Private Neon Streets

[Sophelia Ardemark]

The beat echoed deep in her core. Pulse by pulse, all her duties began slipping away, like the sweat that curled down her body. Her responsibilities. Her fears. Her anger at Isar. Bits of her grief.

Not all of it.

Much remained but a part of it washed away. Even momentarily. Stars, she loved the feel of him. Her body moved with his. Fit against his too well. Her own hands wandered. Even as his glided across her skin - setting off her nerves like little sparks that threatened to ignite. She didn't care anymore that he'd ghosted her. That he might do it again even as she tried not to think about that.

Because he was alive.

He was here.

The worst hadn't happened.

The consequences were her feelings and that seemed like a small price to pay.

A shiver as he brushed her mind. The smell of lavender almost intoxicating as they continued to dance. Feeling one with the mass of moving bodies. Moving souls. That feeling almost knocked her over. She'd never felt emotions like this through the force. With that intensity and vigor. Back arched against Isar. His back against hers once more. her fingers digging into one of his arms as her head turned. Nose burying into the warm skin of his cheek. That rough stubble of his skin. Eyes partially lidded.

Is this what you always feel? ...how do you handle it?

It was overwhelming to Soph. And for a moment, she wondered if this was what it felt like to be strung out on spice. But she caught a snippet of something. Something coming from Isar. It was a harmony to the note that strung through her. A feeling matching a feeling. Surprise echoed through her and she turned against him. Fingers threading behind the back of his neck. Her eyes opening further in the din as she stared up at him. The bump of the front of her body against his own.

I thought you didn't want me around.

 

[Isar du Vain]

"I lied."

Her touch around his neck, her eyes staring up at him, the feel of her body pressed against his. Heedless of the heat and the sweat. Craving it. Craving the closeness. The lights flickered faster for a moment, psychedelic and blinding. The emotions of the crowd surged through him in a sudden spike, nearly overwhelming him and carrying him along in a sea of dopamine.

"I want you here."

A hissing came through his mind as his body responded to her touch, blood rushing and pooling. Stiffening. Pressing. Grinding. His roving hand behind her reacted. Magenta fingers in the dim light moved down the divot of her spine and lower still, tightening and testing their grip against the shape of her. Hating the fabric that stood between fingertip and skin. An overload of oxytocin dumped through his system.

"Need you here."

His nose brushed hers, their lips a breath apart. Close. Too close. He couldn't. His nose dipped past hers to nuzzle into her ear and neck. His other hand framed her ribcage.

"Because when I don't have this..."

A knee slid between the heat of her thighs as they moved. And he pulled her along it, their bodies moving in sequence.

"I'm not really living."

When he didn't have it... he was numb.

Sophelia Ardemark

 

[Sophelia Ardemark]

A small frown slid onto her lips at the last bit he said. There wasn’t something right about it. And she sensed a larger darkness. No, void just beyond their mutual attraction. Their mutual desire.

Mind didn’t stay there long as they moved together. Any other time, she might’ve been a little more cautious about public displays of affection. She’d been raised with a lense always trained on her. A certain expectation of how to act to not get in the tabloids. It was one of the reasons she’d loved racing so much. Because there she could just be Soph. And not Sophelia Ardemark. Second in line to Pelagia.

The friction grew. A delicious heady thing. A small moan escaped the base of her throat, working past her lips as she was pushed higher toward the crest of the wave. About to shatter. The sound only heard and felt by Isar before the best of the bass swallowed it up.

Her hands moved to glide down his shoulders. Below the pecks of his chest as they dipped beneath the fabric is his shirt. Sliding along upper ribs and curling into his back. Nails scraping as heat continued to pool below her naval.

She wavered between trying to maintain control and letting everything go. Wasn’t that what tonight was about. Letting it all go? Fingers dug in further as he moved beneath her. Heart quickened. And then she was there. Shattering. Knowing she would never be able to be put herself back together the same way. Head dipped forward, face dipping into the crook of his neck. Teeth lightly scraping even as her limbs felt like liquid reactor.

