Private Rule of Nines

[Morrow]

On The Mauve, Hyperspace
Detritus open up my mind...
Talin Treicolt​

He'd seen it a hundred times by now, but it never felt any less foreign: A valley edged with immense effigies carved into ancient sandstone. Wind howled through the impression, kicking up a haze of sediment over the path in front of him. It wound deep into a cavern where stony visages jutted from the walls, looking on indifferently, wearing the likenesses of legends and luminaries of ages past. He thought he should recognize them, but like the valley itself, he remained strangely ignorant to their identity.

Figures gathered in the darkness, chanting with grim rhythm. He did not join their ritual, instead bestowing them with something incomprehensible. A string of words, instructions, hardly interpreted even as they came from his own mouth. Yet, the recipients seemed satisfied. Their ritual continued, and an immense dread grew with it. The air itself seemed to vibrate, bending to their unknowable words; the words he had given them. An impossibly black cloud flooded the cavern. Self-satisfaction crept under the dread, knowing he had deceived them, but unable to grasp exactly how. Certainty and dazed ignorance whirled amongst one another, leaving him in a paradoxical state.

Then, he sensed them. The others. They came down the winding path, ninety-nine flashes of blue and green, determined to quench their wrath. This is what he wanted. A barrier manifested around him, conjured by a forceful manipulation of something he couldn't see. One figure clapped his hands, and in an instant, everything in the cavern was vaporized. Clothing, flesh, bone, even the stalagmites and stalagtites; now dust.

Morrow laughed... or was it someone else cackling in a frenzy? Then, the screams began. Wailing from a place beyond the living. Souls lamenting in eternal torment, unable to move on from the moment of their destruction. At first, he reveled in it. It was what he wanted. But then, they grew louder, reverberating in his head ceaselessly. Gratification became terror. The shrieking became louder and louder. It was unbearable. Desperate fingers tore the unfamiliar flesh from his face, revealing a bloody, recognizable visage.

An anguished breath rasped into Morrow's lungs as he sat up abruptly in his bunk. Wailing gave way to the incessant barking and howling, the black lothwolf spooked by his sudden rousing. Near-bloodshot eyes darted around the dark cabin fearfully, taking several sweeps of the cramped accommodation before he realized where he was. He twisted, grabbed a steel cup from the nightstand, and forcefully downed lukewarm water. It may as well have been ice cold, the way it soothed his sore, dry throat. It overflew at the corners of his mouth, running down his chin and neck. Another gasp filled his lungs as the cup thudded back onto the bedside table.

"Shut up!" Morrow shouted weakly over the creature's tantrum. He stood, wobbled sleepily toward the door, and slammed the side of his fist against the control panel. The door to the cabin hissed open, ushering in a cool breeze and dim light from the ship's corridor. "Get out!" he shouted again, harshly shoving the pup outside with the side of his foot. He was too tired to spare a thought as to how it had even managed to get inside. The door slid shut, muffling the dog's continued tantrum outside.

Morrow slunked back over and sat on the side of the bunk, burying his face in his hands with a low groan.

 

[Talin Treicolt]

Sweet oblivion was shattered by fragmented terror. Each shard held reflections of visions not her own. A cave, that she shouldn’t be in. Petrified faces, frozen in time. Talin was locked somewhere between wake and sleep, aware enough to know the source of the sensation was beyond herself, but unable to move. The jolt on the mattress beside her finally was enough to join body and brain. Groggy eyes fluttered to find the cabin, and Morrow on the walking to the door. A distant part of her protested the dog’s ejection - but sleepiness hid the words from her. It took her a few seconds more to rouse, draggin’ an elbow beneath her to prop herself up. A dim glow from the cabin’s environment control pad outlined the man’s form as he rejoined the edge of their bunk.

Instinctively, Talin gravitated towards him, one arm moving to envelope his lower waist while the other rubbed his back. Fear still twisted their connection, setting the hairs on her arm standin’ upright. A girlish part of her wished to simply pull him back to his pillow, hang a blanket above them, build a fort where nightmares could no longer find them. It would be an effort in vain. Nothin’ could seem to stop the death march which visited her nightly - not exhaustion, nor drink, nor meditation. Though Morrow’s were less frequent, they seemed stronger - a troublin’ thought, given the suspicions she had about the source of her own.

