It's Enough, Already

[Caid Centurion]

Geonosis

The stale air of the arid planet assaulted Caid's nostrils the moment he stepped onto the onyx-colored loading ramp of his Daisya-class Infiltrator. Despite the climate, Caid was dressed as typical for the warriors of his ancestral homeworld when not in a casual setting. Light armor adorned his body over top the of poly wool black and crimson robes and matching pants that covered most of the exposed skin of his body with the exception of his arms. The matte black hilt of his lightsaber was affixed to the small of his back, just to the side of his spinal column.

For the time being, the hood of his robes was drawn over his lightly scarred features. Silver-green eyes gazed forward as his nose sniffed the taste upon the air. There was an aura of power, unmistakable to even the most inexperienced initiate. However, there were other senses. Geonosis, like most planets, was not a world of pure power and magnificence. That type of society was hard to create without...an almost zealous dedication by the entirety of the population. There were not many large governments in the galaxy capable of maintaining such without the inevitable rebellious outcroppings.

Having elected to land just outside the capital city, the Sith Lord avoided the typical delays and irritations of a traditional spaceport. A recent interaction with [member="Anesia Jy'Vun"] was his principal reason for truly investigating the capital world of the Confederacy. Whether or not he elected to affiliate himself to any degree with the organization...was completely dependent upon the results of this inaugural visit.

Caid had taken no more than perhaps a dozen steps when an air of familiarity crashed against his being. Narrowing his eyes, the Sith Lord's steps faltered only slightly before resuming a measured pace. There was...something here, no someone. Someone that felt very similar to a number of others he had met throughout the course of his life. Even if perhaps...very unrefined...

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

There were no words to describe how much she hated Geonosis. The heat was dry made her feel thirsty, the air had the wrong color, and it had something she could only call a lack of a soul. Scherezade preferred nicer climates on planets, as well as forests, and lakes, and all of that. She didn't know if this was due to her memories of Endelaan as a warm and safe place, or a genuine preference, but in truth, it didn't matter. She'd always hate Geonosis.

It was her fifth time coming planetside in the last few weeks. Every time, it was a different ordeal. Every time, she came to collect the crates for her Hutt Breeding Program, and every time, something else happened that ended being bad and traumatizing.

And today, to make things even worse, her crates were not ready. Not in the 'you'll have to wait four more hours' sense, but in the 'come back next week' sense, which meant that she'd wasted precious gas to come here, and was going to have to choose her next destination very, very carefully, or it could be her last until credits magically appeared in her hands.

But at least on Geonosis, she had figured out how to send the tab back to the CIS and have them cover it. Which was why she was sitting in a bar near the Ministry of Science's building, drinking her heart away, trying to numb the feelings that never stopped hurting her, that made almost every breath too impossible to bear.

It had been nearly two night since she'd broken out of the Darkness and everything had become even worse than it had been in it. Years of torture and anguish followed by the only two people she had delivering the final blow. She'd broken, and even despite the well intentions of new friends she'd made, despite the intentions of those who sought to ue her pain to weaponize her, she was still a broken creature. Her face showed the signs of the damage all too clearly; bags were under her eyes due to lack of sleep, her skin had taken on an unhealthy hue due to the malnourishment that sank in when she could no longer properly eat, and she sat hunched defeated. She was everything she was not meant to be, and she couldn't change it. Force knew she'd tried.

Scherezade was halfway through her second bottle (with a crate of liquor waiting to be taken as well) when a strange sensation washed over her. The young Sithling blinked, trying to understand what it was that had made it through the fog of booze. It wasn't Gerwald, she knew. She could sense him from any distance if they were on the same planet. But then who or what else could it be?

She shook her head, taking another long and deep drink from her bottle, but the sensation would not let her go.

Sighing, she spun around in her chair. No, she didn't really expect the answer to come marching through the door. And for a few seconds, it didn't, which was why she spun back and took another drink, trying to make the weird feeling go away.


[member="Caid Centurion"]

 

[Caid Centurion]

A gentle breeze actually managed to drift across the surface as Caid neared the edge of the capital. It was neither refreshing nor pleasant. For a moment, Caid was taken back to the pointless journey he'd made to Korriban. The Sith would never understand the endless fascination with the graveyard. Sure, it held importance to the history of the Sith, but it was hardly the end-all, be-all to Ancient Sith culture. Furthermore, the world had been so heavily raped, metaphysically of course, by treasure hunters and all manner of sentients hoping to siphon of power and valuables of the original Sith Lords that it had become little more than a worthless, lifeless slag of rock.

