Private Of Memories & Spice

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mercy //:
//: Attire //:

Nar Shaddaa
New Vertica City

Quinn wondered if this was a bad idea. Dabbling with the Black Sun had been… interesting. She supposed it might've had more to do with who she met first. Mauve du Vain had managed to saunter her way deeper into the Princess's life than Quinn ever intended. An enigma — that Veluthiel of hers.

Now she stood near the bar, waiting for Mercy.

Of course, Mercy was slumming it in the criminal underworld. Quinn was surprised… but not really.

Ashin had done her fair share of that too, even before meeting Spencer — at least, according to history. Quinn never bothered to ask her mother for the details. Still, it would infuriate her if Mercy knew more about the elusive former Empress than her own daughter did.

Her gaze dropped to her comm. Read. No reply. That had been twenty minutes ago.

Leaning against a pillar that held up the building's roof, Quinn's brow furrowed. If Mercy was standing her up — Mercy of all people — Quinn would make sure the woman never knew peace again. How dare she?

She exhaled, and her chest tightened — not from nerves, but from embarrassment. Standing around, waiting for someone who didn't show…

It was a new feeling. And one she refused to experience twice.

From her pocket, she pulled a small, ornate box, her initials were engraved in the corner. Inside, loose spice shimmered in the bar's dim light. Quinn tapped her finger into it, collecting the smallest amount, and tucked it against her nose.

A gentle inhale. The Force opened up around her almost instantly.

So this is why her mother used glitterstim...

She exhaled, slowly, and was almost proud of herself. Finally, she'd found the sweet spot — enough of the drug to sharpen her senses, none of the drawbacks.

Back to waiting.

Frustrated, she huffed, fingers flying across her comm as she furiously texted Mercy:

<: Where are you? This was your idea. :>

 

[Mercy]

Quinn Varanin

"Oh, are you setting up a date with someone else?" Mercy's voice filtered teasingly right against the back of Quinn's neck. Just like during the gathering with the Sith she had somehow managed to sneak up on her childhood frenemy. Her presence in the Force was completely different from what it was back when they were kids.

Back then it had burst out unfiltered, constantly radiating around her like a furnace expelling heat.

Now it was tight and controlled, right under her skin. The only way to feel Mercy's presence in the Force was to touch her directly. It was a direct consequence of taking Ashin's lessons to the very conclusion. She had sacrificed practically all talent in external usage, instead focusing entirely on what was inside of her.

The Force simply followed along.

"And here I was... simply enjoying watching you. I like it when you are flustered." Murmured against her ear right as she passed her by, shoulder brushing shoulder, and there was her presence in the Force. Like the sun drawn up past the horizon and burning a hole in your retina with no warning.

"How are you, princess?"

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mercy //:
//: Attire //:

Quinn's shoulders tensed, eyebrows climbing so high they nearly vanished past her hairline. She settled quickly once she saw who it was — Mercy, of all people — the only person reckless enough to sneak up on her and live to tell about it.

Her frown deepened. Did she have a death wish?

For a heartbeat, Quinn wanted to swing, swipe, do something to wipe that conceited, smug smirk off the woman's face. But instead, she watched her circle like a predator, tossing out her little remarks. Quinn's eyes rolled, then narrowed into slits.

"Why are you so weird?" she asked flatly, flipping through her phone as if Mercy weren't worth the energy of a glare.

That's when the irritation clicked into something more useful. If Mercy wanted to play her little game, Quinn could play better. With a deliberate shake, she slid her comm into her pocket before the brute could glimpse the racy exchanges she'd been having with Mauve.

When she looked up, the shift in her expression was subtle but sharp. The Princess smiled slowly as if she had the perfect little secret.

"Matter of fact, yes," she said, her haughtiness bled into her words. "I was texting Mauve du Vain . Have you met her? She's… quite interesting."

Quinn leaned in just enough that Mercy could catch the faintest trace of her rose and honey perfume.

"I think she likes me."

And there it was — her own smirk reflected back, daring the Knave to react. Watching for that rare, magical flicker when Mercy lost her composure was worth more than any petty retort.

