The Lady Doth Protest Too Much, Methinks

[Aver Brand]

Four years spent in the eloquent company of a madman, a madwoman, and a monster who called Netherworld home. Four years to hone her beastly nature to a fine point that rivaled the keen edge of alchemy.

The growl that spilled from her lips would make even the Lying Hound pause in her tracks, its hackles raised, its ears flattened against the skull.

Annoyance flared into anger, with four years' worth of irk burning up in a white-hot flash. Through those hairline cracks, pried open by [member="Quietus"]' insistence, the fury sizzled, streaking down her taut tendons as she bared her sharp teeth. Rather than tear into the woman's throat, Aver wrested what little control she could from her wrath, and backhanded the Queen of the Wilds instead.

How. Dare you?!

Her chest heaved as she stood there, rooted to the spot by her anger. Like lightning, the blinding emotion fired down the length of her neurons, petering out into nothingness as the woman stared wild-eyed at the perpetrator of the crime.

Regaining her voice, Aver moved closer, fingers digging forcefully beneath the Beastia's jaw.

"I am not. Yours." Her breath was hot against her neck as she ground out the words, nearly biting into the pulse.

 

[Quietus]

The smack was the sound that shattered the walls of enemy strongholds and sent trembles through mountains. It was the pitch of nerve one garnered when waking a sleeping beast that often curtailed an eruption of savage fury to make the very moon of Dxun quake.

Quietus blinked open her eyes from where she stood now a pace or so away from where she had been, knocked back by the pure brunt force of the hit. She was exceedingly aware of the stinging of her cheek and the jolting pain within her jaw. She hadn't recalled Vrag being quite that strong in their first encounter but it had been four years and as she had stated, a lot had happened. Besides, I may have deserved that, the Beastia thought to herself with a shrug of her brow and a droop of her lips.

And then a hand was at her front again and hot angry breath steamed across her skin. Beastia made no move to fight against it, her own body pulling taught and still in the Merc's grasp.

Is that what you think it means? her telepathic voice carried an ounce of incredulous amusement. All this anger stemmed from her apparent ignornace to the occult, it seemed. Though bloodtrails were sometimes used as a symbol of ownership between willing and mated pairs, more often than not it stood for nothing of the sort.

Well you're wrong, Quietus turned her face into the side of the woman's head, that's not it at all.

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Aver Brand]

It was akin to sprinting downhill and then tripping soundly on your face over the tiniest stone.

Well.

The bright fury evaporated as if someone had extinguished a flame. Shifting against the planes of the Beastia's body, the woman opened her eyes again, her rictus of anger frozen on her features just for a moment longer.

Then.

She released the blonde from her vice-like grip, pulling back slowly to look again in those curious orbs of deep green. She'd seen them closed in ecstasy, lidded in pleasure, wide open in brazen defiance; no matter the circumstance, they maintained that spark, like the slow burning fire that weathers the coldest of winters.

Absently, Aver rubbed away the thin trail of blood trickling from the corner of [member="Quietus"]' lips, mulling over the words stuck in her throat. Finally opting to eschew the issue altogether, the woman sighed and let her hand fall to the side.

What is it, then?

Her brow wrinkled with the hint of a frown, displeasure etched deeply into her features. As deeply as it could go, anyway, which wasn't much at all for a face so unused to expressing anything at all.

 

[Quietus]

Ever the patient apex predator the Beastia stood in wait while the heat of Aver's temper slowly withered away. She righted herself slowly, flicking a stray braid from her face, and followed the hand that moved to wipe away the blood with an unflinching stare. It was moments like these that Quietus became painfully aware of the enormous age-gap between herself and the majority of those she came in contact with. While most were forgettable, Aver was of the sort that often lingered on her mind long after departure for various reasons.

Perhaps because as she stared at the pale-skinned woman wilting from her high of rage she saw in her a very close likeness to herself at that age. Still just a pup, formidable but young, sour-tempered and strong-willed, foolish to a fault. Aver hadn't yet reached a level of balance where thought prefaced action and, Quietus thought with a dawning sense of hopelessness, probably never would. Given her penchant for violence she'd likely die long before wisdom truly set in.

