Private Of Silk & Syndicates

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mauve //:
//: Attire //:

The Vagrent's Pride
Location: Over Nar Shaddaa Space

It wasn't often she borrowed more personal items from her parents. But with the current assignment of trying to remain inconspicuous as she traveled the stars. Her journey to enlighten herself among the people she would one day govern was important. It also shed the naiveté she had been plagued with from her sheltered upbringing.

It was a thrilling adventure, and for the first time, she hadn't felt alone.

Still, Quinn knew she couldn't trust everyone she came across. Some wanted to undermine her, control her, and use her. Luckily for the Eshan Princess, she had avoided many of those types. Standing in the center of the room, hidden within the Pride, Quinn circled the forward lounge.

Often, her mother had used it to channel battle meditation. Quinn let her fingers drag along the armrest of the large chair, wondering what battles they had faced together - how it felt to know someone was always beside you.

Thoughts and dreams she grew up longing for.

A message was sent, and Quinn found herself pondering. The visit to Nar Shaddaa had been enjoyable. It had sparked enough interest in the Princess that she wanted to be more involved with the Syndicate.

Gently, she let her fingers tap against her crimson-stained lips, a signature she had made all her own.

Was it the potential profits from the gallery that intrigued her? The cover it could provide? Or was it the curator herself?

She didn't have the answer. Not yet.

Lowering herself into the obsidian throne at the lounge's center, Quinn crossed one leg over the other, propping her head up with an elbow on the armrest. Hazel eyes gazed out at the stars beyond the viewport.

Hopefully, she wouldn't be kept waiting long. Escorts had already been sent to ensure her guest of honor found her way to The Vagrant's Pride without difficulty.

Exhaling softly, she leaned back and folded her hands into her lap—already preparing for one of her favorite recent games.

Mauve.

The Zeltron had proven herself interesting, charming, and sharp. It was beneficial, certainly. But Quinn couldn't help but wonder what lay beneath the wit and the mystery.

Something deeper? Something dangerous?

Or something worth keeping?

 

[Mauve]

The door at the far end of the lounge whooshed open and in came Mauve, sandaled feet whispering across the deck, a slitted dress of rich scarlet silk dripping from her form. She paused at the threshold, a violet stare perusing the room, lingering on anything and everything - except the other woman sitting at the center of the room.

Let her wait.

Finally, Mauve's eyes settled on the Princess of Eshan, black clad and regal on what looked to be an obsidian throne, the contrast so sharp with her ivory skin that it gave her an ethereal quality.

One eyebrow rose and Mauve walked forward, slitted fabric swishing around bare thigh. Once again, Mauve was reminded of the cost of looks. She seldom went aboard starships and forgot the chill of space. Next time, she would bring a fur coat, she assured herself even as she approached.

"I didn't know princesses got thrones," Mauve said, plum-stained lips curving. She kept walking forward. Others might have prostrated. Groveled before one of Quinn's station. Mauve had done enough groveling in the gutters of Nar Shaddaa. She didn't feel inclined to get on her knees for this princess.

The Zeltron stopped just in front of Quinn, reaching out daintily she tapped a fingernail on the arm of the throne, just near Quinn's wrist.

"Obsidian?"

Quinn Varanin

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mauve //:
//: Attire //:

Of course, Mauve would take her time, making Quinn wait.

How rude.

Quinn watched the Zeltron enter from the corner of her eye, careful not to give her the satisfaction of open attention. She would never admit to admiring the way the woman's stride made the silk of her dress flow like liquid. So few could work silks like Mauve.

The Princess smirked as the woman dared to step up onto the short dais without a hint of respect. It shouldn't surprise her. Mauve had ignored boundaries from the moment they met at her gallery.

Quinn didn't respond at first, letting the silence stretch. Only when Mauve came close enough did she finally turn her head to meet her eyes. Her fingers lifted to caress the bold hand reaching for the throne.

"Not by choice," she said, smiling about the obsidian choice. "My parents had odd taste in decor. But what do you expect from Ashin and Spencer Varanin?"

She shifted in the throne, taking in Mauve's appearance. The dress left little to the imagination, and it was clear she wasn't accustomed to the chill of space. That made Quinn smile all the more. Folding her hands in her lap, she tilted her head.

