Private I Left for Ten, They Went for Forty

[Scherezade deWinter]

. : Kallidan : .​

Before the events of An Artificial Night

Finding fragments of a life once lived was never easy, especially so after forty years away. For Scherezade, it had only been ten, but the galaxy had marched forward in linear time, four times over, and the world she once knew was no longer the same. Not worse, not better, just different.

Her life in the Galaxy had been a chaotic mess from the moment she'd been taken out of her pebble on Ryloth and thrust into an adult body, her grandmother's thousands of years worth of memories forcibly pressed instantly into her mind even as she had remained an emotional teenager at best. The impact had shattered much of her, leaving the Sith's psyche in turmoil.

Yet amidst the pain and turmoil, a few faces stood clear in her memories. People who would remain unforgettable, no matter how many years passed. Ingrid was one of them. In a time when the Confederacy's disdain and cruelty left Scherezade isolated, Ingrid L'lerim had been a true friend and more. Their friendship blossomed into something deeper, and Ingrid became Scherezade's steadfast anchor when she chose to leave the Confederacy and follow her sister into the Agents of Chaos.

Since her return, Scherezade had deliberately avoided the holonet. A former spy, she knew too well how easily she could be tracked, and with the long list of enemies she'd made, she wasn't ready for that kind of exposure. Still, she wanted to know what had become of the people she once cared about; who had died, who had vanished, who was still standing.

Gathering information was a grueling game. Most refused to operate outside the vast communicational web of the 'verse. Printed news was all but extinct. Yet by sheer luck, buried between clues about the schematics she was chasing, she caught a faint glimmer: Ingrid's name. Still the Eternal Empress. Nothing more.

That was enough. Scherezade had acted on less before.

Nelvaan had yielded no results. Her old contacts were long gone, and the planet's culture discouraged forging new alliances. Several other worlds came and went on her list, until finally, she found herself on Kalidan.

The cold bit sharply as Scherezade tightened her fur coat around her. Her presence in the Force was open. Would Ingrid notice? She didn't know. Ten minutes, she decided. If nothing came of that, she'd let Chaos guide her.

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Information

Empress of the Eternal Empire and Terraris​

"Galactic Common" | <"High Nelvaanian"> | ["Essonian"] | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Objective: Talk to Scherezade
Location: Vengard, Kalidan
Equipment: The Soulsabers | Hersir Imperial Uniform | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m
Tags: Scherezade deWinter

The aftermath of the Planeshift was perhaps the best thing that could have happened to the Eternal Empire - and what remained of it. Prior to the event, both the Sith Order and the Galactic Alliance had come far too close to Kalidan; in fact, they had already begun to absorb former territories of the Empire. The event had dislodged Kalidan from its previous location, shifting it to the very edge of the Galaxy - along with several other worlds that had once belonged to the Eternal Empire. At least that way, the woman's interests had remained intact. The Terraris had found alternate means of trade with the rest of the Galaxy, so that posed no real problem.

The woman carried on with her daily tasks, which typically involved attending to Imperial affairs and reviewing various reports.

At that moment, Ingrid was reading through one particularly intriguing report when something suddenly struck her... something she had not felt in a very, very long time. A familiar aura. Up until that instant, the red-haired woman had had no idea where this person might have been. Ingrid had few friends to begin with - trusting others had always been difficult for her, and that hadn’t changed, even after her long and storied life. But what she felt now... this aura summoned memories buried deep within her.

Scherezade deWinter. One of her earliest mentors, alongside Darth Tacitus. Though her true master had never been pleased about a Sith trying to train her, Ingrid had still learned much from the other woman. She remembered how - by accident - Scherezade had been the first whose emotions she ever stole, and for the longest time she hadn't even known how to give them back.

Now, she has mastered that skill. She had no choice - after all, she needed to feed on negative emotions and Dark Side energies.

