A Knife Edge

[Ariadne Van'Shelaq]

[Nar Shaddaa//Zen's Cabal: Penthouse Floor//Midnight]

A palpable silence swept over the scarred flesh of Nar Shaddaa's endless, withering cityscape, the graying, blood soaked veins of the cursed moon finding themselves dipped in a momentary quiet. For a second, a mere fragment of time, was there no noise. Gone was the whirring of the worker droids in the factory district down south, the mindless chatter of the millions wandering about seemingly halting for the the briefest of moments before the perpetual moan of life and death returned. It was not dissimilar to surfacing from the deafening embrace of water, to hear the roar of the environment return like a mighty, mind numbing chorus of unheard screams, blasters and barked orders.

Silence was a gift, a rare one, especially for a woman whose senses were far beyond that of a normal humanoid. Ariadne, clothed in little more than a silken robe that was the colour of the murkiest blackness, stood restless by the frame of the large open window in her room, one side leaning against the cool durasteel as unkempt raven hair fluttered against her bare porcelain skin. She stood statuesque, the face cut from ivory frozen in its perpetual frown as a cigarette limply hung between two manicured fingers, the faint trace of lipstick kissing it's rear.

The dull blue glow of an inactive holo was the only source of light in the woman's quarters, bathing the bedroom in a sapphire haze which only added to her lethargy. The faint scent of Nethyl Pitrate hung in the air, the invisible and faintly sweet smog lingering in the corners of the Baroness' bedroom like some unwelcome specter, clawing at the carpet and dancing on the tip of her tongue.

The day had been long, too long.

Whilst the months leading up to this night were just as bothersome, with all of the work and abysmal failings of her colleagues, it only just dawned on the young woman how far she'd climbed the bloodied staircase of Nar Shaddaa from those first few babysteps into the den of death and debauchery all those years ago. She was nothing more than a teenager when she'd been dragged from the burning husk of her father's cruiser into the waiting arms of her captor and his men. Ariadne was a toy, the prime cut of meat that provided ample entertainment when the alcohol would set in and man's inhibitors would shrivel.

Alas, such a thing deserved to remain in the past, buried like the men that once sought after her body.

​Perhaps it was her drug induced revelation or some mishandled sense of nostalgia that led to the young woman's most recent foray into spontaneity, a term she loathed just as much as the idea of being nostalgic. It was the briefest of messages, curt and cold as was her usual style, sent to one of the only individuals who possessed her private link, a simple whisper to the figure that still loomed heavy in the back of her conscious.

- I'm awake. Bring food -

Ariadne didn't expect a reply, nor did she need one. It was an invitation masked as an order, a hollow attempt at keeping herself away from the writhing and wriggling little thing that the recipient of the message so fondly remembered her as.

[member="Khaleel Malvern"]

 

[Arage Bao]

Nar Shaddaa. Years ago a young man had called it beautiful. The screams, drunken laughter, the mesmerizing buzz of factories toiling away their labor, the nightlife of clubs and bars humming amidst it all -- it was not so much a moon as much as a whole world of its own tucked away in a remote corner of the Galaxy. The Hutts always desired Nal Hutta, but ‘Shaddaa… oh, Shaddaa. That was the truest beauty of the two.

At least it had been.

But few things can escape the grasp of time and as the years ticked away Khal found Nar Shaddaa less and less interesting. Oh, he came back to it in between business, but the business trips kept getting longer and longer as his operations grew, and now? Now Khal barely stayed there. It was just as well though. There were rumors, hints of conversations and machinations abroad. The Techno Union technically controlled the world, but no one could truly control Nar Shaddaa. It was simply too big and unwieldy. Even Khal, the Underlord, did not really control Nar Shaddaa, as much as him having the ear of all the Lords of note.

They respected his opinion. Respected his power. Respected what he represented. And that was enough, they listened to his guidance and advice, paid their dues while enjoying freedom of operation for the most part.

Except where the Exchange ruled completely, of course. That was a story for a different time though.

Khal’s stay on Nar Shaddaa was longer than usual. Already the first week was ending and yet he couldn’t seem to get himself to leave - it wasn’t anything nostalgic, of course. But with the efforts of moving away his most profitable operations on this particular world… well, let’s just say there was always another errand to run and a few more words to speak.

- I'm awake. Bring food -

The message was still on his screen. It was amusing to see that no matter how much time passed, how grand his works were and how great his ‘empire’ had grown… that Ari would still be Ari to him. Amusing, refreshing, interesting, but mostly amusing, Khal pondered if he should go. There was so much more to do - one thing the Underlord hadn’t learned was to take a break every once in awhile.

