Tyr caught up to Trychon and Raezyr in their booth right around the time that three drinks were arriving. “Aw, guys... thanks! You didn't have to order for me...”
Trychon's helmet turned awkwardly towards him. “We didn't. I ordered myself two, in order to get my mind out of this particular hell.” He lifted his tankard, which rebound heartily off the barrier surrounding his head. “However, it appears as though I'm going to be spending some time getting used to drinking in the Sith forsaken thing, so have at it.”
“It's the thought that counts, Trych.” Tyr patted him on the back, knowing that the incorrect phrase usage would drive him as crazy as the helm did. He took a seat and grabbed the other tankard that Trychon had ordered. After taking a sip, he smiled. “I missed real Corellian Ale. They ship out the weak flavored stuff off-planet. The nut flavor is almost like a liquid Ryshcate.”
“If you say so, Tyr.” Trychon irritatedly commented while he tried to hold his helm up to figure out how to try it for himself.
Raezyr quietly growled as he set his own drink down. “Will you stop playing with that? You look exactly like someone who's wearing a disguise to avoid notice. It's more than a little obvious.”
“Oh, like this is going to look so much better...” The older brother said as he took the straw that his sibling held out to him, ignoring the grinning expression Tyr had. “I wonder what it'd be like to be a listening device under the table across the street.”
“Just your normal 'repressed teenage angst spilling out', I'm sure. Just like any bad depressing holo-drama. 'Oh, my parents ruined my life!' No offense, Tyr.” Raezyr didn't hide his grin any longer while he watched Trychon's sip on his ale.
“None taken. At least the ending is bound to be more interesting in this story... Now that, I would pay to see.”
--------------
“What do you mean, you tried your best?!” Anya screamed, throwing another plate across the room at her mother who was dodging rather well for a woman of her age. She talked to herself to try to stay in control of her mind. God, I wish I could crush her with my mind, but I can't even Force toss these plates. Guess I'll have to do this the old fashioned way...Her emotions rampantly split between anger and utter joy.
“Your life would have been a tragedy here!” Her mother pleaded as she tried unsuccessfully to hide behind a couch. Shards of glass and cheap kiln-fired dinnerware kept bouncing off her head, leaving minor cuts in their wake.
“So you sent me off to be a tragedy elsewhere? So you didn't have to watch?” Anya yelled, feeling her voice already beginning to go hoarse from the screaming.
“No, I swear! I had to! It was your step-father! Your sister ran off without a credit to her name because of the things your step-father did to her. I managed to protect you from him when you were very young, but I could see that look in his eye, and I knew I couldn't save you forever.” As her story went on, the projectiles slowed to a stop, and she came out of hiding with tears streaming down her face. “That's why I wanted to find a place for you to live and work. I gave them some money to start in your account. So you would be set for a few weeks. It was more than I had a chance to do for your sister.” The last few words trickled out as she was on the edge of bawling.
The mention of her older sister had Anya choking back tears of her own, but her fury only grew. “So you thought it was best that I sell my body?!” She waited for a response for only a moment. “Well, congratulations on your plan, Mother. I did plenty of that. Earned lots of money for my owners. They were nearly as proud as you!”
"N-n...No!" Her mother stammered, clearly having lost all attempts to withhold her tears. "You were to be a servant girl working for yourself!"
Anya's face twisted into rage. "You LIE! Everything you spout is LIES!"
Her mother ignored the outburst. "Your stepfather beat me horribly for letting you go. I had tried another way before, where he thought he could benefit... but the Jedi said you were too weak to train and..."
Before she even saw Anya move, she felt hands wrapping coldly around her neck.
I... Am NOT. TOO WEAK! was the very last thing Anya's mother ever heard as she slipped unconscious.
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