The Familiar and Forgotten

[Lahmia deWinter]

Location: Vlemoth Station, Vlemoth Port
Classification: Commercial Trade Hub
Atmosphere: Breathable
Terrain: Standard

Scene: Station Control
"Unidentified vessel, you are ordered to state your name and purpose in this system. Do you copy?"

The large panels to Control slid open to admit the shift's presiding Muun overseer. "What seems to be the problem?" As problems could disrupt ship schedules, which disrupted cargo distribution, and could spiral out of control costing the Station considerable credits.

Without turning from the display where a vessel over two thousand meters sat in orbit, the operator called back, "Unknown vessel appeared in orbit. We've tried raising them, but no response so far."

"Unknown vessel?" It was their job to know all vessels. You could not be prepared to translate the appropriate language or make the appropriate accommodations if you did not know who you were dealing with. Their database of ship registries was unrivaled! Or so they liked to claim. The Muun drew closer and leaned down a bit to regard the image their self for a moment. Long digits slowly stroked a thin jawline. It had the ever so vague impression of a Star Destroyer, but otherwise...

A hiss of static cut the Muun off before he respond further. The voice of a woman came back over the comm channel, her precision in pronunciation introduced just a barely perceptible pause between words, "T'is the L.S.D. Winter's Kiss. The Undying Queen greets thou, and shall descend to join thou anon." While the words were mostly Basic, the accent and certain word choices were...archaic.

"Most interesting," the Muun breathed aloud. "Have their shuttle land at one of the VIP hangers. Make sure preparations are made to welcome them, along with a detachment of security." If the voice could be trusted this could be a lucrative opportunity. Otherwise, they would throw any con-artist off station and resume normal operations.

Scene: Upper Promenade Level Six
Several hours later a red-skinned woman stood gazing out through a towering window at Vlemoth Port's forested landscape that surrounded their towering spaceport. A goblet of wine in her right hand, she reflected on recent events involving Galactic Civilization. In truth, her thoughts were of home -- Beyond the Rim. In the brief time the Winter's Kiss and her crew had been among 'Civilization' they had not encountered anyone worth fighting. Had it been a mistake to return, she wondered? This could become a graveyard of hollowed out souls. Yet something had called her here... Lahmia could only hope locating the source and determining its worth would happen soon.

The Sovereign's tail idly swung from behind her right leg to that of her left as the wine touched her dark lips. Dressed in a lavender suit, the red-skinned woman with black hair received a few passing glances, but otherwise the crowds at her back seemed to leave her be. Or, perhaps, it was the two hulks posing as 'guards' that flanked her. They weren't necessary, but seeing how it was a new galaxy they'd come to her daughter insisted an escort was needed.

Lahmia's left hand lifted to stroke the tree-trunk of an arm of the guard at her side. "Anon, Love. T'would barely feel any of these crushed beneath thy rage." Now Lahmia might be satisfied draining every last one of their life, but her strong, indomitable warriors would find no pleasure in paper tigers. No, they were not even that. Merely paper cutouts of forgettable faces. Mass-produced, overly simplified, and painted.

Had this been how the galaxy was when she left it? Lahmia couldn't recall. All of it seemed as new to her eyes. There was no familiarity at all from how things had been over seven centuries ago. It might as well have been a different person.

"Say to Llith I shall be returning to the ship anon." The beauty, diversity, and peace of the Station was all eye-pleasing, but not what Lahmia had come for. Nor was it a 'welcome relief.' They indulged their base desires well enough without needing a change in scenery. And back home the scenery rarely remained in any one shape or form before being razed anyway. A beautiful symphony of the waxing and waning of control, power, and dominance.

Tag: [member="Scherezade deWinter"]​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

[member="Lahmia deWinter"]​

​

She was going to have to put her foot down and make new rules about humid planets. Specifically, that the Ministry would only send her to one of them per year. That wasn't too bad, was it? It would mean that Scherezade could do the thing, whatever the thing was, but need to suffer all this stickiness at a much reduced frequency.

This time, she didn't get to wear her armor. The orders had been strict. Get in, get the info, get out. Don't attract any attention. We'd have sent another bird but they're busy with other stuff right now. A small device that would let the slicers back at home hack through and search for whatever information it was they wanted through the terminal to which she was going to attach herself to.

Scherezade grumped as she walked through the spaceport, hips swaying from side to side in her total city-planet look. Sure, she had a few knives hidden beneath those clothes, but she didn't quite feel entirely like herself. Herself was armor-clad and with enough weapons to arm a small village.

Sighing, Scherezade paused by one of the central terminals, sliding the electric card into the terminal and looked around. Boring people walking from boring point A to boring point B never once thinking or considering what-

Hey wait a minute.

Bewildered, Scherezade looked around, almost forgetting about the card and the terminal. Was it… Was that…

What the krakking fluck.

She ignored the displeased sounds inside her ear, the one that came from her current handler. As long as the card was with her, it was still safe, so she just slid it into a secret pocket as she took small, hurried steps.

Scherezade was a Blood Hound, and to Blood Hounds, every person had a unique scent, one that connected it to their own blood. On nearly every mission, she asked her mission partners to bleed for her if they got lost or kidnapped, since that would make finding them so much easier for her with her skillset. But it also meant that she could scent blood jumps and biological legacies through her abilities. And that, was something that had served her often and-

The smell was maddening to her.

Seven hundred years, Scherezade deWinter had been stuck inside a pebble, bereft of any family members, warmth, or love. Upon her exit from the pebble, nearly two years ago, she had not found the warmth or love either, not until she helped Madalena become real, and that was relatively recent.

But that smell… She would recognize it anywhere. Perhaps because what caused it was something she had within herself as well.

deWinter blood.

It took every bit of self control not to just start running. It was not a scent she'd encountered before, and the stamp of the Family of Darkness was barely noticeable in it. What did it mean? Which branch? Who? Was it someone who had known her? Whom she'd had known? Was it close family or distant kin? Was it someone… Something…

She hated spaceports. Taking turn after turn, there was no other way to describe it.

Scherezade was on the hunt for her blood.

And her damn handler was still yapping in her ear.

 

[Lahmia deWinter]

Lahmia turned to begin their trek back to the shuttle, the trinkets and cuisine of the Galaxy not terribly of interest given the sensation there was something more pressing at hand. That was when a voice rang out throughout the promenade. Shrill. Loud. It was followed by softer, yet just as insist cries and a wave of murmurs among the crowd. Then more cries now of surprise and pain. Bodies began to move haphazardly as they pushed, shoved, and darted to the sides. They parted as they might before a Titan's charge; the masses split down the middle to carve a path between the wild one and their target.

