Private Shadowglass

[Bastila Sal-Soren]

The air on Shador burned like acid in her lungs.
Even through the filter-mask, Bastila could still feel the sting of the planet’s foul atmosphere seeping into her throat. It was a chemical tang that clung to her tongue and the roof of her mouth making every breath a small defiance. Swamp mist rolled through the pylons that held the city above the mire, its wispy shadow wrapping each steel support beam in a ghostly shroud. Below, the wetlands glimmered faintly with bioluminescent sludge, the slow pulse of a dying world pretending it was alive.
To the locals Shador was “the world that rots slow.”
Bastila had decided it perfectly suited her mood.

She had arrived under the name Kira Venn, a transient slicer-for-hire who had travelled out of Ryloth. Her transponder ID was as clean as she could make it, and her ship was registered to a ghost registry in the Eriadu Exchange, any credits she had were laundered twice over. She’d done this before, this was the task of a Jedi in these darkening times; infiltration, subterfuge, and mastering the slow art of moving unseen through places where being seen meant dying badly.

But this time, she wasn’t hiding.
Not really.

Somewhere on this swamp-ridden moon of sin and smoke she was after someone. Bastila didn’t know if she was hunting her or seeking her. Maybe it was both.

So she’d done the only thing that she could to ensure that it would be here that they would meet. She left a trail.
A half-whispered code drop in the Black Sun data net. A falsified bounty listing marked “Jedi.” An anonymous inquiry sent to one of the Sith’s known informants.
It would be enough to attract the wrong kind of attention, the kind she wanted because it would be the kind that would reach her ears.

Now she sat at a bar called The Shadowglass; built on the spine of a collapsed freight pylon, its metal ribs turned into walls. The air shimmered with heat and swamp vapor. Neon signs bled light into the fog, painting her reflection in toxic pinks and greens. The barkeep didn’t ask questions; neither did she.

Her hands rested on the counter, still.
Her thoughts did not.

If Quinn came, Bastila wasn’t sure what she’d say.
If she didn’t… Bastila wasn’t sure what she’d do.

The Force was heavy here, as though the swamps themselves remembered every secret buried in their depths. And somewhere beneath the static hum of the city, she could almost feel another presence moving one that was far too aware.

OUTFIT: XoXo | TAG: Quinn Varanin EQUIPMENT:

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[Quinn Varanin]

//: Bastila Sal-Soren //:
//: Attire //:

Jedi were an interesting bunch. Quinn didn't have many experiences with them besides one trying to choke her and stab her. Beyond that, they were always a mystery. From afar, she had watched them scour over her birth planet to the point that an ugly monastery was built in honor of creating a stronghold on Eshan.

It disgusted her; they went against every treaty discussed, but her sister did nothing. She, like the others, rolled over and showed their belly to the Jedi. But now, with the collapse of the Galactic Alliance, her people were free. Sadly, for now.

Quinn did her best to not think too much about how far the Empire was from Eshan. Knowing her luck, the idiots running the Diarchy would claim the world, or even worse, the Mandalorians. Though the latter would hopefully see to it that either Quinn or her mother, the Empress, would bear the reins and the crown of that world.

She sighed, leaning back in the speeder that drove her towards the meeting place and came to a stop.

The man who drove came to the door and offered his hand. The Princess took it, and he nodded, "Councillor." Quinn nodded only in response as she moved through the bar.

It was a funny little thing to come at the beck and call of a Jedi.

Quinn didn't waste time; her eyes quickly scoured the bar, different faces looking for different thrills for the evening. But there was one, Quinn smirked; she could feel it bleeding off of the girl as she sat quietly at the bar.

She moved, weaving through the people, till she took the seat next to the one that summoned her. Purposefully, she let their arms graze, let the contact be made — a gesture that she knew.

Quinn smiled, the bartender seemingly already knowing what the woman wanted. He disappeared, and her eyes flickered towards the woman beside her.

"I guess third times the charm?" The Princess smirked as she took the glass of wine from the bartender, who again made sure to keep himself busy.

"So what finally made you curious?"

