First Reply For Old Time's Sake

[Darth Virelia]

"Drums of War."

Tags -

Serina Calis looked perfectly at ease.

Her reflection rippled faintly in the window: blonde hair, tied back neatly at the nape of her neck; pale blue eyes; a hint of soft laughter that didn't quite reach them. She wore civilian attire—a white silk shirt beneath a tailored grey jacket, sleeves rolled back just enough to make her seem approachable. To anyone watching, she could've been a diplomat at rest, a corporate envoy between meetings. Not a Sith Lord. Not a queen of shadows.

The illusion was deliberate. And exquisite.

She let her glass rest on the edge of the pool table, its contents amber and glacially melting. The sound of a cue striking resin carried across the room—sharp, clean, satisfying. The music was soft and jazzy, something that belonged to another century.

"You break," said the Selkath behind the counter, voice bubbling through a translator.

Serina smiled, picked up the cue, and leaned forward with practiced ease. She had always been good at this—angles, patience, control. The kind of game that rewarded subtlety, not strength. The first strike sent the white ball gliding across the felt, clicking into the formation, scattering geometry. Two solids sank with perfect precision.

She straightened, glass in hand again, watching the table as though it were a tactical map.

It had been a couple days since she left Malachor. Since the fire and ash, the storm and steel. She'd told herself she came here to rest, to breathe. But the truth was simpler: she wanted to remember what it felt like to pretend. To be Serina Calis again, daughter of Chandrila's golden line, who smiled easily and spoke softly and built empires with words instead of blood.

Her cue traced lazy circles over the table as she lined her next shot.

The other patrons—a mix of Selkath workers, off-duty officers, and a couple of civilian tourists—barely noticed her. Just as intended. But every so often, a glance lingered. A few seconds too long. That strange magnetism she carried, no matter the mask. The kind that drew people in even when they didn't understand why.

She could sense them watching. The faint twinge of curiosity. The way the Force hummed beneath their surface thoughts—muted, shallow, unguarded. It was intoxicating in its simplicity.

The next strike was harder. The cue ball darted, spun, collided. A striped one rolled home.

"Nice," murmured someone behind her. Male voice. Confident. Too close.

Serina's smile sharpened just slightly. She didn't turn immediately—only glanced over her shoulder, lashes low, eyes glacial and bright.

"Thank you," she said. Her voice was warm. Human. Almost kind.

But behind her reflection in the glass, deep in those clear blue eyes, something violet flickered—too fast to notice, too ancient to name.

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Claws dug into her shoulders as Adelle dug into her pocket for Phantom's medical certification chit. It was, theoretically, supposed to be accepted just about everywhere, galactic government not withstanding. She pulled it out with two fingers, flashing it at the bouncer, before he waved her inside. Fortunately, the spukami knew better than to cause a scene, becoming a rather more obedient animal once the service vest and leash went on. Phantom just preferred draping herself across Adelle's shoulders like a living stole.

The music of this lounge was soft, classic, and the atmosphere was quieter, despite it being quite popular this early in the evening. Beyond the clack of a game involving balls and sticks, there were no sharp sounds. Nothing that might immediately startle her. Perfect. The nightmares had been heinous the past couple days and she needed to get out of the confines of her ship, get away from the sharp tang of cold sweat and stale air. Adelle walked to the bar and sat on one of the stools, ordering a pint of Corellian ale, a glass of tihaar neat, and a cup of water so that Phantom would be deterred from drinking the alcohol. It felt good to just wear normal clothes, the black leather of her jacket conforming to her shoulders and elbows the more she wore it. The black tanktop underneath and the brown trousers were far lighter, more freeing than the durasteel beskar'gam she usually wore.

A small headache began, slowly pressing in on her forehead and spreading to her temples. Adelle rubbed at her forehead and her eyes, using the heels of her hands. Well, she supposed it was about time the sleep-deprivation started showing other symptoms. Idly she rubbed Phantom's chin, the feline still curled around her neck. She should be glad it was just a headache right now. Some of the other symptoms were worse.

The bartender set the three drinks down on the bartop in front of her and she pulled the credits from her other pocket, Phantom shifting to keep her place on the shoulders. Adelle made sure she included a tip and picked up the ale, clinking the bottom of the glass against the rim of the glass with tihaar.

"Cheers Na'an," she said quietly and drank. It was, maybe, for the best that Na'an and Leigh weren't here. Her nightmares and the state they left her in usually led to an argument so old it could have been a fossil. Adelle stared at the tihaar. Even so, she'd have preferred the argument to their absence.

A hard, insistent headbutt on her jaw broke the melancholy reverie she had started falling into. Adelle moved the glass away from Phantom and gently pushed the feline's head back.

"I'm fine, thanks," she told the spukami. Part of the reason she'd picked Phantom out over others was she'd been able to make a connection through the Force with Animal Friendship, one of the rare times that ability worked in her favor. Phantom sat primly on her shoulders, tail curled neatly around her paws, as she began to clean her paws and preen. Well, as much as she could wearing a brightly colored service vest.

Another clak sounded from the gaming table where a Selkath faced off against a young blonde woman. Something pricked her mind, something too fast and vague for Adelle to catch in her state. But it clung to the edge and gnawed at her. Something important. Adelle rubbed her eyes again and watched the game instead. If it was important, it'd come to her. The game itself seemed simple enough: hit one blank ball to knock in the colored ones. The trick was the very narrow point of the sticks the players used, requiring precision and consistency. Any other day, it'd intrigue her as more than just a game to watch but she was happy to be spectator today. Too much math, not enough sleep.