He pondered it some more. One minute turned into five turned into ten. Until finally Khaleel Malvern sighed, before shaking his head.

Have it your way.

The screen went black as its owner logged off.

Another twenty minutes passed before [member="Ariadne Van'Shelaq"], Baroness of the Undercity, would hear the pronounced and rapid tap of a knuckle knocking on her door.

It was Khal. And he had pizza.

 

[Ariadne Van'Shelaq]

Had it occurred to her how unprofessional the message was? How blatantly dismissive it was of the man's current status as Nar Shaddaa's reigning warlord? The very notion of occupying his time and eating with him was a jarring thought, it made him familiar. Alas, Ariadne saw little threat in the man, as unwise as such a thing was, so much so that she did not even bother to clothe herself in something more appropriate during the minutes after the message was sent. What use was there being modest when the infamous Underlord has seen her at her most vulnerable? Many hours were spent scraping away torn fabric and cleansing well deserved bruises during their more intimate chapters and the young woman knew well enough that Khaleel, of all people, wouldn't care how she presented herself.

That was enough to give the raven haired figure some form of solace, a grudging sense of relief that eased her slow waltz into her drug induced insomnia.

Khaleel, no stranger to the cabal and the spot of land Ariadne so dutifully reigned over, would receive little issue in making his way into her private quarters. No one was stupid enough to refuse him access, her people possessed the foresight to know not to bother him and the Baroness found it almost amusing how quickly the infamous figure swiftly became just another piece of furniture within the cabal's territory.

Still, Ariadne remained frozen against the large window for several minutes, neither knowing nor particularly caring if the recipient of her message would ever arrive. He was, after all, a busy man and the recent rumours of a massive departure from the brittle and tormented moon was enough to spike the woman's interest. Perhaps she'd use that as an excuse for him being here. Too talk. He was good at that, talking, as much as she was at listening.

Shuffling footsteps were heard several moments before the eventual knock on the door, so much so that Ariadne already placed herself by the door midway through the man's noisy intrusion, opening it swiftly with little to no formal greeting other than the briefest of half smirks. With the fabric around her waist tied into a lazily made knot, portions of her pale skin visible to any curious gaze, and her silken clad figure bathed in the dull blue glow of her room Ariadne looked more like a cheap holovid superstar than a jaded crime lord. Making way for her guest to enter, the young woman nudged the door back into place before trailing after him, the signature scent of pizza wafting into the space of her bedroom and removing the sweet residue of her earlier 'meal'.

"I'm surprised you came." She uttered quietly, not sounding surprised at all, as she lazily brushed the hair from her face behind her ear. Bare feet softly padded against the carpet as she found herself returning to her roost, now sitting on the window sill, with one leg perilously dangling against the shell of the tower, toes wriggling in the cool midnight air. With her other foot, the woman hooked a nearby seat and dragged it closer to where she was perched, nodding down at the man in case he was so inclined.

"Trust you to bring me this." Ariadne sniffed, pursing her lips momentarily as she glanced down at his gift with a mixture of amusement and boredom. It was a 'thank you' if she were to ever commit to one, something he'd expect no doubt.

[member="Khaleel Malvern"]

 

[Arage Bao]

Khal brushed past her without much ceremony. If he had any unsavory thoughts about her current attire, he didn’t show any of it and nothing was noticeable. Much time had passed since those first few days they had met, even more time had passed since a little boy had tried to traverse the vice, villainy and its ilk in the underworld of ‘Shaddaa. Malvern was experienced these days, he knew how the world runned, how it ticked and what to expect. And he knew exactly what made [member="Ariadne Van'Shelaq"] tick, intimately.

Even if she didn’t want to admit it most of the time. But not everything had changed, only most of the things. His style of clothing was still pretty much the same. You wouldn’t even notice that this was the Underlord of the greatest criminal syndicates that graced the galaxy. A long, leather trench coat - texture cracked at unsteady intervals, old and worn. A simple, cheap and unadorned white shirt behind it. Finally, a faded, red tie hanging loosely around the man’s neck like an unknotted noose.

Casual, free, uncaring.

It was no surprise that few people really knew and had realized that Khaleel Malvern was the Underlord. Most of them thought he was a high-ranking enforcer for the real Underlord, maybe even his direct right hand. The truth was different, of course, but Khal didn’t particularly care either way.

Sometimes it was better to have your identity and status be a bit shrouded in mystery.

