𝚌𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎.
Rylann Tetra, Shaak Ti's padawan, is stationed on Kamino to her disliking. Ry, taken from her home when she was only two, is upset that she didn't get a choice to become a jedi, wishing she was never discover...
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"You have a weak grip, Lanny," Wrecker stated with a laugh. With their hands locked together and elbows resting precariously on a makeshift table (aka crate), Rylann was mentally preparing herself for an arm wrestling contest and she was scared beyond measure. Wrecker, over a foot taller and wider than she, was built and bred for strength and yet he wanted to challenge her to an arm wrestling contest. Rylann was very confused.
"And you don't." Rylann winced, readjusting her grip in his, hoping that there was something she could do to get through this. She wasn't even considering winning, instead all her mind was on was surviving the contest, injury free.
Rylann's eyes scanned the training room, hoping Hunter would stroll in and put a stop to this. Anyone. Rylann didn't want to do this.
"You ready?" Wrecker asked, excitement seeping into his voice.
Rylann's mouth went dry. "What are the rules?"
"Tap out if you don't want to get hurt," Wrecker said, an impish smile spreading across his cheeks.
Rylann gulped. "Good to know," she squeaked out, leaning over the table, praying she wouldn't break anything. "Ready when you are."
"Three." Wrecker started the countdown.
Sweat started to roll down Rylann's forehead. "I don't know how this is considered training."
"Two."
"Is it too late to back out?"
"One..."
"Okay, I don't think this is what Shaak Ti had in—" Rylann was interrupted by the sheer force and velocity of Wrecker slamming the back of her hand against the crate, flipping her over in the process.
Rylann groaned from the floor, closing her eyes as she felt pain surge through her body. Flying backwards wasn't something she had in mind to start her day. Maybe Wrecker was training her body to be more tolerant of pain. Cuz at this rate, she'd be tolerant by the weekend.
Laughing from the doorway snapped her from her daze. Rylann's eyes shot open, searching for the offender.
Crosshair.
Rylann pulled herself to her feet, shooting him a glare as she rolled her arm to test its flexibility. Crosshair leaned against the door, arms crossed, toothpick in mouth as he smirked down at her.
His brown eyes met hers with a playful look. "Doing great, sweetheart."
Outwardly, Rylann frowned in disgust, trying to cover the butterflies that fluttered in her stomach. "Didn't ask, Toothpick."
Crosshair scowled, standing upright quickly. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the toothpick flying at her. Usually, she would just let him, but she wasn't taking it today. And luckily, since she was a force user, she had quick reflexes.
