Private Bother

[Zaavik Perl]

「BOTHER」​

In the uncertain panic, the only place Zaavik could think to go was one of his old Master's saferooms. After a drawn-out spell of bickering, he was able to convince Aradia to let him take the pilot's seat. He took the craft to the very edges of Sith space, to an obscure planetoid only a handful of parsecs beyond the Bosph system. Just as soon as they arrived, hurried and clandestine, Zaavik collapsed onto a couch.

There were dreams, but as to their exact contents, he'd never quite remember.

Whatever they entailed, like many dreams before them, was enough to shove him into the waking world with a sudden gasp and upwards jolt. For the first few moments of consciousness, the events of the previous day were absent. He took stock of his surroundings. Messy, cans of AvSoda and Beer crumpled and littered across the room, an empty box of deathsticks on the table between two couches, and an ominous, unidentifiable reddish stain on the wall.

Oh, right. Of course. It was a the saferoom he and the band had holed up in after a guerrilla show in Sith space. Yula Perl would be the deathsticks. Maynard Treicolt would be the beers. Zaavik was responsible for more than a few of the soda cans. But the stain? He couldn't remember, and he wasn't sure he wanted to either. All of this had hit him at once, but a crucial piece of what had happened was still missing.

Until he looked across the coffee table.

On the second couch opposite the one he'd collapsed on, across the trash-littered table, a figure slept with their back to him. Red locks draping from the scalp down over the side of the couch cushion sent it all rushing back. "Oh chit," he lamented softly. He remembered now, remembered all too well. It was moments like these he almost understood why some people drank.

Thoughts wandered to his friends, to his fellow Jedi. They all went back thinking he was dead, didn't they? Remorse began to swell. Guilt. With a sigh, he stunted his emotions into acceptance. There was no taking it back now. Until he'd had enough time to orchestrate and support a convincing capture story, he'd just have to live with it. They all would. Auraya Irath-Ur crept into his thoughts. Though he'd never admit it to anyone, he worried what would become of her without him. Sorry, kid. He'd just have to hope she could hold out, and that she wouldn't be too upset.

He was still in the strike suit. Sleeping in it hadn't been an issue, it was designed for that. Sweating from nightmares while grime, dust, and grit were beneath it? Didn't exactly have any countermeasures for that. Every inch of him felt- grimy, disgusting, dank. Slowly, he swung his legs over the side of the couch and sat up fully. His head pounded. The ringing in his ears from the sonic assault of bombardment becoming deafening with the smalled exertion.

The shower he took next lasted over half an hour. With nothing but hot water and one's thoughts, you have plenty of time to nitpick every mistake, every misstep. Maybe that's what took him so long, and why he came out of the shower feeling somehow worse than he had before. On the mental level, at least. The headache had cleared, and he no longer felt like he'd been swimming in a concrete mill.

Clothes leftover from the last time he'd been here was enough to accommodate once out of the strike suit. He didn't imagine them clean, but certainly cleaner than his bodysuit of war. Tight denim, an old pair of boots, and a black shirt with VORNSKR'S ASHES plastered across the front in erratic, near illegible font, flanked beneath by a gruesome, elaborate design. Wreckpunk bands always had a way of making merchandise stand out, for better or worse.

He dawdled in the bathroom for what must have been a further ten minutes. Nothing important was being done. It was more of a subconscious stall to keep himself locked away in here. He wondered if she had woken up yet, but another part of him wasn't eager to face her despite the curiosity. They'd run away from their respective systems, both now trapped in a clandestine holdout away from the big brother eye of either. There should have been some kind of solidarity, but instead, it felt hostile, awkward, with some other kind of unplaceable hesitation.

Facing Aradia eventually was, however, an inevitability. If they were hiding together, they had to learn to be at ease. No doubt they'd have some things to talk about, too. Where to go, when to go, plans for if things get bad, and perhaps more than a few apologies. Eventually. Zaavik pulled himself away from aimless staring at himself in the mirror, half in psych-up the other half in procrastination, and made towards the door.

It slid open with a fizzle, and he stepped out looking curiously diminished.

Darth Daiara ​

 

[Darth Daiara]

She hadn't slept. She had spent the night on that chair, back to the room as she stared at the wall. She could call it a defiant gesture-- another round of their game-- but the truth was much less flattering as she privately processed the news of Ziost's destruction.

