Private Spira-ling out of control

[Kaelon Virex]

Kael had made himself at home faster than most would dare aboard a Sithling's personal ship—but then again, he wasn't most people.

His jacket hung off the edge of a navigation console chair, boots kicked halfway under a co-pilot's bench, and he was currently half-reclining across the arm of a curved lounge seat in Scherezade's common area, chewing the stem of a cocktail straw he'd found despite the total absence of alcohol. He still hadn't figured out what "Giggledust" actually meant, but if the soft hum of the ship and the faint scent of cinnamon and old leather were any indication, this place had seen stranger things than him.

And lately, he had seen stranger things than… well, anything.

Bite marks. Blood visions. Vampires with god complexes. And a woman who made all of that feel like an appetizer.

He rubbed the side of his jaw where Scherezade had kissed him again not long ago—like it had meant something. Because it had. He wasn't about to question it.

The databank screen cast a faint blue glow across his face as he flicked through destinations. Top tier. High security. Maximum privacy.

Spira.

He grinned.

Beaches so clear you could read poetry through the waves. Sky-lounges on repulsorlift rafts. Music in the air. Silk cabanas strung with light. And luxury rentals with enough encrypted shielding that even a Hutt wouldn't eavesdrop.

"Scherezade," he called toward the corridor with a casual lilt. "Tell me how you feel about sand between your toes, fruity drinks with seven ingredients, and pillow menus."

He spun in the chair slightly, flicking a glowing Gilded Veil business card between his fingers before tapping it on the screen to initiate a secured purchase. Kael Virex, Talent Procurement & Security Liaison. It was good to have friends in expensive places.

"I say we 'accidentally' charge the beach villa to the Veil's R&R expense account," he added with a wicked smile. "Strictly NON-Professional of course. Slayers need rest too."

As the booking finalized, he leaned back and tossed his arms behind his head, eyes half-lidded.

"Oh, and Scherezade?" he added over his shoulder, "We're getting you a real vacation. No knives. No blood. No hit squads in the appetizers. Just heat, salt air, and maybe—just maybe—you letting me beat you at a beachside holochess match."

A pause.

Then softer, with less mischief in his voice:

"And if war breaks out during dessert… well. At least I'll be somewhere worth dying for."

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

The ship answered first.

Not with words, but with a low mechanical purr, like it approved of Kael's misuse of corporate funds and casual colonization of Scherezade's territory, as if her little bedroom hadn't been enough. Maybe it did. The Giggledust had always been more beast than machine, after all, half cursed, half possessed, and entirely too amused by strangers who acted like they belonged.

And Kael?

Kael acted like he'd been born here. It made her smile, even when he wasn't looking.

From the corridor came the muffled hiss of steam, the sound of something glass clinking.

"I like my sand like I like my men," Scherezade called back, her voice sliding into the room just ahead of her. "Everywhere, impossible to ignore, and usually stuck in places it shouldn't be."

She stepped into view, barefoot and towel-draped, skin still flushed from a long, scalding shower. A smudge of glitter clung stubbornly to her cheekbone, catching the databank's glow. Her hair, wild and damp, fell in chaotic waves down her back like a banner of warning or temptation, depending on how much danger one found appealing.

No knives. No blood. No hit squads in the appetizers.

Yet.

"I thought you didn't lose holochess matches," she added, prowling closer. "But if you're already planning to throw the game, I'll be sure to pack extra humiliation. You know. For the post-victory celebration."

Her eyes flicked to the booking confirmation on the screen.

Spira.

Of course.

Of course he would pick the one place in the galaxy that looked like an advertisement for hedonism, stolen credits, and other bad ideas wrapped in silk sheets. And where her Aunt lived. But she… Was definitely not going to let her aunt know she was going to be on the planet.

Her lips quirked.

"You realize we're going to get shot at the second we take our boots off, right?"

But the way she said it wasn't warning. It was expectation. Inevitable. Like she might want it. Like that was part of the charm. But she also knew that they weren't really. Not this time. Spira would be as safe as a place can be for the two of them.

A breath passed between them.

Then, quieter, nearly lost in the hum of the ship: "It's not the dying that bothers me."

Her eyes met his, steady. Sharp. And for a heartbeat, entirely unguarded.

"It's the resting part I haven't figured out yet."


Kaelon Virex

 

[Kaelon Virex]

Kael didn't answer her right away. He just kissed her.


Not a brush. Not a tease. A real kiss—slow, consuming, tongue meeting tongue like a vow whispered in another language. One hand slid behind her neck, the other curled at her waist, grounding them both in the moment. She didn't pull away. Didn't flinch. He could feel it—how close she was to the edge. And for once, he didn't want to joke, didn't want to deflect.

He just wanted her to know.

When they finally parted, his breath still mingled with hers, Kael rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.

