Private A Failed Mandate

[Zara Saga]

The golden marble floors of the forum gave way to grimy durasteel as Zara moved through the service corridors. She was still wearing her council attire and passed guards who saluted out of reflex. She didn't acknowledge them, not even a glance. The further she got from the Diarchy's heart, the looser her braid became, a single strand slipping across her cheek like a fraying thread of identity. By the time she reached the street, the evening had cooled. The air tasted like carbon and fried synthfish. Somewhere, a transport screamed overhead. Bastion's skyline buzzed with life, the kind of ordinary survival that made her question what all the speeches were even for.

She slipped into The Stained Chalice without ceremony. It was a hole in the wall, quiet for now. Neon lights flickered in confused patterns, casting faded green and rose across her sharp cheekbones. There were no fancy guards here, no holocams, just a few silent drinkers and a bartender old enough to remember three governments ago.

He barely looked up from cleaning a glass. "Forum over already?" he grunted, setting the glass on the counter. "Need to prep for the rush if the Diarchy's dismissed the floor." Zara slid onto a stool with the elegance of a queen sneaking out of a funeral. Her elbows landed on the counter. Her voice, when it came, was smooth but frayed at the edges. "They're not the Diarchy anymore," she muttered. "The Lilaste Order's taken over the ear of the Diarchs. We're just pretending to have a say now."

The bartender raised a single, grizzled eyebrow. He'd heard ten thousand laments about politics before, but this one made him actually pause his cloth mid-wipe. Zara didn't elaborate. She reached up, unfastened the remaining braid, and let her pale hair fall in a curtain around her face. Then she tapped the bar twice, a silent order. "Something strong," she added after a beat. "And not the kind that comes with a speech about resilience."

The bartender poured something gold and dangerous into a short glass and set it down gently in front of her. Zara stared into the drink as if it might whisper back a reason to keep trying. It didn't. She raised it in a quiet mock toast, her eyes glazed and bitter. "To the Diarchy," she said dryly. "Or whats left of it," Then she downed it in one.

Rokul​

 

[Rokul]

Location: Bastion
Tags: Zara Saga

It had taken him a short while to catch up towards Zara. Rokul had followed the small wisps of the Force he could feel, gentle little threads that tugged him in specific directions. Eventually he came across the Stained Chalice and let out a small short sigh to himself, his eyes narrowing at the sign. This better not be a repeat of Taris. He didn't want to get covered in burns again.

Instead he made his way into the hole in the wall, his gaze slowly flickering over those inside. He didn't fit in here. Rokul was far too clean. Too professional to just be found in some random hole in the wall. But that wasn't what he was here for. He was here for someone specific as he made his way over towards Zara, hearing the last words of her toast.

"...Well, if you've left the Diarchy no longer has any beauty in it."

The typical stoicness in Rokul's voice was gone. What it had been replaced with, he couldn't quite name himself. There was some kind of emotion but was it anger? Fondness? Frustration? He couldn't put his finger on it as the man stood next to Zara, leaning against the counter and looking directly ahead of himself, not looking over towards Zara yet.

Instead his gaze settled on the Bartender for a moment, narrowing his eyes at the elderly Gentlemen. This was a dangerous situation in Rokul's mind. Zara loved to speak her mind. And the more she drank, the more it was likely for her to say something that could potentially give off the wrong appearances. He hated this. He missed things when they were far simpler.

"...I'll have the same as her. And do you have somewhere private that the pair of us can talk?"

He jabbed his thumb over towards Zara and then back to himself before finally turning his attention over towards Zara. His eyes focused on her face for a moment, taking note of how her braid had started to come undone. It felt like so much was coming undone as he ran a hand through his hair.

"...I saw it all you know. I heard it all."

What was he supposed to do? Be open with Zara? Try and placate her with sweet words and gentle care? Be blunt? There were so many choices. Rokul was terrible at choices. He always had to be told what to do...but he had to make his own choices this time.

"...They had some points you know. About justice. Order. Rushing after the Jedi, facing a war against them...That could put that all at risk. Put peace for the average person at risk."

Rokul took the drink that was finally handed to him, sipping at it and wincing at the burn. He still didn't have a taste for alcohol...but that wasn't going to stop him.

"But...you...we aren't an average person. The average citizen. Peace...isn't something I fully understand. We focus on the next fight. The next war. Sitting around doing nothing feels...wrong. At least for me...But not always. The moments we talk...I think that's the closest to peace I feel."

​

 

[Zara Saga]

​

Zara didn't respond to Rokul right away; that would have been too kind. Instead, she turned her head slightly, not all the way, just enough to show she knew he was there. The corner of her lip quirked, but it wasn't a smile. It was something colder, smaller, a twitch of amusement or maybe warning. Her eyes, half-lidded and glimmering under the bar's flickering neon, didn't meet his. They dropped lazily to his boots, then trailed up his stance, his posture, that pressed and polished uniform, like she was trying to decide if she liked it or not.

When he said, "You left, and the Diarchy lost its only beauty," she made a soft sound, a kind of exhale that might have once been a laugh, but died on the way out. "Look at you, becoming quite the poet," she murmured, mostly to her glass. She swirled the last inch of her drink, watching it slosh, gold and volatile, like her mood. Her braid had come mostly undone now, just a twist of silver-gold resting over one shoulder, unfastened and messy. Her bare hand traced along the lip of her glass as Rokul ordered, as he tried, awkwardly, to broker some kind of truce between philosophy and feeling.

Zara didn't help him. Instead, she let him squirm, let him stumble through noble sentiments, through his confusion about peace and war, and her. She didn't interrupt, just turned her head slowly, one arm now resting along the bar as she studied him. One leg crossed over the other, Zara remained regal in ruin, unapologetically silent, watching. That stare, long, unreadable, and utterly still, had undone more enemies than all her speeches combined. When Rokul winced from the harshness of his drink, her lip twitched again.

"Still drinking like you're trying to impress someone," she said, finally. Then she slid off her stool, movements slow and graceful, like a cat descending from a sun-warmed windowsill. She didn't ask the bartender's permission; she didn't need to. With a sleight of hand that had probably made Reign grind his teeth more than once, Zara slipped a half-full bottle off the back shelf and disappeared toward the back hallway without ever looking back. The door to the private room swung open and shut behind her. She didn't wait for Rokul to follow.

