After the smoke clears

[Bedrovelse Hevn]

The Sith had been a fool to let Hevn sit idly by and amass his strength. As it began to teem from him, as it began to overflow, everything got heavy fast. Scherezade and the Mandalorian with which she clashed were bombarded from the sky. Hevn would not allow fate to decide who would rise and fall from that firestorm. He would not allow the woman to come to harm where it was his power to interfere.

He triggers his evacuation beacon and unleashes a torrential wave of destructive power. Force Destruction roars our from his extended hands. Everything within sight began to crush into dust in a maelstrom of uninhibited power. The building around him shudders and begins to tumble from above him. He rolls out into the smoke and soot of the street. A deafening implosion was taking place behind him as the structure fell upon itself and roars. Debris is launched in every direction, dust mixing with the smoke to obscure all.

All except her. The debris smashes against his armor and rocks his body unsteadily across the waste he’d caused. Her form was lying on the road buried in the thick of it. His permafrost eyes peer through the slits in his mask and see her emerald glittering gems blinking up at him.

“I’ve got you.” Hevn’s mechanical rumble slices through the chaos behind him. He reaches a hand down to hers, and pulls her upright. “Let’s finish this!” He shouts in a moment of excitement and seething bloodlust.

He gestures toward the building and reaches out with the force. Together they encourage its fall towards the Mandalorian troops surfacing in the street behind her enemy in the battle. The shivering construct tilts, and gives at their combined efforts to drop it upon the forces of Mandalore. A tidal wave of beskar falls upon the soldiers whose cries are eclipsed by the thunder of war.

Above them, Sundari was beginning to give way. The impact of the falling chunks was shaking the ground beneath their feet. It sent gusts of air rippling across the cityscape that was not the wind. The instability was evident. Their time was up.

The sound of Charon II’s engines grow as the ship spins to hover above them. The cloaked ramp extends to reveal the interior of Hevn’s ship, with the hulking Shistavanen there to greet them. Hevn braces Scherezade underneath an arm to support the escape. They are welcomed into the very hairy arms of Roarshen Alpha.

The Catharian pilot, Mad Claws, whips the ship skyward before any of them have a chance to catch their footing. Roarshen tumbled across the floor, while Hevn finds himself pinning Scherezade beneath him. His hands grip the wall as it jerks and the g forces slam their bodies together for the first time since Coruscant.

Hevn was trying to take care of the bruising all over her, evident in her face for certain from one hell of a keldabe kiss. He growls an apology over the sound of the thrusters kicking. “Sorry.”

They were pinned together long enough for the ship to get them the hell out of Mandalore. As the ship levels out and the artificial gravity kicks in, Roarshen and Hevn rise to their feet. The pair offer her bodies to lean on to get her to Hevn’s quarters. She would find herself on an obnoxiously large bed fitted with immaculate white furs, softer than any silk, draped over them. Holographic snowfall always fell from within any place he called his own room, and so too did it upon his ship.

Hevn tears off the Krayt dragon Sith mask, and begins to strip the excess plating of his war armor straight away. If worry took any shape or form on Bedrovelse Hevn, it was in his uncharacteristic haste in the situation. Calm certainly wasn’t what he would call the fire of battle still rushing through his veins, nor the concern carved into his expression of severity.

Hevn’s left hand balls into a fist as he begins to coil the dark side of the force to his gauntlet. The qixoni gem begins to sparkle with power as he focuses on the task at hand. He sits beside her on the bed.

“Where’s the damage?” His cool gaze looks her over in the tight body armor she wears. His tone is softened with his concern.

He couldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams this was how they’d meet again. He’d looked on Geonosis, more times than he cared to admit to any living soul, more times than he’d ever sought out any other living soul. He couldn’t even be certain she meant those words, or for him to ever find her.

The lingering shadow of his compassion causes the Shistavanen to slack his jaw in surprise. Intercepting his crew member before he could speak, Hevn turns toward him. “I’ve got it from here.”

“My lord.” Alpha nods before exiting with the hiss of the door shutting behind him.

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

She had been so focused on her fight. The flying lizard above them, the upcoming turkeys of war, even the presence of other people who were around had all disappeared from her senses as she had focused on the Mandalorian in front of her, knowing she absolutely had to take him down. This was the big war, the one her family had been waiting for since before the Gulag. Since Mandalore healed from the glassing her grandmother had given to it. It was her turn now, her turn to show that she was worthy of the name, of the blood, of the legacy. Just one dead Mandalorian by her hands, in their capital planet, that was all she waned, that was all she needed.

It didn't even matter that the dome above them was crumbling. She danced, her blades flying through the air with her, fighting the Mando. Every swing of the blade was met, every stab of a point was blocked, from her end to his, from his end to hers. Between their skills and toys, they were matched. Scherezade had never wanted to kill someone so badly. At last, she had realized she would not best him with weapons alone, and her hand stretched forward as she gathered the Force around her to call his blood to her. A few more moments, that was all she needed, to make it before the yslamiri's range hit them, to call the blood from the man's skin, to kill-

"I've got you."

And the next moment she was gone. She wanted to scream and yell, to get loose and rush back to the Mandalorian so she could kill him even at the cost of her own redundant life, but the yslamiri bubbles reached her then- just her fingertips, but it was there. She knew the sensation. Closing her eyes, Scherezade uttered a quiet thank you that she wasn't sure if Hevn heard or not. Further now, safer now, she rejoiced in the bloodlust with him, the building yanked to the ground by their joined efforts.

Somehow, they made it out of there. Out of the dome and onto the safety of a ship. Scherezade didn't recognize it; but then again when she had jumped onto the planet, she hadn't made any actual plans for getting off of it. They briefly floated in the air before the ship's artificial gravity turned on, and while she heard his apology, she wasn't entirely certain what it was for.

A moment to get her mind off the adrenaline of battle, Scherezade blinked. They were pinned together on the floor of the ship, neither of them making too much effort to break it before he at last did, and she found herself supported by both Hevn and a person she did not know.

Blink.

The next moment, Scherezade was on a bed. Not just any bed – a luxurious one. It took her time to remember that she'd been in it before, that she had seen the snowfall before. But now… Somehow, without the layer of bad liquor on top of it, she felt… Out of place. Too dirty and too blood and debris covered and too street-rat to be in a place like this.

And suddenly Hevn was next to her, asking her about the damage, his armor stripped off of him. Damage? Scherezade blinked, and nodded, pointing to her face, where she had received the Keldabe kiss. The numbness of her upper cheek and the dull ache above her eyelet her know that her side of the face was already swollen.

Aside for that…

Slowly, Scherezade pushed herself up. To a stranger, she might have appeared terribly injured. "I can sleep it off," she murmured as she peeled her skin tight armor off, revealing the body beneath. If any shame of shyness was expected about it, she didn't have any of it. Her body was her weapon as much as any blade, and she'd left her blades scattered across the ship, the last of her knives building the trail from door to bed.

Beneath her armor, her body was cracked and bruised, but it seemed she was saved from internal bleeding or any actual major damage. It was mostly post-fight fatigue that had settled in faster than she'd expected. She didn't even notice Alpha still being there as she expected every inch of herself.

"I think my face took most of the damage," she said as she turned to Hevn, the fatigue all too evident in her voice, "I need a shower. I'm too filthy for this room. I'm going to make everything dirty."

[member="Bedrovelse Hevn"]

 

[Bedrovelse Hevn]

As Scherezade nods and points to her swelling face, Hevn leans forward to take a better look. If he was honest with her, she’d looked rougher after a spat in the underground than she did leaving a battlefield. He believed she could probably sleep it off, and was confident she’d seen tougher days than this one. Watching her throw down with the Mandalorian had been a treat. She had moves to be sure, and power behind them. He had faith in her abilities before Sundari, and now an experience to reinforce it.

As she slips out of her armor, it would be only Hevn affected by such a thing. Alpha and Claws kept to their own kind as far as attraction went, and so their gazes never lingered on the exposed forms of human like species. Hevn assists her, tugging the mass of fabric from her ankles and she kicks free of it into his hands.

Oh he burned.

