Private Rest and Recuperation

[Kyyrk]

U N C E R T A I N​

Kyyrk cursed quietly. He turned away. Just the sight of the man before him made him angry. "What do you MEAN it's blown out?" Kyyrk turned back to the technician. "You pushed her too hard chasing down that ship, boss. I dunno what else to tell you." Kyyrk sighed quietly, shaking his head. "Just...what's the damage?" The technician held up a datapad which Kyyrk took. The damage was quite extensive. All stemming from a small oversight. Kyyrk cursed quietly again. "Just fix her up. Put it on the Exarch's bill. I'll talk with Talon about approving it later. Any ideas you have about correcting that flaw, I want to know about them." "Right away, boss. I'll send you a message when she's ready." Kyyrk turned and walked back into the Presidium.

It had been a busy couple of days for him. Finding out that the Allegiance was inherently flawed and nearly destroyed by pushing the afterburners to the max, assisting in the trial of Laertia Io, and that whole ordeal with the Bastion? Kyyrk couldn't catch a break. He drove himself to train until his very soul cracked, and even that was more relaxing than what he'd been enduring this week. He fumed silently as he stood in the hallway of the Confederacy's capital building. What else was there on the list for today? Another riot to break up? A war to lose? Kyyrk cursed quietly again, turning to walk towards the small cafeteria hidden away on this level. He needed something to eat. And something alcoholic. Not that he wanted to eat, mind you, but it was nearly dinner, and he'd not had anything to eat all day.

In truth, Kyyrk's health had been on the decline for some time now. After Rhand, it had taken a turn for the worse. You wouldn't know it from looking at him. But the guilt, anxiety, and feelings of hopelessness were beginning to eat him alive. He was caught once again at the crossroads of uncertainty. He'd been back over three months, clearly demonstrated a respectable command of the Force, and yet Gerwald would not allow him to take his trials. Srina had been busy of late, which did not bother him outwardly. But she was his closest friend. Voph wasn't angry. No, that wasn't it. He was....well, he didn't know what he was. His stomach growled quietly. He was hungry. That much he did know. The rest...he supposed he could figure out as he went. He always did. Maybe once the Allegiance was fixed, he could speak with Srina about another sabbatical. Of sorts. The Prophet was out there. And he needed to clear his head. Why not do both at the same time?

Kyyrk was so consumed with his thoughts, it didn't register at first that the door wasn't opening. He peered inside the cafeteria. The lights were off. And the amount of tape around that missing panel in the ceiling suggested that it would be closed for a while. Probably a burst pipe. Oh well. Kyyrk lifted his datapad from his pocket, and pulled up his credit balance. Plenty for him to get something to eat on the main drag. It was on the way home. But then he'd have to skip that next armor repair...oh who was he kidding, he could fix it himself. Didn't even really need to be fixed. A message popped up while he was staring at the screen lost in thought. Just a notification that yet another Knight Obsidian had pulled away from the brink of death. They hadn't saved everyone from the Bastion. But they'd saved who they could. And under the Confederacy's expert medical care, the remainders just might make it.

Kyyrk put the datapad back in his pocket, and placed his hands on his hips, looking through the window in the cafeteria and past the outer window, out into the setting sun. His brow furrowed against the bright orb of light. But he clearly wasn't looking at anything particular. He was lost in thought. Or so it seemed. In truth? Kyyrk's mind was a void. He simply sat and stared. There was too much on his mind already. One step at a time, he told himself. One day after another. In time, this too shall pass. But he probably would have stayed there staring at the sunset all day. Would have, were it not for the interruption of a passing individual...

Alessandra Creed

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Location: Naboo [Theed] Presidium Cafe (Outside)
Tags: Kyyrk

"Darling won’t you let it go...
You don’t have to let it hold you." x
____________________________________________________________​

The telltale sound of pointed heels landing on the permacrete should have announced her presence to the man that stood in the awning of the closed Presidium Café. She had known about the renovations since her usual breakfast of caf and lipstick had been interrupted, but this path was on the way home. She retained a flat that was close enough to walk to when the weather was fair and the sun was still shining. Which, was essentially every day. That was the one difference between Geonosis and Naboo that she enjoyed—Despite her preference for the distant, bustling, metropolis.

It was home for all intents and purposes. Theed was just the place where she earned her paycheck.

Alessandra spent a few long moments looking after the silhouette of the man that had introduced himself to her as “Iskellion” during a festival not too long ago. A servant to the wintry, witch-queen, whom of which she held no love for: Srina Talon. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other while holding the strap of a rather hefty leather and cloth bag close by. She was the type to carry a small designer clutch, or, something that screamed expense.

Whatever she held obviously held significance. Importance, for whatever reason.

“Credit for your thoughts?”

The words left cherry-painted lips with a svelte edge of luxurious sweetness. Somewhere behind the visage of a red-tape bureaucrat left the fringes of something shadowed, hallowed, in the depths of all-to-knowing chocolate eyes. “Iskellion.”

There was a faint jest, with that. Iskellion. It was a handsome pseudonym but it wasn’t any truer than when she’d gone bottle blond for a few cycles. Curiosity had gotten the better of her since their last meeting. Discretely, she’d set one of her investigators to pull up information on the “Servant of the Exarch” and had been a little surprised at the result. The reason he felt vaguely familiar, but for a fact she knew she’d never seen him before. Admittedly, violet eyes were a personal weakness.

It had been a few difficult months for many members of the Confederacy. They’d lost. They weren’t used to losing, even, though history told a slightly different story. They won their battles by being enough to press back the tide. To keep the insanity that plagued the rest of the galaxy at bay. To restrict it from touching them—From darkening their skies. It was only the call of duty that pulled them across the stars. The call of the lost, poor, and enslaved.

It was that heartrending call that left so many crushed. Dispirited.

She’d recently been forced to sit through a meeting with Exarch Talon and Locke. She’d known both for years. Never had she engaged in any setting where the tech mogul had retained his composure more than their esteemed Dread Queen. It wasn’t that the albino brat had screamed, howled, or thrown a tantrum fit for a princess. It was what she hadn’t said. The actual, real, and tangible chill that threaded its way through the air every time she spoke.

“They’ve been closed for the better part of a week. I’m guessing, you were off-world when it happened.”

Not a broken pipe.

She moved around him, slowly, so that she could lean up against the glass and let her bag rest on the ledge. Auburn hair fell in curling waves around a heart-shaped face and a no-nonsense smokey eye gave the allure of someone, something, exotic. It was the epicanthix in her. It was also the reason she could lug around the case she held without a terrible amount of effort. Alessandra was much, much stronger than she looked. “The Flame get bored and don’t seem to mind that the CIS are descendants of the old-school blockade separatists…But they do take issue with our Force Users.”

Authorities had been able to pull the explosive from the water filtration system in the Café but not before setting off a few charges. Smaller, close by. A few injuries. Nothing fatal. It was nothing compared to the travesty of Rhand.

“The KO are on it, I hear. I’ve been having the most interesting time trying to insist I don’t need an escort home. I can’t even bribe them properly.”

Instead, it involved a lot of creative tall tales. A little black magic and poof. They chased her shadow while she merrily minded her own. Her arms crossed beneath her bosom and the amethyst button-up she wore bunched a little. Her skirt was black, form-fitting, with a slit that ran from knee to thigh to let her walk. Her jewelry was sparse, though, not unimpressive.

Her eyes flickered.

The Minister wasn’t sure what to make of him. Yet.

 

[Kyyrk]

U N C E R T A I N​

Kyyrk was stirred by the sound of someone speaking to him. He turned to see Minister Creed standing next to him. He drew a breath and looked back at the small cafe. "Minister Creed. Always a pleasure." He turned his gaze back to the woman as she circled around to lean against the window, and his eyes flickered back and forth. The bag was unusual for her, and not something that fit her typical style. Not that Kyyrk kept copious notes on the woman's habits. But he certainly noticed smaller details like this. His history with the Sphere of Mysteries ingrained it in him at an early age. Well...Humans wouldn't think so. But when you've been alive for nearly four-thousand years, age is relative.