“Nice place.” Old Jimmy’s had burned down years ago, otherwise he would have still lived on the second floor there.

He put down the box of pizza, opening it up revealed half of the pizza already gone. In its place was a raw, bloody piece of venison- Khal knew what kind she really liked, figured she had a taste for something more tasty this night.

“Figured ya wanted something bloody tonight, Ari.”

Without waiting for an invitation the Underlord settled himself down in one of the chairs, and then simply leaned back and waited.

 

[Ariadne Van'Shelaq]

There was a brief moment where the young woman's gaze returned to the glowing haze of the streets down below, the winding neon veins pulsing with every passing second. Shadda's heartbeat, the palpitating and tempestuous rhythm of a beast whose body was marked in blood and oil, it was everything one could want from a crime riddled moon and the perfect hunting ground for creatures like Ariadne and her 'pizza boy'. Still, the sight was not enough to keep the woman away from the scent of meat and the eventual reveal of Khal's little gift was enough to slip a veiled look of approval on her porcelain skin.

The marbled, bloodied slab of flesh was as alluring as any line of nitrate, maybe even more so in her inebriated condition. Pizza would fill her up but a good cut of meat would fulfill her innate hunger, please the creature inside her that wasn't entirely human.

"Oh you spoil me." She purred, halfheartedly and with one slender brow cocked in amusement. Manicured fingers, sharpened into talons, daintily rattled against the metal frame of the window before reaching outwards and plucking the cold, clammy slice of venison. The meat was supple in her grasp, thin trails of blood soaking her fingertips as she momentarily inspected it, seemingly impressed with the man's choice of cut. Ariadne didn't know nor did she particularly care where he procured the snack, even if it was from some Jawa's food stand in the lower part of butcher's lane.

It wasn't going to kill her.

"I don't want to talk business tonight." The woman murmured flatly, flashing him a glance before her lips met her meal and her teeth tore into it, ripping the meat and tissue apart as if it were a slice of cream cake. The chewing process was slow, not ravenous like one would assume of a woman famous for her feline depravity. It took a long while for the Baroness to get used to having an audience when she ate, it was often her moment of solace to enjoy a meal in peace. With Khal, a man who seemed no less bothered by her row of razor chompers than he was her knack for blunt talk, sharing a meal felt oddly normal, a fact that irked Ariadne for the longest time.

Resting her foot on the arm of his chair, the woman released a low sigh, swallowing the portion of raw meat before gazing at the man.

"I've heard rumours that you've been a busy man as of late." Ariadne mused, a stray smirk dancing across her crimson lips as she gauged his response. It wasn't an invasive question, rather, something an old friend would ask a familiar face, a pleasantry with the tiniest smudge of playfulness.

[member="Khaleel Malvern"]

 

[Arage Bao]

The relationship they shared was strange. And that was an understatement of some proportion. It was difficult to put into words the things that had played out between them - perhaps describing it would only detract from the overal experience, this, Khal realized very much, was a distinct possibility. But as noticed by Ari a long time ago... he didn't particularly care about her eating habits, so it was that while she was gorging herself on the raw meat the Underlord was simply observing with something of amusement playing around his expression.

He was leaning heavily into the seat, his boots resting on the pretty table in front of him, one hand supporting the side of his head and the other holding an unlit cigarette.

"That sounds awfully close to business to me, Ari." Khal would remark with a soft smirk. Not enough to draw a lot of attention on it, not small enough to hide his amusement. She had always been like this. Dancing around the outskirts and boundaries, trying her best to remain unattached and free of all influences.

She had succeeded. To a degree. But there was only so much a modestly big player in the underworld could do to stay entirely outside the Underlord's purview. They had a symbiosis going on. A mutually beneficial relationship that went back to a time where they had both been new to the game.

He got his dues from her, in public, and she... well, she had a direct line to the lord of the greatest Crime Syndicates in the Galaxy.

Few could claim to be able to summon him for pizza, drinks and a few philosophical musings in the dawn of day. But here they were, together once again, dancing around the facts... again.

What a pair they made.

"But yes. Whispers in the Techno Union tells me it is time to finally cash in on my long-term investments here. I have been looking for new avenues... and I think I might have found something of note."

