Private Beck and Call

[Darth Virelia]

"From where we last left off..."

Tags - Adean Castor



Virelia did not release her.

She let Adean try—let her shift, squirm, search for distance as if it might still exist. But her hands didn't tighten in retaliation. They didn't punish. They remained.

Just enough to remind her there was no violence here. No trap. No fury.

Only presence.

When Adean pressed back, the Sith Lord gave her a few inches—but only that. Enough room to breathe, not to run. Enough room to feel the strain of refusal. To taste the tension she'd summoned by denying a single word.

"Mmm," Virelia hummed—not with disappointment. Not even with amusement.

With curiosity.

She tilted her head slightly, forehead brushing along Adean's as if to test which of them would flinch first. Her six violet eyes, those glowing, unblinking mirrors of want and certainty, studied the girl with exquisite care.

Not a predator.

A collector.

"You liked the chains," she murmured—soft as silk across bruised ego, warm as breath in winter. Her hand slid slowly up Adean's back again. Not to force her close, but to trace that path of retreat and remind her how little distance there truly was between surrender and belonging.

"You liked the touch. The weight. The kiss."

Her fingers reached the nape of Adean's neck again. Rested there.

"But not the word."

There was no accusation. No venom. Just precision. Virelia was identifying fault the way an artist found a crack in the glaze—not to scold, but to know where to gild. She leaned in—not forward, but down. Slightly. Slowly. With the kind of proximity that wrapped itself around the spine before the mind caught up. Her lips brushed Adean's temple this time, not her mouth. Reverent. Unspoken.

"Good," she whispered.

She let the word hang, then let it melt.

"I want truth."

Another breath. Another near-kiss. The kind that burned in absence.

"So tell me."

Her hand dropped lower again, tracing the curve of Adean's back with a care that felt almost holy. Not in purity. In purpose.

"What else are you so afraid of losing…"

A pause.

A heartbeat, shared.

"…if you give me everything?"

Her voice folded around the syllables like velvet wrapping glass.

"Say it."

 

[Adean Castor]

TAG: Darth Virelia

Panic washed over Adean when it became clear she wasn't going to be able to slip out of the arms that wrapped around her. She hadn't yet disobeyed a command, more so acknowledging that there would be no 'more' under the requirements established. Yet it was still a denial in one form.

She still expected some sort of retaliation, even more so when the space she was allowed to gain was only inches. Perhaps the fact that there was no retaliation, no punishment outside of there being no escape only heightened the anxiety. The hand that had rested at Virelia's shoulder twitched, uncertain if it should trying and create leverage between the two or remain in place.

"You said you loved chains," she corrected quietly, eyes wide like a creature caught in the lights of a speeder. "You didn't exactly say what they'd be." The hand running up and down her spine now felt heavier than before, a reminder of how little ground she hadn't gained.

The rest she had nearly no grounds to deny. The touch was exhilarating, the weight grounding. The kiss, however, was proving more and more to not be worth it's price. With the hand now at the nape of her neck she very much considered backing away further and just assuming she could twist her neck out of reach should that hand seek to tighten it's grip.

Breath caught in her throat as lips brushed against her temple, it's intention lost on the Epicanthix, outside of luring her back into complacency. Which it succeeded to a point, fingers tracing a grounding trail back along her spine. She hated how the trail of contact managed to work on her. And how despite the panic that soared through her at being unable to back away, the urge was there to lean back in to the embrace, or to bury her face in Virelia's shoulder and pretend the rest of the world didn't exist for however long she'd be allowed.

As for what she feared? That was a complicated question that her mind whirled to find suitable answers for. "Mobility...autonomy - you might not intend on letting me go but I highly doubt you mean attached at the hip." The list could go on. And it did, though not in ways Adean quite knew how to express.

 

[Darth Virelia]

"From where we last left off..."

Tags - Adean Castor



Every breath. Every flicker of movement. Every twitch beneath her palm. Virelia listened with intent.

She didn't interrupt. Didn't tighten her grip. She simply existed—impossibly close, impossibly steady.

A still point around which the storm spun itself apart.

When Adean spoke, the words were raw—not rebellion, but rationalization dressed as resistance. They came not from a place of strength, but from a place that had already bent and was now trying to pretend it hadn't. That was the shape Virelia knew best. The echo of old instincts in a new cage. Fear, not of what was, but of what might still be true.

"You said you loved chains," Adean had whispered. "You didn't say what they'd be."

Virelia smiled.

The kind of smile that was earned.

Her voice came low, smooth—each syllable paced to wrap around Adean's mind like silk cord drawn taut.

"I didn't."

A promise she had let remain unfinished. Her thumb traced a slow circle where it rested at the base of Adean's neck. No threat. No pressure. Just that subtle, awful truth:

She didn't have to tighten it. It was already working.

"I don't need to name the chains," she murmured, breath brushing Adean's cheek like something half-imagined. "Because you already know what they are."

Another breath.

Another inch drawn closer.

"You know them better than I do."

