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cinlat · 2 years

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Whiskey and Tihaar: Alderaan Part One

You can read it by following the above links (for better formatting), or below the cut (for lazy formatting).

This AU is purely self-indulgent. Most chapters will feature a mutual’s OC that they have graciously trusted me with. Everything about this universe is my excuse to play with Fynta and Aric in different roles and have them interact with all the original characters in this fandom that I’ve come to love. Thanks everyone!

Chapter Summary: Things get heated, then they get HOT. For better or for worse. Word Count: 9,563 Special guests: @tishinada Ucevi @sleepswithvillains Nora @kunoichi-ume Noara

The Shershoy Location…Fucked

Fynta jerked awake in her bunk with no idea how she’d gotten there. A hazy memory of Aric Jorgan chained to her bulkhead floated through the confusion, but it had the indistinctness of a dream. There were vague flashbacks of a mumbled apology overlayed with the tangy scent of kolto. Those probably explained the Wookie pounding against the inside of Fynta’s skull at least.

After a few more breaths to clear the hangover from what Fynta hoped had been a good time, her senses began to register other things. “Fierfek,” she groaned, lifting an arm that weighed twice as much as it should have. She wiggled the numb fingers in front of her face just to make sure that they were still there. Her toes tingled, and an incessant ringing filled one of her ears. The more that Fynta inventoried her symptoms, the more certain she became that someone had shocked the shit out of her.

Finally, the buzzing in Fynta’s ear coalesced into the sound of her comm, sounding somewhere around her feet. Shoving into a sitting position, she let loose several more curses, varying the languages just to make sure that she still remembered them, before attempting to find the damn thing. After a few clumsy slaps, Fynta managed to answer.

“It’s about fucking time.” Ucevi’s blurry features came into focus after a couple of blinks. Fynta would have complimented the woman on the attractive color on her lips had they not pressed into a thin line that almost made them disappear. “Have you arrived?” The woman snapped before Fynta could think of a better greeting.

“No clue.” Fynta looked around her ship, then remembered that there was supposed to be another body in the rumpled blankets of Aric’s bed. She blinked at Ucevi. “Where am I supposed to be?”

The Sith Blood rolled her golden eyes. “You really were out of it. Where is the Jedi?”

“That was next on my list.” Fynta managed to climb to her feet, with some effort and a lot of grunting. When she was steady, she shuffled towards the bridge while balancing the comm in her hand. “Want to fill me in?”

Ucevi explained the call she’d received, Fynta’s loss of consciousness, and the difficult choice that she’d been forced to make. “You should be on Alderaan, at Nora’s safe house. I’d rather not have brought her into this, but it was the closest one to your position.”

Fynta nodded, bracing one hand against the wall as she staggered through the ship. She’d just turned the corner onto the bridge when Ucevi spoke again. “He asked for my help.”

Pausing, Fynta lifted an eyebrow. “Who?” When Ucevi matched her expression, Fynta’s other brow joined the first. The hazy image of a scowling Cathar fought through her sluggish thoughts. “Aric-I’ll take my chances-Jorgan asked you to shield him?”

One dark rope of hair fell over Ucevi’s shoulder when she nodded. “I think your encounter with the assassin rattled him. I’m en route, but it’ll be a week before I get there.” The woman’s lips flushed back to red as they curled into a taunting smirk. “Do you think that you can manage that long without me?”

Fynta started to snark back, but a hand dangling over the arm of the captain’s chair interrupted her limited concentration. “Shab, I found Aric. Let me call you back.” This time, she waited for Ucevi’s acknowledgement before disconnecting.

Circling the navigation system, Fynta cursed again when she saw the way Aric had slumped into the chair. He’d be a beast to drag out of it. Then, Fynta noticed the fresh splash of red across the green fabric on his chest. Kneeling beside the Cathar, she peeled up the hem of his shirt. Grimacing at the shredded remnants of stitches, Fynta lowered his shirt. “Well, fuck.”

Fynta wasn’t sure if Aric had torn the wound open during their fight or when he’d manhandled her sorry ass into bed. The only thing that Fynta knew was that he had landed them in a private hanger, presumably Nora’s. She stood and tried to sort her jittery thoughts into something cohesive that would benefit her situation.

Movement drew Fynta’s attention to the hanger door, and she managed a snorted laugh when a meddroid trundled towards the ship hauling a gurney. Once again, Ucevi had thought of everything. It was one of the reasons that Fynta followed the Sith Blood, and why she would never want the woman’s job. Are all of Ucevi’s agents as big of a pain in the ass, Fynta wondered as the droid picked its way toward the ship.

It took twenty minutes to lug Aric’s bulk out of the chair and onto the stretcher, even with the aid of the droid. Fynta tried using the Force, but her control was shaky at best. Better to strain a muscle than launch the poor bastard into the ceiling.

Fynta followed the meddroid through a maze of hallways. Nora's crest decorated each entryway, leading Fynta to hope that the Order hadn't gathered that much information on Darth Nemesis. Otherwise, Aric would be a major pain in her ass.

Of course, Fynta had never spoken to the Chiss about the design she'd chosen to represent herself, but Ucevi had explained the open hand of peace and watchful eye of Darth Nemesis. Fynta liked it, though she couldn't say the same for everything else. While tastefully decorated, the pastels made Fynta want to flee. It suited Noara, however.

The medcenter looked exactly like Fynta expected. A tank sat in one corner, while shiny, modern equipment gleamed around every inch of the room. Even the crisp, filtered mountain air spoke to the precise nature of the woman who owned it.

Fynta and the droid managed to slide Aric from the gurney to a medtable, complete with scanners and other machines that she had no clue how to work. Fynta set the autodoc to scan the Cathar, then dismissed the droid. As helpful as it had been during the heavy lifting, Fynta didn’t trust them with the finer aspects of medical treatments. She'd seen too many turned against their masters by talented slicers.

While the machine whirred around Aric, Fynta found a mirror and grimaced at her reflection. Her hair was a matted mess, while splotchy red and blue marks surrounded both eyes from Aric’s centermast strike to her face. With her head clearer, Fynta’s memories filtered back in. Ucevi had filled in any gaps with the explanation that Aric had given her. Their words, coupled with the muscle weakness and splitting headache, left Fynta with a clear enough image of what had happened.

When the machine scanning Aric chimed its completion, Fynta pushed away from the mirror with a huff. As expected, his bloodwork showed an unknown pathogen, but the levels were dropping as she watched. Though the rakghoul venom still coursed through his system, the vaccine seemed to be doing its job. Apart from that, general exhaustion and the reopened wound were his most pressing problems.

Digging through Nora’s impressively organized supplies, Fynta found a needle and surgical thread. She disinfected her hands and the wound, pulled on a pair of gloves, then applied a coagulant to Aric’s side. He hissed, claws flexing at the end of curled fingers, then settled back into unconsciousness. As a precaution, Fynta added a couple of arm restraints before pulling up a chair.

Once the bleeding stopped, Fynta recleaned the area and examined the wound. Two jagged lines began at the bottom of Aric’s ribs, then zigzagged down his side, coming to a jumpy halt below his hip bone. Fynta assumed the marks were left by different claws as they followed the path around Aric’s armored plates. The armor had protected his organs, at least; scans only showed tissue damage.

Pushing into a standing position, Fynta muttered an apology to her unconscious and probably unwilling patient as she unfastened his pants and pulled back the side that she needed to access. Aric Jorgan was a well formed male with impressive musculature. Fynta assured herself that her admiration came from a place of professional courtesy, but she couldn’t convince herself. The Cathar had a nice body, even battered and broken.

Fynta found a sheet in one of the cabinets and draped it over Aric’s waist to protect his modesty. And so he wouldn’t grow more irritable when he realized that Fynta had cut off his shirt. Once satisfied that she couldn't be accused of salacious intent, Fynta retook her seat and set about closing his wounds.

The first indication that Aric was starting to wake up was the curl of his fingers. Fynta leaned back half a second before he jerked on the restraints. His bestial snarl vibrated through the air. Fynta rolled her head to release the tension in her shoulders and met the Cathar’s glare. “Good morning, no, evening? Shab, I don’t even know.”

“Why am I bound,” Aric growled a second time, ignoring her greeting.

Fynta lifted the Cathar’s hand to display the claws at the end of each finger. “Call it self preservation. If you hold still while I finish closing you up, I’ll—”

“Where are my clothes?” Aric’s tone shifted from anger to indignation, just as Fynta had expected. His jaw worked like there was more that he wanted to say, but couldn’t find the right words.

Fynta unbuckled the restraints, keeping her hand on Aric’s arm. His muscles twitched, but he didn’t pull away. “I’m serious, I’ve only got a few more rows left. I need you to stop moving, because if I have to start this over, you’re doing it alone.”

Aric glared for so long that Fynta wondered if he would demand the needle after all. His gaze darted around her face, landing on the bruises beneath her eyes. At last, the Cathar nodded. Fynta hunched forward over his hip to see where the wound narrowed. The only indication that Aric gave of discomfort was the near constant flexing of his fingers. Fynta kept her eyes on her task, resisting the urge to glance higher to see if her proximity had any affect on the man.

Finally, Fynta straightened with a groan. She’d tied the sutures twice and clipped them. She jammed both fists into her back to stretch out the tight muscles. “All done. Maybe take it easy for a bit.”

“I could say the same for you,” Aric managed as he twisted on the table to examine Fynta’s work. “Not bad.”

“I’ve had some practice.” Fynta removed the bloodied gloves, then offered her good hand to Aric. The other ached with a bone deep pain that indicated she should probably have it splinted. “Sit up slowly.”

Aric took Fynta’s offered assistance, grimacing as he curled into a sitting position. He started to speak, but Fynta cut him off. “The kolto tank is ready. Do you want something to eat before going in? I’ll bet this kitchen is packed with the best food.” And booze, she added silently. Darth Nemesis had expensive taste, and Fynta didn’t think the Chiss would mind if they helped themselves to a bottle or two.

Without answering, Aric took Fynta’s swollen arm in a gentler grip than she’d thought possible. He examined it, turning it over with warm hands that drove away some of the pain. “This needs to be treated first.”

“I’ll get around to it.” Fynta tried to pull back, but Aric resisted. She sighed, even added an eye roll for effect. “Promise, but I’m starving.”

Swinging his legs over the table, Aric pulled Fynta closer and placed the tips of his fingers around both of her eyes. Fynta lifted her brows, but the Jedi ignored her unspoken question. His eyes closed, and the heat radiating off him increased a noticeable degree. The ache in Fynta’s head receded, pulling into the bridge of her nose, then scattered like smoke. Similarly, the pain from her battered arm dissipated, leaving her only with the reminder of an injury. When Aric’s eyes opened, they were brighter. Then, he sagged back against the bed and it was Fynta’s turn to prop him up.

“You can heal?” Force healing was a rare gift, one that needed years of training to hone into what Aric had accomplished. It was apparently exhausting, too.

Aric shook his head. “Your injuries are still there, I just masked the discomfort.” His jaw tightened. “So, remember your promise.”

A memory from Rishi surfaced. Of a dying slaver and Aric's fingers sinking into a bloody gap in the man's torso. She'd been too angry then to recognize the shift in her target's behavior. Aric had known the man would die from his wounds and had chosen an easy interrogation. Once again, Fynta was forced to reevaluate the intention behind Aric's actions.

Fynta wanted to thank the Jedi for putting what little strength he had into helping her. Then, she remembered that it was half his fault that she was in the shape she was in. Fynta settled for a lopsided smile and offered him her good arm. “Want to help me raid the kitchen?”

Alderaan Imperial Territory Mountain Safe House Sometime That Evening

Raiding the kitchen turned out to be more lucrative than Aric expected. He felt more agreeable after filling his stomach with fine meats and a bottle of red that Fynta found in the cellar. Each time that Aric started to ask whose safe house they were in, he couldn’t bring himself to burst the temporary bubble of kinship they’d developed. For the moment, he and Fynta were the only people within ten miles of mountainous terrain, and that was enough.

Aric stepped out of the kolto tank and stripped off his wet undergarments. A shower stall took up the opposite corner of the spacious room, and he couldn’t wait to wash the residue from his fur. After cleansing, he wrapped one towel around his hips and used another to scrub his head and torso dry. While Aric was happy to be rid of the stench of antiseptics, he didn’t enjoy being wet.

After eating their fill, but before seeking medical aid, Aric and Fynta had toured the sprawling compound and settled on their rooms. His was larger than anything he’d stayed in before, with a massive bed and private fresher. When Aric opened the door, he’d expected it to be empty. He stopped at the sight of Fynta stretched across his bed, momentarily wondering if he’d gotten their quarters confused. Then, he saw the weathered pack in the corner with his armor piled beside and growled at his intruder.

Stalking forward, Aric had every intention of sending the Sith nuisance on her way, until he realized that Fynta was asleep. She lay on her stomach, stripped to a pair of indecent shorts and a shirt that had ridden up along one side. In that moment of peace, he considered Fynta’s features. The woman’s sun-kissed hair and bronze skin were appealing, though her battle-defined muscle stole some of her womanly curves. It didn’t make her look less feminine; if anything, it made her more attractive. Aric’s gaze lingered on the curve of Fynta’s ass just long enough to be respectful before tearing his gaze away.

Fynta inhaled, then rolled away from Aric. Her shirt rose higher, and he was distracted by the patchwork of thin scars overlaying thicker ones that covered the woman’s back. They looked intentional, reminding him of the harsh reality that Sith faced. Before he could ponder too long, Fynta flopped onto her back with a groan and blinked at the ceiling. Then, her bleary gaze found Aric.

“Get lost?” Aric asked. He remembered the towel around his waist when he put his hands on his hips. Fynta scanned his body, but Aric refused to react. She was in his room, after all. He had nothing to explain.

Fynta groped around the bed, then lifted a bag of frozen vegetables from somewhere in Aric’s sheets. He hoped that it hadn’t left a wet spot; he’d just gotten his fur dry. Then, he winced when Fynta dropped it onto her face. “How was the bath?” The question was muffled by the woman’s homemade ice pack.

Aric swallowed his apology; Fynta would wave it off, anyway. That didn’t stop him from grimacing whenever her battered face greeted him. Aric must have taken too long to answer because Fynta lifted one corner of the bag to peek at him. “It was warm,” he responded, then tilted his head. “You should try it.”

The swelling in Fynta’s right arm had gone down, and the autodocs seemed convinced that the bones weren’t broken. Still, Aric worried about the woman’s dominant fighting hand out of commission. She sighed as if reading his thoughts and raised the arm in question, rolling her wrist to prove that she had full mobility.

“Why are you in my room?” Aric finally asked, growing tired of the push and pull of trying to get Fynta to tend to her injuries with more than basic field medicine.

Fynta yawned. “Originally, it was to make sure that you followed through with your treatment. Then, I figured I’d wait to see how it went. Then, the bed called to me and that’s the last thing that I remember.” Her eyes swept over Aric again, and she hummed deep in her throat. “It’s a damn shame I’m so tired.”

“You haven’t even bought me dinner yet,” Aric tisked, moving to his duffle on the floor. He ignored the unnatural rhythm his heartbeat had taken up.

While rummaging for a clean pair of clothes, Aric heard the brush of fabric as Fynta sat up. “I did sneak you into an enemy camp so that you wouldn’t turn into a rakghoul.” When he looked over his shoulder, Fynta’s head tilted to one side and a lascivious grin lit her features. “And helped you steal expensive treats from a powerful Sith. Surely that entitles me to at least a peek.”

“Out,” Aric growled, jabbing one finger at the door. He kept the other hand wrapped around his towel just in case Fynta decided to get cute.

Huffing, the woman scooted to the edge of Aric's bed and slid off. She made it two steps before remembering her makeshift ice pack. After backtracking, Fynta offered Aric a pitiful excuse for a wink through her puffy eyes, then flounced out of his room. Aric used the Force to shut and lock the door behind her, though he wasn’t sure if it was enough to guarantee his privacy.

Aric ignored the tightness around his stitches while he dressed. He’d calculated that three kolto baths would get him back into fighting shape, or at least, make him not worthless. If only he could convince Fynta to do the same. Aric didn’t understand the woman’s aversion to healthcare. He wondered if Theron had any information on her background.

Finally decent, Aric considered trying out the bed, but he was too restless for sleep. He wasn’t hungry thanks to Fynta’s scavenging skills, so he walked through the compound. The halls were dimly lit, well enough that Aric could make out the artwork. There were no images of who owned the place, but he assumed the repeating sigil was important. He took a picture with his datapad to research later. Aric didn’t think that it was Ucevi’s. She wouldn’t hesitate so long if it was one of her properties; not for Fynta.

Aric paused at a window overlooking a snowy courtyard. Since arriving, he’d been so focused on survival that he hadn’t taken the time to explore their surroundings. The moon reflected off the snow, painting the world in a cold silver that seemed frozen in time. For that moment, he felt peace at the pale serenity spreading before him.

“It’s like hell froze over,” a voice murmured behind Aric. He barely stopped himself from jerking away when Fynta appeared at his side. She sighed, arms folded around herself while clutching a blanket to her shoulders. He hadn’t felt her approach, either through the Force or his other senses. The woman moved like a ghost.

“How do you do that?” Aric kept his voice low even though they were alone in the safe house. The frigid air felt too fragile to disturb with raised voices. He sniffed, catching a hint of the soap that Fynta had showered with. If he didn’t know better, he would guess that the woman had been working on suppressing her scent as well.

Fynta pulled the blanket tighter and shivered as she stared out the frost hazed window. “Would you like me to teach you?”

Aric faced the woman, abandoning the picturesque scenery for the Sith who looked somehow small in the pale moonlight. “You’d do that?” Aric squared his shoulders and glared down at her, searching for a trap. “You’d teach a Jedi how to evade detection by other Sith?”

“I’d teach a friend,” Fynta commented, tearing her gaze away from the courtyard to meet Aric’s. “If you’ll trust me.”

“I do,” Aric answered before he realized the words were true. Fynta’s brows rose, and Aric took a step backwards to open space to think. She waited, and he took those seconds to gather his thoughts.

Aric wondered when he’d grown to believe the word of a Sith, or how Fynta had wormed her way inside his defenses in so little time. He knew that she wouldn’t hurt him, just like he knew that he wanted Fynta there when Ucevi delved into his mind. Fynta would protect him, even from an old lover and friend. Aric didn't know why he believed it, though, and that troubled him more than anything.

Finally, Aric nodded. “I do,” he repeated with more force. Then, he manifested a playful note in his voice. “With my mind, at least. My body, not so much.”

Fynta barked out a laugh that lit up her face. “Damn shame about that, too.”

Laughter bubbled out of Aric with surprising ease. He relaxed his stance and let his mind open to the possibility of moving with the stealth that Fynta commanded. “Where do we start?”

Fynta crooked her finger with a smirk that tightened Aric’s stomach. “Let me show you how I meditate.”

The earlier ease that Aric had cultivated in Fynta’s presence evaporated with each step that he followed her down the hallway. It vanished completely when she opened a door that led downstairs. Aric spared the Sith a side glance. “Planning to lock me in the basement?”

“If I was going to chain you to something, Master Jorgan, it wouldn’t be in a basement.” The devious chuckle that followed Fynta’s statement didn’t encourage Aric’s confidence. Especially, when she activated the lights to reveal a long, narrow room that must have run the length of the estate they occupied.

Fynta moved around, flipping levers and powering on computer terminals. Aric stopped inside the door and realized where they were when he spotted the targets on a motorized pulley system. “A shooting range?”