“Same one as before.” Talin finally remarked quietly.

No questions. The pieces passed through their connection had begun to fit together, even if the bulk of the puzzle laid strewn about his mind. The arm about him squeezed a little tighter.

“You can tell me ‘bout ‘em. I ain’t one to judge.”

It was the first time she had offered. Prior revelations were left as secrets for him to keep, bad feelin’s vanquished with kisses and touch. In truth, a small part of her was scared of what he would say - but that had gone on long enough. They both had to face it. The blonde crossed her toes, for luck, hopin’ the hour had tempered some of that bullheadedness and she wouldn’t have to pry it outta him.

“‘Specially when it’s dreams makin’ ya feel awful. You know I’ve been there, too.”

 

[Morrow]

Leaving the hiding space made by his palms, Morrow's regard slowly turned to burn into Talin's dimly lit visage. Intense glaring played a poor facade to a potent feeling of dread. Flickering light from the hyperspace tunnel bled through a gap in the cabin's shutters, painting a faint blue streak over his face.

"You can see it?" he asked, morification evident under the drowsiness.

It was the last thing he wanted anyone, especially her, to know about. No matter how many times he told himself it was just a dream, he couldn't convince himself. Just the thought that Talin could glimpse it struck a cord of fear and evoked feelings of violation.

Looking away, Morrow shook his head. Eyes squeezed shut, trying to dismiss the idea that she knew anything. Even if futile, it was better that way. Talin's probing was an inevitability that finally came to fruition. Morrow wasn't ready for it. He much preferred when her reactions had been purely physical and non-prying.

"No," he declined to divulge anything, "I don't want to."

 

[Talin Treicolt]

“It ain’t like that.” Talin assured quietly. “It’s just.. pieces. Feelings, mostly.”

Hoisting herself up from the horizontal, arms and legs moved to embrace him as she rested her cheek on his back. His heartbeat masked the soft whir of the ships ventilation system. She was loathe to expand on the ability further, given the last implication of the force havin’ anything to do with his mind had led to him placin’ a blaster between them. That was not the kinda excitement they needed at this hour.

“If I have to deal with losin’ my beauty sleep over ‘em, I should at least know what they’re about.”

Trademark Treicolt stubbornness gave bite to her words. Talin was not about to let up.

“Plus, maybe it’ll help ‘em stop. Or at least, not be so scary?”

 

[Morrow]

Silence. Morrow sat on the edge of the bunk like a stump, indifferent to the creeping vine that was Talin wrapped around him. Fragments of the nightmare replayed in his head with decaying fidelity. Emerald and sapphire blades against a black cloud were the foremost images of his rumination. How could he tell her that his night terror revolved around killing Jedi? She had lost an arm for that identity and their principles. Meanwhile, his dreams revolved around reducing them to dust and worse.

"They won't stop," he stated distantly.

They had gone on too long for Morrow to believe anything could bring them to an end. At this rate, it was far more than just a dream. It was something more, by now he was certain. Besides the screams that he could still hear reverberating in fringes of his memory, the scary part was not knowing what it meant. It had felt like a far-off memory, like he was recollecting something that had happened long ago. That left the question of what it had to do with him. Had he confused that far-off feeling for the past, when it was, in fact, the future?

Either way, with the violent and spiritual implications, he couldn't bring himself to tell her—too many what-ifs.

"We should go back to sleep."

 

[Talin Treicolt]

“Morrow.”

A healthy dose of irritation lined the way Talin said his name. Crawling off the bed, cold floor greeted bare feet. She made her way over to the control panel and turned on the lights, an objection to his suggestion. A grimace was revealed by the light. Talin leaned against the wall, crossin' her arms over the oversized shirt she had slept in, glarin' in Morrow's general direction.

A vast majority of the time, the arms length he chose to keep was part of his appeal. An air of mystery that kept an easily bored blonde interested. Exhaustion had frayed her nerves, though. Time and time again, she had worn her heart on her sleeve, lettin' him see the darkest parts of her. In turn, she had never shied away from the bits of his that had oozed through the walls of stone. The wave of reluctance and shame that echoed through the force should have been quieted by trust she had rightfully earned.

"I don't want to play this game."

Restlessly, she strolled to close the gap between them.

"I want to help you." Her voice softened to match intent.

