Particeps Criminis

[Setzi Lunelle]

**Six months ago**

There wasn’t one thing she could point to and say, this was the cause of the mental break. But it happened just the same. And galaxy doctors or psychological experts likely had names for it – nervous exhaustion, melancholia, existential crisis… even psychosis.

But despite a strong circle of Silver Jedi around her – Master Connor Harrison and her friend and sometimes companion, Krux Mullaras – Setzi Lunelle began to push them all away, both physically and mentally. She would come to terms with the why and the how later. Her actions were cruel, her intentions as foggy as a Dagobah swamp, but there was only one remedy for the Jedi-turned-Seth-turned-Jedi (complicated didn’t even begin to describe it). And then Knight Mullarus disappeared, and she no longer even had that emotional anchor.

Setzi didn’t just run; she lifted off of Voss, flying into the familiar, dark atmosphere of the Tion Cluster. Piloting the trusty Pirate’s Foe, a hulking behemoth of a freighter she’d had for over four years, the Jedi Padawan plotted her course and did not turn on her view screen to glimpse the breathtaking, oceanic blue, white and mustard-colored swirls of Voss’s terrain from this distance as she left it behind.

She’d started her journey by visiting every temple she could. Lightside or darkside… it didn’t matter. Padawan Lunelle's search for esoteric knowledge had become a voracious need inside her, a solution for the turmoil she felt, this shroud of guilt and regret which had become so familiar, clinging to her like a lost soul, that she’d almost forgotten it was there.

Until she was finally able to throw off the choking pelisse, letting it decompose around her like thorilide.

**Present Day**

Setzi sat in a creaky booth in a dusky cantina on the outskirts of Voss. Even though, she’d returned, she wanted to avoid spotlight detection right away and sought an unfamiliar bar, tucked far away from the Voss Temple and the student training ground of the Silvers. It had been years since she’d been in a cantina as the brunette padawan, then Sith Lord, had been extremely dedicated to her Force studies, likely at the price of her mental health at times.

It’s okay to unwind, she told herself. Part of this healing process required her to have a little fun, and as long as it didn’t dissolve into full-on hedonism, it was healthy. Wasn’t it? It’s why the padawan preferred the Silver or Grey Jedi as opposed to the staunch, monastic Jedi Order of the Republic.

Balance was certainly an underrated property in the Galaxy.

“A Corellian ale please,” said the padawan, smiling warmly at the bartender. Once the wheat-flavored alcohol hit her throat, she began to relax into her seat, gazing around the cantina. Her eye caught a mirror nearby, and by the Core, how bronzed you are from your travels, Setzi thought - as tan as when she was on assignment with Agricorps or even learning how to deep sea dive with the Levantines.

She smiled at the memory, her mood much lighter than it was a few months ago. A sudden anxious feeling crept over her at the thought of Connor Harrison walking in and interrupting her singular plan. Would he try and stop her if he knew what she wanted to do?

Probably. But at this time, she sought an ally who could help her. Someone who didn’t mind getting their hands a little dirty, strolling into enemy territory with a nonchalance versus a death wish.

Setzi had the plan. All she needed was the partner.

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Voss was a planet Alkor did not particularly like.

It wasn't so much that he outright hated it, but lingering among the Jedi left a sour taste in his mouth. Nikias had several strong reasons to maintain relations with the Silver Jedi, and with him in the Temple and acting as liaison to the monastic bunch Alkor was left to his own designs beyond the walls. He could easily have joined in the festivities and partaken of the mead with his allies, but he favored the idea of an ale by his lonesome. No one knew him out here, and no one expected anything from him. There was no pretense of kinship or hate, no exultation or lament. It was simply a state of fleeting sobriety and the solace that followed.

Why he threw himself into harm's way for Jedi, or even for politicians of the Alliance or Republic was beyond him. A lifetime ago, it seemed, Alkor paid no favors to those who valued the light. He owed the darkness nothing, and he railed against the status quo only when it did not favor himself and those who he called friends. Now Alkor had no friends. Nikias was at best an acquaintance, albeit one he kept ties with for the sake of relieving his ennui.

This was a galaxy unlike the one he remembered.

