Private Another Scar

[Darth Empyrean]

​

Atrisia had turned far worse than he expected - reminded by the dull, aching pain in his stomach. Maliphant groaned as he readjusted, bringing the pillow a little lower on his back to help him sit up - watching the holonet screen a few meters from his bed. It spouted about the incident, of their success on getting the VIP’s from the crash site, but notably; it never mentioned Maliphant.​

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On some level, he could appreciate that. Secrecy did him well, he didn’t care to be in the spotlight - but it felt odd for once not being the center of the attention. Dorian Harper was famous across the galaxy, as arguably the richest man anyone had ever known, with more control over the galaxy’s macroeconomy than most could ever conceive.​

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But here?​

​

Here, he was just Maliphant, assistant to Srina Talon. It was… strangely refreshing.​

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But that soft pain came back as his mind drifted, and his vision blurred as he silently reached over and pressed a button to dispense a pain reliever; and a healthy dose of bacta into his bloodstream again. After a moment, he sighed and leaned back in his seat - glancing for a moment at the scars that covered him.​

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In time, they would be gone. Plastic surgeons would see to it, but he couldn’t help but wonder if he should keep them. As a slave, they told his story - of where he’d been and who he’d been under, of what he would forever avoid. Yet now, he was Maliphant, scarless, and those he had now only told him of what he hated. Of yet another bad time.​

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In this bed, all he had was his thoughts - and it was lonely. Srina had been busy for days, weighed down by the heavy bureaucracy of her position, and had been unable to visit him for a few days. As of yet, she was his only ‘friend’ in the Confederacy, and the only one who even wanted to visit him. He could tell that much by the lack of welcoming cards.​

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Yet, as though summoned by Maliphant’s loneliness itself, the door slid open with a depressurizing hiss, and in the doorway stood Srina.​

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Maliphant offered a gentle smile, and spoke softly -​

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“Hey… I’m glad you came.”​

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Srina Talon​

 

[Srina Talon]

Darth Empyrean​

Srina had been bound by a variety of issues since the incident on Atrisia. Her sister Eira Talon was in quarantine and being cared for by some of the best medical professionals the Confederacy had to offer. She could not, would not, lose another sibling to the atrocities that seemed to follow her throughout the southern systems like a shadowy cloud. Between meetings with the Vicelord and other members of the governing body—She felt split in three. Part of her always remained with Eira and another piece loyally served the Confederacy and her people.

The last part, all she had left, seemed to center on her advisor. All of her being tended to operate with a notion of duty, before personal, but the immediate effects of Blackwing gave her reason to pause. Question. How very, very close it brought her to losing all that she cared for.

There was a persistent ache in the back of her sternum. It reminded her of things she couldn’t quite grasp. Fleeting. Memories, buried deep, but stirred as if rustled by the flutter of gentle wings. It contained many things. Relief. Sadness. A sense of loss—Loneliness that did not belong to her.

Srina had placed a call for her meetings that afternoon to be re-scheduled. When the door to the recovery room opened and mercurial eyes took in the occupant, she felt softened, stilled, by the sight of him. Everything that seemed to be whirling out of control suddenly became manageable. The ache in her chest eased and for the first time that day she actually paused to take a breath.

Even that felt foreign. Just, to breathe.

His voice met her ears and her eyes focused on the patient. Maliphant. It was easier to refer to him as a patient when he was still in recovery. It was easier to digest and accept. She still felt some sort of responsibility. She’d brought him to Atrisia. She had tried to see to his wounds. While it had kept him alive, certainly, she was no healer. Her lack of expertise made his path all the more difficult. A slight smile, so small, that most would never notice formed at the kiss of her lips. He was glad she’d come. “How could I not?”

The Exarch wore a dress of dark blue with a silver attachments, easily, formal enough for any Confederate requirement. It was clear that she had come directly from the Crown to see him. Not even to change into something a little less formal. Srina crossed the room and let the portal close behind her. They wouldn’t be disturbed unless something medically called for the attention of the facility staff.

She was glad to see him sitting up—Even if she didn’t seem glad at all. The expression she wore was that of ice. Empty, frigid. It was her actions that told the true story.

Her form settled delicately beside his on the bed. It was comfortable, though, she noted the sheets were significantly less soft than she had imagined. The ever aware Echani made a mental note to have something of better quality provided. He deserved that at the very least. “I am late.”, she murmured, carefully, and honestly. It was true. She was late. Everything she’d done lately had run far past the allotted time.

“But I am here—For the rest of the evening.”

A pause. Silver eyes flickered. Uncertain. His state was her fault. If she hadn’t of brought him to Atrisia—he would never have been wounded in such a way. Nearly killed.

“If you will have me.”

The confident leader, warrior, found herself at a loss for words. A slight pink hue dotted her cheeks unbidden. She didn’t know how to do this. How to apologize and comfort at the same time. With Eira—It was both more and less difficult. Her sister spoke the same language she did. One that didn’t require words. A glance. A nod. That was all it took. Maliphant had become adept at expressing himself in ways she understood, but Srina, still found herself struggling.

Emoting never got any easier. Especially, when everything she had to say felt paltry.

Thank you for your service?

Thank you for protecting me?

Thank you for taking a piece of metal through the stomach for me?

Thank you for being there. Thank you for fighting that…Thing. Thank you for grounding me.

But most importantly?

Forgive me.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Maliphant was for a moment, overjoyed that she was able to stay for the evening - though he held it well. A courteous smile, a small nod, nothing so extreme despite days of boredom stuck with nothing but the company of nurses and doctors making sure he would survive; despite his many pleas that he was alright, here he yet lay. Yet, as she neared, looked away, and spoke more - he lost that momentary happiness, or at least watched as it was clouded over by her sadness.​

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No, her guilt.​

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For a moment, Maliphant didn’t do anything - he didn’t speak, but he understood her movements better than she gave him credit for. He wasn’t an Echani - he didn’t grow up with her people’s language, but he did know her’s. His gaze moved away from her to the window not far away - where a group of nurses and a medical droid were arguing about something unheard. The Sith’s mouth cocked a little awry as he lifted a finger -​

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The blinds shut with a harshness that likely startled those outside the room who saw it - and the door locked only a moment after; magnetically sealed through the Force. Even if the Medical Staff wanted in, they wouldn’t, and while there was surely rumors to rise from this; it was the Dread Queen they spoke of. The rumors wouldn’t make it far.​

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Leaning forward, he readjusted to pull his arms around her tightly - letting his face bury itself in her braids. With eyes closed, he’d simply hold her there for a moment, letting all the guilt she felt fade away at the warmth of his embrace - and she would know from his touch that he held no feelings of anger, and never required something as petty as an apology for something he did unto himself.​

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His whisper came soft, barely loud enough to hear between the two of them;​

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“I’m just glad you’re here.”​

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Srina Talon​

 

[Srina Talon]

Darth Empyrean​

He didn’t seem angry.

