Entry tags:

Arrival + Open to all

Post-Medical/Around the Hospital:

After arriving and getting his debriefing, Vader took time to see to his own physical state. Awakening and not needing assistance breathing was been a shock he hadn't had time to process, feeling fabric on his skin - his skin, not a patchwork of skin, blisters, synthskin, and the wide swatches of scar tissue that was mostly still numb had bordered on sensor overload. Not that he still wasn't covered in scars - so many - but he could get a sense of feeling from them, not just pressure. It seemed his would-be captors understood his gloves and gauntlets served a practical purpose to protect his cybernetic arms and his heavy boots served the same function for his legs. And they must not have known how to take his helmet apart. The neck seal being open and having a breeze rush up against his face was certainly sensory overload. An exam - one he was unhappy about - later and a recommendation under the strongest possible terms he seek to establish care for further follow-up finished, he'd at least had a long list of options. Something he hadn't had before and some questions about the chip and a thick folder of paperwork in his hand, Vader started to explore the area. Making sure he could memorize the area in low light, as he knew his vision at nighttime would be difficult and if the helmet was damaged well.

That would be problematic at best.

Xin Night Market:

Two things Vader had purchased immediately: a large backpack in a familiar military style and a drop bag which fashioned around the waist and dropped down the length of one thigh to buckle behind his knee. He had no illusions he'd fill the military-style bag, it was partly for the familiarity of something on his back and in case of finding something bulky. The other bag, however - that was more purchased with purpose in mind. He'd spent time examining the various bags, the pouches: their size and durability of them, and the fasteners.

And he bartered expertly. He meant it for tools, bits and bobs, and technology he could salvage or break down for other parts. But he was also keeping an eye out for faces he knew.

Magic Markets

Given the odd dimensionality of this place, Vader made short work of hunting for things in the magic markets. Anything which looked like it may be related to the galaxy he was from, things relating to the Sith Order, the current one and the ancient ones. But also anything related to the Force. Be he was also searching for information on the Tethers, Tian, and Heba.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Eight had made a habit of hunting around in the Xin Night Markets. She enjoyed it very much! There was such a wide variety that it feels like any day there would always be a chance of something new put up on display.

It was looking at some of the military paraphernalia that she happened to find something she wasn't expecting. A man in a dark mask, tall and foreboding in his presence. She had never seen him but there was something about him that just felt... off. Like she was facing the face of uncompromising power and inevitability.

She pulled herself out of his sight and considers what was it that made him feel that way. She peeked back at him over the edge of a display and determined that it was the mask. There was just something about it that was unsettling. Like it was a kabuto with a high-tech war mask. Was he going to war?

Despite her better judgement, she decided he was worth a further examination. If nothing else to see if he was going to draw a katana and start tsujigiri at a moment's notice.

Given what his mask was designed for, both warfare and giving a sense of dread (it looked like a skull for a reason), he would have been pleased had he known the feelings he was giving off.

Vader didn't carry a weapon and it was something that he deeply disliked. It had been decades since he has not had a lightsaber at his hip, and he'd never, once, had to navigate life without access to the Force. Both were on his list of things to correct. Which was directly related to what he was currently browsing, items needed to make an electroblade

It wouldn't be the same but.

Better than the current situation.

She looked at him intrigued. Was he some sort of mechanic? Did the mask give him some sort of schematics? She thought she saw what looked like some sort of screen flicker beyond the circular orbits within his mask. It would make sense, then, that some understanding of construction could be fed to his eyes.

It was kind of like the Octo Goggles from back home.

She leans in tight, and in so doing knocks over a wire stand full of loose metal bits. They fall to the ground with a clang and rattle, and 8 looked around as everyone drew her attention to her.

OHHH, CRABCAKES...

They normally functioned even better than that, but it seemed they'd been damaged. And he didn't have the tools here to fix them. Part of the means of this trip.

The cacophony is exceptionally jarring, causing Vader not to jump but to whirl around, right hand going to a saber he no longer has and left raised in a stopping motion, meaning to Forcce push back.

Except he can't.

Mentally he unleashes a string of very colorful language as he pulls his hands back, glaring at the -

- non-human. She brought to mind a Nautolan.