The aforementioned arid breeze ceased immediately upon Caid stepping between the buildings at the outer edge of the capital. The Dathomir natives vivid gaze took in the variety of sites as he quickly traversed streets and alleys towards the growing sensation he'd originally discovered upon departing his vessel. As the intensity of the presence built with the decrease in distance, Caid could practically taste the disposition of the source.

It was not pleasant. Hints of despair mixed with self-loathing for whatever ailed the source. The individual's presence tasted of someone hoping to bury their pain, cast it aside with conventional pursuits. Caid wrinkled his nose instinctively. In a matter of minutes, he had arrived outside of the cantina where he sensed the presence. Pushing the door open, the large Sith paused in the doorway as his eyes adjusted to the dim light and swept the scene.

Eventually, Caid's gaze focused in on a definitively young, somewhat unkempt face. Silver-green orbs probed from inside the veil of darkness provided by the hood of his robes. It was perhaps another ten seconds before he initiated a steady pace towards the young woman, slowly pulling back his hood as he moved.

In truly intrusive fashion, Caid directed the full weight of his presence at the woman, flooding her body with everything that made up his own presence. Slowly, meticulously he probed the young woman for any hint of further recognition.

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

The weird feeling did not go away. What was worse, it was growing stronger. Scherezade nearly emptied the second bottle before it was strong enough to almost choke her, setting down the glass bottle and letting her forehead rest against the bar. Maybe it was another illusionist trying to get her, like had happened with Josh. This time she was even worse off, but... But she was on Geonosis. It was supposed to be safe from such threats. And only now did she realize what a foolish notion that was, and how the CIS had failed to protect her from danger time and time again, even within their own space. All she had were her dozen Czera knives, hidden beneath the nondescript jeans and black t-shirt that she wore. It wouldn't be enough, if she really was in danger.

She reached her left hand into her pocket, grabbing the most available knife. Hand still in pocket was when the sensation managed to become even thicker. Scherezade gasped as she looked at the direction it was coming from, so strong that it was almost tangible to all her senses.

A man, a cloak, a hood, and...

A small curl of the Force extended from her, taking a lick from him as red rimmed eyes squinted. She was unhappily drunk, but these were feats she could still perform, just as she could dive into the memories of her grandmother and try to find a hint of who this man might be. But there was nothing in them save...

"Centurion?" she half whispered half asked, the boozy fog making way in her facial features into a look of complete shock, "and Cavataio." She recognized the faint signature of the two bloodlines, so alike to the deWinter signature, yet ever so slightly different. Scherezade inhaled deeply. "And you smell of Endelaan," she said, even more shock spreading on her face.

But she did not know who this man was.

Her cheeks reddened. Whoever this man was, he smelled of Endelaan. Someone from the ancestral home planet, the planet she so yearned for, and yet with every bad decision she made, became so further and further away from. And this man... Family... Kin... Endelaan... What did he see, when he looked at her? Would he know that she was the only daughter of Diomedes and Nessarose? Would that even matter, in her current state?

"Who are you?" Scherezade finally asked, unable to keep the tremble out of her voice.


[member="Caid Centurion"]

 

[Caid Centurion]

Caid's own recognition registered in his face just before the girl spoke his last name. Even as she continued to speak, Caid withdrew slowly, narrowing his eyes. The Sith Lord had never met his half-brother, but he had certainly interacted with his sister-in-law. Given this wasn't the first family relation he'd encountered, Caid knew better than to extrapolate on the various other ways he was related to Nessarose.

The girl in front of him was definitely not Nessarose, but there was no mistaking the similarity. Without answering her question, Caid closed the remaining distance between them so quickly his movement was practically a blur and her hair flew up briefly from the sudden pressure change. No sooner had he stopped moving than he rapidly reached forward to take firm hold of the side of Scherezade's head. He hadn't really concerned himself with her personal space or whether she might recoil...or attack. Caid had learned and adapted to seizing what he wanted or needed. His life had grown into one without compromise.

The girl would feel his machinations deep within her soul as Caid allowed the touch to further enhance his ability to fully evaluate her very genetic makeup. The deWinter, he had sensed. Her appearance clearly indicated that without much other input. However, it was the intrinsic...almost intrusive evaluation that revealed the hint of his own line. The moment that had happened, he dropped his hand. The combination of factors could only mean she was the offspring of Nessarose and another. He had only heard his sister-in-law mention one man's name near constantly. "I have a rather strong feeling that I am your Uncle, Princess."

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

She had no time to breathe before the man closed the distance between them. His hand came to the side of her head and she yelped, pushing herself backwards. The chair under her fell and she lost her balance. Thankfully, she was close enough to the wall, which absorbed her vertical landing, and the back of her head slammed against it along with her back. Her back was fine. Her head... Well, she didn't know if the spinning was from the hit or from the booze or both of them combined. And maybe it was just shock at meeting another family member anyway.