All of his reasons for fighting had faded, and the new wars offered nothing for him but fleeting glimpses of enjoyment. The darkness that once fed him was weaker somehow, swallowed up by too many eager Sith and those who believed themselves worthy to lord over it. In the place of a Dark Jedi Order, the Sith reigned almighty and inflicted fear on those who dared to oppose them. Unlike the galaxy he remembered, while the Jedi were not a unified order they had teeth. The chaos indulged itself in both light and darkness. War was not only a very real occurrence, it was frequent and fertile. In short, there was no controlled chaos. There was no order. There was only conflict, raw and in the spring of its life.

Alkor had already met many Sith who easily rivaled those he vaguely recalled. Some of them were stronger still than that. Possible challenges existed, but none of them held further, deeper meaning. When you stood as strongest of all atop a mountain of corpses, there was hardly any enjoyment to it.

He sipped at his ale quietly as he mulled over all prospective paths, uncertain of which was most worthy. When a girl walked in and ordered his favorite drink, Alkor glanced up and blinked once before returning to his thoughts. It was always a nice distraction, booze. It made knowing that you were alone in the galaxy a little less intolerable.

[member="Setzi Lunelle"]

 

[Setzi Lunelle]

After a while, Setzi’s contact was a no-show, and by then the padawan had finished two pints of the bittersweet brown liquid when she finally noticed the man beside her, also drinking what appeared to be Corellian ale. He had an adventurer’s look about him as though he had singlehandedly battled ghost-pirates in the Chiloon Rift and lived to tell the tale. But there was a slightly pernicious undertone as well to the dark-haired stranger; no doubt his body held numerous scars. But his mind?

For all she knew, his mind was a wasteland littered with deep chasms of woe and angst.

Or not – perhaps he was the most cheerful man in galaxy, but Setzi seriously doubted that by his countenance. Nor would she want a blindly happy, oblivious fool to help her with what could be described as dangerous and suicidal.

The padawan pursed her lips, probably staring at him a beat too long. She took another sip and then slid up next to him with a mischievous bounce. Setzi was slightly tipsy as she was not a seasoned drinker, but what she wanted to discuss with him would require a little bit of liquid courage. Probably on both of their parts, once he heard her story.

But first formalities. A little “get to know you, get to know me” before she dove right into the unspeakable task she needed help with.

“I haven’t ever seen you in this bar before,” she said, which was a complete lie because she’d never stepped foot into it either. “It’s kind of out of the way. I’ve noticed most of us come here because we’re trying to escape something.”

She shifted her weight and clutched at her glass as though afraid she would drop it.

“What is it that you’re running from?”

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Alkor traced both hands along the sides of his mug. Droplets formed by condensation streaked the sides and wet his fingers as he stared into the shallow pool of amber. It was not uncommon for people to stare at Alkor, so he was used to the strange gazes and contemplative glances whenever he received them. After a bit more than a standard moment of being stared at, the Dark Jedi gripped his drink outright and slammed it back.

Some of the ale spilled down his jaw before he turned his gaze toward the woman. He was about to ask her if she had a problem before she made the question irrelevant. Something about him being new around here, or how she had never seen him at the establishment before. It was the standard sort of thing you asked when you wanted to know more about someone. Or maybe she was interested in him for more ignoble reasons? There had been a small number of women over the years with such strange intentions.

Alkor never imagined himself to be an attractive man. In fact, his demeanor more than anything made him seem much more unapproachable than not. Yet this woman seemed to have no qualms with the prospect of speaking to him, enough that she would ask him the next, even stranger question.

Running? No, that wasn't the word. Evading, maybe, would have been better. Alkor never felt the need to flee from a fight, but some fights weren't worth fighting. His battles were fought with blades, not smiles and words. He left the formalities to people who fancied them.

"Good intentions and the people who have them, I suppose," Alkor answered to humor the girl. "They do nothing but make my life hell."

[member="Setzi Lunelle"]

 

[Setzi Lunelle]

"Yes, I understand that," said Setzi. "The best laid plans lead to good intentions…" Or something like that, she was a little tipsy after all, mixing up her ancient literature quotes.

The fellow she'd chosen to corner… well, "corner" wasn't the right word. She hoped he would assist her, and the padawan would not force him, but the entire way he held himself, the way he slammed his drink recklessly attempting to block out wayward thoughts, he was perfect for this assignment.

Chosen. That was a more apt description.

Setzi had chosen him.