A hand lifted to rub absently at her jaw before the Beastia stepped forward to Aver's front again and once more took hold of the zipper of her body suit, the other hand lightly pressed against the woman's abdomen. With a release of breath Quietus pushed the gadget upwards to close the suit, eyes lingering on the mark as it disappeared beneath the material.

Let's take a walk, green eyes slid upwards while her hand at the woman's chest drifted down, traipsing across her front before dropping to her side, you can leave your things here. No one will bother them. Bone and wooden beads clattered lightly in her braids as she turned and made way for the tent flap to step out into the afternoon sun.

 

[Aver Brand]

With closed eyes, Aver listened to the zipper slide up once again, breathing out the last of her fast-risen rage. This wasn't like her, to explode so violently and viciously, and for such an insignificant matter. She prided herself on self-control, and discipline, and…

Oh, who am I kidding.

With a puff of air, the woman turned on her heel and kicked the discarded plates off to the corner of the tent. Running a hand through her hair, the mass murderer grudgingly followed behind, unconcerned by the wandering eyes that might catch sight of her visage. With no name, rank, or weight attached to the red mane and icy eyes, she was just another alien face in the mingling crowd.

A breath, and she was gone, pacing her longer strides to match those of Quietus.

"You didn't answer me," she pointed out quietly, glancing around for any sign of Puppy. Knowing the beast, it was either sprawled on some rock and basking in the sun, or chasing after innocents who looked tasty. Not necessarily in that order.

"What the kark is that… thing?"

 

[Quietus]

Puppy was, as a matter of fact, serving as a jungle-gym for two wild children while feasting on a large hank of meaty legbone stolen from skreev. Satisfactorily occupied by its meal the giant hound paid little mind to the twins as they climbed over it, squeeling and giggling while they chased one another. They'd never seen a creature quite like her and, for that matter, neither had the skreev that presently sat glaring daggers off to one side.

Quietus smirked as she watched this through the sea of tents while she waited for Aver to catch up. The beast and her children were off near the treeline where the winged mounts often rested after a long journey here from the Citadel or Irontown or some other far-reaching tribelands. She observed the twins hanging off the hound's back as it dragged the meat slab off into the shade of the overhanging branches and plopped down to feast, shadowed eyes alert for the surrounding creatures. The children were in good hands... or claws as it were.

It's an ancient Dathomiri Nightsister ritual called a bloodtrail, answered the Beastia before setting off along the road through the tents towards a visible footpath that lead into the thick of the ridge jungle, traditionally it was used to mark chosen targets in order to track them through the Force no matter the distance. It forms a permanent connection between caster and target - I could, with a large effort and a lot of concentration, pick you out of a crowd of Force Users without it, but this makes you impossible to miss ... to me, and me only. I did it as a safeguard since you were at the time the reigning force that arrived and negotiated the terms here, so that I would always be able to find you should there ever be a need,

a glance of consideration was given to Aver as they walked through rays of sunlight spilling through the canopy, and I would always be able to sense you coming should the Sith ever send you.

Not that it serves that function anymore. I imagine you don't even go by Vrag now...

 

[Aver Brand]

To say that she was surprised to see Puppy bear the children's antics with such poise and tolerance would be an understatement. Aver was, quite frankly, flabbergasted at the sight, but the Beastia's quick pace and beeline into the trees didn't allow for a detour.

Making a mental note to question the hound about it later, she hastened after the blonde, falling in step with her again once the warm green shade of the jungle draped over them. Having exhausted herself for words mere minutes ago, Aver was content to listen to the melodious lilt of [member="Quietus"]' voice as they walked, briskly covering swathes of ground without breaking a sweat (an achievement doubly impressive considering the humid heat permeating the air of the forest).

"I see."

