Know Your Enemy

[Pembleton]

(( Dutchie, I's sorry it's so late, but here it is. Please forgive me. <3 ))

Tesok paid little attention to his comrades leaving, instead turning to regard the prisoner once more, listening idly to the man's tantrum. When he appeared to have exhausted his immediate range of creative threats, the Barabel cocked his head to the side questioningly.

"You have been disarmed and left without armor in an impregnable cell. In addition to the two other Knights and this one, a member of a species which you admit to finding fearsome when engaged in combat against fully-equipped foes, you are under guard by some of the finest soldiers that the Republic has to offer. This one must inquire precisely what you believe you can possibly do to turn this situation to your favor? It seems you would have to be quite mad, or quite unintelligent, to expect any escape attempt to be a success. Indeed, this one can hardly see how you would expect to remain in possession of more than one of your limbs at the end of the thing."

The question was delivered in all seriousness - Tesok could not conceive of how Zarander could be so foolish as to feel confident in making threats. However, as he finished speaking, he heard the slightest of chuckles from one of the guards in the room, and a general adjustment in the body language and Force auras of the Republic troops that he could only interpret as a burst of morale. Perhaps they had taken his compliment of their abilities to heart. Humans were much more dependent on the opinions of others than Barabels were, he had noted at times.

As he was asked for his name, he immediately shifted his own posture, straightening and letting his eyes travel around the room. His previous words had been in the interest of keeping the prisoner silent or soliciting information which might provide valuable insight into the Sith's current mental state. However, he was not so unwise as to reveal any unnecessary information to as cunning an enemy as Zarander presented. Providing him with a name would be to give him the opportunity to attempt some manipulation, which would be foolish in the extreme. Even as he spoke, though, he had to admit that not revealing anything would also give him the small, petty pleasure of denying Jessoin, so haughty and overconfident, something that he was wanting.

"This one hardly believes that a prisoner could require or be entitled to the name of every one of his guards. Remember also that you are in no more position to ask questions of your escort than you are to make threats against them."

With that, he took a calming breath and sank back on his heels, keeping the prisoner within his field of vision but letting his gaze soften as he entered a light meditative state. Keeping watch on a Sith meant more than overseeing the being's physical actions - he must also remain alert to any manipulation of the Force that his enemy might try. He hoped that the prisoner would not attempt to engage him in further conversation, but felt rather less than sanguine that Zarander would be able to contain himself for the full six hours of his watch.

[Dutch]

(Omg is k. I could never stay mad at you <3 Also helps that I wouldn't have been able to respond till this week anyway.)

“Two other Knights… not a single Master among you?”

Jessoin chuckled, his words hissed coldly from his lips. His thoughts were confirmed by the Barabel’s statement. This truly was a team assembled in desperation, not precognition. The Jedi would know that a Master or two would be the surest way to capture the Sith, not a group of young Jedi who’s connection in the Force betrayed their unfamiliarity with one another. That was one of the Sith Order’s strengths, their mightiest Knights and Masters all worked hand in hand with one another. Most were very familiar with one another, and from the armies fielding to battle and other more covert strike teams, their solidarity only strengthened them.

The Sith let his gaze slide to the Republic trooper who laughed. They dipped down to register the trooper’s ID. Corporal Veers. Duly noted… His green eyes slid back to the Barabel as he denied revealing his identity. Jessoin laughed softly as the large lizard crouched low, clearly trying to calm himself and his surroundings. The Zelosian slowly twisted his head to the left and right, the popping of his spine audible in the quiet. He adjusted the lengths of his robes at his thighs before sinking down to a mirrored position as the Barabel.

“Not every guard, my dear Blank. Only three of them. The others are mere fodder.” Jessoin snickered and gestured with a nod towards one of the rifles behind the Jedi. “Do their blasters put you at ease? If so you clearly haven’t done your homework on this task. Do you even know what manner of monster you face? What I am capable of? Where my strengths lay? My weaknesses?”

Jess’ grin leered at the Barabel, keeping the crouched position a moment longer before the Sith sighed audibly and rocked back to sit down. His hands slid back to support himself and his feet remained planted on the floor. The black of his robes pooled around the Sith, making his pale almost green tinted skin stand out in the glow of his cell. He tilted his head slightly as Jessoin gazed at the Barabel. The feathered locks of his black hair fell over one shoulder as he considered his next words a moment. His grin would slide into more of a smirk as he began to leak some of his memories out into the Force around them. Flashes of the great battle at the wall of Thila danced through his mind. Republic soldiers being tugged off the top of the wall with the Force. Lightsabers melting into flesh as they sank and seared into their prey. A massive explosion as the wall came crumbling down, and the following flood of countless Sith and soldiers as the fortress was overrun.