 

[Bastila Sal-Soren]

Bastila didn’t flinch when Quinn’s arm brushed hers.
She felt the contact for sure, it was a jolt of something sharp and electric that cut clean through the haze of swamp fumes and bar-noise. She kept her eyes forward at first, watching the streaks of neon bleed through its own reflection across the liquid stained counter. Her breath was slow, it was because she was making sure it was. She was suddenly aware perhaps she was doing it to much. Appearing stiff and startled.
The smart thing would’ve been to pull away.
Bastila was never one to do the smart thing, so she didn’t.

“Curious?” Bastila echoed, letting the word play on her tongue. Her fingers drummed once on the counter, a habit she stopped instantly, trying not to give away what she had, it was too revealing, too restless, so she curled her hand around her drink instead.

Finally, she turned to look at Quinn.

There she was.
Real.
Not rumour, not dossier, not a name whispered by underworld contacts or informants. A presence. She was unmasked and unprotected, no other Jedi or Sith or Nobility standing between them like a shield placed by the galaxy to ensure that they had to navigate in order to be in the same vicinity. She could feel her in the force, faintly. She was good at hiding, there was darkness, yes… but not the mindless cruelty she expected. Something sculpted. Controlled and alive.

Not what she was taught a Sith princess would be, not what any of the other sith she’d encountered were like.
Not at all.

“If it were curiosity,” Bastila said softly, “I would’ve come with a plan. An arrest warrant or a battalion of troops.”

A dry huff of a breath followed, it wasn’t quite a laugh, and not quite an exhale.

“Truth be told I don’t have one.”

She shifted, just a little, turning her shoulders toward Quinn. Her hood was down; her hair dampened from the Shador air framed her face with a kind of accidental vulnerability she hated being caught in.

“You’ve been moving through places that shouldn’t concern you. Acting in Republic territory like you’re daring someone to stop you.” Her gaze dipped to Quinn’s hand, the wine, then back up. “Daring me to stop you.”

She took a quiet sip of her drink, steadying herself.

“Problem is, I don’t know what I’m stopping you from? Or maybe I just wanted to see what you are like up close and not surrounded by the trappings of nobility and status.”

The Force gave a slight pulse between them, it was faint, but it was warm, and just a little unsettling. The Sith Princess and the nearly Queen Jedi.

There was a reason she left that trail.
A reason she didn’t run when she sensed Quinn approaching.
A reason she held her ground now, in a bar full of criminals, breathing toxic air, staring directly at a woman she should be calling an enemy.

Her voice dropped a little lower, barely audible over the background hum;

“Maybe I wanted to meet you.”

OUTFIT: XoXo | TAG: Quinn Varanin EQUIPMENT:

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[Quinn Varanin]

//: Bastila Sal-Soren //:
//: Attire //:

Quinn listened, her face showing nothing but the smile she arrived with. Bastila seemed to be a mix of her own emotions, but that was obvious. The man she had seen her with at the wedding was kissing another. Though Quinn had initially assumed those two were a pair by how the woman screeched when her lightsaber made contact with the Princeling.

It was a past thought.

The hurdles and leaps that the Jedi's mind had gone through as she rambled on from Quinn's question. It was tiresome, and she felt her face soften gently. She didn't know what was happening to poor Bastila, but it was apparent it was a lot — so much that she sought out the Princess.

Her lipstick stained the rim of the wine glass, as her hazel green eyes broke their stare from Bastila's face. The last bit, the honest bit of Bastila's rambling, had struck a minor chord with the Echani. Her eyebrows rose slightly, and then she looked back towards the girl, her body leaning marginally closer.

She didn't fear the danger that the Jedi presented.

Bastila was right; if she had wanted to do something, she would have. The Republic would have swarmed the planet, Jedi Shadows would be undercover, listening to every word she spoke, and ultimately, her drink would not be safe either. But she was here, on her own with no safety net. It was a curious situation, but Quinn took the woman at face value.

"Well," She paused, her hand resting against the bottom of the wine glass stem. Small circular motions swirled the full-bodied wine. "I was happy to catch the bait you left."

