Trouble's Lament

[Tmoxin Temi]

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=285Lospdgb0[/youtube]​

Continuation of Peace of Mind​

Tmoxin gave Derek a pained look, freckled nose wrinkling, when he told her to wait. She’d been through numerous battles with the One Sith and the Techno Union, but the Blood Monarch's role was one of a war tactician, holed up in a walker or giant armored vehicle, not tunneling through tight and narrow corridors which were now on fire. She shielded her face from the thick, black smoke with the crook of her arm.

With a tip of her chin downward in approval, the Knight executed two more men to save the others. It was admirable, and who was to say if the Hapan would have done the same in his position? Likely not, but Tmoxin was not above spooning out a thick ladle of mercy as she saw it fit. Especially when it came to soldiers who were just doing their duty as Dib remarked.

Despite her horror over the flames which licked at their heels, she smiled and bit her lower lip as Derek whistled upon gazing upon the Sovereign Stingray.

“This ship is my baby,” she said. Truthfully, the Hapan executive had a daughter too, but she was not ready to recognize the clone as such so the Innesco-Class Yaught would have to do.

As the hatch opened and the ramp slid down for the pair of Force users to scramble up into the luxury interior of the ship, Tmoxin turned back towards Derek and remarked with a lopsided grin, “I used to have a Captain, but found it easier to pilot it myself. I’m not the best at evasive maneuvers so if the Hutt Liner blows, you might want to strap in tight.”

[member="Derek Dib"]

 

[Derek Dib]

Following the red head up the ramp to the sleek ship he paused for a moment to look back. Black smoke was billowing from the corridor into the hanger. He hasn't intended to cause such disaster, but there was always collateral damage in just about any battle. He hoped all their Confederates were able to acquire escape as well. He didn't need any more nightmares to haunt his slumber.

Climbing fully on board he followed [member="Tmoxin Temi"] through the entrance of the small hanger and down a narrow corridor into a spacious main room. Pausing at the elegance and finery within he glanced down at his soiled garments. Blood, soot, and sweat stained his clothes and he was loath to mar the exquisite interior.

"I'm no pilot, so I'll be deferring to your skill at the pilot's seat."

A wry smile crossed his face as he finally took in the woman who he had aided, the same woman who offered him safe passage from what could very well be a catastrophic explosion from the Hutt's ship.

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

While the thought of needless deaths haunted Derek, the Hapan ex-officer had nary a guilty thought. When sleep would finally arrive, perhaps after putting the Stingray on autopilot and retiring with a glass of wine to bed, it would be the soundless, dreamless slumber of satisfaction and pride.

As the two of them sat in the cockpit, Tmoxin quickly firing up the engines and disengaging the landing claw, jettisoning out of the luxury liner’s spaceport into open space, she noticed that behind them, the behemoth of a vessel began to explode. The redhead Dark Jedi knew that, while her piloting skills were questionable, the Stingray was fast enough to outrun any blow-back from a large burst of energy.

Despite her warning of being a rudimentary pilot, soon they settled into a smooth trajectory and Tmoxin switched on the autopilot.

“I don’t think I got your name yet. And where should we go?”

She’d programmed the Stingray to fly to her ranch on Bothawui, but she could change the course easily if the Force user needed to be dropped off somewhere else. She eyed both of their torn clothing, sooty fingertips and overall level of grune based on the earlier altercation and assassination of Semprana. Now that they were safe, there would be time for showers and food or drink with nowhere to rush off to and certainly no wary shoulder to look over.

[member="Derek Dib"]

 

[Derek Dib]

"Name's Derek. Derek Dib. As for where I'm headed, I'm going wherever the ride takes me. Eventually back to Geonosis."

He smiled. It was the first genuinely positive emotion since he had boarded the Hutt's pleasure den. Going undercover was a profession of lies, misdirects, and usually blatantly loose morals. It left him with a feeling of scum upon his skin. The smile turned into a bemused snort as his gaze traveled over the both of them, noting the literal scum coating the two individuals.