"If you're cold, I can offer one of my cloaks."

Her gaze drifted—slowly—tracing the line of fabric from Mauve's throat, down her frame, to the daring slit in the dress. When her eyes finally returned to Mauve's face, they dipped once more, knowingly.

"I assume you have something for me? I have something for you too—I think it'll interest you." She leaned back into the throne, one brow raised.

"Shall we take a walk to warm you up? Or are you enjoying hovering over me like this?"

A pause. Then, with deliberate ease: "I don't mind the view either way."

 

[Mauve]

Brazen. Incorrigibly so.

And yet, Mauve felt a heat in her cheeks at the touch, at those wandering eyes. Her chest rose and fell, heartbeat quickening despite all intention to remain aloof and unreachable. She hated that Quinn could no doubt sense that with those thrice damned Force powers. Hated the way she could feel the crimson of desire radiating from the pale girl. Except she didn't. Not at all. A want, a need, shivered through her, colder than the chill of the ship.

Her eyes narrowed at Quinn's words. A walk. Hm. A walk, is that what she wanted? After that.

So many games. And oh, Mauve enjoyed the games. But...

Her palm pressed flat on the arm of the chair, feeling the coolness of the obsidian beneath her palm, the warmth of Quinn's fingers brushing against her own. Mauve leaned in a little closer, as conspiratorial as an advisor to her royal.

"So... it's not a comfortable chair?" Mauve hummed, half-whispered, low and smoky, "I brought your artwork. It's in the hold. Shame about the chair though. I'd half a mind to paint you in it."

She dwelled on the verdant depths of Quinn's eyes for a moment, trying not to lose herself in those wilds. That would be dangerous. She found it exceptionally difficult.

"A walk," she murmured, this time outloud, shaking her head in disbelief, a slow smile creeping onto her face. As if the princess couldn't suggest something else to warm them up. As if she wouldn't.

"What is it," Mauve said around a suddenly tight throat, words constricted, husky, "that you have for me. I'd say i've been good but..." Her lips twisted to a pout, "We'd know that's a lie."

Quinn Varanin

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mauve //:

It wouldn't be the first time that the Zeltron had mentioned painting her. Each time it surfaced, it intrigued the Princess more than she'd admit.

Quinn bit her lip lightly as she didn't break the shared gaze as they promptly started the game again. Mauve was good, rarely backed down, and always had a way to push the Echani to the edge. It was fun, and Quinn looked forward to it.

Still, as they remained close enough to catch the delicate scent of each other's perfumes, Quinn remembered the fear. It made Mauve uncomfortable to see that. A side of the Echani that she wanted to keep locked away. It was ugly, monstrous, and only proved to others that she was born evil.

The hand resting alone squeezed the throne in a foolish attempt to ground her from her guilt. Her composure remained, while her gaze fell briefly, allowing the woman to take in Mauve once more.

A single finger traced delicate lines up and down the Zeltron's fingers and hand as she spoke.

"It's a miserable seat, but if it means you're imagining how to pin me to your canvas," Quinn's gaze returned to Mauve's, almost daring as she smirked, knowing what her words truly meant.

"I can endure a little discomfort." This was their game.

Quinn leaned back, letting her slender fingers find the gaps between the other woman's. She waited, listened to everything that the Curator had to say. A gentle and playful laugh escaped the Echani's painted lips.

"Of course, I wouldn't expect anything less of you, my darling Mauve."

Quinn moved, leaning forward as she pushed herself to stand, letting her company come close enough that their bodies would brush against each other. The delicate scent of her perfume, floral, roses with a hint of sweetness, lingered in the air between them.

She moved away from the throne, her hand grasping at the woman's leading her down the short dais.

"Yes, I have a few things for you," Quinn began, and on cue, a hidden door opened behind the throne. Her fingers lingered loosely in the Zeltron's till she finally pulled away.

"Gifts, favors, and business." Quinn didn't look back as the door behind the pair closed, leaving them alone in the long hallway.

"I'm sure all three are things that can bring a smile to your face," Quinn placed her hand on the side panel, and another door began to open.

