Private Death is but a Door; Time is but a Window

[Danger Arceneau]

*Posted with OOC approval by Alric Kuhn to write the character and things connected with him and his clone as needed to ensure the continuation of the storyline his legacy.​

Orron III
Arkuhn Farm
Theme

It was a beautiful day.

That may have made it easier. At least, that's what Danger tried to tell herself. She sat motionless on a couch in Alric Kuhn 's office. The morning's brilliance contradicted the heaviness that settled in Danger's chest. The sun painted everything with its golden hues, a stark contrast to the shadows that engulfed her emotions. Mascara-streaked cheeks bore testament to the sleepless night, the untouched attire reflecting her unyielding grief. A blue-white curl of smoke rose from the lit cigarillo between two fingers, but her dazed expression would only land on Alric's desk as if expecting him to be there.

Yet he wasn't. He wouldn't. Not anymore.

By now, word would have reached Myra Arceneau Dashiell , Rose, and Lily. Judah Dashiell and Makai Dashiell shortly after. Within twenty-four hours, confirmation must be distributed to the appropriate personnel and resources across the companies and connections.

Alric Kuhn, Tetan galactic business executive, husband to Danger Arceneau, Queen of Trade, and father to Lily Kuhn, Rose Kuhn, and Myra Arceneau Kuhn, had passed away due to a fatal heart attack after the Winter Fete and Life Day celebrations.

The numbness, an unwelcome visitor in the face of sorrow, had crept in, offering a shroud of protection against the overwhelming emotions. To a degree, it was to be expected. Alric had had trouble with his heart since he married Silara. They could never determine if it dealt with the familial Krayth line of Sith or genetics. A heart attack had brought him low at a young age, and he had barely survived it then. A change in diet, vices, and the advances technology could provide. Yet nothing was guaranteed, even with the medicine to thin his blood and the diet change. That they managed enough time in their marriage at their age to raise Myra into a young woman was an accomplishment.

It hadn't been perfect. Nothing ever was. Their relationship, a tapestry of highs and lows, had never been a smooth sail. Their friendship, his betrayal, his disappearance-- each fracture had etched its mark on her heart. Alric had been her best friend who'd completely wrecked her 'verse with his betrayal and disappearance, only to return needing support in his grief at the suicide of his then-wife, Silara Kuhn. By that point, Danger Arceneau had settled with the fact of how alone she was in the 'Verse. No child. No lover. No Family or Kin. Considering all that she did have, the irony of it then had been rather glaringly mocking. But what did it matter how much she had if there was no one to share it with? After those years apart, seeing Alric again had tempered her need to hold tight to what friends she had and what bit of companionship she could grab hold of.

In the end, Alric loved her in his own way, and she'd known going in that she would never be a replacement for Silara, the love of his life, but that Alric honestly did care for Danger. He wanted her company. At her age, after suffering in solitude, Danger had been okay with that. Their marriage had been one of friendship, companionship, support, and like-minded business interests. They loved and cherished Myra and did their best to promote education, sciences, charity, and the like to the galactic community.

Their sprawling farm, nestled amidst rolling hills and vibrant fields, had served as their sanctuary-- a retreat from the bustling trade negotiations and political alliances that often consumed their days in their youth. Here, Alric and Danger had found respite in the simplicity of tending to the land, surrounded by the whispers of nature's song, raising their adopted daughter Myra to be the young lady she is today.

Alric's legacy would continue in Lily, Rose, and Myra. He'd touched, enhanced, and created the vast charities, monoliths, and contacts in this lifetime. But it was the girls that would truly detail his legacy.

Now, Alric's departure left behind a void that had already begun to echo through the corridors of their home. Danger was not ready for it. Might never be. But it reminded her of what her mama had told her after her daddy passed: A widow's tears are like rain on a barren planet, a sorrow that nourishes nothing.

Then again, there is something about death that gives a person a love for life.

Alric loved life, and based on their previous conversation regarding his clone and his final wishes to ensure he would live the life he desired. As his cooling body seeped its residual heat under her hands after medical personnel had confirmed his passing, Danger had activated the Qahsa biot of his Dah'Qah Tattoo. The adjustment on the transmitter's receiving end would filter out the massive amounts of data, allowing only the specific amount of information to be ported over to Alric's clone as deemed by Alric's final wishes. After all, we're all made of memories; when they're gone, we're nothing. Danger had thankfully convinced Alric not to damage the Qahsa biot over a decade ago, as doing so would make the biot automatically erase all data that it contains, thus making it rather challenging to access the data without knowing the pattern and the frequency.

"Twenty, thirty years from now..." For a second he trailed off, taking a deep breath then continuing on. "When Lily and Rose are older. When they've found what they've wanted, when they know themselves, have families of their own. When I've done what I promised them, when I know they're safe and ready without me..."

Again he stopped, thinking for a moment. "When all that is done, I want to die, and I want him, my clone, to be born without the need to carry on my burdens."

That was the right way to put it.

"I want him to have my experiences, what I went through, what I put myself through, what I learned from you, Silara, my entire life, but I don't want him to have the obligations I do." It was so far in the future that it seemed like an impossibility, but that was Alric, thinking twelve steps ahead. "I want him to be free."