For a moment her eyes meet with the man in the mask. She freezes, as though that would somehow hide the sheer travesty set before her. The moment lasts for what feels like an eternity but in actually was probably no more than 5 seconds.

As though waking from a spell, Eight immediately returns to the clattered bits of metal. "Sorry! I'll pick it up. I promise!"

That there was a menacing man in a black helmet did not seem to even factor into what she was doing. Perhaps if she looked busy she could convince him that she wasn't spying on him...

Vader simply watched - of course, the child? girl? could have been clumsy but it's the posture of the lean, the freeze when he locks eyes with her. That is what tells him she'd been watching him.

And so he watches her. Even as she scurries about, to clean up her mess.

Vader does move from the path of foot traffic, however.

Eight's ink ran cold and she nervously picked up plate by plate. She lowered her head to break the gaze somewhat. That helped. Her breathing stilled and she recalled the years of experience training in boot. Te constant gaze of superior officers looking over her, judging her. Her feet still felt like ice and her stomach knotted, but there was familiarity all the same.

With an exhale she raised her head again, placing the plates back into the shelving neatly. The distribution was off, causing the rack to rotate the heaviest part closer to her. Ah, right. That's what it needed. She spun the thing to the opposite side, setting things up to serve as a counterweight.

Her gaze went back to Vader's for a moment before returning to her work. Once again she looked, his gaze still on her. "Um... you probably don't want these." She muttered. "As you saw, I caused a bit of a spill just a little while ago. So unless you don't mind dented metal, you should probably look elsewhere."

One did not survive boot by showing fear to a superior officer.

He watched, and once started to redistribute the weight of the rack, he moved closer. He knew the posture, the look in the eyes, how she looked at him and then back to work, the less than fluid movements but still so determined.

It was amusing. And familiar. At home on some of his young Stormtroopers. It made him almost instantly fond, in a dark way.

"Have you never heard of a hammer young soldier?"

Eight inhaled sharply at being identified as a soldier. A small, nearly imperceptible stumble to all but the most astute. No. He doesn't know. That was a guess. Right? A really astute guess that would make the greatest inquisitors of the Octarian Army quake at the sight of. A true master class in psychological warfare.

Her gaze returned to the wire carousel. "Anything can be a hammer if it's flat and heavy enough." She responded smoothly, taking a gulp of air afterwards. "Did you want to look at these then? There are still quite a few on display on the floor. You may even be able to have a better look at what they are made out of than when they are on the rack."

It wasn't a guess. It was observation and decades of experience, in warfare, in soldiers, in interrogation.

And did he hear a gulp? What was she so afraid of? Not the normal fear of a soldier in front of a commander no. There was something else going on. "Metal often requires a peening hammer, which is small and round actually." Vader picked up one of the items, turning it over in his hand. From how his head was held and the helmet covering his face, she wouldn't be able to track his eyes - if was looking at his hand or her.

The fact that she couldn't see his eyes made her uncomfortable. His voice, more so. The modulation and deep tone reminded her very much of the telephone. The fact that it was coming out of what was clearly humanoid made the voice more unnerving. His every action, his gaze, his movements. There was intent and purpose in all of them, but the only one who could know what he intended was him. To what end?

"That can help, but you may want a machinist hammer for this. It's probably not going to help you until you heat it and bend it back into shape." With his eyes obscured, she tightened her grip on the piece of metal she was holding, ready at a moment's notice to use it to protect herself.

"I was forging metals and devices when I was younger than you are now little Solider." Oh but she looked scared.

Like prey.

"Or are you a deserter?"

Are you a deserter? A pause as she reached for the next plate. Yes. Yes she was a deserter. But if that was a word that intended to evoke more fear, it was a mistake on his part. In a single word she became of who this man was. Why he caused her to quake so. Sure, he intimidated. He was over a foot taller than her and had a stare that cause paint to reconsider. But he didn't know the man. Not really. She knew enough in their brief conversation to know that he was an unyielding warrior, uncompromising in his every action or deed. There was no consideration in this exchange. It was a hunt, and though she had made herself known to be hunted, he showed no sign of relenting. But she had stared down such threats before. She knew that to show weakness was to consign oneself to be consumed.