Scherezade blinked in confusion as the man said he was her uncle.

Swallowing hard, emerald eyes looked around wildly as she tried to make sense of it. Uncle. She finally settled her gaze on him, taking in the silver-green eyes, the hue of his skin. Uncle. On her father's side. This man's father was... Had to be, Cameron. But then who was his mother? There were too many Cavataios and she didn't know about enough of them to even guess. And no direct deWinter marks. Definitely someone from her father's side.

"You're one of daddy's brothers," she found herself saying, still staring at him with eyes wide in shock, thankful for the wall that was currently keeping her standing up right. Brothers or half-brothers, it was all the same to her. "But you never met Shery before the Gulag," she commented as well. She had information on all the family members her grandmother had known. She was quite meticulous about keeping up to date with where the blood went, going as far as to even keep tabs on her own brother's mongrels. "What... How..." she struggled for questions, trying to find the right one.

It seemed like an eternity later before she finally pushed herself off the wall and stood with only a minor sway. "I'm Scherezade," she managed to say, "Nessarose and Diomedes are... Were... are... my parents. Who are you?"




[member="Caid Centurion"]

 

[Caid Centurion]

A small smirk slowly spread across Caid's features as he watched Scherezade put the pieces together. The mention of Shery's name did not stir any particular feelings within his soul. Not only had he never met the woman, but he rarely heard anything about her outside of past conversation with Nessarose. Cameron certainly had never mentioned the woman. In that moment, Caid wondered if perhaps his father's holocron might contain some amount of information about his time with Shery.

The Sith was pulled out of his brief reverie by the mention of the girl's name. "My name is Caid. I am your father's half-brother." It was curious that Scherezade had seemingly come out of nowhere. Caid had, obviously, heard Nessarose speak about her only daughter and the girl's twin brother. However, he certainly did not expect Nessa's daughter to look so...disheveled and pathetic. "I have not seen your mother since she...disappeared some time ago. Funny thing, the last time I had seen her, she inquired about you, your father, and...your twin brother."

A pause.

"Scherezade, where have you been all this time?"

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

He was smiling. No, not smiling. Smirking. Why? Had she said something dumb? Was he going to do something to her? Scherezade inhaled, readying herself mentally for an oncoming attack that never came, as she was definitely not in shape to ready herself physically for it.

But he didn't attack her. Instead, he gave his name. Caid, and said that he was indeed one of her her father's half brothers. The name rang no bell in the Sithling's mind. Shery had not known him or of him, unless... Unless she did but didn't include it in the memories she'd burned into Scherezade's mind. She was beginning to discover that it was more and more likely that she did not have everything, and had wondered why her grandmother had chosen to omit things, and more important, why did she imprint on her the things that she had. But now was not the time to think of these things.

Caid said... Her mother had asked about her? And Brayden! And daddy! Yes, it lined up with what her aunt Asteria had said. Nessarose had been awake, briefly, before disappearing again. Had she been on Endelaan? Was that why Caid smelled like Endelaan?

Again she just stared at him. Caid stood tall, strong, wearing... Now she realized these were the clothes of an Endelaan warrior. And since he was her father's brother, that made him a Prince of Endelaan as well. But whereas he looked every bit the part of Centurion, Endelaan, and prince, she... Looked like a horrible mess. Meeting him now only served to emphasize that. Princess or not, it was only by blood and title. She wasn't one. Not by a long stretch.

Caid asked her where she'd been all this time, and Scherezade blinked. A question. One that she was supposed to answer. All but one who knew the full story had betrayed her, broken her. And family did not translate into safety, despite her wishes.

"I've been mostly here for the past 7 months," she decided to answer truthfully, omitting her second imprisonment in the Darkness and the tortures it contained, "before that... Shery tapped me inside a pebble, just before the Gulag hit. I was there until 7 months ago."

They were still standing. She was leaning against the wall again. "When were you born?" she found herself asking.


[member="Caid Centurion"]

 

[Caid Centurion]

The mild amusement on Caid's face was rapidly replaced with a somewhat perplexed expression. A curious brow rose as [member="Scherezade deWinter"] explained that a mere seven months ago she'd been trapped in a...pebble? The fact that Caid's distant cousin had been involved in the incident did not much surprise him. What little he had heard about Shery deWinter indicated that she enjoyed her games of manipulation. A very large part of Caid often wondered why it was that so many had the patience and wherewithall for games. They just seemed like a waste of time to the large Sith.