They came up with a compromise that the information, should it be activated, would be received at the facility where Alric's younger clone lay and uploaded with only the details of the life he so desired to maintain. These details and what revolved around the clone were what Danger would not relay to Rose, Lily, or Myra. The emotional upheaval to Lily and Rose after Alric's initial disappearance had been brutal, and repairing that had taken several years. As for Myra, it would be best to ensure she could mourn and grieve without the additional stress of wondering if her adoptive father had decided to transfer the knowledge of all three girls to his clone or not.

As it was, new identities of his choosing, more than enough funds to ensure several lifetimes' worth of credits for any venture Alric's clone would desire, be it business, in life, love, or whatever manner of experience he'd desire. Danger had not asked for the specifics of what Alric wanted to transfer and maintain with his clone, as she knew he intended for his clone to have a new chance in life. True freedom. A way to restart. Death is but a door; time but a window and Alric would be back, but as someone new.

Altered carbon.

Ensuring Alric's wishes was Danger's parting gift for a longtime friend, lover, and husband. In death, Alric would have a new life in whatever capacity he so desired to live life within his clone; Danger could only hope he would find joy, a new life well lived, and, as always if needed, Danger's support in the background should he ever decide to reach out and request anything.

It was the least she could do for the companionship, love, and affection the Tetan gave her all these years.

In this way, Danger would honor him.

 

[Makai Dashiell]

Between trying to have a personal life with a certain Trade Heiress and working for the mining division for his fathers company, Makai was incredibly busy. The last few weeks had been no exception. After a week off grid on Naboo, life had slammed into him hard once the comms were turned back on and the datapads opened. There was a crunch to get work done before closing down for Life Day and various fete holidays celebrated about the same time throughout the galaxy. Contracts to look over, final approvals for mining sites, equipment and supplier issues abounded. It seemed once he had one fire contained three others popped up in their place.

He had barely spoken to Ellie since they had exchanged early Life Day gifts ; some of their last words having been jokes about a pair of earrings he had gotten her that reminded him of iridescent scales. I think you mentioned liking them? Something about touching? I couldn't remember .It was quite a different scale he was working with just days later on Bestine IV, on a Life Day fishing trip with his father. The pair stopped celebrating over ten years ago, not seeing a point when it was just the two of them, and instead created their fishing trip tradition. A new planet every year to keep it fresh of course.

​

Now it was back to reality and he was on Caaraz this time, an absolutely odd and toxic planet. It was highly tectonically active, with various earthquakes and aftershocks rumbling beneath their feet at all hours of the day. A geologists dream but he had no time for that. Instead, in a partnership with MaraTibX there was an attempt to capture the subterranean gases that escaped with every plate shift ; a daily occurrence. Standing in the rocky hills, a holoprojection gently spun of the planned infrastructure, the company taking over an old facility that was in place long before them.

Makai was in deep negotiations with a construction company about how long this was going to take. He wanted to force them to hire more workers and push the project faster, shorten the time line. He was even dangling a bonus in front of them ; along with a threat of pulling the contract all together and bringing in someone else.

An incessant tapping on his shoulder. Thirty-Seven. It was odd for the protocol droid to interrupt him. No doubt a snarky quip about a detail he missed or an interjection to add in his perspective during negotiations during the negotiations.

[ Sir. Sir. I have an urgent message. ] Thirty-Seven felt himself being ignored. [ Mister Dashiell its an emergency. ]

That Mister Dashiell gave him pause, made his blood run cold. He stopped and turned, growing concerned with each passing moment the droid remained quiet. He noticed the subtle dimming and brightening of the photoreceptors ; it only meant one thing, Thirty-Seven was processing a massive amount of information in a short time period.

"Is Ellie okay?" Always his first concern. Everything else was a distant second.

[ As well as can be expected Sir. Mister Kuhn is deceased. ] A pause. [ You are expected back at the Farm immediately. I will give you more details on the way. I highly advise that we leave now.]

Mister Kuhn is deceased.

Thirty-Seven had put it bluntly but perhaps there was no way else to put it. Growing up, Makai thought the man as larger than life. Untouchable. Almost a near immortal quality despite the health concerns that had reared their head throughout the years. Even during a recent conversation regarding the dating of Ellie, Alric had seemed perfectly fine, firing question after question in his direction, probing his intentions with a unstoppable fervor.

The man was a fixture of his childhood. A pillar of consistency. Now that the Tetan was gone it seemed so was a piece of his own innocence, the death casting a shadow on once happy memories, now tinged with a bittersweet sadness.

"Let's go Thirty-Seven." Makai left the construction tycoons without a second thought. "Three things I need you to do.Find out if we can get there faster by using ATC waypoints and shuttles or if we should just go straight through ourselves. Number two, get El-Three to start sending any business concerns regarding Ellie and Mara TibX to my comm. We both know she'll dive into work instead of dealing with this."

They had worked together closely enough where he could deal with anyone looking to take advantage of a grieving heiress by pushing what be perceived as an upper hand while her head wasn't clear.

"Third, secure an encrypted DarkNet line to Ellie before we get underway. I need to talk to her."

[ Of course, Sir. ]

At best he was days away.

 

[Judah Dashiell]

They were practically neighbors.

Half a days travel, give or take. As neighborly as one could be out in the Tingel Arm.

Naturally he was the first to arrive at the massive Farm. Only he wished it was for an entirely different reason rather than the death of someone he had known for twenty-odd years.