Shaking his head lightly he looked at the radar and watched the blip that represented the Hutt's ship dissipate. There was loss of life. But sometimes it was necessary. Glancing back at the woman he realized he hasn't received her name. It was amusing how combat could bring allies together without knowing such a simple thing as each other's name.

"So where are we going Captain ... I believe I never caught your name. Also, do you have a refresher I could use. My clothes and I have had better days."

He smirked as his hands lifted the edges of his ruined jacket. It made him feel slightly better to see Tmoxin in roughly the same state. Where once she had red hair it was now nearly midnight in hue. Side effects of fire tended to leave things a mite singed and soot stained.

[member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

“We can certainly go to Geonosis if you have business there.” But Tmoxin made no move to reprogram the autopilot.

“My name is Tmoxin Temi. I’m the High Justice of the Geonosian Knights and a founder of the Confederacy.” She began finger combing her light auburn locks, picking pieces of debris out of it.

“I don’t find the Confederacy capital that relaxing to be honest. But I own a keffi ranch on Bothawui and a luxury spa on Lok, next to the Sports Complex, if either of those locations appeal to you more. You can rest and recuperate to your heart’s content. I know you were wounded back there.” She unbuckled and rose from the pilot's seat and then beckoned Derek to follow her through the yacht.

Like the rest of the furnishings in the Sovereign Stingray, the refresher was no less luxurious. While it wasn’t the largest room, it had a walk-in shower and a small area where the Force user could dress his wounds. Tmoxin opened the medicine cabinet and removed a couple of bacta patches and a few other assorted first aid products.

“Do you need stitches? I’m happy to patch you up until we can get you to a real doctor.”

[member="Derek Dib"]

 

[Derek Dib]

"I haven't found many opportunities or reasons to relax of late. And I wouldn't be opposed to the idea."

Rising from the seat he followed Tmoxin through her ship. Again the regal lavish interior assaulted his senses and reminded him of his origins. His was not a wealth childhood. He was raised to be a servant to the people, to know his life was to bring balance, to be a sword and shield for those without the strength to defend themselves. And yet he found himself more and more amidst a finer setting.

The Dib smirk of amusement crossed his face. But rather then the predatory look most of worn by his brother, his was more open and friendly. The thought of his brother crossed his mind for a moment. Truly there were opposites. Two sides of the same coin. Differing in philosophy and life style yet united by blood and a common goal. Just with different tools and morality.

Letting the thoughts of his sibling slide away he shook his head with a soft gasp at the fresher unit. It was larger and more elegant then most apartments he had lived in. Eyes turned to look at the woman as she began rummaging for medical supplies. He had felt her presence in the force and knew the darkness that lay within. Yet she was showing kindness and concern. As he sat gingerly upon the cushioned seat a look of mild confusion flickered in his red eyes. He was still learning the balance that many Darksiders had found. Some were truly balanced while others feigned a neutrality that was not genuine. He wondered if she was true.

"Yeah .... I might need some attention."

Rising he removed his jacket slowly to not reopen the wound. Next he slid the shoulder holsters from his body and lowered the rig that carried his slugthrower and beskar blade to a soft landing upon the ruins of the jacket. Raising his shirt over his head he grimaced from the pain in his side, dropping the soiled shirt to the ground as well.

Sitting he softly probed his wound with his fingers, feeling the slight bulge beneath the skin. A grunt of frustration escaped his lips at the realization that the slug lay embedded in his side. It would need to be removed before he could be patched up.

[member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

Good, she thought, relief caressing her psyche with the promise of going home. Another day avoiding the dust bowl of Geonosis with its chittering, carapaced inhabitants and back to Bothawui, where its picturesque views and the oxygen-rich air was quite welcome.

Tmoxin rolled up her sleeves and surgeon-washed her hands and wrists, careful to disinfect them too. “One of my companies specializes in health and medical research, and I do know the standard first-aid basics from my time as a commander in the One Sith army.” Despite her finishing school accent and the grace with which she carried herself, the Hapan had picked up her most useful skills along the way, versus her brother who’d gone to medical school and her younger sister who was likely a Hapan politician by now.

“I’m going to apply a topical anesthetic,” she said, and as gently as she could, she pressed a moist patch to his skin. “If you want something stronger for the pain, I have that too.” She didn’t think he’d accept that offer, but some men and women found solace in painkillers on and off the battlefield.

