Private New Beginnings

[Kyyrk]

Kyyrk had been quiet. Much quieter than normal. Since the fateful battle a day ago, he'd hardly spoken a word. Of course, he hadn't been awake for much of it. After his crash-landing in the cargo hold of the Archon, Kyyrk had been quickly whisked away to the medical suite. His wounds were not grievous, but they were numerous. Once Kyyrk was safe, and he had a moment to breathe, he realized just how much everything....hurt. His helmet had been destroyed, his armor in tatters. But by and large it had done its job. Kyyrk was still alive. And that's what mattered. Gripped tight to him was a shattered blade. The crystal within was unharmed, but the weapon had been rendered inert after the casing shattered.

Kyyrk lost consciousness shortly before he was immersed in the Kolto tank. His thoughts were not his own for a time after. Fading in and out of reality. There was something...no, someone, waiting for him outside the tank. In the rare moments of lucidity, he could perceive yelling. Then a simmering anxiety. Whoever waited outside the tank was not happy he was in there. The next flash of lucidity revealed his hand resting against the inner wall of the tank, the figure outside resting her palm upon the same spot from the outside. Kyyrk could not explain why, but her presence comforted him. It calmed the anxiety that usually came with being stripped to his underthings and shoved into a tube. The tapestry of scars across the man's muscled torso was on full display, his left arm ending in the stump after his elbow. His mechanical limb had been removed. In spite of the obvious signs of damage all across the man's body, new and old, he did not seem broken in the slightest. Each told a story of the caliber of warrior which slowly succumbed to sleep within the kolto tank...

And as he slept, the dreams took hold. A twisted amalgamation of what had been. Of what once was. He dreamed of his wife, desperately clinging to him, overjoyed at his return. Only for her joy to turn to horror as he was struck down. The Refuge, he realized now, was not a prison, but a hiding place. His dreams shifted to the horror that he had witnessed not hours before. He stood before a being of immense power. He knew this was his fate. To protect the galaxy from this...thing. Yet, as he stood before the Unmaker, he was powerless to stop it. He had sealed the being away, but for how long? What more half-measures could one man throw at a being of infinite power? He had to get back. He had to warn Gerwald. He had to warn Isley. But before he could, the being had taken him. It was...unmaking him. Kyyrk could feel his very soul writhing and dissolving before the might of the creature.

It was then that he started awake. The dreams vanished back to the realm of sleep, and Kyyrk took stock of his surroundings. unsurprisingly, he was confined to a medical chamber, but what HAD been surprising to him was the presence of the being in the bed with him. Alessandra Creed had curled up next to him, and Kyyrk realized that she had been the one hovering over him these past hours. Convincing her to allow him a moments peace to collect himself was not an easy task, but eventually it was agreed that he would dress himself, and check out of medbay, and come find her soon as he'd been informed of the extent of his injuries. Most had healed nicely, but he still bore a few bandages.

Within the hour of the two splitting up, Kyyrk arrived at the Minster's quarters. Because of her station, she'd been granted one of the VIP suites near the command bridge. Kyyrk, on the other hand, had been assigned a bunk in the crew quarters. Not that he needed more. But it did serve as a stark reminder of the difference between their stations. He paused outside her room, reaching up to press the chime on the control panel to signal his arrival. He was clad in a simple robe, his hair hanging loose around his head. In his arms were two boxes, packed meals from the ship's galley. Their destination was yet unknown, but the confederate remnant was traveling as a fleet. Kyyrk was sure that Isley had a plan. If he even survived. But Alessandra had, and she was his only concern tonight. As the door opened, Kyyrk smiled, holding the boxes up. "In my defense, the line was long." He HAD told the woman that he would be traveling straight to her after he was discharged...He'd NOT told her he intended to bring food. For all he knew, she'd just eaten. But frankly, he was alright with that. All he knew was that he was starving...

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Tag: Kyyrk

He'd been locked in that damnable tank for hours.

Hours. ​

Her hand burned while it pressed against what should have been the sterile side of the bacta tank. When some poor soul had been trapped within its depths some of the solutions must have sloshed over. Misted. The air felt thick, in the infirmary. But only for her. So severe was her allergy that her eyes stung and the skin across her cheekbones felt tight. Stretched too thin. He was alive.

That was more than could be said for some. At least one of the Exarch's hadn't been seen or heard from since the incursion began. Presumably, buried alive. That was as optimistic as she could get. The alternative was unthinkable. The fall of everything they had come to know for the last decade was just as terrifying—But here they were. Here, it was.

Alessandra neared the bacta tank and let it burn. She was of no use in this fight. None.

"You shouldn't stay in here so long Minister Creed."

Still. Reverently, these people they had failed still called her Minister. Still obeyed every order, command, without question. There was something to be said for loyalty. It should have warmed her. Instead, she could only focus on the man behind the glass. A shadow moved from within and it took her a moment to realize that Kyyrk was having moments of lucidity. Moments, perhaps, where he might have known she was there. Someone, was there.

His hand was so close to her own but still, so far.

"I'll be fine."

Her response was terse, but, without the usual bite of sass. She was exhausted beyond measure. Perhaps not physically, but mentally, she had reached the end of her rope. No matter the requests that she steer clear of the infirmary the young woman remained. From standing outside the tank to resting beside Kyyrk while he slept—That was her place. She could be nowhere else.

At least until the amethyst-eyed man was coherent enough to kindly tell her off.

Alessandra wanted to argue, of course. For a few moments, he would see the panic rising in her eyes that had kept behind locked gates since the fighting began. Just a moment of truth before the Creed woman buried it beneath layers of experience and necessary self-control. Yes. He could check himself out. He could dress himself. He—Would be fine.

He wouldn't disappear. Kyyrk, was alive. Kyyrk...

She spent the time alone to take stock of herself. To find gravity—To let it anchor her to the ship versus the heart that sat like a lump in her throat. Alessandra had just finished pulling her hair into a quick and fashionably messy updo when the AI alerted her that someone was at her doorstep. The clothing that had been provided seemed to have been packed ahead of time. Fitting, plus, obviously her taste. Deep purple sleepwear made out of shimmersilk. Thin strapped, but the hem swept the floor and whatever bare skin remained was tastefully hidden beneath a black outer garment. It seemed too formal to actually get any rest in, but she wasn't expecting it.

Her comm could go off at any moment. News of Isley, the Exarchs, or any number of citizenry and Knights Obsidian. The Minister had always prepared for the eventuality that the Confederacy would fall to its knees. That the lights would go out. There were caches of supplies hidden in remote systems all over the space they formerly occupied. Credits, stored, and collecting interest in Coruscant Banks. She had prepared for this eventuality as best she could.

The only way she could.

Raw fingers slid over the panel to allow Kyyrk access, though, there was a momentary pause. Her thoughts would be hard to discern. He smiled. As if it were the easiest thing to do in the world. Alessandra eyed the boxes for a moment, but he would find them lifted and lightly deposited on the table beside the door. Her arms would find themselves wrapped around his neck before the door even slid closed. She held him tight, soft cheek pressed against his.

There were embraces made of gentle arms that still gave space to breathe; then, there were that which strong arms told a story of everything they were. Body, brain, and soul, silently committing to the fact that one person is there with the other. Her touch was both. A duvet, a human shield, combined with something delicate and breakable. Unspeakable.

She didn't seem inclined to let go.

 

[Kyyrk]

Kyyrk smiled as if it was nothing. But it was naught more than a well practiced gesture. In truth? His mind still raced with possibilities and fears. When the Minister took the boxes of food from his hands, he stepped across the threshold. His garb was not nearly as fancy as Alessandra's. His was a simple pair of boots, pants, and a tunic. A rough black fabric intended to provide the man modesty, but little else. His mechanical arm had been re-attached, and for the most part he seemed...rebuilt. But as the woman threw herself at him, and hugged him in a vise, Kyyrk winced.

