Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Dance the Night

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Anet Raine Anet Raine

N I A M O S
-

The club was a sensory overload. Lights, sounds, and movement blending together in a dizzying display of pure energy. It drowned out thoughts entirely. And that was why he'd chosen it.

On the club's fringes, the blacklights caught neon drinks and bright fabrics, making the crowd glow in an otherworldly luminescence. At the center of the club, upon the round stage visible from both the club's levels, a Zeltron woman moved slowly and deliberately against the relentless beat. Red light pooled around her. The rest of the club flickered in purples and blues.

Calyx watched from the upper level, leaning over the balustrade of sleek black glass that threw the rythmic beat at him in pulses of red.

Ninedays. It was his ninth consecutive day on Niamos, and his tenth away from the Academy. He'd bribed the right people before. Blackmailed a couple of others, and bought himself a week at a stretch when the timing was right. But never this long. Never quite this far out.

They'd come for him eventually. The only question worth asking was when.

His fingers tightened briefly on the rim of the balustrade. Somewhere below, an exit sign blinked amber through the haze. He'd drifted toward it without meaning to, the same way he'd memorized the two nearest exits when he'd walked in, and the staff corridor behind the bar, and the tough-looking Gand by the door who'd glanced at him twice.

Stop it. He exhaled slowly. They don't care about one runaway Acolyte. You know they don't.

The amulet rested cool against his chest beneath the open white blouse, masking the ripples he made in the Force. He'd brought it. Out of fear, he'd brought his most precious artefact.

It was because Arris Windrun knew his name and face. Because Lysander von Ascania did.

They don't care, he told himself again, with slightly less conviction. I can go where I want.

Below, the Zeltron dancer turned, arms lifting in a long, unhurried arc. Calyx watched her bring them with her and felt something in his chest loosen, just slightly.

It was the closest he could get to calm. To relief.

I'm a free man. He reached for his Jawa Juice. And I do not dance to their whims of Sith.

Calyx almost believed it.
 

In she walked, wearing her go-to club fit, an all-black synthleather ensemble that showed just enough skin, hugged her curves, outlining the shape of her body, and left the rest to one's imagination. The more overactive the mind, the better she probably looked. And Anet was always meant to be a looker - her father made sure of it when he selected a Pantoran super idol to be the other half of her genetics. Of course, the Arkanian in him couldn't resist meddling with the result.

Like the wayward acolyte, her presence in the Force was masked... Or rather, it was because she lacked a mask that her presence was reduced to that of any ordinary being.

Didn't need it. Even her lightsaber was left behind.

A knight in the making, Anet wasn't long for the acolyte gauntlet - her success on Humbarine made ascension all but certain. All that remained was formality when she presented her ambitions at the feet of her Sith Master, A'Mia Madrona.

While the half-pantoran enjoyed the thrill of blackout curtains, neon colors, and the rush of the dance floor, she wasn't here by chance.

An acolyte by the name of Calyx Sundrift had been playing hooky for longer than the instructors liked, and so they sent her, their up-and-coming inquisitor, to find out why. The two of them had met once before, on Desevro. It wasn't a day either of them was likely to forget, but the difference was that Anet had since grown considerably while he seemed to flounder in distraction.

She walked the stairs to the upper level, pale blue hand gliding along the metal railing as bodies moved like waves below. Her icy eyes fell upon the blonde-haired man, only a few years younger by the look. Her lips curled into a gentle smile as she sauntered up beside him, leaning against a pillar that ran through the balustrade.

Her eyes drifted momentarily to the Zeltron below, then back to him. Threads of white hair fell across the side of her face.

"Still yearning for the poster on your wall?"
 

"A man's gotta dream, no?"

He half-turned, feigning disinterest in that lazy motion. Then nearly dropped his drink as his heart leapt a parsec.

She looked like something straight out of a late-night holo-drama. Lithe but athletic, with soft curves accentuated by synthleather. She had icy eyes that regarded him from a face framed by hair like moonlight. And that blue complexion drew him in as his gaze traced the line of her long legs and her slender arms.

It took a tremendous effort to keep his face as placid as a bantha. The performance of a lifetime, delivered by the most talented of compulsive liars.

The woman standing there so casually was everything he'd ever wanted to be with.

But her face was one etched in his memory.

She was Sith.

His stomach twisted into a knot. Adrenaline ignited in scorching torrents through his chest. They've sent her. His mind spiraled. She's here for me. To drag me back. To kill me.