 

[Mercy]

Quinn Varanin

And oh, Quinn got that, that flicker of annoyance when the attention and spotlight wasn't where it belonged.

On her.

"I see." Mercy said crisply as she straightened out again, iron back into her spine. "Well, I hope you enjoy that."

It seemed that Quinn had gotten to Mercy more than she might have anticipated. No witty comeback, no glib remark, none of that sharp back and forth that was such a familiar, perhaps even welcome dance between the two of them.

"Shall we walk? There is a nice bar nearby that serves good ale."

She started into the walk, hands locked behind her back as she looked at the road ahead instead of her frenemy.

Oh, Quinn certainly had touched a rare soft spot if she wasn't even getting physical or teasing again in a recovery move.

"How are the Sith treating you?"

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mercy //:

Quinn blinked.

This had never happened before, and her confusion was plain on her face as she took a few quick strides to catch up with Mercy. They always had this back-and-forth — their game, theirs alone — and she'd come to look forward to it.

"Ale sounds fine, if that's what you want, Knave." Her lips pursed as she studied the woman from the corner of her eye. Quinn kept searching for anything that might prove she hadn't gotten under Mercy's famously thick skin.

Usually, it was Mercy who dug deep into Quinn, not the other way around.

"The Sith treat me fine," she continued lightly. "Branching out has been… a welcome change." She considered rambling about her boring climb through the Ministry ranks, but something about Mercy's silence tugged at her.

Her heels broke rhythm as she stepped in front of her, pressing a hand to the center of Mercy's chest to stop her mid-stride.

"What's wrong with you? You didn't say anything, you didn't tease me. Did you fall on your head?" The frustration in her tone was undercut by a flicker of something else — concern.

"Who are you, and what did you do with my Knave?"

Did she mean to say my? No. Did she even realize she'd said it?

Not a chance.

 

[Mercy]

Quinn Varanin

And yes, she was quiet, too quiet.

Her presence was still there. Hard, aggressive, every step taken claiming the territory forward. But there was none of that teasing, slick bravado that Quinn might not realize was posture to some degree.

Was this the real Mercy? Cold, hard, quiet? Or were there more layers she had never encountered because their dynamic had never allowed for it?

Mercy grabbed the wrist that rested against her chest and yanked Quinn in closer, until their noses almost brushed. Eyes hot, scalding almost in their intensity. "It is our game." She said firmly and tone intense. She really meant this one. No teasing, just laid out clear. "If you bring other people into it, it becomes no longer ours... and I won't play."

Then Mercy kissed Quinn's knuckles softly, squeezing her wrist softly before letting go.

Maybe because Quinn had said her Knave... she was able to be honest and then gentle with that kiss. This wasn't jealousy, not really. And it was also not about not having the spotlight.

It was someone else infiltrating their dynamic, having to share the moment with someone else.

"So, ale then. I shouldn't be surprised you know Mauve. That delight of a woman is everywhere it seems." Mercy wrapped her arm around Quinn's waist, guiding now, and this was more of what the Varanin scion would know. Brash, claiming, Mercy moving her here and there as if she had a claim over her even though she was The Apprentice and Quinn was The Princess.

As if the moment of before had not happened at all.

Guiding her into the bar if allowed.

"You are beginning to work with the Black Sun then? I would think a Princess such as yourself wouldn't bother with the crime and grime."

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mercy //:

Quinn stepped forward suddenly, no, she was dragged forward. She felt Mercy's hand slip to the small of her back. Their faces were close, and Quinn could feel the intensity of the reaction. She didn't expect it, but she didn't pull away.

Mercy was right. This was their game, and no one else belonged in it. It was a game that they had been playing for years, and it transcended something beyond mere name-calling. Even when Quinn claims ending Mercy's life was hers alone, she really didn't want to kill the woman.

But it was the only way she could claim the woman's life for her own.

The Princess remained quiet as she let the Knave say her piece; she deserved it for the mistake she had made. She stared into the burning corruption of Mercy's eyes with her own as a faint blush painted the porcelain cheeks, while she swallowed the lump in her throat.

