Private Mirrors, but No Smoke

[Corazona von Ascania]

The silence here was uncomfortable. Then again, there wasn't much comforting about a maximum security prison.

A long stretch of quiet reigned between Cora and the security droid as her credentials were inspected with - what she imagined to be - a heavy dose of mechanized scrutiny.

Mauve du Vain.

Whispers of her capture had sent an unpleasant shiver trawling up through her spine. Slow and languid, the same way the Force had moved around Isar.

It wasn't Mauve that had caught her attention. It was du Vain.

Without so much as a synthesized affirmation, the KX droid turned on its servo-driven heel joint, and padded down the hall. Cora stood still for a few moments, then followed after the heavy clunk of durasteel feet on a durasteel floor.

Most Jedi didn't have access to Theed's maximum security facilities, at least not readily. After some prodding, Aurelian Veruna had confirmed the rumor of Mauve's capture and arranged for the visit, clearanced as medical personnel.

One who didn’t bring bacta.

Mauve du Vain

 

[Mauve du Vain]

Half-lidded eyes came fully open at the approach of a visitor.

Mauve still lay in the intensive care unit of the Theed prison complex, which might have been nice but for the stun cuff locking her to the bed and the giant gaping hole in her stomach from where Arris shot her.

A droid admitted Corazona von Ascania into the room, then promptly left. Mauve raised an eyebrow. In a hospital gown and half-dead, she figured she cut quite the picture. Her purple hair was a mess, her face devoid of any makeup or lipstick, and the hospital gown didn’t exactly scream haute couture.

The blonde in front of her was pretty and regal and everything Mauve was not.

Mauve swallowed and in a weak voice said, “don’t remember asking for a nurse…”

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora tilted her head forward, just slightly, in what could be called a minor gesture of acknowledgment.

"Pardon the intrusion, then."

Her voice was soft, even, and steady. Yet there was something unreadable behind those eyes as she stepped forward and gazed down at Mauve. Zeltron. The same pink skin, the same shade of deep ash-violet hair. Even withered, Mauve was as alluring in the same way that a sweet poison was.

Somehow, Cora had hoped that she wouldn't look like him.

The blonde stepped away, rolled up her sleeves, and reached for the box of disposable gloves.

"I've come to check on your wound, if you don't mind."

Mauve du Vain

 

[Mauve du Vain]

Eyes full of suspicion narrowed, but Mauve eventually gave a one-shouldered shrug - immediately regretting it. She winced, lips pursing together and eyes shimmering with unshed tears as a fresh wave of pain rolled over her.

"Fine, I guess," she said tightly, wary of crying again, especially in front of this random woman.

"You don't look like a nurse," Mauve said at last, then realized she didn't know exactly what a nurse was supposed to look like. She just knew the way royalty carried themselves. And the emotions bleeding off this woman they weren't... nurse-ish. "Who are you?"

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora ignored Mauve's question. She approached slowly, carefully pulling up the woman's gown to her ribs before settling a towel across her lap for modesty's sake. Gloved hands gently peeled back layers of bandages stained dark brown and amber from dried blood and antiseptic.

"A healer," she finally supplied as the last layer of gauze came away. The blonde tsked, perhaps sounding a little more genuinely sympathetic than she'd wanted to at the sight of stitches pulled taut around red, swollen flesh.

"Goodness. That looks like it hurts."

Cora's gaze slid like slowly drifting smoke, up the woman's body until it settled onto Mauve's teary face.

"Du Vain," she repeated softly, almost to herself. "An uncommon family name. Do you know an Isar du Vain?"

Mauve du Vain

 

[Mauve du Vain]

"A-ah," she gasped as the layers peeled away and pain stabbed through her. Unshed tears shimmered in her eyes.

Would they start torturing her now?

She sniffled pathetically.

"Isar?"

Mauve's eyes winnowed to slits and she would have rubbed at her eyes if she'd the use of both hands. Instead she bat her lashes, stubbornly resisting the urge to burst into tears at the pain. Droplets clung to her eyelashes. She thought about lying to protect the mongrel, but then again he'd done little for her over the years. More of a leeching nuisance, all things considered.

"He's a cousin ... why?"

A flashback to another meeting fluttered in her mind and she stirred, grimacing, "You're not a scorned lover are you?"

That would be just her luck, suddenly in the care of some jilted floozie.

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

As Mauve whimpered, Cora hushed her, soft and gentle as a mother would. Given their surroundings, it had the effect of sounding sinister where she had intended for it to be comforting.

One finely manicured blond eyebrow arched.

"Scorned, perhaps."

Lover…? Was he even capable?

Cora was slow to shake her head, palpating gently around the swollen wound. This woman was a prisoner, but Ashla, her fear and pain stirred the blonde's empathy.

"I'd like to know where he is."

Ordinarily, this might be the time where a threat would be levied. Cora did not have one prepared. Her hand came to rest on the flat of Mauve's abdomen, near her hip bone and away from the immediate tenderness of her gnarly wound. "On a scale of one to ten – how much pain are you in?"

Mauve du Vain

 

[Mauve du Vain]

“ow,” she gasped, looking up angrily at the woman.

“Are you trying to torture it out of me?”

But what was the point, Mauve didn’t want to be tortured and she didn’t care if this woman knew about Isar.

“Fine,” she scowled, eyes wet, “He is on Nar Shaddaa. Not in New Vertica. The red light sector. Why do you care?”

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Guilt suddenly hung over her like a shadow - Cora had no intent to torture the woman, but asking such a loaded question while Mauve was injured and handcuffed to a cot was some form of psychological torment in and of itself.

Maybe this would've been a little easier if Cora could admit to herself that she was exploiting Mauve's vulnerable position. Her stomach flipped, and she imagined it was the child inside of her protesting.

"The red light sector," she clicked her tongue. "Of course."

Cora's hand didn't move, but Mauve would feel the heat of her wound begin to cool. It took away the sharp edge from the pain .

"He hurt me," she murmured. Then, her eyes flicked up to Mauve's face, still pretty even without cosmetic refinement. "Don't worry, I'm not here to take it out on you."

The truth was, Cora would've helped her wound to heal even without the information.

Mauve du Vain