He didn't move. Didn't blink, as he pursed his lips into a thin smile. Could he handle her? And in a fight? He held his glass loosely in his fingers as he suppressed the urge to hurl his glass at her and bolt. But if she'd been sent, running wouldn't save him. He knew that well enough. She'd have backup. She'd have a plan. She'd have everything he didn't.

That left him one weapon.

The cunning that had gotten him this far to begin with.

Stay calm.

His features twisted into a mocking grin that didn't reach his eye. "Why? You looking to sell yours?"
 

All Anet had to do was watch the rush of blood to witness the shifting emotions that betrayed everything he was trying to be. Eyes down, then up, then down, but not as low. She figured he knew who she was, and likely why she was there. So what was it then? Too frightful to be callous, too needy to be cavalier. Maybe it was all a forced point - he had to be lost and half-assed to avoid the uncertainty of being something genuine.

She brushed across the pillar, hand touching the cool railing as she leaned in.

Voice low. A little breathy. "Why, are you imagining me against your wall?" He was playing a game she knew all too well.

Her eyes drifted down and then up again, crawling slowly until they locked onto his. But there was violence in hers.

"So how do you want to do this?" She reached out to place her hand on his forearm. "I could leave and tell them you're a lost cause... But I don't think you are."

The lights shifted in the building, casting them under a glow that flipped between yellow and purple at the pace of a shuffled deck, as if a holoprojector had been pointed their way.

Anet leaned a little closer, moving her lips towards his ear, just a hot breath away. "Or maybe you're a spy... We've been having problems with those lately, you know. I could tie you to a chair, stick a needle in your arm, and within minutes have you spilling everything you know." She took that cue from Madelyn Lowe.

But then her fingers coiled around his wrist - and if allowed - tight enough to constrict the flow of blood to his hand, and send a buzz along the nerve that ran thumb and forefinger, along his elbow, and all the way up his arm.

She pulled back so they could be face-to-face again, her playful tone going cold as her eyes. "Or would you prefer to kill me?" Something said it was a serious suggestion.

 

It was open season.

She matched him blow for blow, her teasing just as bold and deliberate. And that made it all the more satisfying.

"I hope it doesn't stay at imagining." He took a sip, watching her from behind the rim of his glass. "I've always found the real thing to be much more spectacular."

She stood close now. Intimately close.

At least the Sith had done him a kindness, sending someone like her.

Then violence moved through those icy blues.

Unhurried, his eye wandered back to the Zeltron dancer below, like he hadn’t registered the shift in her eyes at all. He oly acknowledging her fingers wrapping around his forearm with a faint glimpse. And her words with a murmur.

”How kind of you.”

It had to be a lie. She had no reason whatsoever to not consider him lost. Not while they stood here, and the most he’d given her were brazen comments.

She leaned in then, her breath warm against his skin. What she said next she offered lightly, as if she was still deciding whether to make the accusation in earnest.

He grimaced at that. "Less enthusiastic about the needles. But I’m open to the chair."

Her grip tightened. Enough to dull the feeling in his hand. He didn't move, didn't glance down.

When she stepped back, any semblance of playfulness was gone from her. Calyx took her in now. Imagining that this was what she was actually like. A sleetstorm coated in honey.

"Kill you?" He laughed. It was an empty, mirthless sound. "I doubt I could, love. Even if I tried." He kept his voice light around the lie. He deemed her superior, but he was not without chance. "Besides, I'd hate to ruin a nice club such as this."

With a pace between them now, Calyx finally turned to face her fully.

"I could try to run, if you like.” He smiled half-heartedly. Or we could settle for the option where you write me off on account of me being a lost cause."

The smile went. "I'm not Sith material, Anet Raine.” He’d catalogued them all. The acolytes he’d met. The overseers and instructors who’d commanded him. Every face, every rumored name, he had comitted to memory.

"I told Lysander the same. I don't share your ambitions. I don't want what you want." His voice was quiet now. Stripped of everything performative. "And I will not dance to some Lord's whims."
He held her gaze.

"That isn't going to change."
 

Anet released his wrist, noting the white on her fingers that slowly faded as blood rushed back in. At that point it looked as if she was inspecting her nails.

"Is that so?" She sighed, long and mocking, with a smirk.

Her eyes moved past her fingers as her hand fell back to her side, and they looked at him softer now.

"You know, you absolutely could." She breathed. "Kill me that is."