Despite being a Sith Lord, the Heir Apparent, and a Dark Councilor, Quinn was just a girl, someone who eagerly enjoyed the attention when someone was to offer it.

Good… or bad.

Her eyes flickered between the wine and Bastila as she smiled softly.

"I had wanted to meet you, too. I was foolishly annoyed when you chose to speak to that large, hairy man instead of talking to me." Her nose wrinkled as she admitted the annoyance from the masquerade party. A part of her had felt bad for using Aerik to do what Bastila was unknowingly doing to her, but that plan had fallen on its face.

"So is it a maybe? Or did you actually want to meet me?" Quinn quietly asked before taking another sip.

A hand reached back and brushed the strands of her ashen hair behind her ears as she sighed softly.

"And are you disappointed?"

 

[Bastila Sal-Soren]

Bastila, for all her discipline, felt the impact of Quinn’s words. She masked it well, or mostly well, but something in her posture shifted. A faint tightening of her shoulders, a subtle inhale that caught halfway. They were actually talking, which was about two steps beyond what she had imagined would happen when she started this fool of an errand to find her.
The masquerade.
Force, of all things Quinn could have remembered.

“The hairy?..” Bastila couldn’t help the puzzled look that passed over her features for a moment before she suddenly realised with a half smile at what Quinn was referring to. “You mean Lorn? He is a bit of a hairy mess, but he isn’t any threat. He’s well I guess he’s my Jedi Master…”

Had she made a mistake in saying that. Would Quinn know she had made a mistake in saying it. This was all so new, so different… so dangerous.

Bastila’s fingers tightened briefly around her drink, the glass smooth against the touch of her gloves. She forced herself to release it, laying her hand flat against the counter where Quinn could see it, an unintentional invitation, or maybe a deliberate one.

“Maybe?” she murmured, her tone flatter than she meant. "I wanted to meet you, I need to know…"

She cut herself off, she noticed Quinn’s expression and it left her in shock. The smile was still there, but it was softer, almost… gentle. Not mocking or predatory. It went against everything she had been told or expected. It was something that made Bastila’s heart give an uncomfortable twist.

She shifted on her stool, turning toward Quinn more fully. Her eyes connecting with those opposite and kept the stare despite all efforts to pull away.

“You were never a maybe.” Her voice held no evasion, so much so that the words surprised even her. She also had no intention to take them back.

“I knew you were there at the masquerade,” she continued, eyes lowering briefly to Quinn’s hand circling the stem of her glass. “I just wasn’t ready. Then and there, too much going on. To many eyes.”

A small, uneven breath left her, it was too unguarded for someone raised to be a perfect Jedi. Bastila was proving more to herself then ever that she was far from the perfect Jedi.

“You’re not what I expected,” she admitted quietly. “Sith aren’t supposed to…” Her gaze flickered downward, to the faint stain of Quinn’s lipstick on the rim of the glass, then up again. “…to smile like that.”

The Force between them hummed faintly, like a wire pulled too tight. Quinn’s last question echoed in her mind; are you disappointed? Bastila answered before caution could rein her in.

“No,” she said, the word immediate and unfiltered. Her voice steadied after a heartbeat. “No. I’m not disappointed.”

She leaned in then, just a breath closer, enough that Shador’s swamp-warm air compressed between them. Her hair brushed her cheek as she moved, damp from the humidity, framing her face in dark, softened strands.

“So is this the part I ask how the weather is and you tell me all the hidden Sith fleet locations so this feels less like I’ve just set up a date.”

OUTFIT: XoXo | TAG: Quinn Varanin EQUIPMENT:

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[Quinn Varanin]

//: Bastila Sal-Soren //:
//: Attire //:

Quinn listened carefully, her eyes following every movement of Bastila's face. As an Echani, she was skilled at interpreting body language and touch. Watching the ebb and flow of Bastila's thoughts parade across her brow was enough to hold Quinn's full attention.

