Kynane: Interludes and Snippets

[Kynane]

(warning: this includes mentions of torture, slavery, mental violation, murder, and hints at several other dark things. read at your own discretion.)

Interlude: Of Dreams Unhappy

Kynane shoots up from her pillows with a quiet, sharp inhale, smothering her scream on a reflex she wish she didn’t have a need for.

She hunches in on herself a little, bringing up her hands to cradle her face as the blankets pool around her waist, and Kynane tries to desperately shake off the nightmare. The lingering sounds of her screams, the steady crACK of the whip, the agony, the sound of his voice—it all blurred together in her head, ringing in her ears like the panicked thundering of her heart, and making it impossible to bury the memories back in the dark corners of her mind.

Palmira’s quiet breathing next to her, Kyniska’s quiet crackling, Ithra’s gentle snores, Lo’s soft humming, Shihon’s mumbled talking…Kynane took a moment to gaze at her sleeping sisters, cuddling together in the bed in a massive puppy pile, before sliding out from under the covers as quietly she could. If this was happening in a holovid, this would be where they all woke up and comforted me, and helped to magically and permanently soothe my fears, she thought with a small smirk.

But just because I can’t sleep without seeing Sychar or those insane red eyes doesn’t mean I need to disturb their sleep if I can help it.

With that, she quietly made her way out from the bedroom, descended the stairs, and through the hallway into the holocron room. As she entered the room lit by the dozens of softly glowing, humming holocrons, Kynane walked to the end of the room and sat down on the carpet by the window, staring out into the never-ending rain of Kaas city. The movement tugged at the new skin on her back, and reminded her of why she had snuck down into the room to begin with.

How long until these nightmares end? I don’t want to dream of Sychar and my torture every time I sleep…I just want to put this behind me, to heal and get over this…Why is it so hard?

She softly sighed to herself at her thoughts.

Maybe it’s so much harder to bury it this time is because of…of the mental invasion.

Sychar’s mental violation had been brutal to endure, because not only was it raw agony to have someone your hated and feared rip through your mind, he had forced her to truly know her worst fears before using them against her. Kynane bit her lip as the thought of the invasion brought on flashes of phantom pain, the sensation of her head feeling like someone was trying to slowly drill a laser through her skull as fear/shame/humiliation/rage thundered across her mind while Sychar slowly prized her darkest secrets from her.

…And then, there was that…

The hallucination Sychar had so gleefully and cruelly forced on her had been the crowing humiliation of her captivity and the moment where she had truly felt despair for the third time in her life. The idea that her greatest and most visceral fear might have come true? That she had never made it off Nar Shaddaa and out of slavery?

Near the end, I don’t know what kept me going in the hallucination… All I could do was endure through the years as I was forced to perform as a pleasure slave.

And Kynane had tried many, many things to try and get out of her personal hell made real.

I couldn’t escape no matter how many times I murdered my clients, I snuck out past the guards, incited a rebellion, or convinced a client to ‘take me away from there.’ Each time, I failed, and failed miserably. I was caught, recaptured, betrayed, and put right back into chains. By the next day, I’d be forced back into hell.

I couldn’t fight back either, if I didn’t kill the client fast enough. And sometimes, no matter what I tried, I couldn’t kill them…and every time that happened, my muscles wouldn’t respond, my arms and legs went limp…and I’d have to lay there.

Kynane tasted blood as she broke through the skin of her lip.

And near the end…I found I couldn’t die either.

Idly, she mused that she had to be grateful that Sychar had, in the end, been too brutal and too cruel. The way he had flayed her mind open, the nature of his forced hallucination, and how she had finally clawed her way to freedom, had damaged her memories of those years days to the point she only knew the basic outline of what he had done to her…Well, what he had done to her mentally (barring from the fatal flaw that had finally given her a way out.)

He never should have tried to use all of my fears against me…But if he hadn’t tried to have the illusion of an insane Sith version of Rao do…that, would I have woken up?

She didn’t know, and frankly, Kynane didn’t want to know. It was bad enough to live with the trauma, the scars, and everything else Sychar had left behind; she didn’t need anything else on top of this. Something had a hand cautiously come up and cradle her throat as the image of the insane Sith version of her suitor reappeared in her mind.

“…You know, if you had asked one of us, we would have helped you.”

Not moving from her spot on the floor, but straightening up from the hunched position she didn’t remember taking, Kynane turned to face the cold and blank face of her most enigmatic sister; Palmira.

“I thought I was stealthy enough to not wake you. After all, just because I can’t sleep through the night doesn’t mean my sisters shouldn’t.”

A small smile crawled onto Palmira’s face, and she sank down to the floor to sit against Kynane, not hugging her, but allowing for her to lean against her. Kynane spared a moment to wonder if this was some sort of subtle statement before Palmira spoke.

“No need to worry, you were quite sneaky. And I don’t think Lo, Shihon, or Kyniska are to the point where they could detect you like they might otherwise.”

Kynane grimaced a moment, remembering why they wouldn’t have the capacity to sense her right now, before forcing herself to stop as a sharp jolt of pain ran through her lip.

“…Here, I may not be on the level of Kyniska, but I can heal your lip at least.”

She looked at Palmira, before nodding. She saw no reason to refuse her, and as Palmira traced a finger glowing faintly with Dark energy along her wounded lip, the skin knitted back together as the Dark healed her.

“Now, are you going to tell me why you snuck away, or are we going to sit here in silence all night?”

Kynane snorted and bumped against Palmira in a gentle reprimand.

“Oh, you know, just trying to rebury all the things Sychar unearthed, along with digging some new holes for all of my newest traumas.”

Palmira grew silent at that for quite a while, and just as Kynane thought she had perhaps convinced the Darth to leave her be, she spoke.

“…Kynane…You know, if you wanted, I could, or one of the others could…ease the process.”

Palmira stared into the darkness as the quiet offer rattled around in Kynane’s mind. She knew what her sister was offering, and it was tempting in a way few things had been in her life.

The idea of forgetting, of smoothing away the hurts he left…I want to take her offer. I want to say yes so badly, because I hate that he hurt me in ways I know won’t ever truly fade away. I hate how he used my own fears to construct my own personalized hell, that he made live through that hell for years, and that he used Rao against me in such a way. But…

“Palmira…Sister…Thank you for offering, but-”

“I didn’t hold out much hope that you’d actually take my offer you know.” Palmira cut in quietly, and Kynane leaned against her more heavily.

“There are some things you shouldn’t forget Palmira.” Kynane sighed and shuddered a little before moving on, “…I was forced to learn a lot about myself from him. And I can’t, shouldn’t, forget what I learned. Even if it hurts.”

“It’s entirely your choice. Though, if you should ever change your mind…”

Kynane nodded silently, and they sat together in silence for a time as rain ran down the window, lighting cracked, and thunder boomed through the night. With her sister by her side, and behind the protections of their home, she could almost forget; and that was good enough.

---

In the morning, Lo’ammi would find them curled up together on the carpet by the window, fast asleep. She wouldn’t say a word to either of them about how it looked like Palmira was trying to shelter Kynane from something as she hid in her arms.

[Kynane]

Interlude: Assassin Outclassin’

Warning: Blood, murder, assassination, etc. Rated R.

---

Kynane quietly took apart her blaster pistol, placing the parts onto the oil-stained cloth she had spread out on the Dejarik table earlier. She hadn’t done this in a while, just sitting on the couch in nothing but her t-shirt and boxer panties and doing her own weapons maintenance. She’d gotten too busy with all the excitement that suddenly entered her life when Ta had reached out and asked her to join up with a new company she had found. Though, she thought with a tiny smirk, she had few regrets over her decision to join.

The soft clicking noises coming from across the Dejarik table made Kynane look up to see a similarly clothed Ithra sprawled out lazily on the couch; though she had forgone the t-shirt for a simple breast band. The 7’4 crimson Zabrak was focused on her own collection of weaponry, and had laid out a wide variety next to her, each waiting for their own cleaning as she serviced her own blaster pistol.

Kynane had cleaned her blaster so many times by now she didn’t need to focus on it completely, so she smiled at her sister.

“So, couldn’t sleep either huh?”

Ithra chuckled lowly, unconsciously making it sound threatening. But – Kynane had to hold back a smirk – when you’re built like Ithra, you’re naturally menacing.

“Less that and more like Kyniska accidentally shocked me.”

Which was another way to say the Dark Healer was having nightmares regarding her past, but they’d all learned that Kyniska never wanted to ever acknowledge anything regarding her history. Perhaps not the best way to cope, but they respected her decision and let it be.

“Did you–?”

Ithra nodded as she frowned in concentration; there was some caked on gunk that looked almost glued to the piece she was cleaning.

“Yeah, I moved her to the guest bedroom and gave her a non-conducting body pillow to substitute for me. Didn’t even wake up.”

“Not hard when you could bench-press four of us at once without breaking a sweat Ithra.”

She grinned, but it was more like she was baring her teeth in challenge to Kynane.

“Come on sister, you know better than that. I could bench-press at least eight of you.”

Kynane put down her freshly cleaned and reassembled blaster with a smirk, and raised an eyebrow at Ithra.

“Really? You’re gonna claim you can lift that many of us?”

Ithra smirked and launched herself forwards from her sprawling position lighting quick, plucking a laughing Kynane from her seat. She stood up and held the helplessly giggling Miraluka in the crook of one arm, the other coming to rest cockily on her hip. She tilted her head down to grin smugly at Kynane,

“I can’t let this kind of challenge go Kynane, you know that. So now you’re gonna have to deal with all the grumpy Force users because we’re gonna go wake them up and–”

Ithra’s self-assured confidence came to a crashing halt along with Kynane’s giggles as they heard the soft tinkling crash of class in the bottom floor. Ithra silently placed Kynane back on her feet and began to reassemble her blaster while Kynane grabbed her own and several of the forgotten throwing knives Ithra had laid out on the couch.

“It sound like it came from the Pit,” Kynane whispered softly.

Ithra nodded as she finished reassembling her blaster, before she gave a quiet, rumbling agreement

“No time to get out armor, and we’ve got exhausted Force users upstairs. We’ll need to take care of this ourselves. Have you got your stealth generator?”

Kynane nodded. She tended to keep the thing close at hand at all times. You never knew when you would need to go unseen after all.

“Then I want you to put your sessions with Shihon to good use. Stealth in, pick out one, isolate ‘em, and cut their throat. Rinse and repeat. I’ll try and do the same, but since I don’t have a generator, be ready for blaster fire.”

Kynane nodded and removed the t-shirt she had been wearing. It was loose fitting, and it could give her away with the noise it made. She looked at Ithra’s breast band enviously before resigning herself to killing intruders in nothing but her boxer panties. Another story nobody back in Republic space is going to believe, she thought before she turned on her generator.

Quietly she padded out of the room, thankful that there was no noisy doors to worry about.

The hallway was dark, only the ambient glow of the Dromund Kaas lights coming in through the windows dimly, but Kynane wasn’t hampered by a lack of light when she could See. There were five intruders lingering down in the quasi basement they jokingly called the Pit, obviously exploring around in search of a panel or wiring they could then use to slice into the security network. She smiled grimly. There was no such spot in the Pit.

She stalked her way to the door leading into the Pit, noting that they had already wrenched it open. A quick inspection of the door revealed it was broken. It wouldn’t close again, or make any sounds aside from some sparking from the crushed wiring, until some extensive repairs were done to it.

It was a boon, because now she could sneak in without any worry of the door giving her away. Kynane’s dead grin only widened, since this meant she wasn’t dealing with the crème de la crème the galaxy had to offer for such operations.

Silently, slowly, she made her way down the stairs, and selected her target. He was in one of the corners of the room, prying at the walls in a futile attempt to find a seam, and not paying a lot of attention to his surroundings due to the obvious frustration on his face. He was a tall humanoid, so she was grateful he had crouched down, making her next move easier on her. She striked, quick as a viper, one hand coming to muffle any sound he could make while the other used a vibroknife to cut through his neck. Kynane ignored the blood, waiting until he could no longer make so much as a dying gurgle, before gently and carefully lowering him to the floor.

She looked at the four remaining intruders, checking to see if any of them had noticed. They hadn’t. And as she watched, Ithra slit the neck of a female intruder that had chosen the corner right across from her. She couldn’t hear anything from Ithra’s corner, which meant the Hunter must have been taking some lessons from Shihon at some point, or she’d taken the kinds of bounties at some point that would teach that kind of skill.

Two down, two to go, and one to incapacitate.

She idly noted that Ithra was gently lowering the newest corpse to the floor as she examined the three remaining intruders. They were all either very close to the windows, or were standing right in front of the broken window dramatically. She immediately assumed that the one standing there uselessly like a dramatic dimwit was the ringleader. And since the alien of indeterminate gender was positively glowing with the Light side of the Force…Fuck me running, we’ve got a Jedi assassin on our hands. But who’re they here for? Lo’ammi? Palmira? Maybe even Rieubane or Kyniska?

There was no way to tell without interrogating the Jedi just who he was here for, since there was any number of good reasons for him to be here for any of their sisters. Hell, he could even be here for all of them. Either way, she’d need to inform Ithra about this complication.

Kynane slunk over to Ithra just as silently as before, carefully getting her attention with some Imperial ops sign language that Shihon was definitely not supposed to have shown them. She looked again at the trio, but thankfully the Jedi hadn’t brought along any other Force users but themself.

Jedi, twelve o’clock, assassin, she signed to Ithra.

One Jedi? Ithra grimaced.

Yes. One Jedi. Two assassins. SIS? Kynane shrugged. It was likely they were SIS, but, they might not be.

Ithra made a crude sign at the mention of SIS before shrugging, Lure, ambush, kill SIS, attack Jedi. Standard Jedi pattern.

