The Lady Doth Protest Too Much, Methinks

[Aver Brand]

A pair of boots made a small noise as the feet bearing them touched the ground, crushing dirt beneath the metal heel. Dirt that may very well have been cracked and burned if the negotiations all those months ago hadn't gone so… smoothly.

The owner of the boots smiled as she dusted off the heavy coat draped over her shoulders. The expression, like so many times before, was obscured and unnoticed by the world, courtesy of the darkened glasteel serving as the visor of her helmet. Normally there was a skull's grin plastered over the black surface, but today the woman had opted for a modicum of subtletly. Looking nothing more than the well-armed mercenary she was these days, the woman ran an absent hand along the wither of the imposing animal at her side as she consulted the datalogger on her wrist for directions.

Admittedly, she was used to landing smack dab in the middle of wherever she needed to be, unheeding of the inhabitants' complaints. It was one of the privileges she'd come to miss the most, because travel was so very time-wasting that it nearly drove her mad. In the end she took up learning a few new languages while in transit, and that seemed to be enough for the time being.

"Come on," she urged the beast on her right, departing for the Irontown Market district with her usual expediency.

The hustle and bustle she discovered there was hardly surprising, but annoying nonetheless; finding a particular individual in the throng of milling people was proving to be as frustrating as it was futile. At least Lying Hound at her side made sure that her passage through the crowd was unimpeded by the masses, as people left and right scrambled out of their way.

Her posture had been reduced to a veritable hunched prowl by the time an hour had ticked by, and all the traces of her morning smile were gone.

"Let's grab something to eat," she ground out to the beast and made for the group of stalls where fresh game was being sold and cooked, much to the delight of the carnivorous pair. They had a practically identical diet, Aver had found, with the minor difference of alive and squirming in the hound's case. Grudgingly, the armored woman stepped at the end of the line, scouring the row in front of her for potential gaps where she could insert herself with clever usage of metal-clad elbows.

Such plans were quickly forgotten, however, when she noticed the face she'd spent her whole morning looking for.

Gotcha.

Icy eyes settled on the sharp profile of one Lord Volden, standing off to the side tapping his foot as he glared pointedly at a snot-nosed whelp who'd just jumped line in the exact manner Aver had been planning.

"You," she called out to the thin man as she approached, two long strides closing the gap between them. "I need to speak to your Queen."

"Now."

[member="Quietus"]​

 

[Quietus]

Were it not for the fact that they were in a hurry Volden would have snatched the boy by his ear and hauled him to the end of the line. Yet time was always ticking against them and Volden had two other pupils to tend on this day. Dahldesa and Eordahn had finally reached an age where lessons could begin and though the man was no more keen on children than his own Master was, Dahl and Dahn had proven to be far more willing to follow than the whelp he presently watched over today.

Besides, [member="Ari"] had actually faired rather well on his hunt, all things considered. After his first outing with Quietus nearly a month ago he'd learned to curb his exuberance into focus when he realized he was actually good at it. The boy had scored two adult male maalraas today, the carcasses already given to the local tanner to render for pelts to be sold through the Beastiary while the bones would be added to the boy's slowly growing collection.

"We'll have the fangs made into a gift for your mother," Volden said while Ari waited in line for his turn to order, "she'll be very proud of you for your success today." The male maalraas had damn near broken the record for sheer size, but not quite. "Won't be long before you're off on your first zakkeg hunt-"

"You."

Volden's gaze snapped to the owner of the voice: a rather tall, armor clad woman of whom he had no familiarity, "Yes...can I help-"

"I need to speak to your Queen. Now."

"...you."

The man narrowed his eyes, crossed arms dropped to his sides as he considered the woman and her ...rather formidable pet taking up the entire merchant square aisle while sitting on its rump. "It..." with an odd look around her he noted that several tribes children had taken to running circles around the creature, one even so bold as to clambor onto its back. To the beast's credit it took this in stride, albeit with a rather annoyed look about it - ears flattened, head sunk. An adult quickly and warily whisked the child away, shooing off the others. We do not play with beasts we do not know, Volden heard the man admonishing them in the tribal tongue.

The hound gave a soft shake and watched them go with pricked ears.

Volden cleared his throat and moved to step himself fully infront of Ari to shield him from view and the potential threat, "The Beastia doesn't take audience with strangers, I'm afraid. If you're looking to make a purchase from the Beastiary I would direct you to their headquarters at the Citadel."

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Aver Brand]

Her gaze flickered briefly to the boy that tried to peer around the billowing robes of Lord Volden, but her attention was reclaimed by the man in question too quickly to get a good look at him.