Except now a group of Selkath moved in beside her, blocking the view. As fun as sitting here with her own thoughts sounded, she'd much rather watch the game of precise angles. Even with the crack of colliding balls, it seemed quieter than the bunch next to her. Adelle grabbed the ale and the tihaar, threading her way through the bar. She felt Phantom's head turn back toward the bar before a soft mew chirped right in her ear.

"I can get you a new glass, keep your fur on," she said. There was fortunately an empty table out of the way but with a decent enough line of sight to the game table. Adelle sat as Phantom finally left her shoulders, delicately landing on the table and sitting as if she owned it. She made sure to keep her hands covering the tops of the glasses with the spukami so close to her drinks now.

The blonde brushed hair out of her face, intense blue eyes studying the table like it was a war map. The gnawing voice at the back of Adelle's mind started screaming. The girl's face seemed impossibly young.

"I know what I am, and what I'll never be again."

Adelle choked on her ale. For kriff's sake! It was impossible, there was no presence, she'd have felt it, it was impossible to miss-- Unless she'd hid it. The black armor and violet crystal were nowhere to be seen. Hiding, she had to be hiding. Adelle folded her arms on the table and put her head on them with a groan.

The Force had a sick sense of humor.

There was nothing to do but wait and see if Adelle had escaped notice. She was too tired to run.



Darth Virelia

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Drums of War."

Tags - Adelle Bastiel

The sound of the ball striking home was soft—barely more than a whisper beneath the jazz and the murmur of voices. Serina—no, Virelia—let the cue rest against the table's edge, her expression unbothered, almost languid. Yet the rhythm of her pulse betrayed her. Her eyes shifted.

Adelle.

For a brief moment, something old and treacherous flickered beneath her calm. Memory.

Virelia's grip tightened fractionally on the cue, then eased. No. Not here. Not tonight.

She took a slow breath and straightened, deliberately turning her back on the bar. The next shot lined up cleanly in her mind; she didn't even need to look. The angle, the strike, the reaction—it was all simple mathematics. Control in motion. A universe she could still predict.

The cue ball struck. Another satisfying click, another smooth fall into the pocket.

When she finally lifted her gaze, she let it drift lazily over the room—casual, detached—until it passed over Adelle as if she were any other tired spacer. A woman with a headache, a drink, and a spukami. Nothing more.

Phantom.

The spukami's presence brushed against her senses first—soft, bright, uncomplicated. Her eyes lingered for just a heartbeat too long on the creature perched across the table, tail curling possessively around its paws. Beautiful thing. Loyal. Fragile. She almost envied it.

Almost.

Virelia turned back to the table, setting her glass down with delicate precision. The reflection in the polished surface showed her smiling faintly, but there was no mirth in it. "Eight in the corner," she murmured to no one, voice smooth, low, and controlled.

The Selkath opponent clicked a slow acknowledgment, curious at her focus. He didn't understand that she wasn't playing against him at all.

She was playing against the past.

Her next shot went wide—by design. She stepped back, nodding politely, letting the alien take his turn. Anything to keep her hands busy, her posture relaxed, her voice silent. The worst thing she could do was acknowledge. The moment she did, the illusion of Serina Calis would fracture. The ghosts would rise.

So she stayed in character: the soft smile, the calm breath, the mask of the woman she had been.

Her gaze drifted once more toward Adelle and Phantom, then away.

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

A paw with the barest hint of claws batted the side of her face repeatedly. Adelle hissed and raised her head from the table, reaching over to scritch behind one of Phantom's ears.

"Don't worry, I'm just being dramatic," she said softly. Phantom, for her part, didn't seem to be listening, eyes closed and head leaning into Adelle's fingers. She glared when Adelle removed them.

The continued absence of any weighted pressure in the Force surprised her. For her part, Virelia seemed to be ignoring her, completely focused on the game in front of her. Adelle leaned back in her chair, folding her arms over her chest and closing her eyes again. Perhaps the dark sider had gotten bored trying to recruit her into whatever following she had. That'd be good. Less mind-twisting philosophy and arguments to deal with.

Footsteps approached the table, heavy ones. Adelle opened one eye and had to look up. A Zabrak and two Selkath stood at her table, radiating danger. Phantom retreated to her usual spot on Adelle's shoulders, crouching. If this got violent, this was going to be very interesting.

"Can I help you?" she said dryly.

The Zabrak jabbed a finger at Phantom. "Take that thing outta here."

"She stays with me." Adelle picked up her glass of ale and took a drink.

"Then you get the hell outta here too!"

She felt annoyance prickle under her skin and stubbornness crystallize into something implacable. "And if I said no?"

For the briefest of moments, the air felt charged, like the moment before a lightning strike. She could no longer hear the music, the other patrons, the crack of the game of angles and math. There was just the Zabrak, his Selkath buddies, and her.

Then the lightning struck.

The Zabrak lunged forward as Adelle smashed her glass into his face then kicked the table, pushing herself back and creating distance. Phantom leapt from her shoulders and disappeared as the two Selkath moved in. Adelle hardly felt the claws as she called her lightsaber to her hand and began to use the hilt like a baton, cracking it against limbs as she dodged and deflected blows. But taking three on one odds in a bar fight had never been wise, even when she'd been well-rested. Adding in the corner where her table sat . . . The fight may be over sooner rather than later.

