Forever

[Marcello Matteo]

Marcello continued to tread water as he watched Kiskla slip almost gingerly into the cool liquid. The instant her blonde hair reappeared above the water's surface, Marcello's eyes focused in her direction. For a moment, the Jedi Master was lost in time and space. The very fabric of the galaxy seemed to melt away as he observed everythig that composed the physical and ethereal presence of Jedi Master [member="Kiskla Grayson"].

As the rays of the sun reflected off the newly agitated surface of the previously placid sea, Marcello wondered how it was his fortune to gaze upon such a sight after so many of the things he'd done with his life. Perhaps that was the real reason he continues to traverse the galaxy alone. Perhaps it was a self-imposed penance for the things he'd done to people intentionally and unintentionally. He wasn't any kind of murderer or psychopath, but he hadn't been a...totally upstanding member of society either.

Didn't matter, he was a human. The best he could hope for was to learn from his mistakes and endeavor not to repeat them. Allowing a natural smile to manifest, he replied to his friend's question. "Only when doing so appeals to me. I traveled across the galaxy to visit you when you weren't well at even the faintest hint. Jumping into the cool waters of Manaan seemed an easy decision to make."

Treading closer to Kiskla, he stopped less than a foot away. "I'm going to mess this up, Kiskla." Marcello didn't even know what this was... "When it happens, know that you forever have my respect."

Casual he was good at. Maintaining meaningful lasting attachments he was not. It didn't agree with the reality of his personality. Hard to give one person everything all the time...when the rest of the galaxy needed the same. He was a Jedi, and his life would never again really be his own.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

The palms of her hands smoothed down the sides of her hair when [member="Marcello Matteo"] treaded closer. Small waves lapped between them from the movements of their floundering to stay above the surface. Beneath the surface, she could feel their knees bumping while they both did their best to stay afloat. Kiskla had always liked the water, but she was no champion swimmer. He apologized for something that had been untouched, and something happened. Something within her, that had gone unnoticed and untouched until now surfaced, a type of vixen that most would assume she would be but she had never explored. A curl touched her pouted lip line and her slender shoulders shrugged with a slight laugh.

“Only if you talk too much.” That. Where did that come from? That tiny bit of distance was closed once more, and on an instinct Kiskla reached out to touch his cheek. Her salty lips peppered his with a light peck. There was a second that followed that, before she trusted that she wouldn’t drown if she lingered just a little longer, so as an experiment to both her instinct and her swimming abilities, Kiskla trapped his lips just a little longer, and with an ounce more passion than moments before. And certainly more than had been on Mandalore. Now her curiosity had spoiled to mischief.

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Marcello actually wasn't sure what to make of Kiskla's initial reaction to his very honest statement. Doing his best to actually avoid getting his legs tangled in her own, the Jedi Master could only watch his companion. When she offered her retort, the Naboo native blinked. That...kind of solved that then he supposed. Truth be told, he didn't even know how to handle playful [member="Kiskla Grayson"]. It was just...well...it wasn't how he'd ever seen her act. That all said, it was refreshing. If nothing else, it was nice to see her able to simply kick back and relax. Sure, he'd seen her be fake relaxed as she was on Mandalore.

The next few seconds happened quickly, and Marcello found himself surrendering to his heart's desire. The type of surrender that every Jedi since the beginning of time was warned about. For the male blonde, it wasn't so much a matter of curiosity. He'd reconciled what he was capable and willing to give, and he knew that he expected nothing specific in return. As a result, he was not about to push away or otherwise mitigate a good thing. Once Kiskla's lips met his own, he slipped an arm around her waist, and the other came to rest gently on the back of their head.

The instant he felt a sinking sensation coming upon the both, he allowed his mind to manipulate the current of the Force flowing around him. At that moment, his mind wanted nothing more to be stabilized, frozen in that moment in time. The resultant effect was an arrest of their bobbing in the water. The passion passing from his lips to that of Kiskla's spoke for itself, but he was fully prepared to allow the embrace to dissipate once he felt the female blonde retracting.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Always wanting what was best for others rather than herself (although that manta was quickly beginning to collapse today, and she was going to pull Marcello down with her) — she was both appreciative and dismayed by [member="Marcello Matteo"]’s metaphysical exertion. That meant that he wasn’t entirely in the moment. But she had always wanted to kiss someone underwater. Briefly, she intensified her aggressiveness enough to perhaps distract him from anything other than herself (hello, that’s where the selfishness came in). Should that work, than her childish fantasy of submerged intimacy would have come true. And then, she realized, it wasn’t as pleasant as she had liked to think, and a bubble by her own prowess returned enough while she severed their connection and reappeared above the surface. With a wry grin, she only broke eye contact to turn around after paddling backwards for some time back to the planks of the city’s foundation.