Spreading her hands wide, Fynta let the blanket fall from her shoulders and pool around her feet. “Welcome to my temple.” She tapped in a code on the weapons locker against the wall, then curled her fingers into a fist when it rejected her attempt. The lock splintered in a shower of sparks, and Fynta pushed the door open to reveal a decent collection of low caliber blasters.

Aric took a subtle breath to steady his pounding heart, then kicked her blanket under the metal table on his way to join Fynta. “I hope you’re on good terms with whoever owns these.” Aric noticed that she had taken care not to damage anything other than the lock, though. He supposed this particular Sith had the means to replace something so commonplace.

Without speaking, Fynta leaned in and collected a blaster that Aric recognized. She presented it to him. “Have you ever shot one of these?”

“Once, a while ago.” Aric felt the weight of the weapon in his hand. He’d always been fascinated by the inner workings of blasters, and had been taken in by a lieutenant on Hoth one day when everyone was stuck indoors by a storm.

Felix had shown Aric how to break down, clean, and fire a hand blaster. They’d spent the day on the firing range with a dozen other soldiers. Aric had refused to use the Force, and more than one of the soldiers had been willing to teach a Jedi how to work such a primitive weapon. The day ranked high on the list of Aric's favorite memories.

Fynta nodded with approval when Aric checked the charge magazine before bringing it up to sight. “Come on, let's see how much you remember.”

Aric followed Fynta to the bench at the start of one of the lanes and held out her hand. “Watch me.” Aric surrendered the blaster and stepped back to do as instructed.

The woman planted her feet, hips squared with her shoulders and arms extended in front of her. The grip rested more naturally in Fynta’s palms than his, but Aric assumed that came from a lifetime of practice. Mandalorians learned how to fire a blaster early. Aric wondered which of Fynta’s parents had taught her to shoot.

Aric studied the lines of Fynta’s body as she settled into firing position. The muscles of her now exposed arms bunched, the tendons flexing in her elbows, wrists, and fingers. He watched her ribs expand and contract beneath the black fabric of her halter top, and realized that her breathing had slowed. Then, the air exploded with a concussive blast that made Aric jump. Green lights flashed down the line to signal a hit, and he couldn’t hold in an appreciative snort at her accuracy. “That’s what, thirty, forty yards?”

“Forty-five,” Fynta answered with no small amount of pride. She lowered the weapon and grinned over her shoulder. “Want to take a shot?”

Aric stepped forward and accepted the blaster. He remembered the weight in his hands, and lifted it to stare down the sight, careful to keep his finger outside of the trigger guard. When he was satisfied, he tilted the weapon and examined the charge pack. It glowed gold instead of the blue or green that he was used to. “What’s with the color?”

Nodding in approval, Fynta turned Aric towards the target. “Target rounds. The rechargeable kind so that I don’t have to blow a ton of credits replacing them.” She positioned Aric on a pale line painted on the floor. He didn’t register her hands on him until Fynta gripped his hips and yanked him into a better stance. Just as quickly, her touch was gone.

Aric looked back, keeping his body still, while Fynta retrieved a set of noise suppressors from the cabinet. She plopped them over Aric's ears, enveloping him in silence. Then they beeped a greeting, and suddenly, he could hear again. “These have an NRR rating of 30.” When Aric didn't appear to catch on, Fynta waved a dismissive hand. “Noise reduction rating. Basically, they protect those sensitive ears of yours.”

“What about you?” Aric's voice sounded loud in the void surrounding him. It left him with the urge to pop his ears.

“My hearing has been shot for years.” In contrast, Fynta sounded reserved, but Aric didn't know if that was due to her admission, or the protective gear. “Now, show me what you can do.”

Filing this conversation for later questioning, Aric silently recounted the words of his teacher. Take a breath, find your target, then squeeze on the exhale. As a soldier on Hoth, Felix Iresso had been accustomed to long days trapped inside when the planet’s surface was uninhabitable. He'd been a patient teacher, something Aric had tried and failed to emulate since.

The crack of the blaster wasn’t as loud as before, but it still made the hair on the back of Aric’s neck stand on end. The suppressors muted the sound to a thump that Aric felt in his chest and behind his sinuses. Slowly, Aric lowered the blaster and squinted down the firing line.

“Not bad.” Fynta folded her arms. She wore a stern expression that Aric had yet to see on the woman. He supposed firearms were one of the few things that she took seriously. “That’s a hit. Not a kill, but he felt it.”

Aric tried not to be flattered by a Mandalorian’s praise, but pride wormed its way to the surface. He lowered the blaster to look at Fynta. “Got any tips?” Her kind were the best shots in the galaxy, after all; it wouldn't hurt to pick up a new skill in case of an emergency.

“Try this.” Fynta pushed Aric’s arms up, tapping the bottom of his elbows to straighten them. Then, she slipped into the space between and pressed her back to his chest.

“What are you—” Aric started to back away, but Fynta reached back and jerked his hips in line with hers.

Fynta returned Aric’s arms to the ready position encircling her shoulders, then straightened so that Aric had to as well. “Feel that?” Fynta asked, and Aric had no idea which part of this he was supposed to be focusing on. Mostly, it was the way her ass pressed against his groin.

Looking over her shoulder, a light of amusement entered Fynta’s eyes. “Still with me, Jedi?”

“I’m—” Aric cleared his throat and made himself meet Fynta’s gaze. “I’m not sure what we’re doing.”

“You were slouching, leaning into the shot.” Fynta reached back again to pat Aric’s hip, and he jumped. He tried to cover the movement with a scowl, but Fynta’s continued humor assured him that she wasn't convinced. Her chuckle added to his discomfort. “Feel how straight your spine is now?”

Aric nodded, suddenly aware of how close Fynta’s face was to his, and how easily he could fall into the playful expression that made her look so alive. Then, she ducked out from under his arms, leaving Aric cold and fidgety. Fynta leaned against the counter and motioned down the line. “Again.”

Heaving a long exhale, Aric made himself look at the target. His stance felt unnatural, but when he tried to adjust, Fynta clucked her tongue. He found the steady pattern of his breathing the same way he used for meditation. The noise of the estate drifted into the back of Aric’s mind, and the world tunneled down to the sight on the end of the blaster and the target behind that. Air filled his lungs, then he squeezed the trigger.

“Kandosii.” Fynta clapped her hands and pressed the button that would bring the still illuminated target back to them. Her grin brought on the same swell of pride from before, and Aric found that he’d matched it when she turned to him. “Hell of a shot. That’s a kill.”

With a slap to Aric’s shoulder, Fynta moved to the next lane and lifted her verpine. They spent the next hour side by side in what the woman considered meditation. After losing himself to the rhythmic sensation of firing, reloading, taking aim, and repeating, Aric understood. There was purity in the action that standard meditation lacked. The ability to move changed the experience enough to make it addictive.

When Aric reached for another charge pack and found nothing, the trance broke. He blinked at the empty bench, then over to where Fynta was cleaning her Verpine. Aric gathered his equipment and followed. “I didn’t want to disturb you,” Fynta said without looking up, but there was a twist to her lips. “Enjoy yourself?”

“That was fun,” Aric admitted, setting the blaster on the table next to Fynta’s. He leaned closer to examine the individual pieces of Fynta’s broken down Verpine. “What is that?”

Fynta pointed to the cylindrical chamber. “Physical ammo.” She rolled it with one finger and metal rattled within. “The Verpine is a slug thrower, effective against people like us. Mine’s…modified.” She gestured to a switch on the side, and Aric noted the file marks along the matte black finish where the security identification code should be.

“Who would have guessed,” Aric deadpanned with a smirk. He pointed to the missing numbers. “I take it this would be hard to explain in most civilized sectors.” Fynta winked, then reached for the barrel of her Verpine and dropped the end of a pipe covered in fine wires into it.

Fynta nodded to the blaster in Aric’s hand while she scrubbed the one in hers. “Do you know how to break that down?”

Aric set his blaster on the table and watched Fynta tug the pipe through the other end of the barrel she held, stripping grit and black oil from within. Aric was surprised by how dirty it had gotten in a single use. “I assume you want to teach me?” Felix had shown Aric the process, but Fynta’s lessons were usually more hands-on. He found that he wouldn’t mind a refresher lesson in the woman’s company.

A smirk pulled at the corner of Fynta’s mouth. She pointed to a notch near the back of the barrel. “Use the key hanging on the wall to start the process. Disengage the slide first, then remove the barrel. Don’t drop any of the springs that try to pop out once that’s free.”

Aric ran his fingers along the small cylinders, searching for the correct size while Fynta watched. He felt the weight of her gaze and hoped that he didn’t do anything stupid while taking the blaster apart. To Aric’s surprise, the process was self explanatory once he mastered holding the slide and removing the pin at the same time. He used the Force when Fynta wasn’t looking.

Once all the pieces were laid out on the bench, Aric startled at the feel of Fynta’s shoulder against his. “Good job,” she remarked over his elbow. “Clean your blaster often. After each discharge, if possible.”

Fynta went back to her task, leaving Aric alone with his thoughts. They worked in silence apart from his questions about the tools and Fynta’s quiet answers. Aric had gotten the grime out of every crevice in the blaster and was about to begin reassembling it when Fynta handed him a bottle of lube. “It helps with the friction,” she added with a barely contained grin. “You want a nice, smooth sliding action.”

Aric blinked at the woman, unsure if she was having a go at him or not. When he was able to tear his gaze away, it was to confirm that the bottle was registered for use on blasters and rifles. Carefully, Aric lifted the bottle and turned it. Fynta tutted at him. “A little goes a long way. You wouldn’t want to make it too wet.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Aric managed, though his throat had grown tight with the heady mixture of pheromones filling the space around Fynta.

With another wink, Fynta moved away, and Aric remembered how to breathe. She reassembled her Verpine, slapped a charge cartridge into it, then tucked the weapon into the holster on her hip. “While you get that put together, I’m going to take my turn in the kolto.” She sighed as if the idea of healing annoyed her, then her smile returned. “Feel free to come rescue me if you get lonely.”

Before Aric could formulate his response, Fynta was gone. He looked at the parts of the blaster spread on the cloth before him and sighed. His body still hummed, like tiny live wires in his arms and legs that left him fidgety. If he wasn’t careful, Fynta would entice him into making a mistake that would condemn him and the Jedi Order both.

Alderaan Emergency Safe House

Over the course of the next three days, Aric and Fynta held to a shaky routine. They took turns in the kolto tank, bickered about theology, raided Nora’s kitchen, argued about sex, spent time in quiet contemplation on the blaster range, and rounded out the evening debating morals over dinner. They were in the middle of one such meal when Aric put down his fork. “Where are we?”

Fynta was surprised that the question hadn’t come up sooner, not that she had a better answer than she would have earlier in the week. She scooped another spoonful of desert into her mouth and chewed. Meanwhile, Aric stared at her, clearly unwilling to back down. Fynta swallowed, then smiled. “Does it matter? We’ll be leaving as soon as Ucevi does her mind thing.”

Aric tensed, and Fynta took another bite of her food. “It’ll be fine,” she added around a mouthful, “Ucevi’s been doing it to me for years.”

“That’s not comforting,” Aric grumbled as he pushed away from the table. Fynta watched the Cathar rinse his dishes and place them to dry. When he turned to face her, Aric pressed his palms against the kitchen counter and drummed his fingers. “I need to know.”

Rolling her eyes, Fynta dropped her spoon into the bowl. “She’s a good person, Aric, like Ucevi. You need to stop worrying so much about where your allies come from and more about what they do.”

“Because Sith are so trustworthy?” Aric asked, folding his arms. It was the same argument that they’d had every night, but this time, he ran a hand down his face and sighed. “Ucevi will be here in two days.”

Fynta leaned back in her chair, waiting for the Cathar to get to the point. Aric glared at his feet. “I’m going to let a fucking Sith climb into my head and hope that she won’t scramble everything that she finds.” Fynta started to argue, but Aric’s expression when he looked up stopped her. “I want you in there.”

“Me?” Fynta felt her brows lift. “You want me there when Ucevi goes in?”

Aric nodded, though he radiated unease. “I need to trust someone if we’re going to kill your old master. So far, I don’t see a reason why it can't be you.”

There was a moment of silence while Fynta tried to figure out how best to respond, but again, Aric spoke over anything she might have come up with. “I know she’s your person, but can I count on you?”

Fynta finally understood why Aric had been so curious about Ucevi. He thought they were in love, or at least an item. The waves of jealousy that Fynta felt from him weren’t because he wanted her, but because he wanted what he thought she had with Ucevi. The sort of trust that came from years of shared hardship, not love.

The idea of love, at least the sort that Aric alluded to, had never interested Fynta. She had people that she trusted, people that she had fun with, and people that she used. Sometimes, the lines between those classifications blurred. Love in the context that Aric meant included growing old together and a lot more commitment than Fynta ever intended to subject herself to.

A memory surfaced, hazy and colored by time. When she’d escaped Darth Nox, the detox and stripping of the Sith’s control over her mind had left Fynta weak and ill. Ucevi had been there, holding her hair back and cooling her fevers. She was the only person that Fynta had ever let that close. Maybe Aric was right about the bond she shared with the Sith Blood, but not in the way he suspected.

“Yeah,” Fynta answered, only realizing after Aric began to fidget that she’d forgotten to answer while untangling her complicated relationship with Ucevi. There would be time for that later. Lifting her eyes, she met the Cathar’s cold glare. “I’ll be there.”

Aric nodded, and an awkward silence fell over them. While Fynta tried to think of a way to fill it, an idea occurred to her. “You want to play a game?”

Fynta didn’t need the Force to see Aric’s apprehension. She chuckled and got to her feet, bowl in hand. “You grab the booze while I clean up.”

“A drinking game?” Aric asked as he watched Fynta with a predatory smirk. When he spoke, it widened to show the sharp points of his teeth. “You do realize that Cathar have a higher metabolism than humans, right?”

Fynta turned on the water to rinse her dishes, peeking playfully over one shoulder. “And Mandalorians start drinking at thirteen, I think I’ll be fine.”

Leaning so close that Fynta felt Aric’s breath on her neck, the Cathar whispered, “You’re on.” He shoved away from the counter and sauntered into the next room where they’d drank more of Nora’s stash than she’d be pleased with. Meanwhile, Fynta tried to shake away the chills that Aric’s proximity had left her with.

When Fynta joined Aric in the sitting room, he’d pulled two chairs to either side of a low table and placed a full bottle of whiskey in the middle. A shot glass sat in front of each chair. Fynta grinned and took her seat. “You got the good stuff.”

“I’ve developed a taste for it,” Aric admitted, tipping the bottle of Corellian Whiskey to fill each glass. “How does this work?”

“Simple, I make a statement, and if it’s false, you drink.” Fynta lifted her glass in a salute. “For example: Never have I ever lost a bar fight.” Aric tilted his head while Fynta knocked back her shot. The whiskey went down smooth, burning a satisfying trail through her chest and stomach. She sighed and set her empty glass down.

Aric rubbed his chin, failing to cover his smirk. “You lost?”

“Hell yeah I lost,” Fynta laughed. “I never picked a fight with a Wookie again. I was lucky that she was only in it for a good time and didn’t rip my arms off.”

Aric rumbled a low laugh. “Okay, my turn.” He took a moment to consider, his stare locked on Fynta. “I’ve never framed anyone for murder.”

“Oddly specific,” Fynta said, but she drank anyway. Still, Aric’s glass remained untouched. “It was an accident, but I guess it still counts. I didn’t know that the butler was in the house until the news announced that he’d been arrested.”

“How did that turn out?” Aric asked, and Fynta was surprised by the lack of scorn in his tone.

Smiling, Fynta glanced at Nora’s crest. “Ucevi and one of her political allies pulled some strings, and the man went free. We got him off planet, just in case.”

The noise Aric made could have been approval, but he didn’t speak. Fynta leaned forward to refill her glass. “My turn.” She racked her brain for anything that would even the odds before she was too drunk to play. “I’ve never used my personal belief system to mete out judgment on those I perceived as evil.”

Aric lifted his glass, scowled at Fynta, then knocked it back. “Not the way I’d word it,” he hissed around the burn. Fynta allowed herself a victorious smirk.

The Cathar licked his lips and studied the glass in his hand. When he spoke, he didn’t look at Fynta. “I’ve never slept with the enemy.”

“Yet,” Fynta teased, saluting Aric with her glass before dumping the contents down her throat. Her head felt pleasantly light and her tongue loose. She was well on her way towards being drunk, and her adversary was annoyingly sober.

Slamming the glass onto the table between them, Fynta grinned. “I’ve never been indoctrinated into a cult as a child.” At least when Nox had her, it was forced servitude with a hint of brainwashing. She’d never adopted his way of thinking.

Aric’s scowl deepened. “That’s not how it happened.”

Fynta shook her head and snapped her fingers at him while filling the glass. “Drink, Jedi.” He did, then quickly poured another. Fynta found that response intriguing. Aric didn’t argue past the weak defense, leading her to wonder if the Cathar harbored doubts about his precious Orders recruitment policies.

Aric lifted his glass and looked into Fynta’s eyes. “I’ve never kissed someone for the sake of a job.”

It stung, but Fynta drank. She’d been taught from the cradle to win, no matter the cost. The Sith nurtured that belief, twisting it into a soul shredding mantra. What Nox had done went so far beyond the academy’s teachings that Fynta wasn’t even sure that she had a soul left to worry about. But using Aric without his knowledge had been wrong. Hell, Fynta didn’t even need his consent, but she should have at least warned him.

Spinning the glass between her fingers, Fynta studied the floor. “If it’s any consolation, I regret that.”

Aric snorted and drank his shot anyway. “This game was a bad idea.” He turned his glass upside down on the table and stood. When Fynta reached for the bottle, Aric grabbed it and walked towards the main bar.

Fynta followed Aric while eyeing the bottle in his hand. She didn’t think that he was drunk yet because she was bordering on tipsy, but considered separating him from the alcohol before their argument could escalate. Nora would not be pleased to return home to lightning scorched floorboards and claw marks on the furniture.

Fynta held her hand out for the whiskey bottle when Aric stopped by the bar. “I think I’m going to need that before we continue.” To her surprise, he surrendered it.

Tipping the bottle back, Fynta took a heady swig, then wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. She lowered the bottle and leveled Aric with as serious of an expression as she could manage. “I am sorry.”

Aric ran a hand down his face and released a sound somewhere between a growl and a sigh. It vibrated through Fynta’s bones, and she shivered with unexpected pleasure before she could stop herself. Thankfully, Fynta didn’t think Aric saw it.

“Let’s make sure that we’re on the same page from now on.” The Cathar grumbled, reaching for the bottle dangling from Fynta’s fingers. “Deal?”

“Deal.” Fynta watched Aric take several consecutive drinks and winced at the open space in the bottle. She’d have to replace that before Nora found out.

When Aric smacked his lips, the vibrant glow of his eyes drew Fynta in. She stepped closer and lowered her voice, if only to make sure that she wasn’t yelling at him. When Aric didn’t retreat, Fynta lifted her chin and pasted on what she hoped was a flirty grin. “Admit it, you liked it a little.”

Aric glared out the window at the snowy landscape illuminated by a cloudy night. “I’m not into bondage.” Fynta followed his gaze and shivered. She hated the cold, but Aric wore a wistful expression that grabbed her attention. In the pale light, the sharp angles of his face were accentuated by shadow and his eyes glowed a blue that nearly matched the snow outside.

Fynta bit her lip and glanced back at their glasses. If they were going to work together, she couldn't leave it like this. Pouring two shots, Fynta offered one to Aric.