She turned her body and leaned over the railing, watching the show below. Like two depressed friends, side by side, trying to fill their lives with substance.

"I didn't bring a weapon, and if you stop to pay a closer look, you'll sense no Force from me."

Anet used a ritual to tie her power to a mask. Without it... she was as ordinary as that dancer. Ordinary, at least, from the perspective of those blessed (or cursed) with the sensitivity that made a Jedi or Sith.

She glanced at him, a little sidelong, through a few dangled locks of white hair.

"Are you an animal, Calyx?" There were no pretenses to call him by his last name or something else.

 

Calyx huffed. "That's bold." There was a measure of respect in it. "Coming after me with... nothing." There was indeed an absence of weight to Force signature.

He leaned back against the railing. "Did you know how I'd react?" He shook his head, then smiled. "I suppose that get-up counts as your weapon." He laughed softly. "And a remarkably effective one at that."

"I realise I came on a little strong back there. Sorry about that." He meant it, and visibly so. Something in him had settled now that she'd dropped the Sith as subject. Now that he knew she was stripped of the Force. "But you do look great." softer, he added. "You really do."

He turned his attention back to the lower level, studying the faces of the patrons gathered around the dancer. An excuse, mostly, to give her nothing to read. Though he felt her eyes on him all the same.

When she spoke again he fixed her with a pointed look. Letting her see exactly where his mind had gone with that question. Then let it pass.

"Honestly? Only when I feel lost, Anet." His gaze drifted away. "Only when feelings get the better of me." He swayed his drink, watching the juice turn slow circles in the glass.

Animals could be tamed. Collared. Trained to sit and roll over for a treat. They were everything he refused to be. Every part of himself he'd spent years rejecting. He chose who he was. He wouldn't be steered by instinct, or nature, or the quiet insistence of the Force pulling him somewhere he hadn't decided to go.

"You?"
 

She gave him a skeptical, maybe unimpressed look when he regarded her 'get-up' as a weapon.

His apology... honestly caught her off guard. A little. And his answer to her question was perhaps a touch more instrospective that she meant, but not unappreciated. She could work with that.

Anet relaxed her shoulders, stretching a little just to keep herself loose.

"Oh - we're all animals, Calyx. And I don't just mean in the evolutionary sense." Her attention drifted across the crowd. There were grabby hands, sloppy footwork taken after too many drinks, brooding loners in their corners, and hopeless romantics petrified to ask long-time friends for something more.

"They're all letting their feelings get the better of them," she said. "It's wonderful, really, don't you think?" She looked at him more fully, lips slightly parted - her version of pensive.

"And to answer your earlier question, no, I didn't know how you'd react. But it wasn't shocking," her lip curled into a grin. "What would you be doing right now, if your feelings had gotten the better of you?"


 

Calyx stared at her. At that curious, grinning face.

"You want to know?" Then his brow furrowed. "You really want to know?" She had to know what was coming. "Fine. I'll give you the short version."

He sucked in a breath and began. "Let's see. I suppose we'd be on our way back to my place now, to enjoy a long night of some serious toe-curling exercise." He shot her a look, smirking. "There's a wall there I think you'd like." His eye drifted past her, settling on something distant that wasn't there. "Anyhow. When we finally lie down, exhausted and drenched in sweat, you'd probably say something like, 'I've had better', while I'm still on cloud nine." He shrugged defensively. "Yeah, you seem like the type who'd ruin that for me."

He raised a finger before she could respond. "But if you decided to stick around and not choke me to death in my sleep, you'd find out I can cook a mean breakfast in the morning." A triumphant look crossed his face.

"And after that?" He let the question sit, as the triumph faded. "I'd hope my animalistic feelings have faded by then, and we'd go our separate ways. If not? I'd ask for your holo-frequency. You'd turn me down, probably. And we'd still go our separate ways anyway."

He fell quiet. Just grinning at her, waiting to see if she'd flinch.

"Any thoughts? It's quite the fantasy, I know." He took a swig, emptying his glass. "I don't think I've ever been so upfront about it. How liberating. A touch embarassing though."

The grin fell until there was no grandeur left in his visage. "But that's all my feelings are good for, in the end." he spoke bitterly. "Makes me more pliable. More susceptible to, well," he gestured at her "you."

And to anger as much as lust. The memories of Kessel surfaced before he could stop it. That red haze. The way he'd torn through those people without once feeling like himself.

