Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Eulogic Episodes: The Unchanging Ache of Things

Few words to be said that wouldn't devolve into the vehemence Desdemona felt toward her grandmother's penchant for playing puppeteer with her family. She'd been party to it during the Gulag for lack of any place else to go or be - though in the end it had earned her a son and a seat of honor in the culture of Garhall. A better understanding of her blood and her people. A renewed lease on life. Broadened knowledge and power.

She wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for Silencia's machinations. A point she hated acknowledging - that woman's decisions were always with purpose and never without a great deal of forethought. Still, she didn't like her meddling. By all means, Rune should not be standing here with her. He could have passed on to live with his wife and son. Instead he was here, troubled and torn by her choices. What was the point of bringing him back against his will? Silencia might've said to give him another chance at life that was stolen away. But that was life, Qui would have rebutted, sometimes you live and sometimes you don't.

Dinner in five.

Dinner was a casual sort of tense. Quietus now reminded of her discontentment of many things, Rune quiet, Aver refusing to be the one to make things seem normal. There was conversation, but it was surface level - not quite small talk but not quite easy. By the time they finished, Rune excused himself back to his dropship to do a bit of work and Qui was in dire need of a good long soak in the nearby hotsprings.

I'm sorry I didn't tell you he was coming, I didn't think he'd get here so quickly... she telepathed to Aver in their new nest, standing before the bodice while she slowly unstrapped herself of her armor. Thank you for showing him around.
 
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The mercenary was still (again) in the kitchen, cleaning up the leftovers of their busy afternoon. You could’ve cut the tension at dinner with a knife – though Aver had happily taken the knife to her steak instead – and some time away for everyone, from everyone, seemed like a great idea. Three pacing predators holed up in the same house was a recipe for disaster if she’d ever known one.

She paused in her clean up as Qui brushed against her mind, a dirty rag once again slung over her shoulder. How disgustingly domestic.

It’s… fine, she said with a mental sigh and a glance at the ceiling. As if she could see her mate if she squinted hard enough.
The generator woulda taken me a couple more days if he hadn’t showed up, so he can’t be all bad, right?

There was still a chance this family visit wouldn’t result in a jaunt halfway across the galaxy, a messy sorcery fallout, and another sharp argument between the two of them. Cosmic luck hadn’t ever favored her before, though, so Aver wasn’t putting much stock in that small glimmer of hope.

A wry smile curled her mouth as the merc stood and climbed the stairs to join Qui in the nest. She found the blonde wearing nothing but her own skin – a welcome sight she appreciated first with her lips, then with her hands, and finally with her words.

Want company?
 
The generator comment got a mental brow raise. Quietus didn't know that Rune was so ... mechanically inclined? Technologically, yes, but helping with a generator seemed out of her known purview for him. For certain her brother had always preferred civilization over the wilds. Tech over beast. An odd one, no doubt, but often the first one to remind her of their mother. Cerusia had been odd as well.

He's hardly bad at all, she mused back. Now free of her armor, she gave the grime and dirt and dried blood a weary glance - knowing it would all need to be cleaned and oiled - and moved on to pulling her hair free from the braided knotting against her skull. Aver arrived as she worked, greeting her shoulder a nibbling kiss and her hips with the clasp of her palm. Bold considering the fact that her mate stank of the very same sweat, dirt, grime, and blood that presently coated her armor. A droll smirk met her over Qui's shoulder, settling in just over the blackened tree of life brand on her left shoulderblade. She turned slowly, pulling the last bone pin holding the braids to her scalp free to let them fall in woven kinks about her shoulders.

Please, the response was an honest one, not teasing. She'd spent a fair amount of time alone over the last few weeks, attempting to keep Aver clear of her internalized struggles, but she missed the woman's touch and attention. It would have been a lie to claim anything else. Des leaned up to nuzzle upwards under her chin, her hands drifting to the bottom hem of Aver's shirt. Sweat and dirt and grime and blood and dinner - Aver stank of it all and it wasn't an unpleasant aroma to take in for the not-Beastia.

Join me in the hotspring? an offer given with a tender bite to the corner of her jaw.
 