The hand at Adean's back slid higher again, not to dominate, but to remind—to make her feel how utterly her body was responding even when her mind still clawed for excuses. Every muscle that hadn't fled. Every nerve that hadn't rebelled.

"You're the one who built them," Virelia said. "Not me."

She let the weight of that truth settle like gravity. No heat. No gloating.

Just fact.

"You fled from names. Hid behind masks. You learned to lie before you learned to trust. And now you want to tell me autonomy is something I'm taking from you?"

Her voice was silk-wrapped steel now—gentle, but carved sharp.

"You're afraid I'll cost you freedom when you never gave it to yourself in the first place."

Virelia's hand left her back. Only for a moment. Only to move upward. It rested again—flat and steady—between Adean's shoulder blades.

To steady her.

Her voice dropped lower still.

"You're not afraid I'll keep you."

A pause. Deliberate. Precise.

"You're afraid I'll show you why you want to stay."

Silence. Not cold. Not sharp.

Heavy. Heavy with inevitability.

"You want mobility?" she asked, voice barely above a breath. "Then move. Anywhere. Right now."

She loosened her grip—just enough.

"Go."

No venom. No dare.

Just permission.

 

[Adean Castor]

TAG: Darth Virelia

"What are you calling a chain, then?" The question rang louder than her previous words, more resolute. "Touch, yes, that's already becoming a problem. But what others?" The hand moving up her spine was only a further indicator of how thoroughly karked she was by touch alone. It was something she had to get a hold of, though whether that was best done by distance or giving in until it lost its novelty, she wasn't certain.

The names, well, only one was a chain, at least in her mind. The rest were tools, to be used and discarded as they suited her needs. At least they were before Jutrand. Before the Sith. What they'd evolved into...it was hard to say.

"Wanting to stay is fine. I mean, it's unfamiliar and therefore terrifying but that's fine, it's just something to get over." She paused, noticing the rambling taking over and took a steadying breath. "Having to stay is what I'm worried about."

Once the grip around her loosened, Adean hesitated, partially expecting a trap but also now that she had permission to escape the epicenter of both comfort and clowded confusion, she didn't want to.

Adean managed to slip away from the loosened grip, releasing a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. She should've used the opportunity to back away further yet she couldn't help but wonder if doing so would be rejecting such embraces for the future, a thought that absolutely shouldn't have sparked as much panic as it did.

"Just because I choose this now doesn't mean I don't still want the option out," she whispered, more to herself as she moved to slip back under Virelia's arms, not resuming the position she'd just left, but returning to being flush with the other woman. Tilting her head to the side she kept her eyes on Virelia's face as she cautiously rested her head against her shoulder, uncertain if such a move was acceptable.

 

[Darth Virelia]

"From where we last left off..."

Tags - Adean Castor



Choice had always been the more binding chain.

So when Adean slipped free of her arms and took that blessed, panicked breath—when she stood there trembling in the empty space her body had filled only moments before—Virelia remained still. Radiant. Calm.

Like a throne unmoved by its servant's retreat.

But when Adean returned—softly, cautiously, not as a prisoner but as a penitent—that was when Virelia exhaled. Not sharply. Not with relief. But with satisfaction. The kind of satisfaction only predators knew. The kind that said yes, even your freedom leads you back to me.

Her arms rose only when Adean pressed against her once more. No hesitation now. No games. Just a slow, sinuous circle of possession that wrapped around Adean's waist like heat, like hunger, like home.

The way the girl tucked her head against Virelia's shoulder—tentative, uncertain.

Almost.

Virelia tilted her chin, letting her cheek rest lightly against Adean's hair. No words at first. Just the steady, patient rhythm of breathing shared. Matching. Becoming.

When she did speak, it was quiet. Certain. Her voice like warm breath through silk curtains—low, laced with command only because it did not ask to be heard.

"You keep calling it a chain," she said, "because it frightens you."

A thumb stroked the small of Adean's back, slow and looping, as if painting a sigil into her skin.

"But what you're really describing is gravity."

Another beat. Another breath.

"You don't orbit what you despise."

She let that settle.

She let Adean settle—body flush, breath softening, head still nestled where it wanted to be.

"You think chains mean force. Compulsion. Control."

Her lips brushed the crown of Adean's head now—not a kiss, not quite, but something felt.

"But if that were true, you'd never have left my arms. And you wouldn't have come back."

Another silence. Not awkward. Sacred.

Measured.

Her hand at Adean's lower back pressed just slightly forward—enough to remind her of their closeness, of the welcome she'd returned to, of the gravity that had not moved in her absence.

"You ask me what I'm calling a chain," Virelia whispered. "I'll tell you."

Her cheek still against Adean's hair, her voice took on that licentious edge again—silken, honey-warm, dipped in midnight certainty.

"I call it the way your breath hitched when I touched your throat."

The hand at Adean's back traced higher, just once, then settled.

"I call it the way you shivered when I said you were mine."

Her breath ghosted down along Adean's temple, voice softening into something deeper. Something more devotional.