"You don't have to figure it out alone," he said softly. "The resting. The peace. We'll figure it out together. And if we don't, we'll fake it convincingly with expensive cocktails and lots of terrible holochess."

He gave her a lopsided smile and nodded toward the viewport, where Spira loomed in full, golden glow—sun-kissed waves and luxury carved into the horizon.

"Speaking of expense…" he added, "this rental? Technically… it might already be partially covered."

He grinned.

"My cousin—Sommer Dai. She owns the Gilded Veil on Nar Shaddaa. She's been eyeing Spira as a kind of home-away-from-crime option. Escape pod in paradise, that sort of thing."

He turned to face the growing world outside the viewport again, letting his words sit.

"I've got a feeling you two would get along. Like, scary well. She's sharp as durasteel, style for days, and a taste for trouble—but only when it suits her. If this planet tries to kill us halfway through dinner, she'll probably already have a plan and matching outfits for it."

His thumb brushed along Scherezade's hand now, a soft reminder that he hadn't let go.

"I don't know what this trip's going to be," he admitted. "But if it starts with you and ends with a beach… I'm calling it a win."

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

She didn't answer with words, either. Not at first.

Her fingers slipped beneath the hem of his shirt, cool against warm skin, and for a moment she just stayed there, feeling completely safe and anchored. Breathing him in. The cinnamon and salt, the warmth of his mouth still echoing on hers, the quiet promise tangled in what he'd just said.

Together.

It should've been a comfort. It was.

It terrified her.

But she could let Kael lead. Krak, at this point she would follow him pretty much anywhere. And if his faking it could somehow help her fake it, all the better.

She raised an eyebrow as he mentioned their vacation being partially covered, and let a small sigh out. When she'd said about him paying, she'd only been joking. Money used to always be a problem for Scherezade, until it stopped. She was pretty sure that her funds drawn from her businesses could cover the cost of an entire solar system, if not more.

But still. It was nice to be pampered. No, it was more than that. It was nice that Kael wanted to pamper her. She took a small silent vow that as long as he was in her life, she would do whatever was in her power to make sure he wasn't lacking anything he needed… Or wanted.

Scherezade settled onto Kael's lap, her body purr at the simple touch of his hand on hers.. It brought a sense of relaxed stillness that she had not experienced in too long.

"I'm guessing you're not going to tell me to bring a bathing suit for this one either, are you?" she asked with a grin. "And I'd love to meet your cousin. She sounds like someone who'd either stab me or befriend me Probably after I stab her."

With a dramatic sigh, the Sithling lifted herself off of Kael's lap. It was time to get dressed. They would be heading out to the sun and sand very soon, and though Spira was generally a very relaxed place about laws regarding clothing, she… Wanted to have at least some fabric on.

But maybe only a little.


Kaelon Virex

 

[Kaelon Virex]

Kael stayed still for just a moment longer, letting her warmth fade from his lap like a memory he didn't want to lose too fast. His hand lingered where hers had been, thumb absently brushing the air, as if trying to hold the last trace of her touch.

Then the console flickered.

"Final descent to Spira. Docking bay clearance granted. Please prepare ID credentials and travel registration."

The smooth automated voice broke through the hum of the Giggledust, and Kael blinked himself back to the present with a crooked grin.

He stood, stretching as the ship subtly shifted pitch. Through the forward viewport, Spira was all sun-washed opulence and curve-hugging coastlines, private skiffs glinting like jewelry over an endless mirror of ocean. The landing zone alone looked like it belonged in a fashion magazine: chrome-trimmed docking arms, greeters in sleek uniforms, and the faint shimmer of heat rising from the tarmac in slow, dreamy waves.

Kael couldn't help it—he let out a low whistle.

"Now that's a kriffing postcard," he muttered, grabbing a small satchel and slinging it over one shoulder. "Sommer wasn't lying. She's had her eye on this place for a while. Said it might be the next expansion for the Gilded Veil. Somewhere to let the more 'sun-kissed clientele' escape the grime of Nar Shaddaa without giving up the glitter."

He chuckled to himself. "She'd probably make you a co-owner if you threw one knife the right direction. Hell, I bet you two would get on like a warzone on legs. She respects dangerous women with expensive taste."

As he moved toward the hatch, the transmission repeated. Kael glanced at the comms console, tapped a quick confirm, and keyed his personal credentials for Spira's planetary registry. No aliases this time. No smuggler trickery. Just Kaelon Virex, decorated trader, investor, and—according to the veil of luxury he wore when it suited him—man of leisure.

"ID submitted. You might want to keep your name vague unless you feel like signing autographs, Sithling," he called back. "And if you're bringing a bathing suit, keep it small. I've got plans for that tan line."

The Giggledust touched down with a silky hiss of landing gear.

Kael's smile was easy now. Maybe even hopeful.

They were here.

Let the fun begin—sun, secrets, and just maybe… peace.