Post-Patricide

[Kana Truden]

Was the other woman staring at her? It felt like she was, but with those pitch-black eye sockets it was hard to tell. Not that it mattered, Kana had enough on her mind already. Being oogled by a towering armored woman didn’t really feel all that important to think about when compared to the repercussions of murdering your own father and later also, seemingly, felt like getting away with it. Though she still hadn’t lived to see if this was only a temporary respite before the life in prison beckoned again.

No, she didn’t want to think about that. In fact there was nothing she truly wanted to think about. If she could have turned her brain off and just existed at this point it would have been much more preferable, but with the way things seemed to work she knew that it simply wasn’t possible. At least not without drastic repercussions that she could very well live without.

They approached the grand gates to the other woman’s home. Kana had expected to be met with a run-down low-to-mid apartment at the heart of Coruscant she was instead met with the sights of an apartment that spoke of enough luxury to make her childhood home seem like cardboard box. An exaggeration, perhaps, but it was close enough.

The armored form of someone Kana most certainly didn’t take for a chef approached the kitchen and began sifting through heaps of meat to find the one that seemed to feel just about right.

“They don’t.” Kana took her leather jacket off to expose the rest of the white tunic underneath. It was a pitiful sight. Dust and grime from unclean living was evident, spots of blood from only a few moments ago had sprayed across the white texture and blended into something considerably less appropriate for Jedi. If she could even count as one anymore. Life on the run was a life that mixed all too well with the life of someone without anything to lose. Not that they weren't mutually exclusive. “But senators do, on occasion. At least if they’re feeling generous.”

Kana took a seat by the counter. The tinges of guilt seemed to fade from her conscience like water on plastic leaving only the smallest drips of remorse drifting across her system. It was hard to deny the fact that the man was dead. Her mind was like a rollercoaster with no end in sight.

She was approaching her life’s greatest mental impasse.

Question was what she would do once she truly got there.

It wasn’t important.

“What do you want with me?” The whisper barely called out as the former jedi sighed at the Sith Lord. “Why are you being so... Nice?”

 

[Vrag]

Though the saber she wielded most often carried no weight, Vrag had a long history with bladed weapons, originating from a time where the title 'Sith' wasn't yet tacked on to whatever moniker she'd chosen for herself during that period, from a time when that same title wasn't yet there to provide a semblance of an excuse, a justification for the things she did.

It wasn't something she needed or craved herself; no, it was a crutch for other people, those who couldn't accept the plain and simple facts of who Vrag was. 'Sith' made it easier to process, these days. Cleaner.

Lightsabers had a tendency to make less of a mess, that much she would admit, but there was a peculiar je ne sais qoui to knives that the firrerreo, ultimately, preferred. Perhaps it was the fact that they let the blood flow freely, instead of stymieing its flow like the burning edge of a plasma beam did. Perhaps it was simply the comfortable weight of the blade, the distinct feeling of brandishing an extension of one's hand, instead of light solidified.

But who cared, really?

Vrag deftly sliced off another piece of the steak, flicking it into the air with the tip of the blade in her grasp. Her lips curled into a proud smile as Lammie snapped out of the mouth of her skull helmet, snatching the juicy morsel mid-air with a sharp sound, as if atoms themselves had parted to allow the amphistaff passage.

Despite the creature's theatrics, however, the addressed Sith Lord did not miss the question so tentatively poised to her.

With a barely audible thud, Vrag stuck her knife into the wooden board, ignoring the tremors running the length of the metal as she raised her gaze from the steak to her unlikely guest. Both were covered in blood.

"You answered yourself," she calmly pointed out, though she didn't expect the blonde to realize quite what she meant. Her blue eyes flickered back to the knife, now still, and then to the Jedi once more. A small sigh escaped her lips, and then a guttural, bark-like series of acute phonemes followed in stark contrast to the smooth timbre of her Basic.

The Dhaladii obeyed.

