The First Run

Aittera may as well have been in orbit long before the Devious Hope's cargo bay was brimming with the combination of legal machine parts and illegal supplies they were to deliver to Iabfra. It had been a week (only a week?) of the kind of happiness that she would have scoffed utter disbelief about before. Every kiss, every moment spent tangled in bedsheets or wrapped in Kol's arms, every conversation, all of it...it wasn't just perfect. It was right.

Somewhere along the way, she had left cynicism and caution behind, and they had fallen so perfectly in sync with each other that sometimes, it was hard to know where one of them left off and the other began. As much as Aittera had resisted the desire to throw everything she was - heart and soul - into a relationship with someone like Kol Arren (but truly, was there anyone like him in all the universe?), it never came to making a decision of any kind. She was his long before she ever acknowledged it, and as soon as she got out of her own way, she forgot all of the reasons she had for holding back.

The briefing with Jean Schramme had been almost too entertaining when she'd introduced Kol, who had left behind his Sith robes in favor of a more spacer-like jacket, shirt, and sturdy trousers. Aittera had to keep from laughing outright when Kol had insisted that he stop referring to him with the awkward "my lord", and the poor mercenary soldier switched to an equally awkward "Kol" that made him seem just as uncomfortable. By the time they left, though, she had the impression that he might have won her old friend over, at least in the sense that Jean had perhaps realized that Kol had her best interests at heart, which would mean that he would do everything he could to ensure this would be a successful run.

Jean had warned them that random searches were being conducted, so they took the order to move to coordinates where they could be boarded in stride. For one sticky moment, Aittera worried when one of the creeps in the security detail took an unhealthy interest in her, sure she could actually feel Kol preparing to lunge at the smelly thug, but in the end, he'd managed to maintain enough control to let her flirt her way through the situation. Really, really bad flirting at that. Sheesh, give a big dummy with muscles a little smile, and he thought was the Force's gift. Uggh.

Once they'd returned to Nar Shaddaa successful, she left word for Jean that they were ready whenever needed for another run.

And then, no one heard from them for a few days while they let the universe fall away again.


(( Added to Aittera and the Dark Lord ))

Somewhere on the Outer Rim 3 (Jheryth)

Jheryth emerged from Olivia's fighter, looking around at the hanger bay he found himself in. The hanger was large enough to hold a couple of fighters, a small shuttle, and the crew assembled to greet the return of their captain. The contingent of armored soldiers snapped to attention when Olivia made her way past Jheryth, walking down the ramp of her ship.

The commander stepped forward, bowing his head with a practiced snap, “Welcome back, Captain. I see we have a guest.”

Jheryth followed Olivia, stopping at her side and facing the man that had ordered his death only a short time ago.

The alluring blond traced a finger down the length of Jheryth's arm, “Jheryth will be joining us. Show him around and get him settled.” Olivia made a show of appraising Jheryth hungrily with her eyes, “I am certain he will fit in quite nicely.” She turned on her heel and walked away, two of the soldiers falling into step behind her.

She called over her shoulder without missing a step, “Grendyl, I do expect you to make sure he feels welcome.”

Grendyl offered only a vicious smile, “I am Quartermaster Grendyl. Welcome to the Rising Tempest.”

Jheryth squared off with the man, returning the gesture with a wry grin, “I am certain the pleasure is all yours.”

They stared each other down, Grendyl calling out “Dismissed.” The soldiers snapped to attention, nodding in unison, then broke formation, removing helmets and talking amongst themselves, ambling out of the hanger.

“Follow me.”

Grendyl spun with a snap of his boots, making his way out of the hanger with precise steps, Jheryth striding behind.

“Not exactly the military exit I would have expected.”

“This is not the military. “ He motions to an open room as they pass by, “This is the galley. Meals are at 0700, 1300, and 1800 hours.”

“Whose army did you serve in?”

“My own.”

“A quartermaster with his own army? I find that hard to believe.”

