Private Promises

[Darth Daiara]

Maena
Zaavik Perl

Sleep was not easy. While her body had recovered from her injuries at... ...

Her pacing stopped short. She frowned, her head tilting as she struggled to remember the planet's name.

She had fought there. She had lost her ship, her friend, and nearly died there and still... The damn name wouldn't come to her. Ziost? Dakoon? No, that wasn't even a planet. There had been more important things on her mind that day.

Her body had healed, but the circumstances of her recovery were unchanged. There was no leaving her new master. Not that she was sure she wanted to. Ultimatums had always been chains around her neck, and she usually resisted them. But there was an appeal to the forced apprenticeship that she didn't want to own to. The Sith Lord had given, she could take ... and give more of again.

Why did that excite her? Her situation should motivate her, and it did. There was just the small matter of... The other thing she feared. The thing she didn't know she feared until her saber refused to light.

She didn't even want to give the fear a name. She didn't want to give it life by speaking it.

She spent her time resisting her new master instead. She resisted sleep, she resisted food. The internal conflict was eating her alive, but that was okay. Maybe it would burn up the bits of Vesta that were still inside of her. It was better than admitting how tempted she was to fully give in.

She wrapped her arms around her core and resumed pacing inside her room. The night was late but she couldn't bring herself to lay down. Adrenaline burned through her chest. Maybe it was anger, maybe it was stress. She didn't have words for the emotions that kept her moving. After a moment of painful silence, she grabbed at a book and cracked it open.

If she could just get stronger, then she could make Vesta give her what she wanted.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

Above the initial few stories, the breeze became deadly. One nudge could send Zaavik plummeting and reintroduce him to the ground as a stain. Not a Coruscanti megascraper by any means, but the drop was more motivating with exaggeration. Fear had been a powerful fuel lately. Nothing like the threat of splattering to keep a grip from wavering. Only one-half of his hold was in his control, anyway. Fear wouldn't have any sway over the hook that protruded from the hollow, rudimentary prosthetic that was once in place above his left elbow.

Ol' reliable hadn't made it off Krayiss with him. Sinistrality had never been more inconvenient. Writing hand, fighting hand, dominant hand; now just a hook. If things got nasty, reflexes had the potential to betray him. The hollow plasti-mold that shadowed his late forearm wouldn't be stopping kyber-condensed plasma as the old cortosis lined fixture would. That was if he could even get that far whilst swinging right-handed.

He'd have to hope it didn't come to that, and that was likely a stretch. There was more than one presence beyond those walls. The one he tracked here possessed a particularly long shadow. Unusual, yet a reflection of one recently cast by his own. Being certain of anything was becoming more and more difficult as of late.

His hook-hand made the final stretch exhausting. Scaling one building nearly felt like a mountain. Not even the plateaus of Korriban had given him this much trouble. Although, he'd had proper sleep, sustenance, and a functional prosthetic then. Fingers burned with exertion, slim handholds nearly pulling them out of the joints. Pulling himself up onto a windowpane, he pulled himself to sit on the edge and gazed down upon his progress like a conqueror.

A pitiful conquest if ever there was one.

Several moments of breathlessness later, he recuperated from the exhaustive spell. The window lock gave him no trouble. Electronic measures were never any more than a speedbump. Easing it open slowly, he crept his way through and into the unfamiliar interior.

This was either going to get ugly or be the best thing he'd seen in weeks.

 

[Darth Daiara]

Aradia closed the book, her attention perking as a disturbance entered the force. ... Something crept close. It had to be a trick or a trap, neither of which made sense, but it was the fleeting explanation her mind gave her when the something became... familiar....

It was so corrupted she could barely place it, but when she did her chest twisted. A game from her new master then? Vesta hadn't revealed her cards yet, but mental exercises in the shape of those you cared for did not seem beyond the Sith Lord.

She steeled herself and placed the book down. Her palms itched for the cool feel of her saber, but she reached for her blaster instead. Her breath held tight in her throat as she crept forward. A floorboard beyond her creaked. She whipped around the corner and found herself face to face with a familiar set of eyes.

She did not let herself falter. She pistol whipped the hallucination in the temple and went next for his knees.

The tell-tail hiss of a blaster coming to life filled the air.

She jammed the barrel at his head and went for the trigger.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

Precognitive instincts tingled. Something inside Zaavik implored him to duck. Too slow. Impact on the left side of his head made forced neck whip to the side. Instincts tingled again; he was ready this time. He lifted his foot, tucking his calf and thigh together to block the strike at his knees. That same foot stomped onto the ground. His knees bent, firmly rooting himself in place. Snatching forward, his right hand followed the signature of the blaster, wrapping his hand around the one wielding it. His thumb slithered and tucked behind the trigger to block a pull.