As she glanced back at Volden, her posture seemed to draw taut like the string of a bow before she forced herself to relax again, biting back a scathing retort. Behind the impenetrable visor of her helmet, twin rows of teeth stood glinting in the darkness; a sneer to do even the hound proud.

"[member="Quietus"] will take audience with me," Aver spoke, her tone definite. Her anger was swallowed, thinly pressed, and stored for use at a later date, when bolts and danger were heavy on the air. Here, violence would be unnecessary and – most importantly – unconducive to her goals.

"We're no strangers, the Beastia and me. In fact, she owes me an… explanation, and then some," the woman finished grimly, half a pitch above gravel and smoke.

Removing her hand from the hound's withers, she knocked lightly on the side of her helmet. "Go on, do your mental chit-chat thing."

"You can tell her blood and lilac is here to see her."

 

[Quietus]

A curious brow larked at the woman's insistance with no outward attention given to the boy other than a subtle shift of his stance to keep him from view. There were few lucky enough to invoke the name of Quietus and live to tell the tale. So, he surmised rather astutely, this wasn't simply a milk-run-woman after all.

"I see..." Volden said, thinking to himself that he'd seen this sort of pompous stature before but for the moment couldn't put his finger on when, "well I would but unfortunately the Beastia is well out of my range for such things. About 200 miles in the thick of the jungle, to be perfectly unexact."

 

[Aver Brand]

With measured slowness, Aver closed her eyes. She breathed in. She breathed out.

"I see."

She really didn't, but she could hardly backhand him in the main square of Irontown. Aver Brand wasn't allowed to do that, not like Vrag had been. These were different times, with no authority or consequence attached to her name, much less a fearsome title backed by legions uncounted. She was just a mercenary now, with all the power that carried.

With some facial gymnastics, the woman banished a growing scowl and focused again on Volden.

"Point the way, then. I'll go find her Highness myself."


[member="Quietus"]

 

[Quietus]

"From Irontown? Due north-west," Volden replied, "on the eastern slopes of the cradle, Carden Crags territory. You'll know it when you see pillars of steam on the horizon. She's overseeing development of Scarside Ridge which you can find plotted on current Imperial Sith maps."

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Aver Brand]

A strangled sort of snort tore from her throat at his words, infused with strange amusement. Curious, that the Queen would uphold the treaty even when the other party was dead.

Well, dead as far as the Galaxy was aware. Encased in molten rock atop a once-sacred hillock, now just another bump on the pockmarked surface of a dead planet. Glassed by its own lifeblood, Selvaris hung lifeless and cold in the void of space.

"Pillars of steam, right," she spoke, nodding slowly. "Well, then, thank you for your gracious assistance, Lord Volden."

With a mock bow, Aver turned on her heel, urging the hound with her as she made for the north gate of Irontown. Running her fingers along the frills around its neck as they neared the exit, the mercenary leaned closer, nearly whispering into its ear.

"Come, Puppy. Let's stretch your legs. Maybe we even catch a late lunch on the way there, eh?"

[member="Quietus"]​

 

[Quietus]

"Safe travels..." Volden bid the woman adieu with a wry smile that slowly leveled to a drooping scowl. Still couldn't place it, that familiar melodramatic something... He turned back to check on Ari, waving a dismissive hand at the boy, "Nothing for you to be concerned about."

Puppy, meanwhile, stalked beside [member="Aver Brand"] watching the comings and goings of the Irontown merchant sector with interest. Scaled ears pricked, the beast's gaze darted about, following the activity and bustle of bodies and machinery and flying creatures beyond the network of electrified cage wires slicing across the sky overhead. Upon reaching the northern entrance she paused just beyond the gateway, maw lifted high to catch the various scents on the wind. Even in the heat of the Onderonian afternoon sun a certain chill sent the scales along her spine hackling. A short glance was given to Aver at her words, replied to by the motion of a forked tongue passing over maw.

With a grunt and a chuff the tuk'ata hound set off along the dirt road, long powerful strides slowly gathering momentum and building speed.

Chugga choo...

 

[Aver Brand]

When you're learning something, four years is a good while to not only pick it up, but really master the skill. The skill in question was a curious one, and largely neglected, too, in the civilized and evolved space-era populace.

Riding.

Sure, it had taken her a good half year to even convince the hound to let her try, and of course it had ended spectacularly badly. But time passed, and the woman, stubborn as she was, persevered on the back of the beast.

Now, four years later, the red-haired devil was more than capable of mounting the creature not only while it stood still, but mid-run as well. Granted, it didn't look half as graceful, but nobody was looking anyway.