Inside, the room held a cracked leather booth and a flickering wall sconce; it smelled like dust and old cigars. She didn't care. Zara slid into the booth like she owned the place, setting the stolen bottle on the table with a quiet thud. She didn't bother with glasses, nor did she bother with words. She just sat and stared, letting her silence hang like a dare. Her eyes burned with all the fury she wasn't shouting anymore, inviting his guilt, his opinion, his judgment, all of it. She wanted him to say it, whatever it was he'd come here to say. Because right now, in this booth, in this dim-lit corner of a galaxy that suddenly didn't want her anymore, Rokul was all she had.

Rokul​

 

[Rokul]

Location: Bastion
Tags: Zara Saga

This was everything he had expected from Zara. That didn't make it any easier for him. It didn't make it necessarily worse either. It was just...expected. Rokul didn't expect any from of aid from Zara. For her to disagree or agree with anything he was saying. That would have been too easy. Life wasn't easy. That's what Rokul was finding out swiftly. War? War was easy. Just be pointed off in a direction and smash some heads together. It was what came after war, the breaks inbetween of battles that were the difficult part. That's when you had to think for yourself. You had to help keep the peace you had tried to make...or help it all burn down around you. Rokul still wasn't entirely sure which route he was going down yet as he got up to his feet, throwing a few credits over towards the Bartender. He wasn't made of money at the end of the day. Most of what he earned he sent back to his parents on Dantooine. Material wealth was not a focus of his.

And then he followed Zara carefully. Closing the door to the private room behind himself before he leaned against the door, folding his arms along his front and staring Zara down for a moment. Just letting the silence fill the air. Rokul knew she wouldn't be the first one to break it, but he was also showing that he was in no rush to get back. He hadn't said a word since she brought up him drinking as if he was trying to impress someone. He was carefully picking over his words. Running them through his head.

"...You made it sound like you wanted to revolt. I get it. There have been...plenty of decisions made that I don't agree with. But they're above my paygrade."

A small beat. A deep breath in as he stepped away from the door and took a step closer towards Zara, his eyes focused on her as he raised his hand up, about to point at Zara before he clenched his hand into a fist instead and brought it straight back down to his side.

"You acted as if you were spitting in the Diarchs' faces. The same Diarchs who have given you, me and so many other people so much."

His voice was picking up. It wasn't necessarily a yell but his frustrations were coming out as he took another step closer. Both of his hands clenched into fists. Aggression was what Rokul did best. Not talking. Not emotions. But that's what he was trying to go through right now.

"I am praying to whatever created this Galaxy that it was an act. That you didn't mean to spit in their faces. That you still care for the Diarchs. And believe in them. That you didn't intend to almost stoke some kind of fire of rebellion against the two specific people who have given me purpose. Who I have been willing to die for."

Rokul's gaze settled on Zara as he stood directly in front of her, focusing on his breathing. Until...something seemed to break for a moment. His gaze softened. His voice lost some of his edge as he looked at Zara.

"...Because then I'd have to choose. And I don't know if I can. I couldn't care less about the Order. The Jedi. The Sith. Damn them all. But what I can care about is you. The Diarchy's given me a purpose. Made me feel like I have a role. But...you make me feel like I'm not a cog in the machine. They've given me a Purpose, but you've given me a Will."

His voice trailed off for a moment as the Soldier clenched his fists as tightly as he could, until the tips of his fingers started to turn white. His gaze falling from Zara to stare down at his feet.

"...Go on then. Tell me how I'm a traitor. For not siding with you. That I'm a coward because I don't want to make a choice. I know you want to say something."

​

 

[Zara Saga]

​

Zara poured herself another drink. As always, no glasses. The neck of the bottle tilted directly to her lips felt like the only honest thing left in the room. She drank, watching Rokul all the while, her eyes hooded and unreadable. Her expression remained utterly blank, showing no reaction to his frustration, his heartbreak, or even when his fists clenched, as if he wanted to punch something, or someone, or maybe just the stubborn part of himself that still believed people could be saved.

She let him finish, letting him bare it all: his desperation, his loyalty, his choice. When he finally fell silent, she laughed. Not cruelly, not mockingly, but softly, sadly, like someone who couldn't quite decide if the joke was on him or on her.

"You dramatic little soldier," she murmured, her voice low and thick with that velvet edge she saved for private rooms and dangerous conversations. "I never asked you to choose." She leaned back in the cracked booth, one boot sliding lazily onto the seat beside her, knee bent as if she owned the whole galaxy and was just too tired to collect.

She tilted the bottle toward Rokul in a mock toast. "You can make your own decisions, Rokul. You're allowed. I'm not your warlord. Hell, I might not even be your superior after that little show in there. You think I expected you to follow me out of that chamber? I didn't even expect me to follow me."

She drank again, this time slower, letting the burn trace a line of warmth down the inside of her throat. Her gaze hadn't left him for a moment. "No one sides with me right now. Not Rellik, not Reign. Not the people. That's fine. I'll be a good little girl from now on. I'll show up when summoned, I'll vote how I'm told, I'll smile on the holonet and nod like a wind-up doll. The fire's out. Gone." She snapped her fingers once, like the crack of a dying ember. "No more rebellion. No more speeches. You don't have to worry. They will soon realize their mistake and come crawling back."

But then her voice softened, darkened, not in tone, but in its very weight, like a tide pulling back before it surged forward. "What does worry me..." she said, dragging her eyes over him now, slow and dangerous, "...is you."

She sat forward now, elbows on the table, chin resting lightly on the back of one hand. Her other hand toyed with the bottle, while her lips curved in that half-smile she used like a weapon, the one that came before someone said yes, or said too much. "I give you a will?" she repeated the word with an upward lilt, as if it tasted strange in her mouth. "But tell me something, Rokul." Her eyes narrowed, not cruelly, but sharply, peering straight through him like glass. "How could you care about someone like me? Someone who'd dare speak against the Diarchs? Someone who'd walk into a forum and make a fool of herself in front of the whole damn galaxy? Someone who'd burn a banner and call it clarity?"

Her voice dropped, nearly a whisper. "Go on. Say it again. That I give you a will." She leaned closer now, close enough for him to see the cracks in the mask she always wore: the pain beneath the elegance, the tiredness that no speech could wash away. "Because I don't even have one anymore."