The following movements weren't up to his capabilities in precision. His motions were flipped, having to favor his right hand with his left extremity reduced to a non-maneuverable hook. It was clumsy. His only saving grace was the speed and urgency in which he executed it all. His mock-forearm pressed into the shoulder of his assailant, acting as leverage for the over-the-hip throw that followed with a tug of his arm and torque of his upper body.

A thud echoed through the chamber. His hand remained locked around the blaster as he maneuvered to drop a knee onto the free arm of the now grounded attacker. The hook hand snagged the barrel and turned the gun down toward the face of the aggressor, bending the hostile wrist to its limit. Thumb slipped out from behind the trigger, ready to curl in and fire. Eyes widened, magmatic corruption staring with teeth-bared intensity.

And then he recognized who he was fighting.

Every inch of his expression softened gradually. A tight blink reaffirmed what he was looking at. "Aradia?" The grip on the blaster released. Shock, relief, and general confusion muddied his intentions, leaving him still lingering overhead. It took several seconds for him to realize his knee was crushing on her elbow. He raised his leg, creeping up slightly to a kneel. One foot on the ground and a knee holding him aloft on the opposite side of her prone.

"What the hell?" he questioned rhetorically. Hems and haws kept him from formulating anything of sense.

 

[Darth Daiara]

Aradia struggled against the pin, her whole body aching at the flip that had landed her on her back. She had never been good at hand to hand, but that didn't stop her from going to claw his eyes out.

And then he said her name.

The shock reached her through the force.

The pin against her arm eased up.

Another part of the lesson? She only needed to listen to her gut for a moment to know. "Zaavik?" She echoed back, the fight leaving her body. Darkened eyes stared at him in disbelief, trying to pick apart the damage from the boy she had left behind. He did not look like a boy anymore. And she... she felt unrecognizable. He was suppose to be dead.

"You found-"Emotions ate the words, overwhelming her as they ripped through the neat little box she had stored them in. She had hardly thought of him since that day, not because she didn't want to, but because if she did-- But he was here.

Relief hit her in a wave of euphoria. It took ahold of her senses, leaving her to surge up. The fragile inches between them shattered as her lips seized his.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

"You found-"

His brow tilted at the unfinished sentiment. Adrenaline didn't allow him to drop his guard, even if the sight of her was a relief.

It was hard not to wonder why she'd attacked him. Misidentification wasn't beyond his consideration, especially since he was victim to the same when he floored her. Given their history, he feared Aradia's volition in the execution. Doubletaking between her and the blaster still in her hand stopped him from relinquishing his advantage atop her. Could she so easily turn it on him again? He wouldn't give her the opportunity.

Although his exclamation ad been rhetorical, he nevertheless expected her to say something. Anything. Even if she was going to try for the blaster again, there'd be some kind of quip to affirm her intentions. Pernicious tendencies hardly let her keep her mouth shut. At least, that's the conclusion he'd drawn for himself. A fist clenched, reared to the side as she came upward, ready to strike back at whatever she was doing.

His fist froze, and so did everything else, even his face. His brain was caught between the unthrown punch and something else he couldn't yet make sense of. Partially thawing, his hook hand scrambled for something, only managing to disrupt her hair with the lack of any grasping potential. Paralysis fully released its grasp on his fist and face.

There was an instant where his mind had seemingly resolved the reaction to use that hand to tear her off and reintroduce her to the floor. By the time his palm reached the space behind her ear, that option had been forsaken entirely. He finally reciprocated, inexperience dictating his lips to lack any tangible grace. He almost didn't notice the chill that screamed up his spine that emanated from the demon of touch.

The separation came slightly early. The timing hadn't come yet, either. Zaavik took her hand and sprung upward, pulling Aradia to her feet. He forgot to let go. There was a flustered dam holding words back from flooding out, but it didn't stop him from trying to produce some kind of intelligible sound. "Wh-? What the hell?" he echoed, voice cracking.

"You're okay?" He looked her up and down. "I didn't think- I thought you'd be a prisoner or someth- Have you been here the whole time?" Questions tripped over one another as different thoughts fought to be the most pertinent.

 

[Darth Daiara]

It was hard to put her thoughts straight, her attention torn between contact that had ended too soon, and the fact that she had gone for that at all. She didn't know what possessed her, and she didn’t particularly care. She was just happy. Happy that he was here. Happy that he was alive.

