Private At the Seams

[Yula Perl]

Yula hated hospitals. The smell of antiseptic, the harsh clinical lighting—did anyone like being there? Good memories were rarely made within the walls of the intensive care unit.

Yet, here she was at Dagon’s bedside, making herself comfortable. It took a handful of days for her to recover enough, finally able to amble around the ward, leaning onto her IV pole as a makeshift crutch. Not that she was technically allowed to; the nurses always found her in the end and escorted Yula back to her own room.

She didn’t like it there. Her roommate, a Padawan who’d been on Krayiss, wasn’t the talkative type. Then again, it was hard to talk with a tube shoved down your throat and a machine breathing for you. The artificial breaths kept her up at night, and Yula held her own breath, hoping that the rhythmic beeping of the instrument keeping him alive wouldn’t descend into disarray.

It was a relief that she hadn’t found Dagon hooked up to an apparatus like that. Comatose, the nurses said. His body had been exhumed from the rubble, still warm.

Curled up in the chair she’d laboriously dragged over to his bedside, Yula fiddled with the edge of her hospital gown. The fabric was…synthetically comfortable. Not the cheapest material, but close to it.

“I can’t believe you left me.”

She was angry, but more than that, she was tired. The Zeltron sighed, leaning her neck back against the rest of the chair, then turning her head to face a sleeping Dagon. One of the nurses had gently suggested talking to him, citing the fact that he would be able to hear her. Probably.

Her visible eyebrow drew inwards as she pursed her lips, making a sour face. Normally Yula was put together, but there was only so much she could do at this point. Hair a mess, half her face bandaged and swollen, and nary a drop of concealer or lip gloss.

“Look, I…know that you did what you had to do. I can’t blame you. You’re a Jedi, you were just doing your job yeah?”

With one hand, she idly traced the edge of the ties trailing down the side of her robe. Maybe this wasn’t what the nurse had in mind when she mentioned talking to him, but she couldn’t find anything else to say. He’d better not die—and the thought incensed her, in a mild panic, to reach for his hand. Pink fingers brushed against pale ones, and her heartbeat slowed.

Still warm.

“All the times you've meddled into my life, and I wish you…” Yula swallowed thickly, biting back a surge of emotion that roiled suddenly in her stomach, traveling up her windpipe like bile. “…I just wish I had been important enough to you, I think. For you to butt in again, on Krayiss.”

It was a double-edged sword. If Dagon hadn’t made his choice, would Bernard and the others still be alive? Surely the lives of the Jedi, who’d actually made an effort to contribute to the galaxy, were worth more than the soul of a single wayward woman with a criminal record and a drug problem. In the end, Yula had gotten what was coming to her; a punishment for her selfish actions.

But she was stubborn.

Her finger’s tightened around Dagon’s hand as if trying to squeeze the life back into him.

“Wake up, idiot. It’s no good yelling at you unless you’re awake…”

Her grip slackened, and Yula deflated, nodding between consciousness and sleep.

Dagon Kaze

 

[Dagon Kaze]

Never been afraid of the highest heights, nor afraid of flying. Never been afraid of the wildest fights, not even of dying. He had willingly thrown himself into the endless pit of the Force, regardless of whether he lived or he died, just to purge the presence of his father. Yet, something terrified him. Words left unheard, murmured next to a cot.

Within the eye of the storm he relived his life from the very beginning and within that pandemonium raging in his mind one thing stood clear. Clear as the crystal lakes of Naboos, brighter than the twin suns of Tatooine.

The very same thing that invited fear into his soul..

Fate was no roll of the dice but a game of cards.

And he would play the same cards.

Over and over and over again.

..

A familiar squeeze of the hand warmed his heart, shaking off the frostbite that had nestled in his body. Eyes cracked open, heavy lids barely moved up to reveal the blue lying tired beneath. Slowly his senses came to function, even if only faintly. The white walls and white drapes, the rugged edges of a hospital cot, the rolling wheels squealing in the corridors and that specific smell he never knew the source of - all acquiantances he had made from a young age. And yet, none of it convinced him was alive.

Only when the haze cleared to reveal the pink-skinned figure sent a jolt to his heart and made his own hand squeeze hers.

"Pink.." was all he could mutter hoarsely, a bare smile tugged his dry lips; a smile that pushed back against the culpable tide of their last encounter.