A brief pause, a silent breath, then she continued, "I'm not some sweet Dantooine girl who'll help you find peace in a field somewhere with a home and a family and a lie to tell ourselves at night. I'm Zara Saga. I'm made of ash and ambition. I ruin things." She took another swig, then set the bottle down gently between them. The air between them pulsed with a silent intensity, heavy and waiting.

"So go ahead, darling," she said softly, but her voice was razored at the edges. "Tell me what it is about me that gives you anything. And think very carefully before you do." Then she waited, burning quieter now, but still burning.

Rokul​

 

[Rokul]

Location: Bastion
Tags: Zara Saga

"I don't follow you because you're my warlord, nor because you're my superior. I did. At first. I admired you because of your strength. Your fire. Your wit. I still admire that. But I don't follow you because I have to. I do it because I want to. I chose to. I chose you with...a lot of things."

Which is why when Zara said the fire had gone out, Rokul's gaze hardened for a moment. That wasn't what he wanted. Not at all. It was that fire that he cared for. That had warmed him. It had thawed him and made him more and more into a person. Less of a cog. Less of a machine. He was a living breathing person and it was because of Zara he was realising that. Yet then came that question. Why did he care about Zara? It was one that he struggled to answer himself. He turned his side to her for a moment, as Rokul stared off to the side of the room.

"...Some might say it's because no-one else will. But I won't pity you like that. You deserve more than just pity Zara. You're strong. Perhaps stronger than I am myself. And...strength is the main thing I have going for me."

Physical strength at least. Mental strength? Rokul felt like he was decent at it. The Force was another matter that he hadn't focused on. He stared down at his hand, flexing it out for a moment as he stared at the callouses. Rokul was no diplomat. He was no noble. He was a grunt. A soldier. What he did best was smashing down walls and taking lives. Talking wasn't something that he expected he'd need to be good at. He didn't expect it to be something he cared for.

"That fire of yours. I don't want it to go out. It frightens me sometimes. I'm worried that it'll burn someone else. But...I'm not worried about it burning me. I'm slowly growing used to getting burnt whilst being around you. But that fire is what makes you, you Zara. You aren't the Archon of Light because of some kind of radiance you give off. It's the Flame. The fire you hold within...Kriff, I'm really starting to sound like a poet now."

And that's when he brought his attention back over towards Zara. Taking in the cracks in her mask. The tiredness. There was no way he could tell her to sleep. To rest. That wasn't Zara's way. She'd keep pushing herself until she burnt herself to cinders. And it was dangerous to be close to someone like that. But Rokul wouldn't back away as he met Zara's gaze once more.

"You want me to repeat it? Then I will. You give me a Will Zara. You make me want to make choices. To go against the grain. You make /want/ things. To see that fire in your eyes. You see yourself as someone who ruins things...Sometimes things have to be broken and ruined before they can be their true form."

Rokul once again let silence fill the room as his eyes focused on hers. There was a lot he had to wrap his mind around. A lot of words that he had to think of.

"In the past? I'd have went with what my parents wanted. I'd do what they want. I was a cog in the machine of my parents...and a cog for the Diarchs. I destroy things for them. I rebuild things if they want me to. It's...my duty. My purpose."

He let out a small sigh at that, running his hand down his face for a moment before he looked at Zara.

"I will say it simply Zara. I don't want some Dantooine Girl. I want you. I want to see your fire. I want to see that smile you give when you feel alive...but more importantly? I want you to know you have someone in your corner. I am on your side. Not...mindlessly. If I disagree with what you're saying, I will make it obvious. But I won't leave you alone."

What was he meant to say now? Rokul had started to give up on carefully thinking over his words as he reached out to grab the bottle. He needed a drink. He had spoken for far too long. His throat was sore. Of course, the burn that went down didn't help, but it let him have an excuse to just stop talking.​

 

[Zara Saga]

​

Zara watched him speak as a predator might watch its prey, unsure whether to devour it or protect it. She observed the way his words stumbled and then steadied, the way he flexed his calloused hand as if searching for answers. Most of all, she noticed the way he looked at her, not as a soldier would regard a ranking officer, but with an intensity that made her feel as if he were trying to memorize every detail of her face.

It was unnerving, the way he seemed to see right through her, past her rank and title and into the depths of her soul. And yet, she found herself unable to look away, unable to break the connection that seemed to bind them together in that moment.

She didn't interrupt him, not once. She let his words wash over her, letting them land with a weight and significance that she couldn't ignore.

"I don't want some Dantooine girl," he said, his voice low and intense. "I want you."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut, igniting a spark of emotion that she had long thought dead. She felt something flicker behind her ribs; something inconvenient and treacherous and painfully alive.

Zara leaned back against the booth with a slow, deliberate exhale. Not the kind of breath that signals peace, but the kind that comes right before you decide if you're going to start a fire. Her lips curved into that wicked, dangerous smile that always meant someone was either going to fall in love or deeply regret their next decision.

"Stars," she whispered, her voice soft and silked with alcohol and something sharper. "I should be worried about you, shouldn't I?"

She reached across the table and slid the bottle from his grip like it was hers to take. Which, of course, it now was. She tipped it toward her lips again, her throat rising with the slow pour, and when she finished, she set it back down with a soft thunk.

"You're sweet, Rokul," she said, her voice low and sultry. "Painfully so. And I mean that in the most devastating way."

She didn't lean in. She let the distance between them hold, let the heat build like something buried beneath ash. Her voice dropped into something breathy and dangerous.

"But I want you to understand something before you go romanticizing me into your salvation. I'm not stable. I'm not healed. I'm not some mythical flame you can carry around and hope it doesn't burn through your uniform. I ruin things, and not in the poetic way you make it sound. I say things I shouldn't. I sabotage peace because I don't trust it. I love the fire because I'm terrified of stillness. I can't change that. Not for the Diarchy. Not for Rellik. Not for anyone. Not even for you."

She leaned slightly forward, elbows back on the table, her fingers tracing a slow circle in the condensation near the bottle. Her lashes lifted, gaze latching onto him like a blade pressed gently to the skin.

"And still you want me?"

Her voice curled around the question like it already knew the answer. Like she didn't believe it. Like maybe, she wanted to.

"You say I make you want things," she said slowly, watching him with something unreadable in her gaze. "But be careful, Rokul. You don't know what kind of mess you're inviting in when you ask for me."