A string of tinny clicks echoed in the spacious kitchen as the legs and claws of the Vonduun relaxed, and Vrag stood almost comically still, as if posing for a particularly statuesque photograph even as her living helmet promptly climbed off her face and down her back, clinging to the many of its brothers and sisters that comprised the Ygdris.

"I'm not being nice, [member="Kana Truden"]," the Hand of the Dark Lord shared a rare smile with the former Jedi as she leaned ever so slightly forward over the counter, bringing her face closer to the blonde's.

"But I do want… you."

 

[Kana Truden]

The Sith Lord continued chopping and beating the meat pieces into submission. The knives in her hand almost swerved around the place in a display of what Kana could only describe as a seeming mastery over the art of using a blade. She had tried it once, actual physical training. How to use a vibroblade, how to fire a rifle. It was nearly fifteen years ago when she was a mere initiate that had just arrived on Ossus. Her saber didn’t exist at that point and her contact with the military took place not far outside the distant army outpost. The exercise had been masked as another drill, which ultimately had worked for her.

Part of her missed it. Sabers were cool but they were distinct. With the right apparel and a blade or blaster she could pass as anything else but who she truly was. Just another part of the crowd. She missed that, now more than ever.

“You answered yourself.”

The former master’s head arched up at a hissing noise. Her eyes set on her temporary benefactor, except her helmet wasn’t there. Where she was expecting to stare at something similar to the abysses that she had gotten herself acquainted with she was instead met with the steely blue eyes of someone she hadn’t expected to actually be a woman. A woman who wasn’t being nice, but she still wanted...

Kana?

Once more her head began twisting away from the other woman, but this time it wasn’t unease. No, it was confusion. Confusion and an equal amount of surprise. Emotions had come unfurled, and only then did people seem to notice her. At least notice her like that, it was weird and unexpected.

What was it, ten years since last?

Something like that.

“Why?” Kana whispered once more. “I’m nobody special.”

[member=Vrag]

 

[Vrag]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xSoSDCQ20L8​

​

The recoil was to be expected.

Though visually undeniably appealing, Vrag wasn't exactly an immaculate soul — if she even had one still, at this point — and certain kinds of people couldn't stomach that. The Hand usually kept company who was her ilk, in that regard, and therefore didn't give a bantha's ass about her less than spotless record; but the former Jedi wasn't exactly 'usual' company.

The Sith Lord flashed her guest a grin, sharp as the knife still stuck in the diced steak on the counter, and leaned back to give the blonde some badly needed personal space. Those cheeks were certainly looking a bit more flushed, though.

The firrerreo raised a disbelieving eyebrow at the other's hushed words, scoffing dismissively as she reached to wipe the blade in a neaty folded dishcloth to her left.

"That's not quite true, is it?" she spoke after replacing the knife on its original place, directing the rhetorical question at the blonde without lifting her gaze from the future beef tatare.

"And in any case, completely irrelevant. You could be the queen of Onderon or a hooker from Nar Shaddaa for all I care," the woman continued as she arranged the meats and garnish on a serving plate, her appetite utterly undeterred by the crude phrasing.

"The lives of people like me, of people like you… they get lonely. There comes a time, Kana — or at least there did for me — when you start taking more comfort in your enemies than you do in your friends. Well. Friends."

The Sith Lord cut herself off with a small chuckle and went to place the plate onto the pristine dining table, commanding the Ygdris to coil back its claws for the moment.

"I don't have to wonder about your disposition towards me, you see. I know you hate my guts. It makes things… simple. Easy."

Vrag cocked her head slightly to the side, her cold blue eyes seeking out the gray of the fallen Jedi.

"And sometimes… simple is what you need."


[member="Kana Truden"]

 

[Kana Truden]

It was like staring a cat in the eyes as it flashed a grin at you. The shape of the other woman’s teeth were sharp, intense yet Kana remained cool-headed. Deep down she already knew her predicament, the many different ways she would be doomed if she tried to run away. With her foot in the state that it was the former healer could do little but fight it as the lingering pain spikes of a fractured heel almost had her grimacing in pain.

