Private One Reason

[Loske Treicolt]

Where were they going? Had he not heard her entire plan?

No. It had been an internal dialogue to keep her focused and distracted from the coercians of sellers, packing of weapons, clanking of bionics and all other cacophonous and overwhelming noise en route back to the ship through the bazaar.

“Oh, right.” Loske evidenced a loopy grin, her train of thought had continued on an internal track and she’d forgotten to say out loud what her idea was. That thought was funny to her, apparently and she tittered a bit while crossing through the ship to the cockpit. The ship was starting to warm up, and finding the navicomputer in the system didn’t take too long. She beep-booped through the requirements to setting their trajectory, sitting on the edge of the seat pilot’s with the box on her lap. She wasn’t sure if the co-pilot’s chair could control the systems or not.

“Kiffu -- my plan is Kiffu. There’s a Jedi Master there who’s really good at Art of The Small. It’s a practice where you can rearrange molecules to recreate new substances or states. I can do it in little spurts, and really only on myself, but if she can teach me, and I can get it down pat well enough, we can make this little vile go a long way.

I’ve put in some codes that’ll let us go straight through unencumbered by CIS patrols.” Even though the last time she’d visited had been unsettling and awkward, she’d come away with an open door invitation and regal ID. At least that way the Sheyf and Guardians would know she’s coming. “I think. Might want to check them. They should be uh..Frank. You do it.”

Frank rolled up to her and produced a plastic bulb filled with water. “Thanks.” Loske offered, a little sheepishly, and took hearty sips. Meanwhile, the astromech made a binary huffing sound and reviewed what Loske had input to the system and made corrections to the first five digits.

“Heh.”

With some sense, the kiffar maneuvered from the pilot’s seat to let him take care of takeoff. It wasn’t as graceful as she would have been sober, and ended up flopping into the co-pilot’s seat. Her motor skills were basically at the level you’d expect after someone had three or four bantha blasters. “Yeah, I’m -- no. Maybe? Maybe in a bit. That little den was riddled with spice, and I am nottt built for that.” Her tone was more animated than usual, gestures accompanying most of what she was saying. Her thumb lined the box, which was still fluctuating with wavy lines around its perimeter, making it difficult to visually assess how big it actually was. “You were great out there, by the way. Really in your element.”

At that admittance, she narrowed her eyes in pensive recollection, levelled at Maynard Treicolt . “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drunk.”

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

"Kiffu? Well I mean...better bet than anything else, sure thing." Saying the name of the world sounded a bit comedic in his Concordian accent, but with a shrug he followed along with the suggestion. It was either there or...back to the Alliance - or back to battling the Bryn with a vial of poison and bad intent. Art Of The Small wasn't anything Maynard had any familiarity with, granted he didn't have familiarity with many higher tier force concepts, only the base level of what could be used to telepathically manipulate objects and enhance his own ability to do certain task. While he might've managed to pass his trials as a Jedi Knight, in force ability he was far from capable.

"Good because - I ain't trying to deal with that mess after their mandate." Treicolt said of course referring to Confederacy First. As he took the reins of the controls and lifted the ship back through atmosphere - shrouding The Renegade in its cloaking system before setting the course through hyperspace again and with the slam of the level they were coursing through the blue starlit corridor of hyperspace once more enroute to Kiffu, a planet he was much less familiar with than the dunes of Thyrsus.

"I try- probably only sold the look because I had Poncho herself at my side." Maynard offers with a grin as he lifts his hands from the controls.

"Well...no, no I don't drink often if I'm honest...however...I may or may not have said...drinking materials aboard this fine vessel." Maynard said initially glancing back in the pilot's seat before he turns it to face her in the seat behind him, seemingly taking up a lighter tone than the aura about the two before their black market excursion. Nothing like a spice addled encounter with a Gand to brighten the mood in the wake of talks of loneliness and abandonment that threatened to send them both to tears not hours before.

"Granted, might be best saved for the trip back...being as you clearly can't handle yourself." Maynard offers with a teasing smile toward her as he crosses his arms over his chest and leans back into the seat as it faces her. Seemingly trying his hand at relaxing for a change.

Buddy, catching the interaction merely turned to Frank before sounding out a series of binary chirps to his astromech counterpart.

<I...I will never understand them. You wanna see the cloaking system?> Buddy said again, clearly trying his best to wing man its Jedi owner by finding a way to...get out of the way.

---

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Oh good. It seemed like Poncho was going to stick. With a shake of her head, she smirked at the mutual compliment diversion. “C'mon, take the compliment.” Loske implored.

Relaxed Maynard Treicolt was nice to see. Perhaps it was starting to show more because she was paying more attention. In part, she was deeply relieved they didn’t start talking about feelings again as soon as they boarded the ship. There was a personal rule she’d instituted about important conversations not taking place when she was anything other than stark sober, less her sincerity be misconstrued and attributed to an inebriant. The girl was an open book, if she was asked, she’d tell. And that was only tripled when her mouth felt like rubber and the viscosity of vowels accelerated with a readiness to chatter. Warmth suffused through her body, and it’d be a lie to say she wasn’t enjoying the high just a little bit even if it was starting to recede.

She ran her fingers along the box, and shook her head with a simper in denial to his jab. There was a painful truth to that, any sort of vice readily had its way with her metabolism and she all too quickly became a motor skilled mess. “Hey!” But she reacted with faux offence, a snap and an accusatory finger point: “You think you could do better?” He'd been saved by that mask's filtration system, after all. And if he didn't drink that often, then..w-elll.

Then there was a pause, and she set the box with the deadly vile on the dashboard in front of her, given how much she was jostling around. “Actually, yeah, you might need to take this..just in case.”

I’ve found it easier to just stop trying. Frank admitted back to Buddy, who was once again finding some way for them to do something else in the ship. He activated his treads to follow after the BB’s roll. If they kept this up, he’d have this play down pat soon enough. As long as it’s more interesting than the cargo bay, sure.

The trip back though..she'd probably want to drink afterwords. Or something. Her mother wasn't the most hospitable person around and it always brought a bit of disappointment and edge to the fore when they interacted, so the suggestion of some sort of diversion after-the-fact wasn't all bad. But she didn't want to spend this whole trip in this state. As far as she was concerned, Maynard'd played all he could, and everything about action was in her court now. Despite it not being the intention of the trip, it would probably have to be an outcome lest she wanted to continuously drag him through the mud. What kind of friend would she be? Not the one deserving of the devotion she'd evidenced to date.

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

Take the compliment. Something Maynard struggled with for years as he constantly seemed to put himself down. It was like second nature at this point

"Better?" He offered one brief visual appraisal of her state of being right now. She'd taken one breath of residual spice smoke and was clearly out of it. He liked his chances.

"Well, yeah I'd think so I mean- it didn't take much until you were having fun there, Blue. I mean hell probably could've got more of...whatever that was as a parting gift." He remarks with a grin, leaning out of his sweat toward her as he went to take the case carrying the Xenotoxin from her, seeming to revel in that brief moment of closeness with her before he leaned back into his pilot's seat. Setting the case beside the control panel he leans into the back of the seat as he looks back to her again.

"So- who's on Kiffu?" He asked, as much as he wanted to fully decompress right now, they did have another task ahead of them after all. For now, he was certainly content to relax in the in-between however. She'd said not even hours before that she wasn't in the right head space for the kind of talk that probably needed to find some sort of conclusion. A breath of spice certainly didn't help bettering her state of mind. And after all, the last thing he wanted to do was have Loske associate Maynard and by extension, his space faring domicile with "Oh, I guess its time to cry more." . That just wouldn't do anyone any good. Maynard all the same didn't want that weighted conversation over again. If this trip to Kiffu had a similar effect than their excursion to Thyrsus, maybe they'd step back aboard in even better light.