By the time he stirred her joints felt like they had been cemented into place. She faked sleeping. Part of her wanted him to break their game and sneak up on her back. The feckless edge had not left her; everything felt that much less significant in light of Ziost's fate. The universe was an unmovable force.

It would take something much more powerful than an apprentice to shift it.

She was sitting up and waiting for him as he came out of the bathroom. Bags sat under her eyes, every tic of his movement followed as she waited for him to finish his tasks and come and face her. He would have to eventually.

She had the ship out.

HIs weight sank into the couch besides hers. That haunted look followed him, emotionless. "Are you sure this place is secure?"

 

[Zaavik Perl]

Boots kicked loudly onto the table, knocking several empty cans away. A strained, wry grin shot her way as he stretched with arms over his head. "You look awful," he teased dryly. With a grunt he slouched forward, ceasing his stretch with an elastic crumple inward. A yawn came shortly after.

"Yeah," he articulated through the butt-end of a yawn. "It's one of my old Ma- Er- Allyson's saferooms. The band and I once eluded Inquisitors here for the week and a half it took them to give up looking for us." Might explain the mess, if she had the insight to infer in her sleepless state.

"If things get shaky, though, there are a few more we can hop to, but most of them aren't this comfortable."

"Not like we'll have to worry about it for a while, anyways. 'Probably think we're dead." He made a face, eyes drifting down to the litter-mired floor in contemplation. He shrugged, forcing himself not to think about it. Had to focus on the bigger problems, especially when there were no certainties of just how immediate or large they really were.

There were a lot of things that required deliberating. What they were going to do, where they were going to go, and for how long? Not to mention how they were going to stop from cutting each other's throats. "So uh- Bhesj- I dunno, chit." Nailed it. The sight of her stature, reduced by a sleepless night began to evoke empathy. He made a begrudging face. Screw it. "You uh- You hungry?"

 

[Darth Daiara]

Her eyes softened. "Allyson?" She echoed. Now that was a name she hadn't heard in a long time. Not since the party she had found the woman at. The night Zaavik sliced her open to make her talk.

That felt like a lifetime ago... A different life composed of simpler realities. Not even he felt the same. She swallowed hard and looked away, shaking her head at his final question. "No. I'm fine." She stood up from the chair, drawing in the force to banish the fatigue in her bones.

"Is there a network access in here at all? Can we view the fallout?" She never seemed to slow, never mind understand the concept of a personal moment. Her inactivity on Ziost was an anomaly. She didn't usually waste time talking or... offering food. When she had something she wanted, she pursued it at all costs.

She brushed past him, still covered in rubble and filth.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

Zaavik raised an eyebrow. "Suit yourself, I guess." His regard tracked her for a moment as she moved past before he stood as well. "There's a private holonetwork on the terminal, but I can't speak for how secure it is, given that no ones come to update it in who knows how long," he relayed in a half-shout as he disappeared behind the dividing wall into the kitchen.

The cyrobox was near-barren. A testament to just how infrequently this place saw any signs of life beyond the occasional insect. Thankfully, just about everything stocked as synthetic, so spoilage hadn't yet stricken anything. "Yanno," he started, calling out from beyond. "I don't know if 'looking back' is a good idea, especially if we're trying to-"

He came around the corner with a sandwich in hand. "Ah, feth, not like I could actually talk you out of it anyhow." He took a loud bite. Every mastication afterward was almost equally as noisy. With a muffled thump, he threw himself onto the now vacant couch opposite where he slept. Still warm. Feet kicked up again. Sythveggies crunched loudly.

"Well, what's the word, then? Swiss cheese?" he asked with a mouth full of food.

 

[Darth Daiara]

"Swiss cheese," Aradia breathed, her eyes glazing over the screen before her.

The world fell silent, nothing reaching her as she stared at the current video feed of the world. The colors had changed. Ships floating by, dead or surveying the planet beneath them. Everything looked to be on fire. And it probably was. They had lit the place up after all.

And for what?

A heavy breath fell from her lips, her fingers flicking up to turn the screen black. She didn't even bother looking for details. It didn't matter who did it. It didn't matter the fall out. It was done.

