Private Another Reason

[Loske Treicolt]

That’s what they’d do. Do everything they could until they couldn’t do anything anymore.

Agreements and mutual understanding were reached. Once again, they were on the same page. It had taken her a few more months to get to his level of holistic awareness of self and relativity. Up until a few minutes ago, she’d never witnessed someone so important to her clinging to their last breaths. Almost mutilated. Maynard had. Several times over.

Speaking about the restfulness of their future together, she smiled despite herself and the tumultuous stretch of their time together since their reunion. Loske had no idea how to work some land. It was advantageous to decide to bunk up with someone who’d come from an agriculturally savvy background if she wanted to actually live out the dream of a peaceful, self-sustaining family life. Desertion of their friends wasn’t something they could realistically consider, either one of them. He was right, not right now. They’d been hard done by, but it wasn’t enough to close the book on that chapter of their lives. Not yet. And she hoped yet never came, honestly. And everything they hoped to harvest would be earned and without question. Something they could enjoy beyond their own incubation, and it be a revelry with their friends. Like Unity Day...should have been. If things hadn’t been weird between herself and Ryv at that juncture, but with Allyson now in the group their friend network had expanded and only made for more seats at the table of the potential gatherings of future them.

Maynard Treicolt took her hand in his. By now, her clenched fists had become limp and the warmth from his fingers, and the familiar coarseness of his touch reminded her that once again, despite what she’d just witnessed, he was alright. Calloused and scarred from the work they couldn’t walk away from. Her thumb ran over his knuckle –– the divots along his knuckles still remnants from the frustration he’d punched out after Honoghr. Those hands. They were so rough and gentle at the same time. She’d only wanted the space to think and parse through her thoughts. Articulating them out loud helped her rationalize, and get far away from her original heretical considerations. Being that close to him was distracting. With all the uncertainty bouncing around in her person, he helped quell it if only with the sureness that she loved him even more after this.

The finality of we have to finish this fight was sound. Loske nodded once, tight lipped. Just short of saluting. Any hostility she’d been feeling effaced, replaced instead with the morbid comprehension of duty for the cause of friendship. Nothing further needed to be said, they’d only be repeating themselves. Throwing synonyms at sentiments that were already aired. Everyday they’d put their war paint on, hold their heads high.

“You’re right.” Her free hand lifted to run her fingers through his hair, following the direction to his jaw, cupping it and nodding curtly again. “Let’s give our best so it finishes quickly, then.” To further calcify the end of the conversation, she leaned up with the intention of delivering a single punctuated kiss, but with everything he’d just confessed she couldn’t find reason to stop or step away. One couldn’t cut it, or would feel too cold. And that one was too quick. The second, third, fourth even came along in rapid succession. She ended up kissing him harder, deeper with more urgency than something uniformed as originally intended. If he had anything further to say, words would be lost to her mouth. It wasn’t until she was breathless that she stopped, and even then she kept her face close to the comfort of his, closing her eyes and letting the entirety of their decision soak in. Nestled against him, she didn’t speak and let the silence stretch for a few precious moments. Uncharacteristic, but necessary.

Finally, she peeled from him and shrugged her jacket off, tossing it absently to the pile where his armour was. It took a lot of restraint to fight the urge to comment now where were we...but there was something more pressing to be taken care of. Selfish fleshly desires had to wait. She’d already made him suffer through too much conversation, any further duress she’d feel horrid about. Wordlessly, Loske climbed onto the bed, where the pillows were, and kneeled, tucking her feet beneath so her knees were touching and her lap was a sloping surface.

“I can’t keep looking at your neck like that, your voice...sorry for making you talk so much.” She murmured sheepishly and patted her thighs to get him to rest the back of his head there and she could concentrate on his neck.

“I think I can try and heal it, at least a little. Not bacta, but..with what we learned on Kiffu, I’ve been practicing. I did some on myself in the hospital too. I’m guaranteed to at least make it marginally better.” She pincered her fingers together to demonstrate the least bit of improvement she could have on the situation. “I don't know how long it will take, though.." Hence the convenience of not standing and doing it. "Maybe you can get some rest in.” A coy grin pulled the edges of her mouth “Save up your energy.”

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

“You’re right.”
“Let’s give our best so it finishes quickly, then.”

It was the best they could hope for, fight now for the future they could have together. Instead of selfishly lurching for it now at the risk of not having a future at all. At least not one they could sleep soundly in, knowing they left their friends to pick up all the work. Of course she came around to his line of thinking. They hadn't had an argument ( yet ) where they didn't find a level of deep mutual understanding by the end of it. It was a component in what made the pairing feel...right. At least, it certainly did to Maynard and as far as he could tell from his partner all those feelings were reciprocated. They would make it, they would figure it out.

Loske only compounded on this feeling when she went for a kiss and then another...and another. All the same, he seemed to delve into each one hungrily. After the time spent away and the briefest tease of a reprieve in her before she shunned him coldly into an argument that quickly snuffed out, he yearned for her touch and thus the gesture was one which sowed a deep satisfaction even when she drifted her lips from his.

Even after she threw her jacket off of her, he could feel the lapse in just going for it again. He couldn't admit that he appreciated the restraint on her part, given they were probably about equally split in how often which of them sought to initiate things going in...that direction.