"A pebble?" It was the only immediate response that Caid could think of. Rather than dwelling on the comment, he elected to move on and answer Scherezade's question. "Never mind. I was born over a decade before the Gulag Virus first began spreading across the known galaxy in earnest. My mother..." Caid paused only long enough to consider he'd not divulged the information yet. "Kristin Cavataio sent me to Corstris to ride out the epidemic. I was in suspended animation until just a couple decades ago."

Pausing, Caid stole a few glances around the area. This wasn't exactly the place to be continuing this conversation. Further more, Scherezade looked like she needed to be anywhere other than a cantina in that moment. "We should continue this elsewhere. Are you done here?"

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

She could only nod her head when he asked about the pebble. But before she could think about any words to say, he continued, answering her question. His mother... Kristin. No, that gave a blank on her end as well. She did not know who Kristin Cavataio was, though she could guess she was either a daughter of Petra, or a granddaughter at the most, considering his happened before the Gulag. And then... Two decades ago, released.

A full life. One that he actually got to live. Just like everybody else except for her, and maybe, except for Brayden. She knew nothing about Brayden, where he was, whether he had lived at all.

Caid said they should continue this elsewhere, and she could only nod miserably to that statement. There was nothing left for her to do in the cantina anyway, or on Geonosis in general.

Finding some control over her movements, Scherezade picked a crate of full bottles up, not overly affected by its weight. For all the damage she had done to herself since breaking out of the Darkness the second time, her muscles were still strong enough to carry it with relative ease.

"You can assume everywhere in this city is wired, recorded, and then handled by droids who decide what to forward to the people in charge," she said with a neutral face as they headed out. They needed a place with some actual privacy, and her ship was definitely out of the question. She would not show Caid the writings of blood on her wall, the state of the ship's interior, the... The damage, that showed so clearly on her surface, she did not want to show him how deep it ran. "I don't know how wired it is outside of the city. Your ship might be a safer bet, unless you know about actual private places planetside."

[member="Caid Centurion"]

 

[Caid Centurion]

Caid glanced sideways at [member="Scherezade deWinter"] as they exited the cantina. He had, of course, heard everything she'd said, but it was of no consequence. The Sith Warrior had absolutely no intention of wallowing on Geonosis any longer than absolutely necessary. The discovery of kin had completely redirected Caid's focus from his original, marginal motivation for traveling to Geonosis.

As the pair walked, Caid redirected his gaze forward and casually intoned, "Is there a reason you need all of that?" To further emphasize his point, the large Sith inclined his head towards the crate of drinks that his niece was carrying with...slightly surprising ease. Then again, he probably shouldn't have been surprised at all.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Was there a reason she needed that? Yes, there was. She was broken, damaged, beyond repair. She could not sleep, could not eat. She was being punished by those she had loved before she had entered the Darkness a second time, for not being able to keep herself together five minutes after coming out. Everything she did was a mistake, was wrong, and with every breath she took, she could feel the pain, ripping her from the inside, refusing to go down, even two months after that horrible night that had shattered her, leaving the bits and pieces on the ship of the one who had been her adoptive sister.

But Caid did not need to know all of that. Just because he was family, just because he smelled of Endelaan, did not mean he was someone she could trust. She was not allowed to trust, or love. It only meant betrayal was inevitable.

"I'm throwing a party," she said dryly as she continued to walk, her pace matching his, even if every now and then her straight line was broken and she had to readjust herself.

Two months ago, she would have been so excited at meeting Caid. She would have hugged him, and attacked him with questions, and give him her neverdying protection even if he was clearly more experienced and capable than her. But that was two months ago.

Now... She could taste it in her mouth. A mixture of fear, of knowing she was far beyond what one would expect when they learned Nessarose and Diomedes' daughter was alive, regret... Scherezade sighed, swallowing it down. Even doing nothing, she couldn't do things right.

[member="Caid Centurion"]

 

[Caid Centurion]

Caid probably would have preferred something along the lines of 'mind your own business' to a half-ass lie. However, he forced himself not to judge the young woman as it was natural to be wary of new people. In fact, it was probably intelligent regardless of meeting close family relations for the first time.

"Yeah, ok. Give me that box." Caid immediately reached for the box. Obviously, [member="Scherezade deWinter"] could resist handing the box over if that was her wish. It just wasn't a struggle she would probably win, particularly given her obviously inebriated state.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

"No," came the reply instantly, no pause for breath, no pause for thought. He didn't seem like the kind of guy who'd carry the crate for her to her ship. No. Her liquor was in danger and she really couldn't buy another crate for at least a few more days if something happened to that one.

