Private Seasonal Sithposting

[Alkor Centaris]

Alkor sat in his quarters with a diminished bottle of ale in front of him. It wasn't his favorite drink, but it was sufficient enough to offer a slight buzz. He was a few drinks in already, and on a forced leave of absence. Comments from Knight Darcrath about his being a workaholic had finally reached the ears of the powers that be post mortem. It appeared that, at least for the season, Alkor would be sitting on the bleachers.

It stole away his ability to keep his mind occupied, and his cheeks had flushed red the instant he received the orders. Alkor demanded he be left alone, since the Knighthood had called for him to take a break, and thus far only Isley had checked in on him- and only once.

The other Knights Obsidian had not so much as filed reports or sent missives asking how he was doing. It appeared that they wanted to respect his wishes. They were leaving him to his solitude.

Alkor lifted the drink and took a sip of the dull flavored drink, relaxing against the sofa of his apartment. He was an absolute wreck, but in the best way.

Nothing would bother him today, he was certain of it.

Felurian Malvern

 

[Acantha Malvern]

Alkor Centaris ​

Felurian was nervous.

She had every right to be, considering who’s door she had her balled-up fist ready to knock at. Often, reputations were largely something to be ignored. They’re crafted from whispers, and rumours from those who had only heard rumours themselves. Felurian barely paid them any mind, but this man? This man she had the pleasure of knowing personally. This man’s reputation held merit. He was grumpy, brash, and above all… dangerous. Yet, here she was, and there went her fist. Rapping on the metal door till the sound rang in her ears.

As the sound echoed through the chambers within, Felurian clutched tighter to the gift in her other hand. Wrapped in a shimmering silver paper, and rather an odd shape, the gift had taken her almost an entire year to make. Right now, it was more precious to her than her own life, and the blisters on her fingers agreed. In fact, it was the entire reason she was here. Crafted entirely on the basis that his reputation was more than just rumour, Fela hoped it would put her in his good books.

Their meeting hadn’t exactly been the best. She’d been caught working for slave traders, a big discrepancy in the CIS. A crime grave enough to warrant execution, but he hadn’t killed her. He had saved her, and simultaneously given her a freedom she’d never known before. It was safe to say the Mistress owed Alkor Centaris much more than the gift she held tightly in her hands.

She knew it wouldn’t even begin to scratch the surface of what she owed him, but it was a damn good start.

​

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Who in their right mind would be at his doorstep?

Very few people in the Confederacy knew precisely what Alkor was, beyond one of the most reviled members of the Knights Obsidian for his iron-fisted battlefield strategy, and lack of basic human empathy. Where Metus' generals were concerned, Alkor was the least likely to show mercy and the first man that came to mind when uttered came the word "brutality."

Those who could access the files about his life before the Southern Systems gave him an even wider berth. Beyond their borders, he had been a man condemned. The Corellians still harbored disdain over his monstrous mass murders on the world that was once his home. More recently, the Core World and the Vicelord had come into rocky terms for his relationship with the Jen'jidai.

Yet, there was always discord between Nations. Alkor cared little for the distress his presence caused, and he made no apologies for it. He doubted the Sith Lord cared much, either.

The door creaked open after a prolonged minute of knocking. He had triggered the lock with a fumbled press of a mechanism at his wrist. He was far from drunk, but the desire to rise was not anywhere to be found. He hated these prolonged stretches of time between work.

He hated not being busy.

"Well?" His voice croaked, dry and hot from a lack of hydration. "Who's there?"

Felurian Malvern

 

[Acantha Malvern]

Alkor Centaris ​

The door creaked open of its own accord, on hinges Fela was certain should have been oiled months ago. Maybe the Confederacy was a fan of squeaking doors. They did command a certain sort of authority. Fela couldn’t deny it was quite the spectacle watching it swing open, pouring out a subtle orange glow that danced across her pitch-black outfit, whilst keeping the person behind it cast in shadow. It was all very dramatic, and lead to quite the build up of anticipation in the young Mistress.

