Private Neon Streets

[Sophelia Ardemark]

His grip on her hand was enough for her to stop. That happiness stuttered. She might not be able to sense his emotions or him through the force. But body language and tone gave her hints to the widening distance between them.

She didn’t let go of his hand, though.

“I mean,” she faltered. “I’m learning. I’m a padawan.” Feet shifted uncomfortably. Feeling embarrassed. She knew she was behind the others. Part of that was
circumstances.

“Of course I am? What does that even mean?” Now she dropped his hand. Her own fingers coming to rest on her hips, over that blue gold gown as she stared him down. Stared up at his expressionless mask. Wavering between a mild steak of insecurity, curiosity, and ire. She didn’t step back, though.

“I don’t use one,” she groused. “Maybe we should talk more. Somewhere private.”

Isar du Vain

 

[Isar du Vain]

A padawan? Isar let out a hmm from under the mask, eyes going to where her hands settled on her hips defensively. Never a good sign.

The swirl of emotions around her grew tangled with streaks of red anger through the yellow of her nervousness in the aura surrounding her. That’s how Isar perceived the emotions. Mauve was naturally better at it because she didn’t have the Force to use instead. Also because she was usually trying to manipulate somebody.

“Trying to get me alone so you can use your Jedi tricks on me?”

The ‘Viscount’ crossed his arms in mock offense, then gestured with one hand toward her.

He tried not to let his own nervousness about the proximity of the guards leak into his voice. If they caught him here that would be the end of his days of crime, rotting away in a republic prison. Unless he could somehow break out.

But nobody ever broke out of Republic prisons…. Did they?

“Lead away.”

Sophelia Ardemark

 

[Sophelia Ardemark]

"Is," she looked around and lowered her voice in warning. "ar." She turned. "Follow me, Viscount." A mild huff. With her back turned, her expression waivered. She suddenly felt...unsure. Even after all they'd been through. Was this the thing that would....would what? End something she tried not to think about. Tried not to acknowledge.

That thing she'd felt when they'd just been dancing. Whenever she was near him. She lead him through a series of corridors and up a set of stairs that lead to living quarters. Multiple doors lined the halls. Waving her hand over the sensors of hers' and Jen's, she stepped inside her shared dorm room and ushered Isar to follow.

Before the door closed, she snatched a magnet in the shape of bright ruby lips and smacked it on the outside of the door. It was Jen's. And the universal sign to not disturb or enter. Soph had never used it before.

She turned to Isar, arms crossed beneath her chest as the door closed them into the room. "There. We shouldn't be disturbed now. Take off that stupid mask. I want to see your face for this conversation."

Isar du Vain

 

[Isar du Vain]

Lilac eyes stared back at her from behind the ivory and gold mask for a moment, then the mask swung toward the closed door, and back again.

Did she just...

The Zeltron chuckled softly, then reached up and slowly removed his mask with one hand to reveal angled features in a magenta hue, with a well-groomed dark purple mustache and stubble lining his jaw. Floral, fern tattoos crawled up from beneath his collar along the sides of his neck. His other hand raked through wine-dark hair of the same shade, streaked through with shots of red. He tilted up his chin and stared down his nose at the blonde Jedi.

"Hello, love. Surprised to see me?" His lips curved rakishly at one corner of his mouth.

"I guess I should admit that I am not a viscount at all," he pretended to mope, "no white speeder to sweep you off into either. Fresh out of those."

Looking around the room, Isar set the mask down on a desk and started to peruse her belongings. "I thought Jedi couldn't keep personal items."

Isar began rifling through her drawers without so much as a by-your-leave, walking to her nightstand and pulling it open and glancing at the contents. He raised an eyebrow, looked at her, then looked back.

"Guess it gets lonely being a Jedi..."

Sophelia Ardemark

 

[Sophelia Ardemark]

As his mask came off the sight of that familiar face with those angles and lines. That stubble. Even that mustache and stubble did something to her. Her teeth ground, annoyed at her own emotions.

