Private Cabbages and Kings

[Kerstan Blackmoore]

Tag: Áine

Naboo had been devastated. There was no other way to describe it. Nothing about it was the same as it had been only a few short months ago. Kerstan had heard the news and taken flight immediately to find her. He had never cared for the Confederacy, nor any other galactic body. His interests were always his own, and his alliances were always a means to and. The only one that have ever mattered, the only one to ever work their way past his cold and calculated nature had been his creation. She had bewitched him, and he would never allow himself to admit the power she held. She was his one weakness.

She was perfection.

The return to Yavin 8 had been a somber one. For all his efforts to find Áine, he could not find her. He had failed, and should the day come she return, the reckoning would be severe. There would only be one thing she would take worse than his abandonment. It would always be his failure to find her.

Kerstan had never known fear. His grandfather had conditioned him to be afraid of nothing. From a young age the Sith Lord had mastered various methods of killing which would strike fear into the most wicked of men. Kerstan performed without blinking. The creatures he'd managed to conjure were the stuff of grown men's nightmares. Imagining the recompense of his failure should she find him made Kerstan tremble.

He could not sleep. For weeks he sat in the red high backed chair watching the stone entrance which hid his lair. Only she knew how to find it. Night after night he waited for it to open, hoping she'd escaped.

Nothing.

This night had been no different. Dark circles surrounded his eyes, evidence of his restless vigil. Bloodshot orbs bore their gaze into the stone as he willed her return. Sleep would take him soon. His body could no longer will itself to remain awake. Yet, he refused. Kerstan would fight as long as he could. She was not dead, she could not have been. He could feel her life force. Their bond remained.

As his eyes closed only one thought projected itself beyond the walls of his solitude.

<< "Come out, come out wherever you are…" >>

 

[Áine]

Tag: Kerstan Blackmoore

< "H E L P" >​

The reply came alongside a shuddering vibration that ripped its way through the foundations of the cave as the ship skidded ceremoniously across the barren, icy wasteland. Áine had expected it, which had given her plenty of time to prepare for the impact, but even then, she felt the effects of it riddling her already fragile bones. Before the plumes of black smoke that had been following her since her departure could fill the cabin, a burst of force shattered the viewport, sending crystal shards of glass out in a violently wide spray.

They would not be far behind. They had been tailing her the moment they'd realised one of their ships were missing.

After struggling and scrambling a little to fit through the gap, Áine landed with a thud against the snow-covered ground. It was strange to think herself grateful for such a cold, unforgiving wasteland, but from the moment she had escaped all she could think of was the desolate moon. It was, if anything, her home. Time and time again, she found herself drawn to it. It, and of course, its sole inhabitant. The man that would hopefully be waiting for her there. She had grown to know and fear him as far more than a man.

He was a god. A father. An enemy. A lover. A soul mate. He also happened to be the only person Áine whose love for her was not a direct result of the strange and alluring monster he had created her to be. He was the only one she had loved in return, and though years, wars, and grudges had tried to separate them, they always seemed to find a way back to each other.

The short journey to the cave itself was made all the harder by the thick chains that still clung to her wrists and ankles. They weighed her down impossibly, and she was still rather impressed that she had managed to make it as far as this.

She didn't have the strength to push the rock that opened the door, nor did she have the strength to open it with the force, so Áine resorted to pounding against it. As though her tiny fists could make even the smallest of sounds through the thick layer of compressed stone.

The loud and unmistakable sound of a ship's engine forced her to turn her head in horror. Just in time to see a mottled grey ship speeding toward her through a torrent of snow. Áine sunk quickly to the floor, curling up into a ball against the cold stone as the ship unleashed its weapons. A flood of bright crimson bolts flew wildly through the air, chipping bits of rock and debris over the pure white ground as they embedded themselves into the cliff face. The minute it zipped over her head, careening in the sky to turn and aim again, Áine continued to pound on the door.

It had been so long since anyone had quenched her thirst, so she was surprised when her hoarse throat joined in to shout his name as loud as it could bare. "Kerstan, help me..."​

​

 

[Kerstan Blackmoore]

Tag: Áine

Had the night remained quiet, Kerstan would have fallen asleep. Instead he heard the shout of her voice in his head. The force of it shook the cave. He could feel it in his soul.

