Private New Beginnings

[Kyyrk]

Kyyrk reached up absently to rest his hand on Alessandra's. "She...She was." Kyyrk didn't feel like bringing the mood down any further than it already was. There were myriad reasons why he had adored his master. Darth Ilstera had been the first to see him for what he was. Not a weapon, nor a tool. Not some...second rate being simply by virtue of not being born human. She was the first to treat him as an equal. "Ilstera's influence governed much of my early life. She was one of few beings to have gained my respect. And I can count those beings on one hand. Including the Vicelord."

He gave Alessanda's hand a gentle squeeze as she moaned about her fear that she'd lost him. "Impossible. That round may have destroyed my shoulder, but I would have survived. Even without the armor. Nothing vital there for it to hit. Only knocked me down from sheer force." He gave her hand another squeeze, turning his head to kiss it softly before she withdrew. "Once you've been fighting as long as I have...with the lessons I have...the cost is all you can think about." Kyyrk chewed thoughtfully on another bite, watching Alessandra from his perch at the table. "I still remember every ship I ever lost. During the Zakuul war, and the wars waged on behalf of the Confederacy."

Kyyrk fell silent for a moment, looking down at the cup of caf as if noticing it for the first time. He took a tentative sip, starting to realize just how tired he really was. "I know what you mean. About invisible scars, anyways. I've my fair share of those as well." Kyyrk fell silent for a moment before he pushed himself to his feet, having finished his meal. "Gods above...there's so much to do..." He took another drag from the cup of Caf. "I may have survived Naboo, but my blade and armor sure didn't. Then we've got...whatever rebuilding we'll need to do once it's safe..." He walked over to the kitchenette, and placed the cup of caf on the counter, moving to stand in front of Alessandra. He gently placed a kiss on her cheek, and quietly intoned, "But that can wait for tomorrow. For now, we can rest easy knowing we're both alive."
​

Alessandra Creed

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Tag: Kyyrk

The Minister really didn't view their quiet confessions as "bringing the mood" down when they were literally fleeing the collapse of their nation. There was no lower point. Rather than drink themselves into a stupor like some of the crew, or, those that promised violence and retribution they chose to turn into one another. The tempestuous and heartrending end to a once-great kingdom was a breeding ground for desperation and insanity. Cruelty. Rather, they nursed old wounds. Cleaned, dressed them, so that they may begin to heal rather than fester in solitude.

Every bit of fondness he displayed caused her guard to lower. Realizing that Kyyrk and Voph were one and the same was going to take some getting used to, but it didn't change who she knew him to be. His age was a little overwhelming, but that was a conundrum for another day. "Perhaps, you will show me one day. Who she was, to you."

Alessandra did not explain. It was clear that his former Master was in some way gone from his life in the way he phrased her in the past tense—But, he still remembered. Memories could be shared.

Her eyes rolled heavenward when dismissed getting shot in her stead. The kiss to her hand left a pleasant tingle but it wasn't quite enough to douse that particular fear. Kyyrk had been a newer friend, at that time. A quiet, careful confidant. A Knight who took her assignments more than most, whom, she requested more than most. Even then…His loss was devastating. "I'm not a medic, Kyyrk."

"I can't do what you do. I can't fight, like you do. You might be able to tank a bullet but you didn't see what I saw…People have died from less."

That particular fear lingered in the back of her throat despite her desire to chase it away. She wanted to. Tried to. But it made her blood pressure rise while her hands felt cold, clammy. The very real memory of watching him float near-dead in a bacta tank not seventy-two hours prior was obviously a contributor to that. She would of course deny anything being wrong, given, that their people, friends, and family required strength…Not when he needed her.

She was quiet while he finished his meal and nursed the water she held. It didn't take a telepath to see that her mind was spinning a mile a minute, though, the hurricane slowed when Kyyrk came to stand before her. There was a lot to do. There was always, a lot to do. "Armor and weapons can be replaced. It's you that I worry about…", she murmured, pausing when he pressed a kiss to her cheek. The remnants of the Confederacy had options. Alessandra had squirreled away resources, caches, and more credits than most would ever see in a dozen lifetimes throughout hidden sanctums within the Southern Systems. They were protected, accessible, only with her blood and bio-metrics. "Someone…Someone used to berate me for preparing for the worst. It was a sign of weakness, that, I expected us to fail…"

"But that wasn't it, at all. If the Confederacy flourished none would have been the wiser but…"

The Confederacy of Independent Systems had fallen.