“Were you there Blank? I think not. Surely I would have noticed your thick dour skull smacking into the door frames within the fortress. Shame you were not… The Force was utterly palpable that day… such fear… anxiety… and the sweet nectar of death fueling us Sith… It was everything the Darths promised." Jessoin paused a moment to gleam a reaction from the stalwart Jedi. "It’s funny if you really think about it sweet Barabel: The Jedi oft speak of the Force being with them… but I dare say it seems like the Force favors my kind of late…”

Jessoin slowly moved his head to tilt to the right now. He clicked his tongue before sighing. Already he grew bored of the thick slab of reptile before him.

“So… I know of Jaidan Shatani. You my dear Blank seem every bit of stereotypical Barabel as I’ve ever met, thus Blank suits you as well as anything for a name. But who is that lovely young flower that is with you two strapping young Jedi? One of Shatani’s playthings? I’ve heard his appetites can mirror my own at times. Or is she some tart meant for your trusty troopers to have at when they need to release their stresses? Can’t say I’d blame them. Wouldn’t mind finding out where else those tattoos go myself. Always did like Kiffar, as close as you humans get visually to my race after all.”

[DreadPirateMike]

As his gaze showed him the subdued smile spreading across his sister Jedi's face, accompanied by the same subtle tension he'd learned to associate with the battle between instinct and the perceived demands of manners, he was keenly aware of the tension in his own cheeks as he mirrored the reaction. A bit like footwork, perhaps, heeding the demand of training to match or counter whatever maneuver the opposing duelist made. But while his smile was certainly, like hers, friendly enough, he added an inquisitive arching of his brow.

Was he to be let in on the joke?

He gave her explanation of the meld technique all due consideration, of course. Even putting aside the potential tactical implications, how could he not? His connection with the man who had done the most to show him the depths of his heritage and all that came with it, who had led him much of the way to his present understanding of the Force, in short given him the gift of self...it was more than intense. It was indelible, utterly undiminished by any distance of time and space. If what she proposed that they share could truly rival, indeed surpass that, then it was no mean thing to be entered into without consideration.

But it was only after Meira offered the gentler, the truer smile that a degree of surprise called his attention to the guard he'd hardly noticed raising, and prompted him to truly drop it once she'd concluded her explanation.

His own brief moment of raised hackles, foolish as it seemed in the very next moment, was a somewhat predictable reaction, he supposed. This union, while not quite what his imagination immediately conjured, still sounded a fairly intimate thing to share with someone he'd met a matter of hours ago. Even so, he was impressed. This young Kiffar sitting across from him was a uniquely perceptive soul, and far more importantly, however she came by this awareness -For it was unlikely if not quite impossible she read people as he did, even the most talented of telepaths would be hard pressed to scan a Jedi without their knowledge, and he knew he wasn't simply being obvious about his reservations.- it was backed up by what seemed both a deep and a sincere compassion.  And while he'd lately seen no end of courage, honor, fortitude, and all the other fine qualities that one would hope to find among his fellows in times of strife...this was something else, something he'd perhaps been estranged from of late.  And he was inevitably the poorer for it.

So yes, this was indeed someone he wished to know.

"I have found that particular difficulty to the detriment of a great many worthy endeavors."

Not to mention, the few minutes it took him to sponge up the remnants of the stew with his bread and then cool his tongue with the beelpop was a valuable intermission in which to think on the matter further. Not quite the meditation he'd require, of course, but even the simple act of allowing an idea time to settle in the mind was often sufficient for it to either become comfortable or swell to the problematic scale that would require true meditation...or sometimes more extreme measures, in his case.

"Well." Jaidan concluded at length, rising unhurriedly from his seat. "I should return these dishes to the galley before I go and speak to Captain Thrast. And then...I think I shall trust you, Meira Valli."

[Meira]

((Due to the unfortunate absence of both Tesok and dreadpiratemike, we will be continuing this thread without them for now. This post assumes a bit of a time jump, skipping over both of their rotations on watch and moving directly into Meira's turn. Details will be kept vague, should our buddies return.))

The door closed behind her, sealing Meira and the three guards into the small space. There was a hiss, and then a silence, as they waited for the outer door to lock and the inner door to open. In that silence, Meira once again allowed her senses to extend outward around her. The soldiers that accompanied her were well rested and, like her, facing their first rotation with the prisoner. While the young Kiffar knight expected the next few hours to be strenuous, she was confident that she and these men would do fine. It was a sentiment that she was admittedly proud to feel. A few hours prior, she might not have thought the same thing.

It had been more difficult than she had predicted to establish the meld with Shatani. She had underestimated the effort it would take on her part, not knowing the man as well as she'd known others she'd melded with. And even with her reassurances, it had taken Shatani some time to trust her and open up. So while they had managed to make the connection, the process had proven more taxing that Meira had believed. But it would soon prove itself necessary. After establishing their meld, Meira and Thrast accompanied Shatani when he relieved Baranar of his shift with the prisoner. Thrast removed Zarander's lightsaber from where it was held in containment and Meira took custody of it in order to search through its memories for any information it might provide about their captive.