He listened in silence as the Minister shared what had happened. A bomb threat, this close to the presidium? Kyyrk felt his throat tighten for a moment. Why was he only just learning of this? He was so used to being the first to hear of these things, it was a shock to him that such an important matter would only be related to him by someone who wasn't even attached to the Knights Obsidian. Was he really outliving his usefulness already? He sighed quietly. "A pity. I was indeed off-world. The Confederacy has had me...busy of late." He offered the minister a quick smile.

He chuckled quietly as she told him of her exploits in ditching her KO tails. "I can sympathize. I've also had my share of unwanted babysitters... Though I will admit a small mark of pride that my fellow Knights were not so easily bought." He shrugged, his gaze falling back to the bag for a moment. "My name is Kyyrk, by the way. Iskellion is...well, a tradition of Talon's. New life, new name sort of thing. Frankly I wasn't paying very close attention when she explained it to me." He offered the woman an apologetic smile. She was one of the few he'd have to correct about that fact. He didn't interact much with people that didn't know who he really was. And something told him that if she was the kind to have fallen in love with Adron, she was the kind that likely knew his true identity already. Though whether she thought Kyyrk or Voph was his true identity remained to be seen.

He gestured down the street towards the direction that Alesandra was traveling. "I suppose I'll have to get dinner somewhere else. I'd invite you to join me, but you seem to be in a hurry to get some place. Willing to walk with you until our paths part, at the least." Kyyrk was secretly hopeful that she would agree to dinner regardless. But...he wasn't sure if it was due to her status, or something...else. He'd learned a long time ago that the people holding the purse strings and the book of law were the two people you were best on good terms with. Perhaps it was the idea of interacting with another being that wasn't expecting him to turn into the Lord Commander at any minute. Or perhaps it was knowing that without proper funding he was about to be free-loading on Confederate Military hardware for rides to whatever task Talon assigned him this time...

Alessandra Creed

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Location: Naboo [Theed] Presidium Cafe (Outside->Leaving)
Tags: Kyyrk

"When all I saw was silver gold.
When shadows didn’t have a hold.
Before, I always needed more.
Take me there." x
____________________________________________________________​

He wasn’t startled. Not exactly.

Dark eyes took in the response from the Knight and she found herself wondering what allowed him to slip so far into his thoughts in public. It was a busy street. Naboo wasn’t Nar Shaddaa by any means but that didn’t mean she was used to seeing one of their own so unfocused. Even in their own time. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that something unpleasant had burrowed itself deep beneath the surface of his being. Alessandra dealt in numbers. Math. It never lied—Though she could play a hardball wordsmith at any contract negotiation. People were…Different.

He surveyed her just as she had him. Couldn’t be helped. Professional courtesy—Requirement.

The quiet sigh he issued spoke worlds.

“She never sleeps. We all have a job to do…And we can’t be everywhere at once.”, the Minister responded while reaching up with her free hand to brush auburn waves of hair back from her forehead. Some of it fell back into place while the rest remained temporarily where she left it. "She" referred to the Confederacy itself. It lived, breathed, and consumed. Demanded. The watchdogs that the new Vicelord felt the need to impose were driving her mad. “Oh, have your pride. I could have offered them the moon, literally, and they’d have just stared at me as if I suddenly grew a second head.”

He gave her another name. Kyyrk. Not Iskellion…Not…Not anything else. No last name. Of course. The Minister could feel an elegantly arched eyebrow rising while he tried to place the blame on Exarch Talon. Anyone that didn’t know the white-witch would have believed it without question. They all knew that the Echani had been bred into the teachings of Eshan—Nigh indoctrinated. Alessandra simply saw the Exarch as a convenient scapegoat. No one questioned her oddities. The Minister knew better.

“Right…”, she drawled, slowly, making her opinion clear on the matter without elaborating. His expression had an apology written into and for the moment she acquiesced. “Well—Nice to meet you, Kyyrk-No-Last-Name. Again.”

He continued on in the conversation and her head tilted to the side a little bit at his speech and mannerisms. He almost seemed chivalrous. Time spent in her previous marriage had taught her that kindness came with a cost. A price that she, at times, refused to pay. Her gaze flickered toward the sidewalk when a memory rose up from the depths unbidden. A stirring of things that had no right to leave their place beneath lock and key. “Does it really look like I’m in a hurry?”

The Minister had stopped, fully, to lean against a window in the most relaxed position she could manage in a pair of heels that high. She leaned down and picked up her satchel to place it over her shoulder once more before pushing daintily from the wall. There was something in the way she moved that always seemed so secure. As if she were grounded, unmovable, save of her own accord. She fell into step beside him with a svelte sway that was neither deliberate nor hurried. “If you don’t mind going a little bit out of the way—I know a place. Inexpensive but worth the wait.”

For the first time since he’d reintroduced himself her lips curved into a soft and almost mischievous smile. He was a puzzle. She liked, puzzles. The Minister simply had to determine what kind he was. The sort that kept change, evolving, or the type that was inherently dangerous. She had dealt with more than a few cruel men in her lifetime. Friends, lovers, and otherwise. She wasn’t in the mood for that kind of darkness—Nor would she let herself be snowed by unassuming features. Still.

She was curious.

Again, her free hand reached up to brush her hair behind her ear this time.

“At the very least...The view is to die for.”, she murmured, though, he would find that she rarely let things go. Her smile widened through her gaze remained on the permacrete ahead of them while the crowds passed unthinkingly by. "Besides, the fresh air feels good. The walk will give you time to think it all over..."

Her smile widened and she tossed him an almost sassy grin.

"...You know. Whether or not you want to tell me what you were actually thinking about."

 

[Kyyrk]

C O N V E R S E
​

Kyyrk chuckled as she called him out on his lack of last name. "Verros, then. Kyyrk-Xho Verros." He offered a mock bow of greeting. "At your service, Lady Creed." She, of course, would have no way to know, but his middle name was...special to him. It certainly wasn't on any of his records. Kyyrk watched the woman refute his suggestion that she had better things to do than speak with him, but his brow furrowed as she glanced towards the sidewalk. He recognized that look. Even worse, he recognized why she looked like that.

His mind drifted back, to a sunny day on a warm terrace, surrounded by plant life. He sat at a small table with the former hand of the Vicelord, who sought to make him a deal. A ploy for power. If only Malvern could have seen what Vylmira had become under her own power... Kyyrk extended a hand towards Alessandra, silently offering to take her bag for her. Whether she relinquished the item or not, Kyyrk's hand fell back to his side. She told him of a place she knew nearby, and how wonderful the view was. Kyyrk was as enthused as anyone, but his desire for food meant that he would eat in a cubicle if it meant something to eat.

They walked in silence for a moment before Ale suggested that the fresh air would clear his head. Help him think. And as expected, she asked what he had been thinking about. He opened his mouth, the corners of which were twisted into a bemused smile. His words caught in his throat, and he sighed, seeming to deflate just a touch. "Would that I could, I'm afraid. I...don't even know what's on my mind anymore."

He lapsed into silence for a moment as the two walked, unsure of what to say. He had noticed that she didn't buy his excuse about Iskellion. Which was the complete and total truth. It was agreed that for all intents and purposes, Iskellion was to be his "sith" name. It would make it easier to explain to those who must one day learn the truth. But then the Sith Empire fell, and paranoia ran rampant in the streets. Kyyrk wasn't sure if he could trust the woman walking beside him. She had, after all, been a Malvern. One of the people he'd been keeping a close eye on. He always suspected that Adron had plans to become the Vicelord himself one day. But he exiled himself before such a day could come.