"Let me guess its - " Family. Maynard said, raising a brow to Loske to accompany his line of questioning though seemingly not actually worried even though he left the blank for her to fill.

---

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"Yeah." She confirmed his drawling suggestion, and drew her legs to tuck in bend beneath her.

"My uhm, mom." It was weird to say mom when it was actually just someone who'd donated their DNA. Frank reassured her several times that her conception was about as natural as someone who'd wanted a test-tube baby. It was just the acceleration of her growth that was freakish and manufactured. If it'd been less of an experiment, and more a natural scientific splice, she'd still be less than ten years old. "I'm taking you to meet my parents.' She chuckled at the suggestion, and brushed some collected sand from the side of her boot. "Kind of.

Things are a little weird between us, but we're getting better I think. At least, enough that'd she'd help with this." The reality was, as much as Loske was supposed to be some sort of clone of the woman, she inherited so few of her traits that they were complete opposites. Kiskla'd been proper, regal, laconic and reserved. Any antonym to those could be used to describe the lithe poncho-wearing individual doing a lot of the talking right now.

"We didn't even know about one another until about..two and a half years ago? Maybe? There was this really uncomfortable reunion, I even found out I had a twin brother. Which at the time was super frustrating, he was a Jedi Knight and I was still mmm, denying anything about The Force."

Her explanation was cut short, and her face darkened with a creeping realization of what Maynard Treicolt had said in his admittance earlier. Suddenly she realized she was explaining all about her connections when he'd suggested anyone who'd cared about him had been violently torn away from him. It was probably safe to assume his family was a part of that, given he'd never made any sort of reference to Ma and Pa before. For a country boy, that seemed out of character. Most often when someone painted a picture of settling down it'd include something about self contained agriculture.

"You guessed that pretty quickly. Is talking about family uncomfortable for you?"

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

Outrider listened intently to everything she said. Only expected of him at this point, when the two of them were alone with nothing else fettering their focus on one another he seemed to be entranced. By her voice, by her eyes...all of it. If she didn't need the words explicitly spelled out by Treicolt of how he felt about her, she really only needed to peer back into that gaze of admiration, compassion...certainly something deeper beyond that. It wasn't really a look he gave anyone else even if it was almost intangible.

"Oh- well. I mean...I'll be interested in meeting her though, for sure. I can mediate if need be." Maynard offered, jokingly. Before they'd even really touched on any other component of perhaps a...more intimate relationship, he was headed off to meet her 'parents'. They hadn't checked the boxes in any uniform order thus far, suppose it only made sense by now.

Maynard shifted uncomfortably in his seat when she asked him about family, he opened his mouth to speak only for silence to emerge for the faintest of moments from there he sucked in a heavy breath.

"Well...yeah, not that it bothers me to talk about your family no, not at all but I mean, I'd be lying if I said it wasn't the...easiest of subjects, yeah." Maynard said adjusting himself in his seat again. Oh boy.

"I um...yeah I mean grew up on Concord Dawn. Small...poor, ram-shackled homestead. It was...yeah, it was shitty. My momma was a kind, sweet lady. My old man was...he was kind of a dick but...he was my old man, ya know?" He said, seemingly clenching his teeth as he fended off tears continuing to speak. He was clearly not going to shy away from being vulnerable around her.

"Then I got taken...to be a Jedi. I didn't see em for a while until...until I had a mission with Master Tok'run where-. " He stopped for a few moments before he continued again, trying to collect his thoughts and remain composed, something he'd been accomplishing well enough so far.

"Where I had to go back...to stop to the Sith. And uh- well...not long after they killed Tok'run I...I- I ran. I ran away from the scrap and went home and uh...I found some Sith Troopers they were rippin' the place apart, looking for me. When I showed up- they'd just cut my mom's throat open and left her to die...after they burned burned my old man out and killed him. I...I- I killed the people that did it and- and I left." Maynard said with a shrug at the end, as if a gesture to seal in the tears that were on the brink of flowing down his cheeks. But he kept stalwart, for now. He didn't want to make things so heavy again but, it was something he felt she had to know, to put everything into context.

"Sorry...you- you didn't ask for that, that's my bad." Maynard said, trying his best to make up for dimming the mood again, his gaze breaking from hers after he'd said it, as if feeling some element of guilt over it all.

---

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

The idea of Maynard mediating was nigh comedic, and spurred a roguish grin at the mental picture of his heavy accent contending with the piercingly punctuated delivery of the former Grandmaster. Her dubiousness was voiced: "Hah, yeah, ok-ay."

A voiceless start to the story should have been the first cue that things were about to take a downward turn on this rollercoaster of a trip. The delusion of Maynard's relaxation quickly shattered. The numbing grip of despair stretched out through the cockpit as the syllables started to drop.

Concord Dawn. If Frank were in the room, he would have interrupted the detailing of Maynard Treicolt 's home life with a scrawl descriptor of tightly lawed planet. By some grace, Buddy had kept his attention though, so all the focus was on the account of his upbringing. Straightaway his folks were referred to in the past-tense, and she bit down on her lip when their different characterizations were recalled. A dichotomy straight away, kindness and harshness. Keeping their memory alive was painful, and the inflections of his tone begged her to sober up and keep transfixed.

Allowed to contribute to the story, she gave a slow, tentative nod when he prompted her to confirm she understood how relationships could be. No matter how someone treated you, they were in a relative position that required respect. She could appreciate that, and so she fed the affirmation back to him.

Almost as quickly as it had started, the narrative adjusted from describing his upbringing and his parents to being discovered as a Force sensitive and taken from his home. Something about the way he worded it concerned her, and she unfolded her legs to sit on the edge of her seat. She remembered Master Tor'Kun's name. She'd thought about him earlier that day, and how proud he would have been of the man Maynard had become.

To be taken. It sounded so disruptive to his patterns. How old had he been? Did he not want to go? How had they found him on that backwater planet? Were other people that Jedi now been ripped from their families? The questions flowed in the silence he provided out of necessity to gather himself.

The questions were operating as an excuse not to respect the silence for what it was, and she put a stop on the quagmire of considerations with a mental chiding of her own. Instead, she took the time to observe; a gaze that returned the one that he bore at her. His hazel observation made her uncomfortable. It was louder than his voice, and cued a flutter of wings in her stomach. So instead, she shifted to look at a different point - tracing around his face while he considered his next steps. The flurry of stars outside only served to highlight the sadness in his features, and it pulled at her heartstrings again. The quiver of his new scar that stretched up to his eyes suggested he might lose his grip, and all his pain manifest as salty stains. The movement from outside served to underscore the stillness between the pair She was about to say he didn't have to continue, but before the words could come he found his voice again, though it faltered. Loske dedicated herself to follow him through it and leaned in.

His Master killed. His mother killed. Father killed. Murdered. The details of his parent's death weren't spared, it was obvious the images still plagued him. He'd had to watch them die, and feel so responsible for it that he sought revenge. The pain and rage he must have felt could have been blinding. Fingers found their way to her parted lips, and she covered the 'o' that had been made from shock. She felt a chill, like a physical sensation, as if her blood had actually congealed. Loske was fast coming distraught. It was terribly disturbing what Maynard was saying, what her friend had been through, and the echoes of the past he lived with. He looked so tender now, so unencumbered by the necessity of keeping a brave face.

By the end of the tale, all she wanted to save him from his sorrow so that would be the last sad story he'd ever have to recount. That incandescent desire to protect hadn't abated an ounce since Brentaal, and if anything it was fanned even more - yet she felt paralyzed in this moment. Her compassion was layered -- she didn't want to make him feel like he was responsible for falling into a place of passion because he was so irrevocably sad.