Srina watched his features carefully for signs that her late arrival had soured his mood. He never appeared to think negatively about her, though, she couldn’t be sure. Her grasp on inflection and social cues could be exceedingly thin. Elegant footsteps took her to the edge of his bed where she found herself seated, close, but not so near that she might harm him.

A tug in the back of her mind signaled that the balance in the room shifted, moments before the privacy blinds snapped shut. “You should save your strength…”, she murmured, but the sound of a door locking with a small beep told her he wasn’t quote finished. She didn’t know it was magnetically sealed as well, though, she assumed that he was searching for discretion. Srina didn’t blame him. No one wanted to feel like an insect in a jar with a microscope trained on them. Not to mention the focus her presence drew. The citizens of Geonosis tended to react fairly strongly to her. Some, negatively. Not all governing officials were liked for a variety of reasons. Her lack of diplomatic experience, or, the favoritism the Vicelord clearly bestowed upon her.

Others had the opposite response. They glommed to her like a moth to a flame. As if, she were more than a simple Echani warrior. Indestructible. Unbreakable. Unstoppable. They barely seemed to acknowledge she was just as mortal as they were. Made of blood, and bone, not the Force and fairy dust. She shifted, softly, trying to figure out the right words. “…I tried not to draw too much attention.”

Her words were the truth. But, the attention was impossible to avoid.

It was then that he leaned forward, causing a flicker of surprise to echo in the halls of gray eyes, while his arms wrapped around her. She tensed, but acquiesced. Her eyes closed and she leaned into it so he could lessen the strain on his abdomen without letting go. The message would be clear. ‘Don’t hurt yourself, not for me.’

Slowly, the embrace held the desired effect. It convinced her that he wasn’t angry with her, that he didn’t blame her, somewhere, buried deep beneath layers of a controlled exterior. Her arms wrapped hesitantly around him. Soft. Far gentler than any would give the Exarch credit for. What did it matter when the rest of the world was blind? There were no cameras here. They could simply…Be. He was glad that she’d come, but, her face pressed into his shoulder. Hidden.

“I’m the reason you’re here.”

The quiet words were muffled, but, just audible enough for him to hear. He may not blame her.

Srina still blamed herself. She should have anticipated an attack. Atrisia was a hotbed for tragedy. They’d walked in on a metaphorical nightmare, that slowly, turned into a real one. Srina carefully disentangled herself from him after a few long moments. She didn’t want to. But, she didn’t want him to reopen a wound for her sake. “Lay back Maliphant…I’m not going anywhere tonight.”

Alabaster skin seemed even whiter beside the deep blue of her clothing. She reached up, slowly, and began to remove a few pieces. The cloth choker. The metallic, glistening, epaulets. The silvery chains that connected them across her bare back. She let the objects float to the nightstand while she moved to situate herself on the side of him where the abdominal wound was not. From there—She lay down beside him. Cheek to his shoulder. Hand, resting softly over the dressing, while the shimmersilk of her clothing brushed against this skin. He would feel a comfortable, peaceful, pulsating warmth from her palm.

She didn't dare try to mend it as she had before, but, she could share energy.

“I need you to be well. I don’t want you locked away in here anymore.”

 

[Darth Empyrean]

“The only reason I’m here is because I haven’t trained enough.”, he chided in a half joking way - though the sentiment was there. He had spent so long securing his proverbial power in the Force, he had managed to lose focus on the ‘practicality’ of it.​

​

Perhaps he’ll be known as the most eccentric force user in history.​

​

He smiled lightly as Srina disentanled herself from him, and commanded that he lay back. Malipahnt put up no argument, but his smile twisted into a harsh expression of pain as he let out a barely held back hiss of pain. The wound was fresher than he cared to admit - and the septic shock of the infection he recieved shortly after from the perferated bowels didn’t much help. Between his own force powers and the doctors however, he was at least in the clear - but that didn’t mean much when he considered the slow pace of his healing.​

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With an exceptionally slow exhale, he gently laid himself back on the pillow with eyes closed. He could still feel her through the blanket, pressed against his thigh ever so slightly as she pulled away pieces of her clothing - the parts that weren’t so important, at least. The Sith smiled at the thought, and let her lay into the nook of his arm, her head on his shoulder, and her hand on the wound. The softness of her touch was comforting, empowered with the gentle feelings she had for him.​

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It’d make it tolerable as he settled back into placid discomfort.​

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“I can leave anytime.”, he mused with his eyes closed. The hand that wrapped around her made small circles across her skin - with the ever so slight of touch that forced bits of goose flesh to rise from her skin.​

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“Don’t assume me weak just because I’m not good at dodging scrap metal in ship crashes.”, he said with a hoarse, pained laughter that forced him to crunch on himself for just a moment, before relaxing with a soft groan.​

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“... Remind me not to laugh.”​

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Srina Talon​

 

[Srina Talon]

Darth Empyrean​

“You can hold your own.”

He was teasing. It had taken Srina quite a long time to grasp his particular brand of humor, but now, she could at least recognize it. Even if she didn’t always follow. She could feel the smile that touched his lips without looking. It was warm. At least, until pain twisted his features. The sound he made caused her to freeze while silver eyes focused on his form. “Stay down…”, she murmured softly, gently, as she removed parts of her clothing that might be uncomfortable for him.

Srina drew herself up against the line of his form and found a comfortable place to lay her head without causing him harm. This was more practical. At least, for now. Silver eyes closed for a moment while she kept her right hand over the sterile white dressing. He was far more injured than he wanted to admit. She could sense it in him—The strain. The pain. The slight fog that came with the application of heavy intravenous narcotics.

He claimed that he could leave at any time and she shook her head slightly.

“No, you may not.”

With her eyes shut she began to slowly cycle her own energy. She didn’t dare try and heal his wound. Not as she had before, not, when he was so close to a more natural recovery. What she did do revolved around trying to replenish his energy stores, his vitality, so that he could fight what ailed him more efficiently. The taste of her power was cooling, comforting, and refreshing. It would take some of the sting of his injuries and mute it. “Stay. Let them help you.”