No, what bothered her was what he represented. He was a shadow of her past life. The kabuto-like helmet should have been the first indication. Her king wore one to demarcate his status. The black shadow was the same darkness she recalled in the closets and rooms she would sometimes get as punishment. Pitch black. Isolate. It was as though he was a ghost of her king cloaked in robes of darkness staring down upon her and asking 'why are you here? You should know her place.'

She knew her place.

A song filled in her heart. One that she had kept in the darkest depths of nothing. When everything taken away from her she still held that core. It carried her upwards through every trial and adversity. It carries with her too, now. And she lived. Should he strike her down, have this be the end, she would still remember the beauty of that sky and how bright and warm that first dawn was. That was her past. This was her present. She was not going to back down.

Her eyes flickered with a fire of her determination. "I am. And?" In almost cold defiance she picked up another plate, slowly and deliberately, the fear that was once there completely absent. "We are all displaced here. Our old ties are meaningless. Mine, as well as yours, your lordship."

He had assumed she would be afraid but he also has met (killed) enough Rebels to know in the face of death some simply became bold. So really, he was merely looking for a reaction.

One he got. She was the bold type.

"I disagree. I made pledges to my men,and they to me. Ones I would expect them to keep," ones he was sure they would, "even here. Why would fighting a different war change such things?"

She's slower now, more deliberate. Intent on taking back some of the momentum of the conversation by taking things slow.

"So it will be then, for you. I do not doubt you commanded such loyalty." Her own lord would do the same as well, they held the same conviction and expectation. But she was not her charge. He could not command her, nor would she make any excuses for herself.

Little does she know what his own men think. The way they whisper his name like a prayer, invoke his image like a God. He's fought and bled alongside them, mourned them, avenged them. Demanding loyalty was earned, in his mind.

"What convictions do you believe in?" Almost everyone had something.

"I believe I will keep them to myself." She had them, yes, but they were not something she wanted open to scrutiny.

"It is a door you opened." A challenge but not (for him) an aggressive one.

"And one I now choose to close." She stated resolutely.

He wanted push. Until she lashed out or broken, either was fine. One was a fight one was a victory. He enjoyed both.

But these chips prevented that. Later perhaps.

"And what about myself demanded so much attention from you? Or is that a door you are choosing to choose?" His tone doesn't change, not really. But somehow it's still mocking.

She would grant him that, feeling that there was no need to hide her intention. "You reminded me of someone from where I am from. Your mark of your station, I think. And I had never seen someone look the same as you." She returned her attention to the plates. She was nearly finished, and the assembly looking much better than it was before.

"There are no ones like me." He was completely unique in that sense, and he was in many ways completely proud of that.

"Do you commonly draw attention to yourself in such a way?"

"...I seem to, yeah." Especially when she's not trying. It's like life decides it wants to mess with her and she has to roll with the punches.

"Do you?" A slight push back, changing the direction of the conversation ever so slightly.

"Only when I want to." The Force helped with that, as did his job. But he was aware how he was dressed did stand out, even if less so here. Palpatine had meant him to be a vision of nightmare come walking at you and Vader relished in that. But it meant he was a shadowed figure until he wasn't.

The aura he exuded certainly made it easier. With others you can question their intention and worry that they could potentially make them your enemy. There was no ambiguity in his presence or his gaze. He was a constant threat, informing others of his dark intentions and purpose.

She could almost thank him for spelling it out so clearly.

"You remind me of a daimyo (feudal lord), and act like one too. But more of a mao (evil lord)." She did not expect him to know what that meant, not aware that the translator already did her job for her.

"Are we finished? I am nearly done here, and you have your own purposes that I am drawing you from." By this point the standoff had started to garner the attention of several other onlookers. She suspected that should he want he could easily splat her, but that would also dispel any ambiguity of his intentions to the rest of the Witches' Camp. Were he indeed a daimyo, he would surely have realized that by now and be weighing the cost and benefits of enacting his will.

Arrival + Open to all

Post-Medical/Around the Hospital:

Xin Night Market:

Magic Markets

Xin Night Market

Re: Xin Night Market

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