Clutching the gift ever harder still, Felurian took Alkor’s words as an invitation to step over the threshold, yet she didn’t push her look. She walked forward enough for her face to be visible, then stopped. ‘Lord Marshal.’ It wasn’t much of a greeting, but Fela wasn’t really one for them. A name and a nod was always more than enough, and she followed up his name with just that. ‘I hope I’m not disturbing you?’ From the look of the office, she was far from disturbing him. The half empty bottle of ale and the distinct smell of it lingered loudly in the room.

She shuffled further forward, heading for the only other chair in the room placed in front of the desk he currently sat at. After settling into the seat, she glanced down at the gift in her hands, then at the top of the desk. As though she were unsure the solid wood would hold its weight properly, but that was silly, of course. ‘I brought you something.’ Carefully, as though the silver grabbed gift were a new born infant, Fela placed it on the surface in front of her. It made a resounding clunk as it settled against the wood, but the second it did she shoved it just a little further forward into his reach.

‘To say thank you.’

​

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Alkor didn't live the life of luxury most of the Knights Obsidian might have expected. Where ranking officers were usually afforded well cleaned, lit, and furnished flats, Alkor had deigned to remain in his low income housing in the Sprawl of Golbah. It got hot, almost unbearable during the Geonosian summer, so nights like these were a godsend. His heat and cooling systems were low end, befitting the housing he chose, but Alkor made due.

He almost never noticed the sweat beaded all over his body, because the gentle breeze in a room he almost never lit the lights in cooled him off. When she found him, Alkor was leaned against the couch, one leg crossed over the other and stretched out across the floor. The table was littered with old newspapers and empty bottles.

When he was home, he didn't clean; and when he wasn't, he didn't care.

His thoughts were evident if one looked across the articles strewn haphazardly about. Images of the fallen Knights Obsidian- people he had failed to protect- lay visible for all the world to see. Atop the pile lay an image of Naedira Darcrath.

Alkor looked to Felurian when she finally spoke. Was she disturbing him? Perhaps. He couldn't tell, yet.

To say thank you.

"You have nothing to thank me for," he told her. "You lived a life as a slave against your will. Once freed, you decided on your own to join the Confederacy. You've been indemnified of any crime." Alkor looked at the nearest bottle, now empty from his last sip.

He frowned.

Then, he eyed her gift.

"Whats this?" he asked. "You don't have to give me anything."

Felurian Malvern

 

[Acantha Malvern]

​

Alkor Centaris ​

‘Perhaps not.’ Fela spoke as she cast her raven gaze across the top of the desk. Many of the faces peering back at her from the black and white images were unknown to her, and in part she desired it to stay that way. The headlines that they were attached too were filled to the brim with death, and though she did not fear it, she tended to avoid it as often as possible.

‘But you still spared my life long enough for me to be indemnified. I might have been enslaved but I was still working for the slaver. You and I both know that alone is grounds enough for execution… if the wrong person had come along.’ To solidify her point, she lent forward and slid the bottle further across the table. Some of the newspapers protested at the disturbance, slipping and sliding over the top of one other like eels stuffed in a barrel, but eventually the bottle ended up half way across the wooden desk.

‘What it is is…’ As though she had no idea herself, Fela scrunched her face up. ‘This isn’t the social normality of gift giving. I think you’re supposed to open it, and find out yourself…’ She wouldn’t know. She had never received or given a gift before, but the idea that it wasn’t going as it should have been was a little frustrating. ‘I promise it’s nothing that will injure you. It might even make you smile.’ Her eyes quickly glanced down at the now empty bottle in his lap. ‘Please?’ Her finger tips brushed the edge of the gift once again, as though she intended to push it further toward him, but all they did was cause the paper to crinkle loudly in the silence of the office.