Which meant she was to get the lightsaber away from the Jedi while Ithra used her Zabrak strength to rattle the alien’s brain hard enough to prevent any Force use. Without a lightsaber and a severe concussion, the Jedi would be hard pressed to fight back in the traditional ways. And if it got dicey, she knew to go for the hands. Not many Force users could use the Force without a physical gesture. Plus, the agony of a severed hand that wouldn’t stop bleeding…

She gave her sister a quick Acknowledged sign before slinking off back to her side, stalking her new target. The woman was close to a window, which meant she would have to watch for her shadow, but she seemed no more paranoid than the man she’d just killed.

You’d think they’d be more keyed up when breaking into the house of two Darths and two Lords…Not to mention the rest of us that come and go, she thought very, very softly.

It took her longer to get into position, due to the caution she had to take in order to avoid casting a shadow. (Stealth generators worked wonders, but they couldn’t conceal shadows.) She then carefully reached out and scratched a nail along the wall. It made a soft scritch noise, one soft enough to gain the woman’s attention, but avoid the attention of the Jedi.

Now alert and wary, the woman cautiously moved away from the window and to where Kynane had made the noise. But she had already moved by the time the woman got to her former spot, carefully making a calculated scuff noise to draw her further into the shadows. The woman frowned harshly, her expression like someone had left something rotten on her foot, but she slunk forwards as she drew her own vibro from its sheath. Kynane was just grateful the woman had picked a blade instead of a knife, ignoring what that choice meant, since that would be easier to deal with that a knife.

Carefully, she padded around the advancing woman, positioning herself for another take down from behind. As soon as she judged the woman to be far enough from the Jedi, she struck, wrapping one hand firmly around her mouth and bringing the other towards her neck. The woman, alert from being lured into the ambush, fought against her hold unlike the man before her. The hand holding her blade came backwards to try and jam into Kynane’s gut while her free hand attempted to savagely rip off the palm covering her mouth. Kynane took the blow to the gut without a sound, tightened her hand around the woman’s mouth, and awkwardly drove her knife into the side of the woman’s neck.

It wasn’t a clean blow and wasn’t very deep, but it panicked the woman as her blood began to seep from her neck, allowing Kynane to finish the job by savagely sawing through the rest of her neck. The woman continued struggling throughout the whole thing, her writhing making it extremely difficult to keep her quiet, but she managed to keep her from making any sounds aside from the random splats caused by the blood that fell to the ground due to her struggles. Unfortunately, I’m now pretty covered in blood. If this alien has a good sense of smell…

Kynane waited a little longer than usual, making sure the stubborn woman was well and truly dead, before gently lowering her corpse to the ground. The ugly throat wound was still gushing, but Kynane judged it wouldn’t cause any gurgling from escaping air, so she left it and the corpse be and began to retrace her steps.

A quick glance with her sight told her that Ithra had had no trouble with her own target, her titanic strength giving her a substantial advantage over what Kynane could bring to bear. I’m going to catch so much flak from Shihon and Ithra over the fact I got drenched in blood.

Just as she and Ithra got into position, the Jedi spoke.

“Come out and face me Sith, unless you are afraid to face a true Shadow.”

Kynane nearly paused for a moment, because, did the Jedi really think they were Sith? She chalked it up to shitty senses, or an inability to think that non-Force users could accomplish these kinds of feats.

“I can smell you Sith. You reek of blood. Tell me, did you enjoy slaughtering my team while I kept the other residents of this household asleep?”

Well, that explains why our sisters didn’t wake up as soon as he set foot in here. He’s been busy keeping them asleep, probably trusting his team to go murder them while he kept them under.

The Jedi turned around, putting his back to the broken window, looking for them with his eyes as if he expected them to dramatically emerge from the shadows to monologue at him. Well, Kynane sure as hell wouldn’t oblige him.

Carefully, she snuck closer and closer, and just as her fingers touched the hilt of his lightsaber, he whirled dramatically as he grabbed her wrist with crushing force. Grimacing as she felt her bones ache and her stealth field whine, she brought her other hand up and cut the lightsaber away from the Jedi’s robes as her stealth generator failed. She then kicked the saber right through the broken window with all her might while the Jedi stared at her nearly naked, blood covered self with shock.

“You’re not a Sith –” was all they managed to say before the butt of Ithra’s vibroknife hit their skull with the might of a murderously enraged 7’4 Zabrak. The Jedi crumpled like a wet flimplast, and from upstairs they could hear the faint howl of incandescently murderous Sith waking up while their minds filled with oceans of fury and bloodlust.
Ithra pried the Jedi’s hand off Kynane with a dark smirk.

“Getting rusty sister. That Jedi smelt you coming. Shihon’s gonna throw your ass right back into training after this.”

Kynane smiled at her sister fondly, but also with a bit of exasperation because she was right. Shihon was going to have a fit over the fact she’d given herself away like that.

“Though, maybe we should try and clean up a little so they don’t think this blood is ours ya know?”

Ithra gestured to their bloody selves, and smiled as Kynane nodded with a wiry smirk.

“Yeah. We do want the Jedi alive for interrogation after all. Come on, I’m sure we can find some clean clothes upstairs…”

[Kynane]

Warning: Blood, murder, blackmailing, political corruption, etc.

Interlude: Reflections

Kynane sits in her comfortable chair, looking blankly at the ridiculously well stocked bar she had on her ship.

Every conceivable alcohol drink is there in plain sight, gleaming bottles glinting temptingly from behind a thin force field she’d been forced to erect after a bad dogfight had seen her entire stock on the floor from her evasions. The more exotic ones are locked safely away beneath the bar counter, where there’s less chance they’ll Do Something. Her own concoctions aren’t there, but that’s because she refuses to stock any of it to help limit recipe theft. The ingredients to make her drinks are there, and that’s all that matters.

She’s pretty sure the mere sight of this would be enough to label her as either a severe alcoholic or absolutely crazed about collecting alcohol.

Kynane keeps staring at the gleaming bottles, wondering if she should just try and drink her problems away (a considerable and lengthy endeavor.) A faint voice, which sounds suspiciously like Palmira, murmurs in her mind “This will not let you forget. You made a choice, and now you must live with it.”

She frowns. Palmira, for all her otherworldliness and everything else, knows about choices and Choices. And Kynane had pressed her sister, demanded that she show her a happy future, a perfect future. She had warned her, “Whatever closure you seek to find in a neverborn future isn’t there. All it will do is hurt you.”

It had done exactly that: hurt her in a way she hadn’t known she could hurt. The pain of chances lost before she ever had them to begin with, of paths walked that she had turned away from, of loves she had never met. Her heart ached and burned for the things she had seen, greedy for the happiness, love, and contentment other people named Kynane had had.

---

She was a farmer on a world that had never achieved space-flight, growing fruits that she had never seen before. She had eyes, long red hair that curled into ringlets, and a heart that had never known darkness or adventure. That woman never went more than a hundred miles from her farm, had loved and wedded a man she had known since she was small, and was utterly happy. She lived a simple life, known simple things, but she had known of a kind of happiness Kynane ached to have.

She was a Jedi, fighting a war that she, the Order, the Republic was losing. Where had this Empire come from? Why were they attacking? Why were they so cruel? She had no hair after she had to cut herself free from an enemy trooper, no eyes, and had no answers to the questions that her heart wept with. The simple happiness, love, and joy the farmer had known wasn’t hers, but she had purpose. She had a cause she would die for, something greater than herself that she deemed worth it all. And she had a padawan. So tiny, so young. She watched them grow, taught them all she knew, and loved them in a way that broke the Code into tiny pieces.

She could have died for so many things, but she went down beneath a pile of Sith, smiling with a fierce kind of joy she had never known before. Her padawan would live another day. That was enough.

Kynane burned to know she could have been that woman, so strange and different, yet the core of them still matched. She had died for the child she never had, never acknowledged. She had been a Jedi, bound to a backbreaking Code she had believed in, yet so full of sadness, duty, and at the last, love. So different, not someone she would chose to be, yet someone she could be.

She was a Sith, teaching lessons to young, eager, stupid acolytes about philosophy and the Sith Code. The Code was born to people who had wanted to be freed from their shackles, to know no oppression for being themselves. There was so much more to be had as a Sith, if only they would look beyond the Force Lightning and the Force Choking to see that here lay the way to freedom.

Hate the Jedi, for they were the enemy who would burn them from the galaxy for existing, who’d tried to murder them all and would do so again, do so properly, if they let them. Hate the Republic, for it is corrupt, drowning in its own bureaucracy and corruption as the Senate asphyxiated beneath the weight of their greed. But hate their own people? No. Unable to touch and hear the Force or not, their own were their own.

Being Sith gave them no excuse to act like monsters to their own.

She was radical, red hair billowing out behind her as she orated passionately to the acolytes, burning yellow eyes scorching them with her passion as she looked to see who listened and who agreed. Red skin burned with frustrated anger, for there was always too few that listened, and fewer that agreed. She went to her quarters and kissed her beloved wife with all the anguished, frustrated rage that her students inspired in her. She knew love, she knew freedom, she knew power, yet she was the sea attempting to march against the sun.

She died at the hands of a young, stupid Lordling when she stood between the madman and the military squad that did not deserve to die. She lived long enough to watch her wife scream out her name as she beheaded the man, long enough to see her final student, a tall, muscled male coldly behead the ones who tried to attack her wife, and then died.

Kynane alternatively burned and ached for the woman she had never been. She had truly known freedom in a way Kynane envied, and yet had sacrificed it in the name of trying to make things better in her own way. She wasn’t someone Kynane understood, but could admire and envy.

Kynane gets the impression of a great, unending swath of gray fading into cruel black before she is gently shepherded away from it. It is only a momentary sight, a fraction of a fraction of a second, but it stays with her in the way that horrific things have a nasty habit of doing; does her existence go down the path of tragedy that often?

He was a Senator of a Core World, smiling like the serpent beneath the flower that he was. He shook the hand of the man he hated, congratulating him on his successful bill, a victory that he would neither forget nor forgive. That man was handsome, with a happy family, a successful career in something that came to him effortlessly due to his charisma. What had that man suffered in his soft, generous life? Beneath his smile and pretty words, fire licked at his heart and at his mind, schemes brewing on how to pull the strings just so that he was ruined utterly.

Dull brown eyes flashed with expertly faked happiness before he slithered away to the corners where the real powers were getting flushed with drink.

He carefully, artfully, moved dull red hair away from his eyes before extending a dull tanned hand to a woman he knew to have cheated on her husband with at least 2 different mistresses. She had a drinking problem, but oh, did she know how to cover it up with makeup and lies. She was weak in so many ways, and she would never see how he pried into her cracks with all the indifferent contempt of roots burrowing into pavement. By the time the wine and the women were cleared from her head enough to see the snake he was, she would be his in every way. She would help him climb the ladder of power and she would do so with a smile, least her secrets spill from her like a leaking sieve.

He went home to his husband, kissed him on the cheek, and watched as the man who had no name, no record, smile and walk out in a dress that flattered his figure in ways that made him wish that either one of them would tell the other to stay. But neither of them were that kind of man, so he went to his office room and began to compile a mental list of upcoming bribes he would need to prepare.

He left a trail of ruin in his wake, though careful to never let it touch his own scales. He slithered his way to the top, and then, at the last step before he could ascend for one last time to the position of Chancellor, he died. Murdered in his own bed, in his sleep, next to a husband he had kissed goodnight and never saw again.

Kynane did not like the man she never was. He was too close to a culmination of all of her darker impulses with none of the restraint that she had. He wrecked bloody revenge for the most minor of slights, had been breathtakingly cruel, and had painted a picture of such political intrigue and corruption she wondered how he had gotten so far looking so clean.

So much darkness. He was power and ambition, wrapped up in a cruel, jagged bow of ruthlessness. There’d been no line he hadn’t been willing to cross to see his dreams made real, no low he wouldn’t dive stoop to with eagerness. He was evil, if not the kind of evil she tended to face. And yet…she ached for him, for his potential and ambitions left unfilled; for the husband he left behind. For all that they were both terrible, terrible people, they had been villains with lives and loves. They’d loved each other in their own way, for whatever that was worth.

And at the last, she was herself; bright red hair cut into a bob, purple clothes, no eyes, pale skin. Yet she wasn’t. She had never known slavery, never been abandoned by whomever her parents are. She had always known love, known freedom, known family. She stumbled and fell, but it was never to the extent of herself. No insane Sith. No Mandolorians.

She managed to stitch together her family together again somehow, even without their pasts bringing them together by chance and happenstance. Her sisters knew no true tragedy, beyond that of Palmira’s ancient one that made her into Palmira. Happiness and adventure walked hand-in-hand, and they were all so happy it hurt.

Her throat closed in choked sobs as she eventually came across her friends, and if she could truly cry, she would have cried an ocean. Just as with her sisters, her friends knew no true tragedy either. Oh, what would she give to see them all so happy and smiling like that? What wouldn’t she?

She was so utterly, wretchedly happy. Blissfully in love with a man who she’d never mourn, content in her friends and family’s happiness, and with a heart so big and full it was a wonder she didn’t burst from it. It was impossibly perfect, so lovely and terrible in its heartrending happiness. She had never felt such despair as she did in that moment.

Palmira had been right. There was no closure to be found in the happiness of these people she had never been, and she had only wounded herself deeply by seeing perfection that she could never, ever achieve.[/u]

---

She had been, yet not been, such disparate people. They had ranged across the spectrum of good and evil, male and female, Force sensitive and not. Yet they’d all achieved their own personal kind of happiness, even if their happiness had not been perfect or long-lived. Love had been there too, if not always the kind of love she’d seek out for herself.

Then there was the endless swath that she had almost not seen. It had been a horrible sight. And it was a even more horrible thing to thus know in utter certainty, that for the infinite capacity for love, happiness, and joy your life can hold, there is a counterbalance of infinite hatred, despair, and tragedy.

The bottles gleamed, indifferent to the revelations and pain she had taken for herself.

This could change her, if she let it. This could change her to the point she’d be unrecognizable to the people who knew her. She could allow this to spit on the scraps of happiness, love, joy, and purpose she had hoarded to herself, to demean the people she loved and her accomplishments.

