Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Clanking Chains And Hard Slabs

Sergeant Omen

Arc Trooper Sergeant of the 41st Elite Corps
From the outside, the prison seemed to be rotting away from the inside. Its Mandolarian owners seemed content to watch the place fall in on itself, trapping the people inside it to their grim fate. But one of those people was about to get a visitor that might change their odds around. The only question is whether that man would be the same person Aren remembered.

Aren D'Shade Aren D'Shade
 
Kestri.

A world for Mandalorians and an unlikely place for Aren to visit, but she was here searching for a ghost of her past. A lost friend who could have been more, but their lives had separated. Omen was just one of a few people she searched for. Now she had a solid lead and clearance to see him. If she could see him, then she could rescue him.

If he was even still alive.

Sergeant Omen Sergeant Omen
 

Sergeant Omen

Arc Trooper Sergeant of the 41st Elite Corps
As she came into the prison, Aren would be waved through the gate by the armored guards after checking her clearance pass. Going through the entrance hall, she would be scanned and have any obvious weapons handed over before she was guided into a one-on-one room with a steel table and chairs, saying their conversation would be monitered. Now all Aren had to do was wait.

When Omen was pushed in, handcuffed to a wheelchair, the clone looked like all of the life had been sucked out of him. Maybe thats because it had and the out of time soldier had thrown his chance of life away. His eyes looked glassy, like what was left was just an empty shell devoide of purpose. It took him a moment to reconcise the women in front of him as he squinted. "Aren...?" The clone's real question he was thinking was why... why come back now at all times? Just to see him suffering...? Either way, the person that Aren saw in front of her wasn't the one she knew.

Aren D'Shade Aren D'Shade
 
She didn't carry any weapons, so none were removed. The only things she had that might be questionable were tech-related tools, and she was allowed to keep them. Anything larger than a wrench was taken away. Whatever she lost, she'd be able to replace easily enough. Not her friend, though, the man she'd come to visit and try to bring home.

At least, he was able to recognise her. It gave her some hope that her quest wasn't pointless. Taking up a position next to him, she squatted down and released him from the cuff.

"It's Aren. What happened?"

Pulling a datapad out of her bag, she quickly erased her visit and took hold of Omen. He wasn't in any condition to argue anyway, and she teleported them out of the prison and off the world. There was no warning from her, and she didn't think it would have mattered if she had said anything.

Time had wrought changes to Omen, and she didn't know if she could fix him.

Sergeant Omen Sergeant Omen
 

Sergeant Omen

Arc Trooper Sergeant of the 41st Elite Corps
Omen's lips pursed as he tried to find the right words to answer her question with. "Well, after you left... I opened up a shop on the Enclave homeworld at the time. When it got smashed into though... it seemed like everything and everyone was against me, and I just... spiraled... Let's just say my attempt at fighting back wasn't exactly... legal..." He looked tired, not looking in her eyes. He didn't look ashamed, not exactly. More like he was exhausted... depressed... "And so I got shipped inside there..." He finally looked up, asking the question that had been bouncing around his mind. "Where have you been all of these years and why did you bother coming back for me? I thought you would have made your own life by now." Flipping his head around and looking at where they were now, he asked the second question that had come into his mind as he sat in the wheelchair. "And where are we...?"

Aren D'Shade Aren D'Shade
 
Making sure they were actually alone, she closed the door as she listened to Omen answer her question. Once that was done, she returned to his side and pulled a tool off the table next to them, then worked on the cuff that held him to the chair. With a bit of a struggle, she did get the cuff and chain off of his ankle, and the clank of it hitting the floor filled the room.

Sitting on the floor, she finished listening to him and let out a slightly amused huff when he said his actions were entirely legal. Pulling herself up, she put the tool back and motioned to the room.

"My home on Zakuul. You're the only person who knows of it. Nobody would look for either of us here. Do you need anything? I'm sure my parents have the fridge stocked. They usually do."

Was she avoiding answering his questions? Maybe, but she wasn't entirely sure of her answers. Rubbing her hands together for a few seconds, she took a seat on her bed and looked at her friend.

