First Reply The Places Between

[Liin Terallo]

The station did not have a name she cared to remember. It had a designation, of course; an alphanumeric string stamped across bulkheads and transit schedules, but names implied permanence. This place did not deserve one. It drifted in the quiet between more important destinations, a waystation for cargo, contracts, and people who did not wish to be asked questions. Liin found that she preferred it that way.

The hum of the station was constant, a low vibration beneath her feet as she moved along the promenade. Ships came and went in slow procession beyond the transparisteel viewport, their silhouettes cutting across the distant starlight. No one lingered long enough to notice patterns. No one stayed long enough to notice her. That, too, was preferable.

Once, she had been someone whose presence shifted rooms. Boardrooms had quieted when she spoke. Markets had turned on her decisions. Entire divisions had risen or fallen on the weight of her approval. She had understood systems then; how to move within them, how to shape them, how to make herself indispensable to them.

And when that had been taken from her, she had built something new. A different kind of influence. A different kind of power. Something that had made the galaxy take notice in ways that she had not anticipated.

Her fingers brushed absently against the ring she wore; the faintest glow pulsing beneath the gemstone as a pair of travelers passed nearby. She did not look at them. She did not need to. Even now, it lingered: her work, her choices. They were not gone. Not entirely. Just… no longer hers to pursue.

Liin exhaled softly and continued walking. There were terminals here that would take her credits without question. Ships that would carry her to any number of destinations she had no intention of remembering. Work, if she wanted it. Contracts, consultations, negotiations; she had seen the postings. Glanced at them and moved on. Nothing had held her. Nothing had felt worth staying for.

A group of merchants argued quietly near a loading corridor, their voices low but tense. A courier brushed past her with hurried apology. Somewhere deeper in the station, music filtered faintly through the metal bones of the structure. It was something lively, something that belonged to people who still knew how to exist in one place without looking over their shoulder.

Liin slowed near the viewport, her reflection faint against the stars beyond. For a moment, she simply stood there. Not arriving. Not departing. Just… existing in the space between. Her gaze shifted slightly, not quite focusing on any one thing, but aware of everything around her in that careful, measured way she had never quite been able to unlearn. If someone spoke to her, she would hear it. If someone watched her, she would know. And if something - anything - gave her a reason to stay…

She had not yet decided what she would do.

Tag: OPEN

 

[Parvati]

The galaxy didn't remember you, the stars never knew your name, and nothing really mattered. Those were the things Parvati had learned on her sabbatical from the public eye. The Mistress of the House of Parvati had always known how to read a market, to feel its shifts before others could name them, and when the slow collapse of Hutt Space became impossible to ignore, she stepped away from it entirely. Not loudly, not in some dramatic display, but cleanly. Quietly enough that most would assume she had simply… vanished. It had been as freeing as it was unsettling, and she found she preferred it that way.

The day-to-day operations of the House were left in the hands of women she trusted, capable, loyal, and just ambitious enough to keep everything moving without tearing it apart. Credits still flowed, siphoned and obscured through careful hands and cleaner books, leaving Parvati with more than enough to sustain whatever version of herself she felt like being that day. For the first time in years, she wasn't tied to boardrooms or expectations. She moved from port to port as she pleased, indulging in whatever caught her attention and leaving before anything could begin to feel permanent.

The job on Coruscant had been almost insultingly easy. An old contact, a familiar ask, a generous payout for work that barely required her full attention. She completed it cleanly, efficiently, and without leaving anything behind that could be traced back to her. The bonus had been expected. The work itself barely worth remembering. What lingered instead was the restlessness that followed, that quiet itch beneath her skin that no amount of credits or distraction ever quite satisfied.

She was already considering how quickly she could burn through the payout when she stepped back into the spaceport, the thought half-formed and fading as her attention shifted. A presence that didn't quite belong to the rhythm of the station. Her gaze moved past it once, then returned, slower this time, more deliberate.

Familiar.

Parvati stilled for just a moment, the faintest tilt of her head betraying the shift in her attention as she studied the woman near the viewport. Time had passed, clearly, but not in any way that mattered. Some things didn't fade like that. Some people didn't either.

Of all the places. The corner of her mouth curved, something quiet and knowing settling in as she turned fully on her heel and closed the distance between them, her steps measured, deliberate, impossible to mistake for hesitation.

"Liin?" Her voice cut clean through the space between them, soft but precise, velvet wrapped around something far sharper. "It's been far too long."

Liin Terallo

 

[Liin Terallo]

The name reached her first, threading through memory before she allowed it to surface. For a moment longer, Liin remained by the viewport; her reflection faint against the stars as though steadying herself in that quiet, in-between space that she so often occupied. Then she turned. “Parvati.” There was something gentler in the way she said it. Not surprise, but recognition that carried it's own quiet weight. Her gaze settled on her fully, taking her in with that same careful attention, though not quite as guarded as before. “It has been a long time.” The words came easily and without any edge to them.

