Private Eulogic Episodes: The Unchanging Ache of Things

[Aver Brand]

Aver nodded to herself as she surveyed the fruits of their labor, hands on her hips. It would never have seen the light of day… night… if it weren’t for her genius idea in the first place, but she could admit Qui had taken and run with it in ways even she hadn’t thought of.

The terrace, in summary, was fucking dope.

"This is where you entertain your guests I take it..."

She let out a bright bark of laughter at that, blue eyes twinkling like ice in the sun as she cast a gaze his way. “Thral is not where we entertain guests.”

Not that they made a habit of entertaining guests anywhere else, for that matter. Certainly not together. Aver engaged in her share of social mingling, shoulder-rubbing, fancy dinners and backroom meetings and everything else that was par for the course for a galactic crime lord. Mostly, though, they enjoyed their precious peace and quiet.

Alone.

Now well and truly sapped of polite gestures, Aver strode forward to claim one of the cushion nests without waiting for Rune to recover from his Vong-induced stupor. Once blissfully horizontal, the mercenary reached under the low table to rummage for a scrolled black case. Having extracted a Black Label for herself and a sten for the five-star tour, Aver simply waved the latter at the other ottoman and went about lighting up her own cigarra.

“So,” she breathed out along with a cloud of smoke, “is Honoghr as prim and stuffy as Qui made it sound?”

 

[Rune Shamalain]

The laugh gave him a start, pulling him from that stupor long enough to appreciate the sentiment behind it. Not where they entertained guests. Interesting. Seemed like an awful lot of space for just the two of them. He kept the thought to himself, as usual, and forced his attention to stay with the woman as she made herself expertly comfortable in her own home. Booze, cush, cigarra, and ...sten. Well then.

Rune moved to join her, taking up the seat nearby and accepting the sten in the process. Had his own pack on him - always did when he flew - and so lit his sten up in tune to Aver's cigarra. Smoke soon filtered into the air between them, easily dispersed by the cross breeze and the weight of humidity on the air.

He glanced to her as she asked about his home, "Prim is, mm," and leaned back with another shifting glance about the immediate area. No crabs, no scurrying shadows. "...not the right word. The entire planet is steeped in history and tradition. They hold their culture and their rites to be inalienable. The Temple of the Mal'ary'ush has stood for centuries and its heritage will not soon fade."

"It was different when my mother ruled. Quieter, simpler. Ereza is quiet but busy, always drafting business deals. I do not think Honoghr has seen such an influx of commerce since the days my grandmother ruled there."

 

[Aver Brand]

Among the many other, more important lessons Aver had learned from her mate, there were also smaller things – like, for example, how to best lounge in a humid jungle. Quietus was, of course, a seasoned professional of many summers, but between Onderon and Thral, the mercenary wasn’t half bad herself.

It was this quintessential pose of the lazing predator – inspired in no small part, no doubt, by Shai – that Aver assumed where she was sprawled out on the cushions. The Black Label enjoyed a tenuous relationship at best with her lips, defying the pull of gravity every time the firrerreo shifted to sink further into comfort.

And for a good, long few moments, even Rune’s melodic, even voice did its part to contribute to her growing sense of lethargy. Alas, it was not to last.

“Influx of commerce?” Aver echoed with a raised brow, propping herself up on her elbows so quickly she nearly ashed the cigarra into her lap. “What kind of business is Ereza up to?”

The unspoken And could I get in on this shet? wasn’t far behind.

 

[Rune Shamalain]

While Aver was busy being devoured by the cushions, Rune found himself sitting bolt upright again at the emergence of a one Shai Puppy Dog along the peripheral branches of the veranda's support structure. Shai drew herself in at the sound of their voices, having woken from a rather wonderful nap in the shade and breeze of the leaves. She strolled in, sleepy red eyes blinking blearily at the pair.

Many, many years ago the scent of a stranger would have been enough to send the tuk'ata hound on alert. She might have charged Rune, or at least threatened him - even if he did sort of smell like Qui.

Today? She watched him curiously for several long moments, trading predatory stares with the man who was decidedly not a man at all but a beast like Quietus and Aver. After a moment the image of one packmate peacefully lounging in his presence and his familiar scent was enough for her to decide she didn't need to go through the trouble. Instead she slunk her way over to Aver, shoved her massive, spike and scale covered head at the woman in greeting, nuzzled her beastly skull halfway down her body before flopping over next to her with a yawn.

This was a good spot for a nap.

