Faction [THP] Among Rebels and Stars

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Odessen - Hidden Path Outpost

Equipment:
Formal Attire| Lightsaber | Modified DL-27 | Commlink | Tic

Ace smirked faintly at Vera's nonchalant tone. But before he could respond, a familiar voice chimed in from behind them. Tic perked instantly, warbling an excited string of notes before darting straight toward the armored figure. Ace shook his head as the little droid circled Aether's boots, chirping up at him like a kid reunited with an old friend.

Ace glanced back at his brother, eyes flicking from the polished beskar to the cape catching the moonlight. "Yeah, it's fighting that runs in the family." He muttered, lips quirking in a crooked half-smile. "You clean up well, ori'vod."

He'd brushed up a little on Mando'a, he hoped he was saying it right. Movement on the slope pulled his gaze next, it was Pari tugging Michael along, both of them spilling onto the rise. Ace's expression softened without him meaning it to. He gave Michael a friendly nod that was more than just casual greeting, then let his eyes settle on the younger girl.

"Hey, look who it is." His gaze flicked between Michael and Pari "Didn't think you two'd ditch the party."

The ashen haired rebel's dark eyes shifted across the growing group - Vera on the grass, Aether gleaming in the low light, Michael lingering nearby, Pari settling in with her bag of cookies. The quiet hilltop had filled fast.

Ace leaned back on his hands, tilting his head and glancing toward the stars above "Not exactly the escape I'd imagined. But I'll take it."

Vera Noble | Aether Verd | Michael Angellus | Pari Sylune ​

 

[Michael Angellus]

​

PERSONAL FLIGHT LOG – Entry #1943
Location: – Odessen
Assigned Craft: None
Astromech Partner: BRED (BB-30) (Getting an oil bath, go figure)
Current Mood: Quiet
Background Noise: Quiet night.

Well, everyone seemed welcoming. That’s a nice change of pace. I could really get used to being around here. I mean, I’ll always be grateful and loyal to the people of Naboo, but this is more my scene than that. Mom can enjoy that “royal house” scene, nothing wrong with that. This? I’m glad I came.

Wow, I didn't think I would ever hear myself saying that, even into one of these journal recorders… that I never seem to remember that they record everything... I grabbed a seat next to Acier. He seems a bit “different” more and more each day since we met. I mean, did I do something to make him mad? Naw, he’s probably teasing… or mad he didn’t get the chance to make his move on the Noble girl.

Just had to find “my group…

I’m going to pay for that somehow.


– Michael A.
BRED would definitely be calling me a “Wuss” by now.


TAG: Acier Moonbound | Aether Verd | Pari Sylune | Vera Noble

This is where he is speaking

 

[Xian Xiao]

This was going to be a new experience for Xian. She'd recently attended a wedding and knew how to behave in a formal setting. The invitation surprised her a little, but she would be happy to attend with him. Their meeting at his wife's funeral had been nice, and maybe it had allowed her to get under his skin a bit. Not that she'd even been trying. When he'd asked her to accompany him, she accepted without any hesitation.

Arriving together, they walked in side by side. The lighting was a comfortable level and the conversations were muted. Others were dancing, and some were drinking. A subtle thought crossed Xian's mind. If she were going to be spending more time with Caelan, she would need to get used to these kinds of events. His invitation indicated he might be interested in her on a deeper level. A realization hit the young woman. She wanted to get to know him as well.

Another thought flitted across her mind when she remembered he was royalty. She was, too, but it hardly mattered as it was a lower rank than his. It wasn't how she had grown up. It might have been to him, though, and she was still keeping it secret from him. This was something she had learned about herself several years ago and kept buried. It had made little difference in her life anyway.

Turning to face him as he asked if she wanted a drink or to mingle, it took a moment for her to find her voice. Yes, they had been travelling together, but this was the first time on this trip that she was able to look at him in his finery. It felt as though her heart had stopped for a second. He was stunning, and all she could do was stare for that second.

"You look great. What is normal? I have never been to something like this."

