Private Of Wounds & Want

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mercy //:

It still stung, but Quinn didn't know what stung more. Was it the bullet holes she was trying to nurse? Was it the bite at her neck? Or was it the words that echoed in the back of her mind?

Quinn frowned as she sat in the small room on the Tyranny. She had avoided the medical ward for a reason; she didn't want to run into anyone, Arris in particular.

The clunky HRD was the last person she wanted to see or hear.

Yet, she desperately needed confirmation that the woman had survived. She could still feel an ebb and flow of the Force that was uniquely hers, but Quinn couldn't distinguish if it was her own attempt at self-soothing or proof that Arris Windrun was still alive.

Her finger dug into the first open wound at her side.

The pain was easier to handle than whatever was muddling around in her head.

Wincing, she stood in front of her mirror, armor scattered across the floor in pieces. Blood had dried along her side beneath it, dark and tacky against her skin. Quinn wet a cloth and dragged it carefully around the torn edges of the wound, wiping away enough of the blood to see what she was doing. Each pass exposed angry flesh beneath, and she hissed quietly through her teeth.

It didn't take long for her to coax the bullet from her side. The Force helped so that she didn't have to dig too deeply into her flesh. She felt the metal shift before she saw it, dragging against the inside of the wound until it finally slipped free and dropped into the small dish beside her with a sharp little clink.

Quinn stared at it for a moment.

Then looked back at herself.

Her fingers poked at old scars and traced around the new wounds that had formed across her once pristine and perfect body.

The thought made her frown.

Her looks, her perfection, those were the things that gave her worth in the eyes of the galaxy.

Now, she had ruined even that.

Her ministrations continued. Antiseptic burned when it touched the open wounds, enough that her stomach tightened and her toes curled against the cold floor. She cleaned away the fresh blood whenever it welled back up, pressed gauze against the deeper holes until the bleeding slowed, then moved on to the next.

She winced, trying not to cry, telling herself this was a lesson.

Quinn paused when she reached the next round. It had lodged itself the deepest, buried somewhere in her shoulder where every movement reminded her it was there. She twisted slightly in front of the mirror, trying to find an angle that didn't immediately send pain down her arm.

There wasn't one.

Having fed Alisteri, her connection was still strong as ever, but her energy was depleted. In the end, she had barely enough strength to drag herself onto the Tyranny.

As much as she wanted to curl up and hide in the rubble, she had to be better than that.

Why worry those that care?

Frowning, her hand moved carefully as she focused on the bullet in her shoulder. The metal shifted beneath her flesh.

Quinn sucked in a sharp breath.

The pain burned, spreading hot through her shoulder, and with each twitch she realized something warm had begun slipping beneath her collar.

She had reopened the bite on her neck.

That became the focus as she leaned forward and groaned.

"Wonderful."

Alisteri was uncouth. For a Sith Lord, he was a mess.

Quinn turned her head toward the mirror and pulled the collar farther away from her neck. Fresh blood had gathered along the two punctures, one thin line already wandering toward her collarbone. She wiped it away with the corner of the cloth, watching another bead slowly replace it.

Her nose wrinkled.

She dotted the bite with antiseptic.

The sting was immediate.

Quinn flinched, shoulders tensing as she pressed the cloth harder against it out of spite. The last thing she needed was some unwarranted disease from his gaping mouth.

Her fingers brushed across the marks again.

Then stopped.

Beneath the fresh bite were the old scars.

Her expression changed.

Quinn traced them carefully with the pad of her finger, following the faint imperfections she knew better by touch than sight. The old bite she had stupidly kept as a memory.

She had needed Quinn that day.

And Quinn had done the only thing she could think of.

Shaking her head, Quinn pulled her hand away and continued cleaning the wound.

There was no reason to think about it.

She pressed the antiseptic-soaked cloth against her neck again, harder than necessary, and tried not to think too deeply about the ghosts of her past.

 

[Mercy]

Quinn Varanin

Quinn would feel her arrival before she even reached the doors.

The Dark Side radiated out of Mercy like an oppressive cloud of black tar and charged emotions. It was a difference between how Mercy had been in the past, all of her presence balled up tight in her flesh, not shown to anyone unless she was ready to strike and her fist already rammed itself in your face. But they hadn't been in the same room in a bit.

A recent change, perhaps, but one regardless.

Then Mercy came sweeping into the room, pausing midway through and leaning against the wall as she watched Quinn patching up her wounds.

