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.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

The Giggledust didn't land.

It arrived.

With a theatrical sigh of steam and the slow release of tension from its joints, the ship made its presence known like a courtesan stepping into a room full of people who couldn't afford her. Heat shimmered on the chrome. Spira's scents filled the air, with smells of sand, sun, salt, and all the deliciously bad decisions one could make. And from the top of the ramp…

Scherezade deWinter descended like a damn problem.

A sliver of silk wrapped around her like the idea of a dress that was barely legal in most Core worlds, probably outlawed in more civilized places, and definitely held together by more dark side manipulation than thread. Her pale skin already drank in the golden light, glowing with that warm edge that made everyone wonder if they'd just been kissed or warned.

She didn't just walk. She prowled.

"Tan lines?" she echoed sweetly, as she reached Kael's side. "You assume I'm planning to leave the dress on long enough for them to form."

She grinned, sharply and unapologetically.

Her gaze swept over the luxury landing zone like she was casing it for weak spots. Old habits, sharp teeth. Spira might've promised sun and sea, but she knew better than to trust anything that beautiful. Especially when it smelled like money and seduction.

"I think I can use my actual name," she said, "between your cousin and my aunt whom I have told you absolutely nothing about, it's going to be as safe as it can be. Considering, well… me."

She paused, collecting her thoughts.

"So what do people actually do on vacation?" Scherezade she asked, lacing her fingers with Kael's as they walked lazily toward the planet's temptations, "I mean, okay, we swim, we eat, we drink, we do stuff that typically belongs to the bedroom. But what do you do in the inbetween?"

Kaelon Virex

 

[Kaelon Virex]

Kael's fingers laced easily with hers, the grip natural—like they'd done this a thousand times before across a hundred different lifetimes. His smirk, though, that was all in the moment. Spira's golden light bounced off Scherezade's bare shoulders, lighting her up like a goddess who'd just stepped off a battlefield, swapped her blades for silk, and dared the galaxy to look away.


"You ask what people do in the in-between," he murmured, squeezing her hand gently,


He glanced sideways, not bothering to hide the hungry appreciation in his eyes. "I mean, normally the inbetween is a lot of napping, people-watching, pretending you're not jealous of someone else's drink order. Some awkward dancing. A lot of fake laughter. That kind of thing." His thumb traced slow circles against her palm. "But you and I aren't normal."


His grin grew just a shade more wicked as he added, "I did read about this thing though—Spiran sea-walkers. Big aquatic grazers that let you ride on their backs across a shallow reef system. Only a few per island and you have to book it in advance. Protected species. Ancient. Graceful. Elegant."


He looked her over again, tilting his head. "You'd probably love them. I love that."


They passed under an archway where the coastal breeze picked up, tousling his hair, and Kael slowed just a step, pulling out a compact holo-recorder from his pocket. It blinked to life with a faint chime.


"For the memories," he said, angling it toward both of them. "Also for proof that I convinced this beautiful, sexy being to go shopping with me later."


He hit record.


"Spira. Docking day," he said with a theatrical drawl, panning over Scherezade beside him. "The ocean's trembling, the sun is jealous, and I'm about five seconds from being forcibly undressed by that dress."


He flicked the recorder off with a grin and kissed her cheek softly. "I'm thinking swim first after we unpack, then drinks, then you let me drag you through some overpriced boutique so I can spoil you until you threaten my wallet with a blade. Sound fair?"

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

There were moments when the galaxy stilled. Not because of silence. Not because of peace. But because something beautiful had taken hold of it, even if that something was so beautiful the stars themselves had to pause and burn just a little brighter to witness it. And this was one of those moments.

Scherezade skipped a breath. The air around her was golden and alive, thick with the heat of Spira's sun and the electric touch of Kael's hand in hers. It wasn't just how he looked, though stars, he was beautiful and she could look at him all day long with a grin, but how he was. Effortless. Certain. Standing beside her like it was the most natural thing in the galaxy, like every version of her that had ever bled or shattered was worthy of this softness. Of him.

When she looked at Kael, it wasn't just hunger or want. It was reverence. A quiet awe for the man who moved like poetry and laughed like he hadn't been broken. For the way he looked at her like she was the most devastating miracle he'd ever survived.

So she didn't speak. Didn't flinch. Just let the warmth rise and sink into her skin, until all that existed was sun, and salt, and Kael.

He hit the recorder like he was stealing the moment for himself, and she leaned in, making a kissy-face for the camera. This was the first time she had ever taken a holo like this. Well, with someone who was not a sister or a close friend. She revelled in it, smiles and all.

"We can skip the boutique," she purred into him, throwing her arms around him again, her fingers playing with the ends of his hair at the back of his neck, "I have everything I want. Right here."