She was here.

There was something else, an enemy, danger? Laser blasts could be heard through the stone. The ground shook as the blasts came close. Kersten lept from the chair and rushed to the entrance and opened the gate. Áine was rushed inside as Kerstan rushed out to face the ship. It turned to open fire again, but the pilot would find himself unable to. Kerstan raised his hand and, through the force, began to choke.

It was not long before the ship was in a nose dive. Crashing into the ground, the vessel slid, tearing up the ground as it began to slow. Leaping into the air, the alchemist ignited the saber which was at his hip. The violet blade tore through the metal, cutting an entrance into the broken ship. They would die, all of them, because of what they had done to her. Every slash and scream which came from his attacks carried the penalty of daring to touch his perfection. They would not even have time to beg for mercy before their severed heads hit the durasteel floor.

Rage washed off Kerstan as he returned the cave. Staying arms lifted his creation and carried her to the room which had always been kept immaculate for her. Pale hands ripped the chains from her wrists and ankles after setting her onto her bed.

"I have punished them all. Not one of them remains alive."

His word were direct, and spoken with a care that no one else would hear. Kerstan's speech was never soft save for when she was in his presence. A smile pulled at his lips as his tired frame lay next to her broken one.

"You found your way here. I knew you would."

Finally his eyes could close, even if only for a few minutes of reprieve before it was time to address her wounds.

 

[Áine]

Tag: Kerstan Blackmoore

Darkness was all that she knew. Darkness dominated by the sound of her own death creeping closer with every inch the ship moved. It felt longer than her entire span in chains had felt, but death did not come as she had expected.

Instead, the door she had pressed her weight against swung open suddenly. Áine collapsed forward, but before the cool embrace of stone could smack her in the face, strong arms had caught her and pulled her into safety. Indescribable waves of relief washed over her body, just to feel those hands pressed tightly against her once more. It didn't matter that her skin was riddled with so many bruises that it cried out in pain, it only mattered that he was here.

Áine fell in and out of consciousness to the sound of screams that for once did not belong to her. Since the downfall of Naboo, and her subsequent capture, she had dreamt of nothing but the sound of her revenge. She had been humiliated by them, tortured, bloodied, and broken for their own amusement. Even trapped in the halfway world between awake and asleep, she found great pleasure in her vengeance finally being exacted. By the hands of the only soul who would do so with as much sadistic vehemence as she would.

It all felt like a dream, or perhaps this was death. Maybe the door hadn't opened, and the ship had found its mark, and this was some strange version of the afterlife. If it was, Áine wasn't going to complain.

She was here. Home. With him. Safe.

The next thing she felt were those arms again, this time carrying her through corridors she had grown up pacing. Even with her eyes half-closed she knew the route he walked like the back of her hand. The smell hit her next. Sweetly perfumed silks that enveloped her senses and pulled her further from the tempting clutches of darkness that lay waiting for her in sleep. At the sound of his voice, a weak smile curled over her lips. Weak, but perfect nonetheless, as he had made her to be. The weight of the bed sank inwards as he settled beside her, and though every inch of her screamed out in protest, Áine summoned the energy to drape herself over his chest.

Right where she belonged.

"I thought you would come for me." Her soft words were whispered into his skin. "I waited. Every day…" She breathed out as her strength finally failed her and sweet embrace of sleep took hold.​

 

[Kerstan Blackmoore]

Tag: Áine

Sleep had taken them both. The words which she had spoken went unanswered as their reunion provided them with the relief they needed to allow themselves the respite both desperately desired. How long had they been searching for each other? The injuries her body boasted had suggested it had been a while. He had not been able to find her. That spoke of an enemy with resources that even Kerstan could not match. It upset him to dwell on those thoughts. Whatever sleep he did receive would not be as restful had her return not come with so many questions to answer.

Still, she was there, and his arms instinctively pulled her close. Time would bring an answer to the questions. Morning would come soon, and whatever would come with it. Part of the man feared waking up, where the rest of him longed for it. Things would be as they always were, really. They would spew their hatred toward being apart. Insults would fly for a time. Áine would deny him the thing he wanted most. Kerstan would finally grow impatient and take what was his. The cycle always played out the same save for a new variable.

This time she returned damaged.