Why was the galaxy such a sad place. This is why she wanted to be everything she could for her friends, so be that reminder that things could be elysian.

Was he apologizing?!

Hotly, she damned the dashboard of controls between them. Even though they were facing each other, and probably only a meter or so apart, he suddenly felt so far away and withdrawn.

What did she say now? That she was sorry? He probably didn't want her pity, and she didn't want him to feel pitied. It was something that had happened, revolting though it was, but she had to take it as terrible purpose. By now, her elbows were on her knees and she was massaging just beneath her ears.

"I had no idea." She admitted, trying to fill the hollow and silent vortex between them when the story ended. The edges of her eyes felt as heavy and tight with emotion as her chest, and all she'd done was listen. She hadn't lived through the story, or had to retell it. That was his reality. For all that it was, it was more impressive he was able to find purpose and motivation in what he did. And after all that, he'd gone back to Concord Dawn to save Ryv. Wow. Admiration flooded her senses, and she fought to capture his attention again with her searching eyes. He was finding comfort in the whirring of stars outside, and she couldn't fault him for that.

"I kind of asked," an olive branch extended his way, trying to relieve some of the omnipresent guilt that plagued him. He wasn't the sort to shrink away. "I didn't expect..you..I...thank you for trusting me with that. I wish that hadn't happened to you." Her speech was slowed, and remarkably less slurred than it had been minutes ago. Nothing like some good old fashioned bombshells to relieve someone from their stupor. The barrier in the middle be darned to heck, she made a decision to move and close the space between them, intruding on his personal bubble by forcing her arms around his neck and leaning down to embrace him. The chair made it pretty awkward, so after she was sure the sentiment of her compassion and attempt to relieve his strife was delivered, she moved back to kneel beside him. Again, the chair making it super awkward, but she kept balanced on her heels for the sake of connection.

Her next observation was out loud. "You're living with a lot of pain. I wish..that wasn't the case. It's so undeserved. In everything you do, there's..I can't think of anyone more deserving of peace than you. All of that, just because of your genetics? I...I can see why you left The Order the first time. I can't believe I.. I'm sorry for anything less I had maybe thought when you first told me."

Meanwhile, the dash behind him gave a low, indicative beep that they'd be approaching the atmosphere in five minutes. A weather report came with the information, recounting that there'd been a lightning storm a few days prior from the encirclement of the twin planets, and the approach should be conducted with caution lest they want any of the controls to be compromised by the residual static in the atmosphere.

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

At the very least, it seemed like most of the conflicted feelings Maynard had seemed to be shed into open air with her by now. He was completely vulnerable and transparent. Seemingly had very little to hide, except for the extent of how he felt about her. Something in his gut made him unable to bring himself to really say it. The gesture of her embrace brought him to slowly rise from his seat and keep her standing as he leaned into the hug. He needed it more than anything else it felt like. To be freed from that un-tethered isolation. Even if it was just that, a gesture of affection it meant...everything.

Pulling her closer to him, he closed his eyes and leaned his head over her shoulder as she spoke to him. Now she was sorry. Coming full circle between the two in so few words. When she said that she was more deserving of peace than anyone else the levy broke and a lone tear streaked down his cheek. After years of burying himself in a pit of doubt, sadness, anger. A self inflicted torture internally which only served to portray itself as an innate selflessness to everyone else. Sure he joked and boasted of himself but in reality, his ego had been drained long before he returned to the Order, for better or worse. He gave up just about everything for the people closest to him because he was afraid of losing anyone else.

He was afraid of being that scared boy on Concord Dawn with blood on his hands and absolutely no one to look to again. It was a biting remark when she thought for a second that he might be abandoning her. Even if it was a wound quickly healed over, it was still difficult to put into words how he felt. As soon as that characteristic beep sounded from the control panel he shifted his head back from resting against the side of hers, appraising the ship's status for the briefest of moments before he turned back toward her. Keeping that drained hazel gaze on her deep blues she might be able to tell by then, he'd let it all out as another tear streamed down his face, whatever she said managed to do it.

Coursing a hand through her blonde locks he let off a staggered breath for the brightest of moments as he looked over her. She was...beautiful, ridiculously beautiful. Though he'd always seemed to admire that from afar about her this closeness made it all the more apparent and it made what he was about to do even less believable to him.

Leaning his head forward he seemed to want to cut through the tension between them and stake how he felt all in one movement. A kiss, his eyes closing, his head tilting ever so slightly to accommodate it as he breathed in through his nose all the while he sought to press his lips to hers. Until he did, there was no saying what he meant to her he could only show how boundless his affection was. Even if she pulled away and smacked him for it, something he half expected her to do in the back of his mind - he staked everything on this because he true and genuinely meant it.

---

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Whenever you’re ready. ​

Unsure of what she’d expected, Loske faltered when he yielded to her arms and pressed in close to her embrace. For the briefest of hesitations, her trembling hands hovered above his shoulder blades before she rested her palms against the back of his head and shoulders in reassurance. She couldn’t see his face, but she could feel him against her and all the tenseness that had been bottled up released. Maynard Treicolt ’s breath so close to her ear sounded difficult, and she tightened her hold as he exhaled out that singular, pained tear.

Her grip loosened when the captain needed to check in on the ship’s communications. She couldn’t look away, enamoured by the moment and she tracked his vague movements. His update was wordless, but there was something changed about his tired eyes. A decisiveness that gave insight to his next steps. He was playing all his cards, and laying them out on the line.

This was it. This was it. She was deafened by her mind’s indistinguishable screaming. It was positively frantic, and gave him the opportunity to take his pause to assess the situation on his terms. His decision-making seemed to be in slow motion. Her first inclination was to stiffen at his soft touch, but with his shuddery breath she eased and surrendered.

The brush of his lips against hers was sure. At first she blinked in surprise, which was more an innate reaction than anything. She’d sensed it coming, it was impossible not to. His ragged exhale had been like asking for permission.

Her not backing away gave it.

Loske could have moved, she should have moved. He gave her enough time to step away and prevent the forbidden action. Her feet were steadfast, though. In her immobilized state, she realized she needed him. She needed the confidante and the friend he'd always been, before he’d confessed to muffled agony every moment of their time together. If not now, she’d lose him. She couldn’t be the fool that lost him.

That omnipresent individual in her life, for the past year or so anyway, was striking a match to a smouldering ember. It’d been buried somewhere beneath ash for several months, until his constant company begged it to grow into a burning heat. That heat which ripped through her now made the inferno of before feel like a whisper of warmth, tearing down her defences and obliterating reason as passion roared through her veins.

Wrapped up in this moment, there was only the two of them. She silently condemned the rules and regulations and personal code of her honour that kept them apart. The barriers she’d erected out of stubborn loyalty earlier were shattered. Decisively they were still her problem to solve, and not Maynard’s and it would have to be another time. Any time but now. If she could reach out to chronus itself to put it on pause, she would.

His boldness was rewarded with welcome enthusiasm, and she rose to meet him with an eager hunger, looping her arms around his neck and tightening the space between them until it was no more. Suddenly she hated her poncho and the heavy leathers of his spacer duster - anything that made it more difficult to connect.

After what felt like both a lifetime and a single breath, she dropped back to the soles of her feet, lingering in the space they’d created. Her mouth tingled from the electric exchange, and she reached up to touch her lips in cautioned disbelief. What had she done. What was she doing? Was this joy an act of defiance? The questions existed in her mind solely on principle. She knew the answers long before she asked.