With a hoist, her slender frame pulled from the water and onto the smooth surface of one of the city’s supporting planks.

Her hands now moved to her hair, and she wrung out the dampness like a wet towel. Her movements to get out of the water were as quick as they had been to get in. With a few twists of her phalanges, her chrono was back on, and she’d shoved her feet into her boots once more. He was right. An assessment he’d made years ago: She was exhausting.

“I have a booking I was supposed to make after the race.” Came the explanation as to her abruptness. Perhaps he'd seen her checking her chrono minutes ago. “It won’t take long and you’re welcome to come along.” Now, she wrung out the hem of her shirt before shaking it out as much as she could. Thankfully, she never wore anything too revealing or tight, and most cuts of her clothing ended up looking baggy anyhow. “Seeing as you had no plans anyways.”

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Truthfully...it hadn't taken that much effort to keep them above the ways. The Force moving around both of their presences simply responded to the large Jedi's desire for the moment to linger...as long as it could. In the back of his mind, however, Marcello did think about the reality it would have to end and probably soon. For the briefest moment, his attention did slip from the beautiful woman encased in his grasp.

As if she'd sensed that reality, which she no doubt had, Marcello felt [member="Kiskla Grayson"] intensify her actions. Marcello would not have expected the woman to say Ehem...over here any other way. Instinctively, a thin smile etched it's way onto the corners of Marcello's lips, but it faded the instant he returned the passion and aggressiveness coming from Kiskla. Any thoughts he could possibly have had melted away and being in the moment, pleasing Kiskla was the only thing that actually mattered in that instance.

Slipping beneath the waves didn't even pull Marcello's attention, initially. Eventually, the increasingly wet, salty nature of the kiss manifested itself as...less romantic for extended periods of time than the holovids conveyed. Kiskla, apparently, had similar thoughts as she gently broke the kiss and headed back for the surface.

As Marcello's head broke the surface once more, he watched Kiskla make her way back to one of the planks of the city's foundation. For a moment he treaded water and continue to watch her movements. For all his restraint of months past, it was not a fallacy that he merely enjoyed watching Kiskla go about even the most rudimentary of tasks. Watching her attempt to fix her starfighter, unsuccessfully, was still his favorite. Casually, Marcello swam over to the platform after Kiskla had extended her invitation. Hoisting his own large frame out of the water, Marcello came to his feet. Given he'd taken his clothes off on the upper platform, he merely allowed the water to drip from his body. "I think I can handle that. Only if you don't talk too much."

Following a suggesting wink and a mischievous expression, Marcello departed to make his way back up to the city level. Once there, he discovered that his shirt was missing. Awesome. Pulling on his boots, the Jedi grabbed the brown leather jacket and put it on. He could buy a cheap shirt on the way.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

"Not if I don't---" She replied with a faux aghast expression and a trio of fingertips pressing against her sternum. "Guess I'll have to find other things to keep myself busy then." She partially grumbled, although that too was mocking. In her youth, her Master's HK droid had referred to her as a talkative meatbag. Or maybe it was windbag. Either way, the indication that she was never speechless was omnipresent.

When Marcello scaled back up the way he had come down, she took a moment to recover. She had never explored intimacy like that, and never flaunted any of her womanly prowess in such a manner. In her isolation, she touched her pouted lips which were still tingling from [member="Marcello Matteo"]'s impact. Time seemed to slow from that moment, and speed up at the same time until she rejoined him. She was still so largely distracted by what had been his embrace that she didn't even pick on his lack of garment. She was feeling something she'd not encountered in her youth before -- a type of appetite that seemed rather insatiable, a craving for something she'd only barely tasted. Yes she had been conditioned to reserve emotions and impulses, but that border had been crossed now. Had it? Who knew! Nobody knew. Nobody would know. This was their secret. Yes. Excellent, more clandestine events for the curious young woman.

She was apparently leading the way, her footing nearly programmed when she snapped back to reality. "In public like that? As if you didn't have enough fans from the Aqua Cup." The young woman said suddenly, as if she hadn't been walking beside him in two minutes of subdued silence. Obviously she'd just noticed. She also had no idea of his intentions to buy something new, but ever the problem solver, she wove her hand flippantly. It was a strange way to exercise such a powerful technique in the Force, but the woman employed an ancient Fallanassi art that projected an image, an illusion rather, of the very fabric that used to cover his well-toned torso. There. Saving credits and stares. Not bad for an amateur! And, it was a way for her to get her practice in -- much better than running all over Tython in strange weather conditions and warring against flesheaters while trying to maintain an illusion. She sniffed contentedly.