Another warm kiss, and then she broke the embrace, taking his hand again, and the two headed towards the room he'd reserved.



Kaelon Virex

 

[Kaelon Virex]

Kael smirked, lips still tingling from her kiss, and let her hand slip back into his with an easy confidence that felt both earned and entirely too dangerous. He gave it a light squeeze — grounding, promising, his thumb brushing over her knuckles — before turning them toward the pale stone path leading to the beach house.


The home wasn't massive, but it didn't need to be. It was intentional — like everything Kael touched. Low, wide, and made of smooth ivory limestone and soft reddish wood, the ranch-style house stretched sideways rather than upward, as if it, too, wanted to lie back and enjoy the view of Spira's horizon. Ocean winds played across its pale blue shutters and shaded the porch with swaying palm-like fronds, while the sound of gentle waves kissed the back of the property like a lullaby on loop.


He tapped a control pad as they approached and the wide doors slid open — not mechanical or clunky, but smooth and silent, like welcoming arms.


"Welcome to The Drift," Kael announced with a theatrical bow, then added with a smirk, "Not my naming — the girl who sold it to me said it 'drifted her into trouble every summer.' I said sold."


The interior was coastal luxury, Spiran style — wide open, airy, and dressed in cream tones and ocean blues. The whole front of the house was an open loft concept, framed by a panoramic window wall that gave the sea full access to their senses. Sunlight spilled through gauzy curtains, catching on the hanging glass orbs and minimalist chandeliers above. The floor was warm reclaimed wood with soft, handwoven rugs. Shells. Driftwood. A slow-turning ceiling fan spun lazily above a large sectional couch with plush throws, an inviting sprawl of pillows and sunkissed indifference.


To the right, a small kitchen gleamed with brushed durasteel appliances and a drink station stocked with every kind of local liquor and syrup — including some Kael had smuggled in himself, no doubt.


"Bar's there. Bedroom's that way," he gestured toward a hallway that led deeper into the house, "Big bath. Bigger bed. Balcony with a private plunge pool. But this—" He tugged her gently forward, toward the far wall above a retro-style record player, "This is the real feature."


There, centered in proud spotlight, was a lavish oil painting of a woman with storm-colored eyes and a windswept dress, seated dramatically on a throne made of salvaged ship parts. The frame was gilded with sea-glass and copper, the kind of thing that screamed custom.

"That," Kael said with a lopsided grin, folding his arms like he was presenting a relic, "is my cousin Sommer. Yes, the Sommer Dai. Yes, she commissioned this. Yes, she made me hang it. And yes… vanity runs in the bloodline." He leaned in conspiratorially, "You should see her hallway of dramatic cape photos back on Nar Shadda. It's a red velvet crime scene."

He laughed, turning to her, a little sun-kissed and smug and not even bothering to hide how much he loved the madness of his own kin. "But hey," he added, sliding an arm around her waist again, "Gotta respect a family that makes art out of audacity."

He guided her toward the couch, motioning for her to sit. "What do you think? Does the view meet your standards — or does the painting ruin the vibe?"

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Scherezade stared at the painting. Kael's cousin, Sommer. He had told her a little bit about the woman, but she hadn't imagined she would look like this. It wasn't even her obvious good looks, but more the setting, the visage of power, and a strong screw you I do what I want atmosphere that rose from it. She absolutely loved the painting.

She leaned into Kael's arms as they wrapped around them and smiled. If he loved families with audacity, he would have an absolute blast with hers. But that could wait for later. Talking about Sommer was fine as this was technically her place, but Scherezade wasn't ready to dip into her own family's brand of chaos just yet. Being here. With Kael. Touching him. That was way more fun.

Letting him guide her to the couch, Scherezade took a seat, her eyes locked onto him again, her interest in looking around waning almost instantly.

"The view meets my standards," she grinned, eyeing him from top to bottom and back again. Slowly. "It'd be such a shame to break it."

Her fingers drummed a restless rhythm against the armrest. "Comfortable couch," she added absently, then looked up at him again, firelight catching in her eyes. "But you make a better cushion."

She didn't lean back. Didn't curl her legs up. She just… watched him, open and shameless, like she was trying to memorize every detail again from scratch.

"Are you going to sit with me?" she asked, head tilting slightly. "Or do I have to drag you down with me?"


Kaelon Virex

 

[Kaelon Virex]

Kael's grin deepened — that slow, rakish thing that started at the corner of his mouth and ended somewhere entirely inappropriate. Her words lit a spark in him, the kind that flickered right behind his eyes.


"Oh, is that a challenge?" he drawled, cocking a brow, voice syrup-smooth and dangerous in the best way. "Because you should know something, princess…"


He took a single step back, arms still loose at his sides, but his whole body poised — like a fighter before a feint, or a storm before a dance.