But he made no attempt to push Alessandra off of him. He endured the pain of his jostled wounds in silence, his mind being consumed by something else entirely. It was not until this moment that the fear and the horror of what had just happened kicked in. He let out a shuddering breath, and his own arms wrapped around Alessandra. "I was so afraid Horace wouldn't find you." Kyyrk held her just as tight as she did him. His voice was barely a whisper. Hoarce. His vocal chords tired from barking out orders, calling out warnings.

He'd always seen others as a liability. Someone to hurt, or be hurt by. But as he stood there with Alessandra in his arms, he could not imagine a world without her. He'd seen nations fall before. He'd been there as Dromund Kaas fell millennia ago. He'd shouldered that defeat with hardly a single emotion. But this one? He could only endure so much for so long. He felt a tear run down his cheek, and his organic right hand moved to cradle the back of Alessandra's head. "I was so afraid I wouldn't make it back to you."

He was afraid of many other things. Of what would happen to them now. Of what the Unmaker would do to them if it caught them. But the fear was quickly overwhelmed by another emotion. Guilt. Kyyrk wasn't sure if it was the grime of the bacta tank, or some other disgusting feeling, but he felt the need to take a shower. To wash his guilt away. He had stood face to face with the Unmaker. He had the chance to end it all. But he'd failed. For the second time, the fate of a nation had rested on his shoulders. And instead of returning their savior, he returned a broken and useless husk of what he'd once been.

Alessandra deserved to know.

Kyyrk made up his mind, before the night was out, she would be made aware of who he was. Of what he was.

He still felt the ache to eat deep in his bones, but he could not bring himself to stir from the embrace. He was just as loathe as Alessandra to break it. If it were up to him, he could stay there all night in her arms...

Alessandra Creed ​

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Tag: Kyyrk

His wince caused her grasp to lessen, though, she held to him nonetheless. Her arms remained around his neck. Her head tilted, slightly, so she could brush a kiss against his cheek before once again embracing him fully. Kyyrk breathed and her form relaxed slowly when his arms wrapped around her in turn. The almost desperate action seemed to soften, sweetly, until she was merely leaning against him. Listening. Close. Alessandra had thought she'd been past emotion. Past, acting out.

Apparently not.

"He found me.", she murmured reassuringly against the skin of his cheek. Her fingers found his hair and began to thread through it. He worried, perhaps, not knowing how she had done the same. He was always in the thick of it. Kyyrk was always on the front lines. At first, she'd blamed Exarch Talon for it.

Then—She'd realized, it was just his way. He couldn't lay down arms. He couldn't rest.

Slowly, Alessandra began to rub the back of his neck. It was soft, soothing, almost a light caress to try and drown out the fear that dug so deeply into their souls. Her palms ached, but, she didn't stop. The Creed woman had no place for fear or self-pity. She had been raised better than that, but still, the slight wetness on her shoulder told her all she needed to know. She wasn't the only one coming to grips. "Every time you leave…"

"I'm never quite sure. I have hope. Faith, but still. One stray turbolaser… One act of terrorism."

The dark-haired woman could feel it when his mood changed. It shifted like the sun moving through the sky. He went from afternoon, evening, to twilight in the spam of a heartbeat. The weight that he carried on his shoulders held him down so much so that she could feel it. "It's all right, Kyyrk."

"We're going to be all right."

Her words were sweet, almost. Soft. They would wrap around his ears with a distinct sense of comfort that would settle in his chest. Push it away. Confidence, strength. He needed it. She had it to give. Alessandra pulled back, only slightly, so that her hand could catch the side of his face. She didn't acknowledge the fact that might have shed a tear. Instead, she leaned up to press a delicate kiss to his forehead. When she rocked back down from her tiptoes, she kept his eyes on her own.

"We are all stronger than this. We are all more than this moment. None of us got here alone. None of us fought alone, nor, will we survive alone. I'm here. You have friends. People who care for you. We're still here and we aren't going anywhere."

'I'm not going anywhere.'

No matter what. No one treated her like he did; no one worried for her as he had. No one sang to her during a ball simply because she'd asked for it. Or danced, forever, because she didn't want to let go. He stayed with her because he wanted to. Not because she was a Minister. Not because she was a Creed. And not because she had access to the Force. No, it was none of that. He was simply there for her.

The least she could do was be there for him too.

 

[Kyyrk]

What Alessandra said spoke just as loud as what was left unsaid. As she pulled away from him, he let his hands drift to her shoulders. "In all my years...I've never let anyone see me crack." He hung his head, giving her upper arms a gentle squeeze. "I...I made a point of never letting anyone see my...human side." The way he said it was laced with...humor? A certain amusement, even in the face of all that had happened. To infer that he had a human side, when his pale skin and glowing eyes clearly defined him as anything but. "But I don't feel the need to hide who I am around you."

Kyyrk reached up to wipe a tear from his cheek, and smiled at Alessandra apologetically. "I feel...sorrow. For all those people who will never see their loved ones again. And to know that I had the chance to prevent that..." He sighed quietly, looking down at Alessandra's bacta-burnt hand. "Something I've not had for a long time. And something I was willing to lay down my life to preserve." His hands moved down Alessandra's arms to hold hers, the metal thumb of his left hand gently rubbing across the surface of her burns. "Once I lost my son...I began to think there was nothing left for me in this galaxy. Just another battle, another war. Another fight to preserve a luxury for others that I would never again know for myself."

His gaze lifted back towards Alessandra. "They say that self preservation is the first thing to go when...things get bad. And to a degree, they're right." He offered a grim smile. "After a while, I didn't care if the next battle was my last. I didn't care if I came back. And it wasn't a lack of fear that made me feel that way." He squeezed her hands gently, yet firmly. "I found myself wondering if the galaxy really needed me. Little did I know how immediate that answer would be." Naboo. The day she'd stopped to speak to him. Found him consumed in his own thoughts.

"I've been lying to myself for some time now. A lie that you helped break. Words will never be able to express how grateful I am..." He'd realized something on the battlefield. That he had a duty to more than his nation now. He could not...WOULD not throw everything away for the slightest chance to change the tides. "You showed me a kindness that I'd forgotten. Gave me hope when I had none. And because of that, I've realized something..." He pulled Alessandra back into a hug, resting his temple against hers. "I've left too many people. And been left by too many people. And I hope to god you're never one of them."

​

Alessandra Creed

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Tag: Kyyrk

She listened quietly while he found his voice, waiting, for him to find his footing. From the outside, it could be assumed that such a stubborn, difficult pair, could never lose their grip. Alessandra had contingency after contingency in the event of a national crisis and the fruits of her tireless labor had already begun to unfold. Havens, funds, and resources would flow toward them in increments in case the heart of it was compromised. Brilliant, precise eyes watched the dominos fall—Exactly where she wanted them to. That was her contribution. That, was her skill.

Survival in the end. Not war.

"…You never have to hide from me…"

She had come to care for the whole of what made him. The secrets, the valiance, the need to keep the galaxy safe from the endless threats that none could perceive. The Minister caught the hand that lifted to wipe his own tears away and briefly found the back of it, holding, until he turned his gaze toward them. The burns weren't terrible, but he would feel them more than anything else. The roughness from typically buttery soft skin. Bacta was poison to her. He—Had been covered in it.