Her escort tensed for battle, but their feet were rooted in place by the smile and unblinking stare of their Captain and ruler.

The goblet in her right hand was cast off to the side heedless if it struck anyone or stained any material.

"DEVIL. MONSTER. SHE'S COME TO KILL US ALL," a light red creature with rather sizable ears shrieked. What was this, Lahmia thought? Could this creature so similar and yet different from herself be a worthy foe?

Lahmia's hand pushed up the bottom of her suit coat to take hold of a ring of metal hidden there. A challenge once issued could not be taken back. Her lips peeled back to reveal her white teeth and the elongated canines. As she took the first step to meet this hairless, pink creature another Lahmia leaped to one side, then another, and another, and another. Ten copies shot across the promenade. They would jump over or sweep through any foolish enough to be on their feet and not far to either side of the corridor of death now established between opponents. A glint of light followed the reveal of a chakram in each of the Lahmia's right hands.

Blaster fire rang out in the enclosed area. An alarm went off somewhere. People cried out as a chorus fearful of the stray shots that flew about. Driven wilder by the presence of more tailed devil women, the one from the Red Nebula fired blindly to find the real Lahmia. Unfortunately, he only had enough time for three shots.

Its head bounced on the floor twice before it came to a rest. The body followed a moment later.

Lahmia straightened up slightly to the dead man's right and behind where he'd been standing. Blood coated the chakram as she drew it in closer. With a purr, an elongated tongue lazily stretched forth and lapped up the crimson. "Delectable. Such a waste, yet not worthy of remembrance," she said after the razor sharp weapon was cleaned in view of the unwitting audience.

"Put the weapon down!" a man in thick armor cried as he held a blaster pointed at Lahmia.

With a rumble in the floor, Lahmia's eight foot tall brutes stopped beside the corpses to nudge it with their feet. They grunted, satisfied the creature would not regenerate. Then their red eyes turned on the one threatening their Captain.

"Self defense." Lahmia lowered the weapon to her side with a smile on her lips. "Surely thou would not besmirch a woman protecting herself? Not when it would raise questions as to thy own efficense." And not when any one of them -- her or her escort -- could kill the man with a flick of their wrist.

Tag: [member="Scherezade deWinter"]​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

[member="Lahmia deWinter"]​

"Albatross," Scherezade spoke into her Wrist Link, "Get me top security clearance for this spaceport. Now!"

Shutting the channel off, she already knew it would take a few minutes at least. But she heard the commotion, saw the guards in uniforms moving. Something was happening, and it was happening in the direction from which she could scent the person.

Discreetly, she sent a few telekinetic strikes at the backs of some of the running guards, sending them sprawling to the ground with minor pauses from being conscious. The Sithling groaned. She couldn't leave too large of a trail behind her, and she knew the Ministry would be giving her krak if she left too many bodies there.

She arrived at the scene just in time to see the multiple apparitions of the red skinned woman appear, but those did not hold her interest. She could scent where the original one was, and her glowing green eyes memorized every move she was making – and especially, those emerald pair that were glowing from her own face, in such a nearly identical way.

Ah hah!

But… But if this was family, if this was kin, why did Scherezade not know about it? Someone who wasn't even human or near human? Which of her family members would go for that? As far back as her memory reached, most of them were pretty much racist against other species that couldn't at least pass for human. Was she a distant relative then? Or maybe… Maybe things had happened, while she was held prisoner for 700 years. Maybe one of the reasons she couldn’t find her family now that she was out of the pebble was because they'd changed so much so that unless she was near enough to scent them, she had no way of tracking them?

The smell of her victim's blood hit Scherezade's nose hard, causing the Blood Hound to grin. Good. Another thing that she and the strange female shared. But then came the man in thick armor – one that she had missed while rushing there.

Scherezade quickly checked her Wrist Link, smiling as she saw what she wanted was there.

A moment later, she was already power-walking towards the red-skinned female and the officer. "That will be enough," she said in an all official-like voice, "I will take it from here. Director Feyra Darling, on behalf of the Southern Systems Investigation Bureau." She waved an electronic badge and some random papers at the man, proving she was who she claimed she was. Thanks, Albatross.

"Your men have preformed admirably," she continued, not giving him too much time to think, "Please forward any insurance claims to our office to have it sorted out. Add a nice bonus for this man's family to help them through these hard time." Turning her back to him now, she took a few steps towards the red skinned female. "Ma'am," she nodded, "I've been looking for you in thirteen different systems. Come with me please."

And as she did so, she sent the woman a telepathic message. Please play along. I will explain everything once we're safe, I promise, and hoped the eyes they shared would convince the other woman to at least give it a chance.

 

[Lahmia deWinter]

Lahmia's face betrayed not an ounce of concern for herself, and certainly not a mote of concern for anyone else nearby. If the stray shots -- or those at the 'illusions' -- happened to kill someone then they simply weren't strong enough for this world. That was a fact she'd already applied to practically every single thing that lay before her eyes since her arrival. These creatures were so weak. It burned.

A woman's voice called out with the confidence of command as she strode forth wearing the strangest thing. It did not appear to be a uniform. It did not seem to have any strategic value. It showed enough leg to draw attention, but Lahmia couldn't place what Scherezade wore with how she spoke. Would this 'guard' be cowed with what seemed an inconsistent role the woman played? For all Lahmia knew the galaxy was full of casually dressed authority figures -- it would suit them all to appear as weak as they were.

Admirably? A soft yet restrained scoff slipped through her nose and lips. They arrived after the battle to challenge the victor showing no greater strength than the one before them. That armor would not save his pretty head. Surely the woman jested.

Scherezade went on about matters Lahmia knew not. Something of 'insurance' and 'hard times.' The hardest time these creatures knew was being an hour late for a meal. Oh, if one she had a spell that would carry every person present off to the other realm where they could bear witness to true hardship -- for the hour or two they survived.

With the bark of a laugh, Lahmia slipped the chakram back into place under her jacket. "Only thirteen?" Now truly the woman was leading them all on a merry bout. Lahmia only even knew of one system in this galaxy so far -- the sad, 'peaceful' one she'd unfortunately been drawn to.