“Let me help you.”

She could feel his fingers play along her skin, deliberately, making a pattern that caused the muscles in her body to unwind. Srina, for all of her strength, had been run ragged, twice over. The Echani shifted slightly and her shoulders rolled a touch so that she could press a little closer. That touch wasn’t fair. It was distracting in a way she couldn’t put words to. “I never assume that Maliphant. I have known weak men in the past.”

Long white hair spilled over her shoulder when she tilted her head to speak—Lips brushing against his skin in a gilded sigh. “You are not, nor will you ever be, one of them.”

His groan, unintentional, caused her lips to curve into an unseen smile. He wouldn’t see it. He would feel it like a small half-moon pressed against him. “Don’t laugh, Mal.”, she responded immediately, not even realizing, that she had addressed him with a shortened version of his name. She was worn-out in every sense of the word. Cycling her energy through him wasn’t as draining as healing but it definitely attributed to the way her form melded into his. That, and other things.

In the unspoken part of her heart, it whispered little secrets.

Srina found her thoughts trailing back toward him throughout her days. She missed the sound of his voice filling her office. It was empty without him. Too quiet. She could feel a steady pulse running through her head that didn’t belong to her. A light noise escaped her that sounded very close to the chirrup of a bird, sweet, and airy. Unintentional. Comfortable. “Tell me something…”

“Something about you.”

His life. What he liked—What he didn’t. Srina wanted to know the things that had happened before she had met him. Before, during, and after he’d been the Slave. She even wanted to know a little bit about Dorian Harper. Even if, she disliked that face.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Srina encouraged him as he lay there - spoke of the strength of him; but Maliphant couldn’t quite internalize it. Sure, he had spent much of his life learning from the greatest Sith Lords in history; and was one of the few existing Sith that could even begin to claim they were next in line for the ‘Rule of Two’; but there was a contradiction in it all - a soft echo in his heart of empathy. Something Sidious, who had since called Maliphant his ‘chosen son’, would never have felt -​

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And yet he did. A finger trailed along the exposed skin of Srina’s back as she stripped what bits and bobbles away that she could - anything she felt might poke at him. Maliphant didn’t know the extent of it, so let his eyes wander to the ceiling to remain, at least for the moment; all the while his free hand moved to rest on hers, as it rested on his wound - passing soft, warm energies into him.​

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“There isn’t much to tell, Srina.”, he offered quietly, adjusting ever so slightly to make sure she was comfortable against him - allowing her leg to rest on top of his, separated only by the blanket.​

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“I could tell you everything, and it’d only upset you.”, but while he spoke, his hand slowed until it rested firmly against her lower back; as though the thoughts in his mind had taken precedent, if only for the moment.​

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“My mother was a slave, and I was born to her. I don’t know who my father was - but…”, he sighed as he considered his experience with the Nightmother Vytal;​

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“But, he might be a Sith Lord who used midichlorians to birth me - in the hopes there would come a day I would bring him back. It’s hard to say.”, he mused, though the downward inflection in his tone showed it wasn’t a happy thought.​

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“I spent over twenty years a slave. At eighteen I was bought by Darth Imperia, and she abused me for another three. Made me fight her apprentices, sold me for a night to her friends…”, he said with a quiet disgust. His nails, mindlessly, almost threatened to dig into Srina’s skin - but there was enough thought to it that they didn’t, but she could feel his muscles tense ever so slightly against her.​

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“Tried selling me to Irajah Ven - but…”, he sighed as he stopped. It wasn’t an easy memory, to be played like that by the would be Sith, her husband, and his new ‘master’ at the time.​

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“... but she was cruel, in worse ways than physical. Cerbera, another Sith with the Empire bought me later; spoke of freeing me, but never did so. I was kidnapped, and tortured for the location of the Dark Forge on Azaroth for months before I got free; and by then, Ven had abandoned me. It was only then, with the ‘help’ of the Darkstaff, I freed myself from slavery.”, he said with a quiet sigh.​

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“Though, I’m sure there are still papers somewhere that make me legally one still - but nobody has tried to collect on them in a long time.”​

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Srina Talon​

 

[Srina Talon]

Darth Empyrean​

He felt warm. Not overly so, not feverish, but enough that her form sighed into his. It was easy to do. Far easier than it should have been. There were unspoken concerns. Wants. Forbidden and buried. Srina could only take those items and hide them in the most secret parts of her. The places that never saw the light of day. She had trusted once. Fully, completely.

Could she attempt that again? Should she?

Srina pressed her thoughts away. Concern drew her to focus too much on what could be lost. Maliphant had his own agenda, certainly, but she wouldn’t press her burdens on him. He already aided her far more than she had any right to ask. Of all the entities that existed as advisors in the Confederacy, she counted herself lucky to retain one that seemed willing to endure all of her intricacies. She had chased off many an assistant, even a Minister or two, by her no-nonsense demeanor. Maliphant was different. Patient. Understanding.

It led her to try and grasp hold of his sentiments even more. What made him tick? In the moment she felt a sort of apathy, in regards to her words, and confusion blossomed in her heart. He was a survivor. A fighter. He had become what she had been born into. His touch to her skin left the dulcet tenor of her voice breathy, in truth, barely there.

“You are. Do you think I would lie to you?”

Srina did not suffer weaklings. There was something that had been bred into her genetics that seemed capable of recognizing the inferior. Even when Srina had met him under another name, so long ago, she had never associated him with anything so mediocre. He was different then. Now, just as strange, but in a way that she was slowly growing to understand. He was here, with her. Both in mind and body. That was precious, though, he likely didn’t realize it.

He claimed that there wasn’t much to tell and a laugh floated up to his ears. Rare. The notion of there not being much to say, or tell, was absolutely ludicrous. Srina shifted slightly and pressed a little closer at the notion of something upsetting her. Silent defiance coupled with assurance. It didn’t matter that it might bother her. It wasn’t about her. It was about him. “I can take it…I want—”

She paused, brow furrowing, while she corrected herself.

“I need to know. To know you.”

He was right of course. It was upsetting. From the very moment that he spoke of his mother, she felt her sluggish blood begin to move. Maliphant had been born into servitude. Srina could scarcely wrap her mind around it. Rather than to speak, or interrupt, she turned her head a little and let her lips brush against his collar bone. A million words in one action. So small, so meaningful. Especially from the typically chilled Exarch that seemed to have the emotional capacity of a teaspoon.