"Perhaps even garner forgiveness…" The pride and regality in her voice faded, her tone soft as she waited till the door finished opening and the pair would be allowed to step through.

"Wait here." Quinn motioned as she moved towards some of the significant locked cases.

Each one opened offering almost full wardrobes of silks and even finer fabrics. Dresses and other fashionable outfits are handcrafted by some of the best designers in the galaxy. Everything was one of a kind.

Quinn didn't say anything and continued to open cases now filled with rare stones, reflecting the overhead lighting like stars.

Leaning against one of the long, waist-high cases. "You can have anything, or everything in this room. As my thanks and as an offering." She crossed her arms loosely in front of her as she hesitated.

"I'd like to buy the gallery, along with keeping you as its Curator. I'm looking to develop a footing in the Black Sun, business if you will."

She looked to Mauve, trying to read the Zeltron's reactions.

"I've also come into possession of a mercenary force, and I'd like to offer their services by contract. The latter can be discussed further now or later, but the business of what happened…and the art gallery, I'd like to settle first."

As much as Quinn did her best to hide it, her worry bled through her body.

Fingers pressed into her arms, and her body was stiff. She would never admit it, but the feelings she experienced through the Force, through her own empathy, haunted her.

"I—" Quinn paused and sighed softly. "I only ever wanted to protect you."

 

[Mauve]

All those emotions bundled up in the Echani's slender frame, locked down beneath her grace and poise, radiated from her to Mauve's eyes like bursts of color - worry and guilt in hues of blue. As if, despite standing amidst all these gifts of splendor and high promises, the princess thought that she would remain unforgiven.

"Protect me?"

Mauve cast her gaze from the dresses, to the jewels, then back to the black-clad royal who stood so stiffly now, like she might crack all to pieces if she came uncoiled. The Zeltron let her stand there a moment, letting go of the woman's hand to trace fingertips across silks and gemstones, circling around the cases. She paused in front of a sheer dress in sable and starlight and held it up, admiring, then set it back down. The motion caused one strap of her dress to slip down across one bare shoulder. She did not fix it, instead moving on to the gemstones. She picked up a string of silver with a ruby and prodded it.

"Mercenaries... buying my gallery, giving me dresses and diamonds. If this is how you apologize for your, hm, behavior - well, I suppose you could misbehave more."

She knew why Quinn held herself wound so tightly, still beating herself up over Wielu. And shouldn't she? After what happened? Part of Mauve desired to draw on that anxiety, to turn it upon Quinn, make of her a tool - to be used and discarded. Perhaps it was what she should do... And yet, how strange, this woman who she had witnessed exhibit such strength could also be so fragile. Hard as steel. Smooth as glass.

Mauve ran her tongue across the back of her teeth and, rounding the edge of the cases, came back to stand in front of Quinn, holding the necklace in her hands. She unfastened the clasp and held it out, eyebrow raised, and motioned for the woman to turn around.

Breath unsteady, Mauve's fingers slipped the slender links of silver around Quinn's neck, fastened the clasp. As she did, Mauve's mask faltered, her face near those curling locks of white-blonde hair. She caught the scent of rose and honey.

"You said," Mauve began slowly. "I can have anything in the room."

Lacquered nails slid away from the fastened necklace, to whisper down across the Echani's arms. Leaning forward, Mauve's breath came hot in Quinn's ear.

"Buy my gallery, buy me an army, buy me a planet. I'll take it all. You're worried I think you a monster. But you're my monster." She bent her head lower, her lips brushing feather-light across Quinn's neck, murmuring into pale flesh, "And I know what I want."

Quinn Varanin

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mauve //:

Quinn's eyes followed the Zeltron as she perused the gifts that she was being offered. Small twitches and shifts in her body language began to paint the picture that Quinn was looking for. There was admiration in the items, and even without fully expressing it Mauve knew. Quinn figured that the Zeltrons were known for their empathic skills. A small kinship she felt with the species that she was allergic to. A part of her wished she hadn't gone to Weilu—maybe then none of it would have happened.

Remembering it only made the images feel even more real. A hand gently fell from her arm and hovered over the tender spot on her side. The memory of the pain and what she had done that day lingered until Mauve moved closer to her.