Something about looking over her now reminded him of their first meeting. His blood was still hot from the rush of combat and destruction. His hunger and fire for action smolder every inch of his skin. Desire flickers violently in his eyes as he greedily looks her over. A wicked smile dances across his lips as she mentions being too dirty for his room. His eyebrow rises with incredulous surprise as he recalls their last visit here. Baptizing the fur, the floor, and damn near everything else in blood. This was nothing compare to that mess. He can’t help but chuckle just a little bit. “Didn’t bother me last time. Doesn’t bother me now. It is good to see you Scherezade.”

He didn’t care about the dirt, rubble, or blood on her now. Just the woman covered in it. He tries to distract his tunneling mind with her care. The amusement fades from his face, and he focuses on the power coiling around his hand. “You’ll have plenty of time for rest. This vessel is substantially slower than most ships. It’s focus is on keeping us out of sight and out of mind. At least, let me give you a once over. If not for you, for me.”

My girl is big and strong, and can handle herself.

Hevn’s left hand rises above her head, and warm waves of radiating darkness expel from his palm. He lingers for a moment to touch her cheek, taking extra care to reduce the swelling and knit it back together. Afterwards slowly tracing the entirety of her form, heat emanating from his hand with just a sliver of air between them physically touching. He is unashamedly thorough in that effort until at last his progress finishes at her feet. He took the cuts and bruising from her, the aches and pains, but he could not take the fatigue.

In fact, he was feeling it too. The small act of healing was the last dose he had in the tank after their escape. Internally, he was so proud, so radiantly proud of himself. He’d done it a second time! The first was on her, and so too was the second time he’d been able to mend another’s injuries. Something about her changed him for the stronger. He was interested in seeing what else he could discover in her company.

Hevn considers for a moment that while she was not shy, she may want some space to process the events that had taken place so quickly. She had probably found his presence on Mandalore as surprising as he found hers. Now she was on his ship again.

His fist stops glowing, and as the healing ceases he leans back from Scherezade. An exhausted sigh pushes from his throat. He folds her armor over his elbow, standing up and running the material through his fingers. “Phrik.....silk....I should be able to get this back in order for you quickly. Enjoy the shower. Save me some hot water, if you would? It gets hard to come by when those two fluff balls decide it’s finally time to be clean.”

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Last time… Last time they had both been under the effect of the cheap liquor offered in the Underground, riding the waves of combat between them, where both had managed to nearly kill the other. While she didn't quite want to admit it, she hadn't even noticed the soft white furs or the snowfall last time. It had been a hungry search, a need that felt she would drown without, as he removed her touch-starvation with every move and every touch. And in the morning, with the needs soothed, she had felt incredibly confused. She still was, when she thought about it.

And yet she was grateful. She was happy that they had found each other on Mandalore, She was happy that he had taken her from there now that she was after the fight and knew that he only way she could have killed that Mandalorian was to die herself, considering how things went down on the planet.

Scherezade was not oblivious to the heat radiating from Hevn. She knew parts of it – the bloodlust that still thumped through one's heart and body after a battle that was yet to be soothed down. The raw hunger for action that lingered after getting alive out of situations in which you could easily die. And… The way he looked at her. She wasn't sure – wasn't sure if he really was looking at her that way, or whether her mind was making it up, trying to find more meaning in a situation that in reality meant less, priming her for another trauma that would surely come soon. And it was the confused from which her momentary shyness stemmed, as she found herself wordless and looking down, unsure of what to do. Thank the Force for her fatigue in that moment, keeping her from making a potential gigantic mess.

"It's good to see you too," she said quietly as he healed her. She could feel the heat radiating from his hand now, the bloodlust and passion of battle slowly coming down. When he touched her cheek, she did not recoil, as she'd half expected that she would. How often had she nearly decapitated her own few friends for hugging her, for trying to do as little as hug her, because she felt her personal space breached? And though the touch against her cheek felt like more than just medical care, she did not move back, did not push him away. Something inside her was warming now, wanting more of it. What a silly body, wanting more when it was in the process of being healed.

And when he'd finished, Scherezade blinked. He pulled his hand away. Did she want him to stay close? To continue what he was doing? Did she want it because he was helping her or because she wanted more of it? In the eddies of her fatigue and running thoughts, there was nothing that could give her a clear answer, nothing she could rely on, other than what she had already said. She needed a shower. She was too dirty for the fur and the snowfall.

Her body had healed. She knew the swelling was no longer there, the colorful stains of bruises gone, leaving her skin, pale, and scarred in so many places, bare. Her smile was wider now, warmer, as she gave it to Hevn with a nod before disappearing into the shower.

The water pressure was hevnly.

And yet, she stepped out of it a moment later, all the gore and ick that was on her now still on her, but wet and dripping, and she walked to the door. "I don't know how much water I'm going to need," she said almost innocent-like, "so I figure, wanna join me so we can make the most of however much is there?"

Without waiting for an answer, Scherezade turned around and stepped right back into the shower. If Hevn was going to decide against it, the least she could do was make use of every second she had.

[member="Bedrovelse Hevn"]

 

[Bedrovelse Hevn]

A hole rips open within Hevn that could not be explained. A place in the deepest, darkest parts of him that were buried under a mountain of despair and lament. What came out from that chasm of misery was like nothing he’d felt in his lifetimes wandering the galaxy.

Relief. Like a gust of wind that sweeps through his soul. She didn’t flinch at his touch. Shied perhaps, but not enough to refuse his aid. Lightning does strike twice. His disbelief fades with each cut and bruise erased from her skin. Though scars were plentiful in remaining.

Hevn had endured many of his own, and wore them forever. Even he could not begin to guess at what she’d done to wear them, or even by what instrument of war. How many times had she rushed head first into enemies and emerged victorious? Stronger than he gave her credit for in the underworld, if she was capable of bulldozing champions of the battlefield. Her blood magic combined with brute force was formidable.

Acceptance. He was worthy in the eyes of such a great one to share her company. He takes her words as a welcomed kindness. Her smile was wide and warm for him to bask in briefly, before she rose to vanish. He hears the shower start behind the closed door before it opens again. His heart skips several beats as Scherezade emerges and invites him along.

Belief. How could she not believe in her strength? What was she chasing after with sabers, knives, and exsanguination. He hasn’t seen a force of nature like that since the brothers of the Dark Jedi Order.

“It would be my pleasure.” His glee is undeniable. His tension broken by her brazen humor. His smile curls painfully wide. The unused muscles cramp in defiance of the act. He follows her towards the rushing water shedding his blood soaked and dust caked robes. He gestures towards her magnificent battle scars. Boldly he traces a soft touch against one on her arm. “Will you tell me their stories?” He brushes where the Jedi had stabbed her. His touch was hungry, and it’s venom lurked in his words. “Or will you shut me up?”




[member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

She saw how he looked at her scars. Saw that there were questions behind those eyes, questions that were not yet voiced. What was he thinking, she wondered. All too aware that her skin did not resemble that of most people she knew, was not as pure. Her grandmother never entered battle, and thus, had never worn armor. With the memories branded into her mind, there had been nothing about it. She had not even known she'd needed it during those first months, had not known that the use of armor was to exactly lower and entirely avoid these things.

It had made her feel stupid, when she learned. Almost as dumb as she'd felt when she realized that she'd been receiving a salary from the Confederacy all along but no one had told her how it was to be picked up, leading her to believe that she wasn't, and putting her in a life in which she'd constantly fought to survive, for no reason at all.

Her eyes wandered to his body. There hadn't been much of the looking, last time they'd been together. Both of them had been too busy, hungrily grasping at each other. Now, she looked deeper, at the metal that covered his jaw, his arms, his legs, his torso. At the pale flesh that was wherever the metal was not, some of it full of scars as well, other parts not so much.

He was touching her now. A soft touch along her arm, sending shivers through her body. Up his hand came, against the scar that resided atop of her heart. The one scar that she knew she would never get rid of, even if she had figured out the way to remove many of the others through the clever usage of her knives and a few refills worth of bacta.

And he wanted to know their stories.