He blinked it away.

"Sometimes I like to drown in it, y'know? Makes living with yourself a little easier. But to call that wonderful..." He looked at her, curiosity sparking in his gaze. "You ever felt that way?"
 

Oh - she was getting the whole speech. She snickered, and there was a moment where Anet's mouth parted to speak, before he raised a single finger and kept going. Her lips sealed into a sly smirk, brow quirked as she allowed him his piece.

Already, she wondered what the long version was.

Her attention drifted back over the crowd, so that his pointed 'I am looking past you, not at you,' was an even easier sell.

Even when he asked for her thoughts, she didn't reply right away. She figured (quite correctly) that there was more left in his tank.

She caught something in his body language, however, just after he gestured at her following another cute quip. Just what was that about? She wondered, but didn't pry. Didn't need to - yet.

Only at his last, lingering question did the half-pantoran finally utter more than a snicker or quiet breath.

Anet only had to think back to Kirie on Coruscant... or on her yacht. Her arm rested across her stomach. To an ignorant observer, it was a meaningless posture, the kind of idle relaxation one does when they don't know what to do with their hands. But for her, she was embracing a phantom wound when Kirie used the shatterpoints to unstitch the dark healing that once sealed a mortal wound. Beneath her outfit was quite the nasty scar, a cauterized burn over an injury that looked utterly unsurvivable.

Yet, it wasn't a traumatic response. She smiled. Blushed even. There was an itch just on the tip of a tongue, a need to run it over something sharp just to recapture the euphoria of Kirie's power.

When she finally looked at him again, there was a lust in her eyes, one easily mistaken for desire... desire for him.

"All the time," she finally answered. "Have you ever stopped to wonder if that isn't the natural way of things? That often, our temperance and our self-control are just born of expectations placed on us by others?" Now, Anet Raine would never deny that self-awareness and the capacity for choice were an important distinction between 'people' and all other creatures. But was distinction the same as divide?

She lightened her mood a bit. "You know... you've said all that, but one thing leaves me skeptical, Calyx." Her grin widened. "How is all that going to happen when you haven't even put your arm around my waist?"

 

Calyx took her in quietly.

The smile. The blush.

The lust.

The way her arms crossed over her chest. Not guarded, he realized, but closer to cradling. A self-embrace, easy to mistake for a yearning for affection.

He questioned that in a flash. But the thought slipped through his fingers before he could shape it. He didn't have enough of her yet to solve that particular puzzle. Not yet.

All the time.

He smiled. A little too brightly. And that is how you can be Sith.

"Others?.. Or ourselves?" He'd drawn a clear line in the sand for himself. Walked the balance between baser instinct and clearheaded intent, careful never to let the scale tip too far. He didn't like to imagine where that fall would end.

But Anet Raine, the provocative Sith his hunger seemed to orbit without his permission, made the idea almost worth testing.

His heartbeat spiked. That same bright, reckless rhythm it always found at the promise of a stranger's warmth. Yet no actual feelings came with it. He'd always felt the two were separate. It was how he could be intimate, share just each other's heat and breath, explore passion and pleasure, and feel not a touch of affection. Because that was what they were made for, living beings. Why else would The Force have given them such beauty?

He set his glass down on the table by the pillar, unhurried. "You make a good point." In the same motion his hand found the small of her back, tenderly pulling her closer. Slow enough that she could stop him, if she wanted to. "A very good point." Her skin was warm under his palm, and the touch felt electric. It came from distrust and want, tangled past separating. "So," he held her gaze, "did I convince you to spend the night with me?" His fingers traced the line of her jaw. "Or would you like a drink first? A dance, perhaps?"
 

"Both," she answered his earlier question - 'Others?.. Or ourselves?'

She watched as he set his glass down and followed the swift movement of his hand before it disappeared to hook the small of her back. She uttered a low, amused hum as she was pulled closer. There was no resistance to it. If anything, she might have leaned into the touch a little. But just a little.

A grin lingered on her face as he asked if they would be 'spending the night' together. Now, there was a bold proposition, and once again she knew how to play that game. So, when he asked whether they would have drinks or do some dancing, the half-pantoran answered in a teasing fashion. The kind of tone that toed a line between smooth and saucy with drunken steps.

She leaned into the touch on her jaw, and wriggled slightly against his other hand, which still held her close.

"First... We grab the strongest thing they have at the bar, and down it. Then... we get some fresh air on the boardwalk. How does that sound?"

