Private Evolutionary Episodes: The Melancholy Inamorata and the Repentant Reaper

[Quietus]

How quickly the foul mood had returned, like a boomarang tossed and forgotten - it suddenly reappeared, whirling in flames and covered in spikes.

Suddenly she was the simmering fury of a volcano prepping to erupt. Mentally battling the desire to unleash her empathy in a shockwave throughout the entire restaurant, the very idea of watching each and every individual patron reeling in response a tantalizing amusement she would have only reached for in her youth. Curious how much the process of grief could change a person. Qui could not remember the last time her emotions had so easily gotten the better of her ... and she didn't care.

Except she did care because apparently she was fucking things up for Aver. Good things. Progress. A page turned in the murderous mercenary's book. Pale eyes lingered over the datapad screen, hardening as they glimpsed the plans that only solidified this new chapter of Aver Brand's life that she'd been completely unaware of.

Pale fingers pulled inwards around glass shards and ice sending a searing sting of the amber liquid into fresh cuts. Qui's jaw went rigid as she bit into the fact that she was the problem and that -

It was a mistake to bring me along.

A waiter had arrived to help with the mess, his eyes going wide as he noted the blood pattering against the plate. He reached out to offer Quietus a towel to wrap her hand with and without warning her chair screeched back across the tile floor. The waiter staggered backward as she shrugged him off and stood from her seat.

I'm going home.

Before she fucked anything else up for Aver.

Silent, bitter, furious - she stalked off to the exit.

 

[Aver Brand]

The foreshock hit her moments before the eruption; a wave of black grief and red anger slamming into her chest just as Qui shot up from her seat. She glanced at the investors, then back at the retreating form of her mate.

Experts were a dime a dozen, but there was only one Desdemona.

“We’ll reschedule,” Aver said as she shoved away from the table and flicked a credit chit at the befuddled waiter. Grabbing their coats on the way out, the merc caught up with Qui’s breakneck pace just as they stumbled out into the roar of late-night Arcade.

Des, she touched her mind before she touched her arm. I’m sorry.

When did that word cease to sting her throat?

I thought getting out for a night would help get your mind off things. Aver let out a snort. Obviously not. But you need to talk to me.

 

[Quietus]

And what exactly am I supposed to say?!

The volcano rumbled beneath, cracking at the seams and began to leak the fury of pent-up emotion.

What am I supposed to talk about?!

What words were there to speak on the hurricane trapped inside? The constant churn from anger to grief, loss to overwhelming sorrow. She met Aver with a gaze of molten emerald and she hoped beyond everything that Aver could understand that she wasn't upset with her.

I don't know what to say, Aver. I don't have the words to speak on it. On any of it!

Tears threatened behind the edge of her stare, hot and stinging, and she wasn't sure why she was holding them back. Out of some expectation that she had this shit on lock down? Or maybe that once they began to flow again she wouldn't be able to stop. It felt like the dam was holding back an ocean amidst a maelstrom.

I am lost.

 

[Aver Brand]

The entertainment district was a riot of sights, smells, and sounds, never more so than at the witching hour. The main thoroughfare below them was packed with people bustling every which way, sober or drugged more often than not. Above them, the chaotic rivers of Nadir traffic sped past, reflecting the neon lights announcing every manner of sin and delight available in the Rim.

The haze and din of it anchored Aver as the storm raging inside her mate began to spill over the blood trail, drumming a brutal tattoo into her temples. She gathered Qui into her arms as the walls between them began to erode and fixed her gaze on the spires in the middle distance, wreathed by the industrial fire spitting from the bowels of the station.

That’s a start. But where to go from here? Aver was as suited to nurture as a gun to peace.

Small steps.

I’m going to take us home.

Followed by a warm drink and a warmer bath, and then whichever way the dam broke, Aver would be ready.

 

[Quietus]

Aver might as well have been collecting an armed nuclear warhead into her arms for as charged as Qui presently felt. But out of all the people in the galaxy, Aver was perhaps one of the only ones able to soothe the storm - ironic given the woman she'd been just thirty years ago.