She was not as happy as the farmer or the perfection. She was not as successful or as ambitious as the Senator. She knew of no purpose like the Jedi had. She wasn’t as free as the Sith had been, nor could she sacrifice what freedom she did have in the name of bettering other as she had.

She was their lesser in so many ways.

But. She was herself. She was Kynane.

Just as they were her superiors, so was she theirs. Their weaknesses tended to be her strengths, and not one of them had ever become a medic. She was utterly imperfect person, but so were they. Not even the perfection had been a perfect person. She had only had perfect happiness, which was different.

A smile slowly grew on her face, and the bottles reflected a near infinite number of smiles. It almost was like those Kynanes were smiling back at her.

[Kynane]

Warning: mentions of Hell, damnation, spiders, blood, some gore, etc.

Interlude: Through the Mirror

PT 1

Kynane sat on the dainty, ornately wrought white chair, sipping at the tea in her fine teacup. It had patterns of shattered infinity symbols delicately etched into its bone white surface with gold.

She sighed, feeling the constraint of the steel-boned corset hug her ribcage tighter at the motion. Kynane then looked across to her sister, “Palmira. Why are we dressed like this?”

She gestured to the long deep purple gown she had on. High necked, with sleeves that came to her wrists, and a hem that touched the floor. It was made of superb silk, and its fit was so close it was like it had been spun onto her body. Lovely as it was, it was decidedly old-fashioned and not something she would usually wear.

Palmira looked up from where she had impaled her blood red heel through a dog-sized spider’s thorax. It chittered so shrilly it was like it was screaming, and next to it was a glassy eye that was lightly covered in blood. The spider had been carrying the eye, scurrying towards the large mirror that was to the right of the tea table, before Palmira had scowled and leapt into action.

Palmira shrugged in an inhumanly fluid motion, and Kynane didn’t pay much attention to the inhumanity besides note Palmira felt comfortable enough here to not watch her movement so closely. “We’re in your dream Kynane. It’d be better to ask yourself why you have us in Victorian dresses made of spider silk while taking tea from a china set with the theme of ‘eternity broken.’”

Kynane took a sip of her head and nodded, understanding washing over her like someone had turned on a faucet of cold water right over her head.

“So what brings you to my dreams Palmira? Usually you’ll contact us via other means. I think you said you got sick of Kyniska’s constant dreams of riding the storm?”

Palmira frowned, lifted her heel, and slammed it into the shrilling spider’s head, ending the wretched creature once and for all. The eye stared at her sightlessly, the green iris glistening like it was about to start crying. Palmira ignored it and walked back to her chair, a heavy wrought throne of black marble.

“Trust me sister, there’s only so many times where I can deal playing in electrical typhoons before it gets old. Kyniska’s adoration of Force Lightning can be a little much to deal with in the waking world, let alone the dreaming.”

Kynane shrugged and poured Palmira another cup of tea, which she brought to her with a casual display of telekinesis. Black silk moved with her appreciative inhale like some sort of living, liquid shadow.

“Ahh. Even in dreams, your drinks are my favorite Kynane. Don’t tell Rieubane?”

Kynane smiled into eyes so green they were black. Palmira’s adoration of Rieubane was always sweet to see.

“Never sister. So, what was that spider? It almost seemed like your recognized it.”

Palmira grimaced, as she sipped at her tea.

“That was a Sorrow Spider. They can travel through mirrors, and harvest eyes from living humanoids while they sleep in order to hatch their young. Though they’re opportunistic and vicious enough to attack anyone, at any time, if given the chance. It was bad luck that this dream had a mirror in it.”

Kynane shuddered, the purple silk rippling with the motion like waves from a tossed stone.

“Not that I was protesting you killing a spider before that little revelation, I’m even happier you did so now.”

“What’s curious is that the Bazaar has drifted close enough to allow the nasty little abominations to cross into this plane…”

Palmira looked contemplative, and gave the mirror a speculative look.

“Kynane…How would you like to come with me to the Bazaar? I don’t know when it’ll come close enough to us to cross over so easily after tonight.”

Kynane tilted her head in curiosity, the longer half of her bob tilting away from her face to hang freely.

“I’m dreaming Palmira. You’re dreaming. How’re we supposed to go anywhere? And what about our bodies? I don’t wanna go, then wake up and find I’ve been in a coma for a while.”

Palmira waved her hand, a black lace glove appearing on it midway through the motion.

“You’re thinking too three-dimensionally. We’d have to somehow die in the Bazaar to be in trouble. We could go for a week and wake up with us having slept for 12 hours. And that’s only if we really tarry there.”

Kynane sipped at her tea, thinking. She was probably not technically sound of mind at the moment, since they were in her dream. Dreams didn’t really follow any sort of rules besides whatever insanity the brain had cooked up for that night. She was pretty sure she’d been a Sith princess in a dream once.

---

She’d been locked in a pyramid of Korriban, and inside she had been placed at the center of a great labyrinth, which was guarded by a ferocious looking Alchemical beast. She didn’t understand why she had been locked in the dark, but at least she had had company in the form of Zyr.

“Zyr? It’s so dark…Why isn’t there any light?”

“…I’m not a monster when I can’t be touched by any light.”

She knew people came to try and steal her away from the beast that guarded her. She heard their footsteps echo in the silence, saw their lights sear through the darkness and cause her eyes to fill with tears.

It was hard to care for them when she could hear them plan how they’d use her and their ensuing fame. It was harder still when she could hear them boast of their cruel desires, how they’d bring her down to their level, how she would fall to her knees and worship at their feet “like the bitch she was.”

For some reason, she found it very hard to mourn for them when she heard the beast find them.

During these times, Zyr was never there to keep her company. The light frightened him away, and nothing she would do could ease his abhorrence of the light. It was so lonely in the dark, waiting for him to return and slip his hand into hers. She missed him, worried he’d run afoul of the beast, and told him so each time when he returned. She didn’t understand why his breath would always hitch with a held-back sob when she spoke of her fear the beast would kill her only companion.

It wasn’t until they were caught one day walking the labyrinth together, hand in hand so as not to lose each other in the dark, that she discovered by Zyr feared the light. The woman’s bright flood light turned on so suddenly and so powerfully, she feared she would be blinded. She turned her head away, and froze halfway through the motion as she caught sight of the man she had never seen before; Zyr. But before her eyes he was transforming into something monstrous.

Something in her mind went click as the pieces of the puzzle she never knew she was trying to complete snapped into place and formed a picture. The beast was attracted by light and sound, but by light primarily. Zyr abhorred light. Zyr was never around once there was intruders, and the beast was on the prowl. The beast never showed itself once while Zyr was near her. Zyr was changing before her eyes. Conclusion: Zyr was the beast.

As soon as she had that revelation, the woman grabbed her with a cruel smile and tried to shove her behind her.

“Stay back pretty princess. I want my ticket to my kingdom safe.”

She looked between the woman and the monster before her and made up her mind.

“Zyr! Help me!”

She began to struggle to get free of the woman, and Zyr pulled himself up from his defeated position to give the woman a bloodcurdling growl. As he stepped forward, mangled, monstrous words clawed their way from his throat.

“lET. Her. gO.”

The woman laughed, shrilly with incredulity, and ignited her pink saber.

“I don’t know what you’ve done to the princess Monster, but my ticket is going to be leaving with me!”

“Zyr’s not a monster!” She screamed before biting the woman’s arm as hard as she could. She tasted blood before she felt the hilt of the woman’s lightsaber hit her in the head, knocking her away and to the floor.

“Little bitch! I will-”

Whatever she was going to say was drowned out by a frankly horrifying scream of rage coming from Zyr. There was a blur of movement and they were moving too fast for her spinning vision to keep up. All she knew was that the woman’s light was smashed to pieces soon enough, and Zyr’s hands helped her up.

She was forced to lean on him for support since the blow had destroyed her balance, and she could feel him tremble in fear. She rested her head over his heart and heard it pound, quickly, like a rabbit racing away from a hawk. His breaths came hard and hitched, like he had overexerted himself and now was about to start sobbing.

“…Zyr?”

“Yes?” His voice cracked as he made it into a question, and she buried her face into his chest.

“Why did you never tell me?”

“…I can’t leave. If I’m exposed to light…I’ve been here so long, guarded so many… They all knew what I was, so they never talked to me. They just put up lights everywhere so I couldn’t come near them without becoming…that.
You were the first to not know about me; what I am. I couldn’t give it up…And I knew eventually there would come someone who could put me down long enough to take you. I wanted as many happy memories as I could have, before that option was closed to me. It was selfish and wrong to hold secrets from you…We were friends. You didn’t deserve it.”

She wrapped her arms around his shaking body, and thought about it. His one lie, versus being locked into an everdark pyramid for years. His one lie, versus his honest care and companionship. His one lie, versus their friendship.

“…Zyr. Let’s go back.”

He wrapped his hand around hers and she didn’t say anything about his tears.

She had made her choice.

---

The memory of the dream faded away, and Kynane came back to the tea-set to find Palmira staring at her curiously.

“Palmira?”

“You saw something…I suppose it’s a consequence of your little request. Hold onto it. If you share it with the Bazaar, our fee will be practically nothing.”

She smirked at her sister. “I haven’t even said whether or not I’d go.”

Palmira smirked back.

“Don’t try to kid me Kynane. I know you. You’ll come. You can’t resist.”

She mocked sighed at Palmira, ignoring the slightly smug edge her smirk took on.

“You do know me well. So! How’re we doing this?”

Palmira stood straight from her hunched position from when she had been observing Kynane, and helped her up.

“We’re going to use the mirror. The Sorrow Spider wasn’t wrong about it leading back to the Bazaar.”

The eye gleamed sightlessly at them.

Palmira boldly moved forward, keeping hold of Kynane’s hand, and made her way towards the mirror. Kynane trailed along, watching as the dream turned into black shadows that sucked at her feet. The dream was trying to prevent her from leaving, but Palmira’s firm grip helped to keep her moving quick enough to avoid entrapment.

The mirror gleamed radiantly, and without another word, Palmira stepped through. Kynane followed without hesitation.

The dream collapsed into nothingness around them, and the mirror winked out after the trailing hem of Kynane’s silk dress crossed the threshold.

---

When they exit the mirror, they find themselves beneath a great silver tree. Kynane peers around, taking in their surroundings.

The silver tree is no tree, but rather a fountain, and it sits right in front of a ruined palace. The palace is constructed rather primitively, compared to what she’s seen of Alderaan and Naboo, and there are many stone statues of what appear to be warrior-kings lining the many dead roads. She turns to regard the silver tree better. It is beautiful, a work of art, but it makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“…So Karakorum Fell after all.”

She looked to her sister with mild curiosity, “Palmira?”

She blinked green-black eyes, before smiling. “It’s been a while since the Bazaar has come close enough for a journey to it. Come on, I know how to get us out of here. We need to make for the Bazaar. And maybe stop by the Embassy afterwards. I need to make sure some souls have ended up in Hell as is proper.”

Kynane held her sister’s hand and walked beside her, taking in the ruined city as they walked. “So…What’s this about Hell?”

Green-black eyes crinkled in a pleased smile, “Caught that did you?”

Kynane nodded, “Kinda hard to miss. Wanna explain?”

Palmira hummed, and the shadows around them rippled away from the sound. Kynane eyed them cautiously, before turning back to Palmira.

“Well, you see, Hell does exist. I can’t say whether or not Hell has access to our universe, since the Force tends to reabsorb souls from what I can tell, which means souls can’t go on to the ‘standard’ afterlifes. But, the Bazaar always has an Embassy from Hell somewhere. And once there, I can squeeze the devils to get the information I want.”

Kynane noted that they had gotten out of the ruined city rather quickly as they entered into a different area. Far too quickly for just walking. She could see a giant, incredibly old fashioned clock tower ahead, along with jutting spires that were covered in some sort of sigil-based language that made her brain hurt.

“You know Palmira, that’s…huge. There’s an actual Hell. Like, wow.”

Palmira shrugged. “Yes, there is a Hell. But it’s not our Hell. Very important distinction. Though…just because this Hell isn’t ours, doesn’t mean they can’t take your soul if you sign one of their contracts. So. Don’t sign away your soul.”

The clack-clack of their heels struck the cobblestone – actual cobblestone, stars – and Kynane sighed at Palmira. “You really think I’d sign away my soul to Hell? Do I look insane? No way. I like my soul nice and unburnt thanks.”

“They tend to prefer stuffing them into bottles to preserve them for later consumption if I remember right.”

“…I can’t decide if that’d be worse than eternal torture or not.”

“Lucky for you, we’ve arrived and you don’t have to think about it anymore.”

[Kynane]

PT 2

---

And arrived they had. The spires twisted above them, and Kynane could almost…feel…a presence? A hunger? It was magnitudes larger than anything had a right to be, which reminded her of Palmira, so she quickly started ignoring it. They entered into the Spires, and the humans that stood guard parted before Palmira like drunks from a death-metal parade float. Fear was stark in their eyes, as was their fascinated curiosity when they saw her walking beside her, a purple flame next to her shadows.

They were ushered in to see a hunched bipedal figure in a hooded cloak that concealed their entire body (though Kynane spotted on it what looked like…ink stains?) It had lights were Kynane supposed its eyes were (bioluminescent?) and had a strangely high-pitched voice for such a large being, which paired with its ridiculous speech pattern made it a little difficult for Kynane to follow.

Palmira grinned in that way she did when she was about to rip her economists a new one, and purred, “I trust you remember me. What name do you go by now?”

Kynane caught, “Mr. Pages” before she let her gaze wander over the vast collection of real, paper-made books. What an exorbitant luxury. Though if the local tech is any indication, paper may not be so expensive here…

Her attention was recaptured when Palmira tugged on her hand.

“Here, can you copy down that dream-memory please Kynane? It’ll pay for our stay here.”