She stood now, gracefully, the way all dangerous things move; slow and silent and hypnotic. She stepped around the table, not to leave, but to stand beside him, close. Her fingers plucked the bottle back up, and she cradled it between them like it was some sacred offering.

"If I give you this Will."

She turned her head, close enough now that her breath brushed his jaw.

"And what exactly do you plan to do with it, soldier?"

Her tone was soft, sultry, but laced with challenge. As if daring him to decide whether this was a fire he wanted to warm his hands by…

…or one he was foolish enough to step into.

Rokul​

 

[Rokul]

Location: Bastion
Tags: Zara Saga

He stood tall. Even as Zara started to move, even as she took the bottle out of Rokul's hands, he didn't buckle for a moment. He wouldn't back down from what he said. He wasn't the kind of man to waste words to make people feel better. Though he raised an eyebrow as she asked if she should be worried about him. It was clearly a rhetorical question so he didn't give it an answer. Instead he listened. And watched. That smile. Damn that smile. It was the kind that he wanted to see but at the same time he knew he was flirting with danger more so than ever in this moment.

"I never said you're stable Zara. Nor healed. Neither of us are. But that's not what...I want. If I wanted someone stable, or healed, I'll do back to Dantooine. And I don't want to carry you around as if I won't get burned. Because I know I will get burned. More than once. But that doesn't mean...I won't run away from it."

A small sigh escaped his mouth as he rested his hands against the table, staring directly at Zara. Rokul didn't have some fancy smirk on his face, or a grin that could cut through diamond. All there was the emotion in his eyes as he focused on her. He felt her gaze on him, as if she was looking at more than just his skin but he couldn't let that deter him.

"I'm not asking you to trust the peace. I'm not asking you to change Zara. I'm asking you to...trust me. That I will be beside you. As much as I can be. To trust that I won't run away when I get burnt. That when you say the wrong things, I won't snap at you. I'll...try to understand where you're coming from."

That was...part of the problem Rokul felt. People weren't trying to understand where Zara was coming from fully. She had good points. Plenty of them. Rokul agreed with most of them. But...they were said the wrong way. Or with the wrong words. And people didn't seem to care to try and understand it. They thought it was rebellion, or revolution.

"Yes. I still want you."

It was another rhetorical question in his mind. But this time, it was one he gave an answer. In a way, it was an unnecessary answer. The truth was obvious. But he still stood by it.

And then she stood. And moved. Dangerously. As if she was some kind of serpent, ready to try and constrict herself around Rokul if he made the slightest misstep.

"There's a lot of things I don't know Zara. I'm not smart. I'm not a quick learner. But...there are things I want to know. And I want to know you. Not as my superior. But as...something that I don't know how to describe."

His hand raised to hold onto the bottle alongside Zara. As if it was some kind of oath, or ancient offer that was of supreme importance. In reality, it was just a bottle of some nearly finished swill. But in this moment, Rokul didn't care about reality. His eyes firmly set on Zara's.

"...I plan on fuelling that Will as much as I can. So that the fire will never go out."

A simple statement. Because simple was what Rokul did best. As he threw his spare arm around Zara to pull her closer to him. If he was going to get burnt, it was going to be by his own hands. A fire that he'd throw himself on to keep warm if it came down to it as he brought his face closer to Zara's.
​

 

[Zara Saga]

Zara blinked once, slowly. It wasn't hesitation she felt, but a profound surprise. A genuine, wide-eyed, soul-deep kind of shock. She'd expected a retreat, a stammer, maybe even some noble backpedaling with all the usual "it's complicated" disclaimers that men loved to wrap around their cowardice like armor.

But Rokul didn't retreat. Instead, he moved closer, his hands on the bottle, her bottle, his eyes fixed on hers, his voice soft and certain, stupidly brave. She watched him like he was rewriting a story she'd already decided the ending to.

And then he touched her. His arm curled around her like it belonged there, as if she belonged there too. Her body went rigid for half a second, tension coiling through her shoulders like a whip crack, but then it melted, slowly, dangerously, into the space he offered. Her head tilted slightly as he leaned in, her lips hovering just out of reach. Her breath fanned against his skin, hot with alcohol and something more ancient than fear.

"Oh, you really don't know what you're doing, do you?" she whispered, a smile blooming on her face that was both amused and devastating. She pressed a finger against his chest, not to push him away, but to hold him right there, as if she was taking his measure. Her eyes flicked between his, serious, stubborn, and stupidly loyal, and she almost laughed again, this time from disbelief.

"You say you're not smart?" she murmured, her voice warm with alcohol and something sharper. "Rokul, if you say that again, I will slap you. You don't get to walk into my wreckage and tell me I give you a Will and then insult yourself like that." Her tone changed slightly, dropping into something softer. Not seductive, not theatrical, just real. "You're not stupid. You're just not like the rest of them. You don't speak in circles or chase power like it's water. You choose. That matters. You matter."

She poked his chest again, softer now, more playful. "And congratulations," she said, lifting the bottle with a dramatic little flourish, "you've earned the highest possible distinction in my world." She paused, smirking. "I trust you." The words landed in the air with the weight of a crown being placed, or a blade being handed over. She didn't say them lightly. In fact, she barely said them at all. Zara lowered the bottle, tilting it in invitation toward his mouth before taking a sip herself, letting a drop of it glisten at the corner of her lip, untouched and taunting. Her eyes never left his.

"Don't think that makes you safe," she said, her eyes gleaming, her voice purring. "It just means if anyone hurts you, they'll answer to me. And I'm not known for my… diplomacy." Her fingers traced a line from his shoulder down his arm, then back up again, lazy, teasing, testing him like fire licking at dry wood. She leaned in closer again, lips nearly brushing his this time, breath mingling.

"Go on, soldier," she whispered, every inch of her daring him to close the space. "If you're going to fuel the fire…" Her lips barely parted, a breath, a promise. "Then earn it." And she waited. She wasn't backing away, wasn't saving him. She simply wanted to see if her soldier had the courage to burn.

Rokul​

 

[Rokul]

Location: Bastion
Tags: Zara Saga

Rokul was...surprised to well, see the surprise. The blink from Zara. He thought he had been playing along to what Zara was expecting him to do. Yet it appeared otherwise. It was a pleasant surprise to say the least however as he kept his arm wrapped around Zara. It wasn't as if she belonged in his arms, he'd never have that thought. It would be disrespectful in his eyes but...it was nice to have his arm wrapped around her.

