𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 ; commander wolffe

❂ 070. dying sun

So, he waited.

"It's here," Whimpering, her throat constricted at the memories permanently engrained within her mind, "My vi—Calon, it's here." Grip tightening, her eyes snapped shut, "You're going to get hurt."

"Well, at least she's not blind."

Walking closer to the apprentice, he ignored Eisha's watered pleas; loosely baring his weapon, ready to play a new game. Maybe he was used to something different, a thousand voices screaming his name in both battle chant and song. But that didn't matter now, as long as she still stood behind him; prepared alongside him.

Scoffing, he smirked at the assassin's stance; red gaze beating down upon the Nightsister, "There's still time to run."

Snarling, she responded with her lightsaber; though the Commander easily blocked her cheap strike with a grin. The outer shell of an angel shedding: ripped up the flesh in his nebula-burning grin. Third-degree burns from where they crash upon the ground; dodging the flames of the apprentice's lightsaber as he had once virtue.

Hazy gaze falling over him, Eisha crawled across the snow; the detonator was barely in sight as her skull was pierced with numbing aches. Avoiding their attacks: Ventress's steps were uneven as he pushed her back, losing her advantage due to the much larger opponent.

Seeing the Vashuni inch towards the device, the apprentice elbowed him back; lightsaber burning the Padawan's way. Gripped back though, Eisha scurried on: Wolffe slicing at the Nightsister's leg as she screamed.

Dragging herself along, she desperately ignored Calon's struggles — images flashing as she failed to decipher reality from vision. Weeping at the pain enticing her skull: rings of red grew as her vision cleared.

Something was helping her.

And, Wolffe's blaster just thudded to the floor.

Lunging for his discarded blaster, she beat Ventress to the detonator, blasting it to pieces. Gasping at the discarded pieces, she rolled onto her back as she struggled to rise. Standing, her damaged body shook as Ventress coursed with anger. Ventress seethed, and Eisha froze as the apprentice rushed to the Padawan, swinging her weapon.

Eisha couldn't move.

Footsteps echoed in her mind as they crunched closer, her arms flying to protect her face. There was no time to dodge, no time to move: only time to feel the lightsaber's burn.

She closed her eyes.

Only to not feel its burn.

Only to sense it.

Within him.

Thrown to the side, Eisha skidded through the snow; a choked sob leaving at the sight before her. At the blade cutting across his face. At the blade cutting out his eye.

Gouged, bloody, bleeding red as gold returned: but no ichor fell as Gods promised. Red staining the world's remainder of whiteness: pureness now cursed bloodied. Meeting her eyes, but only one stared back as her own burned darkly; dark bloodied red filling her vision.

"WOLFFE!"

Collapsing to the floor; falling, falling and never flying. Her scream rippled through his mind as his world fell dark. Because this star is fashioned into flesh and blood. And, mortality hurts.

Who attached such heavy wings to their shoulders?

Desperately staring at where he lay, unmoving on the snow-covered floor. Exactly where she should have laid — unmoving. Her mouth brimmed with the coated blood: leaving a metallic taste behind as she found her feet. Scurrying from the snow, sprinting to him, until the bloodied saber that scarred, parried against her own once more.