"Most well. I shall crave thou with mine presence for a time," Lahmia waved for her boys to follow and not begin tearing people in twain. Her eyes fell to the armored man, though she gladly spoke to any that heard, "Wot well that I am Lahmia that thou may dream of me." And dream lightly.

Lahmia followed the pale woman with green eyes as bidden. Her shoulders were squared, chin held aloft, and her step showed nary a wobble despite her elevated heels. "Tis a pleasure to compose thy acquaintance. I am Queen, Captain, and Mistress of the Winter's Kiss, Lahmia deWinter. And who thou, forsooth? I shall not speak falsely of such beauty." Her green eyes had long since scanned Scherezade from head to toe, taken measurements, and made note of the creature's defining assets. After a few centuries it only took a glance to know a person's physicality.

Tag: [member="Scherezade deWinter"]​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

[member="Lahmia deWinter"]​

Scherezade resisted the urge to blink. The only place where she remembered people speaking like that was… Well, seven hundred years ago and more. It had been her grandmother, though it was only now that the woman – Lahmia – was speaking that it all came rushing back. Before that moment, every time Scherezade had conjured up those memories that had been branded into her mind, they had been spoken with current-day Basic. But now…

Now she had to keep her surprise well under keeps because if she blew her own cover, she was going to get more than a slap on the wrist from the Ministry. Maybe.

But then the woman introduced herself.

deWinter.

Scherezade turned to look at her, and froze. Of course, she knew that bit already. She'd scented it. But it was quite different when she was trying to sniff it out, and when she was out right told it. A deWinter! One that didn't look human or near human! Perhaps, most likely, the surprise showed on her face this time. She quickly turned around and motioned for the woman and her guards to follow.

"This is hardly the place to speak of such things, Ms. deWinter," she said. Krak, how weird it was to say Ms. deWinter and not hear it aimed at her.

But where would she take her? She couldn’t bring this woman to her ship, kin or not. Her ship was still full of the remains of the blood spell she'd cast so long ago when she'd tried to remove herself from existence, was still a mess, no, she couldn't bring anyone there. They couldn't go back to Lahmia's ship either, since that was going to be under watch for the next… Hour. Few. She was going to have to ask Albatross to take care of it.

Which left them with the cantina.

Again.

There were more cantinas in this 'verse than there were ants on all the forest worlds together. But at least she knew where the nearest one was, and thankfully, it was deserted enough so that there was more than enough place for Lahmia's guard to spread around.

Scherezade slid into a corner booth and motioned for Lahmia to do the same while she fiddled a little bit with her wrist link, hitting the signal jumblers to make sure they had the best odds of maintaining any shred of privacy they could, but not before she sent a message to Albatross to take care of things so that they could leave later.

"Who are you?!" she asked immediately once they were settled, "I mean, I know you're a deWinter, you have the eyes, the scent, but…"

Scherezade shut herself up, realizing that was probably not a good way to go about it. She was probably going to attract all the weird looks and stuff. But then how… Where to begin…

"I'm Scherezade," she said then. Entirely gone was the formal tone and the way she'd held herself when they were facing the guards. The woman that sat in front of Lahmia now was much more excited, wilder, younger, "deWinter. Why do you speak the pre-Gulag basic? How are you part of the family but… You're not entirely human. I can detect the humanoid beneath, but I can't tell where the red skin or the horns or anything else is from."

 

[Lahmia deWinter]

Lahmia stopped when the other woman all but whirled to face her. Green eyes met green eyes lidless and locked in place. A smile danced upon dark lips while her head slowly tilted to one side curious what had captivated the liar so. Something shocking. Surely it hadn't been the titles; much as Lahmia did enjoy showing off and would gladly spill a great slew of names, those offered so far were hardly worth gawking over. Surely the galaxy had Queens. Her name then. The surname, specifically.

"Miss?" Angular brows pinched together and drew low over the woman's nose. She hadn't killed millions -- possibly more, a woman loses track after a few centuries -- built an Empire amidst anarchy, and traveled between galaxies to be called miss.

The woman forged ahead, however, despite Lahmia's disbelief at being so humbly referred so early in her return to the galaxy. She had introduced herself as a Queen, surely these people did in fact still have Queens, did they not? When had been the last time anyone was so familiar with her? Why, she couldn't remember. Though most probably feared for their lives the moment she entered the room. Rightfully so. Still, it was so... strange the way these creatures conducted themselves.

As far entering a cantina, Lahmia showed no disdain or disbelief the likes of which she had to her title. Probably because a bar was tame compared to some areas of her own ship. The crew of the Winter's Kiss weren't your every day naval starfleet variety. In fact, they would be better compared to pirates if such could afford a ship as large as her's.

Naturally her guards took up position flanking the table that Scherezade chose. Their large forms did nothing to conceal the woman's presence, but it would keep someone from drifting too close to catch what was said.

Lahmia's tail lifted as she settled down into the seat across from Scherezade. It curled about her body to the right as its owner sat forward a bit to avoid discomfort. Elevated brows responded to the thrust of the woman's question. What a bold creature this one was. Masquerading as an authority. Helping a potential criminal that had slaughtered someone -- deservedly so. Inviting them to sup in a quaint little entertainment facility. Not showing Lahmia a lick of deference...

"deWinter?" That did cause Lahmia to blink as she folded her hands atop the table before her. Scherezade deWinter? The name did not sound familiar, but then what Lahmia had recorded of her life Before the Rim had not been terribly detailed as to the family tree. Evidently her lineage was quite fertile, and so she could not -- and chose not to -- document the entire tree for posterity's sake. Ironic that "posterity" would in fact be for her own benefit far, far later.

"I see... Nay, I am not Human," Lahmia responded to the excited spawn of her own brood. "Haply I was, once, ere I ventured beyond the Rim. Wouldst it surprise thou to wot I am over seven hundred and fifty of thy years?" A fang-filled grin followed her question. Obviously the woman was not impressed by titles, but surely she would wonder at such longevity. Lahmia liked to think she didn't look a day over thirty.

Without invitation, Lahmia slid across the bench with her tail flopping to the other side as she moved. A red hand lay atop Scherezade's thigh as the woman's green eyes glistened. "Much hath befell, and much learned. I might entreat mine secrets with thou, yet first," her eyes strayed lower just a bit to Scherezade's collar. "Haply I might wot thou as well thou wot myself? So there might be no secrets of blood 'twixt us." Her hand lifted from Scherezade's thigh to let the tips of her fingers play along the woman's shoulder nearing the flesh of her exposed neck. "The pain is fleeting," Lahmia reassured her... Sister? Cousin? Great-great-great-great... Well, she could hardly imagine how many generations might have passed in all that time.