Rune gave a thin frown and took a long pull from his sten, absently calling the bottle of Whyren's back to his hand with the force. He took another healthy swig and set the bottle on the side table between them. He was sitting with his elbows resting on his knees, hunched over as he warily watched the gigantic Puppy (the fuck) lounge on the far side of his host, long sinuous tail lazily flopping about.

His gaze met Aver when she sat up and he stuck his sten back in his mouth for good measure.

"Trade, mostly," he said over the sten pinched in his lips while he took a moment to methodically crack his knuckles one by one. Anxious habit. He didn't do it often because he wasn't often ever this anxious. The vong crab really knocked him off his game. "Exports tea leaves, cafe beans, tabacco, herbs, spices, salt, sugar, rare medicinal compounds. Spice." His cheeks hollowed as he took the last long pull, "Imports criminals bound for death row. She harvests them to make Blodwyne."

 

[Aver Brand]

The approach of one Shai Puppy Dog was a thing felt rather than seen, if for no other reason than because the tuk’ata bodily slumped right into her lap.

Ooof. Aver coughed out a breath full of smoke and gave a half-hearted shove that did fuck-all to move the half tonne of scaled muscle. Fortunately for them both, the hound had learned by now how to best snuggle with the taller of her packmates, and generously rolled off to the side. Paws in the air, forked tongue lolling, zero karks given. The picture of summer bliss.

The firrerreo adjusted herself next to the massive beast as she relit her snuffed cigarra and listened to Rune elaborate. If she noticed his fidgeting, she didn’t show it. She was probably too busy giving Puppy ear scritches anyway – that’s right, who’s a good girl?

“Busy bee, I see,” Aver said, leaning forward to finally claim a drink of Whyren’s for herself. “Say, you wouldn’t know if she was looking to expand the variety of her terroirs?” However much Ygdris struggled with words in certain situations, business wasn’t one of them. “I could even throw in a family discount if she’s the shy type.”

Not that the Ereza had struck her as anything remotely of the sort, brief though their meeting had been. Self-assured, self-possessed, self-confident? Quite. And apparently rather enterprising as well, wouldn’t you know. Decidedly unwilling to linger on the memories of their first meeting, Aver quickly drew another blue breath into her lungs and waved away the gossamer smoke.

“I thought Velaeri was a priest or something, though?”

 

[Rune Shamalain]

Rune couldn't speak to Ereza's business arrangements or her openness to new ones, and he would have said as much had Aver not dropped the woman's name as casually as she would have a piece of garbage into a waste bin. He found himself caught on the deeply disrespectful use - she might as well have called him by his bloodname without so much as his permission - but he also had to remind himself that she was not one of their kind. She didn't know those traditions and etiquette.

He gently cleared his throat, "Ereza is a Priestess ... does that mean something to you?"

Perhaps Priestess meant something completely different to her than it did to them.

 

[Aver Brand]

“Does it mean something to me?” She glanced at the pale, tense Shamalain as she wondered out loud.

Straightening further, Aver chomped down on her cigarra to keep it from tumbling into the cushions as she grew more engrossed in giving Shai a proper petting. The deep, resounding baritone of Puppy’s growling (or purring, depending on how you looked at it) reverberated through her arms and chest as she scratched underneath her chin and behind her flicking ears. Her long, spined tail swished across the terrace in lazy, arrhythmic intervals as the beast sunk her head fully in the lap of luxury and mercenary.

Even murderous tuk’ata Sithspawn deserved to be spoiled every once in a while.

“Don’t think so, no,” Aver replied at length. “Don’t fall off your chair now, but…” she met his blue eyes with a wry, lopsided smirk, “I ain’t real big on religion myself.”

Past membership of ideological state-cults notwithstanding.

 

[Rune Shamalain]

He waited, but not upon bated breath, for the woman's response. Curious at the very least for a little insight to her line of thinking - his interest was held mostly to keep his attention off of her own attentions to the beast at her side. Didn't quite pay off the way he was expecting.

"Mm," he noised in response, falling into thought for a moment before speaking again, "the Priests of our kind are ... not for religious purposes. They are more like," another pause as he search for an appropriate comparison, "the enforcers of Sovereign rule on Garhall." Or so he'd been taught. Rune had never once been to the homeworld of his kind and never was given the impression that he ever would. Much like history taught in class to young children, the knowledge and culture of his people's society was necessary only for the means of understanding what he came from.

Why his bloodline was so important.