She let it trail off into nothingness. Kyyrk was right. There was nothing so important in the moment that it couldn't wait until they'd both had time to rest and recuperate. The raven-haired woman still leaned against the counter, lazily, like some sort of svelte cat. Though she did reach out to curl her fingers in the front of his shirt and slowly pull him down. Careful lips brushed lightly against his, barely a feather, but enough to express the ocean of intent behind it. Little whispers, little things, that she didn't say.

"Don't make me miss you so much. Don't lie to me. Don't omit things, from me. Don't become so obsessed with saving that galaxy that you forget what you have. I'll be forced to remind you, which, you may or may not survive…"

Another kiss, brief, though, it was indeed the reminder she threatened him with. There was fire in her. People forgot that when they assumed her day-to-day involved an ancient abacus and a series of inkwells. He would have no trouble finding it. Alessandra let her fingers untangle from the fabric of his shirt, though, they merely fell to catch his hand. Deft fingers entwined, softened, from the lotion that eased her reaction to bacta. "…Come to bed."

 

[Kyyrk]

Kyyrk frowned slightly at her assertion that she was not a medic. Another harsh reminder of how warped his reality was compared to hers. He sighed quietly. "I'm....sorry. I forget that not everyone is as...used to such things as I am." But his frown slowly turned to a wry grin. Armor didn't matter, but he did. "That armor helps me come home. So I'd say it's somewhat important." He spoke in a teasing manner. But that grin quickly turned back to a frown. He could only wonder who that someone might be. "To speak frankly, my dear, Someone's an idiot. I've seen the downfall of no less than ten supposed superpowers. Some rise again, Some do not. The end is going to come eventually. And only those who prepare for it will live to see what comes after."

He knew all about preparing for the worst. When the dust had settled, there were but six of the Octarchy that still drew breath. Six of the thousands that had joined the galaxy standing in defiance of Zakuul. Those six had turned the Council into a Covenant. A solemn vow in light of all the wonton destruction. Never again. But upon Kyyrk's death, they had shattered. Fragmented. Kyyrk's brow knit together in slow realization. Darth Voph had been a master of cunning. A shrewd captain of the inquisition. And the founder of a doomsday militia. Though his memories may be lost, Kyyrk was sure...there was no way he'd left his fate to chance. After all, the Desolation had been safely hidden away for him to rediscover thousands of years later.

But his mind was pulled back to the present as Alessandra pulled him down into a kiss. Kyyrk reached for the same hand that sought his, grasping it gently. The woman urged him to come to bed. A notion he would normally resist, but tonight? The mere mention of a bed made his bones feel heavy. "Yes...I could use a good nap about now..." Nightmare be damned. Kyyrk was tired. Exhausted. Physically, mentally, emotionally... The man was spent. Tonight? He intended to sleep for as long as he could... ​

Alessandra Creed

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Tag: Kyyrk

A shiver ran down her spine with the lingering memory of his injury her shoulders moved up and down for a moment in order to shake it off. He apologized and she waved it off. It wasn't his fault. Their lives had taken them on different paths. She was prepared for a world of cutthroat politics whereas he had learned to…Cut throats, if needed. The little grin that lingered on his expression caused her eyes to roll skyward and she lightly thumped him with the back of her hand. "Important—But replaceable."

"I can't replace you."

Kyyrk seemed to agree with the pragmatic way her mind traveled. She took the moment to appreciate it rather than question the unthinking support. Alessandra had never meant to create some vacuum of doubt, but perhaps that was the reason her first marriage had ultimately failed. Doubt. The Minister of Commerce seemed to lose focus for a moment, wan, and drained from the day's events. She was glad he had agreed to stay. Relieved, that he was there. Solid. Real.

Not floating in a sickly tank of bacta.

Kyyrk didn't respond to her little threats, idle, or otherwise. He was used to the high-spirited side of her mouth when she got riled up about something. Nevertheless, he was rewarded with a velvet, though worn-out smile when he agreed. She could clean up the kitchen later. The young woman pulled away from the countertop and let thin fingers lace more firmly between his so that she could tug him in the right direction. Not, the couch.

A haphazard wave of her free hand caused the lights to turn down in the main living area while the portal slid open to reveal a suitable bedroom. It had an adjoining closet and a half-lounge next to a faux fireplace. The hologram gave the illusion of warmth. The illusion of being on the ground—Safe. A vanity in one corner that had several items organized and more compartments than were visible to the naked eye. The bed itself was spartan enough. Well-made but without any of the frills she might have had on Naboo. Alessandra didn't mind. The sheets were deliciously soft but truth be told they could have been made of sandpaper and she would have still crawled right in.

