Part 23 - Errand of Mercy
There comes a sigh, long and slow; an exhalation of pain, not relief. Reaching out, Shard lays a hand upon Haarmon’s shoulder, light but nevertheless there. “If I sound like you,” she quietly avers, “then I’m pretty pleased. You say some cursed smart and wise things, Haarmon.”
Moving closer, she throws one arm over his shoulders – it’s casual – and gives him a squeeze. “Sometimes it’s easy to forget that the crap we get up to has a price – on us. Maybe we’re doing something right for the galaxy, but people die. Just need to look at Rhijans – void save him – to see what that can cost.” The grey-skinned hunter has scrubbed his spirit clean of remorse – or hidden it well-away, and Shard suspects more the latter – to keep from breaking under the weight of his own deeds. The older woman doesn’t know what he has done, but can guess; ‘bounty-hunter’ isn’t a trade in which one protects one’s innocence. “Get the chance to do something good and right – well-put, that – like protect a cursed baby, and…” Her free hand makes an absent wave in the air.
“It must feel like a gift.”
Void, how hard have I become? I look at Rhijans, but how far behind him am I, if I need Haarmon just to remind me of this?
“I wouldn’t know a hero if one bit me,” she muses, now staring up, eyes blindly searching the past. “But a decent, good person of solid spirit, that kind of thing I’ve seen before. And that’s you, as well. I wish you could have kept the child with you – become her protector, or something. I could hand some ‘Force moves in mysterious ways’ Bantha crap to you, but…I figure you’d know I was full of just that. Also, I couldn’t get it out without laughing at myself.”
Her lips tighten, and she leans to stare into his face. “Life, right? It just…” Headshake. “Anyway, no lesson to teach here or lecturing. Just…talking. I don’t have the cursed right to tell you what you should feel, or what perspective you ought to have on this. That’s all you. I’m just here to blather on, and maybe listen if you want to talk.” One side of her mouth quirks up. “I can shut up and manage that, promise.” </darkgreen>
Then she snorts, quite far from delicately. “As for graceful exits, I’m pretty sure this isn’t your worst; I’ve fallen down stairs, and I bet you could match.” But the amusement swiftly fades. <darkgreen> “Nobody expects you not to feel, Haarmon,” Shard solemnly states.
Then a shout echoes and Shard winces. <DarkGreen>"Duty calls, apparently." Turning her head, she raises her voice. "Not sure, Rhijans - we'll need to comm him."