Aver broke into a sprint beside the hound as its paws pounded the dirt road, her own boots adding to the crescendo of cacophonous drumming. For one last time, a metal sole cracked against the path in purchase, and then the woman settled down into the familiar dip of the creature's spine.

Flattening herself along its powerful curves, the firrerreo dug in her heels and squeezed her thighs, disappearing in a cloud of dust.

___​

She arrived to the outskirts of what would eventually become Scarside Ridge in a similar manner, her cloak's black turned to a mottled brown from all the dirt they'd upset on the way there.

"I like you, Puppy, I really do, but I'd have preferred a Drexl for this ride. Scratch that, actually. I'd just take a frakking ship."

"Kark, my ass is so frakking sore…"

Trailing off, the mercenary discreetly fixed – well, tried, at least – her wedgie before approaching the perimeter. All round the earth was upturned, rocks jutting out like broken teeth, with man and machine alike wheezing in the background as they sacrificed sweat and blood in the sweltering heat of the evening. And for what? A prison town?

Whoever was driving these men and women was a harsh ruler indeed.

Naturally, it was exactly who Aver was looking for. She just had to get in, of course.

"Hi there, boys. How would you like to make my day and let me pass without a hassle? I promise not to break anything."

[member="Quietus"]​

 

[Quietus]

The beast snorted, idly stalking up to the perimeter fence with a lazy stride indicative of their two-day travel through monster infested jungle. A riveting adventure if ever there was one beyond the realm of a warfront, the pair had faced challenges likely neither one had been fully prepared for. Escaping the clutches of a rank drexl only to run headlong into a maalraas pack nest was certainly up there for hackle-raising encounters. But they'd eaten well in the evening hours having found a river and quite successfully fished out several large catches for dinner.

Turns out tuk'ata don't make the best swimmers but her reflexes in the shallows were hard to beat.

Sniffing at the high-tensile cables the hound kept her distance, aware by smell alone the sort of charge they carried; enough to keep a zakkeg at bay. Her attention, instead, drove upwards along the massive stone face of the ridge that towered thirty stories above their heads, inaccessible to them for the wall of wire.

"You must be the one from Irontown," grunted one of the men as he eyeballed the hound, "got here fast didn't you? Open the gates..."

A loud metallic buzzing cracked through the air as hydraulic gears powered open the massive entrance gates.

"Your beast is too big to fit in the lift. You'll have to walk the Spine up the side of the ridge. Don't get too close to the edge now."

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Aver Brand]

"News travels faster than I do, it seems," was all she said in reply, shoving past the sentries without a second glance.

After the ordeal of the jungle behind them, the winding path uphill was pure cakewalk. Sure, the earth was burgeoning with treacherous cracks, sure, the rocks seemed to crumble underfoot, and sure, the wind seemed Nether-bent on sweeping them both over the edge; still it stood meek and tame in comparison to the gauntlet they'd run over the course of the past two days.

There was something to be said about the prowess of people who braved those forests every day in search for food. She wouldn't say it out loud, of course, but the respect was there nonetheless.

Slightly winded, the woman finally mounted the swell of the slope, bracing surreptitiously against the hound as she took in her new surroundings. Groups of people in various states of undress were rushing about, some carrying equipment, others hefting materials for the ongoing construction. Hulking machinery slaved away in place of men at the particularly demanding bits, digging holes for foundations and leveling the ground where other structures would come to stand.

An impressive sight to be sure. Coordinated, efficient, decisive. Almost as if they were executing a plan fashioned by a pair of astute, pragmatic minds.

Smirking to herself, the woman scoured the site once more, this time looking for someone very specific. Led by a trail of drexl footprints, Aver followed her instincts to a makeshift tent erected off to the side of the main area, its red fabric striking against the background of mud and dirt.

Without a moment's hesitation, the firrerreo pushed past the flaps and stepped inside, ready to face the origin of her seething, inconsolable annoyance.

"[member="Quietus"]."

 

[Quietus]

The Beastia sat crosslegged on a woven mat with two young children no older than 4 summers; one a young boy and the other a girl. Twins of raven black hair and green eyes the color of a jungle lagoon beneath the twilight skies. The little girl sat in her lap while Quietus braided cornrows in her hair - in the child's hands was a long colorful loop of string that she and her brother knitted patterns into, taking turns in a game of Cat's Cradle.

For their apparent youth their motor functions were strikingly controlled and precise.

In the middle of his turn the boy looked up to the new arrival, a curious grin splitting his round, tanned faced to reveal two sets of fangs ... just like Quietus.

"Eor!" the little girl squeaked to grab back his attention. With a devious giggle he snatched the string out of her tiny hands and ran off through a side flap of the tent.

