Missing Force

6. Sabacc

  "That is the worst plan I have ever heard." Kylo sipped from his tea. He had been waiting for me once he'd known I had left.
  "Do you have a better idea?"
  He nodded. "Ye-."
  "It can't involve killing," I added.
   The nodding subtly turned into shaking. "No."
  "Already thought so."
  Kylo put his tea down, large hands around a fragile little cup. "But you cannot possibly want to do this. This is nothing like you."
  "I don't," I admitted. "But I am afraid there is no other way, or so he and I think."
  "He?" Kylo's gaze shot up a little too quickly.
  "Aha, yes."
  Should have kept your mouth shut, I cursed.
  "A friend— no, more of an acquaintance, came up with the plan. He is rather experienced with situations like this."
  "Then I will come with you," Kylo said without pardon.
  "Kylo, we have already discussed this." I sighed. "You can't come with me, we'll be recognised. I need to go undercover if I want to gain illegal information and proof that I can hand in to the New Republic."
  "Hmpf," Kylo scoffed. "I still don't like the idea of you, alone, with your so called acquaintance in a casino full of gamblers, alcoholics and mobsters," his tone laced with worry as the sentence advanced.
  "Hey." I placed my hand on his shoulder. "I don't like this anymore than you do."
  He looked up at me with those big, warm eyes, concern coiled within them.
  "But it's going to go swimmingly. And you know why?" I smiled sweetly at him. "Because I am going undercover as a pilot. Of which I know all about, thanks to my incredible tutor."
  Kylo planted a tender kiss on my hand, his soft curls tickling my arm. "Well, you were an exquisite pupil. Very persistent... But," he stood up and grabbed his cloak, "I won't let you go alone. I'll stand guard close to the entrance. The second I hear something I don't like, I will rush in."
  I watched as he summoned his lightsaber, from the nightstand to his hand.
  "Your father might risk your life," Kylo swirled the cloak around his shoulders, "but I won't."

  "Can't I borrow your jacket?"
  "I am sorry, but no. Your outfit is part of the plan, you have to suit their taste if you want them to 'impress' you."
  "Please," I practically begged.
  Poe had given me a dress to wear. Black with threads of gold adorning the neck, waving and bending like beams of starlight. It draped perfectly around my body, accenting my curves in a way I liked. The outfit was very stunning and all, but the neck —the low V-neck with an 'innocent' dip— exposed more skin than I was used to.
When Dameron didn't seem to give in to my request, I scoffed a little. "Come on, I'm not used to this. I wear a uniform like 90% of the time." Unfortunately, my voice gave away my insecurity.
"Don't you worry about a thing. You look dashing, own it." Poe smiled nothing but genuinely comforting. "But," he took his jacket off, "if the lady insist..." He rested the blazer on my shoulders theatrically, tease slipping into his behaviour.
As much as I wanted to cover up, it didn't outweigh the desire to show Dameron I wasn't to be mocked with.
"The lady does not." And I swung the jacket back, right into his face. Only to walk past him, underneath the daring, flickering lights of the casino's entrance, past the onyx knights standing guard.
Poe pulled the blazer from his face, revealing a bold and toothy grin.
The promise of fun.

  Tables piled with glittering gold, roulette wheels spinning and dizzying till the dawn of time, sabbac cards embellished with gems and silver threads. This was it, the lair of the sinners.
  But gods, what was it beautiful.
  Frescoes on the ceilings, portraying all sorts of forbidden desires. Women with eyes the size of the ocean, holding the stars of the Milky Way itself. Round, dark, empty and yet so full of lifeless life. The men's hair and beards rolled like waves, entangling the women, captivating them. Both literally and figuratively.
And all around them was rain with the colour of gold, similar to spring blossom, kissing their divine features, playing with the pink clouds. 
  And then the chandelier, holding the weight and glamour of a thousand diamonds. The crystals enjoined on brass rings, shaping into planets and constellations, like an armillary sphere. When one was very silent, you could hear the quiet ticking of the globes moving.
  Oh the scent, expensive liquor and luxurious incense of herbs and exotic flowers.
  I wasn't the only one keeping my mouth ajar. Humans and aliens alike, young, expectant and inexperienced to the world of mystery and illusion.
  My head tingled with excitement, the smells, lights and magic of the place were promising and addictive. I couldn't imagine ever having to leave.
  I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around. I was met with a frozen face, features sharp as a knife, pale blue eyes with hearts tattooed underneath, and blood for tears. On his head, rested a crown, the crown of a prince.
  The painting pointed to an almost hidden door. A whisper cold as ice tickled the vulnerable skin behind my ear, "go now, visit my playground."
  I couldn't disobey the sharp-lipped stranger, vivid as if it were drawn yesterday. But where was the doorknob? How could I comply the prince's demand if there was no way to enter?
  "Silly girl." A chuckle, melodious like the cries of an angel. "Close those eyes, kiss me, and see with your heart."
  Enthralled, I closed my eyes and pressed my lips upon those of the fresco sovereign. Auch. My tongue strayed along my lips. Metal. Blood.
  I wanted to see the perfect stranger, how he'd glow gold and silver, showing me his most audacious smirk, inviting me in. And how his hand materialised from the paint, taking mine, and pulled me through.
  "Welcome..."
I opened my eyes. I found more. More peeking eyes. But I had seen all these eyes before. They were mine.
"...to The Doll Room."
Endless mirrors, small and large, triangular and squared, cold, they looked back at me. What was up, what was down? All I saw was... myself.
  "Hey, doll," the frisky voice drawled.
  "Hey, doll. There you are." A warm, tanned hand rested on my shoulder. Finally, warmth. "Let's get you out of here, eh?" Poe's voice unfroze the spell of wanting.
  I couldn't blink. Even though I wanted to. I couldn't. All those eyes. Those malicious eyes. I swayed on my feet, like an alcoholic on the brink of having their final drink.
  Then in one hit, the sound returned. Music and ecstatic voices, triumphant screams and desperate cries. We were back in the main hall of the casino.
  "Don't ever call me that again." I shivered, shaking off the enchantment.
  "If you don't wander off without me." Poe held out his arm. "It's dangerous in here, a relic of an ancient time. Especially the big boss."
  "Oh, I won't. Trust me." I gazed over my shoulder, at the Prince of Hearts.
  He smiled and winked.
  I intertwined my arm with Dameron's. "Show me the way."