Leaving it up to him, she didn't want to take the decision away from him.

Xian's dress

Caelan Valoren

 

[Connel Vanagor]

REBELS AND STARS
ODESSEN
OBJ 1

Michael, Gabriel, Azrael, Sariel, Raphael, Jeremiel, Connel, Raguel
[Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]

Well okay, that was a surprise.

Not only was it something he was not expecting to hear, it was something that Connel had not truly known how to take. This was not a knock on the woman in front of him, but the fact that the youn… Vanagor had, ever since he stepped out of the bacta tank years ago, ever since that talk with Valery Noble aboard The Prosperity he changed. Connel was set on this unceasing, unending path to walk in shadows, to make the decisions other Jedi would never have to. If his father did the heavy lifting, he did the dirty work.

It was a definitively lonely existence. Meaningful in the results, but a heavy cost. Granted, he wasn’t a basket of anxiety like his young cousin “Michelangelo” (he hates being called that) was, but still, Connel had resigned himself to never getting involved with any type of social life. It was something he could not put anyone he could potentially care about through what his mother went through for so long.

Yet there she was, watching, while trying not to look like she was. That smile on her face fooled no one, she was egging him on.

Well… thank you. You are quite fetching yourself… Katarine… I’m Connel.

“Fetching”? Really? Just closing his eyes and shaking his head with an embarrassed smirk, he looked her way again. I’m Connel. Connel Vanagor. I wish there was a better way of doing things, but yeah. Master Noble over there… both of them… they stood by me at my worst… My first loyalty is to my family… my mother, my cousins… my uncle… but them? Wherever they need me. I’m there. Buster of course at this point hopped up on his hind legs and leaned his paws on Connel’s hip with a look that almost asked “You okay?”.

Connel just smiled and scratched his best friend’s ear. Of course you’re “family”, buddy. Looking back her way, he smiled.

Are you looking to be a part of this?

TAGS • ARE • WIDE • OPEN • TO • ALL • Katarine Ryiah • Thurion Heavenshield​

 

[Caelan Valoren]

What was normal?

"I'm not sure normal exists in this galaxy," he said with a bit of a wry smile. "Just the situations we find ourselves in and what we make of them."

She had complimented him and it took a moment for that part of what she said to register. Anavi had often complimented him, but not from the standpoint of attraction, just from the standpoint of his wife. He did not regret having married her, because the last years of her life were spent with freedom she'd never had under her parents. She'd gotten to go and study medicine like she wanted, to help people. It was a life that had been denied to her. He did regret putting her in the line of fire, though. If he hadn't, she might still be alive, albeit with someone who would never have allowed her to be who she was.

Xian, though, looked stunning as well. Her dress was beautiful and complimented her fair skin. She would certainly stand out in the crowd of Jedi and their friends that crowded into the gala. And a dog. Oh, Buster. He'd recognize him anywhere.

"But I think we can start by grabbing a drink and perhaps meeting some people."

If Buster was here, there was someone he needed to speak to, even if just briefly.

Someone came by with a tray of drinks and he grabbed two of them, flutes of champagne which he normally avoided but would allow for this one time. He offered one to her and then took her other hand with his to lead her towards where Buster was with Connel; the guy who had lent him a shield at the Battle of Tython.

"Connel," he said as he neared, nodding his head to the woman with him, "I'm sorry about your father. I apologize for missing his wake, as well."

He glanced at Xian and winked at her before looking back to the other two. "This is Xian Xiao of the Diarchy. My date. Care to introduce your friend?"

ATTIRE: LINK | WEAPON: Lightsaber | COMPANION: BD-F8 | OTHER: Sigil Bead (Necklace), Prosthetic Left Arm

TAGS: Xian Xiao | Connel Vanagor | Katarine Ryiah​

 

[Alana Calloway]

Tags: Amelia Zin
Gear: In Bio

The gathering of people forced her to move elsewhere, ducking towards the bar to avoid people trying to talk to her.

It was a tried and true tactic, and so, when she made her way over to get a drink, she was forced to wait for the bartender to sort out the orders before her.

