Writing Prompt - Aran & Molari

2. “You’re too young to hate the world.”


Aran (Book), Molari


The young Jedi looked at the older Sith and it was a moment of silence before either of them did anything.

They didn’t know each other - they didn’t have to. The Force clung to them like water to skin, diametrically opposed polarities that drew them from either side of the almost empty city to the centre, to the meeting point, a table on a dingy world with broken table legs and rickety stools and two drinks.

The Sith looked... odd. Tailored coat, red hair, a scar crossing what would have been eyelids except she had cybernetics in place, but Molari couldn’t pick everything out on what might be working and her sat uneasily for a moment before she just... smiled.

How odd, to see a Sith smile. And she was Sith - the Force wasn’t hidden around her or obfuscated and it danced and sang a dark brooding song, something cloy that was a rich rose to his nose, a delicate purr that felt like it had claws. It reminded him of the Cathar Sith who’d been touched by whispers of fate and the Force, who he hadn’t seen in over seven years but who still sometimes came to mind. But this Sith, this Sith smiled warmly at him, flagging the droid down and ordering something he couldn’t quite hear.

Which had to be surprising, given his hearing.

“I got you a wrinkled tea,” the woman said, her accent the amalgamation he used to hear on Narsh all the time, tones of too many languages woven into the words.

“And what is that?” The man had a jacket of similar cut on though he wore it drawn up almost uneasily. It had a hood but he had stayed away from them, leaving only the visor he used to wear across his eyes but with the shield tuned down to practically opaque. His voice was the most telling thing the Sith figured, watching the controlled emotions - wariness, interest, confusion, concern - float across his tones.

He was young, then. Young compared to her, at least.

“It’s tea and local whiskey.”

“I won’t drink it.”

The Sith - Aran - frowned. A finger tapped the surface of the table. “If you don’t then it will be remarked upon. You will take the drink, and drink it.”

Molari frowned but sighed - and acceded, when the tea arrived, taking the cup up and taking a sip. For her part Aran did as well, drinking in silence for a moment, just two people meeting for business.

“What is a Sith doing here?”

So much for business Aran thought, and the feeling brought a grin. “Business woman,” she corrected, waiting for the man to nod - acceptance - and then she spoke again. “I am here on business, too, though. I am looking to see if my client list can expand.”

Interest in the bright green eyes and he saw the Sith chuckle. “What.... kind of things do you sell?”

“Cybernetics.”

“Not twisted magics?”

“Your training is showing, young one.”

The exchange was polite, quick, Aran smirking at the grimacing man across from her who sat, unable to do what something in him screamed to do. Her smirk grew to a laugh, finger tapping the table top again and then pulling out a datapad.

Molari regained his control, taking a larger than anticipated gulp of the liquid then choking on it with a cough.

“You’re in the market, aren’t you?”

Green eyes looked up, trying to analyze the Sith’s face, seeing a twisted malicious amusement on her lips. He saw and felt it - claws, fangs, careful hunting, amusement. It rankled in the Force, it edged him the way Knights of Zakuul had not, most Sith had not, other Force users on Odessen had not. It was personal, focused - and yet it was not even the glint of true interest, just passing desire to play.

“I doubt from you,” he spat.

She laughed again and Molari felt the back of his neck heat, taking a shallow breath.

“No... offense... meant.”

“You are far, far too young to be swallowed by your pride yet, Master Jedi. And far too young to fall for such easy proddings. Control, my friend, control.”

Something eased - she... faded. And the revulsion that had driven some of his instinctive reactions lessened, looking at the woman with confusion.

“Why?”

“You are far too young. And besides, you might have a pocketbook that can afford my products. Business first then... whatever, later."