Still, that didn't make it any easier for Voph to trust the woman he left behind. She knew more than she would let on. Kyyrk was certain of that. "The defeat at Rhand has left...many questions." Kyyrk wanted to laugh at the irony of what was to come. To know what he truly spoke from, though Alessandra would likely be in the dark. "Every day, I wake with more questions than I have answers. I feel...Lost, I suppose. Unsure of where I am to go. What I am to do. I thought I had things figured out, but..." A short sigh of frustration followed. From his tone, he could easily pass as a young man fresh out of adolescence. He did not seem to be much older than Alessandra, perhaps only three or four years older than she. And not everyone had their life figured out at that age.

It was certainly feasible, given Talon's reputation, that he'd not been given the chance to figure out what kind of person he was meant to be. And yet...there was something more. Some sense that this was a man who had known his path in life, and had since forgotten it. Or at the very least, had reason to question it. "I think perhaps whatever lurks in the dark recesses of my mind would be better off left there, for the night." Not that he was suppressing them. But simply suggesting that he did not wish to speak of it to Alessandra. Such a personal conversation was...improper for two beings who had only spoken a grand total of five minutes. He turned towards Ale and offered a grim smile. "I do not envy you the work that you have been burdened with. The losses at Rhand were...considerable. A good deal of hardware lost with it. Expensive kind, too."

Alessandra Creed

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Location: Naboo [Theed] - Creed Tower
Tags: Kyyrk

"Bring me to the garden where we’d go
And cleanse my soul, cleanse my soul." x
____________________________________________________________​

A feminine laugh drew itself from her throat with relative ease while he bowed and finally introduced himself in a way that didn’t demand he had something to hide. Her mother was many things; but she had always warned her never to trust anyone who wouldn’t provide their surname. People that openly flaunted a secretive nature typically had something to hide. Ugly, dark things. “At my service? Be careful who your offer your services to. You never know when they might take you up on it.”

Kyyrk-Xho Verros.​

She mused on it for a moment before committing it to memory. Strange, that he gave it to her now when he’d kept cards so close to the chest before. What made things different between now and then? It wasn’t as if they’d become fast friends over a cup of caf and a salad. The gesture combined with the offer to carry her satchel for her seemed to consolidate in the same moment. It was a step. One of many, perhaps. A moment of hesitation led her to let him take it, though, he might be surprised at the weight. Her lips twitched upward. “Thank you, Lord Verros.”

A parody of calling her “Lady” in polite conversation. Her mother was the titled one. Once, she had been referred to in such a deferential manner. A time of frivolousness, jewels, politics, and senseless pandering. More memories. Why were they coming now? Why now? Why—When she had done her best to bury them and pretend it never existed?

She was no Lady in the regal sense. Not, anymore.

Minister, would suffice.

He seemed to accept her suggestion for an evening meal and she led them through the heart of Theed as they moved away from the Presidium at a leisurely pace. Naboo was idyllic. Street vendors offering wares at disturbingly fair prices while younglings chased each other through the square. There were fountains and flowers, Rominaria and Queen’s Heart, bringing color and life. The people here didn’t merely live. They thrived. She shifted slightly to bump her shoulder into his just slightly when she heard him sigh, though, she kept facing forward.

The Minister of Commerce would never be caught dead doing anything playful, surely.

When he began to speak of Rhand her lips pressed into a thin line. She hadn’t been present, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t aware of the situation. If the Vicelord and the Exarchs suddenly ceased to be it was slated into the Confederate Charter that a Minister would take their place. It wasn’t a job she wanted though it did mean that she was required to remain informed on matters of state.

Her expression softened when his words became more personal. She unwillingly felt the echo. Of not knowing what to do. Where to go. Of feeling so incredibly lost, fractured, that she felt like an alien in her own skin. In her own home. When Adron had taken his leave from her person; He had taken everything. Her son. Her life—Past, present, and future. Her world had shattered in four little words.

In papers, served. In a broken crown on the floor.

Kyyrk wouldn’t know that. Couldn’t. They barely knew one another but for a moment she could sympathize. He seemed to be swept up in a cascading wave that had no intent of letting him go. “…It’s all right to drift, sometimes. There’s nothing wrong with taking a beat and simply letting yourself be. Sail when you’re ready, swim when you’re ready, but for now, a nice doggy paddle is fine by me.”

The topic changed. Respectfully, she could take a hint.

Ah, work. It was a conversation piece that they both knew well. It was safe. Little did he know—If he actually got her talking about figures and numbers? She’d never stop. “We can afford it.”

She made sure they could.

“If we weren’t prepared to absorb a total loss, I would never have signed off on the proposal to begin with. The Maw are…New. We had enough intelligence to understand them on a base level…But as your token Echani claims: The only way to truly understand an enemy is to fight them. Now we've seen them. Now, we know.”

Most viewed Rhand as an embarrassment. A tragedy, truly, that only Rodia had seen. Their people were sheltered. Their soldiers were untested against abominations of that caliber. They’d been bled—But Alessandra knew, more than most, that it was needed. A loss was bitter. But it was a lesson. The Confederacy was slow to change. Slow to learn.

But, she would learn.

“The production of replacement ships and weaponry began the moment news of the battle reached the Presidium. Of all the things you may need to worry about—Hardware isn’t one of them. We won’t go without.”, she reassured, lightly, but her mannerisms seemed to have become a little more guarded. Discussing business would always bring her to a certain level of professionalism that couldn’t be avoided. When they got to a four-way break in the hover-lane she nodded her head and took them to the right. A set of private, high-rise residences lingered in the distance. Guarded. Stylish. “We’re about there…”

The path brought them to a small guard station and Alessandra raised a hand to wave. The man in the booth jostled himself to alertness and stumbled over her name, “Ms. Creed?”

His eyes lingered on Kyyrk. Suspicious. “…You have a guest?”

“I do.”

The guard seemed a little perturbed but opened the gate regardless. Alessandra stepped forward and half-turned to toss a saucy smile over her shoulder at the Knight Obsidian. “Well—Come on then.”

 

[Kyyrk]

C O N V E R S E
​

Kyyrk walked, and listened, in silence as Alessandra spoke of the efforts on Rhand, and how the Confederacy was already hard at work replacing what was lost. The thought should have been comforting, but...it wasn't. More soldiers to the grave. Enough of that. He did not need to worry himself with matter such as that while he was off the clock. In a way. As much as he could BE off the clock. He was silent for a while after Alessandra had stopped speaking, his thoughts drifting back to what she had said. Some days it was ok to drift. And speaking of drifting...

Kyyrk was roused back to reality as Alessandra prompted him to follow. Frankly, he hadn't even realized they had stopped. He also noticed they were in a residential area. Not where he had expected to be. He offered a thin smile and nod to the security officer working the gate, and followed Alessandra through. "You know if you were this desperate for company you could have said something." He could only assume she was leading him to HER residence. Not the place he'd expected to be invited for dinner. Kyyrk offered the woman a wry smile. His own residence was not far from here. Seems the denizens of the Presidium all had the same taste in living space. Though Kyyrk did wager his was far more...modest than most.

As he walked alongside Alessandra, he said, "Not a bad place. Far more upscale than anything I've lived in for quite some time." His eyes wandered, admiring the pristine manicuring of the plant life, the fountains, everything of the small gated community. He walked in silence for a moment longer. His gut was telling him that he should say something. Anything. If only to break the silence. "You mentioned upon our first meeting, you enjoyed items of antiquity. Might I ask where such a passion started?"

Alessandra Creed

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Location: Naboo [Theed] - Creed Tower
Tags: Kyyrk

"Free me of this anger that I hold
And make me whole, make me whole." x
____________________________________________________________​

If she noticed that her words were far from reassuring to the Knight—It didn’t seem to register. The half-epicanthix could be extremely shrewd without realizing it. Working with so many people from all walks of life that seemed determined to deceive and get something for nothing brought about a deliberate disconnection. She didn’t see the dead soldiers while she worked. Certainly, in nightmares. But never while she worked. When she was on the clock?

It was only a series of creative ones and zeros.