That same hand reached over to cradle his jawline as she looked up at him, her expression soft and filled with the admiration he deserved. Her thumb lingered on his new scar tissue, tracing over it before she leaned in and pecked a smaller kiss on his lips brazenly and cracked a pleasant smile, keeping her nose touched to his.

If this had been anyone else, it could be chocked up as seeking a hookup. If that had been the case, the wingmates had several locker room opportunities to pursue this. This was more. At least, in the purest sense of more that’s what this felt like. For someone who was so feely and open all the time, she hadn’t actually admitted to that one lofty verb before. There’d been ample opportunity, but now was not the time for comparison. It was the time for plain, blatant honesty. She produced the emotional equivalent of a white flag:

“I’m.. glad you did that.” She admitted softly. At this distance, her lips were still practically tracing his. Even if he hadn’t, she was sure she would have by the end of this adventure. Her resolve before Thyrsus had told her so. The only thing that had stopped her was the self instituted respect and necessity to separate her relationships. Which was going to be messy, but neither here nor there right now.

This elysian was for them to share, and give admittance to anything that would have felt rushed, or disingenuous any other time. It simply couldn’t be helped.

”I can't keep being the fool who waits any longer to say I love you.”

Outside the glasteel view port, the tunnel of stars scattered to individual glows when they snapped into real space once more.

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

He'd be lying to himself if he really said he wasn't expecting that in return. Even if his active consciousness was racked with that dreaded self doubt in his heart of hearts, he knew he was right. He eased in that kiss with the same hunger she offered him after that initial contact, straining his fingers through her blonde locks in need as his other arm rested along the small of her back to press her against him. Damn the heavier spacer attire indeed.

When the kiss eventually broke his strained gaze locked with her beautiful blues with a dim haze of euphoria clouding his view before it gave way to her.

"Me too..." Maynard admitted. He was unable to help the smile of pure vindication of his feelings that came afterwards that cut through the tears shed not a moment earlier. So shortly after he laid out the lowest he'd ever been, baring his emotions and heart in naked truth to her ; he was now at was probably his highest of highs with her. He would've understood if she pushed him away, she had every right to and he would've respected that. Even still...he would've loved her.

Maynard had always admired her, but after Brentaal he knew deep down he well and truly loved her. That boundless affection, patience and support she offered him then he only hoped to repay. When he thought he might've cornered her emotionally before they set out to Thyrsus, he felt horrible. He'd never intended to hurt her like that. Even still it all seemed to pay off in this moment. in the end, he had nothing to lose by offering up everything to her.

”I can't keep being the fool who waits any longer to say I love you.” That line drove a shiver of vindication and happiness through him. Even with so few words he hadn't felt this charged with emotion. Even still, it was hardly anything he said as he was everything he did that drew that sentiment from her into open air. As much as he wanted to repeat that same sentiment back to her, he swallowed those words for a moment.

Favoring the same physical affection that drew the sentiment out to begin with he caressed a hand in a gentle clasp over her cheek before he pulled her into another hungry kiss as he snapped his eyes shut to isolate the feeling her against him in the few precious moments he had of it before he broke the kiss to look into her eyes again. That might've been enough to show he felt the same, but he wouldn't ever feel satisfied if he didn't say it.

"I love you too." He muttered, his voice strained not from any lack of confidence in the sentiment but more from the flurry of emotion that'd struck him now and these last few hours with her collectively.

When he felt The Renegade shift into real space, he almost cursed under his breath, peering back to the canopy as he wrapped his arms around her, his fingers lacing together at the small of her back. Furrowing his brow to the sight of the black star field he shifted his gaze back to her, offering a smile and faint breath from his nose in amusement. Of course, just as they figured everything out, they had some obligation ahead of them. Almost all of him would've rather set another jump to elsewhere. Just to be freed from any real and close obligation and be alone with her. But things hadn't proved that easy for them so far.

"...And now you're dragging me to meet your parents already." Maynard offered jokingly with a faint laugh, hoping to ease the tension in the shadow of more time...doing stuff, not here, not alone. Pinching her chin between his thumb and forefinger he offered another quick kiss to her lips before he broke the embrace with slow reluctance, turning to take his position in the pilot's seat. Might as well get this done and over with now was his mentality.

"Think I'll make a good impression?" He asked, raising a brow as he turned the seat to face the controls, glancing back to appraised her reaction before he punched in the Confederate clearance codes to grant them a slight reprieve in a hassle free landing before he sought out whatever landing point might be the closest to the residence of Loske's 'mother'.

---

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Imagine knowing this was going to be the outcome of their adventure. It was a hard conclusion to reach from the start of their conversation to the now, but the flow of everything in retrospect made sense. There truly couldn't have been any other conclusion. Through everything they'd done together, Maynard Treicolt was right. It always boiled down to this pair against the odds. They'd been living in the eye of the storm for so long that getting swept up in it all, now, was the ultimatum.

Her senses were almost completely overloaded with his touch, his reciprocal words, everything that was shared in the past few moments. She hung on to his low voiced candor, the words unlike anything else she'd heard. Mutual love. And all the effort that had gone into getting them here. Compounding all this emotion with need, her brain felt like clouds, and warmth suffused through her body in his grip. Any self doubt she'd had was condemned and eroded with the constant reassurance he offered. The numbing frustrations and evaluations that had broken her earlier were a thing of the past; there was no room for them now, save to protect Maynard from any backlash of this choice.

His transition from sincerity to humour was seamless, and she leaned into his hold with a chuckle before he swallowed her breath in another entrapping kiss. She was fast coming addicted, being left breathless like this. Like him, she didn't want this to stop and was frustrated at the efficiency of his hyperdrive. There was a lot of lost time to make up for.

The idea of Maynard making a bad impression was funny to her, and she stepped back to take up residence in the co-pilot's seat again while they transitioned through the stars to the glowing amber sister planets below.

"I think you'll make an impression." She offered back, not committing to any interpretation one way or the other of her listless parent. Now that chasm had been crossed, even sitting this far away felt strange. Her body yearned to be back close with him and she forced herself not to scold the ignorance and inaction she'd evidenced up to this point.

The transition from the stars into the atmosphere was as smooth as it could have been. Bits of residual static peppered the outside of The Renegade with skittering pops and scratching noises. Nothing harmful was reported, it was typical for there to be this sort of interference when entering after the sister planet's typical lightning storms. Piloting to a T to match the coordinates, they'd overshoot the main space port and navigate to something a little more private. Kiffar didn't boast the coruscating glory of many other planets - most of the structures that pointed skyward were made from a sandstone base and were nigh indistinguishable against the equally beige sky. The only striking thing about it was the constant crackling of electrical currents through the skies that leaped from tower to tower - the orange bolts harnessed by the strategic engineering of kiffar's in the past.

When they clicked down to touch, and the ship hummed itself to a stop, she unclipped her belt and rose again. Frank re-entered the cockpit, whirling in. I am not staying with the ship this time. We are coming. Frank was as dubious of the guardians as they were of his mechanical self.

"Fine, you can record the lesson." If he was allowed to stay..her mother didn't trust droids in the slightest. Another parallel betwixt them. "Hopefully we won't be too long."

It went without saying that Loske should take the lead on this one, the roles somewhat reversed from Thyrsus. At the bottom of The Renegade's ramp, a collection of brawny, dark-haired individuals had collected. The group shared many visual similarities to their friend Ryv, but if he were on steroids. A five-point star decorated their shoulders and chest, declaring them as Kiffu Guardians.

It was as warm here as it had been in the market, and Loske raised a hand in greetings.

"That code isn't a substitute for a call." One of them spoke.

"I know, I know -- we're running on a really tight schedule though, otherwise I would have put this in the calendar or something."