There was a small expression that could be...described as a pout however as Zara pulled her lips away from Rokul. That had been his attempt to try and fuel the fire, and there was Zara acting as if she was trying to tease him over it. As if she was being a brat over it all.

"...I've got that smile on your face that I enjoy so much. So I somewhat know what I'm doing."

His lips curled into the slightest smile he could muster. Yet his eyes stayed focused on Zara, even as she poked him in the chest. Loyalty was one of the main things he had. He wasn't someone who often acted through emotion. He worked through logic or orders. But in this moment, he was acting off his emotions. What he wanted. Not what someone else wanted him to do.

"Power is...fleeting. It differs on who's looking at it. Some can view strength as power. Knowledge. When I say I'm not smart...It's not as an insult. I know my weaknesses. I know my strengths. The same way you do. You see a wreckage? I see something beautiful."

Not as something to be fixed. A fixed Zara was something that could never exist in Rokul's eyes. It was like a desert planet filled with fish. Rokul sighed, bringing his head closer to Zara for a moment, his gaze taking in her face for a moment. Her cheekbones, her eyes, her nose, as if he was trying to imprint it all to memory.

"You say I matter? So do you Zara. More than just as the Archon of Light. You're...I don't have the words for it."

That's partly what he meant by the fact he wasn't smart. Words weren't his strong suit. Emotions weren't what he did...but then Zara said something that actually caught Rokul off guard. Zara trusted him. Almost immediately, Rokul's face lit up. His eyes gained a bit of colour and life to them as that smile smile broke out into an actual grin.

"...You know it's my job to get hurt, right? I charge in my armour. I break things. I'll get hurt pretty often...Though if you can use some more of those fancy force techniques like on Taris...Well, it might not be that bad."

The grin slowly faded away into a small smirk, as his eyes finally flickered away to look at Zara's finger as it trailed up and down his arm. Affection wasn't something he was used to, but whereas some might have backed away from it, Rokul didn't. He stood firm as Zara dared him to close the space, and his gaze then focused the drop of liquid at the corner of her lip.

"...I am thirsty after all."

And with that, Rokul moved forward. This time, he wouldn't let Zara tease him as he moved in for the kiss. He was ready to head into the fire. He was ready to be burnt. Because the fire was what he wanted.
​

 

[Zara Saga]

Zara didn't move when he leaned in. There was no flinch, no retreat, no deflection with a well-placed barb or a sharp-edged joke. For once, she simply didn't feel like performing, not for him, and certainly not when his lips met hers. The contact wasn't dramatic or desperate; it was quiet, soft, earnest, like something being whispered instead of shouted. This profound intimacy was what utterly undid her. It wasn't the heat or the rush of his mouth against hers, but the sudden, unexpected stillness it brought. A stillness she hadn't felt in years.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she kissed him back, not just with her lips, but with fingers that slid gently along the side of his jaw, cupping his face. It was as if she wasn't sure if she was holding onto a person or the very last bit of warmth she had left in the galaxy. There was something trembling just beneath her surface, something brittle and molten all at once, but she didn't let it break. Not yet.

When she finally pulled back, just enough to breathe, her forehead rested against his. Her fingers lingered against his cheek, her thumb brushing the corner of his mouth where that damn smirk had resided moments ago. Then she laughed, a soft sound that filled the space between them. It wasn't mocking or deflecting, but full of something real for once: amusement, wonder, disbelief.

"You're ridiculous," she murmured, her breath still fast, her heart pounding like war drums in her chest. Her smile was unguarded, dangerous perhaps, but undeniably honest. "You actually did it, you idiot." She shook her head lightly, her hair brushing against his skin, her grin a confession she hadn't meant to say aloud. "You kissed me." Her voice dropped lower again, teasing but not unkind. "You really do like fire."

She eased herself out of his arms, gently, almost regretfully, as if she wasn't rejecting the closeness, only acknowledging the limits of the moment. Her fingers slipped down to take the bottle from the table again, cradling it like a shield, something to busy her hands before they betrayed anything deeper.

As she turned slightly, her voice softened once more. "Don't fall in love with me, Rokul." A moment passed. Then she looked back at him, her eyes bright and unreadable, that familiar smirk returning with just enough sadness behind it to sting. "…You'll never survive it." She tipped the bottle to her lips again, hiding behind the burn, already mourning the inevitability of being wanted, of being seen. For once, she didn't know what to do with that kind of light.

Rokul​

 

[Rokul]

Location: Bastion
Tags: Zara Saga

In this moment, the man who would stand as a wall of defense and act as if he was made of durasteel himself, let himself be vulnerable. Let himself live in this moment as he felt Zara returning the kiss. His eyes closing gently as he wrapped his spare arm around Zara, holding her there as she cupped his face. This was what he had wanted. The warmth that didn't just radiate from Zara but it was radiating from within Rokul himself. The durasteel within that made him slowly melting...

A small sigh escaped his lips as Zara pulled back. Taking in as much air as he could, as if he was utterly breathless. There was no need for him to mention how this was his first kiss. That would just make for teasing. Instead he kept his forehead against Zara's, his eyes still clenched closed as if he was thinking to himself. That laugh Zara had produced...It was a genuine one. It hadn't been something to mock Rokul, or something that felt as if she was trying not to feel something. It was a laugh that had genuine emotion in it.

"Why are you surprised Ma'am? I'm a soldier. You gave me orders. Good soldiers always follow orders. I do like the fire. The heat. It can destroy...but it can also flourish. The ash left behind...can always lead to more fertile ground."

Yet the good times could not last forever. As Zara eased her way out, Rokul moved his hands down back to his side, watching her carefully. His eyes darted over towards the bottle for a moment. There was a part of him that wanted to knock it out of Zara's hands. She wouldn't find any answers at the bottom of the bottle. No matter how much she drank...but that wasn't the response he should be giving right now. In this moment, violence was not the answer.

"...Hm? Who said anything about love?"

Rokul raised an eyebrow at that, as if Zara had given away more information than she had meant to. She was the one who had brought up the concept of love...but even now, Rokul stepped over towards Zara's side, reaching down to grab her hand and taking it within his grip, keeping an ironclad hold over her hand for a moment.