They returned to how it should be.

Their game proceeded as it always did, kiss on her knuckles and Quinn pulling away, and Mercy pulling her back in without a fight. Their footsteps in tandem, and Quinn allowed the other woman freedom to guide her, push and pull her in the direction they needed to go.

"Mauve was actually the first person I ran into — it was at her art gallery, I had moved, so I was curious to see what I could get. She has a good eye." Quinn leaned into Mercy as they moved.

"Unfortunate for you, Knave, that I cannot fill all of my walls with your chiseled face." Quinn laughed as Mercy guided her into the bar she had suggested.

They walked in, and Quinn looked around. She could quickly pinpoint the eyes that had glanced their way — lucky for her, Mercy had guard dog energy, and those eyes with carnal thoughts looked away the moment she arrived.

Looking at her Mother's apprentice, Quinn mused. "Does it surprise you?" Shrugging, she figured it was something odd. She had always been prim and proper.

"I wanted to see more of the galaxy." She walked through the bar, a hand casually reaching for Mercy's so she didn't lose the woman in the crowd. They had known each other since childhood. Given that history, it's no surprise that Quinn was often physical with the woman.

"The Black Sun seemed to be the most interesting, and it was far from the Empire's eyes — where they couldn't keep an eye on me." She laughed.

"I would be lying if there weren't days I thought about running away from it all."

Pausing, she realized she let a little too much slip.

"Why didn't you tell me you had decided to travel down this wampa hole?"

 

[Mercy]

Quinn Varanin

"Unfortunate for you, Knave, that I cannot fill all of my walls with your chiseled face."

"Unfortunately for the both of us, I suspect." Mercy drawled lazily and easily in response as her gaze flickered over those that gave Quinn attention. In that way she was the luckier of the two of them. Her build, her frame, meant that most men didn't spare her a single glance that wasn't filled with terror imagining what those fists could do if they stepped out of line.

She attracted the kind of attention that she herself welcomed. Maybe that is why Mercy always had felt a bit protective of Quinn when they were out in the open and public.

People could be disgusting.

Which was an amusing judgement considering what a lecherous perv Mercy herself could be.

She helped Quinn into the booth, hand gentle on hers, helping her in. It was always a surprise when hands that were capable of such violence could be used for such gentleness too. Mercy had been given the opportunity to show that more often now. With people she trusted, who wouldn't assume it meant weakness.

Her apprentice, Quinn, a few others.

"Mm, well, I thought it would be a fun surprise." Mercy said after some thought, interested in Quinn's journey and the seeming pressure of the Sith on her shoulders. She could have said, I told you so, but she resisted the urge. It had been one of their largest fall-outs. When she had decided to leave them and join the Sith Order.

They had not spoken for a long time when that decision was made.

"They made me a Vigo." Mercy said conspiratorially, leaning in so she could whisper it in Quinn's ear. "I suspect... they believe they can control me as long as they shackle me with a fancy and pretty title."

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mercy //:

Quinn ignored the glances that followed her, trained long ago to let them pass unnoticed. Attention only invited assumptions, and she'd learned not to give people that opening.

Sliding into the seat, she caught the subtle care in Mercy's handling of her. Had it always been there? The thought lingered as she let the Knave guide her — easier that way, and, if she was honest with herself, not entirely unpleasant.

Quinn liked her independence, but there was a warmth in letting someone she trusted indulge her. With Mercy, it felt familiar.

Her fingers adjusted the lapels of her top, the Eshan silver resting at the cut of porcelain skin. The tailoring was perfect, but she moved with just enough restraint to deny her mischievous companion any excuse to let her eyes wander too far — though remembering the Kaggath, Quinn smirked.

She still enjoyed how flustered Mercy had been.

"It was quite the surprise," she said, "but both of us know how connected Ashin was." She shrugged slightly.

Her mother had always known exactly who to call, a truth proven when they'd ventured into the Nether together to save Spencer.