It was just that kind of day.

She let him go so she could sneak off, briefly, to brush her teeth. Ale returned a moment later and removed the sheer dark robe she wore and threw it over the lounge. Nimble fingers removed the clips that held her hair in place and she set them on the vanity top before picking up a brush. She ran it through her hair, a nightly habit, and deftly braided long auburn locks back, securing it with a tie. "Computer—Place my quarters under do not disturb. Exception List: Isley Verd, John Locke, and Srina Talon."

"Yes, Ms. Creed."

The soft feminine voice, though robotic, would ensure that they got some shut-eye. It also reminded her to ensure Kyyrk had permissions to enter and exit as he saw fit. Later. If anything happened that required either of them one of those individuals would come calling. Otherwise? It could wait. The raven-haired woman went to the far side of the bed and left Kyyrk the side that was closest to the door. Ale reached out and tossed a few of the decorative pillows on the floor before she sat down on the edge of the bed, turning so that she could slide her legs beneath the sheets. She turned on her side, facing him, obviously unbothered by sharing space.

Alessandra was quiet. Not out of anything…Horrendously wrong, but simply absorbing. There were vulnerabilities in the dark that didn't show in the light. Truths, that the waking world need not see. Need not know.

"...I really am glad that…you're all right."

She nestled into the pillow and slowly started to settle. He was fine. They, were fine. The imminent danger had passed. They just needed to pick up the pieces.

 

[Kyyrk]

Kyyrk paused as he was led into the bedroom, looking around the space as Alessandra readied herself for bed. To him? It was a rather cozy little space. A holographic fireplace wasn't what he'd expected to see, but it didn't really surprise him. In all, it reminded him of...something. His brow furrowed momentarily. It reminded him of his quarters aboard the Desolation. Of home. Kyyrk looked around the space once more, taking in each of the details once more. But his gaze rested on Alessandra, watching her quietly as she adjusted her hair.

As she made it clear which side of the bed was hers, Kyyrk turned to sit on the opposite side. He sighed quietly, and reached up to remove his shirt, tossing it towards the lounge along with the other discarded items. In the dim light, Kyyrk's back was shown to be scarred, same as his front side, but the saturation was much lighter. He didn't take nearly as many hits to the back. There was one, however, that stood out. A twisted scar near his shoulder blade. Small, circular, and with hints of burn scarring around the edges. A lightsaber wound.

Kyyrk turned as well, sliding under the blanket and rolling over to face Alessandra. When she once again expressed her joy that he'd made it out alive, he reached out to gently cradle her cheek in his hand. "Always. No matter how long it may take me, I'll always come home to you." ​

Alessandra Creed

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Tag: Kyyrk

It was almost too quiet.

Little more than the sound of rustling sheets and the easy breathing. It wasn't the first time Alessandra had seen his back, though, she could swear she never saw the same scar twice. It was probably her eyes playing tricks on her when worry gnawed at the pit of her stomach. He was lucky he wanted to keep them. Were it in her power to weave within the Force and erase them line by line she would have. Not because she found them unsightly, but because of the truth of what they were.

Behind every mark sat a story. Some awful, terrible, story where Kyyrk had placed himself in harm's way or danger had simply decided to find him. The end result, was the same. Something had hurt him.

That part—She wanted to take away.

It was silly to think it could be done by erasing what was on the outside, when really, it was branded everywhere no one would ever see. Written neatly across his soul.

It would still exist no matter what.

The soft-touch to her face drew her from her thoughts and her eyes closed at the quiet statement. It should have been a comfort to her that he was so long-lived. It meant that he was a survivor. If nothing in the last few millennia had managed to truly kill him, really, what would? The words of a certain white-haired Echani lingered in the back of her mind. Anytime someone brought up the indomitable nature of the Confederacy, always, the cold woman was quick to remind in order to avoid complacency.

// "There will always be a bigger fish, Minister. Increase the budget." //​

"I know you will....", she whispered, a shuddering breath escaping, while she moved forward so she could tuck her head against his chest. Her hands remained trapped between them, but it merely made her smaller while the tension in her shoulders dimmed and the rest of her rolled to effectively curl up against him. "I know, I worry too much. I know you can take care of yourself and it's not like there's anything to be done about it…"

She just couldn't help herself. The young woman made a soft sound of growing contentment and finally feeling warm. Alessandra was always inexplicably frozen solid whenever she traveled in space no matter the climate control. More than that, this was safe. It was okay to close her eyes. Sleep. Everything would still be here when they woke up. "Sometimes…"

"Sometimes I just…Wish we weren't, who we are. This was what I wanted. The title, the responsibility, the excitement, the job security…I wanted it so badly before I left Brentaal IV. I got what I wanted."