She was certainly blushing. It felt unheard of to be approached like this, or at least with an approach this direct. Khaleel had spent years trying to get to this point and Damian, well... She didn’t even know if he was alive, if he could stand to see what she had become or if there had ever been anything. She always told herself there wasn’t, he was her student after all.

He was her student. He was probably dead, like most others that she cared for.

It was explained to her that no matter who she was the other woman would still be interested. About how life was hollow and that deep down you only had yourself that you could truly rely on to get things done which sadly was a sentiment that Kana had started to come to terms with. She didn’t need anyone, and all of her friends were most likely all living with the assumption that she was dead or perhaps worse; knew the reality of it all.

She felt like the girl that was forgotten about, tossed to the wolves and without anyone to actually come looking for her she turned to the people she had once sworn to exterminate. Yet the other woman seemed to know what Kana felt and the fact that she was seemingly having dinner with one of the people she despised the most in the galaxy, well, perhaps sometimes life was as simple as you made it.

The cold blue gaze of the firrerreo met with the dull grays. She wanted her. The other woman wanted Kana and with that the tables had been placed on hinges.

Kana let her stare linger. Her breathing intensified in fear mixed with confused curiosity. Ever so slightly she leaned forward. It would be so easy, she just had to approach the woman, go for the lips. Just let them gently nudge against each other and let fate do the rest.

At least that was the idea.

Kana followed through with the lean in for [member=Vrag], but in the last second she pulled away. “Nope.” The jedi stated rather bluntly as a grin grew on her lips. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that.”

 

[Vrag]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Il6CA-nqR-Y​

​

​

The tall Sith Lord lingered perhaps half a step away from the seat, her armored knuckles resting on the tabletop as she held the gaze of the former Jedi. There was a spark of anxious excitement dancing in those ashes, like a low-burning ember that fought to affirm that [member="Kana Truden"] was, in fact, still alive.

Her sharp grin slowly inched wider as the blonde edged closer, pointed teeth catching lightly at her bottom lip in the delight of anticipation. The ice of her own gaze had thawed somewhat at the change of the temperature between them, and Vrag could hardly wait until she could taste the unique amalgam of despair and will to live surely permeating the Jedi's flesh. They were always so tempestuous and uncertain in their emotions when they shed the bonds of the Order, and it presented her with opportunity like no other.

To partake of that particular essence again… what a pleasure that would be…

Oh, kark me, the firrerreo cursed inwardly, and it was all she could do to not let her flash of annoyance show. One misstep, and the shaken Jedi would retreat back into herself like a shy doe; luckily, the Hand was better at that self-restraint thing than most of her co-Sith, and so she valiantly fought the urge to take her right there on the table.

It was bad manners to eat dessert before the main course, after all.

"Quite," she replied somewhat curtly as she finally took her seat, but there was no real hostility to her tone. "I understand. Nobody can resist my cooking," the woman spoke, and then promptly substituted beef tatare with words, letting out a satisfied hum as the chorus of flavors blossomed on her palate.

She made short work of the meal, devoting the rest of their quaint little dinner to unashamed ogling of her unlikely guest. If somebody had told her that morning that she would be entertaining a fallen Jedi in her home in the evening, Vrag would have laughed and then had the person checked with the nearest shrink.

Her lips curled back into a shadow of a smile as she raked her gaze over the Jedi in question, running her fingers through her messy hair in a lazy gesture.

"You should get that looked at," she remarked and nodded towards the blonde's injured foot as a distant expression flickered across her face for the briefest of moments.

"Tomorrow."

She let the implication of that solitary word hang in the air with the slightest of smirks upon her features, fully confident that her guest would be able to discern her intentions.