"Yeah, I'd like that if you'd be willing to try it." Well, at the very worst case he'd end up with a neck massage. With how badly it'd been regarded in that last encounter, it was something he might appreciate. (All depending on Loske's skill at that). He crawled unto the bed not long after her, laying his body down and his head in her lap. A place of rest more comfortable than anything else that could really be offered up. At the very least, it felt earned. To him. After only waves of discomfort, pain and anguish rolled off him in the campaign on Muunilinst, comfort in her felt all the better. He was content to roll his shoulders and lean back into her. Shutting his eyes to let her work whatever she thought would be best by him, laying his arms over his abdomen idly as he eased into the bed beneath. He tried...at least, to rest.

Though it was a difficult task with the memory regarding his most recent brush with mortality a wound freshly opened again. When his eyes shut and sought to break focus from everything around him, the image of the Sith Warrior with his hands wrapped around his neck, pleading in sadistic rage for Maynard to open his eyes and look at his would be murderer. Every fiber of his being sought to jerk his body up and away from Loske, from a position so vulnerable. Ringing the dread alarm as the similarities of the encounter aligned if only by him being on his back and hands around his neck. In reality, he couldn't be in more contrasting circumstances, in the lap of his lover, under her tender and caring caress. That residual pain and anguish might've dripped through to her own subconscious via their link, if only for the briefest of moments before he let himself settle again.

Even as he tried to slink into the realm of sleep he was pressed back with no quarter by the trauma, the despicable memories. He needed her, her touch, her voice.

"I gotta be honest...as much as I could just- fall asleep right here. Not sure I can, got plenty of that on the journey back and...well-." He hoped he didn't have to elaborate on the whole residual trauma thing.

"Where...where would you wanna go? If we just- settled down somewhere?" A question he wasn't sure he had his own answer to. Concord Dawn was home but...his last venture there had him set on not returning if he could help it. Granted he felt that way on the time before that all the same. Even so, they were humble origins. Maybe if it was retaken, retaken by the people fighting for it. Mandalorians, the New Imperials. Maybe he could return then, to help rebuild it. Even so- it wasn't the path he was set on.

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

While Maynard Treicolt settled in, she kept her contended gaze levelled on him, only shifting once or twice to accept the position she’d encouraged. Once there were no more adjustments to be made, she reached down to touch the raw, bruised skin that stretched over his neck.

She’d only just begun to have a presence on his flesh when there was a jolt that broke her focus, like someone took the ends of each of her fingers and flicked them. She blinked rapidfire and looked down at him and drew her fingertips away from his skin to give him space to react. Her lips curled downward in a concerned frown, keeping her hands hovering. Loske could feel him tightening, clenching to fight his instinct and she did her best to excuse a calm confidence that could hopefully impress on their ethereal tether, if nothing else. So as not to startle him, she let the reaction run its course.

He swiftly filled in the questioning silence from her and explained his unwillingness to take up her original suggestion on getting some shut-eye. All the reasons he provided were completely understandable, and she nodded sagely appreciating the attempt at bringing conviviality back to his words. “Yeah, I understand.”

Where did she see them setting up indefinite camp? Planting their figurative flag in the soil of forever? Her cheeks heat up with a rosiness that wasn’t there before. Now she was completely distracted, her heart a flutter with the confidence he started the topic out on and she looked down at him, those hazel eyes looking up at her chin and she gave a toothy grin a sharp exhale out her nose in appreciative amusement.

“I’ve never honed in on a specific place.” Her response came quickly, her tone wistful, and she gently put her hands back down on his shoulders. Temporary before she could work her way back to the tender zone. “I picture somewhere green, warm. Nothing like Coruscant, somewhere calmer and slower all around. And whatever we make for ourselves, it’s not huge. I mean, I don’t really have anywhere to go. Y’know? Kiffu is...well. You know what Kiffu’s like. And sand is..terrible for farmers, I hear. I guess the other part of me is Naboo but that’s also so...egh,” she exhaled “So Naboo. It’s beautiful, but it’s...I don’t know how to explain it. I've never had a home before, but I've always wanted one. Somewhere you can count on going back to."

She had considered asking him to recount a story to her, maybe the first time he got behind the sticks or something potentially lighthearted, but she figured his throat would have been under too much duress to acquiesce. Turns out it was a better alternative than being trapped in the own prison of his mind. Something she couldn’t heal right now. Not so instantly.

“I’d love to talk about this, but I’m not good enough to think and speak about my day dreams and concentrate on making you better.” Curling from her spot and draping blonde curtains on either side of his head, she strained to crunch enough that her lips brushed against his upside down, her smile transferring to him in a light kiss before the tension on her spine suggested she pull back. She obeyed.

“You tell me where you want to go, what you’ve thought about. I can listen. Or maybe I can’t. Not sure yet. Tell me your juiciest secret and we’ll see if I remember or not at the end of this.”

Once she was more upright again, she closed her eyes and drew in a concentrated breath. She felt it pool around her, the first step to connecting with everything else in their space. Where she was, relative within it all. His words were
Drawing herself down to a level that nanoparticles would be envious of, the infinite version of herself roamed around between the most devastating area of impact. She could feel his force presence actively working here, like a neighbour.

The disturbances were more than visual. Once she was on this level, she was able to navigate through the hemorrhages. The lacerations stretched through the muscles, and the swelling from the nerves were putting pressure on the vocal chords. That explained the tension in his voice. Their movement was compromised. Slowly, the minuscule version of herself began to work at that. Pulling things away, encouraging them back to their natural state. The cartilage that protected the vocal chords were separated, the hairline tears running through them clear enough for the small version of herself to drag them back together.