Quietus blinked, tied off the braid and pushed the little girl from her lap to go chase after him which the child did with a fair amount of cat-like zeal.

Strange of you to check in on the progress after being pronounced dead... that svelte tone invaded the woman's mind just as it had years before, the Beastia's gaze slowly slipping upwards from her seated position, taking in the new armor with some curiosity before settling on the visor where it seemed to look right through it, course you never actually died. Quietus smirked.

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Aver Brand]

She wasn't exactly sure what she'd been expecting. It wasn't children, though.

Neither was it that [member="Quietus"] would be so very… blasé about all this.

Aver Brand stood rather awkwardly at the entrance to the tent, wincing when the children breezed past her and the hound in their boundless enthusiasm to scrape their knees and muddy their clothes. She stood rather awkwardly and stared at the Queen of the Wilds, who in complete contrast was sitting rather comfortably on a mat, with the serene expression of a cat who'd not only eaten the canary, but marinated and sautéed it as well.

The woman let out a strangled little noise, finding herself as frustrated as ever when it came to the Beastia. It was a disturbingly recurring theme.

Finally, her legs obeyed her again, and the firrerreo moved deeper inside, letting the flap fall closed with the soft rustle of rough fabric. With her eyes still trained on the smirking greens of the woman in front of her, the warrior took off her helmet and approached her until her shadow spilled over the sharp features of the Queen.

"You left something behind," she spoke, choosing to ignore Quietus' miraculous knowledge. Though it was worrisome, Aver doubted that she would provide any answer other than a grin if she attempted to wring an explanation out of her.

No, the Beastia liked to be coaxed.

Begged, even.

"Three bloody stripes, right here," she continued, indicating their location on the surface of her armor. "They… won't go away."

"You will make them go away."

 

[Quietus]

Outside the tent the hound watched after Aver, perking curiously as two tiny child rushed out and bounded through its forelegs and beneath its chest, rushing off to run circles through the encampment. A chuff of breath pressed through its muzzle, a rumble too as its massive skull swayed to look back into the tent only to have the flap close in its face.

Mmmurrrr.

Sniffing at the flap and hearing Aver's voice inside the hound blinked. A short moment later the beast was overcome by a strange urge to find the children... To watch them.... Guard them. It turned in a fluid movement and stalked away following their scent.

Quietus, after breaking her gaze from the woman for but a fleeting moment turned it back up towards her as the helmet was removed. Ah yes, she'd never forgotten about those eyes of hers. Beastia leaned back on one hand as [member="Aver Brand"]'s figure moved to stand over her, feeling a bit like a mountain beneath a moon. Aver's aggrivation was palpable within the Force and the Beastia comfortably basked in it, head of unruly wheaten locks and braids tilting curiously to one side as those angry words spilled forth through pointed teeth.

Did I? she bit at her lip, mirth dancing in her eyes, 'fraid I don't remember that. You'll have to show me...

 

[Aver Brand]

Force, this woman irked her. As easily as water, [member="Quietus"] slipped in through the cracks in her armor – hairline fractures, nothing more – and wrought havoc on the rarely tested playground. Aver didn't let people into her mind, and yet the Beastia was there, smirking that awful, smug smile of hers.

The fact that she was some five heads shorter than the object of her amusement didn't seem to bother her either. Nothing seemed to bother her in that moment, to be exact, and that bothered Aver.

Again with the vicious cycle.

Objectively of course, the firrerreo knew she was being expertly baited. The glint in those emerald eyes said it all, lip-bite unnecessary.

"Stop that," she expelled with great restraint, the hard line of her jaw tensing as corded muscle shifted beneath the silver skin. "You know damn well what you did. Stop karking around and undo it."

Not please. Not yet.

 

[Quietus]

Quietus certainly had the collective discipline to hide her emotions and enough practice to do it without any pretense or thought, but she'd never been one to wear a mask. She had, since she could remember, always worn her life's story on her sleeves. Quite literally, if one were so inclined to decipher the myriad symbols upon her skin, it was all there.

Down to four symbols deeply embedded into the skin of her sternum: Devin, Arathul, Dhaldesa, and Eordahn. Try as she might to express a detached disdain for her children, they were something kept close at all times.

It's been four years, Beastia told the woman she only knew as Vrag, smile fading from her face as she reached into a nearby basked for a piece of dried meat, bringing it to her teeth and tearing a piece off to chew, a lot has happened since then. If I did happen to leave anything, a golden brow arched at the accusation, which I can neither confirm nor deny, what do you expect me to do without seeing it?

