Before We Turn Into A Monster

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Irajah Ven"]​

Irani simply grinned in satisfaction as his brilliant scheme was executed near perfection with the help of his two partners-in-crime.

"It was..." For a moment the Sith mused about the proper word. Strange, he almost never was at a loss of words, which probably meant he hadn't had enough to drink. Yes. Again his glass was thrown over and the liquid burned right.

"Instinctual."

The brief tension swirling around in Xiangu was not lost to him. How could it ever? No matter how much alcohol was burned, how much music was played or how many people were around them, her mind was always at the forefront of his awareness. No matter the distance, she was always there at the back of his mind, clawing at him.

It was natural, then, to soothe her gently. Just a deep purr at the edge of her mind - not intruding, never intruding - but just reminding: that everything was perfect. That the past was in the past and the now was only starting.

They walked next, his walk steady, but a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The soft leather of the limo welcomed him, right after Xiangu and right before Irajah, who helped in once he was secured.

"My friends... we are safe now. No longer do we have to run in fear."

Then a laugh, it rumbled from the back of his throat and lungs, until it was set loose.

And for once Carach felt free again.

 

[Kuzo]

Irajah moved with the pair like water, relaxed and happy, content to move along the path of least resistance, yet wearing down the edges of their experiences without even truly being conscious of it, leaving smooth curves where rough edges had existed before. It was, in part, the company. In part, the alcohol. In part, the surprising ease and comfort of the moment. The two had made a small space for her in the larger arc of their interactions, and she happy to fit into it for the evening.

Casual touch between Irajah and the people around her was second nature, done without thought- and especially in the warmth of the alcohol in her system, it left everything a little hazy and pleasant around the edges. She didn't shy away from Matsu's hand on her hip or her back. Didn't hesitate to accept Darell's help into the limo. She slid across the seat, the door being shut behind her and looked around, interested and curious.

Irajah had grown up comfortable, but by no means wealthy. It was only recently that she'd been catapulted into a world-view so very alien to her, and it was still all incredibly novel.

"Oh, hey, what is in the bottle?"

She reached over his lap, to the small shelf in the center. A gorgeous crystal decanter sat snuggly with a pair of glasses. Very carefully (Irajah was perfectly aware that she was tipsy, but just enough so to be in the clearly enunciating and taking extra care point), she lifted it up and started pouring whatever it was into the glasses, still leaning over Irani the entire time. She bit her lower lip in concentration to make sure she didn't spill. Careful, eyes always on the glasses, she recapped the decanter and sat up slowly.

​"Two of us are going to have to share," she said sincerely, "Because I am pretty sure it is rude to drink from a bottle like that."

Not a bottle in general. Just a decanter in particular.

[member="Matsu Xiangu"] [member="Darell Irani"]​

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

The touch of Carach’s mind against her own was a balm, a reassurance comforting if fleeting. By the time they were settled in the limo however, it seemed the initial gate had been crashed through. Their proximity wasn’t unwelcome in the slightest. And watching Irajah carefully but deliberately pouring drinks was certainly a sight, accompanied by words as carefully measured as her pours.

They glided away from the venue smoothly, the swoop a very fine thing all told. Matsu had grown up in the second richest family on Atrisia, a planet well-known for its tasteful if not-at-subtle displays of wealth. As such their surroundings were par for the course. That did not mean, however, that she could not appreciate it. There was a time she’d left it all behind so that she might understand what it meant to be nothing.

Holding out a metal hand for a glass that clinked against her fake digits, she grinned conspiratorially. “I’m sure he’s enough of a gentleman to let us have the glasses.” An executive decision, the privilege of friendship. She took a sip, the heat and spice of some truly fine Corellian whiskey blanketing her palate. “Wow, if this is the vintage you keep in your vehicles I can’t wait to see what you find good enough to have out at home,” she complimented, feeling the warmth crawl through her chest.

She blinked and time felt strange - or at least that’s what she assumed as suddenly she felt Carach’s beard against her neck as he leaned in to her space. Caught between breaking his neck and fascination she barely heard him murmur ‘hi’, a silly thing that made her even more confused. It was quick enough that her slowly hazing mind didn’t realize he’d taken her glass.