All it took was a handful of words: I'm going to take us home.

Qui didn't express her gratitude for that sentence in words, but Aver would be able to feel it. She'd get no further trouble on the journey there as Quietus receded back into that dark and lonely place at the eye of her storm. The volcano quieted, the emotions quelled and withdrew.

I'm sorry. Were her next words after what felt like hours. Silent all through the ride home, the drink, the bath. They'd tucked away into bed with the windows of the high-rise flat tinted against the gleam of neon beyond. Quietus lay on her back, pillows as forever and always relegated to the floor, and stared up at the ceiling quietly wishing she were gazing upon the endless starfields of Thral through the canopy of Treehome.

Her eyes glowed faintly in the dark as they always did, narrowing under a pinched brow.

Schools. Why didn't you tell me?

 

[Aver Brand]

Shame. Fear. Uncertainty. A million other stupid reasons.

Aver dropped the datapad onto the sheets with a sigh. The numbers hadn’t been sinking in for the last five minutes anyway. She looked over to her mate, her form only a soft hint beneath the silk covers. From tired to wistful, her sigh changed color as she glanced away.

Without meeting her eyes, Ygdris found Desdemona’s hand under the black silk, grateful for the warmth and connection.

I didn’t want to say anything before it was… real. In case I fucked it up. Or chickened out. Nether, she still could. The deal’d been left on the table along with the spilled Whyren’s and shards of broken glass. Surely there was a metaphor to be made in there somewhere. Rev would’ve seen it.

She forced the pain out with a long exhale and squeezed the hand in her own. “Didn’t want anyone else to have to learn to read at fifteen.” Aver let out a miserable little laugh. “That was rough.”

 

[Quietus]

Her fingers closed reflexively around the seeking hand and she held it wondering if Aver was looking for comfort or offering it. A cyclic gesture that lately had felt unbalanced because of her own trauma, but it was nice to think she could still be that trusted rock for Aver even when she, herself, was such a mess.

But now she felt even worse for ruining the dinner meeting.

I think it's a great idea, she replied at length after Aver's own admittance to a belated childhood education. I have some contacts that may be able to help ... that is, if you want it.

It struck her as a project that Aver might want to accomplish on her own, and she respected that. This was Aver's home and domain, Qui had no intentions of stepping on the woman's toes in what could very possibly be the beginning stages of her magnum opus.

 

[Aver Brand]

Warmth suffused her body down to the bones through the small point of contact. Even with Qui adrift in a storm between the ink-black sea between stars; even with the outpouring of sorrow that bled through their connection, Aver felt at home by dint of that simple touch.

She rubbed her thumb across the back of the pale hand in her own, mouth shifting in thought.

You never liked involving yourself in my messes, Aver hedged, smiling askance at her mate. Her shoulders sloped as she sighed out the tension, decision made. But… I’d like that.

It felt silly now, not saying anything. Wrestling the chaos of the Rim into shape was a small feat compared to wrestling with the loss of… well.

Centuries of love, really.

Aver pressed their hands against her chest – against her bloodtrail. “And how can I help you, sevgi?”

 

[Quietus]

There was something to be said for the nature of Aver's messes that Quietus had not liked to involve herself in. For the most part, messes had referred to mates ... former mates, ex-mates, lost and lingering mates. What she spoke was truth: those were messes she'd had every intention of avoiding. But something like this? Entirely different.

Not that she felt the need to get involved, as such, but where she went to Aver when there were needs for wetwork (a la taking down a certain Sith Lord for her younger brother's lover), she felt a duty to reciprocate when it came to matters of bolstering society and the social structures and infrastructures involved in their foundations. She'd only been ruling entire planets for several hundred years, of course, and leading factions of Force Users for nearly as long.

Qui cast a sideways glance at the assenting words, leaving all these thoughts unshared, and shifted just slightly where she lay so that her head tipped against Aver's shoulder. A long, deep sigh filled the void of silence that hung on the air between words, the need to think on a response to the question hanging there with it weighing on her mind.

I ...do not know.

A truthful answer, as always.