Her eyes drifted down to the crowd, then followed the happy chaos to the bar, before looking back at him again. Her eyes were a little more sunken now. "Who knows... Maybe you could convince me to go for a swim."

 

This was dangerous. So incredibly dangerous.

He had to remind himself that she was Sith. Not an amazing fling to chase, but a weapon that could tear his throat out at this distance.

A very entrancing weapon.

His heart still drummed heavy in his chest. Having her this close, even with his touch light and teasing, testing her patience, made him burn on the inside. Unable to gauge the danger properly. When she, in that alluring tone, proposed an equally enticing counter-offer, Calyx couldn't even bring himself to say no. He'd gotten ensnared in his own trap.

He laughed softly at her offer, then leaned in slowly, close enough for breath to mingle but not quite having their bodies touching. What little space remained between them, was charged with tension and anticipation.

"Like a night to remember." Mischief sparked in his eye. "If we can still remember." His hand, resting lightly on her waist, began tracing a path upward to her shoulder, then down her arm in a caress as he retreated from her warmth, taking her hand.

"I think I know exactly what we need." Calyx walked backward, guiding her to the bar. "I hope you're open to new experiences, Miss Raine."

He leaned over the bar until he had the bartender's attention, spoke amicably, and waited until the man nodded and began gathering bottles.

Then came the wait. "So..." He was terrible with silences. "What's it like? Being- well, Sith?" He knew she'd advanced beyond what he was. Otherwise she wouldn't be standing here, with him as her mark.

He didn't want to remind her of it. But curiosity had seized him nearly as much as her outfit did.
 

If we can still remember, she chuckled at that, grinning.

Her eyes followed his touch as it gently caressed her arm, before claiming her hand. Soft, pale fingers curled around his. She exhaled softly, straightening her posture a little as he walked her to the bar.

His confidence earned a curious double-take. "Oh. I'm always open to new experiences," she answered coolly.

Anet had a habit of ignoring practiced mixology, instead demanding whimsical - sometimes outlandish, other times unpalatable - cocktails from the bar. It was a sort of game she liked to play... to see if the bartender would pretend to know exactly what she was asking for, as if it were a cantina staple, or if they'd give her that look, as if she was either naive or unwell.

Suffice it to say, she was quite curious what Calyx had in mind as she briefly watched the barman work. Until Calyx's 'So' hooked her attention back onto him.

"Exhilarating... Dangerous. Natural. Right."

The half-pantoran smiled a little, leaning a touch closer. She brought her hand to rest on his shoulder, taking up the space in front of him as if they were about to slow-dance. A quiet chuckle escaped her, followed by the tip of her tongue sliding across her lips, and then she chewed on the bottom one. Finally, her eyes - which were glancing shyly at the ground - flicked up to meet him again.

"It's like I told someone once... Desire to eat. Anger to kill. Fear to run." Next, she whispered close to his ear. "I'm sure you can guess what else is on the list." Unless stopped by him, she'd place a gentle kiss right below the lobe, where it met the jawbone, dragging her mouth softly across the skin; it barely constituted contact in just how light it was. Threads of her white hair would incidentally caress as well.

With a teasing smirk, she stepped back, turning her attention to the bartender, now returned with their drinks.

 

Right.

Was that what he was supposed to feel?

He wrestled with the thought. But a glimpse of Anet was enough to drag him out of it. Her face, that look- it took every bit of his restraint not to pull her in and surrender to the heat of the moment.

She crushed that discipline soundly, claiming the space in front of him, making him savour the soft press of her touch on his shoulder. His hands found her waist on instinct, gripping as if afraid she might slip away. His breath shook as her eyes flicked up to meet his.

His eye shut when she leaned in to whisper.

"Mhm" He exhaled softly. "Swimming, I believe I was told." His voice was thick with need, barely containing the longing beneath it. Breath ragged, as her lips trailed a soft kiss along his neck.

She retreated then, and he hesitantly let her go, releasing her to glide through his fingers. Her smirk said everything. She, too, had realized who was winning this game of passions. His own smile came softer, recognizing defeat in a game well-played.

Because he wanted her now. Badly.

Enough that he was willing to make promises he couldn't possibly keep.

Fortunately, he had one last play.

