Private First Riders Turned Survivors

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Outer Rim. Wild Space. Unknown Regions. Someplace. The ship had a destination, as did most starships, and it ferried men and women and others, from flesh to metallic, droids to Ithorians. Some were on a mission, whether it was of business, and business was rather broad in definition, or pleasure, and pleasure was no less in comparison.

Some were on a mission of exploration. They searched for adventure beyond the boring Core Worlds with whatever they already had to offer. Others were on a mission of enterprise, in whose stars they did trek, and never mind that comparison. Still, there were those who were on a mission of preaching, or those who were on a mission of assassination.

Then there were just passengers getting ferried from one point to another. One man was such. He wasn’t a droid. He was a Thyrsian. He had boarded the Dawn’s Barrage because he was in a bit of a predicament without his own ship. So, even though he was a Sith, he could not rely on those within his own order to provide his vessel; for his mission was special, on another level, and it was better to just board a public transport than be pinned for a rebel or whatever.

His name was Drane T’keen and he had an outfit to keep him from being pinned so easily a Sith, his Force presence hidden. Though, he wasn’t alone in his other rather dangerous predicament. In space, where they say nobody can hear you scream, this Thyrsian had certainly heard the screams of others in his presence within the ship.

The Dawn’s Barrage descended toward the surface of some unknown planet but it wasn’t intended. Was sabotage the cause? Some kind of accident? Unexpected systems malfunction? That was up to the the crew of the bridge and the captain in his ready room to determine but there was no time for it as the ship had crash-landed before investigations could happen.

An island instead of an ocean served as the surface of which this ship found purchase. There was an explosion. There were injuries. There were even deaths. Yet, Drane T’keen was not among the dead as he found himself on his back in the sand, listened to the waves in the distance, opened his eyes to the sky that would not listen to him.

Beyond that stormy welkin, with grey black clouds looming amid white blue threats of thunderous lightning surrounding, the Thyrsian could only wonder. He licked his lips, suddenly thirsty, but bereft of injury, as his peripheral vision took in debris, and his sixth sense sensed the presence of others just as thirsty.

Adalee Thorne

 

[Adalee Thorne]

​

Outer Rim, Unknown Regions - Starship Vessel - On Course To: Classified.

Rushed and Annoyed.

It was almost the default occurrence for the Little Thorne, Adalee. She found her way onto the shuttle in haste trying to escape the political tension she may have caused between Outer Rim worlds with Core worlds next to her homeplanet, Lorrd. As many would have it, she would need to make a deal in order to assist core worlds in an effort to bring a more robust economic resource to the forefront of her allies. The issue was reaching unknown planets that might have been capable of providing more wealth and invaluable sources of materials.

It seemed simple to her in the grand scheme of things. She had dealt with some of the most egotistical slime, dangerous manipulating sorcerers and two vigilant parents that wanted to force her hand at marriage...not once, but twice. Adalee couldn't think of an easier task than to get out in the deep reaches of space and find a world that was willing to make the right connections for the right credits. Of course, she hadn't considered keeping a low-profile, considering how far away from her political reach she had gone. So she sat, nervous of the flight and annoyed at the circumstances of taking one trasnport to and from several Outer Rim Worlds.

Adalee didn't consider how credits meant nothing without conviction in this part of the galaxy. Still, she looked around and the ship was filled. It seemed it was unfortunate for many to travel without connections. The bvuzzing and whine of the ship never made her feel at ease, this time it was for good reason. The low rumble that took over the vessel seemed to cause an immediate dip and before she could gather what was happening, the last blurring sight she could remember were flashing orange caution lights, then thunder and darkness.

***

A few hours after the crash....

It wasn't the screeching screams on impact, nor the eruption of flame and steel that woke her. Instead, it was the sound of crashing waves and the crackling of flames in the distance that forced her awake. Face down in the grainy film of what she could only make out as sand, pressed against her face. It took seconds for her to realize even more that the grainy beads of ground found their way into her mouth. Coughing and heaving, Adalee violently lurched upwards. She slammed her arm into the ground, trying to gasp for air. Her eyes widened and blood dripped from her brow, staining the sand beneath her. Her lungs thanked her with confirmation that she was alive before she rolled over and took a deep breathe. The only thing poking at her mind was two things...

What the hell happened?

And.

Where am I?

​

Drane T'keen

 

[Drane T'keen]

Drane looked left. Ocean. A grey sea, almost green in the stormy moonlight, or was it daylight? It made no difference in this weather, but the water looked cold and cruel. He looked right, tilting his head almost feebly, as if denying that he had strength left after whatever had happened. Sand. Beach. Trees at the edge. Island.

It wasn’t the screams of the wounded, or the cries of the terrorized, the moans of those who pleaded for their friends and family to wake up only for them to not listen, but the coughing and heaving of somebody close to Drane that truly awakened him. Woman.

Fortunately he wasn’t a misogynist so would gladly see to her needs. Whether she was injured or not, the Thyrsian suddenly decided that he was fine in comparison, had no need to heave beyond breathe, no water or wind within his lungs that might require a gasp for air.

He wasn’t bleeding as far as he could see and, despite being a Sith, that did not mean that he had some inherent resistance against assistance. Maybe it was the man within him, or the Force, or the force of this island, but Drane T’keen lifted himself up the next moment and got on his feet.

“Are you all right?”

Though, maybe he was just looking for an excuse to divert attention from his own being, no matter the situation, by focusing on this woman instead of his person. Whatever the case, Drane extended his hand toward her, noticing the blood on her brow. Depending on how the day went, the whole lot of these remnants would need each other anyhow.

“Let me help you up.”

But, if this woman neglected to take this man’s hand, he would not hold it against her. Ultimately, they both were survivors, together or independent, if with the same questions. Where am I? What the hell happened?

Adalee Thorne

 

[Adalee Thorne]

​

Outer Rim, Unknow Planet - Current Status: Stranded?

Adalee felt it in her stomach all the way back up to her throat, the tightness of her predicament more apparent to her now than ever. The taste of iron tickled her buds, but only for a moment before a look of distaste was painted onto her face. It ended with a unpleasant action to spit, ichor from within spilling onto the sand. She coughed again, as the thin layer of air she had taken for granted, granted her another moment of brief relief. Like the setting sun, her yellow eyes fell downward, confirming what she already knew...the cause of the blood.

A small sheet of metal seemed to have found it's way into the lower right side of her abdomen, a bi-lateral punctured wound. It would have been more manageable, but she could feel some of the muscle within had been torn. She had been in agony before, but this was different. This wasn't at the hand of her own father and she certainly wasn't in a Jedi temple. The pulses of pain that radiated through her almost made her want to scream, but she clenched her teeth to contain it. With trepidation she placed her left hand onto the wound. The warmth of her blood almost brought her comfort, ironically, she wasn't as talented as the dirge's that came before her. Still, even if she tried something out of the forbidden book, she might end up dead...or worse.

