After a while, Trychon and Raezyr found themselves at the Sabacc tables, and spent most of the evening there.
For the first while, they played as the game was supposed to be played, but eventually couldn't resist the temptation and began conversing with one another, discussing what cards they had, and using the Force to intuit how they should play. As the night wore on, they got better at coordinating their strategies, and soon they were up significantly, and had won enough money to pay for their rooms, meals, and drinks, while still leaving them considerably richer.
Finally, after the hour had grown late, they hired a private shuttle to take them back to the hotel. "You know, there were times when I could almost see the other players hands," Trychon commented when they had arrived.
"Same here. We'll have to work on that for next time, but right now we need to discuss tomorrow, and figure out a plan," Raezyr said.
They went over a few possible ideas and after finally settling on one, they turned in. Raezyr meditated a bit, then crawled into bed. As he was falling asleep, he sensed Trychon was having more of those dreams. A few times he had "peaked" in, using their connection to the Force to see what they were about, and had come to realize just how badly Trychon blamed himself for Kord's death. Raezyr always hated the nights that the dreams came as the next morning Trychon was always distracted and melancholy.
Sure enough, as they were having breakfast in a the hotel's restaurant, Trychon sat sullenly, poking his fork at his food, and pushing it around his plate. He hadn't said but a couple of words since meeting his younger brother at the table.
Finally, Raezyr couldn't stand it any longer. He had been trying to smooth out the wrinkles in their plan, and Trychon hadn't heard a word he'd been saying. "You need to Sith up, Trych. People die. You've seen them die. Get over this."
Trychon looked up and stared at Raezyr. "People die, yes, but they've died because we decided it. Kord was different."
"No. He wasn't, and no matter how much he looked up to you, his life was unimportant," Raezyr said as he took another bite of his breakfast.
"We may not have known him long, but I cared about him. I've never lost someone I've cared about before, not when when there may have been something I could have done to save them," Trychon said setting his fork down.
"Welcome to the club then," Raezyr said. His own thoughts drifted back to when his first Master had been slain by the Jedi.
Many nights he had lain awake, thinking about that fight. They had been cornered in the ruins of Taris by four of them. Raezyr had engaged the padawan and had fought hard, eventually removing the padawan's hand and running her through. Master had taken on the other three, managing to kill one and disable another, but Raezyr had turned just in time to see the last one strike her down. At that point his only option had been to run.
Stroke for stroke, he had analyzed that fight with the padawan. If he could have just taken him out faster, more quickly, he might have been able to come to Master's aid, and she might still be alive right now.
They got up from the table in silence and made their way back to their rooms to pack. "What do you mean down there by, 'join the club?'" Trychon asked when they had reached the doors to their rooms. He was a bit annoyed that Raezyr seemed to think he knew what Trychon was going through, but a bit curious as well.
"Mind your own damn business," Raezyr replied. "I'm not the one letting the death of some dumb kid get to him. Just get your head back in the game."
Trychon bristled up, his face twisting into a mask of fury, and his hand dropping to his lightsaber hilt.
"This what you want?" Raezyr sneered, grabbing his own hilts, and they both ignited their blades. "Fine, have it your way," he said.
The red, blue and black blades screeched and hissed as they clashed in the hotel corridor.
No comments:
Post a Comment