[member="Ariadne Van'Shelaq"]

 

[Ariadne Van'Shelaq]

Taste buds blossomed with the sweet, coppery essence of blood and raw flesh, the clammy red meat turned to frail ribbons in her razor maw as she slowly chewed on her late night snack. Eyes were trained on the space in front of her, the drugs in her system giving the auburn gaze a wistful emptiness that seemed at odds with the woman's nigh-persistent senses. Ariadne could hear the heavy thrum of her heartbeat, the labouring pulse reverberating underneath the porcelain skin and coursing through her ailing veins. A normal person would have succumbed to the plethyl nitrate several hours ago, the half Fierrerreon was only just beginning to feel its side effects. Alas, the cartel boss was neither concerned nor annoyed. She was a conduit of tranquility at that moment, a creature who was enjoying the simplicity of her inebriated state and the fact that she'd managed to haul the Underlord himself into her dimly lit chamber.

He actually bought food.

A lesser woman would have blushed. Ariadne simply smirked into the midnight air, her eyes flickering over to Khal as she began to study him. How was it that she ended up with this man, the tobacco scented troublemaker who grated the young woman just as much as he amused her. It was an oddity, one which the cartel boss still looked on in a muted bafflement. He was nothing but an enigma the first time she stumbled across him, a man who could've filled the role of her dead father or some unlucky older brother, and yet he'd wriggled his way into the mouth of the beast and somehow came out alive and well, even garnering a modicum of respect from her.

Ariadne still held herself back, still remained at a distance governed by her and only her and the mere notion of granting him access into a world seen by no one was a privilege above all else. She had to learn to deal with it, to wade through the awkwardness and swallow her pride because it was more than just the two of them. Factors outside of her power ensured that the young woman held onto Khal, for reasons she still could not admit to herself.

She needed him around and it wasn't for romance or resources.

"Oh don't tell me you've become religious." She softly chuckled, gnawing on the corner of the bloodied steak as she stretched her slender leg atop the arm of her companion's seat. "And...you never told me you had your fingers in the Union's jar either." Ariadne mused, having torn off a considerable chunk of meat and downing it after two bites. She wasn't offended he hadn't told her earlier, nor was she overly concerned with whatever new venture Khal seemed to be eyeing up. He was relatively savvy enough to know a bad move from a good one.

Bringing her food that night? A good one.

[member="Khaleel Malvern"]

 

[Arage Bao]

"Got my fingers in a lot of things, my dear." and not all of them were pure business either, but Ariadne would know that better than most people. His eyes left her leg and wandered back over to his unlit cigarette, it started to float on the air for a few brief moments until he could get to his lighter. Seconds later the Underlord was smoking another cigarette - he had lost today's count already, but in a world of stress and duties smoking a cigarette was one of the few things that could keep him a bit relaxed.

Some of his 'friends' noted that it would kill him. And Khal would just smile his smile. Didn't they know? He was immortal. The Bloody Nine himself.

An amusing nickname, if not entirely correct. He had passed the nine lives a long time ago already, but most people didn't know that, of course. Khal didn't exactly publicize all his deaths; just the ones that would inspire awe and fear. Just the ones that would add to his building legend.

"And what is the Baroness up to these days? She has been quite... silent for the past time."

Cigarette resting between his lips Khal once again found himself studying her leg with something of amusement. Before following the natural rise until finally meeting her eyes.

[member="Ariadne Van'Shelaq"]

 

[Ariadne Van'Shelaq]

"of course you do." She answered quietly, the corner of her lip curling upwards as she rested her head against the frame of the window, dark locks freely bouncing against her shoulders as a cool breeze blew into the bedroom. There was no doubt in her mind that Khal was playing multiple games at once, with players from all corners of the galaxy vying for his attention, affection or annihilation. It was amusing to think this man, with all of his nonchalance and non machismo, could inspire the adoration and fear that gripped the minds of those caught in teh violent wheels of crime and corruption.

He had always been Khal, the disheveled, chain smoking loner whose reputation meant as little as it did to Ariadne the first time their paths crossed. She was but a girl, seventeen and angry, and no amount of sweet talk could lure her into his arms.

That happened naturally...or as naturally as it could have anyways.

Auburn eyes gazed upon the hovering cigarette, the novelty of such a sight wearing thin the first time she witnessed it. How many times did Khal use his gifts to get a pretty girl into his bed? Enough to make the woman chortle whenever the thought crossed her mind. Still, it was oddly comforting to know that the man retained his power, regardless of how rarely he utilized it. She cared little for the Force and would offer any stout believer a stern upwards rise of an eyebrow or a wrinkle of her nose. It had its uses, but it was a tool and nothing more. Thankfully, Khal proved to be the exceptionally bad at being militant in his affinity for the Force and Ariadne was glad he maintained some level of humility.