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Marcello was not aware of the woman's inner thoughts when she'd rejoined him beside the city streets. The couple moments of silence that passed between them did so largely because they were both wrapped up in their own respective processes of trying to understand what had happened. Well, perhaps trying to stay they were trying to understand what was happening was more accurate.

Despite that reality, Marcello reconciled himself to approach it as he did everything in life. Ever since playing shockball as a kid, he'd never allowed his mind to get in the way of doing what felt right. Actually, no, he had during his quite public display of forced affection on Mandalore. The resultant heartfelt confessional, however, was very much in keeping with his usual personality. Besides, how did you explain the emotions and feelings that resulted from an interaction he never truly believed would take place? The answer of course being that some things in life were meant to merely be experienced, not broken down for analysis.

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]'s voice pulled Marcello from his thoughts so abruptly that he wasn't sure what she was referring to at first. Looking down, he was about to shrug it off and explain his plan when the illusion of a shirt appeared. Shifting his blue eye to Kiskla's face, Marcello flashed a roguish grin. "I wasn't planning to walk around shirtless the rest of the day." For the briefest of moments, he considered a comment, but he chose not to appear presumptuous. Besides, the fun was ever in the journey. "Besides, I think you're drawing enough attention off of me for now."

Baggy clothing or not, Kiskla was a much mor appealing 'prize' to the mostly male population walking around Ahto City at the moment. Also mostly non-human...which just meant they would probably be much more coarse in declaring their opinions; negative or positive.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Looking like she did, Kiskla was used to compliments. And therefore, she was used to tuning them out -- perhaps it was rude, but those that knew her rarely bade her compliments about her appearance. Everyone else? Their manners of suggestion were as far from interesting as you could get. "Exactly." She replied, that strange vixen tone that had been left alone for so long resurfaced in a resounding type of confidence. "That's why I can't have a ragamuffin companion -- just a complement." Her facial expression betray her, and a curled grin manifested her coyness to the subject at hand -- but that was all. No other evidence that she was being humorous of anything apart from serious.

Suddenly, and with the only warning being her quick gesture, Kiskla stepped off the path they were taking. Just in time too. The location Kiskla had disappeared into was right before where a mass of people were still celebrating -- small children were running around with model toys of swoopbikes and running them through the air at what they considered break neck speed. Should they have continued any further, the serenity of the ocean they had left behind moments ago would have been most certainly broken, and them swallowed into a gurgle of noise and excitement.

Kiskla had seen the celebration however, and wasn't avoiding it on purpose. She did have an appointment to make, but once it was complete she could be out. Seeing the citizens of Ahto twirling and chatting gaily among the confetti and whitewashed walls caused a swelling in her that rivaled the one that was already there. Those smiles and giddy expressions would not have been present seven months ago -- but today, there were. No empathetic persuasion necessary.

The noise was faint when Kiskla stepped into the pristine, pearly lobby of the lodgings that had been reserved for her by Silk Holdings. It wasn't a flashy establishment, no doormen, but Kiskla assumed most of the buildings in Ahto were designed similarly. All very modern, and different shades of white. Briefly, she glanced at a chrono on the wall, and pulled her sleeve down to cover her alchemical cuff -- something she often did. The Selkath behind the counter looked up expectantly when the door dinged an arrival, and he flipped through a screen that wasn't visible to Kiskla nor [member="Marcello Matteo"].

"Ah, you must be Ms. Grayson." When he spoke, his bulbous eyes shifted to the doorway at the other entrant. Then, to a television screen on the back wall. "And Mr. Sato! Welcome -- what a pleasant surprise. Congratulations on your win. Quite the techniques out there. You're mighty sweaty still. Good job!" Then, he disappeared with a dip of his waist and only some rummaging around was audible. The alien reappeared with a datapad and a key card. "Your arrangements are as discussed and charged to the Holding's account. I just need your signature for confirmation, and to hand over this -- oh, I'm sorry." He disappeared again "These datapads to you." The second piece of technology had the markings of The Republic, a different finesse than the style of the Silk Holdings pad. Without hesitation, Kiskla acquiesced to the suggestion to sign and quickly marked up the line that demanded her cursive. It was quickly whisked away. "Should you need anything else, I'm just a call away." His drooping whiskers twitched happily, and he looped his six fingers to a rest on the pearl surface with a slight obliviousness about him.