 

[Morrow]

"Wait-"

Abrupt light assailed dozy eyes, forcing their lids to clamp shut. A tightened expression hid from phosphorescence beneath a sluggishly raised forearm. A rumble of indignation resonated from his chest. After a moment, Morrow would endeavour to face forward against the glow, eyes reduced to wearied slits. No longer obscured by the darkness, his disheveled state became evident. Sable tresses were tangled and disorderly from tossing and turning. Beneath them, a scant shadow wrapped half of his face, cast by the diminutive stubble grown overnight. It might have screamed death stick addict had he been on the street and not in the throes of waking.

Forceful blinks labored to wipe away the blur and adjust to the brightness from overhead. Talin's befogged silhouette quickly gained fidelity from across the tight cabin. Features still languid, Morrow made a brief, demurring face when he noticed the oversized shirt, his shirt, draped over her shoulders. A fading graphic for D.T. Spool and the Skroaches was plastered across the front of it. Even though he couldn't remember the last time he'd worn it, he might have objected were he not so fatigued. That, and he couldn't manage to pluck the words from his mind before Talin spoke up.

"Talin, please," he pleaded wearily.

Morrow didn't want to play this game, either. He wanted to sleep; he wanted not to talk about it.

"I don't need help."

 

[Talin Treicolt]

“You do.”

Rogue thought wondered if shaking him would do the trick. The exhaustion that colored the lines of his face was evidence against his testament. Remnants of vivid horror still stuck to her like grease from bad Atrisian takeout did the tongue. That couldn’t not be helped. Sliding into a crouch, a hand wandered to sweep a lock of hair from his face, clear the way for unrelenting eye contact as she looked up at him.

“I care about you. Please let me help.”

 

[Morrow]

"I don't."

Morrow turned his face slightly away from Talin's touch. He grabbed her wrist, forced it away listlessly.

The next four words that came out of Talin's mouth froze Morrow for a moment. She had confessed so plainly, he wondered if she realized what she had just said. A dispute lingered on the tip of his tongue, but the words silently tiptoed off the edge and plummeted to his gut just before he could spring them forward. They erupted with a strange, but brief sensation he didn't recognize. "I..." was all he could manage before his head shook it off.

"You can't," he finally countered. There wasn't anything to be done, short of lobotomizing him, maybe. Those nighttime visions had always been there, and would continue to be no matter how vividly he described them.

 

[Talin Treicolt]

"Ugh!" The exclamation came with his repulsion.

Standing back upright, she backed a couple of steps away, fury evident. Deep breaths attempted to contain that anger - unsuccessfully.

"You are so impossible!"

Launching into a quick pace between their two walls, her volume threatened to carry to the crew beyond them. Not that she cared - let 'em know she was mad enough to chew up nails and spit out a razor wire fence. What were they gonna do about it?

"Force forbid you let me try! Like, gosh, Morrow, I tell you everything and it's like talkin' to a durasteel sheet sometimes! How 'bout you give a little back?! I'm your girlfriend, for feth-"

Talin froze, her brain finally catching up with her mouth.

 

[Morrow]

"Shut up!" Hushed urgency clashed with Talin's outburst.

Though they were fortunate that On The Mauve had private crew cabins, their compact nature meant the walls were thin. Morrow was already pushing it with the crew by bringing Talin on in the first place. The last thing he needed was her flare-up keeping everyone up.

"Talin, shut the f-!" Morrow's second attempt to shush Talin ended with him hitting the brakes at the same moment she did.

Even in the pause, annoyance still burned in his lingering glare. A sharp, drawn-out exhale blew tension from his nostrils, making room for a growing ambivalence. It was a feeling he was getting all too familiar with lately. Talin's sudden declaration of commitment had given it life again. Neither of them had ever made any assurances, nor brought it up to begin with. Sure, they'd been sleeping with one another, staying together, going out for myriad recreations, but Morrow figured she'd move on once she had her fun. She seemed the type. Morrow might have been the type, too, though he hadn't much time to figure that out yet.

There were feelings underneath, but he'd kept them shoved down and denied in case he was right. Now, he wasn't so sure. Maybe it was cynicism getting the better of him. Was that vision she shared with him not a trick after all?

"You're-?" he swallowed his reluctance. "Is that what this is?"