  "Ah, my favourite gent, Lucien!" Poe opened his arms.
  "Dameron! You old spice thief! Long time no see." A crescent moon, within a sun, within an eye, was tattooed on the young man's forehead. He affectionately patted Poe's back as they embraced, his ash blond hair a sharp contrast against the pilot's black. "Come sit with us, please, I insist."
  "All right, all right, but first allow me to present to you, the lovely lady of the night, Persephone."
  I stepped from behind Poe, a brave smile playing on my lips. Despite feeling utterly and completely underdressed underneath Lucien's piercing gaze.
  "Oh but Dameron, why didn't you tell me we would have a lady in our company? I would have bettered myself." The man's lips placed a lingering kiss upon my hand.
  With his comment he had meant the current state of his clothing. A velvet jacket hung loosely on his shoulders, grey like flocks of ash, fluttering and uncatchable. He sported a partially unbuttoned waistcoat, sleeves rolled up, revealing many more peculiar tattoos and a tanned complexion. His trousers weren't event entirely tucked away in his leather boots.
Nonchalant and drawling, and yet seemingly to have put much time and consideration in his appearance.
  "I am no more a lady than Poe is a gentleman, both pilots by profession." I sat down on the to me appointed place in the booth, between Poe and Lucien.
  In the process of making space for us, a middle aged man had fallen off the circular, velvet settee. He laughed and made move to take seat once again, but unfortunately, there was no room. The poor fellow, drunk and who knows what else, pushed and shoved in an attempt back in.
  "I'm sorry bud, we're full," Lucien said, sounding far from sorry.
  "Oh, no, I'm sure I can—." He continued to urge his way back, but Lucien's companions made it impossible. They were like walls of steel, faces of stone. Perfect young men, just like himself.
  "I said," Lucien snapped his fingers, "we're full."
  The lad's eyes widened, the amount of alcohol did not matter for he had heard the sound of doom. "No, please don't. I beg of you!" Suddenly, he fell to his knees.
  "What's goi—."
  Poe placed his hand on my knee, a sign to silence me.
  Two medieval knights appeared, with their black and battered armour they stood out against all the glitter and glamour of the grand casino. "What is it you demand, Seer?"
  "Bring this man to the Anechoic Chamber. I am curious whether or not it will take longer than an hour for the quiet to make him go mad."
  The onyx knights took the man by his shoulders and dragged him along.
  "No, please, please, sir, I'll do anything!"
  The guards stopped.
  "Anything you say?" The ash-haired asked.
  The fool nodded rapidly. "Yes, yes, anything, sir."
  Lucien pursed his lips in a smile that did not meet his eyes. "Well, well. Take him to the Armoury."
  The man's face turned white, left without speech.
  "See you at the entrance, bye bye!" Lucien waved him off, his fingers moving halfway to his palm and up.
  The hand on my knee tightened, Poe was stressed but hid it well.
"Do we have enough proof?" My gaze asked him, thinking of the recorder hidden in my dress.
  "Definitely," his eyes answered along with a nod.
  With a swift motion, Lucien sent two glasses of liquor across the table. "So, Persephone, pray tell me about your prodigious adventures as a pilot." He flashed his brilliantly white teeth.

  "Have I mentioned what a gorgeous gown you have got?" With his arm around me, Lucien's hand left its position on my shoulder, sliding down to the golden embroidery around my neck.
  "No, you have not." My breath hitched as his cold fingers touched the skin at the edge of the neckline.
  Kylo was right, this was a bad idea.
  Lucien looked up at the stars in the frescoes' eyes. "I like how the threads resemble the starlight, so delicate and distant." His grey eyes traveled back to my exposed skin, hungrily. "Their sweet promises," his fingers dipped into the décolletage, "of something more."
  My breathing sped up, this couldn't be happening. We had to leave. Now.
  But Lucien assumed the cause of my quickened heartbeat to be something else entirely, the lids of his eyes fell and he bridged the space between us. His breath smelled of grapes and death.
  I stepped on Poe's foot with whatever strength there was left in me after all the drinks and hypnotic music.
  I wanted him to come up with a plan,
not punch Lucien in the face.
  "For fuck's sake, Dameron, watch your hands!" The seer grasped for his nose, blood spilling down his fingers at a steady pace. The fingers that had touched me.
  "Oh, eh, well. Oops?" Poe took me by the hand and helped me out of the booth.
  "Not so fast." Lucien's bloodied hand clasped around my wrist.
  "Distant beauty, remember?" I smiled briefly before kneeing his arm, loosening his hold.
  Dameron pulled me along, through the maze of people, towards the exit.
  "Knights, seize them!"
  "A real gent indeed," I mocked Poe. "An old friend of yours?"
  "If I'd still call him that," the pilot copied my words from earlier that night.
  A wall of knights surrounded us.
  "Got any cards left to play?" I asked Dameron.
  "I am afraid, fair lady, that I already have full sabacc." Lucien appeared in the circle of armour.