Perhaps it was the intensity of Aric's stare when he accepted Fynta’s gift, or maybe the alcohol fueled warmth driving away the Alderaan cold, but Fynta lifted her glass. “To new possibilities.”

After a moment's hesitation, Aric tapped his glass to Fynta’s and offered a tight smile. “And broadening horizons.”

They drank together. When the glasses were empty, Fynta brushed her fingers over Aric’s when she collected it. “It was a pretty shitty first kiss.”

Shugging, Aric let his smile expand just enough to show the tips of his teeth. “I’ve had better,” he agreed.

Taking a step closer, Fynta looked up at Aric. The toes of her shoes crossed the threshold of his boots. Her thigh brushed his when she shifted, and it would take little effort to close the gap between their chests, but she’d leave that to him. “We could always try again.”

The fact that Fynta voiced the offer that had been tempting her all night surprised her nearly as much as Aric’s response. “Why?” He didn’t break eye contact, and Fynta felt the press of his will against hers. She opened her mind enough to let him sense her sincerity, but not so much that he’d tumble in like the last time.

Aric inhaled deeply enough that his chest expanded through the empty space that Fynta had left between them. She smiled and lowered her voice. “Because I think you want to know what it feels like as much as I do.”

“Yeah,” Aric exhaled, his voice dropping low and husky. “Maybe I do.” Then, his lips were on Fynta’s, one hand pressing against her lower back to drag her against his body, the other still supporting his weight against the counter.

Fynta expected cold hunger, maybe the bite of a predator who had been pushed to his limits. Instead, a gentle warmth suffused Fynta’s body as Aric’s emotions tangled with hers. He was calm, rather than the frostbitten anger and frustration that she normally sensed in him. There was a peacefulness in Aric’s reaction that was as undeniable as the snow outside their window.

Steadily, Aric’s other hand moved to cradle Fynta’s head, fingers slipping through the loose strands of her hair so that he could tilt her mouth closer. A steady rumble built inside of him, pushing through his body and into Fynta’s. Aric’s rough tongue scraped pleasantly against hers, and the overwhelming sense of rightness of the moment threatened to swallow Fynta whole. She knew instinctively that Aric would drive her mad with patient caresses should they ever make it to a bed.

Fynta pressed closer, rubbing herself against Aric in a way that made it clear how far she was willing to take their new exploration. He growled encouragement against her lips, splaying his fingers across the bare skin of her back. When he’d slipped his hand up her shirt, Fynta had no idea.

A warning bloomed in the back of Fynta’s mind. She ignored it, claiming blissful denial in the fear that if she gave in, the spell would be broken. Aric would come to his senses and remember that she was his mortal enemy, that this was a terrible idea.

The pressure of an intruder grew even as Aric’s hand worked Fynta’s shirt higher. He’d just reached her ribs when she tore her lips free with a snarl. “Fierfek.” Aric pulled back to stare down at Fynta, his heavy breaths puffing against her face and the lust that brightened his eyes faded while she watched.

Pressing her finger to Aric’s parted lips, she closed her eyes to focus on what had grown from a distraction into an annoyance. Then, her eyes widened with understanding. “Fierfek.”

Alderaan Imperial Territory Unknown Mountain Safe House

“What is it?” Aric whispered, pressing his lips next to Fynta’s ear. Their bodies were molded together, and when she shifted, Aric was reminded of how close he’d come to making a grave mistake. He shouldn’t have accepted Fynta’s offer, but looking into her brilliant eyes while moonlight poured through the window to illuminate tanned skin, he’d lost himself.

Carefully, Fynta untangled herself from Aric’s arms. The room felt cold without her body pressed against his. While he’d expected her willingness, Aric hadn’t been prepared for her enthusiasm. She had met every stroke of his tongue, never shying away from what most species considered uncomfortable. The heady scent of Fynta’s arousal still simmered in Aric’s blood. Until her eyes popped open to show alarm instead of lust. “We’re not alone.”

Icy dread doused the flames of Aric’s desire. For the span of a heartbeat, he wondered if Fynta had betrayed him again. Had she lured him into that damn game to lower his defenses? To prove that he was a weak willed Jedi? Then logic rose, and Aric realized that Fynta’s body language was not one of someone who had expected visitors. Her hand flattened against his chest, but he resisted when she tried to push him back.

Aric touched Fynta’s arm, trying not to be distracted by the firmness of her bicep or the memory of her muscles playing under the scarred skin of her back. “Who is it?” Aric mouthed when she urged him behind the bar.

Aric felt the warmth of Fynta’s expanded senses and shivered at the way his body craved more. “A problem,” she answered, then shimmered from sight.

Aric stared at the place Fynta had been, caught between irritation that he still couldn’t do that and respect for how smooth her transition was. He reached for Fynta through the Force and found a flicker of life, nothing that he’d have caught were he not intimately familiar with her signature. Aric turned his ear in the direction that he assumed Fynta had gone and opened his physical senses. Again, she was there, but muted to the point that he couldn’t pin down her position in the room.

A brush of the Dark Side made the fur on Aric’s neck stand on end. He thought it was Fynta, until he realized how powerful it was. She didn’t present that way, and the sensation from this person felt controlled, like it had been bundled into a box barely suited to the task.

Aric ducked around the counter that Fynta had pressed him against short seconds ago. A small figure entered the room, her pale skin glowing in the scattered moonlight. She looked young, with hair as dark as the shadows surrounding her, and deceptively thin. The girl glanced around the room, then tilted her head as if listening to some far away sound. Aric risked enough contact to know that she wasn’t the source of the darkness. This one felt more like him in the sense that she carried the Light Side with her. Though it had been corrupted long ago, there was no doubting its touch.

If not for the strength of the person trailing the younger woman, Aric might have approached her. The girl turned sharply, squeaking a startled yelp when Fynta popped into existence. They exchanged playful barbs, which included a shove from the younger one, but it was to the figure yet to show themselves that Fynta spoke.

“You should have commed,” Fynta complained. Aric felt a jolt of apprehension and realized that it wasn’t coming from him. Fynta was displeased by the appearance of their visitor and hadn’t given him the all clear to join her.

“It is my safe house,” a woman laughed, and the blood that had once boiled with desire froze in Aric’s veins. He’d heard that voice, and he knew who it belonged to before the Chiss stepped into the kitchen. “Ucevi sounded worried, so I thought I would—”

Aric rose with a snarl before he could stop himself. Now, he understood why Fynta had refused to tell him where they were. Why she’d dodged every question that could have led him to realizing how precarious his position was when he’d felt a measure of safety.

Red eyes widened with momentary surprise before he felt the crush of Dark Side pressure against his mind. Whereas Fynta had always been sneaky, tangling him in playful tendrils, Darth Nemesis hit Aric’s shields like a battering ram. Pain spiked through his mind like cracks in the ice. He pushed back, reaching for his weapon and cursing its absence. Aric vaulted over the counter anyway, prepared to battle with teeth and claws if need be.

Then, Fynta was between them. Her words were muffled against the roar of psychic battle. Aric looked into her eyes and saw what she wanted, but he couldn’t stop, not when Nemesis was so close.

Having failed to dissuade Aric, Fynta turned to the Chiss, who now had the aid of the younger woman that Aric had sensed light in. Neither had drawn their lightsabers, but it was only a matter of time. Aric didn’t know if he could cast Fynta aside and survive this encounter, but he had to try.

A warm hand rested against Aric’s cheek, and heat suffused his body. He sucked in a ragged breath at the images that played out in his mind’s eye. Naked skin under his hands and panted breaths against his ear. The desperate whispers of a lover and gentle laughter after completion. Aric staggered away from Fynta, his attention momentarily ripped from Nemesis. He tried to growl out a warning, but her betrayal choked him. Fynta had snuck into his mind and turned it against him with the same ease that Nox’s assassin had. He felt the violation in his soul.

“Aric,” Fynta whispered. She took a step towards him, and he moved back. He saw the confusion in her eyes and bared his teeth to make his stance clear.

Pointing at Darth Nemesis, Aric snarled. “Keep that away from me.”

Fury roared through Aric as the window to end one of the greatest threats against the Republic snapped shut. Spinning on his heel, he stalked away from the woman towards his room. With each step, he felt the strands of his connection with Fynta fray and snap. She’d betrayed him.

#whiskey & tihaar #sith fynta/jedi jorgan au #sith fynta #jedi jorgan #tish oc: ucevi #sleeps oc: nora #ume oc: Noara starspark #fynta wolfe #aric jorgan

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cinlat · 2 years

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Whumptober: Day 5

This is from a future chapter of Whiskey & Tihaar.

5: Every Whumpee’s Needs Blood Loss| Running out of Air | Hyperthermia

Word Count: 303

Fynta blinked, trying to stay awake while her body did its damnedest to shut down. Her breath stuttered in a thick cloud in front of her as a mockery of her weakness. Feeling had abandoned Fynta’s fingers and toes, which had become apparent only now that she was laying on the ground after stumbling over the small emergency heater.

“Ready to stop being stubborn?” Aric asked as he righted the device. He’d drawn the hood of his robe up, hands stretched over the warm glow. He shifted his gaze in Fynta’s direction. “Pretty sure that humans don’t come in blue.

“So you’re a fucking expert now?” Fynta snarled as she pushed herself into a sitting position. Darkness crowded around the edge of her vision, and she breathed through her nose to drive it back.

Sighing, Aric pushed to his feet, and grabbed the emergency heater. “You’re going to freeze.” He set it at Fynta’s boots and knelt behind her. The weight of her armor lessened, but it took her sluggish thoughts a moment to realize why.

Fynta glanced over her shoulder when Aric set her pauldron aside. “About time.” Her teeth chattered, making her cringe at the unsexiness of her flirtation. “But maybe wait until we’re back at base?”

“Haha,” Aric retorted, never taking his eye off his task. Once Fynta’s chestplate had been removed, he eased down behind her, his legs stretching out to either side of hers, and tugged her against him. “I need you alive if we’re going to defeat Nox.”

The relief was instant. Aric’s inhuman warmth seeped into Fynta’s back, unknotting muscles and relaxing the hitched pace her lungs had adopted. “Better?” Aric asked, but his voice from far away. The darkness rushed in faster than Fynta could defend against, and with that modicum of comfort, Fynta succumbed.

#whumptober2022 #day 5: hypothermia #fynta wolfe #sith fynta #aric jorgan #jedi jorgan #sith fynta/jedi jorgan au #she's never been good in the cold

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cinlat · 2 years

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This chapter of Whiskey & Tihaar is an absolute beast. But I finally finished the first part of it....which is roughly 24 pages long. So, I’ll need to figure out how to break that up. In the meantime, have some Sith Fynta and Jedi Jorgan being painfully Sith and Jedi.

Shout out to @kunoichi-ume (Noara) @sleepswithvillains (Nora) @tishinada (Ucevi) for letting me borrow their girls for this one. There is a lot going on.

One side of Aric’s mouth lifted in a lopsided sneer that left the single tip of his canine trapped between his lips. Fynta thought it was adorable, but managed to keep that thought to herself. When Aric didn’t respond, she reached for him through the Force.

“Don’t,” Aric snarled, taking a step away from Fynta as if that could weaken their connection. She felt a surge of panic, quickly tamped down but present all the same. Aric’s glare turned to his feet, and Fynta realized for the first time that he hadn’t looked at her since she’d walked in.

Fynta stood and took a step closer, noting that the sense of fear spiked again. It wasn’t surprise or anxiety, but the raw terror of trapped prey; an emotion she had become well acquainted with in her line of work. Though, Fynta never thought to inspire such emotions in the stoic Cathar. “What’s wrong?”

When Fynta moved again, Aric snarled in earnest. The sound brought her up short. She’d heard him growl in many circumstances, most involving her, but none had ever felt threatening like now. Aric moved into a loose-limbed stance as if ready for an attack. “You almost had me,” he said, tone low and edged with malice. “You almost convinced me that there was more to the Empire than what the Order thought. But it was a lie. You’re just like all the rest.”

“I’m—” Fynta sputtered, red coloring her vision and rage boiling through her veins until lightning crackled between her fingers. She bared her teeth and jabbed one of the sparking digits at Aric, holding onto her control by bloodied nails. “You have no idea what you’re talking about you self-righteous, pompous di'kutla utreekov.”

Fynta had the short-lived satisfaction of seeing the Jedi’s brows climb his forehead before she spun around and stormed from the room. In her anger, Fynta slammed the door so hard that sparks sprung from the safety mechanisms and it might have jumped off its tracks. She didn’t care enough to look back.

Alderaan Private Residence of Darth Nemesis

Aric stared at the mangled wreckage of his door. Not only had the force with which Fynta slammed it shorted out the electrical system, but it had ripped part of the track out of the frame. Without the right tools, Aric wouldn’t enjoy the false safety of a locked door again.

Sighing, he nudged the leaning slab of metal and watched it groan outward. A spark of light distracted him, only because he hadn’t felt it in such a long time. When Aric looked up, the young woman from earlier stood in the hallway with a tray, her pale blue gaze focused on the carriage that had once been Aric’s door. “I take it the talk didn’t go well?”

Aric snorted a laugh before he could stop himself, then sobered with the reminder that this woman was also a Sith. Though, there was light in her too. She was the source of that peace Aric had felt earlier in the evening. “Who are you?”

“Oh, right.” The woman wiped her hand on silk pants so green that they almost looked black, then extended a hand to Aric. “My name is Noara Starspark. I’m Nora’s apprentice.”

#wip whenever #whiskey & tihaar #sith fynta #sith fynta/jedi jorgan au #jedi jorgan #they fight so much

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cinlat · 2 years

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Work in Progress Whenever

I’m just really super excited to be working on anything. I’m in the editing process of Whiskey & Tihaar. This chapter is going to be a monster, so I hope you guys were serious when you said you wanted long chapters. I’m about halfway through editing and we’re sitting at 11,322 words. So until I get it complete, have an angsty sneak peek at what’s happening.

Fynta lifted one shoulder. “Ask me anything. Free shot at a Sith.”

Aric’s body finally relaxed, and his head rolled in her direction. Fynta turned to meet his gaze and found him staring at her face, more particularly, the tattoo surrounding her right eye. “Why a target?”

This time, it was Fynta’s laughter that echoed through the small space. “Really?” The corner of Aric’s mouth twitched at her surprise, and she chuckled again. “All the Sith knowledge at your fingertips, and you ask about my cosmetic choices?”

Aric attempted a shrug, then winced and abandoned it. Fynta widened her grin “I’m half-tempted to leave you guessing. I’m sure whatever is going on in your mind is more entertaining than the truth.”

The Cathar leveled Fynta with his best glare, which she was startled to see had lost most of it’s fierceness. She checked the chrono on her comm and willed Verin to move faster. All the while, she painted on a smile for her companion. “Fine, I lost a bet at the Academy.”

“That’s it?” Aric managed to sound indignant before another coughing fit took him. His fists pressed into his thighs, then relaxed when it passed. Finally, his eyes opened to find Fynta. She hoped that he didn’t see pity in them. “A bet?”

Fynta nodded and shifted to find a more comfortable position until Aric groaned. She froze, trying not to jostle him further. “Who knew Sith Bloods could drink so damn much," she added to distract Aric. "Made a fool out of me. Care to share your theory?”

Shrinking deeper into his robe, Aric shook his head. “Not really.”

“Okay, my turn.” Aric’s eyes drifted shut, and Fynta gripped his arm. He startled awake with a curse, claws snagging in his robe. Fynta carried on like she hadn't noticed. “Okay, here’s an easy one, is it true that Jedi are celibate?”

“Come on, Sith. This again?” Fynta smiled at the familiar exasperation in Aric's tone. She waved for him to answer, hoping that this topic would rile him enough to keep him conscious. Aric managed to show his fangs briefly before answering. “You need a new hobby.”

“That’s not a no,” Fynta teased. She heard the distant whine of engines, but stopped short of a relieved breath.

Aric rolled his eyes, which looked a little sloppy in Fynta’s opinion. His voice was stronger, but Aric’s hands now rested open in his lap. She thought that was probably a bad sign. “Jedi have sex, it’s only natural. We avoid unhealthy attachment. Avoid things like the jealousy or possessiveness that occurs through relationships.”

Fynta took a moment, mulling over his answer and the specific way he'd worded it. Aric took a deep breath and surrendered mre of his weight against Fynta’s shoulder. She kept talking, hoping that a familiar visor would pop up in the opening to their hideout soon. “So, unattached sex is fine so long as it doesn’t mean anything.”

Blinking, Aric opened and shut his mouth, then pressed his lips into a thin line. “That’s two questions, it’s my turn.” Fynta relented, tipping her head to see him better. Aric had started to slide down the wall. “Is it true that Sith are deviants?”

“Absolutely.” Fynta’s immediate answer sparked another coughing fit in the Cathar that she thought might have been intended as a laugh.

Sucking in shallow breaths, Aric bared his teeth. “Damn it, woman.”

#whiskey & tihaar #sith fynta #jedi jorgan #sith fynta/jedi jorgan au #these two can't even die properly without bickering about it

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cinlat · 2 years

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I actually worked on a thing! Thanks @starknstarwars for the tag. I legit have no idea who is writing or drawing atm because my life is utter chaos, so I’m going to throw some names into the wind. If you’d like to use this as an opportunity to share your WIP, please use me as a tag.

@dingoat @kunoichi-ume @dimigex @chaosandwonder @sleepswithvillains and anyone else who wants one

Now calmer, Fynta walked into the room where Aric sat on his bed, legs folded and eyes closed. He still wore military fatigues, and Fynta eased onto her bed to watch the rise and fall of his chest. He looked at peace, which is probably why she’d never been good at the meditation part of wielding the Force.

The caf maker chimed, and Aric’s ears twitched. Fynta watched the Cathar inhale deeply, then sniff the air. Finally, his eyes opened. “Caf?”

Fynta chuckled. “I assume you want some?”

Aric answered in a yawn, then rubbed his face with one hand. “How long until Taris?”

“Just waiting on landing permissions.” Fynta didn’t move from her spot, watching the way Aric’s muscles relaxed into his posture, how the stress from their earlier disagreement had faded. “Does meditation actually work?”

The Cathar blinked at Fynta, then down at the hands resting in his lap. “I guess. Never thought about it. Meditation is something all Jedi are expected to master as Padawans.” When his gaze drifted up, Fynta felt the weight of it. “Is that not something Sith do?”

“Of course.” Fynta waved a hand and found a reason to look somewhere other than at Aric. “I believe I’ve already explained that I was a terrible student. Never could get the hang of sitting still that long.”

The low rumble sent a chill up Fynta’s spine, and she cut her eyes back to Aric. It had almost sounded like a laugh, but the man’s mouth never opened. Pulling her legs into a position to match Aric’s, Fynta offered a bemused stare. “Tell me your secret, Jedi. What makes meditation so important?”

“It calms the mind,” Aric answered with the immediacy of indoctrination. Then, his lips quirked into a smile. “Something you might benefit from.”

Fynta knew that Aric was referring to their brief encounter on Rishi, where she’d dropped her defenses with enough speed that he toppled into her thoughts. It had been a childish thing to do, a way to scare him away. The damn Cathar had only become more determined to join her on the quest to kill Nox. Now that they were well into the journey, Fynta was glad that he had.

“Okay, so what do you think about when you meditate?” Fynta straightened her spine and propped her hands in her lap. “Teach me your ways, oh wise one.”

Aric’s scowl didn’t budge, but he did answer Fynta’s question. “The goal is to clear the mind. Don’t actively think of anything, but reach for peace in the moment.”

