Expeditionary Episodes of the Mercicle and the Cactus Queen

[Quietus]

A half smirk met that snort, It's not alchemy. It's witchcraft.

Not that this meant much of anything to Aver Brand. Likely the two were one in the same to her. Or maybe they weren't. Quietus did not know of the woman's experience with craftwork and sorcery. She withdrew her hand as the other sat up, replacing it on the wood behind her, gaze shifting from the Bloodtrail to the expressions filtering across Aver's face.

The smirk slowly settled into something warm. Ever fond of the way the woman could put up a fight to just about anything. Not that this was a fight, more than it was making excuses. She might not be able to evade Aver ever again after being Bloodtrailed, but it did not mean that Aver would never leave her side. The Merc had a life away from all this to tend to, other mates and responsibilities. There would be plenty of time for peace and solitude in the long stretches of days... weeks, months between their visits. If this meant those visits might be more frequent? Well...

I don't mind.

Qui's hair stubbornly flew back out from where it had been so gently tucked, wild in the breeze.

Her smirk returned.

I like having you around.

 

[Aver Brand]

Unmeasured moments passed between one thought and the next. With nothing to keep the time, the day moved languid and slow about them. The jungles below chirruped and whispered and cried for the coming morning as the beasts of the night laid to rest.

And the pair, who were perhaps both, were content to greet the day at their own pace.

Aver side-eyed her mate with a toothy grin, then glanced back at the sun with an ear-wide smirk.

I know.

The skin on her shoulders and cheeks was starting to tingle, but the merc gleefully ignored it for the warmth.

A beat, then – “Fine. But only if I get to pick the place.”

 

[Quietus]

A blond brow flicked at that, expression unfailing.

Fair enough.

Not as if Aver had gotten to choose the location of her Bloodtrail ... let alone had a choice concerning it at all. Quietus was not one to live with regrets but this certainly felt more balanced - allowing the once Sith Lord to return the favor. She leaned to lightly press into the side of Aver's face, feeling the heat of the sun on her skin there. A light nuzzle followed, then a nibble at the rim of the woman's temple.

You're getting sunburnt.

She would heal, but no sense in prolonging the process.

Come, let's get something to eat.

On her feet a moment later, she offered a hand to her mate and made her way back to the Loft.

 

[Aver Brand]

A puff of defiant air left her chest.

Am not.

Still, she didn’t resist as Qui tugged her up. Prickly skin was a small price to pay for the nice view on the way back down.

Aver returned to the cool shade of the treehouse with the pleased smile of someone who’d already decided what they would be eating – and it wasn’t food.

She swept a critical gaze over the knives lined up next to the open fire, then looked back at her mate.

“We don’t have to cook.”

 

[Quietus]

Quietus had moved over to a nearby wooden chest, pulling the latch and lifting the top to filter through her clothing selection for the day. She being she, the ex-Beastia thought very little of the comment given about the meal beyond its face value.

Didn't know you ate raw.

An idle response from the woman who went about her routine with her cares held firmly at mind's reach.

Aver being Aver ... well, had other things in mind, herself.

"For twenty years, babe."

That brow had never been so high (except it probably had in other similar instances). Really, she should have known better. Everything innuendo, 90% of the time. Maybe this is what she got for opting to not be in the Mercenary's head at all times, though she rather preferred the separation of thoughts when it wasn't necessary.

Her shoulders shook with an internalized chuckle.