Her own hand coming atop of his as it hovered above the scar on her heart, she spoke. "A Jedi. Attacked me while I was having lunch on Coruscant, attacked me for knowing me by my bloodline because of the eyes and resemblance to my grandmother. I only had a few knives on me and I was younger, not as great of a fighter as I am now, and he had close to a thousand years of training on me. He cut me, then stabbed me in the heart and in the stomach," she pointed down to another similar scar, though that second one, she could not say she particularly cared about, "and left me there after using my blood to write a message on the wall. No one is sure if I died that day or just came close to it. He later tried to convince me not to kill myself. I now have his heart in a jar on my ship… And it's still beating."

Carefully, she moved Hevn's hand along with hers, down between the center of her torso and to the area around her belly button, where a myriad of criss-cross scars could still be seen.

"Sabercat on Monastery," she continued, "My guts almost leaked out after that encounter. I was somewhat healed by another Confederate and ran straight back to the fight. I also have a purple fur coat now."

There was a small smile as she said that, a kernel of pride.

Again she trailed his hand up, now to her right shoulder, and she paused. That one… She had not looked at that one in over a year. Had almost ignored it was there. "I took a spear into my shoulder to protect him," she said quietly. It was a mangled scar, an ugly one, but she'd never cared. Until things had gone badly, she'd been incredibly proud of that one. Saved his life, won their competition to see who kills the most people on that field, and he'd cleaned her ship and made it sparkle in return.

Scherezade shook her head looked up again, her gaze falling on Hevn's face. Almost as though she was afraid to break him, her own hand came then, the tips of her fingers running along his jaw with care. Had they put nerve ending receptors in the metallic replacements his body sported? Could he actually feel when they were touched? "Why?" she asked softly, her hands continuing to trace the lines of where skin met metal. Why would he have chosen cybernetic parts over organic replacements?

[member="Bedrovelse Hevn"]

 

[Bedrovelse Hevn]

Hevn’s heart screams like a soaring eagle as she wraps her hand around his, and she guides him across the stunning landscape of her body. With each inch they traveled his heart opened more. From within it he opens himself to her. He admires the war torn perfection of her body. Embraced the stories she had for each and every scar. With each stop along the beautiful road of her pain his warmth built and flourished. Blooming like wildfire under his skin. Building in his chest. If he could blush, he would have. This was the sweetest of dreams he’d ever had the fortune to experience. The way he felt, the way she welcomed him, it was beyond his ability to believe. As their fingers continued to glide, he knew for certain. It was real.

He recalls the story of the Jedi from the underworld. He’d scowled then, but his eyes had softened into a glittering pool. His expression is soft and warm. At the revelation she still had his beating heart though, a bark of surprise, laughter, and morbid glee leaps from his mouth. “A ponderous trophy!” He was delighted by the savage conclusion she offered him.

As his palm comes to rest on her belly, she told of the mauling she endured. At her small smile and that little nugget of pride in herself he smiles wide for her. Joy bled from every ounce of him. His mind raced ahead of the moment, and it carries his tongue with it. “I should like to see your purple coat. Perhaps if you’d ever like to visit my home, ha, you’d need it.”

Ensolica was a vast tundra, not unlike Hoth. He’d love to see this purple ball of fur playing in the snow. Maybe even with him, if he could dare to dream so big. His free hand twirls the air once. The steam outside the shower turns into a few hundred softly falling snowflakes before vanishing to the heat. He grins to explain himself, in case she did not know where that was. “Ensolica is cold.”

And so was I, before the Firestarter.

Her tone changed as they reached her shoulder. Her answer was quiet, but specific enough to send the message. He’d admittedly hoped not to trip that land mine on this journey. To adore her scars and hear her tales without opening them. What a fool. He should have known better. He could be sorry, or her could right his mistake some other way. His mouth falls on her shoulder, pulling her wet skin softly, and flicking it with his tongue. A hand slides up her smooth, unmarked back, before finding a firm but gentle grip in a tangle of her hair. His mouth devours a path that leads up her neck, and into her lips.

The fire in him burns in his eyes, and off of his lips. Scherezade shakes her head. He blinks away a spray of water and found her hand tracing his face. She was going to return the question. She started in what was probably the most tender and shameful of his augmentations, or more accurately a correction. His jaw was not part of the treachery that left his body in this condition. He had perhaps been handsome once, in his old form. This was not so by his opinion now.

When practicing Sith sorcery he had come across one of Sidious’ most useful and deceiving spells. Sith Mask. The ability to impersonate others, or change his face or form as he saw fit. Hevn’s first attempt ended tragically with half his face snapping off while trying to force it to work. He learned in time you needed familiarity, or basically an alter ego to commit to, to face shift correctly or easily at all.

Hevn does not shy from her question. His fire does not fade for melancholy, doubt, or insecurity in the abhorrent form that was his to be. “It was the best I could do, manipulating the natives to piece me back together. The dark side has ravaged by body, abusing me, as I have it for a very long time. I refuse to die so. I will not fade to ash, crippled and sickly. I intend to die in an inexplicable flash of pain. As I was born.”

The words are solemn, but confident. He would choose to die a warrior, not a puppeteer. With this form he was the most savage hybrid of both. His ability to dominate others through willpower, brute force, or skill was his to decide. The cost of that power was small to him. To be one of the most powerful dark siders in the galaxy, being unsightly was such an insignificant price.

Her gently glimmering emeralds eye him so softly. More than anyone ever had. “If you’re wondering....I feel you.” His arms coil around her waist and pull their bodies together. “The cybernetics are tainted by the techno beast virus. They are integrated with my brain, my body, and my force signature. If I feel pain, it can be subdued or elevated to suit my needs. When I touch you, euphoria can be elevated into bliss. I have learned to feel through the force, where my nerves no longer reach. I feel you more than you could possibly know, or I could possibly explain. It’s as though I interact with your essence, or your soul, rather than the shell it inhabits.”

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

A ponderous trophy, he'd called it. The Jedi's heart in a jar. She did not wish to tell him why it was there and how, did not want to explain about the Jedi's own curse that ensured he would never die, not by his own hand or by the hand of an enemy, unless it was done by someone who was of his own blood. Scherezade had not been. There was nothing she could do to kill him, and she had not even bested him. There had been no second fight. She had been merciful by cutting his heart out, not vengeful. Sooner or later, he would regenerate. And he would return for his beating heart.

An offer. To come to his world, wearing her purple coat. Her eyes moved to the newly formed snowflakes, taking them in. She usually loathed the cold, hated the need to cover up because she was a creature that enjoyed a lazy sunshine. Warm days and cold evenings, that was what she preferred. But she did not respond, could not respond. Not just in her head then. And not something she could agree to, not when she was confused as she was. Not when it would… Would give him the impression that she wanted this, knew that she wanted this.

Something she had said had moved him again. She felt his mouth, his hand, and he drew a soft sound from her as she let him do as he will, not denying the fact her body derived pleasure from him, unable to withstand that the closeness of it and the intimacy of it was what she craved. And only the back of her mind, rushing, going at a speed of half a galaxy a second, could not help but wonder, if the enjoyment was because it was happening at all, a compensation for so long without touch, and if she did not bite her tongue would she say the wrong name, express the wrong desire. It was cruel, and Scherezade bit her lower lip, keeping any sound of whimpers or words from coming out.

As he answered her own question, she looked to him again, her fingers again finding those lines, not just in his face, but for his body as well, tracing where metal med flesh and flesh met metal.

She did not understand his story. Feeding upon the Darkside – it was how many of her family survived, expanding their natural lifespan by so much that some had even forgotten when they'd originally been born, which eras they had lived through and which they'd merely learned about. Yet none of them, to her knowledge, had suffered physical harm as a result of it. Her eyes looked at him with curiosity then. Would he live without the cybernetic parts if he had the chance, or were they a part of him as her traumas were of hers, and he would never let them willingly go?

Almost, did she ask. But then he explained about the techno beast virus, the way he felt… She nodded. Of course she had been wondering. And then his words, the depth of them… Scherezade swallowed, and her throat felt dry, and perhaps it was the steam of the water or the fact that she was pressed so closely to him that no water could run between their bodies, but her head spun, and she swallowed again.

"More than just a body," she said at last, looking down. "I know the taste of your words. I think… I think I know what lays beneath them. Or maybe I'm being stupid and I'm jumping to conclusions and I don't really."