Her eyes shifted to the sky, the deep grey taunting her with the likelihood of rain. Even so, she smiled at the calming motion of the slow moving clouds. That was until a voice called out to her. A spark of hope in the dreaded reality of her current situation. Was it someone that resided on her transport? She wondered. She wanted to sit up, but the strength it would take and the strain on her wound, wouldn't make things easier. So, she listened, waiting to reply.

"Are you all right?"

Adalee didn't recognize the voice, other than the masculine smoothness of it.

"Let me help you up."

Adalee saw the hand come into view as her free hand stretched for the assistance. She gripped as tight as she could and with a discomforting grunt she now sat upright, stomach bleeding and a deep cut on the brow providing a slow drip into the grainy debris below.

"Well, I'm not dead." There was a moment of silence, before she finished. "Yet." She tried to give the man a smile, but the effort quickly faded as she pressed harder against the squelching pool of divine liquid leaking from her. "You wouldn't happen to be a doctor would you?" Adalee couldn't imagine having the right person at the right time, not in this moment for a wound so deep. She knew the answer, but whether that was rhetorical or not, she found solace in asking. The chances for her were one in a million and as she gazed past the man willing to help her sit up, the first question in her mind was answered.

The transport had crashed. The tiny spread of flames brushed across what was clearly a coastal beach. Large hulking masses of metal sheets scattered across the coastline as if every nut and bolt that held the once great starship together, had faltered. Adalee had a shiver crawl up her spine, a new thought tainting the moment of relief.

I'm never flying again...

​

Drane T'keen

 

[Drane T'keen]

Even as he extended his hand, watched the woman move, the man acknowledged her true wound. Movement would be difficult for just about anyone in her position, what with metal shrapnel in her abdomen. It was quite a predicament but did not appear to be life-threatening at the moment. Still, if she was a Jedi or a Sith like him then there was more than one way to heal her injury. Though he did not sense anything in her presence so, maybe, she was masking it like him; or maybe Drane T’keen was alone on this island with his gifts.

Skin found skin in a moment. Hand in hand. Eyes into eyes. If he spoke smoothly then her grip was no less smooth, while his skin was too, if callused from the grips of weapons. She mentioned that she was not dead, and those were the first words she said. Her enthusiasm did make him grin. Encouragement was what everyone needed. If not for her pain, Drane could see the smile in her own expression. Wounded. But this is no weak woman.

“Doctor? Me?” He repeated, less sarcastically and more as one does when suddenly thinking about how to answer the question. In a sense, he was a surgeon, if in the way one is when creating wounds with surgical precision. So, not really, given he tended to open flesh instead of mend it, not that it made a difference at the moment.

“Sorry, I am but a humble victim of a crashed ship on an island.” He looked around, spotting other wounded persons in need of medical assistance; some with wounds deeper and worse than this woman’s. If there were any doctors on their ship then the number was probably limited and they themselves were victims. If not dead like them.

Drane observed the dead, the dying, the conscious, the unconscious. It was a mess. Yet it wasn’t the end. Just then, he spotted a man waving his arms in the middle of the scene. “Everybody! Everybody! I’m a doctor!” He looked hurt but superficially; a bandage on his head already. “Flag me with any injury! I’ll help as best as I can based on priority!”

Perfect. “Looks like your prayers were answered." Facing the doctor, he waved. "Over here! Got a bloody mess!" He caught himself. Sometimes his dialogue did get the best of him as he turned to the woman. "Ahem. No offense. You'll be okay. I'm Drane by the way. Your name?"

Adalee Thorne

 

[Adalee Thorne]

​

Outer Rim, Unknow Planet - Current Status: Stranded?

Adalee winced, the pain starting to make her fingers tingle.

That's not normal...is it?

Adalee's thoughts began to stray and as the distant waves in the backdrop tried to soothe her. she began to feel cold. The discharge of blood continued, developing a pool of internal mucus in the grains below. Her fair eyes drifted down once more, taking notcie of the mess she had made. It was getting worse, despite all the pressure she was applying. She tried to refocus, look forward at the man before her. She almost forgot he had answered her. He wasn't a doctor. Adalee coughed as she laughed, tilting her head to the side and spitting.

In the lowest octave of a whisper she could muster in disappointment, her words spilled out like the blood from her being. "Figures..."

She took a deep breath, the stabbing pain in her side forced her to hesitate, careful to not distrub the affected area. For a moment, her thoughts went dark, the only focus, pain. If only she had just spent more time doing forbidden things, but Adalee knew there was a reason for such a rule. She just didn't fully know why. She heard about the Darkside of the force, but was blood magic even related? Some might have thought so, but books, including the Book of Dirge; had taught her that it was a necessity. A power that could heal and destroy, that could maniufest and breakdown. She didn't really know what to belive, but she knew with metal and stranded on an unkown planet wouldn't get her closer to those answers. If anything, she could die here.

"Looks like your prayers were answered."

Adalee rose her brow, she took note and listened.

"Over here! Got a bloody mess!" Adalee looked at him closely. Who was this man? As if fate intervened, an answer came from the few moments of breaths and internal thoughts. "Ahem. No offense. You'll be okay. I'm Drane by the way. Your name?" Adalee nodded in agreement, even though she wasn't too sure how a mess like her could come out 'okay'. The truth of it, was that she was never really okay, she was lost and alone. With a family that didn't understand her and all the wealth to please her, Adalee felt disconnected.

"If my mother could hear you saying that..." She gave Drane a light smirk, her golden gaze reaching his. "Drane, that's different." She sucked through her teeth, the pain surprising her one last time, before her whole right hand went numb. "Sorry...my name is Adalee....of H-" Adalee's eyes felt heavy and she could see more blood dripping out. " I think...I.-"

Adalee could only see Drane leaning in before passing out into a world of abstraction and darkness.
​

Drane T'keen

 

[Drane T'keen]

Drane returned her smirk with his own. She was brave even in the face of danger, for her wound did come with the threat of death in truth, so he was only impressed with her effort to stay awake. Her amber eyes met his; his with golden flecks in the iris, like sunlight amid shadow, though surrounding black holes for pupils; quite natural.

“Is it?” He was actually amused at her observation of his name. Maybe it was indeed different, in a way. Drane T’keen. His name was an echo in his noggin, became a roar, like the clash of blades, of swords and more. He had killed, he had battled, before he became a Sith. He was Thyrsian. A warrior. He had bled and he had bloodied. He had drained.

She was in pain but she gave her name. Adalee. Drane tasted it on his lips as she sucked through her teeth. It had a ring to it, pretty in its own way, but if it was not plain but different then she could not inform him by finishing her sentence before it was interrupted.

“You okay?” Drane leaned in as Adalee’s eyes glazed over. She fell backward, slipping into a slumber, but her back did not land on sand. Rather, Drane’s hand cradled her first, then gently lowered her.

“Take care of her,” he commanded the doctor without looking at him.