Why not? Wasn't as if they had a schedule to stick to. Retirement was good.

~~~~

Witchcraft couldn't be taught in one sitting, especially not to one who was not particularly invested or naturally talented at the more esoteric forms of power. Aver had her own laundry list of abilities with the Force that were enough to make even seasoned Masters second-guess a challenge, but her expertise remain in the art of killing through physical means.

Having shed plenty of blood in her years, drawing it wasn't the difficult part - no. Focusing the ever-complicated and oft-illusive intent into an intangible spell was where the difficulty began. Quietus spent several days teaching her the technique for basic spellweaving before moving on to the specific elements of the Blood Trail.

They practiced on rocks at first. Rounded and smoothed stones picked from the riverbed during an afternoon spent in the sun. Aver would produce a drop of her own blood and smear it onto the rock, muttering the required incantation.

Then Quietus would throw it back into the river or out into the jungle for the other woman to seek out and find.

It wasn't proving very successful with only 3 out of 10 found. Aver was getting frustrated judging by the expletives.

Something was missing. An element of want and need ... care. Quietus had to admit this was a rather superfluous way to go about using the spell; who in the right mind would really want to track a rock? Aver needed to mark something she truly wanted to keep track of and wouldn't want to lose. With a short gaze about the area where their belongings lay in piles near the tree line guarded by Shai, Quietus stepped over to stoop by Aver's things. When she returned she held out Sa Sevai to the woman who sat grumpily on a large boulder with her feet in the water.

Now this.

 

[Aver Brand]

The merc made a face as she flipped the blade in her hand.

“You know…” Aver chewed on her lip, “I almost left it in some Dark-side-sorcery-witchcraft-zombie-whatnot once. Wouldn’t that be some irony, huh?”

She caught Sa Sevai with her left hand, balancing the kukri on one finger.

“I warned you. I suck at this shet.”

Her blue gaze slid from Qui to the three rocks at her feet. “But what the kark, right? Let nobody ever say Aver Brand gave up.”

Only took a nick more of pressure, and the edge broke skin. Red and hot she smeared it along the blade, and didn’t once look up.

Her smirk was telling enough.

 

[Quietus]

You are doing well.

As well as she might have expected Aver to do on the first real trials. Quietus wasn't looking for Mastery, simply comprehension.

But part of the intent is the belief that you are doing well. Intent from doubt does not a powerful spell make.

And yes, she also expected Aver not to give up no matter the level of her exasperation. Many would have called it stubborness, Qui liked to think of it as determination.

With the words of an ancient spell spilling from Aver's lips, the blood on the blade turned a deep ocher hue, matching that of the markings across her clavical. Quietus noted the scent on the air - like burned hair and ancient spirits. A good mark, Aver would feel the connection form nearly instantly, much more strongly than that of the three successful rocks. Stooping at her mate's side she lightly clasped her hands around those of Aver as she held the blade, green eyes cool and curious as she examined the work.

A simple nod was offered and a hand held out to take the weapon. Quietus felt confident that the spell had been strong, but there was only one way to test the theory. Once Sa Sevai was in her hand she made a silent call over the force to her winged beast. Before Aver knew it, Quietus was flying away with her dagger to get it good and lost.

 

[Aver Brand]

Satisfaction of a job well done – it lasted a whole five seconds before Qui yanked the freshly marked dagger and— well, absconded.

Aver frowned.

Better stick it in some prime cut steak, darlin’.

Didn’t need no Force to know where this was going. The merc padded off through the grass with wet feet. Puppy stirred, prying a single lazy eye open at the approach.

“So I found a bigger queen than me, right? What can I say, I’m talented. You wanna get out of this heat?”

Shai stood and shook off her hide with a spine-long shiver. “Yeah. I thought so.”

A snap and a hiss later, Ygdris were hunting again.

~~​

The sun had baked mud and leaves on her hide by the time she got back. Might’ve burned that scowl onto her face, too.

Fethin’ got it, though.

Puppy had her teeth sunk to the gums on the front end; Aver had its hind legs thrown over her shoulder.

“Had to stick it into the fattest cow around, did you?”

 

[Quietus]

