Private Of Hope & Ruin

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Bastila Sal-Soren //:
//: Canto Bight //:
//: Attire //:

Bastila,

I know it's dangerous for us to linger in each other's orbit. Still, I haven't been able to put you, or your words, out of my mind.

You reached out before, and I answered. I hope you might, as well.
I've sent coordinates to a place beyond both our borders.

You don't have to reply. Just come, if you wish.

If you don't, I will still be grateful for what we shared… and for what could have been.

— Quinn

Cantonica was a world where someone who wanted to disappear could. Despite the frequency of arrivals and departures, the world had its own life as if there was nothing more than Canto Bight.

The capital, Canto Bight, was a playground. The wealthy would come, gamble, and drown themselves in indulgence. Here, no one would bother or care too much about Jedi or Sith. Religion wouldn't dare touch the sins of those who entered.

For Quinn, this was the perfect place to be someone else. To allow a conversation without fear of judgment or the wrath of those in charge. Here, Quinn wasn't the Queen of Eshen or the Heir Apparent to the entire Sith Empire. She was just a girl, waiting for the one she had invited.

She could just be Quinn.

And so she waited, her hands nervously clasped on the small cocktail table she stood beside. The lights in the upscale bar were dimmed, creating a quiet, intimate ambiance. On the table, a candle flickered with the breeze of the ocean air.

A world outside of the wars, almost paradise.

Quinn's eyes glanced towards the doorway every so often. Any time she saw someone who could be the one she was waiting for,, her chest would tighten, and her breath would catch. But when she realized it wasn't the Jedi, a wave of doubt would follow.

The constant tug on her emotions was beginning to wear on her, as she wondered if this was a mistake. Should she have invited Bastila through the Blackwall? Through the barrier that kept her safe? Quinn shook her head as she thought to herself. That wouldn't work; they'd just be playing into the Empire's hands or any Sith that wanted to remove Quinn from the equation.

No, the danger needed to be equal… the Republic or a bounty hunter could show up and arrest her. It would be easy; there were very few protective laws on Canto Bight.

But that's why it was perfect.

 

[Bastila Sal-Soren]

Canto Bight shimmered the way it had been always advertised to her, in bright colours that hid the stains beneath; it was a place that tried to be too polished so that it felt unreal, its lights too bright so that it did not have to admit the galaxy around it was burning.

Bastila Sal-Soren paused just outside the entrance, watching a couple stagger past her laughing, wrapped in silk and perfume and zero consequences. No one here cared about border wars. No one cared about Sith heirs or Jedi trials. She almost found it insulting.

Yet for the purpose at hand it was also perfect. On this planet nobody cared about the next person, for the lure of the credit was far more powerful. It meant on this planet she could disappear and cease being Bastila for just a few hours. The stresses of Republic commitment were abandoned with the commlink and its bracer housing back on the ship.

She adjusted jacket, more out of habit than nerves. The black overthrow concealing no armour. There was also no saber at her belt. Her hair was tied back, in a simple braid that was reminiscent of the locks her sister used to put through it when she was a child. In all senses she looked half the part, but she had dressed down on purpose, she was still an heiress to a Corellian fortune beyond all understanding, which meant she could still access any of these buildings with a flash of ingot. Not as a Jedi but just as herself. Or at least, this version of herself.

The door slid open with a soft whisper in front of her and she stepped into the dim gold lighting. Low music played from somewhere in the room, a calming almost peaceful melody that reminded her of the music her Father used to play when they resided on Naboo. The air was fresh and cold as it drifted in from the terrace. All mixed with the quiet hum of people who had never worried about consequences. Again Bastila found herself questioning her choices, but then she saw her.

Quinn.

She was standing by a small cocktail table, her hands clasped just a little too tightly, those eyes flicking toward the doorway every few seconds. She was clearly waiting. Which seeing as she was here because of her did not surprise her at all.

Bastila didn’t realize she’d smiled until she was already walking toward her. She stopped a few feet away, her mind wanting to say something that was witty and charming. Instead she went for a cringe and a kill me now.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” she said lightly, voice warm, almost teasing. “I was picturing your arrest somewhere less ostentatious, I wouldn’t have picked somewhere with this many chandeliers.”

Her gaze swept Quinn once, instantly regretting her entrance.

“Hi,” she added, simpler this time. “Imagine seeing you here.” That earned the faintest tilt of her head towards Quinn.