Her eyes met her own reflection, fire dancing in her hallow gaze. She saw the older acolytes in herself in that moment. The ones that had surpassed the trails. Where would she be in her training now, if she still had a master? Probably dead. Yanno, treason and all.

She pushed herself off her seat, her thoughts flickering to Kaalia Pavanos . The family home called to her. She pushed it away, walking back to Zaavik and sitting perched on the table across from him.

"How does your relationship with the imperials work? Your order, their government-- Tell me about it."

 

[Zaavik Perl]

Zaavik drew his feet down off the table, shoved the last bite in his mouth, and crossed his arms. There was no haste to finish his final bite. A curious expression stared up toward the inquiry with rhythmic crunch behind the lips. An exhale through the nose broke the stop in his breathing as the food rolled down his gullet. "It's more like the Alliance's relationship with the Imperials. The Jedi only had the illusion of say, I think. For the record, I was very loudly opposed during the summit, but it didn't matter. Chancellor and Imperator had made up their minds, us being there- the Council, just felt like a formality."

His expression snapped into a realization; he was complaining rather than actually answering the question. Too easy to fall into that trap, given how cross he still was with the ordeal. "Sorry, that's not what you asked," he acknowledged. A singular, wry 'ha' escaped him. "It's a formal alliance against the Sith Empire, and presumably to all Sith. I'm not really learned with all the political terms for it, but the best way I can describe it is: A defensive pact within a campaign-aid agreement as long as the adversaries are Sith. Which, when looking at a map of the galaxy, makes it rather broad."

There was a pause. "You know- It hasn't even been a day since Ziost," he began. Here comes the empathy again. Great. "-And you already seem like you're ready to try something rash." He frowned, though forced some contortion of his brow to mask it as a scowl. "Have you even slept?"

 

[Darth Daiara]

Her brows furrowed as she considered his vague explanation, the gears clearly turning. She barely glanced at him when he paused, his concern discarded as she stood. "Nothing happens standing still." She slid past him and yanked her cloak off the chair, rubble dust hitting the dimly lit air as she put it on.

"Come on. I have things you should see." Her voice was wry as she looked for the exits. Where were they, even? She hadn't paid attention, not like she should have. The adrenaline had been too high-- he set the coordinates and she-- She frowned at herself as she stepped out into the air.

She was being careless with him.

She pulled her hood over her hair and took brisk steps towards her ship. She wouldn't slow, not even if he protested. If he was so worried about exposure, he best move fast. She slipped through the metal doors and stepped to the side. She could already sense his questions. She beat him to them.

"Maps. I've made them. Strategical places, like that work camp." She pushed through the small, sterile ship for the living quarters-- a hand gesture brought holographic images to life across a large table.

"I need to know what's off."

Off to the corner, a comm link blinked insistently. She ignored it and its message, leaning onto the table and scanning the imperial systems floating around them.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

"Nothing good happens on sleep-deprived impulse, either," he retorted while surveilling her searching gestures and the retrieval of her cloak. A brief backtrack was spared for consideration as he remembered a few things he'd done which might qualify as weak points in the validity of the sentiment. "Well, rarely, I-"

"Come on. I have things you should see."

"Huh?" he hummed back inarticulately. The left-field invitation broke his guard, nearly failed to stick. Eyes drifting, he followed her cloaked glide through the exit. "Hey! What-!?" He groaned, cursed, forced himself up with audible vexation. Prosthetic hand snatched his jacket draped off the back of the opposite couch as he marched forward. A fluid motion threw it over his shoulders, and less fluid motions wriggled his arms into place.

He stalked tentatively into her ship, half expecting her to appear from around a corner and jump him. As his head craned around the corner, he saw her with back turned, still talking as if she'd expected him to follow anyway. Was he getting predictable, or was she just being arrogant?

A holomap projected suddenly. Zaavik blinked once, eyes drifting around to the details. What was off? Very little, but he didn't divulge that yet. "Why?" he asked. "We gonna end the war?" he tacked an extra sarcastic rhetorical onto inital inquiry. "I don't like the grayboys either, but they're not the sole key to ending this anymore. Have you forgotten the situation we're in? We're just two people. A Jedi Knight and Sith... whatever you are. Not exactly an army."