​

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Alkor considered the woman for along moment. Her words were heavy and dripped with sentiment, but he wondered how much of that she actually felt. She did not seem like someone seized with the idea of remaining alive, or if she was, he could not tell. Like a blank page in a book, he found nothing about her that he could read at face value. She was as empty as he was, albeit perhaps with a bit more self-awareness due to the irritation that this situation seemed to evoke.

"You're alive," he told her. "That's all that matters, isn't it?" He stared at the gift as she spoke. People had thanked him for his kindness and mercy before, but the reality of the situation was that Alkor had orders to murder Slavers and bring Confederate Justice on those who acted willfully. This woman had been a slave. He only followed the directive. There was nothing there, in his mind, that made him merciful.

Yet, she pressed him to accept this kindness. Alkor stared at it as she beseeched him, even as far as to saying it might make him smile. His eyes slowly rose to meet hers.

"..."

He watched her stand there unwavering for a moment before he chose his next words. "I don't smile," he said as he reached out and took the gift. "But if social protocols dictate I accept this gesture, it... may be best that I accommodate you. Just this once."

Alkor took the item in both hands and lifted it, judging the weight- heavier than he anticipated- and his fingers moved across the paper that covered it. "Shall I open it while you are here, or after you leave?" he asked her.

Felurian Malvern

 

[Acantha Malvern]

Alkor Centaris

‘I suppose, yes, if that’s how you see it. The only thing I can’t say is that it was a life worth living. If you won’t accept my thanks for having mercy for me then accept my thanks for giving me the freedom to live life how I choose. Does that satisfy you?’ Fela folded her arms across her chest, pinning her hands to either side of her ribs. Though her expression made no move to change, it was clear the situation was beginning to fray her nerves. Was it always this difficult expressing gratitude to someone?

The reality of the situation was that Alkor and herself were much the same. It was always bound to go awry when two people attempted to express an unexplored social convention, especially when neither had the penchant for them to begin with. The real problem was that both would firmly refute that reality until it became so awkward that the entire notion of gift-giving would be off the table. For the foreseeable future.

There was an audible sigh of relief when he finally accepted it. ‘Thank you.’

‘Here, now.’ She said bluntly. ‘But you’ll need this too.’ Fela raised a finger, pausing the conversation for a brief moment as her other hand dived into the lining of her coat. From it, she produced a seemingly ordinary bottle of water. It wasn’t even in a glass bottle. It was a crumpled, extremely used plastic bottle, that sagged a little under the weight of the water as she placed it down on the desk. As the crinkling plastic finally settled, Fela folded her arms across her middle once more.

She could have just left him to the sanctity of his office, she could have spared him further awkwardness, she could have shown him mercy for social convention just as he had shown her mercy that day on Tatooine, but some part of her still couldn’t believe it quite worked. There was no doubt that he’d eventually figure out how it worked exactly, but that wasn’t her concern. Being here was an assurance. Watching him use it for the first time would finally allow the success to settle in her mind.

If it weren’t for that, she would have sent the karking thing by courier.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

I'm never satisfied. I have never been satisfied.

He couldn't voice those thoughts. The woman was already as irritated as he was, if not more so. The fact that she remained only made him want to drink more booze. He didn't know how to deal with people, and worse yet, this woman was almost as bad as he was.

Sometimes he wondered why people put up with him at all, and this only made him wonder all the more.

"...whatever makes you happy, Miss Felurian."

Alkor now held the opened gift in hand and stared at it wondering if it would do a trick. She produced a bottle from her clothes and said that he would need that as well. He eyed the woman for a moment, then looked back down to the gift.

"Please," he gestured to the couch he was leaned against. "Have a seat."

He offered the item up to her for inspection. "You're not fond of me, are you?" he asked.

 

[Acantha Malvern]

Alkor Centaris

Nodding her head as thanks, she moved to sit beside him on the couch, though her arms refused to unfold from her chest. When she finally settled, the distance between them would have been considered healthy by anyone else, Felurian did not feel the same way.