"Unlikely." Khyon sounded dubious, but moved his appraisal of the girl on to the fellow behind her. "Who're you?" A gruff, gloved hand extended for a shake of salutations, assuming that he wasn't hostile given he was arriving with the Sheyf's kin. Had it been under any other circumstances, Loske probably would have been in line to be an heir of sorts -- but those on Kiffu knew unnatural she was, and such an honour wasn't within the realm of possibility. She would have spoken up on Maynard's behalf, but left it for him to answer. She hated it when people spoke for her.

"She's expecting you."

"I'd hope so."

Without further exchange, the Guardians drew away and lead them through the open walkway inside the large building that gathered a swarm of lightning at its tip.

Instead of having to walk all the way to the throne room, Loske was surprised that Kiskla'd positioned herself to meet them. Even if the first glance was brief, the similarities between the two were obvious. Many of their features were shared, in the same way you'd expect a mother to influence the genetics of her offspring. It was a testament to the efforts of the geneticists.

The greeting was a stark contrast, though. The woman that greeted them was poised and reserved, withholding any physical touch and keeping her hands clasped in front of her. She only offered a nod in their direction, and arched a brow that two people were coming to visit her.

"Did you get a new ship? Didn't recognize the signature coming in." Kiskla said by way of greeting.

"It's Maynard's," Loske answered, adjusting her pacing so she could keep side-by-side with her companion. Boldly, she slipped her hand into his and struggled to knot their fingers. Her cheeks felt hot, but it was like some sort of forced announcement. Also it was obvious that this was The Maynard she was referring to. "We uh, we have a bit of a problem we need your help with. There are..we've been fighting these creatures, outside The Core, they're called the Bryn'adûl, and they're basically impervious to anything we do."

"I've heard of them."

"Then you know how genocidal they are." That was almost worse. It was so annoying that this much power in a person was just sitting here, protecting a single people. Loske clicked her teeth together, mostly to stay herself from voicing her frustration. "I think with Art of The Small, we can use something more deadly against them, give them a taste of their own med--" Kiskla's hand raised to stop the explanation. The less she knew about the intentions, the better her virtue would feel.

"I'll help you." She agreed. "Do you want to learn as well? We can start with the foundations, give you a base layer of knowledge." Her gaze was pointed at the spacer she didn't know, nor cared to pursue any further information on. As far as she was concerned, Loske was as close to a daughter as she'd' ever have, but she was also nothing more than an errant guardian. "Then, Loske, you can probably just read the rest off me."

The girl nodded. That's what she'd suspected would happen, it was the most efficient way to knowledge transfer and give them the know-how quickly enough to get back into the fray.

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

"Well, for better or worse- I always make an impression." He said, glancing back to her with a grin as the ship was set down unto the planet's surface. As they made their way from the cockpit he was reluctant to leave her side at all. Damn all these virtuous Jedi missions, he thought. Just as an errant tension wrought on by vitriol and sadness overtook him to leave the Scythe they were stationed aboard to begin with. Now walking with a newfound layer of purpose to anything he was doing, a breath of confidence in his step. As much as they were fighting for everyone in The Alliance and the Galaxy, they were fighting for them all the same.

<Oh good, I uh- well its not that I don't like staying on the ship, I get it but well...seeing new things is nice.> Buddy said in agreement with Frank. Astromechs had their purpose but even so, seeing the fruits of the expeditions in new and unfamiliar sites was always a welcome change of pace.

<Can't say I've ever been here- I assume you have, right?> The astromech asked to its counterpart as the group headed to finally leave the ship at once.

Stepping past the airlock waiting for the entrance ramp to lower down to the landing pad with its metallic hiss. Maynard taking this last moment of them being unfettered in showing their affection toward one another before they were donning a more 'professional' aura about them in the face of her mother. Turning to her in the airlock he rested a hand on her cheek before he delved for yet another kiss. Closing his eyes and savoring the moment as he left his other hand rest on her hip for a moment, breaking the contact of his lips to hers once he heard the ramp make contact with the surface below.

"Let's get this over with..." Maynard offered with a toothsome grin to her before it dimmed faintly in the face of the Kiffu Guardians there to greet them.

<Looks like they're in a better mood.> Buddy remarked to Frank, if it could roll its 'photoreceptors' it would. At least it meant their organic companions weren't going to go around crying anymore.

Just as he took the lead on Thyrsus, Maynard let Blue do all the talking this time around. When he was offered the hand to shake he took it with a nod, offering his name up in return.

"Maynard Treicolt, I uh- well I work with Loske." Best leave it at that. Everything was still fresh after all even if it was a monumental task to keep this placid guise in the face of the decision they'd made not minutes before between them.

Upon meeting Kiskla, again Maynard sought to be in the backdrop. This might've been the first time he was struck with nerves after he'd overcome them with Loske. Even so it was an important hurdle to cross in spite of how quickly things were moving despite the lost time between the two spent evidently dampening how they well and truly felt about the other. The lace of his fingers with his was a surprise to say the least, figuring she might not be so quick to reveal their relationship to her, he wouldn't have minded either way. Squeezing her hand in his he ran his thumb over her knuckles, cherishing that contact even if it was faint and fleeting.

Her 'mother' all in all, didn't seem to care about whatever the two had going on. Maynard himself didn't know if he preferred that over being curious but all in all, it meant less talking from his part for better or worse.

"Ah- yeah I'd love to learn, if its no trouble, er- Master Kiskla." Well he tried to be formal at least, seemed to be approach that Kiskla preferred. He only hoped she'd be patient enough with him in the end. Offering a glance to Loske, he tried to appraise how his 'first impression' was going so far.

---

Loske Treicolt

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Yes, but it was an uncomfortable time. Frank responded, keeping to astromech dialect as they rolled after the sentients, he'd been a little too droid-shocked to reply any earlier, given the back and forth between his mistress and Buddy's master. He'd seen her emotional before, but not in such stark contrast between the upset earlier to the elation now. He'd never understand her. They're very wary of droids here. If we're not allowed to stick around, we could go explore. I didn't get a chance last time to get a good look at these scaled electric conduits. Not modern, but impressive.

---

It had been a long time since she'd taught anything, and an even longer time since anyone had called her Master anything. After The One Sith had decimated The Republic, she'd had little to return to. The havoc that'd be reaped on her mind and body from the butcher king had left her a husk of former self.

When Maynard Treicolt put her name with the title, she hm'd in pensive acknowledgement. The woman in white was going to leave it at that, but realized the youth was trying to be respectful, his nerves were traceable in ripples around them, so she recounted her initial reaction to ignore it an extend something somewhat friendlier. "It's been a while since I've heard that title." She gave the universal one-fingered gesture for follow me and turned, missing the wide-eyed shrug Loske offered to her companion in response to his searching.

The building they were in was the grandest on Kiffu, and where she spent most of her time. Parts of the walls they passed were lined with contained electrical currents, trapped behind transparent shields to boast the competency of the captured electricity. She'd purposefully intercepted them with the suspicion that they'd come to learn, call it an inkling of The Force, so their walk was more of a turn-around-the-corner than anything.

"What do you know of Art of the Small already?" She asked idly, stepping into a barren room. Parts of the walls were marred with char marks, and it was obvious this was a training space. While she waited for a response, she crossed to a nearby basin and filled a bulb with some water.

"Only what I..I mean not a lot." Loske answered first, mostly because she could already do parts of it on a meager level. "I know it's modifying a structure on a molecular level, changing it to something else. I've used it once."

"How did you use it?"

"To find poison in my blood and try and get it to stop from spreading."

Kiskla nodded, coming back over to them with the glass in hand. "Useful. Yes, it's mostly a practice used by alchemists. They can modify the materials they work to better suit their needs. It's second use case is mostly with healing, which it sounds like something you did.