Bending and reshaping and following the patterns she tried to traipse through their history. The concentration was intense, and for whatever Maynard was saying, she truly couldn’t hear him. Especially since she was not an anatomy expert, she was trying to make sure she didn’t do additional harm by trying to combine historic understanding on how things were supposed to be. Perhaps if she were more scientific, she’d have a better understanding on proteins and how to restructure them more effectively. For the most part, she was imbuing strength where things had been weakened or damaged. Vocal chords, airways, hairline fractures - she worked to smooth it all over.

The human sized version of herself gently brushed her thumbs outward against the tension from the inside, as if she were smoothing the bruises out. The engorged and ruptured blood vessels took a long time to curl back to their original patterns, healing and restoring their walls to reduce the impact of their colouration.

After what felt like years, which was actually just over an hour in the real world, Loske drew herself back to fill her presence up with her full self. Loske wasn’t sure she’d be able to do that on anyone other than herself and him, likely able to find a measure of success rooted in the helpfulness of their bond. She drew in a sharp breath, as if she’d just woken from a startling dream, and blinked herself back awake.

Her palms stretched against his clavicle and she looked down, trying to observe her handiwork from her elevated perspective. Where there’d been violent lacerations, darkened by the pressure of someone’s grip, there were now only light clouds of violet and raspberry. It wasn’t completely gone, but it was improved. At least to look at.

“How do you feel?”

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

After his brief but violent initial reaction to her fingers against his neck, he eased against her lap again. With his eyes closed he isolated every sense until he could only feel her touch and hear her voice all enveloped by his calm and at ease heartbeat. As much as his agitation might've spurred some residual pain through their force link, so too did her smooth caress and caring touch let him float back down into peace of mind.

“I’ve never honed in on a specific place.”

“I picture somewhere green, warm. Nothing like Coruscant, somewhere calmer and slower all around. And whatever we make for ourselves, it’s not huge. I mean, I don’t really have anywhere to go. Y’know? Kiffu is...well. You know what Kiffu’s like. And sand is..terrible for farmers, I hear. I guess the other part of me is Naboo but that’s also so...egh,”

“So Naboo. It’s beautiful, but it’s...I don’t know how to explain it. I've never had a home before, but I've always wanted one. Somewhere you can count on going back to."

"Yeah...I get what you mean. I kinda feel the same. Coruscant is nice, busy...its beautiful in its own way but...its not home. I mean- only home I ever knew was Concord Dawn. I don't- have a lot of great memories there but...it was home. The homestead was rundown, stuff always breaking, work always had to be done. Had to speak Mando'a half the time...always sounded so weird. But- on the flip side, the people were...mostly pretty friendly, down to earth. It was a tough place. Sandstorms, pretty much every harvest was a bad harvest. It took a lot to get by but...I think it probably did me good in the end. It wasn't great...but sometimes I miss everything how it was, before the Sith...before I became a Jedi." Maynard admits. At his core, he was still a man of humbled origins. In spite of his strained voice, evident through the obvious pain each word inflicted on his vocal cords he well and truly wanted to answer her.

"Maybe...if the New Imperials or the Mandos ever take it back...maybe thats the spot. It'd be work, a lot of work to make it something really great but I guess that just means we wouldn't ever get too sick of each other. And-" He seems to tread lightly into his next point, npt even really sure if she could hear him by now as she delved into the concentration needed for her to channel the means of mending his wounds through his neck and throat.

"When- if we decide we start a family, have children and all that then. We can give them a good upbringing, work ethic, humility, all that." Maynard said, picturing a path to which he was raised far more ideally, retaining the positive traits he'd garnered throughout his time on Concord Dawn without the residual trauma that came along with his upbringing. On that thought, he eventually was able to drift into a brief, but well needed sleep as Loske's healing broke through the tenuous mending of strained muscles and into a soothing sensation of rejuvenation. One that put him at peace, at rest.

Drifting to sleep he eventually woke up to peer into her eyes again, the blaring soreness around his throat and neck had waned and diminished noticeably. So too, luckily, did the pain. And it showed in his voice as he spoke, far less strained each word was clearer, full of life.

"A lot better...thank you. Hope that didn't take too much out of you." Maynard remarked, offering a toothsome grin, eventually sitting himself up from where his back rested against the bed, shifting his gaze back to look to her again before he spoke up.

"First...good sleep I've gotten in awhile, even if it was..." He said, inconclusively, peering to a holo panel secured into the wall which displayed the time.

"An hour...I'll take it." Treicolt remarked. It was dreamless, a fade of black and then he was awake again. A much better change of pace than peering into those despicable eyes, be it of his would-be murderer or Darth Alekto herself.

"You- you hear any of what I said? Kinda seemed like you blanked out for a bit there..." Maynard said, reaching an arm out for her to come closer to him again.

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Angels​

Clinging to each word with an earnestness that could only be emulated by someone so enamoured, Loske was infatuated with the blunt description of his planet, and by extension, homestead. She’d listened long enough to feel assurance that he was starting to slip into a headspace that was comforting, despite wanting to hear everything he had to say as he delved into the past.