Scherezade sighed. Better sooner than later. Better before something happened, before he had the wrong impression, before something that could develop into she didn't even know what, ran so foul and contaminated that he would choose to add himself to the list of those who betrayed her. And maybe, it would happen anyway.

"My soul is a shattered mess and my heart is not mine to give, even if has been trampled on and stomped until little of it remained," she said, her voice even quieter now, "I can't… I can't make you any promises. Or make any commitments. I can't… I don't… I…"

Her words escaped her and once again her throat ran dry, and Scherezade stopped speaking. There was no attempt on her end to break the touch, to move away. She wanted to stay there.

But could she genuinely claim she wanted to stay there like that again and again? That her heart would return to being hers to give to another?

"I don't want to mislead you," she finally said, "I don't want you to give me your heart and feel like I was the one to break it into a million pieces. I'm a Sith and I can slaughter entire cities without a thought, turn the bodies of children inside out and relish in it, conjure deep dark nightmares that most don't even dare to imagine. But that... The matters of the heart... I..."

[member="Bedrovelse Hevn"]

 

[Bedrovelse Hevn]

Did expecting the wound, predicting even, ever make it hurt less? As soon as she broke his gaze and began to speak he though he knew where this was heading. He had not forgotten their first meeting. Not a second of it. Not her demeanor, or the words she chose that night. Part of why it was a miracle he found his body presses to hers, even one more time. He’d memorized every detail. From the glittering emeralds. The landmarks that checkered her every curve. Every feeling he could taste from her mouth. The way she breathed. The way she slept in his arms, if only for just a moment.

No promises.

Do you know why Hevn? It is because you are not enough. You are a broken, miserable, abomination! A heretic to all belief systems. A traitor among friends and foes alike. You are wretched, disgusting, and impossible to love. That you would dream of it for a second makes you a fool. That you have spent minutes makes you an idiot. That you have spent hours....that’s why it hurts. Too long entertaining dreams that your heart is too black wish for on your behalf. To wish at all. To wish to what? To nothingness. It is oblivion that answers you with the devastation and consumption of all you hoped to redeem.

You are not enough. Too wretched to convince anything to keep you.

So why did she stay in the comfort of his arms? Was it her thanks for shielding her from the bombs? For distracting her on a very bad night? For plucking her from Mandalore inches from his very own demise at the hands of the force severing lizards? What temptation does he offer her that she stays so close?

Her skin pressed to him. The water ran over them both. His mind spins with darker questions. Deeper doubts. He has to dig inside, and close the wound of faintest light within him. Where acceptance, belief, and relief had freed themselves from the icy tomb of his heart, darkness now poured in. It filled him until he drowned. Oily and bubbling from the pit within.

Stop it, Hevn. You knew......you knew. You know BETTER!

He took pride in learning from his mistakes. From not repeating them. It made him so paranoid that he trusted nothing, and no one. So what mockery of his own intelligence was this display? How could he so easily shame himself? It was too easy. He was not used to slipping. He was used to the feeling that followed though. The tumbling always ended in the crash. The abyss would let you fall, and fall, and fall. Long enough to think about it. To realize your mistake. Your imminent demise coming to fruition. Then you crash. An explosion of pain. Blinding, crippling, soul rattling pain. The kind that shatters your soul to be scraped up by the claws of demons from the Nether. The kind they keep until you rip those pieces from their grasp and put yourself back together again.

In that brief moment of spiraling despair, she continues. In the depths of his lament, he understood.

Mislead was not the situation, to be certain. She was not stringing him along. A distraction perhaps. From whatever it is that she flees from, or cannot come to terms with. As she warned of breaking his heart, he wondered to himself. How could you? It was not that she was incapable. It was that if the rotten, festering, brick of coal in his chest did indeed still work. It was already broken. Far beyond what he imagined anyone could hope to mend. As she warned him, he could feel the blood on his hands. Like glass shearing through his fingers, his palms, from the hearts he’d taken. From the ones he’d broken. How those shards cling to him still. A sickening reminder of what he is. What he will ever be. A monster. It was almost laughable that it was she who was trying to protect him.

She declares herself a Sith. As though that justified her crimes. As though it was why she could commit them. A code didn’t make you a killer. Hevn was testament to that. In fact, the crimes she listed were insignificant compared to his own. A creature who believed in only chaos, and only power. Willing to do anything necessary in its acquisition. It was why he thought she might accept him. Because they could be that terrible, to anyone but each other. He’d show her any atrocity she could dream of to win her over. He’d carve his way across the galaxy to see those eyes glitter for him.

She would not do the same.

Something resonated though. Deep inside of his warped mind, his twisted thoughts regurgitate the slightest of details. The abyss. The crash. Someone had done that to her. So Hevn had it done to him over and over. So he’d lost his Brothers, Sisters, and lovers in the blinding, crippling pain. Once was enough. Enough to make everything pain. Enough to fall apart. Enough to need to rebuild again. Her wounds were not so simple as fusing flesh to steel. There was no grasp of the force he could touch that could put her precious heart back together again. He knew the feeling well. He lived it always. Today, tomorrow, the next.....it would always be so.

His heart sank. His throat swells. A chill rips through his spine. Somehow he musters the strength to level with her. She too was a being in despair. Clearly something about her comforted him. Leaping to conclusions, he could only read her tightly held body, and pretend like he did the same for her.

His hands crawls up her back. Sliding slowly as water runs over them, and down her curves. They rest at the back of her head. His forearms rest upon her shoulder for a second before pulling her into a hug. He combs his fingers across her scalp, and back down her neck.

”Oh, Scherezade.” It was barely loud enough to hear. Laced thickly with his adoration. It was all the air that could escape just then. He breathes shallow and soft. He searches for the means to steal more of her seconds in this embrace. He holds her and continues to stroke her hair for a little longer before leaning back. If she were to look at him she’d see his compassion.

He kept the cold at bay. The darkness left wanting of the feast he denies it. He chooses another way. He would not succumb to its call. It was his to command, and not the other way around.

”Thank you.” He began with a soft smile. His eyes closed at though he were indeed grateful as that warmth widens his lips. To warn him at all. To stop him now. It meant in whatever capacity she was able to, she cares. It took a keen eye, and a keener mind to see it. It took his fingers surgically digging through the bile of his thoughts to seize it. That single silver strand of unicorn hair. That sliver of what could be.

“I ask nothing of you. I never will. I accept only what you freely offer. I enjoy your presence, and your time. To stay would please me, and to go will not hurt. I release you from such bindings, however it is they might trouble you. In full. If there ever comes a day you would offer your heart, and it is me you would offer it to....we will cross that bridge as it comes. Just do not forget. You’ll always have a place at my table, in my bed, and at my side.”

With that, he leans down to kiss her forehead. He strokes the wet strands of hair from her face. His eyes say the rest.

I mean it.

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

The silence between them felt so thick that Scherezade was certain she could call one of her knives and slice through it with the dull edge. Her gaze now moved, focused on him. She couldn't hear the words that run through his mind, would not dare to make the attempt to plunge into it, but she thought she could still see them, running in line after line, etched on his face. Perhaps this joined shower had been a mistake. Perhaps this closeness, it was doomed in advance, even without her ever having said a single word.

And then he said her name. How many times had she lain in bed, hoping to hear it said like that? But now she found her throat dry once again, not knowing how to respond to it. Would she give into it, just because it was done? Did the person who said it like that not matter at all? She barely knew him. How, she didn't understand how he could adore her so after that one drunk meeting, that one night in which she had shown all her weak sides, had taken him to bed mostly because he had simply given her what she'd craved – a hug. Warmth.

But did that mean that was all he was? Just someone who fulfilled a desire she'd never put to words for fear of what it meant? No. That mere thought was silly. She could easily think of a multitude of people, men and women, who would have done the same only to get punched in the face for making the attempt. No. Whatever else happened between them, she would never cheapen it like that. Not for a split of a moment.

And then… He thanked her? Scherezade now blinked, the confusion spreading over her features as the water continued to cascade down her face, hair, and body.

Why would he thank her? What was there to thank her for? She didn't understand. None of it.

She wished… She wished that she could pause the whole thing. Pause, step out of it, run to find someone who could explain what was happening, what he meant, what she was supposed to do. But who could she ask? All her friends were probably busy anyway, and what would they say anyway?