Tmoxin’s chestnut eyes briefly appraised Derek’s muscular form before she selected a pair of tweezers. “Do you want me to do the honors or would you prefer to... find the slug?” She held up a steady hand, though inside the Hapan was a little bit anxious over digging directly into the Knight’s skin. I really need to purchase a medical droid for the Stingray if I’m going to be out on these mercenary assignments, she mused. Furthermore, the redhead was curious about Derek’s Force alignment, and maybe during her younger and crueler years she would have nearly interrogated him about it as the tweezers painfully pulled apart his flesh. But time had softened her a bit, and there would be time later to discuss how their varying dark and light paths had ended up converging.

[member="Derek Dib"]

 

[Derek Dib]

Watching and she washed her hands and arms in preparation of the first-aid procedure he lean back on to his forearms exposing more of the side for easy access. Watching her collect the items that she would use his brow creased slightly as he listened to her words. Mentioning being a former Commander in the One Sith army once would have given the man pause as to the company he was keeping. But that was before having his eyes opened to the reality of the Galaxy. Nothing and no one was a simple black and white.

Lips curved into a smile as she offered medication for the pain and then slightly paused in her wording about digging out the slug. He couldn't decipher if it was a queasiness at the thought of digging into his flesh or just performing an act of mining a body for foreign objects in a familiar sense with a stranger. The act required an amount of trust by the wounded and intimacy on the medic.

He chuckled slightly then winced are the motion disturbed the tweezers path within his wound.

"I'll handle the pain. I'm not not a fan of anything that dulls the senses. And I'll let you play doctor as you have a better view point. If you're up to it, that is."

The small smile upon his face softened the worded challenge into a tease. His hands gripped the edges of his seat as he forced his body to relax in anticipation of what was coming. Dark brown eyes tinged slightly with a reddish hue stared at the red head as he focused on her rather then what was about to occur.

"So how does one, born into Hapan aristocracy from the accent, become Sith Commander and then High Justice and a founder of Confederacy based on a form of democracy?"

[member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

Tmoxin squinted one eye shut and placed one hand gingerly upon Derek’s side. With the other, she began to insert the tweezers into his skin. His tapestry hued irises distracted her for a moment - they did not contain the jaundiced look of darkside corruption, but the color was unusual for a Jedi, which by this point she assumed he wasn’t.

“While some in my family argue that the Temi’s have a direct bloodline to the Hapan monarchy, I was never under such illusions. I worked for the Queen, yes in an esteemed position as one of her most trusted guards, but just because I was an employee of the Queen Mother… well, that certainly doesn’t make me a noblewoman of her rank. Needless to say I sought out my own kingdom. I found the Sith to be… unwelcoming of my methods, so here I am.” Tmoxin left out that her first career outside of the Hapan Palace was within a criminal organization called the Red Ravens.

She winced for him now as the tweezers went deeper seeking extraction. The redhead had a firm grip upon his skin, but loosened it as the made contact with the slug. Her fingers upon him now were a little more exploratory in nature - he did have the most tactilely beautiful muscles after all - but did not veer too far from the wound.

“What about you? You are not a Jedi, nor are you a Sith? So what or who are you?”

[member="Derek Dib"]

 

[Derek Dib]

As Tmoxin began her extraction of the bullet, instead of focusing on the pain he zeroed in on her words. Her lips moved and as his wound began to run with blood once more he silently compared the color to the red of her lips. And the dress. He hadn't noticed the dress she was wearing on board the ship. But now, with her leaning over focused on his torso, his eyes roamed a bit. One leg partially revealed due to the thigh high slit in the dress. Brown eyes narrowed and focused. Red hair, even in it's state of disarray, carefully framed the fair skin of her face, a nose kissed with a spattering of freckles.

Shaking his head lightly he looked up to the ceiling and focusing on the pain of the bullet and the extraction currently going on to help soothe the flush he felt in his cheeks. Still, the question posed was a further distraction.