The rest of the confusing mess-- he demanded answers, but she could only wobble on her feet and stand there winded.

"I was-- I am--"

He had kissed her back.

She pulled her hand away, a shy embarrassment flooding forward as facts began to straighten. She was able to take him in fully now. The hook, the scruff, the gaunt way darkness had consumed him. The corrupted twinge on his form sat wrong on her tongue. She stepped forward again, a little less concerned and a little more... guarded as she reached for the cybernetic that didn't look right.

"I couldn't reach you. I thought you were dead-- " she told him, her voice losing a little bit of emotion. Her fingers explored the cybernetic she new well. She had helped with it once. But there, just there-- a vital piece was missing. One that inhibited its function.

Zaavik would never let his tech sit in a sat of such disrepair.

She slowly looked up, a cold shift of mistrust coming over her.

"What's the name of your band?"

 

[Zaavik Perl]

"I couldn't reach you. I thought you were dead-- "

A wry grin came across his face, nearly sardonic as he huffed a small scoff. "Come on, you know me better than that," he insisted with flippant jest. As if him perishing was ever an improbability. Saving face wasn't needed given that he'd shown himself to be living, but he couldn't help it. He felt so physically diminished that the urge to appear strong was more intense than usual.

In truth, he'd been practically glued to death's doorstep since Vjun. If he didn't know any better, he'd say he was too slippery even for the reaper to catch.

Organic digits covered the rudimentary hook apparatus as he pulled it away from her inspection. Ashamed that he'd let it stay so dilapidated made him hold it against his chest like it was in a sling. If she wanted an explanation, he wasn't sure how to explain Yula Perl or anything about Krayiss for that matter. Too many hard questions with harder answers would sprout from that conversation. He'd only just found her, after all.

"What's the name of your band?"

"What?" Zaavik hadn't thought about the band in months. What did it have to do with anything? "Sword of the Jedi," he obliged the question regardless. "What does that have to do with anything?" His eyes narrowed, leaning slightly to check her eyes. Maybe she'd hit the ground too hard. Maybe she wasn't okay.

He still didn't understand what this place was or what she was doing here.

"Are you sure you're alright? What is this place? Kaalia's?"

 

[Darth Daiara]

Something was off about her, but it would not be easy to pin.

Her very energy seemed twisted and foreign, as if someone else entirely was inside of her, granting her strength. She had stopped resisting it, but there was no harmony between Vesta's essence in hers inside her form. They fought against each other, the dark threatening to smother the light out.

The struggle shone in her eyes. She stepped closer, studying him just as he studied her. HIs answer wasn't enough-- too easy. Paranoia started to take root, picking apart all the ways this image of him did not make sense.

He had kissed her back.

Was there a way to force a shifter to drop a form?

"That night, after the ball. We were in a diner. You stole something from me. What was it?" Her expression ran cold, his questions ignored in favor of her own.

Her hand tightened back on the blaster, setting the tone.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

Zaavik manifested a confused sneer. Hard to be too surprised about the obvious change in her, but the one-eighty in her demeanor put him nearly on the verge of a conniption. Their abrupt intimate milestone had no bearing on the situation all of the sudden. An upheaval like that could make anyone sullen.

"Did I drop you too hard or somethin'?" he questioned. "What's with the fethin' interrogation?"

He groaned, feeling a shift in his own mood coming on. "Whatever," he dismissed. Any imposter would have a hard time matching his signature turbulence. His right hand disappeared into stygian fabric at his left hip. He produced a coin. The coin. The unmistakable memento that had bounced between their possession.

"See? Chill." He had no memory of a diner. The best he could recall was commandeering the token while intruding in her ship. "I don't remember a diner," he added cautiously. "Did you hit your head or what? First, you're paranoid like you think I'm a Clawdite or some chit, and now you're misremembering things."

 

[Darth Daiara]

Aradia snatched up the coin, turning it in her fingers. She was surprised to find a crack running through it-- a detail of a year ago that only just came back through her muddled recollections.

There was no was for Vesta to know that then. No way for her to get his annoying fits down so perfectly pat-- she shot him a glaring look, slowly seeing him for what he really was.

A fucked up version of the friend she had left behind, but the real thing none the less. The stress dispersed off her like mist. She would have hugged him again in that moment, but his dour mood was catching. As per usual.

Her lips pursed. She pocked the blaster.

"I just wanted to be sure it was you. This is a dangerous place for jedi, Zaavik." Her fingers closed over the coin, the object clutched to her like a safety net. She looked away, her throat bobbing against the tension of the room.