Kynanr nodded and Mr. Pages eagerly gave her paper and a pen and ushered her to get to writing. Wow this is weird. Interesting though, she thought. It took her a bit to get used to the ink (“Damnit! Not the dress!” “Don’t worry Kynane, spider-silk won’t stain that easily.”) and how to write with this kind of pen, but Mr. Pages actually had quite a few excellent tips on how to use the thing. With their help, Kynane finished copying down the story relatively quickly.

Palmira looked torn between exasperated amusement and fond pride as Kynane caught her staring at the two of them, and Mr. Pages was already reading what she had wrote.

They took the being’s preoccupation as a sign to leave, and after Palmira asked the terrified humans where Hell’s Embassy was (though it was referred to as the Brass Embassy here,) they walked off holding hands again. Kynane didn’t mind the shepherding Palmira was doing, since she was far out of her depth at the moment. And she really just wanted to take in the sights, which Palmira was allowing her to do safely while she kept on alert.

The underground city was very strange. There were differently dressed men and women wandering around with brass and red eyes, some sort of squid-people wurbbling at Palmira (she ignored it,) and a whole host of other strange things. I can kinda understand why she might imply I’d want to stay here a week. It’s all very interesting, and I definitely want to come back if possible.

The crowds thinned out the closer they got to the Brass Embassy, and Kynane could see why. Those differently dressed men and women were looking rather inhuman the longer she stared, and more of them appeared the closer they moved to the Embassy. Plus it was getting sort of hot.

“Devils aren’t nearly as subtle as they think they are.”

Kynane looked to Palmira and arched an eyebrow. She gestured to the many inhuman men and women.

“Devils, all of them. And they’re all so fired up because you and I are making a visit.”

Kynane looked at them again, and noticed that each man and woman had a nice set of fangs to offset their inhuman eyes.

“Huh. They look rather…civilized for devils.”

Palmira nodded, her eyes focused on the brass building they were approaching.

“Hell eventually figured out that people would be more willing to sell their soul if they weren’t terrified out of their wits by the mere sight of a devil. So they learned manners and how to play at being human. And they are very good at manners and courtesy, so long as they’re still playing nice with you. Much better than the majority of humans I’ve met.”

Kynane snickered at how wry that last bit came out, and after that, they were at the brass doors. They were both ushered in with haste and politeness, and Kynane again took the moment to take in the sights. The aesthetics of devils appeared to run on the theme of beautiful and terrifying.

Judging by the paintings on show in the public area of the Embassy that they were in, devils’ tastes run to the baroque, the overblown, the grandiose. Equestrian portraits, dramatic against roiling skies. Storm-tossed seas. Mythical men and beasts in combat. Ladies with elaborate hairstyles and gleaming teeth.

In short, it was kinda what Kynane had been expecting. But also not. There wasn’t any artwork of torture or damnation, or anything like that. Which she expected to see some of, or at least subtle hints of. The devils seemed to appreciate that she was appreciating the décor though, which Kynane supposed couldn’t hurt.

After she concluded her little perusal of the public area, an older looking devil came and escorted them to a private room. Here was where the devil demonstrated the manners Palmira had praised. He pulled out their chairs and pushed them in once they were seated. He fetched them drink and refreshment, sipping the tea and passing the bread, butter, and salt to them. Kynane thought she recognized aspects of some old hospitality ritual here, with the bread and the salt. It caused her to wonder just how old the elderly looking man was.

Once the pleasantries were out of the way, Palmira and the devil set to business. Palmira stated what she wanted, the devil quoted what she obviously found to be an outrageous price. That’s when they set to haggling.

Kynane kept an ear to the argument, but there was little she could contribute when she started hearing talk about things like “Storm Threnodies.” So she gazed at the exquisitely detailed embroideries decorating the walls. The subjects were often pastoral, the colors muted but rich, and there were also many wonderfully complex abstract patterns.

As she looked more closely at some of the abstract patterns, they started to swim before her Sight. Threads coiled and merged in upsetting ways. She gets the impression there are terrible secrets encoded in these gorgeous textiles.

By the time she can rip her gaze away from the embroideries, the deal has been sealed and the devil is leaving to go investigate. Palmira tucks a copy of the red-inked contract into her sleeve, somehow, and turns to her with a victorious smile.

“He’s a very good negotiator, but he’s never had to negotiate with someone like me. Hell will be cursing the fact that none of the devils that have dealt with me previously are on staff here at the Embassy.”

Her green-black eyes sparkled and Kynane grinned at her.

“They should’ve known better. If it’s got to do with any form of currency, you are indomitable Palmira.”

Her eyes light up with genuine pleasure at the compliment and Kynane tucks the moment away. Palmira is rarely so lively and open. All too often she’s cold and terrifying, so she’ll enjoy this side of her sister while she can.

Of course, that’s when the devil comes back with bad news. Those souls Palmira wanted to know about are neither in Hell nor are they in the local soul trade. She frowns harshly, and the devil shudders slightly before regaining his composure.

“Where is your closest full-body mirror?”

The devil obviously doesn’t want to show them, but he doesn’t have the power or the spine to deny Palmira. They stand and leave the room, but Kynane grabs Palmira’s hand this time.

The mirror the devil shows them is beautifully framed in brass, and it ripples as Palmira strides boldly at it. Kynane only has a moment to catch the flabbergasted look on the devil’s face before she enters the mirror, but it was totally worth it.

---

Kynane wakes up, and spends one second wondering if she hadn’t had a very strange dream. Then, she feels her ribs ache from the corset she is wearing.

[Kynane]

Warning: Devils, hell, etc.

Interlude: Permission to Enter

---

Clang clang clang.

If she had eyes Kynane would’ve blinked at the polite sounding clangs. But since clanging noises were never good on a space-ship that was sitting in space, Kynane pushed the covers off her bed and got up. She grumbled as she toed on her boots, not bothering to change out of her Credit sign patterned cotton pajamas.

It was too damn early to put on actual clothes according to her body clock, and she could always wash her pajamas if they got dirty while fixing something.

Blearily, she shuffled off to the cockpit to check the monitors. As she entered the room, she quickly eyed each panel and monitor, looking for error reports or alerts; there wasn’t any. She frowned as the clanging started up again; three precise, polite knocks before stopping. It was the exact same sound that had woken her up, and it sounded far too deliberate to be anything but the actions of a sentient.

“Computer, pull up the security cameras on the largest screen.”

Sometimes she wondered whether or not she should try and get some sort of VI to take over the more technological aspects of running a space-ship. Then she remembered that she’d once mutated such a thing into a murderous, nihilistic AI and promptly trashed that thought.

“…I don’t see anything on the interior cameras-” She cut herself off as the clanging resumed. Kynane had a sinking feeling that there was someone on her ship; just not inside it.

“Alternate to exterior cameras.”

Kynane groaned as the camera outside the cargo bay showed a humanoid politely standing outside. It had what looked like a wrapped gift-box in its hands, and she thought she could discern a devilish smile on its face. Most notably of all, he wasn’t wearing anything that resembled protective gear or breathing apparatus. She glared at the screen, and almost pressed her finger to the com to demand that he identify himself and state his purposed before she remembered one little detail: there’s no sound in open space.

Clang clang clang.

Kynane thought about her options. She could decide to turn on the engine, engage hyperspace, and get the fuck away from whatever horror is politely camping outside her cargo bay. She could also ignore it and hope her cold shoulder discouraged the thing, causing it to go back to wherever it came from. Or, she could engage the force-field to protect her cargo from getting spaced or exposed to it, open the bay long enough to let him in, let the bay repressurize, and see what the hell it wanted.

Clang clang clang.

Oh hell. Now she was curious to see what it wanted.

Kynane sighed, before deciding that it was too late to give the proper amount of damns this sort of situation demanded; she engaged the force-field and opened the cargo bay.

She stayed in the cockpit long enough to see the humanoid step into the bay before the bay closed up, before shuffling off to her bedroom to pick up her baster pistol and Kolto injector. Before she made it out of the room, she did a quick about face and grabbed a couple of knockout gases that she had customized to not affect the standard Miraluka. Better safe than sorry.

She shuffled her away to the cargo bay, before stopping at an intercom that connected her to the cockpit, “Computer, please send my sisters, Kist, Shatti, and Space-warlock the standard ‘I’m about to do something potentially stupid, wish me luck and here’s my current coordinates if I go missing’ message.”

She waited until it beeped an affirmation and finished her journey to the cargo bay, keeping one hand on her blaster pistol.

The sight that greeted her was not what she had expected. At all.

Standing behind the erect force field was a human man, dressed in a dark blue bespoke three-piece suit that looked expensive enough to impress even the stuffiest of Alderaanian nobles. Gloved hands carefully cradled the wrapped gift she had seen on the camera feed, though one strayed to correct the angle of the hat he was wearing. His full and generous mouth curved into a pleased smile as he took in the breath-taking sight of her in her pajamas, showcasing the two fangs that peeked out from behind those lips. His eyes gleamed as he took in her unflattering attire and armament, amusement dancing in the fiery depths.

His voice was a velvety bass, all darkness and sin, “Good evening my lady.”

Kynane took no shame in the fact that she was all but licking the devil’s skin with her staring. He was staggeringly handsome, which she supposed was the point. You’re much more likely to make bad decisions if you’re too busy admiring the devil instead of keeping your wits about you.

She put the hand not holding her blaster on her hip, closer to her other equipment, while keeping her aim steady as she drawled, “I suppose you’re here about Palmira.”

That tempting mouth curved into an amused smirk.

“My lady, you do me and yourself a great disservice. I did not come here for your…friend. I am here for you.”

Well. Wasn’t that lovely and not at all ominous.

“Really? Well isn’t this a surprise. I didn’t think I’d be hearing from infernal sources again, not unless I accompanied Palmira on another jaunt across planes.”

The devil’s smile didn’t waver one bit. He either didn’t fear getting shot between the eyes, or he felt he could dodge or disarm her before she could harm him. Hopefully it was the later, and it was a feeling based on unfounded arrogance.

“My lady, surely you did not truly think so? You crossed into the Neath with a person of significant importance to the Embassy, thus, you are now very much at the center of our interest and curiosity my lady. And you are our friend’s ally as well, which ties you to us by virtue of our shared friend.”

Kynane made a mental note to berate Palmira for this. Hell and its legion of devils being interested in her did not sound good in any shape or form. No matter how good looking its devils were.

“That aside my lady, I will repeat myself. I am here for you.” A careful flash of hunger appears in his hellish eyes, allowed to peep through to try and reassure her that he’s really here for her.

Kynane’s not buying it. Or, at least, she’s not buying that he’s here because he’s truly attracted to her or because he wants to try and have some sort of cross-species, inter-planar liaison.

She smiles, allowing a flattered edge to form on her smile, “Alright, I’ll be polite and accept your assertions as the truth.”

He smirks, fangs flashing, and she knows he’s caught the jab.

“Though that doesn’t excuse you for visiting without calling ahead. Or for visiting so late at night.”

Playful contrition twists those full lips into a pout, fiery eyes growing faux-somber,

“My deepest apologies my lady, but I am afraid you left before I could ask you to give me an address to send a calling card to or any other way to get in touch. And there was no guarantee I would ever see you again if I simply waited for our friend to deign to visit the Embassy again, assuming that she would bring you along; which she might not have. With that in mind, I decided to seek you out myself, even though we had not been introduced during your all too short time in the Neath.”

Palmira was not kidding about the manners, Kynane thought, before smirking, “On that note, shouldn’t we correct that, since you’re in my ship now?”

The devil carefully freed one hand to gesture at the force-field that she’d never disengaged, before remarking dryly, “I would delight to do so my lady, but I am afraid there is a slight obstacle in my way…”

Kynane wondered if he was trying to imply that he couldn’t get around the barrier, or that he wouldn’t, in order to be polite. If he couldn’t, that could come in handy.

She spared the barrier a look and a quick thought, before walking over to the com system and ordering the computer to disengage the force-field. The devil smiled in a very pleased manner, and Kynane thought she spotted a bit of carefully concealed surprise in those hellish eyes. Had he thought she wouldn’t? And yet he’d still been so calm…

The devil walked forwards, shifting the gift to tuck it in the crook of his left arm, extending his right forwards. Amused, Kynane offered her own hand, and was more than a little surprised when he took it and kissed it like she was the lady he titled her as. She could feel the heat of his hand quite clearly even through his glove, and his lips were feverishly warm. Fiery eyes peered up at her flirtatiously, judging her reaction to his move.

Kynane could feel his lips twitch happily as he caught the signs of how surprised and flattered she felt, and he let his lips linger on her hand in a way she was sure was monumentally scandalous. After another few moments lingering over her hand, he pulled himself back up to give her a truly breathtaking smile

“What a pleasure it is to finally be able to make your acquaintance my lady. My name…well, you couldn’t say it. Not without catching some part of you or your surroundings on fire, which I understand would be unwise on your ship.” Kynane nodded wryly; it would be unwise to say the least, if it really would do that. “But you may call me the Ardent Devil.”

“It’s nice to make your acquaintance as well. My name is Kynane Akeldama, as I suspect you may have already discovered in your search for me.”

The devil didn’t say anything incriminating, but his eyes were full of amusement at her dry comment. She’d take that as a yes.

“Ms. Akeldama, might we adjourn to somewhere where we might sit and have polite conversation?”

Kynane arched an eyebrow at the devil.

“Oh? You’re not here just to introduce yourself then? It is really quite late, as you could probably tell from the fact I’m standing here in my pajamas.”

The devil blinked at her, before he artfully widened his eyes in shocked comprehension.

“Oh! My deepest apologies my lady. It was ungentlemanly and churlish of me to force you out your bed, and even more ill-mannered of me to not realize this as soon as I saw your state of undress. And to keep you here with my talk…Truly, in my haste to meet you properly, I have made a mess of the actual meeting.”