“The Captain calls me that because she put me in command of her arsenal.” He motions to the upcoming intersection, “To the right leads to the weapons storage, cargo bay, and engine room.”

“Commanding her arsenal is not the same as commanding an army.”

Grendyl grunted in amusement, “Straight ahead leads to the forward guns as well as the bridge.” He hangs a left, continuing his brisk pace. “This way leads to the crew's quarters.”

“You may as well show me to Olivia's quarters. I expect to be spending most of my time there.”

“You will refer to her as Captain.” He passes several doorways before finally stopping, “And these would be your quarters.”

Grendyl grabbed Jheryth's arm, using Jheryth's continued momentum to shove him into the doorway, twisting his arm behind his back and forcing his face into the door with an elbow, “You killed one of my crew. That is not something I intend to forget.”

Jheryth worked his other arm free, using the force to push Grendyl away. He whirled to face him, closing his fist in the air as Grendyl struggled to breathe.

“It is not in my best interest to kill you now. Olivia will be giving me control of this ship. I suggest you accept the new pecking order. She will not have any use for a broken toy soldier.”

Jheryth released his hold.

Grendyl took a few moments, rubbing at his sore throat, regaining his composure, “Everyone on board has a job. The crew have very little experience in fighting a force user. You will be teaching them how. Training is at 0900 hours.”

The Dawn of Decidion

Deciding to really test his favorite Sith, Riftstalker snuck onto the the Arren grounds, disabling or even outright fooling the security perimeter and guards as he did.  When necessary, he used the stealth field generator in his belt as he made his way through the corridors and then out into the arboretum to find her.  Keeping himself hidden in the stealth field, he slowly made his way out along the path, careful not to disturb anything that would give an outward sign of his presence while keeping his mind calm to lessen the chance of her picking up on him through the force too soon.

Jocelyn Arren was standing in the central area of the structure - a 'picnic' type clearing with black wrought iron benches around a clearing that was mostly grass save for a little round wrought iron table with two chairs. She was wearing a white sundress with thin straps over her otherwise bare shoulders, the skirt of which was about knee-length, her bared feet partially concealed by the grass, and there was a look of concentration on her face, her head tilted as though listening.

The air became very still as he got close enough to come into view of this scene, almost as though it was thickening around him. The moment after he put eyes on her, her head swiveled in his direction, her eyes narrowing as though trying to see something difficult to pinpoint.

Seeing her look in his direction, he reached down to deactivate the stealth belt, a grin on his face as it shimmered into view.  "I wondered how close I could get to you before you caught on, and even now I'm betting I could have moved a bit closer."

Riftstalker wore mercenary armor, black and silver, a rifle slung on his back, with no fewer than 3 vibroblades visible, though she knew from previous experience with him that he would have many more hidden in the armor and on his body.

He walked into the clearing, toward one of the chairs at the table. "I brought you a gift.  Besides myself."

Transformed from poised and dangerous to friendly and relaxed, Jocelyn favored her friend with an approving smile, though she would never give him the satisfaction of agreeing that he could possibly have gotten any closer to her without consequences. She walked over to join him at the little table, her voice pleasant and just as conversational as his own. "I was wondering when you'd get around to visiting me again. What did you bring me?"

Riftstalker pulled a small holo-projector from a pouch on his belt and set it on the table, activating the playback button.  The recording was from somewhere on Korriban, evidenced by the ruins and statues in the background of a crypt.  It showed a group of seven acolytes surrounding another that had been backed into a wall, all of them are armed with the traditional warblades that were earned as part of the trial to even see if one was worthy to continue training once they'd reached the academy.

The group of seven attacked as one, forcing the cornered Rattataki to defend himself.  Using the force to send one flying into the other, he did a high backflip out of the circle they had formed around him, landing on a ledge. He hopped to avoid a blade coming at his ankles and then spun as he sliced into the face of his attacker with his warblade.  The Taki went on the attack against the other four before their two comrades could recover, leaping into the fray, parrying with his wristguard before stabbing into the heart of a human.  