Kyyrk seemed to be lost in thought once more. Were she insecure; she might have taken offense. As it stood, she let him be, save to call him past the gate. She laughed when he not so subtlety called her out on her choice of venue, though, didn’t miss a beat. The curve of her lips remained almost wicked but not quite. Someone, with their hand in the cookie jar. “Someone should have been paying better attention while we were on the move…”

“But ask? Pscht. No thank you. Where would the fun be in that?”

Alessandra had her reasons. He just hadn’t asked the correct question; thus, he would be missing a proper answer. She let him fall into step and nodded her head slowly when he mentioned the accommodations. Even married, strangely, the Minister kept her own space. It wasn’t up to the Malvern standard as fall as opulence went. But, it wasn’t half bad. “Something, something, the Minister of Commerce can’t live in a shack on Tatooine, appearances, blah, blah, reputation, blah.”

While he looked for words, truly, Ale was content with small bits of silence. It let her think. Breathe. She led him through the biometrically sealed doors, past the quiet lobby, past the robotic concierge, and finally to a rather spacious turbo-lift. She wouldn’t mention that for all of the extra units she was the only one in the building. It was safer, that way. She could live outside the Presidium without too much scrutiny. Mostly, without a retinue of nosy Knights Obsidian.

They were good for security. Bad for business.

His query about her interest in historical artifacts caused her lips to twitch. Of course, he remembered. “My mother.”, the simple response came, swift, and without indecision. Valessia Brentioch had an eye for all things powerful and valuable. She had learned at an early age to appreciate both art and leftovers from the past. For the complicated relationship she held with her mother? Some part of her would always idolize her. “Our education on Brentaal IV was extensive. We covered everything from tax evasion to the proper handling of potentially dangerous, treasured relics.”

The turbo-lift whooshed open and a long hallway gave way to a singular double door. As they grew nearer a light appeared above the door and a green scanner ran over her. It winked out before the door unlocked. “Welcome home, Ms. Creed.”, an automated voice chimed in before the doors split to allow them passage. Beyond them lay a vast penthouse that was drenched in soft sunlight. The furniture was modern, but clean, and crisp. A rather large canine bounded toward, though, stopped short of Kyyrk.

Her maw curled back and it began to snarl, showing teeth, and Alessandra shook her head.

“Shh.”, the small word was punctuated with a finger to her lips. Her guard dog began to whine a little before taking a seat. Alessandra waved her hand haphazardly and began to step out of her heels before reaching to pat the creature on the head. “You can set that anywhere. Make yourself at home. Aita won’t bite.”

Another half-grin was tossed over her shoulder while she lifted her pumps by the straps and let them swing at her side. “Kitchen, living room, dining room, balcony, refresher.”, she pointed in the general direction of each with the intent of letting him find his way. The domicile was large, but, not so large that he held any chance of getting lost.

 

[Kyyrk]

C O N V E R S E
​

Kyyrk paused in the antechamber of the apartment, eyeing the approaching dog, but displaying no fear. It may have done SOME damage if it attacked, but in all, it was naught but a beast. Hardly a threat to someone like Kyyrk. At Alessandra's suggestion, he placed the bag he'd offered to carry for her on a table near the entrance. His attention then turned to the animal, Aita, which he slowly approached and knelt in front of. He offered a hand for the creature to inspect, his movements slow and measured. His demeanor and body language was meant to communicate to the dog that he was not a threat, but he was not to be tested. Gentle, and yet firm.

"A beautiful specimen. Reminds me of a hound I once had. Quite a rarity these days, since that business with Vylmira." He spoke, of course, of the Cataclysm. The event that had rocked the Confederacy to its core. Some planets had fared worse than others, but Vylmira had fared so poorly, it was no longer considered a member world. Vylmira was now little more than a colony. But there was something more to his words. Something he wasn't saying. There was a sadness, but not the sadness of a purveyor no longer to obtain a prized good. No, he had been affected by the Cataclysm. There was more, too. Perhaps a small strain of guilt?

"And you had best charge for your services as a tour guide," he commented dryly, "It is without equal." Not that he needed one. His skill with the Sight built from the Force allowed the man to see much of this building of his own power. He could see every bit of the woman's apartment as if the walls were all transparent. But it tended to...upset people when you invaded their privacy like that. So he kept that factoid to himself. Kyyrk stood, removing the light jacket he'd been wearing and hanging it at the appointed place near the door. Underneath, he wore a simple cream colored sweater, and dark pants. His calf boots, on the other hand, were the same soft brown leather as his jacket.

He pulled his sweater sleeves up to just below his elbows, revealing a white metal synthetic left arm. A simple affair, its angular composition marking it as something with a certain style, yet certainly not something meant to be elegant. It was...starkly man made, as opposed to some of the more sophisticated cybernetics out there. It also held some of the trademarks of Locke and Key. Clearly it was one of their products. But it wasn't like any of their normal like of cybernetics. This piece had been custom made. Likely with input from John Locke himself.

Around the wrist of it, a smart-chonometer was worn. Likely a tool of the Exarch. Kyyrk didn't seem like the kind to willingly wear such a device. Depending on how nosy Alessandra was, she may also know he couldn't afford a model that nice. Kyyrk turned from his jacket and moved to follow Alessandra, his head turned to peer into one of the other rooms. "You know, I don't think I've ever been to Brentaal IV. For as well traveled as the Exarch may keep me." He knew of a coup that had occurred on the planet, but that had been...some years ago. Something that would be QUITE telling of his true age.

He paused in the doorway, placing his hands in a rather relaxed posture on his hips, and leaned his shoulder against the door frame. The violet in his eyes deepened for a moment as he watched Alessandra. He paused for a moment. There was something about this woman that made Kyyrk wish to know everything about her, but...it wasn't a malicious desire. Not in the way he wished to wield information against those who may come to harm him. He couldn't quite explain it. In truth, the best he knew was to keep probing into her past. He certainly wasn't an interesting person. At least, Kyyrk wasn't. And he wasn't sure that he trusted the woman enough to share who he really was. Though he was beginning to suspect the woman had suspicions of her own. And it was likely those suspicions that had caused her to invite him here tonight. "Were you born on Brentaal? Or perhaps Panatha herself?"

Alessandra Creed

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Location: Naboo [Theed] - Creed Tower
Tags: Kyyrk

"Listen to the light.
Don’t let the darkness take you." x
____________________________________________________________​

The Minister didn’t comment as to how Aita had come to her nor did she comment on whom had provided such a noble, loyal creature. It had been a good day thus far and she didn’t want to ruin it debating the spoils of her marriage. Her ex-husband got their son. She got a dog. She let Kyyrk and the tall black hound get acquainted, though, and set about to her normal routine. Check for messages. Check security, perhaps, detain or annoy any KO that waited outside.

The subject of Vylmira brought a small warning bell to the back of her mind. “It was a tragedy.”, her voice carried, lightly, through the air whilst she made a mental note. He was quite the intuitive one but he wasn’t alone in that skill. She could hear what he didn’t say, almost, as if it had been shouted from the rooftops. “I’m not sure where Aita is from.”

“I doubt it was from Vylmira, though.”

He commented on her efforts as a tour guide and she shot him a small smile that was full of rebellious sass. “Glad you like it. I’ll schedule you for another tour sometime soon….”, she punctuated the words by crossing the living room while he hung his jacket so she could set her shoes down on the bottom of the staircase. She could put them away later. “But next time, it’s not free.”

Chocolate orbs swept over his person once he reappeared and she took a moment to digest. He wouldn’t miss her watching him, though, she immediately shrugged off a phantom sensation and turned her eyes toward the balcony. She didn’t miss his synth-arm, though, she had seen stranger things. If he thought that the Minister of Commerce hadn’t forensically looked into his finances, well, he was truly a confused, lost little Knight. “…You should take a look outside when the sun starts to set. I wasn’t lying about that—The view really is worth it.”

She knew that he couldn’t afford the prosthetic, though, she wouldn’t be able to place the manufacturer on sight. For the time being she chalked it up to a little more of “Exarch Talon” being exceedingly gracious with her new underling. There was something going on. Alessandra wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but, with every moment the pieces of the puzzle seemed to come together a little more. He was a “new” Knight Obsidian—But he didn’t feel that way. He felt learned. Old.

