Private Hot and Cold

[Mauve du Vain]

Few things sounded as good as a thermal spa after watching the chaos at Atrisia. Mauve breathed in a deep lungful of the humid, hazy air inside the sauna. She'd rented the whole place out for the day, just for herself. Well. And one other person. A smirk played across the Zeltron's lips, devoid of their usual plum lipstick for once. She leaned her head back against the wooden slats and simply enjoyed the heat radiating inside the sauna.

If they got too hot, they could just move about the thermal circuit. There was a chamber next door with just ice water. Mauve wasn't ready for that yet. Maybe after another one of those fizzy blue drinks. Then of course there was the mineral pool, which was about medium temperature. Next they had their choice of an array of saunas, from infrared to traditional steam. There were also some more advanced ones, but Mauve wasn't ready for that either. Too hot.

Sweat beaded down her nose and formed into a single droplet, threatening to fall.

"So... did you blow it up, or was it really Sularen like they said?" Mauve asked into the silence.

She hated that bald fuck, mostly for his smarmy attitude. But she'd enjoyed watching his panic set in when he realized he didn't have the funds to pay Velzari's auction. Foolish little admiral.

Anyway, she didn't like thinking about him or his beer gut at the moment. This was supposed to be relaxing.

There was a massage scheduled at some point, but they had plenty of time.

Mauve breathed in again, deep and slow, bundled up in her white robe.

"Please say it was you."

Quinn Varanin

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mauve du Vain //:
//: Attire //:

The warm steam did wonders for her body. Quinn settled into the heated sauna and sighed softly. Her body still ached from the stupid encounter she had had; if only she could keep her mouth shut. It would have been smarter to let Mercy handle her mother, but no — Quinn wanted to prove something.

Her eyes remained closed as she listened to the Zeltron. The woman had been elsewhere in the station and thankfully had made it out safely.

A part of Quinn wondered what her reaction would have been if she had died. Would she have gone to the Nether to fetch her soul? Could she even do that to someone with no sensitivity to the Force?

They were questions that Quinn didn't want answers to, not yet. She let her mind wander as she listened. She snickered at the mention of Sullivan. The man was proud, far prouder than he should be. Defunct and a joke from the New Imperial Order days, to now, the struggling government just under the Holy Worlds. They tried to swing at the Sith and were promptly put down, embarrassing.

"Mm, no." She murmured, her head turned to face the Zeltron. Her eyes opened slightly, half lidded as she shrugged. "I was too busy fighting my Mother, but no, it wasn't Sullivan." Quinn shook her head again.

"The idiot probably fell asleep at his dining table, woke up, and assumed the dream he had was true." She snickered again, "He should really worry more about his blood sugar than wars that are far beyond his mental capacity."

Yawning slightly, the Princess felt relaxed. It had been a while since she had felt this comfortable around anyone. Ever since being announced as a Dark Councilor, she felt like there was an even bigger target on her back.

"From what CT-312 told me in her report, it was Carnifex and the DeathDrop — but Mercy and Gerra made Soliplis their little schutta."

There was a smug little smirk that spread across her face. It was a good feeling that one of her own had been the one to make the false emperor bend both his knees.

"I wish it were me," Quinn looked away as she felt suddenly unworthy to even look at Mauve.

"Maybe then I'd feel better about being appointed a Dark Councilor."

 

[Mauve du Vain]

The Echani turned away from Mauve as they sat side by side in the sauna room, the door shut. The steam was so thick that Mauve could not even see past the glass of the door. But she could feel the other woman moping.

“Better?”

Mauve cocked her head and turned on the bench, unfolding her legs and sliding them onto Quinn’s lap.

“Please. You’ve done enough that we both know you should be Empress by now,” magenta toes curled as she pointed a foot at the opposite wall, “sitting up there on some absurdly opulent throne. I know you love a good throne,” Mauve smirked.

“But it’s like I said, the old guard like to hang onto power.”

A small frown wrinkled her forehead. “Is that what you’re down about? Are they making you feel inadequate?”

Quinn Varanin