Twenty years a slave. Twenty.

He had been bought. Sold. Abused. Forced to fight. His disgust was palpable. She tried not to let her anger rise with it, but it was insistent. Instinctive. The desire to wrap herself around him was strong. She was far from infallible; however, she could be another layer in-between the Sith Lord and the rest of the galaxy. A cushion. Protection. Something. Anything. Srina could not undo what had been done…She wished that she could. Especially, when she felt him tense.

That told her more than his words ever could.

But it didn’t end for him. Not yet. He had been purchased throughout the Sith Empire as if he were property or goods. Kidnapped and tortured. The way he spoke of it made her heart feel heavy. Maliphant wasn’t overly emotional, but it was enough. Srina didn’t know what to make of what she felt emanating from him. What to say. What could she say that would soothe such long-set aches and wounds? Some of it…Some of it rang kindred. Srina had never been a slave.

She had been abandoned. The silvery-eyed female knew what it was like to be left behind.

Srina briefly moved her hand from his wound and the gentle connection broke. Her energy stopped cycling while she reached up to touch his face. It was familiar. The pads of silken fingers traced the contour of his cheek and finally trailed down his jaw. The light touch drew his gaze deliberately downward so their eyes could meet. She liked his eyes. “…Blue.”, she murmured quietly, carefully, stroking his face. The softest caress, intended to soothe.

“If I had a choice in color. It would be blue.”

It was the color of her Clan on Eshan. Blue, and white. She didn’t often get to choose what she wore. The attendant droids set something out for her and she complied. They knew what suited her schedule far more than she did. Her admission of her favorite color was, in a strange way, her version of trying to communicate. To open up.

There was nothing she could say about his past that wouldn’t sound like pity. Rather than to dwell and demand a further explanation of his years in servitude she slowly crafted the idea to fill his memories with something more pleasant. She was not skilled in making others happy, rather, she tended to infuriate them. But—He seemed to enjoy her presence.

For Maliphant, she would try.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

When Srina had pulled his gaze down - he spent a long moment looking into the beauty of the eyes that stared back. The eyes were a gateway to the soul, and every time Maliphant found himself looking into hers; he could see a sincere purity behind the darkness he couldn’t pull away from. And then she spoke -​

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With a voice like velvet, she gave him a simple color; what she would like his eyes to be. He smiled ever so slightly as he almost scoffed - though happily as his thoughts were broken free from the darkness of his past;​

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“Mine were, once.”, he offered quietly.​

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Long have they been corrupted golden, but there was a time a decade ago they were; when he was untrained, uncorrupted by the Dark Side that ‘freed’ him from the world of Slavery, only to enslave him to the will of artifacts, to power, to holding himself above what he once was. The thoughts trickled back ever so slightly - forcing Maliphant to shudder as he pulled his arm ever so slightly back from Srina.​

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For a moment, it would almost seem like he was going to try and escape from her embrace, but instead pulled the blanket that covered his legs from underneath her. A knee moved to lift her dress just enough to allow his legs to intertwine with hers, and the blanket came back over them as he rolled onto his side to face her - to pull her closer and look at her ever closer.​

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There, with their faces so close - and nothing between them but the short breaths traded between them, Maliphant smiled as his eyes glanced over the immaculate features before him. Of her eyes, of her cheeks, of her nose - all of it so close to her siblings and the other Echani, but so different to him. She was unique, no matter how much she couldn't see it; and it seemed to toy with him every moment it could. When his eyes glanced to her lips, however - he remembered the ship, of the moment he thought he would die, sacrifice himself for her life.​

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Of the fear he felt. It tainted the kiss, made it ingenuine - and he wasn't even sure she would know what it meant at the time.​

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He would rectify that.​

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With that slow tenderness, he let his nose slide past hers - and his lips pressed against hers with a full, gracious warmth as his eyes closed. She might've no been prepared for it, but this came with less blood between them; passing over nothing but the emotions he knew all too well she could feel through them. No darkness to cloud it, she would feel that romantic embrace, the altogether too tender embrace he had given her - the softly burning fire in his soul of passion...​

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A hand would gently wrap itself around the side of her neck - a thumb lightly pulling hair from her face as he pulled back ever so slightly. With eyes still closed, he offered her only a few words - dripping with that same tenderness;​

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"I like yours just the way they are."​

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Srina Talon​

 

[Srina Talon]

Darth Empyrean​

Often, he watched her. It wasn’t in the way a predator watched their prey. There was a gentleness that swept her glacier nature to the wayside, leaving her bare, exposed, in ways she didn’t know how to put words to. Srina remained silent when he admitted that his eyes had once been the color of a midday Eshan sky, though, the little scoff he issued caused a faint sense of amusement to linger. Her fingers reached up a little higher, twining in his hair, and pale pink lips parted. “…I can see it.”

Another life. If she watched the corrupted gold long enough—She could see it. Through the man he had become to his past self. He shuddered and seemingly began to untangle his arm from around her. Had she pressed too hard? Trying to see who had been, quietly, trying to understand the man he had become? She took a breath. No, that wasn’t it.

Reading body language had long ago become a fine art to her, of which she excelled, and his form was no different. It spoke. Even as it seemed like he might pull away the wintry woman knew he would not. He felt calm when she neared. Settled, grounded. She moved just enough to let him tug the blanket free and reposition her without difficulty. He was lean, soft, with just the right of hardness beneath his skin to denote a musculature structure. Maliphant pulled her closer—“Don’t strain yourself for me. You’ll rip your synth skin.”

A gentle warning, while their legs tangled, and soft curves and hard lines came together as if they had been made to exist that way. It felt strange to her that being around him felt so effortless. She didn’t need to try. He didn’t make demands of her, or keep expectations, that he knew she couldn’t meet. The way she existed on a basic level seemed to be enough. Maliphant didn’t require an Exarch. He didn’t require a warrior—A fighter. Just her.

Would that always be enough?

He moved; She allowed it. There was an innate sense of faith that kept her from recoiling. Maliphant was many things. Capable, of many things. But she believed that he wouldn’t harm her. His lips pressing against her own was a surprise. Her body tensed, slightly, but he would slowly feel her unwind as a heady warmth swept through her in a swirling wave. Too soft. Too kind…But there was something beneath it. Something that burned, something, she could almost touch while the world fell away.