"I call it the sound you made when the kiss ended."

A pause.

"And I call it the silence that followed."

Her hand curled at Adean's hip now, not possessively, but protectively—like someone bracing a crown atop a kneeling head.

"You talk about mobility. Autonomy. As if freedom is defined by escape routes."

She tilted her head again, eyes half-lidded, watching the glint of light across Adean's hair, her profile. She breathed her in—the fear, the desire, the slow-melting resistance.

"But Adean—" her voice caressed the name, luxuriated in it, "—you didn't lose the option to run. You just stopped wanting it."

Her smile bloomed again. Small. Knowing. Cruel only in how kind it felt.

"You feared being trapped."

The hand returned to the base of Adean's neck, gentle as ever.

"But you are only ever trapped by what you deny."

Then a beat of silence.

And then, the words—barely more than a whisper.

"You came back."

That was all. Three words.

But they landed like a brand.

You came back.

Because she wanted to.

Because the air felt colder without Virelia's arms around her.

Because freedom without meaning was just loneliness.

The shoulder beneath Adean's head shifted slightly, allowing her a more comfortable rest, as if she had always been meant to belong there. The embrace tightened—not crushing, just enough to protect. To define.

And then Virelia spoke again.

Low.

Final.

"Your fear is not of chains. It's of choosing them. Of admitting you like the pull."

She pressed her cheek against Adean's again, her voice wrapping around the final line like velvet ribbon.

"So I'll make it easy."

A pause. A hum in the throat.

A vow.

"You never have to stay."

 

[Adean Castor]

TAG: Darth Virelia

For a brief moment, Adean expected rejection. She had, after all, just made a whole deal of how she wanted distance. A wave of relief washed over her when she was welcomed back with open arms and a breath of satisfaction.

In a galaxy of confusion and turmoil, Adean felt herself sink into the pressure gathering around her waist. Safety. Stability. Tracing small patterns into her back. The cheek that rested against her head only encouraged her to settle into her position, glancing up at the woman's profile, matching her breathing.

She stayed that way while Virelia spoke of gravity, panicked heartbeat slowing as she settled further into the embrace, into the words. She couldn't help raising her head a fraction when lips grazed her crown as if opening herself up even more would increase her chances of something more than just a graze.

"...But if that were true, you'd never have left my arms. And you wouldn't have come back."

Perhaps chains weren't so bad after all. The pressure at the small of her back, the reminder of the non-existent space between them, seemed to agree.

Adean's breath caught in her throat when Virelia's voice dipped, heat preemptively gathering in her cheeks as the list of apparent chains began. She had no counters to them, only that she'd included most of them in the broad umbrella of touch.

"Feel free to recreate any of those," her voice trailed off as if to say 'or take them further'. "I mean, ideally not the silence, but the others, absolutely." She shifted the angle she rested on Virelia's shoulder as if she could hide away from the words that had slipped out of her mouth unabated.

Hearing her name coaxed her into looking up from her makeshift hiding place, vacantly biting her lower lip in consideration. Virelia's smile was enough to conjure butterflies in the pit of Adean's stomach, though the Epicanthix gave no outward reaction. She rose a hand to caress Virelia's face, thumb gliding over the bone below the eye, like had been done to her previously.

"You say this yet not 5 minutes ago, you wouldn't let me free." The words were far from accusatory, simply statements, matter of fact.

Yet observations aside, that three-wore statement still rang true. She came back. Because she feared retaliation, yes.

But also because Virelia's embrace was already feeling like home.

As Virelia's shoulder shifted, Adean settled back into her original position though her arm remained draped on the opposite shoulder, thumb tracing the phantom of a pattern into the side of the other's neck. A content exhale left her as the arms around her tightened. Safe. Held.

"Here's hoping I never want to leave."

 

[Darth Virelia]

"From where we last left off..."

Tags - Adean Castor



Virelia did not answer at first.

She simply let the girl's weight rest against her. Let the warmth between them thrum. Let that quiet, impossible sentence—Here's hoping I never want to leave—settle into the marrow of her bones like an oath whispered in the dark.

The hand at Adean's back resumed its slow movement, tracing reverent circles. Not coaxing. Not claiming.

Keeping.

Her other hand rose to cup the side of Adean's face where her thumb had dared to draw along Virelia's cheek, mirroring the touch with surgical grace. The gesture was almost holy. A queen recognizing the one kneeling before her—except no one had knelt, and yet the devotion lingered all the same.

"You won't," she said at last, low and velvet-smooth. A simple truth, not a threat. Not even prophecy. Just gravity.

Her thumb brushed gently under Adean's chin, lifting her head—not far, just enough to guide her eyes upward.

"I gave you freedom," Virelia murmured. "You used it to return to me."

Her lips brushed Adean's forehead—tender, slow, sealing something unspoken.

"That's all I need."

The hand at her back tightened slightly, anchoring her once more. Possession without cruelty. Devotion without weakness.

A beat. A silence laced with finality.

And then, with that same soft, inexorable voice—


"Mine."