The light touch to her arms, to her hands, merely drew her to try and reassure him in the little ways she could. A tentative, brief, kiss to the corner of his mouth. Not enough to detract from what he was saying or explaining but enough to let him know that she heard him. Understood. He took the sorrow of a dying nation into his being, rather, than let their pain be forgotten. It was the mention of his son that caused her breath to still in her throat. To stay, trapped. Locked in a heartbeat.

This was the most that he had ever spoken of the things that left him lost in his mind. She'd seen that faraway look. The distance, the endless, where he seemed ready to step right off the edge of the world and get lost in the abyss. Alessandra had, carefully, tried to keep a few walls on her heart to protect herself in the eventuality that the void, perhaps, could win. The effort was mostly in vain. While Kyyrk spoke, she could feel those fortifications crumble. Break.

Alessandra had reacted, often, like a woman scarred. Hurt. He was patient with her. Generous, with her temper. He never poked holes in the insecurities she hid from the light of day. He wasn't the only one that had been shown a kindness. Kyyrk wasn't the only one that had been given hope.

He pulled her close and her arms immediately wound around his body as if they belonged. The air hitched in her lungs and her eyes squeezed closed, determined, not to let the edges of stinging heat overwhelm her tear ducts. So much her wanted to cry. To scream in frustration, to hold him, to howl and shout until she felt empty and spent. But, she couldn't. Not now.

Not when he felt like this. Not when everything he was, felt, and endured was written in his every breath. Alé tilted her head to brush her lips against his cheek, neck, and anywhere she could reach while barely moving. Little speckles of starlight poking through a pitch-black sky. "As if I'd let you off that easy…", she murmured, slowly, pulling back a little so she could see his face. Look into the amethyst eyes she loved. "…You know…I would find you."

She let her forehead press against his and his features blurred from nearness. Everything he said seemed to linger. To bridge the gap from one moment, to the next, and the one after that. A patchwork quilt made of snapshots in time. Memory flooded her. Cooking, together. Smiling. Testing each other. Dancing, banter, arguing about her security detail, the reasons he made up, to stay around her. The way he'd taken a blow in her place her on Ryloth. "You are more than a shield for the universe to hide behind. More, than a weapon to be wielded. You're more than the parts and pieces of yourself that you sacrifice for the safety of others. More, than all of that."

The heartfelt moment was…Intense enough to break her. To that end, a small, watery smirk touched the edges of primrose lips while she fought back a sniffle. Creeds didn't do that either. "Obviously…I can't let you leave. Not now, not ever. You're mine."

What was meant to be teasing, almost, rang a little too true. She hadn't waited for anyone else to walk into her quarters when everything was said and done. She hadn't let the bacta burn her skin just so he could be two inches closer to her, even, if it was behind a wall of tempered glass. They both came to one another in pieces. Standing, with the illusion of being whole on sunny, blissful, Naboo.

Perhaps now, even in the wake of madness, they could be.

 

[Kyyrk]

Kyyrk was silent for a long moment. He was content to just hug Alessandra, and enjoy the silence between them. To relish another day alive. He was hers. He was more than just a warrior. Kyyrk drew a shuddering breath, and stilled himself. It was no use for the two of them to bawl their sorrows away. He held the embrace for a long time, and yet not long enough. He finally withdrew, offering the woman a tearful smile. "Have you eaten anything?" Kyyrk gestured towards the table where he had set the food. Along side it were two water rations, both sealed away in their protective canisters. "I feel like I owe you an explanation about a few things."

Kyyrk pulled a chair out for her, then sat down opposite her, wiping away a few lingering wet spots at the corners of his eyes. "First off, I want to apologize for the lies I've told you. Even those with a modicum of truth. Especially those with a modicum of truth..." Kyyrk offered her an apologetic smile. "I was under orders to do so. Orders that I only feel comfortable breaking now because I trust you, and because for all I know the nation that gave me those orders doesn't exist anymore." Kyyrk drummed his fingers on the table softly as a nervous habit. "Talon has gone to great lengths to hide my true identity because there are elements in the galaxy that would wish me harm if they discovered who I truly am. That much I would hope is not a surprise to you."

Kyyrk drew a deep and steadying breath. She knew already. There was no way she didn't. She wasn't stupid. "You already know that I was once a Sith. But what you may not know is...that you already know me." Kyyrk scratched the back of his hand in a nervous gesture. "Things have...changed since then, obviously. Otherwise you would have recognized me more immediately. But...suffice to say...I'm alive. To the dismay of some, and joy of others..." Kyyrk clasped his hands together, turning to look at Alessandra.

"Only Metus, Lord Commander Lechner, and the Exarchs knew the truth. That I didn't die, but fled into the Netherworld to seek out the root of the Cataclysm that destroyed the Knights Obsidian half a decade ago. I found it, but...it changed me." Kyyrk took one last deep breath to steel his nerves, then gave Alessandra a smile wrought with sorrow and apology. For not telling her the entire truth this whole time.

"I was telling the truth when I told you my name was Kyyrk. You might know me better as Darth Voph."​

Alessandra Creed

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Tag: Kyyrk

She would have stayed that way all night, mostly, because she was still a little to raw from worry to let him too far out of her sight. It wasn't as if he needed her to protect him. He was formidable and always had been. It was one of the reasons it had made perfect sense for the public when Exarch Talon ushered a young Knight beneath her frozen wings. He had skill, talent. It wasn't until she started picking at the edges of a perfect picture that she noticed something wasn't as it appeared to be.

That he, specifically, had a secret. A past.

Alessandra had always assumed it to be something of the "illegal" sort where Talon might feel possessed to hide it in the wake of aptitude. Even that, was a stretch. The white witch wouldn't flinch at a criminal record. Nor would it occur to her to hide it. She had also decided, long ago, that it wasn't a secret worth knowing. Not when Kyyrk had become…More. More, than an acquaintance.

More than a Knight or even a friend on protective detail.

He withdrew and full lips formed a faint pout at the prospect. When he asked if she'd eaten her stomach started to growl a little in response and a faint touch of rouge graced tanned cheeks. "Not in awhile…", obviously, not. There hadn't been time. Not when all she could do was struggle not to verbally abuse the medics that were taking care of him. They were terrified of what was happening out in the galaxy.

Alessandra Creed, distinctly, was far more terrifying in full form.

// I want to apologize for the lies I've told you. //​

She took the chair he offered, though, she tensed at his initial admission. The soft affection and relief that had swept through her like a wave was turning to poison in the pit of her stomach. Her hand fell there, briefly, trying to calm it. Alessandra knew. She knew she wasn't getting the whole story but the mysterious nature of it had fled her mind. The more she got to Kyyrk the less it mattered.

Until suddenly—It did. She'd been lied to before.

Over and over.

Her shoulders tightened, defensively, while her gaze focused on the water rations. Now, he trusted her? When the nation had fallen? Not before? The fact that he was under orders should have softened the truth, the knowledge, that she had been lied to but it didn't. Perhaps in all this time she'd talked herself out of that nightmare. Told herself, enough times, that it was nothing. Told herself enough so that she'd believe it enough to be happy. To leave it alone.

Of course, Talon hid him. Of course, she had her hooks in him.

She didn't have to look up at him to know that he was nervous. She could feel it, hear it. Every gesture. As Kyyrk spoke of the Cataclysm her eyes closed and a memory filtered to the surface of her mind. White hair. Sightless, eyes. She could feel the truth of it in the seconds before he spoke the name. In the span of a heartbeat, she knew, and the gears in her mind began to turn. Whirling a million miles a minute. Adding, removing, deducing. Clarifying. For a long time she was quiet until she bit down on her lower lip, quietly, using physical pain as an anchor. "Voph.", she spoke the name, firmly, though almost as if she were testing the sound. She remembered him.

"Voph. The Lord Commander, before Lechner, who couldn't stick to his allotted budget to save his life."