The death of Alric Kuhn weighed heavily on the Farm. Judah had landed a short distance away from the home, taking the well-worn path from the landing pad to the massive castle-like structure. Fields gently swayed in the breeze, the path interspersed with wildflowers. Out in the distance, farm equipment lumbered by on a dirt service road, kicking up small clouds of dust.

Typically he walked this path with one of the kids. A younger Makai excitedly bouncing along ahead, sometimes stopping to pick the flowers for Danger and prattle on about all the adventures he planned on having. Returning Myra from spending time on Dac, both herself and Makai hand-in-hand as she peppered him with thoughtful questions even in her younger years.

Walking the short cobblestone path meant one of happy occurrences, of returning home after a long time spent in the ‘verse to either rest or reconnect with long-time friends.

Today he walked it with a new face.

[]

“Quarter three, we’re in a massive upswing. As you can see on this graph, a sudden spike in salvage occurred just as the quarter was getting underway. We have the Mandalorian-Galactic Alliance conflict to thank for that.”

Large projection hovered above the massive conference table for all to see. Assistants took furious notes, while most of those in attendance sat back and merely listened.

“Thanks to the Mandolarian penchant for showing off via rare metals, profit-per-salvage site is up over twenty percent. As a result, crews have been redirected and independent salvage contracts have been brought in for smaller jobs. Labor continues to be a risk for this quarter, with…”

Buzzt.Buzzt.Buzzt.

Judah felt his comm buzzing in the breast pocket of his suit jacket. Chrono on his wrist lit up with the contact information ; Danger Arceneau. He would get back to the woman later.

“....Our political analysts predict strife to continue between these two organizations. Moving further into this fiscal year, a strategy will need to put in place to address labor concerns….”

Buzzt.Buzzt.Buzzt.

Another look at his chrono. Danger Arceneau. It was odd for her to contact him back-to-back. Last time it happened Myra was sick. The only reason was a true emergency. Were the kids okay?

“Excuse me, family emergency. Mrs. Datos will take any notes.”

Judah stood and left, comm in his hand before he had even left the conference room.

“Hey Danger, are the kids….”

The elder Dashiell couldn’t even finish his words before Danger dropped the bombshell.

[]

“Not sure who is already here. I know not the kids. I haven’t had a chance to reach Casteel before we got underway.”

Code was punched into the door, allowing access to the massive home. A droid was there to greet him, one of the unmodified L3 units he saw on Arceneau Trade Stations.

“Mr. Dashiell,Madam. I’m sure Miss Arceneau appreciates you could come during this trying time. Miss Arceneau is in Mr.Kuhns office.”

“Thank you, I know the way.”

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Sleheyron
MaraTibx Headquarters
Executive Tower


The corridors echoed with the hum of hurried footsteps and distant murmurings. The young Arceneau-Kuhn heiress was clad in the sleek attire that spoke of power and sophistication; she exuded the poised demeanor expected of a young business magnate. The faint whisper of fabric would flutter along Myra's legs, the Aldarranian wrap dress hugging her willowy form over the buff silk chemise underneath. Take one week off, and everything piled up. Thankfully, El-Three had fulfilled his duty as an excellent proxy, filling in where he could to conduct negotiations. However, some contacts were not keen on conducting business negotiations with droids; after discussing it with Danger, they came up with a solution for the headhunt of a proxy for Myra that EL-Three could assist.

Now, it was a matter of finding the perfect candidate.

At least, that is what Myra thought when her universe fell apart, the news hitting her like a sudden solar storm.

The tablet in her hand fell and hit the floor with a loud crack before scattering to a stop.

"What did you say?"

[It is with great regret, Mistress, that your father has passed away due to a fatal heart attack. Our presence is requested at the Farm immediately. Notifications have already been sent to Miss Rose and Ms. Lily.]

The revelation pierced Myra's composed facade, leaving a void in her heart. Stunned, she wavered, the weight of grief colliding with the weight of responsibility. Her heart began a jumpstart, and an ice-cold shiver swept over her skin, immediately making it clammy. In the throes of the fracturing news, the edge of a panic attack loomed, its tendrils starting to wrap around her consciousness.

EL-Three recognized the impending distress with his photoreceptors and ability to read the sudden pitch of Myra's vital signs. Swiftly assessing the situation, the droid guided Myra back to the sanctuary of her office, the polished durasteel doors closing behind them with a soft hiss.

Tears welled and fell. Sobs quickly wracked her body as El-Three gently set her to rest on a chair. Her hand covered her mouth, body trembling, fighting to remember to breathe, barely hearing El-Three work through the mantra for Myra to regulate her breathing.

As the gravity of the loss settled over her, Myra fought to rein in her emotions, the air thick with an unspoken grief. She didn't know for how long she sat there, processing and crying until El-Three offered a glass of water and some tissues.

[ I have rescheduled your meetings and am screening requests for your presence. Aeri has called to indicate she will assist with anything that requires immediate attention. ] El-Three did not relay that Makai was fielding any important calls before routing them to the proper channels.

[ I have sent orders for immediate departure to Arkuhn Farm. ] He added, walking around towards the desk to drop essential oils into a diffuser. These were used to assist in providing a soothing environment to the heiress, as aromatherapy had been determined to manage her panic attacks and breathing techniques successfully.