"Who I am is easy to answer. Derek Dib. What I am is a bit more difficult. I am definitely no Jedi and I'm far from Sith. I was born on Dorin to a lineage that had served the Baran Do for generations. Sages are what my family were. Where the Galaxy look at the Force being separate, the Lightside and the Darkside, we sages see it for what it truly is. There is the Force. Calling it Lightside and Darkside implies that it's actually one thing, just polar opposites. We find the balance."

Looking down once more he felt the touch of her hand at his side bracing lightly as she continued the excavation on his flesh. Chestnut eyes seemed focused on their mission. Wincing slightly Derek continued.

"Initially I saw the Galaxy in Black and White, but only Sith deal in absolutes and only Jedi are blinded by absolutes. You can't have peace without passion. Anger without serenity. Love without hate. So we sages find the balance, within ourselves first, so that we can heed the direction of the Force. And what I have found is that there is no black and white, only varying shades of grey. Even the Kiffu Guardians followed Justice rather then a misguided Creed created to be an epitome of light or dark. I trained with my mother's people as a guardian as well. So I would call myself a weight on the scales of balance."

[member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

The sanguine color of Derek’s blood distracted her chestnut gaze for a moment, and Tmoxin let go of him briefly while she mopped it away with a gauze pad. Concentrating on what she was doing, she didn’t notice him staring at the one smooth leg framed by the slit of her dress. But the Hapan was starting to have that “battle come down” feeling where she’d love to flop down on one of the luxury sofas in the yacht, enjoy a Corellian whiskey on the rocks and revel in an even better conversation. She kicked off her shoes and pushed them out of the way with delicate feet, toenails painted almost the same shade of auburn as he hair.

“That’s interesting,” she remarked. “My family had ties to a persistent Hapan cult called the Ni’Korish. For years I feared the Force as something of a curse. Eventually I embraced my destiny, but like you, I do not subscribe to an order or a blind cause. The Force is a tool… nothing more. But my tool is one of darkness, pain and mind control.” She paused to gauge his reaction over that last admission. “I suppose we’re alike in that respect. That we follow our own path.”

Ping. The slug was deposited into a small tin bowl and Tmoxin set it on the counter.

“Stitches? Or accelerated healing pad?” Laughing a truly genuine musical laugh, she said, “Actually I’m not giving you a choice as I’d only put you through more torture sewing you up.”

She knelt down on her knees, her pale dress soaking in a few drops of his blood, and as she placed the patch upon the wound, she said, “The difference between us is my imbalance. The passion I use to fuel my energy. Ambition that can manifest itself in combat lust at times. The satisfaction of enemies struck down and rivals thwarted.” She placed her slender fingers, slightly stained with his blood, upon Derek’s knee, her brown irises serious, but with a hint of mischief.

“Surely one of those tenants be it passion or peace, strives to break free.” Balance would be incredibly difficult though Derek struck her as a highly disciplined type. But Tmoxin liked a challenge, and as her expression turned more coquettish, she wondered just how easily she could tip that precariously balanced scale.

[member="Derek Dib"]

 

[Derek Dib]

As he listened to her speak of her own outlook on the Force he found himself nodding slightly. Following something or someone blindly was not only reckless but also foolish. He noticed she paused after revealing her choice of darkness and pain. A light smirk danced across his face as Derek assumed it was to be a 'shocking' revelation to gauge his response. Considering who his brother was and their own personal struggles to accept one another despite their differences, understanding the darker shades of grey within individuals proved much easier.

The slug was finally extracted and he sighed in contentment as the probing of the wound ended. A noticeable difference in the rigidity of his body was seen as he let the excess energy flow from away with his tension. The sound of her laugh made Derek smile as she applied the patch.

Her words of passion and combat lust with a need for release caused a different sort of tension to build within his body. The beautiful red head who knelt between his thighs, one hand lightly resting on one knee, eyes playful with mischief, and speaking of either passion or peace needing a release momentarily gave him pause.

"Imbalance, while at times, has it's merits ... A union of peace and passion is a ... safer choice."

Slowly he stood feeling the stiffness in his body (his muscles, yes, his muscles he told himself) from the recent combat as well as the psychological process of knowing you're alive create an elation which pumped endorphins and adrenaline through his frame. Extending an open palm down to the woman he offered his hand to help the woman rise from her ... precariously, delectable position.