"I dare you to try and drag me."


For a split second, the air stilled between them, charged with anticipation. Then—he moved.


Fast, but not rough. Laughing.


He darted around the couch with the grace of someone who'd been slipping through trouble since he was old enough to sweet-talk his way out of it, and then — before she could counter — his arms swept around her from behind, catching her like a pirate snatching a treasure.

They collapsed onto the couch together, his arms still around her from behind as he landed with a soft thump, pulling her down into his lap.

"See?" he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, "Told you I make a better cushion."

His arms tightened just a little as he leaned into the back of the couch, content to hold her there, soft and grinning. "But now you've gone and made it dangerous," he added in a mock-serious tone, "because once you get this comfortable, I don't plan on moving for hours. So unless you've got a secret craving for boutique shopping after all, you're stuck with me."

He tilted his head, brushing her temple with his, and whispered like a confession laced with heat, "Not that you're complaining."

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Kael didn't know just how lucky he was that Scherezad had been laughing along as he darted around the couch and her instead of just blowing the couch up for easier reaching. Though, she figured that Sommer would probably be okay with it if that happened, as long as the painting remained unharmed.

"This is so ridiculous," she breathed into him as their temples touched, melting into the sensation of him so close to her, "Kael, I think we have a problem."

And a big problem it was, indeed.

Because Scherezade… Well, she didn't know how to take things lightly. Not really. Everything was all or nothing, nearly every emotion that passed through her set to maximum volume. Being around Kael made the maximum volume a beautiful tune, one she could listen to in endless loops. Heck, if he wanted to keep her from being able to do anything just by being a delicious distraction, it would absolutely work. Every single time.

"And the problem is…" her voice dipped, low and smoky now, laced with trouble, "I'd say the danger is in you not being able to stop moving," she now grinned.

Her leg shot out and she twisted, wrapping it around Kael and dragging him beneath her with ease. She didn't bother hiding the smirk blooming across her lips as she shifted above him, hovering, teasing, her weight a slow, unspoken promise. Her eyes flicked over every inch of his face like she was searching for something hidden, something meant just for her. "See?" she said, voice a whisper now, her breath brushing against his skin. "Completely unreliable. One second you're the view, and the next you're the whole battlefield."

Then she leaned in, just barely, her mouth a breath away from his. Her voice was silk now, spun around a dare. "What do you think, Kael? Should we test just how still you can stay… if I don't give you a reason to move?"



Kaelon Virex

 

[Kaelon Virex]

For once in his silver-tongued life, Kael Virex had no comeback.

Not even a flirt. Not a smirk. Not a snappy line about her legwork or her killer moves or how devastatingly good she looked with all that fire in her eyes and the sun painting her hair like a scene from a holodrama no one was allowed to pause.

He just stared up at her — breath caught, lips parted, eyes blown wide with awe and a little panic, the good kind, the kind that said oh no, I'm in real trouble and I like it.

Then, slowly… so very deliberately…

He exhaled.

And placed both hands behind his head, fingers lacing together against the cushion like he was lounging in a spice dream. The movement pulled his shirt tighter across his chest, but his expression was pure comedy — brows arched high, then higher, his whole face doing the did-you-just- dance.

His brows wiggled.

Twice.

"...I surrender," he finally breathed, voice hoarse, like the heat of her had sandpapered his throat. "You win. No sudden movements. No bad puns. No boutique escapes."

He angled his face up, lips nearly brushing hers, his grin lazy and reverent all at once.

"But for the record…" he added, low and gravel-smooth, "you're impossible."

Then softer still — not the flirt, not the rogue, but the man underneath:

"…and I've never been so glad to lose."

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

She should've laughed. Should've teased him about the brows, or the shirt, or how his version of surrender was still somehow maddeningly smug. For a moment she should've also started planting kisses from his forehead all the way down to his chin and neck to keep him from taking. Should've. Didn't.

Because the moment he said it, impossible, and then the one sentence after, where his voice cracked just enough to let the man beneath the mask breathe through, and Scherezade shattered again. Quietly. Softly. Beautifully.

Something in her expression flickered. She wasn't falling down. She was Falling in.

She didn't say I'm not used to being wanted like this.
Didn't say You terrify me in the best and worst ways.
Didn't say I have ruined everything good that ever touched me and I don't know how not to do it again.

Instead, she let her hand trace the side of his face, not with fire, but with something gentler. Something real.

"Don't lose too easily," she said, quiet as dust. "I don't play fair."

Her fingers lingered on his cheek, a breath longer than necessary.

Then her body simply followed without hesitation and without any grand flourish, just a quiet, natural folding, into his side. A shared exhale. The world shrunk to a couch, two heartbeats, and the sound of fabric shifting beneath them.