It came when the bartender set two sleek crystal glasses down, each the colour of deep morning frost, rimmed with salt. "Ah-" Calyx lifted one gently, holding it against the shifting lights. "I usually don't experiment at times like this, y'know? But since I'm trying to impress, I thought I'd improvise." He offered the glass to Anet. "I present you- the Raine." He smiled proudly, lifting his own. "Bold. Disparate. Intoxicating, and with a hint of danger. Absolutely gorgeous to look at, and meant to make you crave more." Whether he was describing her or the cocktail, he didn't clarify.

"You're a hard one to capture in taste." He paused to sip, then grinned mischievously. "Especially without reference."

T H E -R A I N E
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Deep frost-blue at first pour, but stir it and watch a slow bloom of crimson curl up from the base, like heat rising through ice.

It is cold, smooth, and faintly sweet, balanced by salt. There's a moment, right before the warmth hits, where you'll think you've got it figured out. You haven't. Nothing about the first sip warns you about the second.


Made with:
  • Alderaanian frost-gin, distilled cold.
  • Arkanis Crystal Salt on the rim.
  • Corellian spiced rum, never mixed until the glass is lifted.
  • Nectrose syrup
  • A shot of Devaronian fire-bitter
  • Optionally - a slice of Jogan Fruit, floating rather than pinned on the rim.

 

Her eyes flicked to the drinks. She listened as Calyx proclaimed his innocence as he presented Anet with a drink with her name on it. Or named after her, in this case. She slowly licked some salt off the rim, eyes on him the entire time while he described it in his own words, before she tipped the glass back, allowing the bitey liquid to wash down her throat without even swallowing.

Yeah, she was that kind of woman once - early days of University. There was only a modest puddle left at the bottom when she set the glass back down, and wiped her mouth on her wrist. She couldn't help but laugh a little, smiling at him.

"Not bad for your first attempt," she teased in a low voice. Her head nodded towards the exit as she turned and sauntered the length of the nightclub, slipping effortlessly through drunks and dancers before stepping out into the night air.

Characteristically, a man upended his many drinks onto the sidewalk, but that didn't seem to bother her one bit. Her head turned in one direction, then the other, before she caught her bearings and walked down the street, towards the beach.

Alcohol settled quickly on an empty stomach, first filling her with a subtle buzz - everything felt softer, lighter.

"I'm curious, Calyx. Why do you want to leave?"


 

Calyx watched, brow furrowed, as Anet tipped the entire drink back. His questioning look was answered by a soft laugh and a tease.

"I'll get you a shooter next time," he laughed. "I didn't think you'd down it that fast." Amusement lit his eyes, and he hid his grin behind his own glass. There were too many provoking jokes he considered, and refrained from, making.

Calyx followed her gaze, then nodded in agreement. They wove through the crowd, gliding past the uncoordinated movements with every rhythmic beat of the music. He didn't bother finishing his own glass. When they reached the doors, he turned and whirled, gallantly pushing them open in a way that kept his back to the bouncers. The bartender noticed, pointed and opened his mouth, but was too late. Calyx raised his glass in a mock cheers, winked, and strolled after Anet.

They passed a man who'd had far less of a balanced night. Anet, unperturbed, sidestepped him. Calyx gave the man a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and a murmured "cheers" before catching up. She chose their route. One he recognized would take them to the promenade, where only an iron railing separated the elevated pavement from white sand and slow, rolling waves.

It was there that she spoke again. Dragging him back to what got her here in the first place.

"It's-" Calyx started, then let out a long breath. "Look. Kasir forced me into the academy." He scoffed. "It wasn't even my own choice, you understand? And now, more than a year later, what have I gained? I'm still an acolyte. Still part of the dregs at the bottom of the hierarchy. No closer to understanding the dark side than I was before I had to deal with sadistic instructors. All I've gotten out of this are scars and mutilations." His expression turned somber. "Why subject myself to this torture, waiting for some Lord to decide I'm less disgusting than the others? And I'm not ignorant enough to believe the agony stops there. Truly, Anet, why should I want to stay?"
 

Kasir? She knew him only a little. That was to say, she knew he existed, and that he had fought viciously for the Covenant.

She listened as he spilled his guts in a way. His frustration and anxiety were not unique for an acolyte. Especially for one who came from Desevro of all places... A rougher time when acolytes were made into soldiers for the upcoming war in the Core. She wondered where Calyx was during all of that, and wondered how he acquired his long list of scars and mutilations.

A version of herself wanted to chastise him for all that complaining, but buzzed and drunker Anet merely smiled softly and kept quiet until he reached the end.