“Of course,” the doctor responded. “However, there are others with even worse wounds—” He was interrupted.

“You will take care of her,” Drane repeated, eyes into eyes, and he would not say it thrice.

“I will take care of her.”

And, like that, the doctor treated his patient into the night, as he did with other patients, while Drane waited at her side.

“Hey.” Adalee would wake to this Thyrsian’s grey face, but black under the moonlight. “What was its name?” Drane queried without looking away from her gaze. “You speak in your sleep, at least under your injuries.” He sat in the sand, this beach bereft of much furniture, rubbing dirt between his fingers. “Something about a blade, a cave and a flower..?” Maybe it was just a dream.

Adalee Thorne

 

[Adalee Thorne]

​

Outer Rim, Unknow Planet - Current Status: Stranded?

Adalee jumped backwards, the tip of her blade held steady and straight. "The Point," was one of her most prized swords. Crafted from artisan smiths and entwined with cortosis. A rapier above many, classic in style and a handle for protection. The crafted blade was a must for Adalee. She devoted a lifetime to wielding blades since she was a kid. Her father hoped one day it would become a lightsaber, in servitude to the Jedi council.

She couldn't see what was in front of her, the room darkening around her before she could feel resistance against her steel weapon. Something was there...in the darkness. Sounds muffled and before she knew it, Adalee was lying in the bed of flowers. A flora she had come in contact with on Cerea, Inisa. she remembered those on Cerea that were female had been named after it. Even so, her sudden transition to a large valley of blossoms felt wrong.

She questioned it... is this real?

She felt light now, twirling in a neverending vortex before her body tightened and slammed into a hard, dusty ground. The dirt slid down her shirt and she wiggled with discomfort before rapidly trying to get back to her feet.

She screamed out, but nothing came of it. Distant echoes reverberated off the hallow walls around her. Adalee listened, the only words she could understand came to her in a soft whisper. "Deeper..."

Adalee could feel it now. She had been here before. The very cave she had avoided beneath the Thorne Estate. The book had called it the "Gates of Dirge." Where there were gates...resided secrets and as she timidly stepped forward into the darkness, she woke up.

She could feel the light breeze again. She could hear the crashing waves. She could see Drane, sitting and waiting for what might have been too long. Adalee knew in that moment her body gave out against the pain of shrapenel in her abdomen. That sudden realization made her subliminally reach for it, but the tightly wrapped bandage kept her from the worry of infection. Her thoughts took over for a moment.

I thought he was no doctor? What an odd dream?

"The Point..." Adalee's words were filled with confidence and uncertainty. She wasn't sure if divulging everything about her dream was necessary. He clearly was a man that cared, but anyone could play the part. Something her father had taught her early on. Something she learned during her teenage years interacting with other wealthy houses with annoying, childish boys...some that still hadn't grown up. Drane seemed like a grown man, his face told stories and as she met his eyes, they told a deeper sadness. "It's my rapier, a weapon given to me from my father. Ancient in it's core material and design." Adalee sighed, she wished she had her belongings now. It seemed she would be far from home for a long time now.

She tried to lean upwards, slight stabbing pain greeted her, but she fought it anyway. Adalee thought it nice of Drane's concern for her, but she was worried he could take advantage if she continued to seem weak.

"Oh," She paused, repositioning her body to gain comfort. Her eyes lifted once more to his. "Inisa...that was the name of the flower."

Adalee reached for the sand like Drane, feeling the grains slip through each finger as they drifted back to the earth.

"Sorry you had to hear all of that." Adalee felt slightly embarrassed. It wasn't the first time she had spoke in her sleep. "So, what's your story? Where were you headed...before all this." Adalee was careful, she needed information, but she wanted to ease into the type of company she was stuck with.

Either way, one thing was for sure. They were all stranded here, whether they liked it or not.

​

Drane T'keen

 

[Drane T'keen]

The Point. Drane didn’t know whether to smile or frown, as much from memories both good and bad; memories from his own home, his own life back on Thyrsus. What was about this woman? Why did she remind him of another? It didn’t really matter. More importantly was how aptly named ‘The Point’ was for a sword. No mere weapon but an heirloom; no trinket but a prize passed down to the daughter by her father. Drane could relate in more than one way.

Pain. He knew what that was but it was never his focus; neither for himself nor on anyone else. Except, well, maybe for his enemies when the occasion called for it. It often did. He was a Sith who relished in seeing the terror in the eyes of others, especially before they died. Not her, however. She was no enemy to begin with. Just a victim of an incident, an accident, perhaps, like him.

Seeing that slight stabbing pain in her eyes, then, suddenly made him wince. Was it empathy? Or the power beyond it fit for a Force-user like him? Even a Sith? As if he, in that moment, had felt her pain in his chest. Then again, maybe it was just another memory bleeding into his heart and veins. Unwarranted, uninvited, but there all the same, quite like a starship that had crashed on what might just be an entirely abandoned island with no current strategy of escape.

“Inisa...” Three syllables, and each one drifted off his lips like liquid, like nectar, as he whispered. Sand in her hand, and perhaps it wasn’t so dry, coarse or irritating for her just like it wasn’t for him. It might get everywhere but that was the point to it, right? Quite like a blade so appropriately named.

“Don’t apologize,” Drane replied nonchalantly. There was a delay as he gazed at her face, not aiming to be rude about it, but thinking of her apology too. “Never apologize to me.” Recognizing the oddity of his statement, he cleared his throat and moved on to her question.

“My story?” He sighed, eyes on the sky. “It’s a boring one, admittedly.” He lied. “I was heading nowhere. Everywhere. I just boarded this ship, aimless, with the intention of seeing where it might take me.” He smiled and, when he rested his eyes on Adalee yet again, she would see no lie.

“As for you, well, I bet you were on your way to a tournament.” He playfully guessed. “Here’s a tip: Stick ‘em with the pointy end.”

Adalee Thorne

 

[Adalee Thorne]

Outer Rim, Unknow Planet - Current Status: Stranded?

Adalee couldn't remember the last time she had a conversation that didn't end up deciding someone or hundred of thousands of lives. She was a brutal negotiator with a mind for strategy in the war rooms. Still, her efforts had taught her of many things. What to look for in someone's explanations, their convictions. It was difficult for someone to truly know someone. Everyone had their own truths and motives. Everyone.

It was odd to her that Drane seemed hardened, but her interaction with his words seemed so soft. She worried his comments were what she wanted to hear, rather than meeting the real Drane. His ashen complexion reminded her of her own, pale and white. Or course, his tone seemed darker than hers, but it complimented his yellow eyes, another thing they both had in common. Despite her reluctance with his words, she listened intently.

"Don't apologize," The words hit her in a way that seemed carefree. "Never apologize to me." Adalee slightly raised her brow. She hadn't heard anyone firmly tell her not to apologize. It was an odd statement, but that's not what caught her attention. It was Drane's gaze and the clearing of the throat.

