The Epistolary Episodes of a Murderous Mercenary and a Quondam Queen

[Quietus]

Lamashtu.

So many names. Her smile persisted as she watched the Vong creature, head turning to one side in tandem with the coiling of the serpent. Quietus plucked one more fat roll from the grill and set it up on the fridge corner, moving slowly but not with caution - simply with calm confidence. This was how the communication between beasts went - though caution could be seen as a sign of respect under the mindset of a sentient (of a human), between beasts it was more often seen as a sign of weakness.

At least among the dominant few.

But a non-threatening confidence, unimpeding upon territory, that was a greater sign of respect and one better understood.

I was making these for your other pet, said the mute to the Merc's mind, but she needs no convincing from me.

She turned then back to the stove to flip the steaks. Not long now before they'd be ready.

 

[Aver Brand]

She indulged her gaze for a decadent expanse of time. There was no hurry to it, no shame; she wasn’t ogling (not that it would ruffle her scruples – didn’t have any to ruffle) she was simply… watching. Head tilted to the side, hand idle on the handle of a combat knife.

“She’s not a pet,” she finally corrected in a warm voice. “She’s…” shrugging, Aver trailed off. Never met a beast quite like Puppy, not before, nor after Selvaris. Did quite a bit of research, too, but seemed she was one of a kind.

Just as well.

“Who she is. Interesting, if you dare get to know her.”

 

[Quietus]

She shared quite a lot with me when we first met. Held no reservations for being called a pet. It is the nature of their kind to have a purpose - it's what they were created for. This one just happens to guard a live Sith Lord ...

Quietus threw a glance back at Aver, catching her staring with a half smirk, well, a live not-Sith Lord.

 

[Aver Brand]

Didn’t even bother to shrug. Barely offered half an apologetic smile. “Best option at the time,” Aver said before sticking her head in the fridge to dig out a drink.

“Power is power, no? The Sith offered… mm. Opportunity.” She smacked her lips as she took a whiff from a bottle. It was clouded with condensation, and poured pitch black with a creamy head when she produced a pair of glasses.

“Qosta runs a solid brewery over in the old factory. This treat…” she chuckled, raising the glass to the light, “called it the Dark side.”

 

[Quietus]

Qosta...

The Vong creature not forgotten, she'd seen it snatch up the second morsel. Though this time it had taken it far less hastily.

He is one of the clan leaders. I overheard talk of him in the cantina. Nothing good. Something about plans to jump his latest wonder-boy. Quietus called to her free hand a plate from the table with a trick of the Force. Laying out the first slab of meat it was then set at Aver's chair before she took up the other. A smaller plate was fetched then from the same cabinet she'd seen Aver retrieve them from - upon it she placed the last remaining fat morsels.

Are there other pieces of your armor that would like these or shall I keep spoiling Lamashtu?

 

[Aver Brand]

Abandoning the last of the utensils and wiping her hands clean, the merc took a seat at the bare metal table. Took in the aroma of the dish, eyes closed, mouth quirked up.

Oh, yes. Delightful.

“I don’t tell others what to do. Never got off on that,” she said as she speared a slice of the tender breast with care. “Qosta runs his business, and I run mine.”

A beat, then: “Kark, this is good.”

She reached out a hand to scratch Lammie under the chin, gaze drifting lazily over to Quietus. “They… keep a different diet.”

Cue a toothy grin.

 

[Quietus]

Seems to me you took great enjoyment in telling me to do things when first we met.

Quietus set the plate on the counter by the stove and took her seat across from the woman, the chair with her bag sitting to her right - Aver's left. The woman took up fork and knife with a strange hint of propriety. She didn't often use civilized utensils to eat but old habits from when she did died hard. Silencia was a woman of tact and nobility in everything she did, including mealtime.

I suppose they're accustomed to raw and ... probably not quite dead meals of the Aver's victim variety?

A toothy grin at this over her first bite of the meal. Nnf. It was good.

 

[Aver Brand]

She smirked around a mouthful. "Touché."

"But it's only fun 'cause you fought back, yeah? Same with Matsu and Loray." Aver gave a sage nod and swung her boots onto the table. Settled back into her chair with a contented smile, savoring the firework of flavors on her tongue. Wasn't often that she got to indulge between jobs, raids, and killings. She let out a pleased sigh.

"Well... you're not wrong." She shrugged. "You know how beasts are when they get a taste for it. About as hard to quit as deathsticks or glitterstim. Or spice."

 

[Quietus]

There were no questioning glances or remarks made in relation to Matsu or Loray. Purposefully.