A faint breath of something almost like a smile touched her expression. It was not fully formed, but present enough to soften the distance between them. “You always did have a way of appearing where you’re least expected,” Liin added; her tone lightened just slightly, as though the observation carried a trace of familiarity rather than suspicion. Her hands came together loosely before her, fingers brushing once in a small, grounding motion. “I was not sure if you had chosen to disappear,” she continued, “or simply found somewhere that held your attention longer than most.” There was no accusation in her statement. Just quiet curiosity.

Her head tilted a fraction, studying her not as a stranger, but as someone she had known… once. “And now you are here.” This time, it felt less like a statement of implication and more like an opening. Liin’s gaze held hers, steady but softer than before. “I hope,” she said quietly, “that time has been kind to you.”

Tag: Parvati

 

[Parvati]

Parvati held Liin's gaze as she spoke her name, letting it linger just a moment longer than necessary before she chose to break it, her attention shifting in that quiet, deliberate way of someone taking stock rather than looking away. She had always been in the business of information, and distance had never meant absence. Time, silence, even disappearance, none of it made people difficult to follow if you knew where to look. Liin, especially, had not been hard to keep within reach. Not with the kind of noise that tends to follow the type of things she was involved in. Parvati exhaled softly through her nose, something faintly amused settling in her expression as her attention returned to her, measured and deliberate without needing to say why.

"My dear, it is never chic to be the last one at a party." Her weight shifted subtly. "Not when the Hutts have already burned the place down and Black Sun is fighting over the ashes." She took a moment to look past Liin, into the same viewport she had been watching earlier. "And the Imperials…" she added, quieter now, the faintest edge slipping into her tone, "they never do know when to leave something broken."

Parvati stepped closer then, closing the space between them to embrace her. It had been far too long. As she pulled back, a faint, knowing smile touched her lips. "I wouldn't say time has been kind, but it has been lucrative." She looked to Liin just a moment longer. "How have you been, dear? I heard about Makeb… unfortunate." Parvati spoke in a hushed tone to make sure no one would overhear. She paused just briefly, as if considering whether to leave it there. "Though I imagine it was less the incident and more what came after that kept you moving."
Liin Terallo

 

[Liin Terallo]

Liin did not pull away from the embrace. For a brief moment, she allowed it; the contact, the familiarity. It was something steady in a life that had not allowed for much of it. When Parvati stepped back, Liin’s hands lingered lightly at her arms before falling away again, fingers brushing once together as they settled. “There was a time,” she said softly, “when I would have agreed with you.” A faint trace of a smile followed, touched with something more thoughtful than amused. “Though I suspect I was never particularly good at leaving when I should have.”

At the mention of Makeb, the smile faded; not abruptly, but in that quiet, inward way of something acknowledged rather than resisted. Her gaze drifted briefly towards the viewport again; the stars beyond offering no answers, only distance. “It was… what it needed to be,” Liin replied after a moment. There was no defensiveness in it. No attempt to reframe it into something else. Just acceptance.

Her hands came together again, a small, familiar motion grounding her as she continued. “What followed was less… controlled.” A slight pause, as though choosing the shape of the words rather than avoiding them. “For a time, it seemed as though everyone had an interest in finding me.” There was the faintest hint of dry irony in that, though it did not quite reach her eyes. Liin’s gaze returned to Parvati then, steadier now. “They do not anymore.” The words were simple, but there was a quiet weight to them. Not triumph. Not quite relief. But something closer to release. “I suppose that means I no longer have a reason to keep moving,” she added, softer this time. “At least, not in the way that I was.” Her fingers brushed together once more, slower now. “But habits…” A faint, almost self-aware curve touched her lips. “They are more difficult to leave behind than circumstances.”

Her gaze lingered on Parvati, something warmer settling there now and more present than before. It had been many months since she had come across someone that she knew, let alone held a conversation. “And you?” she asked gently. “Have you found somewhere worth staying? Or simply learned how to make every place feel that way?”

Tag: Parvati

 

[Parvati]

Parvati listened without interrupting, her attention fixed on Liin in a way that suggested she was taking in more than just the words themselves. There was something different there now, something quieter than before, but not weaker for it. If anything, it felt more deliberate. The kind of stillness that came after movement, not in place of it. The corner of her mouth curved faintly at that, something measured settling in behind it.

"People tend to lose interest once the spectacle is over," she said lightly, her tone carrying just enough weight to suggest she understood exactly what Liin Terallo meant without needing her to elaborate. "Though I've found that kind of quiet rarely lasts as long as people expect."