Swallowing the final portion of her raw treat, the young woman offered each porcelain finger a generous lick as she continued to watch her scruffy companion go about his little routine. Eyes traced the slim object caught between his lips, finally flickering up to his curious gaze as she wiped the bloody residue on to her bare thigh.

"Making friends." She uttered, not entirely sounding as excited as one would be at such an elating concept. Perhaps she should call them acquaintances, none of them had yet to deliver her food in the middle of the night. "Thinking about going on another year long trip, you know...find my roots." The Baroness sniffed, clicking her tongue as she lithely stretched out across the ledge and the armrest. It truly had been a while since she felt the buzz of a good battle or a successful raid. Maybe she'd grown accustomed to life on hard land, in a comfortable bed with food and drugs readily on offer.

Was there any point returning to a life that posed no promise of reward?

Shaking her head, Ariadne narrowed her gaze as she sighed quietly, eyes staring off at the distant canvas of twinkling stars dotting the night sky. There weren't many reasons for her to leave Nar Shaddaa, none that particularly enticed her to split up with the decrepit rock but she knew her responsibilities had stretched much farther than the butcher district in the Undercity.

She shrugged, another cool breeze billowing against her gown as she stared up at the sky. "I've just been busy." She whispered, as if she were speaking to herself and affirming the hidden thoughts plaguing her mind.

[member="Khaleel Malvern"]

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Ariadne Van'Shelaq"]

He let her talk. In and out the smoke went while listening to the soft cadence of her voice. His eyes closed, he leaned heavily into the seat and simply... let himself relax for a moment. It was a rare moment that the Underlord let himself off the hook for a while. Where he didn't spent his time plotting this, scheming that, guiding the underworld in the direction of his choosing. Maybe that's why Khal had come here in the first place.

Maybe it was a little, short vacation for him. Who could really know?

"I hear that." busy. That was the kind of thing that Khal could truly understand.

His entire life was busy. Ever since he had taken over Jimmy's first. Ever since he started building on the Exchange. Some might have given themselves more time off, but they weren't Khal.

He had a responsibility. To himself, to his family, to the Exchange at large. And there ain't no running away from that. Khal would ponder a bit before shrugging once.

"If you need some time off... I might have a thing for ya."

 

[Ariadne Van'Shelaq]

There was little room for holidays, especially those unrelated to work, and the mere thought of allowing herself time away from her self styled kingdom felt all the more jarring the longer she considered it. Was there anyone she trusted enough to maintain the steady importing and exporting of Spice and weapons? How could anyone deal with the intricacies of Undercity dealings under her moniker without being discovered? She'd remained relatively anonymous for a while, 'Zen' was her handle and people respected that from reputation alone and if she were to temporarily abandon the title and grant someone else her position then something was bound to go wrong.

It wasn't paranoia, it was the simple fact that no one possessed the delicate and firm direction in which she lead the Cabal.

"Oh do you now?" She cooed, raising an eyebrow at the man's offer as she slowly leaned inwards, clawed hands resting upon a bare porcelain knee. Her voice was devoid of any notable excitement, rather, Ariadne sounded more amused than curious. How many times was she reeled into one of the Underlord's grand schemes? Perhaps he enjoyed watching her get violent.

The thought granted a low chuckle to escape her lips.

"A thing doesn't tell me much Khal. You could be signing me up to some acrobatics membership with a travelling circus...not that I'd be opposed to the idea." She smirked, knowing full well that it was the drugs that were heightening her mood rather than anything else. Would Ariadne consider joining a entertainment troupe? Probably not, but the visual was sure to appease some weird kink of the mysterious man seated opposite her. He truly was an odd one, but she remained as attentive as she could've in her condition, leaning inwards before gently plucking the cigarette from his fingers and taking a greedy inhale of the noxious stuff.

Who else could do such a thing but her?

[member="Khaleel Malvern"]

 

[Arage Bao]

It was difficult sometimes.

He leaned back, his form sinking into the leather of the seat, while his eyes closed. What was the plan? So many rolled through his mind, yet, it all came back to stability, didn't it? Nar Shaddaa was a treasure, truly was - the power of the Exchange here was unprecedented; courtesy of wheeling and dealing, while playing off dozens of parties against each other.

It can't last.

One day someone would stumble, one moment a personality would come up who can't be bought, convinced or threatened, one second... and it would be war.

Khal didn't mind war, there was little fear rushing through those veins, because he knew he couldn't die. Yet, his could and the empire had to last. No, that was the end goal: to create stability and ensure that it would always be.

"The Shiv." Malvern whispered out, then his eyes opened and centered on the cigarette again. One gesture of the hand and it gently tugged itself out of her fingers back to him.