Over and over and over again.

Yula Perl

 

[Yula Perl]

And then his hand squeezed her own back.

It was a sensation Yula hadn’t expected; but it was more than enough to rouse her from nodding off, startled enough to make her head jerk upwards.

The moment she saw those slivers of blue against heavily lidded eyes, her frustrations were shoved to the backburner. He murmured her nickname, a smile ghosting against his pale face, and Yula realized that her heart was now in her throat.

Am I…I can’t be.

“Now you know why I don’t like libraries.”

Her other hand, the one not holding his, came forward to brush the hair from his face. Pink fingertips skated along the clammy skin of his brow, brushing away dark locks. She couldn't help but mutter lowly in soothing words, something reserved for more intimate moments that didn't warrant her usually brash nature.

“Welcome back, Dag. It's over now.”

Dagon Kaze

 

[Dagon Kaze]

A gruff sound escaped his chest in what could only be discerned as a short laugh at her quip. He fixated his gaze on her to the point that nothing else around them existed. It was just her and him. And frankly, in his state of delirium between life and death, there was all that was. Before they returned to the masquerade ball with him donning the mask of duty, before the cold reality would grip him in its unforgiving hold once more - it was all that mattered. A fledgling moment of serenity within the eye of the calamity.

Her hands caressed his forehead, sweeping softly dark locks of hair, caring digits wiping the calenture away. Dagon's strength was slowly returning but as much as the heart yearned to reach to cup her face, the body refused the command, battered by the clubs of death it had barely avoided. Void of rationality, where he would cravenly evade bringing up the heart wrenching events that had taken her eye, his delirious mouth defied him.

".. I'm sorry.."

And if that wasn't enough, he had to wear his heart on his sleeve.

No more could he afford to leave words unsaid.

..

Consequences be damned.

"Yula.."

"I--.."

Strained and hushed, but enough to hear.

"--love you."

Yula Perl

 

[Yula Perl]

"Yula.."

"I--.."

"--love you."

Her fingers paused for a millisecond, frozen by his words. So hushed, part of her wished that they’d been drowned out by the hum of the machines monitoring his vitals. And yet, somehow the weight of his declaration made his voice carry to each corner of the room.

“You’re exhausted.” She whispered back, equally strained. Drugged up, confused. You don't know what you're saying.

How dare he? How dare he make his choice to abandon her on the battlefield, then have the gall to say that he loved her?

The worst part about it, the part that made Yula sick with herself, was her urge to say those three little words back to him.

Every clash that drove her crazy, every argument that left her fuming. Every piece of furniture broken, every takeout box from Huttabuger, every rare lazy night they’d spend on the couch with half of a holoflick. Every war, every struggle, every criminal busted, every busted face. Positive or negative, good or bad, every interaction drew them a little closer together. Yula didn’t even realize it, and when she did, she lost count. What began as comfort-seeking behavior had grown into something deeper.

Her fingers resumed stroking his hair as if the words hadn’t ever passed between his lips. They still hung in the room and would be hanging in Yula’s mind for quite a while. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge them without breaking down into an emotional typhoon.

“Everyone is alive. You, me, Viers, Bernard—we all survived.”

The terrifying realization that she’d pushed her own anger and betrayal aside for him seeped into her mind. He was injured and in a coma; of course she’d be concerned, right? That was only natural. But for Yula to rein in her anger towards Dagon was exceedingly rare. The other thing that terrified her was the knowledge that her ire would eventually have to come out. True to form, Yula was selfish; she didn’t want that clash to be the thing that caused an irreparable rift between them.

She smoothed back his dark locks, a groggy smile hovering above Dagon.

“You need to rest for now, and that’s an order. No more libraries for a while, either.”

Feth you, Dagon Kaze, for making me fall in love with you.

Dagon Kaze

 

[Dagon Kaze]

From interrogating numerous lowlife thugs, Dagon had learned vices, for their hundreds of flaws one stood out from the rest - loose lips. Medical opioids - presently found in an extreme amount coursing in his system - were not an exception. The drugs might've clouded his cognition from noticing her lack of reciprocation but they sure as hell did reveal his heart.

He looked up at the white hanging ceiling above, basking in the tenderness of her touch smoothing his locks. Numb from the painkillers, returning from the dead and all he could do was wish that today never ended. Just like he did back in their first night together beneath the sheets, kissed by the moonlight and matted in pleasant sweat.

