Private Disdain

[Mauve du Vain]

“In your dreams?” the question dripped from her lips like honey, like poison.

Her fingers pushed past his cheek to tangle in the locks of dark hair, his hand still clenching the wrist but doing nothing as yet to stop her.

“You want it all then, every last drop. In the whole wide galaxy.”

It was enough to make her laugh. She didn’t.

“How do you expect to do that, when you can’t even bend the knees of this Jedi?” Her fingers tightened in his hair, tugging his head back as she loomed over him. “Or does she.” A quirk of the lips. “Yes, she does. But if she doesn’t… are you going to dive in front of blasterfire for her again? You’re walking a difficult path, laden with obstacles. What doesn’t bend… must break. What are you willing to break, Morrow?”

 

[Morrow]

Mauve's inquiry reminded Morrow of the visions Talin had shown him. Those dreams that had drawn her to him, where she was inflexibly devoted to him, like he was her gospel. The violence, the atrocities, the bleeding sky, she didn't care. Talin would bend. She knew it, Morrow knew it.

A vibroblade hissed from its hiding place, a surge of autonomy pushing through the suggestions of the pheremones. Morrow hand strayed from Mauve's wrist to her bicep, pulling her nearly on top of him. The blade rested by her neck, buzzing maliciously and creating a tangible border between them.

"She's pliable," Morrow insisted. "What about you? Do you bend or break?"

 

[Mauve du Vain]

Liar.

Mauve thought before she lurched forward, pulled nearly off the desk so that her body hovered just above his, and blinked at the vibroblade suddenly at her throat. It hummed greedily.

She’d expected something like this. Violence. It was all he could resort to at any barrier that made him think just a little too hard. A dangerous type of man, but then, Mauve liked that. And more, she needed him as an asset.

For all the danger he presented, she still felt sure of her read on him, his emotions. Still felt… in control.

“That depends,” she simpered, voice barely above a whisper, those violet pools wide and staring. The hum that separated them that of death’s promise bound up in a length of vibrating steel. “Do you want me to bend?”

So much in that word. An ocean that would consume him.

 

[Morrow]

Morrow tugged until their faces were parallel, nearly cheek to cheek. The vibroblade threatened less than an inch between pink flesh and laceration. One breath brushed Mauve's ear. A minuscule beat of hesitation succeeded it. Their proximity meant even more pheromone intake; Morrow's regained center began to waver.

"You will," he murmured.

His grip tightened again, slightly wrenching the rosy tissue clutched beneath his fingers. Malice and a final reach for focus together in one gesture.

 

[Mauve du Vain]

The wash of pheromones became overpowering, a stupefying surge of jasmine that triggered chemical receptors for serotonin and endorphins to the point that most humans would be drowning in them with a sappy smile and a near-absence of thought. A paralytic made up of happiness.

Gentle fingers wrapped around the hand gripping the vibroblade and pushed it back toward Morrow's own throat, a reversal of positions. His breath tickled her ear, but Mauve's came hot in his own, "Only in your dreams."

Teeth scraped against his ear as she bit him there, then she pulled back and away, leaving him to sit in the sludge of artificial ecstasy as she walked barefoot around the table to resume her seat opposite him, the big desk in between them.

"I'll have a job for you coming up. Show me that you are useful. Show me that it's the Jedi who is pliable and not the other way around. Show me... and I'll speak to Razmir on your behalf. Until then, you may go."

Morrow