"You know, I heard you got fucked up badly and left surrounded by Mandalorians." Mercy drawled lazily as she pulled a cigarette out of the tin. "Glad to see you are still breathing, more or less."

Mercy herself was a mess too.

Carduul Akahl had hit her in the head so hard she had flown off far and seen double, triple afterwards. The concussion was more or less patched over now, courtesy of her Firrerreo psyche and the Force, but she still felt like cotton was stuffed in her brain.

Not a comfortable feeling whatsoever.

Not to speak of the broken ribs and other damage she had received throughout Abregado.

"Had fun?" Mercy grinned, underlining one point: to her Abregado-rae had not been a horror show.

It had been joy.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mercy //:

Mercy was different, and there was a time before that Quinn would have worried, shying away from the dark presence. Instead, the dark core of her soul relished the change. It wanted whatever clung to her presence; it begged for it. Only a few times before this had it churned, wanting something beyond the Echani. She hushed it, though this time there was no need, and she didn't have the strength to try and push Mercy.

Instead, she looked at the woman that stood almost behind her as she finished cleaning one of the wounds just under her chest. A small smile curled at her lips as Mercy's question really only had one answer, one that Quinn finally agreed with.

"More or less," Quinn echoed as she reached for the red lipstick that sat in front of the tin filled with bullets and gauze.

Her eyes remained on the woman behind her as she touched up the carefully perfected tint of her lip. Twisting the cap back on, she lifted her eyes from the woman and set the metallic tube down on her dresser.

"You look like shit." She smirked, but it soon faded into a smile she often reserved for her oldest friend, her closest friend. "But I'm glad to see you had a good time." She didn't reach for much, not now. Even if she did, even if Mercy at this moment wanted to – Quinn was exhausted.

Sighing softly, she returned to her shoulder, that particular wound still being stubborn.

"I did." She answered, through gritted teeth. "It was exhilarating in a way I never thought it could be."

She mused, pausing for a moment and turning towards the Firrerreo, her back leaning against the dresser. It was here that Quinn got the full picture of the Empress of the Core, a woman that frustrated her as much as she adored her.

"He was there," She tilted her head slightly, forgetting the tug of the healing bite. "The man who decided he was privileged enough to enter my bedroom on Eshan."

Her grip tightened on the edge of the dresser as her lips tightened. Frustration bled off of her while her brow furrowed. It was different; she felt different. In most cases, she'd be crying, wanting her mother, and while she still did want the comforts of Srina's coddling – she knew better.

She was destined to become something greater than she was now.

"Unfortunately, luck was on his side, and he was able to avoid nearly everything I threw at him."

Shifting her weight, she sighed.

"What about you? I can feel how stuffed your thick head is… do you need any help with healing? Clearing your mind?"

A little mischief hung at the end of her smile.

 

[Mercy]

Quinn Varanin

A slow raspy chuckle around her cigarette as she leaned against the cabinet while watching Quinn patch herself up. Then pretty herself up. Resilient, that was what Mercy thought of, when she thought of Quinn. The Echani had a way to bounce back from most experiences. A quick cry, maybe, some internal bashing of her self-proclaimed inadequacies, but then Quinn was back at it.

To prove to herself that she was worth it all.

Mercy respected it, even if it surprised her in the moment - she had felt the horror from her oldest friend, when Quinn discovered what Abregado-rae was meant to be.

It seemed she had made her peace with it.

"He was there," She tilted her head slightly, forgetting the tug of the healing bite. "The man who decided he was privileged enough to enter my bedroom on Eshan."

Eyebrows rose there in response.

"Small world." She was about to ask if she had made him pay, but then Quinn continued herself. If her eyebrows could raise any further they certainly would have. Disappeared all the way into her hair. Sadly there was only so much they could do to express bewilderment. "This breed of Mandalorian has proven difficult to put down." Mercy finally said, reaching out to squeeze Quinn's shoulder, to offer a sense of support.

She couldn't give her shit about it.

After all, her own battle on Humbarine had been left about the same, until the older one had been absolutely wrecked by the end. It was a shame Mercy didn't know his name, or the irony that it was the same Mandalorian would have been palpable.

"Think nothing of it. Your life is long, theirs is short. You will get yours eventually and we took Abregado from them."

She offered her cigarette to Quinn, if allowed, pushing it between her lips herself.

"What about you? I can feel how stuffed your thick head is… do you need any help with healing? Clearing your mind?"