She lets out a sigh, putting her hands together and staring down at the bar top. She got familiar with the comforts that bars provided, but they were just an illusion of comfort she found in time. Right now, that’s just what she wanted. A small illusion of normalcy to hide behind for the time being.

Seeing all these couples, people dancing with one another, it made her feel things that she didn’t want to feel right now.

 

[Amelia Zin]

Tag: Alana Calloway

The liquor burned down smooth but heavy, the second glass no kinder than the first. Amelia set it aside with a sharp clink, her eyes fixed on nothing, jaw tight. She didn't need to speak; Al read her like the guts of a starship engine, all frayed wires and smoke.

"Am," he rumbled, voice thick with booze but softer than usual. His big hand settled heavy on her shoulder. "I can tell. Something's been eating at you real bad. A long time now." He hiccupped, grimaced, then gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "I gotta piss. But when I'm back, you can tell me whatever the hell's rattling in that head of yours, yeah?"

Her teeth clenched, and for a long beat she didn't move. Then, wordless, she dipped her chin in the smallest nod. Al patted her shoulder, muttered drunkenly, and slipped off the stool, swallowed into the throng of ballgoers.

Left alone, Amelia ordered another. This time she didn't down it, but just let it rest in her hand, the weight of the glass anchoring her as her thoughts spun. She traced the rim absently with a thumb, eyes clouded, chest heavy.

What the hell am I even doing here? I don't belong here. I don't belong... anywhere.

She glanced out at the crowd, letting her gaze skim over silks and smiles, over strangers twirling in the softly lit hall. Jack and Carrie still danced, still glowing. She swallowed hard and forced her eyes elsewhere, anywhere, until they snagged on a figure further down the bar.

Her breath caught sharp in her throat.

The glass stilled in her hand.

Green eyes widened, lips parting just enough for the air to escape her chest in a rush that wasn't quite a word. For half a heartbeat her mind refused to make sense of what she was looking at, like she'd conjured a ghost out of smoke and longing. But the silver hair. The tattoos. The posture. The curve of a face she'd memorised once upon a time, far too well.

Alana Calloway.

Amelia sat frozen, her pulse thundering, the music of the hall fading into static behind the rush in her ears. A thousand feelings slammed into her all at once — shock, fury, relief, ache, dread — too many to separate, too many to name.

She couldn't speak, couldn't even breathe properly. She just... stared.

For the first time in months, Amelia Zin felt like the floor had been ripped out from under her completely.

 

[Alana Calloway]

Tags: Amelia Zin
Gear: In Bio

The bartender hadn't so much as glanced back, too busy filling orders for some pack of revelers down the way.

Fine. Let them laugh. Whatever. She could wait.

Alana kept her head low, silver hair slipping forward, eyes fixed on the scratched wood grain beneath her fingers. Anything to keep from looking at the crowd again, from seeing all that warmth she had no place in sharing.

But her eyes wandered anyway.

A flash of red in the corner of her vision. Green catching the light.

Her stomach dropped.

Amelia.

The name hit her harder than the strongest whiskey could've. She froze, breath sharp, fingers flexing uselessly against the bar. For a long, unreal moment she thought it had to be a mistake, a trick of the light, some cruel coincidence. But there was no mistaking that face. No mistaking the weight it carried.

The bartender slid a glass onto the counter in front of her with a dull clink. Alana didn't even reach for it. She didn’t move an inch. She couldn’t even remember what she ordered right now.

Her throat was dry as sand, her chest tight with something ugly and familiar. All she could think was how impossible this all seemed.

But the universe didn't care. Amelia was here.

Alana was shaking too much to even lift her drink.

She just stared in disbelief.

 

[Amelia Zin]

Tag: Alana Calloway

Amelia's grip on the glass turned white-knuckled. Her breath stuttered in her chest as the rush came — all at once, all over her.