So much time had passed since she last saw her friend. In truth, only forty or fifty years had gone by, but for Ingrid, it felt like centuries - especially after the years she'd spent within the Netherworld.

She set the datapad aside and rose from her chair. She adjusted her black uniform - plain, without insignia - just as she always had. In that, she had never changed. Then she closed her eyes and began to concentrate.

Reaching out through the Force, she focused on the one she sought: Scherezade.

In truth, the Sith woman had never truly left Ingrid. She and her husband had adopted and raised the clone of Scherezade, Felmorante L'lerim , as their own daughter. So Ingrid knew that, soon enough, she would have to tell her daughter that the woman she had been cloned from had returned. But that would come later.

Now, she located her precise position in the Force - and teleported.

She materialised a few metres behind Scherezade and called out to her. When she spoke, her voice carried a trace of reproach. Ingrid was glad the other woman had resurfaced - but part of her was also angry. Angry that Scherezade had vanished, had remained silent for so long. Just for a heartbeat, that emotion flared - but as always, Ingrid buried and suppressed it.

"Scherezade deWinter, would you care to explain where you've been for - Force knows how many years?" she asked, in a tone not unlike that of a mother scolding her child for doing something foolish. "Do you have any idea how worried I was? How much energy I spent searching for you?"

Ingrid placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head slightly as she looked at the other woman. The red-haired woman had not aged a single day since their first meeting - but then again, being a shapeshifter had its advantages.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

She didn't flinch when she heard her name. Ingrid had always been perceptive, and would probably note the way her shoulders tensed, the breath she forgot to take, the stillness that dropped over her like a weight. Scherezade turned. And there she was.

As crisp and deadly as ever. Dressed in black, spine straight, hands on her hips like nothing in the galaxy could move her unless she permitted it. Not time, not war, not even a girl who had once torn holes in the fabric of reality just to be seen. Ingrid L'lerim . The same, and not.

Her first instinct was to crack a joke. Her second was to run. What she did instead was stand there, fur coat flapping in the wind, as a thousand memories rose unbidden and stabbed straight through the armor she hadn't realized she'd rebuilt.

"You know," she started, voice lighter than she felt, "most people send a message. Or a rock. Or shout from a distance. You? You teleport behind me like a Force ghost with a grudge."

Her grin was lopsided, crooked in that old Scherezade way, as though she was daring the universe to throw something worse at her, and she might just laugh anyway.

But Ingrid didn't smile. Of course she didn't. This was Ingrid. The scolding was expected. The disappointment, earned. What caught Scherezade off guard was the ache underneath it. The sheer force of care buried under all that imperial restraint. Her throat tightened.

"I know," she said quietly, arms crossing over her chest like a shield. "You looked. And I didn't reach out. I didn't make it easy." She shrugged, awkward, bracing. "I didn't know how."

Her boots crunched as she shifted weight. Still not moving closer. Not yet.

"It wasn't supposed to be that long. Ten years, on my end. Ten. That's it. I thought I'd blink and come back and... find people. Find you. But it wasn't just time that slipped." Her eyes drifted past Ingrid for a moment, gaze distant. "I've been beyond the galaxy's edge, Ingrid," she said softly, "No way to contact anyone in here. No way to send care packages or even hand written letters."

The wind picked up. Sharp, biting. It cut through the space between them like a blade. Scherezade looked back at Ingrid. Studied her. "You haven't changed. You're still terrifying. Still too perfect. Still standing there like the galaxy spins on your terms and dares anyone to say otherwise."

Something like amusement flickered in her expression.

"I used to tell people you scared me more than most Sith I knew," she added. "But you also… helped hold me together. Back then. When I was a big blurry mess." There was no hiding in that moment. No clever mask to wear.

"You were never my mother," she said softly, revealing a glimpse of the thoughts that had run through her head so many times while she'd been gone, "Not to me. Not really. But you felt like one sometimes. When it mattered. When I needed it and didn't know how to ask."