A sigh there as she thought back to her battle with Carduul Akahl .

"Great fucking fight, honestly." Mercy said without concern or mixed feelings. "Big guy clocked me right in the head, send me flying." It had been absolutely glorious.

She had given as good as she got, but in the end Mercy hadn't been able to bury him in the ground.

Maybe if her mind hadn't been split in so many pieces- being forced to experience all of Abregado all at once while trying to fight. It had been absolutely miserable.

"But no, it's fine, my brain will put itself back together eventually. You need to save your strength for your own healing, you look about as shitty as I do right now." Teasing her lightly.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mercy //:

Mercy knew her too well; the girl had already cried.

She cried over the feelings of death crawling over her as she stood near one of the epicenters. She cried over the pain inflicted on her skin, her body becoming a canvas of survival more than beauty. She cried over Arris Windrun choosing someone else, when she had given her almost everything that she was. She cried because she couldn't even kill the man that had broken into her home, seen her in her privacy, and then left. And she cried because the only person who made her feel as if she was enough was that blind bat, Alisteri Haxim

Quinn cried for not being enough, for not doing enough, and forgiving too much of herself to someone who couldn't bother to choose her.

But she had wiped away the mascara that stained her cheeks, her eyeliner still smudged slightly at the edge of her eyes. As much as she hated her imperfections, she was as put together as anyone could be in her position.

A lesson that Quinn was slowly coming to terms with.

The reassurance, the grounding squeeze from her oldest friend, helped quell any doubt the woman was feeling. Quinn agreed

She leaned forward, lips parting to invite the cigarette. As Mercy placed it, she took a long, steady pull, the heat settling deep in her chest. She exhaled slowly, a thin ribbon of smoke curling from the corner of her mouth while the filter remained pinned there, held in place as she listened to Mercy.

"Sounds like you had a lot of fun." Her smile widened. "Imagining you flying, he must have hit you pretty hard." Tilting her head, her eyes took in the massive, imposing figure that made Mercy.

"You're more boulder than pebble."

Something was mesmerizing about the way that Mercy recalls battle. It reminded her of her parents; honestly, anyone that she had grown up around. Battle, combat, and being stronger were things she had been taught, but never truly understood until recently.

She chuckled softly as she took another drag of the cigarette, her fingers holding it delicately before she handed it back toward Mercy, her lips staining the end red.

"I wouldn't consider them Mandalorians, honestly," she shrugged. "Well, at least the one that decided to come into my room like some petty criminal."

She shrugged, which seemed to help dislodge the bullet from her shoulder. She focused for a moment, and the metal twisted and slipped into her awaiting hand. It found its place back with the others in the bloody tin.

Mercy, despite everything she portrays to others, always had care underneath it all. She had experienced it herself; she had seen it in the woman's interactions with her mother. For those she cared for, she cared deeply, it seems. Anyone else would have demanded Quinn's attention to their wounds.

Especially with the knowledge that Mercy had about what burned inside her. Speaking of, now that Mercy knew about her companion, she allowed herself the reprieve of dropping the constant control of restraint. Her presence in the Force breathed like an ancient beast finally released from its small cage.

Quinn found herself relaxing a bit more, as she sighed along with the monster that remained buried.

"You know, if you just asked, I'd give you everything. I always have and I always will, Mercy." She smiled, her voice soft as she gently reminded the woman. But there was a trust there, despite as much as she would give and do for the Empress of the Core. "Don't worry about my healing; I bounce back faster than you think."

She never asked.

Quinn thought quietly about her interactions with Arris, how Arris craved what she gave. Her lips tightened, hating that those thoughts had crept quietly into the forefront of her mind.

Stupid HRD… Stupid Arris Windrun and her stupid face.

Pushing the droid from her mind, Quinn turned back towards the mirror, her eyes on Mercy as she removed the gold choker. It was obvious she rarely did, a light sunline showing the difference between their pale complexions. There was a hint of reverence in the piece of jewelry, showing how much she valued it, since someone precious had given it to her.

It found a place on the dresser as she began to clean the deep, fanged bite mark on her neck.

"I want to fight you," she started as she tilted her head slightly, exposing the large bite a bit more so she could continue. There was an odd familiarity with the process. She had done this a multitude of times before Alisteri, having been a source of pure, unfiltered Anima for her former fiancé.

"You're the strongest," she paused, her hand falling from her neck as she made sure to focus on the woman, knowing the compliment brushed somewhere the woman couldn't hide.