Stuff was always breaking and had to be worked on. She allowed herself a snicker of appreciation at the parallel between his youth and how that translated even to The Renegade. So much so that Loske was pretty confident that if she hadn’t intercepted him at the arrival hangar, he would be working alongside buddy on some of the external hull damage right now. The influence of his upbringing had transcended the trauma and made him into the man he was today, even the weather had contributed to his resilience. Part of her wondered why they tried to harvest if the environment was so unforgiving. The reflection turned into projection, and she followed the evolution. Go to Concord Dawn, set up something with roots in the ground and maintain it through the harvests. Weather the storms and the elements together, establish something great. Learn Mando’a in order to communicate with the friendly locals. While he spoke, she realized how much instruction she’d need to be any sort of use in this future of theirs. She didn’t know anything beyond a cockpit or a lightsaber. Working with the earth to create something sounded like a lot of effort. Maybe there was an angle for Art of the Small there -- oh right! She was supposed to be doing something.

Torn between appreciating his ramblings and leveraging them as a distraction for her to go about her work, she elected to do her part of the bargain once his heart rate slowed once again to a more typical beat, and she could feel the tension easing off him. She’d forewarned Maynard Treicolt that she may not be able to engage at least, so the guilt of only being a one way radio was at least reduced.

The brightness behind his eyes returned when they reopened. A whole world reflected in them, and he validated that she’d done some good and helped him in the healing process. She shook her head to refute the idea that she was drained. It felt like an exchange of energies, and she wasn’t having to work against the clock to save his life, so it was a fairly rhythmic practice that she could get lost in. Apparently he too, with his admittance, was able to rest.

“Well,” she started with a coy drawl, and rocked forward on her knees toward him “Not..really..” It was a half lie, and the part that was true gave away instantly. A horrific liar when it came down to it. She’d had to focus on the story, but it was really only a few minutes long and the early machinations had allowed her to split her attentions just enough to hear - even if she didn’t talk back. Maybe one day she’d be good enough to do both. “I could hear it again."

Now that her focus wasn’t divided, she could reflect on the tales he’d spun before drifting off.

"And again."

There was something remarkable about someone sharing long term goals with you, and part of those goals or dreams being miniature replications of you and them. The blonde melted at the mental image. It wasn’t crystallized, but it was moving. Three, maybe four –– he’d used the plural –– layers of them, all together in a bundle. Him, her, their family together. Between the two of them, they’d be raising their imaginary offspring off ideals. Loske had literally never had a childhood, and had never really been around children enough to know how to discipline or instruct them. She just knew she loved the idea of a family. Before now, there hadn’t been any numbers in her daydreams, only little invisible ideas and activities. Maynard’s childhood, from the stories he’d shared, had been a struggle. His mother made up for the slack in history, but it gave him enough understanding on what not to do. The cornerstones of a personality Maynard suggested were mirrored of his own, and she sunk into the mattress a little heavier with a goofy grin that got her lost on a tangential romantic whimsy of their union in parenthood.

“Tell me.” To relieve any stress, she offered a knavish grin and rose in height to drape her arms over his shoulders; “But maybe in Mando’a this time?”

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

T H R E E _ W O R N _ W O R D S

Again? He could tell immediately that she likely heard most all of it. She was about as bad as a liar as he was. He rarely ever did it, only ever indulging in telling falsehoods usually to cover up something good. He could've easily downplayed what happened on Muunilinst but in its stead he let her bare witness to all of it. For the better or worse. Why would he ever hide anything from her? There was at least no justification that he could make to do that. She was everything.

“Tell me.”

“But maybe in Mando’a this time?”

Whenever her arms draped over him again he felt that ease of mind roll over him in greater shades. Her touch was nigh enchanting, even a short break from it, a few moments felt that near addiction returning. It was as if every fiber of his being could lower their guard and give in to that smooth caress. There was want, care, love in her fingertips every time they'd ever grazed over his body. All the more a reprieve after the fires he braved to return to her embrace. If anything made all of it...any of it worth it, it was that. It was her. His patience and will to carry on in such a precarious existence might've already flexed and caved under the pressure by now were it not for Loske.

If he was expected to return 'home' rather, return to the Core with nothing waiting for him but an empty starship and a docket of new assignments he might've thought the spacer life a better path again. Or...anything else but wastefully throwing his body and life into the fray time and time again.

"{ You really wanna hear it in this harsh mess? }" Maynard asked, invoking his second tongue seamlessly. Whatever inflection he carried from the noncreedborn of Concord Dawn faded into nothingness as his voice reflected any other Mandalorian who'd spoken the mother tongue. Slowly, if reluctant for the briefest of moments he slowly moved up from the bed, turning to her after he stood up to offer out his arms to her to take into her hands.

Pulling her up from the bed he slowly backed himself toward the door of their quarters, managing to will it open with a brief nudge of the controls. Luckily, their pair of droids were out of sight and out of mind...for now.

"{ I just want to be with you...in the end, I don't really care where. Could be just here, Coruscant, Concord Dawn, Naboo...it all works the same for me. So long as we can build something, together. }" He said, speaking in a tongue he knew she didn't understand, not as if he would've said anything different. Though even to him, the mystique of hiding the sentiment behind a foreign tongue, especially one with such harsh origins made it all the better.

A turn down the corridor and they were in the ship's refresher, the door sliding shut behind them as an idle fan began to ventilate through the room, another press of a button activated a soothing warm rain of water in the closed off shower next to them.

"To put it simply..." Maynard said, resting one hand on her hip before another coursed to clasp the side of her neck gently for a moment as he eased himself closely to her before letting it course through her blonde locks.

"{ I love you... }" He offered up, easily the thousandth time he'd uttered that lofty statement to her. Even so it still seemed to carry just as much weight as the first time the sentiment was shared between them, at least to him.

”I can't keep being the fool who waits any longer to say I love you.”

