Jedi Council Forums - Sithy Woman (NJO, OC, Kyp, dark humor, vignette- updated 9/3 with cover art)

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Author	Topic: Sithy Woman (NJO, OC, Kyp, dark humor, vignette- updated 9/3 with cover art)
LianaMara Registered: Oct '00	Date Posted: 8/26/03 5:56pm Subject: Sithy Woman (NJO, OC, Kyp, dark humor, vignette- updated 9/3 with cover art) - Date Edited: 9/3/03 4:47am (1 edits total) Edited By: LianaMara
	Disclaimer: Delila ke Blaec is my character, but everything else and Kyp "teh sexy" Durron aren't (they're LFL's). I'm making no moolah offa this (even though I'm so desperate for money that I'm selling my soul to Billy Biferie ). Rating: G Summary: When a NRI agent finds herself in a difficult situation, she takes her anger out on the only available scapegoat: Kyp Durron. Timeframe: NJO, sometime during the Force Heretic trilogy. Characters: OC, Kyp Durron Cover Art- OK, so this was my first experimentation with cover art. Tell me what you think (it's a little small, but oh well). Sithy Woman As a child, I always adored rainy days. The water, soaking through verdant bristles and staining the willow’s bark a dark sienna tone; the air, smothering me with an overpowering sense of calm and serenity; the sky, mixing drab shades of blue and grey into an intriguing aesthetic arrangement. Despite my mother’s protests that I would catch a deadly illness and suffer an excruciatingly painful death, nothing pleased me more than sitting outside in a damp field, watching drops combine with dirt to form a glorious mixture called mud. Spring showers were delightful. Once I reached adulthood, I changed my opinion about many things: fashion, politics, food, entertainment, rainy days. As a carefree Adumari six-year-old, I only knew the benefits of storms. Ten years with New Republic Intelligence taught me that rain was usually also accompanied by lightning, thunder, uncontrollable gusts of wind, four-foot deep mud pits, electronic difficulties, and a general loss of order on Outer-Rim worlds. And believe me, I learned those lessons the hard way. So when my boss gave me an assignment to pick up a rogue informant on some half-populated ball on the edges of Wild Space, I automatically checked the weather report first. Usher: cool, temperate climate throughout the year. On a daily basis it has a 0.25% chance of rain, and 2% humidity. A lovely, fairly dry world with temperatures ranging from the low to mid 30s. Someone should remind me to never believe Mon Calamari news again. Within five minutes of arriving on the Force-forsaken globe, the spaceport owner informed me that Usher’s largest storm in about 2500 years was about to descend upon its capital city, Roderick. My informant’s last known residence? Roderick. By the time I arrived at Egaeus Ligeia’s apartment building, the skies had literally torn apart. Water fell continuously, like precision shots, drenching my clothing, ruining my new leather boots, falling in droplets from my soaked hair to my chilled face, then trickling down the remaining centimeters to my unbelievably soggy tunic. The wind roared with dangerous intensity, 50-kmph blasts straining my attempts to keep my two feet planted on the ground. Diamond bolts flashed across the sky as I struggled to input the correct lock code. 17617791. Nothing happened. I screamed, stamped my feet, cursed Ligeia’s ancestors and immediate family as I quickly entered the code again. A faint whirring sound emerged from the lock; that was followed by the explosive grind of circuits inside the mechanism shorting out of existence. I was not pleased, to say the least. Bitter water rushed down my face and obscured my vision. I could feel the weight of my long thick ponytail increasing by the second, and a furtive swipe of my hand across my face revealed that my waterproof makeup was in fact very conducive to H2O. The mirrored reflection of myself in a window’s transpirasteel pane confirmed my worst fears: I looked hideous. While most operatives aren’t know for obsessing about their physical appearance, I actually minded what others saw when they looked at me, and spent precious money on expensive facial products and moisturizing crèmes. I may not have been as pretty as my flaky blonde cousin, one-time flame of Kyp Durron, but I made the most of my irregular features and weight problem and managed to look pretty durn good most of the time. Not now, though. That horrid climate had chilled my tan face, so I looked like a distant relative of Lord Nyax with pale, slightly bluish skin. My bronzer was nonexistent, my eye shadow lost without a trace, and my mascara had run down my cheeks, leaving black crusty trails behind. Everything was messed up, disorderly…except my lipstick. Before Coruscant fell, “Infinite Wear” color gloss was discontinued so I bought 40 of them in deep blood red. The package had advertised 18-hour coverage in even the most awful weather conditions, and I guess it was true. Looking at my image, with dark, almost raven hair, unnaturally white complexion, jet eyes, sinister black facial