At Liin's question, that faint smile returned, more restrained this time. "Places don't tend to hold my attention," Parvati replied, her voice smooth, even. "People do." She let that sit for a moment, her gaze settling on Liin again, steady, appraising.

"And every so often," she added, almost idly, "someone proves worth keeping an eye on."

 

[Liin Terallo]

Liin’s gaze lingered on Parvati, noting the steadiness in her presence. There was comfort in it; a familiarity that reminded her of what it was like to be seen without expectation. But she kept herself anchored, careful not to linger too long. Her want is friendship only. She is not trying to recruit me, she reminded herself, even as a small, reluctant part of her thought of what it might have been, or could have been, with others.

“I suppose,” Liin said softly, letting the words settle, “some people leave a mark that is not tied to a place or a circumstance.” Her fingers brushed against the console beside her in a small, grounding motion. “It is rare to find someone worth noticing - not for spectacle or expectation - but simply for the steadiness they offer.” Her eyes returned to Parvati, calm and measured. “I have spent a long time moving from place to place,” she continued, “letting necessity dictate my path. Perhaps it is time to let certain things remain, even if just in the quiet moments between everything else.” A faint breath passed, and she added, almost as if clarifying herself, “Not all connections need to lead to somewhere. Perhaps some are enough simply for what they provide in the present.” Her gaze softened slightly; not romantic, not longing, just present and honest. The choice of isolation has come with a cost that she did not take into account. It had left her disconnected from everything; a side effect from her experiments that saddened her in ways that she could not of imagined.

She looked back to the viewport, the stars stretching on beyond the ship. I will not let myself revisit what might have been with Balun Dashiell . Not now, not ever. Every visit even with his father, Judah Dashiell makes it feel like an upward battle against those rumors - and of myself. She kept her thoughts close, sealing them behind the locked doors that prevented emotional discourse.

Tag: Parvati

 

[Parvati]

Parvati watched her as she spoke, her expression settling into something quieter, though no less attentive. There was a certain kind of honesty in it, the kind people arrived at only after exhausting every other version of themselves first. The corner of her mouth curved faintly, not dismissive, but not entirely convinced either.

"People like to say that," she replied, her tone smooth, unhurried. "That things can simply… exist as they are. No direction, no expectation." Her gaze lingered on Liin for a moment longer, measured, thoughtful in its own way. "It's a comforting idea."

She shifted slightly, her attention drifting briefly toward the viewport before returning again. "Though I've found most things don't stay that way for long," she added, almost idly. "Not when they're worth noticing."

Parvati glanced past her then, toward the promenade, as though considering something before deciding on it. "Walk with me," she said, not quite a request, but not forceful either. "There's a place not far from here that serves something better than whatever passes for a drink on this level." Her gaze returned to Liin Terallo , steady, expectant without pressing. "We can let things exist… a little longer."

 

[Liin Terallo]

Liin did not answer right away. Instead her gaze lingered on the viewport a moment longer; as if the stars might offer her something simpler than the choice now placed before her. But they did not. They stretched on as they always had; vast, indifferent, and impossibly open.

We can let things exist… a little longer. The words settled somewhere deeper than she had expected. For so long, direction had meant necessity. Survival. Movement dictated by risk, by pursuit, and by the ever-present calculation of who might be watching, who might be closing in. Even her work - her purpose - had become something tangled in expectation, in consequence. In fear of what it might turn her into.

And now a walk. Something small. Something unmeasured. Her fingers stilled against the console. “That is the danger, isn’t it?” Liin said quietly, though there was no resistance in her tone; only thought. She turned slightly, her gaze returning to Parvati. “When something is worth noticing it rarely remains simple.”

A faint breath followed, softer this time. “I have spent a great deal of time ensuring that things do not become complicated,” she admitted. “It is easier to leave before they do.” Her eyes held Parvati’s then, steady but not closed. “Easier to assume the direction before it reveals itself.” There was a pause; long enough to matter, short enough not to retreat. “But assumptions,” she added, almost to herself, “have a way of narrowing possibilities before they are ever given the chance to exist.” Her gaze shifted briefly, not away, but through the moment - as if weighing something unseen. It was a new direction. The thought carried weight. Not ambition. Not discovery. But uncertainty. And beneath it a quiet, unwelcome curiosity.

Liin straightened slightly, the movement subtle but deliberate, as though aligning herself with a decision she had not fully named. “Very well,” she said at last. It was simple. Unadorned. But it did not carry reluctance. Her hand left the console, folding lightly at her side as she turned to fall into step beside Parvati. “But I should warn you,” Liin added, a faint hint of something almost wry threading beneath her calm, “I have been told I am not easily convinced by ‘whatever passes for a drink.’” A small glance toward Parvati followed that was measured, but present. “Though I suspect,” she allowed, “that may not be the point.”

Tag: Parvati