Keep being patient, she continued, and know that you are not the cause of my struggles. Just ... don't go catching an incurable plague and die. Ever. I don't think I can go through that again...

That last bit was meant to be in jest and she looked up with a faint smirk for it to seem so, but the frightening part was just how closely the truth clung to the sentiment. The thought of losing Aver wasn't new, but now her mortality felt so much more present.

 

[Aver Brand]

Her shoulders shook with the quiet burst of laughter at Qui’s closing thought. “Well aren’t you glad you love a god, then?”

Shield of humor intact and as ever brought to bear before the emotions flowing between them could cut to the quick. Aver met the faint smirk with her own, broad and unrepentant as she swept Qui up and rolled them over until her weight was a solid comfort atop the blonde.

A measure of seriousness returned to her mouth – moreso to her eyes, which were beginning to crinkle at the corners when she smiled now. Thank you, she spoke without words, leaning in for a soft kiss as unruly red hair tumbled in a curtain around them.

I can do my work from anywhere, so… Aver continued after long moments simply spent reveling in the closeness and the warmth.

What do you think about vacation?

There were a myriad worlds she hadn’t yet visited – and a myriad more that she’d only ever seen through the lens of a warlord. Wearing flip-flops instead of military boots sounded like a nice change of pace.

 

[Quietus]

Loved a god...

She knew Aver wasn't serious in those words, knew she meant them only as a means of comfort and reassurance. But Quietus also knew just as well as Aver did that she was no god. Not by a long stretch. Without being given the opportunity to get lost in the long rabbit hole those thoughts would drag her down, Qui found the breath squeezed right out of her lungs upon being rolled like a log across the oversized bed until she was become the mattress itself beneath her mate.

A fretted smile stitched its way in between the lines of concern as she looked up at the woman hunkered over her and let the fleeting moment of a kiss dash those concerns against their unyielding bond like a wave crashed against the foundations of a towering mountain cliff.

Vacation?

A word hollow of meaning to her. At least insofar as the way the majority of the galaxy defined it. Now there was humor, tilted with her head as she turned it askance to look up at the woman, I'm not sure I know what that means. Please elaborate...

 

[Aver Brand]

Yes, vacation. The merc reiterated with a shadow of amusement around her mouth. It’s a thing people do when their job isn’t also their life.

She nipped at the grin curling Qui’s lips before crawling lower, peppering warm kisses across her neck and shoulders.

It’s like retirement, but temporary. Her teeth caught the glint of a silver piercing for a moment before she released it with a grin and settled on crossed arms over her mate’s hips. We can go wherever the fuck we want, doing whatever the fuck we want.

Cheeky explanation aside, Aver wasn’t sure she’d ever participated in the ritual of vacation herself.

Could also do the rounds, she added, almost as an afterthought, visit any family you wanna see.

Of the approximately five hundred Shamalains wreaking havoc throughout the galaxy, Des had to be on good terms with at least, like, five.

Right?

 

[Quietus]

How easily she could slide into slyness. One moment offering comfort, the next tugging on piercings. A smart amusement followed Aver's travels and a hand lifted to comb pale fingers through red and black hair.

She was retired and, by Aver's definition, her life on Thral was just one long vacation. It certainly could feel that way at times. Nothing but the world around her on that beastly planet dictated her schedule.

That very much sounds like the life I lead now... she summed her thoughts, though Aver would have followed them all regardless, amusement fading to a faint frown at the mention of family. Desdemona's eyes drifted away from the ice staring up at her, I don't want to be around them like this.

But I wouldn't mind traveling to somewhere new. The last time I visited a resort planet was - ages ago. Spira I think...

 

[Aver Brand]

The mention of resort planets made her choke a little at the memory. Hazy though it was – pockmarked with black holes she would never get back – Aver remembered enough. She nuzzled the her hipbone, partly to hide the mild embarrassment coloring her face, but moreso because it was right there and she could.

Maybe something less… infected with fat tourists and covered with hotels, Aver suggested as she traveled further downwards, her smirk disappearing between parting thighs. She’d shell out the credits for a queen-sized bed, every time. Between her long legs and Shai’s proclivity for surprise snuggles in the night, she needed all the space she could get.