Quietus continued eating, her eyes trained curiously on the creature slinking about Aver's plate. She reached to pluck the last fatty morsel from the plate on the counter and slowly proffered it to the beastie on a flat palm.

I hardly consider it to be an addiction, said the Beast Master who presently watched a beast she was incapable of Mastering through esoteric means. Vong, still so strangely intriguing to her. She knew so little of them despite all her years alive - they'd simply never been a major factor in her life. A non-factor, really, at least until meeting Aver.

For a beast it is instinct. Experience tells me that instinct is wiser than we've ever given it credit for.

 

[Aver Brand]

“Wouldn’t know about that,” she spoke through the teeth of a wide grin. “Been relying on it much longer than the whole Force bullshet.” Aver shook her head, offering a steady arm for Dhaladii to climb onto.

“Orders raise them on that crap until they can’t live without it. Take it away, and they’re as naked as the day their mothers popped them out. See – this is why I like the Vong.”

She ducked her head between her shoulders, rising Lammie and the helmet to eye level. “And that’s why you like me back, dontcha?”

Sliding a sly gaze over to [member="Quietus"], Aver met her piercing jade eyes with a wink. “Wanna try it on?”

 

[Quietus]

There was a certain sense of appreciation and amusement felt for the bond between Aver and her armor pieces. For the briefest moment it came as a surprise to Quietus, in knowing what she did about the woman - quickly overcome by the understanding of the nature of Vong armor and its counterparts. If nothing else, it was good to know that the Merc was capable of forming such bonds at all.

Perhaps there was hope for the woman yet, though what sort of hope it was couldn't really be understood.

Smiling curiously but making no further moves to touch the creature, Quietus gave it a considering glance. Admittedly she was deeply curious despite the warning signs provided that told her it likely didn't come without some negative drawback. Feth, she'd lived this long already, what did she really have to lose?

Will it fit over my hair? the mental question was more of a humor ploy than anything, given with a wane smile.

 

[Aver Brand]

A laugh, open and willing.

“Maybe. Or maybe we’ll have to shave it all off when it’s done,” she deadpanned and stood up. With a stride she was next to the blonde and coaxing the reluctant helmet off her forearm.

“Feth, if you two ain’t like a couple getting it on for the first time. Come on, Dhal. Yeah, she bites. So do you, you’ll be fine.”

Rolling her eyes, the merc hissed a few sharp syllables at the creature, which finally let go its desperate embrace and began the descent.

“It’s going to feel weird,” she warned, leaning back onto the table to observe the odd scene.

 

[Quietus]

Quietus ignored the split second lewd thought that crossed her mind in rebuttal to the comment of shaving her hair and opted for a sidelong glance. Losing her hair was not a big issue - it would grow back, so long as she didn't lose more than that. It occurred to her that this could be some kind of trap, but what exactly would Aver have to gain from killing her with a murderous helmet?

Absolutely nothing, that's what.

The woman held her hands out flat for the creature to crawl onto and slowly drew it close to look it over. Despite being Force-dead she could still pick up the apprehension it held towards her, even without Aver's words to tip her off. Body language, as much body language as a helmet could have, was instrumental in communication between beasts. This one reminded her of a whelp maalraas, coming into its first interraction with a Tamer. Quietus quelled the desire to coddle the thing and instead allowed it to balance on one hand while the other gently brushed along what seemed to be the spine.

Yeh stroke the spine, o'course.

The once Queen of the jungles smiled faintly, waiting for some of the apprehension to dissipate and for Dahl to give her own consideration. The pair had a moment - one where not-Beastia looked at not-armor and both decided this was OK. Lifting it then she pulled it over her head and let it settle down around the braids along her scalp and crown.

Her Force connection instantly died and it took her a moment to handle the reeling sensation of mental and physical withdraw. It was as if someone had suddenly take the air out of her lungs - something she'd not experienced in some time, but had many times before. With a hand steadying herself against the table the woman opened her eyes again to look what could be seen on the inside of a living helmet.

 

[Aver Brand]

“Oh. Right,” Aver chuckled as she felt Quietus’ presence retreat from her mind. “I’ll get you a datapad.” She was surprised by how odd it felt, the lack of her warm murmur.

Worryingly so, she dared think, now that the Beastia couldn’t hear.

At the bidding of her fingers, a datapad jumped from her desk in the other room, setting itself precisely in front of the blonde.

Then her lips moved across razors: [Dhal, try talking to her. She’s good with… mental things.]

Pulling herself fully onto the table, Aver reached out to scratch Lammie under the chin while the other woman got accustomed to the unfamiliar experience.