"She is nothing like the Priests you may know of from the rest of the galaxy. I would be happy to arrange a meeting with her for you, if you like, so long as you don't mind traveling to Honoghr."

 

[Aver Brand]

Enforcers?

Aver raised a brow, lips pursing at the revelation. Not what she’d been expecting the Shamalain to say. Certainly not the impression the Ereza had given during their encounter on Thral, short and strained though it was. Of course, enforcing sovereign rule probably didn’t look like the violent bloodbath Aver was conjuring in her mind.

Now, politics, that she could see the woman embroiled in up to her heterochromatic eyeballs. All soft words and deft maneuvers until the time came to shiv a schutta in the kidney.

She opened her arms in a mild shrug at Rune’s suggestion. “I don’t know that I don’t mind,” a light chuckle, “because I don’t know the first thing about Honoghr.”

As she helped herself to another swig of Whyren’s, Aver calmly studied the pale man, down to the very last tense line of him. “Would you like to tell me about it?”

 

[Rune Shamalain]

Rune got the strong impression he was being sized up. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it, but he was pretty damn sure he could use another drink from that bottle.

The man leaned to sit up, procuring another sten for himself from a silver case in one of the side pockets of his cargo pants. He calmly lit up and within a matter of moments he had surrounded himself in a heady cloud of purple smoke. Better.

"What would you like to know?"

 

[Aver Brand]

While sten wasn’t her poison of choice – and neither she its target consumer – Aver was accustomed enough to the particular scent of burning irnroot after years of evenings spent in quiet company. She watched the purple smoke with a fond smile as it curled towards the dark canopy, the filtering sunlight catching a plume here and there to highlight its sinuous form against the dappled leaves far above.

Her own habit was nearly burning her fingers, so she snuffed out its cherry and let it sputter its last in the carved ashtray on the table. One of her works, that, few as they were in this new treehome. Her role was mostly the purveyor and installer of technology both great and small.

She sank back into the cushions and propped her head up on an elbow as she regarded the Shamalain. “What’s it like, I guess.” Her mouth quirked into a lopsided smile. “You’ve traveled enough to know what stands out and what doesn’t. Like, I dunno...” Aver shrugged; grinned, “hunting down tourists for sport?”

 

[Rune Shamalain]

A faint blond brow lofted at that last part and some very, very familiar looking lines of amusement played about the man's face. His smirk was brief, pressed away by the pinch of sten as he took up the bottle from the table, "It is not a tourist world."

He bandied his sten from his lips with his free hand and took another drink, wincing with a flurry of fangs at the burn before setting the bottle back.

"Entry into developed portions of Honoghr is fairly strict - mostly kept to business partners and enterprises who have contracts planet side. It is heavily forested, for the most part, and very mountainous, intersected by rivers and segmented seas. It is hot most of the year, but not humid like here. Its forests are temperate for the most part, settled by the various Noghri clans. Outsider population is kept to a minimum as the noghri are very distrusting."

He shifted, minding the tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach that seemed to be spreading once more to his limbs. Would have felt warming were it not for the fact that he was sitting in a humid jungle during the heat of a summer day.

"Ereza is the Mal'ary'ush, a title that translates to Lady Vader in the tongue of the noghri. She is the Sovereign ruler of the planet and the noghri clans. Those who meet with Ereza do so at the Temple of the Mal'ary'ush - a place constructed under the directions of Darth Vader himself. It is very old, very hallow ground for the noghri."

 

[Aver Brand]

“A businesswoman and a queen,” the mercenary drawled, smirking sideways at the pale Shamalain. The words stirred up an old memory, just as rooted in heat and jungled wilds just as she was in this moment. Thral was everything Onderon might’ve been if it weren’t for the civilizing efforts of the Republic and the Sith.

My family has a penchant for producing leaders, every generation has at least one. We never seem to learn…

Aver cut loose an easy laugh and fell back into the cushions. “Seems to run in the family, hm?”

“I’ve met a few noghri, off-world. Employed a few. They’re quite…” she pursed her lips and squinted her eyes at the shimmering canopy. A visceral tug in the pit of her belly pulled her upright, but she kept her gaze trained firmly on the sky.

“...aggressive. I’d love to find out more about Mal’ary’ush court protocol, but we’re about to have company.” She jerked her chin at the sky, at the bleeding pastels in the east signalling the slow descent of dusk – and with it, the many secrets the deathworld jealously guarded during the day.

Unlike Honoghr, Thral did hunt its tourists for sport.