Don’t lie to me again.

She didn’t know if it was a plea or command. Maybe a little of both.

Isar du Vain

 

[Isar du Vain]

Emotions roiled through him, beamed straight into his mind by their open connection between each other in the Force. His own feelings and sensations merged with hers and he felt a momentary loss of identity at the endorphin rush from her at the peak just before the dive off the precipice.

The pressure of her thighs on his knee, the cry from throat, the feel of her hands on his back, nails dragging: all these physical stimuli blended with the overwhelming wave of desire and hunger and a need to be wanted until it almost carried Isar’s mind away, lost beneath the surge.

Thighs tightened, then became like liquid.

Shattered.

She leaned heavily against him, teeth gently gnawing at his neck.

Shh. No promises, love.

Isar danced more slowly with her. Gentle. Almost tender. A hand found hers, pulling it from his back, guiding it along the plane of his chest, skimming across the half unbuttoned, shimmering shirt, then lower. To press. To feel. To touch and examine firmness through fabric. To trace the outline.

To see how his lies came undone.

How often did you wear the sweater?

He wanted to know, needed to know, how she felt. How she dreamed. How she wondered the way he wondered.

What it would be like?

How it would feel?

“How did you do this… It’s like my blood’s on fire.”

And whether if afterward he would be able to dream again without it being of her…

Sophelia Ardemark

 

[Sophelia Ardemark]

She pressed her tongue lightly against his neck. Tasting a hint of smoke and lavender and salt. Before her head lifted. To capture those lilac eyes as they swayed. Lights throbbing.

A small roll of her eyes even as he made her no promises.

Her hand moved. Exploring. Teasing.

Never.

A quiet huff of breath against him. He’d sense the lie.

Me? I blame you for everything.

A drag and a squeeze. Full intentions of making him fall from a height as high as she just had. A rare, mischievous smile on her face. As she felt all the things he did through their mental link.

She continued.

Even as she got a glimpse of what he tried to hide. Head tipped back, looking at the flashing lights above them. As she pushed him over that edge. And for a moment, she felt as if it was her shattering all over again.

They danced all night.

Until past last call. When the wane light of early morning filtered into the club windows. Most were gone. Some bodies passed out. She leaned against him. Her muscles sore in a good way as they tumbled into a cab and went back toward his place. She was going to pass out in that big bed of his this time.

 

[Isar du Vain]

After she detonated his mind, and body along with it, the rest of the night seemed to slink by in a haze. It was late when they finally they left, the place shutting down. He had a brief thought to try to get her to a spaceport and off planet, but it was too late for all that now. She’d be stuck here for the night.

He held her close to him the whole ride back, unable to stop himself from craving the touch of her warmth against him. And then, before he knew it, they were walking back into his penthouse. As if it was that night all over again, except it wasn’t. There were no wounds to recover. No tears to dry.

It felt strange. Like Isar did not belong in that life. Something would go wrong. Any moment now. Somehow. Because he always found a way to ruin it.

“You can stay here… Soph?”

Sophelia Ardemark

 

[Sophelia Ardemark]

She remembered enough to grab her stashed bag. Absolutely no sheepish look given to Isar. Or explanation. Chin held high. She disappeared into his bedroom and quickly tugged on a pair of sweats, stripping out of those club clothes.

It was his sweater.

Her own pants.

Without waiting for Isar or his permission, she collapsed onto his bed. Across the entire length of it. Eyes closed and she fell asleep.

“Hmm?” A small grunt as she thought she heard her name before exhaustion pulled her under. A cocoon of lavender surrounded her.

 

[Isar du Vain]

The Zeltron stood over the bed, wearing a frown. She wore his sweater. It should have made him feel. Feel something.

Isar moved to the sanisteam. As the water poured over him, cleansing him, he tried to stop the slow tilt toward the drop. The euphoria of the club was fading. Along with the buzz of the alcohol and the high from the spice. And in its place he felt… hollow.