Quinn straightened her frame, her voice dropping into a low, deliberate mimic of Ashin: "Being connected is tactically sound advice, Mercy."

The impression earned a soft snort from herself before the smile faltered briefly, then returned.

"So what you're saying," she murmured, leaning slightly toward the Knave with a dangerous little smile, "is they know you so well. " Their faces were close now — close enough for her to catch the scent of spice and danger that clung to Mercy.

She let her gaze drift away, hiding her laugh behind her fingertips. "So what does that entail?"

The porcelain mask of innocence slipped into place as she pouted lightly.

"You'll have to forgive me — I'm just a lost and naïve little Princess."

 

[Mercy]

Quinn Varanin

Unlike Quinn Mercy wore a three piece suit, cuff links, a sharp tie and all.

When she made the princess comment she adjusted her tie, to make it less restrictive so she could breathe a little easier.

"You are an absolute menace." She murmured further in her ear... And then smiled. "No wonder I am the only one who can truly handle you."

As if to punctuate she kissed her just under her ear. As if to say, I can do this any time I like, especially if you inspire me.

And that suddenly touch of skin to skin would again allow Quinn to feel and sense Mercy in the Force. The ocean hiding away inside of her.

"It means they believe they will own me by putting their title on me." Then a soft shrug and now the vulnerablity came out.

In a way that it hadn't with Kloe Weo . They had all been in the Academy together but Weo had kept her distance. Quinn had not.

"It means I could use someone I can trust at my back. To keep an eye out when they inevitably try to kark me over."

Finally drawing back to watch Quinn.

"A Princess of the Sith with the weight of a whole nation on her shoulders... I can give you the opportunity to shrug that off... At least for a time. Call it practice, call it a vacation... Call it whatever you want... But I could use someone like you, if you are willing to be used by someone like me."

A Princess and a Knave.

What a pretty picture.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mercy //:

Mercy loosened her tie, and Quinn's smirk widened — she'd gotten under the Knave's skin exactly how she wanted. Their little game continued, and right now Quinn was winning.

Her victory was short-lived. Mercy leaned in, whispering sharply into her ear, and Quinn cursed her in seven different languages. This round went to Mercy the moment her lips brushed just under Quinn's ear.

It wasn't the first time Mercy had teased her like this. Back when they were younger, Quinn had embarrassingly thrown herself at her more than once — and assumed her mother was the reason the Knave never took it further.

Her cheeks flushed as she turned toward the woman, hissing back despite the heat rising in her face.

"You had several chances to prove that, Knave." Her nose wrinkled as she huffed under her breath.

But as much as Mercy got under her skin, her eyes quickly stared from the corner, and she smirked with her painted lips.

Leaning in until their noses nearly touched, she smirked. "Keep dreaming, my sweet Knave."

Quinn settled in as Mercy's tone shifted. The Vigo business was more layered than she let on, but Quinn understood. Sith schemed, but the criminal underworld played a different game — without even the thin honor that Sith politics pretended to have.

Mercy laid out her proposal, and Quinn was ready to sign — until she caught the phrasing. "Be used…" she echoed, letting the words linger. "In what way?"

It was an interesting choice of words that could have several meanings. Though Quinn knew Mercy wouldn't pull a fast one on her, or sacrifice her to appease enemies.

It was an easy answer, but — she did want to know what exactly she was signing up for.

 

[Mercy]

Quinn Varanin

She was delighted when she drew a reaction out of her.

That was the fun of their game.

One side might think they have won, that it was handily in their bag, but then the other would suddenly swipe in with a surprise. Mercy smirked when she was about to agree. There was a glimmer in her eye, meeting hers, as if they both knew what Quinn had almost agreed to without even thinking about it.

"Mm, used as a trusted soul of mine. Someone who will keep an eye on my back for any knives that might be attempted to be shoved in." Mercy didn't use the word lieutenant, but that was the essence of it. "Someone who will obey me when the need is high... but also knows when I might be in my passion and need to be drawn back from the edge."

Mercy knew how she could get.