"Though...not gonna lie, been a bit longer than I'd like since I'd...actually had a real shower, if you wouldn't mind joining me." Maynard offered, unfurling another toothsome grin to her, very expectant that she would oblige by that offer.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

As soon as the tongue dipped from basic to something more cacophonous, Loske realized how naive she’d been. Of course he’d indulge her request. Her brows arched in surprise at the transition, and quickly faded into an expression more reflective of impressedness. She hadn’t expected him to move, quite the opposite. When he rose, her curiosity did as well and all too readily she let him take the lead for their backward movements. Once they made the first turn, she made a navigational hypothesis and relaxed a little more.

“Oh no, I can’t..” she began with a sheepish grin while he spoke. It was an incredibly ancient language, and for all the fame that came with Mandalorian heritage, Loske had never heard a word of it spoken. Through the foreign words, a few were close to something she knew. Those few being the planets, which gave her a sense he was talking about locations and roots again. The part about where they could hope to spend longer than forever together. Stupefied, she grinned. “I wish I knew what you were saying. I guess I’m going to have to learn if I want to talk to any neighbours.” Hopefully it wouldn’t be too difficult to pick up. The Mandalorian culture was somewhat like the Jedi — not beholden to a specific species or age. Therefore, to make the tongue useful among so many, it would have be relatively adoptable if it was supposed to be useful. If she could listen to a few more phrases, she might be able to pinpoint distinctions and try to repeat it back. Surely it’d be broken at first. It had some similarities to the harshness of Kiffar — though those were the only similarities she could draw. “I’m a quick learner, especially with a good teacher.”

He swapped back to basic with a seamless transition while a symphony of droplets poured out next to them. An expectant smile crept across her lips and she rested her fingertips at the waistband of his bottoms, patient to linger in his embrace.

Whatever the final delivery of his heritage language was, she could only assume by the pacing of it. It didn’t sound simple, when strewn together with the ancient alphabet. But the softness of his expression and smoothness of his voice, even with the harsh tones of the warrior language, suggested it was an endearing sentiment.

Any bacta bath he might have taken was certainly more bacta than bath. Especially on any of the Alliance transports. Loske exhaled an understanding chuckle. “I’ll bet.”

She wanted him, and neither could prolong the wait much longer. Every inch of him she wanted to appreciate. He almost hadn’t made it back to home. Back to her. And now that he had, she had to scour to make her relief known. Her patience for the payoff was almost so worn she couldn’t think to make a jest about having somewhere else to be. Obviously she wasn’t going to leave this moment.

He was already partially undressed, and she made short work of the rest of it. Her own disrobing was less ceremonious. All her scars remained unchanged, save for the one she’d exposed earlier. It was deep and gnarled but not unknown. There were no untold stories. He’d been there for each one above the waist. Liberated from their layers, she latched herself onto him for a few seconds in the dryness outside the refresher while steam started to rise and cloud up the mirror and she navigated backwards — the pressure of her heel was a cue for the shower door to hiss open and let them in.

The rhythmic deluge of the droplets against the flooring was interrupted as soon as they stepped in and the warm stream coursed over them. Usually for more utilitarian uses of this space, she liked the water so hot it left her skin red. For this occasion, the warm temperature was just fine. The transition from regular air to the pummelling droplets was jarred when they raced into her mouth between kisses, and she had to pull back to wipe her face with a laugh at the less than cavalier interaction. Her hands continued through to slick back her hair, now clinging to her as a result of the manufactured rain with a wide grin and shrug. “I always imagined that being a bit smoother.”

Cleaner pooled in her palm from the dispenser and she reached up to rake it gently through his hair, cautious around the area she’d seen the collision to concrete. With some awkward movement, she managed to squeeze around behind him, precariously tippy rowing to ogle the handiwork of the stitching. She tucked her lips together thinly in response. At least the medical aids had the wherewithal to make sure no blood stuck in his hair. The sight of crimson running down to their feet would have been a bit of a mood killer.

And he still got up. Constantly thrown down and dragging himself to his knees and to stand again. Munnilinst had been a victory and he’d help get them there with his insatiable tenacity.

“Did you brawl a lot as a kid?” Loske asked, peeking around his bicep “I imagine you tussling on some playground a lot. Between chores or something.”

His back was also bruised, marbled from the impact of the duracrete. She tried not to let it distract her. “Listening to you reminisce was probably the first time I’ve felt jealous about upbringing. I’ve always envied big families, because they’re constantly available and supporting one another — granted, outsiders perspective — but I hadn’t given much thought to—“ water dropped into her mouth and she hem’d it out and grinned despite herself. “The memories you get when you’re growing up. How they build and influence you. It’s wonderful.”

She frowned. “I don’t even remember the lab part of Kiffu. At least, not until I went back and read it.” An affectionate term for psychometery “Just to see what happened.”

Maynard Treicolt

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

Of course he knew she couldn’t speak it. Naboo, Coruscant, Kiffu all were seemingly realms familiar to Loske. Perfectly engineered and artificially bred to be as beautiful and intelligent was it all culminated in an origin that couldn’t more starkly contrast her lover. Maynard was born of humble origins, imperfections in these circumstances only serving to hone a man who was tough, tenacious, persistent and hard working. All even past when the planet he called home was sacked and its golden fields rendered unto the cinder.

Even if in real time, he'd braved many years more than she had, there was no shortage of signs of perseverance on either of them. From the blaster burns, saber cuts and shrapnel scars along Maynard’s form chiseled from backbreaking labor and military conditioning to her own form shaped to perfection from her own exertion and with a great deal of genetic assistance.