Is he nervous?

She didn't consider the chances that Drane, may have been taken by her. Plus, Adalee didn't have time for romance when she didn't even know herself. Well, rather, what she was really capable of when it came to the force. Either, she was part Dirge and Thorne; or she was nothing. There was no in between. Her fair eyes scanned him once more before he continued.

"I was heading nowhere. Everywhere. I just boarded this ship, aimless, with the intention of seeing where it might take me."

Adalee leaned in, the slight pain from her healing wound reminding her, she wasn't at one hundred percent yet.
"Why would anyone aimlessly travel across the galaxy? In the outer rim, no less?" She asked, her long black hair slipping over her left eye, before she moved it back over her ear.
"Tournament, I wish. I was on my way to a sector in the Outer Rim. I'm from Lorrd and well -" Adalee stopped, she almost forgot that speaking her own truth might cause muddy waters.
"Well, I guess I'm running from something. I just-" She bit her lip, but decided to tell the truth anyways. "It's my family, embarassing I know. I probably sound ungrateful to you, if I'm telling strangers...no offense; that I'm running from them." She sighed, but at least she got to admit it to Drane.

Adalee smiled, he was easy to talk to.
​

Drane T'keen

 

[Drane T'keen]

Lies. Deception. They were never this man’s specialty. A number of Sith were good at it, by desire or because they had to be, but he never quite defined himself as Sith so much as Thyrsian to begin with. It was generally his weapons that did the telling. Her question wasn’t so pressing, however, simply probed him for an explanation, for a story. Fortunately they had already moved on in the conversation.

His thoughts were on the Outer Rim even as he listened, and beyond it, beside Thyrsus, but further away the next moment in only instants. Memories were like that. They could flash behind the eyes as quickly and suddenly as a flash flood, and the punishment could be no different. However, as the sea’s breeze drifted in over the beach, tickled his skin and the curls of his black hair with its silver streak, his mind might have been on memory but his eyes were on her.

Adalee. Her name painted an image, not of another person, not of anyone, but of that flower she had mentioned, then another. From inisa to a black clover. This man with his complexion and jacket might be black all over, darker than black within, but there was gold in his iris just like hers, and raven was this woman’s hair.

Pale skin, not ashen; a woman with a softened complexion but, no, there was something that lurked under the surface. Innate. Yet deeper than inherited nature, maybe. Then again, perhaps Drane was just sensing his own mirror image. As that same wind slipped through her hair, brushing over her face, the man might have sworn he saw swords hiding in those beautiful eyes, not daggers, and in that single moment it reminded him of himself.

So, she was running from something, had her own secrets, and they were not held against her. Not by him. Perhaps their ship was filled with secrets, for everyone carried them as burdens beside baggage.

“Aren’t we all running from something?” It was not a rhetorical question but one that perhaps neither of them had an answer for. Seated on the sand, Drane bent his knees, propped his arms over them, craned his neck to the sky, but there was no bright sunlight. Not yet.

“Family. Enemies. Past. Present. Future. Maybe this ferry which carried souls like you and me did not crash. Maybe it was fate. Like the island drew it in. Maybe this moment was meant to be…”

Though, eyes on the sky, he knew he spoke nonsense. He realized Thyrsus was far away but he was not so alone. He had found someone to keep him company and, though this island was not home, they already had more than golden eyes in common.

“Tell me about your family,” Drane beckoned, as gently as the breeze, giving her his attention. “Please.”

Adalee Thorne

 

[Adalee Thorne]

Outer Rim, Unknow Planet - Current Status: Stranded?

Adalee felt the warmth in the air, the breeze reminding her that she had made it out of the horrific crash alive. She contemplated it for only a moment. It was fleeting, like that of her childhood memories that would randomly surprise her. She wasn't a kid, not any longer. Instead, she was a Thorne woman, grown and powerfully wealthy. Of course, being the daughter of the Thorne House was a bonus and a curse, she couldn't really pinpoint when it all went wrong. That wasn't true, Adalee was lying to herself.

She knew the exact moment everything had fallen apart, the exact day, the exact attire she was wearing, and the exact forbidden act that got her here.

Blood Magic...

It was whisper in her mind, subtle but teasing her truth. Adalee definitely knew. She almost felt somberly guilty to herself. The weight of what she carried and hid added stress and at times it felt as if her chest would tighten, trying to squeeze what she deeply wanted free. To her, that sacred cage of desire and freedom was locked neatly away in her heart. Her gaze shifted to the sky as Drane did so. They were all running from something, Drane was right.

"Family. Enemies. Past. Present. Future. Maybe this ferry which carried souls like you and me did not crash. Maybe it was fate. Like the island drew it in. Maybe this moment was meant to be…"

Adalee watched as the soft clouds moved in over them, blocking what could have been the beginning of a sunrise. Shades of light crept through, but still no sun.

"You sound.." Adalee tilted her head back down. Her eyes met with his once more. "Like a hopless romantic. Do you really believe in fate?" Adalee wasn't sure why she bothered to ask. She was a direct influence from fate, she wouldn't have been here if not for her sixteenth birthday. Had the Book of Dirge never been left at her door step in a mysterious act of fate, Adalee would have never met Drane...in this very moment.

She would never have left the House of Thorne Estate. She would have never gone to Dathomir. She would have never entertained the idea of continuing training as a Jedi a year ago, if not to please the powers at hand; her parents. Most of all, she never would have been seeking who she is, how she is, and what she is capable of.

Adalee leaned back and sighed. He wanted to know about her family.

She smirked, she knew there wasn't enough Lorrdian wine to scrape the surface of that soft demand from Drane.

"Nothing to really tell, honestly." Adalee lied, effectively. "You know how it goes. Father wants daughter to be something she never could. Mother wants daughter to obey the-" Adalee added sarcasm into her words as she continued, "traditions. Traditions! Of what, to be obediently boring and live a sheltered life seeking a man to wed. Or comitting to a life of gatherings that help no one. It's all a joke. So I left." Adalee's smirk turned into a breif expression of sadness, but not before the clouds parted and the sun finally showed itself to them for the first time.

She looked at Drane and smiled. Then, as if carefree as a bird, she looked back up at the sky.

Maybe this was fate.
​

Drane T'keen

 

[Drane T'keen]

Traditions. In the chaos of this cosmos, traditions were inherent for this Thyrsian. He could never escape the legacy of his parents as much as the sun’s rays even in evening. However, he didn't want to. Unlike his companion on his beach, where in her speech he could see a strained relationship with her family, his was different.

He listened in silence, gaze never wavering from her face, never drifting away. Everybody on this beach were as exposed as these two souls, all but naked beneath the sky, surrounded on this island by the ocean whose tides were composed but violent the next moment. They did not know where they were, still in recovery mode, but sooner or later they would have to go forth and explore. They surely didn’t know that this man among them had the Force in his hands and was a Sith at that.