She wanted to laugh at the remark, but the guilt weighed heavily.

Everything fell apart because she couldn't think straight. Another thought haunted her: why had she felt such a primal, urgent need to protect the Zeltron? There were too many questions, but she did her best.

Quinn laughed, smiling through it. As Mauve looked away, the Echani winced from the pain of the healing wound. She couldn't hide it as well as before, not after being so tense.

"I often misbehave, so it might be better if you let me know what you like the most." Quinn sighed softly, letting the throbbing pain begin to fade.

She noted the necklace that the Zeltron grabbed. It was something Quinn had personally picked out; she favored it as well, and a small smile softened her face. For a brief moment, the Princess looked up slightly at the Zeltron as she drew closer.

She was surprised Mauve had approached so soon. Quinn figured the shopping would continue. Mauve continued to amaze her.

Turning, she looked at the back of the room, her hands leaning on the waist-high case, waiting to see what Mauve had planned. Quinn listened, holding her breath. She could hear it, feel it, everything bubbling to the surface. Mauve didn't try to hide the desire that hitched at the back of her throat. Quinn held onto the glass case, waiting. The weight of the necklace at her neck, the way Mauve's fingers caressed her heated skin, all of it made the Echani's blush spread from her cheeks to her ears.

This was their game, or so she thought.

The words were gentle, tantalizing as she reiterated taking whatever Quinn offered. But it was what she said next that nearly unraveled the Echani entirely.

Quinn gripped the edge of the case harder, trying to ground herself long enough to let her mind settle into what was being said. Her greatest fear is people seeing the monster that clawed at its cage within her chest. The beast she became when her life was threatened.

The thing that pushed people away led to her isolation and kept her there. Kirie loved her despite the darkness that made her a monster. Mauve accepted it, she welcomed it, she claimed it.

"Your monster?" Quinn murmured, trying to fight the small smile. The thought of someone accepting the dark, evil thing in her was intoxicating.

"Careful, Mauve." There was danger in her voice. She knew the extent of what she was, but she doubted Mauve had any clue.

"You only saw a glimpse of what I am," The Princess mused as she turned to face the woman who sought to claim the beast within. Quinn smirked as a finger dragged, caressing the curve of the Zeltron's jaw, drawing her gaze. "Are you sure you can accept all of it?"

Her hand gentle, she still held firm the woman's jaw as she leaned in, leaving her lips close, but only to tempt. Quinn lowered her voice as she let her gaze dance along Mauve's features.

"You may claim it, but you'll never own it."

Releasing the woman's jaw, she let her thumb drag gently along her chin, pulling at Mauve's lower lip. Quinn stepped away from the counter and passed the Zeltron.

"On the other hand, you may own anything else here, as a price for the art gallery, and perhaps your loyalty? With that, you'll gain mine. Which in time will prove to be worth your while"

 

[Mauve]

The fingers at her jaw, the thumb brushing over her lips set her trembling, a tingle running down her spine and an ache deep within her. Mauve wanted to sigh into that hand, to fall in a tangle of pink and ivory limbs into a gigantic bed, or maybe to float as the Duros did, spinning about as they discovered every inch of the other.

Then Quinn moved past, talking business again, and Mauve felt a sting of rejection flash through her, hot as a slap.

Why.

How many would have melted before Mauve's words, her touch, her lips - their defenses evaporated like mist beneath a morning sun. Yet Quinn still held herself guarded. Mauve could feel it there, a tangle of interwoven threads. The red bloom of desire, of course, but blurred by a darker, deeper carmine fading almost to black. Some dark emotion lurked there, so hideous that Quinn kept it locked away tight. But hadn't Mauve already seen it unfurled in all its grim splendor? She knew now what Quinn was - more of a Sith than Mauve had ever known when first they met. Beyond the desire and the dark power, Mauve could feel the unraveling of these defenses, and tinged at the edges the blue flashes of pain.

The way Quinn had clutched at her side earlier - she was still hurt.

Mauve swallowed, throat bobbing, her own guilt rising up. She let out a breath she did not know she had been holding and once more moved to circle the chests.