Settled on the floor at the center of her treehome, Quietus did not break from her current project. Situated by the smaller fire of the first level, she sat indian style with tools and materials strewn about.

I need a lot of hide for this project, her mental voice answered back as soon as Aver pulled her helmet free, you needed the challenge of tracking a marked item on the move, and we needed dinner.

Three birds, one stone.

...or is it three stones, one bird?

She snorted and shook her head, pulling out a length of treated rawhide twine and began to feed it through punched holes along the seam of what appeared to be a leather saddlebag.

 

[Aver Brand]

Right on cue, Aver and Puppy both dropped the fresh carcass at the foot of the tree.

“Kark your stones.” She shook her head and sprung up onto the first floor. The armor scrabbled off her body a moment later, skittering into the cool shade of the treehouse.

She handed Qui a whole leg tore off the cow, then stretched down next to her. Watcha making?

 

[Quietus]

I guess that makes you the bird.

Smiling to herself while she worked, her eyes remained honed on the task at hand as Aver joined her, disrobed (did that really count when the armor shed itself?), and dropped dinner at her side before coming to rest at her other side. Her fingers, stained from an afternoon spent tanning and treating hides, worked skillfully with the rawhide wrap - threading and pulling, threading and pulling.

Something for you, came the answer, Qui turned her wry smile to the other woman, enjoyed yourself did you?

 

[Aver Brand]

You can go drag the rest up by your karking self.

Aver tore the fresh meat with her teeth. Pointedly.

And no. It’s humid. And dense. And there’s mud… everywhere. She side-eyed her mate before flicking a drop of blood up at her smug mug.

But you knew that.

 

[Quietus]

Quietus refrained from telling Aver that she had no need to bring the carcass up here. All the necessary work would be done on the ground and only the materials needed would find their way up. It was better to let the Merc think otherwise. She did smirk though, eyes narrowing at the blood flicked at her face.

The splatter marked her like freckles and she did nothing to wipe it away.

You enjoyed it.

Aver Brand liked a challenge, even if she didn't like the setting.

The silent woman turned to set her work down and cleared the area of scraps and materials. Moving to pick up a nearby dagger of her own, she cut off a sliver of meat from the leg and nibbled.

Do you feel confident in this new skill?

 

[Aver Brand]

“My skill?” Because talking with your mouth full is rude, and Aver has never been anything but, “Enough to mark my weapons, sure.”

“But you’re not a weapon.” She licked her lips – grinned. “Well—”

“I don’t know.” Aver shrugged and tore off another piece of meat. “What’d you like it to look like anyway?”

 

[Quietus]

Nonplussed, Quietus watched the woman guff over her meal. Really, it was something she just learned to live with - it wasn't ever gonna go away. One of those things that was just part of her charm.

No, she smirked in agreement, I'm not a weapon.

She wasn't a weapon. Weapons were tools created with one intention: to bring harm. Quietus liked to think she was far more complex than that.

It is not my mark, it is yours. What it looks like is your decision, she cut off another piece of meat, ever a model of decorum when around Aver, it seemed. It can be as simple as this, she reached to draw her fingers across the three lines left on Aver's skin twenty years ago, even as small as a single drop of blood. Or it can be large and complex as this, she calmly gestured to the Ternion, looking upon the intricate patterns that made up her connection to the other two people in her life.

Did you design these?

 

[Aver Brand]

Aver rolled on her back and rolled her eyes. She plastered a forearm over her face, kicking out her legs in a lazy stretch.

Good food puts a beast to sleep.

She pried her eyes open again at the question. Peered at her tattoos.

“The original thing, yeah. But they grow, see?” She lifted her arm and turned it over to show off the writhing linework. The disparity between left and right was striking – while the wolves had climbed nearly all the way to her shoulder, the spider still clung to her wrist.

Stunted.

“It wouldn’t be the same,” she added, squinting at the quiet roil of ink under her skin. “These are bonds, too. Feth knows I can’t pull that shet off.”

Aver reached out and offered a hand to her mate. “In the evening?”

Had a spot picked out and all.

 

[Quietus]