And just like that night, the clock ticked away the time. Stealing the moment with its inevitable and remorseless hand. The blissful silence they drowsed in became heavy with each drop of strength returning in his body. Rationality seeped into his mind like grains of sand in an hourglass.

Strained, he pulled himself up with a painful grimace and glanced at Yula. The facade of deliberate ignorance staggered but stood visibly in his eyes.

"Don't have that luxury, Yula." Dagon said as he tried to leave the bed, "There's a galaxy to save and.."

"Zaavik?"

Yula Perl

 

[Yula Perl]

The silence that lapsed between them was strangely comfortable. Yula had rested her head on the mattress next to his own, eyes slowly lidding with exhaustion while the rhythmic brush of her fingers became lazier. Even still, her heart was beating a mile a minute.

True to form, vigor seeped back into Dagon. Minutes after he had awoken, the man was trying to climb his way out of a hospital bed. Yula’s head raised suddenly, sleep blinking from her eyes as she placed a hand on his chest.

“Woah there. You try that, and the nurses will strong-arm you back into bed before you even make it down the hall.”

She gently pressed her fingers against him, trying to guide him back down to the cot. The quip about the nurses was no joke—the men and women who ran the ward were all too used to spirited soldiers who wanted nothing more than to leave the house of maladies and throw themselves back into their work. Yula could empathize with the former; it was no fun being confined to a bed in a place for sick people, feeling helpless.

Zaavik.

Never had one word caused her to deflate so much, so quickly. Yula’s hand slipped away from Dagon’s chest, and her muscles gave way to let her sink further back into the chair.

“I’m sorry. Couldn’t bring him home, Dag.” She sighed, the thumb and forefinger of one hand massaging either side of her temple. “I don’t think that I said or did the right things.” She glanced to him, an uncharacteristic apology etched so deep into her face that it looked as if she might burst into tears.

But she didn’t. Not yet, anyway.

“I passed out sometime after you—” She pulled at some of the loose strings on her robe, twisting them tightly around her fingers. “A while later. Woke up here.”

Dagon Kaze

 

[Dagon Kaze]

Pink fingers halted his painful efforts to climb off the bed. He reluctantly leaned his back against the headboard, grimacing at the aches throbbing all across his body. So many that the Dagon couldn't even pinpoint a spot; if his body wanted to scream, its wail would shatter the walls. His master had warned him. Pushing his body to the lengths of his will spelled a disaster. The numerous scars engraved on all over his flesh were the warning signs he never heeded.

He loosened up at the sight of the color draining from her face. Pale in regret, sorrow, and grief - all emotions that had far too often accompanied Dagon - Yula fiddled with the edge of her robes. Instinctively, he leaned forward and softly reached to cup cheek. His eyes met hers. The eyepatch sliding over the orb Zaavik had snatched away stood out as a grim reminder of the consequences of Dagon's choices.

"Hey." fingers brushed gently her cheek. His other hand took ahold of her fidgeting fingers in a soothing embrace. "You're not blaming yourself - it's not your fault." we all failed Zaavik. In the war against monsters, one should always beware not to become one himself. That is why the New Jedi strived to hold themselves together, to pull back up their companions from the tempting taste of the Dark Side. As a Jedi Shadow..Zaavik hardly could've felt that kinship.

"We'll get him back. Be sure of that, alright?" he squeezed her hand in encouragement. After a short period of silence for her to hopefully gather her spirits, a long sigh escaped his lips softening the frown that had formed on his face. "I'm glad-- happy to see you alive, Yula."

If he could afford himself any respite, even if it was just a mere moment, it would be this one.

Just him and her.

Yula Perl

 

[Yula Perl]

His fingers—rough, calloused—brushed against her cheek, drawing her gaze up to his. His other hand grasped at her twitching fingers, soothing the tremble from them. Early on in their relationship, Dagon’s comfort was something she rejected. Now, she allowed herself to be consoled by him.

For someone to have that much sway over her emotions was reassuring and terrifying all at once. Still, she was too fragile in this moment to even think about pushing him away. Instead, she drank in the support of his presence.

Yula couldn’t help the depressed smile that stretched across her face.

“A lot of things are my fault, Dag.” Barely above a whisper, threatening to break, she squeezed his hand. The silence that followed did indeed allow Yula to collect herself, pulling away from the brink just enough.