Hevn's hand roamed the back of her body and Scherezade closed her eyes as well, letting the sensations drift her almost away. Maybe she didn't need to think so much. Maybe all she had to do was let go, follow someone's lead, forget not only her confusion but nearly everything else as well.

He kissed her forehead.

Only now did she open her eyes, look at him again. She nodded, not knowing what else there was to say. He knew where she stood. And she now knew where he stood as well.

No promises.

Smiling, Scherezade raised her face, pressing her lips against his. She could do with no promises. No promises meant no breaking of promises. They were both free, free of expectation, even if Hevn had hope. She wanted to shudder at the parallel lines, the words inside her head that were recycling things said and done with another. But she didn't. She was standing under hot water now, with someone that she had chosen to accept, though she was still working on what manner of acceptance it exactly was.

"I want to stay," she found herself saying, entirely unaware of how much time had so far passed, knowing that there was still enough of a shower to go through that had to include the actual showering and not just standing there under the water, "for now," she found herself adding, making it clear. No hidden meanings. Just what she said.

"Where is the ship headed to anyway?" Scherezade found herself asking with surprise as she reached for the shampoo bottle.

[member="Bedrovelse Hevn"]

 

[Bedrovelse Hevn]

It was a comfort that the woman in his arms decided to nod, and finally smile. He could feel the turmoil vibrating from her. It would seem his choice in direction lightened the load of that immense tension from them both. Easy now. No promises. Just enjoy it. As she kisses him he knows it to be true. Things were going to be all right. At least for now.

Her kiss. The treasure of it. The way he saw things, there would only be so many. It was a finite number he didn’t have the exact answer to, but he felt it. He always felt that clock of doom hammering away somewhere in the back of his mind. Minutes left until everything goes to absolute hell. It hadn’t chimed in a while. It was due to strike him. Maybe that’s why she tasted like honey running over his lips and tongue. Maybe that’s why her skin set him ablaze with desire. That’s why the fire was stoked deeper than he could fan out out or freeze. She was an oasis, and a paradise. A reprieve from his everlasting nightmare.

Still he savored it. Clinging to the flavor her lips brought. The joy that spread from it. The fire flourishing again. It was better than any spice. Any smoke. Any drink. She was the vice to end them all. The pleasure he took in her defied his expectations. Something about her resonates so strongly he can’t ignore it. Like he knew her. Like she was a glimpse into his own past. Perhaps a shadow of the brothers and sisters that he was forced to kill. Forced to bury. He saw within her the power that resides in all of the Dark Jedi he ever trained under, and in everyone he trained after. The strength of a lost soul. Unchained by the dark side of the force. Thrashing their way through the galaxy looking for a way to end their burden. Each had their own. No two pains were the same, or equal. No matter how Hevn has suffered, it was a fool’s errand to measure the pain of one against another. The gravity in the eyes of the beholder tends to vary.

He was attracted on just about every level one could influence Hevn. She was as strong and vicious a dark sided as he’d seen among the Confederacy yet. Beautiful beyond measure. Confident and headstrong. Yet he was late in finding her. It was easy to shape and cultivate lost souls. They looked to Hevn for strength and resilience. They adopted his discipline and confidence. It was what most of them needed. The mystery of Scherezade is confounding to the point of alluring. How did she get this far? How did she get so powerful? From what he could tell it was simply raw. Untouched by anyone or anything. Surely she was used to being on her own. Doing things her way. What she could achieve, in his mind, once she found her place was boundless. He’d like to see that day come to life. Maybe even be there when the moment came. To witness that would be a gift from the force.

If he could, he’d offer to chase whatever it was she needed to feel whole. He could put her through tests and trials to discover herself and her meaning in the galaxy. That was his way though. She was not a creature that would welcome such an infraction of her personal being. Yes, she had offered him her body once, but people could be closer than that. Closer than flesh and hunger. There were matters of the soul and mind to consider. He could only support her journey toward that end, however she chose to tackle it. It was her adventure to find. Her puzzle to solve. It was her way.

I want to stay.....for now.

The first part made him delighted, and the second part was absolutely callous. It pleases him that she wished to stay, wanted it even. For now. Maybe she was just accepting the terms he laid in the table. Expressed her desires. Maybe she was warning him that she would go, inevitably. Something inside of him chewed those words bloody. They stuck in his teeth like popcorn. Wouldn’t come loose.

Until when? Until I bore you? Until my affection wears you thin? Until duty calls? How do I convince you otherwise?

At least she was laying it out plainly, whatever she meant by them. She would go. Inevitably. For any reason she chose. So it would be. It was his turn to accept that. Freed from any bindings he could shackle her with. Any responsibility for the feelings he had. It was time to do away with them and simply enjoy her. So it would be.

Hevn grins, still savoring the way her mouth feels on him. Savoring the way her body was pressed. Hevn snatches the shampoo from Scherezade. Pouring it onto her head, and leaning out of the water as the bubbles begin to run from her beautiful hair. He massages her head gently, and chuckles thunder from his smirking mouth.

She asked where the ship was heading.

“I wander where it pleases me to do so, until I am called to action. Since you are already with me. I leave that to you. Geonosis wasn’t it? But for all the times I came looking, I never once caught you there.” He pauses from scrubbing the shampoo into her hair. “You’re not exactly a Knight, are you?”

Hevn had forsaken Ryloth. Forsaken all the Confederacy offered him except the weapons and ship to carry his work out across the galaxy. He chased dreams, between missions. Acts of pleasure and adrenaline that made him feel alive, or that life was worth living at all. Catching him in the underworld, was but one of the many ways he entertained himself. He loved fighting, racing, drinking, games, spice, and anything that kept him out of his own miserable mind for a few seconds. It was the only reprieve of his duties as a Mandragora. What nobody seemed to realize, and that Hevn sorely underestimated, was the burden that came with the job.

To invoke Hevn’s name, to call upon him, meant nothing short of apocalyptic implications was taking place. Soul sucking stones. Witches in the woods. Monsters killing men like ants. Everything was now a nightmare. He followed through only out of curiosity, to learn of every reach of darkness that exists. From day to day the threat of annihilation, possession, or being trapped in some bloody parallel dimension was ever looming. His body had been butchered, his mind clawed, his spirit shackled. He was both embracing and denying the toll it took on him to continue.

In the mean time he chased those dreams. The little pleasures he could reap still, while he could still. Scherezade had proven to be the most wonderful of them all.


[member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Standing there with the shampoo bottle in her hand, Scherezade blinked as Hevn said he would leave their destination to her. Did that mean that they were floating above Mandalore? Were they headed somewhere already and he would just change course if she only asked for it? She wanted to answer, but he continued to speak before she could, mentioning that he never once caught her there.

It was disappointing. Not on his part, no. But to know that he had actually come looking. Scherezade's experience with other people was far from great when it came to these things, and while she'd been the one to tell him where she could be found between missions, and she had spoken truthfully, she hadn't actually dared hope or expect that he would make the effort to come looking for her. No one else would've, and there was no way for her to know that he would be different about it. But then… If he'd come and she wasn't there… Bad timing, she supposed. Perhaps it would be better to give him her commink deets instead?

Closing her eyes, Scherezade had to keep herself from purring as Hevn began to shampoo her scalp, his fingers running along it, drawing sensations from her that she had not felt in over a year.

You’re not exactly a Knight, are you?

Now her eyes opened, and she looked at him quizzically. How had he reached that conclusion? "I'm a Knight," she answered. It was… Paperwork-wise, it was a complete and utter lie. But in her heart, where she would be if choice was something she had, she would be with the Knights Obsidian, resuming her role as a Pathfinder. It was what she did most of the time anyway. It were the Knights Obsidian missions that she showed up for anyway. "But I am more," she added. Now, a complete truth, "I'm sent to do what no one else within the Knights Obsidian would," another complete truth, "And plug in where hands, flesh fodder, or distractions are needed," a final complete truth. She couldn't tell him that she worked for the Ministry of Secrets; but she didn't have to completely lie about it either. There were enough shared areas in the Venn diagram between the Ministry and the Knights, and Scherezade touted in that area more often than not.