Now she would have given anything for the opposite. A pedestrian life. Safe, and ignorant of the darkness that loomed in every shadow. Wants, she supposed, changed. That didn't mean that her chosen path would facilitate that alteration. Collectively, they had too much notoriety, for better or worse, to disappear to some country-estate and completely retire from the stage.

She also wasn't sure either of them could handle tranquility for long. Peace was…Well…Exceedingly, dull. Her voice was soft, small, as it never was. "…Now…I just want…"

 

[Kyyrk]

"Shhh..." Kyyrk placed a gentle kiss on the woman's forehead. "There's no sense worrying yourself over the could-haves and the what-ifs." His arm wrapped around her, pulling the woman close to him. "We all wished to be something once. And most of us found it wasn't anything like what we expected or wanted." He spoke from experience. His tone made that clear enough. But what experience, exactly, did he speak from? Kyyrk relaxed his head back against the pillow, gently rubbing Alessandra's back in a comforting measure. He could not remember what else was said, nor how long he actually managed to stave off the grasp of darkness.

His sleep was calm. Peaceful. Much unlike how he normally slept, when he did sleep. But even this could not last. For soon enough he found himself standing in that cursed hall. Blades locked with the team that had been sent to execute him. An entire council of Darths had been dispatched, and he stood victorious over all of them.

No... Not all of them. There was one that still defied him. Dark hair flowed from behind a darker face mask, her brilliant red blade cutting through the dim light with malevolent intent. She was their leader. She alone stood a chance against Kyyrk. But only because she was smart enough to break the focus of that which strengthened him. In an instant, the Sith stood victorious over him. But she did not gloat. She did not execute. Instead, she knelt before him, helping him to his feet. "We're going to get you out of here. You're going to be alright. We can fix you."

But that couldn't happen. There was no fixing him. He was broken. Damaged. Destroyed. He held the woman close, giving her one final hug. And as he pulled away from the hug, he saw Alessandra's face looking back at him. This was a dream. It was just a dream. The same nightmare that always haunted him. But now it was a new nightmare. Kyyrk smiled sadly at Alessandra's visage before saying those fated words. "I'm so proud of you."

Kyyrk wasn't sure if it was the same scream, or a new one. But to see Alessandra's face contorted in shock and horror filled him with a despair he didn't know he was capable of. The source of her horror: a red lightsaber piercing his chest. As Kyyrk's body fell to the floor, his killer was revealed. It had to be this way. She wouldn't have done it. Couldn't have done it. It was the only way. Sacrifice him, and they would save billions. Kyyrk felt the fear of the unknown welling within him, bubbling up until he cried out with his dying breath...

And jolted awake. The only sound uttered to the real world was a gasp for air. Kyyrk did not sit up, though the desire was strong. If he did, he risked dislodging Alessandra. Or worse, waking her. He drew short breaths, closing his eyes in an attempt to calm his nerves. The nightmare was nothing new to him. A fragment of his past he was forced to endure over and over again. But the nightmare had changed to include Alessandra. To torment him with her anguish. Kyyrk looked around the room. It was late, still. The wee hours of the morning. For the moment, Kyyrk decided it was best to remain where he was. He likely would not sleep any more that night. But the woman entwined around him would, maker willing, continue to sleep peacefully if not disturbed by his movements...​

Alessandra Creed

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Tag: Kyyrk

The shift in their usual dynamic changed noticeably. The door was closed, lights off. The confidently efficient display and snappy narcissisms that Alessandra often wore buried themselves beneath the waves of who she really was. The soft kiss to her forehead hushed confused words that were barely escaping before getting lost against him. Being close, was enough. He was right.

Just…Sometimes, she wished. Silly and fruitless as it was.

“…Ballerina.”, she murmured, when Kyyrk spoke of things everyone wished to be. Her lips curved sleepily against his skin at the quiet, innocent admission. Of all things, when she was young, she’d wanted to be one of the flashy, spinning, perfect, dancers on Brentaal IV. Obviously, that hadn’t happened…Things changed…But they were, what they were. “…But I could never stand the shoes.”

She drifted off, likely, before realizing she’d said anything at all. Alessandra hadn’t had the same experience that Kyyrk had, but there was a toll taken from worrying. From rushing and burning the candle from both ends so that order could be maintained in the face of desperation. Nothing made society, humanity, and civilization as a whole react more strongly than fear. She slept with surprisingly sweet dreams. If asked, she wouldn’t be able to recall them. Just a feeling of buoyancy and lightness, where the tragedy of the last few days couldn’t find her.