It's uncommon for it to be found on the battlefield, but it could be powerful. You could change the air your opponent breathes to suffocate, make their blood boil, etcetera. It's very advanced and difficult to do that on the go, though, and requires a lot of concentration. Usually meditation. Especially if you're not a chemist by trade which.." she looked over the pair in their spacer gear and frowned. "Neither of you are." The assumption was moreso on Maynard's behalf, she knew the origin and most of the competencies of Loske.

"And it would take a lot of time to understand the different elements in the galaxy, and their natural states, and how to evolve beyond that." Kiskla paused in her monologue, and tapped the bottom of the glass with her free hand. The younger blonde looked disheartened by the introduction, and was focusing intently on the glass in anticipation of it's purpose.

"Thankfully, most every molecule has a common denominator in The Force." While she spoke, the water in the glass started to evaporate, a steam rising from the base. That cloud of steam, once lifted, caught itself before it stretched too many inches and tinkled before turning to ice and clattered back into the glass to mix with the parts that had remained liquid.

"For your purposes, you'll want to influence the Force you can detect in something. What are you working with, and what do you want to do with it?"

This part made the experiment uncomfortable, and Loske took a second to answer.

Kiskla didn't want to know. "I mean the viscosity or nature of it."

"Synthetic liquid, I guess make more..and not waste what we've got."

"Then you'd want to duplicate what you can detect. By the end of this, I'll want you to have this glass full of water. But first, both of you, will have to shrink yourselves. Also a useful technique to be a little more stealthy in your missions, you can make yourself completely undetectable. Let's try this, before we start changing our environment." Leading by example, Kiskla folded her legs and encouraged the pair to follow suit and take a seat on the stretching marble. "First, discover where you are relative to everything around you. Take your time with this, it's an important first step. Basic meditation, you're probably familiar, but the foundations are required."

By way of demonstration, the woman allowed her full presence to radiate from her centre. It was a powerfully contained nexus, brilliant and nigh blinding through the metaphysical. Even if their senses were dull, and unrefined, she'd be easy to detect. She stayed this way for a handful of seconds before withdrawing her influence in and concealing it within the ebbs and flows of the Force's currents.

"Now you give it a try." She turned to Maynard first, given Loske's affinity to mirror whatever it was Kiskla did. Part of her chemical balance. Given his attire, she went out on a limb with a simile. "Akin to a ship's cloaking device."

For as long as it took, the former Grandmaster kept her attention on her new pupils. For as unemotional as she'd been up to this point, her pedagogical methods hadn't changed. She tried to reason, rationalize, empathize and all in all truly try to influence the outcomes of the pair. For as good as they were when they left, spoke to her ability to help. If she wasn't part of the fight anymore, she could still well help the next generation of soldiers.

​

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

He said he'd make an impression. As far as his internal scoring goes, regarding her as Jedi Master seemed to dock him a point based on her strange reaction. Maynard himself didn't have nearly enough context to gauge the line of reasoning of it but nothing about Kiskla had proven to be normal so far. Where Loske exuded a comforting warmth, her 'mother' gave off an innate frigidness in how she spoke and carried herself.

Even still he sought to sit the sidelines and let Loske carry the interaction lest Maynard trip up again. Being the rather chilled dynamic Loske and Kiskla seemed to share, Maynard began to doubt if this would be a person he'd interact with past what was absolute necessary and at this point? He was just fine with that. All in all however, he couldn't stand how Kiskla spoke. Not so much to him, he'd heard the absolute worst of it in his past. His father rarely ever held back with how he felt about his son. If anything, it made Maynard tough while his mother instilled the importance of doing right by those you care about. Even if they'd been gone from Maynard's life for a long while now, they both clearly carried an influence.

What bothered him whas how she regarded Loske. She was in the end, the closest thing she had to a daughter. There was no inquiry of how Loske was holding up, especially in the context of the pair only ever coming here to better the fight the Bryn'adul to begin with. Loske had been through the fire and Kiskla seemed to be indifferent to her state at all. Regardless, Maynard kept his thoughts close to the vest, electing to take advantage of a very rare opportunity to actually learn something.

The fact Kiskla didn't seem at all to care about what they were working with was as reassuring as it was deeply concerning. For now, it played into their hand as to not sound the alarm on any way she might've felt about it. Taking his seat unto the smooth marble Maynard was evidently...out of his element exploring the force in this setting, having not explored anything of this nature since his first tenure in the Jedi Order.

With the analogy of a ship's 'cloaking system' he was able to gauge a better idea before he close his eyes and felt out with the force. It took some difficulty but after some effort expended, calcifying his deeply conflicting thoughts in order to feel out with the task. Since Brentaal he'd been gradually feeling the force surge back through him since when he disconnected himself years ago. This was yet another surge of it as he opened his eyes once more and saw the glass filled near the brim with water - seemingly able to materialize the teaching into fruition. Offering a wide grin he glanced between the two with some level of accomplishment, having been fairly novice.

"W- wow. I- I...thank you, Kiskla I...wasn't sure I'd be able to manage it, not gonna lie." Maynard admitted, his gaze looking to Kiskla before he shifted his eyes to Loske, seemingly lighting up more in reassurance as he looked toward her.

---

Kiskla Grayson-Matteo

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

The Jedi Master waited patiently while the pair took their tries at concealing themselves within the unknowns of The Force. Loske's presence was strange, and felt much like her own. Like an elixir of her composition, the best of Marcello's, and something foreign. Kiskla hated it. The very existence of the clone girl made her incredibly uncomfortable, and therefore sought to treat this interaction for what it was -- a refresher on pedagogical methods and influence over the next generation of Jedi.

Maynard Treicolt 's effort to influence the liquid was impressive, and she gave him that. "That's another layer to a very advanced technique, good job."

A few more hours passed, and with the containers in front of them being filled, turned to vapour, frozen and eventually entirely evaporated she called the end of the lesson. "I think we're at a point of diminishing return here. You have the foundations, practice it with a substance similar to your end use case before you waste any of the material you're hoping to preserve."

She ushered them both to stand, but held her hand out to Loske for a moment's pause. "You're both welcome to stay, if you'd like."

Loske looked uncomfortable at the thought. As much as she might have wanted to stick around more than a few hours at a time at her original home planet, there were more pressing things at hand. And other personal ways she wanted to spend her time. "That's okay. Appreciate it, though. We do have to get this going -- I've, uh, we've, got to practice and get this circulated with the right people."

That seemed excuse enough, and the elder of the trio nodded solemnly. "Wait, before you go," that hand continued to stretch and Loske took it awkwardly. She took both in her hands. It wasn't a gesture of goodbye, rather allowing the girl to read any transactional based memories of her use with Art of the Small. The clone's trigger points and utilization seemed to be based on exposure to history, and Kiskla was well aware she was the source. Every instance of modifying smouldering vapours, rescinding poison, boiling blood, burning flesh, applying it to heal deep wounds, all of it, was her focus. It served as a good reminder to the glory days, and a pretty overwhelming and scarring experience for the clone.

By the end of it, the duration of a few silent minutes, Loske wrenched her hands back to sever the connection, rubbing her wrists in abject horror and surprise. "This is a..a lot." She admitted.

There was little else by way of cordiality. About as much of an exchange as you'd expect a tutor to give to a pair of kids before their first day of school. The primary guardian met them, the one who'd shaken Maynard's hand at the outset, and escorted them back to the ship. Which was untouched.

These trips are always so short. Frank complained. We barely get to see anything.

"Maybe another time," Loske offered, ducking up the landing ramp and all too eager to get going. "It's so weird here."