Being this close to someone, physically, wasn’t something she had been expecting. So, she furthered the gap by pressing herself firmly against the arm of the couch. ‘I have absolutely no reason whatsoever to be fond of you, and I don’t doubt you feel the same way about me. I’m not here to garner favour.’ Fela spoke plainly. ‘I consider myself in your debt, for the reasons I’ve listed, but nothing more. I refuse to begin a new life indebted to someone.’

For a brief moment, she allowed her hand to unfold from its crossing to motion toward the gift. ‘If I am correct about you, and the type of things I’ve heard you prefer, this should see it cleared away.’

After pulling the lid unceremoniously from the plastic bottle, Fela turned her gaze to Alkor. This was taking longer than anyone she had spoken to told her it would. Go in, give the gift, watch them open it, walk out. That was the list she had memorized from the brief spell of conversation she forced herself to have. Her pools of ebony were harsh and unyielding, but they were still able to implore him. If that weren’t enough, she gestured further with her hands toward the silvery wrappings.

'This won't take very long, I just want to see it working. Then I'll leave.'

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"I said you didn't owe me anything," Alkor muttered. "You could have left it at that."

Now, she had given him a gift. One that he didn't know anything about, and still it was an unnecessary gesture that would put him in her debt. That was absolutely unacceptable to Alkor. "I'll open it if I must, but you really did not need to do all of this."

He pulled apart the paper quickly and stared. What the hell was it? "If anything, I'm not fond of you at all," he said plainly. "Now you've given me a gift and I have absolutely nothing to offer in return. What I know of propriety dictates reciprocity. This is unprecedented."

Alkor held the strange item up and looked it over. "What is it you've given me?" he asked her. "And what sort of thing do you want in return? I'm not versed in things women wish to receive from men."

Felurian Malvern

 

[Acantha Malvern]

Alkor Centaris

This was immensely frustrating. So much so that her raven brows furrowed in the middle, causing soft creases to form on her paper-white forehead. ‘What you say and what actually is are two entirely different things.’ Her tone snapped as much as she dared allow it too, still bearing in mind that Alkor was technically her superior. Still, regardless of whether or not he felt she owed him something, Fela knew she did. It wasn’t a matter of sentimentality. This was business.

The silver paper fluttered to the floor it what was the most anticlimactic experience of Fela’s short life. ‘Well good, I would say I'm glad to hear it but I honestly couldn't care less. I do not want your affection or a gift in return. In this case this gift is my reciprocation to the gift you’ve given me. After this, we won’t have to talk to each other ever again unless the Confederacy deems it necessary, which I highly doubt.’ Though she didn’t say it, Felurian found the notion of speaking to him again a deeply displeasing one. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why, he was no more disagreeable than she was, but maybe that was it. It was like staring into a mirror.

When he questioned the gift, she tutted loudly. ‘Can’t you see what it is?’ Perhaps she was right to stay after all. She had expected him to know, considering his apparent fondness for a drink, but he had fallen short of even that. ‘Here.’ Reaching out, she snagged the decanter from his grasp and wedged it between her thighs. ‘A decanter.’ Once she’d freed the decanter of the cork she reached out for the crumpled plastic water bottle.

‘I alchemized it. When you pour something into it, whatever it is…’ Fela paused. Many might have assumed this was for dramatic effect, but in reality, she could show him how it worked better than she could explain it. A soft trickling sound filled the quarters as the water filled the decanter. Once it was roughly half full she placed the plastic water bottle back on the desk and held the decanter up to the light for Alkor to see.

In what appeared to be an instant, the crystal clear liquid began to change. Spindles and strands of bright orange spread from the centre outwards, until the entire bottle was tinted in the same hue.