"I lived on Denon, and my own actions weren't entirely legal either. So I've been on the run for a bit. Ended up with the Mandalorians and help with the technological war. That led me to search through some of their archives, and I found your name. I couldn't let you remain. So, here we are."

Sergeant Omen Sergeant Omen
 

Sergeant Omen

Arc Trooper Sergeant of the 41st Elite Corps
Omen looked around his surroundings as he wondered how Aren had gotten them here. His brain was getting a headache just thinking about it. It was better to start making up for lost time. Remarking as he went over to check the cupboards to search for caf. If it was one thing Omen missed in prison, it was his daily cup of caf.

Hearing they were in her parents' home gave the clone a chuckle. "Your parents? I didn't think our relationship was that far along for you to bring me home. I'm sure they'll love the jumpsuit." They had gotten along well in their short time together before Aren had disappeared into the background, and he self-destructed. Putting a Caf cup with the nubs of his remaining forearms into the machine and trying to grab a plastic cup, filling it up to the brim, and sipping on it as the Clone glanced back at his friend. "Makes sense... And thanks, I owe you one... whatever crazy mission you want to talk me into, I'm there. Could you hold the cup for me, though? I don't want to spill all over." Then it came to him that this was probably Aren's childhood room, causing him to look around for any childhood items he could embarrass her over.

Aren D'Shade Aren D'Shade
 
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Aren's lips curved faintly as she reached over to steady the caf cup before it spilled. "We've been here before," she reminded him, glancing toward the window. "Different reason that time—my mother was still a captive, and you were stubborn enough to insist I shouldn't go alone."

She moved to the counter, the old caf tin clinking softly as she opened it. The smell was the exact—burnt grain and dust—but it strangely settled her. "Never thought we'd actually come back here after that," she said quietly, pouring the grounds into the machine. "Guess this place has a sense of humor."

When the machine hissed to life, she took the cup gently from his prosthetic grip, filling it just shy of the brim before handing it back. "Here. Before you baptize the floor again."

Aren leaned against the counter, arms folded, her gaze settling on him with that slight, knowing smirk. "And for the record, you still haven't met my parents. My mother's alive, my father's offworld, and I'm still bringing home trouble."

The smirk softened, her voice lowering just a notch. "But…I'm glad I was able to get you away. It's great to see you again, Omen."

Sergeant Omen Sergeant Omen
 

Sergeant Omen

Arc Trooper Sergeant of the 41st Elite Corps
"Looks like my brain hasn't dulled by that much then. And you can't exactly blame me for wanting to keep a delicate flower like you safe. Besides, it turned out alright, didn't it?" Pulling away, the Clone let Aren make a cup of caf for him, trying not to crowd her space. Her glancing at the window made him think about how safe they really were. Without any weapons, defending this place was going to be a disaster. Guess he was going to really need that caf to get through today...

Taking in the smell of two things he thought he would never see again, the Clone nodded his thanks as he took it into his hands. He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at her "baptize" comment though. "I didn't think coffee was the new holy water... Consider me corrected." That was the least offesive joke out of the two he had thought up. He really had come so far since being behind bars.

At the sight of her smirk, Omen couldn't help but feel a flutter in his chest. Instead of pushing it down, he decided to act upon it. Putting the mug of caf down, both of his arms came out and his palms planted themselves against the wall, trapping her between them. Giving her smirk right back to her, he couldn't help but say "Is that trouble me? Because if so, I'll give you all you could handle." The Clone kept his faces milimeters away from hers, meeting her eyes for a long minute that seems like an hour. Eventually, he pulled away and started to leave the room, commenting. "I'd better get a shower, get the prison smell off of me. You are welcome to join if you want." For a second, he turned around, showing her a sincene smile. "Oh and its great to see you too Aren. I'm glad you didn't forget me."

With that Omen would head down the hall into the bathroom. Aren would soon hear a prison jumpsuit hit the floor and the shower turn on. The Clone hoped he hadn't gone too far with his... approach but second chances didn't come around too often and he wanted to make the most of it.