Narrowing her eyes for a second as he sat back, she couldn’t control the laughter that followed. “You bastard.”

[member="Darell Irani"] | [member="Irajah Ven"]​

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Irajah Ven"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"]​

​

It was as natural as breathing.

His hand rested easily now on space just above Irajah's lower back. Better than most Carach understood the intricacies of touch, of placement and of gestures. Put your hand too high and you are suggesting nothing but casual familiarity, too low and you were basically screaming, when a husked whisper was more than enough. But put it right, right where it needs to be, and your suggestion was enough to speak for itself.

Ostensibly the Sith Lord was keeping her steady and secure as she poured the glasses.

"I am?" Carach asked with a broad smile, thinking about it for a moment before shrugging those shoulders of his. "It seems that I am for now."

He let them drink for a moment. Let them taste the amber and its burn, let them enjoy for a moment while he closed his eyes and leaned heavily into the soft leather of his limo. But only for a moment, because already his cheek was brushing past her neck as he took in her scent and state of mind.

A whisper later and the glass was in his hand now, the grin disappearing behind the amber sip.

"I am simply taking my due, before you two turn over all the Corellian Gold in my suite."

That would, probably, raise a few eyebrows. Those who knew their whiskey, knew that the Corellian Gold run were the last dozen or so bottles remaining in the Galaxy. The original run that remained after the destruction of Corellia years ago, they were increasingly rare and apparently Carach was suggesting he had a fair amount of them in his possession.

Another sip and the glass was returned to Matsu, his long and graceful fingers briefly brushing past the steel of her cybernetic arms.

Then his gaze shifted to Irajah in the middle of her sip, the Sith cocked his head as he waited for her to finish her round.

 

[Kuzo]

Irajah had stopped, glass to her lips and not tasting at first- the interplay between [member="Matsu Xiangu"] and [member="Darell Irani"] was far more interesting than the contents of her glass.

Unlike the other two, Irajah didn't plan- she didn't plot. She didn't watch them to learn some deeper truth about them or to find a weakness. When she watched people, she watched them to see them- not what was beneath, but what was there, in that moment upon the surface. And with all of the edges hazy and the warmth that curled through her core, there was no attempting to hide the heavy gaze.

She smiled behind the glass as the two parted again, refocusing on her drink. She was aware in an 'eh, that's okay' sort of way that she was having a hard time concentrating on more than one thing at a time.

So her first sip was delayed. Irajah was familiar, in only the vaguest fashion that the whiskey he'd named was expensive. The didn't even really know how much of an understatement that would be. She was not normally a whiskey drinker, but had a sort of distant recollection that someone had said things like Corellian Gold were 'smooth', compared to the cheaper options on the market. In the state she was in, she took that faceless voice at it's word and didn't hesitate to tip the glass generously.....

An earthy fire filled her mouth, and she swallowed before blinking owlishly and sputtering. She coughed into the back of her arm, holding the glass out for Darell without hesitation as her eyes watered and she made a face.

"Eeeee yah. I am not.... nearly drunk enough.... for that," she said with a wheezing laugh. "You two.... enjoy.... with my compliments!"

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

Those with the Force had a tolerance for alcohol well above the average sentient, but even Corellian Gold would knock a Sith Lord or Jedi Master on their behind. She could try filtering it or pacing herself but neither seemed particularly important with those presently accompanying her and so instead she took another generous sip when the glass was passed back to her.

The laugh came easily once again when Irajah got her a taste of her own, wanting to add a ‘yet’ to the end of the doctor’s insistence that she wasn’t in a state for the whiskey. But she would admit it was an acquired taste - strong enough to rip the paint off a wall for all its inherent smoothness.

It reminded her of days long past, crystal decanters and frosted glass bottles as much a showpiece as a functional way to relax in Ovmar’s buildings on Annaj. Then she hadn’t been quite so well-versed, a rat that had abandond her wealth for the dirt and sweat of cities in which she turned in to a nobody. By then holding credits again had seemed a distant memory. How strange to think she was once more rubbing elbows and edging out the elite. But this time with much better company.