"You shouldn't have come."


But he did.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

"I just wanted to be sure it was you."

Mostly oblivious to how little he truly appeared like himself, Zaavik questions her with an expression. The stubble across his jawline was a testament to how long it had been since he looked in the mirror. He hadn't possessed enough time for even an innocuous amount of vanity.

"This is a dangerous place for jedi, Zaavik."

"Yeah? I might've fuckin' noticed," he quipped as he gestured toward her pacified weapon. He was moments away from pulling the trigger himself before he realized who he was struggling with. One moment too slow and her brain might have been vapor. Zaavik was as much the danger as he was in any.

"You shouldn't have come."

Zaavik blinked. "I shouldn't have?" he echoed grimlyly. "Are you kidding? I've been trying to figure out what happened to you ever since I saw some haunt carry you off on Vjun." Confusion manifested as exasperation. Too overwhelmed, too punctured to process anything without chagrin. "Talk to me," he implored softly, facading his frustration with a measured tone of voice. "What is this? What happened? I know I didn't come all this way for you to kiss me and then just tell me to piss off."

 

[Darth Daiara]

Aradia grimaced, turning her back to him to hide a wash of youthful embarrassment. "I did not kiss you, you were in my way," came the combative response. Typical Aradia, really.

It also dodged his more pressing questions.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

Facial muscles squeezed together, sharp regard penetrating a lie. His head shook, heralded a sigh from his chest. "You're full of chit, you know that?" Yet another affirmation that he had no avenue of understanding women. Violence, intimacy, and then denial wasn't a hovercoaster he'd signed up for.

Conclusions manifested, ready to be jumped to. "Don't weasel around it. If this is home and you were just getting cold feet, fine. But don't go throwing me all these mixed signals and not get to the point. You know I hate that."

 

[Darth Daiara]

"What?" Came the breathy response. She turned on her heels, not expecting him to take this as far back as her abandoning their pact. It made sense, from his perspective. She was giving him nothing to work off of-- every question had been dodged. He possessed not a single explanation.

Hearing the one he was forced to make hurt almost as bad as the truth.

She shook her head, stepping towards him. "No. No. I didn't want to leave you-- I didn't chose this-- I like us-- I thought you were dead, and I-" the words caught. How could she explain what had happened to her since the day he saw Vesta take her away? How could she make him understand what she had done?

She couldn't. But she would try.

"I'm finally strong enough, Zaavik. I found way-- And there's more, there's so much more. We wouldn't have to lose each other again. But you don't understand--"

She gave up words and took out her saber. The real one, composed of both their parts. She held his gaze and pressed the trigger, but deep inside, the nudge of rejection rang out once again. Pain built along her lash line, overflowing as liquid as she braced for his response.

"You're wrong about me."

 

[Zaavik Perl]

"You're wrong about me."

Lightbulbs went off in his head, though they evoked no surprise. Thugh she implicated being a prisoner, he'd have to address that later. Fixing that hurt felt more important in the moment. He gave her dud-saber a surveying look before double-taking back to her. This all mirrored a struggle he'd had and already overcome. "I know," he affirmed bluntly. "I figured that out a long time ago, though. It eventually stopped being important."

The hook-hand reached for his belt, his right hand quickly correcting for his muscle memory. He put pressure on the ignition, not wasting any more time with further explaination. The once viridescent blade hissed crimson, undulating with damaged instability. There couldn't be a more obvious monument as to what he'd been through, not even the pitiful metallic appendage in place of what had once been his dominant hand.

"Wasn't just you that I was wrong about." Self-awareness leaned toward an attitude of acceptance. At least he turned on his own terms, and no one else's. He wasn't about to be some Sith's errand boy.

He smiled weakly, lips half-pursed. "I was worried about you. I don't care what you're claiming to be, I'm just glad you're alive."

For the first time in a while, he could really feel just how tired he was.

 

[Darth Daiara]

Her lips parted.

Pieces of the puzzle finally fell together-- things she had seen without acknowledging... felt without understanding. She could finally see it all so clearly... Everything they both had sacrificed to survive to this moment.

And it made her heart break. Or swell? Their circumstances were tragic, but none of it mattered. They were luckier than half the galaxy, they had each other's back. The tears streaked down her cheeks, the rare occurrence allowed to leak without restraint. She flew forward, blindly trusting him to move the saber and leave his chest open. She had never been once for touching, but her arms wrapped around him in the tightest embrace.

He had come for her.

Her fingers pressed into his back, refusing to let him pull away. It was bad enough to think she would never get this chance. Now that she had it, she relished it.