Alessandra didn’t wake right away, though, her lithe form did press closer. As if her subconscious knew something wasn’t quite as it should be. It wasn’t until her carefree dreams started to crash around her that she started to stir. It was slow, at first. Until it felt like something white-hot and wretched had run through her chest. Her lips parted, though, no sound came out. Her breathing hitched as her eyes snapped open. Darkness. Images that she didn’t fully understand lingered in her mind's eye and she had to fight not to let emotion sweep through her like a hurricane. It belonged to her, but it didn't.

The Force shifted. Her crystal was gone, thus unhidden, and a wellspring of inexplicable sadness would press through in ephemeral waves. She counted. Slowly, reassuring herself that nothing was amiss. She could hear Kyyrk breathing. She could feel his warmth, his arms, but in the fog of only being partially awake, she only felt confusion. Her left hand slowly moved across his chest. Finding the place.

The exact spot where someone had run him through, however, she had no knowledge of it happening. Alessandra couldn’t put the pieces together. It was all scrambled, as if, she had scattered memories that weren’t her own. A barely-there sniffle would be the first real sign that she wasn’t still asleep, coupled, with warm wet tears that stung her eyes enough that she had to blink. She was a little flustered and embarrassed and desperately didn't wake to wake the man that held her.

Alessandra cried.

She didn’t know why.

All she knew was that it hurt. That it had something to do with Kyyrk…But he was fine. He was safe.

They both were.

Right?

 

[Kyyrk]

Kyyrk drew a deep breath, and sighed quietly. Alessandra's hand moving across his torso to rest upon...THAT scar was intentional. She was awake. He'd woken her. His hand came up to rest upon hers, and the arm into which she was nestled reached up to rub her shoulder comfortingly. He could hear the sniffle in the silence. He could feel her tears leaking onto his chest. After a long moment of silence, he asked quietly, "It bled through, didn't it?"

She'd seen it. She'd seen the nightmare. From the sound of her whimpering, she'd felt it to. "Deep breaths. It will fade." He patted her shoulder comfortingly. Even now, he felt the same burning sensation in his chest. But he'd grown used to it. Ignored it. He sighed again quietly. She would want to know. She deserved to. "It's why I rarely sleep. Every night, the same vision plays out in my head. The same battle, the same memory." Kyyrk sighed quietly. "Some wounds never heal. Not completely. Death can be reversed. But only at a cost."

What Kyyrk left unspoken? This was his price. Doomed to relive the moment of his death over and over again. The pain, the shock, the horror...A moment that endured in the man's mind, as clear as if it had happened yesterday. "Perhaps the only thing more shocking than waking up was realizing just how much time had passed. But...I found a way. I adapted. I had to. People never return from the land of the dead without purpose. I just had to find mine..."​

Alessandra Creed

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Tag: Kyyrk

She tensed a little when his hand fell over her own, stilling, as if she could hold her breath to make the sight shaking stop. His arm closed around her and the half-awake woman selfishly took comfort in the simple action. Her hand kept to his chest. Blocking, where a hole might have been. It hadn’t been her nightmare but it was her worst fear. That one day when the troops returned as they had with the Unmaker she would find him not on his own two feet, not on a stretcher, but in a body bag.

The unsettled feeling resonated within her like a cloud.

He knew? Oh, he knew. The question he asked caused her to slowly nod her head. Alessandra didn’t know of any other word for it, nor, had she entirely figured out that it wasn’t her dream. It wasn’t her mind playing tricks on her. It was too lucid to be fantasy; too distant to be the present. He told her to breathe. She did. Her eyes screwed themselves shut and she forced herself to swallow the lump in her throat so she could breathe around it. It felt like there wasn’t enough air.

“…I don’t understand.”

That had never happened before. There were times when she had picked up an object and was capable of catching glimpses of where it had been, but that was nothing like this. That was deliberate. The flashes that had woken her from a sound slumber were unwanted, unbidden, and left her nerve endings feeling raw. Was it because she’d destroyed her crystal? Some sort of residual effect?

In the moment she found herself just listening to the sound of his voice. It reverberated in his chest and her ear pressed close made it feel like it was ever nearer. The raven-haired woman could hear what he was saying. She knew the words. Comprehension was a whole different story. If he could have seen her eyes in the darkness of the bedroom, Kyyrk would have noted the way they jumped, making rapid, repetitive, and uncontrolled movements. Side to side.

