Log:Resistance: Mistakes

Mistakes

OOC Date: December 12 2019
Location: Rori
Participants: Angouri Dros, Oran Arcantael, Leia Organa

The short story: Oran reconnects with a 'friend', Leia surprises everyone. Angouri makes a mistake.

The long story:

[Angouri Dros]

Any general stillness of the brig is disturbed, first, by the whisper of door servos working to admit a new entrant, and then by a much more sentient sigh; Angouri Dros stands at the barrier, tilting her head at the cell's single occupant. "Well. What's that old sayin'? 'Bout flipped tables?" The small, furry teenager lowers herself to her bottom, legs crossed in her lap. "Brought ya some stuff, figgered ya get used t'fancier chow an'... Well, th'barracks grub is only a smidge above what ya got here, m'sure, but -" She shrugs, and produces a cloth-wrapped bundle from somewhere within her robes, setting it on the ground in front of her, not yet willing to pass anything through the barrier. "They treatin' ya decent?"

[Oran Arcantael]

Oran is here! Good thing, right? It's his turn in a cell, but he seems relatively at peace with the whole affair, as much as Knights are ever at peace about anything. He is sitting cross-legged on the bunk, posture straight, a habit enforced by a lifetime of people who don't accept anything less than perfection. At the now-familiar sound of the lift, he slowly opens his eyes, looks around human height... drops his gaze. And there he sees a familiar furry teen! Big ears. Lil robes. Aw. How can it not touch one's heart? Even if his heart is shriveled and raisin-like and made of black ice?

Oran lets one corner of his mouth crook up in an amused hint of a smile. "Puppy," he greets. "I was hoping you'd stop by. Of course they're treating me decently, I'm holding their little hands and volunteering all the information they're incapable of figuring out how to ask on their own. I'm a model citizen."

[Angouri Dros]

"Baby." She greets back, immediately regretting it. The horror is reflected on her face. Why does it sound so much creepier when it's the flesh-people young? She ignores it, clearing her throat and plowing ahead. She tried. It didn't work. Moving on. "Well, good. I think. Snacks?" She holds up the little bundle, another tilt of her head accentuating the question. "Wouldn't call ya a 'model citizen', but I ain't heard a'much complaints on ya. So there's that. Was surprised t'hear how - ah - free ya seem t'be with that information, but m'not here t'be some big interrogator. I leave that to th'brainy an' military types."

[Oran Arcantael]

She surprises a laugh out of him with 'baby,' for sure. Oran would have a nice laugh if he wasn't, you know. Evil. It's a laughing-at, not a laughing-with.... but she just called him baby, she deserves it. No pity.

"No, thank you," he declines the offer of food, rising smoothly from the cot to wander a little closer to the energy barrier that separates him from the vulpine youngster. "You shouldn't; I've met exactly one brainy-and-military type and everyone else has wanted to cry at me about their dead friends, my generalized horribleness, which they don't intend to change, or understand... or be changed..." Oran gestures vaguely, in a 'I don't even know' kind of gesture. "Circular, clumsy Resistance-Jedi philosophy is its own special kind of torture. But of course I'm being free with information, why do you think I came here?"

[Angouri Dros]

Angouri clears her throat through the laughter, eyes rolling skyward. She busies herself by returning the bundle to the floor, and cloth wrappings are slid aside. She's going to move on, though the skin beneath that fur has blushed a bright pink in embarrassment.

"Good, I'm starvin'." She helps herself, clearing her throat again - it's mostly dry, bland, and tasteless looking finger-foods. "Look - I don't got no big stakes in this, 'cept maybe not dyin' an' not watchin' my friends die, too, would be nice - nah, I'm here for some personal quest- wait. Came here?" An eyebrow raises. "So, ya 'came here' t'give us all th'information we need on yer boss an' th'First Order?" One ear flicks forward. "I heard th'word 'arrested' thrown 'round in reports, guess that's just some weird form'a dantics, then?" In all fairness, she is more inclined to believe that Oran came willingly, despite any injuries that suggest the contrary. She's spent enough time in his company to know this.

[Oran Arcantael]

"Do you imagine a moment of this wasn't planned?" Oran points out, brows lifting as he regards Angouri from the other side of the barrier. "How do you think you all received the information you did? I already said as much to your General last night, but I will repeat it: I'm here because I mean to be, and because I've had questions of my own. I gave you intelligence you could verify as true, in order to determine what you'd do about it. Which, I'll point out, was 'mishandle it for months.' When you finally act on it, what do you do, who do you bring, how well do you work together, how do you fight? When you have an enemy agent in your grasp, what do you ask, how do you treat him?"

