Private Pisame

[Djorn Bline]

Niruaun
Undisclosed Location
​

He was treated with courtesy, that much was given to him. Decent food, any drink of his choice, comfortable living spaces. In some perspective it meant triggering the psychology of a person, disciplined or otherwise. To a man below his talents, they wouldn’t think much of it. They would take it all in, not giving much thought to their environment as they were treated friendly. Someone trying to be their friend. At least that’s what it seems. To Djorn? He paid attention to all the details, assuming they were trying to work him up so he can talk easier.

Then again, why the hell would they try to play a game with him? Irveric granted him a pardon after the assault on Bastion, charged him clear of any possible crimes a judge could pull out from their rear. Soldier to soldier, man to man. There was no way the Imperator would go back on his word, he wasn’t that type.

They just wanted to ask some questions. He wasn’t surprised by this approach as he was preparing for it. Defection and converting to another nation from a hostile one wasn’t a simple walk in the park, everyone went home kind of deal. There had to be interrogation, psychology probing just to make sure Djorn wasn’t a compromise to the New Imperial Order. He was a capable man of many abilities and skills, one of the best his field and they needed to know if his loyalty to the New Imperial Order was legitimate or false.

For Djorn? He wanted it to be legit. A man like Irveric was someone Djorn was willing to go through hell and back. One barely saw their head of state as an active soldier on the front lines, only where one would see that was in a Warrior Culture like the Mandalorians or Thyrsians. Having a leader like that meant little corruption, no horse play with lazy or greedy officials of any sort. This was meant to be an Order that would share it peace and prosperity to other worlds, and fight against the nature of chaos itself that plagued helpless worlds to its agents.

In a white room Djorn waited patiently at the table with a cup of water untouched. What kind of questions would he be met with? Insufferable ones? Maybe the ones that wasted his time? Surely they wouldn’t send someone green in his field. Had to be someone talented, someone with years of experience ingrained to their mind and body.

Rowan Corde​

​

 

[Rowan Corde]

//: One, don't pick up the phone //:
//: Niruaun //: Undisclosed Detention Center //:
//: Djorn Bline //:

​

Tap. Tap. Tap.​

The sound of expensive heels tapped against the detention center's hard flooring the woman had been relocated to. There was a special guest that the ISB was playing host to. Rowan had been specifically asked for by the higher-ups, she wondered what she had done to draw attention from Irveric Tavlar or someone in his select circle. As a spy, she felt the small hairs on her neck stand, tingling, causing a chill to move down her spine. It was her job to know, not to be known. Either way, she figured it was because she had returned from a mission and avoided the conflict on Bastion. ​

Remembering Bastion always brought an annoyance to the Atrisian's face. Two things about the place she hated. First, it was where she attended Academy when she was with the Empire, and secondly, it was where her least favorite person was from. Rolling her shoulders back, a hand moved to trail along her chin, brushing aside her short hair from her face. She didn't want to think of him. After leaving the Empire to no thinking of that man with those stunning azure eyes, she had done so well. ​

Snap.​

The sound of a pencil echoed in the empty hallway as Rowan brought herself back from memory lane. She was a spy, she was an operative of the New Imperial Order. Thinking of the man that had abandoned her was not what she wanted to be doing right now. Especially when she's about to interrogate someone extremely high up in the Sith Empire's Intelligence Agency. Arriving at the thick metal door, she gathered her composure. There was going to be no mercy. He was a traitor, just like her. Opening the door, she slapped his file shut. Names, rank, and the like had been blacked out, leaving her to question everything from him. ​

As her eyes made their way up from the closed file to his face, the slightly pleasant expression she had decided to wear was gone. In its palace, the look of a woman scorned. Darkness hung on her brow as she stepped forward, venom dripping from her tongue. ​

"What in the flying bantha f*ck are you doing here, Djorn!?" A hand quickly reached down at the untouched water, the cup nearly crushed in her palm, she threw the cold liquid into his face. Following the liquid came the crumpled cardboard cup straight for his nose. "Is this some sort of joke?!" ​

 

[Djorn Bline]