 

[Darth Daiara]

Aradia shot him a dark look. Which was saying something, given, yanno. She was a 'sith whatever'.

"I'm aware. Listen, I'm not saying we strong arm the whole thing. I've tried that. It doesn't work. But two is better than none, and together-- maybe..." Her eyes skimmed the highlighted planets, each containing key components. From weapons manufacturing, to training facilities. Political conferencing offices, and the war camps. Each were vital legs to a never ending war.

"If we can just remove one-- It's like dominos, you ever play? One flick," she snuffed out the weapons war house, the planet going gray and dark.

"And momentum does the rest." The planets on the border dimmed, then went gray, the simulation running through what could happen if vital supplies like weaponry was cut off from the front line. She reached out, cupping the location the international summits had been help.

"Or here-- I'm not really one for tact, but if its the politicians holding it together." She crunched it in her hands, the image going gray.

"Don't you see? We don't need to be strong enough to take it all on. We just need to find the weak points. You said you wanted to change things." She accused, turning to face his unwilling form.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

"Yeah, I know what I said," he replied sharp and hurriedly, waving a disquieted hand. A nasal sigh rang hushed as he observed the holomap. What she was trying to get across wasn't lost on him. Volumes spoken by her restless, bagged eyes didn't lean toward the convincing, either. Might as well be a Sith agent if he was going to make a strike in their favor- even be it at the Imperials. If it isn't one, it's going to be the other. What difference would it make? Could he even make a difference to begin with?

"Together-- maybe..."

Confliction rose to a turbulent boil. Nostrils flared, lips pursing with frustration. "You and I still need to lay low for a while, regardless of whatever your intentions are. You can use your standing still rhetoric all you want, but unless you wanna be made to sit still forever you need to have some patience." It almost felt like he was trying to give her a lesson. What's next? Was he gonna start quoting the old Jedi Philosophers? 'To lose patience is to lose the battle.' He nearly made himself sick.

For a prolonged moment, he stared at the map some more. None of what he said had been a true indication of his feelings. "I'll think about it," he finally obliged. "-But I'm taking my time, like it or not. You want my help, you're gonna have to wait. I'm not going down because you have no impulse control."

That was probably one of the most hypocritical things he'd ever said in his life. Oh well. Zaavik was the worst kind of hypocrite: the stubborn kind.

 

[Darth Daiara]

"You'll think on it," she echoed, incredulous. She crossed her arms over her chest, turning to face him in full. Tension errupted into the same around them, as thick as ice. "Really? That's what you're back on? You know your mood swings are really giving me whip lash- One moment you're trying to kill me and then next you're what? Acting like you care? Don't get me wrong, I know better than to expect something from you, but you're acting like I dragged you here.

You sought me out, remember? I'm not here to make you drink the koolaid. If you don't know what you want, then you're risk and I want you gone. No games, Jedi. Step up or get out. I don't have time for this."

A hand gesture killed the map, a flash drive blinking as the data imported over. She yanked it out of the console and huffed past him, a flurry of hair and frustration.

The com device in the corner kept blinking, the message ignored.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

Zaavik blinked, scoffed, and spun around to retain facing as she stormed aside. A string of curses came in that language that between the two of them, only he had the predisposition for. Mutually intelligible words followed: "When's the last time I tried to kill you!? Huh!? I thought we'd be past that after being stuck in that pod together, but you can't let anything go, can you!? Don't act like you weren't just as keen to lob the head off my shoulders!

Expect something from me? I didn't execute you when you asked, and I compromised an entire network of saferooms to bring you here! To safety! Guess none of that means anything to you if it isn't helping you stroke your murder-ego! Whatever, I don't care! If you wanna jump the gun, and go poking around while you're most liable than ever to be recognized, be my guest!"

Snarling, he hooked a corner and stomped toward the exit. Something unsavory and derogatory toward the feminine gender muttered off his lips in Zeltron. Boots rang a metallic clamor against the loading ramp as he descended to the ground, and cleared the short distance back into the saferoom with an umbrageous stride.

The door hissed and slammed closed with an unnatural force for the hydraulics. Emotion's involuntary influence. By what grace was her ship spared?

 

[Darth Daiara]

Aradia barked a scream, short and primal.