A shrill call echoed down the mountain, heralding the silken sound of a raptor cutting through the air like a bolt of lightning.

 

[Rune Shamalain]

A gentleman and a scholar ... that's at least what he felt like Aver was saying. Rune smirked faintly and nodded at the mention of leaders in the family. Yes, there did seem to be quite a few of them, though less now than ever before. So far as he knew, Dissero wasn't leading anything but his own family. Sol? Retired, for all intents and purposes. With both Amore and Lorelei gone and his own mother estranged from her own self, it left only Desdemona and Arathul. Des wasn't leading anything but the bloodline and Arathul ... well, he didn't know enough about him to speak on the subject.

His mind was wandering needlessly, a side-effect of the drink, and he found himself given a delayed reaction to the words we're about to have company.

Des? He followed Aver's gaze upwards curiously, thinking how odd it was that he wouldn't have sensed her approach, and then realized it was absolutely not his sister.

Shai was also on alert, her keen beastly senses sending the alarm rippling up her spine in the form of hackled spikes. She moved in tandem with Aver, rising shortly from her slumber to turn her snout to the canopy above. A sniff, a stiffening of her tail, a growl.

SCREEEAAAAAAAWWWW

The gleaming ebony figure of a juvenile astetor sliced down through the higher branches and into the opening above the balcony flat. In an unfortunate case of misjudged opportunity, it immediately found itself tangled in the ropes and material curtains hung over the veranda and came crashing down right in the middle of their little seating area screeching and flapping about.

Rune found himself bodily knocked on his ass by an errant wing.

Shai, ever the pack player, immediately moved in to protect her packmates, taking a direct bite from the gigantic raptor with her plated shoulders.

 

[Aver Brand]

Far less drunk and far more used to the wily ways of Thral, Aver did not get knocked on her ass. She’d scrambled backward from her cushions in time to witness the soaring bird of prey turn into a squawking chicken in the blink of an eye. The ropes snapped a moment later, and the astetor came tumbling into the seating area like a wrecking ball of feathers, claws, and teeth.

Before Aver could so much as draw Sa Sevai, Puppy was already upon the unfortunate beast, her deep growl joining in on the cacophony of a panicking predator. Relaxing a little, the mercenary let her hand rest by her side as she watched the brawl unfold. There would be little use jumping into the fray as it was – just as likely to wound Shai in the chaotic melee as she was to gut the bird.

No, it was better thi—

CRASH

This time the culprit was a whipping tail, and the victim her beloved Whyren’s. And they’d not even drunk a quarter of it yet! Aver set her jaw and averted her gaze from the tragic sight of precious amber soaking into the furs, cushions, and hardwood of treehome.

Enough was enough.

Her arm shot out, teeth and fist snapping shut at the same time. A sickening CRACK cut through the animal noise—

and just like that, the bird fell limp in Shai’s maw.

 

[Rune Shamalain]

Rune had the wherewithal in him to scramble out from beneath the thrashing limbs of both bird and ... whatever the hell Shai was. A talon or a claw or something in between sliced him across the chest and shoulder in the chaos, shredding his shirt and spraying blood over the wooden floor. He rolled, managing to take hold of a rope that had become entangled with the raptor's nearest wing. Finding his feet he gave it a hard pull, pinning the bird off to the side and off its center of balance.

That allowed a brief pause in the foray and then - it was over as quickly as it had begun.

The gigantic bird collapsed haplessly over the tuk'ata, who gave an indignant growl. Shai backed herself out from under the weight and feathers, blood oozing from her withers where a fang had managed to sink in between her scales.

Rune stood there a bit wide-eyed from the surprise of things, glancing over the feathered beast with a fair amount of respect for its apparent danger. He breathed out and casually tossed the rope aside, "Des mentioned the locals could be ...intrusive," and his eyes skated to the glimmer of red on black scales, "is ... is it ok?"

 

[Aver Brand]

Blue eyes flicked from the bleeding beast to the bleeding tuk’ata. With a measured exhale, Aver willed the tension from her posture, uncoiling her muscles and unclenching her fists. Running a hand through her tousled hair, the merc surveyed the damage to the starbathing terrace: cushions strewn about and split open; blood and whisky splattered everywhere; days of ropework and decoration lying in tatters across the deck.

So much for the five-star tour.