But she'd be damned if she went without a fight.



Darth Virelia

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Drums of War."

Tags - Adelle Bastiel

The first shout barely registered. Bars had their share of noise, and Serina Calis had long ago mastered the art of selective hearing. She lined up her next shot, eyes on the cue ball, the world reduced to quiet geometry—until a glass shattered behind her.

For a moment, Virelia didn't move. The air had changed. The pulse of the room had shifted from warmth to violence, and every sense she had flared awake. Across the tables, she saw the flash of motion—the Zabrak lunging, Adelle's sharp reflexes flaring alive like an old song she hadn't heard in years.

Don't.

The word cut through her mind like an order. Helping her would mean exposure. It would unravel everything—the illusion of Serina Calis, the mask she'd spent so long perfecting. It would mean confronting emotions she'd buried under years of discipline and power. She wasn't Serina anymore. She wasn't someone who helped.

And yet—

That damn Phantom. She'd seen the creature slip off Adelle's shoulders in a streak of pale motion, diving for safety as the Zabrak's blood sprayed across the floor. There was fear in it—pure, wordless fear—and through it, she felt Adelle's heartbeat.

The Force coiled through her body before she could think.

"Enough," Virelia said quietly.

The word carried weight. Not volume—weight.

Her hand came up, palm open, and violet light snapped to life. The Force screamed through her, uncoiling like a serpent denied its prey for too long. A burst of lightning leapt across the room, branching through the haze like cracks in glass. It struck the Zabrak first—then the Selkath beside him. Their bodies convulsed, twitching silhouettes in the pale violet glare, before collapsing to the pristine floor.

For an instant, the bar was utterly silent. Then the screaming began.

Chairs clattered. Drinks spilled. Patrons scrambled for the exits, shouting in fear. The lights flickered, overloaded by the static charge still sizzling in the air.

Virelia's chest rose and fell once, twice. She felt the tremor in her own hand—the one she hadn't felt since before she was struck down by the Jedi. She hadn't meant to care. She told herself she only intervened because Adelle was hers, in some strange philosophical sense. A broken thread she hadn't yet finished pulling.

But the truth pressed heavy in her chest, unwelcome and human.

She crossed the distance in three strides, reached out, and seized Adelle's wrist.

"Now," she hissed, voice low but cutting through the noise like a blade. "Follow me."

Virelia's grip tightened. "Don't argue."

She pulled her toward the back exit—away from the crowd, away from the smoke and the screams—her mind a storm of fury and confusion.

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

The flow of combat had always been both a river and the music to a dance for Adelle. The current varied in its speed, the music in its rhythm but so long as she knew the dance, knew how to move with the flow, she could keep up. But that was on her good days or even her average days. Not the days she'd spent the last three nights sleepless. She was falling behind. Could feel it in every motion she made, every strike that didn't hit as hard as she wanted, every close call that came closer.

The Zabrak landed two jabs into her ribs. Hard. Powerful. She felt ribs break. Adelle managed to dodge another punch at her face from one of the Selkath before the large hands of the Zabrak gripped both jacket and shirt. Osik! She wailed on his wrists with the hilt, but the damnable pain tolerance of Zabraks was legendary. Her boots left the ground.

"Enough," Virelia said quietly.

The weight the word carried felt like a gravity-well suddenly appearing. Adelle felt the air charge, smelled ozone a heartbeat before lightning blinded her. The Zabrak's eyes widened. Shock. Pain. Two hearts, stopped. She dropped to the floor and staggered back against a wall, managing to keep her feet. It was the same for the Selkath, their deaths almost instantaneous with the Zabrak's. The air felt cold. She couldn't breathe. The last time she'd felt death and Darkness like that had been the contract on the asteroid.

The chaos slowly filtered back into her hearing through the haze of the pain in her lungs and the pain of deaths. Panic. Osik. Why had she come here? Why had she stayed? The chaos bombarding her empathy would have been manageable on a good day. She'd needed a quiet day today.

Someone had her wrist, tight and unyielding. A blonde with blue eyes. Virelia.

"Now," she hissed, voice low but cutting through the noise like a blade. "Follow me."

Virelia's grip tightened. "Don't argue."

Adelle barely heard her through the ringing of her ears before Virelia was half-dragging her through the bar to the back exit. Adelle stumbled but managed to force her body into something more coordinated for a quick exit. A light weight landing on her shoulders and the brush of soft fur against her ear and the back of her neck flooded her with relief. Phantom. She was okay, or alive at least.

The evening light felt sharp and blinding after the atmosphere of the bar. Being outside the bar made it easier to breathe and the further away they got, the better. Metaphorically. Physically, it still hurt like a schutta.

Strangely, she still felt a torrent of emotions, clouded, conflicted. Virelia?

The young woman still had a tight grip on her wrist. Adelle tugged back, not enough to break free, just to get her to slow down a bit.

"Wh--" Adelle winced. Kriff, talking hurt too. "Where are you dragging me?"

And why the kriff did you of all people intervene?



Darth Virelia

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Drums of War."

Tags - Adelle Bastiel

Her boots struck the marble promenade in sharp, even steps, the sound echoing faintly through the sterile night air of Ahto City. The ocean whispered below the transparent causeways—constant, eternal—and the lights of submersible traffic glowed like drifting stars beneath their feet. It was all so clean, so civilized, so far removed from the blackened soil of Malachor and the stench of burnt ozone still clinging to her fingers.