It was akin to the way an epileptic might respond while having a seizure.

Alessandra kept close. The carefree way she’d intertwined their limbs while they were sleeping had been replaced with something new. She didn’t like, not knowing. She didn’t like not understanding what was happening to her, or him, for that matter. It frightened her even if she wouldn’t admit it. The only thing that kept that fear, that despondency, grief, from overwhelming her was his arm that kept her steady. Wrapped up, secure.

Her stomach heaved.

“—I killed you.”

The horror of watching him die from two angles was what burst the memory into countless fractals. She felt him from his perspective, saw it, from her eyes. Her head shook. No. She hadn’t done—"I would never do that…I could never.”

Kyyrk was so calm.

Alessandra wished she could be. Willed, herself to find some sort of equilibrium to accept that it was nothing more than a dream of something that had happened long ago. It mattered because of what it stood for. It mattered. But—It was not here. It was not now.

She swore in the barest whisper. Some curse, black language, that her mother might have been proud of. If this was a ride at an amusement park, she wanted off. It wasn’t a funhouse. It wasn’t a roller coaster. It was being lost at sea, broken, and battered among the waves.

How did he stand it?

“Every night?”, she breathed after a moment, slowly, trying to dry her eyes. She wasn’t one of those women who wept openly and retained their beauty. “That…Cost. Price. It’s not fair. It's too much.”

But what was the alternative? Alessandra shivered. Freezing, all over again. It was ironic. As cold and clammy as her skin felt all she could feel was the phantom burn of a lightsaber blade. Her hand slowly slid from an injury that no longer existed and ran up the side of neck, carefully, resting in the very edges of his hair. The contact soothed her. Slowly.

Slow was better than nothing.

 

[Kyyrk]

Kyyrk hugged Alessandra tightly as she began to rant about having killed him. His voice was immediately soothing, doing his best to dispel the guilt. "No. No, it wasn't you. Don't allow yourself to think that for a second." It was true. Even in the dream, the proxy for Alessandra had only watched in horror as the man she loved was struck down from behind. A shadowy figure wielding a red lightsaber. Kyyrk fell silent for a moment, trying to come to terms with what had just happened. She had shared his dream, but not intentionally.

"It was just a dream, nothing more." Kyyrk kept the part of visions to himself. He didn't think that the events would actually transpire. But it was certainly a warning. Be it the Force, or his own subconscious. A warning that his life was not his to spend anymore. "A dream of a moment I cannot escape." Kyyrk continued to rub Alessandra's shoulders in a comforting gesture as he spoke. "It was on Ilum. I had...become enthralled by some greater entity. Sick and diseased. Or perhaps I had just plain gone crazy. Darth Sovryn...the mother of my youngest child, led a team to rescue me. She thought she could save me...but it was too late by then."

Kyyrk drew a deep breath. "We didn't know what was wrong with me. But I was sick, and getting worse with every passing day. My will was hardly my own. And I couldn't risk...something terrible happening." He couldn't risk going postal. He would rather have died than inflict harm on the civilian population. "I told the one being I could trust, that if things got bad, he was to do what needed to be done." The shadowed figure that had struck Kyyrk down. Perhaps that was why Kyyrk was as accepting of his death as he was. It was planned. "I'm sorry you had to see it like that, Alessandra." ​

Alessandra Creed

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Tag: Kyyrk

"It's…broken. Out of order. I can't…"

The shifting perspectives caused her mind to fill in the blanks, true or false, just so it could fill the deep cracks and lapses with something. Bridge the gap. Make her feel less insane. She could see herself attack. See Kyyrk take the hit. Feel the horror drowning her heart, the pain, the slowly dulling ache of a burning lightsaber blade. The only reason it didn't blaze with agony was because she was dying. He was dying.

A heavy, trembling sigh, exhausted. "…It's a mess."

He assured her that it was just a dream and an unintentionally raw laugh escaped her. It was too strong to have simply been a dream. A fabrication, of the mind. It wouldn't have leaped between them so readily if it was nothing more than a wisp of a thought beyond a shooting star. His next words corrected his previous statement, even though, that might not have been the intent. It was a dream of a moment that he couldn't escape. It wasn't just a dream. It was his past.

Alessandra listened quietly while he explained, still, trying to moderate her breathing. A deep sense of embarrassment was settling in while being entirely flustered, terrified. That made it the least of her worries. He broke down the fleeting pieces of the memory that she couldn't grasp into a workable synopsis. It should have helped. The way he spoke sensibly, calmly, should have soothed the rapid-fire electricity in her mind. It didn't. If anything, it worsened. "…You didn't tell her…?"