It was different than when he had kissed her on the battlefield. For one, she could taste him as he was meant to be. Not the coppery, bloody, essence of war. There was no pain. No insecurity. He would feel her pulse quicken when his hand came to rest against her neck. Small fingers curled in the fabric of his clothing while the young woman instinctively deepened what he had started—Only to pause. Maliphant pulled away and a shiver ran unbidden down her spine.

“You can’t even see them.”, she murmured, though, her tone was touched with a quiet vulnerability that few would ever know existed. Srina had never experienced anything that didn’t eventually wind up with pain when it came to intimacy. It was a weapon. A distraction. It wasn’t something she had the luxury of indulging. Not, when her last brush with love that left her shaken, broken, and woefully unprepared for the consequences.

Still.

As much as Srina knew she ought to pull away, let it end, she remained near. The slight arch of a swan-like neck brought her lips back to his. The wings of a butterfly, tentative, and cautious. Even if he had initiated the contact, some part of her, had accepted being unwanted. Rejection was inevitable. When she spoke, her lips continued brushing against his in a silken tease. Everything they wanted, but, entirely restrained. Always, restrained. “What…What is this meant to distract me from?”

Maliphant had no reason to divert her focus now. The way he touched her bespoke of a man that held something precious. Was it the medication coursing through his veins, providing pain relief, and composing it with lapses in judgment? Or had he simply missed her this much in his isolation?

Srina didn’t know. Not truly. For all that she felt, the compassion, the tenderness of his thumb to her face…She couldn’t accept that it meant something more. He was kind to her. Understanding, and patient. He protected her when he should have protected himself. He had endured such agony on Atrisia. Even then, he still kept fighting. The new scars he bore were on her head.

If he peered deep enough within her he would see how poignant his next response would be. He would feel her deeply hidden, nigh invisible, insecurities. The fear—Of only being made for one thing. Of only ever being good for one, simple, thing. She could kill. She could bring death. Instill fear.

Maliphant made her sluggish blood move. He invaded her thoughts, every beat of her heart. What she felt made no sense. It had no name, but, she knew it in the form of a distant memory. That which dropped her in tears and set her soul on fire. That was why she shivered in his grasp. Everything she cared for eventually turned to ash.

Her love was poison.

Srina couldn’t lose him too.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Srina could tell he had nothing to distract her from - and although Maliphant didn’t know the reference was to her assumption as to why he had kissed her on the battlefield, he couldn’t help but smile and open his eyes. Orbs of molten, shifting electrum, he let them dance over her features as a small hum of jubilance grew in his throat; only to cease when he finally spoke, meeting her gaze.​

​

“It isn’t meant to distract you from anything, Srina.”, he idled quietly - beneath the soft afterglow of the lights in the room. The sun shown through half closed blinds to the outside, and bathed them in the ever so slightest hints of warmth.​

​

“On the contrary, its to tell you something.”​

​

Despite the ache of the synthskin on his stomach, Maliphant adjusted a touch further and dragged Srina into a warm embrace; cradling her head in his neck, and letting the soft beat of his heart echo through his skin - and she would feel its slow, rhythmic pulsing. Constant and continuous, as inevitable as his presence with her was.​

​

“What do you think it’s trying to say?”​

​

Srina Talon​

 

[Srina Talon]

Darth Empyrean​

Srina had a solid knack for seeing things as they were and doing what needed to be done—But that only extended to her work. She wore unintentional blinders when it came to her personal life. There may have been nothing in the warm in-patient room to distract her, but the obvious, would continue to elude her. Silver eyes flickered; ever searching. Why? Why did he hold her this way? Show such affection so easily? So openly?

Moreover—Why did she allow it?

No one got in her personal space unless she wished them to. Maliphant seemed to have simply become an extension of it. There was no hesitation. Her free hand slipped from his face so that she could carefully wrap an arm around him. She knew where he was wounded. Knew the pressure points that might set that pain off. “When we fought on Atrisia…It was a sound tactic. It did stop me.”

This didn’t feel like Atrisia. There was no desperation—No taste of his blood in her mouth. She could feel the low tenor of his voice fill her head and a soft sigh escaped her. Eyes closed, briefly, as a well of contentment began to rise from the unknown. Eira was safe. Uninfected. The nation was safe. Master, safe. Maliphant—Safe. Whole. For the first time in a long time, it felt like she could breathe deep without the strain of war and bloodshed causing her chest to feel tight.

Her head tilted as her eyes fluttered open. What was he trying to tell her?

He pulled her closer and she tensed again, briefly, worried about his injury. “Maliphant…”, she murmured, another warning, before allowing it. The more she strained the more effort he would have to make in keeping her near. The wintry woman found herself breathing him in and the tautness between her shoulders visibly lessened. “I do not know.”

She could feel him. That sense of being wanted—Infinitely precious.

Perhaps, Srina simply did not want to know.

The young Exarch was not in a habit of lying to herself. She was blunt, painfully so, but this moment felt exceedingly important. She exhaled slowly, carefully, and he would feel her breath against his skin in a careful swirl. The sound of his heart beating lulled her into a softness that most wouldn’t believe existed. Every part of her was so frigid, so cold, that many believed she was little more than a clever droid in the Confederate army. “Tell me…What are you looking for?”

“I’m not what you think.”

Not worth wanting, holding, or caring for. She was grateful to him. For the side of him that she received that no one else did. He was a Sith Lord, tried and true, but he held her now as if she were the only thing he could see. Not power, not ambition. Maliphant cared for her. Her heart stilled to realize that the emotion was similar to that which had abandoned her. “I exist to protect that which is mine. I find myself growing colder in order to make the decisions that others cannot. Will not. But that….”

“It’s all I am. I cannot love. I cannot be…Anything but what I am. To attempt...It always ends in disaster.”