"But you know that already. I want to test myself… see how much I've grown."

She winced as she went back to her wound.

"When we do fight, please, I want your best, do try to kill me – because if I can't survive you, I don't deserve to be Empress one day."

 

[Mercy]

Quinn Varanin

"Oh, he hit me real fucking hard." Mercy said with a satisfied grin as she left the cigarette between Quinn's lips. Instead she dropped herself down on the bed, back hitting it with a thunk, as the frame groaned in protest at the sudden weight being forced on it. Mercy didn't seem to notice, crossing her ankles and looking up at the ceiling.

"It was great. I hope I will get to fight him again some time."

And the realization that Carduul Akahl and her had similar thoughts... even if they landed on such different conclusions just made it more pleasant.

Mercy was sure Carduul would think differently about their battle.

Not the joy of a battle fought well. Difficult, when Abregado had been turned into a nightmare. You couldn't really find the glory in that. Mercy understood that... because that had been Mercy's aim.

To turn Abregado into a warning that would stand for years to come.

She just snorted at the description of the weirdo, who had forced himself into Quinn's bedroom. The man had been lucky Mercy hadn't been around for it. There would have been hell to pay for it. Good thing that Quinn had managed to resolve it herself, which was something that didn't surprise Mercy at all.

The Princess was soft, the Queen was gentle, but the Core was nightmare.

"You know, if you just asked, I'd give you everything. I always have and I always will, Mercy."

"Mm, I know, sweetheart." Mercy murmured as she plucked out another cigarette, sticking it between her teeth. Since Quinn had hers now. "And you can offer me that, because you know I will never ask anything."

Was there anyone else in Quinn's life, who never ever asked anything from her? Who didn't need anything, who didn't plot, didn't scheme? Who was simply satisfied with spending some time with Quinn, before continuing on with her business? Who didn't get jealous, who didn't inquire about whoever else she spend her time with?

Who accepted the nightmare in her chest with joy, rather than attach any asterisks to it?

"That is always how it has been with us. You have much to give... but I have never been one to ask someone else for help. Everything I want... I carve my own way towards it."

And now she was Empress. Lord. Titan. And perhaps... soon... the worst thing possible.

Sith'ari.

The echo was in her mind, the word on her lips, Quinn would be able to glean it even without Mercy saying it. She didn't have to say it. Their eyes met and Mercy smiled.

"It would look good on me, don't you think?" She could have claimed it all the way back on Coruscant, the first time. When she declared victory in the Kaggath and took everything from the Galactic Empire.

"I want to fight you,"

That got her attention.

Mercy enjoyed a good fucking fight. Carduul was a chief example of her finding joy in battle.

But Quinn and her hadn't fought, not for keeps, in a long time. When they were children, studying under Varanin, before one left and the other was Knighted.

"You're the strongest," she paused, her hand falling from her neck as she made sure to focus on the woman, knowing the compliment brushed somewhere the woman couldn't hide.

Brush it did. Mercy licking her lips, almost purring in delight.

She didn't need anyone's validation... that is what made compliments so darling. She could simply... enjoy them... because they confirmed the truth that Mercy knew in her heart of hearts already.

"Mm, maybe..." Mercy said with a slow stretch. "But if I try to kill you... I might actually kill you, sweetheart. When two forces collide, things break, you are powerful yourself but things happen in battle."

Eyebrow went up as they looked at each other.

"How can I look your mothers' in the eye, with your blood on my hands?"

That is what underlined to Quinn that Mercy had changed. So many years ago Mercy would have accepted a challenge without hesitation. She would have been giddy at the opportunity. But here she was, making a sound reason, responsible, thinking past herself. Thinking about the turmoil it would cause in Srina Talon , Spencer Varanin and Ashin Varanin .

It was not a certain thing, Quinn was powerful in many ways, she could best her.

But if Mercy went all out? And if she accidentally murdered her in it? Those three would never forgive her... and it would irrevocably break what was building between the Sith Order and the Sith Covenant.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mercy //:

Mercy was someone special.

Quinn could offer her everything she was, is, and could be… and Mercy would say no. That no didn't mean Quinn wasn't capable; it meant, "No… let us stand together." In a sense, Quinn respected that, which was why she always offered even if she already knew the answer. Mercy had become something beyond the training she had been given by Ashin.

If only Quinn could keep up.