It helped to focus on simple facts. To let her mind travel down a rabbit hole of numbers and zeroes versus questioning the man across the table. He had, afterall, sucked royally with spreadsheets and paperwork. A half-laugh left her lips, though, there was far too much ugly pain it and not as much humor as she'd intended. Her attempt to play it off would fail. If he didn't hear it in her tone, he would see it in her eyes. Questions. Fear. "And…And Kyyrk…Does he exist?"

She licked her lips, shaking her head, and tried to organize her thoughts better. Of course, he existed. Alessandra just didn't understand. Not yet. How had he returned from the Netherworld? How as he here? How could he hide? The better question, she supposed, was to ask if they existed. The way he held her a few moments prior couldn't have been fabricated. The want, the worry, the silvery threads of a connection born of simple kindness. That couldn't be faked, for a cover. "And I—"

"And you—"

The ever-eloquent Alessandra stumbled. Just, staring, at the water on the table. Her expression became pensive as her eyebrows drew together. Trying to understand. The same stinging behind her eyes started to return, unbidden, and she desperately wanted to hide it. Voph had scarcely noted her presence save for the one to enable new training facilities. Voph didn't like her all that much.

Especially, not her ex-husband.

Her hand rose to cover her mouth and the silken robe she wore fell off of one shoulder. Only, to find a dark crystal at her throat. It was the same one she always wore. Every day. To every event, even, to sleep in. Slowly…Her hand fell and caught the murky onyx pendant. She broke the chain and her fingers tightened around it. A small burst of focus and a sharp crack filled the room.

It broke.

Then—She, filled the cabin. To breathe in her presence as a Force User was to know, without a doubt, what she was and the darkness she inherently possessed. He might have known. He might not have. But if they were telling truths, sharing secrets, it wasn't something she wanted to keep from him. "No one would trust me to do honest business if they knew. I should have told you."

Another, derisive laugh.

"Even my own sister wanted to pray the dark out of me."

Then and now she feared it might be something unacceptable to him. She wasn't like him. She wasn't like Voph, or Kyyrk, and now she felt very exposed. Epicanthic strength showed itself for the first time in his presence and her grip tightened on the crystal until it ground and cracked. Turned to powder.

She dropped the remains of the talisman and the chain on the table.

 

[Kyyrk]

Kyyrk's expression grew solemn, somber as the weight of what he had just said hit Alessandra. He could see it in Alessandra's face. She was questioning...Well, everything. His motivations, his affection for her, everything. Then she voiced the question at the heart of her turmoil. Did Kyyrk even exist? "More than Voph ever did." She stumbled over her words, telling Kyyrk that he had clearly upset her greatly. A hand drew to her mouth in disbelief. Kyyrk opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by her snatching the amulet from her neck and crushing it. Immediately, a dark presence filled the room. The likes of which Kyyrk hadn't felt since his days among the Empire.

Kyyrk sat up straight, realization slowly dawning on him. He'd noticed her crystal before, of course. As a gifted master of Force Sight, it was impossible not to. But he had thought it to be a defensive measure. She tried to explain why she hid, and even that her sister did not approve of the darkness she harbored within herself. Kyyrk took a deep breath, and sighed it out. "I can certainly understand why." It wasn't immediately clear if he agreed with her, or her sister. "But your sister is a fool. Light, Dark, it makes no difference. Both have the same capacity for good as they do evil."

Kyyrk fell quiet for a moment, then said, "Somehow, I always knew there was something....different about you. Adron never would have been the type to marry for beauty alone. I guess I just...forgot." Kyyrk nodded in quiet affirmation of his own words, looking down at the food before them. He picked up a fork, and began to poke through the food before him. As he did, he began to explain his own motivations, seemingly having moved on from Alessandra's own revelation. And not for lack of care. No, he cared immensely. But he had already accepted it, accepted Her completely and totally.

"I don't know how much you knew about...about Voph, but He...we..." Kyyrk sighed quietly, with a hint of frustration. "Voph was never my true name. It was just a title, same as any other Sith. But I had spent so long bound by that title, I had no other name. I believed Kyyrk...the man I had been before the Sith, to be dead. It wasn't until my uncle beat some sense into me that I realized, Kyyrk is who I always was. Who I will always be. No matter what names or traumas I chose to hide behind."

Kyyrk offered her a reassuring smile. "As for...well...dying, coming back...I wanted at least one person to know the truth. So, I sent Horace to the Exarchs, telling them of my true machinations. But what I didn't tell them was that I had never intended to come back." Kyyrk picked at his food, then ate a small bite. As he chewed, time was allowed for the weight of his admission to sink in. He'd have been content for his mission into the afterlife to be a suicide mission. "But, one does not meddle in the affairs of gods without retribution. I didn't return, so much as I got ejected. When I awoke, my memories were....gone. All of them. Even my skill with the Force. I was little more than a defenseless babe. That's why Srina took me under her wing. If a man with my reputation was discovered to be helpless, how many beings would rush to take their revenge on a defenseless enemy?"​

Alessandra Creed

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Tag: Kyyrk

Data, helped. Focusing on the truth. On numbers. She could remember report after report that came in after missions that Lord Commander Voph had put together. He'd been an economic nightmare in his own way because he requisitioned with the thought of the Knights beneath his purview. Not with any notion of what it cost to get the job done. That was her department, to facilitate. To make it happen.

To make everything happen. Nothing, in the galaxy was free of charge.

Neither were her affections, it seemed. Everything had a price. Her heart had recovered, slowly, in his presence. Enough that she could allow him into the deepest recesses of who she was without fear of reprisal. Kyyrk made her feel safe. The way he had always responded to her, openly, and honestly. It had been a refreshing change of pace. Now…Now she just felt like she couldn't breathe. The Confederacy was crashing, crumbling, and the stability she had come to know was shaken to the core. Broken.

Chocolate eyes remained glued where they were. She couldn't look up. If she did—It would take the face she knew, loved, and replace it with the visage of a man she did not know. Of one who spoke with his voice, his manner, but wasn't quite him. He claimed that Kyyrk was more real than Voph had ever been, but it wasn't for Kyyrk, that he hid. It was to protect himself from the enemies Voph had made.

Hearing that her sibling was a fool caused Alessandra to close her eyes. There were many moments that she'd often thought the same thing. A sweet fool, but a fool nonetheless. She had seen her sister sacrifice so much for those that dwelled in the light that there was never any thought for those that cared for her in the dark. Alessandra loved her sister. Without question, without persecution. She cared for her not because she was light, dark, or anything else in-between. Simply, because she was blood. She was the younger sibling she had always wanted. A sister who…Might one day understand.

Her brother never would.

Alessandra might have relaxed, then. The Minister might have been able to take Kyyrk's words in stride were it not for the mention of Adron. She visibly flinched at the sound of her ex-husbands name coming from Kyyrk so casually. He spoke it easily. As if it were no more than commenting on the weather while she felt her strength begin to fracture. Crumble. She was more than her past and yet…

He still haunted her. The memory of him, past present, and future would always haunt her. The reasons for the dissolution of their marriage were not common knowledge. The official documents cited "irreconcilable differences" but the truth was far more mundane. It was the age-old story of love lost. The near-decade-long romance had finally died, for one of them, and their eyes flickered toward brighter stars in the galaxy. When Alessandra had been forced to publicly re-take her maiden name in shame?

She was still in love with a Malvern. It was not her feelings that had changed.

Kyyrk was able to eat.

She couldn't.