What else could she say? If she'd known how, Aver would likely have made the same mark upon the Beastia, were their positions reversed. It was a sound tactical decision. It covered her bases, facilitated tracking, communication, and Force knew what else.

It made her no less frustrated to have three dark red lines permanently singed into her flesh.

"Aver Brand." She was curt, offering her companion but the briefest of glances before training her cold eyes back on the path ahead. "Vrag tragically perished in a Yuuzhan Vong rebellion before they torched the planet and took to the stars."

"I don't imagine she'll be missed."

 

[Quietus]

Perhaps not by others... Quietus intoned, the inference being that she, Aver, might miss Vrag herself in some manner. Whether it be the power she once wielded or the courtship of living armor to body and mind. There were certain remnants that a title and power of that kind left behind on people, Quietus knew it well enough herself from her many, many years spent upon the ruling seat of Sith in a Brotherhood, an Order, a Coven, and a Council whose names were now lost to time.

Aver, she tested the name and found it to be fitting. As fitting as the name Vrag ever was.

It's a daunting task ... shedding off an old skin.

 

[Aver Brand]

“I suppose so,” she nodded in accord, rolling her shoulders faintly now that the weight was gone. Despite its lightness, and despite her extreme acclimatization to wearing armor, period, it still felt nice to shake off the encumbrance every once in a while.

“It gets easier each time, though. You move on, no dead weight or baggage to slow you down. To be honest, this one was… liberating.”

They rounded another bend in the weaving footpath, and for a moment Aver thought she could hear the scrabble of water against stone. Scanning the thick foliage ahead, she spotted nothing that would indicate a stream and resolved that she was hearing things.

“As for Vrag… well, you know. You keep what you kill.” She turned her head slightly to make eye contact with the Beastia, offering her a small, toothy smile to accompany the statement.

Somehow it didn’t surprise her that the Beastia was familiar with the experience. Given all the untold centuries the blonde had seen, the likelihood that she’d kept the same name and face all this time grew increasingly closer to nil. Even her name, [member="Quietus"], was just another moniker; Aver had made enough for herself to know one when she saw it.

“Don’t you ever grow tired of it?”

 

[Quietus]

Quietus passed an inquisitive look her way.

Tired of what? Change? Evolution?

The woman stepped down along a steep incline of roots and loose soil, inhaling deeply after reaching the bottom. Aver's senses were keen but the water she smelled was not something within sight. It was beneath their feet, within the soil, an underground system of springs and streams that cut through old volcanic caverns and cisterns. The aroma of hotsprings drifted through the trees as a new precipice to the ridge cut upwards through the canopy. Their path wandered along through the jungle and up into a rise of stone and boulder.

Everyone changes shape to live and those who can't or won't...they don't survive. Once you've done it for so long it simply becomes second nature, like breathing.

Does your Vong armor resent it?

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Aver Brand]

“Mm, not that. Running. I don’t mind change— hell, it’s how I’m still alive.”

“But I think i’m getting tired of running, yeah. Don’t even want to know what it’s like doing it for centuries…” She glanced over at her companion, shaking her head with a smile.

“Resent it? Force, no.” At this, a soft chuckle escaped her lips, easily lost in the din of the jungle. “I think Ygdris are kind of glad, actually. Five years of constant abuse ain’t easy on nobody. Those tough frakkers deserve a rest.”

“I feed them steaks along with Puppy. And a few pirates here and there, when someone is stupid enough to try and board us.” Her eyes lit up with one of the more recent memories, images of the hound as it tore through the assailants still vivid in her mind.

As they advanced out of the shade and back into the light of a lazy sun, Aver quirked her head to the side, subtly sniffing the air.

“Sulphur?”

[member="Quietus"]​

 

[Quietus]

Running. What made [member="Aver Brand"] think that the Beastia ran from anything was beyond her. So far as she could recall she'd never run from anything in her life. It was likely by sheer luck alone she had lived as long as she had.

Quietus offered a pointed glance, brow raised, and returned the smile with a knowing smirk of her own.