 

[Quietus]

The silent woman sat in a greater silence than she had in a very long time. Adjusting to the disappearance of a seventh sense was no small task for any Force User, but at the very least historical practice helped prepare her. Still where she sat the woman focused on slow, rhythmic breathing and clearing her thoughts. The nascent inkling of communication from the helmet trickled in and it was strangely distant to start.

A garbled wave of sounds stumbled into her head, a language she'd heard before but not one she understood. Qui knew immediately that theirs would be a more...unique method of interaction. She could neither speak verbally nor understand the Vongsense.

But she could employ empathy - an ability not derived of the Force - as well as mental imagery, something she was quite skilled at in communicating with beasts.

Minutes passed by as she introduced the new methods. Dahl was certainly intelligent enough to pick it up quickly enough.

A short smirk formed then and Quietus lifted her hand to type Aver a message on the datapad.

It says my braids feel strange and is playing with them.

 

[Aver Brand]

It was a good thing Aver wasn’t drinking in that moment, or she’d have sprayed some priceless alcohol all over the table.

True enough, the braids spilling over Quietus’ shoulders began dancing. Aver’s eye twitched.

[Dhal,] she hissed, staring pointedly at the helmet. The playful, murderous Vong helmet. Maintaining her seemingly perturbed poker face, she continued in Vongese. [Scratch the back of her neck.]

Barely held back the grin.

 

[Quietus]

Her smile grew as Dhal found a particularly entertaining braid bearing ornaments of metal, wooden beads, and bone. A hand lifted to draw across the side of the creature's shell, encouraging the playfulness. It paused briefly as Aver spoke again and then a moment later Qui's helmeted head curved off to one side.

The mute shook with a contained chuckle, shooting Aver a knowing look through the visor.

She mentally thanked Dhal for allowing her to see and promised a gift once she was off. Qui lifted the creature from her head and gently set her on the table.

It's not quite the same, a brow batted at Aver as she leaned to collect her bag from the chair to her right, tickles though.

From within the bag she withdrew a handmade dagger nearly the size of her forearm and pulled it from a leather sheath. Reaching up Quietus used it to cut away at the ornamental braid at chin-level, offering the bottom piece and its decorations to the helmet to keep.

For Dhal, an appreciative smile with that same look of wonder from before as she stroked her fingers along the spine of the helmet once more before turning to look at Aver. To the Merc she offered the dagger, for you.

 

[Aver Brand]

Liquid heat trickled down her spine at the smile that curled Quietus’ lips. Slow warmth had been suffusing her limbs since they’d shared their first sip of brandy, growing with the satisfaction of a delicious meal and now… this.

Aver slid her eyes to the proffered dagger. A hand found its hilt before she’d really thought about it, palming a familiar tool.

A hum of appreciation rumbled in her throat as she held up the weapon to the light, inspecting its alchemized length. “Mm… beautiful.”

Then, cool eyes still holding Quietus’ gaze, Aver ran her tongue along the edge, down, lower, right across the bottom lip. Light pressure, steady grip – though it was razor sharp, she barely cut deep enough to draw blood.

Redness welled up, tainting her grin as she leaned forward to offer her lover a taste.

 

[Quietus]

That is Queen, Quietus said while the Merc examined the gift, damascus forged steel alchemized against damage and age;

forged by her relative, the Master bladesmith and Alchemist Dissero, though this she did not say.

maalraas bone grip - lightsaber resistant and hardy; terentatek hide sheath - resistant to the Force.

Green eyes followed the blade as it traveled along a path whose predetermined destination she knew to be fast approaching. The scent of blood on the air, just the tiniest of drops easily detected by senses far greater than any human, causing the telltale flicker of pupils. A half smirk pulled at the side of her own lips as the Merc leaned over, cheshire grin dripping raw ichor. Quietus lifted a hand to the woman's jaw, ensnaring her chin.

I made her just for you, Aver Brand.

She claimed the red line along Aver's chin with a pass of her tongue, thumb pressing at the Merc's lower lip to wipe away the excess, exposing freshly healed flesh beneath. Quietus released her and licked her thumb clean.

 

[Aver Brand]

She licked her lip in the wake of Quietus’ finger, worrying the raw little line.

“A vasílissa, mm?”

Aver lowered her gaze to the blade still in her grip, turning it over with preternatural ease. It was perfectly balanced, even if the weight was a bit off for the size. The benefits of alchemy were worth it.

Still hovering above the blonde, the redhead brought the dagger up to Quietus’ throat. Without ever breaking eye contact, she dragged the point lightly over her tanned neck, feeling the interplay of muscles dance beneath faint pressure.

Wet lips parted. A breath, then...

Wanna frak me with it, Queen?