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Kark yes.

After a long day of working outside in the merciless Thral sun, Aver would have shoved her own father out of a skyscraper for a bucket of water, much less a burbling hotspring.

The blonde led and the redhead followed, and occasionally they stumbled off the path for a break against a tree or a boulder as one or the other got carried away with the casual groping. It was all achingly familiar for its absence these past few weeks. Despite her – and Qui’s – best efforts, the thought kept sneaking back to distract her, even as wandering hands and lips sought to do the same in the other direction.

The ruminations stubbornly followed her to the springs and into the hot water, where they survived even her repeated attempts to drown them in the seething heat.

No such luck.

With a low grunt, Aver propped herself against the rock lining one face of the spring, head lolling back on the warm stone as she soaked in the first rays of moonlight. She didn’t sparkle quite like her mate, but three moons were enough to make anyone glow at least a little.

Your brother seems real proper, yeah. She twirled a finger through the swirling water, studying and failing in following its patterns. Told me that apparently you lot are taught not to… shag where you eat?

Not quite the subject she’d been aiming to broach, but— baby steps.
 
At times the two of them were no better than a couple of horny teens. Honestly. The very thought amused the silent blond enough to follow her into the water with a smirk, though it lingered in the heat of the spring for just a few moments before dissipating with the relief of limbs sore from several hours of flying, stalking, tracking, killing, and cleaning carcasses in the heat of the sun. Her fatigue of keeping up an active shield against the sun's rays with the Force had finally caught up to her, and she let it take hold in the weight of her eyelids.

Somewhere toward the middle of the spring a boulder jutted up, and it was against the side of it that she leaned with her eyes closed and her face basking in the glow of moonlight. Some storm clouds were lingering in, and a hazey evening mist had risen over the tops of the jungle. It wasn't the reprieve she had hoped for but she'd take it.

The subject of her brother joined them like an unexpected guest. Not unwelcome, but it was the last subject she had expected Aver to bring up despite being entirely relevant.

Quietus gave a light snort, Why, did you tell him that's what I do? A side eye looked the way of her mate. Of course she did. We are, it's true. Feeding was never much of a need for me until after my Purification. Before then I didn't have much taste for blood. Not that she hadn't put her fangs to plenty of use on her bedmates, but it had been for reasons of pleasure and not sustenance or need. She sighed, thinking back to her early days in her new form.

It's meant as a stop-gap for young Garhans who cannot control their primal urges. Once you start mixing the two it's easy to lose track of what's what while in the throes of bloodlust. It's too easy to kill a mate that way... so keeping your feeding and your fucking separate is safer for everyone. You might recall my last return from Garhall and what happened...
 
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“I was…” Aver wrinkled her nose, being me.

Making crude jokes to reassert her comfort in a situation out of her control. Because the only other way to regain her footing was to literally regain her footing – by throwing the other guy on the ground. Much as her younger self would’ve scoffed at this turn of events, modern-day Ygdris could appreciate that a beat-down wasn’t always the best solution.

You recall my last return from Garhall and what happened...

Sure did. As normalized as injury and recovery were in her line of work, it was hard to forget cracked ribs and a broken arm. With a sigh, Aver abandoned her perch on the rock and slunk over to her mate, immersed up to her eyes in the water. Qui had done much the same once – a different time, a different planet, a different hotspring.

A different Desdemona and a different Ygdris.

She stopped in front of the luxuriating woman. Her words stopped, too, and for long moments Aver simply lingered there, soaking in the sight of her mate much as Qui was soaking in the warmth.


And your addiction?

So much for a relaxing evening.
 
And your addiction?

Pale greens slivered open to peer at her mate, but no response came in any immediacy. Held back by something. Not shame, not guilt, but something. It unnerved the former Queen of the Jungles that Aver's perceptiveness into her own issues had grown so much keener over the years. It should have, given how much they'd been through together.

A hand snaked out in the bubbling waters, seeking out one of Aver's own. Seeking her connection to Ygdris. She found it and gently plied it forward, bringing the back of Aver's hand to her lips where she held it there in a silent nuzzle.