The weight of the world, of several, sat on his shoulders in a way she only knew to exist for those that had seen the worst the galaxy had to offer. Blood, death, mayhem.

“Oh...I’m sure the Exarch keeps you very well.”

For quite some time she’d wondered if the Exarch had taken on a new lover. She didn’t really seem to have a “type” so it was plausible that she’d gotten tired of looking at a male version of herself in the morning—But the Echani didn’t seem to be the type to sleep with the help. Her statement was colored with something that Kyyrk wouldn’t necessarily understand. Alessandra had spent years watching every male in sight, including her husband, and child, fawn over Talon.

The Exarch was not her favorite subject, nor, did she see the appeal. The woman was about as interesting as watching snails copulate.

The young woman began to head toward the kitchen, but a question about her heritage stopped her. Slowly, she turned. He was leaning against the door frame and seemed oh-so-casual about something that very few people knew. Dark eyes would clash against his, briefly, but once again she seemingly let it go. “Why would you think Panatha?”, her question held weight, mostly, because she rarely spoke of her heritage. Breaking things, being a lot heavier than a typical woman of her size, etc, were all things she found to be less than…Acceptable, for a Minister. She had to be perfect. The ideal woman.

The fact that he associated her with Panatha at all told her that he knew more than he let on.

Touché.

Alessandra felt her lips twitch in a half-smile before she turned on her heel to continue with the second half of her promise. She had mentioned that the food was good. It was. One thing she could do very well was cook. Plus, it was free. Cheap and good. “Any allergies?”

“Food-related dislikes?”

 

[Kyyrk]

C O N V E R S E
​

A wry smile spread across Kyyrk's face. "Warm. Made with love. Fresh. Can't stand any of it." As sarcastic as Alessandra was. There didn't seem to be much truth to his words, though he certainly seemed the type that could exist on MREs and nutrient pills. But in all, it told her everything she needed to know. He was a guest, and he wasn't about to turn down what he was served. He watched her quietly for a moment before stepping further into the room, moving towards the glass door out onto the balcony to watch the sunset as instructed.

"You know as well as I do that the Exarch does not offer charity." He turned to Alessandra, offering her a quiet smirk and a knowing look. He spoke of his guess that she was Epicanthix. A very, very well educated guess. The Force showed him much that it did not show others. A boon of his Miralukan heritage. He turned back to look out at the sunset, his arms folding over his chest. "The Exarch expects much of me, and I deliver. Some call me her Sword. Not often that a Hand has a Hand of their own, but..."

He shrugged. The Confederacy certainly didn't play by the same rules that other nations did. "In return, she provides what I need in order to function. I have little need for material wealth, however, so my own pocket book is often light." He said this with a tone as though he was restating the obvious. He had expected her to be aware of what he had. It was only natural for her to investigate him. And she must have found some skill worth requesting. Why else would he be summoned here?

He watched the sunset silently for a moment, then said, "A worthy view indeed. Reminds me of the first home I can remember, nestled at the edge of a small clearing, with a lake stretching out across the way." His mind was filled with the memory of that small farm. For growing up there. He sniffed quietly, reaching up to quickly wipe away a tear when he thought Alessandra wasn't looking. He didn't think he still had memories of home. Of his early years. He turned back to the woman, now curious what service of his held value to her. "I do suppose that I am at an unfair advantage, arguably having the better resources to know more of you than you of me. So, I'll make you an offer. And worry not of repayment, how you accept this offer will tell me enough. I'll allow you a single inquiry. Anything of your choosing. And in return, you shall have the best answer I can provide, marred only by Confederate Intelligence guidelines."

In other words, he would be as truthful as he could, without telling her classified information she should not be privy to. He suspected the kinds of things she would ask of him would not fall under this arrangement, but it was worth stating none the less. No one took an interest in him for the sake of his company. The woman clearly had a motive. And whatever question she chose to ask him, in theory, would reveal much of her intent...

Alessandra Creed

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Location: Naboo [Theed] - Creed Tower
Tags: Kyyrk

"Do I listen to the voice that says I’m
Worthless never will be right
Do I try to keep my head up high." x
____________________________________________________________​

“You must have been a treat to feed as a youngling.”

Her words were equally as teasing as his were, though, punctuated with her typical levels of sass. She kept her walls high. Despite the fact that she had invited this Knight into her home she held a certain level of invulnerability. She kept her cards close to her chest and ensured that no one ever saw through the masterfully crafted guise of the Minister of Commerce. She was tough as nails. She could stand among the many great minds in the galaxy and hold her own. Nothing intimidated her.

Nothing broke her. Not even being abandoned. Left, alone.

She took his intent for what it was however and opened one of the cabinets next to the sink after washing her hands. From there she procured two plain black aprons and set the spare on the marble counter while Kyyrk took a moment to expand his horizons. He would see the tops of shining domed buildings and glistening lakes in the distance. People, moving about their lives. Theed was like a fairytale.

Hardly, to be believed. But it existed. Quiet. Peace.

A small smirk crossed her lips when he spoke of the Exarch. No, Srina was not charitable. She was a shrewd creature with her nose naturally pointed so far in the sky that she seemed to think herself infallible. Even in the wake of a crisis of planetary proportions she never flinched and never overreacted. She just kept moving. Fluid. Like a good little soldier. To Alessandra—She barely seemed real. People didn’t react that way, unless, they were burying the inclinations of a sociopath. “…As if that woman needs another sword…”, she called, before moving toward the chiller, to fuss about.

“Let’s just say…You don’t know her as I do.”

Alessandra had seen, things. The fact that he mentioned “light pockets” didn’t seem to phase her in the slightest. Nor did the fact that he seemed to hold Exarch Talon in “high esteem” when the Knight spoke of her. It was the same thing everywhere she looked, though, her expression would be hidden by the fact that her head was in the chiller. “…The way Talon looks after you is unusual, for her. The Exarch is surprisingly adept with children—But that’s typically where her kindness begins and ends. So, you can see the conundrum.”

Exarch Talon shouldn’t know this supposedly low-level Knight existed. But, she did.

A moment later she procured a large container of half-caf that had been lightened only slightly with cream and sugar. Chilled, she picked up two glasses and poured a fair bit in over ice. It held a faint flavor of some sort of berry but it would be hard to identify. Ale, liked her caf. Hot. Cold. It really didn’t matter but she wouldn’t complain when some pure soul decided to turn it into a dessert.

“Here ....”, she called, leaving it on the counter for when he pleased. “There’s no liqueur in it—But you can add it if you’d like. Go easy on anything with a red label, though. Packs a punch.”

The olive-skinned woman began to pull several items out, including, two cutting boards. Flour, semolina, eggs, olive oil, salt. She’d learned how to cook for herself with the aid of tutors, but, had truly perfected it on Geonosis. There weren’t that many late-night diners she could get away with frequenting on the former capital without arising suspicion. Alessandra took out a few bowls and began to sift together the flour and semolina. Practiced hands then began to ready the wet ingredients, though, she paused when Kyyrk began to talk of something far away. She watched his silhouette, quietly, before speaking up. “That sounds…Nice. I was born on Panatha but I was brought up on Brentaal IV. My parents would have never settled for something they would associate with mediocrity but my sister (@Mishel Kyze)…I think she would like that.”

There was a touch of fondness in her tone at the mention of her sibling, but it faded quickly. She hid the truth of herself behind castle walls. It wasn’t personal. It was survival.

She stopped mixing when Kyyrk made her an offer. Chocolate orbs slid over the casually dressed man and the Minister tilted her head a little bit. Payment, she supposed, for the silent prying he had done in order to discern her heritage. It was an unnecessary gesture. She had combed through his available history without prejudice—He owed her nothing. “A single inquiry?”