Pulling the blade out, he fell to his knee and raised it above his head to block an attack from behind him.  Rolling backwards, he brought his foot up to connect with the stomach of that attacker as he sliced at their Achilles tendon, severing it to bring them down. He was instantly back on his feet, swinging into the acolyte's neck to finish him off.  

The other two learned the lesson and attacked as one, trying to flank him from either side, but it became obvious the Taki was used to such tactics as he backed himself against the wall so that they were forced come at him from the front.  The two he'd first used the force to send flying were starting to come around, and frustration registered in the Taki's face. The fight was taking too long by his estimation.

Quickly, his expression became something far more vicious as the two who were closing in decided to charge. The first swung for the Taki's neck as the other aimed for his ankle. The Taki used his blade to block the one for his neck as he hopped to bring his boot down on the one swung low, catching the flat edge and coming down so hard that it pulled from the hand of it's wielder.  Using the Force again, he casually broke the now weaponless Sith's neck, making it a much more even three on one.  

With four of their comrades dead at his hand, the two who had been taken out first decided to retreat, calling out with a xenophobic slur as they ran off (likely to try to and escape the academy and their failure altogether). The last tried to do the same but the Taki was too quick, grabbing him with the Force to hold him in place as he stalked toward him with the look of a predator on his face. He said something the recording couldn't quite pick up, and the Acolyte stammered out a name. With a nod, the Taki beheaded his last opponent as the image faded out.

Jocelyn's face was passive as the fight began, but that quickly changed when the Taki's blade sunk into the heart of one of his attackers early on. In fact, as the fight raged on, she had begun to lean forward, emerald eyes keenly following each attack and counter with growing intensity. By the end of the recording, her hands were clenched around the edges of her chair seat while her expression near-mirrored the predatory look on the Taki's face.

As soon as the image faded out, she pressed the playback button, remaining silent as she watched once more with laser-like focus. Finally, as the image faded out for the second time, she snapped her attention to the man opposite her with a fiery excitement near-emanating from her, waiting expectantly for him to speak again.

Riftstalker merely smiled and activated another recording. This time, there was no question of exactly where it had been recorded on Korriban - it was within the heart of the Sith Academy. The Taki was there again, but this time he had a lightsaber in hand, and his opponent was one of the overseers.

The Taki growled, his face once again filled with the look of a predator, "You tried to have me killed.  And failed.  You should have known better than to send only seven."

The overseer said nothing in response, merely igniting his own saber and charging.  The fight was long, and just when it appeared to be near a stalemate, the look on the Taki's face came into full view of the camera. He had been toying with the overseer, the look of pleasure each time he parried an attack and counterattacked gave him away. He could have ended the fight at any time, but he had wanted to give the overseer false hope.

Finally, he caught the overseers blade on his and moved in close, forcing what should have a been a more powerful opponent back.  "And you called me a weak abomination."  

A spin and a slash and the overseers head was on the floor.

If the last recording had captured Jocelyn's interest, this one had her practically salivating. "Is he still on Korriban?"

"Of course.  Awaiting judgement for killing five acolytes and an overseer.  For as much as you Sith respect power, you tend to get bent out of shape when politically connected fools are killed."

She looked back at the space where moments ago, the taki had slain the overseer in the holo-recording, a wicked smile on her lips. In the next moment, she was on her feet, stalking toward the path to the door. "Coming?"

"I had a feeling I made the right choice in coming to you with this instead of Kaldaras.  I knew you would give it your immediate attention."  Riftstalker stood to follow her.

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Korriban

The Rattataki known as Rusok Kras was pacing in one of the rooms in the academy, the door sealed with a force field. The sense of a new presence washed across his Force senses, stopping him mid-stride, and a moment later, he was standing at the shimmering field to taunt the two guards on the other side of the portal. "Something tells me that if you know what is good for you, you'll go get your master and my lightsaber."