Tag: [member="Scherezade deWinter"]​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

[member="Lahmia deWinter"]​

Not human. Scherezade had known that, but it was nice to have it confirmed either way. But once, she had been. The Sithling leaned forward, her eyes wide with curiosity and excitement. How had she changed what she'd been? Beyond the Rim? What was beyond the rim? So many questions began to cloud her mind, but above all was a soft not-a-song in the back of her mind, ready to be singing – a family member. An actual family member, who didn't seem to be so busy that she would soon get up and leave to go back to her business.

And then the number.

Seven hundred and fifty years.

Now her jaw almost dropped to the table. That meant… That meant that this woman, this red skinned cousin, or aunt, or however her way into the family tree was made, was older than Scherezade, and… Well preserved? Was that the right term? She didn't feel crazy or insane, and she'd been… Well, Scherezade supposed that being beyond the Rim was more or less similar to spending all those centuries in a pocket dimension, of sorts.

But when Lahmia moved from her side of the booth to sit next to Scherezade, the younger woman (Scherezade was the younger one, right?) was slightly taken aback from surprise. A hand was on her thigh, and Scherezade's mind was torn; normally, she did not let anyone touch her save a chosen few. Even her best friend couldn't hug her without her trying to stab him and yell at him to get away. Her sister, was a different matter. And now Lahmia… Neither instincts nor brain knew how to react to that. Was that touch okay? Had her red skinned kin earned a broken nose? She simply didn't know.

Looking up again, Scherezade noticed that it was not her face that Lahmia was looking at. Moments later, she realized it was… Her neck?

Secrets of blood.

"You…" she asked, stammering, "You're a Blood Hound too?"

The surprise on her face was too easy to read. Still frozen in place, Scherezade could not believe it. Warnings of pain didn't matter to her, she was a Warrior and had once been titled as the best pin cushion in the 'verse. Pain did not scare her or put her off.

But no biting. That was a sort of close form of intimacy that Scherezade was not ready for, not even with new found kin. She raised her skirt, pulling a knife from one of the belts that strapped it to the top part of her thigh, and pricked her finger. A thick droplet of blood began to swell, and she offered it to Lahmia.

"A drop of mine for a drop of yours," she said, ready to remove her finger and her blood in less than a heart beat. If her newfound kin was truly a Blood Hound as well, Scherezade knew it would come with opportunity… As well as potential danger.

 

[Lahmia deWinter]

"Blood Hound?" Lahmia's eyes flicked up to stare into Scherezade's matching set. This term did not sound familiar to the Lost One of the family. It had been centuries since she'd been among what was once her own -- her blood. The words alone suggested a talent that could track a creature by its blood, most obviously. Surely there was more to it given the context of their discussion. Some ability to glean information from the blood, perhaps? From her blood's reaction it seemed a desired shared trait. It was not shock or hunger in those eyes, but excitement.

Scherezade did not seem interest in being bitten, however, as her blood drew a knife to prick herself with. Lahmia's gaze followed her movements curious what the woman had in mind. So far -- aside from pretending to be some sort of enforcement officer -- they had a great deal in common. They did whatever it took to survive and were not ashamed in their pursuit of blood. After all, there'd been no admonishment or even acknowledgement of butchering that pathetic creature back there.

Lahmia smiled, but her features were not lit up as Scherezade's were. "I shall offer thou mine blood, blood of mine blood. That I but not wot whether I am this blood hound thou seek." The red deWinter lifted her right hand from Scherezade's body and brought it close to her lips. The black petals peeled back to bare her fangs and with a slow, shalow bite drew blood, her eyes held on Scherezade heedless of any pain that registered. The pin prick and swelling of crimson surfaced and the offered was extended out toward her possible kin.

With the offer extended, Lahmia leaned in toward Scherezade's own droplet. A smirk tugged at black lips before her elongated tongue slid forth to claim the blood.

"Would that thou allow me bite thou, blood of mine blood. Myself should wot much from the life force thou owe," Lahmia sighed in longing. "But were I to pin thou for such sweet embrace I fear thou would banish me from thy sight. For thou -- and thou alone -- I shall offer every courtesy." The droplet had been accepted and sampled fully. Its familiarity registered sharply on the woman's senses. Truly, Scherezade was of her own kin and not merely a pretender that knew the name. Such potency in the blood as well such that Lahmia could only marvel at how contemporary the two must be.

"Strange," she confessed, "that thou appeared shocked at mine age, yet thy blood is so close to mine. Storied are thy days as well?"

Tag: [member="Scherezade deWinter"]​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

[member="Lahmia deWinter"]​

She repeated the term with a question. Scherezade's face almost fell as she understood the implications of that; Lahmia was not a Blood Hound, and probably did not understand the full meaning of the term. Unless she scared her away, that would mean that Scherezade would have to explain it. But later. They had more pressing things to discuss first. And there came the confirmation; Lahmia was not a Blood Hound. But that didn't matter anymore; she was still family, she was still deWinter. Scherezade would still fight to steal time and moments with her for as long as she could, for as long as Lahmia did not express dislike or lack of will to be in her presence.

Her glowing green eyes were mesmerized as they followed Lahmia's movements, the way her mouth parted so that she could bite her own finger. Red droplet against red skin; Scherezade had seen such things before, yet Lahmia's skin was a different red than those she'd witnessed before. It looked… No, it felt somewhat different. Her hand was extended. They were about to exchange blood. Scherezade had to resist the urge to bounce in her seat; throughout all her adventures, all her missions, all the people and species she'd encountered, this was a first time. Lahmia wasn't just giving her blood away, the two family members were outright exchanging it. The moment felt precious, holy, almost. She wished she could bottle up the emotions that flooded her during those few heart beats, experience it over and over again.

Unsure of how comfortable she could be about it, Scherezade leaned forward and gave Lahmia's finger a quick lick, taking the blood in. To be frank, she'd never been a fan of the taste of blood. When she drank the blood of the dead to glean their last moments in life, it often ended with her retching all over the place because of how vile it was. And still – Lahmia's tasted different to her, somehow. The coppery taste was still there, and Scherezade wasn't sure if it was upper or lower tones within it, but she could somehow tell, maybe on an instinctual level, that this was not blood she was going to find in other places in the galaxy, and not because of the deWinter part of it, which was now fully confirmed.