Alessandra continued on, slowly, letting the first part of the meal take shape. She separated the dough into two equal portions and added flour to the surface of one of the cutting boards. From there she began to knead each piece, pushing the dough away, folding it over itself, before turning it clockwise to repeat the process. Her silence probably felt like an eternity.

There was the obvious question.

Who are you—Really?​

But, this scenario was loaded. It wasn’t fair. It was a secret so well-kept that she’d eventually gotten stonewalled in her own investigations because her clearance wasn’t high enough. What was so important about him that she had no access to it? Talon trusted very, very few people to hold their own in a fight. But, she trusted this man?

No.

If Kyyrk wanted her to know the truth? She would leave it up to him to explain the rest—In his own time. She recalled the way he watched the sunset. The way he moved, the way the force moved, when he thought she couldn’t see it. When she finished the dough, she wrapped it in plastic and popped it into the chiller so it could cool before turning around to put the used cutting board in the sink. “You really should be careful who you offer things like that to. Confederate Intelligence “guidelines” are made to be broken when you’re speaking to a Minister.”

The cutting board was a quick wash. As she dried her hands Alessandra turned to look at him fully and her hands fell to her hips. “…In everything that’s happened to you…”

“What is the best memory you have of Naboo that will stick with you the longest?”

 

[Kyyrk]

C O N V E R S E
​

Kyyrk mused quietly as Alessandra spoke of Talon, and her attitude towards charity. That, he was well aware of. He walked towards the counter, arms still folded over his chest. "Yes...that thought has kept me up at night as well." His tone was casual enough to suggest that while he had often wondered about it, he didnt REALLY lose sleep. "Of all the beings in this galaxy, why me?" He watched Alessandra work on the meal in silence for a moment, as she asked her question. What was the best memory he had of Naboo? He frowned softly, thinking back among all the memories he had.

He hadn't spent long on Naboo. Even when the Confederacy had made her its capital. "Hell of a question. And not one I'd expect to have to answer." He reached over and picked up the cup of caf, taking a thoughtful sip of it. Of course, he knew what his favorite memory of the planet was. But...how could he possibly explain it to her?

How could he make her understand why it was his favorite memory?

He sighed quietly, looking down into his drink. "It was a quiet day. A gentle rainstorm had rolled in from the coast." Alessandra could feel him becoming immersed in the memory, reliving it quite vividly. "I had gone to visit an old friend. Mourning the loss of her closest companion. Killed in the line of duty." He paused, thinking about the scene that played out in his minds eye. He sighed quietly, looking back up to Alessandra. "There was much spoken of that night. The impending wars, the firefights breaking out all across the galaxy, of our fears for the future..."

He took another sip of his drink. "We were never lovers, and yet there was an intimacy between us that night that very few have ever shared since. For a night, there was no war. Just two friends, putting off the horrors of tomorrow another hour. A bottle of whiskey shared between us, and an endless field of flowers and rain. She told me she couldn't bear the thought of losing another friend. So, she asked me to stay."

He was tired, suddenly. Tired of the act. Tired of...everything. Of Life. He took another sip of his drink, looking away from Alessandra. "Had I known then what I know now, I would have." He paused, knowing that Alessandra would be smart enough to read into this. He'd never been a native of Naboo. His tone said all that was needed. This planet was never his home. But why had he slipped? How? He was always so careful in how he spoke of himself. Then, it dawned on him. He was...nervous. "Naboo is one of the planets I may call home, but as with you, it was not always so."

He turned back to Alessandra, and offered her a thin smile. "Home is of little consequence when duty asks your loyalty." He nodded, eyes darting away, almost as if he was trying to reassure himself of what he had just said. But...it was slowly becoming obvious that the man rarely made eye contact. Perhaps a nervous tick? Or perhaps something deeper? Whatever his aversion to meeting someone's gaze was, it was...there. Lurking in the shadows. Along with so many other secrets... "What about you? What's your favorite memory of Naboo?"

Alessandra Creed

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Location: Naboo [Theed] - Creed Tower
Tags: Kyyrk

"Though I feel that I deserve it all
These daggers going through my chest
Can’t you see the devastated souls." x
____________________________________________________________​

She paused in moving her hands while Kyyrk spoke further on Talon taking him beneath her chilly wings for what appeared to be a random happenstance. The Minister hadn't spoken to this man at great length but if he was as unenlightened as he claimed to be—He would know, something was off. The Dread Queen did not take pity. She did not nurse birds with clipped wings. She destroyed things. It was literally her duty, in her nature, to leave nothing but embers in her wake.

That—Kyyrk would know. As her hand?

He would know.

"Yes. Why you, indeed...", the former Malvern Queen trailed off lightly while she began to move around the kitchen and gather up varying produce. Onions, carrots, celery, parsley, and all manner of items that would make her comfort food…Comforting. It wasn't geared at maintaining a waistline, but, she doubted that a Knight Obsidian would worry too hard about that. They were always active. Always moving. Those she knew personally often didn't eat enough. "There's an apron…"

She pushed a cutting board toward him, across the island, and threw a devil-may-care smile. As much as Alessandra had questions about his relationship to his employer—He was still a guest. He wasn't here for an interrogation, which, was why she asked a less obvious question.

"Put those muscles to work and start chopping, Knight. Carrots need peeled, diced. Onions and celery just need diced—And the garlic needs minced."

The much-taller man had seemed to balk a little bit when she asked about his memories. But, he responded when it came to him. It was a quiet thought. One that was flooded with emotion that pulled at the edges of her senses in ways she couldn't explain. She wasn't an empath, not exactly, but when it came to metaphysics, she was uniquely gifted. She could picture the whiskey. The burn. The rain—And almost smell the flowers. These truths were what satiated her.

Because he was honest, mostly, when he didn't have to be.

Slender reached up to pull a hanging sauté pan from it's hook and she set it down over the oven top. She didn't turn the heat on but began to add a coat of oil to it. The fairly generous portions of premium bantha steak that she'd pulled from the chiller would go in once Kyyrk was finished with the impromptu manual labor. The nostalgia in his tone, the way he felt aged, often left her contemplative. Quiet. Not because she found him odd but because she found him achingly familiar. Not in face—Not in voice.

Something.

"Naboo is not my home."

It would never be her home. Geonosis, was home. Brentaal IV, was home. This was simply the place where she worked that kept the lights on. She gleaned the extra things he didn't say. Mostly, because she wasn't a fool. His thin smile was met with a soft one of her own. "That also depends. Duty, loyalty, are all a state of mind. It all depends on where your heart is."

Her heart had become a void, perhaps, as it was always meant to be. He was gone. Her son was gone. She had her family and they kept her sane, but in truth, Naboo had nothing to offer her. She had no reason to stay. He spoke many words, but still, so little. She could hardly blame Kyyrk. She did the same thing. When he asked about her favorite memory the epicanthic woman fell still.

It wasn't that she hadn't expected to be asked in turn. It was that she didn't have an answer.

"I...Don't have any fond memories of Naboo.", she admitted, quietly, before spinning around to lift a bottle of red wine from a vertical holder near the wall. Alessandra tilted her head back and forth. She had held happy days. Happy moments. But, many of them were now coupled with darkness and pain. Loss. Instead, she set the bottle down and wiped her hands on the apron unnecessarily. "I have two memories that might fit the bill, though. The birth of my son and finding out that my sister @Mishel survived the plague on Atrisia…"

"I wouldn't trade those for anything."

 

[Kyyrk]

C O N V E R S E
​

Unlike his answer to her question, there was no hesitation as Kyyrk set his drink down and picked up the knife. He pulled the cutting board closer to him, and began to prepare the vegetables per his instruction. He moved with a precision that was...unusual. He was skilled with the knife, this much was sure, but it was also apparent his skill did not come from cooking. Regardless, the prep work was done in record time. He listened to her words as he worked, eventually setting the knife down as he slid the cutting board back to her. "I....no longer remember home."