Of course, the guards ignored him, and in the quiet minutes that followed, he became aware of two things: someone powerful was coming to claim him, and in exchange for his absolute loyalty, she would see him to the pinnacle of his potential. It was not an offer, a deal or something in question in any way. It was simply his reality to accept.

Rusok became content, perhaps even a bit eager to meet the woman whose face was now so clear in his mind.  Shaking his head, he chastised his guards. "Don't blame me when my new master cuts both your heads off."

Minutes later, a red saberstaff blade abruptly erupted from the back of the guard to the left side of his door, and where there had been nothing but air in the space before the guards a moment before, a slender figure no more than five and a half feet tall shrouded in black stood with one hand on the hilt of a saberstaff while the other was outstretched toward the second guard.

Lightning leapt from Lady Somaesthesia's fingertips to assault the second guard as she withdrew the blade from the chest of the first, letting the dead man's body slump to the floor. Her remaining target seized with the flow of the red-purple energy, and by the time he had managed to fight to get his hand to his weapon, the saberstaff's humming red blade was against his throat. A cold, mechanically altered voice sounded from the helmeted figure. "Go and tell your masters that the prisoner is now a member of House Arren."

Rusok watched from the other side of the force field, and as the second guard ran off to warn his masters, he closed his eyes and concentrated until the sound of something shattering within the wall beside the doorway heralded the force field's deactivation. "Well done, Master."

He stepped out into the hall and moved to bow on one knee before the Sith Lady.

Somaesthesia deactivated her saberstaff and placed a gloved hand atop his head in tacit acceptance. The hand dropped beneath his chin to draw him up to his feet until her mask was angled up to allow her to look at his face and the cold mechanical voice sounded from the helmet's speaker again. "Where is your lightsaber, Apprentice?"

"Their master took it when he found me standing over his pet.  He was waiting for the right moment to execute me, to make an example out of the 'inferior species' that have infested his sacred ground."

"Then, we'll go get it." She gestured for him to lead the way, dissolving into shadow the moment he turned to obey.

Rusok stalked through the halls of the academy, the look on his face enough to send most back into the nearest open door as he moved into the upper levels.  Finally, he was stopped by a pair of guards at the end of a hallway. Apparently, news had traveled that the prisoner was free, and they were there to put him back in his cage.  Rusok never hesitated or even broke stride as he moved between them, each hand moving up to strike a throat, cutting off their air before they had a chance to level their blasters at him.  A twist with the Force and the non-Force using guards were dead as his feet.  Ahead, two Sith apprentices stepped from previously closed doors, their sabers activated.

Exactly halfway between the Sith and Rusok, the figure in black seemed to coalesce into existence as though formed by tendrils of darkness that reach from every shadow within sight, and the mechanically altered voice sounded again. "Step aside. I do not kill my brethren unless they make it necessary."

Rusok crossed his arms behind his master, waiting for the Sith to comply.  They had, of course, seen the footage of him murdering his fellow acolytes by now and also come to the same conclusion she had about the footage of him and the overseer.  Faced with a true Dark Lady of the Sith, and her new apprentice, they deactivate their sabers and fell in front of the two, walking toward the door at the end of the hall and serving as an escort to see them inside without further conflict.

Satisfied, Somaesthesia signaled for Rusok to join her at her side with a simple inclination of her head, prompting him with a sense through the Force, so that already, there would be the appearance of Master and Apprentice acting as one. Once he stepped next to her, they strode confidently down the hall and through the door to find his accuser.

As suspected, the human waiting behind the desk was one of the more xenophobic overseers employed on Korriban. Four more Sith acolytes stood guard before the desk.

The first two acolytes that had led them inside did not move to join their brethren, instead standing at the sides of Rusok and his new master. "It is always a pleasure when a member of House Arren comes to the Academy.  Though I regret that this..."  He spit the word “alien” with contempt as he continued. "...has somehow managed to fool you into thinking he is worth all this trouble."