"We're close in age," Scherezade nodded, Lahmia's words taking her out of a certain space-y place she was in with her thoughts and wondering, "I was born over seven hundred years ago. But I didn't get to live through those years. I only really started little over a year and a half ago, when I was released from my imprisonment inside a pebble and inside the Darkness."

Now that the blood had been exchanged and words were said again, Scherezade allowed herself to get more comfortable in her seat, leaning backwards.

"How are we kin? How are we connected?" Scherezade asked, looking at Lahmia, "Your blood… It tastes like there aren't too many blood jumps between us. An aunt? A cousin?" She tried to figure it out. But with the family members she did know of, there were still too many variables. She knew the story – her great-grandmother had been cursed with fertility, as punishment for becoming a Jedi. Her own mother had done that to her, cursing her to forever experience drastic fertility, and each pregnancy being potentially life threatening. deWinter women or those impregnated by deWinter men in more cases than not tended to either die during birth if they had no access to medical technology, or end up with hoards of children. Her own grandmother had eight. Her mother, would have had many if her reproduction system had not been harmed. Her uncle? Hundreds, based on the memories her grandmother had given her.

The deWinters sure knew how to give everyone a good ol' headache.

"My mother was Nessarose deWinter," she said, deciding to give her own line out. Maybe, maybe they could find the place in which their blood met, "her full blooded siblings were Morgaine deWinter, Adam Dessel, Cordelia deWinter, Asteria deWinter. Her half blooded siblings were Brumhilda deWinter and Elora. There was also a dead baby but he died before he could get to breeding age."

For a moment, she considered. Would adding her father's line be of any help? Mentions of the Family of Darkness? No. The deWinters were a special branch that had joined it a few generations ago, but they were special by their own right. Her paternal family members would be of no help here.

"My maternal grandmother was Shery deWinter," she continued, "She was sister to Jonathan deWinter. Their mother died before she could have more children than that. Their mother was named Illyandra, who was not a deWinter, but had married Jacob deWinter. I don't know much about Jacob's forfathers, but I know about a few more generations of Illyandra, though none of them bore the name."

 

[Lahmia deWinter]

It was true -- once Lahmia knew what the term meant -- she was not a Blood Hound. In her defenses, however, even if she had possessed that ability, the term Scherezade used would have drawn the same response. Perhaps. It would have depended entirely on whether her yourself would have noted it in her diary. Much of what the red woman seated beside Scherezade knew of this galaxy was the result of what she had documented seven hundred years ago.

By the time the blood was taken, the pinprick that had resided beneath it had already healed. Such a wound was beyond trivial. Lahmia's lips curled upward at the sight of her kin tasting of the blood. How wonderfully delightful it was to see Scherezade consume the crimson essence. She had grown terrified the galaxy was positively overrun with spineless, simpering, easily-crushed, cowering creatures and that returning had been a terrible mistake. Yet, this beautifully pale creature with her now gave Lahmia great hope. This was why she had returned, she was sure of it.

"A pebble?" After a quick blink, her green eyes gazed upon Scherezade for a long, silent moment. What a strange thing to imprison someone within. Not that Lahmia herself had learned that particular technique.

More pressing was their kinship, which the red one agreed was far more important than someone's strange sense of magical taste. She listened attentively as Scherezade began to list near and far relations in an effort to suss out their family line. Nessarosa sounded familiar, and Lahmia nodded at her mention and those of her siblings. Yes, most of those names had been documented in her diary long ago, but they were not a shared line. Hopefully more would follow, and follow they did.

The smile upon her lips grew at the mention of Jonathan deWinter as she sat there. "Yes, yes, Jonathan is of mine. For I am Lahmia, daughter of Eirisse, daughter of Jonathan. Hence, we are second cousins, yes?" Her hands lifted to take one of Scherezade's own hands to cradle it with a shine to Lahmia's own emerald eyes. "To regard I would find such blood among this galaxy still. One not diluted by the ages, but as potent and true to ourself as we once were." Lahmia tipped her head back and laughed merrily at the development.

"Now, it is mine time to be as forthright as thou hast been to me. I shall seek to answer as many questions of myself 'i return of asking the like of thou." It seemed only equitable and of shared interest to share fully between them. "I was born of our home and set sail Beyond the Rim. Our number were large, and the threat of being forgotten too near. Mine ship was swept upon currents Beyond the Rim where we came upon a new realm. One fraught with terrors the likes of which I hast not seen hither," from the limited time she'd had among the Galactic civilization anyway. "'twere there I developed a spell to extend mine own life by renewing mine corporal agent with that of others. After a time I..." a hitherto unseen hesitation entered her words in this moment, "came upon one whose material set the foundation of what I am today. Centuries upon centuries I changed mine own self to become stronger, moe powerful, moe agile. Eventually I began to return to myself. I shaped myself into something moe aesthetically pleasing to mine own eyes, while still able to command mine many hordes. Just recently I sampled a taste of mine self I kept safe over the centuries. This is why I am sure thou wot me for whom I am."

With Scherezade's hand in hers -- presuming she was not punched previously -- Lahmia leaned in closer. She addressed just her dear cousin in hushed tones, "I hast bid me and mine blood Devoratrix. For we would consume the firm-set to prove our own strength, and the rest to sustain our existence. We are... what is this word? I wrote it long since: vampire?"

Tag: [member="Scherezade deWinter"]​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

[member="Lahmia deWinter"]​

I am Lahmia, daughter of Eirisse, daughter of Jonathan.

Scherezade blinked. Jonathan's line. The connection came from higher up the tree than any other family member she had met before. But more than that – a granddaughter of Jonathan. She remembered, remembered all the things inside her grandmother's memories about that man, knew what her mother had attempted to do on her fifteenth birthday and how horribly it had backfired, and she'd hoped she would never ever have to need to deal with him or someone like him for as long as she lived. But his granddaughter… No. Scherezade had been either murdered or come close to it because someone accused her of the sins of her ancestors. She would not do the same with Lahmia. Especially when the jump from Jonathan to her was twice-fold, which made it big enough to hope that she'd never met the man and was thus uninfluenced by him in the wrong ways.

And then her blinking ceased, and a smile formed on her lips. Nodded. Yes. Second cousins. Or, just cousins. She had a cousin! Who was alive! Who wasn't trying to end the meeting fast, mumble excuses, and run away!