"Alright picture this. A girl lying there, helpless. Are you with me?" asked the bruntte padawan. "A lovely, healthy woman who looks so much like me that she could be my sister."

Setzi stopped and took a drink herself. Oh Mother of Kwath, that felt good going down. Master Harrison would be so ashamed of her now, but she needed an intrepid traveler to help her now. If he was a little less savory, a bit more criminal… well, that was okay.

"Do you like ghost stories?" asked Setzi, her eyes sparkling and flashing the sulfuric yellow of the Sith momentarily. And whether it was an illusion, he would not know. She had so many ghosts in her past - some to rescue and some to leave in their own stew of darkness, haunting a lonely cemetary, hungry to the point of starving.

"How about you and I go dig up some bones," the padawan said, poking him in the chest boldly. "I have a ship waiting for us, and I will pay you handsomely."

Were credits really handsome? People were handsome - humans and other species. But she needed something to entice him into this crazy scheme that had been kicking around her head for while.

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

This had taken a turn for the interesting. At least, that was Alkor's initial thought on the matter when she began prattling on about a woman laying in a bed, or how said woman bore an uncanny resemblance to her. All of it smacked of some sort of scheme to seduce him, or second rate manipulation. Common theme in seedy bars the galaxy over, the whole feminine wiles thing. Some poor arsehat drank one ale too many and bam- a woman just like this one grabbed him by the belt and dragged him clear across the galaxy.

Too bad for her that Alkor was neither drunk enough to go for it, nor motivated by the contents of her pants to disregard his sobriety and fall for it anyway. At least, that was what Alkor would normally have told her, albeit in far fewer words. She said something strange, about digging up bones, and he peered at her over the lip of his mug. Either this was some innuendo he just did not understand, this girl was totally insane, or she really wanted his help with something.

He took another sip of his ale, eyebrow cocked, then slid the drink across to her and held up a hand for the bartender. "Here, have mine. You sound to sober to be talking as crazy as you are."

Ignoring outright that she had solicited him to board a ship to the farthest reaches of god knows where with her, Alkor was genuinely interested in understanding what would possess her to touch a man she did not know, let alone speak so candidly to him. Her finger came away covered in blood, streaked slightly by where she had touched his bandages. Whether or not she noticed as much, Alkor would know momentarily.

"Either way, slow the feth down and start with halfway normal conversation. Who are you, and what do you want? I assume you're not trying to bed me, or else you wouldn't go as far as to lure me onto a ship headed for some distant system." He accepted the ale that was brought to replace his former drink when the bartender offered it with a half nod before he added, "and what sort of person asks a complete stranger to abscond with them before even getting their name? You're practically begging to pop up in a ditch somewhere."

[member="Setzi Lunelle"]

 

[Setzi Lunelle]

While the brunette padawan wasn’t trying to seduce the fellow patron, she realized by his narrowed eyes and suspicious frown that perhaps she was giving him the wrong signals. By the Core, he’s looking at me like I’m a little crazy, Setzi thought. Staring at her half-drunk glass, three pints in, wanting to fly off and infiltrate a Sith Academy… yeah, she probably was slightly insane.

Her suspicions were correct when he offered her his glass.

But her thoughts of having an onset of early dementia were distracted by the streak of blood on her fingertip as she pulled her hand away from the man’s chest. Her brow wrinkled, a slight spark of pity in her bright green eyes at the wound. She merely wiped the blood off onto her pants, the dark color of them hiding the stain. The padawan had seen and done much worse, but she was curious and would hopefully get to the bottom of that. But first...

It’s time to start acting like a normal member of society or you will scare this one away.

“My name is Setzi Lunelle,” she said, putting her half-full glass on the bar and pushing the offered one towards the bartender, signaling she was done with drinking, at least for now. "Look I don't want to take you to bed..." Setzi supposed that there were many aggressive females in a cantina that would begin with a crazy pick-up line like that. Trouble was, it was no pickup line. Everything she said, the heinous act she’d done, and the atonement now that she craved was all very real. “So I am sorry,” she said. “I got carried away. I am a Jedi Padawan who lives among the ranks of the Silver Sanctum here on Voss. But I used to operate in Sith space.” Which was how she tangoed around saying “I used to be a Sith.”

“I need to rescue someone.” Well, it wasn’t really a someone, more like a something. “It will be dangerous, but this girl is dear to me and does not deserve to be left in the place where I left her. I need someone clever, brave, and yes, possibly a little bit crazy to help me go get her.”