"Do you dare insinuate that I can somehow be hoodwinked by a student of this academy?" As before, there was no note of threat or warning in the mechanical tone that emitted from the helmet, but the very air around the Sith woman spoke volumes. The question was not just a threat, but a challenge, and something about her regal posture made it very clear that she would have no problem putting any questions as to her dangerous reputation to rest.

"No...I did not mean..." He stammered as he began to choke, Rusok's arm raised with his hand closing into a fist.

"Apologize for insulting my master and turn over both my lightsaber and your own. Do it quickly before I regret even giving you the chance to buy your pathetic life."

The overseer choked out an "I'm sorry, forgive me!" and pushed the two lightsabers across his desk.

The weapons flew across the room to Rusok's hand. Dropping his force grip on the Overseer's neck, he clipped his own saber to his belt while holding out the Overseer's to his master.  "He would like you to have this, as a symbol of his new fealty to your house, Master."

Rusok's eyes remained on the Overseer, who could only nod in response as he rubbed a hand at his throat.

Somaesthesia took the lightsaber from Rusok. "Already, my apprentice shows wisdom beyond his training. I would have seen you dead for insulting my judgement. You should thank him for allowing you to live in service to a great Sith House."

The overseer sneered contempt, but as he began to protest having to thank an alien, he got no further than "Ne..." out before his head spun with a loud crack as his neck snapped.

"Anyone else?"  Rusok growled at the remaining guards.  When none of them moved, he turned and offered his master a predatory smile. "It appears that you have gained six new underlings here at the academy, Master."

The Sith Lady simply nodded and turned to stride out of the room, expecting him at her side as she made her way back to her ship in silence.

Once the ship's hatch closed behind them, the mechanical quality to the voice that came from the helmet was gone, leaving behind it the clear, silken tone of his new master, albeit still carried by the helmet's microphone. "Very well done, Decidion."

Soulmates

It wasn't until they were standing at the entrance to one of the nicest restaurants on Nar Shaddaa - a fancy place that boasted a stellar show and private dining rooms with amazing cuisine - that Aittera stopped short with a look of uncertainty. She passed a look over to her side at Kol next and shook her head. He didn't need to indicate in any way that he agreed, and they turned hand in hand to go find the nearest taxi stand.

Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting at a rickety little table in a tiny diner with windows clouded with age in a rundown neighborhood somewhere near the Red Light Sector. The place wasn't filthy so much as showed signs of age, it's neon sign boasting "Good Noodles" barely half lit. The owner - a little middle-aged Nautolan wearing a white apron tied over thread-bare clothes - stepped out from the kitchen and greeted Aittera with a friendly wave, asking if she wanted the usual. She held up two fingers to indicate herself and Kol, and he disappeared into the kitchen again.

Until this point, they had been somewhat quiet and contemplative, using the excuse of not being alone at the taxi waiting area or waiting for the diner owner rather than make small talk - something she'd always hated anyway. Now, however, she really looked at Kol and smiled. He returned the smile and turned his hand palm up on the table between them.

"Regular place for you isn't it?  I could swear I've been here before, but it might be one of your memories."

Her smile became warmer as her hand slid into place in his, palm to palm, and a light seemed to brighten her eyes from within - as though she'd woken up to find him lying next to her in bed, watching her with affection. That connection that was always there between them now seemed to sizzle to life with fresh energy, and she nodded. "Yeah, I discovered it the first time I really went exploring here a few years ago. Food is decent, nothing flashy or fancy. I just...wanted to be able to talk without all the distractions and fake crap around us."

"I like that.  I go through the motions so much back home, I'm glad I don't have to do that here with you." He closed his hand around hers and brought it to his lips before settling it back down on the table, just keeping hold of it.  His smile reflected affection, then curiosity. "You have things to say to me."

"You don't have things to say to me yet?"

"Oh I have plenty to say to you.  I was being a gentleman and letting you proceed first. Uncharacteristic of me, I know," he teased with a smirk.