The growth of these markings, or at the very least one of them, had been noted over the years. Twenty years was a long time to know someone and not recognize such a change, but the Ternion had barely been a subject of discussion. Another one of those things personal to Aver that Quietus felt no need to enlighten herself to. Even now, her query had been one of surface curiosity and she learned through the answer more than she really wanted to know but perhaps not anything she thought she didn't already.

It reminded her of the Mark of Darkness worn by herself, Dissero, and the Shamalain Matriarch. Only their sigils had spread as only they had really delved into the Darkside and grown their knowledge, power, and mastery of it. Quietus had chosen a different path long ago. One of neutrality ... or perhaps apathy. She'd never really decided.

Not the same, no, her telepathic voice intoned calmly, placid greens following the hand that reached out to her. She spread her palm across Aver's, fingers smoothing over the heel of her hand to loosely curl around her wrist, If you like. There is no rush. Practice more, if you feel it will help. You can always do it on your next visit.

Qui smiled, her free hand moving to plant on the floor at Aver's other side so she was leaning across her middle, Sleep.

 

[Aver Brand]

“If you insist…” Her voice was already a waning murmur as she closed her eyes again. I don’t think it’s for me, y’know. This witchcraft… stuff.

Aver yawned, settling in under a familiar weight. Midday on Thral was no time to spend awake – entirely too hot and humid for a creature of the urban persuasion.

But I’ll make it pretty.

She grinned at the ceiling.

For you.

~~​

Twilight found the mercenary not on the first floor of the treehouse, but rather on the deck above the canopy. She was dangling her legs over the edge, chewing on her lip. Every once in a while a bit-off curse echoed over the treetops.

She erased the sketch again, staring daggers at the blank screen.

Kark if Qui hadn’t had it easy; drunk on blood and sex and not giving a shet. Aver flicked bitterly through the previous attempts, swearing each one in increasingly creative Huttese.

Why did it have to be so complicated?

Why am I making it so complicated?

 

[Quietus]

Desdemona had no retort for that promise, but she smiled faintly at the dozing Mercenary all the same. As Aver finally drifted off to sleep she quietly pulled herself from the woman's side and set back to work. The heat of the jungle bothered the ex-Beastia very little - it was an attribute of her life she had grown used to much like the beastly predators she lived amongst.

Quietus rode the pulley down to ground level, finding Shai contently chomping on a leg of their kill. With the afternoon waning, she took advantage of the remaining daylight to process the rest of the carcass.


By nightfall she had the hide strung up through the trees, stretching and drying. What organs and meat could be kept had been quartered and sealed away in air-tight packaging, then stored aboard her ship. There was still plenty remaining to keep for meals around the tree, but Quietus had found herself less and less hungry for flesh with Aver around to sate her bloodlust. Strangely enough, she was feeling as rejuvinated as ever.

Aver was the first person in a very long time that she had used for blood-feasting on a somewhat regular basis. It wasn't like her to take the offer so readily, but anymore it was becoming more and more difficult to deny it. She had even found during those long stints between visits that she was craving it. A worrying revelation brought about during the many hours of solitude in her work.

She was returning from her ship, Shai lazily strolling through the foliage alongside her, when she paused at the waves of bitter frustration leaking down from the canopies. For as guarded a person as she was, Aver certainly had a loud mental voice when her emotions got the best of her. It brought a half-smirk to Qui's lips, green peering up through shadowed branches. Sharing a short glance with Shai, she shrugged and made her way back up into the treehome, settling back into her workshop on the first level where she began cleaning and honing the blades used during the day.

 

[Aver Brand]

After she’d cracked the casing, Aver had abandoned the datapad completely. Now she was glaring at the waning light, as if the retreating sun could grace her with a useful idea where an hour of fething around didn’t.

The merc groaned and flopped on her back. “Pathetic.”

The clouds above her remained silent, and for a while, so was she. The din of a waking jungle rose all around her as beasts awakened from their slumber. The distant flap of wings echoed off the mountains; far below, packs bayed their twilight song.

Aver closed her eyes.

Come up here.