"...if I wanted to "survive" Zara, I wouldn't have became a soldier. I'd have stayed as a farmer. I'd have stayed home. I don't expect to live to an old age. I want to enjoy what I can, whilst I can."
​

 

[Zara Saga]

Zara felt the calloused warmth of his hand close around hers, firm, steady, unyielding, and she allowed it. For now. She tilted her head up toward him, chin just barely lifted, a look of challenge and amusement swimming in her eyes like starlight through smoke. The intimacy of the moment didn't make her retreat; it made her dangerous in a new way. Not fiery and volatile, but sharp, simmering, predatory. She took a long, deliberate sip from the bottle, letting her eyes stay locked on him the whole time. When she finally lowered it, she licked the last drop from the corner of her lip with maddening slowness.

"Oh stars," she said with a faux-sigh, "listen to you, farm boy."

She freed one hand from his grip just to press two fingers to his chest, tapping lightly, mockingly. "All that talk of fertile ash and blooming fire. You sure you didn't major in dramatic poetry out in the Dantooine fields?" She gave him a look. That look. That mischievous, devastating, you're-not-ready-for-me look that she had perfected long before she ever stepped foot in a council chamber. "You're going to write me poetry next, aren't you? Something tragic and brooding about the Archon of Light and the Loyal Soldier."

The grin she flashed was all teeth and trouble. But there was a flutter behind her ribcage, and she hated it. No, feared it. She wasn't sure she'd survive someone wanting her this genuinely for much longer. "Men fall in love with me all the time," she said breezily, waving a hand in mock boredom. "It's really not my fault. I'm charming. Magnetic. Dangerous. It's a package deal." She gave his hand a squeeze, just to remind him she was still holding on.

"But I'll make you a deal, Rokul," she said, the fire creeping back into her tone, teasing and electric. "You get one month. One month to be around me, kiss me when you want, get under my skin, see the worst of it… and not fall in love." Her smirk widened, brazen and merciless. "If you can do that, force, I'll be impressed. I might even let you win an argument."

Then she saw his eyes dart again to the bottle. Just a flicker. Barely a second. And she pounced. "Oh no," she purred, snatching the bottle up and holding it like a weapon. "Don't think I didn't see that little look. You're going to try to fix me, aren't you?" She stepped back slightly, raising the bottle above her shoulder like a dare.

"Going to take the bottle away? Talk about healing? Offer me decaf caf and therapy in a bunker?" She took another pull from the bottle, sharp and shameless. "I'm not going to make anything easy on you, soldier," she added, voice low now, real again. "You say you don't expect to live old, but don't go trying to waste what time you do have chasing an idealized version of me."

Then her tone shifted again, quieter. Edged with something that sounded almost like warning, or fear. "You want to be near the fire, I get it. But sometimes it's not warmth you get. Sometimes it's the scream right before everything collapses." She leaned back against the edge of the booth, bottle hanging from her fingers, her gaze cutting into him with something harder than teasing now. Something older. And then, without breaking eye contact, she sparked a small flame in her palm. It crackled hotter, angry. Not a playful flicker, but a warning shot. "I won't stop you from chasing it," she said. "But don't ever think I'm something you can contain."

A pause, thinking on it carefully. And then: "…for the record," she added, her voice lightening, lashes fluttering just slightly, "I'd love to see you try." And then she winked, took another swig, and slumped into the booth with all the arrogant poise of someone who just challenged the universe to a duel and was bored waiting for it to accept.

Now it was his move.

Rokul​

 

[Rokul]

Location: Bastion
Tags: Zara Saga

"Just simple agriculture knowledge."

That was Rokul's response to the poetry question. A small smirk still flickering on his face as he watched Zara. A small rolling of his own eyes at the idea of him writing poetry. That wasn't something he did. He could see the appeal of it however at least. The quiet stoic Soldier who wrote down flowery and feeling filled poems to tell the Universe. But that wasn't him. He didn't care about telling the universe how he felt. The universe would just spit it back at him.

"How many of those men that love you actually want You. Not Zara the Archon, Zara the Dangerous. How many of them want Zara Saga, with her strengths and faults? With the good and the bad? Because from the sounds of it, they're interested...until they see actual flaws."

Rokul knew it was some kind of defensive mechanism with the jokes, the sense of mock boredom. What Zara was defending herself from, Rokul wasn't quite sure. And he didn't want to pry in case it made the situation even worse. Instead he squeezed Zara's hand, as a sort of a reminder that he was there. He was ready to see actual flaws. To see Zara as a person, and not some kind of icon.

"I'll agree to that deal Zara. I won't fall in love with you during that month. So you better be ready to let me win an argument or two. And you better be ready for me to wear it as a badge of honour that I'd get you to admit defeat. Though...what happens if the tables get turned? If it's you who falls for me."

The smirk was still on his face as he folded an arm along his front. It was his own way of taunting her. Provoking her almost. But it was also his way of showing that he wasn't going to fully back down around Zara. She wanted to be a fire that burned things around her? Well, Rokul would be the ground that was always beneath the flames. The ground that would be scorched, burnt but would never fade away. The ground that would always cradle the flames but never run from it.

And then he watched as she snatched up the bottle, letting out the closest thing to a chuckle that he could muster, shaking his head a little bit. Fixing wasn't what he did. He wasn't a doctor, or a mechanic, or anything fancy like that.

"No. Therapy and Decaf does nothing. At least to me. Instead I was going to take away one of your ways to escape. So that instead of you looking at the bottom of that bottle for an answer, you'd look at me. I am not chasing an idealised version of you Zara. Most men probably are. Instead, I'm trying to chase the you that you keep hidden. Behind your smile, behind the bottle."

Rokul then watched as Zara's tone shifted. His smirk fading from his face for a moment as the Soldier folded his arms along his front and listened. It felt as if this was some kind of test. It clearly wasn't, but the way with how Zara was looking straight at him, it felt like she was seeing something more than just him. And then she summoned the small flame that crackled. It wasn't something playful. Or teasing. It was real danger.

"...I don't want to contain you Zara."

There was one idea that had came to his mind. For him to prove how willing he was to get burnt, and to wrap his hand around the flame...but that was the wrong answer. That was him showing that he'd smother the flame and hurt himself. Instead...there was something else he had in mind.

"I want to...keep your fire roaring. I don't want it to go out."