Bet you’ll want to do some hunting anyways. And resort planets were a piss-poor choice for that, as Rune had well learned.

There’s a planet on the Outer Rim where my species comes from, apparently, she added as she grazed her teeth along soft skin, glancing up at Qui. I’ve been curious for a while.

Quietus

 

[Quietus]

Aver's migration south had taken the silk bedsheet with her, leaving Qui to catch a chill in their conditioned air of the flat. Or maybe it was the teeth on soft skin that had set her flesh alight with goosebumps. She'd given up craning her neck to follow after her with her eyes and let the back of her head sink into the mattress so her gaze could watch the starless ceiling above. Intrusive and destructive as her grief was - she'd not been affectionate with Aver since returning to her company. Not for any negative reasons aside from the lack of desire while it was suffocating under her hurt.

Though the reverie of Aver's new venture had kindled warmth within her again. A spark of pride, endearment, and fondness for how the woman had yet ceased to surprise her after all this time. It formed a knot in her chest - the sort she'd not spent a lot of time learning to untwist if only because these poignant moments of adoration for the woman were rather rare to come by. Not that Aver hadn't garnered every ounce of affection she'd thought herself capable of over the last several decades...

Her eyes fell shut as one of her hands came to lay flat over the sensation in her chest, gently pressing to hold it there so it wouldn't escape too quickly. A leg curled to stroke her foot along Aver's side.

Then... let's go there.

Decision fatigue had yet to abate. For now, she was perfectly content to let Aver take charge both in plans and in bed.

 

[Aver Brand]

Among all the forms of meditation she practiced, this was her favorite. When Qui sank back into the mattress, Aver closed her eyes and found soft purchase along the curve of pale hips. She took in the scent of her, ghosting her fingers over the sensitive skin of her belly.

Aver pressed a kiss to her inner thigh. Okay.

She savored her lover with unhurried strokes, meandering to a familiar destination by way of a lazy, scenic route. There was no other business to attend to, no threat or worry bearing down on her – nothing that couldn’t wait until Qui unraveled underneath her, body a taut arc on the backdrop of black silk.

When at last she resurfaced for air, lips gleaming with the evidence of pleasure, Aver was wearing a smile rather than a smirk.

I’ll go anywhere with you.

 

[Quietus]

Somewhere in space
En route to "vacation"

"Guess I'm the karking fool in the end," finally tumbled out between sharp teeth. "Thinkin' I could build anything that wouldna karking collapse."

"You're no fool, Aver Brand," that voice was low and rasp from unuse, but distinct in the way it held a very firm belief of every syllable.

"My world," she began, slow and steady lest her voice shake, "is built on this." On the timelessness of violence; on the age-honored practice of conquering, robbing, and killing fellow men; on the fact that her hands would stay mired in red until she was dead. "I don't know—" she gestured to Nadir around them, then grit her teeth and tipped her head back with a long inhale. For all the times she'd seen the writing on the wall and adapted herself for the coming storm, this was the first when her whole being rejected the idea. This was a life she'd chosen, a path she willingly set upon despite the enemies lurking around every corner. "I don't want to change."

No one ever really wants to change.

You just have to weigh what it is you want against what you need.

That conversation had happened ten years prior and yet felt as if it were only yesterday. To one of her age, it might as well have been. She was spending a lot of time in sleep, dwindling between the listless, dreamless medicated state and the dull, merciless pain of depressed wakefullness. In between the breaths and the sobs that she could not hold back, Aver was there.

Just as she had once been there for Aver in her time of loss, grief, and need.

They'd struck quite a balanced chord over the years between them and still to this very day she could find small moments of disbelief that it had worked out so well. She might not have survived her grief without her. Found that, more and more, she'd become addicted to Aver's presence far beyond the tantalizing scent and taste and effects of her blood. They'd talked about that, too - even longer ago. Finding someone to fill the void.

Cazador's demise struck a chord of need and fear so deep she now dreamt of losing Aver, too.