She wanted to keep walking until the sound of it all drowned her thoughts. Until the word Virelia stopped existing.

But Adelle's voice broke the silence again, raw and painful.

The question shouldn't have mattered. It shouldn't have even registered. Yet it did.

Virelia slowed, her grip still locked around Adelle's wrist. "Somewhere without danger," she said finally, her voice low, clipped. "Somewhere I can think."

It wasn't the answer Adelle had asked for, but it was all she could trust herself to give.

The two women turned down a quieter walkway, the hum of the city fading into a muted backdrop. Virelia's expression was unreadable—controlled, measured—but her mind was chaos. She hadn't meant to act. Hadn't meant to care. And yet, when she saw the Zabrak lift Adelle from the floor, something in her had broken.

Her hand still tingled faintly with residual lightning.

Weakness.

She hated the word, but the accusation rang true. She wasn't supposed to save people. She was supposed to reshape them. Corrupt them, test them, tear them down and rebuild them in her image. She told herself she intervened because Adelle was hers—unfinished business, a thread left dangling from an old life. But that wasn't the truth, and both of them knew it.

She finally stopped before one of the glass elevators overlooking the ocean, the city's lights refracted across the waves. Her suite—Serina Calis' suite—was near the top.

Virelia exhaled slowly, releasing Adelle's wrist but not stepping back. Her eyes met the other woman's for the first time since the fight. The blue in them looked almost human again—only a faint edge of violet beneath the surface.

"I didn't intend for this to happen," she stated, her voice rising in actual anger. "Any of it."

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Virelia's voice had an edge when she answered even if she kept her face impassive. Someplace safe and quiet. Adelle pressed her lips into a thin line. How delightfully vague. Still, safe and quiet suited her--she still needed to fix the fractures in her ribs.

At least Virelia had slowed down enough it no longer looked like Adelle was a petulant child.

A cool wind blew in from the ocean, bringing with it salt on the air and a distinct fish smell. The sound of waves was omnipresent, soothing. Part of the reason she'd come here. She felt a pang of not quite homesickness: Coronet City had never been a true home, any more than the Jedi Order had been. But CorSec had brought her there, to her parents, when she'd resurfaced from her disappearance.

The ocean had always felt like peace to her.

The path Virelia led her on became quieter, the area nicer in quality and the buildings taller. The sound of waves was more prominent here. Phantom raised a curious nose to the breeze but stayed latched to her shoulders. Hotels and resorts rose around her, casinos and lounges on the ground level and more subtle in their enticement to tourists. Adelle furrowed her brow as Virelia brought her to a stop in front of a transparisteel turbolift on the outside of one of the buildings. It promised to offer an impressive view of the global ocean. She absently rubbed her finally released wrist. Even without gauntlets, Virelia had an iron grip.

"I didn't intend for this to happen," she stated, her voice rising in actual anger. "Any of it."

Adelle snapped her eyes up at Virelia's face. Anger brought up anger before Adelle's brain kicked in and brushed away the frosty feeling. Virelia hadn't outright accused her of forcing this chain of events: bristling in retaliation would do no good. She sighed, breathing out the residual, useless and baseless anger, and looked out over the darkened ocean.

"I should have left," she said. Better to acknowledge the surface level, let Virelia dictate how much she shared. "There are plenty of other bars here. Although I'm starting to think I'm a bad omen for bars."

The turbolift car doors slid open silently, softly illuminated inside. Adelle nodded at the lift. "This the safe place you wanted?"



Darth Virelia

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Drums of War."

Tags - Adelle Bastiel

Saving a wounded Mandalorian was not what she'd planned for tonight. The irony wasn't lost on her. She had the tools to mend bone, to stabilize breath, to preserve life—but only because she'd kept them for herself. Old habits of preparedness. It was a bitter thought, and an unfamiliar one. She gained nothing from this. Adelle wasn't one of her mercenaries, nor a subordinate of the Court. Not even a friend.

Friendship. That word had long since slipped from her lexicon—burned away by time, betrayal, and the dark arithmetic of survival. People didn't stay. They broke, betrayed, or were consumed. That was the lesson, wasn't it?

So why was she still helping her?

The question sat in her mind like a shard of glass, catching light she didn't want to see. Because somewhere between the lightning and the silence that followed, she'd felt something. It wasn't power that had driven her to act, nor strategy. It was something infinitely smaller, infinitely more dangerous: care.

The realization disgusted her.

She'd built her empire on logic, control, inevitability. Compassion was chaos—and chaos was weakness. Yet even now, she could feel it tugging at her in quiet rebellion. She wanted to tell herself it was strategic: that saving Adelle served some future purpose, that her corruption might be completed through gratitude, through dependency. But even as she shaped the thought, she knew it for the lie it was.

No, this was something else.

She was tired.

The galaxy had a cruel sense of humor. It allowed monsters to ascend to power, let armies burn worlds, yet denied her the smallest thing—peace. Even here, in the antiseptic beauty of Manaan, surrounded by silence and civility, the Force found a way to mock her.

Of all the beings it could have thrown into her path, it had chosen Adelle. The Mandalorian who still prayed for light in a galaxy of shadows. The one who reminded her—against her will—that she'd once believed in something more than domination.