A small light on the bottom of the Holding's datapad extinguished, and she supposed it was an indication that she had picked it up. A preventative measure to avoid communication confusion throughout the company. It would serve her well to read through it before her appointment tomorrow afternoon. With her new assets in hand, Kiskla touched her damp fabric and frowned. It was becoming quite uncomfortable to walk around in black, wet clothing on such a warm day and in such a clean city.

Inconvenient.

With a gesture, Kiskla indicated for Marcello to follow her. If they were going to continue walking around and what have you, she didn't want these articles to go missing. One had information only she and the council was privy to, and the other was likely an inclusive report on a company that generated billions in revenue. Not two things you want to be responsible for when lost. Her steps echoed until she entered into a lift, that was apparently just waiting. IT was the first time she looked at the engraving on the keycard, and selected the button that indicated 17.

"Geeze you're popular, Mr. Sato." The blonde marveled, resting her back against the glass of the lift, while holding the datapads at enough distance that they wouldn't get wet from her clothing.

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Marcello rolled his eyes with a thin smile at Kiskla's comment. While he couldn't deny his definitively dressed down appearance, he wasn't entirely convinced her concern was more for her than... No, nevermind. He was pretty positive that was the reason.

As the blonde female motioned almost imperceptibly to the side, Marcello altered his cores as if having already seen her make the decision. The Force had nothing to do with it, of course. The Rouge Jedi Master simply knew his companion well enough to recognize that which she did not normally choose to endure given certain circumstances.

After a few quick moments, they entered a pristine hotel. Marcello's eyes were taking in his surroundings when he heard the name of his alias spoken. Offering the Selkath a nod, Marcello remained silent as Kiskla went about her business.

While Kiskla was busy, Marcello took it upon himself to locate a small shop within the hotel that was selling some small items. They did, at least, have shirts for purchase. Probably overpriced... Unlike most Jedi seemed to be, Marcello was not extraordinarily wealthy. Further more - he'd passed on the winnings of the tournament.

As [member="Kiskla Grayson"] finished her business, Marcello's silent musings ended and he followed her to the lift. Once the doors closed and she'd taken the chance to amuse herself, Marcello turned and flashed her a roguish grin. "All sentients love to watch others come close to the edge of death without falling off." Marcello shrugged as he leaned against the glass on the other side of the lift, gazing at the woman, lost in her mystique for but a brief moment. "Guess you could say I'm just reckless enough in how I handle myself to be entertaining."

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

That would explain the success of the disgusting displays of the Tournament of the Cauldron; it was a shame Ben Watts had failed to advance through all the rounds, and Vulpesen too -- but they had still managed to arrest the she-devils. Her musings stopped when Marcello offered an explanation for his successes in entertaining, and Kiskla snorted.
She wasn't facing [member="Marcello Matteo"] when this overly attractive noise exhibited itself, no, she was looking out at the city as it was ignited by the fiery suns above it. It was nearly blinding, due to all the white reflections, so she leaned back when she spoke pointedly "Really."

​

"That's something I'd like to see." Reckless. Hm. She'd flown with him on Anaxes -- there'd been nothing out of the ordinary about his piloting, even on a severe course. Then again, if it had been a planet who wasn't used to an A-Wing, perhaps he would have been jaw-droppingly astounding. That was, of course, not what she was referring to.

​

​

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Marcello, on the other hand, had been watching Kiskla the entire time. Her...lovely snort caused him to arch a curious eyebrow and smirk. The reaction that she actually had to his comment was, of course, much more interesting to the Naboo native.

For a few silent moments, Marcello watched Kiskla and closed the distance between them. Placing his hands to either side of her shoulders and against the lift's glass, the Jedi Master smirked. "You will." There was no tone of deceit or playfulness in his voice. In that moment...he was all business.

A soft chime announced their impending arrival to the requested floor. Pushing off the glass, Marcello immediately spun to his left before the doors slid open. Motioning to the life's exit, he waited for [member="Kiskla Grayson"]. "After you, Councilor."

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

When Marcello made a kinetic indication that he was going to move, the blonde met his eyes. Then suddenly, he had squared over her and she caught her breath, clamping her lips together tightly. He'd invaded her personal space quite a few times, and she his, that you'd think she'd not flinch when a suggestive maneuver manifested--- especially when she had been baiting him. Still, it happened-- and a flame of excitement raced through her bones.

"Oh?" She challenged.