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Wasn’t meant to distract you then, either - he had wanted to say; but instead, he offered a tempered smile where she couldn’t see. Best he not tell her he thought he’d die for her there - as he was sure it’d only incur the wraith of fingers digging into his fresh synth skin. Even still, her warning for him to watch his injury was ignored, as though he didn’t hear her. Her embrace, for the moment, was more important than the synthskin.​

​

After all, she was a busy woman. After this, he might not see her for days - and in that time, they could easily reapply the bandages and surgery. He didn’t exactly have another chance to be this close with her - not for a while at least.​

​

And with the soft warmth of their touch, Srina melted into him - a far cry from her usual marble nature. With an expression made of cold iron, she was as much the Dread Queen as the Queen of Ice - carefully molded for every occasion, and painful to be in the presence of. For Maliphant, much to his enjoyment, she was something more… human, less built up, more vulnerable. That mutual exposure was comforting for the Sith.​

​

He knew he enjoyed it.​

​

“You’re exactly what I think you are.”, he offered her quietly as he closed his eyes, and let fingers drag up her spin in an ever so gentle way. Just soft enough to drive goose flesh to skin.​

​

“Exactly what I’m looking for.”, he repeated to her, letting his breathing fall in sync with her own.​

​

“If there is yet more ice to melt, then I’ll simply hold you closer. The warmth will help.”, he mused as lips pressed momentarily to her forehead.​

​

“Even still, I’ve made up my mind, Srina Talon. Even if you run from me now -”​

​

His arm that wasn’t dragging gently across her skin pull her close, so their hips touched - so that she could feel every muscle grouping on him. Maliphant’s voice lowered ever so close to being unheard, and hot breath ran into her ear;​

​

“- I’ll still catch you.”, he mused, careful and deliberate - yet ever teasing.​

​

Srina Talon​

 

[Srina Talon]

Darth Empyrean​

The wintry woman could feel him smile even though she couldn’t see it. It was an expression she knew well, mostly, because it occurred anytime something went over her head. Srina simply didn’t know what it was. It confused her. Instead of being angry or upset that with her the Sith Lord indulged it. If she wasn’t mistaken—Maliphant seemed to enjoy her insufficiencies. The pieces of her that weren’t perfect, hidden, trapped, beneath layers of ice and training.

Contentment was a luxury, foreign, and unattainable.

Yet—It existed.

“You seem…So certain. What is it that you think I am?”

The warmth that rolled through her being almost felt alien. Srina had hardened herself even further after the events on Kuat. The loss of her family, the loss of a child, had taken something from her that she hadn’t even known she wanted. Needed. In a matter of hours, her greatest love had become her greatest hate. Being this close to Maliphant made her remember.

Her chest felt tight. She had attained more power with the Confederacy, beneath Darth Metus, than she had ever known existed. Srina could decide the fate of an entire system. She could pull thousands, hundreds of thousands, into war, into battle, and with a mere whisper—They lived. Or died. With all of that? There were always things that were more powerful. There was always some new threat. Hardening herself was the only way to mitigate the fallout. If she appeared to love nothing, cared for nothing, it wouldn’t become a target. It couldn’t be taken from her.

Sure, steady fingers, ran up her spine. Across the silken fabric the pooled in the bed and draped against his form. Where the material stopped, and pale, unblemished skin began he would feel her still. Stop breathing. If only because the sensation had become forbidden. Such a simple touch stretched throughout her being, absolute, without end. He gave her peace. Quelled the flame—The cold, barren wrath, that Confederacy knew so well. Her eyes closed.

It was too much to contemplate. It was too great a burden, thoughts, that danced and threatened to spill over into the real world. From a daydream to reality. This quiet, stolen moment, was enough to make her wish she could bring time to a halt. Just for a little while.

“…Are you looking for a grave Maliphant?”

Her voice would reach his ears, silken, though filled with air. So light that it barely sounded like the woman he knew. He wanted to melt her. Bring her back from the things that left her achingly still and frozen. The sensation of a kiss to her forehead caused her arm to tighten around him. He couldn’t know how that felt. He couldn’t know, that she held her breath still, knowing full well that the honeyed affection he offered was taboo. It wasn’t meant for her.

Every time he moved, Srina grew apprehensive. It was an emotion that she held on to with both hands. Perhaps then, he wouldn’t notice that her heart was fluttering too quickly. The golden-eyed man that held her seemed so carefree in his actions. He didn’t care if he hurt himself or ripped the stitches on his abdomen. She could feel that. Maliphant felt as if he wished to wrap himself completely around her regardless of the personal cost. “Your mind can be unmade...”, she murmured, seeming almost calm, almost in control while his teasing softened the meaning of the words.

“Catch me, perhaps. Though you may wish to release me just as quickly.”, Srina paused, noting, that for all her hesitance and denial she made no motion to move. No part of her wanted to pull out of his embrace even though she logically knew she should. Logically, she knew that Maliphant was not the Ex-Jedi that had left her broken and unhealed. She knew that he wasn’t that person. She was afraid. A distinct sense of shame flooded her. How could she, the Dread Queen, be afraid?

“You frighten me. I tell you things that I can’t even tell myself.”

Her body betrayed her hesitance. Every touch, every breath, every beat of her heart gave away the things she couldn’t say. Srina could never do anything halfway. She could love him as certain dark things were meant to be loved. In secret. Between the shadow and the soul.

Perhaps that would keep him safe.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

“What I’m looking for, Srina, is a home - not a grave.”, he sighed gently, his eyes shut with quiet resignation.​

​

“I think you’re the other half to something I’ve missed for far too long - in a way nobody else has been able to provide. Selfish, perhaps, but I’m happy with you. Like this.”, and his arms flexed around her, as though to emphasize their current situation as the source of it.​

​

“My mind can’t be unmade. The Darkstaff, all the Empire’s torturers and brainwashing efforts, and the Saaraishash themselves couldn’t change my mind - what makes you think anyone or anything else could?”, he mused as he pulled the thin blanket offered to him for his bed a touch higher on them.​

​

“No, I’ve already made up my mind.”​

​

He paused as he opened his eyes, but with his orientated above hers it wasn’t to look at her - more something distance, bygone from the current moment.​

​

“You’re one of the few choices I made for myself. Outside of the influence of the Darkstaff, Slave Masters, or manipulators. I don’t intend to go back on it now - because I take pride in that freedom to choose, and the freedom to commit myself.”​

​

Srina Talon​

 

[Srina Talon]

Darth Empyrean​

The concept Maliphant spoke of was almost foreign to her.

He wanted a home?

…With her?

His sigh caused her to settle against him, melting, while the importance of the moment began to bloom in her less than receptive subconscious. She breathed him in and silently admitted that perhaps breaching his personal space wasn’t simply part of her heritage. His warmth, Sith or not, had a tendency to seep into her being. He comforted her without ever opening his mouth. “People around me get hurt. Over, and over. I can’t stop it…I—”

Srina paused. She wasn’t strong enough to stop it.

Rather than to belittle her or insist the opposite the golden-eyed Sith simply held her. His arms tightened and her heart moved. That wasn’t fair. A faint hint of rouge touched her cheeks unbidden while he admitted his intention and desires openly. Srina had learned many things since coming to the Confederacy. Learning how to love? How to react to it or accept it? She fumbled.