Her smile remained soft, pleased that she wasn't a maybe to the Jedi. She thought nothing more of the hairy man named Lorn. He was a Jedi Master, and while Bastila claimed he wasn't a threat, to a Sith Lord, any Jedi Master was. She didn't know how relaxed Lorn truly was or whether he would even bother listening to a woman like Quinn. Time would tell. For now, her thoughts were focused solely on the woman in front of her.

"Well," Quinn rested her chin on her hand, leaning against the bar counter as she continued. "I'm glad to have kept you on your toes." Once more, the Princess's nose wrinkled, and her gentle, infectious laughter danced between them.

"I'm glad I didn't disappoint you." Quinn took another sip of her wine. "You're far from a disappointment yourself."

Bastila's next move surprised her. With the tension in her shoulders and the quickness of her speech, she seemed nervous. Maybe Quinn was wrong or the Jedi was acting on instinct rather than logic. Curious, and surprisingly charming. Quinn was taken aback, but in a good way. As Bastila leaned in, Quinn shifted, welcoming the advance. She nudged her wine aside gently, noting the relaxed hand Bastila extended; baiting her to touch.

Even if the Jedi wasn't conscious of it, Quinn understood what she wanted. Carefully, she extended her hand, letting the tip of her finger trail along the fabric of the glove. Her touch was light, hopefully enough to tempt Bastila to remove the glove or to stir further curiosity.

Quinn couldn't help but smile as she nodded. "You're going to have to do a little more than that to get the best secrets out of a Dark Councilor," she whispered, close enough that her breath brushed the space between them. A hand gently pushed back a strand of the woman's damp, dark hair from her face.

Purposefully — perhaps to tempt the Jedi further — Quinn let the tips of her fingers linger against the woman's cheek, exuding the warmth of her touch.

"And what's the harm in this being a date, my sweet Jedi?"

 

[Bastila Sal-Soren]

Quinn’s fingertip brushed along her glove and for just a heartbeat, Bastila subtly froze.

For a woman trained to withstand interrogation, illusions, pain and manipulation… she had somehow never prepared for this. A touch meant not to provoke fear or anger, but something gentler, something more intimate. It disarmed her more effectively than any saber form.
Quinn’s laughter, light and pleased, did it’s job and drew her gaze upward.
Force help her; it was infectious. Bastila felt the echo of it warm her chest before she could clamp down on the reaction. She swallowed it back, straightening slightly, as if her posture could compensate for her racing pulse.

“You didn’t keep me on my toes,” she said quietly, almost defensive and then, with a reluctant honesty she didn’t allow many people, she added, “You keep me off-balance.”

Quinn’s smile deepened, and Bastila felt heat rise along the back of her neck. She found herself in an unfamiliar situation, because she wasn’t used to being looked at like that. Like someone found her intriguing, not intimidating.
Like someone wanted her.

The moment Quinn pushed her wine aside and leaned into her space, Bastila’s breath caught. The swamp-heavy air pressed close around them, thick with humidity and the faint scent of metal and spice. But beneath it, she caught something else, was it a trace of Quinn’s perfume, light and sharp like cooled steel?

And then Quinn touched her again. Another fingertip along her glove. It felt suggestive, like she was daring her to interact.

The sensation rippled up Bastila’s arm, subtle but undeniable. Her stomach tightened. Her mind, sharpened by years of Jedi discipline, should have snapped into defensive focus but it didn’t. Instead it surrendered, it softened. It opened.

“You,” she began, but the words caught when Quinn’s fingers brushed her cheek. The contact was featherlight, but it might as well have been a lightning strike.

Her skin tingled where Quinn’s fingertips lingered, warmth spreading from the point of contact. Bastila didn’t lean into the touch, but she didn’t pull away either. That alone was answer enough.

“You shouldn’t…” she whispered, though her voice lacked conviction. Her head tilted the slightest degree into Quinn’s hand before she forced herself still again.

Quinn’s words; what’s the harm in this being a date, my sweet Jedi? settled over her. Dangerous and seductive. It felt like warm honey, too easy.