That he would rather die than lose control?

That he had a plan in place, suicide by friend, and had every intention of giving up before the entity swallowed him whole? Wasn't there some other way? Freezing in carbonite? Medical suspension?

Something, anything, that would both preserve him and keep him from doing harm until a solution could be found? Alessandra sucked in a deep, rattled breath, and held it for several moments before slowly exhaling. Her eyes were still fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird in the dark. "Every problem…", her words were distant, mottled, and thronged by the vestiges of pain that didn't quite belong to her, "…has a solution that is…Simple, neat, and wrong…There was a better way. Had to be."

Yes. There had to be a better way and he had chosen wrong. Because if there wasn't and something managed to corrupt him again—Would he still to this day, make the same decision? He apologized for the way she'd found out and Alessandra slowly sat up. The sheets slipped, and she propped herself up with one arm, only, to give him a light punch in the opposite shoulder. Light was the operative word. She was epicanthic and sometimes her strength got away from her. "Don't—"

She swallowed the words, chasing down a surge of emotion, before reaching with the same hand that had just given him a punishing love tap. Careful fingers traced the edges of his hairline near his forehead and swept down his jaw. Memorizing, the differences between her Kyyrk and the man she'd seen in his dreams. They were different. But, she knew it was him all the same. "Don't apologize for that. I can handle your past. I can handle, that…"

She leaned down and let her lips brush against his, mostly, to convey what she couldn't express. It was tumultuous. Her heart ached in ways she hadn't felt in a very, very long time. It was distant to him. He had experienced this suffering over and over. It dulled the edge. To Alessandra? It was a fresh, new wound, from a world she neither knew nor understood.

When she pulled back for air her voice was quiet. Filled, with things that were far too expressive to say. By half. Their relationship had its complications, but, one thing was very, very simple.

She loved, him.

"…Apologize for giving up…"

 

[Kyyrk]

Kyyrk sighed quietly. He could...feel the horror in Alessandra. That he'd not told Sovryn of what was to come. That she had been just as horrified as Alessandra was at the revelation of what would truly transpire there. The silence was deafening for a moment. "I did." Kyyrk fell quiet for another moment, patting Alessandra's shoulder absently. "The relationship between Sovryn and I...was complicated." Kyyrk wasn't sure if Alessandra was lucid enough to recognize the tone he spoke with, but it would say enough. There'd been a falling out between them. "She still loved me, to some degree. Or her jealousy wouldn't let me leave. One of the two..."

Kyyrk fell silent at Alessandra's insistence that there had to be a better way. Kyyrk sighed quietly, turning to look at her as she propped herself up. He didn't react when she slugged his arm, and only absently returned her kiss. But as she implored him to apologize for giving up, he turned his head, unable to look at her any longer. Was there a better way? Could the fight have played out differently? "I'm sorry." The intonation was so quiet, it was barely a whisper. "We tried everything. But we ran out of time. And with each passing day, the chances that my...condition would be discovered grew. My profession didn't look kindly on retirement. I knew too much." Or in layman's terms, the Sith Empire did not accept resignations. His position was held for life. However short or long his life may have been.

Kyyrk drew a deep breath, and sighed quietly, finally looking back to Alessandra, reaching up to cup her face in his organic hand. "I don't know what led to that decision, but it was coming. One way or another. Here? Now? I'd have hope." Alessandra had resources at her disposal that the Sith Empire did not, or would not grant him. "I can only trust his judgement. That in that moment, he made the best decision he could." The hint of desperation in Kyyrk's voice suggested there was something...more to it. He didn't trust that the correct decision had been made. But for whatever reason, he couldn't afford to think of it as wrong. "I've come back once before. I'll always come back for you, Ale. No matter the cost. Until you're ready to stand upon those twilight shores yourself." ​

Alessandra Creed

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Tag: Kyyrk

"Our relationship is complicated…"

The words fell from her before she could catch up with what wasn't being said. Her mind followed the linear flight path of a Knight and a Minister, political complications, versus differences so vast and wide that it could cause them to distance themselves. Once, she fled from personal connections. Attachment. It had made her too trusting. Too dependent—Too breakable. Little by little Kyyrk had managed to entice her out of the shell. Deliberately, or otherwise. "There is a difference between leaving and—"

Her throat seized around the word and she stopped flat. If Kyyrk told her tomorrow that he no longer wanted to be with her she could accept that. Alessandra would be hurt, deeply, but if she could accept losing a kingdom, her son, and a husband in the same moment…She could learn to deal with it. Move on, or at the very least, let him go. If that was what he wanted. Knowing he wanted to stay but was willing to become a martyr was an entirely different story. Complicated. Messy.