"Your loyalty," Mauve let out a hum of laughter, "Did I not have that already, or would you take a bullet for any beautiful stranger?"

With movements of a graceful lackadaise, fabric whispered across thighs as Mauve once more perused the items.

"Is that what I get to claim? Your loyalty and your gifts and your..." Fingers found the straps of her dress, nudged them from bare shoulders. They slid off, soft and silken - so too did the dress, slipping from lavender limbs until they pooled into a scarlet puddle at Mauve's sandaled feet. "Misbehavior?"

Mauve understood those who shied away from the natural state, who felt exposed. But why should she? Why would she let the hypocritical moralizers win out? The body was a work of art, why not put it on a pedestal to be admired?

To be admired by green eyes.

Her own violet irises studiously avoided meeting Quinn's, feigning fixation with another bit of jewelry - an enormous aurodium collar necklace, impossibly expensive and - were those corusca gems? She picked up the collar, heavy in her hands, and arched her arms up, exposing more swathes of lavender skin pulled in new and interesting ways before the princess' gaze as Mauve brought the cold metal to her neck so that she could fasten it, fingers twining behind her neck. The weight settled down upon her chest, heavy and cold and very gold.

Placing one hand on the collar, Mauve at last looked back at the Echani, one eyebrow arched in silent question.

Still calm and poised, princess?

Or would her own hunger unravel her defenses.

Quinn Varanin

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mauve //:

Quinn let her eyes wander as she spoke. Business was safer terrain — a familiar language that allowed her to settle her nerves.

A small sheepish smile broke across her face as she nodded. Mauve wasn't wrong; Quinn's loyalty had been put on display during the conference. She wouldn't have gotten into the fight if there hadn't been something there. What exactly, Quinn couldn't put her finger on it.

Was it loyalty… or just the afterglow of her pheromones?

She needed more time to sort those feelings, but Mauve seemed to want to know the confirmation, even if she was teasing. Quinn brushed back strands of hair as she sighed and nodded.

"You do have my loyalty…" Quinn sighed gently again, as much as she didn't want to admit to it and keep it as a bargaining chip, Mauve saw through the bluff.

It made the Echani chuckle gently as she brushed back her blonde hair. Her eyes fell from Mauve as she began to sort through some of the jewelry she stood beside. The chests were filled with crafted items from all over the galaxy, but her favorites were the Eshan silver. It was almost comical the connection she felt to the planet — despite never properly living there.

Mauve continued, mentioning what she could claim. Hearing it back, Quinn tried to understand what the issue was. More often, those were the things people wanted from her. No one truly wanted Quinn for just Quinn. They only saw the crown, riches, and a pretty face. For others, a weapon.

What happened next took the Echani by surprise.

Quinn's eyes widened, her breath catching as her lips parted in quiet disbelief. Never in her life would she have expected this course of action from the other woman. Whatever jewelry Quinn held fell from her hands as she watched and listened to everything unfold.

Mauve didn't look at her as she fastened the collar around her neck. Quinn, unable to stop from look, let her eyes dance from the curve of the Zeltron's face to her collar, her navel, her hips, and back to her face. She took every ounce of what was on display and appreciated the beauty of it all.

It was difficult to hide the effect of the Zeltron's actions; Quinn could feel her heart racing, her blush deepening, traveling to color her neck and chest. It was hard to breathe, and the room felt hot. In most cases, she could predict and prepare for things to escalate, but she was no longer in control of the scene. It had shifted dramatically in Mauve's favor.

Though the moment emerald met amethyst, Quinn found her voice. "Aurodium looks good on you." Her smile softened, her gaze moving from the woman's eyes and drifting down deliberately. Mauve wanted to be seen, so Quinn saw her.

Stepping forward and closing the small gap between them, Quinn continued to examine and study the woman. Her actions screamed desire and effort to gain what she wanted from the Princess, but in full, what was it? Just attention? Carnal desires? Or was there more? Quinn felt her head spinning and her heart thundering through her chest, but she remained as collected as she could.

It was unfortunate that her body betrayed her mind.

Closeness was the only cure for persistent loneliness. Her fingers found the edge of the collar, slipping just beneath its curve.