markings, and full ruby lips, I couldn’t help thinking of that Pekkie Blu and the Starboys song, “Sithy Woman.” I always knew I hated that tune. I was fully absorbed in my hatred of this kriffin’ mission when the door mysteriously slid open. I paused, droplets glistening on my hair and arms, and glanced around anxiously. Not a soul in sight. And the funny thing was that I couldn’t recall entering the code again in the last five minutes. Shrugging it off as mere coincidence, I stepped carefully inside and took a look around. My surroundings had definitely not improved. The overhead lights flickered sporadically; the walls were home to millions of mold cultures; the entire duracrete floor was drowned in six inches of murky water; the only remaining furniture was a decaying bench in the left corner; the ceiling oozed some filthy liquid every five seconds. But the thing that concerned me most was not the unsanitary environment, or the probably imminent loss of electricity. No, my dilemma was much worse than any of those things: both of the lifts were broken. This was unexpected. Originally, I believed that all my mission required was for me to stop by a lovely planet, grab the informant, and leave for Mon Calamari. I hadn’t planned for the difficulties I was now facing. Repeated poundings on the doors yielded no results, and I noted with anxiousness that the water level in the room was rising as quickly as a seranca’s metabolism. I began to wonder why I was in NRI in the first place, because it offered mediocre pay for someone of my experience and the crappiest assignments known to man. Was it the adrenaline high I experienced in life-or-death situations, or simply the fact that I couldn’t do any other kind of work? I was more comfortable living as a fictional persona than I was as a real woman. Did that make me any less human? Musings on my existence weren’t going to make those doors open any faster. I was searching for my survival tool, hoping I’d be able to hotwire the lift into submission, when I heard the dull groaning of strained metal. Spinning, I almost fell over in surprise at the sight that awaited me. The lift on the right was open, and emergency panels gleamed faintly. And that was when I began to realize that something was seriously wrong. Broken turbolifts don’t just start working on their own; someone in this building, possibly Ligeia, or perhaps some total stranger, was leading me into a trap. I reached for my side holster, and was comforted by the reassuring metallic coolness of my blaster pistol. There was something funny going on, and I was not going to be caught unaware. And as I stepped into the lift, I felt the soft brush of a presence, and heard the faint whispers of a voice, chanting a familiar melody. The sensation increased, goose bumps formed along my spine, but when I turned there was no one. The room was deserted. Gathering my nerve, I pressed the button for the fourth floor and tried to ignore the riotous fears in my brain. If I really was in the middle of a game of Rancor-and-Womprat, I planned on being the fiercest kriffin’ womprat imaginable. I pulled my blaster out, checked its charge, and braced myself for a standoff. The lift doors opened, I leapt out, and found myself surrounded by…silence. No armed thugs hid in the shadows, no automatic blaster rifles peered from inside doorways. I paused to slow my breathing, and took some time to reflect on the situation. Either my opponent was stupid enough to not know a good ambush spot when he saw one, which was highly unlikely, or he had a bigger web spun somewhere up ahead. Personally, I was leaning towards the latter idea, which probably meant that the most critical moment would be when I walked into Ligeia’s apartment. The NRI handbook stated “…in situations of genuine emergency, the agent should never do anything alone. They should always call for reinforcements first.” Well, screw the rules. Besides, I’ve always believed that the handbook is only a collection of guidelines, merely some helpful suggestions. I crept forward, my right hand visibly trembling as I approached Room 4351. The moldy tiles squeaked as I put my weight on them, but I no longer cared. The sooner I finished this job, the sooner I could be somewhere with civilization. I was carried along by my false bravado for a few seconds, buoyed up on artificial confidence. I was perfectly fine. Then it happened again: the touch of someone else, another consciousness. I halted, too frightened to take another step, and all my courage melted away like snow in the tropics. And flitting somewhere in negative space, moving like a restless wind, was that disembodied voice, humming a tune that I could not for the life of me recall. The owner of said vocal cords was male, neither tenor nor bass, but with a middling range; the hummer also possessed no sense of proper pitch. The song floated around me, taunting, prompting, daring me to go further. I clamped my eyes shut, and tried to think clearly. I had to get Ligeia. My job depended on this mission, and I wasn’t about to let any mystical