The Short Fic Weekly Challenge Thread!
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07.15.2012 , 09:48 AM |
In which Broan meets up with Master Ashari after a rather long time apart.
"Ashari?" Broan stepped into the room, staring at the woman in front of him. A servant closed the door to the holding chamber. Two armed soldiers flanked the door, their guns held tightly against their chests. They realised that if the prisoner tried to escape their armour and bullets would do little to prevent her. Master Ashari sat in her prison, her home of some seven months now, a shadow of her former self. She looked at him, her expression blank and somewhat frightening without her mask. He called her name again, sterner this time.
"Broan? Oh, oh, Broan, what have they done to you?" She cried and reached out to him, her fingers searing against the barrier.
"Look at yourself for once!" Broan felt a small surge of delight as she cringed. He had never raised his voice to her before and had evidently taken her by surprise. "Look at what you have become!" Ashari snarled and all pretence at shock evaporated.
"I have not fallen as low as you," She crawled across the floor, spitting all the while. "I know my vices and my follies, but you? What do you know?" Broan could see a calm fury building within his old master. He was finally starting to understand the extent of Lord Vizloch's game.
"I know that you let some petty vengeance destroy hundreds of lives; you sanctioned the torture of a man, stole a woman's husband and let yourself stumble blindly into the embrace of the Dark Side," Broan paused, taking a deep breath. "You took in a child you had lost his mother and tried to shape him in your own image. A task you failed."
"I knew you could never be a Jedi." Ashari smiled as she said this. Even kneeling in an Imperial prison, property of a Sith Lord, she looked triumphant.
"I never wanted to be a Jedi." He crouched, meeting her eye to blank, eyeless expanse.
"It was Talan's decision; he thought you could become something." She was shaking as she spoke. Ashari was unwittingly letting her emotions take control.
"And you loved him enough to believe him."
"And you love that Imperial whore enough to stay here," Broan flinched as she spoke. Ashar seemed to notice this and continued, emboldened by his discomfort. "What did he promise you? Power? Riches beyond your wildest dreams? Or just a good *********** every night." What little shreds of respect Broan had once had for the woman who had raised him were lost. He hated her and she him.
"Lord Vizloch has yet to decide what she will do with you, but I suspect that she will see you dead. Your daughter, I might add, does well in her training. She takes after you." A change came over Ashari as she heard this. Her caged animal unleashed itself, fury taking over. Broan's brief attempt at smugness was overshadowed by horror.
"You give her back! My daughter, my Madisha - you give her back to me!" Ashari pounded her fists against the shield. Currents of energy rippled away. The smell of burning skin started to fill the room. "I'll rip you apart, you little bastard! Traitorous mongrel! Clean-faced worthless scum! Rootless! You have no roots! You'll waste away in the sun!"
One of the soldiers opened the door for Broan and he slipped out, every word of Ashari's tirade falling on him as physical blow. She had always known just what to say.
It's strange, sometimes the action comes first and sometimes it's the dialogue. In this case it was most definitely the dialogue that came first.
I tried to come up with insults that would hurt a Mirialin. These are mostly based on the idea that Mirialin culture reveres their ancestors, so I supposed that knowing one's ancestry would be a big deal, and that Mirialin tattoo their faces with accomplishments. I like to think that Broan didn't grow up in a Mirialin society, didn't know his father and has little in the way of tattoos, and is also very unlikely to get any. Maybe I'll have him grow a dashing goatee or something.