"I think I should shower. And again, is like to thank you for your hospitality and tending to me."

If he was anything, Derek was composed. He had learned how to control himself well through years of training and personal choice. He had seen what imbalance could do to him. And catapulting from a stress filled situation to one of a more compromising position, while having it's merits, wouldn't be honorable.

[member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

“So you say,” Tmoxin remarked, glancing at his hand before taking it and rising up to stand again before him. She stared just a beat too long, a Hapan woman obviously flirting under heavy lidded eyes and a ruby half-smile, but there was something completely unreadable in her gaze as well.

“Of course, Knight Dib. I will leave you now to wash up. After I change myself, I’ll be in the lounge.”

She bent over to retrieve her heels, and as they clicked together in her hands, she exited the refresher.

The shower had every amenity he could have wanted, right down to shaving cream, perhaps leftover from a former lover or maybe just a personal a touch that showed Tmoxin was a good hostess.

Once he finished he would find the Hapan Dark Jedi curled on a large sofa with a glass of Corellian whiskey on the rocks as she’d been craving. She had changed out of her dress and into a casual white shirt and dark blue pants of a denim material.

“How was it?” she asked him. The blood had been cleaned off her fingertips, but her hair had a bed-head mussiness smelling vaguely of smoke, that signaled she’d perhaps been napping or could also use a shower herself. "And help yourself to the bar."

[member="Derek Dib"]

 

[Derek Dib]

"Knight Dib ..."

He muttered under his breath as he watched her leave the room. Not sure if that was a bit of frigidity or merely a cordial use of the rank Tmoxin thought he deserved. Women were typically hard to read for him, as personal relationships were filled with pitfalls of emotion. As the door shut he shook his head lightly.

"There's nothing typical about that woman."

Turning he went to the shower, quickly stripping the soiled clothing from his body. Standing under the scalding jets of water he watched the grime and blood swirl around the drain. Hesitant to leave the shower he still remembered his manners. It would be unseemly to keep his host waiting.

Leaving the showers he quickly toweled off only to realize his own clothing were ruined to the point of being unwearable. With a forlorn look on his face he moved to the closet and looked in. Rows and rows of clothes filled his view. Moving in he rolled through clothes, shifting rack after rack. Finally in the back he found something suitable and collected a pair of black jeans and a grey, long sleeved, pullover. Snagging a pair of socks he quickly dressed. https://cdnw.nickpic.host/m0hdGn.gif

Looking in the mirror he stopped and started for a moment. Wild hair fluffed up on top with his unshaven cheeks, he looked presentable but surely out of place upon the refined ship with the lady in the other room. He smirked at himself for a moment before silently padding out to the lounging area.

Slowing as he entered his eyes took in the woman curled upon the sofa as if this was the nightcap to merely a night out instead of a battle. The clothing she wore accented her figure and for a moment he found himself appreciating the view until her words shook him from his reverie.

"Delightful. And thank you, I think a drink sounds great."

Moving smoothly across the room he noticed the heat from the shower had helped to loosen his muscles from earlier. Stepping behind the bar his eyes scanned the well stocked bar before selecting an Alderaan ale. Turning he found a glass and opened the bottle, filling the glass with the pale emerald liquor.

Taking the glass he excited the bar and moved to the opposite end of the sofa and, with a contented sigh, sank into it's welcoming embrace. A drink from the glass left him appraising the sweet flavor with the fiery aftertaste. Looking to the relaxed woman he smiled again before harking back to previous conversations.

"I'm not a Knight, I'm a Sage. But please call me Derek. No titles. And tell me more about your path. How did you come by a keffi ranch on Bothawui?"

[member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

The redhead watched Derek fix himself a drink at the well-appointed bar. She recalled the days when she’d keep almost an entirely full staff on board to appease her every whim or to entertain guests. Nowadays everything on the Stingray was mechanized - serving droids, cleaning bots and her Mirari bodyguard droids. Or conversely, Tmoxin just handled what she needed herself.

