Joss Whedon owns "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and related characters; George Lucas owns "Star Wars" and related characters; I own nothing.Prompt:
Costumes for TTH100 on LJ~*~*~
Siri looked in the mirror and resisted the urge to touch her face to see if that was really her reflection staring back. She still wasn’t used to the image in front of her, even after three years of wearing this disguise. Her once-blonde hair was now a bright red, with false tattoos applied to her face. The only feature that she recognized wasn’t even her own: bright green eyes looked out at her, eyes that echoed the green-eyed woman who still appeared in her dreams. It was only the green-eyed woman who kept her sane in her charade as the slave trader Zora. What did that say about her? That her one link to sanity was the woman who only showed up on her dreams? It wasn’t like she had anybody else around to have a somewhat intelligent conversation with.
Turning away from the mirror with a sigh, Siri rubbed her hand across her face and crawled into her minuscule bunk. There were some small blessings to being so high up in Kraryn’s food chain. It meant that she had a modicum of privacy. Sleeping around others had always been stressful; it was much safer to sleep by herself, especially if she didn’t want her cover compromised.
Curling up on her bed, she tried to ignore the sense of emptiness in her chest and drifted off to sleep.
“The one good thing about you playing dress-up is that coat,” the green-eyed woman told Siri as they sat in a booth in a place that reminded Siri of the various seedy diners she had visited. “It adds an element of badassery to the disguise.” She grimaced slightly and looked down. “Good thing I never told him that long coats are badass. He’d never let me live it down.”
The green-eyed woman was different here in the diner than how she was when they were on the tower or in the burial ground. She looked younger, with her hair in two braids, and was dressed in a red-checkered dress. There was a badge pinned to her chest in the writing that was both strange and familiar to Siri, and not for the first time, she wondered what it said.
“Why is what I wear so interesting to you?” Siri asked, leaning across the table slightly.“You’re always talking about my clothes whenever we meet. Why?” The woman shrugged slightly, looking at something behind Siri for a moment before turning her attention back to the Jedi.
“You can learn a lot and a little,” she answered. “They tell a story, both intentional and unintentional. They say what you want them to say and what you have no idea they’re saying. They can be your armor, but there are cracks in that armor where people can peek in and see who you don’t want them to see.”
“That so?” Siri asked, raising her eyebrow. She had never thought of it that way before. “What do my clothes say about me right now, then?”
“That you’re running from something, and hiding by pretending to be something that you’re not,” the woman answered, leaning back slightly. “We’re more alike than you think here, you and I.”
“I’m not running from anything,” Siri protested. “I’m here because the Council ordered me here as part of my Trials.”
“And yet you were so eager to get away,” the woman observed quietly. “So eager to leave the Temple as soon as you could.” Siri didn’t respond, looking down at her hands. “We’re all running from something. We just need to figure out when it’s time to face what we’re running from, when the disguise is over with.”
“When did yours end?” Siri asked the woman, looking up and trying to ignore the memories of Obi-Wan that wouldn’t go away, even after they had told each other that they would respect the Jedi Code. She wondered if that’s what the woman had been talking about on top of the tower that one time, when they had been discussing the issue of falling. Had it been falling like Siri had originally interpreted it, or had it been more akin to falling in love with Obi-Wan?
“When I pulled a pissed-off Ghandi,” the woman replied with another shrug and a cryptic remark. “You just know when it’s time to go home. It’ll come to you.”
The buzz of Siri’s comlink woke her with a start. “Thanks for the help,” she muttered, her hand fumbling to find the comlink.
“Zora,” she answered somewhat groggily, her mind somewhere between here and the diner with the green-eyed woman. As always, her conversation with the green-eyed woman had been both enlightening and obtrusive.
“We’re approaching the Colicoids’ ship,” Wranger’s gravely voice came in, naming their current target. “The Boss wants you up on the bridge in case something goes wrong and we need more hands in a fight.” Biting back a groan and a colorful curse, Siri rubbed her hand across her face.
“Be right up,” she told the comm officer. Calling upon the Force to give her some much needed strength, she slowly got to her feet and looked back at the mirror, studying her reflection one more time. She didn’t know why, but she was getting a feeling that this disguise was going to be coming off sooner rather than later. Until then, however, she would need to play her part and mull over what the green-eyed woman had told her about disguises and running away.