Ygdris? Is that its name? she pressed on as the footpath turned upwards through high rising walls of natural stone, you have a collection of curious creatures. Your tuk'ata hound is not ... normal.

As normal as created sithspawn could be.

Sulphur?

Hot springs, the Beastia's telepathic voice said, a welcome reprieve for an odoriferous Merc after a two-day jaunt through the Onderon jungles, I think.

 

[Aver Brand]

"Their name,” she corrected with a nod. “Kataal, Zhudah, Enga, Lal, Chrin, Kag, and Quodeith are the oldest. Gula and Por’fiir came later. And you’ve met Dhaladii, of course.” She flashed the Beastia a wide grin.

“One big, happy family. Like with like, you know.”

She laughed for the second time that day, eyes bright with unbridled amusement. “I guess.” Mirth danced on ice, melting it along with the setting sun as they came to stand on the edge of the plateau.

Before them, a stretch of bubbling, steaming ponds littered the landscape, coloring the gray rocks with occasional spatters of green. The hot water was nearly white, and its warmth could be felt even several paces away.

“So this is how you get all the girls out of their clothes, is it? Smooth, Beastia. Smooth.”

Wandering forward with a deliberate sway to her stride, Aver reached up to undo her zipper with an agonizing slowness, harking back to their first meeting some four odd years ago.

And odd they surely were.

She shot [member="Quietus"] a lidded look over her shoulder before shrugging off the upper portion of her undersuit, exposing her scarred back to the caress of the dying light of day; a myriad of thin white lines criss-crossed the expanse of silver skin, standing out in shallow relief against the toned cords of muscle.

 

[Quietus]

You're the only one that ever needed help doing so.

The Beastia made a mental note about the comment pertaining only to girls with a bemused stare, watching the woman sidle forward to undress, slow as molasses. Despite having minimal view she did take a few moments to admire it while Aver's back was turned to her. The pale skin had a glow about it in the light of day and she wondered just how much sun the woman actually saw outside of her damnable suit of armor. Quietus wore no armor today and had not for some time. Such was the shift in lifestyle burdened upon her in the form of two young children. War, battle - both had been put on the backburner in order to raise the next generation, begrudgingly but with great attention to detail.

A few slipped buckles and released knots left the Wild Queen's bronzed and tattooed figure free in the daylight. Barefooted from the start she stepped forward past the Firrerreo and without ceremony dropped into the depths of the nearest spring pool, disappearing beneath the boiling depths. She resurfaced several long breaths later, what loose strands of blond hair not knitted in braids to her skull fell slick against her face and shoulders.

Naked is as naked does. The tribes people have no reason to be shy.

 

[Aver Brand]

Quirking an eyebrow in response, the woman pointedly shed the rest of her armor with practiced movements, depositing plates next to the boots in a neat, orderly pile. Even as she undressed, however, her eyes never left the sinuous form of the Beastia, appreciating the honest display far more than she’d care to admit.

“Do you think I’m shy?” Her tone inched towards incredulity even as she inched towards the steaming pool. “It’s got nothing to do with modesty. It’s just that without those,” she stuck a thumb in the direction of her armor, “you can wind up dead real quick.”

Saying nothing more, the woman pushed off from the rock she’d been perched on, slipping into the inviting water with an indulgent sigh. Icy eyes fluttered closed as she curled her toes into the warm silt underfoot, arching back into the golden rays of Onderonian sun. The wide smile on her face was a rare sight, for it carried neither mischief nor ill-intent; it was simply an expression of delight in its basest form, pure and undiluted.

“This is nice,” she murmured, leaning back to rest her head on the solid white rock behind her.

“Who were those kids?” Aver asked at length, prying one eyelid open to peer at [member="Quietus"].

 

[Quietus]

Smirking, Quietus sunk down into the waters until they bubbled just under her chin, heat steam rising from the pool and every other one dotting the landscape.