What plagued Kerstan’s sleep most was that he had not been there to keep his possession from being stolen from him. The redhead had made it clear that his abandonment had given her an independence she would not relinquish, and yet Kerstan still claimed her as his.

She was his.

No amount of distance or independence she claimed would ever change the fact he had made her to be his. Though she had been made to serve as a weapon of revenge, she had become something more.

She had become his equal.

Áine had always known she had the power to kill him. One kiss could pour enough venom in his mouth to end his life in an instant. She held back, restrained, always. Even when her anger burned, even if the thought had crossed her mind more times than could be counted, Áine had not brought herself to it. Perhaps that was love, though Kerstan would never understand the word.

A sigh escaped his lips as his massive form rolled to his side. He could feel his body stretch as her soft form remained close to his calloused body. Red eyes opened, slow and with the weight of a deep sleep. They regarded the broken form next to his before moving to the door across the way.

Peeling his body off the bed, hoping the shift in weight would not wake her, Kerstan retrieved some bacta from his lab and began to address her wounds with a tenderness he had only ever reserved for her.

 

[Áine]

Tag: Kerstan Blackmoore

Peace was not something the experiment had found came easily. Even in the throes of sleep where the waking mind relinquished control to the merciful hands of unconsciousness, where the torrent of thoughts and concerns were meant to melt away. Áine had never known peace. But after a yearlong nightmare of torture and disappear… being curled up against Kerstan's chest?

That was peace.

Or the closest she had ever come to it.

She may have been damaged, but Áine had never felt as whole as she did when his arms drew her in. They felt like a barrier, shielding her from every foul and harmful thing that had ever threatened to hurt her. If there was any part of Yavin that made her truly feel like it was home, it was this. Each steadying breath he drew into his lungs, every reassuring beat of his heart beneath layers of muscle, lulled her further. In this embrace, she was safe. As safe as she had been the very night that he had helped her climb from the pod.

The following few hours went by in a hazy blur. Áine drifted in and out of a restless sleep riddled with nightmares that made her wince and cry out into the darkness. When they became too much to bear, and the terror of them forced her eyes to snap open, the only thing that comforted her once more was the familiar, calloused hands pulling her closer. It was still difficult to decipher what was real. The nightmares felt akin to reality, and reality was so perfect that she could not help but mistake it for a dream. It wasn't until a sharp and painful sting travelled the length of her arm that she finally stirred enough to figure out the truth.

"Ouch…" The touch had indeed been tender, but it was an instinctual reaction that came coupled with the sharp and sudden withdrawal of the hand that Kerstan had been soothing in a layer of bacta. Though she felt as though they were made of lead, Áine coerced her eyelids into opening.

A flood of candlelight streamed through the crack, such a contrast to the shadow she had fallen to sleep in that it made her brows furrow in the centre. The hand that had not been tended to yet raised to block some of the brightness out and allow her eyes to adjust. When her emerald gaze finally fell on Kerstan's face, for the first time since sometime before the destruction of Naboo, a soft cry left her lips. It was neither of pain, nor sorrow, though it caused tears to well in her eyes until they sparkled as brightly as the flames that lit the room.

"I'm so happy to see you." Áine finally managed to whisper through the unintentional wobble of her lower lip. Overwhelmed, and overjoyed that this was indeed reality and not the dream, Áine let both hands fall back to the bed. One returned to Kerstan's where he could continue to treat it, and the other back to her side. As her eyes closed to shut the light out again a stream of hot tears poured from the corners, streaking the dirt and force knew what else across her face. "I thought-..." She started but was immediately cut off by another sob.

It was difficult for Áine to feel so vulnerable, even in front of Kerstan. His abandonment all those years ago had instilled an unshakable need to be independent in his impressionable experiment. Decades and decades of hiding her soul from the galaxy, to protect it from ever feeling the type of pain he had inflicted when he left. Even when they had found each other again, she had insisted upon keeping it. Though he had argued against it he had not denied her, nor could he have prevented her even if he had tried. But now…

The brief glimpse she had caught of her body had made her feel sick. Áine had never seen so many wounds before. Never felt so much pain. Even despite her accelerated healing, she had never sustained this much damage before. Prolonged, torturous damage that had truly put Kerstan's designs to the test. Every ounce of her confidence had been beaten out, and now there was nothing left. She felt weak, naïve, and foolish. Exactly the opposite of what she was born to be.