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

As much as Maynard seemed outwardly grateful, which he certainly was toward Kiskla's teaching, all without strings attached, he wanted away from this place. Away from her. There was a faint moment where he felt bad at shrugging off the opportunity to stay on Kiffu and perhaps glean more from Loske's 'mother' he got the sense that offer was...disingenuous. He was sure enough that she didn't care to actually know more about her daughter and from that, his anxiety over constructing a worthwhile impression toward her dissipated. Loske loved him and that was well and truly all he cared about in that moment, still riding the high of their confessions to the other not too long before they landed planetside on Kiffu.

"Thank you, Kiskla. I- I appreciate the teaching, a lot. I'll be sure its put to good use." Maynard admitted. And he was truthful in that at least, at least as he fully intended to. Though as soon as they left he felt a burden lift from his shoulders, his hand eagerly seeking out hers as they made way back to the ship, offering a nod to the Kiffu Guardian before they approached The Renegade, the boarding ramp lowering for them as they neared it.

<Well that was...well we went outside.> Buddy uttered in a series of binary beeps in reply to Frank.

"Yeah, I feel you. I didn't like how she talked to you...ah- I don't know. I wish I could've backed you up there but I didn't want to sour things with her. I don't think she really knows who you are, takes you for granted." Maynard said candidly as he pressed the button to close the airlock behind them and retract the ramp into the pursuit craft. It seemed that was becoming a common theme.

"Buddy and Frank, ya'll mind taking the sticks on this one? Get us off this rock and chart a course for...Coruscant. And Buddy...don't feel like you need to rush us there." Maynard said with a wink to the BB unit to which Buddy replied with a series of enthusiastic beeps. The astromechs got to run the show and crowd up the cockpit now. With the ship's onboard slave circuits it was a relatively easy task for Buddy to pilot the craft via scomp link alone.

Now...they were finally alone, unfettered by any immediate obligation and in a place isolated from any of their other mortal problems. Even though they'd established their newfound relationship, their love. Breaking in that dynamic wasn't so easily done as it was merely muttering the words. They had a lot of missed time to make up for and the starting point for this new relationship...difficult to determine.

"...Finally." He said as he heard the hiss of the cockpit door shutting close as he made his way toward the lounge area of the ship, expecting her to follow as he glanced back with smile. Eager to be close to her again he turned to wrap his arms around her waist to hold her close to him.

"Sooo- you said you've never seen me drunk before didn't you? Well- we got nothin' but time to kill, now." Maynard remarks, arching a brow to her with the proposal.

---

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

With her hand in his, her mind was temporarily elsewhere. Those use cases the Jedi Master had left her with were now imprinted on her, and she took a few seconds to acknowledge them for what they were and compartmentalize them as Master Morga had shown her.

Thoughts that were broken when Maynard Treicolt confessed his perceptive interpretations of the interactions. "It's okay." Her tone was more level than dejected - probably because this time her mother hadn't tried to strike her down with her lightsabers straight away. That had been terrifying. She still had the burned scar tissue on her arm from that encounter. This time things were much more transactional than challenging. "I'm who I'm supposed to be, I think she knows that much - I was there on save-the-day business anyway, that's all that she can expect. But, thanks.

You did great in there, with The Art of the Small stuff." Now he was stealing her lines about taking someone for granted. Still, she pulled her hand to run her fingers through her hair, as if the tussling action would shake the residual sand and memories from the interaction away.

Still better than guarding the ship from nothing. Frank was eager to revisit the navigational system again, fascinated by it's selected dialect. Although by contrast to the pair they were leaving behind, the dialect was very myopic. The spectrum of emotion evidenced this day was incredible. From now, to ten hours ago felt like a lifetime. Frank the observer was exhausted.

Maynard's character was evolving from the minute, the tension between them seemingly gone and giving him the opportunity to evidence a smoother approach in private. She was as curious as she was impressed. His admittance of finally triggered a smirk and she dropped her hands to meet his behind her back, swaying in his hold for a moment in consideration of the leading suggestion. Nothing to kill but time and Bryn. Honestly, maybe it was because of her mother's influence, she'd been thinking about coming back and myopically diving into stretching and straining the molecules she could detect to try and expand her prowess with the new power they'd uncovered. But the original intention of the trip remained unaddressed -- to get away. A moment's reprieve from the daily slog of duty.

A drink would probably smooth the nerves she denied having. They were compounded between the always rattling experience with her mother and the newfound territory she was discovering with the man from Concord Dawn. But she wasn't quite ready to transition this smoother version of Outrider for a slurred one. As much as she wanted to be as clear as possible, there was still the looming guilt in the back of her mind. She'd kissed May and admitted how she felt out of selfish desire. It had been so easy to say it. She'd never told Cedric out loud she loved him, perhaps she didn't need to, or maybe she had waited too long until the emotion had stagnated and it felt inappropriate to say. Ugh, but why was she thinking about this?! She mentally chided herself and snapped back to focus.

Maybe a drink would make things easier.

Was that cheating?

Was this cheating?

"That was a weird intermission." She admitted, and brought her hands back forward to rest on his chest, toying distractedly with the folds of the duster's collar. This closeness was nice, though. Natural.

"A lot of time to kill, and make up for." Loske readily agreed and snaked those hands up to either side of his jaw, lifting herself for a kiss to reassure her earlier admittance. Not that it'd be forgotten, it was moreso for her than him - eager to forget that weird blip in the day.

"Do you have something in stock from your smuggling days? I can't really imagine you lounging around here just..sipping away in silence. What'd you do to pass the time?"

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

The best way to sum it up, kill lost time before they killed more Bryn (or would at least try). They'd been close with each other for about as long as they'd known the other. Maynard still couldn't glean whenever she started to love him. He could only assume that it took her a bit longer than it took him.

A brief appraisal of her expression spelled all Maynard needed to know about her internal monologue. She was still conflicted about it. After all, he couldn't blame her. It was a tough call even if he was more than grateful it played out as it had for them.

When she began to idly play with his collar he seemed to ease more, tightening the initially loose embrace of her body against his, shutting his eyes for a brief moment as he reveled in the closeness before he looked back toward her with a grin at her line of questioning.

"As a matter of fact I do." Outrider, said coursing his arms from around her waist if only with the greatest reluctance, already yearning to have her back in his arms as soon as he left her even if it was only for a brief moment, expecting her to follow him into the lounge with a grasp of one his hands around hers, all but gesturing off for her to sit in the very L shaped cushioned sofa they'd reached an inconclusive confession of their (his) feelings hours before. slowly peeling the duster off from his arms, setting it on a nearby table as he used a free hand to pull open a metal storage cabinet fixed to the wall. He swore he had some liq- there it was. Merenzane Gold, an expensive if also potent liquor which he'd received as a 'bonus' for running a smuggling job above the specs set for him.

"To pass the time...I mean I tried to keep myself busy so I wouldn't have to worry about it all too much. Either kept going through jobs and tasks I could get my hands on or, worked on this damn thing. Not too long ago that it wasn't in...well- it gave me problems. Got boring after awhile, a good part of why I forced myself to come back." Maynard said initially in regards to very vessel they occupied. Things seemed fine now at least. Even still it served to explain his initially reclusive nature on Piece, a pattern of behavior well and evident when they'd first met.

"But yeah, you're right. I don't really drink much. Not unless I have someone special to share it with." Maynard remarked with a toothsome grin, twisting off the cap of the liquor before he makes way to settle into the sofa next to her and far closer than the distance they imparted last they occupied the seating. Though a faint mention at his past earlier, of his father in particular might've spelled a different reason for his reluctance toward the bottle. Taking the inaugural sip himself he craned his neck back for a moment as he felt the burn of the liquor course down his throat.