A glimmer of urgency flickered in L3's optical sensors. [ Mr. Makai Dashiell is requesting a secure Darknet line, ] the droid relayed.

Myra's decision was instantaneous. "Patch it through. I'll take it." Even in her grief, the heiress immediately latched to the one person she considered her sanctuary in the chaos of everything.

Makai.

 

[Casteel Mer'taal]

Empress Teta
Cinnagar
Hadlington-Smythe's Country Retreat

In the opulent setting of the country club, Casteel Mer'taal, exuded his typical air of effortless sophistication. Amidst the clinking of crystal glasses and the murmurs of affluent members, he sat at the Sabaac table, his icy blue eyes scanning the hand dealt before him with calculated poise. Platinum blonde locks were carefully brushed back from his forehead, enhancing the striking allure of the dark slash of his brows as he lazily mused his next move.

With measured elegance, he raised a glass of whiskey to his lips, savoring the burn of the fine spirit as he engaged in the genteel game. His mannerisms were seeped with years of rehearsed etiquette that was second in nature, only to be refined by the Companion training at the Oirain Guildhouse.

As the game unfolded, a discreet vibration from his chronowatch alerted him, drawing his attention away from the game at hand. With a swift glance, he registered the notification-- a message from Aeri Vyn, Danger's personal assistant. The news it bore, however, was as unexpected as it was grave-- Alric Kuhn, the Queen of Trade's husband, had passed away.

Casteel's demeanor remained composed, betraying no hint of the shock that resonated within him. His gaze flickered imperceptibly, a momentary lapse in his mask of sophistication. Yet, a storm brewed beneath his calm exterior in that fraction of time. He had just had a meeting with the Tetan regarding Corseca Bank, completing all the investment contracts and paperwork that would allow him the ability to use his bank as Vanir's Industries' primary payment processor and bank. To hear of his sudden passing was a shock.

Excusing himself with practiced grace from the game and the company of his fellow club members, Casteel navigated the plush surroundings with an air of quiet urgency. Despite the turmoil of concern that whirled within, he maintained the facade of unruffled composure, each step measured and deliberate.

Behind the veneer of his polished exterior, a tide of thoughts churned. Alric Kuhn's passing was more than a mere announcement-- it bore implications far beyond the realms of high society. More importantly, the Anaxian was concerned for Myra and her emotional state. And as Casteel made his way through the club's opulent corridors, his mind raced, hand reaching for his comm.

He would need to make arrangements to leave for Orran III immediately if Myra was already there. If not, then he would see if she was nearby enough for him to reach her.

He knew well how the Arceneau-Kuhn heiress would be reacting by now.

 

[Azula Tindara]

"Do you want me to wait here?" Azula asked.

There was no fear in her voice as she turned towards Judah. Myra's father had died suddenly. Apparently he had suffered heart problems in the past. she didn't know whether this was better or worse than a drawn out illness.

People who had died around her had been lost violently.

"Whatever you need," she said quietly.

Azula wasn't here for Alric Kuhn. She would offer condolences for the immediately family. She was here for Judah, to look out for him as he grieved.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

It took five hours. Five hours for Danger to drag herself back to reality by thinking of the girls. They could not see her like this. There was no way. No how.

She would not give Lily, Rose, and Myra a weak foundation to settle their grief.

However, telling oneself that and acting it out was an altogether different story. Danger found this out after spending over an hour in the shower. She'd let the water fall over her, silently begging the droplets to drag the grief down the drain, to make the wretched cacophony of despair, remorse, depression, and yes, even bitterness she'd been feeling leave her body.

But it didn't.

Instead, the hot shower ran over her, mixing with her own tears, and Danger stood there until the water ran cold. She stood there, shivering, and closed her eyes.

She'd never felt so alone.

---

By the time Danger received notification of Judah's arrival at the landing pad, the Queen of Trade had somewhat collected a measure of control. At least, that is what she thought. Ever since she took over Arceneau Trade at the tender age of twenty-one, Danger had taken to hear every single piece of advice and teachin' her momma Colette Arceneau had bestowed upon her so that even when the 'verse fell apart, Danger could keep it together. For Colette had raised Danger to be a lady to be admired. What came out of that was the mask of perfect cordial courtesy. Makeup is perfectly applied. Her hair brushed until it crackled and fell in smooth waves around her shoulders. By now, it was second nature.

At least right now, Danger was praying it would be.

Folks process their grief in different ways. Some cry, some fall into a daze. Others are angry and lash out at the unfairness. Others would be in pain or despair. Danger couldn't pinpoint one. She felt them all. Injustice, anger, and grief. Remorse, confusion, and bitterness. All packed into this pretty little black codex of a pandora's box, the Queen of Trade had to balance and maintain carefully.

Alric's death and being complicit in his request once he passed. To keep the knowledge that Alric had begun a new life as a younger clone free of obligations from the girls. Processing the loss of her husband while leveraging what it meant to be essentially left behind once again. The administrative work and all that followed in settling the last wishes, reading of his will, and the looming reconciliation that she was putting another body to the ground of someone she deeply cared for but also letting go to live their own life anew.

Gazing into the mirror, Danger studied her reflection. Past the hair left down in waves, the neat makeup, and the black pantsuit for propriety. There lay the evidence of the years' passage, an undeniable grace that adorned her countenance borne from a life colored by experience. Yet it was in the depths of those emerald eyes that one could glimpse the intricate mosaic of a life lived, each shard of pain and loss reflecting the unwavering strength of a soul weathered by time and trials.