“I was starting to think I’d scared you off at the ball,” Bastila continued, slipping one hand casually into her pocket. “Or that you were putting me through some elaborate test of patience and I was about to be graded.”

There was no edge in her tone tonight. No Jedi stiffness. Just honesty threaded with nerves she wasn’t trying very hard to hide. “You’ll learn though. I suck at being patient.”

She glanced toward the candle flickering between them. It caught Quinn’s eyes, amplifying them in a way that caught Bastila’s breath in a way that she struggled to compensate for.

“Equal danger, right?” she murmured, moving forward towards the table. “Republic could grab you. Some bounty hunter could grab me. Very balanced. Very healthy.” A small huff of amusement escaped her, and instantly she regretted her choice of words again.

“So,” she said, leaning slightly against the edge of the table instead of standing like she was on inspection duty, “is this the part where we pretend we’re normal and on vacation?”

She smiled, a proper natural one this time towards Quinn.

“Because I can try.”

OUTFIT: XoXo | TAG: Quinn Varanin EQUIPMENT:

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[Quinn Varanin]

//: Bastila Sal-Soren //:
//: Attire //:

The moment doubt started to creep into the Echani's mind, the woman she had been waiting for appeared. It was as if Bastila had read her mind and waited for the exact moment to show her face. Despite the initial comment, it elicited a gentle laugh from the blonde.

Bastila made her recovery, and Quinn shook her head lightly, "No, you didn't." She answered softly. The way she had left the ball, building the walls that kept her and Bastila separate, came back up. All of it, she understood the woman's concern.

"You just reminded me of my surroundings." Quinn's smile softened as her shoulders relaxed. The hardest part of it all was waiting and hoping that Bastila dared to see her. She wanted to laugh. Bastila was always one to point out the things Quinn wanted to forget. There was a worry that Bastila wouldn't be able to relax, to just forget for a moment that they weren't who they were supposed to be here.

Still, Quinn nodded a hand reaching out partway on the table. Her palm turned up, fingers relaxed, a quiet invitation.

“Republic could grab you. Some bounty hunter could grab me. Very balanced. Very healthy.”

"For anyone who decides to try and interfere, they're going to have quite the surprise. I'm sure we both can hold our own." Her smile widened slightly.

The constant suppression made her come off weak in the Force. To many, she was barely a whisper against most Force sensitives. It was a kindness, one that she could do for those around her and for herself. If she were to allow her presence to bleed into the Force, she would be impossible to be around.

Those who knew the art of the small could speculate, but beyond that, Quinn would be considered weak and unfit for her lineage.

Which made Quinn wonder if that was part of Bastila's concern for her safety.

“So,” she said, leaning slightly against the edge of the table instead of standing like she was on inspection duty, “is this the part where we pretend we’re normal and on vacation?”

Quinn mused, her head slightly tilting, eyes never leaving the warm hazel gaze of the woman in front of her.

"I think that's the plan, to pretend we aren't who we are… pretend to be normal and just enjoy our time together."

She leaned closer against the table. Quinn wanted to reach out, to touch her hand again, to feel the smoothness of her jaw, but she held back. The Echani was also prone to impatience.

"We can start slow, drinks, and see where the evening goes." Nodding, she looked towards a waiter who made their way over. "Like I told you before, I don't want to push or make you break any rules you have…"

Quinn laughed softly, "Even though I'd wish you'd break a few, just for me."

She didn't explain herself, but her mind lingered back to their conversation at the ball. The want was still there, and she wondered if it was with Bastila as well.

At least she showed up; there was a chance to see what would come of it.

Quinn's voice lowered, softening as if almost teasing, "If it helps, I can always make the first move..."

 

[Bastila Sal-Soren]

Bastila watched the offered hand for a moment longer than was probably polite, her eyes settled on it with no reaction, not because she hadn’t seen it but because she had.

More importantly because she knew that Quinn knew she had. That was the problem with Echani. Everything was a test of reaction, posture, hesitation. To Quinn, Bastila’s body spoke long before her mouth would even have the chance to open.

So in a moment of rebellious zeal, Bastila didn’t take Quinn’s hand.

Instead she leaned a little more comfortably against the edge of the table, arms folding loosely across her chest as if she were simply considering the menu rather than the woman she was now in very comfortable distance with. The movement was casual on the surface, laced with an almost dismissive tone; but the faint tightening at the corner of her jaw betrayed the effort it took.