Maybe it was the booze, or the aforementioned souls in the limo, but Matsu felt warm and dreamy in that comfortable abandon only provided by substance.

Watching Carach and Irajah, wolf and whimsy, she rested her chin on curled fist and let that woozy warmth cascade outward. It was rare she used her mentalism for anything but an upper-hand, and in a way this was no different. Undoubtedly subtle, it spread outwards like mist from her in the center - dreamy and comfortable, pleasantly carefree.

[member="Irajah Ven"] | [member="Darell Irani"]​

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Irajah Ven"]​

​

If only a grin could grow wider, because surely it would have after that reaction by Irajah.

There was a thought there, that thought took form and it started tugging at him. Then, when the Sith Lord was just about to disregard it, something strange happened. A feeling washing over him, subtle... oh, so subtle, but did the Lord not feel every single touch of hers across the fabric, simply because it was her? As Carach braced himself and took another sip, as he closed his eyes briefly to recenter himself into the moment, he looked at her.

And saw Matsu whole in that moment.

No need for a nod, not between them, he understood, he knew and that it was all unspoken. Yet, Carach could not help himself but give the swiftest of winks to the one person who always had and would have his trust, before returning his full attention to the lady left of him, still tasting the aftermath of the burn.

Because all of this had happened in the span of a few seconds. More was not necessary within the thinnest spaces of their minds.

"You know... I think I have something better for you to taste." His voice was low, it was less spoken word and more deep vibrations making the air hum towards her.

As she turned to face him, question in her eyes and on her lips, Carach already pulled her in.

His lips on hers, rough cheek brushing past hers as the hunger overtook him for the briefest of seconds. There was only the moment and nothing but that one moment, where everything else fell away for that one kiss.

 

[Kuzo]

She'd cocked her head at him, eyes moving in a slow draw from [member="Matsu Xiangu"] back to [member="Carach"] when he spoke. His voice filled the space between them, sending an almost physical shiver through her. Leaning back against the soft leather, she had been simply enjoying the warm, languid sensation stealing over her. Comfortable already in the company, it was the sensation of a heavy blanket drawn over on a cool night, the weight of it more important than the warmth it offered.

Only the first three words of her question made it past her lips as she laughed, chin tilting up to find his gaze-

"I didn't see-"

And then he was there, hands drawing her in, mouth hungry against hers. There was the briefest of an almost breathless squeak from the Doctor, muffled against his mouth- but not one of protest. Her arms slid around his neck, one hand threading through his hair at the nape of his neck, lips parting beneath his as everything outside of that curling heat simply ceased to be.

She broke the kiss before he did. Somehow, she'd ended up seated firmly in his lap- a position she (and he) was not displeased with. Her face was a little flushed as she looked at him, biting her lower lip slightly.

Then suddenly cleared her throat.

Arms still around his neck, she used him to balance as she tilted backward ​to look at Matsu. She blinked, very slowly, a little out of breath.

"Is this weird?"

From her tone, it was clear that Irajah wasn't uncomfortable. In the least. But that she was checking in with her friend. Even now, right here, she wanted to make sure this wasn't weird for Matsu.

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

People foisted their ideas of themselves on the galaxy. Call me this. Call me that.

But Matsu was the Spider. Quiet. Poisonous. Invisible until she sank her fangs in.

Her influence in this case was simply to enhance what was already there. That Carach was beyond her willingness to control wasn’t in question, but Irajah had somehow wormed herself in to the Sith Lady’s small circle of untouchables - people she simply wouldn’t hurt without proper provocation. Matsu’s mental influence harnessed the low hum of the atmosphere inside the limo and simply amplified what already existed.

As Carach and Irajah got closer, Matsu reached in to the small clutch she’d left on the seat, pulling a small rolled packet of algarine and lighting it. Rarely did she find any fun in controlling others - she’d always been a fan of freedom for those strong enough to earn and keep it. But this was...different.

Head heavy, the gaze she returned to Irajah when she tilted backwards - backwards, a low laugh from the bottom of Matsu’s chest - was openly predatory.

“Only if you think it is,” she replied, smoke curling out from between her lips as she sat back and smiled - thoroughly entertained.

[member="Irajah Ven"] | [member="Carach"]​