Do you think I'm addicted? Another honest question.
 
Something unbearably fragile cracked open behind her ribs when Qui pressed her lips to scarred gold knuckles. Aver squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the urge to yank back her hand and curl it around her chest to keep her insides from spilling out.

The things this woman made her feel… she let out a measured, shuddering exhale.

Turning her hand, Aver shifted to cradle the face of her mate with her palms. She traced the fine lines around her eyes with her thumbs, along the sharp contours of her cheekbones, and lingered against those full lips before she leaned forward to press their foreheads together.

That’s not a fair question, Des. While they’d been privy to each other’s thoughts since the very beginnings of their relationship,
I’m not in your body.

Aver pulled away, but only so much that she could look Qui in the eye again. A fine furrow formed between her brows, signalling what few others would recognize for what it was – worry.

Are you?
 
The sensation of tip-toeing a line while Aver struggled with her emotions was as familiar as ever. At times as exhilarating as balancing at the precipice of the plateau ridge. Others as unnerving as catching the last available branch on a long plunge from a high drop. Sometimes she just never knew if that branch was going to hold or if it was going to bed and snap to send her tumbling to an unknown fate. This time Aver held strong, buoying her back into the foundation of the years beneath them.

A weary smile shifted over her face and for that brief moment she simply enjoyed the warmth of the woman leant into her and the feel of her weight tipped at her crown. What is it they say ... addicts can never see the signs of their own addiction?

Qui had to admit to herself that despite eating a full meal of fresh and sating raw meat, the scent of her mate and the rush of blood beneath her skin was as tantalizing as a dessert delicacy. Did she want to feed from her? Yes. She could not really think of a time that the answer was anything but. Was she going to feed from her? No, that wasn't her intention in this moment.

Would she if Aver offered? If in the throes of sexuality and lust, Aver asked her to? Deep down, Des wasn't entirely sure she could deny such things of her mate. A frown folded over her lips, Maybe? I don't really know. Perhaps it is best that I practice what is preached and stop feeding from you. So far as she could see, the best tell was withdraw.
 
Despite the truly staggering amount of vices and venialities Aver indulged in, drugs somehow never factored in. Well— that wasn’t entirely true. It wasn’t an accidental omission – she stayed away because it was the one sure-fire way to wind up dead.

No amount of skill or experience would serve in a fight when your muscles refused to cooperate; you couldn’t pay attention to your surroundings if you were passed out or so high you might as well have been; neither credits nor skill nor power could save you when your own body rebelled.

She stared at her mate, and found she had nothing at all to say. This was one demon Aver could not fight; could not even help her fight, except for Qui to—

–stop feeding from me.

Her mouth quirked to the side, pooling into a wry smile as her rigid posture softened. Hard to tell whose idea it was, in the end. Was that what partnership was? Finishing each other’s thoughts instead of sentences?

Aver released her hold on that fine jaw and let one hand drop to her side. The other she ghosted down along the column of a fine, pale neck, cupping it so gently you’d think she’d never choked anyone out in her life.

And if the answer is yes?

They’d spent months, even years apart early on, and Qui hadn’t succumbed to anything awful far as she could tell. When you’ve lived to see your sixth century, though, who knows how long a withdrawal could last?

Who knows how much it could change?
 
Couldn't help but tempt an iota of concern for the agreement between them both. Part of their pleasure was the act of feeding and giving in to blood lust. They only did because they could - and in the off times that they couldn't ... well, neither one of them had stepped over that line. Qui didn't count the careless goading from before that had resulted in broken bones and a flare of uncontrolled bloodlust. A withering sigh escaped through her nose, head tipping back against the rock and leaning into the hand at her neck.

We cross that bridge when we get to it. She smiled faintly, lifting a hand to tug at Aver's dripping red locks hanging about her shoulders. We've managed to figure everything else out that way.
 
When Qui beckoned, Aver followed – into the embrace of those strong arms, tucking her tight frown in the nook of her neck as if her mate couldn’t sense exactly what she felt without ever looking at her face.

There was much to be said for familiar comforts.