Her jaw tightened as she keyed the suite door open. She didn't want to see the reflection of what she was feeling. She wanted only the quiet anonymity of Serina Calis—the name that once meant safety, innocence, control. But as she glanced back at Adelle, weary and bruised yet still upright, she knew that illusion was slipping.

Because no matter how carefully she built her walls, no matter how precisely she buried the remnants of her humanity, the Force had an unerring instinct for cruelty—and tonight, it had chosen to remind her she could still care.

The turbolift climbed in silence. Virelia said nothing. The hum of the cabin and the faint vibration beneath their feet filled the space where words might have gone. She kept her gaze fixed on the horizon as the city fell away below them—pale lights rippling like veins through glass. The reflection beside her was motionless, watching but unspoken, and for that she was quietly grateful.

When the lift doors slid open, the hush that met them felt almost sacred.

Her apartment sat above the clouds, high enough that the windows opened directly into endless sky and silver ocean. It was newly constructed—sterile, unadorned, temporary. A replacement for the last one that had been annihilated when a comet struck the upper district weeks ago. The builders had finished it in record time, but she never truly managed to live in it.

Tonight, it felt like walking into a shell that hadn't yet remembered it was meant to be a home.

Smooth white walls. An empty shelf. A single chair by the viewport. The faint scent of metal and cleanser, nothing personal to ground it. She'd told herself she would decorate, that today would be her me time. A day of anonymity. A day without crowns, titles, or blood.

That plan, like so many others, had dissolved the moment she stepped into that bar.

Virelia crossed the threshold without looking back at Adelle, her steps as quiet as the air itself. The Force pressed at the edges of her awareness — curiosity, pain, the flicker of old attachment — and she ignored it all.

"Two doors on the right," she said finally, her voice low, almost mechanical. "First aid kit's in the cabinet."

No warmth. Just instruction.

She turned left, pausing only long enough to glance at the reflection in the polished wall: blonde hair, blue eyes, the perfect illusion of Serina Calis. Her face betrayed nothing, but her eyes… they looked tired. The kind of fatigue that no meditation or bacta could touch.

The door on the left slid open with a soft hiss, and she stepped through it, not waiting for a response.

The room closed around her like the sealing of a wound.

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

The ride in the turbolift had been silent in that it was devoid of words, but Adelle could feel a bit of the tumult Virelia so carefully kept a lid on. She hadn't been pulled into the turbolift, hadn't been commanded to follow, but the Force felt like it demanded her to see whatever was going on through. Adelle leaned against the curve of transparisteel, careful not to lean her head against it lest she get oils on the glass and smudge the view. The ocean extended far and away, boundless, fading where it met the horizon. Gold light of the dying day sparkled on the silvery waves as the sun drew closer to the edge of the world. She'd been right when she guessed the qualities of this turbolift earlier. It was an impressive view.

The doors sighed open and Virelia left with purpose, keying open a door and entering as silently as she had the turbolift. Smells of fresh construction flooded out from the spartan suite, sterile and new. Adelle took two steps out of the turbolift before the fog in her brain cleared just enough for revelation.

This was Virelia's--Serina's?--suite. Her home.

Osik.

If there was ever one line Adelle never wanted to cross, it was intrusion. She hated imposing on people, hated the idea that she could be a burden--even if old friends had reassured her it was a burden they wanted to carry. This . . . This was too far. Even for someone like Virelia.

Especially with someone like Virelia.

Adelle opened her mouth to object and make her excuses, but the sound of Virelia's voice cut her off.

"Two doors on the right," she said finally, her voice low, almost mechanical. "First aid kit's in the cabinet."

Phantom's cold nose touched her cheek and she got an impression of something sharp in her left palm. <<Paw hurt.>>

Well, that settled it. It was as good an invitation as she could expect from Virelia in whatever mood she was caught up in and Phantom had somehow injured herself. Adelle sucked a breath in through her teeth, steeling herself, and walked through the door. The scent of new construction hadn't been a misread on her part: the suite looked brand new. Odd, considering the building itself didn't seem new. Sparse furnishings stood scattered about, giving the impression of a project only just begun. More and more, Adelle felt like an intruder. Right, heal and get the kriff out.

Doors sealed shut with a hiss behind Virelia, further in the apartment.

Okay, this was fine. Adelle found the first aid kit where Virelia had said it was and retreated to the chair by the viewport. Phantom gingerly eased herself down from her perch, not using her front left paw. Carefully, Adelle rolled her over onto her back and gently took the limb in hand to examine the paw. A small shard of glass lay embedded in the soft pad, dark red blood leaking out around it.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she said quietly, the words still sounding loud in the empty apartment. "We'll get you patched up, then I'll take care of my ribs, and we'll leave."

Phantom's tail flicked. <<Nap.>>

"Yeah, we'll nap when we get to our hotel." Adelle found the bacta spray then focused on the tiny piece of glass, pulling it cleanly from the paw.

The tiny black tail flicked again, more insistent. <<Nap now.>>

Adelle spritzed a bit of the bacta onto the paw and held the limb still while the healing agent went to work. "We are not sleeping here."

Phantom blinked and Adelle got a hazy image of herself sitting in a meditative position except her head was fully tilted catty-corner while Phantom slept curled up in her lap. <<Want nap later, will nap now. Tired. Need nap.>>

"Ten minutes and I'm walking out that door," she said tensely, still keeping her voice low. No need to bother the suite's other occupant. The actual resident. The skin of the pad had sealed under the bacta's ministrations, even if the paw would still be a bit tender for a bit. Adelle set Phantom on the ground and replaced the first aid kit, not bothering to use more resources when she could do it herself.