How did they always end up back here? Why did they never stay on the same page? He. Drove. Her. Nuts.

Why was he even here?

That answer was now simple. He wasn't. He had left. Fine.

She tossed herself into a chair and plugged the memory device back in. The map sparked to life before her, vibrant and unrevealing. She had never said she was going to run out now, but that was all he cared to hear. She needed plan. She had none.

She had no clue what to do.

She bit back a flash of emotion and leaned forward, studying the map on her own. If you want something done right, you truly did have to do it by yourself.

36 hours later
​

Her knuckles rapt sharply on the safe house door. Showered, rested, changed-- she looked more like herself as she shifted impatiently at the door stoop. She glanced over her shoulder, then knocked sharply again.


"I left my bag here," was her clipped greeting.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

Sound rattled from the interior of the saferoom. Someone had left an ax behind last the saferoom had been occupied. With little better to do, Zaavik had appropriated it and was shredding various SWORD OF THE JEDI tracks to mindlessly pass the time. The inordinately loud heavy isotope riffage punctured the walls and reverberated clearly beyond the durasteel walls of the saferoom.

Every knock was drowned beneath the sonic chaos orchestrated by the abrasive marionetting of calloused fingers. It was a twinge through the Force in the space equidistant of mind and spirit that picked up her presence where knocking did nothing. A final strum was muted by a quieting assault of a hand flat across strings. He discarded the instrument onto the empty cushions beside where he sat and stood without urgency.

Hydraulic hissing heralded the door to an abrupt slither as it disappeared into the wall threshold. Zaavik stared down toward a returning Aradia from the other side of the void left by the absconded barrier. His expression was glazed, eyes scanning around and across instinctively for danger. A twitch flared nostrils and pursed lips for a moment in a brief display of expression.

Without a word, Zaavik turned to return to where he'd been sitting before she'd reappeared. Doing his best to appear unbothered, he retrieved the guitar again and began to fidget.

 

[Darth Daiara]

Aradia steeled herself, her breath pushing between her teeth as the door closed behind her. She watched him walk away. Her gut churned as she took in his haughty demeanor. She didn't know why it bothered her so much, but it did.


She shoved off the door frame, moving around the tight space to pack what meager belongings she had left behind. A knife. A change of clothes. A dead holo pad.

None of it were really worth retrieval. She could have lost them at Ziost and not thought twice on them. She stormed around the small space, ignoring the presence of the boy that made her so angry, and packed them up anyway.

Her knees jammed into his foot as she slid past him and the coffee table, the girl picking through the trash to retrieve her untouched bag of gummies. Can't leave without em, eh?

Her eyes slid his way, their hostile edge skimming him for something.

Anything.

She received nothing but his intentional disinterest. The same disinterest he had given to her time and time again. Her throat tightened. She snorted and turned, leaving at once for the door. There was one lesson from Bastion she was finally able to understand.

Wanting friends made you weak.

She jammed the door open, the night air catching her hair.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

Frustration became inflected through the notes and sounds projected from the instrument with his fidgeting. He strummed quickly, playing an abrasive ad-libbed solo. Eyes remained downcast toward the frets and strings, feigning a focused indifference to any outside presence. A higher, out-of-place note reverberated before a sudden silence. The mistake in finger placement coaxed a growl. He started over trying to replicate what he'd played off the top.

Another stray note squealed in contention with the riff the second time around and forced his hands to a halt. Nerves had rendered even his artificial fingers drunk and clumsy. A furtive glance upward stole a peek at Aradia's packing and preparations. It was clear she was set on her intentions, regardless of his attempts at counsel. It was his own fault for trying to help, really. It would be hypocritical to complain about how stubborn she was, all things considered.

Even while looking down at nothing in particular, he was keenly aware of her movements. As she moved around toward the door, the metaphorical angel and devil on either shoulder became agitated. Opposing wants and ideas whispered into both ears. Teeth clenched, eyes lost focus, one leg began to shake restlessly. Thirty-six hours had been a lot of time for consideration, but all he could do was fight with himself.