Her mind split open with memory: the first time she'd eyed her with suspicion, Sith soldier and enemy, before cracks of something human had shown through. The late nights spent side by side when trust had crept in slow. The way Alana's warmth had melted her guard, how her perfume lingered like smoke on her jacket, how she'd never felt so… seen. Not by anyone. Not ever. The look in her eyes when Amelia had finally dropped her armour, let someone touch the parts of her she kept hidden. And then—

Gone.

No word. No trace. No goodbye.

Her throat burned. Her vision blurred. Every beat of her heart screamed with grief and rage, jagged as glass.

"A-Are you..." The words scraped out, broken. Her jaw clenched, her whole body trembling. "...Are you... fucking... kidding me."

The glass shattered in her fist.

A sharp sting lit through her palm as shards bit in, blood spilling instantly. She gasped, snapping her hand back as crimson welled between her fingers, the sting only half as sharp as the fire twisting in her chest.

"Fuck!"

The sound cracked out of her throat, rough and raw. Her eyes shot to Alana again, wide and wet and furious all at once, before she scowled through the blur, lips trembling but refusing to give her another word.

Then she turned, fast, clutching her bleeding hand against her chest as she shoved through the crowd, ignoring startled looks, ignoring the pain. The bathroom door swung open under her weight, slamming shut behind her.

She braced against the counter, dragging in breath after ragged breath, staring at the bloodied mess of her palm. Shards glimmered under the harsh lights. Her chest heaved, rage and heartbreak pounding so hard she thought she might collapse under it.

Why her? Why now? Why here, of all fucking places?

She forced her jaw tight, trying to push the storm back down, even as her hands shook and the sink water ran red.

 

[Jane]

Tag: Lestra Thairk

---

The beautiful music continued to play, and the passion on the floor never subsided. The Force's symphony was an odd one: while the majority of the strings were bright and happy, the combined presence of everyone around added a slight edge. An edge no doubt belonging to those lingering on the edge, much like Jane herself.

It was enough to make her want to leave, to not muddle the joyful song that hung in the air.

Jane was about to turn around when Lestra paused in his cheerful dancing before turning on his fancy-looking shoes and approaching her. Yet, the sight of him coming to a stop in front of her and kneeling down to reach her eye level, something few people do, relieved some of the tension in her fingers.

"Hello. Thank you, Lestra. Yes, I made it myself. I'm glad you like it." There was a brief pause as she noticed his bright grin while his presence was one of comfort and calm, with flickers of energy shimmering through like lightning, transporting her back to those nights when she ran through the forest with no goal in mind, just following the Force with the wild life running alongside her. "I like your suit. The white looks pretty against your blue hair." Jane returned the compliment, as matter-of-fact as always.

The girl's doll-like head tilted to the right as she listened to him, those black empty eyes leaving him to look around at the dancers. In silence, she studied them and their dance before returning her gaze to him.

"I think that I felt a little bit..." Jane's painted brows lowered as she dug through the emotions she'd witnessed in others. "Nervous?" Nervous felt fitting when compared to how others described that emotion.

But as Jane thought about what he had said—to not worry about anything else—she nodded suddenly. "Okay. I have made up my mind." As abruptly as usual, the girl grabbed Lestra's hand, a gesture she'd seen many others do and had done herself to Acier, and began to waddle towards a more central spot on the dance floor, close to where Lestra was before he headed her way.

When Jane arrived on the spot, she took one more look around the crowd before turning her gaze to Lestra. "How do you do this? I do not remember having ever danced."

 

[Lestra Thairk]

Tags: Jane
Outfit

"Wowie, you've got plenty of skill with a needle then. I can't make any clothin' to save my life. Glad ya like the suit though. I ain't a huge fan of it. Too...restrictive."

At that, Lestra tugged at the tie for a moment. Shaking his head afterwards as it wasn't what the important thing was. The important thing was making sure Jane was comfortable here. It was no surprise that he was protective of her and wanted her to enjoy things right now. She seemed too matter of factly like for Lestra to feel comfortable. Kids weren't meant to take things too seriously. Not yet at least. Then again, he couldn't say much. From what he had heard, Jane had a Master when Lestra didn't. Maybe being all matter of factly is how you got a Master...He shook his head once more dismissing that thought.