Thankfully, the elevator's song alerted the two that they'd reached their destined level. If it hadn't chimed, she wasn't sure she would have been able to contain herself under such pressure. The fact that they were interested in each other was just that by now, a fact, and she was fanning a spark she didn't know how to control once it erupted to a fire. For months now she'd been cooped up without a release, only being a leader and figurehead for a name that was dirt to many. There had been no fighting for her to vent her frustrations, nor would she ever allow any physical interactions. [member="Marcello Matteo"] had been a falter. A stumbling block she was yearning to trip over again. Last time, she'd been able to recover before colliding with the ground and had pulled herself away. But lightning never struck twice.

When he said the word councillor, she didn't know whether or not it was a disrespect or an innocent taunt. It certainly wasn't a title he held in esteem-- especially since he likely didn't know just how good she was in her position. Because of so many people's ill regard toward The Council, More than once Kiskla had wanted to crawl away from her duties but her desire for change from within kept her firmly pegged to her chair, second last to the door next to Phylis.

The muscles that had been tensed from him cornering her, and his comment relaxed as she stepped forward.

He'd never acknowledged her seat on the council before. "Thanks, rogue." She replied, regarding the number on the key once more. 1743 -- just four doors away from the elevator. Not sure how that worked, but it did. The door picked up on the key's magnetized waves when she waved it in front of the key pad and it hissed open to a --- surprise-- white room.

A large Window with the dark curtains drawn was right across from the door, overlooking the white tops of neighbouring scrapers. The bathroom was in a half-room to the left, with the bed's headboard touching the wall that separated the two; and everything else was fairly standard.

"Why the name Soto, anyway?" Kiskla asked, setting the datapads down on a desk in the middle of the wall -- she was partially searching for a safe while she spoke. Names had always interested her, she'd always have liked to have a cultural name somewhere. Something with meaning. Kraliçe was cool-- but it wasn't totally hers yet.

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Kiskla was correct, Marcello held few on the Council in any sort of esteem, and he recognized even fewer as more than marginally competent. Truthfully, the Jedi Master didn't even know who was in the Council. In the end of the day, the concept of the Jedi Council did not bother him. The method in which it's vaunted membership executed their duties was barely deserving of the respect they inherited thanks to the past actions of Jedi across the ages.

Then again, Marcello felt the same about him and his title of Jedi Master. There was not a day that passed where he did not think he and the Jedi might be better served without such an abundant, grotesque reliance on titles. These thoughts, however, we're insignificant at the moment. The only thing dominating his mind was the lithe woman in front of him.

As they entered the room, Marcello's blue eyes conducted a hasty survey of their surroundings before falling on Kiskla once more. "There was no particular reason, to be honest. Any name other than my own would have sufficed. I've used a different name on every planet I've visited."

Shrugging, Marcello made his way towards the room's closet. Sliding the door open, he glanced down and walked away towards the window. The Jedi Master left the safe in plain view but said nothing about it. Placing his palms on the window sill, Marcello gazed out at Ahto City. "When is acting tantamount to a murderer...going too far."

The question no doubt seemed and was random, but that did not make the question any less serious. "I've killed people," he explained by way of confession. "A lot of people. Never an innocent person insofar as my judgment lead me to believe. Yet I am no omnipotent or omniscient figure. I'm human, and I certainly do make mistakes."

Turning around, Marcello leaned against the window sill as he watched [member="Kiskla Grayson"]. "Had I not, they might have been arrested, but they might not have. Perhaps they would have continued to drift through space on a crippled vessel, slowly dying of starvation or lack of oxygen when a damaged life support finally failed. There may not be any perfect Jedi, Kiskla, but I will not willingly associate an organization with methods they cannot decide whether or not they condone. Sacrifices sometimes have to be made for the greater good. At the end of my life, I have no doubt the Force will judge me."

Well that was some right fine crap. Marcello didn't believe that. Life, to him, was simple. In the heat of the moment he made decisions and let the chips fall where they may. Shrugging, he managed a thin, almost tired smile despite the pleasure of the day. "I'm never the hero or savior people without the full story sometimes proclaim on these random planets. My existence is far less pure, undeserving in it's oh-so-righteous nature." Righteous. That was a decent word...any entity that was completely righteous was dangerous. In that moment, he saw only a thin line separating him from the Sith. Perhaps his earlier comment about walking the edge of death wasn't so metaphorical.

Motioning to the crowds that dotted the streets below, Marcello smiled in spite of himself. "So. That is why the fake name, why I avoid things such as that. It was enough to provide them the entertainment, to help lift spirits and distract from the reality of the galaxy. I neither need nor deserve any praise. It's the debt I owe society, and it will probably never be paid in full."