She thought of the blood on her fingertip again and idly scratched at the tip with her thumb.

“Is that the kind of thing you may be interested in?” she asked.

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

It was a strange thing to assume that Alkor was brave or clever without more than a minute of conversation with him. The Dark Jedi was far from brave- the better would for Alkor would be apathetic, in that he did not care enough about anything to be afraid of it. One might even call him insane for that fact, but that wasn't quite true. During his youth, the Jen'jidai had been tormented until the fear of death did not dissuade him. Broken. That was the word. "Rescue missions aren't my thing," he admitted in dull mutter, as his eyes averted to his drink. "I've never been good at getting people out of situations alive."

In reality, he was the opposite. Most places where Centaris went, he left behind corpses. He was not going to readily tell her that, though. "I suppose I am sorry to hear about your situation," he added conversationally. Suppose? That sounded marginally detached. Ah, well. He wasn't going to take it back now. "I'm just not sure I can be very helpful to you. It depends on where you intend to go, frankly, and in what capacity you expect me to function."

The girl went from a bit off to prim and proper with a start. It seemed that she was serious. That was good, at least. She was committed to whatever this scheme of hers entailed. That would help her to stay alive.

He made no attempt to hide his significance in the Force, even after she admitted to being formerly Sith. At least she had the wherewithal to stop. Most people got sucked in by that ancient religion of bastardy and self-loathing and drowned in it. If they were lucky, they ended on the blade of someone's lightsaber before their life lost all meaning. This girl looked like she had some life left in her, which was a good sign.

Relatively speaking. Alkor wasn't in the business of caring.

"I'm not a hero, kid," he told her, "so unless you're looking for a drunkard pilot, I'm probably not your guy. His saberstaff hung from his hip, contrary to his assertion that he had no other abilities. The Corellian Exile did not deign to obscure it from view. "It sounds like you want a Jedi, not a deadbeat like me."

[member="Setzi Lunelle"]

 

[Setzi Lunelle]

A Jedi, said the man.

“I could have my pick of Jedi Masters at the Sanctum,” said Setzi. “And you know what? All of them would talk me out of this mission. They’d say it’s too dangerous and foolhardy, and that I should leave the past behind. Leave the monstrosity I created alone.” As the padawan said this her face went from amused to angry.

“The only person who can help me with this is someone seeking vast knowledge with an understanding of reparations. Someone who is not pure and sacrosanct,” she spat. “Because those who are would not set foot in the place we’re going to go.”

Finally she thought to scan his Force signature, cursing that she hadn’t before, but the ale had made her head scattered, her focus on piecing together just how she was going to accomplish her goal. She felt the familiar, almost sickeningly malevolent gloom, with hints of anger, rage and a lust for violence.

He was a Darksider.

"Excellent!" she said, a bit too enthusiastically, not alluding to why or how the man was indeed excellent. “And no you’re not a hero. Not at all.”

Setzi you need to change your tactic a bit, she thought. Otherwise you'll be hiring a mercenary from the Holonet to help you, and this Force user before you, especially a Master of the Dark Arts, would be the perfect companion for your journey.

“But you do search for esoteria, am I right? You may search for other things, like the answer to the blood on my fingertips,” she said, holding up her stained index finger almost accusingly. “I know I would want to find out why I had a seeping wound in my gut. Unless you already know…”
What the feth was that anyway?

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"Maybe you should listen to them," he muttered as he turned in his seat and took a drink. The Jedi may have been fundamentally useless and a monastic order that internalized a core concept of unsustainable peace and prosperity, but they were hardly stupid by the textbook definition. Wrong might describe them, or deluded, but unintelligent was hardly the word that Alkor would choose. Especially when it came to things like letting go of the past, he held a certain degree of reverence for that Jedi pastime. It was just about the only thing that he had in common with the monks. "Sometimes the past only serves to weigh you dow-"

She continued to speak over him, and Alkor clamped his lips shut. Words like 'sacrosanct' and 'knowledge' volleyed across the space between them like artillery shells, and it was clear that the girl was not intent on following the dictate of her masters on this matter. It was important for anyone to follow their instincts, but when someone deigned to be a part of one order, they really ought to commit to it. Barring that, why would someone remain at all? Did the girl really have it in her to be a Jedi? People who rebelled against authority often found themselves walking another path in short order. Her mention of something 'created' did draw his attention for a fleeting moment, before she spoke rashly once more.