That had been part of her own self-actualization. Knowing that sometimes she drew too deep from the Darkside, shoved herself too hard into passion and hunger without any sense.

That was fine when she was a lone nightmare. But now she was starting to get responsibility, a disgusting concept, really.

"What say you, lost and naive little princess?" Lips quirking up, Force, Quinn knew exactly what she had done with putting that in her mind.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mercy //:

Quinn raised a brow as she listened. Mercy would take the chance if she had it — Quinn knew that much.

Some part of her wondered if the woman truly believed she was the only one who could handle her. Others had tried, most had failed. Still, Quinn knew at least one other who had managed it… and done so very well.

Listening to Mercy gave Quinn a better understanding of the job she was offering the Princess. It sounded like she would fit, particularly because she knew Mercy. With her being a mentalist as well as being familiar with the woman's temper, she knew that she could manage the woman well.

Her hand rested against the curve of her jaw, ring finger and pinky grazing her lips. Quinn continued to muse.

"So you're wanting someone that you can summon at your will," Quinn repeated as she let it all sink in.

This was something more behind it, especially since Mercy was asking her — the Sith Princess and her Master's daughter.

"Little bells on their ankles, hanging on your every word," she said, head tilting.

"Am I understanding your request correctly?"

Her hand dropped from her face as she adjusted herself in her seat before leaning into Mercy. Sighing softly against the woman's ear before giving her response.

Her smile widened, knowing Mercy could hear it in her voice. "I'll listen, I'll come when called — but you'll never use me, and you'll never own me, my Herunín."

Leaning back, Quinn cupped her face, thumb brushing her cheek before she let her touch fall away.

Mercy had her answer — and Quinn had set her terms.

 

[Mercy]

Quinn Varanin

Quinn could feel it there with how close she had leaned into Mercy.

There was a tremble there.

One could easily mistake it for nerves or anxiety, but she knew Mercy better than that. She'd have no trouble identifying exactly what it was. It was Mercy, controlling herself in that moment, because if she did not she'd already have wrapped her hand around Quinn's neck and pushed her back against the wall.

"Oh, yes exactly, my núro..." She purred in return, through the shiver, breathing hot against the line of Quinn's jaw. "And you tempt me so, I agree to your terms but you can't blame me if I try try again..." And while the words were playful, Quinn knew it from the tension in her arms and shoulders.

She knew exactly how strong Mercy had been, and she had an idea of how strong she had become since those times.

Would it be surprising for Quinn? To realize that Mercy had been paying so close attention to the Echani language in those years together? She had been even more of a brute back then. Did she even suspect that there was more to Mercy? A whole ocean behind the current? That once upon a time Mercy had been a Princess who fled her home because they did not wish to accept her the way she was?

It was such a closely-guarded secret, but there would have been hints. The way Mercy always knew which fork and which knife to use. The way her accent reverted back to a haughty Tionese tone when she was upset or besides herself. And in a million other ways that said: this mountain, this brute, this monster was not always what she is now.

She didn't let Quinn's hand fall away, instead she curled her own into it, making her hand press firmer against Mercy's face.

"Thank you... for all that you have done... and all that you will still do for me."

Only then letting go.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mercy //:

Her eyes studied Mercy, the Force quaking between them. She'd found the string and pulled hard. She meant every word — and Mercy knew it — but she'd phrased them to pluck that thread. Quinn was proud of herself, seeing the Vigo fight her baser instincts.

Her throat remembered the faint grip from Coruscant, the bruises Mercy's hand had left. She hadn't minded them. The memory made her grin — proof she could still get this reaction, and proof she could play with the Vigo as much as she liked.

Maybe that was a bad idea, especially with how strong the Knave had become.

But then Mercy spoke the word — the title — that made Quinn's eyes narrow to slits. It put her beneath her, and Quinn's throat tightened with the urge to lash out, to remind her she would always be above. She didn't. This was the game. And Mercy had taken the round.

Quinn hated what happened next, the way that Mercy looked at her, the feeling that buzzed between them made her want to pull away. The Princess internally screamed as Mercy held her in place and said those words the way she did.