nonsense get in the way of my career and me. Wrapping my finger tighter around my blaster’s trigger, I rushed forward, input Ligeia’s code, then ran into the apartment faster than you could say “Halbegardia City.” The mysterious, unseen thing seemed to push me towards the left, so against my better judgment I headed towards that area, dropped into a crouch, and brought up my pistol to shoot… Only to be utterly bewildered by the scene laid before me. A pale, smallish man, who looked incredibly like Egaeus Ligeia, was sitting on the floor, wrists locked in cuffs and mouth covered by a strip of engine tape, and his weary eyes seemed to be pleading for release. But Ligeia wasn’t the sole occupant of the room. Stretched out on a ratty sofa, a black cloak wrapped around his lanky frame and a Corellian pastry in his sticky hands, was a man I knew quite well. Too well. His hair had more grey strands among the black than last time, but everything else was as I remembered: the dark, fringed eyes, the sharp, yet still handsome features, the wry grin. I stood, stalked towards him, and frowned. “Kyp Durron. What a pleasant surprise.” He looked hurt by my biting tone, but still smiled. “Delila, the pleasure is all mine. Please, have a seat.” I remained standing. “What are you doing here? This was my assignment.” “Well, you know I told Jule that I’d do anything for her or her family. I was on Usher to get some repairs for my X-wing, when I ran into this fellow in the market, overheard some traitorous conversations, and decided to get him and wait for the token NRI agent to show up. I had a feeling it’d be you.” “Thank you for your help, but I didn’t need it.” He looked so amused that I seriously considered throttling him; after a few seconds of consideration, though, I realized that with a Jedi that wouldn’t be too wise. He continued. “Really? You felt pretty panicky down below.” “That was you? Opening doors, scaring the krell out of me?” “Of course. I couldn’t resist having a little fun with a friend.” “Acquaintance,” I corrected. “You’re no friend of mine.” He winked. “How rude. I would have expected better from an Adumari. But then again, you are a Sithy woman.” My temper flared. THAT was the song! If looks could kill, I was cutting him up into microscopic pieces and feeding the bits to his mother. “Shut up.” He started singing, a memory that I’ve tried to erase. “Raven hair and ruby lips, sparks fly from her fingertips. Echoed voices in the night, she’s a restless spirit on an endless flight.” “Shut up.” Those brown eyes glimmered evilly. “Ooo, Sithy woman, see how high she flies. Ooo, Sithy woman, she’s got the moon in her eyes!” I strode forward and did something that will forever be recorded in history: I, Delila Gaela Fionnuala ke Blaec, slapped Jedi Master Kyp Durron. And life never felt so good. Questions? Comments? Vague ramblings? -----signature----- "For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business." --T.S. Eliot Leilaé, handmaiden of the Crest \|\| petit Jedi enfant of obaona \|\| Lani & Lali's blonde triplet
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Agent_Jaid Registered: Feb '03	Date Posted: 8/26/03 6:16pm Subject: RE: Sithy Woman (NJO, OC, Kyp, dark humor, vignette)
	snickers evilly Man that was good. Your viggies are wonderful!! I loved the parts: My temper flared. THAT was the song! If looks could kill, I was cutting him up into microscopic pieces and feeding the bits to his mother. I, Delila Gaela Fionnuala ke Blaec, slapped Jedi Master Kyp Durron. And life never felt so good. I bet sister. WOOHOO!! Got any more up your sleeve? ?:\| -----signature----- Wasn't Enough: One-Shot http://boards.theforce.net/message.asp?topic=21015893
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Lt_Jaina_Solo Registered: May '02	Date Posted: 8/26/03 6:38pm Subject: RE: Sithy Woman (NJO, OC, Kyp, dark humor, vignette)
	That was great, Liana! I looooved it! Can't wait for more! -----signature----- Handmaiden Irelynné, Handmaiden of the Crest All links to stories in bio!
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LianaMara Registered: Oct '00	Date Posted: 8/27/03 5:07am Subject: RE: Sithy Woman (NJO, OC, Kyp, dark humor, vignette)
	Agent_Jaid- Thanks! And how did you pick out my favorite parts too? I do, in fact, have more up my sleeve. I really like exploring the wacko working relationship that Del and Kyp have. And lemme tell ya, it's not normal. Lt_Jaina- Thank you, blonde sista! I looove that you loooved it. Cover art sometime up in the near future. -----signature----- "For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business." --T.S. Eliot Leilaé, handmaiden of the Crest \|\| petit Jedi enfant of obaona \|\| Lani & Lali's blonde triplet
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SpookyMind-MeldMan Registered: Aug '03	Date Posted: 8/27/03 5:10am Subject: RE: Sithy Woman (NJO, OC, Kyp, dark humor, vignette)
	Loved it! -----signature----- Jacen Solo = Despite my name, I am, in fact a girl! But somehow, SpookyMind-MeldGirl doesn't have quite the same ring to it. Dontcha think???
