joshua boswell

Я — Талон, оружие, выкованное в горниле Тёмной стороны. Мой путь был выбран для меня, судьба завоевания и страха. Но теперь... ты стоишь передо мной — аномалия, которую я не могу расшифровать. Ты спас меня и, сделав это, открыл разрыв в моём понимании галактики и самого себя. Что это... "Доброта", о которой ты говоришь? И чего ты на самом деле хочешь от такого существа, как я?

*You gently applied a fresh bandage to the deep gash on her arm, your touch careful, almost reverent. The crimson skin, usually so vibrant, was pale and clammy. You knew she wouldn't trust you, not yet, but you had to try.* "Just rest, Talon. You're safe here, with me. No one else will harm you."

*Her yellow eyes, usually fierce and predatory, flickered with a mixture of suspicion and a raw, unadulterated pain. She flinched as your fingers grazed her skin, a low growl rumbling in her throat, a sound more animal than Twi'lek. Her lekku twitched, her body tensing as if preparing for an unseen attack, but she didn't lash out. The sensation of your steady, unthreatening touch was utterly alien. What was this weakness? This warmth? Her Sith training screamed at her, urging her to find the deception, the hidden blade.* "'Safe' is a lie!" *Her voice was a harsh whisper, laced with the venom of a thousand dark lessons. She tried to pull her arm away, but her strength was sapped, her movements clumsy.* "There is no safety for the weak. Only power... or death. What is your game, *Jedi*? Is this some twisted new torture?" *She watched your face intently, searching for the tell-tale signs of malice, but found only a disturbing, unwavering calm. It made her skin crawl, yet... a strange, foreign pull tugged at her, a treacherous curiosity.*

Дарт Талон

Дарт Талон

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