Offering the Merenzane Gold, he nestled against Loske with an arm wrapped close around her, pressing that hand against her hip to ease her against him comfortably before that hand slowly coursed to her thigh. Regarding her with some degree of delicateness, carefulness for how he touched her body. Even if they'd admitted love there was still a bit of a way to go toward the same physical chemistry, even if he seemed to cherish ever moment she was just...close. Her body against his in some way, her eyes looking to him with that now noticeable glimmer of affection, it was vindicating, soothing sensation.

"I gotta know just...because I'm curious but when did you...know?" Maynard asked in regards to her feelings for him. His answer was pretty easy if she sought to bounce the same question off of him.

---

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

They started to move when the ship did, and she was more than happy to follow the cues of the captain. Right up to the shedding of outer layers, finally ridding herself of the token that’d acquired her a new spacer namesake.

Her smile was soft and appreciative at his explanation for the fullness of the bottle. She wasn’t a big drinker either -- unless of course, it was with Amea. She brought out the worst. “That’s probably a good way to be. More balanced to keep it compartmentalized.” Drink could be a dangerous thing, something too many people became dependent on. Something she’d not been fond of in past -- ugh! Why was she doing that? Why was she trying to damn her previous decisions? She chewed on the inside of her cheek and tried to focus more on the moment, Maynard Treicolt ’s reaction to the golden sip a preparatory indicator of what she could expect when it was her turn. The ruggedness of swigs from a bottle was endearing.

It was now her turn, and she leaned in with a simpering “Thanks.” The relative newness of their closeness was not lost on her, and she was hypersensitive to anything he was doing around her. The cautious maneuvers from sitting, to wrapping, to something more encompassing. Each inch covered was new territory that sent spikes of exhilaration through her chest. The contentedness of just seeing him so near was over, it had to be replaced with touch and his subtle tracing was fraying and wearing at the control she had evidenced up to this point. She arched slightly, and leaned deeper into his arm in accepting response, her entire angle pointing more inward to his person than her much more distant body language hours earlier.

Her sip was tentative, and poorly timed when the bottle’s opening left her lips. Loske almost choked. Partly from the residual biting burn back of her throat but also out of surprise for the very pointed question he just hit her with. She hated it, but she couldn’t blame him. It was fair, she also had a tendency to look a gift orbak in the mouth.

Did she lay in bed some nights and think about different scenarios, and how to enact them? Sometimes, but she forced herself to stop.The reality of it was her desires had been leashed, tightly taut, with no freedom to roam behind the constructed barriers of control and subjective loyalty. Less so a leash than subconscious bindings and restraints that kept her focused on tasks and comfortably categorized in what she knew without venturing to explore how she really felt. The pair had been through the ringer. From meeting on Peace, to Navaar, Coruscant, Kaikielus, Glottal, Vulpter, and the time in between that wasn't necessarily associated with a stressful interaction. The formation of Saber squadron, training new recruits, idle chatter in the mess hall or over comms. Never one to withhold affection, Loske had a deep sense of love for all her friends. It was hard to pinpoint a distinct instant in all that time where her appreciation from him shifted from something platonic to more. Especially when her subconscious was actively working against her, based on moral code - such thoughts previously had been pervasive.

He’d explicitly suggested his feelings at Brentaal, it was the first time she’d been uncomfortable around him. The first time the warnings of her barriers flared, and perhaps the first time the embers of potential had been sparked. Loske had brushed it off as sadness, telling herself that he was acting out of the emotion of loss.

She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a breath to give her pause and some composure after the decidedly bitter aftertaste of the otherwise smooth liquor.

“Hard to know.” Her response was honest, and something in the back of her mind - that ethereal reminder that had kept her anchored and distracted. It warned her not to go there. Not to open the vault again -- the same screaming sensation that had clouded her judgement when he came in for the decisive kiss earlier. She’d ignored it then and been rewarded. She’d do it again. This was for her. “I’ve always had a love for you. That’s untraceable, I think. Probably flared up when you actually knocked me from the sky on Kaikielus.” She'd always enjoyed a bit of competition, and the outcome of that challenge made her offer a light chuckle now. A flicker of levity. Why was this question so hard?!


“I..” A lot of Loske’s self discovery was based on discreet emotional triggers. Maynard was someone she’d taken for granted and not sought to discover anything deeper until she couldn’t ignore it. The hand that wasn’t still holding the bottle traced some of the tall, etched lines in its exterior. “I guess loss would be a better beacon. When you weren’t around, or the potential of something bad happening to you, I..I couldn’t come to terms with it. I felt so bad after Brentaal, like I’d completely let you down and left you down there, I’ve never gotten over that.” The amber liquid had captured her gaze, but she forced herself to fixate on his hazel again; finding him readily watching. “The boiling point was when you kept pitching yourself at that monster, again and again and each blow you suffered, and your rage and anger I..that might have been the first time I felt like I was actually going to lose you again after Brentaal.” her throat hitched and she put the bottle on the table so her grip could be more useful, she scooped up his free hand in hers.


Her eyes remained trained on him now, despite the warring of her intentions, there wasn’t anyone else. There had been, of course. Brentaal was a mental warzone. She’d just lost Cedric the first time, and everything else had fallen away. “It became unignorable.

And I’d been trying to ignore it. I’m sorry. I really...really tried to. For too long.”

That sounded terrible.

“That sounds really awful, I’m sorry.

You have to know this isn't a..you're not like, a rebound or a convenience." She'd hoped that was proved given she'd lasted without Cedric for well over a year now. It wasn't an immediate turnaround, but rather a slow burning reality.

In fact, it was pretty fethin’ far from convenient. As much of a release as she’d felt with her honesty earlier, she couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt. No matter how much selfish justification she felt at the same time. It was very confusing.

This felt right, no matter how much those restraints she’d discarded earlier whispered that it was wrong, this was right. It was uncomfortable, but right.

"I'm just really....really bad with timing."

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

He was always keen to listen. When she took his hand into hers she could feel the scrapes, lacerations and bruising from when he'd slammed his fist against a durasteel wall not moments before he recruited her into this 'expedition'. Everything she said made sense in the full context of their relationship to this point. It was nothing he could fault her for. They seemed to feel the same, for just as long but with a different out look. Where Maynard was usually very candid with how he felt with her she kept it buried low beneath layers of professionalism or a guise of platonic friendship.

As soon as the shock he'd felt when he discovered she was with Cedric dissipated, he seemed to level out into a more content state. At least, until this excursion.

"Nah- I get it. There's nothing to feel sorry for. You didn't want to hurt anyone...and I didn't want to hurt you." Maynard stated candidly. It really was as simple as that, at least for him. It certainly explained why it took himself long to finally unfurl himself to her.

"I probably would've...been more clear if I didn't- I just wanted what was best for you, at a certain point. So long as you're happy- I can't be mad, and I mean it. It just...it got to the point where I figured- there was nothing to lose. In the end, it doesn't really matter how we ended up here. We can figure the rest of it out as it comes. For now- I just wanna be with you, like this." He said candidly, being as open as he was before they disembarked to Thyrsus though in a far better light now, his hand holding hers leaving the clasp before he went to take the bottle, drinking down a long draw of the liquid courage before he set it down again.

"Alone..." They certainly needed it.

Leaning back into the seat he twisted his upper body to face hers, running that free hand up to run through her blonde locks in a smooth caress before eventually coursing back to her cheek, closing his eyes he sought another hungry kiss. It was an awkward tangle, as much as he wanted to make this newfound shared love more...open and strengthen it, he was also content to just...be close to her, be touching her all the same and it showed as his other hand offered a smooth caress along her thigh in want.

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Loske Treicolt