Yet none of that mattered to Drane T’keen at the moment. No one else existed but this woman beside him. Adalee Thorne. The name slipped into his mind like the sarcasm that had dripped from her lips. Whatever the state of her house, his own wasn’t so rich, not with credits, but theirs were the wealth and the way of the warrior.

They were similar. They were different. Yet in a sense she was like his own mirror image. Sadness in her visage. Granted, sadness wasn't within him. Thoughts as distant as these survivors of a crashed ship from civilization, gone like the wind. It had extinguished the flames overnight, leaving behind ashen smoke so languid in the sea’s breeze. After Adalee spoke, the sun broke, though the son of sunlight did not yet look away from her face.

It wasn’t just because she was attractive. That was true but fruitless when it came to her expression. The daughter of Thorne might march a million miles in her mind, lost in thought with her eyes on the sky, though she was not so alone in the endeavor. Whatever her longing, any semblance of missing her parents in spite of their dynamics, she had a companion at this moment who would do more than treat her wounds.

Drane T’keen was determined to escape this place the moment he awoke on the sand, and he would make sure Adalee Thorne made it out with him, come day or night, no less than alive. Finally, Drane turned his gaze to the sky with Adalee, craned his neck like a bird perched in a tree, like this was not sand beneath his feet but a branch.

Perhaps we can fly. How do we know unless we leap? No man knows who is scared. Only the one who dares.

“Traditions. Obedience.” He spoke to his companion akin to an echo. Thinking out loud as much to answer her. “I can relate in a way. The House of T’keen, my Thyrsian parents, sent me into this galaxy with one expectation.”

He turned to her again, quiet for a second, eyes roving over her countenance, ambers into ambers, penetrating each eye as if to read her mind, though not in the attempt with the Force. For a moment, he thought he saw fire, naked flames, but maybe that was just the sun’s rays as they shone and showed him the way.

“Carve out your name in blood and fire, my son, by the light of the sun, and return home to us when this is done.”

Maybe she would make something of those words that weren’t going to earn him any favors but they felt safe with her. Maybe it wouldn’t matter anyway because maybe the galaxy had already decided no one would leave this island alive.

Maybe this was fate.

Adalee Thorne

 

[Adalee Thorne]

Outer Rim, Unknow Planet - Current Status: Stranded?

"I can relate in a way. The House of T'keen, my Thyrsian parents, sent me into this galaxy with one expectation."

His words felt heavy to her. She knew this weight too. It was always expectations. Drane's seemed to be rather defining in the grand scheme of their conversation. Adalee looked at him with softer eyes now. If only they could have both chosen their parents neither would be stranded on this force forsaken island. It wasn't fair, but things weren't meant to be easy in a galaxy filled with lies and darkness in the reaches of space. For all they both knew, they were part of that darkness. Adalee considered such things all the time.

Drane was the same. She could feel it in his tone, his body language and everything in his eyes. They were two kindred spirits tied like a knot of oprressive thoughts. Adalee wasn't sure, if Drane would scream out those deep thoughts, nor did she think she would. They couldn't, they wouldn't. It wasn't who they were. It seemed he too, had created a barrier around those deep emotions. She could sense it, the sheltered true Drane. She didn't judge, Adalee did the same. Despite how real their conversation was, she still had to lie. She had to protect parts of herself from the rest of the world. She knew it wasn't right, but it was a necessary act to survive in the treacherous galaxy.

"Carve out your name in blood and fire, my son, by the light of the sun, and return home to us when this is done."

Poetic... Adalee's immediate thought came right after Drane's words. It shook away all her own distant thoughts and she took a few minutes to think on those words. She considered them logically at first, but nothing worth saying came to mind. Then, she repeated the words to herself in a dull whisper so Drane couldn't hear. To her it sounded cold. It was clear their expectations sought their son to become hardened through acts of war or violence. Then she considered the words from her own parents and her words were carried into light wind.

"I never would have thought parents would ever want thier child to go to war. The sad truth to that is it's not true. My father forced me to study unimaginable things, things that I still can't understand till this day. Things that I can't do." Adalee wasn't too sure about this, but the words held true. This wasn't a lie at all, her own insecurity tainted her opportunity to harness parts of the force that may have...at one point, called out to her. "But war, war isn't just in blood and fire. I've learned a war can bve fought with words, money, and loyalty. Blood will be spilled. Has been spilled before us and will continue when we are long gone. I think maybe those words are meant to show you something deeper. If my father told me something like that..." Adalee paused, she grabbed at the sand one last time and let it run through her fingers. Her eyes lowered, gazing at the grains drifting away into the air. "I would think they want me to shed the blood of my enemies, be the torch that's brave enough to push forward against those who did my House and family wrong. Not do it just to be a warrior, which it sounds like they expect. No."

Adalee looked back at him for the last part, she hoped it would make more sense to him after.

"You do it your own way, you blaze your own path. You do it with what you deem is honorable and the light will guide you home once you have left that path swathed in your own flames of desire."

She didn't know where her words came from, but they felt right. They felt like part of her too. Her path was already set ablaze. Being here was part of it, part of the journey to find the missing piece to her own puzzle.

"What do you think those words mean, Drane?" Adalee asked, curious if she was even close to the same thought as him. "Who knows, maybe this island will make the impossible, possible for me. My expectations didn't come with a riddle. Instead, my father expected something of his daughter that never came to roost."

It was wishful thinking. She knew what her father wanted, but Jedi needed the force and the force didn't want her. No matter how much she could feel it at times, it was an intangible object teasing her everyday of failure.
​

Drane T'keen

 

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Real conversation. Real connection. Wasn’t it? He knew he was hiding. Lying. Lies in truth. Beneath the sunlight, his honesty was hidden, enveloped in shadow, and for her he knew it was no different. Yet he did not hold the deception against her whether it was for protection. He did not sense that she held it against him either.

Mirror image? That was a fancy, potentially a fallacy, but this wasn’t fantasy, no, this island was reality. Violence, that’s what this warrior of the red sun relished in, lived with, made it the orbit of his purpose for existence, but at this moment he didn’t…he didn’t want it.

Drums. In blood, my son. Those were the words of his mother. Drums. He could hear them even as he listened to her; not his mother but Adalee, this stranger. Braver, that was Drane each and every day, and every soul he slayed was just one more way to get bolder; a reminder by his blade. To carve out my name in blood and fire. As his father had ordered even before he joined his voice with the Sith Order.

Words were an echo. Waves were in crescendo. Somewhere, amid the sun’s rays and the son’s gaze, as the drum did beat like the blood of a bloody heartbeat, Drane heard the horn of morning, adorned in airborne mirth of the coming day, and no forlorn face would turn away his gaze, for Drane’s was no stillborn birth.

War. War was another story. War. Drane sighed to the sky. War never changes. Yet wisdom did exist within the words of his companion. There were wars of weapons as much as wars of words. Battles on the ground of combatants. Battles on the grounds of politicians. It remained the same. War was war. Blood was blood. Fire was fire.