“I’m glad you made it out too, Dag. Do you know how much of your crap I’d have to clean out of my apartment if you didn’t make it?”

Dark humor, ha ha. It was her coping mechanism even at the most inappropriate of times, and Dagon knew it well. She'd been the recipient of many Kaze-brand glares for her snark on the even of nearly every battle they'd teamed up for.

“What…happened in the library? What brought it down?"

Dagon Kaze

 

[Dagon Kaze]

He huffed a laugh. Not enough strength yet to put up the glare, neither the situation for it; they weren't on the rooftops together, plotting a hit on some nasty drug peddlers. Even if he wished they were. Far from the Stygian, home by six am, exhausted with half a pizza left on the table and his blanket stolen by her.

Yula had donned the mask again, her humor, he'd learned, was her indomitable shield, her defense mechanism when she was on the brink of breaking. It kept her afloat when the maelstrom sought to drown her. A thousand times he had tried to punch through it to no avail, she kept her guard close. Until today. As brief as her opening was, he'd noticed it.

The smile on his face remained.

Only slightly flattening in a quizzical curve when she inquired about the library.

"I think I did when I-- " a brief squint in his eyes. She didn't know about his father's spirit plaguing him since Ziost. A secret to keep her safe. Her mother had been the one to kill his father, and vengeance was all Haytham Kaze desired from his son.. his both sons. Dagon was now clear of that corruption but Aeric.. was he beyond salvation?

Vigor returned in ounces, and with it - rationality.

And masks.

His words trailed off, unsaid.

Yula Perl

 

[Yula Perl]

The narrowing of his eyes drew her in. The cliff his words clung into brought her to poke him in the chest with her free hand.

“When you what?”

Her voice was soft, soothing, yet somehow demanding.

Whatever happened at the library had been more than a simple back-and-forth with evil ghosts. Something else happened, and it practically seeped from every pore in his skin.

Dagon Kaze

 

[Dagon Kaze]

His features soured in reluctance, eyes averted somewhere at the ceiling searching for an escape route. They returned back to Yula. No way out of this. Dagon opted for silence but she didn't concede the demand and he didn't expect her to. Pink could be a really stubborn color to wash.

"There's, uh, something I've got to tell you. Some things." he tentatively began, "No, it's not what you think it is." his lips flattened in a thin line, then he continued with the same reluctance, "Well, uhh, where do I start. My.. family isn't really some farmers' family that perished during the Battle of Ruusan ages ago." Dagon hadn't really outright lied to her. He had simply dodged the truth. Always subtly diverting any topic concerning his background, never really sharing anything related to his life prior to arriving on Coruscant and becoming a Jedi.

"I have a twin brother, Aeric's his name. He, uh, fell to the Dark Side; became a Sith." he said, his eyes faintly narrowed in pain. "My-- our father was a powerful Sith Lord." too powerful, he thought remembering the countless struggles to fend off merely his presence. "We were, I don't know, around ten when he died. My brother disappeared a fortnight later around the same time our mother died--" he turned his eyes to the side, swallowing hard as the memory of her bloodied body collapsed on the wall of the kitchen resurfaced as bright as day."-- she killed herself. Force psychosis.. or so I think."

His chest heaved drawing a long, sorrowful sigh before Dagon looked back at Yula continuing his story, "Anyway, I-- well, I had nothing keeping me on Ruusan anymore, now did I?" guts twisted in a knot, only his will of steel keeping the tears at bay. "So I left for Coruscant to find a cure for that psychosis and even find out what happened with my brother. Knowing that I was sensitive to the Force, becoming a Jedi was the only logical path for me. Years passed and it was not until recently - during the Battle of Ziost - that I discovered my brother's...terrible fate. We clashed, I tried bringing him back to his senses through the Force only to find out that he was something like.. possessed by our father's spirit. Through our connection as twins that I tried to exploit and...save my brother, father's presence latched onto me.."

"Until the library. He assumed control, empowered by the darkness of the place, and I was to do his bidding - fulfill his legacy, just like Aeric had to." he went silent, words trailing off in hesitance of whether to tell her the missing piece, the key piece that directly concerned Yula and her family.

No more words left unsaid.

Dagon's eyes narrowed in caution, worried by her potential reaction and what it might mean to their relationship.