She retreated to a secluded cabin, which Thrast provided for her use in this purpose, and set about her work. Shatani's presence in her mind allowed for a certain steadiness in uncertainty that Meira was unaccustomed to, but very much grateful for. As she had predicted, her initial glimpses into the lightsaber's memories were a flood of confused images and extreme emotions. It took every ounce of control she had, and some of Shatani's to stop that first onslaught. The impact had left her in tears and Meira had to meditate to once again find her center. It was no wonder that those who fell to the dark side often succumbed to madness. To allow such a tempest of emotion to wreak havoc on the mind could result in nothing less.

Unfortunately, Meira's subsequent glimpses into the memories of the lightsaber proved mostly unhelpful. At least in terms of providing intelligence on the prisoner. The clearest of the memories were of the siege at Bak'mral on Thila. They already had much information on this battle and Zarander's involvement in it. The rest was mists and shadows that dissolved at the moment Meira felt any grasp on their substance. She had to take this work in short bursts, both frustration and fatigue threatening her composure. After a few hours, she had to suspend her wild mynok chase through Zarander's past and allow herself a few hours sleep before her own watch over the man began.

As the inner doors to the holding cell room opened, Meira set her thoughts of her less than fruitful ventures aside. She and Shatani exchanged simple nods as he and the soldiers that stood watch with him took their leave. As the doors closed behind them, Meira noted the new silence; thicker and darker than what had surrounded her only moments before. Zarander was not idle, it seemed.

The guards took their places and Meira did the same. In the empty space of the room, she settled herself down, crosslegged, in the middle of the floor. She faced Zarander's cell, but did not directly look at or acknowledge the man as she settled her hands lightly on her knees and let her bare arms and shoulders relax. Her chin dipped slightly as she held her spine straight, but not rigid, and took in a slow, deep breath. Her eyes closed, allowing the band tattoo to run, uninterrupted, across her face. Meira allowed her senses to fill the room, not shying away from the fetid, oily presence of their captive, nor trying to drive it out. She had no need to confront a man already captured. Nor dis she need to defeat him. It was her place to watch, to guard, nothing more.

[Dutch]

Then there she was, the lass who had claimed his lightsaber earlier. Jessoin knew why she had gathered it, he was no fool and was more than knowledgeable of the Kiffar race's abilities. He also deduced that by the girl's apparent age and presence in the Force, that she would not have been able to delve too deeply into the memories stored into his lightsaber. Jess wasn't sure which desire was stronger, for the woman to not see what his weapon had been through... or for her to see. See the slaughter, see the mass murder that had been lain down by the cobbled together lightsaber.

As she sat Jess watched, perched upon the cot with the fingers of his hands lightly interwoven. His brilliant green eyes would narrow as he studied her face closer. She looked tired. He wondered how long she had attempted to delve into his history, and what sort of strain that took on a person. Jessoin had always been adept at shaping the Force around him, shaping it within and affecting others was an art lost to him. Slowly Jess stood, his robes billowed down to his bare feet and brushed silently as he strode closer to the ray shield. He tilted his head slightly to peer down at the girl. Her skin was more pallor than he recalled, the darkness of her tattoo only bringing out the remnants of blotches in her cheeks. His smile widened gleefully as he recognized her state.

"You were crying..." Jess stated, his tone marking it as a statement and not a question. He began to pace back and forth, eyes never leaving the Jedi. "... I take it my lightsaber showed you a great many things..." His laugh was surprisingly warm and pleasant. "I do apologize. It is a rather crude and cobbled creature, not the same elegant hilt I carried as a Jedi." Jessoin stopped directly in front of the girl, lowered down to perch and rest his arms on his knees.

[Meira]

She had prepared herself for this. Meira could feel Zarander's gaze upon her from the moment she entered the room. She could practically feel the way he was thinking, trying to puzzle out some twisted advantage he might try to take over her. She had prepared, but in the end, preparation was never quite enough. The malice he created was like a fog, trying to confuse her. She fought a shiver that threatened to run down her spine.

Those who have no control of themselves seek to control their surroundings.

These words, spoken so long ago by a master at the temple, suddenly came to Meira's mind. She could not remember the master that had spoken them, but she remembered the words. They were the beginning of her meditation training as a youngling and had a profound on the woman she had become. Meira had learned that the only thing she could truly control was herself. She had influence on the people and things around her, in varying degrees, but she could master none of them. She had taken this lesson to heart, along with the lesson that followed.

No outside force may control me unless I allow it it to.

She reminded herself of this now as Zarander rose from his cot. She would not allow him any control over her. His observation, intended to expose a weakness, went unanswered. She did not deny the truth of what he had gleaned, but would not engage such obvious bait.

He then made a mocking apology and Meira did open her eyes as the man crouched down in front of her. The ray shield between them seemed like the thinnest veil for all it did to stop the energy that flowed off the man. Yet there was no barrier stronger. When her own emerald eyes met his, he would find no choler there. Passion, yet serenity.

"I accept your apology." she said. And she was sincere, even if he was not. His intention was irrelevant. The power to forgive was her own, and she gained nothing by resenting him for how looking into his past had affected her. She let the thought fall away as she closed her eyes once again.