She settled cross-legged in the chair again, keeping her spine ramrod straight, arms relaxed and resting on her knees. A quick healing trance, fix half the ribs, and she'd be on her way. Phantom hopped up into her lap, favoring the newly healed paw, and curled up with a smug certainty. Adelle rolled her eyes and steadied her breathing. It was just knitting a few fractures back together, nothing that should exhaust her so completely that she fell asleep.

-----

The room fell silent, like nothing had happened and no one was present. Phantom turned an ear back as she felt the shift in breathing, the subtle slacking of muscles. Of course her human had forgotten about the sleepless nights when she'd talked about timing. Phantom purred once, immensely satisfied with herself, then tucked her nose into her tail. <<Nap now.>>



The bite of blood in the air woke Phantom first. The acrid breathlessness of smoke followed shortly. She opened her eyes, ears swivelling and alert. The barren room she and her human slept in looked the same. Her paw was healed and the shiny thorn that had wounded her had been dealt with. Adelle's fingers twitched. The ghosts. Phantom uncoiled herself and braced her front paws against her human's chest in a sudden spurt that was both surprise and grace. Echoes of screams whispered in the space under her ears, a not sound coming from her human's mind. The ghosts were back again. She butted her head hard against Adelle's jaw, rubbing and purring loudly, then licked her raspy tongue over the skin in an attempt to wake the human up. When that didn't work, she brought a paw up to the sensitive mouth and lightly flexed her claws, pricking the soft skin.

Phantom had to keep the ghosts away.

-----

She was drowning in a sea of blood. Adelle fought against the creature pulling her down, fought to breathe. She broke the surface and dragged herself out of the red waves, only to find a dimly lit room, sterile and devoid of anything resembling furniture save for a cylindrical tank.

Not again.

She'd been here before. Last time, it had been Rizzala, a Lethan Twi'lek--a dancer, a confidant, and lover from her past. Before that, it had been a padawan, Morrigan, that she'd bonded with in her old Order. Adelle would have rather drowned but the sea she'd struggled in had disappeared again. The face in the tank revealed itself: Karre Noba, the weathered matriarch of the farming compound Adelle had lived in with Na'an and Leigh. Acid started to fill the tank and the screams began. Adelle's hands flew to her head as she shut her eyes against what she'd already seen, and found unyielding duraplast.

The mask. The armor.

They made sure she heard every horrifying sound. And electrocuted her if she failed to do as told.

The nightmare continued, twisting memories together. Bright red piranha beetles consumed Na'an instead of her mother. Sometimes a man made of shadow shattered her body and let her flop about in agony, sometimes not. The bomb lay implanted in Leigh's chassis instead of Master It'Kla. Fire blossomed outward, blinding, pushing her over the edge and into the abyss where the blood waited.

Over and over and over.

Claws pricked at her lips and Adelle's eyes flew open with a sudden gasp. A small weight climbed up onto her shuddering chest and settled there, rumbling loudly. Phantom. A strange room surrounded her, clean, empty, and smelling of construction and bacta. Virelia. Slowly, her heartrate slowed but the tremble in her hands didn't still. That would take more time. If she'd been in her apartment, or even her ship, she'd have poured herself a cup of caf or whiskey.

Adelle buried her fingers in Phantom's thick coat, trying to force the shaking to stop.

"Soon as I can, we're leaving," she whispered hoarsely. She hated to think Virelia could have even gotten a whiff of her nightmares.

No one could see those. Not ever.



Darth Virelia

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Drums of War."

Tags - Adelle Bastiel

The door closed behind her with a whisper, and for a while Serina Calis—or whatever fraction of that name still lived inside her—did not move. The quiet pressed against her like water.

Every private moment, it seemed, found a way to become public. No matter the planet, no matter the mask. Even here, in a sterile tower above the waves, she couldn't have a single evening to herself. Someone always appeared, dragging ghosts and questions and inconvenient humanity with them.

Adelle was lucky she'd cared at all. Another version of Virelia would have led her somewhere else entirely—somewhere quiet for a very different reason.

She told herself she'd only intervened because it was efficient, because letting the Mandalorian die would have created unnecessary attention. But the lie tasted thin. There had been something about the way Adelle fought: exhausted, defiant, breaking yet refusing to fall. It had stirred the memory of another life she no longer claimed.

Enough.

Virelia crossed to the mirror above the small console. The reflection that looked back at her was immaculate: blonde hair smoothed into place, eyes still the borrowed blue of Serina Calis. She studied herself with clinical detachment, regulating her breath until the pulse in her throat stilled. Calm was an act of will. Always had been.

When she finally left the room, the silence beyond felt different—tense, almost humming. The faint scrape of claws reached her first. Then a sound like muffled breathing, uneven and shallow.

Adelle's door had not been sealed.

Virelia hesitated, one hand hovering near the frame. She should have turned away. This was intrusion, the very thing she despised when others did it to her. But the Force coiled and whispered, drawing her forward. Curiosity—or something darker.

The sight that met her was quiet but unsettling. Adelle sat half-collapsed near the viewport, Phantom pressed against her chest, the creature's fur catching the faint light. Adelle's hands trembled where they clutched at it, her breathing shallow, the air around her thick with fear.