“Peace is a lie,” Fynta quoted, though her joke only earned an eye roll from the Jedi. She cleared her throat. She cleared her throat and beat down her amusement. “Sorry, what do you do with this peace once you find it?”

Instead of answering Fynta, Aric closed his eyes. “Do as I do and listen to my breathing.”

Fynta obeyed, schooling her features to match Aric’s and expanding her senses to reach him. Each breath drew longer, and Fynta felt her muscles relaxing. The galaxy gradually drifted away, leaving Fynta weightless with only Aric’s presence as an anchor. She felt the air in his lungs as if it was her own, the stretch and relaxation of each muscle with the effort. Cool serenity surrounded Fynta, and it sparked a memory of the pool she and Theron had discovered on Rishi. They’d decided to bathe and wash their clothes, then one thing had led to another and—

Aric snarled. “Damn it, woman.”

Fynta realized her mistake too late and peeked one eye open to find the Cathar glaring at her. “Oops.”

Unfolding himself, Aric shoved from his bunk. “I can see why you never mastered the art of meditation. Your thoughts are like a herd of manka cats.”

“Yeah,” Fynta agreed. There was no defense if it was the truth. Slapping her hands on her thighs, Fynta pushed herself upright and headed for the other room. “It was worth a shot, how about that caf?”

#wip whenever #sith fynta #jedi jorgan #sith fynta/jedi jorgan au #whiskey & tihaar #look i working on a thing!#I don't know how these two manage to flirt and bicker in every scene #EVERY SCENE!

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cinlat · 2 years

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Whiskey and Tihaar: Taris

You can read it by following the above links (for better formatting), or below the cut (for lazy formatting).

Chapter Summary: Aric still can't get a moment's peace from Fynta's perverse humor. They trust a little more, and learn how rumors start. There's some cursing, some fighting, and a lot of blacking out. Word Count: 11,749 Special guest: Ucevi, who belongs to the lovely @tishinada

Nar Shaddaa The Shershoy

Aric sealed the airlock while Fynta went to the pilot’s seat. She seemed different. Instead of the whirlwind of chaos that normally surrounded Fynta, a thin shell of serenity wrapped her thoughts. Aric wondered how long until the veneer cracked, and she overwhelmed him again.

Shaking those thoughts away, Aric positioned himself behind the pilot’s seat while Fynta guided them into a long line of ships waiting to exit Nar Shaddaa. Neither had spoken since leaving Ucevi’s refuge. As much as Aric didn’t want to be the one to break the silence, he’d reached the end of his limited patience. “How did it go?”

“Good,” Fynta answered. Her attention to the traffic ahead was unwavering, the fingers of one hand curled loosely around the steering apparatus while the other draped over her raised knee. When Aric didn’t speak again, Fynta leaned back so that she could see him. “Curiosity is killing you, isn’t it?” A feral grin slid into place, looking more sinister because of the angle.

Aric snorted in what he hoped was a believable dismissal of Fynta’s accusation. She shrugged and returned to watching traffic until Aric gave up with a sigh. “It’s none of my business, but, what is your relationship with Ucevi?”

“Jealous?” Fynta teased, affecting that upside-down grin again as she looked up at Aric. He huffed and glanced away, already regretting his inability to keep his mouth shut. Fynta chuckled and righted herself in the chair. “Ucevi and I go way back. I’m not entirely sure there is a word to describe our relationship, but I trust her with my life.”

And mine, Aric thought, but he voiced a different opinion. “I didn’t think Sith knew how to trust. Too many unexplained deaths within the ranks, or so the rumor goes.”

“You rely too heavily on Jedi archives.” A notification appeared on the naviscreen, and Fynta eased the Shershoy out of line. Her shoulders tipped as she guided the ship away from traffic and towards the limitless black of space. Once they were free of the false atmosphere, she continued. “Most Sith aren’t lunatics, just the ones who make the news. Those exist, sure, but most run businesses and corporations. They live, drink, fuck, and sometimes fall in love and start families. Then, you get little Sithlets, and the cycle starts over.”

The last comment caught Aric’s attention, and he frowned. “So...conjugal visit?” It was meant to be a joke, but a part of him was genuinely curious. Did Fynta have a lover? After what she’d said about her strained relationship with other Mandalorians, he doubted it would be one of them, but another Sith, someone who radiated warmth and strength in the same breath…Aric could imagine the Fynta he knew being seduced by that combination.

A wicked grin pulled at Fynta’s lips, and her eyes gleamed with that strange, internal light that made them such an unnatural shade of blue. When she turned, Aric’s throat tightened with the heady scent of her arousal. At least, until Fynta laughed. “ That’s what you took from what I said?”

Aric bristled at the taunting note in Fynta’s voice. “I’m simply—”

“Don’t worry about it, Master Jedi.” Fynta chuckled and returned to the task of setting them on the course for Taris. “I didn’t sleep with her, there wasn’t time. Ucevi shielded my mind so that Nox can’t dig his grubby fingers into it again.”

Aric opened his mouth to change the subject, but lost his words at the sultry laughter that followed. An image flashed through his mind, one that faded before his higher brain function could register it. His subconscious understood, though. Heat pooled in the pit of his stomach and his pulse quickened.

Snarling, Aric shoved away from Fynta’s chair and stalked into the main room. She called after him, and he rounded on the quickened footsteps at his back. Fynta stumbled to a stop, twisting out of the reach of his claws. Aric's fingers curled into fists at his side while one finger jabbed at the air between them. “Stay out of my fucking mind.”

Fynta’s hands lifted in a placating manner. “That was an accident, I swear.” Aric curled his lips back enough to show his teeth, but Fynta ignored his threat. “You stirred up an old memory. Shab, I didn’t even know that you’d seen it until you stormed out. So, who was in whose head?”

“I didn’t—” Aric paused to consider. To his knowledge, he hadn’t formed a connection with Fynta. He’d tested her mood, but that had been it. Some of the anger left him, and Aric lowered his lips into a more comfortable scowl. “I wasn’t actively seeking your thoughts.”

Sensing that the danger had passed, Fynta lowered her hands and studied him. Her jaw worked twice, like she was chewing something vile, then she sighed. “I’m about to say something that you’re not going to like.”

Aric rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. Fynta took that as a sign to continue and rubbed her forehead with her thumb and forefinger. “Listen, I was trained to sneak into people’s minds.”

Aric growled, and Fynta ignored him again. “But, I’ve never seen anyone accomplish it with the ease that you do. Sure, I let you slide all over my shields, but I always sense you, even when I know you’re not poking. Like, a piece of you got stuck when I let you in at the safe house.”

Aric’s retort never made it past his teeth. Though he hadn’t framed it in the same way, Aric understood what Fynta meant. When their minds had converged on Rishi. He’d been pulled towards oblivion so quickly that there had been no way to protect himself. The relief when Fynta ejected him had been instantaneous, but since then, Aric had been acutely aware of her position in the room. It sounded like something he’d read about as a boy, an impossibility that he wouldn’t name for fear of making it true.

“Just,” Aric turned away and waved one hand at Fynta. “Try to control your thoughts. I have no interest in the depravities of your past.”

“Hey, that was a sweet moment, thank you very much.” Fynta chuckled, low and throaty. The sound raised chills beneath Aric’s fur. She let out a soft huff of laughter. “Damn, Jedi, how long has it been since you offloaded all that stress?”

Too long, Aric’s traitorous mind reminded him. He took shallow breaths to avoid Fynta’s scent, but it was no good. She surrounded him, probing at his weaknesses through the Force while using her body to keep him off balance. He banished the agitation with a shake of his head and changed the subject as his last line of defense. “Why Taris?”

“Why—” Fynta blinked, then looked back at the view screen where the stars stretched through hyperspace. To Aric’s relief, she didn’t press the issue of his sexual exploits, but the slight curve at the corner of her lips warned that the conversation wasn’t finished. “Nox sent me there once to deal with a problem in one of his labs. I’m hoping we’ll find a clue as to where he’s holed up.”

Aric nodded, grateful for the segway in topics. Tracking and killing Sith was something he was good at. “Makes sense, start somewhere you know and find the trail.” He paused, teetering on the edge of revealing too much about himself, then deciding it was worth the risk. “There’s a Cathar village on Taris. Some people I’d like to see.”

“I’m sure we can make time.” Fynta walked to her workstation and lifted one of her leg plates from the stand. Aric had noticed that she hadn’t worn it to meet Ucevi, opting for plain black pants and a comfortable shirt. She didn’t look at him while she began buffing out a dent. “You spent time on Taris?”

Now that Fynta was occupied by something other than sex, Aric felt like a fool fuming in the middle of the room. He went to the table, for lack of anything better to do, and sat to watch her work. “I visited the Cathar villages when I was young to learn my people’s customs. It was...enlightening.” The planet stank, carrying the constant odor of fetid swamps and decay. Though the Republic claimed to be rebuilding, Aric knew that it was a lost cause. The planet had been slagged into ruin, and no amount of PR would restore it to its former glory.

Fynta nodded, concentrating on her work instead of him. Aric took the privacy to remove the heavier pieces of his armor since they would be in transit for several hours. He'd just removed his outer robe when Fynta spoke. "How was it?"

“The people were welcoming,” Aric continued while he tried to discern if he felt comfortable enough in Fynta's presence to change completely. Now that they weren’t at each other’s throats, Fynta and Aric had slipped back into the confusing comradery from before. He found the woman easy to talk to, and probably said too much in the process.

Aric decided that he'd shed enough armor for the time being and settled back in the chair next to Fynta's work table. “They treated me like one of their own. When my master and I left a year later, I understood my heritage and was proud to call myself Cathar.”

“Do you know who your parents are or where you're from?” Aric followed the line of Fynta’s reasoning easily enough. He’d thought it himself when he was younger. Maybe his master had taken him to that village because his parents lived there. Aric had spent the first week searching for traces of himself in every face until he gathered the courage to ask his master where he was born.

Shaking his head, Aric smiled at fond memories of his master's gentle explanation. “Rendili. My parents worked in the shipyards.” Fynta lifted one shoulder, and Aric expected her to say something about how odd it must be not remembering where he was from, but she didn’t. For once, the feisty Sith showed an ounce of decorum.

After fidgeting in silence, Fynta sighed. “My clan is on Taris. Well, parts of it.” Her declaration sucked the warmth from the room. Aric’s skin flushed with anger at the thought of a Mandalorian clan being so close to his people. Fynta’s eyes widened, likely catching the shift in Aric’s temperament, and held up both hands. “They aren’t hunting. Well, they are, but not Cathar. It’s some errand for the Empire and a touch of personal business of the Mand’alor’s, that’s all I know.”

Aric forced his voice to remain calm when he spoke. “Is that what your brother wanted you there for?” Fynta nodded and returned to poking at the items on her work table. Aric wasn’t prepared to let the topic drop. “Why tell me?”

“From what I could tell, it’s important to Verin.” Fynta’s lower lip caught between her teeth, an endearing image that Aric refused to be swayed by. “Since we’re going there anyway…” Her explanation trailed off with no hint that she planned to resume.

Then, without warning, Fynta turned to Aric. “Look, I can’t leave you on my ship, and I can’t take you with me. Not unless we can conceal your identity somehow. They aren’t hunting Cathar, but I don’t know how some of the old soldiers would react. It’s bad enough that I’m going.”

Aric folded his arms and studied his Sith companion. “What did you have in mind?” While he didn’t savor the idea of walking into a Mandalorian camp, the amount of intel he could glean would be priceless once he returned to the Order.

The twitch at the corner of Fynta’s lips settled like a rock in Aric’s stomach. “A helmet.”

It took a solid five seconds for Aric to understand what Fynta meant. This time, Aric didn’t bother to calm his agitation before speaking. “No fucking way.” The idea of sliding that T-shaped visor over his head made Aric sick to his stomach. His lips curled back to expose his teeth again to make sure that Fynta understood where he stood. He’d walk bare-faced into the camp of his enemy in full Jedi regalia before donning the ornamentation of a Mandalorian.

Rolling her eyes, Fynta threw both hands into the air. “Look, Clan Ordo has good people, but they crawled back to the Empire after the Wars. I can’t guarantee your safety if you walk in there snarling at everyone you see. Not many Cathar run with our side, so you’d be under instant suspicion unless you crushed a few throats, and—”

“I could do that,” Aric offered absently. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, hadn’t even realized that he did until Fynta replied with a deadpan stare. After a moment of consideration, Aric nodded. “Your clan was destroyed by that mad man you call a leader, so why not?”

“Because Ordo was one of the few clans willing to take in the orphaned children of traitors,” Fynta answered in a calm that belied the turmoil Aric felt inside of her. Waves of bitter resentment rolled off of her, black against the brightness that normally surrounded the woman.

“Right,” Aric answered. “Then, they sold you to the Sith.”

Aric should have expected violence, but the solid weight against his left cheek, and the sudden ringing in his ears, came as a surprise. When he blinked away the tears, rage boiled from Fynta, and she stood so close that he could see darker hints of blue behind the unnatural brightness in her eyes. “At least my family struggled with the choice. Did yours?”

The familiar, hollow weight of uncertainty tightened Aric’s chest. He had wondered, from time to time, if his parents thought of him. Did he have brothers or sisters, and had they been born with the ability to touch the living Force as well? Though Aric was practiced in schooling his features, some of his emotions must have leaked through. Fynta took a step back and heaved a shuddering breath. “I think that’s enough bonding for one evening.”

“Agreed,” Aric managed in a gruff answer that sounded normal enough. He let out a slow breath. “I’ll visit the local Cathar village while you tend to your family responsibilities. We’ll meet on neutral ground with any pertinent information.”

“Fine.” Fynta spun on her heel and stalked away, the air cooling with her departure.

Running a hand down his face, Aric went to his bunk to meditate. Though he had enjoyed his time on Taris as a Padawan, it had been destroyed by the malice that still clung to the surface. If Ucevi and Fynta were right about Darth Nox’s power, Taris would be the perfect place to draw from the Dark Side. Closing his eyes, Aric focused inward and tried to find peace.

The Shershoy Orbit around Taris Two Hours Later

Fynta scrubbed at a stain on her leg plate that had been there for years. It was less of a need to remove the spot, than an exercise in not strangling her companion. What Master Jorgan lacked in subterfuge, he made up for in righteous fury and biased truth. He was a Jedi, like all the other pompous do-gooders in the galaxy; except when he wasn’t.

There had been moments on this journey where Fynta genuinely enjoyed the grumpy shabuir’s company. Aric made her laugh and entertained her humor in turn, though less willingly at times. Still, the man had a knack for pressing the wrong buttons. If Master Jorgan had a single gift in the Force, it was to annoy the osik out of her.

Fynta dropped the soiled rag onto her pile of armor and closed her eyes. She could always sense Aric now. He was a constant in the corner of her mind, tucked away where she couldn’t reach him unless he wanted, but present nonetheless. Aric sat in his bunk, a cool serenity that draped anxiety and honor like a blanket.

For all her poking, Fynta had yet to unleash the Cathar’s rage. He’d been more frightened by the appearance of the buy’ce, lashing out before anyone else could. Fynta knew that fury simmered beneath the surface. He didn’t banish it, but somehow, Aric managed not to feed off it. Fynta’s mind turned towards how she could use that untapped power to her advantage. If she could find a way to control it, they might be able to—

Hissing, Fynta tossed away the leg plate so that it joined the other pieces. That was Nox’s way of thinking. Even after all these years out of his service, Fynta couldn’t shake the chakaar’s teachings. Find a tool, use it until it is no longer useful, then find another until the job was done. How many lives had Fynta destroyed by twisting them with honeyed words and subtle manipulations? Not just those who died, but the ones who had to live with the consequences of choices she’d forced them to make.

“That’s why you work for Grandmother, now,” Fynta muttered to the still air of her ship. Ucevi was Fynta’s penance, a way to pay back to the galaxy a little of what she’d taken from it.

With hands on her hips, Fynta blew out a breath and imagined all her sins going with it. She was Mando’ade, they did not seek retribution for the actions taken during war. That didn’t mean that she couldn’t do some good with what was left of her life, though. Having reached the same conclusion that she always did during these quiet moments, Fynta started the caf maker.

“We don’t dwell on the past,” Fynta told the machine, then added another scoop so that there would be enough for two cups. It burbled in agreement, and Fynta left the device to its task. If she could just kill Nox, that would make her feel a lot better about herself.

Calmer, Fynta walked into the room where Aric sat on his bed, legs folded and eyes closed. He'd changed into the military fatigues from earlier, and Fynta eased onto her bed to watch the rise and fall of his chest. He looked at peace, which is probably why she’d never been good at the meditation part of wielding the Force.

The caf maker chimed, and Aric’s ears twitched. Fynta watched the Cathar inhale deeply, then sniff the air. Finally, his eyes opened. “Caf?”

Fynta chuckled. “I assume you want some?”

Aric answered in a yawn, then rubbed his face with one hand. “How long until Taris?”

“It calms the mind,” Aric answered with the immediacy of indoctrination. Then, his lips quirked into a smile. “Something you might benefit from.”

“Okay, so what do you think about when you meditate?” Fynta straightened her spine and propped her hands in her lap. “Teach me your ways, oh wise one.”

Aric’s scowl didn’t budge, but he did answer Fynta’s question. “The goal is to clear the mind. Don’t think of anything, but reach for peace in the moment.”

“Peace is a lie,” Fynta quoted, though her joke only earned an eye roll from the Jedi. She cleared her throat and beat down her urge to poke fun at him. “Sorry, what do you do with this peace once you find it?”

Instead of answering Fynta, Aric closed his eyes. “Do as I do and listen to my breathing.”

Aric snarled. “Damn it, woman.”

Fynta realized her mistake too late and peeked one eye open to find the Cathar glaring at her. “My bad.”

Unfolding himself, Aric shoved from his bunk. “I can see why you never mastered the art of meditation. Your thoughts are like a herd of manka cats.”

“Yeah,” Fynta agreed. There was no denying the truth, but at least she'd tried. Slapping her hands on her thighs, Fynta pushed herself upright and headed for the other room. “It was worth a shot, how about that caf?”

Aric followed, but Fynta felt his discontent rippling through the Force. He wasn’t going to let it drop, she could tell. “You really have no shame, do you?”

Fynta stopped at the caf maker and glanced over her shoulder while she collected two metal mugs from the locking cabinet. “Why does it bother you so much?” If she’d been a Jedi, perhaps his aggravation would be warranted. But, Fynta was a Sith; her behavior was expected.

Aric’s mouth fell open wide enough to display the tips of his teeth, then it snapped shut with a scowl. “You’re kidding, right?”

Shrugging, Fynta poured a mug of caf. “It was the right time and place.” She added sugar, then turned to face Aric with her mug pressed between her palms. “Are you saying that you’ve never slept with someone you shouldn’t have?”

“Of course not,” Aric snapped, then growled. “I mean—that’s none of your business.”

Fynta chuckled and nudged the other mug towards the Cathar. It might be a peace offering, or simply a way to divert his disapproving gaze somewhere other than at her. She slid down the table and waited for Aric to give in to his desire for caffeine. Once he was distracted, Fynta lifted the mug to her lips and spoke over the rim. “Assuming that you’re not still a virgin, what is your type, Master Jedi?”

“We’re not having this conversation.” Aric poured the caf, then lifted it without additives. For some reason, it didn’t surprise her that the Cathar drank it black. She preferred the sweetness to mask the bitter taste, something that Ucevi often declared to be a travesty.