He shrugs. "All of the information I've given you is not particularly detrimental to us, and might be to you. I don't know much that is truly damaging, and even if I did, it's become clear you lot would be incapable of extracting it. So I am here to learn, directly from the source, and it has been enlightening. Calculated risk with the fight, I won't lie, that did hurt... but it took nine of you rather a disgraceful amount of time to manage it, and I knew if I didn't die outright, you wouldn't let me die on the way to jail. And here I am." A smile follows. "So by all means, ask your personal questions."

[Angouri Dros]

"Makes sense." Angouri relents, her fears confirmed. Those large ears flick back, and there is a moment of visible struggle with her own emotions - hate. She hates this man, hates his arrogance, his flippancy. But, most of all? She hates his skill, and herself for the lack thereof - but as she feels it rising up, her grasp on the Force reminds her of the truth to these feelings. They are exactly that, and nothing more: feelings. Distractions. There are many more real and tangible things to focus on, and she draws her awareness to those, instead. The Knight in the cell, the danger they are all in. Her own duty - the reason she came.

"Well. Hope this is an enlightenin' fer you as is fer us." She sighs after far too lengthy a pause. It's obvious that she struggled, but it is also clear that she overcame it - she's grown. "Th'Cathar girl. Manako. Th'one I killed. Ya said ya picked 'er up on Mon Calamari - I need confirmation on that."

[Oran Arcantael]

Oran smiles. "The Force moves in aberration around you," he notes, "Which I had occasion to point out to your comrade 'Vhe' yesterday, as well. All of you, you have so much hate, you come in here to speak with me and somehow I'm the least turbulent presence in the room. Absolutely makes me look bad." He sits down on the floor near the barrier, such that there's less looking down on Angouri, it's slightly more even. "I am demonstrably more powerful than any of you, save your leaders," he continues. "It took five Jedi to bring me down and the only one who in the end managed it was Organa, a paragon of power for the last thirty years. You limit yourselves. That girl limits you. You want to save your friends? Then you need the full potential of the Force, not just the sanitized bits you've been allowed."

The question about Manako seems to surprise him, as though he totally forgot about her. Which he might have. "What confirmation?" Oran asks. "I hardly have records here."

[Angouri Dros]

"You're right." The amaran says simply, shrugging. "An', because we do not wish to pay th'price fer that power, we will remain weak. It is what it is. You cin save th'speech - even if I turned, I would simply be cast out of th'Jedi. Likely killed, fer as ya pointed out, my own lack of skill? Hardly would make me a contender in a real battle. But, let's humor it - let's say I go to th'Dark Side. Chase all these powers, let m'emotions run wild - because I am such a lesser being, I would hardly be seen amongst /yer/ prestigious ranks - is that correct?" She waits for a response, plucking another cracker from the pouch and munching it loudly. "So, yer point is mute. Don't matter what I got inside me, 'cause it's what's outside me what will determine my place in all this. Hate don't matter. But." She leans her weight forward onto her knees, large, amber eyes narrowing at his through the barrier, flecks of crumbs stuck to her whiskers. They've grown back, but the evidence of her burns remains. "That's not what I'm here t'chew on. Ya got a brain, doncha? If ya can't remember where ya got 'er, can't remember any information on 'er at all, I'm willin' t'make a deal /for/ that information, should it be sittin' on some data chit somewhere."

[Oran Arcantael]

"What price?" The question is challenging, but it sounds genuinely asked, along with that. "What price do you imagine there is to pay? There is no /light/ and /dark/, Puppy. There is no /dark side/ for you to fall to. There is only the Force, its limitless potential, infinite complexity, and the choices you make with it." Oran raises a brow. "You know your intentions, don't you? Then what is there to fear? I'm not me because the Force made me do it."

Oran tsks. "Moot, not mute," he corrects pedantically, then shakes his head. "Rey holds some of you back, but you, you still hold yourself back more than anyone else could."

Back to Manako, and he replies, "Her family ran 'cargo', which is to say they were itinerant smugglers who were intercepted with weapons destined for the Resistance, on Mon Calamari. I don't recollect the name of the ship or the family's surname, although I do have records on the same at Spearhead, yes."

