Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Welcome back to the fire Pt.1

(Gilded Veil)- Founder / C.E.O.
Sommer stepped around the desk and dropped the datapad onto the table between them. A frozen image flickered: Therin Vos walking out of the back alley. Two seconds later — Jakob Lowman, stepping from the shadows.

"I assume this isn't your idea of a joke," she said.
 
(Gilded Veil)- Founder / C.E.O.
That hit.


Sommer looked away. Her throat clenched. The silence stretched between them like a wire ready to snap.

She finally looked back at him. There was no forgiveness yet — but there was recognition. And in her eyes, for a flicker of a moment, something human passed between the heat.


"Then you fix it," she said.

"And if I find out you're still keeping things from me... blood or not... I'll burn you out of this place so fast your shadow won't know where you went."
 
(Gilded Veil)- Founder / C.E.O.
And she let him leave.

Only after the door shut behind him did she let the fury collapse… into exhaustion.

She stared at the shattered glass on the floor.

The Veil was cracking. And if she didn't act soon — it would be taken from her.
 
(Gilded Veil)- Founder / C.E.O.
Sommer Dai hated silence when it felt like something was waiting.

She stood barefoot in her kitchen, one hand around a glass of spice-bourbon, the other resting on the edge of the marble counter. The lights were low — not dimmed, just untouched. She didn't feel like being seen by her own walls.

Kael's betrayal still sat like ash in her lungs. Therin's threat hung in her mind like smoke. And The Veil — her empire, her escape, her redemption — was one bad move from slipping beneath her feet.

She exhaled through her nose. Sipped.

Her shoulders ached. Her lip was raw from biting it.

And the worst part?

The worst part was that when she finally closed her eyes

She still saw him.

Jakob Lowman.

Those stupid, storm-tossed eyes. That smirk that used to make her feel powerful — before it made her feel small. The way he used to hold her like the world was already ending and she was the only reason to go down swinging.

Back when she still slept under neon signs and the scent of motor oil. Back before she cleaned up. Before she built something of herself.

And yet…

Her heart still skipped at the memory of him saying her name like it hurt to speak it.

That was the problem with Jakob. He never left her. Not really.
 
(Gilded Veil)- Founder / C.E.O.
Then came the knock.

Not the door buzzer
A real knock.

Low. Direct. Unapologetic.

Her breath caught.
No one knocked. Not here. Not this late.

She crossed the living room slowly, bare feet whispering over the stone floor. No blaster. No blade. Just instinct. And heat.

The door slid open with a hiss. And there he stood.

Jakob.

Alone.

Black boots. Leather jacket. Collar open. Rain in his hair and shadows under his eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept. Like he hadn't wanted to.

Her throat tightened before she could stop it.

"Sommer," he said softly.

"You shouldn't be here."

"I never should've left."

She stared at him for a beat too long.
Then stepped aside.
He entered without hesitation, the tension trailing in behind him like a storm on a leash.

"You look like hell," she said flatly.

"I came straight from the East District. Didn't want to wait."

"What do you want, Jakob?"

"To talk."

"About what? How you and Therin make such a cute little shadow alliance?"

He frowned. "That's not what this is."

"You followed her out of my alley."

"I followed her to see if she was planning to hurt you."

Sommer scoffed. "You gonna play knight now? Bit late for that, isn't it?"

"I'm not here to play anything." His voice darkened. "I'm here because you're surrounded by people who either want to own you or use you. And I'm the only one who actually knows how to burn both sides down."

She turned on him. "Don't act like I'm some damsel in need of rescuing. I've survived without you. I built something. I got clean. I got smart. While you—what—played warlord in the lower levels?"

Jakob stepped closer. "I never forgot you."

"Doesn't mean I forgive you."

"Didn't ask you to."

Their eyes locked — and something old surged between them. Something rough. Hungry. Bruised.

"You still hate me?" he asked.

"Some nights," she said.

He took another step. "And the others?"

She didn't move.
Didn't answer.
But her breath hitched — just enough.
Jakob reached out. Touched her jaw.

"Still the same eyes," he murmured. "Still the same fire."

And that was it.
The heat snapped.
 

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