 

[Kana Truden]

She was in control of this supply, the other woman was not. Dinner came first and then kind of preferably directly followed by a hospital visit for the paining foot, but all in good time.
Perhaps Kana should have called a shrink for herself. Second time entertained by a Sith yet the first of which she was offered something to eat. The meat touched Kana’s tongue and the flavor of the raw meat prompted her to gently close her eyes in delight. Her eyebrows perked up as if she had been reminded of the sweetest of memories. Actual food was rare these days, rations were cheaper and lasted a lot longer before going stale. They tasted like crap but that was to be expected these days.

A deep breath, a sharp exhale and the feeling of disappointment as she devoured the rest of the meal. The other woman may have eyed her but the former Jedi Master did not care, not in the slightest and neither did her stomach. A warmth spread in her system, something she swore she hadn’t felt in a long time and with it she allowed herself a look at her hostess again.

Reality knocked on the door again for Kana to answer.

Eyes locked.

Smiles exchanged.

Whispers uttered.

Consequences tossed aside.

Air swallowed.

Head nodded.

[member=Vrag]

 

[Vrag]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QH3Fx41Jpl4​

Oh, this was good.

This was delicious, in fact.

Vrag did nothing to smother the lecherous smile slowly curling her lips further back, and her usually cold eyes were alight with that fire of hers that she so rarely let out of its carefully crafted cage. It was an intricate balance between wrath and lust — indubitably the greatest among her many sins — and though usually subdued and infused into her very motions, it was in times like these that that particular maelstrom of emotion (writhing. squirming. sweat and moans and screams like the bay of voxyn on the eve of war like the shrills of bodies being burned alive) broke free of its confines.

A light shudder ran the length of the firrerreo's spine as she rose from her seat, her motions unhurried and relaxed, like that of a predator who knew it had cornered its prey. She approached the other woman with a quiet, confident stride, boring into those silver eyes with a nearly searing intensity. She was almost… calm.

And then the storm came, not turbulently or violently like one might expect, but with the light changing of winds, and as the breeze turned into a gale, so did the Hand of the Dark Lord stalk ever closer to the former Jedi Master.

She wondered, ever so briefly, if [member="Kana Truden"] had fallen from grace, and if she did, what kind of havoc it must have wrought with her life. Did anybody even know she was here, half-dead, half-alive, and mere heartbeats away from consorting with one of her Order's nemeses?

Without a single word — for the avenue of speech had been exhausted for the eve, and the only things Vrag would hence permit to leave the blonde's lips were sounds uttered in pleasure — the woman slowly circled behind her chosen quarry for the night, gloved fingers ghosting along the faint arch of the blonde's hips.

There was naught but patience to her movements as she followed the curve of Kana's rib-cage underneath the thin material of her frayed leather jacket, stopping only once she reached the gentle slope of her shoulders. With an almost impossibly light a touch, Vrag slipped the garment off, freeing the blonde's arms of the restricting clothing as she folded it over the back of the chair.

She took a few moments to enjoy the sight before her, drinking in every delightful detail that had become exposed; from the faint scars visible through the thin material of the blouse, to the way the sinous curve of Kana's back led the eye ever downwards, to…

Vrag let out a surprised snort, immediately followed by a disbelieving chuckle as she snatched the object from the blonde's belt.

"I remember that bridge," she said with some amusement in her voice as she whirled the former Jedi around. How many years was it now? Two? Three? She glanced down at Reebas in her grasp, wondering what [member="Reverance"] might think of the serendipitous circumstance that had brought the long-lost saber so close to home once more.

"Those bruises lingered for days," the firrerreo drawled, appreciation evident in her voice as the blue of her eyes flashed with something deeper, darker. She leaned closer still, infringing on the last semblances of personal space left between the two.

"Are you always that rough, Kana?"

 

[Kana Truden]

Breathing slowed down.

Heartbeat pounded.

Guilt intensifying.