"I decided I want it." A pull from the smoke, inhale it just right, there we go. It burned and it made him feel alive, made him remember things. Glorious things done at the cloak of night and shade. He wanted it-- [member="Ariadne Van'Shelaq"] would know it was never as easy as that with the Underlord. Ambition was there, but it wasn't mindless greed that spurred him along throughout the years. It was calculation and the ability to read the pulse of the underworld, to see tendencies and recognize when it was time to... pull out.

"It will be... fun."

The Exchange was silent, it was soft and steady, pushing its agenda with silk. Until it did not. Until the black iron was revealed behind the glove and all crumbled beneath its weight.

 

[Ariadne Van'Shelaq]

There was brief silence that followed the young woman's query, as if the crime riddled moon was granting the oddly attractive pair a moment's respite before the chain smoking blonde revealed whatever it was that plagued his muse. Ariadne, with her feline eyes glazed with a layer of drug induced tranquility, remained content in her inebriation and it was only until her ears picked up on the faintest of beats in her one time lover's chest did she finally return her attention to him.

The Shiv.

The revelation was a triumph if anything, a whispered remark that actually spurred some modicum of surprise to wash over the porcelain skinned woman's features. Freely relinquishing the cigarette betwixt her fingers, the scantily clad Baroness found herself marinating the man's reveal in the hazy depths of her mind. His ambition should not have surprised her, not one bit...but she sat there momentarily caught in her own ruminations. If he was brave enough to bed her then surely this venture posed little issue for the ever unassuming Underlord.

"I see." She finally uttered quietly, quirking her brow as she glanced at the roof before slowly propping herself upwards until she was seated on the window's edge with her slender form facing man's lax figure. Two pale legs idly swayed too and fro, pedaling the thoughts that crystallized in her Nethyl Pitrate addled mind.

He did have a habit of underselling things. The Shiv, as it was, proved to be quite a formidable thing indeed.

"And here I thought you were going to invite me somewhere nice." Ariadne sniffed, the faintest of simpers playing on her crimson lips as she loosely shrugged her shoulders, the silky material of her gown falling limply down the length of her upper arm. She cared not to fix it. The Shiv was, in some senses, good courting material for those inclined for outings far less pretty than most would consider acceptable. Still, the young woman's smile curled into a pensive line before she finally looked at him square in the eyes.

"So when are we going?"

[member="Khaleel Malvern"]

 

[Arage Bao]

His eyes traced the lines of her, while pondering at her question.

There had been no doubt on his mind that she would be all for this little operation of his, she had always loved being at the center of the boom and the bang, this was no different. Perhaps more bloody, but that would only be a plus for the likes of [member="Ariadne Van'Shelaq"]. She had always enjoyed the bloody.

"Today... tomorrow, the day after." Khal shrugged, before starting to unbutton his eternal companion, the beige trench coat which had followed him from the depths of 'Shaddaa to the farthest reaches of Wild Space with no hesitation.

"Whenever you are ready, love."

That was how easy it was. The plans had already been made, the opportunity was fixed and all that was waiting was for Khal's word to execute the plan.

Blood would run through the streets and it would get messy, but sometimes... sometimes you needed messy to get through.

The trench coat got undone, it was shrugged off and rested the arm of his seat, his head cocked and something akin to suppressed hunger started to rear at the edge of the eyes.

 

[Ariadne Van'Shelaq]

If there was one thing Ariadne was not, it was impatient. The young woman understood the intimate virtues of simply waiting and whilst Khal's proposal tickled Ariadne's latent blood lust she resigned herself to the fact that there was no immediate rush. If there was, he would have never strolled into her domain with pizza in hand. Just how long the Underlord had been contemplating this brave move did not concern the raven haired crime lord, nor did removal of his coat.

There was an implicit level of understanding between the two and the young woman was far too savvy, even when intoxicated, to let the development mar her typically blank facade.

She knew exactly what was required of her if his venture into the Shiv was what she thought it was. No doubt, he'd be accompanied by more individuals than just her and whilst the woman loathed the notion of working with some of Khal's more unrefined allies she knew it was simply all in a day's work. This was his plan and the Baroness of the butcher district would grant the man whatever firepower she could realistically summon.

Alas, thoughts of amassing a spice addled group of raiders dissipated in the fog of her mind and she simply nodded. It was slow and deliberate, a nonchalant acceptance of a venture deserving far more than her lackadaisical expression granted it.