That new scar across her chest from Muunilinst was grievous but it couldn’t hope to color her in a worse light to Maynard, he seemed to display an idle curious of the mark, tracing his thumb near the flesh but on a pure aesthetic basis it didn’t seem to make any difference him. Where it bothered him more was what it meant, not too dissimilar to how she saw his wounds. A reminder of the very moment he nearly lost her forever. How they both had to claw and wrench every fiber of their collective pneuma to pull her from the brink. Even so, it might just the same be a testament to their bond.

“Yeah believe me I didn’t get it so easy in my upbringing.” He remarked, running a hand to idly hold unto her hip as she worked at washing his hair, well needed as he needed to wait for the stitches to heal fully before he’d dare delve into the flesh of his scalp.

“All the same though...yeah, certainly made me who I am. I don’t think I’d trade it away.” Maynard admitted. Because after all, it got them together even if it meant the Concordian braving ten thousand days in the fire to finally fill that sunken pit of his soul and find his better half, his love.

“I honestly...I was afraid your origins, how you were ‘made’ might have put you off the whole thing, the idea of a family, together. But I guess when you’re missing something most everyone else around you had...I guess I get it now.” Maynard said, as soon as the cleaner had run through his hair again a hand rose to clasp her cheek as he leaned forward to press a hungry kiss to her lips again, eventually easing off the contact even as he kept his forehead pressed to hers.

“They want me back again soon...on Botor. Apparently the war has made the campaign there stall. Don’t have too much time together before I’m off again. I wanna just- I mean there’s things I want to do but...I also just want to hear your voice right now. Something about it I- I just missed it- I missed you. I could only feel so bitter, when I was away I played some of those audio messages that you’ve left for me. I don’t know if I could’ve slept without them.” Maynard admits candidly, shedding that vulnerability again to her.

“I wanna take you somewhere, kinda like where we wanna settle down before I have to go back, get away from the noise just for a little bit.” Maynard offered though evidently aimless as to exactly where.

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

“Yeah, it was pretty isolating. I honestly don’t remember much of it –– I can show you what I found, if you’d like. It wouldn’t be so jarring as through psychometery, you’d only be an observer to history.” The experience of Flow Walking was largely much less intrusive than reading the history of something as a whole. Her experience watching him die was as if she’d been him, reliving it. If she’d had read the incident through his armour, it would have been as if she were the breastplate. It had its merits, but it was a draining ordeal –– especially when it was something so emotional.

She only nodded along at his comprehension of her motivation to align so quickly on the idea of a family. “If we’re a pair, and introduce a third, does that make it a Triocolt?” Despite the burden of the conversation, and the utter weight behind everything they seemed to cultivate between them, she forced a tight lipped smile and a nose scrunch. It was a wretched mutilation of words all mishmashed together to try and introduce some levity back to their dialogue.

At the mention of Botor, she stiffened. She had it in her schedule too, but the timing was somewhat staggered for Saber Squadron. The reports had claimed many foiled attempts to take the city, due to heavy fortification on the ground. They’d be issued with the fleet to provide aerial support where other squadrons had failed. Saber had become a name used to instill fear in The Alliance’s oppressors –– the efforts and talents of their pilots hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“You’re going to the ground, then.” Loske observed, the water redirecting its course to the outside of her eyes and cheeks with their foreheads pressed together and not allowing it to penetrate. She pulled her head away for a moment, running her hands over his arms to wash away the sudsy lather that had gathered at his shoulders, her free hand coming back to wipe her eyes. There was some level of calculation happening behind her eyes, that might have been hidden by the trickle of droplets. She spoke the equation out loud. “Saber’s blocked until the campaign clears some of the ground defenses. I mean, I’d argue that we’re not, but I don’t have that kind of sway. I did argue we’re not blocked, but it’s still a ground ops first. We’re just coming in to secure ––” Her eyes avoided his as she idly wrung her hair out, brows knitted in thought before she stopped her sentence short of completing and looked up at him. If he wanted to hear her voice, talking about how to keep their promise about side by side when one was in the sky and the other was on the ground was certainly a tactical conversation worth having.

A wan expression graced her features, reflecting on the painful silence that had stretched between Muunilinst and Coruscant. Any back and forth between the allied comms had to be heavily encrypted, and civilian conversations were monitored heavily. The only major messages that went through were from the top down. Reaching Maynard with an updated conversation had been close to impossible unless she relayed it under the guise of a message for the sake of the mission, which was a falsehood she couldn’t do. The war to push back The Sith was too fresh and sensitive for such compromises.

Maynard Treicolt suggested they go away, and unlike her reaction after Honoghr, she was much more ready to take off. Whatever time they had was theirs.

“I’d like that."The blonde nodded and curled her arms around his neck, cautious not to throw her weight around too much in the slippery container. To help steady herself, Loske grasped at the back of his head as she kissed him to seal the agreement. "I was just thinking I’d prefer to see you in the sun and moonlight rather than The Renegade’s fluorescents.”

She stepped back, raising her hands above her head to express the expansiveness of their next location "Somewhere with sprawling greens and a rotation short enough to give us night and day. Why not Concord Dawn?"

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

"Is it worth it, you think?" Maynard asked of her memories and her offer to let him flow walk through them. He asked less because of the very reason he was so reluctant to unravel his own nigh fatal recent hours from trauma and more because he was wondering if what she remembered was anything past mundane. Regardless...it was Loske, her origins. He was curious regardless. Even if they weren't as bloody or downtrodden as Maynard's own upbringing it was the difference that made him curious to begin with.