Alkor snorted when she agreed with his lack of heroism. This girl did not understand the value of discretion, it seemed. He felt her senses move over him, and he knew she understood what he was. With that knowledge, she still chose to broach insult, to tempt fate? The Dark Jedi had to wonder if it was a lack of self-preservation instinct that spurred her forward, or blatant air-headed foolishness. Were it some easily angered Sith and not this man she spoke to, this situation would have gone south precisely at that point.

Instead, Alkor was gracious enough to hear what she had to say. "Whatever it is I search for in this galaxy, I doubt I'll find it in the Force." His gaze matched hers steadily when she prodded at the topic of his unhealed wounds, and he held eye contact for longer than a comfortable amount of time. "You turned from the darkness," he answered, "your answers are not to be found anywhere within it. Even if you knew, you would forever lack understanding."

It was the harsh truth that she had forged for herself. Whether she turned out of fear or a genuine desire for redemption, this Jedi Padawan was not ready, nor was she worthy of the secrets of the Dark Jedi Masters. "Focus on what matters to you, and not what does not concern you," he told her, "you want to disobey the Jedi and conduct this business with strangers. Even were I to agree to it, have you considered all of the possible ramifications of your actions? Will they punish you? Will they expel you? Are you prepared to face those eventualities should they arise?"

He placed his drink firmly on the counter top and leaned closer to her. "You don't strike me as someone who has considered everything. Let's explore that for a moment. Prove to me you're not the empty-headed girl who you initially represented yourself as, and we can talk business."

[member="Setzi Lunelle"]

 

[Setzi Lunelle]

Setzi watched the Darksider carefully, and since she was no longer lubricating her anxiety in ale, she began to detect more than an annoyance in the man, even perhaps a bit of disgust at her weak-willed pleas. But that was fine by the Padawan. She was resolved to do this, even if she had to go it alone.

“No, they will not punish me,” she said in a clipped voice, the vivacious smile now gone from her face. “Not when the GrandMaster finds out why I really went.”

Sucking air in through her teeth at his characterization that she was empty-headed, she tried to remain calm. His question was fair enough. Slightly inebriated, rambling and nearly in over her head, his point was, indeed, a valid one.

Setzi rubbed at the bridge of her nose as though it pained her to continue, but she did. He needed to hear her story:

“I studied alchemy at the Temple of Pain on Fresia a few years ago. A Sith Lord and I experiemented on a young girl who resembled my sister, Chastity. At the time I thought it a coincidence. Through a chemical recipe passed down by Darth Plagueis - as though he were some spry, old grandmother giving us the secret ingredients for a perfect chocolate cake - we used manipulated midi-chlorians and my own blood, and injected a healthy living person with this horrible concoction.”

Now Setzi took a drink of the warm ale on the bar. Nothing but alcohol would do to help her finish the tale:

“Obviously she was transformed into a Darkside spawn, a half-brain dead creature called the Xilsaga." Setzi laughed derisively at herself now. “Sorrow’s Daughter I called her, Ancient Sith words in memory of my sister who I presumed was dead on a Ziost battlefield.”

Swallowing a lump of regret, she finished: “Fast forward to a few years later, my younger sister shows up alive on Voss, but also transformed by Sith poison, not unlike my poor Xilsaga. She was homicidal and confined for a few months and then suddenly disappeared. My theory is that the Xilsaga was merely practice for Lord Bane, and that my sister Chastity was the real target on whom he’d perfect his experiment.”

Had she explained enough? Did he understand?

“My sister is missing. The Xilsaga is the only one who may have seen her before she was poisoned as I believe Bane held her in the Temple of Pain the very week I was there. If I can find her… I may be able to find Chastity.”

After her fingers unfurled from the glass, she clenched her fist tightly. “Did I consider enough?” she practically snarled, not angry at him, but mercurial now over the memories which haunted her. “This isn’t about Jedi or Sith. This is about my family… and my blood.”