"His legacy..." he spoke once more after a long drawn breath of air. "...was to avenge his death. Kill his killer."

All the vigor in his voice disappeared when he uttered his next words, "Your mother - Joza Perl."

Yula Perl

 

[Yula Perl]

Hesitation and grief, the two feelings that did not win out against Dagon’s insistence to lay the cards out on the table. Yula could feel his uncertainty, as potent to the empath as her strongest perfume, and so she opened herself to listening.

Her thumb stopped brushing the back of his hand almost immediately when he began. Adrenaline caused her heart to bound, and then in slowed at his clarification. Her thumb resumed its rhythmic circles against his skin, as much of an attempt to soothe him as it was for her to gather her nerves and focus.

Dagon told her the story of his past. His father, a Sith Lord. His brother, a scion of the Dark. His mother, succumbed to her grief. All lost to Dagon in their own way. It pained him to speak, but Yula was silently grateful that he was able to expose a more intimate piece of himself to her. Stabilizing her breathing, she steadily reached out to him, to his mind, to allow her to impart some level of comfort and ease to his thoughts. Just enough to take the edge off.

Dagon had never spoken much about his past, and that was fine, but Yula had an inkling that there were things he’d rather keep hidden. It made sense given the tragedy of the Kaze family, and it seemed that even now he couldn’t escape them—the spirit of his father inflicting itself unto his sons, using them as pawns in a corrupt game to avenge his murderer…

…

…her mother.

Yula’s hand fell away from Dagon and hung limply at her side. Her one eye did the work of two as she stared at him, a thousand thoughts flashing through her head at a thousand miles per minute. The sympathy she had for Dagon was briefly lost in the background, muted by the implication of his words. No, not an implication. An absolute.

An uncomfortable silence settled on top of them.

“No.”

One simple word, spoken with strain and desperation for it to not be true.

“She couldn’t—my mother never—she can’t—”

Joza had told the family plenty of tales from her time as a Jedi. From exploring old tombs to fighting pirates in the outer rim, bedtime stories were something Yula and her siblings had always looked forward to. Once they’d had gotten a bit older, she wondered how much truth there really was to them. It occurred to Yula that her mother may have left some of the darker details out, and now it suddenly hit her again. Jedi often struggled with following their path, and it occurred to her that perhaps her mother had faltered in her own journey.

“My mother is not a killer!” Venom. How dare he say such a thing about the woman who’d raised her, who’d loved her and her siblings unconditionally, who did all she could to provide for them. He didn’t know her! Sure, she wasn’t perfect, but Joza was her mother. Even if she was a…

Yula grasped at her wrist, staring down at her hand. The same hand that held his, moments ago, attempting to comfort him through a difficult task. “How do you know all that.” She muttered. One thought ran into another, and her head jerked upwards, panic written into every exhausted line on her face.

“Are you only with me to be…to get closer to her? Or,” Her fingers tightened around her wrist, muscles stiffening. “Is this…am I some kind of revenge game to you, Dagon?” The more the words flowed, the angrier, the more hurt she became. His earlier words of love forgotten, she suddenly felt stupid, so stupid, at the thought that this may have all been a ruse from the start. “Is that why you’re with me?”

Dagon Kaze

 

[Dagon Kaze]

The room turned colder than cold the moment she swept back from him, eyes widening as Dagon's fears began to materialize with each word Yula tried to articulate. Her shock turned to venomous accusations thrown at him, poison dripping from her lips. Regret rushed through him and his mind ran in circles struggling to salvage the situation but all he could do was stammer inaudibly with his mouth. Fear arose from his guts to his throat, spiraling into the chaotic vortex inside his head.

Could she be right?

Were all these feelings artificially created by his father to draw him in closer to his goal?

The mere thought crossing his mind unleashed such insidious horror that made him nearly believe it true.

"No.." he barely uttered, almost unsure at honesty. "No." he repeated louder as if to reassure himself more than anything else. "How-- why would you say that?" his back deflated into the pillow, fear and grief feeding off what little vitality he had. "I l-lo--..." words from the heart trailed off, obstructed by the mind that had just been punished for its honesty. Lost for a different time or... never.

"No. Look at me. Hey." Dagon snarled, his hand suddenly snapping to cease her finger's grasp around her wrist. "Look. At. Me." he ordered finding the strength in his heart to save that which was precious to him - the piece that was missing.