"Three days. I can be ready then." She whispered, coiling a lock of dark hair around a sharpened nail before pinning it behind a porcelain ear. Blinking and wordless, the young woman watched the man's disposal of his trench coat, the scent of stagnant tobacco momentarily wafting into the air as her ears momentarily picked up on the faintest of detours. A heartbeat quickening, the pulse of blood surging in veins guided by simple biology and the carnal of affections.

Even after all these years, he was still the same.

Exhaling, the sharp toothed beauty granted herself a moment of silence, a brief attempt at collecting the inhibitions that wavered in a mind increasingly sullied by the effects of her vice. Bathed in a cocktail of silver and neon blue from the light around her, the young woman glanced at the man seated in her home. The one man to get away with this. Features unsullied by any obvious want or need, the inebriated woman offered herself the shallowest of nods, silent permission as it were, before slowly relinquishing herself from the window sill and walking right past the seated man. She offered him nothing, no glance or gaze or wanton wriggle of a finger. Nothing but the soft footfalls of her dainty bare feet disappearing behind a black partition where the more intimate elements of her bedroom lay.

In her wake she left with her the scent of cigarette smoke and perfume...and a discarded gown left lonesome in the dark space between them.

[member="Khaleel Malvern"]

 

[Arage Bao]

Smoke trailed and smoke followed.

There was a lull in between her retreat and his press forward. There was a reason why they worked together so neatly; there was no expectations, no assumptions and they both had need of some old fashioned space. So he waited, and in turn let her wait on him, while he finished off his cigarette while studying the shadowy form of a discarded trinket, barely visible beneath the couch to his side. It was a toy and a blink later it became a little Mandalorian action figure.

The T-visor shone at him, as light reflected.

Was there curiosity welling up deep, deep down? Most assuredly, but as the Underlord made the butt crumble within his fist, he found himself crushing that curiosity just as well.

If she wanted to tell him, she would, if not... then it wasn't his responsibility to push.

He rose.
His undershirt fell unbuttoned and the man followed the trail of discarded clothing, back to the other room. It took a moment for him to see, yet, after that moment he saw plenty. The shine of the city made its way through the glass, it bathed the room in silvery gloom and the smoke played tricks, Khal knew all about tricks, did he not?

[member="Ariadne Van'Shelaq"] had always been an enigma, a little mystery packed in companionship brought and bought by a nature shared by the two of them.

There were many women, but there was only one Ari, wasn't there?

"Been a while, Baroness." He leaned, he watched and he still waited.

 

[Ariadne Van'Shelaq]

For a moment, Ariadne felt a familiar strain of melancholic nostalgia tremble in the depths of her nitrate addled mind, the rosy whisper echoing fragmented sweet nothings like a broken holocaster. Words unspoken and forgotten called out from the annals of a time discarded, a time where she was more girl than she hoped to let on. Cloaked in the shadows of her bedroom and the soft neon glow powdering the edges of the window, the young woman closed her eyes and found herself swaying, her vision dancing between full focus and quivering with a blurry veneer as she steadied herself against the foot of the large floating bed in the center of the room.

Clothed in nothing but simple sheer black panties and the light that etched its way into her quarters, the raven haired woman stood still and silent as she collected whatever membrane of sense she could find in the midst of this spontaneity she put herself in.

Questions and queries ran the gamut of her mind in a blistering succession, calling out into the recesses of her mind and hoping to find something rational.

But there was nothing but her own silence and the steady footfalls of the man she dragged into this momentary bout of weakness.

There she stood, a woman bound to death and domination, quivering in the midst of her inebriation and the muted guilt that plagued her conscious. Unclothed, her body was like a porcelain doll, gleaming under the distant shimmer of starlight, the soft radiance clasping her pert breasts and trailing down the length of her slim torso until it stopped at the painted toes that were scrunched against an obsidian carpet. Midnight colored hair tumbled against her skin like an unkempt inky waterfall, framing her perfumed and girlish visage.

She blinked, once, twice and slowly turned around to face the man she'd so tactlessly ordered into her abode. He was not nearly as naked as she was and she knew it was probably part of his own laziness that spurred such a sight. Still, the young woman could hear the blossoming tempo of a heart filled with want and she, without thinking, dutifully stepped forward.

"Be quiet." She ordered with a whisper, her sharpened nails carefully tracing the scars etched into Khaleel's form, momentarily transfixed by the novelty of all of these previously unnoticed wounds. Although her face betrayed no emotion, the man named Khal would surely see something glint in her feline gaze...want.