He stated it matter of factly, as though he had been away from his home for so long that the memories of it dwindled. Little did she know he was physically incapable of such a thing at this moment... "I am pleased, however, that your family is well. If...seperated." Kyyrk gave Alessandra a look of sympathy. He knew about her son. It was not a look of pity, however. He offered a silent condolence, one parent of a lost child to another. He got another far off look in his eye as he reached for his drink again.

"I remember the day my own son was born like it was yesterday. So filled with worry..." He chuckled, laughing at how worried he had been. "We didn't even realize the pregnancy till a doctor discovered it digging shrapnel out of her. We were so afraid the child would have been harmed..."

He trailed off for a moment, then shrugged. "Turns out the worst that happened was bad genetics. A pity echolocation was never his strong suit." An indirect jab at the child's eyesight. As he reminisced about his own child, he realized something. A thought that was soon vocalized. "We are not so different, I suppose. Station and looks aside, anyways."

As she had spoken, Kyyrk could sense the unease that the loss of her son and husband had caused her. Not because he was an empath, but because he knew of her history. Knew the signs to look for. Knew how to exploit each and every weakness he could discover. It's what he was meant for. What he was good at. But with Alessandra it was different. He did not want to exploit her weaknesses, he found himself wanting to mend them. To shield them from those who might wish the woman harm. His mission was to make the galaxy a better place. Where better to start than with a single individual?

Alessandra Creed

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Location: Naboo [Theed] - Creed Tower
Tags: Kyyrk

"The remains of my own foolishness." x
____________________________________________________________​

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye to make sure he was able to handle a kitchen knife without lopping off a few fingers. He wouldn't have been the first Knight or higher up within the Confederacy she knew that couldn't cook to save their lives. It always amazed her. They could move mountains—But provide a bowl of rice? Make a meal? Mundane tasks?

Not a chance.

He seemed to be doing well enough. At least, for a soldier. He was no chef but there was something to be said for equal amounts and unnerving precision. "Not remembering can be a blessing. You don't mourn it…You don't miss it. You can make a new one."

You didn't think about it every day. You didn't let the memories burrow holes through you—Tear at your insides and shred your dignity when you thought no one was looking. Her grip tightened briefly on the pan handle before she pressed her thoughts away. They were straying to places they didn't need to be. Alessandra turned to pick up the cut vegetables and spices. A quick movement had them in the pan and she began to simmer them down. It was a familiar scent that filled the air. Mishel Kryze would know this dish, probably, just from walking in the door.

He mentioned the separation of her family and for a moment her expression remained empty. It was a split second. That secret, quiet emptiness, hid a rage, an agony, that no one had a right to come near or unearth for any reason. His sympathy was like acid splashed into her eyes. A knife, to the heart. Embarrassment. Torment. But it was all…Nothing. Buried, beneath that moment of silence. "I am grateful for their well-being."

For her sister and her son. For her mother, father, and brother.

Many in the galaxy had lost so much more. They were still living, breathing, and carrying on throughout the galaxy. Her only child would likely be a King one day. She had to be content with that. Had to be.

Thankfully, he took her internal focus by discussing his own difficulties as a new father. She buried the rest and gave him her full attention. Which, may have been a mistake for him. Kyyrk had no listed children. No spouse. Not even a list of deceased. Once again, the Minister was left without solid ground for which to place his identity. Exarch Talon was hiding him.

But from who? From what?

"That must have been a terrifying way to find out.", she mused, turned the utensil in the pan until the onion began to turn translucent. She then tossed in the batha steaks and seared them on either side. In went the wine, first, a little fire, and then she added tomato paste, a little more seasoning. A bit of milk cooked in a separate pan. "I hid my pregnancy at first."

The smile was bittersweet.

"I was afraid the father wouldn't want it. He nearly cracked a starship in half when the truth arrived."

Never, had she known such terror. Not for herself. For the little thing within that she had already decided she would do anything to protect. Kyyrk mentioned that they weren't so different and a light laugh escaped her. No. They both had their secrets. Their difficulties with the past. Things that they weren't ready to walk through. "No. I suppose not…"

Though she hadn't missed his comment about looks. She appeared…Normal. Tan skin, brown hair. He was a little more exotic. Not at all unattractive.

She turned away from the stove to wash her hands again after handling raw meat and then pulled the dough from the chiller. The counter was already clean and she dusted it lightly with flour and began to roll a quarter of it out at a time. Until it became a sheet that she could see her fingers through the bottom. Oh, the water. "Would you mind filling that big pot halfway with water and putting it on the burner? Just throw a little salt in it?"

He'd have to move behind her to do it—But the kitchen was plenty big enough. She let each sheet dry for a few minutes before she picked up a sharp knife and began to cut it into long slices that were about three-quarters of an inch wide. She pulled them apart, dusted the noodles with semolina, and gently tossed them. From there she just placed them on a sheet pan and tossed a tea towel over them while they waited for the water to boil. The scent of cooking meat, sauce, and spice was almost heavenly.

Immediately, he would notice that she set about to tidy the space.

The entire apartment was flawless in the sense that it was cleaned, almost sanitized, regularly. She hated clutter. Hated dirt, dust, and grime. She wasn't phobic but it had been ingrained into her at a very young age. Dirt belonged in the garden. Not, in the house. "So…When do you ship out next?"

"Is it very soon?"

 

[Kyyrk]

C O N V E R S E
​

Kyyrk removed himself from his perch, sliding past Alessandra to fulfil the task she'd assigned him. He gently laid a hand on her shoulder as he moved past. Whatever gesture or message she may glean from this, it was meant as little more than a warning that he was directly behind her. Though there may have been some small show of comfort after she confessed that her husband was not happy to learn of his son. Kyyrk didn't say anything until the pot was filling with water. "I wish I could say I was surprised by that..." His mind wandered again. News had reached him of his son. Dire news. He'd taken a knife to his own throat. Kyyrk remembered the rage, the agony that befell him. Mere moments before his Republic allies turned on him. Unlike Adron, however, the ship had not simply cracked.

It was torn clean in two.

The act had put Kyyrk in a coma for three weeks. And when he awoke, his life had changed forever. And though he could not remember why, he knew it had not been for the better. Though that road had lead to the Confederacy. Perhaps it could have been worse. He dropped the requested pinch of salt into the water, and delivered the pot to the indicated burner. He set the burner to an appropriate level, once again displaying a lack of formal training, but at least some degree of competence in the kitchen. He paused as Alessandra asked when he was leaving again. And for the first time since making his decision, he wasn't sure.

"Not soon enough, I'm afraid." Kyyrk leaned against the counter, watching Alessandra clean up behind her. "With the collapse of the Bryn'adul, there's been a rise of interest in their space. The Scar Worlds, people are calling them. I volunteered to be an emissary to the joint exploration initiative." What he spoke of could easily become a trip of several weeks, if not several months. He would be in the field for some time. "We leave within the week. Assuming my ship is fixed in time. And for once I'm not sure if this is duty or self interest driving it." He turned around to lean against the counter, and folded his arms across his chest. He was quiet for a long time, then said, "Sometimes I wonder if I am being too impatient. Master Lechner was loathe to conduct my Knight Trial, and yet I cannot wonder if he knows something I do not. Is it wrong to want to escape? To just...get away and clear your mind?"

Alessandra Creed

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Location: Naboo [Theed] - Creed Tower
Tags: Kyyrk

"I'll bring you to the garden where we'd go...
And cleanse your soul, cleanse your soul." x
____________________________________________________________​

Tense.

The ever-svelte epicanthix couldn't hide the way her shoulders tensed at being touched, even lightly, and without any meaning behind it. It was harmless. A gesture, a brush pass, but a chill ran down her spine unbidden. No one dared breach her personal space without asking on the Ministry floor and her waspish tongue when it came to placing overzealous suitors in their place had become legendary even after one had been brave enough to change her last name. When was the last time that anyone save her mother or her sister had come close?

She didn't know.