Only that this time around, Danger wasn't sure if she could weather through this again.

Setting her brush down, the Queen of Trade picked up her black-framed glasses. She took an intake of air, held it for a few seconds, then let it go in a whoosh. Slowly, she made her way from the penthouse level and headed toward Alric's office. Lily was in Sith territory, and Danger had yet to hear from Rose as she was off exploring the Unknown Regions and would be delayed. Meanwhile, Myra would be here soon, and it was up to Danger to try to wrangle everything together. She only hoped that Judah and Makai would be able to help with Myra. If there was ever a necessity for the Dashiell men in her life, it was now. So much that Danger was deeply grateful that despite the fight that had them clashing in miscommunication over Myra months back, it allowed Danger to rest in the knowledge Judah told her he would be here for her: whatever you need, in whatever capacity, I'll be there.

It was the difference between the loneliness and despair Danger had felt when she lost both of her babies before they took their first breath.

Danger had to talk to Judah. To explain. With so much going on internally, Danger knew she couldn't do this alone. They'd shared enough throughout the last twenty years that it was natural to reach out to Judah to ask for his help navigating the real details after Alric's death, his clone, and how to keep the girls from finding out.

That was just one aspect of the equation. Danger had yet to disclose to him that eighteen years ago, she had a clone created after concluding that she would never have a child of her own. After the marriage and then Myra, Danger couldn't dispose of her, acutely aware her clone was a living being with the potential of full cognizance outside of the Dat'Qat biot to transfer upon Danger's death. All this time, Danger had struggled with what next steps to take until a rare de-aging virus was discovered on Ammund a few weeks ago. Only then did an opportunity arise. Infecting her clone with the virus allowed it to de-age ten years. Now a child, Danger had decided to raise her clone as her own—no consciousness transfers.

It was a hell of a disclosure, but who else was Danger supposed to confide in? Who else did she trust to be open with her concerns, and what weighed heavy on her mind?

By the time she reached Alric's office, the Queen of Trade could feel the pinch of tears readying their sting in the back of her eyes. She sat down on the brown leather acceleration couch, needing to gather her bearings. She still had to go through a mountain of paperwork, condolences, comms, messages, and work through the funeral arrangements. A small family gathering here at the farm, with a larger formal one for the public at Empress Teta. Alric would've preferred to be set to rest there.

Another sigh, and Danger set her glasses beside her. Slowly, she began to rub the bridge of her nose and over the bone of her brows with her fingerpads. She was attempting to use the pressure to stop herself from crying anew and focusing on her breathing.

In. Out. In. And out.

 

[Makai Dashiell]

Makai didn’t have to wait long for his holocall to be accepted. She appeared to be in an expansive office but he couldn’t place the location. While they were open with their whereabouts with one another, Makai just couldn’t remember the planet in this moment of stress.

“Ellie.”

Pausing for a moment, he struggled to find the right words. There were no ‘right’ words in his opinion, nothing could make this any better. Any easier.

“I’m sorry. I can’t believe the news.”

There were many questions. Likely none she had the answers to, Makai imagined they were finding out the news at just the same time. Thirty-Seven could easily fill in him on the long flight back to the Tingel Arm. That is, if Thirty-Seven even had any answers to give.

“I’m here for you, whatever you need. Thirty-Seven is trying to plot my best course back to the Tingel Arm.”

During their time on Naboo he had mused over the fact Ellie hadn’t been able to catch a break lately. It had been one blow after another, and this event just seemed to confirm his own thoughts just mere weeks ago.

“Do you want to meet half-way or just push through on your own? It might delay you by a half-day or so…I’m not sure of all the details, still trying to figure it out.”

The situation was still fluid, still too new to get a good grasp on what needed to be done. He still had to contact Judah and Danger,although he suspected the Trade Queen would be too busy with her own grief to field a call at the moment.

“What can I do for you?”

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Sleheyron
MaraTibx Headquarters
Executive Tower


All it took was for Myra to see Makai's face, and the dam broke anew, her tear-streaked face contorting in agony. Her eyes were swollen and red-rimmed, her lips wobbly. While many would call her pretty with her delicate features and classic beauty, the facade of beauty shattered when she cried. Her nose turned a blotchy shade of red, her cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk's, and her mascara streaked down her face in inky rivers.

She sniffled, trying to steady her voice. "I just... I need you, Makai," she managed to choke out between hitched breaths, her words punctuated by the involuntary spasms of her crying.

Makai's voice was soothing and reassuring. She knew Makai couldn't magically erase her pain, but his presence had always been a balm to her throughout their childhood. He was her tether and had that Dashiell ability to ground herself. She desperately needed that right now. So, so much.

Myra wiped her cheeks with trembling hands, smearing the tear-streaked makeup even more. The effort to calm her breathing seemed futile as her emotions surged like a wild storm inside her.

"W-we're at Sleheyron." that was within Hutt Space. "El-Three t-thinks we can use the h-hyper gate at Sarka to get to Hypergate Weken." Remnants of Omni's oblivion, the hypergates across the galaxy had been left behind, could be used to cut down on travel. However, while faster than traveling through hyperspace, it also meant that any communication would be impossible. Even then, it would still take some time before they reached the farm.