The slender Exarch was mutely glad that he couldn’t see her face. Pearlescent teeth nibbled in her lower lip for a moment while she pondered on the deeper points he had made. Srina recognized that anything that touched upon his past, upon the brainwashing and torture, meant more than she could fathom. As much as she thought she knew him—He still found ways to surprise her.

He was free, now. There was nothing pulling his strings.

Silvery eyes fell closed and dark-gold lashes would brush against his skin. A soft flutter before she shifted, rising slightly, so that she could see his face. Maliphant was there, present, but some errant thought had taken him back toward the pieces of his past that seemed to enjoy haunting when it could. Even if it was a moment of contentment. “You could have anything. Anyone…”

“Do you really choose me? Am I enough?”

Her expression would seem foreign. Small and bare of the wintry countenance that made her seem as if she weren’t real. In the span of a moment, she would be all too real, and a myriad of unspoken emotions flickered. Breathing, finding life, and purchase in the little dark places she never explored.

Srina slid down just enough, hovering, with a heart-shaped face near to his. Close, too close. Endlessly soft lips brushed against his, careful, almost asking for permission. She was a warrior, but here, that role seemed to blur. The Echani seemed only capable of doing things one way. With everything she had. There was no in-between. She tried…Tried, for restraint. Tried to give him the option to change his mind. Once she decided something?

That was it.

“What if…”, she breathed, pausing, to kiss him again. Her actions were touched with a sweetness that seemed to become a little less cautious with every press of skin. There was something she wanted from him. Ivory locks tumbled down between them, a moonlit waterfall, while her mind reached for his. Soft fingers. Warm. Gentle. Pressing the memories of his past away. Instead—Her being sang something new. Something she hadn’t even known she wanted. He found a home within her. What did she find?

A future.

“What if I don’t run. What if I stay?”

Her internal voice would spill through his mind. So heartrendingly honest.

‘…What if I choose you too?’

 

[Darth Empyrean]

“You - just you, are all I need, all I’m looking for.”, he mused to her - letting his molten gold eyes wash over her features with the softest inclinations, and a come hither stare.​

​

Lips brushed lips in a gentle, inspiring expression of passion and love - careful and withheld as it was. For Srina, because she tried her best to restrain herself - and for Maliphant, out of concern for her. He didn’t want to push her boundaries, not as his had been when he was younger - a scar left on his personality from years of abuse, once more showing itself in subtle ways.​

​

When she retreated, to press against him and hover over his face as he lay - she asked him something simple;​

​

“What if I choose you too?”​

​

And Maliphant, coy as he was, smiled ever so slight at her comment.​

​

His eyes flashed as they moved to meet hers, and when a connection was made through the viewports to their souls - she would know exactly as he felt, as she always could; truthful, unbridled, joy.​

​

“Then I suppose you’d save us both plenty of time.”, he expressed with a scintilla of teasing - though the message was clear. Even if she chose otherwise, he would still pursue her, always and forever trying to gain her heart. If she reciprocated now, there was plenty of heartache they could bypass with a simple kiss.​

​

And a simple kiss he offered - as a hand reached to cradle her neck, deep and passionate as his eyes closed. He even shifted, dragging her on top of him to straddle him; though that momentary passion was cut short as the kiss was interrupted with a sudden hiss of pain from Maliphant; who had managed to forget about the synthskin, and in pulling Srina on top of him, had accidently forced her to brush against the wound.​

​

His eyes watered ever so slight before he opened them, offering a far weaker smile -​

​

“It still hurts.”, he whimpered, teasing himself with that coyness now.​

​

Srina Talon​

 

[Srina Talon]

Darth Empyrean​

The concept of being enough was a difficult pill to swallow. The slender woman had spent the past few months hearing that she was anything but. Her family, her mother, her sister—All seemed to have an ax to grind because she wasn’t exactly as they wished her to be. Her position as an Exarch had been questioned. Some didn’t feel that her tenure had been as profitable as others. Srina could only maintain that she hadn’t sought the duty in the first place. It had been thrust upon her. Rather than crumble, she stood tall and learned. “I—”, she breathed softly, voice breaking, when burnished golden eyes clashed against clear silver.

There was nothing she could say.

Not when a subtle dip of her head led her to warm lips that accepted all she was. More importantly—Maliphant seemed to accept all she wasn’t. Without question. The emotion that passed between them was so tender that the pale creature had no name for it. She spoke through a kiss while warmth began to blossom in a way she had forgotten. She whispered silent secrets throughout every second she breathed his air, through each, and every touch.

If the Sith beneath her listened with more than just his ears—

He would know. Maliphant would know what she needed to express before it even came to mind.

When her admission finally came free her shoulders tightened. Prepared, if necessary, to shut down. To close the line of pure honestly that had bubbled up between them. Srina wanted to believe him. She was cold, by nature, but there was something missing. Her abilities grew in tandem with other things that she kept deeply hidden. She told herself that she could shoulder the pain of being cut off from Eshan. Of losing what she which wanted, more than anything, and had never questioned it.

For the Confederacy she, could, would lose everything. Anything. Letting someone inside was against her every instinct. She expected disdain. Scorn, at admitting her want. Her weakness. Only—What she gleaned through the ether from Maliphant was the opposite. Joy. A happiness that ran, swiftly, a mile long.

It surprised her. Stunned her.

“…You know how I hate being wasteful.”, Srina responded slowly, on auto-pilot, while her chest started to constrict with potentially misplaced hope. She raised her head to take in the whole of his face, the near-perfect curve of his cheek, soft, waiting lips, and finally the coup de grace of his eyes. They were warm liquid pools that made her feel like she could sink endlessly into them. Even injured, he looked like a work of art. Doubt crept inside…How could he want her? Her?

She wasn’t a prize. A curse, likely.

Still. The soft, teasing smile, the light in his eyes, said plainly that Maliphant saw something wonderful when he looked at her. It made her cheeks feel hot and that same rouge spread unbidden down her neck.

In that moment of airy discomfiture, he caught her by surprise. His hand rest to her throat while softer sentiments became buried, hidden, by a new ardor. He wasn’t quite as gentle now. The soft kisses that she had pressed to him were swept dizzyingly away with something far stronger. Insistent. New. This was different—Flame-filled. Passion lingered just on the edges of her peripherals, enough, that she didn’t even think stop him when he moved her atop his body.

Only the hiss of pain caused her to freeze.

