Private Live Free Or Die

[Ishani Dinn]

Ishani’s face turned scarlet as Dagon took the wheel from her, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with another vehicle. She wasn’t a very good driver, she had to admit, but that was just plain dumb. Like running into a stop sign. Dagon’s knowing, slightly suggestive smile only made it worse.

“Put a shirt on, you degenerate,” she muttered, knowing full well that his clothes were full of holes anyway.

At his question, she sighed. “Yeah. Crew and passenger quarters and all that. Uh… I guess I can squeeze you in there with the kids.”

A slap fight had broken out in the backseat, leaving at least one of the rugrats crying inconsolably before she could put a stop to it with a stern warning. She blew her hair out of her face in a huff. It was going to be a long trip to Coruscant.

***​

Her ship was called the Vixen. The name didn’t make much sense—the ship itself had been designed to look like a shooting star rendered in crystal glass, not a fox. Dumb names aside, the kids all got quiet once they saw it, and stayed that way as they were shuffled along inside, evidently in awe of the eccentric vessel.

They were back to shrieking and laughing by the time she cycled them all through the ‘fresher, removing weeks’ worth of dirt and grime in minutes, then finally, finally started to settle down once they were in actual beds. She left them in their bunks, sealing the door shut behind her with the push of a button, then started to head to bed herself, when abruptly she realized she had no clue where Dagon was. He’d slipped her notice while she was distracted with the kids.

Not very smart to begin with Ish, letting a Jedi run loose on your ship, she thought, looking around. Not that she expected him to hijack it. For all she knew, he might’ve just found a comfortable-looking alcove and passed out. He seemed like the sort who could sleep on the ground with a rock for a pillow if he was tired enough.

Dagon Kaze​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

After sharing a similar reaction as the kids over the peculiar ship, Dagon had left the tending of the kids to Ishani and drifted, almost naturally, to the cargo hold. She'd find him already set up - laying with his back on top of a sleeping back and his rucksack (conveniently appearing out of nowhere) as a pillow. His arms behind his head, still shirtless, and in a thoughtless stare. The pain of the wounds and bruises was gone, replaced by the weight of exhaustion.

"How're they?" he asked when he saw Ishani appear at the entrance. Then after her reply, "And how are you?"

Ishani Dinn

 

[Ishani Dinn]

In the cargo hold, Dagon was. Still topless, although at least in this context it made sense.

“Asleep,” she replied. “I hope.”

She could’ve just left it at that. Told him she was headed to bed, good night, whatever. The ship was already on autopilot as they plunged through hyperspace, their course plotted out. But she didn’t leave. Instead, she sat down cross-legged on the floor beside him, folding her arms across her lap.

“Tired, but probably won’t be able to sleep,” she answered.

Her gaze wandered over his bare chest for the umpteenth time since he’d first taken his shirt off, although this time it was with almost an academic interest rather than guilty attraction. “Do you remember where all your scars came from?” she asked. He sure did have a lot of them. She couldn’t help but be weirdly fascinated—she had no battle scars of her own. Not yet, anyway, and she wasn’t exactly looking forward to the acquisition.

Dagon Kaze​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

Dagon shifted up to sit and lean with his back on a crate. His hands fell down to his sides as he scanned over the scars on his torso.

"I used to." he said, then looked up back to her. "Still routinely count them each morning but they're way too many now to recall each one." some he would remember forever. Like the one from his brother's saber across his chest, another from his duel on the Prosperity when he had stumbled to the dark side. They were, essentially, just marks. The real scars remained invisible - etched upon his heart, soul and mind.

"You've got any?" he asked.

Ishani Dinn

 

[Ishani Dinn]

Routinely count them each morning? Sounded pretty hardcore. Or was he joking?

“Uh… I used to have a pretty nasty one on top of my foot from when I dropped a very heavy book on it as a child,” she replied, barely managing to keep a straight face as she said it. “Don’t remember which foot it was. I think it’s faded away by now...”

Determined to take this silly joke all the way to its conclusion, she removed her shoes and socks, tossed them aside, then laid out her bare feet side by side to examine them, looking for the infamous book mark. “Yep, looks like it’s gone,” she said with a shrug. Whether Dagon found any of this amusing or not, she shifted back into her original cross-legged position and sighed.

“No physical scars. Nothing worth comparing to yours, at least. Not that it’s… a competition, or anything.”

She was back to looking at him. There was one long mark across his chest. She recognized it as a burn, probably from a lightsaber, and figured the injury was severe enough that it would be unforgettable. “What about that one?” she asked, the tip of her finger tracing it with the barest hint of contact. “Was that from a duel or something?”

Dagon Kaze​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

Book?

He snorted. Once upon a time, that would've been true to him, too. Then the war had changed it all - it had swapped out the enlightenment torch in his hand for a champion's sword. Somewhere deep inside Dagon hoped that Ishani would not share the same fate.