‘Try it.’ She placed the decanter, now filled with a distinctly amber liquid, down onto the table. ‘And I don’t want anything in return…. At all.’

 

[Alkor Centaris]

He heard her speak, and honestly, she wanted to be there about as much as he wanted her to stay. Alkor felt half tempted to tell her to get out simply because the entire situation was ludicrous. She had come to him with delusions about gifts and thanks, and he had only done his duty.

"You should keep this," he protested as the realization struck. It was far too nice a gift to give someone who had done so little for her. Especially considering how much Alkor loved alcohol. "This really is too kind of a gift."

He stared hard at the decanter, and at the woman behind it. Alkor managed to find his feet and flicked his wrist dismissively toward the door. "I don't need anything," he repeated, "I don't want anything, and you don't owe me anything. I appreciate the gesture but this is just too much."

He didn't want her there. He didn't want her kindness. He didn't want anything more to do with her. This was more than duty. This was personal. Alkor hated personal.

This woman was alive. He was glad for it. But he didn't want to see her again. She was free. He was a constant reminder of her servitude. She deserved better than that.

He started toward the back of his apartment, to the bed where he would fail horrendously at falling asleep. "And you will not have to see me ever again," he called back over his shoulder. "I will make certain of that."

Felurian Malvern

 

[Acantha Malvern]

Alkor Centaris​

"I had not intended it to be kind. I inteded it to be useful and that is where my intentions ended. It's a practical piece of technology in exchange for your... mercy that day on Tatooine." Fela stood from the sofa almost in tandem with him. This was just as irritating for her as it seemed to be for him. It nibbled at her nerves, fraying them to the point she was worried they would unravel entirely. "Well. I heard gifts are supposed to be things we don't need. They're supposed to be frivolous and a grand gesture." The annoyance in her already icy tone was plain as day now.

"Keep it and use it, allow it to gather dust on some untouched shelf, smash it into a fine powder and snort it... I honestly couldn't give a kark, but I'm not taking it with me. It stays here. Though if you do end up doing the latter please inform me. It would be most amusing to watch you bleed." While her words were sharp, they were far from a threat. She may not have liked the man very much but he was Lord Marshal. A far cry from the lowly knight she was, and if servitude had taught her anything it was respect for a hierarchy. Still... he grated her in such a way that she couldn't have possibly let the entire event go by without a little insubordination.

In Fela's mind, that was that. Business transaction done. Whether or not it had been a rocky one was of no concern to her. She had set out to accomplish something, and with the decanter on the table filled with the amber liquid, she had met her own personal standards. The decanter worked. She didn't need to stay here any longer.

In one fell swoop, Fela bent at her waist to collect the plastic water bottle once more. She didn't even spare the time to put the bottle back into her jacket pocket, instead heading straight for the doors she entered through. She did not think Alkor would have any objections to her departure, and it was clear they both rubbed each other in the wrong way, so Fela didn't waste her breathe with any goodbyes.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

The woman stood in time with him, and as he bid her leave, she spat back logic that sounded surprisingly like his own. She was not the type of person to give gifts, in much the same way as he had no idea how to receive them. What a tragic, inopportune way to see her again. He could have, under any other circumstance, ask her how she was adjusting to Confederate life.

Now, he had told her he never wanted to see her again. That fit with his persona, and what people knew of him. There was no reason to correct it.

She was gone a moment later, just as quickly as she had arrived. Alkor took the opportunity to lock up behind her as he walked toward the table where she left her gift, and he sat down where she had been previously.

Alkor inspected the item with a skeptical expression, turning it over in his hands until the alcohol spilled out in his lap. To his surprise, the familiar scent wafted across his senses, and he stared down at the mess blankly.

"...is this... whiskey?" he asked, stunned.

Had that woman brought him whiskey? An item that could turn water into whiskey?

"If I was the type," he commented as he looked toward the door which had closed behind Felurian, "I believe I would marry that woman."

Felurian Malvern