She twisted her upper body, moving the crate away from Caid. He didn't want to actually fight over it. Even though he was probably stronger than her, she fought until the last breath, even when drunk. And even when drunk, she was terrifyingly good with the twelve Czerka knives that were hiding beneath her clothes.

[member="Caid Centurion"]

 

[Caid Centurion]

Ordinarily, Caid made a statement one time. In [member="Scherezade deWinter"]'s case, he was willing to give her the family benefits package and ask one more time. "Trust me - just give me the box." Caid's stern expression didn't really clearly indicate one way or another whether or not he had any intent to destroy the liquor.

However, it did give a pretty clear indication that Caid was prepared to take what he wanted in the end of the day. Of course, he did not presume he would prevail in a struggle because he believed Scherezade weak. In fact, individuals that routinely abused alcohol tended to be remarkably composed when confronted. It was a natural chemical reaction in the brain to feel over-empowered when your inhibitions were lowered or removed. To an extent, that could be a good thing.

Today it would not.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Trust me.

Every fiber in her body and mind screamed at that request. No. She couldn't trust him. Not so fast, especially not when asked for it. Her heart bore the scars of what happened when she did, not just by a lover, but by a sister as well.

"I said no," she said in a near state of panic, though Caid would have to guess whether it was about the liquor or the trust. She sat the crate down on the ground and sat on it, folding her arms across her chest. Scherezade was a heavy girl compared to the standard one hundred pound little blondes that seemed to crowd the galaxy. It would probably not be enough to stop him. But even if it bought her a few more seconds...

[member="Caid Centurion"]

 

[Caid Centurion]

Caid abruptly stopped walking right after [member="Scherezade deWinter"] did the same. Slowly, the large Sith turned to face his smaller niece. For a moment or two, he allowed a thin smile to touch the dark features of his face. In that moment, he permitted himself a modicum of time to evaluate the woman.

As was the case with many things, this did not last very long. In fact Scherezade would have been better off holding on to the box. With a sudden, casual motion of his left index finger, the Sith Lord influenced the Force with enough strength to throw Scherezade's body at least several feet. She probably wouldn't be hurt, but Caid also didn't take great care to account for her comfort and safety. He figured she could handle that on her own.

Laughing softly, Caid clasped his hands behind his back. "I seriously was merely insisting I carry it." His mother certainly raised him better than to let any woman walk beside him with some huge box in her arms, especially family.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

She yelped as she flew backwards, her arms becoming undone, and only sheer instinct causing her to press her chin to her chest to keep her head safe. She landed... Far from gracefully, but without being harmed.

Emerald eyes glared at the man who had pushed her as she sat up, feeling a small pinch in her lower back from one of her knives. She ignored it.

"Then you could have offered instead of demanded," she told him, the anger all too palatable in her voice.

Scherezade pushed herself up and paused for breath as she waited for the world around her to stop spinning.

"I can carry the crate on my own," she finally said, looking at Caid again, "it's not as heavy as it looks."

[member="Caid Centurion"]

 

[Caid Centurion]

"I could have done many things, so your point is irrelevant." There it was - the cold, direct analysis that his father in many ways had been known for. One of many similarities. If nothing else, Caid like so many others was a perfect case study of nurture versus nature.

As Scherezade collected herself, the Sith Lord reached down and simply gathered the box, shifting it such that he held it casually underneath his left arm. "I did not think you incapable, you continue to miss the point." In truth, Caid's actions had a deeper purpose than some pathetically useless concept as chivalry. If he had deemed the girl incapable of shouldering the weight of her own actions or, say, opening her own door, he would have parted her company some time ago.

If she really wanted to carry the box, she would fight for it. Instead, thus far she simply appeared weak. There was no judgment, merely evaluation.

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

She'd met several family members so far. While with only one had a certain closeness grown, there could much be said for the rest. Cold. Calculating. Distant. But none of them was an outright butthole. None of them except Caid, it appeared. Something inside her head gnawed at her, trying to send her memories of how Cameron Centurion had been to some people some of the time, but Scherezade shoved it down as soon as the eyes flashed in her mind. She did not want that right now.

What she wanted right now was to get her crate back. She did not trust Caid to actually carry it, not after what he had just pulled, not with how he was talking down to her. For all she knew, once they got to where it was they were going, he was just going to keep it from her. And she couldn't have that happen. Never. Not while she was still broken. Because if she did not have her case with her once her current bottle ran out, everything would become so, so much wore.

Without a word, Scherezade gathers what she believed was a sufficient amount of Force, and called the crate to her. If Caid did not nothing, or nothing in time, it would be in her hands in a moment.

[member="Caid Centurion"]