She swallowed, jaw tight.

"I missed you."

There. The crack. The truth, raw and inelegant. Scherezade blinked hard and rubbed at her eye like the wind had gotten to it, because she never shed tears in front of others anymore. Then, in a sudden burst of motion that was entirely her, she took a step forward. And then another.

Not a rush. Not an emotional collapse. Just a decision.

Stopping only a foot away, she looked up into the redhead's face. Still that same perfect stillness. Still that glint of fire behind those eyes.

"If you're gonna punch me, make it the ribs. I heal faster there," she said lightly before her voice dipped lower, "But if you're not, if you're done scolding me for now, could really use a hug. Or whatever Ingrid L'lerim passes off as affection. A nod? A strategic shoulder bump? A grunt of approval?"

She hesitated for just a heartbeat before adding; "I didn't come here just to be seen. I came here… because I wanted to see you."

And just like that, the steel in her posture softened, her hands loosening from fists. She didn't move to initiate the hug, but she left the space open, an invitation and a test.

Like a child knocking at a door she wasn't sure would open.

Do you want to build a snowman?

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Information

Empress of the Eternal Empire and Terraris​

"Galactic Common" | <"High Nelvaanian"> | ["Essonian"] | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Objective: Talk to Scherezade
Location: Vengard, Kalidan
Equipment: The Soulsabers | Hersir Imperial Uniform | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m
Tags: Scherezade deWinter

Ingrid observed the other woman closely. Though Scherezade didn’t visibly flinch, the red-haired woman still noticed the tension in her muscles; the subtle signs of strain. Ingrid always paid attention to such details. She was an assassin, and instinctive movements like these could mean the difference between life and death. And beyond that, as both agent and ruler, being able to read others was invaluable.

Scherezade had once been her mentor. Ingrid had learned much from her, though one particular incident had nearly cost her life, when Darth Tacitus had almost killed her for stealing Scherezade’s wrath and anger… a wrath that had been difficult to overcome. That was so long ago now.

"After all, I am an assassin, am I not?" she asked softly, a faint smile curled into her lips.

Scherezade was one of the rare few whom Ingrid had allowed to see her other side. Not many could claim to have witnessed that. Especially not without Ingrid putting on a performance. But the smile faded quickly. She still didn’t know what to feel.

It was exactly because of moments like this that Ingrid let no one too close. They always left. They died. And she was left alone again. It was, in part, a defence mechanism; and in part, a trait inherited from her father, etched into her very genetics.

Since they’d last met, Ingrid had changed in many ways; yet in some things, she remained exactly the same. She couldn’t argue with the things Scherezade had said, because she had been right. Ingrid had needed to become what she was, to hold the Eternal Empire together. The Empire no longer shone with its former glory; it was small, yes; but stable. It endured. Just like the Wardens’ vision. And that mattered most.

She said nothing while the other woman spoke. Ingrid’s expression only softened when Scherezade admitted that she had missed her. And in that moment, Ingrid allowed her to see it in her eyes; that she, too, had felt the same.

Still, she remained perfectly still. Watching silently as the other woman stepped close. Ingrid hesitated. Then stepped forward, and embraced her.

"I missed you too," she told her quietly. "But you’re wrong in that question. I was never your mother… I raised your clone as if she were my own daughter."

After the long embrace, she let go and stepped back. This time, however, she turned her face away and didn’t answer the question about building a snowman. Too much had happened. Too much pain, too many sacrifices…

"It’s been more than three hundred years for me since you left. I searched for you, even in the Netherworld… and no, I am far from perfect. I’m the opposite of that. I’m a monster… I became one because of a former Sith. That woman, Vanessa Vantai, or Onrai … took away my humanity. I haven’t been truly human for a very long time." she said bitterly.

She knew she should have said something about the snowman. But at that moment… She simply couldn’t.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

When Scherezade and Ingrid finally embraced, Scherezade felt like she could suddenly breathe again. Like the mess of sensations and jumble of words had done their job in a way that had been too scared to outright admit was what she wanted. It didn't actually change anything, but it gave them room. It gave them space.