"We can be diluted?" she asked with big eyes. The thought had never even crossed her mind. Nearly every individual she could think of that either existed in the present or in the past was powerful with the Force, and those that were not, dilution had not been their reason. But despite their similar ages, Lahmia had something that made a huge difference that Scherezade hadn't had – a life. She'd lived through her years, or at least enough of them to know and have more information to rely on when she spoke about their family. Scherezade only knew bits and pieces of times so long ago that they barely even counted anymore. "Our family survives. There are deWinters who walk and breathe and talk and fight. My mother's sister, Asteria, lives still, and resides on Spira, with her daughter from the Dathomiri male, my uncle Angelo."

Her speech was quick, excited, but only up until that point. At the mention of Asteria and her daughter, Celestine, Scherezade's excitement was nearly snuffed out entirely. "They're too busy for me these days," she said. When had been the last time she'd seen them? Before she'd attempted to remove herself from existence. Over a year. And to think that she and Celestine had been roommates, sort of.

Lahmia's story though, that was more than enough to bring the excitement back to Scherezade's features. She hung on every word, drinking it in as though it was nearly gospel. Spells instead of science, dangerous dimensions, and taking parts of others to make herself stronger. To go beyond the Rim… Scherezade had thought about it, but had never dared to take that step. And Lahmia… She was full in awe of her older cousin now, looking at her like a childhood hero of sorts. The more she spoke, the more Scherezade wanted to hear; part of her almost screamed at Lahmia to stop giving her the bullet points of her life's story and tell her more in detail about the various chapters that had built it.

And above all, Lahmia was a leader. She had introduced herself as s such earlier; Queen, Captain, Mistress. With the exception of the non-human bits and pieces she carried, Lahmia was the living embodiment of what it was to be a deWinter.

"I would have known you for a deWinter even if you had less of your original self remaining," she said though, her smile confident, "I am a Blood Hound, and the blood does not lie, not to me. The only way I would have missed was if your human part would have been so diluted that there would have been none left." Still smiling, she gave Lahmia a look over, "and you obviously still carry enough human parts."

Only now did she notice; her hand was still in Lahmia's hand. Scherezade blinked, and her smile renewed itself; perhaps it was childish of her, perhaps it was naïve, but she felt as though she could trust Lahmia with all of her heart. Lahmia was family. Lahmia was good family, not one that would try to destroy her or break her walls.

The question of what she was, though… Scherezade mulled the words over, still somewhat surprised that she did not mind Lahmia's physical closeness at all. "Vampires generally drink blood to sustain themselves," she said, thinking over the shared drops of blood of only moments ago, "Were those the others you spoke of? Vampires?"

 

[Lahmia deWinter]

Whether dilution was truly possible for their lineage, Lahmia did not know. She presumed with generations that the line might not be as it once was; especially given just how fertile the women could be. Why, she herself was hardly barren for a time. There had been little chance for grandchildren where they came from. Perhaps one day.

"Truly?" The deWinters lived? Asteria. Angelo. A furrowed brow soon followed the excitement in knowing their line was not broken, "Too busy for thou? Conquering other realms, I trust." With a straightened back, Lahmia's voice drew deeper in the severity of her words. There were few reasons to ignore one's closest kin. Battle only made sense. A war even. If they were as lazy as the creatures in this station, however, that would be unacceptable.

After her own story was briefly told -- with much more to provide, yet she did not wish to overwhelm with detail -- her cousin assured they would have found one another despite all odds. Curiously, this was... heartwarming. A slight tingle tickled her eyes in that moment. There was someone that would search for her? That wanted her? Not as a monstrous force that would destroy her enemies and those insurmountable by weaker kind. Not as a means of ensuring one's own survival, or as a mate. Just someone that would yearn for her presence. Perhaps share secrets or discuss the troubles of a long life. This was an opportunity Lahmia had never before encountered.

After the softest clearing of her throat, Lahmia replied, "Thou dost flatter me."

In private consultation, she echoed, "Blood?" Lahmia's eyebrows lifted at Scherezade's reply. "We hast no Want for blood," she paused to laugh for just a second. "Though it is surely a brave drink to slake one's thirst on the field of battle. We feast upon the most being of a person. I wot not what terms are used in this speech." A word did not make itself known to her in the moment; lest not one that felt fitting. Soul? Energy? Aura? No, these all seemed so inadequate. This old tongue from lifetimes ago would not do, but Lahmia could certainly not speak in her own tongue.

"There was," again, there was a long pause as the red woman's emerald gaze now diverted to the side. Slowly Lahmia settled back at Scherezade's side rather than tickle the woman's ear with her voice. Her thighs rubbed together and a soft sigh escaped her lips. "Only one of their kind drew my eye. Radiant and ruthless beyond measure. We slaughtered waves of enemies that sought to feast on our flesh, and gnaw on our bones. I took her as mine own, and she in turn. We were... happy." A shadow of the smile once on black lips returned in that moment as certain memories that had yet to be forgot surfaced. "But my orb is not yours, cousin. There is no peace there. We never hast places such as this," one of Lahmia's hands lifted to gesture at the cantina and everything that lay outside of its walls. "In time, 'twere aye meant to be, she sought to devour me ere my corporal agent failed. I, in turn, fought for mine survival. We--" A morose laugh passed between her lips. "A story of how we fought endlessly for an entire year sprang up in time. It forsooth felt as an eternity. In the end I bore her in mine arms as the life passed from her, and unwilling to hie without I took her into me. Such is how me and mine came to be."

The green eyes turned back to her cousin then as Lahmia sought to return from the eyes of her past. "'twere many centuries since. Mine form changed a great deal in that time. I had many children, no two resembled one another as I continued to adapt mine own corporal agent with mine greatest conquests." A warmer smile finally re-emerged upon the red one's lips. "All of mine own are like myself. We feed on others to survive." Her mind had strayed to the past, and they had come the long way around, but in the end Lahmia was able to answer her cousin's question.

Tag: [member="Scherezade deWinter"]​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

[member="Lahmia deWinter"]​

Scherezade snorted at the mention of conquering other realms. No, her family members, those she knew about, were definitely not busy doing that. Asteria was a business woman, bringing back the brother franchise she'd inherited from her own mother. Her daughter… Something about rancors and Dathomir. Scherezade wasn't entirely sure, but it didn't matter; the ones that either still lived or had been born since the days before the Gulag had not shown an interest in conquering anything that she knew of. Though perhaps, that was an unfair assessment. Many of them would say the same of her, if they'd see her at the Confederacy. Yet her reason for being there was simple; if she could not prove herself to be worthy in a place such as that, how could she dare to try to go back home, to Endelaan, where power was respected and weakness was shunned? Scherezade was a great fighter, but she was a great warrior when she fought alone. When it came to leadership, or to just being accepted… Everything was lacking.