Pillars of steam, Volden had told her. Not always visible depending on the strength of winds, but on a calm day the hotsprings filled the horizon with plumes of rising fog. It was especially nice during the cold season, early in the mornings or late at night when the sun no longer warmed the skies. Here at the equitorial band of Onderon they didn't experience winter or snow but the cold season nights were enough to garner heavy leather cloaks and pelt coverings.

My own, the Beastia replied with eyes staring right back at the woman, colors melding into a swirl of molten emerald, twins. As old as the years between now and before.

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Aver Brand]

Both eyebrows shot up at the statement, and Aver slunk forward to properly meet Quietus’ gaze.

“Yours?” The woman shook her head. “Kark me sideways and call me Corvus. Never pegged you for the motherly type, Beastia.”

Her surprise morphed into a full-fledged grin as she drifted closer, enjoying the lap of water against her body. It was calming, above all. Almost... peaceful.

Aver slipped behind her, then, drawing a single finger along the gentle slope of her shoulder as she drew flush against her back. Her hands slid up into her hair, brushing it aside so that she could press her lips to the Queen’s neck, right on that pulse point.

“Does that make me a motherkarker?” she wondered softly against her skin, mirth and shamelessness dancing in her tone.

 

[Quietus]

Most people don't.

Including herself, but there were certain lengths she was ...willing, in the loosest sense of the term... to go to for particular individuals, given the proper circumstances. Her motherly ways were not what most would call orthodox. Her detachment was as strong as her own instinct of protection. Love was never a term used in association with her family, not even her own offspring, but she was not unloving. Her love was simply that of the tough-kind, Soliael could attest to that.

Grand-mother-karker would be more correct, my first child is over two hundred years old and has children of his own, the Beastia tipped her head for a passive look at the woman leaning over her shoulder, but there's no need to be crude about it.

She lightly flicked water back at the red-headed fiend, smirking still.

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Aver Brand]

Aver let out a delighted snigger, ducking far too late to avoid the splash. Still chuckling, the woman rested her chin back down, peering at the Beastia from the corner of her eye. Again she was reminded just how much older [member="Quietus"] was. Children. A monarchy. A colorful past. A Dark Lord, long ago…

The firrerreo pulled back just enough to glance down at the bare back of the Queen, reaching up with one hand to trace the branches of the tree. It was the only tattoo whose color seemed unaffected by time. Given the soft, tempting whisper of the Dark Side permeating its lines, Aver wasn't surprised. The skull on her back had been much the same, alive and spreading with each year she spent in the service of the Emperor.

Slowly she wandered back up, her touch getting firmer and firmer as she started kneading the taut muscle beneath her fingers, pressing into the flesh until she found the knots.

"Is he a king as well?" she asked, half-serious, as she worked her way over the Beastia's shoulders and neck.

She was pretty good with her hands. Experience, and all that.

 

[Quietus]

Wasn't often that touch against her Dark Mark elicited more than a simple tingling, but the contact of a Darksider, even one who had not necessarily practiced the dark arts such as the woman once known as Vrag, seemed to awaken certain elements left behind. Remnants of four lifetimes ago when Korriban sat as the precipice of Sith rule and Quietus had been a name equivalent with those of the greats.

But that was a long time ago, she noted at the sensation of fingers crawling across the mark that sent shivers up her spine, and her mark had never been granted the chance to grow or spread. Not like that of Silencia's or even Dissero's. The Darkside had never been her true calling.

No, came the answer, eyes closing against the massaging of muscles she'd not known were sore until now, not anymore.

But a King he had been - not even simply a King, but a God. An absurd statement to make even for her, she knew. All powerful Force Users figured themselves Gods if they lived long enough, achieved the apex of their power, even if they'd never admit to it. How else could one describe the feeling of bending the galaxy to their will if not through divine titles when Force Master simply couldn't do it credit?

My family has a penchant for producing leaders, the Beastia admitted as her eyes pulled open again, drawing upwards to the skies as a flock of skreev sailed by overhead, skimming the clouds with great wings of blaze orange, every generation has at least one. We never seem to learn...