"It would be criminal to deny how beautiful you are." Her eyes fell on the collar, focusing on it as she felt the metal now warm from the woman's skin.

In any other circumstance, the Princess would have allowed her desire to control her, allow her hands to reach out and pull Mauve into an embrace that threatened to never let go. But her heart was elsewhere, and she wouldn't betray that.

Instead, she only gave what she could as she fought her own selfishness. The hand that held the collar gave it a gentle tug before her fingers caressed, trailing down the center of the Zeltron's beautiful and desirable figure.

Her hand only pulled away as she teased the top of what fabric was left adorning the woman's frame.

"I thought you sought to claim," Quinn murmured between them, her eyes once more looking towards the deep pools of violet. With every ounce of her will, she smiled and fought to be drawn in. She didn't reject Mauve — but only let her wade in the shallows of what Quinn Varanin truly was.

Leaning forward, she allowed their bodies to touch as Quinn let her hand caress the metal of the collar again. Her fingers wrapped around its curve and gave it a firmer tug.

"But I feel you seek to be claimed, you want to belong to someone, I will buy your art gallery, I will provide you with an army, I will gift you planets and power — I will claim you, all I require is your loyalty, and we will remain equals."

She paused, letting it sink in, letting their closeness radiate with the Zeltron.

"I will protect you. You can claim my monster, that darkness that makes me who I am under the surface, but the rest? Requires more."

Pulling back, Quinn gently released the collar, her eyes never leaving the Zelron.

"What do you say?"

 

[Mauve]

"I say the rumor is true," hissed Mauve, stepping forward where Quinn pulled back, following the warmth of that touch, "I am a greedy witch. And I want... what I want."

And what did she want? Not to be left alone in the void, cold and shivering. To feel the heat of those hands on her as they had been, exploring, reveling. To, for once in her fucking life, bask in and desire the lustful attentions of an equal like the light of a sun's rays on her skin. Except the one time she actually cared, that attention - the fullness of it - was withheld.

Out of what? She could feel the war within Quinn's chest, some part of the woman held back. And it set Mauve's teeth on edge. The way she talked to her too, teasing as if she might in fact claim her, lead her by that collar, only to retreat again. Fear warred with a ravenous ardor, Mauve could feel the woman's restraint strain, fraying, but not snapping.

Infuriating. Enough to drive her mad.

"You think I want to be claimed? To belong," she parroted back, the sultry laugh that followed short and tinged with peril, "So many pretty promises, Princess of Eshan, but you can barely look me in the eyes while I stand here, can barely touch me."

Those violet wells burned bright as giant, glistening stars, seeing far more than the pale girl might think.

"You think you're the only one with a dark side?" The smell of jasmine pervaded the air, growing thick and cloying, "If I wanted to be claimed, I would be. You offered anything in the room, and I chose. And that choice scares you. And maybe you should be scared, Quinn."

Mauve trailed her hand down her own body, scratching her nails across swathes of taut lavender flesh. The air was so cold against her skin, but she remembered the touch of the Echani's hand. The jasmine scent became oppressive, heady, arousing. Mauve saw Quinn's ravenous ardor, gnawing at her restraint, and fed the emotion as she would feed an open fire. The flames of desire were hungry, lapping up all they touched. All-consuming.

Not a want.

A need.

"I have had grown men drooling on their knees, promising anything - promising everything. You don't think that if I wanted to be claimed I could have you begging too? Kneeling? Kissing my feet?" The pheromonal wash lent her words an aura of not just implication, or suggestion, but a deep and sinister command, as Mauve arched her back so she stood and basked in unclothed glory, matching every bit the spectral dark of Quinn's own violent power.

The urge to fall to knees, to cling to and kiss those freshly-scarred, sandaled feet came on as a primal urge, relying on those deepest of genetic instincts. A collision of shame and lust that could lay the proud princess low with the basest of desires. To throw herself upon the Zeltron. To take and be taken.

"We're all monsters, Quinn," she rasped, her words losing the tone of command, the smell of jasmine fading, "But you. You want me, I can feel it. And that want terrifies you."

Her eyes shimmered, wide and welling.

"Why won't you take me if you want me so?"

Quinn Varanin