She crossed her legs again, brought her eyes back to his, then ran her finger across the saber scar on his chest with barely any contact. The soft touch sent a pleasant static down his spine. It abated at the question. His eyes came down upon it, a hint of sorrow in their glimmer.

"Yeah." Dagon said, reluctant to share the tormenting details behind it. "From a Sith on Ziost."

He was an extrovert about everything except his own burdens - those were locked down in a sunken chest at the bottom of his conscious.

Ishani Dinn

 

[Ishani Dinn]

She had a hunch it would have been a Sith who inflicted the gash, but hearing it was still… well, she couldn’t quite describe how it felt. Uncomfortable? Worse than that. Disquieting? Disturbing? Nothing seemed to fit. It made her feel bad, even though she wasn’t the one responsible for his injury. Guilty by association.

“I heard about Ziost,” she commented, though her words felt useless, pointless. “Not much, but… I heard it was bad.”

Something about the tone of his voice indicated that there was more to it than that—like it wasn’t just a random encounter with a Sith warrior, a faceless individual he had fought, maybe killed. He hadn’t just survived the physical wound, but something deeper as well.

But she didn’t push to pry more information from him, especially since he wasn’t being all that forthcoming to begin with. Instead, she did something rather strange.

Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to the jagged scar. It was a soft touch, brief and chaste, like the pecking kiss of a child. When the impulse to kiss the scar first hatched in her mind, she had meant it to be a purely symbolic gesture. When she pulled back from it, she realized he might not know how to interpret it, and truth be told she no longer knew what exactly she meant by it, either. She felt foolish. Why had she done such a thing? What had possessed her?

Her cheeks grew warm, her face turning red as she looked up at Dagon sheepishly, on the verge of apologizing. But the words wouldn’t come. She waited to see his reaction.

Dagon Kaze​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

What sombre conversation they were having departed his mind like a bullet train when Ishani leaned forward closer. Dagon wasn't sure what to expect, caught off-guard. But whatever his multitude of expectations were none of them were a kiss on his scar. The tender peck on his chest sent a faint galvanized rush in his guts, illuminated in his silent gaze at her. She said nothing, he said nothing. Without a word, driven by desire rather than any rational thought, he reached to cup her soft cheeks, his fingers laced through her golden locks and he leaned in to lock a kiss.

Ishani Dinn

 

[Ishani Dinn]

Ishani had received her first kiss only a few months ago. They had been sitting underneath a tree at night, talking. Gradually they moved closer, speaking in softer, hushed tones. Attraction had snuck up on her suddenly—they’d only met each other earlier that day. She was the one who made the first move, a sloppy, fumbled attempt that left her paralyzed with embarrassment afterwards. But he had returned her affection anyway, and she had been so elated that it was finally happening to her, that initial nervousness had melted away as they eased into it together.

This wasn’t like that.

Dagon’s kiss startled her with its bluntness, the raw sexuality of it. She went wide-eyed, her fingers curling against the floor as though grasping for something to hold onto. For a moment, she wondered just how in the hell she wound up here, locking lips with a Jedi. In the next, she couldn’t think at all.

He had pulled her close. She could feel the contours of bare skin, soft fuzz, the damp remains of sweat. He didn’t smell like anything in particular, just… human. Masculine. Warm.

She reached up as if to push him away, but delayed, her trembling hands fretting against his shoulders. Thesh’s kisses had always been timid, almost reluctant, afraid to express his desires freely. Leftovers from when he had been a slave, no doubt. Dagon’s kiss was hungry, greedy, demanding for her to open her mouth and give him what he wanted. What they both wanted.

Her lips parted and her tongue tangled with his. She wrapped her arms around him, fingers knotting in black hair. Her face was burning. Her whole body was burning. It felt like it was never going to end. She almost didn't want it to. But they’d have to come up for air at some point, wouldn’t they?

Dagon Kaze​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

The plaguing memories of a love lost, the fear of the past resurfacing, the guilt emerging like a rising volcano - all vanished at the lock of their lips. The passionate kiss - an outlet - through which he sought one thing and one thing only.

Escape.

That was all to it.

And he allowed himself to be consumed by it, by the primordial, by the need to cope with Ayana's loss; a loss that he could never overcome.

In the warmth of their locked lips, in her wanting fingertips running through his raven hair, in the hurried rhythm of their hearts, in the intimacy of their skin - escape. It guided his fingers to want more, it navigated his embrace to pull her even closer, tighter; to drown in the passion of the moment; to break free from the anguish and guilt of his own sinful gibbet.

Ishani Dinn

 

[Ishani Dinn]

The break for air didn’t come. Before she knew it, she was lying on the cold floor, with him on top of her. His hands didn’t wander aimlessly as hers did; he was trying to remove the last barrier between them, that of clothing.