Aittera chuckled, dipping her head in the kind of nod that was really more a chance to adjust to the warmth rising in her cheeks than affirmation. "And here I was hoping that you'd go first so I wouldn't feel quite so much like I'm making an absolute fool of myself."

Kol chuckled. "I can, if you want.  I have never had a problem with feeling like I was making a fool of myself."

"You're kidding me. I would have thought that would be the most likely time you'd start killing people off. Can't have anyone around who's seen you as anything but the big and scary Darth Ragious," she teased back.

"I'm always the big and scary Darth Ragious.  Even when I'm Kol, he's just waiting under the surface."  He gave her that grin that was probably a little more predatory and dangerous than he intended, and she laughed.

"So, you first, and we'll take turns?"

He nodded. "So this thing we're going to be doing, why are you involved in it?"

The Nautolan re-emerged from the kitchen with two steaming bowls heaped with thin noodles soaked in a meaty broth with vegetables, a fork sticking out of each one. He set them in front of his only customers, retrieved a pitcher of ice water and two glasses for them, then disappeared into the back again without a word.

"Well, in my work, I hear a lot from all over, and the mercs pass around stories about Iabfra like legends. The Cartel took over that world, and the people fought back tooth and nail over a really long and bloody campaign. It wasn't about outside factions coming in and making it their own battleground like Balmorra, though. It was a people standing up and trying to hold onto what belonged to them, and they didn't lose without a hell of a fight. Just the chance to help set things right..." Aittera gave a slight shrug. "I just couldn't resist."

Kol nodded as he listened, sampling his food, continuing to give her that look of affection as she described her personal motive.  "You like long shot causes."

It's an observation; one particularly fitting considering that the two of them sitting there together enjoying the company of the other was once the same thing.

"I'm torn on it.  Part of me wants to help you more than just by accompanying you.  I could bring an entire armada to bear and liberate the world.  Of course it would draw me into another war, and I really have no desire to fight two at the moment."

Aittera shook her head. "I think that would do more to hurt it in the long run really. These are people fighting for their freedom. If someone were to come in and just hand it to them, it might make them feel like they were seen as weak. They have a saying there - Iabfra overcomes. It's like a mantra that they have held onto all this time, and now, it's being spread like wildfire across the mercenary community, and they're not hiring mercenaries to fight but to train their own people to fight. This is something they want to win back for themselves."

She took a bite of her food here and there as well, the atmosphere of the little run down diner such that nothing felt rushed or hurried. They could probably sit there for hours without interruption.

"And now, it turns out that an old friend has been put in charge of the whole thing, and I know he hated losing that world the first time. I think it'll do him good to be the one that helps them win it, and he's had enough hard times in his life."

"Do I know this friend?"

"I don't know if you know him. His name is Jean Schramme. He ran security on the Promenade for a while."

"The name rings a bell, but I can't place a face.  You know I don't visit the Moon often."

"So, my turn?"

"Yes, your turn. See? I didn't look like a fool, so you shouldn't worry."

They continued to eat as they talked, and Aittera was pleased to see that he seemed to actually enjoy it. Finally, when he had finished his first bowl he asked the Nautolan for a second, and he looked over at her with a grin. "You should be careful, I might have to hire our chef to make this for me on the Avenger, which means he won't be able to keep up this place."

She laughed. "Not sure you'd have room for his family. He has..." She looked over at the smiling Nautolan to confirm, who in turn nodded proudly to each numeration. "...10 children, 34 grandchildren, and his wife and mother living in the building upstairs."

"Okay, so I guess I'll be getting my noodles take out only..."  Kol frowned playfully, bringing another easy laugh from the redhead.

Just like that, the flow of conversation never seemed to stop, and when they finally found themselves ambling along the Promenade later hand-in-hand, it was sparsely populated.  They talked about small things, of course. They both hated the excesses of the Smuggler's Moon, but saw the opportunities it housed. She'd grown up on Coruscant. While he appreciated beauty, he had an eye for the kind of true beauty that could only be found beneath the surface.