Just like her head.

When Kyyrk turned away from her to offer a ghostly apology a soft sigh pulled through her. The more confusion and heartache she let bubble to the surface…The more he withdrew. Became melancholy. The raven-haired woman leaned down and pressed another quiet kiss to his jaw, though, it was meant to be reassuring. "I wasn't actually asking you to…"

"Just if you were going to…Let it be for that."

The explanation that followed offered a little more perspective, but still, Alessandra found the leap to dire consequences fairly suspect. She had recovered, fully, from a necrotizing force-bound plague that caused the victim to crave human flesh. What could be more invasive, more insidious, than an innocent black orchid whispering in the back of her mind. Driving her to consume those she loved. She remembered not being in control, fighting, until salvation eventually came in the form of Mishel… But she had been dangerous. Exceedingly, dangerous.

Kyyrk drew her from her thoughts with a touch to her cheek. Subconsciously, she leaned into the warmth. He was solid, even, when something awful was ringing in his head. How many times had he woken up with that nightmare on the back of his eyelids? Pulling him down, like a weight at the tip of his heart. To Alessandra, it felt like sinking. Drowning. Slowly. She lifted her hand and wrapped it around his, slowly, nestling her cheek into his palm. The fact that he didn't know what it was that led his friend to murder him caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise. But…

"…I…I'm sure he…Thought he was…"

The words were uttered for his benefit. She could feel that something was amiss. Off. Whether or not she believed it was an entirely different story, but for his sanity, she placed a pin in it. She breathed in deeply before, letting air fill her lungs, before slowly, slowly, letting it go. The nightmare was fading now. Like a watercolor painting that was being splashed with too much liquid. Colors faded, washed out. The pain gave way to a buzzing numbness with his soft promise that he would always return. "…I don't know why I'm so worried. You'll outlast me, anyway."

It was meant to be a joke.

Something to lighten the mood.

Alessandra reached up with her other hand and rubbed at her eyes with the back of it. Trying, to erase the evidence of tears. She was still cold, but the hand on her cheek helped. The shellshock would wear off given enough time and patience. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—", she waved her free hand darkness, a little defeated, a little frustrated. "—see anything you didn't want me to."

It was dangerously close to prying into his mind, which, she hadn't consciously done. A stifled sigh reminded her of the rest and her lips formed a definitive frown. Reading a psychic imprint wasn't a skill she had. Or at least, it hadn't been. "Or freak out. It was…Is… A lot to absorb. Trying to figure out what parts are me, up here…"

"Which are you. Her, I think, even him."

 

[Kyyrk]

Kyyrk frowned slightly at Alessandra's apology. "Don't be. It...wasn't your fault. I would have told you. At some point. A different day, when emotions were not as high..." Kyyrk sighed quietly, pulling his arm away to help guide Alessandra back down to lay next to him. "Someone deserves to know what happened." Kyyrk sighed quietly. "I was...just over a century when it happened. As you can imagine...a lot to unpack..." Kyyrk paused for a moment. "Some days I'm not even sure that was...truly the worst of it." Kyyrk wasn't willing to say it now, but he imagined that Alessandra would understand the pain of having lost a child to the war.

Kyyrk rolled over, and pulled Alessandra closer to him, keeping the blanket between her and his mechanical arm, to prevent the cold metal from touching her directly. "Psychic powers are...difficult to live with. The ability to see things no one else can is...often traumatic to the untrained. To people unable to shield their minds." It should probably come as no surprise that Kyyrk, once the most powerful Miraluka in the Confederacy, if not the galaxy, would know something about seeing visions in the Force. "Something I can...sympathize with. To a degree. Let's just say my first night after I lost my memory was...well..."

Kyyrk sighed again. "I know how you feel right now." Enough said. "It's strange, you know." Kyyrk continued after a brief pause. "To know your own history, but to have no memory of it. I know that I was the Lord Commander. I know that I fought in a host of Wars. But I don't...remember it." Kyyrk fell silent for a while, before reaching up to run a hand over Alessandra's shoulder. "I don't even have the command over the Force that I once had...But...in some cases, I cant object. Sovryn, for instance." Kyyrk chuckled quietly. "The pain of infidelity is far easier to bear when you can't remember it directly..." Alessandra was correct: their relationship WAS complicated. But unlike Sovryn, Alessandra did not flaunt a harem in front of a previously exclusive relationship... ​

Alessandra Creed