"W-where are you?" depending on Makai's answer, they could figure out where to meet.

Makai Dashiell

 

[Casteel Mer'taal]

Empress Teta
Cinnagar
Hadlington-Smythe's Country Retreat

Casteel strode through the atrium, a graceful figure in the midst of bustling activity. His ice-blue eyes scanned the room discreetly, acknowledging familiar faces with a subtle nod-- a practiced elegance that came effortlessly to him, a byproduct of his upbringing in high society. One time and time again, was grateful for the unconscious act when dealing with others from high society.

After retrieving his coat from the porter, he attempted to reach Myra, fingers swiftly tapping his comm's interface. But her line remained busy, redirecting him to comm mail. Not entirely unexpected given the circumstances. She was likely tied up in conversation with her mother, Judah, or perhaps-- his brow arched faintly in speculation-- Makai Dashiell now.

A twinge of irritation pricked him, though he masked it well for the sake of propriety. His jaw clenched momentarily, a testament to the pugilist match's aftermath at the common area of the gentleman's quarter within Hadlington-Smythe. The skilled medical staff at the country retreat had worked wonders-- any trace of the bruise and tiny cut near his mouth had vanished as if they were never there.

The only redeeming factor had been that Castell managed to give Makai a shiner that would give anyone joy. That was the most satisfying way the younger Dashiell had humbled himself to glean answers only Castell could provide.

His thumb swept over the interface again, and he selected the option to connect him to EL-Three. The droid picked up his call by the third ring. EL-Three's image came on the screen.

[ Mister Mer'taal. I expected your call. While Miss. Arceneau is understandably indisposed, I assure you I am doing my best to support her needs. ]

"Great to hear, however, I'd like to come in person. We both know that when distressing situations occur, she is not the most... agreeable." he was being kind. He knew just how distraught Myra could get. More than the dozen or more episodes he'd seen had revolved around Makai Dashiell himself.

"I'm on Empress Teta. Depending on your location, I can either head to you or meet up at Arkuhn Farm."

[ It would be advisable to connect at Arkuhn farm. We will be taking the hypergates to speed our travel times. ] El-Three relayed on purpose. He was vague to ensure that it would be Makai that Myra would be comforted with. While Casteel was knowledgable in assisting Myra through her panic attacks, when calculating the probabilities and best scenario, it was Makai's presence that would provide the most optimal grief counseling.

"Thank you, I shall meet you there. Travel may take at least a day, maybe a day and a half. I'll task my pilot to find the quickest route." Casteel replied.

[ We shall meet you there, Mister Mer'taal. ] With that, El-Three disconnected the line.

 

[Makai Dashiell]

"We will be together soon."

His tone reflected reassurance despite feeling anything but. Makai wanted to pull her in close and let her cry, to be a soft place to land. Yet unlike some of their other problems there was nothing he could tangibly do in this situation.

There was nothing he wouldn't do for her,no lengths he wouldn't go to. He had recently taken his literal punches to get to the bottom of one issue, recruiting the help of an unlikely source.

"Caazar, Outer Rim.”

Very far into the Outer Rim, lower than the Pacanth Reach, the grip of his dream of a mining empire sending tendrils down underneath the Core worlds.

[ Sir, I believe we can jump through several hyper gates and reduce transit time. Hypergate Weken can be reached in nine hours if I time correctly. ]

“Nothing to do to get us closer, sooner?”

[ I’m afraid not Sir. Conferring with El-Three, if we all leave now, Mistress Arceneau will arrive only three hours before us. ]

Not ideal. Nothing in this situation was. Yet was there an ideal time for anyone to go through a loss in their life? It was doubtful, Makai was thankful Mr.Kuhn had seen Ellie into early adulthood, but it was hollow comfort.

“Hypergate Weken it is, Thirty-Seven and I will meet you there.”

Truth be told, he was relieved Ellie had agreed to wait and meet up. It took a weight off to not only be able to keep an eye on her but also deal with his own grief.

Makai already knew he would have to step up,be there for both Danger and Ellie.

“I love you. Thirty-Seven and I will see you soon.”

 

[Judah Dashiell]

"Do you want me to wait here?" Azula asked.

Brows furrowed, looking incredulous as Azula suggested she waited outside. Outside?! To do what, hang out with the nerfs and rolling fields of grain? It might be fun for a farm kid like himself, but he doubted Azula would see the appeal of walking around the Farm and taking in the sights and sounds.

"No, not at all. I've got an apartment here. How about you stay there while I scope out the situation? I'll head back up to you when I can."

Greeted by the droid, Judah nodded and navigated Azula to the lift, headed to the middle level. As they waited for the time to pass, Judah covered more of his time on the Farm, sharing a story of his time as a boy on Saleucami and how the Farm reminded him of the same, just richer and grander than his very humble beginnings.

Dropping the Togruta off at the spacious apartment suite with sweeping views, Judah continued his turbolift journey up. The family level was higher than the guest apartments.

The droid that had greeted them had mentioned Danger was in Alric's office, so that is where he headed, quietly making his way down the hall to the half-open door.

Knuckles wrapped against the wood. Judah was treating the situation cautiously, grief had a funny way of turning one upside down in terms of personality. He didn't want to spook her or enter in a private moment.

"Danger? It's me. Mind if I come in?"