“I’m thinking a nice girl,” Fynta answered for Aric. His face took on the droll expression that he wore any time she teased him, and Fynta continued. “Someone with a boring desk job, but a bit wild behind closed doors. Maybe a damsel in need of a hero, am I close?”

Aric snorted, and Fynta’s brow twitched upward. He tried to cover the slip by examining the caf, as if it were the cause of his distaste. Fynta grinned and the blatant rebuff and pressed harder. “Okay, so not a good girl. Maybe you like a woman who can throw you on the bed and have her way with you. What about—”

“Enough,” Aric snarled, his mug slamming against the counter hard enough to slosh hot liquid onto his hand. He didn’t seem to notice, and Fynta was amazed that the tin wasn’t bent.

Unable to leave well enough alone, Fynta slid closer, her hip propped against the counter while she looked up through her lashes into pale eyes that flashed with annoyance. “What about me, Jedi. What do you think my type is?”

“SIS agents,” Aric answered with more venom than Fynta expected. He stalked close enough that his breath ruffled her bangs when he spoke. “Dishonest rogues who fuck their way across the galaxy because they are incapable of deeper commitment.”

Fynta snorted a laugh and felt the rumble of Aric’s anger in the scant space between them. “You’d preach to me about commitment? A Jedi of the Order who believes that personal attachment is the way to the Dark Side?” She set her mug down with more care than he had and pressed a finger into the thin fabric of his shirt. There was a moment’s distraction when the flesh beneath didn’t give to her prodding, but Fynta recovered. “By your Order’s standard, I’m more Jedi than you.”

A strange expression pulled at the markings on Aric’s face. The tightness in his features relaxed, and he stepped away from Fynta to clean up the mess from his spilled caf. “This is a pointless conversation.”

Fynta felt the tug of resentment, but she wasn’t sure if it originated with her or Aric. Something about her statement struck a long-buried chord with one of them, and given that Fynta felt no shame for her choice of bed partners, it had to be from Aric. Maybe he had wanted a family. What was it like for a Cathar to be told that he’d never find his life mate or produce the offspring that his species needed for survival?

Sighing, Fynta placed a hand on Aric’s arm. He tensed, but didn’t pull away. “Sorry, Jedi. My mouth runs away with me, sometimes. I was only teasing.” Aric nodded, but he didn’t look at her. Fynta wanted to clear the air, but he’d shut her out. The cold between them felt different than before.

The navigation system chirped, and Fynta gave up on mending nonexistent fences with her Jedi companion. She activated the comm with directions to a landing pad. “Received. Thanks Ground Control, we’ll see you soon.”

Taris Spaceport Cantina

The air smelled of mildew and piss when Fynta stepped off the ship. Wrinkling her nose, she glanced at Aric to see if the fetid stench affected him at all. The Cathar remained stoic, refusing to meet her gaze. He hadn’t spoken since their last argument, and Fynta sighed inwardly at how frustratingly common those had become. They were either at each other's throats or enjoying companionable conversation with no room in between.

“See you in a few hours,” Fynta called as she turned towards the cantina. They’d exchanged comm frequencies before Nar Shaddaa, and she’d briefly considered giving Aric access to her ship before discarding the thought. He was an honest man as far as Fynta could tell, but she wouldn’t be the fool who trusted first.

Aric rumbled an unintelligible response, and Fynta didn’t ask him to clarify. She felt him moving away, taking the crisp clarity of patriotism with him. Master Jorgan was one of the rare creatures in this galaxy who knew why he fought. The rest of them were just trying to survive.

Once Fynta was sure that Aric hadn’t doubled back to follow her, she ducked into the cantina and was immediately assaulted by familiar adoration. “Fyn’ika!” Verin’s arms wrapped around her from behind, pulling Fynta into a fierce hug that would have hurt if not for the ability to offset his brute strength with her own. Verin spun Fynta around to face him and held her by the shoulders with a wide grin. “Glad you made it.”

“Yeah, me too.” Fynta mimed supporting her bruised ribs, but Verin slapped her on the back and wrapped one arm around her shoulders. He chattered about his youngest's latest antics, which involved degreaser and shaving her twin's head.

Torian waited at a table in the corner. A set of Twi’leks danced next to the alcove, but he ignored them. Verin winked and slipped the women a few cred sticks to move their party elsewhere. He sighed while Fynta slid into the booth. “I keep trying to get the man laid, but he refuses.”

“I don’t pay,” Torian deadpanned, then propped his elbows on the table and looked at Fynta. “Thanks for coming, means a lot.”

“You don’t have to do this.” Fynta knew by the wave of resentment rolling off Torian that it was a useless argument, but she couldn’t help herself.

Both of Torian’s brows lifted in Verin’s direction, and he held up his hands. “Not me, vod. All I said was that we needed help on a hunt.”

“And, that it would help your status in the clan.” Fynta typed her order into the system, lamenting the lack of proper booze, and settling for a tumbler of whiskey. “My employer has access to all sorts of interesting lists. It didn’t take much digging to figure out why you’re here.”

“He needs to pay for what he did,” Torian argued, a hint of a growl sliding into his voice. Fynta had always known the man to be even-tempered, even with the hazing they put up with as kids. Torian was always the first to call for peace before fighting amongst themselves. Unfortunately for him, his closest allies were the Wolfe siblings, who were belligerent on their best days.

Fynta accepted her drink from the server droid and motioned to put it on Verin’s tab. Her brother snorted, but Torian interrupted any attempts to argue. “He got everyone killed. If he’d just—”

“You don’t have to convince me,” Fynta added while she sipped her drink. It wasn’t bad, impressive given the state that the Empire had left Taris in. She set it down and pinned Torian with a sinister glare. “I was there that night, remember? Verin and I barely got out. All I’m saying is that wanting to kill your buir, and actually pulling the trigger, are two different things.”

“Can you find him or not?” Torian returned Fynta’s challenge with a ferocity that she’d never seen in him. Anger aged her old friend, making Torian look more than the single year he had on Fynta. She brushed his thoughts and found them roiling like a storm on the Kaminoan seas.

Sighing, Fynta took another swig of her drink. “I’ve got something to handle first, but if you can be patient, I’m sure that I can—” Fynta’s comm buzzed, and all three turned their attention to where it sat on her hip.

Fynta unhooked the device and set it on the table. “I’m a bit busy right now, what’s—”

“The village was overrun,” Aric interrupted, then cursed. Fynta heard the ionic sizzle of his lightsaber as it cut through flesh, followed by inhuman screeches that turned her blood cold. “I could use some backup. Shit. I’m at the Endar Spire.”

The call ended, and for the space of two heartbeats, no one spoke. Finally, Verin broke the silence. “Who was that?”

“My partner,” Fynta answered, already shoving her brother off his end of the circular booth. “I need to get there.”

Verin stumbled out of Fynta’s way, only speaking after he’d righted himself. “I hate to break it to you, vod’ika, but those were rakghouls. I’d stake my oldest child on it.”

“He’s right.” Torian grabbed his helmet from the table and slipped it over his head. “You’ll need help finding him, and treatment if he’s been bitten.”

Fynta glanced at the man out of the corner of her eye, and his helmet dipped once. “Clan Fett stole a shipment of experimental vaccines from some Republic scientists last month. If administered fast enough, it negates the transformation. What do you say, me'dinuir?”

“You help me find Aric, and in return, I help you kill your dad?” Fynta waited for Torian to answer with another nod before gripping his forearm. “Damn you, Cadera.”

Verin slipped his helmet on, then clapped both of them on the shoulder. “All right, now we’re talking. So, who is Aric?”

It took less than ten minutes to steal a speeder. All the while, Verin complained. “You’re serious. A fierfeking Cathar? And he’s a Sith? And, of course, you just had to fall into bed with him.”

Fynta rolled her eyes and peeled off down a path worn by local traffic. The Endar Spire had once been an impressive ship. Now, it was spare parts and shanty homes for the displaced populaces trying to stake claim to a portion of the dying world. “You told me that I needed to find something more stable than hourly rates.”

Verin’s growl would have rivaled Aric’s if Torian hadn’t cut him off. “Talking the clan into treating him should be interesting.”

“We can’t take a Cathar back,” Verin protested. Fynta slowed her speeder and tried Aric’s frequency again. She’d had the forethought to retrieve her helmet from the ship so that she could multitask on the go. Again, the Cathar didn’t answer.

“Have to,” Torian answered. “We shook on it.”

Fynta left the discussion of clan politics to the disembodied voices of her brother and childhood friend while she reached for Aric. Breath slowing, Fynta closed her eyes and let the Force guide her. It was like when she'd sped through the dense underbrush of Rishi, missing trees trunks and gnarled vines by inches. This time, she searched for that calming balm that had become Aric's identification in the Force.

A breath of fresh air touched Fynta's mind a second before the comm icon flashed in her HUD. She answered it without warning the others that they’d be muted. “Where are you?”

“Holed up in a piece of the wreckage.” Aric hissed, and his breathing rattled in an unpleasant way. Fynta’s stomach shrank. She’d forgotten to ask Torian how quickly that serum needed to be administered in the case of infection. “I can feel you.”

Sighing with relief, Fynta brought her speeder to a stop and expanded her senses until even the smallest tadpole in the swamp tickled the back of her mind. Unwavering ice beckoned from the east, and Fynta smiled. “I’ve got you, are you wounded?” She kicked her speeder into gear and set a beacon for Verin to follow.

“Not sure how bad,” Aric coughed, then groaned. “I’m bleeding, but I can’t get to it. Feels like my body’s on fire.”

“Hang in there, I’m close.” Fynta didn’t close the line, but got confirmation from both Torian and Verin that they had her position and were moving to intercept. She listened to Aric’s breathing, concerned by the rasp that entered it. Every few seconds, it was punctuated by a shaky exhale that made her shiver. Fynta knew what she’d find when she got there, and she hoped that Torian was right about this miracle cure.

Aric’s presence shone like a star in Fynta’s mind when she reached his hideout. She kicked the speeder bike to a stop and hopped off before the brakes had fully engaged. He’d wedged himself into a gouge roughly four meters off the ground. Fynta pulled herself inside and found him slumped against the back wall.

“You still alive?” Fynta crawled to Aric and lifted his chin to take his pulse. The Cathar’s eyes snapped open, wide with terror. Fynta didn’t consider him a threat, so the sound of his claws raking down her faceplate made her fall back on her ass. Too late, she remembered his earlier reaction to her father’s buy’ce and yanked her helmet off. “It’s me, Aric.”

The Cathar sagged against the wall, but his breathing didn’t settle. Fynta inched closer, pressing her hand to his forehead. “Well, at least that’s one question answered. Where are you hurt?”

When Aric shifted to bare his side, a shiver wracked his body. Fynta felt the heat radiating off him from where she perched and silently willed Verin and Torian hurry. In the darkness, it was hard to tell the extent of his injury, but there was no mistaking the stench of dried blood and pain laced breath. “Can you move?”

Aric shook his head. “Took everything I had to get in here.” Fynta avoided asking him what had happened. That conversation could wait until later, if it ever came up. He’d said that the village was overrun, so what did that mean for the inhabitants? Had one of the elders who taught Aric the value of his culture been among the creatures who attacked him?

Fynta noted the angle of Aric’s head and popped his cheek. “Oh, no you don’t, Jedi.” She took Aric’s jaw in hand and lifted his chin until they stared into one another’s eyes. “You’ve got to stay awake, do you understand?”

Aric blinked, his focus faltering again. “Why?” When Fynta leaned back, his gaze turned hard “Wouldn’t a dead Jedi look better on your record?”

Sighing, Fynta wedged herself between Aric and the wall so that they braced one another upright. “Not if I’m not the one who did the deed.” She gestured to Aric’s huddled form as another shudder wracked his body. “Besides, Ucevi would never let me hear the end of it.”

Aric’s surprised laughter morphed into a hacking cough that ended in a groan. He struggled to catch his breath, eyes squeezed shut and fingers curled into fists around the torn fabric of his robe. Fynta remained at his side, quiet until the bout passed.

“Talk to me,” Fynta encouraged while stretching out her legs. Aric managed an unamused growl, so she changed tactics. “Right, how about I talk to you?”

“About what?” Each word sounded forced, like it was all Aric could do to press the air from his lungs. His back arched, knees raised off the floor as another spell overtook him. Fynta ignored the single tear that leaked from the corner of his eye as he curled in on himself.

Fynta lifted one shoulder. “Ask me anything. Free shot at a Sith.”

This time, it was Fynta’s laughter that echoed through the small space. “Really?” The corner of Aric’s mouth twitched at her surprise, and she chuckled again. “All of Sith knowledge at your fingertips, and you ask about my cosmetic choices?”

Shrinking deeper into his robe, Aric shook his head. “Not really.”

“That’s not a no ,” Fynta teased. She heard the distant whine of engines, but stopped short of a relieved breath.

Aric rolled his eyes, which looked a little sloppy in Fynta’s opinion. His voice was stronger, but Aric’s hands now rested open in his lap. She thought that was probably a bad sign. “Sex is a natural part of life. We avoid unhealthy attachment. Avoid things like the jealousy or possessiveness that occurs through those relationships.”

Fynta took a moment, mulling over his answer and the specific way he'd worded it. Aric took a deep breath and surrendered more of his weight against Fynta’s shoulder. She kept talking, hoping that a familiar visor would pop up in the opening to their hideout soon. “So, unattached sex is fine so long as it doesn’t mean anything?”

“Absolutely.” Fynta’s immediate answer sparked another coughing fit in the Cathar that she thought might have been intended as a laugh.

Sucking in shallow breaths, Aric bared his teeth. “Damn it, woman.”

“My bad,” Fynta chuckled, then Aric’s eyes rolled back in his head and his body went rigid. Fynta scrambled back to the entrance of their hideaway and flagged Verin and Torian down. When she turned back, Aric had gone completely still.

Fynta squeezed behind Aric and shoved him close enough for Verin to grab his feet. Between the three of them, they managed to get him down and strapped onto her speeder. Neither Torian or Verin commented on his species, but Fynta saw the disapproval in her brother’s posture.

“Follow us to Fett’s camp,” Torian called, kicking on his speeder. Fynta pulled on her helmet and did the same. She felt for Aric’s lifeforce, watching as it shifted in her mind’s eye from cool blues to putrid green. He was changing, and for reasons that Fynta didn’t want to examine, the thought of losing him terrified her.

Taris Clan Fett Temporary Encampment Med-tent

The drone of construction equipment pierced Aric’s muddled thoughts. For a moment, he was back on Tython, watching the Twi’leks repair a damaged portion of their village. Aric wanted to seek vengeance for the lives ruined, but his master had cautioned patience. Without knowing which Flesh Raiders had caused the damage, it would be wrong to attack. They’d need to rely on the evidence collected by the Jedi Council and abide by their findings.

Groaning, Aric blinked once and found only bleary, white light. He tried again, gradually clearing the gunk from his eyes. Before him stood a figure in armor, arms crossed and expression hidden behind the T-shaped visor that had haunted Aric’s childhood dreams.

The swell of panic in Aric’s chest registered on the equipment that he didn't remember being attached to. The figure's helm tilted, and Aric's mind reverted to the Jedi Code on instinct. There is no emotion, there is peace. He felt the Force swell within him, reminding him that he was not a helpless child, but a Jedi Knight. Steadily, the frantic beeping of the medical equipment calmed.

Swallowing, Aric pinned the figure with a stoic glare. “Where am I?”

“Medcenter,” the modified voice answered. Aric considered tampering with the man’s mind, convincing him that he had better things to do than guard a lone captive. Logic overruled that course when Aric remembered that most Mandalorians were trained to resist such attacks.

Unfolding his arms, the figure crossed the room to stand at the foot of Aric’s bed. He tensed in preparation for an attack, but the man didn’t exude any more aggression than what Aric would expect from his breed. At least, not until he spoke. “I understand you’re my sister’s latest fling.”

It wasn’t a question, and the accusation caught Aric so off guard that he choked out a half-muddled response. “Your sister’s—” Clamping his mouth shut, Aric extended his awareness beyond himself. The man felt familiar. A sort of chaos that Aric had encountered before, but tightly packed into feelings of honor and loyalty.

“Shit.” Aric realized why he knew that sensation a moment before the man lifted the helmet. Deep, blue eyes glared back at Aric, the same color that Fynta’s must have been before the Dark Side had corrupted her.

Aric growled and wiped a hand down his face. “You must be Verin.”

The man’s brows shot up. His hair was darker than Fynta’s, closer to brown than the sandy blonde that matched their skin tone. “She talked about me?”

Aric nodded, only realizing after his hand dropped back into his lap that he wasn’t cuffed. “Once or twice.” He reminded himself not to mention that he’d been in the room when the siblings last spoke, or that Fynta had told him how they came to be in Clan Ordo. “Where is your sister?”

Verin ignored Aric’s question in favor of his own. “You knew that she was Mando’ade, and shacked up with her anyway?” The man chuckled and hooked his thumbs into his belt. “Shab, that takes get’se.”

“I—” Aric paused before refuting Verin’s claim. Sleeping with her? He and Fynta could barely share a mug of caf without sniping at one another. Why would the infuriating woman’s brother think that it had gone further than that? Deciding to play along, Aric moderated his tone. “I did.”

Verin opened his mouth to say more, then staggered to the side when a smaller form shoved into the room. The fitted armor didn't disguise the fact that she was a woman. He had a vague memory of the helmet, though not from where. It was the same shape as the one Verin wore, but painted red and black to match the beskar weave that Fynta had explained for Aric on the ship.

Flapping her hands at the man, Fynta pulled the helmet free. “Be gone, foul human.”

Snorting, Verin popped Fynta on the back of the head. Aric was struck by the domestic surrealness of the moment. He’s seen such behavior at a distance, even envied it in the rare moments where he allowed himself such feelings, but witnessing the sibling bond it up close started an ache that felt like it burrowed into Aric’s soul. When the ache grew stronger, he gasped and clutched at his chest. Fynta appeared by his side, massaging the back of his neck and reminding him to breathe.

When the moment passed, Verin folded his arms. “You were nearly gone by the time we got you here. The doc wasn’t sure how the treatment would work on your species since it's mostly been tested on the local human population. He said to expect some muscle spasms and random pains, along with dizziness, nausea, and a slew of other nasty side effects that they probably haven’t thought of yet.”

With Verin’s warning, Aric’s situation slammed into him. He’d been attacked by rakghouls, started the mutation process, and awoken in a Mandalorian medcenter. Were his position not precarious enough, he was also supposed to be sleeping with his mortal enemy, a woman as unhinged as any he’d met.

“I’m fine,” Aric breathed, leaning back to put some space between him and Fynta. “Just need to catch my breath.”

“Look,” Verin started, dragging the word out while he rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m not trying to be a complete bastard, but we need to move your boyfriend. He’s starting to draw a crowd, and our clan doesn’t need that kind of heat on it.”

Fynta leaned closer to Aric, blocking him from Verin’s view. Her eyes widened as if trying to convey some secret, but Aric’s thoughts were still too foggy from the drugs to comprehend. At least, until her lips pressed against his. When Aric tried to push her away, his arms wouldn’t move. Fynta’s threads had ensnared him, trapping his body in place. A warning snarl rumbled in Aric's throat when Fynta's tongue brushed his still closed lips.

Verin cleared his throat. “Alright, break it up.” Aric heard the nervous chuckle in the man’s voice even over the thundering of his heart.

Pulling back, Fynta’s brows knit together as if she was a concerned lover in truth. Then, she brushed her hands tenderly over Aric's face and scalp. “Think you can move?”