[Angouri Dros]

A paw waves at Oran in his cell. "Bein' like you. Bein' like Ren an' th'one with th'funny voice. I don't want nothin' t'do with yer side - I'll pursue th'Force how I see fit. Though it hardly seems like yer one t'see it, bein' you ain't a thing t'spire to." She shrugs, a smirk of her own slipping across her muzzle. She can't resist rising to the bait, or correcting his assumptions - Angouri is fully aware of her own shortfallings, the greatest of which remains her neutrality. But she hasn't been able to relinquish it.

"I don't buy into th'Jedi as much as th'others, but I don't buy into yer brand of it, neither. Ya seem t'worry a lot about how I'm usin' what I got - ain't no bother of yers, ain't no bother'a Rey's. It's like I said: is what it is." She clears her throat, dismissing his corrections on her verbage. She's used to that by now.

"I need those records." She replies, simply. "What's th'cost?"

[Oran Arcantael]

"Please. As if you /could/ be like me," Oran replies, dryly. "Listen to me, Puppy, I'm wicked but I'm honest. You will never be anything but you. The Force is so much more powerful than you know, than you're being allowed to know, and its detail, its perfect eccentricity, its infinite patterns, are so much /more/ than you're being led to believe. Go deeper. Stop being small and weak and accepting it as your natural state, it isn't. Your natural state is a creature with the universe at her command, whose friends and allies and family have nothing to fear, because you can promise them safety. Because you can promise devastation to those who try to break them. Do as you like, of course, but didn't you walk in here saying 'I don't want to die and I don't want to see my friends die'? I'm handing you that." He smiles. "I am dark, yes. But I'm not wrong."

She asks the cost, and he laughs. "For the third time, it's all on Spearhead. Get me my lightsaber again, Organa has it, and I'll get back there more expeditiously. Fairly certain you're not willing to do that, though."

Leia Organa arrives from Turbolift.
Leia Organa has arrived.
Winter arrives from Turbolift.
Winter has arrived.

[Angouri Dros]

"Ain't sayin' yer wrong." Angouri shrugs. "Just sayin' I'm not willing nor able t'follow yer path. I know yer not offerin' yer personal tutelage, so any point t'this conversation is lost. At least on me, fer I'm such a lower being." She rolls her eyes and spreads her paws wide once before resting them on her knees.

"Not sure I'm willin' t'spring ya out, no. But I do need that information on Spearhead. I'll trade ya somethin' else fer... An access code, back way in, somethin'. Surely there's somethin' ya want in all this, beyond 'I wanna gloat an' see what they do with me'? I'd likely die tryin' t'get that information - so, at th'very least, if yer ever free, ya could have me turned into a bathmat. That work?"

[Oran Arcantael]

"Robes or saber. Get me what I need to get out and I'll get you what you want," Oran shrugs. He is sitting down on the floor to speak with Angouri, each on their side of the cell barrier. "I have to get out of here to do what you want, and while I can manage it alone, it'll take longer. Fail to help me and I have no reason to give you the data. Those are the stakes, take it or leave it."

Amusement follows. "Who says I'm not offering my personal tutelage? We have a rapport, Puppy. You're absolutely in my top three lower beings."

[Angouri Dros]

There is a loyalty to her fellows. To the Jedi. To Syrus, who lost pieces of himself saving her - they all /saved/ her.

But.

"Her kin. Manako - they deserve t'know what happened to 'er. That I killed 'er. They deserve that chance t'have their retribution." Her lip twists, a cloud of indecision that she cannot hide, let alone from one as strong in the Force as Oran. "I'll... Think about it." She allows, hesitantly. "There's no other payment ye'd accept fer that data?"

[Leia Organa]

Leia can be quiet if she wants, but she cannot change the direction of cells and they point towards the lift. So her arrival is obvious to the guards, obvious to Oran, and likely obvious to Angouri. That being true, she still remains back, seeing the pair speaking, and listens with her head tilt to the side. The jist of the conversation being explained to her by the on duty guards, it only makes her more curious.

Striding purposefully into the cell area, unclipping Oran's lightsaber from her belt so that she can lay it down, blade end pointed towards her upper arm, upon Angouri's shoulder. "Give it to him." She's watching the Knight though, "You're ready to leave, Oran?"

[Oran Arcantael]

The man behind the barrier lifts his hands and lets them drop. "What other payment /can/ I accept?" he points out. "I have other means of leaving here, but it will be a thousand times easier with the tools of my trade in hand. I have to /leave here/ to provide you with what you've requested of me. If I leave here on my own, without your help, I don't have any inclination whatsoever to give you the particulars of Manako and her family. Why would I? If you help me, I will help you."