If anything, that stark contrast might've only embodied a mutual fascination. The born of the salt of the earth country boy who scrapped and fought through to adolescence compared to the beauty who'd been crafted to precision under sterile circumstances and rapidly aged to maturity. No lessons to be learnt, no hardships to be had. Then of course that train of thought was broken when she let loose another another of her characteristic puns. He couldn't help but force a laugh, especially when the nature of the remark was so lighthearted.

"A Triocolt...that you saying you're already gonna take the name?" He said, resting a hand on her cheek before he delved for another kiss if only in approval of the shared thought and sentiment between them, not as if he really had to ask. At least, he didn't think so. The Treicolt name meant next to nothing but at the very least, it had an organic legacy and roots. Not as if Loske's didn't but it was clear from their interaction with Kiskla that whatever deeper origins she had shunned her as not their own, as an outsider. He could relate to that at least, ever since he'd left the Jedi originally he was always regarded in a similar fashion. Until he found what became the New Jedi Order, the Alliance and her.

“You’re going to the ground, then.”

“Saber’s blocked until the campaign clears some of the ground defenses. I mean, I’d argue that we’re not, but I don’t have that kind of sway. I did argue we’re not blocked, but it’s still a ground ops first. We’re just coming in to secure ––”

"Yeah...I'll be in the thick of it." He remarked with his voice dipped in shades of solemn. Which meeeeans they'll separated, on the field of battle, again.

"But- I've looked at the compliment. I'll be alright, wish it wasn't so soon but...times are tough." Maynard uttered, no way around it. After all he'd known well that tough times mean't more toil. That was an accepted facet of life by now, at least to him. The Galactic Alliance and by extension the New Jedi Order had gotten its hands dirty with the so claimed 'True Imperials' to fight the Sith as the Galactic Core was still in dire need of consolidation.

There wasn't that picturesque ending they'd both imagined in sight. Of a liberated homeworld and the two of them settling down with a family. There was a mountain of struggle between them and the horizon of that ideal peaceful existence. They both knew that but it was either conquer it or perish to it. At least in how Maynard saw it now. As much as he wanted to run away with her now, he had far too much staked on the line now.

Of course, then she had to suggest home as a possible means of their divergent journey. She'd known he ran the Sith-Imperial blockade to bring Ryv back to civilization but he was admittedly silent of the details of what he saw there. The forlorn and distant memories of an imperfect childhood were ripped asunder in the stranglehold and charred corruption that came with the tight Sith occupation. They wouldn't get the fruits of a peaceful view there, not now. That'd come with work, bloody work.

"Not...not there, not now. I mean- I can run the blockade no problem but...that- we won't get what we want from there, not now....not for a long time." It'd take the Alliance or the New Imperials ripping it from the crimson clutches to grant them that reprieve. That wasn't in the cards while Bastion held its throne.

"I'd say Naboo, since you brought it up but...not sure I wanna brave the Violet Curtain. Alderaan's nice...right?" He'd always heard its nice but the precarious recent history of the Core Worlds might spell something different.

"As far as I can tell at least. Get some fresh air, still some alone time but...with a more scenic venue." Maynard said, offering a toothsome grin as he let that hand on her cheek settle down to the side of her neck with a faint hold. His expression dims not far after, realizing that these moments might not come so easily with how uncertain the near future appeared to be.

"After all...not sure how much of these we'll get. Things aren't looking like they'll slow down, not any time soon. So...times like these, I don't know- I can't imagine there will be too many of them." Maynard offered, swallowing down a breath after he spoke.

"So-" Maynard let out as he brought a hand up to stroke through her blonde locks, his lips coursing toward hers again.

"I don't really intend to waste them." He says before he'd yearns his body closer to hers in want. -

It wasn't all too much long after that they were in the swing of things, Maynard fresh into his spacer apparel, seemingly uncaring now if the scars and marks of the time spent at war in the flesh showed or not. The only person he cared to hide them from saw them. As much as he knew it'd be an inevitability it was an interaction he was only trying to escape at any turn as pointless a venture as it was each time he rolled through her possible reactions in his head the trip over. Back from the front.

A few switches hit, buttons flashed and they were out over the skyline of Coruscant's ecumenopolis and into the blue fray again. A less than novel sight for the two pilots.

"I don't know if I like how soon they're having you back to full duties, not gonna lie." Maynard admitted, leaning back in the pilot's seat.

"I mean- they know you almost died right? I'll be fine out there alone but- I don't think its right, even if you're fine." He was always willing to endanger himself, he'd displayed that in sporting his 'times are tough' mantra on top of all the times he'd actually done it, it was her he was far more protective of.

"Is it- Pryce? Or Callaesar? I don't know but...I should probably try and talk to them." Maynard said, almost as if that vision intruded on him, that vision of her near death at the hands of the Sith. There was no doubt of its permanence in his subconsciousness.

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

There was probably nothing more satisfying than the begrudging chortle in response to the awful portmanteau. Well, no. He proved her wrong quickly. What followed after was infinitely more satisfying — his agreeableness.