Abruptly she went cold, the heat of the moment vanishing. She turned her head away from his to end the kiss, struggling to catch her breath. He immediately went for her throat instead, his lips trailing down towards her chest. “Wait,” she blurted at last, a note of panic in her tone. “Stop.”

As soon as he let her go, she pulled herself back into a sitting position, putting some distance between them. She covered her face with one hand, trying to pull herself together, collect her thoughts. A few moments passed before she spoke again.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” Whatever she was to blame for—provoking him, giving into temptation, engaging in anything other than cool professionalism. She had just met him, and they had nearly...

Thesh.

Guilt hit her like a sledgehammer. It was written all over her face, a stricken expression of what-have-I-done? She stood up suddenly, then clenched her fists. “Damn it.”

She was angry at herself, not Dagon. Turning on her heel, she slammed her fist against the mechanism to open the door to the cargo hold. The impact sent shockwaves of pain up her arm… and the door refused to open.

“Damn it!”

She couldn’t run away from this, apparently.

Dagon Kaze​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

And then he was yanked right back into that which he sought to escape. Stupefied, drowning in guilt as if he had committed an act of treason, infidelity. Dagon sat back up leaning on the crate, slumped. He looked at Ishani and to his surprise saw a reflection of himself. Guilty. Just like him. How could it be so wrong if it felt so right?

The Jedi watched her in silence as she tried to leave, a part of him wanting her here and a part of him wanting her as far away as possible. The mixed feelings, the confusion - it all threw his mind in disarray. What was he doing? Why was he doing it? He knew the answers but refused to admit them to himself. Ignorance is bliss. Even if it's denial.

Dagon suddenly felt the need to try and calm her down, it jolted him up to stand and approach her but still halt at a non-pressing distance away.

"Hey, hey, hey-- it's alright, it's alright." he wasn't sure what exactly was alright but his brain wasn't functioning in full capacity. He then blurted out, "It's my fault, okay? I shouldn't have...tried to-- yeah."

Ishani Dinn

 

[Ishani Dinn]

She heard Dagon’s voice behind her. He was trying to calm her down, no doubt assuming it was more his fault than hers. That he had gone too far too fast. Well, maybe that was true, but… well, she couldn’t play moral relativism in this situation.

“I’m...” she started to speak, her voice almost a whisper, then swallowed. “I, uh, I’m already spoken for. Sort of. It's... It's Thesh.”

Technically speaking, she and Thesh weren’t “dating”. Their circumstances didn’t allow for much more than a mutual feeling of affection towards one another, and the occasional stolen moment alone together. They had certainly never referred to each other as boyfriend and girlfriend, and their relationship remained (to put it bluntly) unconsummated as yet. But she had counted on it eventually becoming something more, given enough time and effort. She wouldn't have scoured the galaxy trying to find him if she thought... well, even if they were just friends, she probably would've done the same thing. He was worth it to her.

“I shouldn’t have encouraged you, regardless of how I felt in the moment. It would be selfish. I'd just be using you as a coping mechanism when all I really want is... ugh, I should’ve just gone to sleep instead of coming in here and bothering you.”

Her knuckles still ached from their forceful impact with the control panel. She rubbed them with her uninjured hand, trying to soothe the pain. Already the skin was darkening, bruised.

“I was wondering why you were sleeping on the floor in here, when there’s an actual bed you can sleep in.” After realizing how that sounded, she quickly added, "In the passenger quarters. Across the hall from where the kids are sleeping."

Dagon Kaze​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

Thesh? Oh..

All pieces fell in place and the picture was clear. Her actions really were that similar to his. The difference? Well, Thesh was probably alive and Ayana wasn't.

“I shouldn’t have encouraged you, regardless of how I felt in the moment. It would be selfish. I'd just be using you as a coping mechanism when all I really want is... ugh, I should’ve just gone to sleep instead of coming in here and bothering you.”

Dagon's face contorted into a painful, frustrated grimace. He almost snapped back a similar response. Almost.

When the truth is laid out in the open - it hits like a knife skewering the heart and no level of denial can mend the wound. His fists clenched with desire to punch the wall in frustration and anger over his own foolishness. He levied no blame on Ishani's part, maybe a little, just a tiny bit - wouldn't it have been better to at least feel the sweet release, even if it lasted just a night? Even if all the weight of his mistakes and failures returned the next morning tenfold. Maybe Master Sunstrider was right - all of his acts of selflessness now seemed to be ironically driven by subconscious selfish reasons. Did he want to save the galaxy as a way to cope with his failure to save his own self?

"Habit." he replied, then packed the sleeping bag into the rucksack, slung it over his shoulder and headed towards the locked door. Dagon gave her no sideways glance, he simply used the Force to slide the door open and left towards the passenger quarters, "Good night, Ishani." the demons inside were on the rise.

Ishani Dinn