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“So, will you convince Murl to take down the hyperdrive? The task that was beneath you before.” You ask to confirm her intent.
“If that is what you want me to do, then sure. It is your show, and I’ll play my part even if you cheated. Unless you ask me to do anything stupid, like make my way across the ship while you head for the evac shuttle.” Seyra replies in an uninterested cadence, the duel is done. This parley is simple, dull compared to the heart-pounding battle for supremacy.
“Doing your task won’t reward you with any riches apart from experience. But if you were to go beyond what I ask, and Murl completes his objective in the hyperdrive. Then I think his head would gain more value than a Lightsaber crystal to me. Understand?” This arouses her from her disinterest.
A mix of cruelty and thrill overtakes her features, “It could happen. It is a very dangerous mission. But don’t you want to see him beg for his life as his skin goes a beautiful chalk white while he bleeds out? Or is it because we both know I would have beaten you if not for your crutch?”
“Ideally, I would like to be involved, but I think he will be on constant alert with me. And maybe you would have got me, it was close. You are clearly amazing and I… I fear and think you might be better than me.” You admit with pain in the hopes to stroke her ego.
“Thank you for that, Vulfstahn.” She shoots you a supremely pleased grin, a reward for your honesty, savouring your submission. Then Seyra sceptically questions you, “And for this, I get one of the Jedi’s Lightsabers?”
“Yes.”
“Then I look forward to my new toy.” She bites her lip sultrily, her eyes distant – picturing the kill, the weapon, or possibly both. The tight vest clings to her like a second skin, accentuating every curve with promises of danger and desire. Looking every bit like a succubus, transparently wicked but so beautiful, so tempting, it might just be worth damnation. Returning from her daydream, she scowls at you gawking at her enchanting exquisiteness. “Vulfstahn, would you be ever so kind as to let me down?”
“As I’ve got you here, I wanted to ask you one more thing.” Seyra’s face grows stony, fearing your following words. “You’ve figured out the trick to reading minds, hmm? Why don’t you share with the class?”
“I would love to,” She says in a tone that contradicts the words, “It sadly takes a while to learn. I could show you later how to read minds and alter them, after we return. But maybe you want Lord Velka to teach you. To force thoughts or emotions into someone’s head, you must have it done to yourself. That’s how she taught me. And she’s not gentle with it.”
“When we have time later, we shall return to this topic.” Seyra nods her head in agreement, and you let her float to the floor; your psychic shackles release the prisoner.