"Well. There ain't anythin' wrong with being nervous. It's a perfectly normal emotion. It shows that you're alive. Most living beings share emotions. Joy, happiness, sorrow, wrath, fear. I get how ya feel. But think of it this way Jane. Look at 'em."

He waved his hands off towards the people dancing, those going through actual dance moves and those just waving their arms around. The grin still evident on his face as he continued to speak, doing his best to cheer Jane up.

"There are people in there, who feel the same way as you. There are people in there who are nervous. Nervous about dancing. Nervous about tomorrow. But in this moment? They're all dancing as if they don't have a single care in the Galaxy. Because for today? All those worries and fears don't matter."

And then before Lestra knew it, he was being pulled off in the direction of where he had just came from. Well. That hadn't been what he had expected but his goal of getting Jane on the dance floor had worked.

"If you want actual dance Lessons, I ain't the right person to ask Jane. I just...move. I let my body do what it wants. Let yourself loose. Like..."

Lestra dropped down to the floor in the blink of an eye, before he started to throw his legs underneath his body, using his hands to push himself up off the floor, alternating hands as his legs continued to slide underneath him. It wasn't any fancy smancy dancing, but it was energetic which fit Lestra to a tee.

 

[Kain Aldore]

Tag: Open

It was great to see all these people in good spirits. War, conflict, concepts that seemed to only take people yet here and now had brought everyone together, the tune of the music where people could dance, the smell of burning firewood wafting through the hanger turned gala. It was no surprise to Kain there was a bit of serenity abound when surrounded by Jedi. His wounds had been mended, and he'd dressed the part. Black suit, a nice tie, his hair was still a mess though.

He'd seen Lestra Thairk and Jane on the dance floor, a smile graced his face, he was curious to see how they'd dance, Lestra had been... busting a move, and something from their interactions said that Jane wasn't the type to have studied formal dancing. Regardless, they were having fun, something Kain admired, because while he'd dressed the part and prepared for the makeshift gala, he felt the most out of place.

Hands in his pockets he'd made way towards his favorite hangout location of the night. The bar, spirits to raise spirits was the idea. Rasping his knuckles against the countertop, he leaned over just in time to see to a red-head he didn't know shatter a glass. Sitting upwards, he was cutoff by the bartender. "What's your poison?" Kains eyes drifted away from Amelia Zin and back to the drink slinger.

"I'm not picky, how about we make it strong and sweet, but not too sweet." The tender nodded and began mixing a few different bottles into a green concoction. Lifting the glass Kain looked back to hear, but saw another. No reason to white knight. Slamming the glass once against the table, he raised up, put it to his lips and just as quickly as the liquid was pulled down in a single go.

From there he moved away from the larger groups of people, picking out a crate, with a flick of his fingers it slid to the hanger wall. Kain unbuttoned the blazer and sat against it. His body in the hanger, his mind elsewhere.

 

[Vess Sadragen]

OBJECTIVE: I
Outfit

Vess arrived quietly, as she always did, but there was no mistaking her presence. The cream colored dress she wore wasn't flashy and that was by design. The dress fell just past the knees, fitted at the waist and marked by intricate designs embroidered along the hem and sleeves. Pale thread caught the light in subtle curves and lines.

Her hair was tied back in a simple braid, loose strands framing her face, and for once, her usual tools and trappings were nowhere to be seen. No weapons, no jacket and definitely no terminal, there was nowhere to stash it anyways, somebody needed to make a dress with pockets.

She didn't rush in. Nor did she say hello to anyone Instead, her eyes swept across the makeshift celebration the lights, the scattered laughter, the scent of warm food and worn leather. With an ease that was well practiced, Vess moved toward the edge of the gathering, slipping past clusters of peoplewith a nod here, a glance there. Eventually she found a place near the wall, where the music wasn't too loud and the lights weren't too sharp.

