Kings and Queens of Bedlam

[Tydeus of Tion]

He'd given her a com link and told her to head to Fringe space. But that had been an age ago. He should have...

Ryan Korr clenched calloused hands and stared up into the darkening sky. Moons in pale shades of silver and green hung there, watching him. Judging him. Their beauty stung his eyes, forcing him to look away with a bitter twist of the lips. An anger surged within him, an ever present roiling storm, stirred up for some reason beyond his comprehension.

Matters of the heart slipped through his fingers, slicker than oil and as finite as sand.

The Jedi Knight ran fingers through his long, ruddy locks and set his teeth. Jaw muscles clenched, tightening pale, blade-kissed skin. Eyes the color of granite swept back and forth, searching between the trees of the secluded orchard. The blue foliage of the inderrin trees were mere shadows in the dark, rustling in the breeze. Aruza had been a peace-loving planet, once. Thousands of years ago. Then evil in the guise of men had come bearing gifts of knowledge. They'd warped the society, given it a joy for war and violence. Still, that was then... much had changed, or so he told himself.

The hope burned dimly within his breast, oft of little comfort, yet even so he had to believe that they were not consigned to whims of fate. No matter the nature nor the nurturing, it could be turned, changed. He'd seen her do it, after all.

"Quinn," he muttered into the whispering wind, "Where are you?"

The Kiffar woman couldn't have joined the Republic. She would chafe beneath their restrictions. And the explanation to the Council? Impossible.

So here he waited, with bated breath.

[member="Quinn Vos"]

 

[Quinn Vos]

[member="Ryan Korr"]

Citrus lingered heavily in the air. The Kiffar still managed to pick up the scents she associated with Korr: ozone after a lightning strike and cinnamon. It had been awhile since she saw him, since her betrayal of the One Sith, and since he returned to the Republic. She caught the glint of his red-hair through the trees as she moved silently between the shadows, the sun dappling her mocha-skin.

This time he hadn't pressured her to join him. He knew as well as she did, to join the Republic would..., well, it could very well destroy her.

Fiery, emerald eyes searched around the jedi until she was satisfied that he was alone. Her muscle-toned form finally emerged from the trees. Her presence flickered to life in the force as she shrugged off the veil.

"Korr..."

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

Mere sight of her sun-drenched figure set a thrill through him, though the feel of the Dark Side drifted through the air, lending the thrill a touch of apprehension and danger. Quinn was wild. The wild could not be tamed or predicted, only approached with cautious respect and an open hand. As he locked gazes with her eyes, their depths an intense, burning shade the same hue as the dark heart of the jungle, he thought but little of such a palsy gesture.

For a moment they stood there, the orchards silent save for a rustling breeze, then Jedi composure fell by the wayside as he stepped forward, sweeping her up in an embrace.

The smell of grass and tree sap clung to her, alien to the urban setting he’d grown up with.

All he wished to say slipped away, a bag of words spilled in the street and left abandoned by one who had never been fond of them anyway. Prepared statements gave way to a single desire to know, a single question. Simple, bland, but heartfelt.

“Are you ok?”

[member="Quinn Vos"]

 

[Quinn Vos]

[member="Ryan Korr"]

Toned, mocha-arms wrapped Korr's back. Her lithe, but granite form slid easily into his embrace. She didn't know she needed it until she was cocooned against his chest. Nor would she admit the need.

His voice and the brief touch of psychometry when her lips brushed against his jaw surged a sense of warmth that cut through the storm of darkness that broiled along her wild roots. Head tilted so she could meet mountain-stone colored eyes. The light through the trees flecked in his hair, catching it like flames.

"The assassins have not come yet. But I am ready. Isolda no longer haunts my thoughts but I still....feel her."

A chunk of muddy-brown hair fell down the curve of her bare-shoulder as she shifted back in frustration.

"I am tired of hiding, Ryan. Would your jedi come after me as well?"

Even as she steamed her restlessness, her gaze studied every inch of his face as if she could silently read how he was doing since Prakith.

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

"I'm... working on it."

Korr's chest was perhaps not the most comfortable of places to rest one's head. Like the rest of him, it was carved from the side of a mountain. An unyielding slab of stone. Yet Quinn did not seem to be the sort of woman who cared much for what was plush and posh, preferring a hardness that could bring her ferocity to a grinding halt in a spray of sparks. Or maybe Korr had it all wrong. Men usually do.

It seemed he'd done little enough right these days. The missions had grown sluggish. The One Sith's offensive seemed to be slowing, though Republic intelligence didn't know why yet.

Calloused fingers slipped across the warm, bare skin of her lower back. Quinn's wardrobe choices were, as usual, entirely appealing. Maybe she did it just to befuddle the minds of men. Korr's was certainly somewhat muggy.

"They won't come after you though. We're too few and you're not a threat to them. To us."

Grey eyes suddenly sharpened like steel glinting in the moonlight.

"Wait, what did you mean feel Isolda? She's dead."

[member="Quinn Vos"].

 

[Quinn Vos]

[member="Ryan Korr"]

They won't come after you though.

"You do not know this. You do not know them like I do," she rumbled quietly against him, his calloused-touch along her skin quickening the thrumming heart against her chest. Sandpapery-palms moved along his sides to transition up his chest. She stepped back a hair to catch that look in his eyes when Isolda was mentioned.

"She's not dead." Tattooed-cheeks hardened. "She's weak but she still lives. I don't think she's a threat right now."

It was as if the Kiffar was trying to convince herself. Lips parted as if she wanted to say more but in usual Quinn-fashion she closed them and instead, stared solemnly at the redhead she held in a half-embrace.

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

Red brows furrowed. He didn't know them? The Jedi Order was all he had ever truly known, the only group he could even come close to calling family. They said attachment was a sin. If that was the case, guilt coursed through his veins. Not just for Quinn, but for all of them. A Jedi Order he would do anything to save.

These two halves at him, each innately incompatible, constantly pulled away from each other, no matter how hard he tried to push them together. The effort was ripping him apart. He could feel it now, feeling anger rise at her words about how he 'didn't know,' them. The urge to fan that anger flared, along with surprise and fury over Isolda's survival. Yet, upon their heels was regret, armed with a willpower that crushed the emotions. He flung the feelings into a dark corner of his heart to join the others, then he slammed closed the iron doors and locked them away.

Korr stared [member="Quinn Vos"] down, watching the lines of her mouth open and close in silence.

"What is it?"