Pulling on a dark shirt and pants, Isar moved barefoot toward the kitchen and grabbed a glass of brandy, paused before a tray of death sticks, then grabbed one of those too.

He headed to the roof.

Sitting on the edge, he could see clear off the side of the tower. The drop must have been over two thousand stories. He wondered how long he might fall for…

Alone with his thoughts, with his ghosts, they stirred around him. Creeping into the back of his mind. Reminding him of what he had done.

Isar took a drag on the death stick, but it didn’t seem to fully quiet the voices this time. His hand shook a little with a tremor. He breathed out through the nose, exhaling smoke.

An ache grew as the hollowness inside him expanded, collapsing his foundations. If he stuck around he would be no good for her. No good for anyone. She would die because of him, or he would hurt her. Or… she would hurt him.

Isar was so tired of it all.

He leaned over and looked down at the ground again, getting to his feet.

Maybe he would feel weightless. And then nothing.

Maybe he would not feel the pain when he hit the ground.

Maybe… maybe it would all be over then.

Sophelia Ardemark

 

[Sophelia Ardemark]

The hollowness woke her. Despair. Hauntingly similar to what she’d felt those weeks after Tapani. Months after. Lifting her head, she frowned as she looked in the darkness.

“Isar?” Groggy voice called out.

The answering silence was loud.

Standing, Soph began to realize those feelings weren’t her own. That mental connection she shared with the Black Sun criminal felt taught. Fraying. The emotions slamming into her from him. And again, she wondered how he did it everyday. Even when he’d shared what he felt at the club, it had been too much for her.

Overwhelming.

She’d have to talk to the masters about better mental shielding when she returned. Silently following that link, her feet padded softly out of the penthouse and up.

Up. Up.

Until she was standing outside. A light breeze of Nar Shadda snagging at her hair and clothes. The city noises were muted from way up here. It would’ve been calming. Almost nice save for the view.

Red-streaked magenta hair lifting in the breeze. And for a moment, she saw the other boy with red hair.

“Isar,” blues widened at the zeltron standing on the edge of the roof. Feet hurried forward. What was he doing?? Was he strung out? Drunk? Scaring her on purpose?

“Hey. Why don’t you come inside with me?” She took another step closer and another.

 

[Isar du Vain]

He did not turn to face her, because he had almost convinced himself. And if he turned around and looked into those baby blues he knew he would be drawn back into the light and warmth and goodness of her. He did not deserve that. And she did not deserve to have someone like him dragging her down with him.

“You’ll just drown,” he said into the wind, finishing his own thoughts aloud. “Just let me go. If I stay… you’ll just drown with me in all of this.”

Isar gestured out with his glass, indicating the sprawling skyline of Nar Shaddaa below and all around them. All the mess of emotions swirling up from the crowded streets. So much suffering and misery that it almost overwhelmed him just to sit here and feel it all. And all he ever did was make it worse.

From the little he knew of her, Soph was brash and overconfident, but also brave, resilient, and unflinching in the face of danger. And above all she was kind and good in a galaxy full of withered hearts like his.

“You don’t know me, Soph. You don’t know the things that I’ve done,” a tightness came into his voice, constricting his throat. His eyes shimmered, dark lilac, stung by the wind. “You wouldn’t be here if you knew.”

Sophelia Ardemark

 

[Sophelia Ardemark]

She froze. Trying to get a hold of the panic that threatened to roar up inside her chest as he made his intentions very clear. She looked around as if...as if what? She might flag down some security droid. Or fire brigade. Someone who was better equipped to handle this situation than her.

But it was only her and Isar up here.

Jaw clenched. She was not going to let him fall. No matter what. Even as her heart began to quicken and thump in her chest. Nerves and fear clawing at her skin. For the first time, she shielded their connection so he wouldn't feel her panic.

"I know you as Prince in the first race where I met you. You could've thrown me off your bike when I got on. But you didn't."

She took another step closer and another. Just a few more and she'd be able to reach out and grab him.