Was all of this worth it? All this for the sake of what could have been a false lead? That thought still lingered, did anyone truly care? Anyone beside Avalore? Khaleel probably did too but those were the only two Kana truly knew that she had. When this was all over she could die, either with her mission failed or her own conscience in a pile of shattered ruins, or both.

Perhaps I am overexaggerating.

Hands that weren’t her own carefully stroked along her hips. Kana’s eyes gently shut. Her head tilted in mild surprise as if the trust for her hostess wasn’t truly there. Obviously it wasn’t, nor was it ever likely to be there, but the things she had said made sense; Keep it simple. You could keep friends close and your enemies closer. Which felt good when your enemies outweighed the numbers of your friends. Perhaps it was okay to get them confused every now and then.

Or perhaps I am excusing myself.

The hands ascended up her waist underneath the ragged leather jacket that had been her truest friend along with the dirt-ridden tunic that had at times been her only source for heat. She looked like a mess but there was a good reason for that. There had been offers for her to get cleaned up but she had turned it down. She wanted to look out for herself, perhaps as a challenge or maybe the cleaning up was to be a reward. Needless to say laundry was not high on the list of things to do.

Kana’s nose chimed up in an uncontrolled exhale as the tickling sensation of distrust and anticipation mixed into one. A hand passed her shoulder and in a swift sweep Kana found herself alleviated of the burden that was her jacket. A slight chill ran down her neck and arms.

But how wrong is this, really?

The other woman stared, yet as her attention set on the former healer’s belt there was no movement other than the Sith Lord spinning the woman around and immediately going into a reach for Kana’s second saber. Her reward from Kashyyyk, taken. Part of her was outraged, part of her resigned.

“I remember that bridge, those bruises lingered for days.”

The jedi master looked at [member=Vrag] in confusion blissfully unaware of what had brought the topic up. Personal space was diminished, breaths practically traversing down Kana’s neck. Her heart began beating faster.

“Are you always that rough, Kana?”

Kana gently shook her head in an unspoken 'No.'

She had been cornered and needed to save herself; fists tended to be a good way to catch your opponent off-guard. Yet now, just like then, the avenue for words had been exhausted. The next few steps were a certainty before they had even been taken.

Her gaze interlocked with the firrerro’s again. Kana was ready for whatever came next.

Maybe, just this once would be okay.

 

[Vrag]

A slight, almost timid a nod.

How cute.

It was hard to believe that there were people out there, people like Kana – though she was clearly growing out of it – that were willing to fight for the better good, for the common folk, but had obviously never run the whole gamut of what their beloved common folk would experience in their lifetimes.

It would be amusing, if it weren't so sad.

The ironic nature of the human condition, however, did not deter Vrag in her pursuits whatsoever. A big part of her charming personality was, after all, the ability to not give a flying kark, which is why any and all philosopical exploration was pushed aside in favor of exploration of a far more… carnal sort. Almost as an afterthought, the Sith Lord slipped Reebas into the greedy claws of the Vonduun at the small of her back, handing it off to the Skerr Ygdris for safekeeping until her momentary infatuation was satiated.

With that final obstacle out of the way, the firrerreo was free to focus on the woman before her; eager to feel.

Hal had broken under the weight of three decades' worth of feeling (exquisitely so, like streaks of rust red rippling rivers, putrefied sentiment washed ashore) and Vrag simply had to know how Kana would unravel beneath her. The taste of raw, undiluted emotion had always intrigued the woman, like an exotic flavor that she could only partake of on special occasions.

Her usual partners were as numb to that unwieldy, burdensome part of the human psyche as she was, and so the pleasure of unadulterated sensation – almost virigin, one could say – had become a rare indulgence for the Hand of the Dark Lord.

"Come," she murmured with a heady lilt of anticipation to her voice, leading her unlikely guest – soon to become even more unlikely a lover – towards her bedroom.

It was time to get rid of those pesky clothes.


[member="Kana Truden"]