 

[Aver Brand]

"Neither confirm nor deny… what, are you a politician now?" Aver rolled her eyes, but her previous annoyance bled away as suddenly as it had boiled to the surface.

[member="Quietus"] was a Queen, which was close enough. Not your usual type, that was for sure, but royalty nonetheless.

"I don't even know what it is, or what it does. If anything. Does it do anything?" Her blue eyes narrowed at the Beastia still sitting complacently below her. It probably did, but she hoped it didn't.

"It's some tribal crap, isn't it? The mark of the Queen?" she pointedly queried with the quirk of a brow, voice dripping with poison. Slowly, she leaned forward until she was hovering mere inches away from the blonde's face.

"Because then you got it the other way around, Beastia. You don't get to conquer me."

"And you sure as kark don't get to own me."

She punctuated her words by stabbing the Queen in the chest with an accusing digit, her gaze unflinching. Still, by the astute observer, the faint upward curve to her lips would not go unnoticed.

"Since you insist, however… I will allow you to undress me."

I'm generous like that.

 

[Quietus]

A hand as quick a lightning reached up to grab the wrist from which the offending finger extended from, its grasp irontight.

Are these the thoughts keeping you awake at night for the past four years?

Hardly amused by the younger woman's melodramatic antics, the Beastia rolled her jaw with a deep sigh, giving the woman a look up and down with a pointed gaze. Wasn't the same armor as before - this one wasn't alive, much to her dismay. She rather liked the Vong armor the once-Hand had worn before. It had been a striking point of curiosity for the Beastia then and she wondered briefly what had become of it. Left on Selvaris perhaps? Doubtful, if her knowledge of Vong was right. Those sorts of things formed bonds with their counterparts much the same as the beasts here did with their riders.

She probably kept it close, if it lived still.

Quietus lifted the hand from her chest and released her grasp from it.

If you want to keep your armor in one piece I suggest you do it yourself. You won't like the results of my efforts.

 

[Aver Brand]

"… No."

A derisive scoff followed, complete with a flare of the nostrils. Aver Brand wasn't amused by the suggestion. Though bothersome at times, the fact that she'd waited four years to air her grievances, as it were, should've said enough. It certainly wasn't the at the fore of the mind when one deserted from the service of one of the most – if not the most – powerful wielders of the Force in the known Galaxy.

If anything had kept her awake at night, it was that, but with the Emperor's death, such concerns had become moot.

Whoever she was before didn't matter anymore. Today, she was just a mercenary. A mercenary who happened to kark a rather mischievous Queen in one of her past lifetimes.

"Oh, I don't know… if memory serves, your efforts were quite enjoyable the last time."

She drew to full height again, carefully pressing a few clasps until she could discard the phrik plates layered on top of the undersuit. A strange sense of nostalgia washed over her as she held the Beastia's gaze, peeling off the protective underlay to expose marred silver flesh.

"Satisfied?"

 

[Quietus]

Green eyes followed the progress of armor pieces as they were skillfully pulled and dropped one by one. Chestplate here, pauldron, a second pauldron, backplate, torso coverings, the gleam of phrik a familiar one. The woman chewed on her snack idly, swallowing as the last of the metal plates hit the ground, the sound of the zipper heralding the coming gleam of nigh-pearlescent skin. What hit the Beastia next was not the immediate desire to see the rest done away with, but the pungent scent of the woman's newly exposed flesh.

It was... strong, to say the least given [member="Aver Brand"]'s two day trek through the summer jungles, but not offensive. On the contrary the aroma was inconveniently alluring to the woman who had tasted it before and drank from its reserves of blood. Quietus pressed the dried meat to her lips again and tore a fresh piece off to keep her thoughts from wandering back into memories of euphoric bliss. Instead the rhythmic heartbeat of the mark upon her skin took the woman's attention - its presence undeniable.

"Satisfied?"

Quietus returned her gaze to Aver's with a silent but self-deprecating laugh. Satisfaction was an ... exceedingly difficult state to attain once one had lived for as long as she had. The Beastia pushed herself from the floor, rising to stand before the Mercenary in a manner that exuded placid confidence despite the glaring size difference between the two. After all her years she had mastered the ability to maintain a level gaze even when looking up at someone.

Beastia closed the distance and lifted a hand to the hem of the bodysuit where the zipper's tracks had already pulled open to peel back the material just enough to see the aforementioned mark.

Oh that mark, the woman replied with an idle glance upwards to those chilly blues, must have slipped my mind while I was enjoying your company... unfortunately there's nothing I can do. It's permanent. You only have yourself to blame for my apparent ...zeal. Normally bloodtrail marks are hardly noticeable.