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 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