He had a couple hundred thoughts who could be walking in through that metal door, his mind making assumptions and different scenarios of his soon-to-be interrogator. There could have been an Imperial Knight or some operative with control of the Force using their powers to probe his mind, trying to bend his will against him. It would have been a hell of a time for said Force User as Djorn was trained in Teras Kasi in case he was captured and interrogated by a Jedi or some other Force Using practitioner no matter their affiliation. Another scenario could have been someone zealous about their duty to the New Imperial Order, no doubt being a prick in his own process of interrogation. Probably wouldn't hesitate in getting physical with Djorn and not have a filter with their selection of words. His mind running on cogs creating different scenarios and was preparing for them. His training received from the Sith Empire, during its peak and age as an indomitable titan, and times before its birth prepared to be one of the best in his field. Pain was nothing new to him, and not just physically.

But there was some types of pain he couldn't conquer.

His stomach and heart dropped the moment she walked in, his face in shock and confusion. Djorn's emotions flared up, the one thing that was dangerous to any espionage operative. They were distractions and could be the undoing of an intelligence agent. This was not a scenario he would have encountered; therefore, not prepared for it. His eyes caught her figure first before Rowan's own glanced at his face. The pain and hurt kicked in, sorrow with a hint of relief consumed his heart. As much as he'd like to forget that tragic day, he couldn't and wouldn't erase it. It was a mission that went poorly thanks to poor intel that threw Djorn and Rowan's unit into hell. It was where he got that permanent scar on his nose along with other injuries. The worst injury, however, was when he left an operative behind...Rowan. Something he mourned about and could never live down, one could say it was when he snapped and became a different man with barely any life in him. Every morning he would wake up with an outstretched arm, wanting to drape and hold onto someone until his eyes reminded him of the reality that he left behind what made his bed fully occupied. Years he stomached that feeling with no relief to it.

Row

And then splash his face felt the cold water impacting his face, eyes blinking and wincing at the annoying sensation of cold water dripping down his face, along with the thrown cup at his nose. His eyes stopped blinking and Rowan was still there. This wasn't an illusion as he thought it was. She was real, standing in the flesh. If that wasn't enough, she yelled at him with menace and venom, her tone and accent still the same. Real just like the recordings he had of her talking.

He ignored her questions, almost like they went in one ear and out through the other. He stood up slowly, his hands weren't detained or had some sort of instrument binding him.

"You're...you're alive," his tone in awe which matched his face. "H-how'd you get here?" He remember conducting searches for her and never came back with results or even the slightest hint if she was dead or alive. A phantom, and she was his phantom pain.

"I tried looking for you."

He was flabbergasted and tried looking for words, suppressing his emotions to not breakdown and ruin his composure.

I missed you

Rowan Corde ​

 

[Rowan Corde]

//: Two: Don't let him in //:
//: Niruaun //: Undisclosed Detention Center //:
//: Djorn Bline //:

​

He was pitiful. ​

Rowan looked at him as the water dripped from his face, and he stood. Surprise took his expression as he looked at her; she hated the way he looked at her. He had abandoned her; it was all she thought about when she was alone. This man chose the mission over her, and she tried to comfort herself by agreeing with his actions. If put in his shoes, she would have done the same. Still, she would have gone back the moment she could have - he didn't. ​

"Shut up." Her eyes looked away from him and towards the mirror that was in the interrogation room. There were others behind there just in case things got out of hand. The men there nodded their heads in response - one that she wouldn't see. Attention snapped back to the wet man in front of her; if they were in any other situation, she would have-. ​

"No. You don't get to tell me that, Djorn. You don't get to tell me how you missed me - how you looked for me." She moved towards the door, and the men handed her restraints. She placed them on the back table and then returned her attention to him. Arms folded across her chest as she did her best to try and keep the anger and hate she felt from bubbling forward. ​

She loved and hated this man with every fiber of her being; she would be lying if she didn't love hearing that he had looked for her, that he had missed her. Knowing that he left her in the first place was a damper on everything they had shared. "I was stranded for 3 days, Djorn - great job looking for me." Rowan shook her head, dark hair covering her face. "That's the past. It doesn't matter anymore, so shut up, sit down and forget it." The woman looked up with obvious pain in her face. All the world training couldn't keep her face from cracking, but it could help her recover. ​