Kynane took a moment to admire how well the devil could wear the mask of the abashed, embarrassed, eager suitor; really it was quite artful. Kynane could admire and appreciate art. And with how handsome the devil was, it made the pretty picture he presented all the prettier.

“Here my lady, let me present my gifts and be on my way. I have disturbed your sleep long enough I think. Though, Ms. Akeldama, I pray that my foolishness has not seen me banished from your presence permanently?”

Kynane got the feeling it wouldn’t matter if she said no. The devil would be back, just in a sneakier manner this time. Better to keep him in the open and right in front of my eyes I think, she thought.

“Rejoice and give thanks. In my magnanimousness, I won’t tell you to leave and never return. Though wake me up again so late, and I may amend that.”

The devil smiled with not-so-insincere relief, and handed over the wrapped gift with a deep bow that managed to flatter her; despite that she was aware of how calculated the gesture was.

“I thank my lady for having such a generous and forgiving mind, for allowing a poor, foolish devil like myself another chance after such a mistake. I hope my gift pleases you, and I shall take my leave before I outstay your forgiving nature Ms. Akeldama.”

“Do you have holocoms in Hell? Because I think I shall give you my holocom’s frequency, so you may call ahead from now on.”

The Ardent Devil nearly preened in pleasure before confirming that he could contact her with her holocom frequency (somehow.) With that, she exited the cargo bay, sealing it. She went to the cockpit to reengage the force-field, then opened the cargo bay for the Ardent Devil. She watched him to make sure he left, and watched as he vanished into a mirror that had been floating outside of the ship.

Kynane frowned. How had he gotten the mirror here? She had no idea, but it wasn’t good. She fired her ship’s gun at the mirror, obliterating it, and wondered if she could find a way to detect such mirrors that just so happened to be nearby.

Kynane made a mental note to mention such a thing to her sisters and her minions (though the explanation they’d want, well…)

With that done, she made her way back to her bedroom, toeing off her boots and putting her equipment and blaster down as she sat on the bed. She gave the box in her hand an unsure look. Did she really want to see what a devil thought made for an appropriate gift?

…Actually, yes, she did.

With that, she pulled off the red bow and shredded the yellow wrapping paper, revealing a wooden box. It was some sort of hardwood she thought, stained to a nearly black color. She pulled the lid off of the box, absently sitting it next to her on the bed.

Inside the box were a variety of gifts. A jewelry box that contained a pair of beautiful brass earrings that were much too warm to be made from normal materials. A calling card to a room at the Brass Embassy, the Ardent Devil’s home apparently. A thick contract that she concluded after skimming promised her safe passage and treatment as a most honored and welcomed guest anywhere where Hell reigned (she suspected this was due to Palmira. The actual gift was a copy of the contract itself.) And a handful of bottles filled with a curious misty substance.

Kynane lifted out a bottle to get a better look at it, and her jaw dropped as she made out the suggestions of a face framing a pair of all too human eyes. She stared at it, as Palmira’s words played in her head.

…Was this a soul?

Kynane inspected the bottle more closely, before spotting on the bottom of the bottle a seal stamped into the glass assuring the quality and legal status of the bottled soul in her hand.

“In what world is it proper to give souls as a gift?” Kynane asked with a sort of sick fascination.

Her inspection of her gift done, Kynane placed the bottle back into the box while keeping the earrings and contract out. She then sealed the box back up, tucked it under her bed, and placed the earrings and contract on a table next to her bed.

She would call Palmira after she got some sleep, and Kynane would have answers from the Sith or so help her, because if she looked inside the box again she might just scream.

[Kynane]

Interlude: Apples and Chess

Kynane sips from her teacup.

The Serpent in the tree takes a sip from his.

They remain quiet, savoring the delicious, impossible taste of their tea. Starlight and sweet first love, with a dollop of honey, and a pinch of hope. It is a tea to be savored, for such a concoction is all too rare.

“You know, you really shouldn’t continue associating with that man. Why keep company with a man that so shamelessly seeks out Death? Really, you’d be better off finding someone who enjoys life.”

The Serpent smiles poison-sweet as his coils twist and slide into new, knotted shapes, keeping fast to the fruit tree it hangs from. Brilliant yellow eyes gleam, crinkling a bit to show the sincerity of his smile.

“I think I’m old enough to pick and choose my own friends, thank you very much. Besides, I am a medic. I can keep him alive in spite of all his efforts.”

Kynane takes a sip of her tea, noting the red Spider Lily motif. She thinks the motif is quite inappropriate since she will not be attending a funeral any time soon.

“You try to console yourself with that fact, but you must see how close you were to not being there just in time. You cannot always be there Kynane, nor can you always arrive just in time. Cut him loose; free yourself from this anchor that wishes to drown himself, least he drag you beneath the waves as well.”

The Serpent pleads with wide eyes, and she is almost fool enough to believe it actually means it out of concern. But she knows better than to trust a snake. And especially not a boa constrictor that thinks it can convince her to do something she has no intention of doing.

“No. He’s my friend.” She says this in a most Final way, and her intractability was such it warranted a capitalization.

The Serpent sighs, and takes a sip from his tea. His snout scrunches up, and his forked tongue flickers out in distaste.

“You’ve changed the tea my dear. Are you sure you won’t change your mind?”

Kynane frowns, tosses her teacup away with a loud shattering sound, and marches over to the fruit tree with a shocked snake upon it. She reaches up and plucks an apple, taking in the impossibly red and glossy skin before looking at the Serpent,

“I choose this.”

And she savagely rips out a piece and swallows it whole.

---

Kynane next finds herself back in her purple spider-silk gown, blood-warm Brass earrings in her ears.

The light is dim. The air feels dead. There is a soft susurration of water being moved through.

“You know…My usual visitors are usually dead, not dreaming.”

Kynane turns to face the man, no, the Being, which is poling the barge she sits in through the dead, black river. Empty sockets stare at her as the skull grins (and she can tell it is truly a grin. Somehow.) The Being continues to pole them through the water while she drinks in the sight of the Being, who is obviously used to being stared at.

“You know, my dreams usually are weird. Like the time I had that gigantic, eyeball stealing spider pass through, or when I just took tea with a Serpent that was trying to convince me to do something. This is a whole new level.”

The Being gives a rattling chuckle. Kynane is not sure she should be pleased or terrified she managed to weasel a chuckle out of the Being.

“This is rather unusual for me as well Kynane Akeldama.”

“So…What do I call you? You do have a name or title I can use without going mad or dying, right?”

The skull smirks at her, and she wonders if she dodged a blaster bolt with that specification.

“If you neither wish to die or go mad, then call me the Boatman like others have done.”

Kynane nods, and takes note of the lovely chessboard that is centered in pride of place on the boat. She’s across from the Boatman, and she’s pretty sure that was a deliberate thing on the Boatman’s part.

“So Boatman, where am I and why am I here?”

“Truly explaining this place is not something you could comprehend as a mortal. So think of this as the in-between of Life and Death, and the river I move across as the river of Death. As for why you are here…perhaps for a game of chess?”

There is a hint that she is expected to play the Boatman now that he explained this to her. And since she doesn’t want to die, Kynane decides to play his game. For now.

“Why not? I’ll take white and we can chat.”

And with that, they begin.

The Boatman is good. Very good. Good enough that Kynane is forced to bend all of her attention to the task instead of probing the Boatman for information as she had planned.

“You know Kynane Akeldama, you are very troublesome. You helped to tip the scales today, when the odds were in my favor to collect a troublesome survivor. It gets irritating to be teased you know, and he has teased and vexed me so.”

Kynane frowns and has a sneaking suspicion she and the Boatman know why she is here, being conned into entertaining the Boatman.

“Just because the odds are in your favor, it doesn’t really mean anything you know. Nothing’s certain till there’s actually a victor and a loser. That’s why even the darkhorse can win the race sometimes, and land some lucky girl the jackpot.”

The Boatman moves his Rook, and takes her Knight. She ignores the fact that her playing pieces look like her friends and allies, while the Boatman’s look like her enemies. The fact that Knight-Kist had just shattered meant nothing, truly.

“Your glibness does you credit mortal, but you are one of the ones that have vexed me as well. How many times have you twirled on the tightrope blindfolded, hoping that each twirl would not see you falling to the flames?”

Pawn-Mammon takes out the enemy Rook that shattered Knight-Kist, then an enemy Knight takes out Pawn-Mammon. The sound of shattering chess pieces echoes so loudly in the dead air that Kynane fears for her hearing for a moment. She takes in a deep, settling breath, and begins plotting out her next move. Kynane refused to let the Boatman intimidate her, not with the threats, not with the chess, not with anything.

“Well Boatman, sometimes you have to take risks when you’re dealing with men and women who could kill you with a thought in order to win. And you have to have faith that your friends, allies, and family will be there to catch you if your gamble doesn’t net you a victory.”

Pawn-Stabby takes out an enemy Bishop with a vicious explosion, causing the Boatman to frown. The skull takes on a rather displeased look with her defiance. Good, she thinks fiercely, let the Boatman be displeased. I won’t let him win! Either on the chessboard or in the verbal spar!

“Most mortals are more prudent in their dealings with me. Perhaps their sense of survival is better developed than yours Kynane. Or do you feel so bold because you feel as if your mighty sister might come flying in, sweeping you away before I can take my displeasure out on you? Perhaps she could arrive in time. But I am but the tip of a finger Kynane Akeldama, and the hand has a long and mighty reach.”

The Boatman takes down her Pawn-Stabby, and Bishop-Shatti swoops in to deliver vicious retribution.

“You already knew I was a risk-taker. I’ve stared down death before Boatman, so this is nothing new for me. It just so happens I can actually see you this time.”

The Boatman stares at her for a long, hard moment, and she feels like the Boatman is trying to pin her beneath the weight of it. The chess game is forgotten as they stare at each other, but Kynane refuses to be the one that backs down and speaks first. Then the Boatman steeples those long, boney fingers, hiding the lower half of the Boatman’s face as the Boatman continues to regard her like she is a very colorful, very interesting butterfly the Boatman wishes to examine; with pins and needles and scalpels.

Kynane feels her heart flutter against her ribcage, like a panicked wild bird trying to escape its cage, but she knows a test when she sees one.

The Boatman breaks first.

“…If you do not tip the scales the next time that man decides to tease me, I shall repay you.”

Kynane scowls. She’d suspected as much, that this would be yet another test of temptation. Why did all these beings think she would give in to their pretty lies, accept their glittering promises? Did she look that faithless?

Still, she wasn’t a perfect person; Kynane would admit that. The idea of the Boatman owing her was truly and seriously tempting. Even if the Boatman was just the tip on a finger, this kind of offer wasn’t something you passed over lightly.

But…I won’t take it. Even if this kind of opportunity never comes my way again, I will not betray my comrade, my friend.

“Your offer is…generous. But I’m going to have to decline it.”

Kynane cannot tell whether or not if her response has enraged the Boatman. All she knows is that the very air feels immeasurably heavier now.

“I do not make such offers often Kynane Akeldama. I suggest that you reconsider.”

“No.”

The Boatman lets out a snarling sigh.

“Why? What drives you to refuse my offer? Is it love?”

Kynane shrugs. She does not love him in the way the Boatman assumes. Perhaps there’s a chance it could happen, but it might never come to pass as well. And it doesn’t matter in the end, this nebulous possibility, because she’s not doing this because she might fall in love with him.

She’s doing this because he’s her friend. She doesn’t need another reason.

And with that, she moves her Kynane-King and knocks over the enemy King.

“Checkmate Boatman.”

The dream shatters into a thousand thousand pieces, and the last thing she sees is the Boatman’s surprised skull.

---

Kynane wakes up as her Sight snaps into existence, showing her that’s she back in the medbay. Remembering the last time her dreams decided to get weird, she checks her clothing. Thankfully, she’s still wearing her full armor. It would have been a pain to have to replace it because of some stupid Serpent and Boatman.

She looks to the bed she’s sitting across from, and watches as Drensdale sleeps. It’s not a peaceful sleep by any means judging by his scrunched brow and ferocious scowl, but, she’s pretty sure that’s normal for him. She smiles at him, and gets up to check his vitals and blood packs.

I won’t give up on you. Even if you do make me want to strangle you sometimes.

Reason for editing (optional)

[Kynane]

Interlude: Home

As Kynane rockets towards Dromund Kaas on her stupidly illegal and speedy ship, she spares a moment to idly wonder just how her sisters are going to react to Butler-droid (who had never left their family stronghold before) puttering in with the tank of artificial wombs. The twin fetuses are about six months biologically, and if the growth acceleration keeps at its current pace they’ll be ready for a de-tanking very soon.

She takes a moment to consider how the various Sith, Jedi, and armed women would react to this surprise while she’s pulling into their hanger bay. Kynane then wishes she had considered this before she was shutting down her ship, since her imagination is painting a picture of shouting, panicking, slightly murderous women.

---

Walking into the family sitting area on the second floor of their stronghold was a bit like walking into a courtroom while wearing orange and cuffs. The judgmental staring was strong here.

“Kynane…I believe you have some explaining to do dear.” Lo’ammi said with a smile Kynane knew meant she was about to demonstrate why she was the one leading this family.

Kynane gave a slightly nervous laugh. “You see, I’ve been kinda busy over on the Republic side of things, lots of people needing surgery and all.”

Ithra chimed in with a smirk, “We couldn’t tell, with how you haven’t been able to come home at your usual times.”

Kynane stuck her tongue out at Ithra, not minding the chuckles and various sounds of disapproval that she got from her sisters. “Yeah yeah, rag on hard-at-work me, who’s been saving lives and limbs wherever I wander.”

Ta’s low contralto muttered “Usually because you’re a danger magnet.” There was agreeing laughter and nods from everyone. Except Kynane of course. She didn’t have to admit to any such thing! No matter how much evidence there was!