He may have poured a glass from the bottle of Breath of Heaven by the amberish hue, but it wouldn’t matter as all of her liquor choices were top shelf. The man remained at the bar, while Tmoxin tucked her legs under her and nestled into the sofa a little more.

“Okay Derek,” she said with a genuine smile. “This yacht is obviously exquisite, the alcohol on your tongue might cost more than a Bothawui farmer would make in his entire life..." Where was she going with this? Did she suddenly want Knight Dib to think she was not some spoiled Hapan Princess, despite having the most charmed upbringing?

“I fell in love with Keffis during a stint on Anaxes. I was under house arrest by the One Sith, and while I can’t tell you I was badly mistreated, I could not leave, and my fate was uncertain. Most traitors are executed, and I was not stupid enough to wait around and test that theory out. So one day I went keffi riding - I’d gotten quite good at it by that point as there was nothing else to do - and I lost the Sith guards assigned to me. There’s more to the story, but I will be honest… I fear this is where our principles may veer off in different directions.”

The cost of escape had been high for one person in particular, and suddenly it wasn't an anecdote she was very proud of.

Silly Hapan fool, she thought to herself. Your emotions are getting the better of you. It dawned on her that she actually cared what Derek thought of her dishonorable past.

“What about you? Before I tell you how I escaped, I want to hear a story from you. Anything you want to tell me. We have a long trip ahead, and I’m not very tired.”

[member="Derek Dib"]

 

[Derek Dib]

Derek's eyes narrowed slightly at the comment about the liquor's worth. He knew that he didn't come across as particularly wealthy or even someone who was used to the finer things in life. But being descended from renown and influential lineages such as the Dib's of Dorin and Clan Vos of Kiffu, he had his share of the high court and rulers. However it was not something he had ever aspired to, choosing to serve rather then be served.

The moment of slight irritation passed as he breathed in and then out, casting prideful boasts away without utterance. Pride cometh before a fall was the way the saying went and he'd been around long enough to see the wisdom of it.

But as Tmoxin began speaking he turned on the sofa and extended a leg along the length, his other outstretched, and got comfortable. As she spoke he watched her face and the subtle nuances, the inflections in her voice, the sudden guardedness in his form. She wasn't rigid exactly, but somewhat secretive. It wasn't defensive in nature. He didn't read that. Perhaps it was an unwillingness to bare all.

His eyes glowed a faint red, a small twitch at the corner of his lip, at the thought bare all.

As she finished Derek nodded slowly. It was hard to open up at times, especially when one thought they were going to be judged. It was nature to want to protect yourself, even if it was a complete stranger. He had been there before. And if truth be told, he was still very closed off. It helped him to retain his balance. But sometimes imbalance was necessary to grow.

Taking another drink he eyed the red head with an unreadable expressions for several seconds as he contemplated his choices. Then, once he had made up his mind, he leaned back affecting a more relaxed position on the sofa.

"Principles .... That is a difficult subject at times. Sometimes the very foundation our principles are built on are a lie. Other times they are upended. But always we have opportunity to alter our beliefs and change our principles."

He paused and looked away as a memory climbed to the surface.

"Principles such as right and wrong. I was raised to being Justice. To be sword and shield against evil. To extinguish darkness and bring balance. It was one of my foundations. The foundation actually. The one my entire life had been built on. A place of absolutes."

He turned to look at the red head, pain evident in his eyes.

"My mission was to bring balance. And there were two in my family, from the Dib's of Dorin, that I was sent to quell in order to bring balance. One was an uncle, Rhaegar, and the other was my brother, Muad. You see, I was raised believing I was the last Dib, a fact not only hid from me but also blatantly lied about. An aspect of my principle's foundation that was cracked without me even noticing it."

His left hand raised and his eyes drifted there.

"To make a story short I tracked down my brother and Uncle to a planet in wild space. And I attacked, acting upon my principles and my beliefs. I believed them to be evil. I believed by killing them I was restoring balance. I believed in the righteousness of my cause. I was just. I was extinguishing a blight."

A sad smile crossed his face.