"Anyways, I ask the questions here, not you." Stepping forward, she moved to him and shoved him down into his seat. A hand caressed his face, feeling the roughness of his stubble. Instantly the Atrisian woman was transported to their past; she had done this before. She had felt his skin against hers, but all of that was gone. ​

Her hand lifted and smacked his face hard as she moved away from him. "So why all of a sudden have you decided to follow Tavlar? Didn't you just get the seat you've been coveting for some time? Or was it the fact that Jorryn Fordyce bested her for the Lord Inquisitor in the Saaraishash?" Rowan spoke sharply, using the intel they had received from her own infiltration along with what was gathered from an Alliance operative who was behind enemy lines for the duration of the war. ​

"What changed, Djorn? Hmm? Usually, I wouldn't question your loyalty, but - we both know how that works, fickle as ever." ​

Despite how much she wanted to slap him again...F*uk, she missed kissing those lips.​

 

[Djorn Bline]

S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
NIRUAUN | UNDISCLOSED DETENTION CENTER
Rowan Corde
I S _ T H I S _ L O V E

​

Her words cut him, his eyes closed shut at the sound of:

"Shut up."​

He gave a shaky exhale, his eyes recounting the memories that went past through his mind. How they met; the days after they graduated from the Academy; the promises and future they envisioned together; and then...the tragedy. The one tragedy that made him cold for many winters, his heart twisted with pain which evolved into hatred for Rebels and dissidents. Pain and tragedy seemed to be the theme of his life with everything he had gone through, but still love saved his soul. He had several interests in other women before meeting Rowan, but she became his first love. The tribulations they shared through their training created a bond that could be as strong to a Force Bond created by cultist Force Users. But that shattered when he left her behind, all for the mission. It was crucial that they completed it and they did, but at what cost? The cost of duty stripped him away from some semblance of happiness he found in Rowan.

Her words continued to berate him, his face cringed at hearing the painful tone she tried to hide. Mixed emotions of happiness to see her and sorrow from her words boiled inside him. Did she not know he hurt, too? That it wasn't just her? He moved earth and heaven just to find her, going through various information brokers to get something of her whereabouts. She was a mystery when they were separated. He hoped this wasn't a dream or hallucination of his. Despite how her words struck him, this was a reality he was trying to find some joy in. The Atrisian gave him no room to counter her words or try to say something to meet her.

She was aggressive in her words and movement as her hand forced him down into his chair, and then a hand of hers touched his face; caressed it. Something that melted his heart, a steady breathing coming in and out with the seconds that passed. He tried to reach for her until her hands swiftly chambered for a slap across his face, enough for the sudden blow to push him off his chair and stopping himself from hitting the floor.

"Fucking hell," he uttered under his breath silently, his hand feeling the warmth on his face of where her hand made contact with. It was red, no doubt, as he put himself on the seat, trying to connect his eyes with hers. He might as well get through with these questions before trying to establish something with her.

"You know me," he said softly to her, trying to contain his emotions and bottle them up, "I am passionate towards my ideals, my duty towards them. Tavlar showed me how corrupt the Empire was, how the Sith manipulate us for their own desires without wanting to be equals with us. I'm not swayed by power, just ideals; he showed me something better where we can achieve the goals we've always wanted...goals that you and I share," his eyes trying to offer peace to his estranged wife, hoping to ease the tension between them. They shared the same goals of wanting to bring peace and order to the Galaxy, a Galaxy rid of insanity and chaos where they enjoy its treasures and maybe create something out of it. Something intimate for themselves.

"Aisare," his lips and tongue produced the word "beloved" in her native tongue, something he had always called her, "I've got nothing to hide, I can prove it. I fight for what is right, you know that."

And then he tried again to be intimate with her, "I...I didn't leave you on purpose, what happened matters to me. I extensively searched for you," too extensive that he even tortured for information about her when they got separated. He wanted to make amends, but she would make it impossible for him to accomplish that. He still loved her, did she reciprocate back to him?