She had flattered her? Scherezade smiled at that, but didn't really have a response to give.

There was no blood lust. Now she looked at Lahmia again, trying to understand the puzzle that made her. Feasting on the being of a person? That could be translated in so many different ways. Her mind began to reel and she listened quietly, carefully. Would her cousin speak of eating flesh? Of absorbing souls? Of…

Oh.

"I'm sorry for your loss," she said quietly, every word truth. To lose someone you loved, who loved you as well, in such a horrible way… She could not completely understand taking them into you. Not really. But not for the first time, Scherezade could not help but wonder what was worse; to lose your loved one to death, or to lose your loved one because they did not love you at all, and know they were walking the galaxy and choosing to do so without you.

But the thought of children… Thus, only Asteria and Angelo had a child, at least of what Scherezade knew of the none-missing family. The thought of Lahmia's children and what they could potentially be brought a smile to her face. She loved children, even if she was awkward around them the same way she was around adults. But were her children… Well, children? It had been over seven hundred years. For all she knew, Lahmia could've become a great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother in all the time that had passed. "I would love to meet your offspring, when you deem the time to be right," she said respectfully, and then leaned back in her seat.

Again she inhaled, taking in Lahmia's scent through the blood, conjuring up the brief memory of what it had tasted like. Lahmia had asked about vampires, but that was wrong since she did not drink blood. But she did take… What would the right word for it be? Scherezade sloshed through her own memories, the catalogue of species and their taste of what sat in her mind. Mixtures were usually simple; she could easily tell when someone was the product of two, or even more species. But in Lahmia's case… Perhaps it was different, because Lahmia was not the product of being born to a mixture of species, but had rather taken them into herself. It shouldn't have made a difference, but it did so anyway, just like it did with clones; they always smelled to the Blood Hound like their original species but in an off way that often had her guessing at first.

So if she could copy the way the scent worked for clones to somehow apply it to Lahmia… "These people beyond the Rim," she asked, still thinking it over, "were they of the same species as could be found in our galaxy, as far as you remember?" That, at least, would give her a better starting point.

 

[Lahmia deWinter]

Lahmia laughed. "Tis been six centuries hence, but I thank thee for thy heart." She smiled over at her cousin in an effort to waylay any sorrow shared. Deep within the creature of the centuries, however, the loss ached. Yes, the one she loved had been truly beautiful and terrifying above them all. Such a passionate and devious woman that had guarded their union jealously until the end. "What was gained in loss can never be taken." Perhaps it was a combination of the Energy Vampire's genetics and her own deep need to never let go that had helped those traits persist despite it all. Even if she lost all memory of her beloved no one could steal her very being from Lahmia. It was hers, and she cherished what she had become for it.

"Yes," the woman's green eyes sparkled. "Of course. Mine daughter stands in command of mine ship while I am aroint this most instant, while mine Eldest rules in mine place Beyond." Lahmia's eyes shifted aside once more with a whimsical smile upon her lips. "One day I shall return there. I expect she shall seek to dispatch me to cement her leadership over the many hordes." Laughter bubbled forth as the red woman leaned back in the seat. "Oh, so fortunate would I be would she'd become so firm-set in mine absence. A Mother would be so fortunate."

Scherezade's question then drew Lahmia's eyes, and the red woman leaned in close once more. "The like?" A slow visual accounting of those in the cantina then followed. Once Lahmia finished, she turned back to her cousin. "Not in the slightest." With a chuckle, she slid closer to rub shoulders with her cousin while she spoke. "Not natively. Methinks some from hither find their way there. Most haply. Few survive long, with most ending up as a snack or a meal for the ravenous creatures there. Mine own crew dwindled in count apace once we had arrived. Fortunate was I to navigate the perils long as I had. Hard won were the supplies needed to fuel the ship, or sustain its crew. Why, the vessel I hast returned upon is hardly the like that left this most galaxy. I wonder if there could haply a lone bulkhead inurn'd somewhere from that time." A soft hum of thought followed the thought. "Truthfully, I have not been impressed of those I hast seen hither. They seem so soft. Delicious and ripe for consumption, and ill-prepared to survive if set upon."

Lahmia lifted her head to turn and look over at her cousin. "Do thou hit together thus? Are these," the inhabitants of the station, "all the galaxy has to offer us?"

Tag: [member="Scherezade deWinter"]​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

[member="Lahmia deWinter"]​

Mine daughter. Scherezade's eyes sparkled at the sound of that. Her cousin had children, which meant more cousins, which meant more- No. That, it did not. Lahmia's daughter was beyond the galaxy's edge, which meant that Scherezade could not meet her. But still – Lahmia was here, and Scherezade smiled as she realized her cousin had shifted in their seat so that now their shoulders were touching, and Scherezade didn't feel uncomfortable at it, did not find her body shrinking in its place at the demand for more personal space. If Lahmia had her heart set on harming the Sithling in any way, she would find her an easy prey in that moment. So thirsty for family love and warmth, so vulnerable in her need to have them around. It was a weakness that had frequently been exploited in the past.

When Lahmia commented that she was not impressed with what she'd seen thus, Scherezade gave her an impish grin.

"This is just a space port," she explained, "it's a place where people pass through from one place to another. It doesn't represent anything other than open skies; the freedom to move about. It's also sort of a pretty much nowhere and not important planet so no one really has any reason to invest their strong forces here. People coming from beyond the Galaxy's edge is something that happens rarely to never. You're unique in that."

Taking a sip from her drink, the Sithling looked to her red skinned cousin again, "There are over a thousand planets with at least ten times that amount of different governments, cultures, and various things to see and explore. I have my grandmother's memories branded into my head and the galaxy that exists now so much more bigger and complex than the one she and your grandfather and the others had lived in. The main question is… What do you want?"

 

[Lahmia deWinter]

Lahmia did not think herself a monster with a ravenous appetite for betrayal or exploitation. Such things had at times been necessary for the survival of those she cherished or her own, but they were far from normal behavior. Could she had exploited Scherezade's hunger for family? Certainly. Fortunately, there was no reason to do so. Merciless, bloodthirsty, and selfish she and hers may be, but they were not mindless. She had taught her children to find a means of sustaining one's own number while whittling away (or crushing) those that opposed them; and even then they should take care not to annihilate all enemies of worth lest they be left... well, as Lahmia presently felt about the galaxy she'd returned to -- adrift with nothing to look forward to.