And then Ingrid L'lerim mentioned a clone of hers that was raised as a daughter?

Scherezade's jaw dropped and her lips took on the shape of an O.

She'd been… Cloned? Where had she even left enough DNA for that to happen? Wait, no, that was a dumb question, and Scherezade of all people should've known better. Blood. Skin. Hair. Scherezade had left enough of those back int eh days before she'd realized armor was needed, after people had helped her collect some pieces back, in a very literal manner. There had even been a time where her… Wait, no, focus, Ingrid was still speaking. Focus!

The second hit came harder than the first. Three hundred years? Three. Hundred. Years?! Her jaw dropped again. Same O-shape. She looked like a fish pulled out of water..

"Ingrid…" Scherezade said softly, "humanity is overrated."

She didn't expect Ingrid to agree. Not really. Her friend had always leaned toward idealism, toward meaning, toward order. But it didn't matter. The women she mentioned, the clones, the children… They weren't names Scherezade recognized. And that didn't matter either. Because Ingrid was still Ingrid. No excess or lack of humanity could ever change that, and that was what mattered.

Scherezade shifted weight on her feet, shuffling slightly uncomfortably. Her eyes moved from Ingrid to the Fortress behind her and back. She had questions. So many questions. But she also wanted to not bombard Ingrid with them. And standing out here, in the cold… It wasn't really going to help any direction the conversation could take, be it nice or less so.

"Well," she finally said, "I'm not sure how well memory works when you've lived through three centuries, but I distinctly remember you covering the tab last time we had hot chocolate. How about we go somewhere and this time I cover it?"

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Information

Empress of the Eternal Empire and Terraris​

"Galactic Common" | <"High Nelvaanian"> | ["Essonian"] | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Objective: Talk to Scherezade
Location: Vengard, Kalidan
Equipment: The Soulsabers | Hersir Imperial Uniform | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m
Tags: Scherezade deWinter

Ingrid, too, felt a sense of peace as she embraced Scherezade, as though a missing piece of herself had finally come home and returned to its rightful place. There was an irony to that, for she knew the other woman’s anger intimately; she had lived with it for a time before she had learned how to return it in kind. But that had been so very, very long ago.

When at last they released one another, and Scherezade remarked on humanity, the red-haired woman’s face was already composed once more. No emotion was visible there, only the glimmer of sadness in her blue eyes.

"In my case, that is meant quite literally… I am no longer human, Scherezade. From a species perspective, I am as far removed as one could possibly be from what might be called human…" she said, her tone heavy with bitterness.

From time to time, though rarely, she even thought of herself as a parasite rather than a predator. Most would consider her a predator, yet there were moments she simply could not see herself that way. At the mention of hot chocolate, however, even the red-haired woman smiled; it remained a drink she still loved to this day. She even remembered how, one of the last times, they had chosen alcohol instead. She nodded at the suggestion.

"Very well, but I still think I’ll be the one paying for the hot chocolate. I cannot exactly stroll into a city café. Let us go to my place instead, Grjótharður is not too far from here. And that way, you will not have to search for a hotel." she offered.

In truth, it would have been great amusement for her to step inside a café or a restaurant. She would have thoroughly enjoyed the fear and astonishment written across the faces of the staff and guests, and felt their emotions through the Force. It was hardly an everyday occurrence for the supreme military commander, the Empress herself, to simply walk into such a place. On Terraris, it might have been different, but here on Kalidan, it was unthinkable.

"I hope you do not mind if we travel by teleportation. If you do, I shall call for a shuttle." she offered, presenting the choice, and if Scherezade had no objection to teleportation, Ingrid extended her hand towards her.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Scherezade tilted her head at Ingrid's words, brows knitting for just a moment. Not human. Parasite. Predator. The kind of language Ingrid used for herself was the kind of language Scherezade had heard others spit at her once, too. She could argue, maybe even try to shake her by the shoulders and tell her how ridiculous it sounded… but she could also see the weight of centuries etched into the blue of Ingrid's eyes.