"I was wrong. About everything. The trust in an organization. The faith in my vows. The truth of my principles. My uncle was a Sith Lord. And he was trying to consume an entire planet's worth of population to fuel the monster he had become. He was evil. My brother was Sith too. According to my principles her was to die as well. But he wasn't there to help our Uncle. He was there to stop him. In the end my foolish pride, mislead principles, my chosen foundation cost a planet full of Innocents their lives. Because of my principles."

He felt the anger and pain seeking from within, but willed it away. It was a price he had paid to learn of the reality of the Galaxy. That there was no definitive white and black. That everything operated in shades of grey. And that principles, and what they were built on, were fallible.

"Muad chose to save me. And his choice allowed an entire race to die. A Sith, the embodiment of evil, chose the love of a brother he had never met .... A love for a brother who had moments before attempted to kill him ... Muad chose love over vengeance and hate."

He raised the glass and drained the liquor away. Feeling the burn down his throat and intro his stomach he rose and walked to the bar, back to Tmoxin. Feeling the heat in his cheeks and eyes he closed his lids, blaming the liquor for his emotional state, to focus.

Opening his eyes and composed once again he peed another glass before making his way to the couch to take a seat. Looking across to meet the warm, brown eyes he gave a weak smile.

"I've learned the hard way that choices are difficult. You live with regret and struggle to get past shame. I've learned there is good in the bad and bad in good. I've learned that absolutes are a lie. And I've learned that you never judge a person on their past, on their mistakes, or on their choices there. Our past refine us. Our future clarifies us. But it's our present and what we do, now, that define us."

[member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nleRCBhLr3k[/youtube]​

Tmoxin enjoyed this type of philosophical debate, certainly more than baring her secrets and slightly less than actually baring what was underneath the stark white shirt and form fitting pants, leading to that age old evolutionary push to establish lineage and hopefully having a grand old time doing so.

Sometimes a heated debate was the best prelude to bedroom coupling. Other times, she wanted to look her date in the eye and say, “Oh just shut up and kiss me.”

Tmoxin did find herself distracted by Derek’s rugged handsome appearance especially now that he was clean and showered. She ran her hair through her own dirty hair, which smelled like a cookout that had gotten a little out of control.

Derek’s family situation sounded way too familiar. The Hapan also struggled with siblings that she did not get along with, though being the oldest, she’d always paved the way - at least in her mind she had. Would she let thousands, or even millions die to save her Armand or Tha’ga however?

The Dark Jedi felt his weight press into the couch as he sat beside her. She took a sip of her own whiskey, rattling the glass a little bit just to hear the ice clink together like a set of soft chimes.

“No matter how many galaxians your brother killed, wouldn’t you do the same?"

That was her own answer, she realized. As much as she despised Armand for his altruism and her sister for her youthful looks and silver, political tongue, she would save them from perishing in a heartbeat.

“And yes I agree that choices are difficult, but when it comes to survival… Derek, I’m no martyr. But if it were my brother I would have saved him too. But the slave I had as a sort of handmaiden who looked exactly like me, a stranger of course but one I did get to know… on Annaxes, I let her die so I could escape.”

While Knight Dib’s eyes were much more expressive over the troublesome memories, Tmoxin’s chestnut gaze was a cold bronze. There was a flicker of empathy whirring behind her eyes, but on a whole, the Hapan was not an apologetic woman. Whether she could change was another matter completely.

[member="Derek Dib"]

 

[Derek Dib]

The verbal sparring was something he thoroughly enjoyed. Much like in a duel, it revealed things about the other person unintentionally. For himself, he knew that he came across rigid at times. But in conversation, or in a fight, revelations came out decrying the falsehood that he was unyielding in his beliefs or what he was capable of. His was a balancing act between what was right and what was wrong. And in this galaxy of grey being able to differentiate between the lines were challenging at times.

What he had learned if the red headed master was that she was filled with contradictions. She wore the trappings of sophistication and yet was perfectly able and willing to fight a battle in the trenches. She could kill on one hand and gently mend moments later. She could claim a dark past and yet not wish to reveal a darker aspect of her history which might influence his opinion about the woman into a more judgemental lane of thought.

"You are an intriguing woman."