It made her cry harder.

This time Áine pulled her arm away purposefully and used it with the other to hide her face from Kerstan. There was nothing about this that she wanted him to witness. The realisation that she had failed him was far more painful than any wound that anyone had or could inflict upon her. "I'm sorry..." She managed to choke out through the heavy tears.​

 

[Kerstan Blackmoore]

Tag: Áine

"You thought what…" Kerstan's deep baritone questioned as he methodically applied the bacta.

She did not need his touch to heal, but he offered it. The bacta would help sooth the pain, it was what he could do for her physical wounds, but her captors had broken her much deeper than Kerstan had first diagnosed. It only made him hate them even more. They had not just broken Áine's flesh, but her spirit. The confidence she held, the ferocity with which she applied her independence, it had all been stolen. Kerstan would she it was regained.

Áine apologized.

Why?

"Are you… apologizing?"

Eyes flashed with a fit of anger.

"You never apologize. What did they do to you?"

His touch did not break away. It only confirmed his anger was not with her, but those who would damage what was rightfully his. Kerstan felt violated because she had been violated. She was not theirs to treat in such a manner. He would find them and they would pay.

He moved to treat her other arm. Cold eyes found the emerald gaze which searched him for a response. They were wet with tears. She did not cry in front him often. The first time had been after a training session. Her injury then had been a broken wrist, the same Kerstan brushed with his thumb as he applied bacta to the damage the irons had caused her flesh.

She had apologized then, and his words were the same now as they were then.

"Never apologize. No one should know what makes you weak, not even me."

He kissed the wound.

"I searched and searched. They must have already taken you, but I knew you would find your way back here. You did. You escaped. You knew where to come. Today you heal. Tomorrow we find them and make them pay."

 

[Áine]

Tag: Kerstan Blackmoore

There was no reply at first. Or at least, no words.

She had tried to smile at his attempt to soothe her, but it was lost amongst the tears.

Áine had never apologised to Kerstan, for anything. That much was true, but she had never had anything to apologise for. She had never failed him. Never failed to do what she was designed to do. She had been taken by surprise, and through that had allowed someone to destroy the perfection he had worked so hard to create.

The tender kiss upon her wrist helped to quell the sobs.

Eventually, when the silence had stretched beyond uncomfortable, Áine found her voice. "I didn't have a chance to stop them. I feel so foolish and naïve. I thought that I would be able to make it to the capital in time to help, but they were already waiting for us at the border. All I remember was being chased by speeders. I tried to outrun them but I was caught. I fought so hard, I-..." Her lower lip wobbled, threatening to begin the torrent of tears again, but she inhaled deeply to try and shake the feeling. "When I woke, I was chained, and I couldn't use the force. I couldn't feel you; I couldn't reach out. I thought you were dead, or I was." That had been the most petrifying moment for her. No matter where she had gone in the galaxy, or how far away they had been from each other, Áine had always felt Kerstan's presence in some capacity.

It had become something of a safety net for her. She knew no matter how large the distance between them, he would always come to help if she found herself in trouble. The moment she woke to find the connection gone had been like a waking nightmare. Children feared spiders, monsters under their beds, the dark. Those children grew to adults, and their fears aged with them. Death, famine, poverty, wars… Áine did not fear any of this. What she truly feared, and what she cruelly came to realise for the first time that day, was a life without Kerstan.

She had spent so long trying to escape even just the thought of him, but these events had made her realise. Áine needed Kerstan. Like she the blood in her veins.

Though she knew her strength had not yet fully returned, Áine sat up from her pillows. He had told her that not even he should know what makes her weak, but what was the point in hiding it when her weakness was him? Not just the man himself, but the bond they shared. The frustratingly exhilarating connection that had formed the moment she stepped from the pod. It was like a drug, and she was so addicted that even the thought of losing it made her shudder. "I was so afraid." She sniffed gently and wiped her cheeks with the back of her free hand.