Alessandra had been left behind because her purpose had been served. She had produced an heir. She had propelled him to the highest echelon of their society, yet, it had never been enough. She would make him a King but she couldn't make him the Vicelord. There was power in her. But, it was limited. She could only enhance what was already there. "I am a battery.", she breathed, lightly, with a delicate exhale. It was scathing. "I don't empower myself."

She amplified others. She had, often, amplified her husband. She made it so that he could stand with the other powers of the galaxy unflinchingly…But she would never be the force of nature that Srina Talon was. Never been a Nightmother, never be…Anything that mattered.

"I knew what was legally required.", she returned, dull, and without any real affect. The Minister of Commerce knew a little more than that…But in truth? Not much. The affairs of the court were not hers to micromanage. She handled credits and contacts. "…To some Sith Lords their title is more real than any name they were born with…It is who they are destined to be."

Kyyrk kept speaking, kept explaining. She reached out and wiped the remains of her crystal from the table with the back of her hand and the shimmering powder drifted off into nothing. She would need to have another one forged, before long. Her explanation was true. She could suppress her signature from most but some would still sense it without additional wards. He spoke of his return. Of notifying the Exarchs—And it was then, and only then, that she truly understood.

They knew. ​

The Vicelord, the Exarchs, all knew. They'd seen her with him. Everyone who was anyone had seen her with him the night of the ball at the Eternal Empire. They all knew and none sought to tell her. That Talon hid him so well, took such pains, and never blinked or balked at doing so spoke volumes.

"…You have a loyalty I will never have."

She pushed her meal politely away. Suddenly, no longer hungry.

Her mind wouldn't stop running scenario after scenario. It was a losing battle. There was no need to be ashamed of what she was, but that didn't change things. Knowing his past, his name, didn't mean that it necessarily changed what they had, but she was uncertain. Ignorance was both blindness and bliss. Part of her wanted it back. The rest of her, knew that was foolish.

"So…She was protecting you all this time…", Alessandra trailed off, with a slight shake of her head. She had wondered about every bit of red tape that kept her from seeing the truth of him. Now, it all made sense. The specific interest, the care, that Talon had displayed for him when she gave it to so few. Another laugh escaped her and one of her fears bubbled to the surface in order to evaporate. "…At least I don't have to worry about the two of you sleeping together any longer."

Humor, again. She was exceedingly poor at trying to hide her hurts, but, she tried. Tried. While trying to make sense of the pieces of who he was. The image of Voph kept superimposing itself over him in her mind's eye and it was hard to accept. Only, because it was all too easy. Too simple.

How could she have missed it?

 

[Kyyrk]

Kyyrk paused, another bite of food poised just before his mouth. The way Alessandra had reacted to the mention of Adron sent a spike of pain into Kyyrk's gut. His gaze fell to the table. It felt as if he'd just been stabbed, so great was his regret. His anxieties. His fear. As Kyyrk listened to her words, he lowered his fork, setting it back in the box. Now he had no appetite either. "I....I'm sorry. I should have been more mindful..." Kyyrk turned his head towards the outer wall of the room. Kyyrk thought back to the woman's words about the Sith. About how their titles became their names.

"They're not loyal to me. They're loyal to him."

Kyyrk sighed quietly, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. A clear nervous tick. "They never cared about me. About Kyyrk. They only cared about Voph. Their...obedient weapon. Talon took me in to try and reignite that weapon." Kyyrk rested his face in his hands for a moment. When his head lifted again, he was crying. he was doing his best to stifle it, but the streaks of water still ran down his cheeks. "I should have told you sooner. But some...stupid, twisted part of me thought it would be better. Better to just forget."

Kyyrk reached up to wipe both his cheeks with a single swipe of his hand. He drew a deep breath to steady himself. "I should have told you a long time ago. But...you would have found out. Sooner or later. And I'd rather you had heard it from me." Kyyrk fell silent for a moment, pondering the woman's claim of loyalty. And for a moment, that stung even worse than the pain he had caused her. "Talon was the first to discover I had returned. It was only by her insistence that I stayed. I tried to run, but...she found me." Kyyrk was silent for a moment longer. "The Confederacy had bigger problems to worry about. It didn't need to spend its resources on me."

The sincerity in his voice was absolute. They would have been better off without him. This, he truly believed. He stood, and walked around the table to pause by Alessandra. He lifted his hand, then paused as if considering his next move. But then he placed it on her shoulder, gently. "I know you probably can't trust anything I would say to you now, but it is the truth. You'd never have to worry about me. Not with Talon, not with any other woman in the galaxy. I've felt the sting of infidelity before. And it's a pain I'll never inflict on anyone. I was yours. Completely and totally."

Kyyrk's head bowed as emotions welled within him again. "And I understand if you'd rather keep it that way. But if you can forgive what I've done...and overlook who I was..." Kyyrk paused for a moment, then said, barely above a whisper, "I would spend my life at your side. Until the void calls me back. Till such a day when my life would be sacrificed for yours." He offered Alessandra a gentle squeeze of the shoulder. The choice was hers. If he'd caused her too much pain, too much anger, then he would understand when she told him to get out. Part of him was ready to leave now, before she rendered such a justice. But part of him demanded that he linger. If only to see what she would say.​

Alessandra Creed

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Tag: Kyyrk

If possible—She felt worse when Kyyrk apologized.

It couldn't have felt good in any sense to see the mere name of her ex-husband draw such a visceral reaction from her. "It's not your fault.", the words flowed easily enough. It wasn't. She shouldn't have let her guard down so far, so much, that the notion of him existing proved to be her undoing. The malleable parts of her soul were and would forever be wounded by him. No exceptions. That pain was a part of her now. Just as much as a smile, or a laugh.

She listened quietly to the words that followed and it didn't take her long to realize that he had more self-loathing than she could have ever guessed. He hid it well. But, it was there. Kyyrk spoke of Voph as if they were two entirely different people. Alessandra noted the way he moved his hand through his hair. The way his face fell, shoulders hunched, and she knew he wept before he ever moved again.

Time and time again he devalued his own value. His own worth. Was that what he really thought?

// - I was yours - //​

"Was?"

Had that changed so quickly? The dark-haired epicanthix sat with his hand on her shoulder, inaudible, and full of things that she didn't know how to communicate. Rather than speak she reached up and let the raw fingertips rest against him. She turned it away from her shoulder. For a moment he might have thought she was going to simply remove it from her person, but, she didn't. She kept it.

"Don't be a fool.", her voice was firm, though, not unkind. She brought his hand down, slightly, to hold it in her own. Carefully keeping it over her heart. He would feel it beat through the thin material of her nightclothes if only because it was slamming in her chest hard enough to break bone. Her expression seemed clear as was a constant but the truth was buried deep. "…They're loyal to you."

Alessandra hated beyond all measure that he forced her down this path. She loathed Exarch Talon and it would only be too easy to throw her under the bus. To agree, that the White Witch of Golbah had used him and kept her safe for her own personal gain. Venomous words could have let that thought fester. Spitefully, she wanted to. But the woman in her that cared for him could not. It wasn't the albino that would be harmed—It was him. "I cannot speak for every member of the Confederacy but I do know some of them. Talon was…Is the godmother of my only son."

"She has enough weapons. She is a weapon. The, weapon. She never needed that from Voph or Kyyrk."

"If she kept you safe for so long it had very little to do with what you were able to offer her on the battlefield. She nearly married a twit who could barely shoulder the weight of his own sword without falling over. She respects things that no one else will ever understand.", nor would Alessandra try to. The last mind she wanted to be in belonged to someone that her ex-husband could never stop droning on and on about. How perfect, she was. Flawless. The Minister internally groaned. Annoyed, twice over. "…She was trying to reignite you the only way she knew how. Not, the weapon."

"Just you."