 

[Danger Arceneau]

The rap on the wide double doors and Judah's muffled voice drew Danger's attention. Her hand fell from her temple, and she swung her head towards the entrance. The subtlest of shudders swept over her form, and she took a deep breath, telling herself it was okay-- that it would be okay. Danger spent decades convincing herself of one thing or another. This wouldn't be any different. Sheer grit and perseverance would do it.

Had to.

Throat bobbed, and then she gave an exhale. "Aye, you may," she called out low. Her drawl had grown thicker, a rasp that had nothing to do with any provocative thoughts.

Feeling a mighty fine desire to get something stiffer than water in her gullet for the intestinal fortitude required for the forthcoming conversation, Danger rose to her feet. Ear would perk upon hearing Judah open the door, casting his gaze upon the vast room. It was decorated in dark woods, classic Tetan decor, ornate artistry, and luxurious high-fashion accents. There were significant pieces that Danger could only surmise were part of Alric's Krath heritage: artworks and heirlooms to be distributed to Rose and Lily as per Alric's wishes.

He would find her coming to a stop beside Alric's vast office drink bar in the far corner of the room. A closer inspection for one who knew her as intimately as a friend would recognize the blanching of her face, the weariness and exhaustion in the lines of her body. Grief had a way of showing itself differently in people. In this case, Danger was completely unfamiliar with how to process it under the observation of others, even Judah, without resorting to what she knew best and putting on the mask. But to attempt that in her own home...

Full lips would purse into a thin line as trembling hands went for the black-labeled Whyrens. Who cared if it was still morning? Sure as hell never stopped her before.

 

[Judah Dashiell]

Entering the office, Judah took in the scene. It seemed Danger had made this her homebase in the wake of Alric’s death. It made sense, to be surrounded by all the things left by the one you loved for years.

Taking in the surroundings, oceanic eyes finally landed on the Queen of Trade. She was busy pouring a glass of expensive whisky, despite the time of day. Yet again, he could defintely understand the need to numb the pain.

“Danger, I’m sorry to hear the news. I can’t imagine. Whatever you need, I’m here to assist.”

Judah walked further into the office, moving towards the redhead slowly. He was in a difficult spot, unsure of what exactly he could or should be doing for her. Danger was a naturally independent woman, even during her marriage.

As such, she may not be used to asking for help. Not in matters such as this, it was different when it came to business dealings.

So, he took a risk.

Without a word, the elder Dashiell approached the redhead and pulled her in for a tight hug. Mindful of the lowball glass, Judah wasn’t always the best with words. Actions he could do.

Hand gently rubbed the back of her shoulders before squeezing tight. A small assurance that he was here to help and do what he could in the moment. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had to offer.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Danger froze. It wasn't to say that the hug or the back rub was unwanted. No, it was more of the reinforcement of what occurred. The confirmation of Alric's death. That he was no longer with her and was now elsewhere.

How much of a mindfrak that was. Once again, regardless of the circumstances and that she was a willing participant in fulfilling the Tetan's last wishes, another man left her.

Danger's chin began to wobble. No. Don't. Don't cry. Don't cry. The chant would echo in her mind, surround her with the chiding rebuke. All the while, her breathing began to hitch, and her chest began to heave.

The sting started at the rear of her eyes; then it quickly moved forward until Danger could no longer help the rapid blinking, desperately trying to hold back another wave of tears.

Why. Why did it always have to be like this? The redhead thought to herself, giving a half-choked laugh that turned into a strained cry. Stupidly enough, she had no one to blame but herself for going along with it. What did that make me then? Nothing but an accomplice.

All these thoughts swirled from Danger's own perspective regarding her present circumstance. Colored by her lifetime of experience and self-depreciating attitude regarding her self-worth and what others saw in her.

Trembling, there was no stopping the way her fingers spasmed and the glass slipped from her hand. It crashed to the ground, spilling whiskey and shards of glass everywhere.

As if the dam broke, another wave of utter melancholy crashed against the Queen of Trade. There, held in Judah Dashiell 's arms, Danger wept.

 

[Judah Dashiell]

Glass crashed to the floor, drawing the attention of a droid down the hall. The shards hadn't caused any physical damage to them, and with silence the droid began to sweep up the shattered pieces, concerned the broken glass would constitute a hazard as more guests arrived.

Hugging the redhead tight, Judah didn't know what to do beyond this moment. Words of comfort? No doubt would ring hollow. A better place? Time heals all? I'm sorry? All were empty ways to placate the grieving.

Judah got it, it was cultural and societal expectations to do so. Yet, he knew from experience, it was overwhelming to constantly hear the words of comfort when all one wanted to do was wallow in misery.

As such, he would let her wallow in misery for now. Just as he always had been, Judah would play the role of steadfast friend and problem solver. An unmoving pillar sunk into the seabed during the most violent of storms.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Like an anchor in the storm, Judah allowed Danger the space to feel the depth of her sadness, acknowledging the rawness of her pain without trying to fix it with mere words. He would weather the storm alongside her, offering silent solidarity until the tempest began to subside on its own terms.

As Danger sought to regulate herself, she straightened her posture, a fragile attempt to regain composure. The air was thick with the unspoken weight of her grief, and yet, a slow and steady resolute determination emerged. She knew she needed to articulate the chaotic tangle of circumstances and decisions to Judah before the impending arrival of the other girls.