Despite the weight of the conversation and the decision, a strange, soft peace settled on her shoulders as they stood there together in silence. The low hum of the planet around them was so much different to the raw din of Nadir, but they were much closer than she’d’ve thought decades ago.

Do you want to tell me why your brother is here?
 
Of course she felt that frown. She was wearing something fairly similar, mentally speaking. Sacrifices of adulthood and such, or at least being responsible to one another. Her fingers worked at the cowlicked knots of the Mercenary's hair, gently plying them apart from the tips and combing them out. These moments of peace, rest, quietude were the ones she often thought back to when looking at their history together. Like the profoundly early dawn on Onderon, waking in the wee hours of her tent to unwind braids and pull bone adornments free from her hair. Aver's hands deftly aiding in the ritual.

Quiet and uncomplicated.

A bit like her brother. Or at least, it would have been if he were still uncomplicated like she remembered. The question woke a faint smirk to her lips, To annoy you. And the smirk split into a broader grin as she tilted her head to look down at Aver, No, I need his skill in Flow Walking. It's not one I ever picked up but he is quite good at it.

A beat, a stilted sigh, her gaze drifted back up to the night sky above, I need him to answer a question for me.
 
For the moment, they both seemed content to let the matter lie. There wasn’t much of anything else to dredge up – their own thoughts would swirl and condense and fall apart again over days and weeks and months, because if it was anything, their courtship was long. Among the great many things they owned and ruled, time was the most precious gift of all.

The only thing of worth that she could ever offer.

Eyes closed, Ygdris basked in the ebbing heat of the water at her back and the solid warmth of Desdemona at her front. When the words came – and they inevitably did – they did so with that quiet smirk of hers. Aver couldn’t help but mirror it, her own lips parting as she grinned into pearlescent skin.

I did manage to drag the Flow Walking bit out of him. Sounded suspiciously smug, she did.
Something in your past, then?

Not that it exactly narrowed things down. But it was a start, at least.
 
Aver would absolutely feel a splash of surprise at her response. Aver Brand knew about Flow Walking? And then Quietus realized that perhaps if Rune felt so inclined, he may have explained it to her. That made an appropriate sort of sense. The surprise faded.

Yes ... in a way. It has to do with a part of my past.

She could feel already the narrowing of emotional nerves within herself. The stiffening of the soul as the flow of the past began to seep into her active memory. It was a place she did not often tread, especially not where this particular person was concerned. It was simply too difficult to deal with at face value. Quietus had skirted around the subject well enough for the past several decades, opting instead to enjoy that which she had in the present instead of allowing herself to dwell on the past. Desdemona Shamalain was not a creature of regret ... but there were times that grief became so profound it could evolve into regret and walking that path was not a place she wanted to be.

But she was at the trailhead of that path once again. She needed to walk it as she always did once every ten years. Like clockwork, the cycle had begun again and this time just maybe ... she might invite Aver to walk it with her.

With my mate Cazador.
 
The beast that had learned patience practiced it now in the heat of the spring, head tilted to the side as she watched Desdemona Dionea Shamalain gather her frayed thoughts into a single coherent thread of a response. It still surprised her sometimes how humbling it could be to witness the red-raw viscera of this woman going through her emotions and not feel any less for her.

With my mate Cazador.

The name was new – the undercurrent of dull pain was not. Aver had seen the sort of bruise-blue color it brought out in Qui many times over their decades together. Sometimes just flashes, as quick as a summer storm tearing from a cloud on Onderon; other times it was a more persistent memory, like a worm gnawing through the mud until you quashed or buried it again.

For her mate, it was always the latter. Like a broken bone that never properly healed; an old injury flaring up with foul weather and fouler spirits.

Aver hummed and began pressing her thumbs into the smooth flesh of Qui’s back, working her way up along the spine in slow, patient circles.

This isn’t… new, she pointed out when she reached the nape of the neck, stopping well before that vulnerable spot.
What’s changed?
 
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No... during the forming years of their relationship she had not thought of him often. Those flashes of memory were mere hints brought on by moments of nostalgia. Grown in an action, grown in an emotion, grown in a phrase or a gesture. Often they were there, mingling over her thoughts for a breath of time - pushed aside by the present. Rarely had they loomed for longer, but they had.