Alessandra couldn't speak for the Vicelord but Talon was often like an annoying cousin she couldn't get rid of fast enough. The Confederacy always had problems. It was only a matter of time before the flavor of the week finally managed to get lucky, however, one resource that could not be replaced were people. They could rebuild the houses; the fleets. They couldn't bring back people. They would always be the most precious commodity, even if they were like Kyyrk, and didn't see their own worth.

She chewed on his confession about being faithful for a long moment as well. It wasn't that she didn't believe him. She just…Felt tired. Hollowed. Eventually, she pushed the chair out and stood. Indecision lingered. He was offering her a way out. A way to walk, peacefully, without any blowback or hateful arguing. Her expression softened. She hated, that he'd been crying. "You really should learn to fight for what you want. If this is still what you want…"

He was using odd terms. Past, tense. Was it for her benefit? She wasn't certain how he could withdraw so quickly from the way they'd been only minutes before. When he held her at the door—As if nothing could compare, nothing could take her, versus willingly giving up?

"I don't need to…Overlook who you were. I know who you are. You're Kyyrk. You're Voph. You may not be the exact same as you once were but you're still an amalgamation of the two. I can't love one without the other.", she trailed off, carefully, leaning up to wipe at his cheeks with the back of the sleeve of her robe. It was a thoughtful gesture. Even if she couldn't see the tear streaks anymore…She knew they were there. "So, I will do my best to love both."

She paused.

"If both of you will have me, that is. I don't know if I'm Lord Commander Voph's type."

Alessandra wasn't sure how long it would take her to accept, fully, the information he'd offered but she wasn't prepared to let it set the sun on their lives. It had only just begun. A period of happiness amidst such chaos and petrifying circumstances. Her free hand pulled his up and brought it to her cheek, carefully, leaning in to cuddle into it. Letting her confusion, hurt, and sadness drain.

She didn't want to run from him. Not, unless he wanted her to.

 

[Kyyrk]

Kyyrk almost breathed a sigh of relief when Alessandra pulled his hand closer to her. He listened to her in silence, as she spoke of how much Talon cared for him. He only looked back to her when she brought his hand to her cheek. She still wanted him to stay. He took a deep breath, and lifted his robotic limb to rest on Alessandra's shoulder. "I don't know that he had a type." Kyyrk smiled ruefully, looking back towards the floor. "Love wasn't a luxury he ever had."

Kyyrk laughed quietly. "Wars tend to weigh heavily on one's soul. And after what happened with..." Kyyrk paused. "We all learned during the war to never form bonds. Many of us lost everything. Family...friends... some several times over." Kyyrk looked into Alessandra's eyes. "Until you reminded me that it doesn't always have to be that way. Don't worry about pleasing Voph. Let us just content ourselves with each other. For however long we make it last." Kyyrk pulled Alessandra closer to him, and wrapped her in a hug. His head dipped to press his cheek against hers.

Kyyrk held the embrace for a long time, then stepped back. "Not that I do not overwhelmingly enjoy your presence, but I can still feel the grime of the bacta tank, and...I seem to have already caused enough damage with that." Kyyrk's hand gently caressed Alessandra's burnt one. "And I'm certain the fatigue of the recent battle will capture me sooner or later. So with your permission, I had best be retiring to my own quarters for a bit..."

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Tag: Kyyrk

"We'll have to see then, won't we?"

Alessandra kept his hand close, knowing, that at some point she would suffer some sort of reaction from the remnants of bacta that still lingered in his tissue. She couldn't bring herself to care. His smile was something she liked to see and she reached up to touch his cheek, a soft, light stroke that lingered closer to the edge of his jaw. Voph hadn't had the luxury of feeling it seemed. "Surely, there was someone, once, that made his heart move just a little faster…Even if he didn't say anything."

A mindful soldier. Focused on his work, his duty, nothing more? Not ever?

That seemed like a very bland existence. When Kyyrk spoke of the war tawny dark eyes flickered with a faint sense of confusion. There were things she knew, but even that had its limits. The general rumor mill told that Voph was a lot older than he looked. The delicate caress to his cheek continued, a soft reassurance, but her head tilted in curiosity. "Which war?"

It could have easily been one of the Confederate escapades, however, it didn't quite sound like that. Lost family and friends several times over? It was an innocuous statement, if, one wasn't well versed in the history of the Southern Systems. Up until more recent years, they'd actually not lost. Not a war, not a battle. Not until the Agents Wars. That…Wasn't so long ago.

Kyyrk swept her back into an embrace and the raven-haired woman made a small humming sound of contentment. It was hard not to hide against the wall of his chest when everything else felt so harsh. The fall. The lies, their history. It was all too much. He told her not to worry about Voph. To worry only about what they presently had. She didn't reply, but wasn't sure if she could abide the request. If she intended to be with him, stay, with him, she didn't deal in half measures.

She could love all or nothing. Voph still existed, even, beneath the truth of Kyyrk. It was a psychological nightmare and a therapist's dream of dual personalities but that was neither here nor there. He spoke of his past self as if they were actually, truly, different people. How could that be Kyyrk had always been? Just buried, behind the mask. How could she love one and not the other? Her cheek nestled against his regardless. Breathing him in. That settled her more than anything else.

When Kyyrk pulled away she frowned.

Hard.

"Sleep here.", she murmured, barely audible. The request surprised even herself. The Minister tugged her robe back where it belonged and adjusted the sash at her waist. She had cream she could put on that would help with the bacta irritation, so that, was neither here nor there. "Go. Shower and change…But come back. Stay here. Your dinner got cold. I'll fix you a snack while you're gone."

Alessandra wasn't asking for anything he might have been uncomfortable with. Just that he stay. She was too shaken in the aftermath of everything that had happened and she wasn't ready to be alone. She wasn't ready not to see him when for so long she'd only been able to speak to him through glass while he slept. Her expression melted to something far more honest when she reached out to touch him once more. Just for a second. Chocolate eyes seemed genuine, careful, but pleading.

"Please."

 

[Kyyrk]

Kyyrk grew quiet at Alessandra's suggestion. That he'd loved someone before. "I did. Once." Kyyrk sighed quietly. "We were separated after the birth of our son. When we reunited....she had changed." His tone carried a certain finality to it. That was all he was willing to say on the matter. Not out a place of hurt or grief. No, it was just as simple as that. There had been someone, but she had changed. Given his prior comment about infidelity, the conclusion was rather easy to reach. Though Kyyrk had been pulling away to return to his own quarters, Alessandra's insistence that he stay gave him pause. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Don't worry about the food. I can eat it cold just as well as warm. Didn't taste good warm either."

He offered her a smile, though it was laced with a sadness. A preoccupation. Which War? Kyyrk glanced towards the refresher closet in Alessandra's quarters for a moment, then back to her. She'd find out sooner or later. And he needed to confront that demon eventually. "It's...a long story. So I'll tell it as concise as I know how." Kyyrk turned his gaze back towards Alessandra. "It started as a training exercise. A mission to Denova to test the capabilities of a new flagship. A dreadnought. The Desolation." A well familiar name, to those attuned to the Confederate fleet rosters. A newer ship had been commissioned some years ago to serve as Voph's flagship during his tenure as Lord Commander. Now, of course, it was clear to see that the ship had been named in honor of another.

Kyyrk began to undo the outer layers of his robe, intending to prepare for his shower while telling the woman of his past. "A training mission that never happened. 0400 hours, the 20th day of the 8th month. We realized we had no contact with our destination. Denova was an Imperial Stronghold. The source of the Empire's baradium. The single strongest supply world behind Makeb." Baradium and Isotope-5. In a simpler time, the two most crucial elements to winning any galactic conflict. "Unsure of what to expect... The call was made to assume the worst. So we arrived at Denova expecting a fight."