Kynane then bulldozed right over the lingering laughter, determined to explain her actions to her sisters, “Well, you see, one of my Jedi friends over there has managed to wedge himself into a living holodrama. Evil twin, plots to take out his two fiancés-” There was muttering about how this certainly wasn’t an Order Jedi then, “And the Pansy’s pretty much doing all he can to ruin Kai’s life.”

Rieubane raised one crimson hand, innocent confusion on her face, “Who is this Kai, Kynane?”

“Oh, I usually refer to him as Space-warlock around y’all. Ring any bells?”

Kyniska crossed her arms and gave her a half-hearted glare. “Oh it rings some bells. The pendulum Jedi is your ‘space-warlock’ Kynane?”

Kynane gives a sharp nod to them, “Yup. Bit of a jackass sometimes, but he’s usually pretty fun. And overall, he’s a good friend and his fiancées are nice ladies.”

Lo’ammi waved a hand in dismissal, and the rest of the women bit down on their questions. “Please continue with the main story sister. The sooner you can explain why Butler-droid returned from his sojourn with fetuses the better.”

Kynane decided to save herself some trouble, and got back on track.

“Well, you see, at some point Kai captured Pansy’s ladyfriend. She turned out to be pregnant. Once it became clear that someone had added an artificial growth accelerant to the babies, and that she and them would die shortly without help, Kai called me in. I took care of it by transferring the babies into the artificial wombs that are in the tank Butler-droid brought back.”

Kynane then folded her arms and gave her sisters a small grimace,

“The woman, the Sith Kyniska met, was concerned that Kai would turn out to be the sort of man to kill the babies if he found out certain information I can’t disclose due to the invocation of patient confidentiality. She forced me to promise I would remand the children into my custody if I felt uneasy leaving the children there.

Initially I was fine with leaving them there and didn’t think I’d need to take them under protection. But, the Pansy kinda stepped up his psychological head games with Kai lately. Tricked him into killing his own father while Kogami rode him like a Ghost with an axe to grind.”

Lo’ammi slowly blinks once, twice.

Everyone else grows slightly alarmed with the trace amount of fury showing on Lo’ammi’s face. Lo wasn’t one to actually show her anger, so for it to actually show on her face…She had to be utterly furious.

“Kogami. I know that name. I shared tea with that man. And I am disgusted I showed him hospitality when he is willing to murder his own family members.”

Lo’ammi inhaled slowly, as Kynane and the others watched her carefully. Lo’ammi then exhaled with the same painful slowness that she had used with her inhale, and Kynane could see the Force eddy around her as she bled off her towering fury.

“…Alright. You can continue now sister, I have my temper under control again. No need to worry I’ll go on a crusade.”

Lo’ammi flashed a loving smile to Kynane and then to the others, letting them all know it was okay to relax. They wouldn’t be going to war with Kogami or his ilk. At least, we won’t be doing so just yet, Kynane thought to herself before continuing.

“Well, after seeing how deeply that affected Kai, I was a bit concerned he would do something rash. When he contacted me with a madcap scheme I had little choice in, I grew quite concerned. And when I learned Kogami was going to be orbitally bombarding the planet, while Kai would try to confront him as a distract, I decided it was time to keep my promise and make sure these kiddies make it to their birth day. So I contacted Butler-droid with orders, prepped them for transfer, and sent them on ahead while I monitored their mother.”

Alke then, to Kynane’s fond exasperation, decided she had abided by Lo’s command long enough and it was okay to ask questions again.

“Alright, so you played the heroic-medic role again; nothing new there. How about telling us when we’re going to have to deal with squalling babies?” The more practical-minded and grumpy ones nodded in agreement as Alke made her demand for information.

“Well…Assuming that the growth acceleration remains constant and at the rate it’s been going…It’ll be a month, give or take a week or two.”

Shihon groaned and covered her red eyes with a dramatically thrown arm; Kynane watched with a small smirk as Ithra, Ta, Kyniska, Alke, and Simra all made their displeasure known in their own way. Rieubane, bless her loving heart, was the only one to look excited.

“Oh Kynane, does this mean we’re going to keep them?!”

Kynane hated to have to douse the excitement that was all over her smiling crimson face, but she honestly didn’t know. So she gave Rieubane an apologetic shrug and a grimace while saying,

“Sorry sister, but I really don’t know. The situation’s a bit tenuous to say the least, and there’s no telling what’s going to happen.”

Rieubane wilted a bit at that, and Palmira gave Rieubane’s waist a squeeze with the arm that she had around it. Rieubane turned and gave Palmira a gentle smile, and then everyone else in the room (including Kynane) stopped paying attention to the sappy platonic soulmates. They had learned it was better to just ignore their little private world moments, and carry on with whatever they were doing while filling in the two later.

“Well…You know me Kynane, and you know that if it comes to it, we will foster these children and bring them into our family.”

Lo’ammi then stood and quietly stalked over to Kynane, giving her the smile she knew so well. It was a sign that she was home, and her sister was welcoming her back. Lo’ammi took her hands, tugged her down so that the petite Sith could give her a fond kiss to the cheek, and said

“Welcome home Kynane. We’ve missed you.”

[Kynane]

Interlude: Pillow Thoughts

Kynane carefully made a notation on the flimplast next to her about possible ideas she should investigate further, before the reality of what she was doing really hit her.

I’m doing research to try and gather ideas for nice dates to take Lumi on.

Kynane then got up from her desk, abandoning her notes, and flopped down on her bed. She couldn’t try to tackle what this meant without some comfort, and her bed was luxurious enough to provide her with the fortitude she needed. So, Kynane mentally squared her shoulders and settled down to examine her feelings; something she generally avoided like the plague and was terrible at.

I think I’ve always liked Lumi. Maybe not always romantically, since, well, we missed our first chance on my first night in VI. And then we started romantically pursuing other people. Though I was the one being pursued in my romance, instead of how Lumi apparently chased after Delrick.

Either way, we soon enough wound up in serious relationships we assumed would very likely become permanent. Hell, Lumi actually got married! Even if it didn’t quite work out as long as she hoped it would…

Anyways, since neither of us are the unfaithful type, after that very first night, I never really seriously flirted with Lumi until I noticed (on what was apparently a fateful night,) that Lumi was really flirting with me.

But before I ever thought I’d have or want a shot at trying to woo Lumi, I did get to know more about her as a person during our weekly meetings.

She was kind and empathetic, but she had a backbone and could be merciless if needed. She was also clever and intelligent (something I bet her political upbringing helped to empathize,) but was also aware that sometimes she just didn’t have the background or knowledge necessary for a problem.

Kynane made a face at her own thoughts. It was sounding like…she was putting Lumiani on a pedestal, idolizing her good traits, dismissing or diminishing her bad, and fundamentally dismissing her humanity. Kynane wasn’t trying to idolize Lumiani. She knew Lumiani had to have her faults.

Everyone did.

Kynane could spout off a whole list of her own – repressing her issues instead of dealing with them, ignoring her sordid past as much as possible, trauma she handled with dubious coping mechanisms – which meant that Lumiani had to have her own list.

It’s just that I don’t know too much about Lumi personally yet. Hell, we’ve only really have had one date so far. Assuming that was a date, and not a “should we date” meet-up. Right now, I’m getting a handle on her personality, her likes and dislikes, and I’m trying to figure out if our most basic selves mesh well together.

Kynane smiled to herself a bit, And I really think we do. That kiss…It was really, really nice, and the way Lumi reacted…

Ahem.

Kynane was forced to take a moment to calm her pulse, because the memory of that kiss was like a cherry red brand in her mind; searing hot, and more than enough to set her blood on fire.

And that’s how I wound up here, researching how to make nice dates for my overworked and overstressed…girlfriend? I think she might be my girlfriend. I should probably ask her when she and I have some more alone time if she wants to be called my girlfriend or by some other name (assuming we’re at the point where I can call us girlfriends.)

…I wonder though. Why am I pursuing her? I’m trying my best to try and woo her, which is something I’ve never done before. Though that probably isn’t saying much since my only real, serious relationship had me as the pursued and not as the pursuer.

I’m pretty sure if I let her, Lumi would take over the pursuit role. She’s done it before, and obviously she has a better idea of what pursuing entails since she managed to catch a wife. I could sit back, relax, and bask in her romantic affections. I mean, I do that anyways, but…Huh.

I think I know why I want to chase her, instead of letting her chase me. It’s a bit of a combination of different things.

Kynane paused her internal monologue to grab a pillow to cuddle. She wanted something to hold, if she was going to think about this seriously.

I really want to see where this could go. I want to go on dates with her, spend time with her, and just get to know her. And I’ve learned the hard way that sitting around and waiting means you’re throwing away your opportunities. I made a lot of mistakes with him, and I don’t want to repeat them with Lumi. We both deserve my full effort on this.

I also want to woo her, instead of letting her woo me, because I want to make her feel special. I know that being the center of someone’s romantic attentions can be a wonderful feeling, and I know that Delrick didn’t ever make Lumi feel that way. I can’t say whether or not Tezzabelle ever did, but I don’t get the feeling that she did. And it doesn’t sit right with me, that Lumi, wasn’t made to feel as precious as she is.

I want her to feel special and cherished, because I like her. I might not know exactly how to do this properly, but I can try at least. More importantly, I want Lumi to be able to look at the stars again. I want her to be able to see them and not feel so alone.

Kynane decided that that was a good place to end her self-examination. She had mostly figured out why she was determined to chase after Lumiani, and she felt more settled about trying out a different role this time. All she needed to do was keep trying her best, and Kynane was sure she could work it out.

After all, she had at least an entire page of romantic ideas sitting on her desk.

[Kynane]

Interlude: Falling

(warning: some mentions of torture, slavery, mental violation.)

The breeze is cool and light. The sky is a perfect sapphire blue, with puffy clouds liberally spread out across it. The grass beneath her is springy and sweet-smelling, while the flowers in the meadow gently wave in the breeze.

Picturesque and gorgeous, Alderaan has never looked more beautiful than this afternoon. But she couldn’t care less or pay attention to anything but the words that repeat themselves in time with the pounding of her heart. It’s a drum beat in her head, a video clip on repeat, and Kynane still has no idea how to cope with the words “I love you.”

Perhaps it is doing herself a disservice, or doing a disservice to Lumiani, but she had never expected to hear those words to be said to her.

Hell. I thought I’d be lucky to even get her to forget our backgrounds and entertain the idea of being serious. She firmly ignored the insidious little whisper that said nobility never loved slaves, that they only whispered the words into their ears in the dead of night to convince them to spread their legs.

She was not a slave. And she never, ever would be one again.

Kynane spared a glance to the napping Jedi, and wished she could take a nap as well. Asleep, she didn’t have to listen to the words (“I love you I love you I love you-”) echo in her ears. But, someone had to keep watch; no matter how picturesque Alderaan was today, it was a war-torn hellhole. Ulgo and Organa were at war, and Kynane didn’t want to think of what could happen if someone wasn’t awake and watching for roaming patrols of soldiers.

Plus, I’m not sure I could sleep right now, Kynane thought with a wry smile. Her smile quickly fell from her face though, as her thoughts turned back.

I never expected…any of this really. I’m an ex-slave smuggler and she’s a Jedi from a noble House that’s expecting her to rule someday. Political marriages still happen, to form an alliance or to end a feud, and I know I’m not of enough importance to justify to a noble House why they should allow Lumi to do as she pleases. Hell, even whatever we have right now would probably upset them to no end.

I wonder if Lumi has already been receiving demands to wake up and to discard me…Who am I kidding, it’s pretty damn certain.

Kynane sighed heavily, before admitting that Lumiani’s far-off House wasn’t the real reason why she couldn’t grasp those words (“I love you I love you I love you IloveyouIloveyou-”)

…From the beginning, I have never expected to get this far. I didn’t even think there was a fifty-fifty chance that she would consider me as any more than a protracted fling to get over her ex-wife. Yet, I was willing to take a gamble on that risk. I liked her enough, even back then, to try in spite of the low odds I’d ever be seen with her in public.

Her first words to me, about a relationship of any kind, only confirmed my thoughts for me. She wouldn’t consider entering into a relationship for a long, long time; she could only offer a night or two. Granted, she was drunk and we did nothing since she wasn’t in her right mind… but…It was what I expected. And I was willing to wait, to try, to see if I couldn’t convince her to rethink her stance on relationships.

I thought it would be a task that would take me a long, long time; possibly even years. I couldn’t seduce her or romance her, because I have no idea how to. Well, at least not the kind of seduction that would make her stay.

So I could only do as I would want someone else to do if I was in her place; be gentle and kind, reassure me I’m desirable – loveable – and most of all, to be patient and understanding.

I sketched out a plan that aligned with that idea; acting like I would want someone to do. A slow, gentle persuasion, made of relaxing dates, bits of physical affection, and carefully thought out presents. The emphasis wouldn’t be on romance or sex, but rather enjoying ourselves and relaxing. The goal would to make her happy, to make her smile at me and learn to like me.

Maybe approaching this like I would want would appeal to her. Or maybe it would only soothe the aches of her loneliness and her marriage; leaving her heart unmoved. Maybe it wouldn’t work. Maybe it would infuriate her that I was trying to court her favor when all she wanted was a quick tumble into and out of the sheets.

But I had to try.

(“I love you”)

And…somehow, it was working. She smiled. She laughed. She agreed to do this again. And again.

It made me a bit foolhardy to see that my efforts weren’t completely in vain.

A few days later, she walked me down a path and asked me to tell her the story I saw in the statues there. I told her what I saw; she smiled and called me an optimist. I don’t know if it was her smile, or how lovely she looked in the sunlight, but something about her made me ask the question that had been lurking in the back of my mind.

(“Does this mean I can call you my girlfriend?”)

As soon as I said it, I knew I had fucked up. Possibly fatally. I was already bracing for a negative reaction, or even just an easy dismissal, when she looked at me and agreed.

…I don’t think I’ve doubted my grip on reality more in a very long time.

After Oricon, after Sychar, it’s all too easy to think that something good happening to me is just some cruel joke. That I’ll wake from this pleasant dream and find a collar on my neck.