"Do you really believe that's why I'm with you, Yula? After all we've been through together?" he asked, steeling his expression on the outside, masking the fear of the fallout.

"Look me straight in the eye and say it."

Yula Perl

 

[Yula Perl]

The hesitation in his voice was the first thing she heard. Maybe it wasn’t really there—maybe she was reading too deep into the twinge of his tone, fabricating his doubt to match her own. Either way, what followed was Dagon’s characteristic resilience. He wouldn’t take it laying down, literally.

"I l-lo--..."

A surge of adrenaline prickled her nerves, caused her heart to bound against her throat. He grasped at her wrist, establishing a connection to enforce his point. Her steely eyes, red with the swell of unshed tears met his own easily. Yula had no intention of turning away from Dagon right now, whether they imploded right here in the hospital bed or managed to settle things.

"Look me straight in the eye and say it."

“Oh, feth you Dagon Kaze.”

“I don’t want it to be true.” She rasped. “You just dropped a bomb on me. I’ve seen what the dark can do—how it can twist people until you can’t even recognize them.”

Nida. Zaavik. Countless others, lost to the poison of the dark side of the Force.

“Look!” She pointed aggressively to the bandages winding around the left side of her head, angling across the bridge of her nose and down her cheek.

“You were possessed by a man who wants to kill my mother; who knows if he’s still got his hooks in you, or if he’s laying dormant? Maybe he’s subtle to the point where neither of us can recognize it. Isn’t that what the dark side does, Dagon?” Her hand remained in his grasp, fist tightening to dig her nails into his wrist. They remained connected both by touch and by the defiance of their eyes.

“Aint that how insidious it can be? If he’s as strong as you say, maybe he’s fething with us right now. Maybe it’s not as obvious as the way Zaavik or Nida went. Think about those Sith sleeper agents that woke up in Jedi temples- my little sister stabbed the love of her life because the dark side willed her to.”

She exhaled sharply through her nose, a puff of heated breath washing over the clamminess of their hands where they joined.

“I don’t want to be right about this. Show me that I’m not.”

Dagon Kaze

 

[Dagon Kaze]

The moment she pointed at where her left eye used to be, now wrapped in bandages, his heart skipped a beat in guilt. What tenacity was drawn on his face softened and tense shoulders slumped down in gloom. The pain of her nails digging into his wrist paled in comparison.

And yet, despite it all, Yula still held his hand.

Still had hope.

Her fear of his father was mutual and Dagon had barely any time to consider if he truly had succeeded. The memory of purging himself to the point of death was as bright as day, especially the liberating feeling of the Light cleansing Haytham's tainting presence. Yula's concerns were valid - the Sith were masters of deceptions. Sardun, the Jedi Master capable of feats and skills way beyond Dagon's own imagination, had merely cauterized Kaze's father but eventually, Haytham had burst through. A gut feeling, perhaps the Force, told him that the curse was lifted. Even so, he would still need to take time to dig in further and reassure himself.

To Yula, he would present certainty. Hope. Courage. She needed it. Just like he did when his family was torn apart and there was no one. Not a single soul to simply put their coat over his shoulders and tell him it'll be better, even if it was a lie.

Because sometimes the truth's not good enough.

Because the thought of losing her drew out his deepest fears, his horrors of the past.

Dagon leaned forward, cupped her cheek, and kissed her lips to ease her fears. To let it all go just for the fleeting moment of a shared kiss.

"You won't be." he whispered inches from her face "I promise."

Yula Perl

 

[Yula Perl]

As Dagon kissed her, the day hit her.

And what a long day it had been.

She’d lost Zaavik, she’d lost her eye. Now, she learned that her boyfriend’s father—who’d taken possession of him—was seeking vengeance against her own mother.

It was a lot to take in, and so Yula rested her forehead against Dagon’s when the kiss broke. Their relationship hadn’t been easy. Yula and Dagon had overcome a lot, made sacrifices and compromises in the name of the other. Not even big ones. Just small, day-to-day concessions here and there that had shaped their relationship. As different as they were, they were alike in many ways—driven, passionate, and usually on the same side of the moral coin.

Before either of them had a chance to protest, they’d slipped silently into love. That love is what kept Yula there when Dagon tried to assuage her fears with his confidence. Her brow creased not only with uncertainty, but concern borne out of her instinct to protect him.