Kyyrk paused, setting his now folded tunic upon a nearby chair. "The Golden Tide, some people called it. Others, the Infinite Fleet." Kyyrk turned back to Alessandra. "You and I both harbor no love for the Eternal Empire. Many believe mine started on Kuat. But the hatred burned deeper than any of them could possibly know." Kyyrk's gaze fell to the floor. "When we arrived at Denova, it wasn't a question of if we would lose, but when. We held out for a week. Within half a cycle, The Empire and Republic had both been forced to surrender to Zakuul. To the Eternal Empire. And were that it, I could have lived in peace, knowing that war would only ever be just that."

"But Zakuul was not content to be the victors. They continued their onslaught, bringing planets under their control by force, exterminating even the smallest of uprisings." Kyyrk looked back to Alessandra. "For six years, we fought. Six long years to see the galaxy rescued from the oppression of the Eternal Empire. The sacrifices we made were beyond reckoning." He offered her a sad smile. "So yes. Love wasn't something we had the luxury to afford. Every day was a fight for survival. We had no other choice. For every failure, every loss, millions would die. And when it was over?" Kyyrk shook his head. "The entire Galaxy faced ruin. We did not fight for the Empire. Or the Republic. We fought for the galaxy. To save it from destruction at the hands of Zakuul."​

Alessandra Creed

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Tag: Kyyrk

Ah, there it was.

She had dealt with enough soldiers while serving as a Minister that she knew enough to know never to accept what they said at face value. It wasn't intentional, most of the time. It was almost as if they thought having feelings left them exposed. Weak. That was the very reason he claimed it wasn't a luxury Voph could have afforded in the first place. The loss of his own son, however, hit home.

Alessandra hadn't seen her son in years. Letters, were what she received. The occasional missive about his whereabouts, activities, and grades. At the notion that his partner had changed the raven-haired woman nodded her head. She knew what that was like. When the person staring back at you was no longer recognizable. No longer, the person you loved.

Kyyrk told her not to worry about his dinner and her lips pursed in the corner. He was right. Rations didn't taste like much, but she did have some private stores that at least had items that were edible. Not the equivalent of hardtack. "Caf, then.", she murmured lightly, at least, determined to get something warm in him. She let her hand fall away when he seemed to be almost taken aback by her inquiry on which war he was referring to. Although his past had been well hidden from her the Minister was by no means dim. Now that it was on the table…He could expect her to pick up on a lot more.

With his warning in mind, she settled. Waiting. It didn't stop her eyes from following him while he slowly began to peel off the outer layers of his clothing. She supposed that meant he intended to stay. Her quarters were better equipped than others. Creature comforts, she supposed, for someone of import. There was a small stocked kitchenette, laundering facilities, and even an extra-dimensional printer courtesy of Locke and Key. No, she did get along with the Exarchs famously but she had zero qualms using their tech to her advantage.

Her head tilted back and forth while she tried to make an adequate guess at his size. He couldn't very well sleep in the same thing, though, this trailed off at the mention of a world called Denova. More specifically, an imperial stronghold, at that location. She frowned. The Eternal Empire of this age did not refer to themselves as the Zakuul. Not openly, nor commonly. No…The Eternal Empire that Kyyrk spoke of was far older than that.

Alessandra took in his sad smile with measured patience. The story he wove was fantastical, historic, and pre-dated her birth by centuries. She bit her lower lip for a moment. He was, even tired, exceedingly handsome. He might have been a little older than she was. A little younger depending on the light and whether or not she'd had her morning caf…But now? "…You fought the original Eternal Empire."

"You fought Valkorion. The Knights of Zakuul?"

She breathed in deeply as even more grains of truth slipped through the hourglass. The Minister made her way toward a holo-interface and placed her requisition. The package arrived a few moments later via repulsor tube. It was shrink-wrapped in plastic. Clothing for Kyyrk to sleep in and toiletries. Lest he wanted to smell of roses and vanilla for his next meeting, whenever, that may be. The only thing that would tell anyone where he'd been might be the shade of the sleepwear and an extremely small, personal symbol, on the right sleeve. Black fabric, gold thread.

Alessandra wouldn't bother explaining why she had men's clothing in storage. It was nothing fancy, though, he might have disagreed. It was far better-quality cloth than what many might have access to but without any frills. It could have been confused with medical scrubs were it not for certain subtle design notes.

She walked over to retrieve it and pulled the zip-seal so it would open and air out by the time he finished. The Minister was keeping herself busy while she wrapped her mind around the last question. At least, until he'd had a chance to clean up. "Color me curious but…How old are you, exactly?"

"To be clear—I'm not asking how long this body has existed. I'm asking how old you are."

A delicate sway took her back toward him and she handed him the package earnestly. He always seemed reluctant to let her help him. Even with small things. Every part of her wanted to touch him again but she wasn't sure if her hands would put up with it. They ached, well and truly, and before long he was likely going to be sick of her constantly invading his space. She just…Couldn't help it.

Not knowing whether Kyyrk still lived had been hell. In the past, he had always been careful to send some sort of notification, but even with that, it was chaos. Watching him float in bacta…

So close, so far. It moved from hell to slow torture. Waiting for him to wake up…

It was why she couldn't let him go.

 

[Kyyrk]

Kyyrk paused, staring at a point in the wall. Just like that look he'd had when Alessandra had first found him. She knew the war of which he spoke. She knew the horrors the galaxy faced. Had he fought the Eternal Empire? Yes. Had he fought Valkorion? The Knights? The Scions? "Yes." His voice barely a whisper. He turned to look at Alessandra as she handed him something to change into. He took the clothes quietly, having heard her question, but not yet acknowledging it. He sighed quietly, staring at the folded shirt as if it held the answer he sought. "The Void distorts time in a most terrible manner... so I cannot say with any certainty..." Kyyrk bit his lip in quiet concentration, his brow knitting, then relaxing, then knitting again. When he finally did look back at Alessandra, his look was rather solemn.

"Four-Thousand, Five-Hundred, and Eighty-Eight cycles." Kyyrk's gaze fell as he considered the number silently for a moment, then nodded in affirmation that he had calculated it correctly. "Longer than I would have ever expected to live..." He sighed quietly, and turned back towards the door to the refresher. "Which, I think explains a great many things." He paused at the doorway, turning back to Alessandra with a devilish grin on his face. "You weren't kidding about your love of artifacts." He stepped through the door and closed it before the woman could protest.

The man wasted no time with the shower. Using whatever soaps were available, and with no regard for his scent. Well, he ensured he smelled nice, at least. But beyond the socially accepted minimum? That was the problem of those around him. Kyyrk was given pause, however, as he stood before the mirror with naught but a towel around his waist. His hair soaking wet from the shower, his body glistening in the light. He'd never stopped to contemplate just what being a warrior meant. As he stared at his scar-riddled torso, he thought back on what he'd just told Alessandra mere moments ago. Four thousand years. And this damage had been done in less than ten. Sometimes he wondered just how bad a shape he'd truly be in without his armor to protect him.

He pulled on the provided pants, and ran a towel over his hair. He'd just have to let it air dry. He exited the refresher as he pulled his shirt on, allowing those of the nosey variety a brief moment in which they could see the tapestry of scars that wove across his body. "I'll never understand why bacta became so popular..." He sighed quietly as he finished pulling the shirt tail down to his waist. "Kolto never left such a fine layer of grime on everything..." To someone like Alessandra, this comment might have seemed mundane. But having just shared his true age, it took an entirely different meaning. Considering the man was older than Bacta. He paused, turning to Alessandra. "Does...I feel like that makes me...old. Isn't that something elderly people do? Complain about something that was invented later in life, even if it's a net positive?"​

Alessandra Creed

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Tag: Kyyrk

He was right.