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Alkor had never been able to relate to sentiments like family, nor was he the sort of man who enjoyed emotional outbursts. They triggered the headaches that he drank to avoid. Someone with the acute level of sensory perception Centaris honed picked up on the subtleties of emotion whether he wished to or not. If Hell was being surrounded by things, people, and sensations that you could not relate to in your wildest dreams, the Galaxy was Alkor's personal Hell. As she spoke, his eyes narrowed and he slowly took another sip in a futile attempt to stave off the tumultous gushing. "You considered all the things relative to you, I'm sure," he replied curtly.

It was a fact of life that people wanted to do things that made them feel less bad about all the horrible things they'd done. Even wanting to save someone, in the end, was a wholly selfish notion. Whether Setzi wanted to save her sister because of who she was or not, the line had already blurred. This girl could hardly begin to accept the acerbic things Alkor might say, and she might only get more angry for his saying them. It was a fact of life that people denied their nature.

"If they are so twisted and deprived of their humanity, of their freedom..." Alkor did not finish the sentence. People who were not like him would never accept the blunt logic that drove his mind. It would have been harsh to tell her that death would be kinder than trying to save them. She wouldn't listen. She would call him names, she would probably leave- ah, why was that a bad thing? Alkor quickly started to think it might be the proper course of action.

Instead, he took the opportunity to possibly give the girl some insight. "...what makes you think that they would willingly accept your help, or that they want help at all?" The darkness was not kind, especially if you bent to its whim. Sith often found themselves used up and alone, and by the end withered away with only memories of their deplorable deeds to give them solace. Alkor knew far too well its horrors. Their shock value was lost on him.

"If you do this, you have to understand that it may not go as you want it to. It may in fact break you more than you have ever been broken. If that is your decision, then only experience can teach you."

[member="Setzi Lunelle"]

 

[Setzi Lunelle]

She had, and she would consider those around her first and foremost. Did he not?

"Because like it or not in your narrow worldview, I made the Xilsaga," said Setzi admitting that yes, she'd been an angry goddess at one time, sending lightning bolts down to those she perceived as unworthy. But the darkside had also seduced her like a lover, caressed her into remaining with it, and finally spat her out like rubbish when it was done with her.

"The Xilsaga answers to me," she said, her voice rising, attracting unwanted attention in the cantina. "The girl knows nothing, but the life that I gave her after her real life was taken."

This statement caused her to nearly double over with nausea, but she held steady, not letting her new companion know what internal struggles were taking place inside her.

"I am ready to break," Setzi said. "I can be broken a hundred thousand times and I'll rise up again like an Abyssin." She sighed and sipped the ale again, feeling it wash down her throat like a liquid absolution. "What is your name?" she asked. "I have given you mine, and I need to know who exactly is going with me on this journey."

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

She could hide from the world all she wanted, but his murderous gaze was not what saw into her heart. His senses picked up on everything, even the most subtle nervous tick. She drank away the pain like someone who wanted to forget it. Alkor stared down at her as she wallowed for that fraction of a moment and lost the urge to draw him blade to end her life. It was a real rush for all of a second, her outburst and the culmination of harsh emotions. Then it was gone, replaced by self-hatred and sorrow.

She wanted to save a life she had twice damned, knowing full well that she could never return what she stole? The girl hardly understood what she was inferring with the notion of this quest. At best, she would live for the rest of her life as a deluded Jedi with a soulless slave. What would she find in those lifeless eyes, he wondered? Would the abyss swallow her whole?

Better that she ask those questions and find their answers for herself. They were not Alkor's to know, nor was he sold on their importance. "Typical Jedi," he muttered finally as he drained the contents of his glass and slid it back to the barkeep. "Sometimes doors are best left closed."

He stood, the black cloak swathing his form he drew his hood and his eyes moved over her slowly. "I am Alkor Centaris," he answered her.

The greatest kindness he could do would be to ensure that her uncertainty and wayward ways would not be her downfall.

[member="Setzi Lunelle"]

 

[Setzi Lunelle]

Likewise the darkness of Alkor, as he was called, did not escape her notice. But she'd come so far from the Sith Life (gang signs) herself, that she was hoping to use Force Master as a tool and not much more.

Your heart can be cold as Ilum, she thought. But only when it came to the Dark Side of the Force.

As he considered ending her life, her tradeoff in this desperate game was to use him as she saw fit. Whether he would detect that he was a pawn in carefully planned out chess sequence was not her concern. Whatever they were about to embark upon was good for neither of them, but the young Jedi and mother could see no other way to accomplish her goal.

And she would accomplish it with or without him.