Bastila’s eye’s closed a moment, her gaze felt heavy, it felt conflicted.
Was this a date? Force, she shouldn’t even be here. She shouldn’t have come alone.
Every part of her was telling her she shouldn’t want this.

But she did.

There was no point lying, not with a potential Echani watching every muscle in her face.

“Quinn…” Bastila’s voice softened, trembled almost imperceptibly at the edges. “If this is a date, then I’ve already broken every rule I was taught and I don’t know if I could stop you from breaking a few more.

Her gloved hand shifted, not much, but enough that her fingers brushed Quinn’s wrist, a hesitant mirror of Quinn’s earlier boldness. Fingers curling over the top of her hand, an invitation maybe, restrained but real.

“You’re dangerous,” she murmured, though her tone suggested she’d already made peace with that. “And I seem to have walked straight into your hands.”

OUTFIT: XoXo | TAG: Quinn Varanin EQUIPMENT:

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[Quinn Varanin]

//: Bastila Sal-Soren //:
//: Attire //:

Touch was more telling to an Echani than words. She could feel the Jedi's struggle; it was intriguing. Never before had she had this kind of interaction with a Jedi. More often, they were prepared to strike or kept their guard so far up they'd rather walk past her. To be given just a chance to speak, to indulge, was its own kind of intoxication.

Bastila's conflict, while intriguing, made Quinn feel bad for her in a sense. To have to be forced to bottle everything up, even when something good was in front of them. It was a feeling she knew too well, and a small kinship formed through this empathy.

She didn't pull away; she allowed the Jedi to explore and let herself feel, even if briefly. Quinn watched her, admiring the strength it took to go against one's convictions, even if they were burned into her bones. Her face softened as she let herself enjoy just the gentleness of the interaction.

"I shouldn't, what?" Quinn asked, her voice still soft, teasing as she let her posture relax further. Bastila had done something many couldn't; she held Quinn's interest, which was dangerous, like she stated, but also powerful.

Another small bit of laughter, only enough for Bastila to have to herself. It was quiet as Quinn sighed softly, her smile remained as her hand now carefully brushed against Bastila's gloved knuckles. A part of her wished the fabric wasn't there, that she could feel that delicate skin-to-skin touch.

But Quinn did understand, for Bastila she was an unknown — a danger she had been taught to fear. Her breath caught in her throat as her amber eyes flickered between the hands touching and the Jedi's face. Her voice remained low, as she settled, trying to fight the urge to lean further in — to feel more, to read more of the Jedi.

"Bastila…" she whispered, her lips curling around every letter carefully, enjoying the sound of the woman's name perhaps too much.

"I'm not here to make you break anything you don't want to…" It was the truth, while most Sith sought to destroy the Jedi through their beliefs, Quinn wasn't. It was something she valued in someone, their differences. Even if Bastila's religion sought to eliminate or condemn everything the Sith Princess was.

"And if you think you've walked into my hands…" The Princess let out a soft breath, almost a laugh, but gentler. "…then maybe it's only because I opened them for you."

There was no hair this time to brush; instead, Quinn's free hand caressed the cheek gently once more, letting her finger trail just along the curve of the Jedi's jaw, ending at her chin. The touch lingered, her motion slow and careful — intimacy that didn't demand anything in return.

"Don't think you're foolish," she whispered, "You're not reckless, You're…" She paused, letting her mind formulate, letting her words just linger long enough, "You're choosing this, choosing to stay… with me."

Her gaze never left Bastila's, warm and unguarded in a way Quinn rarely allowed others to see.

"If you're breaking the rules," Quinn said softly, "I'd like to think it's because something about this…" She let her thumb press lightly against Bastila's hand, "Feels worth a risk."

The Princess leaned in, not to corner her, but to let her lips brush gently against the Jedi's cheek. It was fleeting and soft — not hard enough to stain the woman's cheek with her crimson lips.

"I won't push," Quinn whispered as she let the closeness linger. "But I won't lie, I'm enjoying having you close like this."

She pulled back enough for Bastila to see the softness in her smile once more.

"So, is this a date or just a risk you're willing to take?"