Virelia stood in the doorway for a long moment, expression unreadable. The Force around the woman was a storm of pain and memory. A lesser mind might have recoiled. Virelia felt only a pull—fascination, and the faintest edge of pity she refused to name.

When she finally spoke, her tone was smooth and deliberate—the careful lie of composure. "The dosage of the pain relief is… calibrated to my physiology," she said, voice carrying across the stillness. "It may have hit you harder than intended. I don't usually share my supplies."

A small pause, almost human. Then, quieter:

"Sorry."

The word felt foreign and absolutely disgusting in her mouth, but she had said it so which such conviction, when a small part of you really believes it, the lie becomes easier to tell. She clasped her hands behind her back, eyes flicking from Adelle's shaking form to the cat's steady vigil.

There was fear here—raw, unguarded. And fear, properly handled, could become corruption.

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

For a moment, there had been silence and room to breathe. Phantom's purr filled the space in between breaths, slowly drowning out the echoes of screams and his voice. Adelle closed her eyes again, recalling facts about her surroundings and trying to bring up the happier memnii she had.

"The dosage of the pain relief is… calibrated to my physiology," she said, voice carrying across the stillness. "It may have hit you harder than intended. I don't usually share my supplies."

A small pause, almost human. Then, quieter:

"Sorry."

Adelle's head snapped in Virelia's direction, her silhouette in the doorframe a visual echo of half-remembered things. She had to look away, the ghosts of memory already clawing at her consciousness and trying to drag her back. A fugue state episode here, now, after her nightmares, would just leave her vulnerable to Virelia and whatever goal she had. Adelle turned her thoughts instead to what Virelia had said about her physiology. A custom calibration for analgesics? Not entirely unheard of but most humans and near-humans didn't require such precise adjustments for them to be effective.

The memory of a violet glow pulsing floated to the forefront of her mind.

Virelia was truly heartless. That was why she needed a custom dosage.

Leaning her head back against the chair, Adelle forced herself to untense and breathe slowly. The shaking had mostly diminished to a slight tremor, which was doable.

"It wasn't the pain relief," Adelle said. "I only used the bacta for Phantom's paw, put everything else back untouched. Didn't want to impose more than I already have."

She stood slowly, stretching out her stiff legs as she helped Phantom back up to her shoulders. Her healing trance had only lasted long enough to heal two of her ribs before she had accidentally fallen asleep. The pain was better but she was still sore and still needed to finish the healing when she got to her own hotel. Adelle faced the doorway, still not directly looking at the silhouette outlined there.

It was Virelia, just Virelia, standing there, not even armored. Nothing else. No one else.

"I'm sorry for intruding. I'll be on my way now."

Darth Virelia

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Drums of War."

Tags - Adelle Bastiel

For a long while, Virelia didn't answer. The apology hung in the air, fragile as glass.

Adelle stood there with that soldier's stiffness—an instinctive readiness to retreat, to flee the moment permission was given. She'd refused the lie, deflected the hand Virelia had offered, and now was trying to leave before either of them had to name what had just passed between them.

It should have pleased her. Most people did what she wanted; most gave her the space she demanded. Yet something in the rhythm of Adelle's voice—a faint tremor beneath the discipline—made it impossible to feel triumphant.

Virelia folded her arms behind her back, posture immaculate, eyes tracking every motion the former Jedi made: the way she favored one side, the way fatigue pulled at the corners of her mouth. So much restraint, and beneath it, so much pain.

"Exchanging sorrows rarely ends well," she said at last, her tone smooth, distant. "But you mistake this for charity."

She stepped forward, the quiet of her movements filling the room like pressure. "You're in no condition to walk into the streets. Half the city's authorities are probably replaying security feeds of that little incident downstairs." A pause—measured, deliberate. "And I do not particularly want a squad of Manaan peacekeepers tracing those signatures back to me."

Her voice softened a fraction, though her face remained still. "So you'll stay. One night. That's all."

It was an order disguised as reason. She told herself it was practicality—damage control, self-preservation. But beneath that thin logic, the truth pulsed like a hidden ember: she didn't want Adelle to leave. Not yet.

The sensation unsettled her. She had learned long ago that attachment was the first weakness the galaxy taught you to bleed for. Still, the thought of that door closing and the silence returning was worse.

Virelia's gaze drifted briefly toward the sleeping spukami in Adelle's arms, then back to her eyes. "There's a guest room beyond the corridor," she said, quieter now, almost weary. "Fresh sheets, clean water. Take it. Recover. When you're steady enough to face the ocean again, I'll take you to my hangar and you can vanish back into whatever life you've built."

A breath. A faint, brittle smile. "Consider it professional courtesy."

She turned slightly toward the window, hands clasped, violet glimmer stirring faintly beneath the blue of her irises as she looked out over the endless sea. The ocean was calm—untroubled, endless, mercilessly indifferent.

"The door lock won't keep me out," she said, almost absently, her voice smooth as glass. "I'll come by to wish you goodnight. After that, consider yourself under curfew until morning. If something happens, there's a panic switch near the bed."

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Something laid beneath the surface in the quiet, something Adelle didn't have the capacity at present to name or even examine. Virelia made no move to let her pass, instead adopting a more formal, militaristic stance with her arms folded behind her back. The words she said made a kind of sense: practicality, self-interest, survival. Adelle could probably move about freely having been the victim of first the assault and then dragged out of the bar by the killer. But if security forces found her, they could follow her movements back to Virelia. Back here, to what was supposed to be a sanctuary--her home.