"I know you as the racer who jumped off his own bike to save me in our second race. Who defended me against the Seraphs. Who helped me get off planet after."

A step closer.

"I know you as the guy who didn't hesitate to help me when I asked. Who held me when I...needed it the most. I think you care more than you let on."

She was almost there. Another step. Fingers itched to reach out. To lunge out.

"What do you want to tell me? I'm right here. Look at me."

Isar du Vain

 

[Isar du Vain]

His shoulders slumped and shuddered as the emotions reeled out of him in a mass, spinning like a whirlpool.

"I... can't."

All of that stuff she just said did not matter. He would just find a way to ruin everything. It was like having a black thumb, but for life. Everything withered and died around him. Except him.

He could change that.

Just one small step off and he could fix it all.

The wind stung his eyes.

But he felt the pull of her presence, dragging at him like the rush of that first hit of spice. And he turned around, because he could not help himself. Not with her. Not ever with her.

His pale violet eyes shimmered with a sadness that went down straight into his bones, etched into his marrow, and through a throat constricted by emotion he rasped.

"Maybe I just did all that because I thought you were hot."

Sophelia Ardemark

 

[Sophelia Ardemark]

Isar's sorrow and anguish churned like the waves in the deep Tapani's sea. And for the briefest of moments, she felt like she was back there again. Not on Tapani. After. After their fleeing ships had finally been given amnesty by the King of Naboo. After she and the other few survivors had gotten off those battered ships and stepped foot on Naboo soil for the first time. That overwhelming sense of being untethered. Lost. Wanting the pain to stop.

Of wanting everything to end.

For the flicker of a span of a second she could see herself stepping onto that ledge with him. Taking his hand. And jumping.

Her shield remained firmly in place so he wouldn't sense or feel any of that.

She never looked away from those misery-filled lilac eyes. Soph took a breath, as if it was painful to give her lungs air. "Isar," the corner of her lips barely lifted at his response. "You didn't even know what I looked like. Do you really believe that?" She closed the distance, arms would go to loop around him. Fingers clamping tightly around her own wrist against his back as she went to cage him in.

"Please," she looked up at him. The wind making loose ends of hair hair fly in the neon-lit air. Whipping around them. "I can't...lose anyone else."

 

[Isar du Vain]

Those thin arms closed around Isar and for a moment he resisted.

It was the way she said 'please' that broke him. And when he turned and looked into those azure depths all his resolve crumbled away. Isar collapsed into her, his own arms wrapping around her even as his knees went out beneath him, shaking so badly that he had to sit down. Isar sat there for a moment, holding her tight against him, closing his eyes so that he could focus only on her warmth, grounding him. The whiskey glass stood forgotten on the ledge beside them, the death stick beside it trailing a gentle wisp of flame from the still lit end.

Isar's nose pressed into the top of Soph's head as his eyes screwed shut and he focused just on breathing.

Tapani... she'd said something about Tapani. Isar's thoughts swam but through the haze he recollected the stories that had come out of there. Genocide. Massacres. Sith.

His jaw clenched and he held her tighter.

"Don't you worry about me, love," he rasped, lips against strands of her blond hair, "Don't you know I'm indestructible?"

Sophelia Ardemark

 

[Sophelia Ardemark]

She teetered as he collapsed, though her grip didn't loosen around him. She tried to control his fall for the both of them, sitting hardly on the duracreet rooftop. Still a little too close to that ledge for her preference. But she wasn't about to draw his attention that way again.

"I know you're full of bantha poodoo," a grumble against him. Her shield lowered. He'd feel it was too late. She was worried. A mild disgruntlement at him trying to tell her what to do. Again. But also something deeper. She was no stranger to loss. Grief. Pain. His may be different from hers. But the dance partner was similar.

She wanted him to know. To feel - he wasn't alone. She held him, head resting against him. His warmth and scent enveloping her beyond the clothing she wore. The sounds of the unsleeping city below were far away. Her own heart began to steady - its wild fluttered panic from earlier quieting down. And she just sat there with Isar. Leaving space for silence. For talking if he wanted to.