​

TAG: OPEN

 

[Delsin Shaw]

|| Objective I: Dancefloor ||
|| Tags: Aether Verd | Domina Prime ||​

There were many reasons to be here tonight. This Hidden Path were individuals who were rather unique. Already forming strong connections from what I had heard. While it was not a formal galactic might, the information provided to be by Aether showed that they were individuals who came together in an attempt to stay together, but also fortify themselves against the Galactic Empire. An interesting prospect. Also, Aether's Kid was here. It took little time from when the separation was made as he went off looking for the child. However, I had a feeling that someone within the group was going to be a potential problem child.

Domina. Her natural body and stature could very well scare some people. Not often you see a woman like her walking around. Even more so when it was at a formal event such as this. Instead of in the middle of some battlefield. As such, her boisterous voice boomed across the hall as she demanded more to partake in. I had a soft roll of the eyes.

"Domina, You are not one to squander participation of libations are you?"

As a server walked around, I reached out and gently grabbed the flute of some drink. No clue what it was, I downed the thing in one go. Knowing I would require it in order to deal with the rest of the evening if things were going like this. I made damn sure that I kept my signature within the force deeply seated in neutrality. I felt boxed doing so, however, I had been asked to do so by Manda'lor. A large majority of the people here were Jedi, or some kind of adjacent leaning group. Even then, it would not look good for a Sith to be showing up to the party in warplate.

As such, a quick adjustment of my coat, my hands moving to the lapels and making sure they were solidly in place. I breathed in deeply before grabbing yet another drink. This time, nursing a sip from its glass rim before moving past the large woman.

"Behave yourself if you'd kindly. Aether does not need more barricades than what is already set before him."

Taking my leave of her to meander the hall. Eyes playing over the people and their dancing. Talking, or otherwise enjoyment of the evening. For now, just walking and taking in the sights of those who came.

 

[Alana Calloway]

Tags: Amelia Zin
Gear: In Bio

Alana's eyes went wide before she could blink, silver hair parting back as the sound of shattering glass ripped through the bar.

Her breath caught, stomach twisting, as she saw Amelia clutch her bleeding hand, lips pressed tight, jaw trembling. The rage and heartbreak painted across her face made Alana's chest tighten painfully, every memory of their past came flooding back in a cruel, overwhelming tide.

She had done this to her after all.

Amelia shoved through the crowd with a force that left people staring, ignoring startled murmurs and bumping bodies. Alana's heart lurched as she tried to move, to call out, but the press of the bar and the dancers made her frozen in place.

The bathroom door slammed behind her, cutting off the last glimpse of Amelia's retreating figure. Alana's hands shook, silver fingers curling around the empty bar space where she had been standing. The echo of the glass breaking, the sight of blood on Amelia's palm, burned in her vision.

She didn't reach for her own drink. She was still trying to register what all had happened. Her chest heaved, heart pounding, mind spinning, and all she could do was watch the door swing closed, the sound final and impossible to ignore.

Alana's jaw clenched. Every instinct screamed at her to follow, to cross the hall, to grab Amelia and talk to her, but she remained rooted, silver hair falling over her face, the weight of guilt and longing pressing down like armor she couldn't shed.

She did move, slowly, and looking like a wreck as she followed Amelia, though several of the bar goers regarded her with awkwardness.

She couldn’t blame them.

But she wasn’t thinking about them now, only trying to work out what she could tell Amelia after all this time.

Would words even be enough for what she had done?

 

[Katarine Ryiah]

Tags: Connel Vanagor Caelan Valoren Xian Xiao

She caught a flicker of emotions cross his face at her compliment, hesitation, concern, surprise. All things she recognized intimately, each one a mirror of moments from her own life. The reason behind them? Complicated. And "complicated" was a language she spoke fluently. In truth, it was oddly comforting to meet someone else who seemed to understand that in this sea of easy romance and carefree dancing. Someone who didn't simply cast aside the weight of life to make starry eyes at a partner for the evening. She didn't know him yet, not really, but in that moment she felt she understood something about him.

