla.”
Her skin prickled under his breath, and she inhaled sharply feeling warmth bloom in her stomach. She met his eyes. There was anger, and there was the untamed quality, and once again, there was challenge. This time however, it wasn’t the same breed. She made a split minute decision.
“Let’s start while we’re here. I’m a firm believer in an eye for an eye,” she whispered, lips a hair width away from his jaw. When he shuddered in response, she decided it was time to shut him up, at least for now. She leaned in like a lover to the crook between his shoulder and neck, and when she felt him about to speak, she bit down. Hard.
The loud gasp that she heard wasn’t even going to begin to cover his behavior today, but it was a start. She only let go when she caught a taste of iron in her mouth, with a slight growl of satisfaction. “Be quiet,” she snapped when he tried to speak again, watching a little trail of blood form on his pale skin. She leaned backed in to lap at it firmly, a smirk when he heard him whine in protest, but too exhausted from his antics to truly fight back again.
When she glanced up at him again, there was a barely controlled look on his face, the kind that she had been searching for initially. He craned his neck towards her, and she gave him a contemplative look before leaning in slowly herself.
And spat his blood right back at his face.
Delighted at his look of shock, she gleefully dropped a knee into his stomach, hearing the air leave his lungs all at once. It was all she needed to be off him in a flash, back on steady knees and look down at him with disgusted pity.
He glared back with both anger and confusion and longing.
“I don’t play with bad-mannered brats. Examine your behavior. I’ll see you in a week, little Jedi.”
She was laughing at his curses long after they were out of earshot.