And then there were the not so small things.

"I hope this doesn't hit too close to home, because of what happened, but I've wondered ever since I learned about this..." she began as they stopped to lean against a railing to look out over the cityscape without even so much as a gesture from either of them in precipitation. It was barely even a thought for either of them.

"Like I said, I read every bit of intel I could find on you, and most of your known associates fit your reputation. Except one. Why did you choose Temivi to be your apprentice?"

"Because of the way she acted at the choosing ritual.  She was...defiant.  She was perfect.  She's one of my few regrets."  His answer was completely honest. Temivi was his perfect apprentice, and he knew he'd failed her.

"What do you regret?"

"That I wasn't as attentive to her as I should have been," Kol began. "A few other things as well, but they involve a topic I don't think you want to hear about."

"I was able to get a look at a psych eval. She didn't strike me as someone with a killer instinct. It's pretty impressive that she managed to survive the academy."

"Let's just say Temivi was full of talents that weren't evident on paper, and her loss, my failure, lessens the Sith."

"Alright. Now, tell me what you think I don't want to hear."

He spoke one word. "Agonar." His wife's apprentice; a man whose reputation could chill any civilized person to the bone, and by all accounts, only controllable by the Lady Kiabe herself. The nicest reference anyone seemed to have for him was when they referred to him as 'the savage'.

Aittera fixed her gaze on Kol's face, giving him a short nod to encourage him to explain further.

"He's the regret.  If I had not acquired him for my wife, Temivi would likely still be my apprentice, and not merely an echo inside my sister's head."

"What did he do to her, and I'm not sure what that...an echo in her head?"

"Temivi was possessed by the spirit of one of my ancestors.  When it left her body and entered my sister's, an echo of Temivi was taken along with it.  Agonar later murdered Temivi after doing things much worse to her.  She was...no longer pure, and to my dishonor I no longer desired her." His voice was tinged with the regret he felt, and it was apparent that the entire ordeal still bothered him even though it had been years.

Aittera squeezed his hand with a look of sympathy. In fact, not once during this brief explanation did she display anything but the continued desire to understand, and her emotions reflected nothing like the distaste, disappointment, or pity. She had asked, because she wanted to know; and she was prepared for the answer, no matter the light he worried it might cast him in. "Have you spoken with the echo? It might not be her, but it might help you put some of those regrets behind you."

Kol shook his head, grateful that she didn't seem to have judged one of the more shameful moments of his life. "No, when I spoke to my sister, it was to repair that particular rift.  Perhaps in time, I may seek out the part of her that comes from Temivi, perhaps even find a way to return her to flesh once more."

Aittera picked his hand up to bring it to her lips, pulling her palm back in order to press a kiss into his, and they spoke in quieter tones of lost opportunities, dashed hopes of their youths, and dreams that never became reality.

Somewhere along the way, they'd managed to find themselves in her little apartment again as night was slowly inching past to give way to the new day, and she found herself prodding softly. "Your turn."

"Before I ask this, I want to be honest about why.  I want to see your face light up."  He gave her another affectionate smile. "How great is it having the Hope back?"

Kol was right in that the question lit her up, but the smile that accompanied her reaction was bittersweet as she looked down for just a moment before answering. "I knew I missed it, but I had no idea how much of me was missing without it. When I bought it, I was going to fly as far away from home and the SIS as I could get. I told myself that I would find a sun that couldn't be seen from Coruscant, so that my parents couldn't watch from their graves when I flew into that sun to make the pain stop."

There was a shine of emotion in her eyes that might have been tears if she had been anyone else. "I just started flying, and it was like I could hear Davin trying to talk to me. Then, it was like he was trying to talk me out of it. Eventually, I just...had to stop in the middle of nowhere and work my way through it."