When Leia arrives, both brows lift, she has surprised him with the 'give it to him.' "Really just took the bottom right out of Angouri's bargain there, didn't you?"

[Angouri Dros]

"I'll... See what I can do." Angouri relents, but the sound of another's arrival sends a shock of icy guilt through her chest. It's worse when she sees who it is. At Leia's arrival, the little vulpine scrambles to her feet, swallowing the knot of guilt and letting her gaze fall to her feet. Was she considering it? Seriously? She was. There is no denying it. Would she have gone through with it? It remains to be decided, by her most of all.

And the saber is offered out.

Angouri can't hide the surprise, blinking as she takes the saber and holds it away from her, as if it is a poisonous thing that might attack her. She never had one of her own. "I - um." She blinks, looking between the two superior Force users. "Yer lettin' him go?" She asks, stupidly.

[Leia Organa]

"Yes I did." Leia agrees with a nod, "You're worth more than Spearhead, but I can sense her indecision. If she feels this is important enough to let you loose on the galaxy, I have to trust she knows what she's doing." The lightsaber taps against Angouri's shoulder. "I'll escort you out." Dark eyes on Oran, head tilting, "I'll even take you to Naboo myself and give yout he access codes to the Libertine."

Finally her gaze shifts down to the young Force User, "No, you are." Tilting her head, "I'm just letting you... it's important right? You're certain the information he-" Using the bottom end of the lightsaber to point at Oran, "-would trade for his freedom is worth it?" Everything is a teachable moment. "I trust you..." The saber is held out again.

"Give it to him."

[Oran Arcantael]

Oran is difficult to surprise, but Leia has managed it. Both brows lift and he runs a hand over the lower half of his face. "Give me back my robes and my saber," he replies. "In exchange for that, I'll stay here a while longer, and as I have been, I will answer all of the questions you pose to me regarding the First Order and the Knights of Ren, to the degree that I'm able. Upon leaving, I will give Angouri Dros," He does know her name! "The information she requested of me, which is presently stored in the archives at our base in Ichren." A brow lifts. "Make sure Greystorm and Yavok have asked me everything they'd like to or there'll be hell to pay and discord in your ranks, Organa. Then you can 'escort me out'."

[Angouri Dros]

"It -" Angouri doesn't move. "It's important t'me. Only me." She explains. "Th'Cathar girl I murdered - her family... They deserve-" This doesn't help the indecision. She shakes her head, still holding the saber. He's done too much damage, and any additional harm he caused from that point on would be on her - it would be as if she had done it herself - and there's a strange, uncomfortable sense of power to that, but she pushes the thought away. She is further surprised when it is Oran that offers the most pragnanimous solution; at least for her own conscience. A deal that works for all of them, and though she trusts this even less, her grip tightens on the saber.

"I need to know." It's almost a plead, though permission has already been given... No, not pleading - apology.

[PASS ( +57)] Leia Organa's Intimidate @ (100) diff.

[Leia Organa]

Leia doesn't look at Oran, though she's very clearly heard his offer, "Are you satisfied with that deal and the consequences that come with it?" There's no inherent threat from her in regards to what would happen, most of the burden that follows would fall squarely upon Leia's shoulders and she's far stronger than anyone else on this base to carry it. If she ever looked tired, weak, or frail.. she does not look that way now. Whatever tricks she plays to play upon the sympathies of her subordinates, she has cast those trappings aside.

This woman is very serious.

And very dangerous.

And is not scared of Oran Arcantael, Sark Yavok, or Ambrosia Graystorm.

She has her the answer long before the student gives it and looks up to Oran, "If you attempt to harm anyone with the blade or escape before you've answered questions, you better find somewhere far away, dark, and alone to hide... I'll find you.. I promise. I'll find you and the conversation you and I have?" Motioning between them with a finger moving back and forth, "Will be very short and you will not like the outcome... am I clear?"

She turns and nods to the guard, Winter is shocked... staring at Leia as if she's lost complete comand of her senses... the guard.. he has absolutely no idea what to do. "Well?" Reaching out for the controls that will lower the gate, Angouri has that long to change her mind.

[PASS ( +68)] Oran Arcantael's Willpower @ (100) diff.

[Oran Arcantael]

Oran has stayed where he is on the floor, sitting cross-legged with that perfect posture, staring evenly back at Leia. He doesn't seem intimidated, but --- they're darksiders, over there in the Order. Kylo's been known to kill people who disappoint, what's Leia's boy done to the ones who made it? It seems likely that if Oran's been frightened and tortured in the past, it was his own people who did it, and he's been acquainted now with the manner in which the Jedi and Resistance are gentler.