“That’s one word for it,” she said, wry grin twisting into a frown as she knelt next to Shai to assess the damage. She ignored the warning rumble, pinning down a twitching foreleg as she inspected the injury. The fang had sunk in between two overlapping plates, then broken off during the scuffle. Now it was hooked deep in the powerful, corded shoulder of the agitated beast, tearing more flesh each time Puppy tried to lick at the wound.

“Hold her still, I need to grab the kit and the kolto.” Aver looked up at Rune as she ran a comforting hand along Shai’s neck and spine. Moving will make it worse.

“If she gets restless, just talk to her, okay?” She stood with a nod towards the collar and its gleaming crystal, then disappeared down into the depths of treehome.

 

[Rune Shamalain]

Rune stood planted to the spot, watching his host assess her damaged pet, and maintained the integrity of stoicism only enough to keep the bewilderment from his face when she had the audacity to leave him alone with the creature.

And expected him to hold it still?

Shai rumbled her discomfort, watching Aver go and immediately moving to try and lick at the wound again. Shai was sentient, but she'd also been stuck in the body of a tuk'ata for a few hundred years. Habits and instincts were hard to break.

"Uh - hey," Rune lifted a hand and made to take a step forward. Shai immediately snapped and snarled at him. Aver may have accepted him in to the pack but no amount of boundaries or hierarchy had been established. Clearly, watching him draw away from her threat, he wasn't top dog around here.

"Talk to her, right," Rune's brow furrowed. Lowering his hands he tried again, feeling as awkward as anyone who was never big on pets or animals in general, "Listen, I don't want to be involved anymore than you want me to be involved." He may have been a Sith assassin and spent far too many years roaming the galaxy killing people for a living, but that was completely different. Plus, he was a changed man. He wasn't that mindless drone for the darkside. All he wanted was some peace and quiet -

Shai turned a sour grimace at him, fangs bared, and issued a guttural bark at him.

"What even in the seven hells are you..." Rune drifted carefully about.

Ssouuuullll... a disembodied voice rassped into his thoughts, drifting into the language of the Ancient Sith. One he'd not heard in a long time.

Rune drew very still, listening calmly, pulling on his memories of the language. He answered her back in the very same, though he was sure it was a bit rusty. Curiosity piqued Shai's attention. He'd asked what she was, so she told him. Gave him flashing images of Korriban from hundreds of years past - years before the Gulag. Suddenly, they had some common ground.

 

[Aver Brand]

It should’ve been a quick jaunt. Should being the operative word, because they’d just recently moved and most of their shet was still scattered around in unmarked boxes. That’s what they got for prioritizing fucking on every available surface instead of unpacking their stuff like adults.

Aver growled as she dug through the crates – books, art, bone carvings, wood carvings, enough pelts to make a coat for Sevir, a giant crate of kitchen utensils (66% knives), an honest-to-god skreev skull, and three whole boxes of toys. About halfway through the room the merc gave up and called on the wandering Vong armor for aid. Together, they fanned out among the boxes, canvassing the space like a proper war party until finally, Quodeith to the rescue.

The chestpiece preened as Aver showered it with praise. In Vongese, though, so it sounded less like adoration and more like she was about to hack out a lung.

Without wasting any more time, the merc bounded back up top with the tools under her arm. She just hoped Puppy hadn’t torn off something important in the meantime. Explaining it to a tired Qui later really wasn’t on her agenda for today.

 

[Rune Shamalain]

He was having a conversation with a tuk'ata.

He was having a conversation in Ancient Sith with a tuk'ata possessed by an elder Sith soul.

His Ancient Sith was not as eloquent as he remembered it being, but he also hadn't spoken it in ... well, since many years before his death. He was having to focus on those memories quite a bit to bring it all back. Memories he would not have sifted through otherwise for any reason at all. In doing so, it called upon those energies attached to said memories, and without him even knowing it his eyes had gone black.

When Aver appeared they were conversing about Myrkyr, of all places, and a rift of a dark Force Nexus that had existed there long before the Gulag Plague. Raziya predated him by several decades and had, apparently, been present at the creation of the Nexus with her master Darth Spawn and her mate, Max. Rune had to chuckle, for his own memories of the place were not necessarily the most awe-inspiring. His first jaunt with his grandmother, Lady Silencia, to learn how to deal with ysalamir and he wound up lost in the Nexus with a whole bunch of angry spirits.

He didn't get to finish the story, though, as Aver's footsteps drew him from his trance-like state. Rune blinked up at her, the black fading slowly from his gaze, and a weird sort of smile appearing on his lips, "You have a very interesting friend here."