"You don't have to do everything on your own, you know." Her voice was rough, hand squeezing his own as the moment squeezed a pair of tears from the corner of her functioning eye.

By comparison, she was lucky. A loving mother, siblings who she fought with but would die for if it came to it, and a childhood of relative ease. Yula’s worst worry had been her sister stealing her clothes; Dagon had deceased parents and a brother who’d turned his back on his twin. Her eye softened, and the other end of his story hit her, the part that didn’t involve her family. The part that involved his mother, father, and brother dying a violent death or disappearing.

“I’m sorry for everything you’ve suffered.”

She didn’t know how he did it, truly; how he kept his head above water and followed the path of the light with such rigor. Maybe living on the precipice of the other side gave him the ability to work with conviction, turning him into a dependable man.

“You’re pretty strong Dagon, you know that?”

For the first time in what seemed like hours, Yula’s wry, teasing grin returned. Just for him.

“Maybe even as strong as me.”

Dagon Kaze

 

[Dagon Kaze]

"You don't have to do everything on your own, you know."

He hadn't been always like that - putting everything on his shoulders. Dagon averted his gaze downwards, feeling the heat of tears rolling down her cheeks. It was in his nature to form bonds and build trust with those around him; had it not been that then he would've probably turned as his brother. The friends he'd made over the years since his first day as a padawan were perhaps been the hook to keep him from falling completely. But over time, even shortly prior to the war with the Sith, things began to change.

First, it was the so-called Dynamic Trio - Djonas Val, Kal Varn and Dagon Kaze; a team of padawans bestowed with great expectations. The raven-haired Jedi took the informal mantle of a leader and his mistake led to Kal's untimely death and Djonas leaving the Order only to become an Imperial Knight.

“I’m sorry for everything you’ve suffered.”

Then the war came. He discovered his brother's cursed fate, a fate Aeric blamed Dagon for; he was not there for his brother when he needed him most. And as the flames of the war grew, more friends, mentors, and acquaintances burned. The galaxy pointed fingers, scapegoated the New Jedi, and one by one all fell one way or the other. Ryv, Maynard, Loske. Seeking some form of vindication against both the Sith that took his brother and the stars which painted them as villains, Dagon formed a team to join him at the strike on Generis. They all nearly died in the process. Kaska? Swimming in a bacta tank, perhaps for a lifetime. Violet and Viera? Gone from the limelight. Viers? That was a whole new mess of its own.

And on Ossus he lost the one he loved - Ayana Vullen... his father had then foretold him - his destiny was paved with the blood of his fellows.

“You’re pretty strong Dagon, you know that?”

But where Haytham had been wrong was where Yula was right.

It was these same relationships, these bonds, through which he persevered; stayed afloat.

The events of Krayiss II proved that. It was in the love he found in Yula Perl that his resolve overcame his father's will.

“Maybe even as strong as me.”

Just like now - her signature, teasing grin brought a smile of his own. Bright as hope, despite it all.

He was only as strong as his fellows needed him to be.

As strong as the galaxy needed him to be.

"What can I say - you need to be strong as hell to date a stubborn bantha like you." snorted Dagon, then leaned back on the headboard; this time without an exhale of tension escaping his lips, but a mischievous, suggestive smirk,

"Speaking of strength--" he flicked his wrist slowly shutting the door with the Force and locking it, then demonstratively revealing his bandaged arms, "-- and there goes the last of it. Don't think I can even do a single push-up. Tsk." the smirk only grew wider, explicit.

"You wanna come on top?"

Yula Perl

 

[Yula Perl]

An awkward smile tugged one corner of her lips up at his quip.

“If you weren’t bedridden I’d get you for that one, Dagon Kaze.” He was right. She was stubborn.

As was he, so maybe that was why they butted heads all the time—and maybe it was why they’d seen each other through a series of storms, both domestic and galactic.

Silly as it seemed, Yula couldn’t help but soak in their connection. The closeness they shared, she drank it in like the warm burn of alcohol against her chest.

Then she became caught in the indecent glint of his blue eyes, just as his smirk dipped into something a little more impish.

She snorted. “Guess that part of you is working just fine.” As she leaned in, their playful laughter would be the only sound drifting beyond the closed door.

Dagon Kaze