Stepping up on the tips of her toes, the woman known as Zen gripped the man's chin between her thumb and forefinger before blood laced lips softly met his own. It was a kiss that lasted barely more than a second but it was enough to tell the Underlord what she wanted in that moment...

What she needed.

[member="Khaleel Malvern"]

 

[Arage Bao]

His fingers were already curled around her throat.

There was only the slightest of tension coiling, it didn't tighten as much as it usually did. The first kiss was sweet, soft and short, yet, it only served to confuse Khal in the moment. This wasn't usually how it went. Their usual game, their usual play bantered around control and domination. It was why Malvern allowed her the freedoms she had - delivering raw pizza in the middle of night and other indiscretions, because the dynamics shifted in private.

A difference came up today, though.

The Underlord was no mentalist, her mind was her own and it would have taken too much effort to pierce it, but there was something playing on her expression that spoke of sadness... regret? He frowned as she detached herself again, but Khal did not speak- she didn't want words, that much she had been clear about.

But you did not need words to relay meanings, did you? He pushed her further into the room, his hand still around her throat.

What to do.... what to do?

In the end it was an easy decision. There was always another time for one of their games and if she wished something less... destructive, Khal could handle that as well. Fingers uncurled and the palm slipped behind her, pushing her towards him where his lips met hers once again.

Softer, the hunger locked and controlled, but it was still there.

[member="Ariadne Van'Shelaq"]

 

[Ariadne Van'Shelaq]

It was fleeting, but Ariadne felt a stray murmur in the back of her mind demand more. To hold that kiss and capture the moment in all of its uninhibited and unpretentious glory and bask in the legitimate warmth that it offered her inebriated form. Sober, she would have balked at the thought but the woman was too resigned in her own masochism to know there was no use denying what felt good. She had every right to pull him back in and take more, it was all a part of the wordless game the duo so readily thrust themselves into and for a moment she considered it, eyes listlessly gazing at his scarred torso before she sharply inhaled.

Her tongue rescinded its slick and silent poetry and her lips tore themselves from the hunger of the Underlord's mouth.

Biting on her tongue, the raven haired carnivore felt something sour build up in the back of her throat and with a brisk shake of her head and a shallow exhale Ariadne relinquished herself from his grasp. She was firm in her separation, although she could still taste his tobacco on her lips and feel the warmth of where his hands lay sear into the flesh of her sides. Painted nails still clung to his skin, but only barely, the faintest remnants of something girlish and simple dissolving into the resigned and cold glare of a woman who knew that tempting herself with insipid ideas was as stupid as it was pointless.

There she stood, naked and vulnerable, like all the unfortunate whores who roamed the battered streets below them. Ariadne would have neither the reflexes nor the energy to defend herself from Khal in her current state and in a brief lapse into sobriety she offered the moment a dull chuckle. He could kill her right then and there and some part of her knew she'd let it happen.

The thought disgusted her as much as it amused.

"Hurt me." She whispered from the shadows, finally gazing into the man's eyes. It was no jest or joke, no riddle or rhyme. Just a request, one that hung heavy in the lukewarm air of her blue tinted bedroom. Two hands, clawed and porcelain, clasped one of Khal's own and with a newfound bout of sincerity Ariadne brought it up to her neck and closed his fingers around the supple flesh above her collarbones. His palmed burned against the veins in her jugular.

"Hurt me." She seethed more forcefully, baring pointed teeth as she clutched his wrist even harder, never breaking her gaze from his own. Her breathing tightened and her brows furrowed, the order perilously dangling between two as she finally reclaimed her place right up against him. Auburn eyes bore into his own, nostrils flared as memories untold and words unspoken tore through the remnants of her consciousness.

"Please."

The first time she'd ever uttered those words, to him or anyone else...

[member="Khaleel Malvern"]

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Ariadne Van'Shelaq"]

There was a thickness to the air now.

Like it had shifted to liquid and all Malvern needed to do was wave his hand just to catch some of the air. But it was an illusion, a slowing of the moment as the alcohol and smoke curled into his system and made him wonder. What it was exactly that made Ari ask exactly this from him.

His fingers had already curled themselves around her throat, the squeeze wasn't overt or dominating, it was the first play and test of something possible.

If only it was released and allowed to ride.

In a different time, different place or setting, maybe a different Khaleel, would have denied her this. Not as a punishment, but out of a certain necessity to keep himself within his boundaries. But what boundary remained there for him now? With the things Khal had done in the past and the things that he was set out to do in the future... did it truly matter what he did in the now?

As the momentum of his surge already slammed her against the wall Khaleel realized that it did now.

"If you want." It devolved itself from there on out.