"I'm glad of that."  He offered a look that he offered few others - one of sympathy - but for her, it was a look that told her in no uncertain terms that he would have done anything to make that pain never have been felt by her.  Suddenly next to her again, he slipped an arm around her. "I didn't mean to bring up a painful memory, I just knew how much your ship meant to you, that ship.  And wanted to see a look of happiness."

Aittera looked up into his face with an affectionate smile and nodded, grateful for everything from his reaction to the way having his arm around her made her feel like a whole person again. She wasn't feeling that loss she'd just described so much as reminding herself what it would be like to lose this feeling - that she could be complete. "You're the first person I've told that entire story to. I usually brush over the details or refer to a small bit of it and leave the worst out. I'm glad you asked."

He placed a kiss on her cheek, whispering, "It shows me how deeply you love.  And I'm glad you trusted me enough to tell it."

"Is there any other way?" She lifted her hand to touch his chest as she looked into his eyes, finding herself caught there a moment she knew was made up of more than just a simple connection.

"Not for me."

And then his lips were pressed against hers, passion and desire, affection and love, all wrapped up in the intensity of the contact. It was as though she could feel her soul pour itself into his lips as she kissed him, every defense gone, and everything that made her Aittera laid bare before him.

There was an ache in that kind of vulnerability. It was like drawing back layers of skin until there was nothing left between the air and raw nerve, and the intensity of it was overwhelming. It was the kind of feeling that one was supposed to instinctively draw back from in self-preservation, but instead, the one all consuming thought she had in the moment was the understanding that he felt the same thing she did.

As he lifted her into his arms to carry her to the bed, Kol's thoughts turned to how this could and likely would end badly even as he made up his mind that he was willing to take every risk just to be with her that much longer. And as they curled up together on top of the covers, he pulled her close, just hugging her to him to savor the feeling of having her so close.

Aittera pressed her heart against his, resting her forehead into the crease of his neck, each hand clinging to his robes against his sides. She could now sense his feelings almost as strongly as her own, and that was enough to banish any last refuge of practical thought or caution that might have been lingering in the back of her mind. He was as much hers as she was now his, and no matter how terrifying that was, it was the most exhilarating and perfect rush she had ever felt in her life.

(( Added to Aittera and the Dark Lord ))

Somewhere on the Outer Rim (2)

Jheryth came to a skidding halt on the dirt path outside the cantina. He scanned the horizon, growling in frustration. He opened himself to the force, reaching out to catch Vedeti's trail, when he felt the blond watching him. He whirled to face her, lightsaber flaring to life in his hand. She was just leaning against the wall, smirking. She slid her arms up the wall, languidly crossing them above her head, accentuating her curves.

“And she didn't even thank you for your trouble. How impolite.”

Her Imperial lilt struck a nerve, and before he knew it, he leapt at her, pinning her hands above her head with his free hand, his lightsaber poised to strike.

“What exactly did you want with Vedeti?”

The blond purred, “I could care less about her. You on the other hand, “ she shifted her body seductively against his, “you I want.”

Jheryth squeezed her hands even tighter, growling, “I am in no mood for games.”

She hummed a sigh of pleasure, “I am sure we could have all kinds of fun playing together - and I have what you want.”

He switched off his lightsaber, but kept his grip on her hands, “You could not possibly know what I want.”

She leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “I beg to differ.” She moved back enough to look him in the eyes, “I know you want a job.” She rested her head against the wall, smiling seductively, “I want to see if you can keep up with me.”

Jheryth stared back into her eyes, being captured by the swirling gold hues of her light brown eyes. Her hair fanned out against the wall, reflecting the setting sun in a halo. His eyes drifted down her form, finally finding their way back up to her waiting lips.

He let go of her hands, fixated on those luscious lips. He thrust his hand behind her, grabbing a fist-full of hair and pulled her into a deep kiss. She wrapped her fingers in his hair, nails digging into his scalp. After a time, she bit down on his lip in the same spot, drawing blood once again. He jerked his head away in reaction, gaping at her. She leaned forward enough for her breath to caress his lips.

“You can call me Olivia.”