"Hmm," she countered and looked at her nails idly. "You know me so well if you think a white speeder does it for me." Voice was drier than the air on Mygeeto.

"Guess it gets lonely being a Jedi..."

A golden brow lofted at his own. Hand falling back down to her side. One firmly on her hip. Fingers digging into the blue-gold fabric of the designer dress. A non-committal one shoulder shrug at his smug face. A slide to the right as she placed herself firmly in front of her closet. LIke a sentinel. "I see you've come to spy on me and not just my friends and classmates. Perhaps I was wise not to tell you about all this sooner. No?"

She flicked her fingers and that dresser drawer closed firmly shut with the force.

A challenging look in those bright blue eyes to the zeltron.

Isar du Vain

 

[Isar du Vain]

"Maybe."

The Zeltron crossed the distance between them with the slow, idle gait of a bored nexu until he came to a stop right in front of her.

"What-"

His eyes drifted toward the top of the dresser and his brow furrowed suddenly. Fingers snatched up a photograph and Isar stared at it dumbfounded. It was a scandalous picture of the King of Naboo, Aurelian Veruna, with what appeared to be his signature on it.

"The hells?"

Isar waved the photograph under her nose.

"What's this, hmm? You sure you're not the one surveilling me?"

The Zeltron rested one gloved hand on the dresser beside her as he leaned in so close he could catch the sea spray and coconut scent lingering on her skin.

"Getting close to the underworld. Close as you can."

A violet gaze delved into her pools of azure. Their noses nearly brushed. Just a heartbeat separated them.

"Have you been a good little Jedi spy, Sophelia Ardemark?"

Sophelia Ardemark

 

[Sophelia Ardemark]

Isar du Vain

“Wha-“ she thought she’d buried that picture in the bottom of the closet she was standing in front of. Jen must’ve dug it out recently just to torture her. She made a grab for it when he waved it in front of her nose. She felt embarrassment flicker in her core but not for the reason he thought it was.

Missed.

Now she seethed. Blues narrowed even as that scent she’d come to love curled into her nose. All around her. Caging her in. She could feel the heat from his body as he stood this close. She forced her eyes to keep locked with his own even thought they wanted to wander lower.

That closet door was at her back. Not that she would give him an inch anyway. “You do not get to do that.”

Finger lifted. A single digit pointed and jabbed firmly into that well coiffed chest of his. Stabbing into that muscle beneath.

Words thrown into his face. So close to his mouth. “You do not get to throw accusations against me without being accountable to yourself. Are you mad at me?”

Irises flared.

“Fine. Then be mad at me. Do not throw ludicrous things out there when you and I both know I’d be the worst spy in Jedi history.”

Nar Shadda point and case. Same with the Tapani prison break.

 

[Isar du Vain]

“Mad at you?”

Isar felt the prod against his chest, along with the emotions swirling around her - a tangled, complicated mess of reds and blues and purples.

Slowly, Isar took off one glove, then another and pushed them into a pocket at his hip.

“Why, love?”

He shrugged a shoulder.

“Course you’re not just a noble, you’re a Jedi noble.”

Didn’t she see how wide the chasm was between his life and hers?

“I should have known. The Jedi part. In fact, I think I did know. But I didn’t want to spoil the fun, yeah?”

Violet eyes stared at her, not backing down. In their depths there was no rage or flicker of anger. Something else. Something that drug him toward her like the gravitational pull of a star.

“I don’t think you’re a spy. I think…”

Red-purple brows furrowed, magenta skin creasing.

“You’re just tryin to do the right thing in a karked up galaxy.”

A smile curved the corner of his mouth again.

“So why am I here, Soph? I’m the opposite of right.”

Sophelia Ardemark

 

[Sophelia Ardemark]

Isar du Vain

Chest rose and fell. Then she realized what he’d done. He’d needled and prodded her. Teased and pressed those buttons he so easily found on her. And for what?