"Thank you," Danger's voice, when she finally spoke, emerged as a whisper, a delicate sound in the vast silence. It was such a vast difference from the woman who rarely revealed her true feelings to anyone.

Taking a deep breath, Danger's fingers tapped Judah gently by his forearm, indicating that it was okay to let go. Thankfully, the cleaner droid managed to pick up the mess she made by dropping her glass.

Shaking her head at herself, Danger sighed, muttering, "Gorram it," at the stupidity of making such a stupid mistake as to drop her glass.

"Sorreh... do you want anythin' to drink?" Danger offered, unable to help, falling right into the typical hostess role she always played in putting others' needs above her own.

Judah Dashiell

 

[Judah Dashiell]

"No thanks needed."

Judah released the Trade Queen, allowing her space inside the expansive office. There was a small frown as she fell back into old habits. Much in the way he liked to keep busy ; say helping Makai immediately make shelves for his bedroom right after his wife had left, arm in a sling, powering through. Yet for Danger it wasn't keeping busy, for her it was playing the role of perfect, flawless host.

After twenty years of friendship, he didn't expect the perfect host. The elder Dashiell knew where the drink cart was and wasn't used to being waited on in any other aspect in his life. Even if Alric was alive and well and joining them for a chat, waiting around like he owned the place for a drink was never his style.

"Take a seat, I got it."

Judah got busy, decanting the whisky and pouring a healthy portion for them both, going heavy handed given the circumstance. Satisfied their glasses were full enough for a few moments of talk, he turned, closing the distance and passing the glass over.

He took a seat on a leather couch, taking a spot on one corner. The old salvager was quiet for a long moment, debating on what to say. Their friendship wasn't coming as easy as it had been in the past, mainly due to his own stupidity. He had been a little quick to anger recently, a little too quick to jump straight into the fire without asking questions first.

"What do you need help with, if anything?"

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Here we go, Danger mused to herself, exhaling a deep breath. Her red-rimmed eyes came to rest over at Alric's desk before the woman exhaled a deep breath. Plenty was going on in her head. Too much.

Now, how do you even broach the subject?

Unable to sit behind Alric's desk, Danger made a slow-hipped amble towards the couch. Judah met her there, quietly handing her the glass before sitting down. She picked up the cigarillo she had left on the ashtray with her pointer and middle fingers. The fine tremble in her hand was told enough that she needed the calming vice of the narcotic to steel her nerves.

A humorless twist of full lips and Danger gave a half chuckle, those malachite orbs drifting over the fine Tetan artwork and luxury dark polish woods of her now deceased husband's office. Well, the Alric she knew anyways.

"...The girls will be arrivin' soon. Got funeral arrangements and the like to do. Mainly ensurin' anythin' Rose, Lily, or Myra need are attended to --- however, what is really goin' to be difficult...." Danger began, her hand coming up to her lips so she could take a deep drag. She let the smoke linger, musing, pondering, working through the internal cogs of her mind for what she would say next.

"Years back when Alric married Silara, and the girls were older," smoke blew in the air through the tale Danger began to spin, "he took it upon himself to simply disappear with her and not let Rose and Lily know where they went—effectively droppin' off the face of the 'verse. He thought it would be a nice thing to do. Just disappear." her hand would gestulate with a fluttering of her fingers; it was clear she highly disapproved of such a decision at all.

Danger fixed her gaze upon her cigarillo in memory, a frown forming over her brow. "He left a letter with me askin' to take care of them -- Knowin' well at the time we weren't on speakin' terms." another story for another day.

"Needless to say, their disappearance hit the girls hard. His reappearance after Silara's suicide only made it worse." the redhead began to gnaw on her lower lip. Where was she going with this? Well, Judah needed context for the reason she'd need this assistance.

"It took years for them to come to terms with the fact that their parents had simply vanished and left them behind, only for their pa to return and then try to build a relationship again. Much like with Makai... hard to settle the sense of abandonment, and I didn't blame them."

 

[Judah Dashiell]

There he sat, dumbfounded.

Judah had learned to school himself into expressions of neutrality as he got older. It assisted in business negotiations and political dealings, having a smooth expression allowed for more leeway. Couldn't misinterpret facial expressions if one was a blank slate.

Right now, he was anything but.

Who were these parents abandoning their literal children? While he had always wanted children, Makai had been a complete accident. Judah had rushed to marry before Thessa started showing, doing the entire process ass backwards. Yet never during that time period had the thought of running away been an option.

If one did adult things, one should expect adult consequences.

"If he wasn't dead, I'd give him Thessa's contact information. Seems they have quite a bit in common."

His mother was definitely admonishing him from the after life. There was no way in hell Junia Dashiell would have stood for someone bad mouthing the dead, stern words and a smack to the back of the head would have met him if the Dashiell matriarch was still alive.

Sorry Ma.

Judah wondered if his own personal musings had been far off the mark to begin with. He had a fight with Danger, during so he had a dim view of Alric in terms of how he was protecting Myra. Despite knowing the truth, Judah was still upset about the entire situation.

Yet now he had a whole new reason to be upset. To silently seethe.

"I'm just...at a loss, I'll never understand."

Especially when a man had all Judah desired ; a loving wife and the blessing of children. It seemed in this case the wife absconded with him, but what of his blood, of the children he saw come into the 'verse?

In his eyes, it was unforgivable.