Gently, she took the shampoo bottle into her hands, and began to lather it into Hevn's own hair. There had been exactly three people whose hair she had washed in her short existence; herself, her sister's, and… Well. Hevn's felt different than all three of them. Perhaps it was because his hair was shorter, though that didn't sound quite like the right answer.

With a small smile, her finger began to move in small circles, treating his hair carefully, almost as though she was afraid to accidently rip a strand or few out.

"I'm on Geonosis between missions," she explained, "My work take me all across the galaxy. But when I'm not working… It's where I park my ship. It's where I spend what little time I have with my sister, or my Loth Wolf and my duck."

Now her smile beamed true. The three creatures that she always kept close to her heart.

As carefully as she had put the shampoo on his head, now she was gentle as she rinsed it off his hair, taking care not to let any of it go into his eyes, only now realizing he was half made of metal but he was also standing under the water. Was rust not a concern?

"Maybe you should call ahead next time," she offered, "I could show you around the city if you wanted to. Just need to catch me while I'm between missions."

[member="Bedrovelse Hevn"]

 

[Bedrovelse Hevn]

I am a knight, but I am more.

About the truest words he’d ever heard. He couldn’t agree more as he envisioned the scope of what she could do. What she would do. When she found her stride. He saw the potential lurking in her glittering emerald eyes.

Hevn had grown accustomed to the strange role the Knights Obsidian played for the Confederacy. Many of their duties did not include their job titles. Soul stones, witches, monsters, that was all expected. Cultists, peace keeping, and utterly open war were not. He couldn’t put a finger on what exactly a Pathfinder’s role was, but he’d rarely seen her on joint missions.

In fact she was far too powerful not to question further. She could kill a man, and not just any man as Hevn found out himself, with a glance. Just a look was all it took for blood to pour from him like a fountain. Yet she did not serve on the Master’s Council. A fiend of her caliber did not warrant such recognition? She was not a Lord Marshal either, or any such rank above Master that he knew of or had been recorded.

Since Ryloth and Rugosa, Hevn had kept a firm distance from his so called allies. There were traitors in their midst. He’d been keeping a watchful eye from afar and covertly. Looking into Scherezade wasn’t difficult. The hangars had logs for when ships came and went, and in the factions case, where to. Every one of them said she ought have been there, unless she was hiding from him. It was all he had to run on as nobody could cough up her whereabouts.

Hevn knew of the shadowy fingers the Confederacy has intertwined across the galaxy. In every affair. Exarch Talon had just finished hijacking his ship and sending him to Mandalore with the order to destroy them. Carefully eradicating any hint that it ever happened. Alkor’s presence there did not surprise him. Wound him perhaps, not to have been invited to the glorious slaughter by his brother. Scherezade was an anomaly. It was not difficult to imagine with her strength that she was apart of something more obscure. A full timer in murky affairs.

He measures her response carefully before choosing his own. “If you ever need a hand, call me. I’m an expendable undesirable well versed in in unspeakable acts. It’s nice to flex those wings where I can’t get into trouble with the top. Corruption of the dark side or some such nonsense. I find I prefer fighting alongside you much more than against you.”

As she grabs the shampoo bottle he expected her to put it back. The shock of her rubbing her hands on his head turns his smirk into a wide and uncontrollable smile. He must have been but a baby when this happened last. For as far as his memory could reach he’d never experienced this reciprocated effort. She was adorable in that effort. So tenderly rubbing the circles of soap into a skull that had taken sniper caliber slugs and folded them uselessly against his augmented body.

He listens to her carefully. Soaking in the joy of the moment. When was the last time a playful bone in his body had stirred? At his best the man offered back handed compliments with a sour demeanor. His jokes callous, cruel, and almost always at the expense of another. The feeling bubbling in his chest was frightening. It was alive. The fire within stoking hotter and brighter each moment they are together.

So you have somethings, and someone’s, somewhere. He had not gathered more than a perhaps tenuous relationship between Scherezade and Madalena based on the story he was told. You, are not alone. Her beautiful smile shines as she speaks of them. It’s glow warming him further. This was his first taste of her joy. He’d felt the scorch of her lust as their bodies writhed in unison.. He’d heard her laughter and giddiness in combat over spilling blood and making bruises. This was so much more pure. So human. A blessing to witness.

Hevn returns her rinsing, and grabs the soap. Mischief lurks in his grin as he answers her. “Geonosis it is then. I know you’re a busy girl. Don’t be afraid to ask me along once in a while. I’ve been making a habit of keeping my schedule clean.”

He pours the soap into his hands before the begin to wander the decadent landscape of her figure. Shamelessly teasing the places his fingers knew she’d respond to. Being thorough in every sense. His intentions lurking with every time his fingers squeezed her delicious skin. Lathering her in soap and desire.

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Flex those wings. She wanted to laugh bitterly at the sound of that. Here she was, explaining why she was a Knight, and here he was, speaking of birds. Part of her wondered whether he had the smallest inkling of what she truly did for the Confederacy, but, she knew better. It was more likely that she would give herself away by trying to ask questions than she would if she'd just let the matter lay.

"The top exists to cause you trouble," she said quietly, "They lean their backs in the plushiest of chairs, decked in all the comforts, while it's people like you and me doing the dirty work that enables to them to sit in those chairs in the first place."

The Vicelord, the Exarchs… Hey rarely moved themselves to do anything. The Confederacy existed by sheer strength power of those who were like her – bottom rank, entry levels, working night and day until their backs broke. The entire independent systems without an empire was as thick of a lie as a lie could be.

But she nodded. "Will you come if I call?" Scherezade found herself asking, and her question had taken an air on that was deeper and darker than she had initially intended, "Will you truly fight beside me if I asked?" Could he imagine what that might entail? We are only limited by our imagination, Scherezade had once said to… To someone. It was her lack of imagination that had played such a monumental part in breaking her, because she could not have imagined that they would ever betray her heart so. She didn't lack for that aspect of imagination now. There were words that would not pass her lips, would not be used against her, never again.

Geonosis it was. Not to be afraid to ask him. The joke about cleanliness was not missed, drawing a giggle from her mouth. Moments later his fingers showed her, exploring her, drawing other forms of sounds from her. She returned the favor in full, neither water nor flesh leaving anything untouched. And fun as it was, after the initial rise in the beat of their hearts, the exhaustion set again.

Tired, clean, and satisfied, the two left the refresher and made their way into Hevn's bed. This time, she did not feel too dirty to be in that room, to be caressed by both him and the white fur that was atop of the bed, to enjoy the gentle fall of snow. And after a few more rounds, when they were finally spent and done, Scherezade found herself curled up against him again, her ear pressed against her chest, when her eyes closed and she allowed sleep to take her over.

It was not restful sleep. Her body seemed at peace well enough, yet behind her lids the motion happened, images flashed, and she could see it all; over seven centuries of growing darkness, exploding at once only after she was released from them, a dark doom that threatened to take her over, clawing on her insides, trying to reach, to cut, to-

Scherezade's eyes snapped open.

[member="Bedrovelse Hevn"]

 

[Bedrovelse Hevn]

Hevn’s words intended to establish a theme he was trying to make an effort to ingrain in her. That as her friend, or lover, or whatever standard she held him to, he would be there. More than that. Wanted to be there. She did not have to be alone. There was a heaviness in her response that yielded more than he could have anticipated from the woman. She revealed not only her disdain for the hierarchy, and their petulant laziness. She too reestablishes her genuine lack of faith in anything other than herself. If only he had the means to be express that he felt the same. He’d have lifted the woman and given her a twirl the music was so sweet to his ears.

At the mentioning of the higher ups, he offers her only a knowing and agreeable look. Smirking a little sarcastically as he nods along. Hevn wonders if she hungers for their comforts. Hungers to call the shots. Or if she preferred the grunt work. Hevn had grown indifferent to it all. Leadership often led to lethargy, impacting ones own abilities and powers. The grunt work was demanding and demeaning. Especially when others reaped the rewards of the efforts. All in all there was much respect left to be earned on the part of the Confederacy in Hevn’s eyes. The wonder of a woman before him had already done so tenfold, and far more than any other had managed since his return to the galaxy.