But that something lurked beneath the surface of Virelia's words, closer now and yet still too slippery for Adelle's tired mind to catch. It would remain a mystery.

For now.

Adelle sighed through her nose, letting all the air out of her lungs. "One night."

Virelia's gaze drifted to Phantom and Adelle subconsciously started stroking the feline's shoulders, listening as Virelia explained the suite's sleeping situation. She almost sounded as tired as Adelle felt. Which, considering the events of the day, was fair. Adelle would have been just as exhausted if something similar had happened if she'd been in Virelia's place.

"The door lock won't keep me out," she said, almost absently, her voice smooth as glass.

That caught Adelle's attention, and she felt more alert than she had in minutes. Phantom lifted her face, opening one eye to look at her, before settling back down in her arms and stretching out a paw. That . . . That had the potential to be a very bad problem. Virelia went on and mentioned a panic switch near the bed at the end. Adelle almost didn't hear it.

"What kind of panic switch?" she asked. It could be useful . . . but more likely it could be problematic if she had a fugue state episode. "I will warn you, please do not enter after I'm asleep. Not until I'm fully awake. My . . . medical condition is quite severe and it has endangered others."

Adelle paused a moment before quietly, solemnly echoing Virelia's earlier words. "Consider it a professional courtesy."



Darth Virelia

 

[Darth Virelia]

"Drums of War."

Tags - Adelle Bastiel

For a moment, Virelia simply stared at her.

It was a strange thing, being told no. The word had always tasted wrong in her mouth—too final, too sharp. It had been used against her so often that it still carried the phantom sting of denial. And yet here it was again, spoken softly, wrapped in reason and apology.

Her stomach turned, a flicker of something ugly twisting through her calm. She should have laughed it off. Let Adelle have her pride, her mysterious "condition," her boundaries. But the thought of leaving her alone—of waking to the scent of smoke or the sound of a crash—was intolerable.

She exhaled, long and quiet. "No," she said at last, the single syllable carrying the weight of command even through exhaustion. "Now you've only made me more concerned."

Virelia's voice dropped into something low and deliberate, as though she were explaining inevitability rather than preference. "I saw what happened earlier. You weren't simply tired. I didn't address it then because I intended to observe before acting—discreetly. But discretion," she added with a faint, humorless smile, "requires energy I no longer have."

She stepped closer, her presence filling the doorway—not threatening, but absolute. "So the plan has changed. I'll stay. You'll sleep. If you lose control, I'll intervene. Consider it a compromise between your… medical precautions and my patience."

A spark of dry amusement flickered in her eyes, there and gone. "You don't need to worry about hurting me. I've survived worse."

The truth sat behind the words like a shadow she refused to name. The armor she mentioned wasn't the shell of metal she sometimes wore—it was the life she'd built, the persona she'd become. Darth Virelia didn't yield. Didn't care.

And yet, as she looked at Adelle—drawn, sleepless, one hand still absently stroking the cat that clung to her shoulder—something inside her betrayed the smallest fracture. A flicker of concern, almost gentle, quickly buried beneath discipline.

She sighed again, quieter this time, and softened the edge of her tone. "I'll take the chair by the door in the guest room," she said. "You won't even notice me, I can turn down the brightness of my armor. But I won't have you alone in this state. I've seen what happens when exhaustion is left unchecked."

She turned her head away. "Besides, I hate sleeping."

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

There were a lot of things Adelle expected Virelia to say. The young woman was talkative to a fault.

Saying she was more concerned was not one of those things.

Adelle watched Virelia as the young woman explained further, words washing over her like waves on the shore as curiosity and confusion fought for her attention in equal measure. The tumult of emotions she'd felt from Virelia earlier-- had that been because she was concerned about Adelle? Why? Adelle had refused her offers, deflected the hooks Virelia had previously attempted, even got sassy with the young Dark Sider at one point. And then there was the situation at the bar. Adelle had ruined her plans thoroughly. By all accounts, Virelia should be glad to wash her hands of Adelle at least.

Virelia stepped closer, decreasing the distance however slightly, and Adelle had to fight the urge to step back, to create distance. Virelia was going to stay in the room while Adelle slept. She forced herself to breathe steadily, relying on the calming rhythm of Phantom's purr. No one had been in the room with her while she slept until the living arrangements on Dantooine had forced it. And no one had been in her room since. Adelle clenched her jaw, even as something like humor flickered in Virelia.

Something else flashed through her emotional state, too fast for Adelle to name but present enough she sensed it. Virelia's voice gentled a bit, adding to the growing puzzle Adelle was trying to figure out.

"Besides, I hate sleeping."

Those words derailed Adelle's thoughts entirely. She started laughing, softly at first, before it grew louder from exhaustion and the absurdity of it all. Adelle put her face in her hands then dragged them down, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before running her hands through her hair.

"That makes two of us," she said, clasping her hands at the back of her head. "But if you don't have the energy for discretion, I don't have it for an argument. Fine. Stay. Whatever. But whatever you hear, or see, or whatever, I'm not explaining."

Adelle sighed, resigning herself to the fact that she was placing herself and safety and all the added complications of her PTSD in Virelia's hands. At her mercy. "Said the guest room beyond the corridor, yes?"



Darth Virelia