Kynane smiled bitterly to herself. Sychar had not been a truly creative sadist; but what he could imagine, he had put to good use.

It’s sad to say it, but there is benefits to undergoing the same torture multiple times. You grow more resistant to it, learn to identify it. Breaking free is an entirely different story, but, just knowing for sure that this is all taking place in your head makes a difference.

(“I love you I love you I love-”)

Kynane shook her head slightly, trying to clear her head. It didn’t help.

…Do I love her?

… … …

… … …

No. I don’t.

(Not yet.)

[Kynane]

Interlude: Brazen

Kynane sighed and fingered the ragged ends of her hair with a frown, feeling how straw-like and brittle it was. Her asymmetrical bob cut was looking less like an actual hairstyle and more like she had taken a vibroknife to her hair. Scratch that. It looked more like someone had taken a vibrosword to it from how it felt.

This style…It’s so high maintenance it’s ridiculous. I swear, if I didn’t like the aesthetics of this cut, I’d dump it faster than a hot rock. Maybe grow my hair out some. Or just pick something that doesn’t take so much work to keep looking nice.

She fingered the dry hair between her fingers again, wondering just how long had she looked like this. If it had been like this on her date, she would…She would probably grab some ice-cream, cake, and some alcohol, crawl into her bed, and binge watch the holo-series she had fallen behind on while she had been left to run VITALS.

Actually that sounds like a great idea, regardless of burying my shame in sweets. Though I wish I had a mirror, just to check…Oh well.

Her ship no longer had any mirrors. The Ardent Devil had been more than enough of a wakeup call.

Kynane brushed away the lingering paranoia that thought brought with it, and made her way to the kitchen. Just as she was about to open her fridge, she twitched as she heard an unmistakably familiar sound.

Clang clang clang.

There’s irony, and then there’s irony. Just thinking about the devil should not have him suddenly come knocking on my cargobay door!

Kynane scowled as she reluctantly turned away from her fridge and the delicious treats within, and stormed up to the cockpit to check the monitors in order to confirm it really was the devil. Irritated with the destruction of her lazy night in, she might have been less than gentle with the monitor.

I gave that devil my holocom frequency for a reason. He assured me he could get in touch with me with it, and knew he was supposed to call ahead! I sure as hell didn’t say he could drop by unannounced and unexpected!

And of course, the monitor confirmed that she had been correct. The Ardent Devil was standing outside the cargo bay, one hand poised to knock and one hand shoved into his pants pocket. She scowled at the image but before she went to leave the cockpit, something about the Ardent Devil caught her attention.

He was…different somehow.

The clearest difference that she could pick out on the camera feed was in how radically the devil’s body language had changed from their face-to-face meeting to now. The devil practically oozed violence and lethality, posture rigid and aggressive as he seemed to try and actively menace her cargo bay door. It was a direct contrast to how he had been relaxed and subdued, full of manners and a sly humor that seemed created to exasperate her.

And speaking of manners, Kynane felt she had pinpointed what had initially drawn her attention. The devil wasn’t bearing any gifts to soothe her ruffled feathers.

The Ardent Devil has good manners; very good manners. Even if he was trying to use them last time almost exclusively to endear himself to me and trick me into letting him stay longer. And he went to a lot of effort to make it clear he was approaching me as Ardent Devil, admirer of Kynane, and not as Ardent Devil, agent of Hell.

He would have known that I would be pissed to be surprised like this when he has a way to schedule his visits with me. I made it pretty clear I didn’t appreciate his surprise visit, and that I would most definitely expect him to use the holocom frequency. And there’s no way he wouldn’t have brought a gift to try and bribe me into forgiving this faux pas, it’d practically be hardwired into those manners of his.

So the fact he very visibly doesn’t have a bribe for me, on top of how he’s practically trying to pull a one-eighty in body language means he’s up to something… Probably something infernal.

Now feeling significantly more wary of the devil darkening her door, Kynane quickly had the computer pull up her standard “I’m about to do something reckless, so here’s my current coordinates, and please come rescue me if I wind up in over my head” to a depressingly more narrow list of contacts than she had had the last time she had needed to use this.

Now’s not the time to dwell on people drifting away Kynane, she internally scolded herself. With the alert message on its way, Kynane then sent commands to the computer to engage the cargo bay shields and then made her way to her bedroom. She quickly grabbed her blaster from her bedside, her knockout gas from a false panel in the headboard, and then power walked to the cargo bay.

She gave the bay a quick glance to confirm that the shielding was still active, and then lightly slammed the button to open the bay doors. As the cargo bay doors opened to allow him in, before closing again, Kynane leaned against the wall and settled in to observe the devil more closely than an external camera feed would allow her to.

If it hadn’t been obvious before that something is up, it sure as hell would now.

The Ardent Devil stalked inside the cargo bay like he was a predator on the prowl, full lips curled in a smirk that didn’t suit his face. His three piece suit was cut far more flamboyantly, with a bold pinstripe pattern that was leagues away from the subtle elegance of his previous suit. His hat was nearly askew from how jaunty an angle it sat at, and his cloth gloves had been replaced with shiny new leather ones.

It was subtle, how he was only just slightly off, but with how the little wrongs built on each other, it was like a blaring neon sign to Kynane.

“Lady Akeldama, how wonderful it is to see you again.” He purred, firey eyes staring at her intently.

Kynane felt a thread of unease crawl down her spine. Even the way he talks is just slightly off…

“I thought I made it clear that if you wanted to visit, that you had to schedule ahead.”

He smirked and placed one hand right above where his heart should be. “Lady Akeldama, you wound me. Are you saying I’m unwelcome?”

She smirked dryly at him, not impressed with the melodramatics, “Precisely that. Infernal agents aren’t welcome here without calling ahead.”

His smirk transformed into a grin, firey eyes nearly twinkling as he caught what her words implied.

Kynane had to fight off a scowl as she took in his reaction. He’s…not refuting it, that he’s an infernal agent and not a suitor. So he really must be here on infernal business. It’s likely someone Downstairs caught wind of him being able to get in touch with someone related to Palmira, someone close enough to her that she negotiated a pretty damn stringent contract to guarantee their safety.

What’s really got me concerned is how he’s not breaking character. He’s still sticking to subtle plays, even in my own cargo bay. And he hasn’t made any comment about me lowering the force field-

It came to her then, in a flash of paranoia and insight.

Someone, or something, is watching us.

Kynane wasn’t sure what she did to give away her sudden awareness of their watcher to the devil, but the Ardent Devil’s firey eyes grew molten with a banked fury that was nearly alien in its intensity. But nothing else in his demeanor reflected his wrath as he smoothly purred,

“That is truly a pity Lady Akeldama, when I come with a truly outrageously generous arrangement for you.”

Kynane decided to play along with the farce they were putting on, since if this watcher was either able to hide from her suite of sophisticated sensing equipment or able to safely spy on them somewhere else…

“And just what is this arrangement exactly?”

He smirked, almost trying to loom over her through the forcefield.

“In exchange for a just a trifling effort, we would give you something nearly priceless.”

We…Yet another sign that he’s not here on his own terms. Or alone.

“That doesn’t tell me much. Or anything really. Just what will I be getting in return for doing what?”

“We want something transported to the Lady Palmira. Nothing dangerous, or inconvenient. It would be beyond simple for you to transport it in this very vessel.” He smirked, firey eyes dancing in amusement. “It wouldn’t even take that much room.”

Kynane gave him a dry look. Really, he was enjoying their little dance far too much. She should have left him to squirm, thinking that she somehow hadn’t picked up on the near avalanche of clues he was trying to bury her in.

“I’ll be the judge of whether or not it’ll be a pain. And you still haven’t shared what I would be getting out of this.”

“In exchange for delivering this gift to Palmira, we would give you a flask of Cider Lady Akeldama.”

This time, Kynane did allow herself to frown at the devil. The way he said cider, with Capitalization and emphasis, made her inclined to believe that Hell really was offering her something the devil before her considered priceless. And honestly? This was making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

I don’t need Palmira’s experience to know that Hell doesn’t make deals like this. Not really. If they’re putting whatever this is on the table, after using the Ardent Devil and setting a watcher on us, they’re not gonna take no for an answer.

And…Palmira didn’t negotiate absolute safety from Hell. If whatever is watching us is technically not a devil, it could strike at me without breaking contract. An oversight I’m gonna have to mention to her…

Kynane physically sighed, posture slumping in a carefully calculated way for whatever was watching them.

“What is it then.”

The Ardent Devil’s eyes got a pinched look to them, eyes going molten again, before he said, “The gift of communication.”

Kynane took a moment to parse what he meant, nearly scowling at the devil as she figured it out before she remembered that she was supposed to be giving in to greed.

“Then let’s bring ‘the gift of communication’ on board then. Along with my payment.”

---

Kynane supervised Butler-droid as it pushed the hovercart containing the wretched gift up the stairs to the office space, passing by a pretty Pureblood male that seemed to be gawping at a glistening Ithra as she lifted weights. She smirked at him in amusement. Obviously the male had never seen a woman so muscled, and was having a moment where he couldn’t decide if what he was seeing was hot or intimidating.

But unfortunately, she didn’t have time to tease.

So she got back to supervising Butler-droid, hustling the droid along. She wasn’t comfortable having the damn thing in her home, so she wanted it in Palmira’s possession as soon as she could manage it.

The two of the made their way into the office slash guest room, where she had pinpointed Palmira to be working with her Sight, and she quickly locked the doors into immobility as Butler-droid began hauling the gift off the hovercart.

“Kynane, is it too early to begin discussing the process by which one can restructure their minds?” Palmira asked absentmindedly, intent on the datapad in her hand.

The random question knocked her off balance, and Kynane gave Palmira a questioning look while keeping an eye on Butler-droid. “What are you talking about Palmira?”

“I’m trying to put together a schedule for my Apprentice. It’s very hard to decide how fast or how slow I should try to take his training since I’m not sure how much he knows already, along with the fact he’s been exposed very little to Outside influences.”

Kynane spent a quick moment wondering which idiot thought that giving Palmira an Apprentice was a good idea, or if the former Acolyte had been that clueless as to what he would be getting into with Palmira as his Master.

“I’m going to say if you’re not sure, it’s too early and Palmira you need to put the datapad down. Hell’s up to something.”

Palmira looked up sharply from her datapad, an intent expression on her face as she gave Kynane a quick one-over.

“Was it that devil? Was he untoward to you?”

Kynane shook her head. “No, he wasn’t, though it was the Ardent Devil. Someone Downstairs caught wind of the fact he somehow got in touch with me and gave him orders.”

Palmira frowned harshly. “Was it because of me?”

Kynane nodded.

“Yeah. And the Ardent Devil made sure to leave me enough clues to let me know that they weren’t going to take no for an answer. Someone, or something, was set to watch us. The Ardent Devil never broke character, not even in my own cargobay. My sensor suite picked up nothing…But that doesn’t reassure me any.”

Palmira stood up and walked out from behind the desk, coming to stand in front of her.

“What did they make you do?”

Kynane jabbed a thumb at the durasteel box.

“They made me haul this to you. I stuffed it in my strongest box, but honestly, I was waiting for something to jump out as soon as I entered Kaas’ atmosphere.”

With a mental flex of her power, Palmira ripped the box into shreds, revealing a seven foot tall mirror framed in heavy wrought Brass.

Kynane gave her fuming sister a dry look. “You’re getting me a new container.”

Palmira let out an alien sound of frustration, the mirror vibrating ominously in its frame with the sound, before grinding out. “I will buy you two. What did they foist on you to ‘pay’ for this?”

Kynane spared a moment to be thankful that their home was wrought of the strongest metals they knew of as the rug began to liquidify. She then handed Palmira the flask of Cider.

“They gave me something they called Cider.”

Palmira blinked once. Twice. And then said, “…Are you sure the devil said Cider.”

Kynane nodded, and watched warily as Palmira gave the flask a look that was a cross between curious and disgusted.

“You didn’t ingest any of this did you.”

Kynane gave her sister an affronted look. “Do I look like an idiot? Of course I didn’t!”

Palmira flatly said, “Good. This would have warped your mind, along with other side effects.”

Deciding to bite the bullet, Kynane asked morbidly, “What other side effects?”

“Dreams that would slowly drive you mad due to their metaphysical qualities would be the mildest side effect. Foreign energy also would fill your body, causing unknown effects. If you drank all of this in one go, you might even have limited, temporary immortality. Or possibly have exploded physically and metaphysically from the sheer amount of energy.”

Kynane gave Palmira a flat look. “That doesn’t sound like the priceless object they made it out to be.”

“Oh it is. But, they failed to account for how very different you are when compared to their mortals.”

“That is completely reassuring. Thanks Palmira,” Kynane said dryly.

Palmira then gave her a grim little smile.

“Thank me when I’m through with whichever devil thought they could get away with this.”

[Kynane]

Interlude: Chains

After the wedding, Kynane goes home. She’s more tipsy than is likely safe, but she feels she has enough experience with being drunk to more than compensate. Hell, she might be a better pilot while tipsy than when sober. Though that could be the alcohol talking.

Landing on Dromund Kaas is slightly more complex than it used to however. Ithra and Shihon had finally made good on their threats and promises to make a truly worthy training area for the family, which meant she couldn’t try the fleeting idea she’d had of trying to wedge her ship in there; somehow.

I have probably played waaaaay too much of that…that fitting game lately. What’s it called? It starts with a T right…Fuck it, I’ll remember it later.

Thankfully they own the tower. Or the complex. Or the entire block. Palmira oversaw their money, taxation, and property because she was very, very good at her favorite hobby; playing the galactic market like an instrument. It’s just, since Palmira was in charge, there was no telling what she had decided was enough.