She leaned her face forward ever so slightly, and inhaled long and deep. She wasn't trying to smell Ingrid's perfume or anything else. There were things far more interesting to smell instead. Namely, from Ingrid's blood. And then she understood what Ingrid meant. But that wasn't the point.

When her eyes opened again, she was smiling. "You still smell like Ingrid to me," she said softly.

When Ingrid extended the offer of hot chocolate, Scherezade's lips curved into a new smile that was half amusement, half relief. The thought of Ingrid walking into a crowded café and watching everyone else faint was admittedly hilarious, but she wasn't about to push her friend too much. Not without a good reason, anyway.

"You're lucky," she teased, "I don't mind being spoiled. But next time, I'm dragging you into a café, Empress of Scaring Baristas or not."

And then came the kicker. Teleportation. Scherezade blinked at the hand offered to her. Her nose scrunched a little as though she were weighing whether this would end with her reappearing inside a wall. "You can teleport these days and you didn't start the conversation with that?!" she pestered with an impish grin, "Alright. Just… y'know… let's not leave any of my organs behind. I'd hate to show up missing a spleen or with my liver inside a wall."

Still, she reached out and took Ingrid's hand, squeezing once, signalling that she trusted her friend.

---

Ingrid L'lerim

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Information

Empress of the Eternal Empire and Terraris​

"Galactic Common" | <"High Nelvaanian"> | ["Essonian"] | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Objective: Talk to Scherezade
Location: Vengard, Kalidan
Equipment: The Soulsabers | Hersir Imperial Uniform | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m
Tags: Scherezade deWinter

Ingrid waited patiently for Scherezade to finish what she was doing. After that, the red-haired woman tilted her head slightly to the side. For a brief moment, she smiled, when the other woman remarked that she still smelled as though she were herself. That definitely pleased her, for she had done quite a lot to ensure that she remained perfectly herself. Or at least as much as it was possible; for a small piece of her soul was missing, one she would never be able to replace. But that piece was in the perfect place, with Adrian. Or rather, with what remained of her husband.

"I am glad of that. I put quite a lot of effort into staying as much myself as I can, in every regard." she told the other woman sincerely.

Here on Kalidan, she truly could not imagine herself sitting down in a café or a bar. At best one might picture some sort of luxury restaurant, but Ingrid was not that ostentatious, and she did not wish to set a poor example for her people. A banquet or a ball, when she was invited, was naturally different; but to indulge in romance with Tubrok? As much as she would have loved that, she only ever did it in another world, and even then only discreetly.

"There are countless other worlds where we can do that. At home there are also plenty of cheeses, just to spoil you even more. Not to mention the droids can prepare anything you desire." she offered warmly.

At the next question, the woman smirked a little and shook her head.

"Well yes, I have been able to for some time now; as well as opening a rift into the Netherworld. I have learnt a great deal while you were away." she said with a smile, then let out a soft chuckle. "Well, if that happens, I shall simply resurrect you."

Her voice carried a slightly playful, even mischievous note, but it was clear she did not mean it seriously, and that she would take care of her companion. After the teleportation they arrived in a vast, spacious living room. Much of it was white here - the walls, the floor, the ceiling - while the windows stretched from floor to ceiling. The walls bore both wooden and metal adornments, inscribed with ancient Valkyri runes that spoke of Tubrok and Ingrid’s family lineage. Ancient and modern elements met within the hall, and through the windows the city of Vengard could be seen in the distance.

"Please, sit down. The droids will be here shortly with hot chocolate and cheeses." the woman gestured towards one of the white leather sofas, before asking curiously, "After your return, how did you feel about how much time had passed in the galaxy?"