She cared for him. She was no longer willing to pretend she didn't. Their time, she now knew, was too short.

"I told you we shouldn't have separated," she grumbled, trying to stuff the emotions back in with a shove to his shoulder as she pulled away.

It was still embarrassing. Even if it was true.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

The lightsaber was nearly tossed aside. Pressure sensors dispersed the blade when he released his grip. Metal clattered to the floor as his arms spread slightly to make room. He had to fight the urge to freeze when her arms locked around him. That would take a fair amount of getting used to. His hook-handed arm noodled limp to the side, his other awkwardly reciprocated, wrapping slowly.

"I told you we shouldn't have separated."

Zaavik grimaced. That was his idea, wasn't it? He rubbed the pain out of his arm, looking to the floor. "Yeah," he conceded with an undertone of guilt. Not one of his better plans, as it turned out. A hand raised to wipe a tear from her cheek with the ball of his thumb. "Hindsight's crystal, ain't it?" There wasn't any way he could have foreseen such a convoluted outcome. He resolved to cut himself some slack, it was over now.

Mostly.

"You haven't told me where we are yet. An estate, clearly, but is this home to you?" She had said this was a dangerous place for a Jedi, but wasn't that expected for a Sith's home? He was hanging on the deduction that he was standing in the Pavanos household. Zaavik squinted to question further. "Mentioned you didn't choose this, but you don't look like you're being held here. So what happened? Catch me up."

 

[Darth Daiara]

Aradia looked at the hand brushing over her face, the gesture leaving her chest stuttering. She didn't dare hope that this meant the kiss was okay. He wasn't pulling back.

Maybe they were both just relieved to be alive.

She forced herself to pull back further, recreating their usual distance as they both calmed down from their heated grapple. His questions earned a grimace. Ah right. They weren't in her ship. She looked over her shoulder, wary of the walls that could have ears. She gestured for him to wait and walked quietly to the door. The lock was slowly slid into place, a dull click resonating up her arm.

She crept back to him and took his hand, leading him deeper into the room, until they were in the back corner, a new set of windows providing an escape. She gingerly sat on the edge of a couch and rang her hands out nervously.

Where to start?

"No, this isn't home. Not with the people you know, at least. I-" she froze and looked up at him, trepidatious once again that would take this and run for the hills.

He had made his opinions about her order very clear. He may have accepted her path in the force. But how she got there? Her nails dug into her palm. She kept her gaze on her lap as she spoke to the ground.

"It was a trap. Imperials knew about us. There was an assassins and--" She let out another long breath. "I'm surprise they didn't find you. They knew everything about me. I think we're in real trouble with them-- and their andriods--" She glanced up at him.

He knew how deadly they were. She said no more on it, she didn't have to. To have hits out on their heads by those units was something to fear. She didn't have to explain away why she had not made it to him. He would know.

"I was saved. By a shifter, actually, that was why-" she gestured in vague apologies. "This is their estate."

 

[Zaavik Perl]

"It was a trap. Imperials knew about us. There was an assassin and--" She let out another long breath. "I'm surprised they didn't find you."

They knew? Zaavik crossed his arms, made a contemplative face. It didn't sound like it added up, but the assailant he dealt with knew his name. They never claimed any allegiance, nor did he get the impression they were an android. Although he was skeptical, it seemed a better explanation than any he'd hypothesized for himself.

"They did," he revealed. "Well, someone did. Don't think they were an android, though. I assumed it was someone trying to collect SIA's hit on me. Didn't really explain how they knew where I was, though."

It likely went without saying that the encounter went poorly for Zaavik and his opponent. If it had went well for them, he wouldn't be standing before her. On the flip side, if it had gone to plan for him, this mess wouldn't exist. Looks like he had the better luck. Why did that feel like it was a trend?

"I was saved. By a shifter, actually, that was why-" she gestured in vague apologies. "This is their estate."

"A Shifter."

Dots began to connect. His eyes darted as if moving from deduction to deduction. It made sense now; why she was so paranoid and felt the need to interrogate him, why she locked the door and lead him to a corner. Looks like 'Clawdite' wasn't too far off the mark. There was more to it than that. Zaavik was no stranger to oppressive guardianship. "So you are being held here! That's why you acted so weird, you thought I was the Shifter!" Slight raising of his voice was an involuntary inflection of an epiphany.

What kind of savior would play those kinds of games with someone they were supposed to be helping?

Scratch that, actually. Zaavik knew just the kind.

"It's Sith, isn't it?"