"Afraid of what they would do, afraid of dying, afraid of never seeing you again…" Áine found herself craving his touch again, so she shuffled along the sheets to press herself into his arms once more. She whispered her next words into the collar of his shirt, where she had nestled her head. "I've never felt so weak and helpless before."​

 

[Kerstan Blackmoore]

Tag: Áine

Kerstan simply shook his head. How could she possibly think she had failed when she had returned to him. So she had wanted to help people. It had led to her capture. Kerstan could overlook her momentary morality knowing they were not the same person. Áine has been made empathetic in order to seduce her targets. That empathy would manifest in many forms. Did she think it was failure that the empathy led to her capture? Perhaps it was, but Kerstan would always deny it. She was perfect, meaning nothing about her was a mistake.

She had not been made to handle being outnumbered by a significant margin. If anything the fact she survived and escaped was a testament to what Kerstan had created. This was something she should have taken pride in, though her pain and torture would not allow her to see it yet. They had torn her down, and Kerstan would have to build her back up again. Áine was not the curious young woman he had taken from the pod, rather she was cautious, timid, afraid.

“Ysalmiri,” he growled. “They put you in a prison designed for those who feel the force. This was not the same enemy that laid waste to the Confederacy, but opportunists who used the attacks to target force users.”

He feared it could have even been an attack to target Áine, but that thought he would keep to himself. Kerstan was a paranoid creature. If she knew his thoughts on the matter, she would only feel more like a failure. The Sith could not allow his own insecurity to taint her recovery. He would rebuild her, and she would once again be the firestorm he had created her to be.

She continued to explain how she felt. Kerstan could feel his heart ache knowing that he had not been able to feel her as well. They had grown accustomed to the feeling of the other, the bond they had forged. It had been the thing which had always brought them back together. Even when she had hated him, he had been there. If the man were capable of crying, he may have, but empathy was something the cruel scientist lacked.

He could only nod his head.

“And yet you escaped.”

He let the words settle. They were spoken with a measure of pride. His rough hand lifted her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye.

“You may have felt helpless and weak, and yet you escaped. You stole a ship and piloted it here, while in chains. I heard you scream into my mind, and the force of it shook the main room. If that was you at your weakest, then the Netherworld itself must tremble at your strength.”

Kerstan kissed her forehead.

“Now, stop this self pity. You are home. I am here. And your wardrobe has much nicer things than the rags of your captivity. You belong to a god. Find a dress that reminds you of who and what you are.”

 

[Áine]

Tag: Kerstan Blackmoore

Ysalmiri.

Áine had not known its name then, and she loathed to know it now. Though it had likely been a weakness from the moment of her birth, she did not relish in the realisation. It also somehow made it worse that whoever had taken her wasn't even part of the attack on Naboo, but not in a way that she had expected. It ignited a spark of anger in the pit of her stomach, but she did not recognise it as such yet. In time, and with Kerstan's help, that spark would be fanned into a fire. But for now…

Kerstan's calloused hands forced her chin upward. The pride in his tone had not gone unnoticed, but her eyes still glistened, wet with tears as they found his gaze to hear his words. He was right, of course. He always was. In her youth, it had been an unending source of frustration. Something she had actively and avidly fought against. But now? He bolstered her. Despite everything they had done to her, she had indeed escaped. She was here, as was he.

His words and the following kiss elicited a smile from her, and though it was weak it was marginally more confident than even she had expected it to be. Getting a bath and changing sounded like the best idea Kerstan had conjured since he'd thought Áine up. She returned his kiss by placing one of her own on his jawline, and then slipped from his grasp to tend to herself properly.

The warm waves of water from her bath had soothed her muscles in ways even Kerstan could not have done. Even being able to scrub her skin till it was porcelain white again did wonders for her mind. She spent a long time in the mirror afterwards, counting the fading yellow and green splotches that had yesterday been bright purple welts across her wrists and feet. She may not be back to perfection yet, but she would be soon. After the bath, and the short stint in front of polished glass, Áine found herself flicking through her wardrobe. It had been an age since she'd seen it, half of the clothes she couldn't even remember, but there was one that stuck out.

One that she knew would make her feel like herself again.

A good couple of hours later, Áine emerged once more. Her flame-red hair had been washed and brushed until it shone, and it hung in loose curls across her shoulders. Her skin had been washed and returned to perfect alabaster once more. "How do I look?" Áine asked the back of Kerstan as she smoothed down the wrinkles of her dress. The red silk shifted as she walked toward him, revealing flashes of her leg all the way up to her hip.