And I am the flame of the future, for I pave the way to a war this galaxy has not yet seen, the cure of its tumor, with the name of Drane T’keen.

Yet thoughts were nonsense, weren't beckoned, without direction, like the chaos of waves on an ocean that could change its nature and measure any moment.

Show me something deeper. Why did those words of hers slip into his essence? As the Thyrsian searched the welkin for answers, it was this woman’s tongue that licked his skin like a cure for cancer, her words an echo in the bloody meadow of his mind. Or were mother and father simply telling Drane T’keen to slay, to bleed, with no realization of what that might mean to civilization?

Thoughts were nonsense, as always, like emotions, so the Black Swordsman didn’t listen to them. Yet he did listen to this woman. She was no idiot. She was different. She was honest. No coward. However the measure of her injuries, she did not waver, did not deter from speaking the truth. Drane could admire that, and it didn’t matter that she was a woman, was Lorrdian, was different, for she was the same as him in that moment.

I blaze my own path. Her words resonated within the brain of a man wrapped in wrath. Were the desires of a son of the red sun any different to the brilliant fire that beckoned his Thyrsian essence? Why should I be so independent? Yet he did not hold the question against his companion.

Puzzles. Ultimately, Adalee and Drane and everybody were stuck in a bubble on this island.

“I think…” He began in answer to her question, licking his lips, narrowing his gaze to the welkin, squinting beneath the merciless blades of the sun’s rays. “I think this island may make the impossible possible for individuals like me.” He turned his eyes to her again, whether she would meet his gaze or not, eyes into eyes, like mind into mind. “Like you and me.”

Oh, she spoke further of father and riddle, but this island played its own fiddle. Though Drane did not play with this woman, for that was not in his inherent nature as a Thyrsian, he did grasp sand in his hand once again.

“I think you roost where you want to, as I do, with or without the influence of a parent.” And that was his truth as his fingers reached for hers, to fill her hand with sand, and let them both know that they were not alone. “Maybe this is fate.” Drane did not grin, his lips rigid, and Adalee would sense his determination, would detect his passion. “Maybe we forge our own destiny, our own fate, in blood and fire, or simply in the sun’s rays.”

He licked his lips, tempted to kiss this woman right there and then, but he didn’t. No, his hand did not seek her own as though to bring her into his embrace, but to show her the way.

The sun saw the water.
Fluid as the daughter.
Waves never in vain.
Ever brave is the rain.

Adalee Thorne

 

[Adalee Thorne]

Outer Rim, Unknow Planet - Current Status: Stranded?

In a split second, it felt like the whole world around her came to a complete stop.

Drane's words were drowned out by the gaze and passion behind his words. Two orbital suns for eyes, gravitated against one another, forming a supernova of explosive intent. Adalee could feel his compassion. There was a hesitation, a slight change of nature between the two. Then as if she had made it all up in her head, the feeling dissipated.

Was he going to kiss me?

She questioned it, then felt the last bit of the cascading sand bounce from her palm to the tiny dunes of abrasion below. Drane had mentioned this island could make them both do the impossible, that he could feel it. Adalee felt that same inconspicuous tug, her trepidation to reach out to it made her uncomfortable, she hope for both their sakes his words became reality. The truth to who she was seemed so distant from here. She ignored the soreness of her healing wound and tried to straighten her back before entertaining Drane's internal thoughts.

"Maybe it was fate. Maybe by some unimaginable act we both don't understand; this was destined to happen." Adalee smiled now, they both seemed so broken, but perfectly put together. The tension she felt in her chest told her not to act on anything and relaxed with a sigh. "Or we are both a happy conincidence of great change in the world. Whether for the greater good or worse, tme will tell. If I were my mother, she would say we are a direct result of our own choices and this is a consequence we must endure." Adalee could feel the distate in her own being after saying it. She didn't want anything her mother said, to be true. Although, it had to be said, considering Drane's evident comparable expectations.

She could feel the thrum of her heart race slightly. Her pale skin forming goosebumps on her forearms. This feeling was different, not out of passion or emotion. Instead, the shivers it sent up her spine made her curl backwards in anticipation of something, someone. Was this the invisible sheen of the force warning her? She had felt it in dull ways like this before. To beckon it, use it, become one with it, was impossible. This reminder was deeper than most, was more painful than the fresh wound in her abdomen. Nothing, not even the disappointment from her own blood cut deeper than her inadequecies in the force.

I really am broken... She thought. What is this feeling? She questioned it, careful enough to not ignore her gut feeling. Something felt wrong, for the first time during their entire conversation, intangible push and pulls of the force tried to break through to her. But nothing, nothing truly comprehensive enough to worry her, despite it's effort. Still, Adalee felt an alluring darkness wrap around them. Is this Drane?

Something was most definetly wrong. She just couldn't tell what.

"Maybe we forge our own destiny, our own fate, in blood and fire, or simply in the sun's rays."

"Blood and fire." Adalee reverberated Drane's own words. "Water and blood, what's the difference, right? If we are forging our own path neither changes where we end up. I'd like to think we have more freewill than others might think." Adalee looked at him, he was more handsome than she thought. "The again, I'm just a wounded woman, who starting to go hungry, on a planet, in the middle of nowhere...with a stranger that I know nothing about. Maybe we don't have as much freewill as I once thought. Not anymore." She sighed deeper now, almost disappointed with herself.

Her smile stayed, inviting Drane to interject when he had a moment.

Even so, she looked away from him and looked out to the crashing waves in the distance. The ebb and flow of the ocean matched with her, the motions pulling her under into deeper awareness of the things around her.

The other survivors.
The doctor tending to some of the wounded at the edge of the beach.
The log she was leaned up against.
The sand.
The pain.
The sadness, anger, failure.

All of it coelescing into the sudden tangible feeling of fear.

I might die here...
​

Drane T'keen

 

[Drane T'keen]

Was he going to kiss her? He was so tempted to in that moment, and his kiss would not have been violent despite the violence within his sentimental mind, but as gentle as the ocean when it wasn’t in its wrath. When it was languid, patient, like the bird that was perched on the branch, waiting to spread its wings and seek the solace of the sea’s breeze.

That’s what he saw on her lips even if he did not kiss. Hers curved upward, reminded him of a bow, and though he was no poet he might write a poem about those lips at that moment. Then again, the sentiment was perhaps stupid, the notion senseless; just the musings of a man who, while not having a wound like hers, was no less wounded.

Some cuts were deep wounds, like metal shrapnel from a crashed starship. Other wounds cut deep, like the expectations of parents, or like memories. He tried to hide from his, expressionless, let the past be kept in the past, and why shouldn’t he forget it?

Here he was, a man in the moment, sharing it with this woman as they shared this island with others. Survivors. Lost. But to hell with the others. They weren’t there any longer. Only she was. Only Adalee Thorne, her shape and form, sitting right beside Drane T’keen.