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Well he was certainly making himself at home, opening doors and whatnot. When he passed her, she leaned slightly and recognized the outline of a secured area within the closet -- barely visible beneath the hem of a the hotel's complimentary robes. While Marcello spoke, she listened, but she also kneeled and quickly read the requirements of the safe. A telekinetic shelf slipped under the two datapads and directed them to her side; and they hovered there patiently while she entered the required code. Once that was done, in they went! How exciting!

She remained crouched for a few moments longer, draping a slender arm over her knee. At this point, Marcello was reaching the climax of his confession, which demanded she stand. It seemed a more respectful thing to do considering his seriousness. The excitement she had felt was overshadowed by the responsible nature she'd had to adopt a year ago, and she frowned while listening. His decisions were cold. She recalled Coruscant, when the graug had invaded the system and had their warships hovering above the senate. A flight team had been organized, by Marcello she later found out, but hadn't the opportunity to fire before the graug's retreat. Still. The action had terrified people and they had recognized only the immediate effects; there were members of the council that had been furious. The emotional, and overreacting interim grandmaster had been one of them. [member="Marcello Matteo"]'s description continued to deepen with it's graphic nature, and the young woman's brows furrowed as an innate reaction, just something that happened when she was concerned. Gosh, her wrinkles were going to be outrageous in a few years.

Then he mentioned the organization of which she held an executive seat in. One that was constantly ebbing with the tides of conversation and it was, to say the least, embarrassing. Marcello recognized that too, unfortunately. She reached up and touched behind her ear awkwardly as he continued to express his sentiments.

​

She had heard this, and so many others so frequently lately. It was wearing on her -- to the point where she couldn't even meditate. The only way she could focus on something was by challenging herself with The Art of the Small and exploring it in ways she'd never done before. When meditating, and left alone with her thoughts, she got upset and unlike Marcello, she was not calculative. When she was upset, she worked on whims.

When he finished, the blonde sighed a breath she didn't know she had been holding. "It doesn't matter whether or not you dedicate yourself to The Order, you're right. It's bigger than that, there are Sith out there that work on their own without heralding titles -- technically, there are always only supposed to be two. One with the power, the other to crave it etcetera." They didn't seem to be yielding to that prophecy these days. Unlike Marcello, she hadn't killed many. Severed limbs and rendered ones largely incapable but she didn't like dealing with death. She believed in redemption, hence her position as the head of reconciliation. "Being a Jedi sometimes means making the decisions others cannot. It's not always about walking around as a pinnacle of the light." She turned and sunk down on the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands for the briefest of seconds before her hands were running through either sides of her hair, pleasantly noticing that the city's sun had done a fairly thorough job of drying it. The dampness of her clothing also immediately transferred to the over blanket. "Galaxies." She finally breathed in exasperation, and folded her fingers together to keep them from wandering. "You're right about this large unidentified grey area, and the so-called greater good." This was not a conversation she wanted to pursue. Not that Marcello's mind was corrupted, but it was brutal and severe and never one that she would reflect -- as mentioned prior -- she believed too much in a reality that wouldn't exist. But, too much talk and she would be victim to a new opinion. She was easily influenced if the argument was good enough.

A wrinkle of her nose. "I think you and Carn would get along swell. The former Grandmaster however," she shook her head. That opinion was best not to spread.

"Marcello Matteo is your real name though, right?" Quickly, quickly! Make this a lighter situation before everyone started brooding! She simpered knavishly and rested her chin against the heel of one of her palms. "How much of a lie are you living?"

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Marcello's eyes and attentions were focused solely on Kiskla each time she spoke. However, the Jedi Master reserved his comments, opting to air them later. Still...as [member="Kiskla Grayson"] spoke, he touched on something inside of him. Something that meant a great deal to him. Though he was definitely a very large critic of the Jedi Order, he was never so foolish as to suggest that forming splinter groups in protest was the way to address internal issues.

Even as the radiant Jedi across from him attempted to continuously bear the strain of his harsh comments, Marcello could not respect her more for it. He knew it was time for him to accept the reality that personal beliefs aside...he was a Jedi Master. Much like Kiskla was doing with her position on the Council, it fell to Marcello to be a leader amongst the Jedi. A leader the younger Jedi and generations yet to come might one day need. More importantly...all that was required for the Jedi Order to really fail was for good Jedi to simply do nothing.

As he was about to open his mouth to address the matter, Kiskla changed the subject. Yet it only fanned the flame burning in his chest; the intensity of his desire and affection along with his feeling of professional responsibility. Pushing off the window sill, Marcello approached Kiskla. Without warning, he immediately transitioned to pulling the blonde woman to her feet. Glacier blue-colored eyes gazed into the Cerulean hue of Kiskla's for but a brief moment. "I assure you that I have never been more honest with a person in my entire life...than I have been with you." Managing a thin smile, Marcello concluded the thought. "Even when you were a pain-in-the-ass teenager."