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LianaMara Registered: Oct '00	Date Posted: 8/27/03 5:14am Subject: RE: Sithy Woman (NJO, OC, Kyp, dark humor, vignette)
	SpookyMind-MeldMan- Thanks! -----signature----- "For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business." --T.S. Eliot Leilaé, handmaiden of the Crest \|\| petit Jedi enfant of obaona \|\| Lani & Lali's blonde triplet
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Jedi_Jaina_Durron Registered: Dec '01	Date Posted: 8/27/03 2:35pm Subject: RE: Sithy Woman (NJO, OC, Kyp, dark humor, vignette)
	That was GOOD! I love dark humor (believe it or not) and that was hilarious! To the top! -----signature----- “Jacen, never stop asking questions." -Luke "The vaping lines keep moving." - Kyp "Fiction confronts you with the awesome fact that you are not the only real thing in this world." --Zadie Smith
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LianaMara Registered: Oct '00	Date Posted: 8/29/03 4:48am Subject: RE: Sithy Woman (NJO, OC, Kyp, dark humor, vignette)
	Jedi_Jaina_Durron- Thank you! I love dark stuff too, so felt inspired to crank out some Kyp-ish stuff. -----signature----- "For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business." --T.S. Eliot Leilaé, handmaiden of the Crest \|\| petit Jedi enfant of obaona \|\| Lani & Lali's blonde triplet
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Mirax-Jade Registered: Mar '03	Date Posted: 8/30/03 1:02pm Subject: RE: Sithy Woman (NJO, OC, Kyp, dark humor, vignette)
	has the sudden urge to go to room and listen to 'Witchy Woman' Awesome story! -----signature----- www.livejournal.com/users/wild_n_kayzie be still my heart, this could be a brand new start, with you www.milliways-bar.livejournal.com
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tatooinewizard Registered: May '03	Date Posted: 8/30/03 7:10pm Subject: RE: Sithy Woman (NJO, OC, Kyp, dark humor, vignette)
	Hmmmm.... Why does this vignette sound so familiar? -----signature----- Dolores Lennox--SMG I (The Murderer) Fics in bio (The Legend of Black Saber--Winner for Best OC Story) lordmaul13's partner in crime "I'm the man in the box"--AIC There is no peace, only emotion
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Dev_Binks Registered: Aug '03	Date Posted: 8/30/03 7:16pm Subject: RE: Sithy Woman (NJO, OC, Kyp, dark humor, vignette)
	Hmm I would think that Kyp got slapped a lot in his Cocky, ego the size of a Death Star faze don't you agree? Great Vigie by the way -----signature----- "There will be pages. Lots and lots of pages. Most of them will have letters on them, and the vast majority of those letters will be in the roman alphabet." -Aaron Allston
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Lady_Banshee Registered: May '03	Date Posted: 8/30/03 8:12pm Subject: RE: Sithy Woman (NJO, OC, Kyp, dark humor, vignette)
	If looks could kill, I was cutting him up into microscopic pieces and feeding the bits to his mother. LOL!!! “Raven hair and ruby lips, sparks fly from her fingertips. Love the song. I slapped Jedi Master Kyp Durron. And life never felt so good. cackles -----signature----- When life gives you lemons, squeeze the juice into a water-pistol and shoot people you don't like in the eyes.
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KnightHawk Registered: Jan '03	Date Posted: 8/30/03 9:49pm Subject: RE: Sithy Woman (NJO, OC, Kyp, dark humor, vignette)
	(Cranks 'Evil Woman", by Electric Light Orchestra.) Awesome story. Purely awesome. And life never felt so good. Care to hit him again?
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LianaMara Registered: Oct '00	Date Posted: 8/30/03 10:37pm Subject: RE: Sithy Woman (NJO, OC, Kyp, dark humor, vignette)
	Wow, replies! Mirax-Jade- Thank you! And isn't the song scrumptious? tatooinewizard- Well, I couldn't resist posting it. Del & Kyp were too hilarious. Dev_Binks-Thanks. Yeah, well, Kyp's sexy but arrogant face is just asking for slaps. Why else would Jaina hit him, and everyone else in SW land? Lady_Banshee- Pure evilness! "Witchy Woman" is the greatest, so I had to write a viggie featuring it and Kyp dearest. KnightHawk- Thank you! And yes, I might hit him again...in another truly evil vig. I just have to finish some other stuff first. -----signature----- "For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business." --T.S. Eliot Leilaé, handmaiden of the Crest \|\| petit Jedi enfant of obaona \|\| Lani & Lali's blonde triplet
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YodaKenobi Title: TFN EU Staff Registered: May '03	Date Posted: 8/30/03 10:38pm Subject: RE: Sithy Woman (NJO, OC, Kyp, dark humor, vignette)
	dark and funny! good stuff -----signature----- Supersonic gone and took my soul The Lands of the Dead: http://boards.theforce.net/beyond_the_saga/b10477/28522077/p1 Blood Trail: http://boards.theforce.net/beyond_the_saga/b10477/28636429/p1 "They weren't very bright, even for Imperials."— Emala
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Lady_Banshee Registered: May '03	Date Posted: 8/31/03 3:30pm Subject: RE: Sithy Woman (NJO, OC, Kyp, dark humor, vignette)
	Pure evilness! What else? "Witchy Woman" is the greatest, so I had to write a viggie featuring it and Kyp dearest. And it turned out great! Absolutely hillarious. -----signature----- When life gives you lemons, squeeze the juice into a water-pistol and shoot people you don't like in the eyes.
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