“Yeah,” Aric croaked, then coughed out the rest of his response around a spasm in his throat muscles. “Give me a second to get dressed.”

“While we wait,” Verin opened the door and held his hand out for Fynta. “You and I need to have a chat. Oh, your armor’s on that chair, Sith.”

Aric waited for the two to step outside, then sighed when they didn’t close the door. That had been the second time that he'd been confused for a Sith. It begged the question of if his essence in the Force wasn’t as pure as he thought, or if the inhabitants of the Empire simply assumed that only a Sith could make it so far.

Lowering his bare feet to the floor, Aric willed his shaky legs to carry him to his armor. Thankfully, the medics hadn't stripped him completely. All Aric needed to do was find the energy to drag on the rest.

“Is it done?” Verin’s voice reached Aric as he fastened his pants. The man’s whispered concern made Aric take a step closer to the door.

“It is,” Fynta answered, her tone set at a conspiratory volume. “Clan Cadera’s honor is restored, and I completed my mission. Mind creating a distraction while I get Aric out? We’ve got to leave immediately.”

Silence followed, but Aric noted a marked uptick in stress scent from the hallway. He slid on the final boot and propped himself against the bed to avoid falling over. Finally, Verin spoke again. “How bad are you in it this time, Fyn’ika?”

“If I pull this off, I’m free.” The desperation that Aric heard in those last words gave him pause. Fynta’s personality could fill a planet, and he often forgot that she knew what it was like to live under someone’s boot. Killing Nox wasn’t only about revenge; it was survival.

Verin sighed. “If you need me—”

“I’ll call,” Fynta promised, and Aric looked away a moment before she walked through the door. He wasn’t sure how much Fynta knew about his species' abilities outside of the Force, but he didn’t want it to be obvious that he had been eavesdropping. Aric swallowed the instinct to question Fynta about their mission's completion and straightened to meet her.

“Ready to go?” Fynta's smile looked too wide to be genuine, but Aric let it go. He also kept his presence in the Force wrapped tightly around himself. With his diminished mental capacity, there was no telling what sort of havoc Fynta could wreak if she sensed a weakness.

Nodding, Aric took a step and stumbled. Fynta was under his arm before he could hit the floor. She tucked herself against his side, then nodded to her brother. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Sighing, Verin pushed off the wall that he’d been leaning against. He locked eyes with Aric for the space of a breath. “Take care of her.” The implied threat wasn't lost on Aric. Break his sister’s heart, and no doubt the Mandalorian would find a way to break Aric’s knees, Force or not. The urge to laugh at the absurdity of the entire situation was almost too much for Aric to resist.

Thankfully, Verin slid his helmet back into place and strode from the room. Before Aric could ask what that had been about, the lights shut off, bathing the hallways in a sickly yellow glow when the emergency generators kicked on.

Fynta grunted under Aric’s weight and pulled him forward. “Let's get back to the ship. Hey, you can see right?” Aric nodded, then verbalized his answer when he realized that she couldn’t see it. Fynta trudged forward. “Good, don’t let me run us into a wall.”

Taris Spaceport

Aric limped beside Fynta with his arm slung over her shoulders. His left calf still twinged with the after-effects of the vaccine, causing it to give out on him periodically. The Cathar had wanted to reclaim the Republic’s property, but Fynta had pointed out that stealing the medicine was the reason that he remained a grumpy Cathar instead of a slobbering Rakghoul. She could feel his resentment through their tenuous link, but wasn’t sure if it was over the vaccine, waking up in a Mandalorian camp, or Verin’s accusation of sleeping with her.

“So,” Aric rumbled, and Fynta felt his voice where their sides touched. “That was your brother.”

Fynta hummed in response. She hadn’t meant for the two to meet, but Verin was a crafty old chakaar with the misplaced opinion that he could make up for abandoning her when she was a child by smothering her as an adult. It was sweet that he cared.

At last, Aric gathered the courage to say what Fynta had been dreading. “He didn’t seem to approve of your choice of lover.”

Wincing, Fynta steered Aric down the hallway that led to her ship. “The clan wouldn’t agree to treat you otherwise. You’re welcome.”

When Fynta had called Aric her partner at the cantina, Torian had assumed her concern came from a place of deeper affection than Fynta was capable of. When he'd called Aric her cyare to the Clan Fett medic, Fynta hadn't corrected him. She wasn't sure how to explain that part to Aric, or if she would.

Snorting, Aric huffed out a strained breath. “You pinned me to the table.”

The betrayal in the Cathar’s tone surprised Fynta. She’d thought her mental warning had been enough, and Verin had been asking questions that would have jeopardized Aric's treatment. That kiss seemed like the most logical course of action to accomplish all of her goals.

Bristling, Fynta tugged Aric's arm further around her shoulders to better distribute his weight. “I wouldn’t have needed to if you were a better actor.” When Aric didn't respond, she rolled her eyes. “Come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

Still, the Cathar didn't respond, and Fynta grew annoyed. Her temper mounted when he planted his feet, jerking her back hard enough that she slammed into him. Dropping his arm, Fynta turned on Aric, but her anger died the moment she saw the dull absence in his normally clear eyes. “Fierfek.”

Fynta gauged the distance from their position to her ship. If she hurried, maybe she could get to it before— “It’s sweet, really.”

Fynta’s hand went to her chakram at the same time that Aric unhooked his weapon. He moved with slow precision, his gaze focused ahead even as he took a step towards Fynta. Both blades ignited in unison, the glow of each mixing to create pale blue shadows along the walls. Aric’s stance shifted to match Fynta's.

A tall, thin figure peeled away from the gloom and rested one, clawed glove on Aric’s shoulder. Her face was hidden by the signature mask that Nox’s assassins wore, their identities hidden, even from one another. “Lord Skira, falling for the enemy?” The woman tisked, wagging a finger from her free hand while the other tightened around Aric. “Cliche, but sweet.”

“And the villainous monologue isn’t?” Fynta eased lower into her stance, battle plans forming and being discarded based on the Sith woman's proximity to Aric. If Fynta's attack didn't kill him, she would.

“ He suggested that we extend an invitation for your return.” The woman checked her nails while propping her elbow on Aric’s shoulder. Fynta wasn’t sure of the Sith’s species, only that she had Aric by several inches and a willowy frame that made her look less formidable than she was. “Truthfully, I’m hoping you’ll prove some sport. Please resist.”

Pulling her lips back into a feral grin, Fynta stepped forward. Aric shifted to meet her, his blade arcing in an overhead slash that drove Fynta back. He didn’t pursue her, but fell back to his master’s side. Chuckling, Fynta strengthened her shields and deactivated her blades. “I’m not here for your entertainment, you want the Cathar? He's all yours.”

Fynta hooked a thumb towards her ship and started to turn. She hoped that Aric wasn't conscious enough to hear her betrayal, but it was the only card that Fynta had to play. She felt the woman’s intent a heartbeat before Aric’s blade scorched the air above where her head had been. Fynta spun, both chakram humming to life. He didn’t fall back this time, and Fynta found herself drawn into the same dance that they’d performed on the ship, only this time, the blows were deadly.

One of Aric’s strikes went wide, and Fynta ducked inside his range. Pain exploded in her knuckle joints when she struck Aric’s jaw, but it staggered him enough to see confusion flash through his eyes. Then, they went dull again as the Sith woman reclaimed control. A plan began to form in Fynta's mind until the Sith hissed. “Kill her.”

Aric lunged with a snarl, his face contorted with such hatred that Fynta took a step back. She felt the heat of his lightsaber as it flashed past her cheek. Blood trickled from Aric’s lip where her punch had struck, but he gave no indication of pain. The urge to reach for his mind nearly overwhelmed Fynta when she realized that the only end to this fight meant one of them had to die. If she could reach him…but that also opened a channel into her mind for his captor to exploit.

Fynta deflected another blow, then stumbled away from his claws. Their blades clashed and rebounded, breath falling in sync the way they had on the ship. Her muscles twitched with the warning of fatigue, though Aric appeared immune. Fynta managed a lucky kick to his bad leg that gave her time to spin away, putting distance between them.

“ This is the fabled strength of the Jedi Order?” The Sith woman snorted. “Pathetic.”

The word had barely left the woman’s lips when Fynta’s body seized. Her chakram clattered from rigid fingers, deactivating when they struck the floor. Blue bolts disrupted her vision, sparking white dots that she tried to shake away. Another jolt dropped Fynta to one knee, helpless before Aric. She growled, pushing against the electricity coursing through her system, but nothing obeyed. Every muscle jerked, and woozy exhaustion pulled at Fynta’s mind.

Fynta reached for her wayward weapons, but Aric’s hand closed around her wrist. Pain splintered up Fynta's arm when he squeezed. The Cathar was stronger than she had known, and her bones ground together under the pressure of his grip. Fynta drove her free elbow into the crook of his arm and fell away when his fingers uncurled. She pivoted on her knee to call for her weapons again.

Blood exploded in Fynta’s mouth when Aric’s knee collided with her nose, then the Cathar knelt on her chest, driving the air from her lungs in a rush. Grey replaced white, crowding around the edges of Fynta’s vision. Strong fingers wrapped her throat, and the universe narrowed to two, brilliant blue eyes.

Taris The Shershoy

Laughter resonated in Aric’s chest. He tugged against his bonds, unaware of the agonized roar until it tore at his throat. The Sith tucked one finger under his chin, surrounding Aric with such an immense pressure of Dark Side energy that he cried out again.

“I appreciate your aid, Master Jedi.” The masked figure tilted its head. “Without you, we would have struggled to deal with that pest.”

Aric jerked his chin away from the pointed claw at the end of the glove. He only remembered snatches; Fynta’s desperate shout, the rage flowing through his veins, and the feel of bone cracking beneath his fingers. Despair settled cold in Aric’s guts when he realized what the Sith meant.

Another chuckle rippled through the air as the Sith read Aric’s expression. “She trusted you. Silly little Sith.”

Aric’s vision blurred, eyes burning the tears that he didn’t understand. The sensation of helpless obedience clung to his mind like a film. Aric did not doubt that this woman could twist him to her will again. Death was his only escape now.

The woman turned her back to Aric, tapping a single, long finger to her chin. "What should we play first, Jedi?"

Aric didn’t see the lightning that arced around his body until the moment it struck the creature in front of him. Where the lean figure of a cloaked Sith had stood, there was a crumpled heap of twitching robes. The stench of charred fabric filled Aric's nose a second later. Then, a guttural scream resolved into the writhing figure on the floor while purple electricity caged the woman.

It happened so quickly that Aric struggled to piece everything into a coherent sequence of events. He twisted in his bonds to see what fresh hell stalked him from beyond the cargo hold of Fynta's ship. Then, relief rushed out of Aric so quickly that he felt dizzy.

Fynta staggered forward, one hand extended towards the Sith threat while her shoulder braced against the wall. Her lips and left eye were swollen, already showing evidence of the bruises that she’d display later. Blood caked her hair, and her other arm hung limp at her side. A crimson smear covered the right half of Fynta's face, but Aric couldn't see the origins of it.

Without looking at Aric, Fynta bared her teeth, shoved away from the wall, and stumbled across the hold. She stopped above the still twitching figure and unholstered her Verpine. “This is my ship, bitch.” Fynta spit a bloody glob onto the Sith's still smoking robes. " My Cathar."

The crack of Fynta's blaster hurt Aric’s ears, but it paled in comparison to his relief that she was alive. Finally, the infuriating woman turned towards Aric with a crooked grin that looked grotesque given her condition. “What do we say, Master Jedi?”

Aric’s breath left him in a huff that fell short of a laugh. “You were right?” He should have accepted Ucevi's offer to shield his mind. He should have accepted that he had limitations, and that no one knew better how to fight Sith than other Sith.

"Damn straight I was right." Fynta moved on unsteady legs. She kicked the Sith’s body down the boarding ramp, then slammed her hand against the button that would seal the ship. Now that they were safe, the ache in Aric's shoulders made itself known, and he rattled the cuffs against the exhaust pipe overhead.

Fynta turned at the sound, then appraised Aric with a speculative smirk. “This is a good look for you.”

“Very funny,” Aric muttered. There was a moment when he wondered why he'd been upset by the thought that Fynta had been killed. Then decided that it was because it had been by his hands while not under his control. If he was going to kill the woman, he wanted to mean it.

Aric tapped the cuffs against the bar again. “Mind cutting me down?” The muscles in his torso burned, and his left calf cramped so tightly that he couldn’t feel his toes.

Sighing, Fynta limped to stand in front of Aric, then lifted higher to study his restraints. With their faces so close, Aric could see the deep spit that ran down the woman’s lower lip and the trails still leaking from both nostrils. She smelled of sweat and pain; guilt snuffed out Aric's irritation.

"Fucking bitch," Fynta muttered, then broke Aric's cuffs using the Force. "She used my restraints."

Aric shook his hands, then grabbed Fynta’s shoulders when she swayed. Her scalp still oozed blood, but enough had dried around the wound that it wasn’t a major concern. When Aric tried to lift the arm she favored, Fynta pulled away. “Come on, you and I have a date with the medbay.”

Shame gnawed at Aric as he watched Fynta make her way up the stairs at a slower pace than normal. The tips of her hair were burned, and her armor showed new battle scars. He knew that her condition was his doing, but he wasn’t sure how to make amends.

When Aric joined Fynta in the main room, she’d perched on the side of her kolto tub and was attempting to work the zipper on the side of her armor. Aric approached and reached one hand towards her, stopping inches away. “Want some help?”

Without speaking, Fynta lifted her good arm and allowed Aric to unfasten the armored top. They worked in silence, steadily baring more of her skin so that he could see the extent of the damage done. Fynta coughed, then spit more bloody phlegm onto the ship’s flooring. Renewed horror at his weakness almost pulled a snarl of frustration from Aric.

“Stop,” Fynta sighed. She looked as tired as Aric felt. When he didn’t speak, Fynta pushed off her seat and motioned for him to take it. “That was one of Nox’s assassins, you weren’t prepared for her. That’s my fault, I thought he’d start with peons and work his way up, not throw one of his heavy hitters at us straight away.”

Fynta snapped her fingers and pointed again for Aric to sit. He pretended not to see her wince and took the seat. “You knew that she was there?”

“Not her personally,” Fynta admitted as she started to slide the cloak off Aric’s shoulders. He let her, focusing more on the fact that she wouldn’t meet his eyes than her undressing him.

Fynta caught her lower lips between her teeth and sucked the fresh blood from it. Then, Aric understood. “I was bait.”

“I found evidence of recent habitation at Nox’s old haunt.” Fynta felt for the fastens on Aric’s chestplate, and still, he let her. The realization that he’d been used ignited his anger to the point that Aric was afraid that if he moved, he’d strike her. Fynta continued as if she couldn’t feel the fury radiating from him. “The kiss wasn’t just for Verin.”

“Well, it worked.” Aric hadn’t meant it to be a joke, but Fynta croaked out a laugh all the same. Her hiss of pain finally snapped Aric out of his anger, and he stood. “I’ve already been dealt with, just need to let it work. Where are your medical supplies?”

Fynta started to protest until Aric poked the bridge of her swollen nose. She cursed and waved in the general direction of the wall cabinet while carefully wiping tears from her eyes. After some rummaging, Aric found a well-worn and out-of-date medkit. Half of the supplies were missing, but there was enough to make due. He ignored the headache building behind his eyes and returned to Fynta. “You need to restock.”

Instead of the snarky retort, Fynta stared at Aric while he cleaned the blood away from her nose and eyes with an antiseptic wipe. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Aric tilted his head and lifted his brows, waiting for Fynta to continue. She took the cloth from him and sighed. “Next time I need bait, I’ll make sure that you’re in on it.”

Aric released a laugh that he hadn’t meant to allow past his private thoughts. “Thanks for the consideration.” He smeared kolto along the split in Fynta’s bottom lip, cringing when it opened to reveal the extent of the gash. It was clean, likely where the edge of his armored plate had caught her.

Shaking his head, Aric set the kolto aside. “This isn’t enough. You— we, need a proper medcenter. Know of anywhere safe?”

Fynta pressed the cloth to her lip, then leaned over to tug up the hem of Aric’s shirt. The marks left by the rakghoul's claws looked as nasty as they felt, to say nothing of the stench. His fur had been shaved, and the skin beneath had taken on a dull, green shade instead of the grey it should be. A deep ache bloomed in the tissue around it when she touched him.

Fynta grimaced, and Aric pushed the rag to the new spot where her lip had begun to bleed. Looking up, she offered a pitying frown. “You’re not going to like it. Grab my comm off my bunk, would you?”

Aric hesitated before stepping away from Fynta. Even then, he waited to make sure that she wouldn’t fall over. He moved as quickly as his cramped calf would allow to retrieve the comm and returned it to Fynta. She typed in the frequency, wavering enough that Aric put a hand on her shoulder. Unsurprisingly, the Sith Blood Ucevi appeared in Fynta’s palm. “In need of rescue already?” The woman purred with a smirk.

Fynta barked a laugh, then lurched to the side. Aric caught her, but the comm clattered to the floor. Fynta’s head lulled against his shoulder as he bore her full weight. It took a startled heartbeat for him to realize that the woman was unconscious. Meanwhile, Ucevi called from where she’d landed, all semblance of humor gone.

Grunting, Aric lowered himself onto one knee so that he could place Fynta on the floor, then snatched the comm. Ucevi’s eyes were wide when he appeared in front of her. Aric slumped onto his ass beside Fynta and pressed his back against the cabinet to stop the room from spinning. “We need a medcenter.”

#whiskey & tihaar #sith fynta/jedi jorgan au #sith fynta #jedi jorgan #fynta wolfe #aric jorgan #tish oc: ucevi #i really enjoyed beating that absolute shit out of both of them #it was good for my soul #less so for theirs #nothing bonds like a ties of battle #and maybe some mutual spells of unconsciousness #not to mention the occassional rumor....#long post #you guys said you wanted big chapters #hope you're ready for this

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cinlat · 2 years

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I was tagged by @starknstarwars and since I haven’t had internet during our move, I’ve managed some writing. Woot.

I’ll tag @dimigex @dingoat @pineaberry @sunsetofdoom @chivalin @outcastcommander @askshivanulegacy @storyknitter

I know that I need to work on Blood in the Breeze, but the AU is all I can focus on. So, you guys get another peek at what’s happening in Whiskey & Tihaar. As always, thanks to the lovely @tishinada for letting me borrow Ucevi. I love her so much.

Fynta woke in her bunk with no idea how she got there. Her last clear memory was of Aric Jorgan chained to her bulkhead, but that might have been a dream. There were vague images of an apology, and the tangy scent of kolto, which probably explained the Wookie pounding on the inside of her skull. After a few more breaths to clear the hangover of what Fynta hoped had been a good time, her senses began to register other things.

“Fierfek,” Fynta groaned, lifting an arm that weighed twice as much as it should have. She wiggled the numb fingers in front of her face just to make sure that they still worked. Her toes tingled, and there was an incessant ringing in one of her ears. The more that she inventoried her symptoms, the more certain Fynta became that she’d had the shit shocked out of her.

Finally, the ringing in Fynta’s ears coalesced into her comm somewhere around her feet. Shoving into a sitting position, she let loose several more curses in various languages to make sure that she still remembered them. It took a few clumsy slaps, but Fynta managed to answer.

“It’s about fucking time.” Ucevi’s blurry features came into focus. Fynta would have complimented the woman of the attractive color on her lips Ucevi had given her the chance. “Have you arrived?”