"Good, so you are coming with me?" Setzi asked, wiping the sweat of the humid cantina off her brow. "Again, I will pay you handsomely." Everyone liked credits, right? Even this handsome cretin?

"The Pirate's Foe is nearby. Do you have everything you need?" she asked in a slightly challenging tone as though to say, it's now or never.

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"Don't patronize me with talk of credits," he dismissed her. "I've decided to accompany for my own reasons. That will be sufficient."

In reality, the Corellian exile had no need of her money. Balmorran kept his pockets as fat as they would ever need to be and more. As long as the galaxy was at war, arms dealers would never go poor. He drained the last of his drink and produced a jug from beneath his cloak. He handed it to the barkeep and indicated that he should fill it with ale. "It matters little what you imagine that I will be in this game of yours," he told her, "the galaxy will continue to turn long after either of us are gone. I may as well enjoy the show while we have the time."

There was little doubt in his mind that there would be danger. That was a constant in the galaxy. "The real question," he turned and inspected her eyes pensively. She was determined, and there was only the thought of redemption in her- while it was a fruitless and futile notion, it amused the Jen'jidai. Would this be enough to break her Jedi enthusiasm?

Perhaps.

It was of her own volition, so he hardly felt bad about facilitating it. Instead, he reached up and framed her jawline with calloused fingers. "Is whether that hubris is well-earned, or you're just another gutless Jedi with delusions of heroism."

He held her face for a moment, certain only that she would defy him or make some manner of snotty comment.

I will enjoy watching you struggle, Miss Lunelle. Try not to bore me."

[member="Setzi Lunelle"]

 

[Setzi Lunelle]

A smirk lingered on Setzi's face as she could see their encounter ending in her favor.

"I have no game," she said boldly until he clamped her jaw with his firm hand.

I will enjoy watching you struggle, Miss Lunelle. Try not to bore me."

"When you watch me struggle, what will you do as my supposed ally?" she asked. "Will you take the spoils for yourself?" she asked, her words a bit muffled from the hand on her face.

Trying to pull away, she realized she could not. The man held her firm. Doing the only thing Setzi knew how to do in this situation, she lay her hand on the place where his wound was. The blood had stained her fingers, she knew something was there, something unearthly.

Darkside healing was one of the Padawan's specialities when she was a Sith. She absorbed his pain as she attempted to heal whatever rotting, festering, maggot-filled wound was inside the Dark Jedi.

"Now what do you feel, Alkor?" she challenged, wincing in agony.

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"Hey, you two, take it someplace else. No one wants to watch your foreplay," the bartender called out, but Alkor was already aware of countless eyes on both he and the Jedi. It never bothered him, what other people did or thought. It did seem somewhat out of place that the bartender called it sexual... then he glanced down, and he saw her hand on his abdomen. The sight of dark energies as they siphoned away his afflictions and drew them toward her caused his fingers to clench her that much harder. He pulled her close- uncomfortably close, to where their eyes were only centimeters apart. The pain of those wounds screamed at all times, to the point where Alkor had learned to simply block them out. Every nerve in his body was like frigid steel now, but she enlivened the ones around the nexus of their contact and the warmth felt like a lightsaber skewered him all over again.

"Do not think to drink the essence of a Jen'jidai," he growled low, "and believe you will not suffer for the indiscretion."

The wound felt like magma as blood slurped out from it and knit together slowly, and necrotic flesh gently took on life anew. Color returned to the cut and the burn lessened, but the Dark Jedi held her tight. "Worry less about what I feel and be glad I allow you to continue feeling at all." His fingers brushed along her cheek, rugged and worn from ages of swordplay. The eyes of a killer penetrated her to the bone as he considered her. Pain was its own lesson, as she quickly learned.

Be careful what questions you ask, Jedi, Alkor thought, you may not enjoy their answers. "Sith keep nothing that I desire," he told her. Unlike most creatures of the dark, Alkor kept his honor fiercely. He was a murderer, but he was an honest one. "So your spoils mean as much to me. My interests are academic."

He released her a moment later, forcefully. Alkor turned and took his unfilled cask back from the barkeep, who shot him a dirty look as he tucked the container away and headed for the door. "Take me to your ship," he called back to her, "and remember that pain the next time you decide to be a hero, Master Jedi."

[member="Setzi Lunelle"]