The red woman's green eyes scanned the interior of the establishment they occupied as Scherezade described the station and its position in the galaxy. "This relieves me greatly." A smile graced her dark lips as her gaze returned to the woman most helpful and quite taken with explaining matters to the newcomer.

"A thousand worlds?" This would do well to occupy her with the long years to come. One could go mad without new experiences to engage the mind, and new foes whose weaknesses and strengths were not easily recited. As for her crew, so many planets and...cultures were sure to have considerable number to feast upon (for those that preferred living flesh to domesticated or well-cooked sources).

"In truth I felt summoned to this galaxy, though I wot not why. I hoped to find new experience and challenge for mine crew and I. I do not condone senseless slaughter of the unsinew'd, yet if the galaxy lacks moe than what is on display hither it may join to that. Mine crew expects a struggle to survive, and as their Captain it is mine place to find battle worthy of their hunger." A smirk tugged at her lips for a moment. "I, myself, desire mine meals to put up a fight ere submitting to the inevitable." Was that monstrous? Would anyone tell Lahmia? As things were there wasn't the least bit shame in admitting she enjoyed it best when her source of life-energy fought to their bitter end tooth and nail. From where Lahmia came from that's simply how things were done.

"But I talk. Prithee, Cousin, what is't now that thou seek? What fortune that brought us together hither that we might wot each other."

Tag: [member="Scherezade deWinter"]​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

[member="Lahmia deWinter"]​

Scherezade had a small smile to offer as Lahmia said that this relieved her greatly, and even more so a moment later at the thousands worlds. How much had knowledge compared to seven hundred years ago changed? She was pretty sure that the planets had always been there, but could it have been that seven hundred years ago, many of them were unknown? The thought was strange to the Sithling, but it wasn't important enough to ask about it right there and then.

She sipped quietly from her drink as Lahmia continued to explain how she'd felt summoned into the galaxy. It was a feeling Scherezade was all too familiar with, though it hadn't actually pulled her from or to galaxies.

"There are many struggles in this Galaxy," she said with a little smile, "Large governments war with each other plenty. The Sith Empire lays to the North while the Confederacy is in the South, and between them are the Jedi and a handful of others. Several groups control the Core, and the Outer Rim is under grabs by some Coalition that I don't really know much about."

But then again, she'd never cared too much for the planets in that territory. The first time out of a grand total of two that she'd even traveled there, she ended up getting arrested for a crime that the person arresting her admitted he knew she had not committed. It was not a friend place.

Looking around, as if to assure herself that no one was looking, no one was watching, no one was listening, Scherezade took Lahmia's hand in her own.

"You are strong, you are capable, and you have a lot to bring to the table," she said, her voice just above a whisper, "Nearly every large government that you will come across will try to lure you to their ranks."

It was true, wasn't it. Her job as spy, being sent to all corners of the Galaxy, she had seen it with her own two eyes. She had experienced some of it as well, with offers flourishing from several directions. You will be more than a senseless fighting machine, so many had promised her. She had rejected them. Sometimes, more often than she cared to admit, she wondered whether that rejection had been the correct choice or not.

"Do not fall for their honey traps, cousin. Not until you have seen and explored more," Scherezade advised her cousin, "This is not the same Galaxy you and I were born into. Everything is different. Do not make the same mistakes that I have made and am still paying penance for."

 

[Lahmia deWinter]

Lahmia's green eyes met those of her cousin as the other woman took her hand. "Wise words, cousin. Want thou not worry of me and mine taking place with any hastily. Many the years hast been. I scarcely recollect this realm as having once been mine own." With a bark of laughter, she gave Scherezade a gentle squeeze of the hand. "I forsooth doubt it recognizes me. No," she paused to smile for just a moment, "I hast yet cause to kneel ere any other. I tore the throats of mine enemies out for ages hence and laid claim to climatures of space no sane creature would dare. If the like might need be done hither, so be it, but on mine terms, yes?"

A soft chuckle followed. "Truthfully," she regarded the young woman from another era, "while we hast only just met, I would sooner hark thy words than that of some lesser being content to rule from the safety of some lofty perch." There were no guarantees blood accounted for anything. Lahmia did not trust Scherezade simply because they were of the same family; long had been her days and the brutality of survival left its marks. That said, the other deWinter certainly had the red Queen's attention. If nothing else, this long lost cousin seemed of the sort to get into trouble... Lahmia wouldn't mind a little trouble.

"Of that, I wonder, of what rule hast thou learned harsh lessons of? Whose doth thou choose to ally yourself with?" if Scherezade was giving a word of warning, then it stood to reason she had an opinion on those more trustworthy than not -- even if it was only in herself.

Tag: [member="Scherezade deWinter"]​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

[member="Lahmia deWinter"]​

On her terms. Yes. Scherezade nodded enthusiastically, squeezing her cousin's hand back. Lahmia had told her a little of what her life had been like this past near-millennium, but Scherezade still couldn't quite properly imagine all of it. She had felt the need to warn her cousin and the worried feelings that had been attached to that feeling were ever present.

But then came the hard questions.

"I am with the Confederacy," she said quietly. How many times had she said such statements with pride and smiles? But it had been a very long time since she last could. Quite, short of some of her time with the Ministry, her entire stay with the Confederacy had been… Mostly bad.

"When I was released from my prison, I did not know that other choices existed, and I became part of them before I'd existed as an adult for a full two hours. They… They gathered information on me, knew of my home planet, of family, of things I never wanted to be kept anywhere. After I was arrested by Coalition forces for a crime they knew in advance that I had not committed, they relied on that information because they'd somehow gained access to it… I had a slicer get into Confederate datafiles and the information altered. For that, I am serving penance. Six months, which are almost up."

It was… A very condensed version of the events that had happened. Scherezade left out the entire broken, trying to kill herself, failing, getting her sister, and other events that had happened in it all. The story was a complex one, and there were wounds she was not quite willing to share just yet. But while she could not tell her cousin absolutely everything right now, she did not lie about a single detail. Her cousin, unless she gave her a reason to treat her differently, would only hear truths from her.

"I would not recommend it," she almost whispered. Who knew what droids listened. "The galaxy is bigger, and has more to offer than this."