And with that, Rokul gently wrapped his hand around the side holding it in the pain. He wasn't one to shy away from pain. And he was wanting to prove it. The Force. It wasn't something he was experienced in using, but he focused on it. Focused on the air around the pair...and tried to nudge it towards the flame. To fuel it with more air.
​

 

[Zara Saga]

​

Zara felt the warmth of his hand around hers. It wasn't a snatch or a grab, no attempt to control her, just a steady presence. For the first time that night, her usual smirk faltered. He didn't want to contain her; he wanted to keep her burning.

Then the air shifted. Her breath caught the moment she felt it: a faint, nearly imperceptible nudge of the Force, brushing against her flame. The fire in her palm flickered, expanding slightly, not violently, but with a subtle, controlled breath. It responded to him. Zara's eyes widened, her teasing demeanor dropping away like a silk curtain in the wind. "You can manipulate the force," she breathed, not a question, but a stunned declaration.

She didn't speak for a long moment. Her gaze moved slowly from the flame, now quietly crackling in her palm like a heartbeat, to the man in front of her. He looked far too stoic and far too stubborn to be something as rare and raw as what he'd just shown. When her voice finally came, it was softer than it had been all night, real, curious, a little uncertain. "You never told me." There was no anger or accusation in her tone, only a profound sense of wonder.

Her hand lowered slightly, the flame shrinking back to a steady pulse, but she didn't extinguish it. She couldn't, not after what he'd just done. "Rokul," she breathed, her brow knitting. "You're not just a soldier." She said it like she was discovering him all over again.

She didn't know what to do with that. For once, Zara Saga, Archon of Light, the woman who always had an answer, didn't know what to do. So she did the one thing she could. She stepped forward, closing the space between them without hesitation, rising on her toes to softly press her lips against his. This time, there were no games, no teasing, just a kiss that felt more like a thank-you than a challenge, something simple and real.

When she pulled back, she lingered close enough to feel his breath, her expression unreadable, caught somewhere between admiration and confusion. Then, with an awkward little cough, because force help her, she wasn't good at this, she turned, placed the half-empty bottle carefully down on the table, and crossed her arms over her chest like she needed to rebuild the walls she'd just let him through.

But her voice was different now, quiet, warmer. "You're gonna have to take me to Dantooine sometime." Her gaze flicked up to meet his again, hesitant but hopeful. "I… wanna understand this 'simple agricultural knowledge' of yours." Her lips twitched into a small, almost embarrassed smile. Zara wasn't used to asking for things, certainly not like this. And when she spoke again, her voice was smaller than it had any right to be. "I think… I'd like that." Then she looked down at her boots, awkwardly scuffing one against the floor. For all her fire, her arrogance, and her endless, ruthless control, Zara, in this moment, didn't know how to handle being wanted for something as simple as herself.

Rokul​

 

[Rokul]

Location: Bastion
Tags: Zara Saga

"Yes, I can manipulate it. Not well though."

That was his response to Zara's apparent shock. Rokul had always thought it was somewhat obvious. The reason he could keep moving in battle no matter what. It wasn't just because he was a soldier who refused to give up. He had the Force to propel himself forward. When his legs gave up on him, the Force wouldn't.

The silence filled the room for a moment as Rokul's small manipulation of the Force fluttered out of power, the breeze fading away to leave the air still once more. Rokul wasn't good at manipulating external forces through...well, the Force. It had always been himself. Control. That's what he could do. Not altering. Though when Zara spoke once more, his head shot up to look at her, his face faltering slightly.

"It...wasn't meant to be a secret. I'm...just not good with it. It's inelegant. Raw. Rough...The only tool the Force is for me is a hammer."

In the same way that Rokul saw himself as a hammer to bash down the problems seen as nails, he saw the same for the Force. It was a tool, yes. But he was not skilled enough to deftly wield it like some kind of miracle tool. No. It was just a hammer. Something to help him smash through walls, to break down threats to the Diarchy. Yet...according to Zara, it seemed like he was more than that, which meant the Force had to be more...

The kiss caught him off guard, more than anything however. It wasn't some kind of game. Some kind of way to tease Rokul. It felt more real than anything tonight. Zara wasn't putting on some mask, wasn't trying to trick Rokul in any way. It was simple and real, and Rokul responded in kind, wrapping his arms around Zara in a gentle embrace. Waiting for her to pull back, and when she did, Rokul just looked at her with a small smile on his face.

It was clear to him that Zara was preparing to try and rebuild the walls that he had managed to get through...and Rokul was going to do his best not to let her. Past the walls was where he belonged, as he reached out to take Zara's hands, gently trying to pull her arms away from herself. This was a different method to how he was used to getting through walls. Breaking them down, charging through. That's what Rokul was used to. This was a more delicate method, but it was the one that Rokul cared the most about.

"I can take you there whenever you want Zara...I can even take you to my family's homestead. Let you have a homecooked meal. Or...I can show you the fields the kids used to play at when I was younger. I was never...too playful however. Chores were all I ever did..."

There. That was Rokul's method of trying to keep the walls down. Talking about himself. He hadn't really done much about that as he kept his eyes focused on Zara's face, his lips breaking out into a smile at Zara's...awkwardness. It was cute. Not that Rokul would say that outloud.

"You've got a good smile. You know that Zara?"


​

 

[Zara Saga]

​

Zara allowed him to take her hands, letting him gently peel her arms away from where she'd tightly crossed her chest. The tenderness of the motion disarmed her completely, far more than any weapon ever could have. She simply didn't know how to brace herself against that kind of softness. Her hands lay limp in his for a moment, uncertain and vulnerable, before, slowly and hesitantly, her fingers curled back around his.

She listened as Rokul spoke about Dantooine, not in grand speeches or soldier's reports, but in simple memories of chores, fields, and a homestead. These ordinary words made something inside her ache. She had never known that kind of home, a quiet place where things were simple, where survival wasn't a constant war. As he spoke, her gaze lifted, her lips parting slightly, caught between wanting to speak and not wanting to break the fragile moment. Then he smiled at her, a real smile, devoid of teasing or challenge. "You've got a good smile, you know that, Zara?"