Truly, Anet, why should I want to stay?

She turned her head and looked at him, still smiling. "Because you know how to live."

They reached the promenade, and Anet turned around, pressing her back against the metal railing. It gave him a view of her with the nightcast sea to her back. With her elbows resting against the railing, too, she continued.

"The Dark Side isn't something you need to study or understand with an outsider's examination, Calyx. You know it quite well. It's the thing that drove you to want me, to continue wanting me even after you knew what I was... What I represent... The Dark Side is the thing that drove you to run away; it's the thing that keeps you alive, that pushes you to keep fighting even when people drag you back. It's your recognition of the instructors' cruelty, and your hatred for them. It's your gut instincts, your passions - your baser needs."

Anet yanked him closer by the belt, and if allowed, would throw him against the railing beside her, before turning to finally face the sea.

"It is your nature... It is you. You are it." She looked at him, sidelong, murmuring. "We all are."

There was a hum in her throat as she thought about what to say next, as her eyes returned to the rolling waves.

"I'm starting an inquisition - off Coruscant. Away from the eyes of the Triumvirate." She smirked. "Don't worry. It's not as stuffy as it sounds. Plain clothes, traveling the galaxy, living as ourselves... or as any lie we'd like." She looked at him thoughtfully, pegging him for a thespian. "Be anyone, do anything. Whatever feels right."
As if to prove a point, she hopped over the railing and expertly climbed down onto the sandy shore. She walked backwards, towards the water, eyes on him, taking off one shoe at a time - raising her voice to call back to him. "Our job is to find prospects for the Academy, lore for the Archives, secrets and artifacts to further Covenant power... our power."

She slowed her walk, grinning wider. "I think you'd be perfect for the job, Calyx... And if everything I've said isn't enough?" She turned away from him and sauntered towards the water's edge. "Then consider the benefits of having me as your co-worker."

Anet hoped that was the most enticing job offer he's ever received. Counted on it, in fact.
 

Calyx stopped, watching her against the horizon.

His face remained placid, betraying no thought in the somber reflection of his eye as she spoke on the dark side, describing it as the full spectrum of the Force.

In a way, it mirrored what the Jedi taught. But where they embraced the Living Force as the whole truth, Anet seemed to preach that nothing was exempt from it.

Doubt still stirred in him. He didn't know what to believe, even if he wanted to.

The gap between them disappeared as she pulled him against the railing. The horizon lost something without her in the frame. Yet somehow, it felt better with her beside him. Camaraderie with her, instead of desire for her.

That aligned with the subject.

Inquisition.

"Be anyone, eh…" Gaze tracking her, he mulled it over as she vaulted the railing.

Our power.

It felt strange. Thinking of unity in an environment where individuality prospered. He'd tried working for a cause before. With the Jedi. Then again with the Hidden Path. But…

He leapt over the railing after her, hurling his glass into the sand, the drink sloshing free. "So the purpose of your inquisition is to arm the Covenant with whatever it requires," Calyx called out, matching her saunter. "Well, you have my curiosity. I'll admit that."

It was a way out. A way forward, veering off the path Kasir had dragged him onto.

"But how do you imagine your Inquisitors go about their mission?" He slid his hands in his pockets. "Secretive and solitary? Collaborators within an intelligence network?" The true question was thinly veiled. What do you expect of me?

"And those benefits?" He kept his lazy pace until he caught up with her at the water's edge. Grinning as he stopped. "I'd like to hear a little more about those."
 

"However you'd like," Anet shrugged with a smirk. "Some things are better handled alone... But other things? It's a matter of your skill. What you're good at. How you'd like to get things done. Nothing feels better than to realize that the things we do are the things we're good at, and that it isn't that we have to change... We just have to be."

When Calyx asked about benefits, Anet's feet were already swallowed by shallow waves pushing and pulling along the shore. Her hands idly played with the rest of the black fabric that hugged her body - a pause in their little game, or maybe an enticing question; a challenge.

Her laugh was quite smug. She took another step back.

A cloud peeled away in the sky, unshackling the moonglow that had been cast down on them. It was as if a stage light directed them to the center of their scene.

"Oh, I think we've both teased quite enough now, haven't we? I'm drunk. You're drunk. Let's try not to drown, hmm?"

Her belt fell somewhere below the water. She beckoned him forward with one finger.

"I'd better wake up in a good room when we're done."

 

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