She did know what it looked like when he slipped into memory. When ghosts returned and the distant look in his eyes made it seem like he was ready to walk right off the edge of the world without noticing. Without stopping. Alessandra always had to fight the urge to pull him back. She understood that everyone had trauma, baggage, that they needed to work through…But it was difficult to watch.

Knowing there was nothing she could do. Some scars were simply too deep. Through the skin—Straight to the soul. To the heart.

The fact that he had to think about his age was telling.

To her credit, she tried not to react when he gave the actual number. Her stomach bottomed out. How was it possible for anyone to live that long? She knew that some people jumped from one body to the next but erosion was still a problem. Their memories. Who they were—Truly, behind the dank, deep, darkness of eternity. Often it led to insanity. There were other problems, other issues, but she couldn't quite wrap her mind around it yet.

He wasn't centuries older than she was. He was millennia older.

Would their time together even matter in the grand scheme of things? Her life would be so small in comparison to his vast existence that she might as well have never lived at all. That was an extremely sobering thought. So much so that she almost missed it when he threw a low little barb about her enjoying relics. Alessandra wasn't sure who he was making fun of more and in return, he would hear a thunk hit the refresher door once he disappeared inside. Clearly, from the throw pillow she threw at it and also left on the floor.

Perhaps for him to trip over. Her arms crossed, petulant.

She had promised to make him something warm, however, so she indeed brewed a cup of caf and left the lid on the metal container. Deft hands dutifully heated the "not so tasty" rations that had been left over. Anything like that always seemed a little less like cardboard when it was still warm. Especially, if one drenched it in salt, pepper, and other dry spices. She left it on the table when she heard the water turn off and scooted over to the living area to sit in the corner of the couch.

From the drawer she pulled a small container and began to rub a translucent cream into any of her skin that seemed to be affected by the bacta. It soothed the ache. Lessened the redness. It wasn't perfect but a few days rest would take care of the rest of the damage from inhaling the mist. She would just need to steer clear from the medical ward. "Your guess is as good as mine. It's absolute poison…", she returned, cheekily, with a heavy dose of sarcasm. She knew exactly why the galaxy used it so liberally. Healing took time. Effort. Bacta was a cheap fix. "I can tolerate some forms of kolto."

Some. Even then, she stayed away from it.

She looked up from where she sat on the couch and she caught the briefest glance of far more bare skin than she had intended. Nothing all that immodest but chocolate orbs lingered for several reasons. She was one of said nosy individuals that would see the scars, new and old, and wouldn't be able to easily forget. Did he just let his enemies use him for a pin-cushion?

"And you wonder why I worry when you go out on missions. Literally, you're walking proof."

She did snicker a little when he compared himself to a geriatric grandfather and shook her head slowly. "I can't lie…Your age is showing. You're just lucky, I suppose, that I like older men.", her words were touched with an edge of humor that was much less forced than before. She was calming down. That was mostly well-received by her raw nerves, but still, parts of her felt as if she was pressing salt into an open wound. She pointed, nodding her head at the table. "Now eat before it gets cold…"

"Old man."

 

[Kyyrk]

Kyyrk grumbled at being called an old man, but he didn't directly dispute it either. He, at least, knew better than to argue with the truth. Kyyrk sat back down in front of his food, frowning at the contents of the plate before him. "They're intentional, you know." His scars. He couldn't be referring to anything else. "With all the marvels of medicine, most of these could be fixed to nearly imperceptible." Nothing was perfect, of course. Kyyrk finished poking around at his food, and took a bite. He chewed in silence for a moment, then said quietly, "A bad habit I've never been able to kick."

He glanced at Alessandra, not waiting for her to ask. "When I was younger, my most respected mentor taught me a vital lesson." Kyyrk looked back to his plate as he took another bite. "I was young and stupid at the time...Stupid-er." He shrugged. "I had gotten into a fight trying to defend her honor. Another apprentice was being...provocative. So I challenged them to a duel. You know how it is. When another kid talks bad about your parent?" Kyyrk snorted quietly at the memory of what happened next. "I...uh...Let's just say I won that one at a cost. And that a cornered Cathar has no qualms going for the jugular." He made no reference to the severity of the encounter, but it was clear enough he'd survived it.

"When my master learned of what had happened, she was furious. She came to my room in the medical wing, and...she healed me." Kyyrk nodded with a grim expression on his face. "Well. Heal is a strong word. She took on my wounds her self. I tried to stop her, but she won in the end. Told me to pick my battles. For every wound I sustained, she would bear in my stead." Kyyrk took another bite, musing on the lesson quietly. "Ever since then I've borne the scars of every injury sustained in battle. A reminder of the cost of war. And to be mindful of the worthiness of my cause..." As he said this, he absently reached up and rubbed his shoulder. The same shoulder he'd injured trying to stop a sniper bolt from hitting Alessandra...​

Alessandra Creed

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Tag: Kyyrk

The edges of her lips quirked to the side while he grumbled about her gentle teasing. He was old by actual standards, but he scarcely felt that way to her. She continued to liberally apply the sweet-scented cream to her hands and arms until the raw feeling faded. The burning stopped. A little to the edge of her neck. A soft sigh of relief eventually left her lips, though, she leaned back on the couch to listen to what he had to say. She had spent days waiting to hear him say something, anything, so much so that she would have listened to him talk about anything.

Her brow furrowed when he mentioned keeping his scars on purpose. "Intentional?"

Alessandra rose up from the couch and the soft, silk fabric of her nightclothes pulled with her. She nudged the caf toward him while he ate and reached for the rationed water bota she'd had earlier. She sipped while he explained, slowly, coming to understand. She didn't necessarily agree…But she understood. "Your Master sounded like…", she trailed off, lightly, though not without a fair bit of thought. "Someone worth knowing."

She never had a teacher in the traditional sense. Ale had her mother. Darkness was all that woman knew. She would have never taken her wounds, not, like Kyyrk's Master had done. Alessandra noticed him rubbing his shoulder. At first, she thought it was leftover from a recent injury. It would make sense. Only…The moment the bullet struck him wasn't something she would ever forget.

"I thought they'd killed you. For a second. I thought—"

The Minister stopped. She hadn't expected that talking about it would bring the event back as much as it did. The sound of glass breaking, of the bullet impacting, the screaming. The crowd outside yelling. The warm liquid that splashed across her blouse and face. She drew into herself a little bit and forced the memory away for the time being. Instead, she moved behind him and leaned down to kiss the space his hand had once occupied. Through the shirt, and with little hesitation. "There. All better."

As if a kiss could fix the world.

Her mind shifted, slowly, trying to process the data that had been downloaded into her brain on a short span of time. "My sister…I know she can be…Abrupt. But she did save my life. Died, doing it."

"I was infected on Atrisia. I was finalizing contracts when the outbreak swept through the city and I got caught in it. She found me, somehow. Took the infection out of me and into herself. I've…", her words were clipped, though, not unkind. It was a clinical way of looking at her. Her way of distancing herself from it. "I've run out of ways to describe what that was like. I was too weak to stop her. Too close to turning myself…All I could do was watch her fade away. I didn't know how to do what she did. I couldn't reverse it."

It was true that Mishel had come back, but, even that she didn't really understand. She wandered toward the middle of the kitchenette and leaned against the counter. Her words were jumbled. Either from emotion, exhaustion, or a combination of the two. "I won't ever forget the cost of war. Or the reason we fight. I don't know that I'm worthy...But I won't forget."

"Some scars aren't visible, though, they cut just as deep."