 

[Talin Treicolt]

The question caused her to flinch. Gaze firmly planted on the ground, bitterness twisted her features. Was it doubt that had prompted the inquiry, disinterest, or was he playin’ dumb again? Seconds rolled on with her flailing, unable to summon an answer.

“I thought it was.” She finally pushed out, crossing her arms again.

Fear crept around her form, slowly enveloping her like ivy crawling up a trellis. He had promised to stay. Maybe it meant less to him than it did her. This sure was gonna make the rest of their journey tense if that was the case. The ship felt shakey underneath her. She needed something solid, one way or another. Desperation drove her back to the bedside, taking a seat beside him.

“We’re doin’ all the things. Ain’t no one else I’d even look twice at.” The admission was near a whisper, a stark contrast from all the flare of fury she had moments ago. “Unless you don’t want that?”

 

[Morrow]

Why couldn't they have gone back to bed?

Instinctively, when Talin sat beside him, Morrow turned his head the other way. Jaw clenched, he grappled with what he defensively wanted to say versus what he fervently needed to say. Vacillation was frustrating. It would be easier to say nothing at all. That growing fondness he'd been ignoring was hard to deny now. He'd kill it if he could.

Loss for words wasn't like him. He could always find something to say, even in moments of irresolution. Not this time. He thought he'd throw some equivocation at her and hope that would be the end of it. But he didn't. He wasn't about to let her in, either. He couldn't.

"I don't know how to do this," he grumbled.

 

[Talin Treicolt]

“You just…”

His trepidation echoed in the force. Beneath all the confusion, hidden and marred by streaks, was a mirror of her own feelings. The only reassurance that stopped Talin stormin’ out of the quarters. It was new, and scary, for him too. Admiration had followed her through childhood - the baby of the family, the picturesque daughter of Concord Dawn. It had transformed when she broke adolescence. Suitors followed en masse, willing to accompany on whatever adventure she chose, with the reins always firmly in her hands. Control over this had slipped away like a shy mare. It had to have been worse, for him, havin’ seemed to lacked the experience she wielded so recklessly. The thought sent her fingers in searching across the edge of the mattress to find his.

“Guess we just keep doin’ how we been doin’, then.”

The words were sharp, clipped, but a surrender. Talin wouldn’t push further tonight, for fear of losin’ him in misstep, or for him carvin’ a bigger gap than she was willin’ to cross. A return to their status quo. They were better at it, anyways. Disappointment still colored her tone.

 

[Morrow]

Touch drew Morrow's regard away from the cabin wall. He watched their hands slowly wrap together, then lifted to meet Talin eye-to-eye. It didn't take an empath to tell she was disappointed. Nevertheless, she remained, reassuring with caress and words. Like always, she stuck to him, even if he didn't deserve it. Same as she'd done since their reunion on Corellia. She was consistent if nothing else.

Another breath was released from his nose, preparing himself to yield to that ardor he'd habitually shunned. Head tilting, he leaned forward to press his lips against hers. Until now, she'd always been the initiator. Fingers squeezed, his grip tightening around hers. A moment later, there was a separation by an inch. Their faces lingered close together, but Morrow didn't say anything. Slowly, the distance would increase back to normal, leaving only a look that vaguely conveyed longing, though his forbidding features diminished the sentiment.

Unceremoniously, he looked away again; returned to his brooding. Tellingly, though, his grip hadn't slackened.

 

[Talin Treicolt]

Action spoke volumes louder than words. The kiss took her by surprise, leaving her breathless despite its tender nature. It was water to the sprout of something greater growing in her chest. In the moments after, she drank every inch of his features in, half torn between need and want. Talin’s mouth opened, shut, unable to reconcile what hung on her tongue with their reality. The word was right there. Love. It refused to come out. Fear stopped it, both of his reaction and the self criticism that would come with sayin’ somethin’ so objectively stupid so fast. Instead, she allowed withdrawal, conceded to let the urge wither and return to the previous subject.

“It’s easier when you ain’t havin’ to deal with things alone, I promise.”

Her thumb traced the back of his. Maybe Morrow couldn’t understand how wholly she believed that sentiment, but to her, it was damn true. It wasn’t well enough to let him hold onto the dream when it so clearly terrified him. She wanted to share the weight of the burden, if only to allow him room to breathe.

“Please tell me about your dream.”