The sound of the door coming open again snapped him out of it. An aggressive, begrudging sigh rasped out of his throat. "Wait!" he called out with resentful concession. The instrument was shoved to the side as boots clamored with his ascent from the couch and subsequent stride around the far side of the furniture. A dusky prosthetic snatched a strap of a sparsely filled bag laying against the opposite end of the sofa.

He slung it over his shoulder and made for the door with eyes downcast. "Don't say it," he snipped in demand as he shouldered past out into the night and made for the ship.

 

[Darth Daiara]

Aradia was left staring at his wake, her anger dissolving into shock as went for her ship.

Major, serious whiplash!

She growled and started after him. The ground felt distant as she tried to puzzle him out. He changed his mind all the time, but why now and why this? One moment he thought his order was suicided, and the next he pinned it on her-- It seemed to her like he didn't know his own head.

That was still a risk.

She should kick him off, and she would, except... there was no except. There was only opened-ended hesitation as she let him enter her ship without protest. The ship door closed behind her. She dropped her bags to her feet and followed him around the corner.

"Listen, I-"

 

[Kaalia Pavanos]

// You have been gone again, and I think I know where to. We haven't heard from you in a while, could you give us a quick update? We're starting to get a little worried. //

// Are you okay? Do you need help? //

// If I don't receive a response soon, I will come look for you. We're getting very worried. //

All of Kaalia's messages had gone unanswered. It wasn't too surprising coming from Aradia, but it left the rest of the family in the dark about her well being. As such, Kaalia activated the trace on her adoptive daughter's ship and flew to its location. A sweep through the ship itself didn't turn up the person she was looking for, though.

"She isn't on the ship. I'm going to try the little house, that's probably where-"

Kaalia's ears picked up a sound from the other side of the ship. The sound of footsteps on a boarding ramp. The woman turned towards the sound and made her way towards the main area. "That's her. I'll call you back in a bit, miala," the woman spoke to the holocommunicator in her hand. "Love you." After receiving the same two words back from Ishana, the woman hung up and shoved the device in the left pocket of her jeans. Kaalia hadn't been the only one who had been worried about Aradia, so she had made sure to keep the home front updated.

By the time Aradia had turned the corner, she'd find Kaalia leaning against the wall with a curious look. "Do you have any idea how worried we've been about you? Thank the Force you're okay-" The woman suddenly stopped as Zaavik came into view as well, causing a look of surprise to creep into her features. She stepped away from the wall and closed the distance between herself and the other two just slightly.

"Knight Dagoth, was it? I think I need to be caught up to speed," Kaalia said, her tone revealing more surprise than urgency. "I am sorry for last time, by the way. I hope your colleagues found you quickly after I called them." He hadn't been left gravely wounded, but hurt enough so he wouldn't chase her.

Darth Daiara | Zaavik Perl ​

 

[Zaavik Perl]

Corellian boots trampled up the boarding ramp with hollow timbre. A datapad was retrieved out of the bag's quick access receptacle before he shoved the strap from his shoulder and let it fall to the floor haphazardly. From the device, he remote-locked the saferoom and began to check other things. Galatic news, Ziost, acknowledgements from the Galactic Alliance, and so on.

"Listen, I-"

Zaavik turned his eyes up, regarding Aradia with an expectant glare. A holorecording of Alliance officials in a press conference still running on his device. He would have prepared for some self-satisfied or condescending musing had she not started so softly.

"Do you have any idea-?"

Both eyes widened suddenly, pupils shrinking with a sudden burst of adrenaline. He recognized that voice almost immediately, and every reaction physical and metaphysical screamed danger. Datapad dropped to floor as the hand moved in favor of the saber hanging from his belt coupling. Words articulated by the familiar vocalizations fell flat on his ears with no comprehension. Verdant plasma sprung to life with a snap and growl. Both heels pivoted toward Kaalia and the saber came up to a point.

"Knight Dagoth, was it? I think I need to be caught up to speed. I am sorry for last time, by the way. I hope your colleagues found you quickly after I called them."

Zaavik blinked. Once. Slowly. She's sorry? He looked back to Aradia, to Kaalia, Aradia, and back again, scowling. Mind games? Am I being set up? Several thoughts and possibilities began to boil through his brain. All the while, his blade remained up and forward at the ready. Another double-take between the two women, this time with a sharp inhale inflecting tension. "What-? What the hell is this?"