Hevn can feel the weight of her mind and heart as she questions him. He did not balk at the gift she presents him. Whatever darkness or weight was implied is bulldozed by the opportunity. She was giving him a chance to prove it. To steal more of her seconds. To stay the hand of her demons from collapsing her.

”Scherezade,” he whispers as fondly as ever. “I will.”

The words melt into her mouth pressed against his. Their game in the shower had escalated into a most pleasurable one. It carries them in a spiral of wet tangled bodies from the shower to his bed. He was more than a little impressed with her vigor considering the brutal duel she’d engaged in. He was tender and gentle throughout unsure of whether his effort to heal her had been a perfect one. Spent and satisfied they collapse together in a heap. The heat of her body stuck to him was the greatest of comforts. In awe of a second dose of her lust and passion he lies with her in his arms. Stroking her body. Caressing her firmly as he wraps her up in his embrace.

Scherezade manages to exhaust Hevn beyond his brain’s ability to hang in there. The tiredness sneaks into the euphoric bliss of his thoughts and feelings for the woman. A calmness tumbling through his mind and shooing the troubles away. He slips into a half sleep. The pictures in his own mind are sweet ones.

The beautiful woman in his arms dressed in a glittering pink ball gown. A party winding down while she sat his in lap, laughing and smiling as all of her attention fixed on him. Inside her glittering emeralds was the galaxy full of stars. All of them shining for him. They shared wine, and drags from his death sticks while slothing the night away in the comfort of one another. There were no battles to be found. No enemies to slay. No missions to complete or pursue. Simply happiness.

The longer his mind stayed there, the louder and angrier the lie got. He was aware of his fantasies being perfectly grievous crimes against reality. Slowly his eyes open back up. A nasty feeling scares the serenity from him. The weight of the lie he told himself. The lie of a chance. It was better not to dream. Better not to hope. Not that it would make anything hurt less.

Turmoil radiates through Scherezade into him. A deep disturbance echoing through her mind into his skin. Hevn couldn’t see her eyes snap open, but he heard a sharp breath follow the intense pound of her heart against his body. Hevn instinctively begins to stroke her hair with one hand, and holds her hand in his other. He tries to draw the stirring darkness within her away and into himself. If she could not rest any further, she could at least rise at ease to be next to him.

Hevn begins to snap from his grogginess as his own heart begins to pound faster. Maybe some part of him expected that this had all been a dream, or elaborate fabrication of his own mind. The terrifying reality was that Scherezade was absolutely real. So were his feelings, and fantasies. Foreign things he would need to keep managing to handle carefully for the time being.

Hevn leans to kiss her mouth in greeting, and stares into her eyes as she does so. She had not rested long and he’d let her come to on her own terms. “Is there anything I can do for you, Scherezade?” Even the sleepiness in his voice could not conceal his casual advance. His lips pepper her with playful and suggestive pecks. If she chose to distract herself with his advance he’d indulge her to the fullest extent. If not, he tenderly and patiently awaits her needs and desires.

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

She needed a handful of heart beats before she realized where she was. Her body had lain still, almost frozen in time, as her eyes darted around, taking in the sight of the white fur, taking in the snow, taking in the fact that someone was touching her, caressing her hair, holding her hand. With the stillness of a predator, during those seconds, she had been ready to strike, to defend herself against what might have happened as she slept. Only then, after that, did her senses come to, the memories of being pressed against Hevn on Mandalore, the shower, and what had happened during and after that.

Slowly, the readiness to attack began to subside. The dreams and visions she had seen while her body had been unconscious, she could not remember them anymore, but their effect lingered. Nightmares of Darkness. She knew them by now, knew them intimately well. It was a blessing, that she did not remember the ones from moments ago. There was only hope that these were ones she had seen before, repetitive ones, that would not be important to re-remember. No new information. She didn't want anything from the Darkness but for it to leave her be.

Hevn's mouth pressed against hers and Scherezade blinked as she realized she was kissing him back, her eyes as open as his. It was the second time now that she had slept with him not only in the room, but snuggled against him, pressed into his body. Did this mean she trusted him? Or on some instinctual level, her body and mind were letting her know that she could? She wasn't certain. It was still, entirely confusing to her. But there was no denying any of it – she was comfortable in his arms. She enjoyed the feeling, the sensation of him, flesh and metal, man and… Did he count as a cyborg? She wasn't sure.

His pecks did not go unanswered though. Her mind becoming fully her own again, she purred into him before climbing atop, not only accepting his advances, but taking him for a ride.

Later, when they were both lying in his bed again, out of breath, chests rising and falling hard, eyes on the ceiling, the sounds from Scherezade's stomach alerted her of what the next step was going to be. "Do you know where we are?" she asked, moving to lay on her side, her fingers trailing across Hevn's torso, moving along the parts where flesh met metal, making lazy circles against the skin. "I'm thinking… If we're moving along the Hydian Way, we could stop for lunch on Coruscant or something." Scherezade had memorized most of the galactic map. She couldn't remember where each and every planet was, but she knew the highways and always checked how to get from place to place. To find her not knowing where she was, was a rare none-treat. "Through the Mara Corridor, I hear Voss has some nice places too."

Leaning her head against his chest, Scherezade sighed. Wherever they were, their trip would soon enough come to an end. Food or no food, they would return to Confederate space, and life with mission after mission until death would soon come about. They hadn't even been supposed to be together now; she hadn't known he would be on Mandalore, and she supposed he did not know she would be either. Their meeting had been chance, their decision to remain together in the hours afterwards, another chance.

""Unless you got food on board," she added with a little smile. How odd to be on someone else's ship like that. On her own, her kitchen was full of game meat that she had hunted and preserved. On her sister's ship, there was purchased food. What did Hevn have in store here?

Besides, food would be good. It would serve as a much welcome distraction from all the questions that insisted don bubbling inside of the Sithling.

[member="Bedrovelse Hevn"]

 

[Bedrovelse Hevn]

Euphoria crept through every fiber of his being. The woman had a gift for rocking his world. He could feel his brain just bleeding bliss into his blood stream, his thoughts, and his body. He felt himself sinking into the bed. Meaning to her form wrapped around him. A perfect little cocoon of warmth and welcomed comfort. She rolls toward him, and her finger tips begin to trace circles along his skin.

”Mmm” he groans happily. His satisfaction was radiant and infectious. Lost in the amazing feeling she inspires in him. He opens his eyes, happily moaning again as she asks where they are and her fingers continue to play. Their first encounter had been all fire and hunger. A blind stumble of discarded clothes and needing bodies. He had taken that time to memorize her form. Commit the picture of her perfection to a place he could keep it for himself. This time around he is conscious in savoring her affections. The exact way those lips feel when they explore his skin. The dance of her soft fingers and meandering palms. How sweet her voice sounds when it’s carried by pleasure, and joy. Every detail was precious to him. There was so little left in the galaxy to inspire him. So little left to live or care for. In the vast expanse of his hopelessness and despair, she was an oasis. He would not ever take it for granted. He treasured every breath. Every sliver of her time. Every moment those ugly thoughts were kept at bay. If he never saw her again, he would at least have the sweet dreams to escape in until time eventually dulls and buries them.

He continues to smile as she suggests food, and places they could get it. He did not know exactly where they were, or which direction they were heading. He left such things to his crew. They new the price of acting foolish and at this point in their tenure could anticipate most of Hevn’s expectations.

She lays her head on his chest and sighs. Hevn strokes her hair with the hand nearest, and reaches for a data pad on the table beside the bed. He rests it atop his leg with one hand so that she’d be able to see just as well. A few taps pull up the map. They were moving along the Mara Corridor. Voss was within several hours journey.

Laying his finger to rest on the planet he asks, “Voss, then!” Selecting the planet changed the ping for the cockpit. Claws picks the message up and changes course. The Catharian’s voice grumbles through the comm on the data pad.

::Voss, boss?:: Claws could be heard snickering at his own terrible rhyme job if you listened close enough. ::Business or pleasure?::

Hevn casts a little glance down toward the woman laying on him. :leasure.:: His uncanny mood was evident in his patience with Claws in even questioning him at all. It was code though. When the crew asked that question it usually meant they were curious as to whether they’d be taking orders or doing as they pleased. In this case, it was absolutely the latter.