She didn't look at him right away. Didn't need to. Her head came to rest against his shoulder, one arm curled between them, the other draped lightly across his stomach. The closeness didn't feel like something new. It felt… It felt dangerously like home.

"You make it easy to stay here," she said, her voice low and soft.

For a while, they just breathed.

"Tell me something," Scherezade broke the silence, teasing but sincere. "What's one of your favorite memories? Something that still makes you smile no matter how many times you think about it."

Her thumb brushed lightly over his knuckles.

"Mine was when I decided to leave a place that was very bad for me, and I headed to the Galactic West with my sister and a friend."

She shifted a little closer, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Your turn."



Kaelon Virex

 

[Kaelon Virex]

Kael's arms instinctively tightened around her, not out of reflex, but as if trying to hold the moment in place — to keep the softness from slipping away. He didn't speak right away. Her words, her warmth, the gentleness of her folding into him like that… it had shifted something in him. Quieted him in the same way the ocean sometimes quieted the chaos of Nar Shaddaa's nights — not because it silenced everything, but because it offered space for the soul to breathe.

Her question floated between them, and Kael let it rest there for a moment — not out of hesitation, but respect.

He turned his head slightly, cheek brushing against her hair, eyes drifting toward the window where Spira's waves met the horizon. Then he spoke, voice lower than before, but certain.

"Fireworks," he said, with a faint smile. "On the upper ridgeline of Nar Shaddaa."

His fingers found hers again, threading through slowly. "I was seven. Maybe eight. We didn't have much — hell, we barely had enough to keep our lights on half the time. But that year, my parents scrounged enough credits to take me up to the hills overlooking the upper ports. Clear view of the skyline. Big family holiday — the Nar New Year. Every crew and corp and syndicate tried to outdo the others with firework displays. Loud, gaudy, sometimes illegal... but beautiful."

His voice warmed at the edges, like a light had clicked on behind his eyes. "We sat on a busted picnic cloth on the grass, right next to this broken old cargo tower. My mom brought reheated fried buns. My dad had this little holo radio playing swing tunes no one under forty understood."

A pause. A breath.

"And when the fireworks went off — just this storm of color across the whole skyline — I looked over and they were both watching me. Not the sky. Me." His jaw worked for a second, a flicker of emotion tightening his features. "Like they wanted to remember how happy I looked. Like… they needed it."

He exhaled a soft chuckle, not bitter — just real.

"I think that was the moment I knew… no matter how broken the world got, there'd always be something worth holding onto. Even if it only lasted five minutes and tasted like half-burnt buns and motor oil."

He turned slightly so he could see her face — not needing words, just searching for how that landed.

Then softer, barely more than a whisper, "Your turn was brave, by the way. Walking away. Choosing something better. I don't know the story behind it, but I know what it costs to leave a cage and call it freedom."

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. No theatrics. Just him. Kael. Still.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Scherezade didn't reply right away. She let the story sink in, her imagination flaring up with the view of fireworks and Kael, as a child, with hat big goofy grin of his that he probably had back then, and his parents. Oh, she knew that what appeared in her imagination probably looked worlds different than what he had experienced, but she didn't want to pry into his mind for an accurate look. What she had was more than enough.

She let the silence linger a moment longer, wanting to cradle the moment. And then her fingers gently curled around his. "That's beautiful," she said softly. She gave his hand the faintest squeeze, like a silent thank-you. For trusting her with it. For just being… Him.

"It wasn't brave," she sighed, considering his words regarding her leaving, "It was… Frustration. Giving up. They loved my sisters, but they couldn't stand me, and they made sure I knew it, repeatedly. I think I survived two years there before I called it quits. And…"

She paused, the images running through her mind again, this time not of fireworks, but of pain, and hope and seeing the expressions on the faces of Madalena, Katrine, and Alwine.

"And I was incredibly lucky," she finally said, "that my sisters didn't even take a breath before declaring they would come with me. They knew what was happening. They left high ranking offices and positions, burned bridges they knew I would never be permitted to walk while I was there. And instead of just wishing me luck and sending an annual Sithmas card, they came with me."

She smiled now, her fingers lazily trailing up and down Kael's upper chest. Not trying to stir him, just grounding herself with his presence, still taking in that scent of him that could always drive her wild. Scherezade blinked. They knew each other for only a few hours, and already she was thinking in terms of always. It was a dangerous path to tread, she knew. And while she could hold herself from mentioning it, she had no desire to limit herself from least feeling it.

"I also think me randomly answering you on that app… Was incredibly lucky as well," she smiled, "I imagine you'd be almost dead if that hadn't happened. And I'd be off doing some random stuff that didn't matter as much as being here with you."

Kaelon Virex