Do I really care however so long as I can land my ship somewhere within the tower? No, not really. And if I ever do get curious enough to check it out, Palmira will talk about it. For hours. Without stopping. She has that Apprentice of hers now, so HE can listen to her talk about the minutiae of the Imperial tax code and how we work both in and around it so that everyone comes out with maximum profit.

Kynane snapped out of her mental monologuing once she registered that she had already docked within the hanger bay, with her ship powered down. It was sort of disturbing that she was apparently tipsy enough not to realize she had done any of this, but really it just gave her more evidence to her theory that her best piloting was done while under the influence.

I almost regret making my tolerance and resistance so monumental. I could probably outfly a segment of the Eternal Fleet right now, but the sheer amount of alcohol and work involved… Plus I don’t even really fly much anymore…

Now there was a depressing truth. It had been weeks since she had been able to take her ship for a spin for the hell of it, thanks to the truly staggering amount of paperwork she had on a daily basis. She probably wouldn’t have even gone on this surprise trip home if the wedding hadn’t been such an…experience.

Kynane can’t even begin to start on what that thing had dragged up inside her. Or what it had cost to keep calm and mildly pleasant when all she wanted to do was be anywhere but there. Everything was so messy inside now, like some thing with fangs and claws had seen her and thought prey. Thankfully though, she had had her tried and true method by which to cope through things that distressed her but couldn’t be avoided: alcohol.

When did Kyniska get here?

Kynane stared at the Sith, dressed in a black silk sleep robe of some kind with her hair messily pinned up in a bun, and wondered how the hell she hadn’t noticed her sister sooner. The dark look on her face and the nearly palpable Intent she was radiating was usually more attention grabbing than this.

“Kynane are you drunk.”

It wasn’t a question. More like a very imperious command handed down from on high that had the unstated undertone that you better not have done that.

“No. I’m tipsy thank you very much. And why are you up Kyniska? It’s like, what, 2 AM by Kaas time?”

She gave Kynane a look that was rather difficult to parse with all the irritation bound up in it, but she hadn’t wasted all her years with her sisters. She could read the Sith, even if that reading was somewhat foreboding this time.

“Come on, let’s go to the kitchen. I need coffee.”

Kynane would have refused, but Kyniska was more than a match for her tipsy struggles and was quickly towing her along by her hand.

“Quit sulking, you look ridiculous.”

“Wha-?! Sulking? Me? Kyniska we need to take you to an optometrist your eyesight must be going early-”

Kyniska smirked at her as they entered the kitchen, but Kynane wasn’t having any of this sort of bullshit accusation today and was telling Kyniska this with great passion when the Sith rudely interrupted her.

“Alright, I have my coffee now, so cut the blathering and tell me what you’re really worked up about. You never get this worked up about something that petty like that if you’re not trying to avoid dwelling on something, and you’re more intolerable than a rabid Jedi when you’re like this. So, spit it out already, it’s 3AM in the morning.”

Kynane went silent as Kyniska finished delivering her brutally blunt command. She felt… smaller now that Kyniska had punctured the bubble of hot air she had been trying to fill herself with. Without it, it was much harder to ignore the thing with fangs and claws lurking somewhere inside her mind, waiting for her to turn around and acknowledge it again.

“…I was at a wedding.”

Involuntarily, she thought of blue hair.

“We’ve been to some before. They didn’t bother you this much.”

“I was the officiate. And I had to come up with the ceremony.”

Kyniska sipped at her coffee, habitually trying to mask her need to think through her crueler instinctive response. Kynane wondered what had troubled her at the Sphere so much it had led to the reemergence of this habit

…It’s terrible I don’t know the answer to that….

“What is keeping you tied to that wretched place now?”

Kynane jerked out of her thoughts at that question, focusing back on Kyniska.

She’s serious. She’s not being flippant.

“You entered into that organization because Ta had the poor sense to give it a try after her mercenary contract expired. But then Ta left. And you didn’t.”

She remained quiet despite the silence Kyniska had left for her to fill in.

“You told us it was because it was an interesting diversion, that you had found interesting people. They grew into friends, and one changed into a lover. Then he died. Then they left. And you were left alone in that wretched organization.”

Kynane felt she should be speaking up for her friends, and felt a faint sense of guilt that she wasn’t. But…Were they really still friends? Kyniska wasn’t wrong after all. She had effectively been abandoned, left to struggle under an increasingly monumental burden.

And the one that stayed… I was forced to see that I could not trust him. I looked at him and saw he was capable of atrocities I could not stand. There are some lines I will not cross, and he showed he was willing to.

“I see nothing there worth this pain sister.”

Kyniska began to almost ignite as her passion finally clawed its way out from under her control.

“If you would but let me, I would break these chains on you! Free you to fly where you wished again, to be unafraid for your family, to come home! I love you Kynane, but you are suffering pointlessly for something that is dead and broken!”

Kyniska set aside her cooled coffee, the prop no longer meaningful to her, and Kynane felt her spine stiffen as she saw the fervor and resolution in Kyniska’s face.

“Not everything is destroyed Kynsika!” She roared back raggedly, unable to quietly listen to her sister condemn everything about the organization. There…there was still some worth to the place, even if kept demanding more and more from her.

Of course, Kyniska had no problem matching the depth of the emotion she had dragged out of Kynane and thundered,

“A dalliance with some princess is less than nothing! NOBILITY AND ROYALTY DO NOT LOVE SLAVES KYNANE! THEY DON’T MARRY THEM! THEY DON’T SEE THEM AS ANYTHING MORE THAN A PASSING TRIFFLE! YOUR ONLY USE IS TO PLEASE THEM BEFORE THEY DISCARD YOU FOR THE NEWEST TOY!!!”

Kynane couldn’t help but let out a soft, hurt sound as Kyniska panted as her wild eyes tried to seize her attention.

“…You and I know this sister.” Kyniska pleaded with her, her voice raw and ravaged.

Dully, Kynane noticed how tears were pouring from her eyes. Her sharp, cruel, brutal sister shouldn’t be crying. Kyniska wasn’t made to cry. It was an ugly affair; her face pinched and turned blotchy, with her eyes reddening in an ugly, non-Sithly fashion. She couldn’t remember the last time she had cried. Rage had always come easier to Kyniska than weeping.

“I don’t doubt you feel deeply for your dalliance sister, but don’t let her chain you to her. Don’t make my mistake. She will wake up one day and you will be politically inconvenient and you will be so bound to that place you won’t be able to leave.”

Kyniska placed a hand that trembled faintly on her face.

“I don’t want to find out one day I will never see you again Kynane. That you will stay in a place that brings you only pain, and will grow to hate with all the passion your heart can scrounge up.”

How…how do I respond to this?

Kynane didn’t know. All she could do was hold Kyniska and rest her forehead against hers since she couldn’t cry.

But, she did have something to say after all this misery.

“Maybe you’re right sister. But I…I can’t leave. Not yet.”

Her voice sounded hoarse and as jagged as her insides felt.

“I care too much Kyniska. I-If it happens like you say…” She swallowed down the desert that had appeared in her throat at the very idea.

“I will not stay. Nothing will be left to keep me from you and the others.”

[Kynane]

Interlude: Present

 

Kynane sighed before politely refusing the drink the waiter had offered. Raw gundark blood garnished with tentacles from an unknown species wasn’t something she was capable of ingesting, despite what the waiters assumed.

“You know, when you told me you had a party all of us should attend I was pretty curious Lo. Now I see that you used my curiosity against me, tricking me into signing on for some sort of Sithmas Hyakki Yagyō.”

Lo’ammi smiled as she was handed a box full of pearls filled with a watery sort of luminescence, exclaiming over them before setting it with her other gifts. Then she handed the lovely lady a hand carved bone fan, embedded stars of polished Force-crystal depicting a nebula Kynane couldn’t identify. The lady adored it so much she smiled, sharp rows of teeth glinting from ear to ear in the light, before snapping the fan open and hiding everything below her happily crinkled eyes.

Kynane idly wondered if she’d be even happier to know it had been carved from the bones of that assassin.

“Well, Palmira certainly wasn’t going to attend without us. And I was curious as well as to the snapdragon so insistently dogging her steps with an actual paper envelope in its petals.”

Lo’ammi twisted to face her, dress swirling around her like it had been made from water instead of silk. Though with this sort of crowd maybe it had.

“Try not to be so gloomy Kynane. Ever since you talked with Kyniska, you’ve been more rainy than Kaas City on a bad cycle.”

She pressed a kiss to her cheek, leaving a bloody lipstick mark, and smiled.

“Try to enjoy yourself. Connections are waiting to be made here, and we are all watching out of each other. No need to fear tonight.”

Kynane smiled back, and darted in to press a kiss to Lo’ammi’s cheek, leaving behind a plum brand with a grin.

“You have a point. Even if we can’t eat or drink anything here, the presents have been nice. Not sure what I’ll do with the miniature, self-playing…”

“Yatga.”

“Thanks, but again, what I’ll do with it I have no idea.”

“You could set it up in your bedroom on your ship.”

Kynane considered it, reapplying a coat of her lipstick to disguise the contemplation for any listeners. Considering how the man with the impressive fantail was conspicuously still, it didn’t hurt to use a little of her tricks.

“That might work…It’d be safe enough. And it was looking a little bare in there too. Good idea Lo.”

Lo’ammi smiled knowingly at her as the man with the fantail began to stalk off, giving her a quick wink.

“Still rainy sister?”

Kynane sighed, letting Kyniska’s words finally slip away like that night had weeks ago.

“I’d say the rain’s moving on. Still thundery, but, progress.”

Lo’ammi smiled radiantly at her, “I’m pleased to hear it. The new year should be greeted with a more sunny outlook sister.”

Kynane offered her a smile in return, a fresh rush of love for the Sith filling her heart at her concern, but before she could continue, another party-goer had come up to exchange gifts. And being rude in this place would be a very, very bad idea.

Kynane turned to the being, taking in his (?) appearance. The being had six arms, each one adorned with jewelry so finely wrought it was a wonder they didn’t break with his movements. Delicate bells sown into the hems of his airy, transparent harem pants chimed as he moved forwards and his glistening ruby lips were spread in a wide smile as prism colored hair floated around his face.

“Merry met O Sister of the Stranger.”

At the beginning of this party that greeting had phased her, but now Kynane had just accepted all these beings would identify her via the connection to Palmira.

“Merry met.”

Kynane took a quick look at him before turning to her own stockpile of presents, before plucking out one that had been at the heart of the pile. It was a globe made from a circular, faintly thrumming shield, but the true gift was at the center of it. Held safely in place by the shielding, was a piece of flowing magma. Luminous reds, oranges, yellows, with the faintest tinges of white, blue, and purple at its burning heart, sculpted into a passion flower native to Dromund Kaas.

She smiled as his fiery eyes flared in excitement, little arcs blossoming off them, and his middle set of hands eagerly stretched forward to receive his gift. As soon as the globe was in his grasp, the hands began fussing with how they would place it in his hair, and smoke coalesced within the lowest set to make a lusterless black box he offered to her.

Kynane took the box, opened it, and smiled as inside were several artisan crafting kits for several different fields. She curiously opened the jeweler’s kit, and her smile widened as she saw it was truly of kingly quality with the tools and starting materials carefully secured inside. Closing both the kit and the box, Kynane looked up to find he had finally secured the globe in pride of place in his hair. The flower and shield’s light danced amazingly across the prismatic hair strands, drawing attention to the impossibly intricate style that secured the globe and flower.

She let him see how pleased she was with his gift, as was the custom for this party (even if the gift was revolting,) and he responded with a playful smile before gliding over to Lo’ammi.

“You’re handling this well.”

Kynane turned at the familiar voice, giving the austerely dressed Palmira a sardonic grin as she said, “Sure, once I somehow cottoned onto what was the polite way to do this gift-exchange.”

The sarcasm and unasked question either flew over Palmira’s head, or she was ignoring them.

“I’m glad you did. Lo’ammi’s insistence that we come was…unexpected, but it seems to have worked out for the better. The gifts I have been receiving are much more thoughtful and useful than I had believed they would be.”

Kynane nodded, “Pretty much the same here. There’s been a couple truly…unique ones, like my new yatga and a hand mirror that can somehow apply whatever alterations it’s commanded to display on your face.”

Palmira grimaced slightly, before silently stretching out her hand and opening it to show….very intricately carved and lacquered nipple clamps.

Kynane couldn’t help but burst out cackling.

“Hahahahahahha! A-and you, haha, had to smile and, pfft, accept it!”

Palmira sourly waited for her to collect herself as the cackling died down to snickering, and finally silence.

“Are you done.”

Kynane nodded with a grin, “Yep. Though I can only imagine what Anvarian is getting if someone dared to get you this.”

Palmira’s sourness faded at the mention of her apprentice who always seemed to be either flirting, shocked out of his wits, or completely done with the latest antics going on in the compound.

“He had a slight issue with someone who resembled that damned Ghost I mentioned to everyone that night. I managed to smooth over xir upset with an extra present.”

“That’s good, at least he hasn’t mortally offended someone here. You feel alright leaving him alone to come talk to me?”

“Anvarian is usually quite good with social graces-”

“Maybe, but I don’t think this is one of those times.”

Kynane inclined her head towards the Pureblood who seemed to be at a loss with the guest who had decided they liked him; a lot. And Kynane didn’t blame him for his distress. The being wasn’t even bipedal.

The majority of the body was some sort of furred leonine creature, sleekly muscled, with powerful legs that ended with broad paws. Each paw was naturally equipped with large claws that had been adorned with decorative jeweled sheathes that kept them from retracting, and the theme on the sheathes matched the decorative armor encasing the wings that emerged from the shoulder area.

The wings seemed to be arched into a curving fan, and going by the glittering rows of fangs bared in the smile the remarkably human face displayed and how the bejeweled breasts seemed to heave in pants, this was some sort of enticement to mate.

“Excuse me Kynane, I need to attend to my apprentice.”

Kynane grinned and waved her on, settling back to watch the show.

 

Not bad for a Sithmas Hyakki Yagyō.

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