It was the same dress she had worn that first day out of the pod. As crimson as the paint spread over her full lips.​

 

[Kerstan Blackmoore]

Tag: Áine

Kerstan found ways to occupy himself while Áine tended to her own necessities. Despite the fact he could demand whatever he wanted with her, the Sith often allowed her the privacy which propriety demanded. His harsh look was recent, and while it did not make him look of noble birth, Kerstan would always act as he had been raised in that regard.

The main room contained a writing desk where Kerstan sat busying himself with whatever random work he had neglected during his waiting. The lab had been given a reprieve as the Alchemist had lost his muse for experimentation. Áine had always been it. Even when they allowed hatred to keep them apart, her existence, knowing she wandered the galaxy, had always pushed him to create. He had achieved perfection once, and he would do so again.

Her absence had destroyed his will to create. Not because he could not, or because she held power over his ability to experiment, but the worry that harm had come to her consumed his thoughts. It was the same weakness his father had carried.

Obsession.

Xander had always been obsessed, and would move from one to the next. Kerstan had a singular obsession. His creation. It had hindered him as many times as it had strengthened him. Áine was as much a liability as she was an asset. Yet, the scientist would always choose the more positive of the two options when it came to her.

Her question called to him, pulling from the parchment which rustled about his desk. The man had always preferred the feel of paper to the technology most boasted. So many relied on it so much that Kerstan found it an advantage to keep his secrets written. Most would not think to look for his most precious notes outside of a datapad or data stick.

He turned to regard the dress. His memory rushed back to the day she came out of the pod. Her wardrobe had been full and Kerstan wanted to see what she would choose. It was fitting to see her in the same dress now. An intentional choice made by his companion for certain. Her predicament would not be lost on her. She was too intelligent for that. Kerstan let his eyes wander over her slowly. At some point he stood and walked toward her.

Her porcelain wrist was lifted for Kerstan to inspect. The bruises were already healing. Between the bacta and what her body was designed to do, Áine was nearly fully received. It brought a twisted smile to his lips.

“Perfect.”

Kerstan let go of the wrist and walked toward the stone entrance.

“We need to be rid of the evidence before the indigenous peoples learn of this place. We cannot have the melodies finding us.”

 

[Áine]

Tag: Kerstan Blackmoore

Standing before him in this dress again made her heart flutter. Perhaps, even though she had tried desperately, all the independence she had coveted had not changed her after all. Áine still felt flustered by the way his eyes drew her in. As if their love had only just blossomed and the spark of passion burned as brightly as it had done then. She pressed her lips together as a colour to match her hair and dress flushed her sculpted cheekbones.

Perfect.

The way he said the word made her shudder. The way he said it always made her shudder. He had a way of purring it that caused her breath to hitch in her throat. He was the only person who did not make the word sound crass and cheap when he used it to describe her. He was the only person she strived to be perfect for. Nobody else's assessment of her beauty or skill mattered in the slightest. But when Kerstan said the words, it was more than music to her ears. It was power, confidence, and enough motivation to ensure that she remained that way for the rest of her life.

When he dropped her wrist, her lower lip dropped in tandem. The perfectly pretty pout was cemented on her face further when he brought up the idea of work. Kerstan quite often took the term "no rest for the wicked" literally. Áine had lost count of the thousands of times she had begged him for respite during her training and he had denied her. Often with the same twisted smile to his lips that he wore now. Exertion of this kind was currently the last thing on her mind. Damn the melodies. They had never been an issue for them yet, and Áine could not see them being a problem now.

However, she only needed to look at Kerstan to know that now was not the time to question him. Over the years she had learned when and when not to push the limits of his patience. Anger at what had occurred still wreaked havoc in his veins, despite his seemingly calm demeanour. Even though that anger was for her, for the defilement his perfect creation had faced, Áine knew it could explode at any time. The savage arguments waged between them were commonplace in their relationship. They were both thrilling and terrifying, and somehow made the bond they shared all the stronger, but just for now, Áine had had her fill of terrifying.

All she wanted was to feel safe. Just for a little while.