Aren D'Shade Aren D'Shade
 
Aren blinked at him, a faint flush creeping over her cheeks despite her best effort to stay composed. "Looks like you've gotten cocky since prison," she said, voice teasing, letting just enough warmth slip through to match the flutter in her chest.

Her smirk deepened as he leaned in, trapping her between his arms. She met his gaze steadily, tilting her head slightly, letting her eyes roam just enough to make him notice. Her fingers brushed lightly against the edge of the counter, a subtle, deliberate movement that drew attention without breaking her poise. "Careful, Omen. You might get exactly what you think you can handle," she murmured, her tone low and playful, letting a subtle invitation thread through her words.

As he stepped back toward the bathroom, she let her gaze follow him, lips quirking into a sly, knowing smile. She leaned just slightly forward, resting on her toes, letting her posture linger like a challenge. "But you…" she said softly, almost to herself, letting her eyes sparkle with mischief, "you do make it very hard to ignore you. Don't get any ideas—I'm not joining you this time."

She lingered at the window a heartbeat longer, her gaze teasingly on him before finally turning back to her own tasks, letting the warmth of the moment—and the thrill of the unspoken tension—settle deliciously in her chest.

Sergeant Omen Sergeant Omen
 

Sergeant Omen

Arc Trooper Sergeant of the 41st Elite Corps
Right now, as Aren rested between his arms, Omen was just happy that he hadn't been refused and that time hadn't changed what she felt about him. And who knew how much time he had left. So the Clone decided to make up for lost time, and as Aren said that he might receive what he could handle, he leaned in, kissing her long and hard on her lips. He only let up to take his shower when the air ran out between their lips. If they were going to be having more "close quarters" time, he needed to get this smell off...

"I think you just like to stare at me for fun, and I'll leave the door open, just in case," were the last words he said from down the hall before jumping into the bathroom. Letting the warm water run over his long, grungy hair, he tried to enjoy the sensation of the near-boiling water running over his body that he had missed in prison for so long. When he came out, Omen was dressed in just a towel across his midriff. "Is it okay if I just use your dad's clothes? Unless you already have an outfit chosen for me." If she had made a plan to get him out, she might have gotten some clothes for him to change into once they had gotten safe. Though as she looked him up and down, the clone couldn't help but think the colorful Aren might keep him like this. Not that Omen would complain about the apple of Aren's eye.

Aren D'Shade Aren D'Shade
 
Aren froze the instant his lips met hers. Her heart jumped into her throat, cutting off her ability to breathe for a moment, and the world narrowed to the sharp, searing contact. Years of waiting, of unspoken tension, of knowing this moment might never come, all collided in that single kiss. When he finally pulled back, just enough to breathe, she staggered slightly, pressing a hand to her chest to steady the frantic rhythm of her pulse. Her lips tingled, and her eyes blinked rapidly, trying to process the surge of relief, joy, and surprise.

"You…" she managed, voice low and ragged, caught between disbelief and satisfaction, though she forced her tone measured. "You certainly don't waste time, do you?" A small, private smile tugged at her lips because, yes, she had wanted that kiss for far too long.

When he returned from the bathroom, wrapped only in a towel, Aren's eyes flicked to him, and for a heartbeat, she felt herself heat up just a little. She bit back a laugh, fingers tightening lightly against the edge of the counter, letting a faint smirk curl her lips. "Use my dad's clothes," she said evenly, tone calm but threaded with playful exasperation. "They're over there." She gestured toward the neatly folded set on the counter. "Unless you've already made other plans."

Even as she watched him move, there was a subtle acknowledgment in her expression, a mix of lingering surprise, amusement, and quiet satisfaction that the long-awaited kiss had finally happened. Her pulse was still quick, but she allowed herself one slow, steadying breath before returning her attention to the workshop, hiding the warmth behind her careful composure.