In the truest sense of the word, Loske was a traditionalist. Or at least, she reckoned that’s what her imagination made her. Maybe a romanticist. Maynard had hit the nail on the head when he’d observed she wanted what she didn’t have when it came down to family, memories, upbringing. That lust for life was nestled deep within her, a desire born of her own awareness of absence. So much of her was that now, cultivation of who she was as a person beyond the manufactured intentions. Even her last name was as spliced as her original DNA. Matteo contributing to the first three letters, and Grayson the conclusion. If she’d been a success, and been able to tap into her mastery of The Force right from the get-go, she’d likely have been branded a Grayson to continue the extension of that legacy. Even Kiskla hadn’t given up her maiden name when she’d finally given into the idea of marriage, almost begrudgingly she tacked it on to the end. Hyphenated, to keep that intimacy at arms length. Appropriate. But Loske chasing a legacy? It was for naught, and instead she’d had to make her own name count for something. Almost anything opposite the original intent. She hated leading crowds, influencing them with her doctrines and ideas, dedicating herself to the rules and strict dogmas of the Jedi, forgoing relationships for purpose. Every fork in the road, she used her prerogative to oppose and go against programming.

Treicolt might have been an inglorious name to the galaxy at large in a world peppered with Zambranos, Tagges, Dookus and Palpatines but it was important and larger than life to her. They could make it official, surrounded by their closest friends. Was that selfish? Probably. But it could be fun, stars knew everyone could use some fun. Even if it was stolen time. She beamed in response to his enthusiasm, nodding and meeting his lips with equal eagerness.

The thick of it. Loske didn’t reply straight away — still unsure how she felt about it. In the action of Munnilinst, he’d been remarkable on the ground. He’d lead the Rangers with clear instruction and been the militant mind they’d needed to hammer through the front lines. Of course he was a devil in the skies as well, but as she’d already said - Botor needed the ground cleared. This was likely the first of many ground born campaigns. He pivoted the dialogue to ensure it was a topic that’d have to be addressed at a later time.

She touched his cheek gently when he solemnly denied the timing of their visit to Concord Dawn. They’d get it back. The girl with no home built an internal resolve to make sure her lover could return to his.

Maynard Treicolt 's cavalier parallel of being able to easily navigate through the Sith’s blockade versus not wanting to do something due to interrogative paperwork was humorous at the end of the day. As many enemies and wrought that caused strife through the galaxy, the Confederation has just made themselves nothing more than an administrative irritation. The paperweight of the galaxy.

The success on Munnilinst was only the beginning of a larger campaign. They both knew that, and he reality he set in terms of timeline was impossible to debate. These stolen moments of reprieve were a sanctioned sanctuary until the greater power deployed them again. Botor would be next, then wherever else The Alliance directed them. And now they were basically a part of The New Imperial Order as well. Busy, busy! Their intimate time was to be treated as precious and a roguish grin crept up at his insinuation. Her smile was eaten up with his kiss. If happiness had a taste; this was it. ——

Her body was still singing in the afterglow of earlier, though with the time passed the song wasn’t more consuming than a pleasant hum now.

The co-pilot seat was mostly ornamental with such a simply calculated jump. Routes from Coruscant to Alderaan were well travelled over the years and it was almost impossible for anything to go wrong on such a short and popular route. Her gaze was aimless when he spoke up, and she looked at him with a tightened expression. His protectiveness was genuine, unshakeable. Without being controlling it was clear he was concentrated on mitigating further damaging losses; she was all he had. The corners of her mouth turned downward.

They had just gone over this. Closed the book. Sealed the deal. Got on the same page. She wasn’t about to be kept away from him again, even if there was some level of spite that suggested maybe she deserved it.

“Don’t.” Loske warned with a tense tone, leaning forward in her seat challengingly. She eased back as quickly as she’d initiated, drumming her fingers against her knees. “Thank you, but please don’t.”

Touched by his concern, she stopped short of rolling her eyes. But she did narrow them. She wasn’t the sort to shrink back, away and shirk her duties. Even if she’d been pleading to run from them hours earlier —- that had been to run with him. Not alone. To protect themselves and give them the space to live and dream.

“Alekto broke my lungs,” she admitted, making a rolling gesture with her wrist “But staying behind would break my spirit. I can’t betray my promise to you so quickly.”

He was also fresh from the field, the scum of the memory still lining his psyche. She was certain he’d jolt awake in the coming nights. Maybe she would too. She had in the hospital and her own bed, when fatigue finally took over her otherwise sleepless state.

It took her a second to realize this, and then the concern rooted in her own mind. If he was going to be on the front lines, it’d be a redux of the situation where all that pressure had been applied to his throat, his eyes, his….

Loske sucked in a breath, feigning reassurance with a weak smile to coerce him away from his protective flex.

“Besides, I’ll be safe and snug in a cockpit. Aerial cover is barely a notch above a blue milk or reconnaissance run by now.

Honestly, there are probably handfuls of duty lead soldiers in Gee-Ay-Dee-Eff GADF that almost don’t make it, and then they do, and they’re back in the throng again when they’re needed. As unique as you and I are to one another, we’re kind of expendable soldiers in the greater scheme of things. I don’t think Callaesar would fancy giving your girlfriend some time off because she didn’t die but could have. And Pryce.. I think he and Lieutenant… captain, maybe? Cartwright are on parental leave.”

It would feel disingenuous to flip the switch and plea what about you or flash a reverse card now.

“Don’t forget, you also almost died.” And nobody had paused. No-one had been around. “I just put on more of a show about it.”

The crooked grin that had been cracked with her showmanship statement transitioned to something softer, more genuine: “I appreciate what you’re thinking, feeling, but if you did it for me, you’d have to do it for you too.

And your resolve seems pretty unshakable, Commander Treicolt.”