Now? A frown shifted like a shadow over Qui's face even as it shone pearlescent under the light of two moons not yet devoured by the incoming storms. My dreams, she replied at length. You remember how I told you after Ereza brought me back that I had begun to dream again? Before that, I had not dreamed for hundreds of years. Not since before the Gulag Plague.

Her expression continued to darken as memories of that time flooded her mind. A fathomless abyss of loss that had been shielded from Aver had suddenly become open to her like an exogorth's jaw unhinging in the bleakness of space.

We suffered so much loss during that time...

Family, friends, loved ones. Though Desdemona had never admitted to loving before Ygdris, Cazador had been one of the only that had come close. Now that she knew what it truly felt like, she might even admit that it had been love.

I couldn't stop dreaming about them. I couldn't bear it. I nearly took my own life under the oppression of grief. For so long there was nothing in this galaxy but death and loss, and absolutely nothing we could do about it. So she blocked them from my mind so that I could finally sleep and since the 400 year darkness the only way I could dream was to enter the Dreamsphere.
 
Flashes of Dreamwalks past mixed in with her words as Qui slowly opened up about the man Aver had only ever glimpsed in the smoke of memory. Aver didn’t interrupt once, so silent and motionless that she might’ve been a statue hewn from cool marble.

If this was heading anywhere close to where she thought it was, her mate needed all the support she could get.

The thought of Desdemona – as enduring and unyielding and merciless as nature herself – so weakened and bent under her burden that she had nearly—

Aver closed her eyes and pulled her mate flush, sinking into the embrace with a long, measured exhale. No need to ask who ‘she’ was, here. History lessons weren’t common between them, but when Qui shared, she shared. Easy to guess why. Six centuries were no joke when four of those were spent drifting among thousands of dead stars, chasing any semblance of humanity and civilization.

The worst of all was that there wasn’t anything to say. Even if Aver had the words, there were no sounds under the suns she could string together to form a sentence that would take all that boundless grief away.

With a soft sigh, she pulled back to press her lips to Qui’s forehead.

And you… want to go back to that time?

There were things about Desdemona she would probably never understand, but she could try.
 
Qui could feel the warmth of Aver's lips helping to disperse that overwhelming gully of grief from her mind. She could feel herself slipping for several moments, letting the looming behemoth of memory slide in to cover the landscape of her mind with the deep, endless fog of pain. If Aver could have ever been described as a source of warmth, it was right now. She leaned into her lips, drawing her arms up around her in an embrace of not simply want or desire, but need.

Perhaps it was not the blood of Aver she was addicted to, but the foundation of everything else they had learned and overcome and built together.

No, it's not that at all.

The fraying of her emotional resolve had already begun some months ago, even despite the resilience she had developed against it after so long and so much practice, her hold had started to loosen. This time it was different and she wasn't certain how to move forward. She needed answers to lingering doubts and questions and she couldn't get them on her own. Quietus didn't often find herself in such a place.

I can't... couldn't talk about it any more. She had to close the door to that place before she drowned in it. I don't... didn't know how to communicate it all to Aver. Her fingers dug that need in, grasping for Aver to understand, to continue to practice her patience. I need...more time...and answers.

And now the roles had reversed.
 
The solid, present warmth of their embrace brought solace the likes of which Aver could find nowhere else in the galaxy. Force knew she’d tried – searched far and wide, its breadth and length and other dimensions besides. And yet she knew no peace but this, under an open sky, with no sound but the roar of nighttime jungle to keep her company.

Desdemona was hardly beside her. It was too shallow a word for twin bonds of blood intertwined, for trust and sacrifice and understanding forged over decades of mutual discovery. And if it brought them here, to this moment where Quietus asked for time that Aver could give, finally, then the journey (arduous and difficult and uphill all the way) was indeed worth it.

Okay. She leaned back to meet those green eyes with a smile. I’ll take Shai out hunting tomorrow. You and Rune do whatever you need to do.

How strange the change from minor to major.

Maybe we’ll hit the plains, see what those stalkers are up to.
 

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