The comms close, and Hevn returns the data pad to its place on the table. “Voss might be more around dinner time the way this thing flies. Mad Claws and Alpha aren’t bad cooks, it’s just that their diet consists of random slabs of alien meat. If you’re not opposed, it could ride you over until later? They’ll probably be whipping some up here soon. Tend to eat before training since some days don’t leave them feeling too good after. You could join us! I understand if you’d like to pass and rest though.”

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

The rumbling in her stomach had quieted down while she'd suggested places they could go get fed at. Hevn's caresses of her hair drew her to close her eyes, allowing herself to be lost in the sensation, her mind spacing out into the exquisiteness of it all. Not much time had passed between their meeting on Coruscant and this moment. Not enough time for her to fall back into her touch-starvation. And yet there was something calming about his touch, as though it was filling her up again, pouring into a deep gash that had been empty for so long that now was unsure of how to handle being filled again.

Her eyes followed the pad, taking note of where they were, of the nearest planets, of Hevn's words about how slow his ship was passing through the area. They were still going through the Sith space, and with the small break on Voss, wouldn't be going through Silver space before the next day. That left them with quite a lot of time on their hands.

Momentary panic gripped her and she froze in Hevn's embrace. It was one thing to spend a night together, to spent hours together. Even in the previous time, she'd always had the freedom and choice to get up and leave, to go to her own ship, to wander out. This was different. With how long it would take to get to Voss and then back to Confederate space, it could be days before she was back on her own ship, back in her own space. And now… They would be stuck together, for better or worse, until it was over.

Scherezade inhaled, forcing herself to calm down. She couldn't understand why, but she knew Hevn wanted her there; he'd made it beyond obvious with every word he spoke to her, every touch he bestowed on her. He had to, or she would've missed it completely. But what of her? What if she needed space, or air, or anything? She wasn't used to being cloistered up with a single other person, not since… Not in a very, very long time. The only instances that had even remotely resembled it were all during missions.

Pleasure. She inhaled again, her mind frantic to find ways to calm herself down, to find a way to be nice and diplomatic about it without turning the next hours into a horrible awkward mess.

"I love random slabs of alien meat!" she almost screamed as she rose from the bed, shaking her head to move a few of the snowflakes from her face. There. Random slabs of alien meat. That was exactly the hook she'd needed. "Back when I didn't know I was being paid by the Confederacy, I'd always hunt for my food. Learned how to preserve meat. I'm pretty sure my stomach's taught itself to digest almost anything any kind of dead flesh at this point. And a few forms of raw flesh too."

Breathing again, she smiled, the tension having now completely left her. She could talk for hours and hours about meat and how to handle it without running out of words to speak. There was only one thing that needed to be taken care of before that.

"I don't suppose you have anything I could wear?" she asked, biting her lower lip, "I could just wrap the bedsheet around me too. That could work."

[member="Bedrovelse Hevn"]

 

[Bedrovelse Hevn]

Hevn felt as though he hadn’t offered her much as far as sustenance went, so her excitement came as far more than a surprise. He remembered her stories of fending for herself and making credits her own way. Perhaps he should not have been as surprised as he found himself. Thus far he’d only seen that kind of vigor between the sheets, and for battle from her. It would seem that food was another of her passions.

Hevn could hardly say the same, or share joy in that much. His tendencies were to survive on a very specific concoction of nutrients to keep his organic body sustained, and charging the remainder of his body with a combination of literal electrical current as well as feasting on the dark side so that the techno virus could continue its fine work at peak performance. He didn’t trouble himself with many of the necessities that came with having a fully organic body. He could participate in things like eating and drinking to blend in well enough, but his tongue lacked the ability to enjoy their flavors to any avail worth pursuing.

His stomach had more than shriveled. Hunger pains did not ever bother him. Thirst occasionally made its demand when he ventured onto planets unkind to his anatomy. Sleep was an optional and often fruitless effort. His being never truly came to rest. Idleness did not sit well, nor did vulnerability. He only indulged in sleep when safe, healing, or exhausted beyond waiting out.

“Love them?” Hevn laughs a little as he examines her radiant interest. “You’ll have plenty in common with Alpha and Claws. They take some pride in exotic meats. You might find our freezer a treasure trove! Help yourself. As for what to wear..”

His eyes fondly comb over her body. Her pretty eyes. Biting her lip. Bare on his bed. It was enough to rev his engine. Under any other circumstances he’d probably tell her she was out of luck. That there was nothing, so she’d wear nothing. If it was someone he was only purely physically interested in, he’d have kept her a hostage of his pleasures until they got to Geonosis before turning her loose. She was more than a beautiful play thing to him though.

He rises from the bed and approaches a walk in closet. As it opens, it is clear that it doubles as his personal armory. His gauntlets, swords, and the rest of his personal armament hang opposite a rather wide array of clothing, concealed behind a force locked door.. “I’ve got robes that’ll be a bit loose on you. Spider silk. Some tanks and pants you might be able to fit into. Otherwise, I have an arrangement of spacer clothing I’ve used when masquerading about the galaxy. I try not to draw more attention than I must.”

Hevn picks up Scherezade’s armor. It was hard to believe she could slip into the body suit now that he held it, after holding her so very closely for the last several hours. He makes a second effort in examining it closely. “If none of it fits or suits your needs, I can have this ready before we reach Voss. I have a feeling Alpha and Claws will wish to hunt.”

He tries to offer a helpful smile, that fumbles awkwardly across his face before vanishing for a plainer stare of questioning. Perhaps a flash of the effort it took and the difficulty he had in simply being nice. Being willingly helpful wasn’t his strong suit in any case. He wasn’t entirely sure he was going about it correctly.

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

The emotions that went through Scherezade came at the speed of light. At the mention of interacting with Apha and Claws she almost froze, realizing that despite their very brief meeting earlier, they were still new people, and new people, as a whole, tended to not particularly enjoy her presence. But then at the sound of their loving exotic meets and having a full freezer, hope floated through her, thinking perhaps it could be something they could bond over? Was Hevn even the type of person that would want something like that? She knew of enough powerful people who loathed the idea of people they were with finding friendly grounds with the help. And would it matter if he was one of those people?

As his eyes roamed over her body, she just looked at him, as though the realization of how little she actually knew him suddenly dawned on her. He had spoken of his life, and his pain, on Coruscant. He had said he would come when she called him, in the shower. Did that mean she actually knew him? Could guess what would make him happy, what would make him sad? Was he the sort of person who could appreciate the meaning behind allowing himself to jump off the tallest building in Coruscant just to do a traffic dive? Did any of it even matter?

Distraction. She needed to distract her mind from the crowding questions, from the comparisons that she did not want to start making, from the hard patterns that tried to break through that sliver of peace that she had found while sleeping in his arms.

"I like spider silk," she said quietly with a smile. Her first armor had been constructed in part with it; silk that she had gone all the way to Dathomir with Gerwald for and massacres portions of the Spider Clan before leaving with their silk and their spiders, leaving a trail of blood behind her.

Either way, the robes sounded like a better option than pants and a shirt. The odds that Hevn's clothes would fit her curves was doubtful to her, and she didn't really feel like going through a fat girl experience with a guy she'd just ridden. It was a true mood-killer.

"I'd appreciate getting that cleaned though," she half purred as she looked at the way he looked at her armor. She loved her armor; it was a technological advancement that she had poured endless hours and energies on to get just right. Extremely light, yet durable beyond imagination. Not perfect, not yet, but on the way to getting there. She was still trying to figure out how to make it better with impacts, since getting bruised was a regular thing.

His helpful smile was met with one of her own as she walked towards him, not a hint of shame at her nudity appearing anywhere on her features. Truthfully, if she'd known they were alone on the ship she would not have asked for clothes at all. While Scherezade was hardly a nudist, she still held not an ounce of shame over her body or the way it moved. She worked long hours, regularly, to keep it in its current shape. The thought of loose robes was funny too; usually, she wore the skin tight stuff.

"So let's tell l them it's lunch time," she smiled as she pressed against Hevn again, her arms moving to hug him around his shoulders, "and while they prepare, can I have a tour of the ship? Unless, of course, you expect me to never leave your bedroom every time I'm on it."

[member="Bedrovelse Hevn"]