She kept the cigarette, inhaling another drag, tasting the tobacco and the filter. It calmed her; she had just realized her own heartbeat pacing away at its own leisure. Looking at it now, it didn't look like the ones Arris smoked. An interesting thing the two women had shared… among other things.

Quinn huffed, amused by what she could pick up from Mercy's mind. So many Sith chased that title; Quinn could understand. It was the carrot on a stick. While most were self-proclaimed, she felt Mercy could be greater than them. She blew the smoke from her pursed lips as she thought silently about it. Was she biased? Her nose wrinkled as she quietly answered herself.

No.

Her smile, followed by a nod. If Mercy wished to be Sith'ari. Quinn would follow.

Mercy's answer to the fight elicited a breathless laugh as she sighed softly afterward. It was a funny thought to her, hearing the woman turn down a fight — one that she could unleash everything. Part of her wondered if it was because she cared about her. Still, Quinn realized it was because of the connections that hung above the privileged, blessed head of the Echani.

"When did you become so responsible, my sweet Herunín?" Quinn watched the woman as she lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

Before, Mercy would have leaped into action; Quinn had even mentally prepared herself for the fight to start this second. Her fingers toyed with the metal latch as she placed the choker back at her neck, eyes examining it — feeling its weight against her flesh again.

But Mercy made a point.

One that Quinn utterly hated.

She smiled still, with the same mischief that lingered as a constant at the Echani's lips. Seeing Mercy where she was, the words she spoke, Quinn couldn't help herself and walked carefully towards her bed. The cigarette she had was no longer good enough; she knelt on the bed and plucked the newly lit one from the Titan in her bed.

"Wouldn't be the first time you broke me." She took a gentle inhale of the new cigarette and then placed it back into Mercy's lips.

"But my mother doesn't know about that — nor should she." Her smirk widened as she knew what Mercy meant, but she wanted to lighten their conversation back to what it was. The woman worried about things that she knew her mother would understand.

At the end of the day, they were all Sith.

"I'm sure you'll be fine." She smiled as she shifted her weight to stand back at the bed, her fingers toying with the gold collar as she let her mind wander.

"You forget, my mother… well, all of them are Sith or understand what it is to be Sith." She let her eyes wander over the Titan, the woman who could accomplish anything she put her mind to.

What did Mercy have that she didn't?

Quinn pushed the question from her mind; a comparison wasn't fair to either of them.

"If I died trying to prove myself, wouldn't that be a good death? And if I was going to die, I'd rather it be against someone worth killing me, because then my death would have some meaning."

Finally tired of not having Mercy's whole attention on her, Quinn leaned over the edge of the bed, her weight lingering on the edge as her hands caught Mercy's thighs. Her eyes searched for Mercy's gaze as she once more huffed with amusement.

"As if you'd even get close enough to killing me, bold thoughts, my Herunín."

 

[Mercy]

Quinn Varanin

A snort there.

"You are incorrigible." But her tone was affectionate rather than annoyed. She reached out and tapped her finger against Quinn's nose in a tease. Before accepting the cigarette and taking her own draw from it, while blowing it out to the ceiling. Mercy mulled Quinn's words, but somehow she doubted that Srina Talon would be that understanding, if Mercy slaughtered her baby child.

Yes, she was an adult now, yes, she was a Sith Lord.

And yet... they were all their children, weren't they?

It was something that Mercy was only now starting to accept, or even understand. But Srina had lived like that for such a long time. She carried all that pain with her, all that loss and suffering.

"Be that as it may. No, we will not fight, my darling." She murmurs softly, squeezing her shoulder lightly while watching the smoke curl and circle up above them. "You may win, you are powerful beyond belief..." But Mercy thought she'd get the better of Quinn, in the end. Not because Quinn was weaker than her.

But because Phobis Core or not, Quinn loved, deeply. In her heart of hearts. Care was what propelled her forward.

And if it was life or death, Mercy did not think that Quinn could make that commitment.

But Mercy knew that she would not hesitate in turn.

That is while the Covenant Lord could not agree to such a test.

"But I am disinterested in finding out at this time." Mercy stretched again, while slowly stroking Quinn's hair. "Abregado-rae... tell me. Why does it bother you what we have unleashed on those poor cretins? Do not lie to me. I felt you then, and I sense it under your skin now. You would not have done this, if you had been in my shoes."

A pause.

"You'd disappear in my shoes, of course, seeing how small you are. But you know what I mean." A smirk there, teasing.