That was all it took. Her heart twisted painfully, and Zara Saga, Archon of Light, a name synonymous with disruption in peace talks, alliance-breaking, and the strongest voice in council chambers, actually blushed. She instantly looked away, her cheeks coloring rapidly, her teeth catching her bottom lip in a nervous habit she'd long since outgrown, or at least thought she had. "I… shut up," she mumbled, her usual strength completely gone, too weak to even manage a smirk. She really was flustered. "I don't…" she tried again, shaking her head so her hair slipped across her face as if to hide her. "Don't get used to saying things like that. I'll start expecting it." Her voice cracked slightly at the end, a complete betrayal.

Mercifully, the universe intervened. She swallowed hard, a strange unease suddenly rolling through her stomach as the haze of alcohol, adrenaline, and emotional chaos hit her all at once. Her balance tilted. "Oh, stars," she muttered, as a hand pressed lightly to her temple and the last vestiges of her bravado crumpled. "I'm going to need you to take me home." She glanced at him, her eyes tired and softer now. "Not… whatever you're imagining right now," she added, a dry note in her voice, though it lacked its usual bite. "I mean my actual quarters." She gave his hand a brief squeeze.

"I just need to sleep this whole day off before I start trying to burn down the galaxy again." Zara stepped closer to him, not quite stumbling, but no longer standing like the queen of her golden halls. She was just a tired, dangerous, complicated woman, finally letting someone close enough to catch her when the war in her chest grew too heavy. "Please, Rokul," she murmured quietly. "Take me home."

Rokul​

 

[Rokul]

Location: Bastion
Tags: Zara Saga

A soft squeeze was Rokul's response to Zara's fingers curling around his. A reminder that she wasn't alone here and that Rokul wasn't going to be going anywhere. This was not a side of Zara that Rokul had expected to see, but he was going to be as gentle as he could be. It was hard for him, but he was somewhat wrong when he said he wasn't a quick learner. He was. Just not when it came to book smarts as he ran his thumbs over the top of Zara's hands gently, brushing them over her knuckles.

"Are you...seriously blushing Zara? What happened to all this "Men fall in love with me all the time"? I thought you'd be used to hearing these compliments. They aren't anything...poetic or smart. It's...obvious."

A gentle teasing was his response to Zara's flustered state, but he wasn't going to push it too much. Yet as her hair fell in front of her face, Rokul took one of his hands away from Zara's gently, brushing the hair out of her face so he could actually look at her. Even if she was trying to hide her face, Rokul wasn't going to let her. He wanted to see her more than anything right now.

"Maybe you should start expecting it Zara. Small, simple compliments. The way your smile lights up a room. The way your eyes seem to sparkle when the light hits them right. You'll love the sun on Dantooine. I promise you that."

Yet it seemed like all of the drink had finally hit Zara. The main reason Rokul hadn't been chugging away at the stuff. Well, that and the fact he didn't even like the taste of it all. He raised an eyebrow when Zara said she wanted him to take him home, that broke out into a small smirk when she said it wasn't what he was imagining right now.

"Well. What I'm imagining right now is carrying you off to your quarters, and tucking you into your bed before heading off to my own quarters. You're telling me that's not what you mean?"

The thing that made it so much worse? Rokul was being honest. That was actually what he had been imagining as he prepared to sweep Zara off her feet, before he looked over at her, his face growing serious for a moment.

"How...do you want me to carry you to your quarters? With you leaning against me? Fireman carrying? Or?..."

Though with that, his gaze then softened for a moment as he looked at the tired, dangerous and oh so complicated woman in front of him. She wasn't stood like a queen, nor like a raging fire...but that didn't change how Rokul saw her.
​

 

[Zara Saga]

​

Zara couldn't believe this was happening. She desperately wanted to snap at him, to tell him to stop being so damn gentle, to stop brushing the hair from her face as if she were fragile, to stop acting like he'd found something precious instead of someone dangerous. Yet, her body betrayed her. She leaned into his touch, just slightly, enough to humiliate herself. "You're insufferable," she mumbled softly, her cheeks still burning under his fingers.

Then came the compliments, the honest ones, small and simple observations she wasn't built to handle, not from him, not from anyone. Her throat tightened. "I hate you," she whispered, though she absolutely didn't.

Next, he asked how he should carry her. Zara, Archon of Light, conqueror of arguments, master of sharp comebacks, simply stared at him. Her mouth opened, then shut. "Fireman carry?" she repeated faintly, sounding unsure whether to be horrified or amused. Her lips twitched. "Force, if you even think about slinging me over your shoulder, I swear I'll burn your uniform off your back." But the words were empty, devoid of fire, just exhaustion.

A long pause followed. Then, with a sigh too tired to be dramatic, Zara took a small step forward and simply leaned into him, her forehead pressing gently against his shoulder. She didn't say anything, didn't ask permission. She just allowed herself, for the first time in what felt like years, to let someone else hold some of the weight. "You win," she murmured, muffled against his chest. "I surrender. Do what you want." Resigned, the words carried a softness she wasn't capable of faking.

"I can walk. Probably," she said, sounding less certain by the second. "Just don't drop me." A beat passed. "And if I fall asleep on the way there, I'm blaming you." For once, she wasn't teasing or testing him. She was just Zara: tired, human, letting herself be taken home.

Rokul​

 

[Rokul]

Location: Bastion
Tags: Zara Saga

"Well. You are going to have to suffer me for at least another month. So get used to it Zara."

Rokul grinned at Zara's reaction to all the subtle little compliments that he had given the Archon. It was even more amusing to see how she seemed speechless at Rokul's question about carrying her, even though it had been an entirely honest question. He didn't want to risk doing something that would rub Zara the wrong way.

"...There is a part of me that feels like you don't need an excuse to burn off my uniform. And who said you're able to police what I'm thinking about, huh?"

He raised an eyebrow at that, before wrapping his arms around Zara as she leaned against him, and he carefully lifted her up in both of his arms. Not in the fireman carry of course, because as much as he might joke about it, the soldier didn't want to entertain the idea of actually getting his uniform burnt off. He liked his uniform! It was very...uniformy. So instead, he went with what could be described as a Princess Carry as he hefted up Zara.

"Just leang against me Zara. I've got you. I ain't gonna let you down...Well, I'll have to when we get to your place. But only then. I'll let you down and then head off back to my place."

The idea of Zara falling asleep against him amused Rokul once more, but he tried his best not to show that on his face. Instead he started to head out of the little hole in the wall, giving the bartender a short nod of his head. A stoic expression slowly coming over his face once more. He didn't want the regular public to think he was enjoying this...even if he was.
​