As he spoke of the people he was helping, Katarine listened carefully. His words carried genuine respect, even admiration, for those he served. When he turned the question back on her by asking her purpose in being here, her answer didn't come easily.

"I'm not sure, to be honest. I want to make a difference." It was the truth, though she kept the rest locked away. Her darker thoughts that this war spun in endless circles, that victories never seemed to last, felt far too heavy to lay across the evening, or on him.

Before she could say more, a man and woman appeared, their faces drawn, their words heavy. They brought with them the news: Connel's father had passed away. Just like that, things became even more complicated.

"My name is Katarine," she said softly, glancing back at Connel, her eyes full of concern. "I'm sorry to hear about your father."

 

[Amelia Zin]

Tag: Alana Calloway

Amelia leant against the counter edge by the sink, her hand under the stream of cold water, blood swirling pink in the basin. Her jaw was locked so tight it hurt, eyes fixed on the wound like staring hard enough might make her forget the rest. Her breath came short, ragged, every inhale dragging fire through her chest.

She didn't even hear the door creak at first, not until the faint shift of air and the sound of a hesitant step. Her whole body went rigid.

Her head jerked up.

Silver hair. Tattoos. That face.

Her breath hitched sharp through her nose, and before she could even think she spat it out, voice raw and shaking with the force of months of swallowed hurt.

"Go. Away."

Her words cracked against the tile walls, louder than she meant, but she didn't care.

"Hasn't—" she hissed through clenched teeth, yanking a paper towel to press against her hand, glaring at the blood seeping through like it was Alana's fault for daring to exist. "Hasn't it been enough? Haven't you f-fucked me up enough?"

The towel stained red. Her knuckles trembled as she pressed harder, focusing on the sting, refusing to look at her again.

She bent her head back over the sink, muttering curses under her breath, damning herself, damning Alana, damning the entire galaxy that had let her believe — even for a breath — that she could have something real.

The sound of the faucet filled the silence between them, harsh and hollow. Amelia's shoulders rose and fell, rigid, as she kept working on her hand, refusing to give Alana the satisfaction of seeing her break again.

 

[Alana Calloway]

Tags: Amelia Zin
Gear: In Bio

Alana froze just inside the doorway, silver hair catching the harsh bathroom light, every instinct screaming at her to move closer, to reach out, to beg for forgiveness. She could feel the sting of Amelia's words like fire across her chest, every syllable a knife to her heart.

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, shaking slightly; not from fear, but from the ache that had settled into her bones the moment she saw Amelia bleeding. The words Go. Away. rang louder than the hall's music, and she swallowed hard, jaw tight.

"I…" She started, voice low, hoarse, barely above a whisper. But Amelia didn't look up, didn't give her the chance to speak. The paper towel pressed against the wound, knuckles white through the stain, shoulders rigid. Alana could see the fight in her, the damning of herself, all coiled tight in that posture.

She didn’t need the Force to know that Amelia was furious with her.

Alana forced herself to stay still, to let the silence stretch, to let Amelia's fury and pain have the space it demanded. Her green eyes didn't leave her, though they softened, shimmering just enough to betray the flood of guilt and longing she couldn't voice.

"I didn't…I never wanted to," She murmured finally, quiet, deliberate. "I didn’t intend to leave you. Not like that."

Her fingers twitched, aching to reach out, but she held them at her sides, the restraint nearly breaking her. "I-just… I'm here. I'm here now. That's all I can do, right now. I can explain everything, but I…I need you to listen if we do that."

Alana's voice shook, catching on the edge of her own fear and hope. She didn't step closer. Not yet. But she stayed, watching, waiting, every part of her willing Amelia to look up, willing her to see that she wasn't leaving again; no matter how much Amelia wanted her to.

She managed to find courage, or foolishness after a time. She stepped forward, letting the door close shut behind her.

She could only hope for a second chance.

 

[Amelia Zin]

Tag: Alana Calloway

Amelia finally lifted her head. Her eyes finally locked with Alana's. It was like being punched straight through the ribs. Those memories she'd buried, shoved down with drink and anger, crashed back all at once: the way Alana's laugh had warmed her chest, the press of her lips that night, the fleeting hope that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't broken beyond repair.