A trait she still retained to some degree. Not that he'd have it any other way. His prior thoughts of professional dedication slipped completely from his mind. She would have the knowledge when next she saw him within the Temple.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Kiskla physically surrendered herself and subjected to the uplift his strong hands insisted. The Kiffar heir was not a short woman by galactic standards, but when in such a proximity to [member="Marcello Matteo"] she couldn't have felt more delicate. He insisted that his words to her were honest, and compared her person now to the Kiskla of the past. That brought an amused grin to her features.

Oh man, had she ever been headstrong then. Unbridled and relentless, like so many Padawans and Knights within The Order. She was arrogant too -- claiming nobody could rival her. In anything. That's probably why she had so confidently challenged Marcello to a fist-fight. The details were hazy, but she was pretty sure she'd lost. It had been a pretty gnarly bruising, anyways.

Kiskla was still held on to some traits, it was true. She was reckless and irrational. Confidence followed every step and she felt invincible when facing an opponent (being host to celestials helped with that bravado). She was more welcome to learning however, and bridled her irrepressible curiosity as an asset.

Speaking of curious; "I don't want to go back and explore the city." She admitted. It had been her original plan, but she was no longer in the business of self-suffocation. Often, Kiskla spoke in riddles to keep people from investigating her or knowing too much about different loose ends of her life. Another trait she'd picked up, was being able to be blunt when she wanted while still maintaining an air of general mystique and miss interpretations. The following could be done as such; whether she was speaking about the mind of body. "Just explore you."

There wasn't a flinch in her face when she spoke. He'd said she would witness his recklessness etcetera, and she'd challenged him on it moments ago. They were skirting about the obvious, and as [member="Marcello Matteo"] had said: he was only human.

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Marcello's smile slowly faded as Kiskla announced she did not wish to further engage in exploring the city. At that exact point in time, Marcello's mind already begin exploring the possibilities why. The Jedi's suspicion was outright confirmed when Kiskla made her blunt declaration. Marcello knew from the tone d her voice and look on her face that she was as serious as possible.

If Marcello had been a more reserved person, he might have thought she meant explore his mind. No - if he hadn't known [member="Kiskla Grayson"], he might reach that conclusion. Fortunately for the both of them, neither was the reality. There was no hesitation in Marcello's eyes even though he did not immediately respond.

When he did move, however, he did so with purpose and intense vigor. That was true of any aspect of his life. Seizing Kiskla's frame completely in his arms, Marcello brought both their bodies swiftly but gently down to the soft bed.

In that instant thought melted away, and Marcello became little more than a creature of passion and lust.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Had Kiskla been younger, she probably would have squealed with joyous delight that her verbal plan worked. However, given the situation, that would have been wildly inappropriate.

Marcello was a pilot, through and through. Her curves were his racetrack this time, and his touch was meticulous like a dashboard to an advanced spacecraft. However, some touches incited a mirthful giggle whereas others demanded expressions of a different nature. Also safe to say that neither of them could shed their waterlogged clothing fast enough; although there was a certain art to the removal. An appreciation for the sculpting of curves, muscles and other features respectively. Kiskla was bare, save for the cuff on her left wrist that never come off. Long story short, it was a shame they had to wear clothes all the time. If being a Jedi didn't work out, Kiskla surely should pursue a career of lingerie model or something. Perhaps in an alternate universe.

When [member="Marcello Matteo"] took the first plunge, Kiskla essentially surrendered herself to his machinations. While she reciprocated, it was initially clumsy although not lacking any sort of carnal desire. She was a quick learner however, and enjoyed the exploration. Oh, what a student of geography she became! The blanketed surface became a territory for two, with the two masters for mountains. Although her premiere foray, the blonde councillor could have drawn a map for tourists a micron high, with submicroscopic little starfighters to peruse the chiseled canyons of the grooves along the warrior's stomach and arms. The Kiffar native was also appreciative not only for his finesse and rhythm, but for his honesty when he confirmed that his name was the one she knew. Good, because otherwise some other bloke would be taking the credit for her sighs.

​

His honesty meant she too had to be honest--involuntarily. Although a recognized mistress of Art of the Small (enough to constantly maintain a hold on it)-- the technique could not be practiced when the consciousness was affected. Although Kiskla was very much awake, her focus was shattered when her nerves' reactions flooded through her to euphoric culmination. This made for two of their meetings now, when her back ended up as arched as her faux smiles. Every smile now was genuine, although the first had an air of pain behind its natural pout.