Her eyes were mottled and oddly fierce. Shifting. Silver and gold bled together for a moment, swirling, before she closed them so she could breathe. Even the coy whimper was getting under her skin. “…As much as you want…”

“You can’t.”

The slender woman exhaled slowly and shifted back a little so she wouldn’t brush up against his wound again. Foolish man. He really was going to reopen his stitches if he kept pushing it. She sat up, balanced among the silken skirts that separated them, and brought a hand to her hair. The ties that kept it bound and braided came free and she tossed them on the table. “Let me help you.”, she breathed, lightly, though a thread of something innocently wicked would be visible.

Her hand fell to his chest. A brief pulse—And he would find that he couldn’t sit up.

Srina leaned down carefully, hyper-aware of his injury, and kissed him firmly. There wasn’t a lot of lip movement because he would find himself deliberately immobile. Her mouth stayed secure, almost chaste against his, but something dark, and intense lingered behind it. She pulled back slowly. The unspoken promise caused her pulse to move while her breath caught in her throat.

He had already gotten carried away. She couldn’t too.

Instead—She trailed soft fingers down the side of his face. Comforting. “No more pain.”

“Not for me. I don’t want that for you.”

A tender application of the Force brought gentle heat to her fingertips. Enough, that when they moved down his neck, shoulder, and eventually toward any muscles in his torso that had grown weary from being infirmed it became a deliberate massage. Echani knew the body more than most and she intended to rid him of any discomfort in a fashion that didn’t involve either of them losing their heads. This was a hospital. He—Was a patient.

“Close your eyes.”

Trust me—Was what she really said. She wasn’t running. She wouldn’t hurt him. She would keep him safe, even, from himself.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

When the grimace of pain fell to something more neutral, Maliphant watched with an idle fancy as Srina seemed to chastise him for his efforts at passion. He couldn’t help but smirk, even as she leaned forward to cast a spell on him - and while it worked for a second, it wouldn’t last much longer than that. Maliphant was exceptionally skilled at the use of the Force, even infirmed - though he made sure not to move to give no hint at its breach so early.​

​

Her fingers warmed and pressed into knotted muscles, and Maliphant exhaled slowly as his eyes closed to feel those warm, thin fingers press deeper into his torso. Every finger worked out days of stress built up from twisting and turning in the bed and having the Dread Queen rub them out only added to the experience. Maliphant, in his smug way, couldn’t help but smile at the thought - which would be the first sign the spell had been broken.​

​

At least until he spoke -​

​

“Your hospitals should invest in better bacta.”, he mused as he hands trailed up the lower portions of her dress to rub his own fingers into the tighter muscles of her thighs; though his eyes remained closed as she worked. She was right, as much as Maliphant wanted something more intense in the moment, it really wasn’t an option - all because a rotting hulk had decided to crash their ship.​

​

He frowned for a moment, making an near inauble groan as they worked into eachothers muscles.​

​

“I hope you know that when all this hospital business is over, I’m taking you on a date, Srina Talon. One where we can escape these identities… become something new, if only for a night.”​

​

Srina Talon​

 

[Srina Talon]

Darth Empyrean​

His smirk was hard to ignore. More often than not the confident, amused expression, told more than words ever could. There was something about his general demeanor that drew her in far too easily. She had already vowed not to run and the Exarch was a woman of her word, but still, part of her felt the urge to flee. Her heart shivered. Could he feel it? Did he know?

Srina hid what she didn’t understand, temporarily, and focused on what she did. The other feelings that rang familiar. The want to be near him, to touch him, taste him. She understood the want to be possessed by someone else, even if, she was fiercely independent.

She just never thought that particular inclination would return.

The silvery creature took her time. His kiss was like fire—Entirely consuming. Easy to get lost in. Slender digits ran down the sides of his neck, brushing gently, almost tenderly, past his pulse before finding where they needed to settle along his shoulders. She kneaded softly in an attempt to increase the temperature of his muscles by increasing the blood flow. It should result in relaxation and a reduction in stiffness or discomfort. Even tension. It would be easier if he was laying on his stomach, but, she would make do.

“I really should chastise your medical team. They’re supposed to ensure you’re taken care of…”, she murmured, with a gentle frown, before leaning down to press a feathery kiss to his forehead. The fact that he still felt so tense? Meant that someone wasn’t doing their job. When Srina pulled back she caught his smile. Momentarily, she stilled. “Sneak.”, she accused, expression empty, and without any real emotion to temper it.

Her eyes would give her away. The way her hands moved along his form. When he spoke the Echani shook her head slowly. “We have one of the only planets that export bacta in our space. Perhaps, the grade is lower than it ought to be?”

If that was the case there was a certain Vice Royal on Thyferra that would have a very interesting time explaining that to an Exarch. Very, very soon. The feeling of warm hands trailing up her thighs brought her back to the present with a vengeance and a soft sound escaped her unbidden. Happy? Sad? It was a reaction that couldn’t be helped. Focusing on his words helped. “…On a date?”

Soft hands stopped their movements but stopped deliberately along the midline of his chest. On a date? Srina had been intimate, clearly, because she had been engaged to Aryn Teth. But had they ever tried that? She had seen it in holo-films. Read about it. Srina had always assumed that it was something not meant for her. “What would we do?”, she questioned, her brow furrowing, while she tried to imagine them doing what she could remember. “I don’t think I’ve tried it.”

A pause. She breathed in as she shifted, carefully, and delicately removed herself from his lap. There was a distinct sense of loss. Of warmth and closeness. But she had an idea that might make their time a little more like what he wished for. They, rather she, couldn’t endure the lure that constantly pulled her back into his arms and the issue couldn’t be pressed. “Give me a moment…”, she spoke, pausing, to lean down to kiss his forehead again. It was becoming a habit. Kissing him. It didn’t really matter where.

“I won’t be long.”

The Echani turned to the door and waited for him to let her out. If he could break her hold so easily? She wasn’t about to fight him with the door. When she slipped out Srina received several questions and odd looks, but, she had a goal. And questions. What was his diet order? Not long after she’d left would find her returning with what appeared to be a large basket that floated via repulsor lifts. Within it held food and drink that was not the norm for the hospital. There were a few perks to being high on the pyramid. Little things like this could be acquired quickly and easily.

“We will have your date later. My date can happen now. This way – We may have two.”

She slid back into an empty spot on the bed and placed a little blanket over his lap. Silver eyes flickered upward.

“You may lock the door again.”