The latest of which had her startling awake, deeply gasping for a reality that her nightmare wasn't true, and coming to the slow sense that she was still living it. But for how much longer... that nagging doubt that had pecked at her every so often at the start of all this, since the very first admittance of this thing between them, now ceaselessly reminded her of Aver's mortality. Even if she was a firerreo.

Get a grip.

Qui roughly wiped shaking hands over her face, pushing moisture from her cheeks that she was surprised to find there. She was glad that this time Aver was somewhere else in the ship, tending to whatever needing tended. Managed not to wake up so fitfully around her just yet, but at some point these things were going to start bleeding through - if they hadn't already. No secrets, she'd promised her. Not anymore.

Still, couldn't help reaching out with her mind for her, just to be sure. A gentled greeting trying desperately not to seem needy.

How much longer?

 

[Aver Brand]

The white noise of the ship was a calming sound now, even though she’d once hated the very notion of space. There was still little love lost between her and the void, but in time the revulsion had tempered into dislike. Nether, she even tolerated the damn thing now – something to be said about exposure therapy after all.

There was no running an interstellar crime empire without, well, inter-stelling.

The rumble and hum of all the machinery steadied her. A reminder that the flimsy cage of metal and technology keeping her alive in a pocket dimension while they hurtled across the galaxy was still working. Not that she thought about that much. Most of the spare brainwaves these days were on the blonde woman tossing and turning in the cabin. Her mate wandered bereft through badlands where even Aver would not tread. Not for fear of her own scars – the pang of that blade had dulled with years – but for fear of the one worry she couldn’t assuage.

Mortality was a recent concern, all told. Like stepping into your house to find another room crammed into the second floor. Between her childhood, her bad choices, and her general… lifestyle, Ygdris had always assumed she’d get popped in some firefight and that’d be that. Now she was pushing sixty, basically married, and contemplating retirement.

That cosmic punchline was a long time coming.

Aver was midway through prepping breakfast when a familiar presence slipped into her thoughts. She ignored the black undercurrent and focussed on the words – for Qui’s sake, not her own.

Couple hours, she responded evenly and continued stirring the almond milk. I’ve got our packs ready, so you just need to get your sexy ass in here and into some pants.

She cracked a smile she knew Des would feel and pulled some fresh blood from the fridge. Preferably in that order.

 

[Quietus]

Pants.

The veritable bane of a depressed woman's existence. Quietus grimaced at the thought of the struggle in donning anything more complex than a bath robe and perished it instantly. Perhaps Aver might convince her into a dress - of which she was certain there were a few casual options within the ship's wardrobe but she couldn't be bothered to look in her present state of emotionally inebriated grog.

Quietus slid haplessly from the bed and trudged her way across the room to the closet where she winced into the light as the door hissed open. Or was that her hissing? A hand grabbed at dark, plushy green and within moments she was next silently shuffling down the hall, in the general direction of red.

No pants, the answer preceded her slogging arrival to the kitchenette where she blinked blearily through puffy, red eyes over at her mate and stood in the doorway, rooted by the weight of everything, arms wrapped tightly about her waist. A miserable jungle Queen plushie if ever there was one.

 

[Aver Brand]

The plushy green menace shuffled into the living quarters with little fanfare, as grumpy as a cat fresh from a bath. Distinctly more tear-stricken, though, even if Aver had the good grace – somehow – not to comment on it.

Instead she nodded sagely at the determined statement and offered breakfast to the quondam queen. Warm beastblood stirred in with a dollop of almond milk and chocolate – a sinful dessert that only folks with a carnivorous palate could truly savour.

What luck that she had the scariest of them all barefoot in the kitchen, wrapped up in a fuzzy green bathrobe.

I love you, Aver said simply and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. Most of the planet’s ocean, so I figured we could go for a swim after we land. The recycled water’s been killing me.

She rounded the dining table and sprawled in one of the chairs, nude but for her sleeping pants. Her datapad lit up at the gesture of her hand and she spun it around to show the photo of a mishalope to her mate. Unless you feel like hunting down a few of these first?