"I understand perfectly," he assures Organa, tone polite. "When have I ever been anything but cooperative, this entire time? I'm the one who suggested /not/ escaping before I answer questions."

He looks back to Angouri. "Give me back my robes and my weapon, and I'll see it that you have everything you need to make it right with Manako's kin upon my release."

[Angouri Dros]

She came here for answers - or a way to find those answers - and Angouri Dros has, quite literally, been handed those means. She got what she wanted - but why, then, does it feel like she's just made a deal with the devil? There is a chance to change her mind, and it seems likely that she will... But, instead, Ango's ears pin back and the tiny, vulpine Jedi turns to face the barrier again, studying the saber in her paw as she does.

She ignites it with the press of a button, and for a moment stares at the red blade, as if debating striking Oran down with it then and there - not that she would stand a chance, even with him unarmed. But it would feel good to try. "I'm makin' a mistake, aren't I?" She finally asks Leia, returning the blade to its neutral position with the 'hiss' of dissipating energy.

Angouri returns her gaze to Oran, and when the barrier is removed, she holds the weapon out to him. "Aren't I?"

[Leia Organa]

Leia points at the camera, "For the audience." Said to Oran, returning her stare to the Guards with one brow raising, "Stop..." Holding a hand up to the clearly conflicted Resistance soldier, "I've asked entirely too much of you, trusting me, I understand completely your hesitency to have faith in my decisions." How on Rori she manages to both sound comforting /and/ insulting is anyones guess. Winter begins to step forward, to offer some kind of plea to Leia, but she's shut down without a word by a raised finger and a slowly shaking head.

The General moves to the controls to the cell and places her hand upon the release for the shimmering blue wall of energy that seperates them from the captive. "Only you can know whether you're making a mistake, Angouri. Every decision you make, good or bad, no matter the reason, comes with a set of possible outcomes that you have to study and constantly be aware of.. I've sent hundreds, thousands, to die for a cause.. and sometimes it feels like that got me absolutely nothing, but the ends justified the means."

Her palm pushes in the button to release the shimmering wall when it's clear the young student intends to hand over the saber, "No matter what happens now, once you give him that saber, you've set yourself upon a path. Good or bad, no matter the reason, you have to figure out where you will let it lead you." This is probably not the way Yoda would have done it, it certainly isn't the way Luke would have.

Her hand extends, lifting Oran's robes: neatly folded, to moves them over towards him with a little flick of her fingers and an extension through the Force. Once both are retrieved, she pushes her hand into the button to bring the shield back into place. "Answer every question you're asked, Oran.. and when they've got no more to ask, I'll give you the Libertine to find your way back to my Son."

With that, she turns and strides just as stoic, purposefully, towards the lifts..

Awkwardly standing waiting for it when her dramatic exit is impede by her returning it to the floor above before exiting.

[Oran Arcantael]

Oran holds a hand out to accept the saber. The hilt lacks unnecessary ornament, but like the apartment where he dispatched poor Zonk, it's a kind of minimalism that looks like money. A perfect gestalt, every element just-so, although there are few of them. He accepts the robes as well and both are set aside for now, on the floor, hands lifted briefly in a 'see, I'm unarmed,' kind of gesture. There's no attempt to attack Angouri, or Leia, or the guards --- It's just as he said, he is remaining in his cell, now with his possessions, for whatever fate the Resistance may decide. Whatever questions they might still have.

Leia has a lot to say about the good/bad, yes, no, of this. The mistake. Oran just lets the barrier wink back up into place, keeping him sealed, and then shrugs at the little fox girl.

"Yes, that was probably a mistake."

[Angouri Dros]

Leia is right; whether this is a mistake or not remains to be seen, and Angouri can only follow the path that she's chosen. For better or for worse. The young initiate sighs, her hand dropping back to her side once the saber is taken, not moving once the barrier returns, just staring at the Knight with an empty-eyed expression. "Yes, I think it was." She decides, but - as she has said several times during this meeting: it is what it is. "An' I'll deal with those consequences, I'm sure. Bring me t'Spearhead when ya leave, give me th'information I want, an' we won't have t'deal with each other again till... Well, th'next time someone tries t'kill someone else, I imagine." The amaran turns, her brow furrowed, pausing only to scoop the remains of her snack from the ground. "Not sure if I've learned nothin' or not."