 

[Rowan Corde]

//: Two: Don't let him in //:
//: Niruaun //: Undisclosed Detention Center //:
//: Djorn Bline //:

​

"Yo-" She exhaled and regained her composure, "You lost the right to call me that, don't do it again." ​

​

Rowan’s gazed softened just a moment as he spoke the pet name. One that he foolishly learned trying so hard to connect to the woman’s heritage. Usually, she would laugh softly to herself, run her fingers through his brown hair, and watch his eyes draw her inward. He had that hold on her; he created a fire within her, one no other man had been able to awaken in her. That same fire was what made her so angry with him. Even after these years, he still did it to her. ​

​

Her eyes narrowed as the cold exterior she was known for return. Djorn had lost the privilege of seeing her emotions. He threw that opportunity away when he threw out their life together. She watched his body move; she could tell he wanted to be close to her again - he missed her possibly as much as she missed him. Everything he said was the same as the boy she fell in love with so long ago. Could it be true that he was the same person? ​

​

He moved, and she quickly lifted her leg and placed it gently with a sense of authority between his legs pressing against him, a finger waved in front of him. “Nope, don’t start with me, Djorn.” When she finished, she put a little pressure against him as she sighed softly. “So all it took was a man to give you pretty words? Sounds pretty easy and suspicious. How do I know, how does the NIO know that you’re not just here to try and get information for the Saaraishash?” ​

​

Rowan knew he wanted to talk about them, but if they spoke about them, she wouldn’t be able to be hard on him like she needed to be. Her heart raced as she continued to look at him. She was happy. There had not been a day that her mind didn’t wander to him. She still wore her wedding ring, which she tried to hide quickly before he noticed. Her arms folded as she tucked her left hand underneath despite it being uncomfortable. ​

​

If they talked about them, Rowan would only find herself in his arms again. She wanted to be there, but knowing that he left her hurt even to this day. Shaking her head, she regained her composure. ​

​

“Djorn, Mr. Bline - we can’t continue to talk about the past. I’ve…” She paused as she exhaled; she had practiced this moment in the mirror so many times in case she ever met him again. “I’ve moved on.” She nodded to add to it. Her heart broke as she spoke the words, but she needed to say them - she needed to continue to keep him at a distance no matter how much she wanted to be wrapped up in his arms. ​

​

The anger was slowly fading as she held herself together by a string. ​

​

“So, answer the questions. Why was it so easy to sway you?”​

 

[Djorn Bline]

S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
NIRUAUN | UNDISCLOSED DETENTION CENTER
Rowan Corde
B A B E

​

She continued to resist him, reject his emotions onto her, and outright block his attempts of trying to mend that shaky bridge between them. Here they were, the two of them alone in this small; they were so close to each other, yet so far apart. She had every right to be mad at him, he could take it all. They had been married to each other for a good amount of years before everything went south. He liked to blame mediocre intelligence on everything that happened on that mission. Both of them swore to look out for one another along with other vows when they became man and wife. A promise he couldn’t fulfill, evident on that tragic day he so wished he could take back.

He had lost enough. His heart had suffered enough with so many losses he had faced before, all of them breaking him. She was his last rock, his last piece of salvation. Rowan kept him from going near the edge, giving him happiness which was reciprocated back to her from Djorn.

His heart yearned to feel her skin, he wanted that familiar touch of hers. Snake’s eyes never departed from Rowan. Almost like tunnel vision, all he cared about was the woman in front of her. Everything else was blurred out. His approach was met with a push, her leg then was placed right at his crotch to maintain distance between the two.

And then...

“Djorn, Mr. Bline - we can’t continue to talk about the past. I’ve…” “I’ve moved on.”

That hurt. That hurt a lot. He felt another pain striking at him when hearing those words. Goosebumps arose on his skin, his face fought to maintain a calm expression. There was a slight tremble in his breathing when exhaling right before taking another breath of air. She couldn’t mean that, she couldn’t. Was she...no, he refused to believe there was someone else besides him. He was optimistic for her love and acceptance again.

“So, answer the questions. Why was it so easy to sway you?”​

“I don’t give a damn about the questions, aisare,” he dared to call her that despite her request. She knew he was bold and daring, how could she forget? Perhaps he was innocent when she met him in the Academy, but he didn’t lack in courage or strength. “But I do give a damn about us. You don’t mean those words...you don’t mean that,” and his hands went to her foot, wanting to gently grab her ankle and put it down.

“I’m sorry.”