Perhaps his hand and the sand within it, reminiscent of that sand trapped in an hourglass, shouldn’t have even shifted toward her skin. Power passed between them, whether in the shadow cast by sunlight, or the darkness of a supernova’s aftermath, Drane could not say. He didn’t want to think of it. Just wanted to gaze into Adalee’s face, and tell time to go to hell, because he was born in it; born for it by the blinding sunlight and its burning bright rays biting like the fangs of a bat in a cave.

Blood and fire. His words. Water and blood. Her words. Destined moments. Coincidence? Deceptions, yes, a Sith used those as instruments. Honest, yet, was this Thyrsian. The sun did expose him at that moment. Showed his passion in those golden irises. Perhaps that was the connection. Golden, like sunlight, beside black, like black holes. Supernova. Singularity. Nonsense. Words were words and, like the distant ocean, words were wind, worthless.

No. Don’t do it. Don’t give in. He licked his lips, tasted salt and wind, past and present, for maybe there was no more future for him or for her on this island trapped in glass. Maybe that’s why he wanted to fill her hand with his hand, with sand, like two halves of that glass, loud as that in an hourglass.

“We might die here,” he admitted, eyes into eyes, showing no fear. “If we do, we die together.” That wasn’t a promise. It was a pact. Hand in hand, this man and woman would die as they had lived, whatever happened from one moment to the next, and neither would be so alone in the endeavor. “Who dares, leaps...Adalee.”

First riders turned survivors.
Wound mended by doctor.
Log. Sand. Sadness. Anger.
Woman. Man. Share failure.

“You’re not just a wounded woman, Adalee Thorne.” And he was not some mindless Sith who needed to cast the Force on her for what he did next. He dared to leap, gently reaching his hand toward Adalee, to graze his thumb across her cheek. “You’re so much more.”

And it didn’t matter if she denied him, for he wasn’t the type to lash back should her hand strike him for what he did, as his golden gaze bathed her own, only for his eyes to close, his lips to open, in a simple, single kiss that would tell time and this galaxy to go to hell. For they were more than a man and a woman trapped in an hourglass. They were two survivors on an island, and the sand was in their hands.

Adalee Thorne

 

[Adalee Thorne]

Outer Rim, Unknow Planet - Current Status: Stranded?

"We might die here."

Drane ripped the words from her mind, his gaze gesturing her to get closer. She could feel her own body comply. Resistance was futile, it seemed. A thick heavy burn crept up from her wound to her chest. This wasn't pain. It wasn't fear. It wasn't anything Adalee had ever felt with a stranger before. It was as if Drane's eyes looked beyond her, physically and all it's impurity. He looked at Adalee as if she was a painting, every stroke on the canvas without flaw. She couldn't make sense of it.

In fact, she had no sense in this exact moment.

Adalee wanted to speak, but didn't. She just stared at Drane and felt a raging river of emotions envelop her. At first it was everything bad, corrupt, frightening.

Fear. Anger. Sadness. Hesitation. Regret. Loneliness. Disgust. Envy. Shame. Aversion.

"If we do, we die together. Who dares, leaps...Adalee."

They were close now, inches between each other. Adalee's face grew flush. Her eyes glistened back at his in the rays of the sunlight above, but the clouds called their own intervention and the two were now in the shade. This was all beyond their control now, fate had decided this for them. The soft wind lifted her dark hair, parting from the front of her face. It was clear. Adalee took note of his own lips, soft and pillowly. She assessed his jawline...Strong and chiseled. She was lost in his darker complexion. The ashen tone reminding her of the perfectly crafted necklace around her neck.

Drane's conviction, made her swallow. Anexity hitting the back of her throat. He wouldn't let her die alone? They had just met, the words felt so true to Adalee. She believed them. They would live by getting off the planet or they would at least die together, it was the nicest gesture each of them could give another. Adalee felt a small tinge of desire and lonliness all at once. She could be his. Him to be hers. At least for now. It was a crazy notion, but crazy didn't matter to the young Thorne. She had partaken in her own desires before, but this was a feeling unlike any other she had encountered in the past. Drane was...

"You're not just a wounded woman, Adalee Thorne." Adalee could feel his hand in hers, sand between each palm, until the microscopic grains ended the barrier between each of them. For the first time skin against skin, Adalee's heart raced. The tender touch reached her cheek, the feeling of his thumb stroking her pale porceilan skin, another first. Her body reacted without thought and her free hand clasped over his as he grazed her cheek. She leaned into it. The comfort of his hand broke her free from the very cruel reality they existed in.

"You're so much more."

Death or not, she didn't want his touch to end. Seconds to minutes. Hours to days. Time was irrelvant now. Drane and Adalee were still, motionless. Swirls of an invisible force wrapped around them, blocking out the crashing waves. The small details Adalee had taken note of earlier fell away, faded out completely. This couldn't be bad, couldn't be wrong. Her amber eyes lowered to his lips. The space between her own and his now centimeters. Drane's eyes shut and Adalee's followed before her soft lips fell upon his.

A burst of vehemence ruptured through her soul. Fate. Destiny. All a perfect symphony of everthing good. It flooded every fiber of her being with new, less recognized emotions.

Surprise. Joy. Contentment. Calmness. Amusement. Pleasure. Pride. Relief. Gratitude. Acceptance.

She tilted her head slightly, giving way for a deeper passionate kiss as her lips parted and fell back onto his. Thier connection exploded, entangled in a fuse of burning fire and passion. She was engulfed in them. Two became one now, her arm extending to behind his neck as they continued to show one another affection.

Two last feelings hit her as the world shattered around her.

Love.

Pieces of the world were almost perfect, until the last realization hit her. The invisible sheen of the Force touching her blood, warning her.

Darkness.

Lost in her own passion for Drane, Adalee didn't care.
​

Drane T'keen

 

[Drane T'keen]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Burn. Burden. Maybe Drane, no, the Sith within the Thyrsian, simply wanted to take this woman into his grip right there and then. Maybe, underneath his courteous surface, he just wanted to break her, take his frustration out on her; in defiance of this island, in hatred and rage and with vengeance.

He might have ripped her shirt as much as her words, torn the necklace of Thorne, but that wasn’t some beast within him to think of the action. No, he sensed she wanted this, wanted him, or was it his imagination? Whatever the case, Drane didn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t, shouldn’t give into the violence within his mind. He was better than it. She was better than him.

If Adalee Thorne’s face was a painting, it was no mirror image of his own. No reflection of the person within the bone. Drane’s was broken, faded, like dying firelight whose embers were cast aside, and ashen as a grey welkin blinded by sunlight. Mindless, those were his words, his thoughts, but not his eyes.

Hers was not the face of a sculpture, as if chiseled by some sculptor. No painter had taken a paintbrush to stroke those splendid notes. No, her countenance was simply the product of her parents; coincidence, chance, but that was no less something to recognize and not look past. In her eyes. In her lips.