Her eyes flicked down to Quinn’s open palm, then back up again to take in the Echani’s face. That faint tightening disappeared as a faint smile touched her lips instead.

“You’re very confident for someone sitting with a Naboo socialite?” The words were light, but the tone carried a thread of something softer beneath it. “Even out here people will start whispering.”

Bastila shifted her weight slightly, one shoulder dipping as if she were finally letting herself relax into the moment rather than standing like she was waiting for a briefing to begin. Her gaze drifted briefly toward the movement of a waiter who had started their approach towards them before turning back to settling back on Quinn again.

She still hadn’t taken the hand. Stubborn little beast that she was.

“You say you don’t want to push?” Bastila continued, tilting her head slightly, studying the Echani like she was trying to solve a puzzle she had no intention of finishing. “But then how ever will I be able to break the rules?”

A breath of amusement escaped her.

“I’m not the best example of Sith restraint.”

Her fingers tapped once against her arm, a small, restless motion that betrayed the nervous energy she was otherwise doing a very good job hiding. Quinn would notice, suddenly that made her do it more. She huffed and finally after pulling too much attention to her efforts at restraining her nerves, Bastila unfolded one arm and reached forward. Instead of taking Quinn’s hand, she simply turned it gently over with two fingers so her palm rested back against the table.

Her fingertips were so close to Quinn’s that she could barely breathe. It was almost an uncontrollable fever that if she had been practiced in the darker arts would have seen lightning fly from those finger tips in an effort to just touch the other. She let that hand linger there a second longer than necessary before withdrawing.

“If you make the first move,” Bastila said, her voice lowering slightly as the waiter arrived beside them, “you’ll have to live with the consequences.”

The corner of her mouth curved again; which, annoyingly, looked a lot like nerves.

She straightened slightly, finally turning toward the waiter as if nothing complicated had just happened at all. “Two drinks,” she said calmly, before glancing back at Quinn. “Something strong,” Bastila added. “Apparently I’m on vacation.”

OUTFIT: XoXo | TAG: Quinn Varanin EQUIPMENT:

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[Quinn Varanin]

//: Bastila Sal-Soren //:

Quinn listened and watched as her hand was not taken. Curious, she felt almost rejected, but when she looked at Bastila's face… There was a glimmer of hope.

Such a brat… Quinn thought quietly as the girl continued to tease her. Bastila Sal-Soren knew exactly what she was doing at this moment. She toed the line between giving in and staying far enough to avoid falling.

Her comment on restraint made the Echani smile wider. It was a contradiction; the woman kept her composure despite the want that nearly bled off of her. Quinn watched as she relaxed and ordered the drinks. Her hand lingered close, almost begging to be held, touched by the Echani. Dangerous, yet tantalizing. Quinn ignored it for now, letting the Jedi taste a bit of her own medicine.

"How lucky I am to have been able to draw the attention of a Naboo socialite," Quinn teased, "They might talk, a socialite and a princess getting drinks on a roguish planet such as this."

It was true, but they were far enough that they could outrun the whispers. On Naboo or behind the Blackwall, neither of them could feel this freedom… It's what made this place special.

The bar worked on the drinks, and Quinn pondered the brunette's statement.

"If I make the first move, I'll have consequences?" she echoed quietly, letting herself feel the weight of the words. Were they consequences she minded? The answer was simple enough. Already she had called Bastila out here; the woman came to see her — she liked these consequences.

But her hand had pulled away, particularly the moment the waiter had come to the table.

Was she shy, or was she ashamed of being here?

"Fair warning," Quinn shifted, her positioning now closer as the hand that Bastila so casually ignored reached forward and brushed her arm. She leaned in closer so that the words would remain between them.

"I'm fond of the consequences that come with this and you." Again that soft smile, the one that shouldn't belong to a Sith.

"They'll talk, is that what makes you cautious?" Quinn asked, her touch still lingering, with hopes that it comforted.

"As much as I say I won't push… I want to." Her breath slipped into something softer, almost a quiet laugh. "I want you to bend — to break every rule… just for me."

She paused, still smiling.

"Only me."

Quinn leaned closer, her voice lowering as her hand drifted from Bastila's arm. Her fingertips traced lightly along the curve of the Jedi's jaw, guiding her gaze back to her own.

"But if you're willing…"

Her thumb brushed just beneath Bastila's lower lip.

"I'll gladly accept all the consequences."