“No clue.” Fynta looked around her ship, then remembered that there was supposed to be another body on the rumpled blankets of Aric’s bed. She blinked at Ucevi. “Where am I supposed to be?”

#whiskey & tihaar #wip whenever #things are fine #just another day in the life of this disaster girl #thanks for the tag #sith fynta #sith fynta/jedi jorgan au #fynta wolfe #tish oc: ucevi

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cinlat · 1 year

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OC Kiss Week: 2023

Thank you @sunsetofdoom for letting me borrow Nan! I absolutely love her and I hope I did your butch girl justice!

Kiss Type: Romantic Word Count: 578 Fandom: swtor

Fynta was an assassin. A damn good assassin. She never left a target alive, completed her tasks ahead of the deadline, and generally slept fine at night. After all, what was better than killing the Sith responsible for her rise to such a vaunted career?

Fynta also had a problem. A damn good problem, though there was room for argument. She was easily distracted. At the moment, that distraction bore an impressive crown of horns, biceps that could crack a varactyl egg, and hands built for crushing skulls. It should be a crime for pants to fit that tight and thighs to be that thick.

Movement forced Fynta’s leering back onto its appropriate target. She had a new reason to kill the slimy little Sith leaving the sabak table. Were it not for him, she’d be having a go at the pale Zabrak woman who’d downed enough booze to give Fynta a run for her money.

So far, the woman’s speech didn’t seem any the worse for wear, nor was her balance affected as she hurled another dart at the board across the cantina. A cheer went up, and Fynta’s target slipped through the crowd.

Fynta lost sight of the little Sith lord, forced to track him by the thin filaments of the Force that she’d attached when they bumped into each other earlier. It led to the stairs where the heavy thumps of a larger individual preceded Fynta. She wrapped herself in a blanket of the Force, pulling it tight enough to make her uncomfortable to look at, to skew the vision enough to make it glide past her. Anything more would be too difficult to hold while moving around obstacles. When the door slammed at the top of the stairs, Fynta ascended.

Following the trail of a haughty Sith who didn’t think to check for a tag was painfully easy. Fynta palmed the poison. This kill had to look like natural causes. Nox had a knack for alchemical brews that left no trace, and Fynta was his preferred delivery method. She bent to examine the lock, then froze when a door slid open behind her.

“I know you’re here.” Fynta held her breath as the beefy Zabrak from downstairs folded her arms and seemed to look directly at her. The snort she offered reminded Fynta of a nexu shuffling around for the scent of its prey.

Though her voice was rough, Fynta heard soothing undertones that reminded her of life in the clans. A warrior's teasing. “Cheap parlor tricks are cute, but what you really doing outside my door, honey.”

With her cover blown, Fynta pocketed the poison and plastered on her best grin as she released her stealth. “Secret admirer.”

“Weren’t so secret downstairs,” the woman argued, but Fynta saw a glint of mischief in her eyes. “You wanting something?”

They’d made enough noise to draw her target’s attention if he cared to look through his peephole. Fynta needed a diversion, and she saw absolutely no reason in hell why it couldn’t be the sexy mountain of a zabrak in front of her.

Taking the woman’s hand, Fynta pressed a light kiss to the back of her knuckles, flicking her tongue in a way that left little doubt about her motives. She cut her eyes up to meet the zabrak’s. “So many things.”

A grin slowly split the woman’s face as she stepped back into the room. “Let’s see what we can do about that.”

#swtor #oc kiss week #sith fynta #mandalorian #sith assassin #easily distracted disaster girl #sunset oc: nan kris #zabrak

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cinlat · 1 year

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Whiskey and Tihaar: Alderaan Part Two

You can read it by following the above links (for better formatting), or below the cut (for lazy formatting).

Chapter Summary: Every time Fynta and Aric make a little headway, something reminds them that they have nothing in common. These two need a good mediator, and thankfully, one is on the way. Word Count: 5,522 Special guests: @tishinada Ucevi @kunoichi-ume Noara

Alderaan Darth Nemesis Safe House

"Well, that could have gone better." Fynta stared at the darkened archway where Aric had vanished. She still felt his fury and hated that she was the cause. Ironic since she'd spent their first couple of weeks together pushing the Cathar to his limits because. She'd wanted the measure of his temper. Now, she had it.

"He doesn't seem to like me," Nora mused from her position in the opposite entry. She'd held back, keeping Aric at bay while Fynta tried to convince them both not to kill one another. The Chiss hummed in thought, and Fynta silently cursed Ucevi for her secretiveness for once. She knew what was coming before Nora spoke. "He's not Sith, not with the way he wields the Force."

Slowly, Fynta turned to face her hostess. Red eyes widened, then snapped to Fynta. "Please tell me that you didn't bring a Jedi into one of my secret havens."

Though Nora's tone was sweet, the underlying threat was obvious. Fynta blew out a breath and tried to think of a reasonable excuse. "Technically, the Jedi brought me here."

Pale brows reached Nora's hairline, but it was her apprentice who spoke. "Did he defect?"

Noara was still in her early twenties, not yet granted the title of Lord of the Sith. She was strong in the Force, but with too gentle a heart to use it for evil. Thus, she was Darth Nemesis's studious assistant in the public eye. Only a chosen few knew that the girl had once been a Jedi Padawan.

Fynta shook her head. "No, he's still very much a pompous ass." She sighed. "But he's a vital part of my mission. Grandmother approved."

"Does this have anything to do with that information you wanted about Nox?" Nora asked with a wary side glance at her apprentice. Fynta opened her mouth to respond, but the Chiss raised one manicured hand. "Never mind, I don't need to know. So long as Ucevi deems it critical, I'll allow whatever this is." She waved that same hand past Fynta towards where Aric had gone. Judging by Nora's expression, she wasn't pleased with how well the Jedi knew the layout of her safehouse.

Dropping her hand, Nora turned to her apprentice. "Be a dear and activate the service droids. We'll stay only long enough to refuel and restock. Then, I feel as if it's best that we are in the eye of the public while Fynta and her Jedi complete their task."

"Yes, my lord." Noara waited for her master to turn away before leaning closer to Fynta. "Meet me on the blaster range in half an hour. I want to show you my birthday present."

Fynta grinned. She'd taught the youth to shoot once she'd recovered from her stay in Nox's reeducation cells. Noara had come a long way from the skinny child barely holding onto her sanity. Fynta hadn't planned to become someone's hero that day, but she'd never regretted her choice to steal Nox's newest pet. Ucevi had placed the girl with Nora shortly after, and Noara had flourished under that gentle tutelage.

"Deal." Fynta agreed, then she cursed and reached for Noara's arm as the girl turned to leave. "Make it an hour; I need to handle Aric first."

Noara's expression turned serious. "Be nice to him. It can't be easy being surrounded by your enemies. I don't need to know what you're up to, but I'm going to guess it is parsecs outside of his comfort zone. But, he's still here."

"Yeah." Fynta chuckled, then ruffled Noara's dark bangs like she used to. It was hard to see her as the adult that she'd become, rather than the adolescence Fynta had grown to care for. She widened her smile and made a hand gesture of honesty. "I'll be nice, promise." Rolling her eyes, Noara left to do her master's bidding while Fynta followed after Aric.

The walk to Aric's room seemed to be too long and too short at the same time. Fynta stood outside the door with her knuckles poised to knock but unable to make the connection. She had no idea what to say to mend the sort of hurt that she'd felt in Aric before he shut her out. Even now, Fynta could sense the Cathar's restlessness, but it paled in comparison to what they normally shared. He'd walled off his emotions so that Fynta only caught glimpses of what leaked around the seals.

Fynta shored up her defenses and rapped her knuckles against the door. No answer came. Sighing, she extended her senses to confirm that Aric was in the room, then knocked again. Fynta considered breaking the locking mechanism, but given his mood, she decided against it. "You know this door won't keep me out," Fynta called.

The threat worked as expected. Aric's door slid open, but he stood across the room with his arms folded and familiar scowl fixed in place. He'd donned his armor, everything but the trademark cloak. A strange heaviness rose in Fynta's chest at the sight of his chest plate and greaves. "What do you want," he growled, finding a spot above her head to stare at.

To apologize. At least, that's what Fynta meant to say, what came out was completely different. "To see if you're still sulking."

Aric snorted and looked out the window, maintaining a firm glare at the snowcapped scenery beyond. Nora's hideout was nestled into the side of a mountain, according to the schematic that Fynta had found when they arrived. She hadn't ventured into that frozen hellscape. Clouds covered the moon, throwing the room into shadow that left Ari's eyes glaring in the glass. Fynta opted for casual contempt and propped one butt cheek on Aric's bed. "You realize why I couldn't let you kill her, right? That's even if you got close enough to try. You've vastly underestimated that woman's power."

One side of Aric's mouth lifted in a lopsided sneer that revealed the tips of his canines. Fynta thought the expression was adorable, but managed to keep that thought to herself. When Aric didn't respond, she reached for him through the Force.

"Don't," Aric growled, taking a step away from Fynta as if that could weaken their connection. She felt a surge of panic, quickly tamped down, but present all the same. Aric's glare turned to his feet, and Fynta realized for the first time that he hadn't looked at her since she'd walked in. "Just—stay out of my head."

Fynta stood and took a step closer, noting the repeated spike in fear. It wasn't surprise or anxiety, but the raw terror of trapped prey, an emotion she'd become well acquainted with in her line of work. Fynta had never thought to inspire such feelings in the stoic Cathar, though. "What's wrong?"

When Fynta moved again, Aric snarled in earnest. The sound brought her up short. She'd heard him growl in many circumstances, most involving her, but none had ever felt threatening. Aric moved into a loose-limbed defensive stance. "You almost had me," he said, tone low and edged with malice. "You almost convinced me that there was more to the Empire than what the Order thought. But it was a lie. You're just like all the rest."

"I'm—" Fynta sputtered, red coloring her vision and rage boiling through her veins until lightning crackled between her fingers. She bared her teeth and jabbed one of the sparking digits at Aric, holding onto her control by bloodied nails. "You have no idea what you're talking about you self-righteous, pompous di'kutla utreekov."

Fynta had the short-lived satisfaction of seeing the Jedi's brows climb his forehead before she spun around and stormed from the room. She slammed the door hard enough that sparks sprung from the safety mechanisms. It might have jumped off its tracks, but she didn't care enough to look back.

Alderaan Private Residence of Darth Nemesis

Aric stared at the mangled wreckage of his door. Not only had Fynta's outburst short circuited the electrical system, but it had ripped part of the track out of the frame. Without the right tools, Aric wouldn't enjoy the false security of a locked door again.

Sighing, Aric nudged the leaning slab of metal and watched it groan outward. An almost hidden spark of light distracted him. When Aric looked up, the young woman from earlier stood in the hallway with a tray while her pale blue gaze focused on the carnage that had once been his door. "I take it the talk didn't go well?"

Aric snorted a laugh before he could stop himself, then sobered with the reminder that this woman was also a Sith. There was a familiar gentleness in her, though. "Who are you?"

"Oh, right." The woman wiped a hand on silk pants so green that they almost looked black, then extended it to Aric. "My name is Noara Starspark. I'm Nora's apprentice."

Cautiously, Aric accepted the greeting. When their hands touched, he felt the warmth of Tython in the back of his mind. It reminded him of a stream he liked to visit as a boy. A place covered by trees, where the breeze brought with it the crispness from higher in the mountains. "You're not Sith," Aric decided before his higher brain caught up with his instincts.

"Not really, no," Noara answered, then lifted the tray. "A gift from my master, may I?"

"Nothing stopping you." Aric kicked the door for effect.

Only after the shock wore off did Aric realize that Nora must be Darth Nemesis's given name. He kept the younger woman in sight while she went to one of the many tables around the room. Aric folded his arms. "Your master won't be mad that you call her Nora in front of me?"

The young woman waved a dismissive hand. "There are millions of Noras in the Empire, and her birth records are sealed. Good luck weeding her out." Noara set the tray on a dark wood table and removed the lid to show the half drank whiskey from his doomed game with Fynta and two glasses. "You seemed fond of this one."

Aric eyed the gift, wondering what sort of poison had been slipped into it. As if reading his thoughts, Noara smiled. "It's not tampered with. All I did was put the stopper in. When I was cleaning up, my master suggested bringing it to you. I'd hoped that Fynta would be here, but…" She trailed off and left the drink and glasses alone. "If there is anything else you need, please let us know. You are Nora's guest, and thus under her protection. We will leave first thing in the morning to avoid any further stress."

"You said not really," Aric ventured, picking up in the middle of his thoughts. When Noara's head tipped to the side, he reworded his question. "When I said you weren't Sith. What does that mean?"

A small, sad smile pulled at Noara's lips. "I was a Padawan. Nox killed my master and took me for his apprentice." Aric nodded, watching the branches of Darth Nox's control grow before his eyes. Fynta hadn't been exaggerating when she spoke of her former master's reach. "Fynta found me in one of his cells. I don't remember much about how we got out, only that my rescue is what sparked her resignation from Nox's service."

Aric unfolded his arms. There was a lot that Noara left out, but the idea that she and Fynta were so closely connected intrigued him. "How old were you?"

"Thirteen," Noara answered, then shrugged. "I think. I lost a lot of my earlier memories during Nox's intake process. It's why I wasn't returned to the Jedi; I couldn't remember where I was from until months later. By then, Nora had already accepted the position as my new master. They offered me the choice to return, but I preferred it here."

"In the Empire," Aric grumbled, reevaluating the ease with which he accepted Noara in his space.

Noara let out a delicate laugh. "No. I don't care about Empire versus Republic. I chose to stay with Nora because in the few months I lived with her, I learned more about the Force and my connection to it than in years on Tython. She encouraged me to explore, and—" Noara stopped and laughed again when Aric snorted. "Not like that. She taught me to find my way to meditate, to discover where my strength flourished. She was patient and kind."

"That's not the Darth Nemesis from our files," Aric admitted. Fynta had warned him that nothing was as it appeared in the Empire, their Sith included. Ucevi had been cordial and welcoming. Aric had to assume from her relationship with Fynta that the woman was higher ranking than she seemed. Could it be possible that Darth Nemesis was the same?

A kind smile made Noara look younger still. "It's all a disguise. Nora has a real chance to make things better for the Empire, but no one will back her if she appears weak. So, we leak stories to the news to bolster the sort of reputation the Empire expects from their Dark Council members."

"That's barbaric," Aric replied with a curled lip. The thought that someone would use murder and torture to bolster their societal standing made no sense. Then again, he'd never understood the way a Sith's mind worked, even now that he'd spend time with so many.

Shaking her head, Noara poured two glasses of whiskey and lifted hers in cheers. "That's politics." She took a sip, smacked her lips, then continued while examining the glass. "The senators in the Republic are no different, only the reverse. They pretend to be better than they really are. Nora, she just wants to get her foot in the door."

Aric downed his share of the whiskey, hating how much he enjoyed the burn. "What else can you tell me about these Sith?" He needed a better understanding of who to be vigilant around. Though Aric knew it was folly, he trusted the word of this once Padawan. Despite her upbringing in the Empire, he sensed no deceit in her.

Noara shrugged. "You need to trust Fynta as much as she trusts you." Aric lifted a brow, and the girl's smirk returned. "She cares about your opinion. And, whether you like it or not, she's adopted you. Welcome to the club."

With a final salute, Noara drained her glass and placed it upside down on the tray. "If Fynta says they are safe, then they are. Simple as that. Ucevi is a good woman. If you don't threaten her family or her network, you'll be fine. As for my master…" Noara trailed off. "Well, she regrets upsetting you. Fynta mentioned that you hunt Sith and Nora is on your list. For the sake of the Empire, forget about tonight and Darth Nemesis. We need her alive more than you can imagine."

Noara stepped away from the table, bowed the way a Padawan would to her master, then headed for the door. She paused to run a hand over the damaged wall, "I'll send a repair droid."

Then, the woman was gone, leaving Aric with more questions than he'd had before. He'd grown up with two simple truths: the Empire was the enemy, and Sith were evil. The picture Noara painted blurred those lines. And, every Sith that Aric had interacted with so far had been cordial despite knowing who and what he was.

Aric poured another glass of whiskey and swallowed it in a single gulp, letting the burn in his throat signify the fires of this new trial. He had made a promise to Fynta, one that he would keep on his honor as a Jedi. The galaxy would be a better place without Nox. After that, Aric couldn't promise anything.

Alderaan Darth Nemesis Safe House Two Days Later

Aric only left his quarters late at night, when he was certain that he'd be left alone. He walked the silent halls, stopping to admire the snow outside. Fat white flakes drifted lazily onto statues of people he didn't recognize, lending them a ghostly quality.

Closing his eyes, Aric reached out and felt for Fynta. Her chaos was quiet, lulled into the almost peace of sleep. Darth Nemesis and Noara had left the morning following their disastrous introduction, as promised, with the latter stopping by to bid Aric farewell and wish him luck. In return, he had promised to consider the girl's request. Aric had been alone ever since.

Ucevi was scheduled to arrive in the early morning hours the next day. The closer the moment came, the more Aric regretted reaching out to her. When he had agreed to let the Sith Blood shield his mind, Fynta was still speaking to him. As it stood, he'd only caught glimpses of the woman as she drifted through the estate. Aric could find her if he wanted, but he wasn't ready for that conversation. Fynta had invaded his thoughts in a moment of vulnerability, and she'd wrested his control away. He couldn't forgive that so easily.

An alarm chirped, and Aric looked towards the east to catch the drive plume of a small ship. The panel next to him illuminated with a warning of an incoming vessel, then clicked to green when it recognized the access code. Aric's pulse leapt into a staccato when he realized that Ucevi was early.

In the back of Aric's mind, Fynta stirred. He hadn't realized that he was still connected to her, and quickly withdrew before she could accuse him of spying while she slept. He started for the hangar, then thought better of it and went to his room. Though wearing his armor wouldn't protect Aric from a mental attack should Ucevi decide to avenge Fynta's wounded pride, it made him feel better.

Aric had expected the women to go to bed. He knew that Fynta and Ucevi shared a past relationship, though could only speculate on its nature. Fynta hadn't fully admitted to it being romantic, but Aric had his suspicions. So, when someone knocked on his door less than an hour after Ucevi's arrival, Aric jumped.

The void behind Aric's door must have been Ucevi, because Fynta showed up as a mirror, rather than a lack of being, when she hid from him. Squaring his shoulders, Aric answered the door and found himself looking up into the golden eyes of a smiling Sith Lord. "Good evening, Master Jorgan. May I enter?"

Aric stepped back, surprised again by how large the woman was. His mind had made her smaller, stamping the standard female frame onto someone who was anything but. Still, Ucevi moved with a sinuous grace that made the black fabric of her flight armor shimmer in the light. Shaking himself, Aric poked his head into the hallway and found it empty. His chest squeezed, but Aric told himself it was for the best.

"How are you healing?" Ucevi asked, stopping to pour a glass of the whiskey that Noara had brought two nights before. She inhaled the fragrant alcohol with a satisfied sigh, then smiled at Aric. "You look better than when we last spoke."

"Autodoc says everything is good." Aric stood awkwardly in the doorway, hands flexing without anything to do. Eventually, he folded them into his robes. "My DNA is altered, but no signs of transformation. So far, I haven't noticed any significant changes."

Ucevi sipped her whiskey, then nodded. "That's good." She lifted the glass in Aric's direction. "And, we might be able to use that to our advantage. If Nox got a read on you while on Rishi, the rakghoul venom could have fundamentally altered you enough to hide you from his sight. In theory, at least."

"So, you're a specialist on rakghouls now?" The casual conversation eased some Aric's tension, enough that he could move further into the room, at least.