There was more to the Life Day story than tragedy, but she didn't want to bore Kyyrk with the details. Adron had loved her. Once. She just wasn't sure when that affection had melted into something he began to loathe. Until—She was little more than a nuisance in the background. A stopgap to ultimate power, a roadblock, to keep his name from shining in bright glorifying lights that unified the galaxy. A blight. Annoyance. "…I suppose these stories do get around…"

The counter was soon clean, at least, to the point where she didn't mind. Alessandra reached around him to put the towel in the sink. Close enough to feel warmth, but careful, not to actually be too close.

"Am I such terrible company?", she questioned, teasing, while pressing dour thoughts out of her mind. It was much simpler to let her past remain exactly that. The past. "That you're fleeing off toward wartorn hellscapes and third world backwaters and it's…Not soon enough?"

She felt conflicted. Alessandra was wholly and completely pulling his leg. At the same time—She didn't want him to go there. To be there where no doubt be lawlessness and conflict. Didn't he get enough of that on the home front? A week wasn't much time. She frowned a little bit. Not necessarily unhappy but realizing the more he spoke, the more she couldn't be inquisitive about him.

He was there and gone.

She dusted her hands off absently on her apron while waiting for the water to boil and let his words roll around in her mind for a moment. Master Lechner was an exceedingly stubborn wolf if her sources were even halfway correct. Driven by duty, but mostly, following the path of a Knight long since dead. He fought for that memory. Not for the future. "It's possible, I suppose. I don't know him well enough to hazard a guess…But he is the Lord Commander. He must have his reasons."

The slender brunette leaned opposite of him against the counter and watched his face for a moment. His eyes were the strangest she had ever seen. It was hard to see anything else. Especially, when he was having a quiet moment of contemplation where it felt like words were being halved. His eyes were far more honest than he was. "There's nothing wrong with needing an escape."

"Only—I think the fact that you have to ask yourself whether it's duty or self-interest is pretty telling. You're not taking time off to clear your head by the beach on Scarif. You're flying into a post-apocalyptic nightmare and calling it exploration. So, what, exactly, is your idea of escape?"

If that was it—Kyyrk had a heap load of problems that not even a big bowl of homemade pappardelle couldn't cure. Which, also meant that she was out of her depth. It wasn't the first time she'd felt that way rolling through his available files. Every time she hit red tape. Every time, Exarch Talon blocked her way. She already hated the iconic albino. Being stonewalled wasn't helping her case.

"Have you thought about taking a real moment to breathe?"

 

[Kyyrk]

C O N T E M P L A T E
​

Kyyrk was silent for a long moment. The Lord Commander must have his reasons. Kyyrk almost voiced aloud his doubts. His doubt at having made the right decision. He wondered if promoting Gerwald really had been his best course of action. Better than letting the Viceroyalty select his replacement, he supposed. He sighed quietly, thinking to Alessandra's continued words. She challenged his idea of an escape. Of whether he should explore an actual escape, rather than taking some suicide mission clear across the galaxy.

"No, your company isn't undesirable at all. It's just..." For the briefest moment, he found himself not wanting to leave. But such a feeling was soon suppressed as he looked up at Alessandra again. "I'm a warrior. Born and bred. For better or worse, conflict is all I've ever known." His collection of scars and cybernetic limb gave all the confirmation to this claim that any reasonable being would need. Kyyrk turned his head to look out the window. "I was once wrapped in the world of politics. And every day I found myself chained to a desk. Enduring another excruciating day of monotony because it was my duty." He looked back to Alessandra, a soft smirk on his face. "So no, I don't think a vacation would suit me."

Unless you joined me.

Kyyrk frowned slightly at this unbidden thought, reaching up to scratch at the corner of his mouth to disguise the frown. "If I may confide, I had threatened to leave the Confederacy once. Much to Talon's...displeasure." Another hint at his relationship to the Exarch. Whatever he had to offer, the Exarch had presumably taken steps to ensure he stayed. "All the years I have sacrificed to her, and yet I still feel like an outsider. Never a citizen of the Confederacy. Just a tool."

He played this emotion off with a shrug. "So, since Talon isn't big on vacations, I requested a position going to the Scar Worlds. Not an ideal escape from the politics of the Presidium, but better than nothing." Kyyrk mused for a moment, then looked back at Alessandra. The eyes she had taken such a note of were glowing softly in the evening light. A glow that seemed to breathe as he did. "Perhaps I've spent too long devoting myself to my duty...to making myself useful to have a reason to stay. But I'm tired of the...inaction. So many people out there that I can help...That I SHOULD help, and yet I'm stuck here..."

Alessandra Creed

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Location: Naboo [Theed] - Creed Tower
Tags: Kyyrk

"I'll free you of this anger that you hold...
And make you whole, I'll make you whole." x
____________________________________________________________​

Every time Kyyrk opened his mouth, he became more and more like the small nesting dolls that she had seen in shops on the Nabooian lakefront. Each time she cracked one shell there was a new version of himself beneath it. The doubt he held about the Lord Commander was just as palpable as his denial of her question towards his methods of relaxation. He was just one man. In one body—With one heart and one mind. She had held two conversations with him.

Two.

And even she could see the toll the life he lived had taken. When he confessed his true nature a soft and subtle sigh escaped cherry glossed lips. It was far too familiar to ignore. Part of her was tempted to tell him, simply, that he was enough as he was...Would he believe that?

"You're just like her, you mean."

Which meant one of a dozen things. The "her" was easy to assess. His albino Master had been closest to her husband, even closer than she, and a surprisingly adept godmother to her son. She was a twisted wall of winter and snow that had spent so long feeling nothing that emotion was seemingly lost to her. People were numbers. Acceptable losses. Perhaps, because it was the only way to cope. Perhaps, because Exarch Talon truly was that cold. "I have seen what constant battle and conflict can do to a man."

"There is more to life than wielding a sword. A healthy balance between the desk and boredom."

"Between duty and sacrifice."

Alessandra disagreed wholeheartedly. This man needed nothing MORE than a week off with the sand between his toes and salt-water air nipping at his skin. She moved abruptly from her relaxed position as if an internal timer had gone off so she could pull the pasta from the sheet pan and get it settled in the boiling water. His quiet confiding was of no surprise. Many came and went from the Confederacy. It was a nation of refugees built on old bones. "You wouldn't want to anger your Mistress, now would you?"

Perhaps, he had never seen it. She had. She didn't ask why he stayed.

A heavy sigh escaped her and she wiped the flour from her hands. Indecision. A few footsteps took her into his space, too close, and she reached up with one hand on either side of his face. Slow. Careful enough that he could bat her away if he wished. Should he allow her she would place one hand on either side of his face. He would feel her warmth—Feel, that she was alive. The intensity of auburn orbs that seemed to be twined with minuscule thin golden threads. "You've chosen to follow a woman that froze when her child was taken from her. She never thawed. She never woke up."

A soft breath. It was one of the only times she would sympathize with the Exarch.

"I'm not blind. She cares for you. One way or the other, she does. We dance around who you are. We dance around what you are—But you and I both know that if you were merely a tool she would have forgotten you long ago. You can never expect warmth from her because she has none. Most passion burns hot. Love, burns like the sun. She burns cold. Her affections will be just as frozen."

And thusly—If the Exarch was one of his closest friends? Companions?

He would forever feel as if he were on the outside. He would forever feel cold. She had nothing else.

Alessandra moved away with a light chuckle when he waxed and waned about the people he could be helping. Should be helping. How about helping himself? A true martyr, in the making. The noodles took only a few moments to finish and she lifted the pot and strained the water. Tossed them in a little oil and salt before setting them to the side. The simmering bantha steak and sauce was taken off the stove and she simply continued to move. From one thing to the next. From dishes, to wine glasses, and finally to setting the table.

"Grab a new bottle of wine, will you? Red."

She pulled the steak to slice in thin before taking it all to the table. She arranged his plate first. Noodles, then the creamy, red sauce, and steak on top. With a frown, she realized she'd forgotten bread.

Oh well.

"Fair is fair, you pour, then eat. It's no good cold."