After the words escaped his mouth he suddenly realized he had spoken aloud. He took another drink from his glass as his body warmed a bit. Whether it was from a slight embarrassment at his admission, the warming effect of the alcohol, the ache of the wound in his side, or the pressure of their legs resting against each other. His mind had a very different view of the thigh, the dress from earlier revealing a very tantalizing view of the smooth flesh.

Diverting the conversation away from his statement he looked into her eyes, the copper color reflecting the shade of her hair therein. They were guarded, of that there was no doubt. But beneath the veneer of steel he thought he could see the person that existed beneath the showmanship of Master Tmoxin Temi, High Justice.

"Sacrifice ... It's difficult. I'm willing to sacrifice myself to a cause I believe in. But sacrificing others still weigh upon me. And despite the air you put on, it weighs on you, or you wouldn't have cared enough to mention the woman."

He leaves toward the woman, slowly broaching into her personal space, a hand reaching out towards her face. He knew the power she could wield, and Tmoxin knew Derek had recognized her power in the force. Yet still he slowly reached out, hand diverting from the line to her face into her lustrous mane of red hair. Easing back he plucked a piece of wood, no larger then... perhaps one of Tmoxin's dainty, red nails, from the toseled locks.

"You say you are no martyr. I call you a liar. It takes a very special, determined person to put themselves in danger. In a situation where they could die and in essence become a martyr. It takes a special kind of woman to go into a battle wearing a dress like what you wore tonight. And looking as .... beautiful as you look in a fight."

[member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

"You are an intriguing woman."

She placed herr slender fingers over glossy lips and smiled, a laugh escaping her mouth, despite her best intentions to remain a porcelain figure of grace. She sighed and let go for a moment. They’d fought together, killed together, Tmoxin had healed Derek’s wound.

It’s okay to enjoy this, she reasoned. There are no enemies here.

His skin was warm under his trousers and slowly she intertwined her own legs around his.

“Yes it does,” she admitted. If she could have saved Marta, with her pretty freckled face and her delicate countenance, she would have. And in her mind’s eye the decoy had survived - it wasn’t as if she’d actually witnessed the slave’s death, but given the circumstances, it was almost inevitable.

Tmoxin’s reaction to Derek’s hand upon her face was perhaps not what he would have expected. She closed her eyes, welcoming the skin to skin contact, but with no expectations just the same. It just felt nice to be caressed by someone who appeared to understand her plight and vice versa.

And then, the Hapan blushed, calling back to her youth when a handsome man made an advance, and she did not know what to do with it. Even as the one in society who held all of the advantages.

“If only everyone thought like you did,” she admitted, placing her own slender fingers upon his chiseled jaw. “I know already… I’m not as pure as you are, Derek.”

[member="Derek Dib"]

 

[Derek Dib]

Her laughter had the sound of wind chimes. High and musical, casting images of a relaxing evening on a porch upon some scenic places. Rolling, green hills in the distance while being framed by the multicolored hues of a setting sun. A home which he never had, now anticipated ever having.

Her legs intertwined with his and his hand went unbidden to her thigh, lightly tracing small patterns with the nail of his index finger. Long, playful strokes. His eyes caught the slight blush upon her cheeks and he grinned, a roguish smirk, as he wondered just what could make this woman flush.

He wasn't blind to the reaction she had to his hand, in fact it made him shift slightly where he was reclining upon the couch. As her fingers lightly brushed his jaw he felt a flush upon his own cheeks and quickly closed his lids, feeling the heat reach his eyes. He knew that at that moment they were glowing red, the deep embers of coals just freshly stoked within a fire.

"I wouldn't be so sure. But fire does have a way of purifying."

He opened his eyes, back in control, and looked at the decoration of freckles upon the face close to his. He felt his pulse slowing from the rapid tempo it had set.

"I think perhaps the spirits and elation of battle may be affecting us. I wouldn't want to place the High Justice in a compromising position."

He teased her with a smile. His hand was warm, warmer then it should be. And yet despite his words he still playfully caressed her thigh. Perhaps he could distract both of them from the line of thought that he definitely had in his mind, so he reverted back to their conversation.

"So what did you do after escaping?"

[member="Tmoxin Temi"]