And then the silence that followed. Empty comms. A vanishing act that had gutted her like nothing else ever had. For months. Or even longer, she couldn't even tell anymore.

Her throat burned. She blinked hard, but a few tears slipped through anyway, stinging as they tracked down her cheeks. The hurt in her chest was unbearable, a thousand feelings all clawing at her at once. Love. Rage. Regret. Fear. She wanted to talk? Now? After everything?

She shook her head sharply, muttering half to herself, half to Alana, voice cracking.

"I... I can't do this right now. I can't do this."

She shoved off the counter, stepping forward with a kind of desperate finality. Her shoulder brushed hard into Alana's as she pushed past, shoving her aside against the wall. The bathroom door creaked open beneath her hand.

For a moment, just a breath, she froze there in the doorway.

Regret stabbed at her gut. She thought about apologising for the shove, for the rawness in her voice, for all of it, but the words wouldn't come. Her jaw clenched, her lips trembled, and she couldn't. She just couldn't.

She glanced back once, green eyes burning with pain, and then she slipped through the door in silence.

The music hit her again like a wall. Outside, the familiar faces of her crew waited, Duny, Rose, Jack with Carrie's hand in his, Al leaning heavy against the wall with that same concerned look. Their eyes all found her at once, and it only made her feel more exposed and vulnerable than she ever wanted.

"Fuck off," she snapped. She didn't stop to see the hurt flicker across their faces.

She bolted, tissue-pressed palm in hand, weaving through the press of people until she hit the exit. The night air hit her lungs sharp and cold, but she didn't dare slow. She kept moving, every step faster, until the glow of the base gave way to the hangars, until the looming silhouette of the Wildfire came into view. Home. Or at least the closest thing she had.

She climbed aboard and vanished inside, slamming the hatch closed behind her, a refuge where she could stew, break apart, and try to stitch herself back together in private.

 

[Alana Calloway]

Tags: Amelia Zin
Gear: In Bio

Alana stayed frozen in the doorway for a long moment, the sting of Amelia's reaction settling deep into her chest like ice against raw skin. The shove, the fury, the pain; it all landed on her with the weight of every month she'd spent trying to bury what she felt. She flinched, her hair slipped before her eyes as her head tilted down, throat tight, but she couldn’t bring herself to follow the woman. But she did manage to slowly depart from the gathering, avoiding the gazes, and just seeing her way out.

Her fingers brushed against the small pack of cigarellos tucked into the side of her thigh, stripped loose with a lighter. She had snuck them in for, reason, but only after leaving did she go back to her old comforts.

She bent slowly, collected them, hands shaking, the motion deliberate and controlled as if it could steady the turmoil inside her. She slid one between her lips, thumb flicking the lighter, and the flame came to life.

She was hurting. By the Force, was she hurting.

The smoke curled upward as she stepped back from the doorway, letting the cool night air brush her face. Her gaze lifted, eyes tracing the stars above the hangars, the constellations cold and distant, indifferent to her pain.

The first tears fell. Slowly at first, then more freely, tracking down her cheeks as she inhaled the smoke and let herself finally, painfully, feel it all; the regret, the ache, the longing for a past she couldn't reclaim.

Alana leaned against the wall, silver hair dampened by the night, red eyes shimmering in the glow of the lighter. She didn't move. She just stared at the sky, letting herself cry, letting the world spin around her while she held onto the small flame and the sting of loss it mirrored.

The cigarello burned down in her fingers, but she didn't notice. All that existed was the night, the stars, and the hollow ache Amelia had left behind; one she couldn't mend, one she couldn't chase. Not yet. Maybe, never.

She whispered, partly to herself, and partly to the cruel galaxy that seemed intent on tormenting her.

"I didn't want this. I never wanted this."

She let the tears fall, now that no one would be around to see them.

Once she was done, she’d leave a crushed cigarillo behind, taking her still aching heart with her.