Sergeant Omen Sergeant Omen
 

Sergeant Omen

Arc Trooper Sergeant of the 41st Elite Corps
No, he didn't because time originally wasn't kind to him... Maybe the force would prolong the original lifetime of Clones a bit, but who knows how long that would be. So he had to show his affection to Aren while he still could.

"The way you are looking at me makes it seem like you have other plans...~" Omen couldn't help but tease back as he grabbed the stack of clothes, deciding just to change right in front of her. It seemed like they were beyond modesty now after that kiss. "So... I guess we are a thing now... If you still want to be after all that." Everything in her body language screamed yes, but he figured he might as well ask. Though the way she looked at him sometimes made him think that she wanted to devour him. Omen guessed he would have to wait for tonight to see if she actually wanted to. In the meantime, all he could really do was sip his cup of caf and see what Aren was working on at her workstation.

Aren D'Shade Aren D'Shade
 
Aren's gaze flicked to him as the towel slipped from his hands. For a few fleeting moments, he was exposed, and her chest tightened—not just from the brief nudity, but from the scars marking his legs.

"Your…leg scars," she said softly, concern threading her calm tone. "What happened?"

He didn't answer immediately, and Aren's fingers moved over the console, though her eyes followed him as he dressed. When he stepped closer, she allowed herself a light, deliberate brush of her hand against his forearm. Yes, she admitted quietly to herself. We're a thing now. A quiet acknowledgment—she was here, she cared, and she wanted him nearby.

The room was otherwise still, but beneath her calm exterior, warmth lingered. She let the moment unfold, patient and steady, fully aware of the fragile connection forming between them.

Sergeant Omen Sergeant Omen
 

Sergeant Omen

Arc Trooper Sergeant of the 41st Elite Corps
The Clone didn't even realize what Aren was looking at till she asked about the scars. "Oh... I umm... fought a sniper a long time ago when I was still with the Silvers. She liked disabling people by shooting their limbs so... It wasn't a fun time." It had been so long since he had thought about it that it took a minute to remember. Not that he wanted to remember that day...

It was hard not to feel Aren's eyes on him as he finished getting dressed. Feeling her hand slide over his arm, he decided to do something... drastic... Turning Aren around in her chair and taking ahold of her chin, he looked into her soul as he again asked. "You didn't answer my question. Where do you want to go with this?" Mostly, the question was to comfirm what he already knew. That they both wanted each other, heart and soul. He knew he did.

Aren D'Shade Aren D'Shade
 
Aren's eyes softened briefly as he spoke of the sniper and the scars etched into his legs. Her hand lingered over his arm, a quiet gesture of sympathy and understanding. "I… see," she said evenly, voice low but gentle. "That sounds… difficult. I'm glad you're still standing."

When he turned her in the chair, her gaze locked on his, steady and unflinching. The question hung between them, heavy with unspoken years.

"You know where I stand," she said softly, controlled but warm. "We both want this… whatever comes next, we face it together."

Her fingers brushed along the chair's edge, leaning closer, just enough to bridge the space that had kept them apart for so long.

Then she moved. Fast. Hard. Their lips met in a desperate, passionate kiss, brief but electric, the weight of years and longing driving every motion. When they finally broke apart, her forehead rested against his, breath shallow, pulse racing. A silent promise lingered in the air. Later… there would be time for everything they had been waiting for.

Sergeant Omen Sergeant Omen
 

Sergeant Omen

Arc Trooper Sergeant of the 41st Elite Corps
He certainly was glad he was here too. Being here with Aren made the difficult past worth it. And hearing her say that she wanted him was... validating. It was nice to hear that he wasn't a total broken toy after all.

The kiss made him lose his breath for a minute, making him pant as she pulled away. "And you said... I was fast..." The Clone got his breath back as his hands rubbed Aren's back, comforting her with his touch. He wanted to hold her for as long as he could before something tore them apart. In fact... He wanted her badly enough that he picked her in his arms, carrying the tech head to her bedroom as he kissed along her jaw and closing the door behind them. Whatever she was working on could wait. He had waited years to get to this point with someone, she could wait alittle longer to check her holomail.

Aren D'Shade Aren D'Shade
 

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