Just to be.

Even as her thoughts churned. A quiet, guarded space. Maybe there was something that could help him. Maybe there was something she could find. Later. Everything later. For now, this would have to be enough.

 

[Isar du Vain]

They sat together on the roof, staring out at the city sprawling below and stretching all around: an endless sea of neon. Isar leaned into her, feeling the warmth of her, the smell of her hair, the presence she carried in the Force. The senses and emotions she felt washed over him, even the sadness. Especially that.

And as it poured into him and melded with his own self-centered wallowing, the hollowness disappeared. Filled up by melancholy. But better to feel loss than to feel nothing at all.

The Zeltron picked up his deathstick again.

“Who did you lose?”

Sophelia Ardemark

 

[Sophelia Ardemark]

Her worry for Isar didn't go away. It lingered in the background. Even as the breeze from sitting on that rooftop cool against her heated skin. Blue snagged on the deathstick in his hand. Expression unreadable as her gaze shifted outward. She took a breath, lips parted to answer his question. But the sudden surge of an angry, raw wound with a gaping maw she couldn't see the bottom to clutched around her chest. Lips pressed thinly together.

Absently, her fingers tightened against Isar for a brief moment before loosening.

"Too many." She took a shuddered breath. Stepped away from that grief that always threatened to suck her under. "More than anyone has a right to lose." She wasn't ready to talk about specifics. To name names. And for a moment, she felt shame. They should be spoken aloud. Remembered.

"I'll tell you more about them sometime. I want to. Just, not tonight." Voice whispered the last part as she looked at him. "You've lost people before?"

 

[Isar du Vain]

The emotions drifting from her became a whirlpool that almost pulled him into a cavern of despair along with her until he felt the sudden sense of resolve from her. She had the courage to step back from a precipice all on her own. Isar sniffed.

Lost people?

Him?

"Yeah..." he looked away, eyes tracing the lights of a nearby tower, unable to look down at her and meet her eyes. Guilt ripped through him. "Something like that."

Except that answer did not seem fair to her. She believed in him, or saw something in him that made her keep coming back. What she possibly saw, Isar did not know.

"I..." Isar inhaled sharply, then exhaled a lungful of smoke and swallowed, "I told you. I'm not a good guy, Soph."

Holding out his forearm facing up, he let her look at the tattoo there: a black sun.

"My job isn't just racing speeders, love." Cold, violet eyes regarded her. The eyes of a killer.

Sophelia Ardemark

 

[Sophelia Ardemark]

Fingers lifted and lightly traced the lines of that black sun ink. Before dropping to her lap. She held onto his gaze. Not afraid. Resolute.

"I know," she said. Then looked away. Back to that skyline. She knew anyone in that world was something else. It was funny. Isar knew the part of her that she hid from everyone else. He didn't know the part of her that everyone else knew.

"I saw your tattoo earlier. The way the others knew you at the club. How you," she swallowed and looked down. "handled things." She didn't look at him because she was ashamed about herself. Not how he'd acted. Taking a breath, her face panned back to him. Blues clashing with lilac. "I'm not afraid of you, Isar. Do you want me to be?"

 

[Isar du Vain]

A long moment passed in which Isar fought his better judgment. Except, he didn’t have any. So it wasn’t much of a fight. Just a brief second where he knew the best thing to do for her would be to tell her yes, she should be afraid and that she should just leave.

Meeting the intensity of those azure pools felt like too much. They saw through him, into his heart, and somehow did not turn away from what lay inside.

Isar couldn’t keep looking back. He closed his eyes and flicked his cigarette off the balcony.

“No.”

He knew she had her own secrets. And he didn’t care that she kept them. Maybe she would tell him eventually, but Isar wasn’t the prying type. Too many skeletons in his own closets to go looking for someone else’s.

Pulling her close, he watched the first rays of dawn split the darkness in a soft and growing glow of pinks and oranges that splintered and reflected off the towers all around them.

Sophelia Ardemark