She shouldn't have been surprised. Mercy had been around her parents more and had spent more time on Eshan than she had. A part of her was jealous of that fact. She wanted to live on Eshan and be a true Echani. Quinn had been lucky to have Srina as her surrogate mother, but still, the child craved her culture at its core.

But even with that jealousy, Quinn knew that Mercy was displaced. She would argue not by choice for either of them, but she knew that Mercy flourished in her exile.

Air blew from her nose as she exhaled hard, pulling her hand back as Mercy let go.

"Don't get too comfortable, Knave." Her arms crossed beneath her chest, head turning away even as her gaze stayed fixed on her new Boss.

"Now, fetch the ale. Like a good girl." Her voice was sharp, but Mercy would hear the playfulness threaded through it.

 

[Mercy]

Quinn Varanin

Point to me.

Mercy was often seen as a brute. A barbarian who could no be trusted by anything other than the damage her fists could do. It was why she enjoyed these games so much. It allowed her to show her sly side, the hunger wrapped around it. If she ever realized she was basically mimicking the ways of court when she had spend all her life fleeing from that... miserable existence would follow.

Or if anyone ever pointed out that a crime boss was nothing more than a feudal lord without the law at their side.

Double misery.

But people, often, were forced to repeat the same sort of cycles that came before them. Even when they wished to pretend that they were different or that they would not follow in the footsteps of their ancestors.

"Of course... my princess." Her eldritch hand, the one that was slowly becoming a symbol among her following, curled around the back of Quinn's neck. A soft, gentle squeeze there. A hand that murdered, but in this case a hand that nurtured. Mercy said princess, but the tone was the same as when she named her núro.

That would never go away again.

Then Mercy would slide out of the booth, to go and fetch them their ales, as promised.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mercy //:

Quinn didn't tense, surprisingly, when Mercy gripped the back of her neck. Despite their game, their history, and their appearance, Quinn trusted Mercy with her life. Even when they went at each other on the battlefield, with the intent to kill -- she was still safe.

If Mercy wanted, she could easily snap the Echani's lithe neck. But the squeeze was firm, yet gentle, the type of touch that Quinn hoped that Mercy only used with her. It was selfish, but at the end of it all, Quinn saw Mercy as hers. Even if the fiery Vigo didn't see it that way.

Mercy let her go, and Quinn refused to turn her head to watch her leave. Instead, she watched from the corner of her eye, till she couldn't anymore.

But she didn't turn to watch Mercy, but after waiting a handful of minutes, she couldn't help herself. Slowly, Quinn turned her head. She watched as Mercy weaved her way towards the bar. It wasn't hard to pick out the red-headed woman out of the crowd. She was tall, muscular, and crimson compared to the boring individuals who hung around.

As Mercy would get the ales, Quinn would quickly turn, not wanting her new Boss to know that she was watching. If she did, she had a quick excuse to execute. Something along the lines of she was just looking around the bar, seeing the patrons, since Nar Shaddaa was a planet she didn't often visit.

She rested her hand over her lower lip as she waited for Mercy to finally sit down with the drinks.

At least the ale would be a distraction from the conversation earlier. Quinn didn't know if she should be worried or excited about this opportunity.

Groaning, she pinched the bridge of her nose as the urge to smack the smirk that she kept seeing on Mercy's face when she closed her eyes.

 

[Mercy]

Quinn Varanin

Quinn was lucky in that regard.

Mercy had practically no investment in the sense arts of the Force. So Quinn looking at her, studying her from behind? She didn't feel it. But that wasn't a victory for Quinn in the end, because that was the trouble with Mercy. She knew she watched her anyway. Because she believed it to be true, it had to be an indisputable fact.

So it was that she brought a big pitcher with beer and two big glasses. Putting the pitcher between them and each got a glass.

"Did you enjoy the view, darling?" She purred over the edge of the pitcher with a smirk. The confidence was just dripping off of her tone. The issue was that Quinn had no way of knowing if she had spotted her or not.

Then Mercy began to pour.