Beauty was in the eyes of the beholder.

Adalee Thorne.

And, if this is the last woman Drane T’keen will ever kiss, ever embrace, ever take in with his own irises, then damn this island to oblivion, because this moment was bliss.

Emotions, not tenets.
Feelings, not creeds.
A bird flies overhead.
A curse and a death.

Fear. Anger. Sadness. Hesitation. Regret.
Peace is a lie. There is only passion.
Loneliness. Disgust. Envy. Shame. Aversion.
Through passion, I gain strength.
Surprise. Joy. Contentment. Calmness. Amusement.
Through strength, I gain power.
Pleasure. Pride. Relief. Gratitude. Acceptance.
Through power, I gain victory.
Love.
Through victory my chains are broken.
Darkness.
The Force shall free me.

Yet damn the Sith to begin with.

As emotions exploded between this man and woman in moments, erupted like the fury lurking within a volcano, words of feelings and creeds raced within Drane’s lonely mind like a violin's crescendo, yet he listened only to the wind, to the breeze on his skin, and not to notions of emotions or factions ever irrelevant.

It didn’t make sense. Sense wasn’t intended. Just like this ship that had crashed on this island. So Drane, in these seconds that flew by like skyward birds, didn’t pay attention to his own thoughts. They were for naught. Instead, he focused on his heartbeat, zoned in on his lips, as they matched those of his companion.

Adalee tilted her head, giving into him, and the galaxy pay witness that this was not of a woman given to weakness. Neither to Drane as a man. Simply to two persons in a passionate kiss, and kriff the universe if it didn’t give its consent. They didn’t need blessings or forgiveness. They had strength.

They wanted. They bought in. They got it. They took the pages of bravery’s nakedness, like waves in the night or under the sunlight, and were not daunted by the tide.

Like the bird in the tree, or the lion on the mountain’s edge, they leapt. Gently into that good night, eyes into eyes, open or closed, for their senses became like limbs intertwined.

As given, his hand on her cheek, his thumb cradling her cheekbone as if to kiss it all on its own, she planted her hand at his neck, but to call this affection would be an understatement. This was passion, this was lust, for him if not for her, but much and more. This was the burn of desire, yes, and the curve of a warrior whose blood burst for something higher...

No, they weren’t so alone. Though there were others in their presence, persons wounded or unconscious, even conscious of them in their midst, they mattered as much as the wind as it passed between black strands of a woman’s hair, silver black curls of a man’s, so gone and lost in this world.

They were shells; the fractured remnants of pearls that once sang and glowed but now rang out so hollow at the bottom of the ocean. Though the denizens of this island were so exposed in the open, and the sun did shine on their faces as it did this man and woman, they were vacant visages, empty, for their pain and hate, their love and hope for tomorrow, did not matter to this Thyrsian.

Only one person mattered. Only one woman. Only her. Only Adalee Thorne.

So, Drane, encouraged by her fingers, enticed by her lips, emboldened by her whisper like a Sith’s silent speech, shifted his fingers from her cheek to her neck. His hand slid gently, cradling her throat, only to squeeze in, firmly, but not so as to choke.

Where the moments go, who knows? His other hand reached up though, fingers slipping into her hair, like feathers in the wind, black as a raven in the shimmer of sunlit golden. He slid his hand up to her head, the top of her skull, not to crush it but simply to hold it in his grip. He was no musician, but he did drum his fingers on her bone, embarking without fear on this journey where Adalee’s skin was like fire, her lips like embers.

He kissed, didn't let go, no matter his need to breathe.

She was his, he was hers. Nothing else mattered.

Let the darkest depths take them.

Drane would drink his full.

To the pull of death.

Adalee Thorne

 

[Adalee Thorne]

Outer Rim, Unknow Planet - Current Status: Stranded?

Adalee could feel the intense fires of passion throughout her whole body. Drane was a stranger, but their connection through words alone tempted this for them both. She couldn't remember the last time the notion of love came into her purview. But was this love at first sight or lustful desire in the face of their unknown outcome all around them. She didn't care, for now, Drane was a tall glass of wanting. So she took him as her began to take her. The strokes of his hands, inspired her to return the favor. Soothing his strong jaw with lightly placed finger tips.

Her soft touch wouldn't be the only thing against his Jaw. Drane cupped her head, prolonging their fateful kiss. Part of her felt insecure, the other half felt empowered. There was no hesitation, despite how torn she was to continue. She slid her free hand across his muscular mid-section and up to his own neck. She could feel his grip on her, so she returned in kind with her own. Adalee's pale white hand, latched onto the side of his neck, her thumb stroking the bottom of his ear as she did.

Affection.

The tumultuous ringing of her own thoughts rippled through her. She tried to tune them out, focusing on the kiss and Drane all together. Only her mind ruptured with a burst of truth. Adalee's blood twisted, switching its natural flow. This was new. She could feel the motion of her own cells moving through her body. At first, it felt like tiny living organisms running underneath her skin, but then it reformed into a comforting controlled phenomenon. The force linked itself to the blue liquid in her veins. It coursed through Adalee's body at an unfathomable rate. Everything the force tried to tell her, exonerated by the transformation within. She was hot and the sensation she felt couldn't be concieved. She was lost in Drane.

The tinge of darkness she felt emmante from herself to him, made her want to stop. Instead, she fed too, the strong blanket of whatever indescribable manifestation latching to them ignored. She lavished in his soft lips, feel weak to his hold. Careful to not be overtaken, she tighted her grip slightly, fighting him back with her own compassionate string of movements. It made her feel in control, but only for a moment. Niether were in control of the other now. They were consuming one another in a way that relinquished their power to other.

Trust.

Adalee's heart paced faster now. She broke free from his lips now. Her amber eyes snapping open to take in his face once more. Her lips curled to a smile and she embraced his own once more. Everything told her to stop, everything told her something was evil about their connection. The intangible annoyance tickled her mind, invading her like malevolent whispers, whether through warning or inticement. She did not know.

Murderer... Blood WITCH!! LIAR!!! Stop...Stop....STOP

Then the whispers changed, enticing her instead of deterring her.

Want this...Keep Going, Go further, Truth! Real! Savior HERO!!!

The tangle of whispers dispersed as Adalee jolted backwards, her face stunned with confusion. She looked at Drane, almost scared he didn't notice.

"Did you hear that?" Adalee asked, curious if Drane experienced the same. She would have asked him if it was him saying those things in her mind somehow, but she knew his tongue was wrapped in hers just seconds ago. She would look like a fool, if she didn't already after abruptly stopping. Embarassed she took a deep breath. Drane had to think she was crazy.

The voice crept up on her once more, it's malicious intent steadying her nerves.

Good Witch!
Bad Witch!

Adalee realized it wasn't Drane, it was her.

She screamed out. "I'm not a Witch!"
​

Drane T'keen