 

[Marcello Matteo]

The moments that passed slipped by in a haze regardless of the rhythm of movements executed by the two Jedi's bodies. As the intensity and fever of desire mixed with pleasure, the heat of their passion forced the concept of time to compress or disintegrate completely. While Marcello was by no means unaccustomed to the curves and gentle tenderness of the female body, he was completely a novice when it came to Kiskla. However, he was as eager a student as he'd ever been.

As the sounds of lust pierced the still air of the hotel room, Marcello's only goal was to permanently surplant the memory of the day into both of their minds. Their current activity, while amazing, was only part of the story. Alright, story was probably a strong word. In the grander scheme the day was but a chapter or maybe part of a chapter in a much larger novel. If that were the case, it was definitively the novel's climax thus far. In an existence of continuous struggle and war, it was the first time Marcello had been able to truly place the trials and tribulations of galactic society at large on hold. In this moment there existed only [member="Kiskla Grayson"] and himself.

Though these thoughts did not presently drift through the Jedi Master's mind, they manifested themselves in his intense and targeted treatment of Kiskla's own body. Time froze in precisely that manner.

--------

Marcello's breath had finally stabilized some time later, contenting himself in Kiskla's presence both physically and within the Force as he always had. One of his hands lightly caressed the bare side of the female Jedi Master as his glacier-blue eyes surveyed the perfection of her curves and the natural pout to her full lips. Lips that were, in Marcello's opinion, her most alluring feature.

On second thought, this was nothing like how he typically enjoyed Kiskla's presence. However, the Naboo native much preferred the upgraded manner. For now, he afforded no brain cells to thoughts of having to leave or the reality that their own specific professional inclinations might yet preclude this from happening again anytime soon.

If everything that had happened were a mere fantasy, a dream, the reality of life could wait. It could wait a very long time.

Never did, though.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Want to hear something ironic? Of course you do. Kiskla had been told that she had a serene presence within The Force. As if an anchor against the constant crashing and weaving of time and events that the shadows of time permitted. She was still a budding benevolent, but had received many comments for her ability to remain stoic and stable. Some called it prodigal, others a firework. Whatever the observance, Kiskla’s ethereal presence boasted a weighty amount although she had never allowed herself to fully manifest it.

Her svelte frame was currently engraved between [member="Marcello Matteo"]'s arm and torso, satisfied and angled so her arms were laced across his chest for support. She could feel, and hear, his breathing become less and less laboured and it eased her to a more peaceful state than she’d been versed in for some time. With all the revolutions within The Order, and The Republic itself, she had been going a mile a minute hoping to douse flames before they erupt and consumed what little faith was left in the pinnacle. With this active lifestyle, as many could identify with, she had been sacrificing sleep; relying on The Force to keep her mind in tune and sound enough to make the right decisions that influenced myriads. Finally feeling as if there was a floor to stand on, even if it were fleeting, she allowed that comforting cloud form around her and cushion her to a comfortable doze. Besides, it was easier to sleep rather than figure out how to move forward.

*

When her eyelids fluttered open, she didn’t know what time it was. She did, however, know that it was very warm and she and her companion were still slick with sweat. Carefully, she propped herself up on an elbow in the groove where her body had been — the spacer still limply dozing. She smiled lightly, not minding if this were to become a regular sight or not, before gingerly easing herself from the pleasantly captive position. She merely took up residence on the other side, without his arm to drape around her waist.

Instead of gingerly navigating the borders beyond their nation of two, Kiskla closed her eyes and rested her head against the backboard while drawing the comforter up to her collarbone. During her concentration, she recalled the visual of the safe, and the information she had entered to make sure it was secure. Ha, back when she had thought she would be leaving the hotel’s room. With a few telekinetic applications of pressure, the vault opened soundlessly, and the data pad of particular interest slid into her lap. Making sure the blanket was secured beneath her armpits and covering her frame, the child of Naboo entered her pass codes to view the information.

In the dark of the early morning, Kiskla’s features lit up with the cerulean glow of the screen. The contents of these files were relating back to a Padawan she had met on Tython before coming to Manaan — one who had been irritated and troubled by her very presence. As that was largely unfamiliar to her, the Master of the Order had issued that his files be transferred to her so she could gain a better understanding. As she read more and more into what intel the Jedi had on this Padawan, she drew her knees up and touched her lower lip anxiously. He would be a demanding student, one that would take time to calm — and she unfortunately, had not the time nor the patience.