Just to get her worked up?

Fingers uncurled. That hand that had been poking him lifted in a flash as she’d go to slap him, across that magenta stubbled face.

“Spoil the fun? That’s all this is to you?”

Chest heaved. As she said it out loud. Acknowledged it. A part of it. Voice caught in her throat. But she never looked down. Never looked away. Didn’t give one inch. One ounce.

“If you keep believing that you’re the opposite of right. Then you can leave. Right. Now. Because you’ve already shown me you’re more than that. And that’s who…,”
She took another breath. A breath into vulnerability.

“That’s who I care about. Who I…keep thinking about.”

 

[Isar du Vain]

The slap cracked across his cheek, jerking Isar’s face to the side and stinging. Heat flushed his skin a darker shade of red. He turned back to her as she kept talking and a flash of something dangerous snarled behind Isar’s ultraviolet eyes.

“You think you know me?” He began, voice a low rasp.

But then he felt the rush of her emotions, of how she felt about him. And Isar tried to think who knew him better than her, of who would show up to stop him from jumping off a roof, or help nurse him back to health instead of abandoning him in the snow. With a tremble that started in his chest and resounded through his whole being, Isar realized the truth… and it terrified him.

Nostrils flared as breath sawed in and out of his lungs. He should say it again, tell her he was no good for her. Make her kick him out. He shouldn’t ever see her again. But as he stared down into her face, with those blue eyes swimming with emotion, he knew that was impossible. He could not.

Isar was an addict.

The Zeltron’s left hand came up, fingers threading into the back of her hair, gripping a fistful of beaten gold tresses that felt like silk in his hand close to the back of her head and then Isar crushed his lips into hers. Isar’s other hand came up, gripping her waist, pulling her closer even as he pressed her back into the closet behind her. His eyes shut, the world spinning as all he could think about and feel and need in this moment was more of her. More. More.

Sophelia Ardemark

 

[Sophelia Ardemark]

“You think you know me?” He began, voice a low rasp.

A ripple of hurt crossed her expression.

But then he was closing the distance. She knew it was only a matter of time. That thing building between them since the Swoop Bike races. The attraction had always been there. Things along the way only stoked the fire ready to build and detonate. There were plenty of sparks.

Lips easily found his. And a moment of surprise as a hint of sweetness was felt along her mouth's edge. Her back pressed against the hard, unrelenting wall behind her even as her front was drawn nearly flush with his own. Soft curves pressing into hard planes and contours. Mouth still crushed against his own - fitting almost too perfectly. The hand that throbbed from hitting his cheek lifted to his shoulder, fingers smoothing upward along the side and then back of his neck.

Her other hand tugging and threading into the base of his Viscount jacket, along his side. Gripping, pulling. There were too many layers.

But she couldn't think as her lips explored his own. She didn't care about breathing. About oxygen. As she deepend that kiss significantly. Knee hitched up but got stuck within the folds of her blue gown. An exasperated grunt left the base of her throat.

Isar du Vain

 

[Isar du Vain]

"Soph."

The word came out broken and breathless amid a kiss that went on after. A sigh. A vocalization of a desperate need burning deep within his core.

Far too much fabric separated him from her. Fingers fisted in her hair, pulling her head to the side as his lips and teeth and tongue traveled from her mouth to her cheek before finally stopping at her neck.

Whiskers and stubble scraped against her while he tasted the salt on her skin. Biting, then soothing it away.

His other hand came up, feverishly working at the fastenings of her dress.

Inside his chest, Isar's heart slammed against his ribs. He wished for more of her. All of her. Every piece of her. The way they'd been on the dance floor on Nar Shaddaa, with their minds completely intertwined in the Force. An entanglement that he felt even in his dreams. A high he was always chasing.

"I need you," he murmured against her neck. A dark confession. "I've always needed you."

Sophelia Ardemark