With a soft sigh of resignation, she followed Kerstan toward the stone entrance. On her way through the lab, she chose one of the many furs they had hanging from a rack to help stave off the icy bite of Yavin 8. The long and loose curls she had let her hair hang in were only going to be a hindrance now, so she tied them back with a strip of dark silk. The soft click of her shoes against the rugged stone floor echoed as she overtook Kerstan. Though her hands were still occupied with tying up her hair, the stone door began to open before she had even reached it.

Áine didn't know if she had been sleeping for hours, or days, but it was darker now than when she had arrived. The path she had trodden through the snow to reach the cave had been washed away now. By a blanket of fresh, white snow. Áine was grateful that she didn't have to look at it, but even so. As she traced her steps back to where her ship had crashed, she was surprised at the distance she had managed to travel whilst broken and bound in chains.

The smouldering wreck of the ship she had managed to steal was nothing more than lumps of steel and frayed wires now. It would certainly make it a lot easier to hide it. "Where do we start?" Áine asked. She did not need to turn her head to see that Kerstan had followed. She knew he would have. The events of the past year had made certain that the god would no longer allow his creation to roam freely away from his watchful and protective gaze. Which, for once, Áine had no complaints about.​

 

[Kerstan Blackmoore]

Tag: Áine

She followed. Kerstan moved with determination toward the exit while Áine retreated her furrs. The wind was bitter and her dress thin. He could not blame the woman for wanting to stay warm after having just been made comfortable after so long. It did not change the fact tbere was work to be done. Kerstan never allowed himself to rest, and the red haired beauty would know that if she stayed she would not be given much time to rest either.

Chaos had descended upon the Galaxy in the form of the Maw, and Kerstan was determined to use it to his advantage. They would need armies, and he would supply them. His evil sciences would propel them to victory over their foes, and in return, Kerstan would reclaim Indupar as his own. House Blackmoore would rule once more.

Xander would have to finally be proud of him.

He pressed out to the cold. Áine's melodic voice rang in his ears. A smile pulled at his lips as his hand stretched to the visible wreckage. A few steps forward saw his hand rest on the cold durasteel. In seconds it dissolved into nothing but dust. Another night of snowfall would cover any evidence the ship had ever been tbere.

"Take care of the rest, just like this. You do remember the skill yes?"

 

[Áine]

Tag: Kerstan Blackmoore

"So, when you said we need to rid ourselves of the evidence…" Áine smirked and rolled her eyes as she turned her attention to the next ship. Kerstan may have thought himself sneaky, but she could see what he was doing from a thousand miles away. Though she would not admit as much aloud, making her practice was likely a smart idea.

The force still felt… strange.

Áine had not used it to escape her chains. She had not used it to steal the ship. She had not used it at all till she crashed landed on Yavin 8 and had to break the window to leave. Perhaps it was the prolonged exposure to the Ysalmiri in her prison, but it had been difficult to do even that. As though her connection was still trying to wake itself up from a year-long sleep. It had needed to rest as much as Áine had when she first arrived. It needed reminding of its strength as much as she did too. That was what this work meant.

Following similar steps that Kerstan had, though with the notable difference of hesitation in her actions, Áine placed her hand on the ship's hull. To distract herself from the whirring thoughts that stopped her mind from concentrating, she spoke to herself in a soft, reassuring tone. "I remember this…" The force, stubborn though it was in trying times, began to flow through her fingers. Like it had been waiting for a chance to be set free again. All it needed was a little convincing, a reason or two to find itself again, and that was simple.

Kerstan had flamed the first sparks of anger back in the caves, but it grew into a flame here. Amid the icy wind that whipped across the cracks in the hull. The creatures who had been piloting this ship had stolen dignity and respect from her without a second thought, and she had let them. Throughout all her training, and every year she had spent defending herself, she had never allowed anyone to take what was hers without recompense. Now was no time to start.

The ship shuddered as she finally found her footing, and then suddenly, Áine pulled her hand away. "Don't we need this? To figure out where they are?" Try though she might, there was no possibility of her recalling the direction she had travelled when she was captured, or indeed the one she had taken when she escaped. If she was to truly claim revenge, then they would need information. The ransacking of Naboo had been so sudden and so surprising that Áine doubted if there were many left who could provide it.

This ship was all they had.​