Ucevi shrugged one bare shoulder. Her flight suit left impressive biceps exposed, a trend that Aric had noticed that the Sith Blood employed often. He couldn't decide if it was an intimidation tactic, or because she was proud of her physique. He supposed both were possible. "I read over the thesis of a colleague. The man is a little too interested in rakghouls if you ask me, but his research is fascinating."

Aric spared one more look over his shoulder, expecting Fynta to walk in complaining about lost sleep, but not surprised when she didn't. Sighing, he turned back to the red woman. "As entertaining as this topic is, we should probably—"

"Of course." Ucevi drained her glass, then gestured at one of the plush chairs decorating Aric's room. "If you'll make yourself comfortable. This may take some time since your essence is unfamiliar to me."

Aric did as instructed, perching on the edge of the cushion. "What can I expect?"

Ucevi leaned one hip against the desk and folded her arms. "I'll start slow. It will be uncomfortable at first. I'll need to compartmentalize the various sections, if that helps. I'll see some of your memories, though I promise not to linger. You'll feel my presence, but there shouldn't be pain unless you fight me. If there is anywhere that I should avoid, it's best to tell me now. I will not be gathering intel, so any classified information should remain so."

The brow stalks above Ucevi's eyes pulled together. "This is an unprecedented event. If I encounter resistance, I'll move on unless you want me to push through, but those areas will remain vulnerable. Shielding isn't a blanket process, but a precise, almost surgical practice. It takes trust and time, both of which we are desperately short on. So, I'll ask one more time, are you sure about this?"

Aric wanted to say no. He wanted to walk out of the room, board Fynta's ship, and return to the Republic. Nothing had terrified him so much since his childhood fear of the dark. Now, Aric was inviting the darkness into his soul. Letting out a shaky breath, Aric met the woman's burning gaze. "This is the only way to keep those bastards out of my head, isn't it?"

"Not the only way," Ucevi admitted with a tilt of her head. "But, certainly the most expedient."

"Then, let's get on with it." Aric leaned back in the chair and folded his hands in his lap. "All of it." After all, he didn't sit on the council, and he didn't carry any of the Order's secrets. Aric had never been good at it.

After a few failed meditative breaths, Aric gave up and glared at the fireplace. It was impossible to relax while preparing to let a Sith in. He anticipated pain, because no matter how much he tried, Aric knew he would resist.

A wave of chaos rose in Aric's mind, and he jolted forward to see Fynta stalk into the room. Before he could think better of it, Aric was on his feet. "You came."

"I said I would, didn't I?" Fynta snapped, though the relief of Aric's greeting was palpable. It wasn't until that moment that he realized Fynta hadn't been avoiding him because she was angry, but because she thought he was.

Walking around the chair, Fynta put her hands on Aric's shoulders and pushed him back onto the cushions. When he was seated, she remained behind him. Her next words were directed at Ucevi. "Where do you want me?"

The Sith Blood looked between them, a single brow stalk raised. "There is fine." Aric wondered if Ucevi could sense the conflicting emotions rising within him, or his relief that Fynta had come. If so, she didn't comment on it. "So long as Master Jorgan is comfortable. I may need your help calming him until we've been properly introduced."

"That part sucks," Fynta muttered, squeezing Aric's shoulders. She added a playful wink. "Don't worry, I'll protect you."

You need to trust Fynta as much as she trusts you. Noara's words echoed in Aric's ears, and he nodded. Trust was not something that came easily to a Jedi. They were raised to see into people's hearts, and few of those were pure. Then, he'd met Fynta. While she would lie to someone's face to get what she wanted, her intentions were laid out for all who cared to look. Every act of evil was backed by the desire to do good. She was the enigma that he'd been taught to fear. And yet, Aric continuously placed his life in her hands.

Dipping his chin to Ucevi, Aric inhaled until his lungs burned, then let the air out in staggered breaths so that his pulse would slow. Ucevi set the desk chair in front of Aric and lowered herself into it. Her hand hovered above Aric's knee. "I'm going to touch you now. It solidifies our connection and keeps me grounded while I'm in your thoughts. Do I have your permission to begin?" Aric nodded, his focus torn by the warm hands on his shoulders and now his right leg. Ucevi hunched into a more comfortable position. "Now, I need you to enter a meditative state."

Aric glanced behind him to where Fynta stood. "How does she manage this with you?"

"Practice," Ucevi chuckled. "I take it you tried to teach her too?"

"She's a lost cause," Aric answered, letting the banter ease him into a calm mindset that would make meditation easier.

Fynta's hands tightened almost to the point of pain. "You're both assholes."

Ucevi's chuckle seemed to vibrate the air around them, and Aric realized that he'd already slipped into the first stage of meditation. It was like falling asleep, half in and out of consciousness. Sounds were louder, while the rest of the room muted to grey, then black as he went deeper.

Aric lingered in that calm place until he lost track of time, then a flash of green trees and babbling brooks shimmered into view. He stood with his master, overseeing the construction of the Twi'lek village that had barely survived another Flesh Raider attack. Aric wanted to track the culprits down, but his master denied his request. Anger filled him, quickly overshadowed by helplessness as a small boy dug through the burned rubble of his.

The oily sensation of the Dark Side brushed Aric's consciousness, and he was transported to a battlefield. Red filled his vision, and Aric threw his blade up in time to avoid being hewn in two. The Rattataki Sith bared pearly teeth in a snarl. His eyes were as red as the weapon he wielded, his teeth stained with blood. Aric pushed the man back, then Ucevi was there. In the chaos of the moment, all he saw was another Sith. He was outnumbered and desperate. Aric reached for the Force and found it denied to him.

Panic seized Aric. He'd felt this before, remembered the stab of electricity behind his eyes. The memory was barely a fragment of the pain Aric felt, and he cried out. "Focus, big guy." The words fluttered through his mind like leaves on an autumn breeze. Aric breathed the hot agony away, pouring all of his concentration into the target shaped tattoo that hovered before him. It inspired feelings of safety, and Aric clung to it.

"Fynta, back off, you're too close." A disembodied voice ground out. "Damn it, Aric you have to let go."

Aric's vision spiraled, specters overlapping so quickly that he couldn't make sense of them. The sting of a whip against his back. A child huddled in the corner of a tiny cell. The wrinkled skin of a Flesh Raider. A boulder looming in the distance. The shame in dark blue eyes as they looked away. Burning muscles, and the thin air of a mountain peak. Blood pouring through his fingers.

"Almost there," the voice rasped. There were familiar cadences in that strained sound that made Aric feel guilty, but he didn't know why.

"I'm still here," Fynta whispered. Her warmth enveloped Aric, acting as a buffer between him and the onslaught of anguish and rage. "Trust me."

With those final words, Aric surrendered to the gentle pressure of Fynta's touch, and the images faded. He blinked, revealing the solace of an eternal void, his hands entwined with hers.

Alderaan Darth Nemesis Safe House

Aric inhaled as he came out of the trance, then slouched deeper into his chair. Fynta let go of the Jedi's shoulders and went to her old friend. Ucevi sagged against the desk, a sheen of sweat coating her face, neck, and chest. Fynta pushed back the dark strands of hair that had come loose from the Sith's pristine bun and steadied her. "Are you okay?"

When Ucevi's gaze met Fynta's, it burned with something just short of anger. "Do you realize what you've done?"

"You'd have killed each other." Fynta forced a smile and pretended that her stomach wasn't trying to empty itself. "Stubborn as an akk hound with a new bone, the both of you."

Ucevi wouldn't have stopped until she'd shielded Aric, and he would have shredded both of their minds trying to escape. It was in their natures, a nurturer and a warrior. Still, Ucevi shook her head. "I can't undo this."

"You couldn't have stopped it," Fynta countered, sitting back on her heels to give Uveci room to straighten. The woman's deep crimson skin had paled, and her hair hung limp with sweat.

Shaking her head, the Sith Blood pushed into a backward arch to stretch her muscles. "I could have barred your entrance, or—"

"It wouldn't have changed anything," Fynta interrupted, but she placed her hand on the woman's knee to soften the sharpness of her tone. "Something happened on Rishi. A connection developed. All I did was replace a rope bridge with a permanent structure."

Ucevi leaned forward again, taking Fynta's chin in strong fingers so that she had no choice but to look into the Sith Blood's eyes. "A rope bridge can be burned. What you've done can't be broken. Even after death, his soul might cling to yours."

Jerking her chin free, Fynta shoved to her feet and stalked a few steps in each direction. Her gaze settled on Aric, who'd slumped into an uncomfortable looking position. "It's done." She ignored the rapid beating of her heart as she did anything that terrified her. Eventually, Fynta would need to face this issue, but it didn't have to be right now.

The soft expletive that Ucevi released made Fynta wince. She kept her back to the woman so that Ucevi wouldn't see the fear Fynta struggled to hide, but she knew it was futile when the Sith Blood sighed. "Help me get him onto the bed. He needs rest."

So do you, Fynta almost argued, but she joined Ucevi in pulling Aric from the chair and dragged his heavy ass to the plush mattress. Ucevi pulled the blankets back with a wave of her hand, then they deposited their Cathar burden more or less in the center of his bed. Ucevi studied him for a moment, then shook her head. "It seems rude to leave him in that uncomfortable armor, but I doubt he'd appreciate it if we removed it."

Fynta snorted a laugh and tugged the blankets over Aric. He was there, chasing fitful dreams in the back of Fynta's mind. If they weren't careful, these episodes of shared pasts could become a dangerous distraction.

When Fynta looked up, Ucevi was still staring down at the sleeping Jedi. "You'll need to be more careful about how you treat him."

"What do you mean?" Fynta didn't think that a Force bond affected someone's strength, but she didn't know much on the subject.

"No more casual flirting." Ucevi glanced up, and the reprimand was clear in the set of her jaw. "Any feelings from before will be amplified, and given a Cathar's nature, you could trick him into believing that you're his lifemate."

Fynta took an involuntary step away from the bed, which coaxed a rueful chuckle from her old friend. "Exactly. So, either submit to a lifetime of monogamy, or destroy all possibility of him becoming too attached to you. Those are your options."

"Fierfek." Fynta hugged her arms around her torso and glared at the prone Cathar. She hadn't considered that, nor the fact that she'd have to deny her nature to keep them from both making terrible choices. There was regret too, buried so deep that Fynta almost didn't recognize it. She liked Aric, and the thought of pushing him away when they'd come so far hurt in a way that Fynta couldn't describe.

"Fine," Fynta spat, then circled the bed and took Ucevi's arm. The Sith Blood didn't complain when Fynta pulled it over her shoulders, or when she angled them out of the room. For now, she'd take care of the Sith at her side. Later, Fynta would worry about the Jedi in her head.

#whiskey & tihaar #fynta wolfe #aric jorgan #sith fynta au #jedi jorgan #sith fynta/jedi jorgan au #tish oc: ucevi #ume oc: Noara starspark #a turning point #for better or for worse #swtor

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cinlat · 24 days

Text

Blood in the Breeze: Ch 19 (End Times: Pt 2)

Parts one and two of this series linked.

Read every chapter on FFN or Ao3.

Summary: Shit hit the fan. Now for the cleanup.

Chapter Word Count: 3,257 Chapter Rating: T Author’s Note: Whole chapter under the cut. Better formatting on Ao3.

Odessen Alliance Base Landing Platform 0500 Hours

Jorgan's lungs burned in a desperate plea for air. Grey crowded the edge of his vision, and only the drumming of his pulse kept rhythm with the speed of his feet. Don't trip, he repeated like a mantra, occasionally sprinkling in silent prayers of, Be alive, damn you.

From the moment Fynta had hit the ground, Jorgan had started running. He focused on his breath, on the uneven ground beneath him to keep from snagging his boots on the ripped soil. There was no room for the debilitating fear in his heart, only the constant, agonizingly slow movement forward. He wouldn't think of the raw power that erupted from Vaylin in her final moments, or the fact that his wife, a human with no previous Force ability, had stood before the mad child's psychic storm. He couldn't dwell on the knowledge that it hadn't been his wife, and for a fleeting moment, Jorgan had considered pulling the trigger.

The clank of boots on metal jarred Jorgan's senses. He stumbled, caught himself with one hand on the decking, then continued running. By the time Jorgan reached Fynta, she was kneeling with Kaeto's head in her lap.

Others milled about, starting the tedious process of clearing the debris and tending to wounded. They gave Fynta a wide berth, casting awed glances that turned to fervent whispers as they passed. It wasn't until Jorgan drew closer that he realized why.

It felt like hitting a wall. His frantic pace came to a sudden halt, forcing Jorgan to acknowledge the pain in his joints and burning in his chest. He pushed forward, only to be repelled. Ripping his helmet off, Jorgan opened his mouth to shout when a hand rested on his arm. "Wait."

Jedi Master Notiac Carlo stood at Jorgan's side. Her head tilted as if listening to something. Jorgan pulled free and started forward again. Felix appeared on his other side, gripping Jorgan's shoulder. "Trust the process, brother. This is above our paygrade."

"That's my wife," Jorgan snarled, but he didn't shake Felix away. The man had traveled with the fabled Barsen'thor. He knew things Jorgan couldn't imagine. It didn't make standing down easier.

"She is stabilizing," Notiac whispered, one hand swirling through the air as if playing with smoke.

From the opposite end, Arcann moved closer. Jorgan's senses came alive, every hair on his body rising in warning of a long time enemy. Felix's fingers tightened on Jorgan's shoulder. "Just a little longer."

Jorgan bared his teeth at the young emperor, tracking his movement across the landing platform, through the barrier that kept him locked out. The man stepped with caution, waving his mother back when she moved to join them. Jorgan couldn't hear what was said, but he saw Fynta's shoulder's tense when Arcann squatted by her side. Their lips moved, then Arcann lifted Kaeto from Fynta's embrace and walked back towards his mother. At Senya's command, two Sith moved in to collect Kozen's body, presumably to perform last rights elsewhere.

"She is ready," Notiac whispered.

Felix released Jorgan, and he took a step forward. Though the invisible wall had faded, a sense of rage buffeted Jorgan's mind. A peak at the temper he'd known lived inside Fynta all along. Now, it was being nurtured by the most powerful bastard in the galaxy.

Finding his steps unhindered, Jorgan closed the distance at a run. He slowed the last few feet, instinct warning him not to touch her yet. "Fynta." She gave no response, only stared at her hands where they rested on her thighs. Jorgan knelt beside his wife, resting one hand on the back of her neck. "I'm here."

"You never left." Fynta's tone rang empty, and when she looked up, Jorgan saw the same bone deep weariness in her eyes that he'd seen all those years looking back at him in the mirror. "I heard you, but I couldn't—"

"It's okay." Slowly, Jorgan eased Fynta closer until his arms encircled her and his chin rested on the top of her head. "It's over."

Fynta winced and pressed the heel of one hand to her right eye. "Damn shabuir won't shut up."

"What is he saying?" Lana appeared from thin air, as was her way. Theron and Zolah weren't far behind. Together, they encircled Fynta so that she was cut off from prying eyes.

"He wants me to go to Zakuul." Fynta hissed and squeezed her eyes shut. "To take the throne."

Jorgan's snort ruffled Fynta's bangs, but it was Zolah who spoke. "Take her home." The spy's gaze never wavered from Fynta's face. Though her tone was cool, Jorgan heard sympathy behind it. "People think she's invincible at the moment. Let's use that as long as we can."

"While harsh," Theron interjected, "She's right. Fynta needs to walk away before she falls apart. The Alliance needs this win."

Jorgan wanted to snap at everyone to move back, to leave his wife alone, but Fynta beat him to it. "Help me up," she whispered into Jorgan's chestplate. "I can't feel my left leg."

Looping an arm beneath her, Jorgan leveraged Fynta to her feet. The first couple of steps were wobbly, and her prosthetic gave out numerous times. "Something fried the circuitry," she concluded as they entered the main hangar.

A slow clap began at the back of the room, rolling closer as Jorgan and Fynta hobbled through the building. Someone let out a shrill whistle, which ignited a volley of cheers. Verin and Torian stood at the entrance to the base, soot smeared and proud smiles tinged with sadness as they watched their sister move through the crowd. Noara had one arm wrapped around the clan leader, and it looked like she might be holding him up as much as Jorgan was Fynta.

Cormac's tear streaked face came into view next, with Tayl balanced on his shoulders. Jorgan looked instinctively for Shillet, but she found him first. The girl slammed into them, her spindly arms wrapping around the necks of both Fynta and Jorgan. "You survived," she whispered, then stepped back and wiped her eyes.

Fynta chuckled and aimed a weak punch at the young nautolan's arm. "Never a doubt."

Concern crossed Shillet's face, but Jorgan shook his head when she looked at him. Plastering on a watery smile, Shillet slipped under Fynta's other arm. "You look like you could use a shower."

"And a long ass nap," Fynta added. She stumbled as they turned the corner, leaving the crowd behind with members of the War Council acting as shields.

"I'm about to do something you're going to hate," Jorgan warned as the echoes of cheers grew more distant.

Fynta glared up at him. "Don't you fucking dare. I can walk."

Jorgan stepped in front of Fynta and scooped her into his arms. It had been years since he'd lifted her like that, and that time hadn't been kind to either of them. Jorgan's back cramped and his knees grumbled, but he ignored them. "Shillet, get the door."

"I'll get even," Fynta complained, but she held still.

By the time Jorgan made it to their apartment with his burden, he was dizzy from the strain. Gone were the days of the young Cathar who could deadlift his wife. He was old and beaten down. So was Fynta.

Shillet palmed open the door, and Jorgan all but dropped Fynta onto the sofa. There was no way in hell he'd make it up the stairs. "Shillet, grab a water, will you?"

While the girl moved to comply, Jorgan bent to remove Fynta's armor. Shillet offered the water to Fynta, then wrung her hands. "I want to help with the clean up."

"No." Jorgan didn't look up from the fastenings of Fynta's boots. He didn't have to sense the agitation from his daughter. Glancing back, he pinned Shillet with the same glare that had failed every other time before. "There are dead bodies, roaming Knights, and rogue Skytroopers. It's too dangerous."

"I won't leave the base." Shillet looked to Fynta for help, then squared her shoulders and mirrored Jorgan's glare. "I can help."

The growl building in the back of Jorgan's throat faltered at Fynta's touch. He looked from his daughter to his wife, both so alike despite having spent a lifetime apart. Fynta offered a weak smile. "Cormac will keep her safe. He and Verin are making the verd'ika clear rubble as penance for sneaking off."

"Fine." Jorgan ground the word out. Shillet's lips split into a sharp toothed grin. As she turned to run back to her friends, Jorgan snagged her skinny wrist and tugged her into a hug that was too tight given the armor he wore. Shillet didn't complain. "You don't leave Cormac's side, got it?"

"Got it." Shillet kissed Jorgan's cheek, gave a thumbs up to Fynta, and started away again. Jorgan ruffled her head tresses as she went, watching until his daughter vanished through the door.

Fynta groaned as she pushed herself further into a sitting position. "You did a good job."

"It was a team effort." Jorgan thought back to the Havoc Squad he'd lost at the Spire. Of the gentle way each and every one of them imprinted a part of themselves on the girl. Shaking the old memories away, Jorgan faced his wife. "Come on, let's get you out of this armor."

Odessen Alliance Command Personal Quarters

Fynta's skin tingled like tiny flames dancing under the surface. Ever since Vaylin's death, Valkorion had jumped in and out of view, pausing time only to hurl Fynta back into the stream of movement. Her stomach heaved and it felt like her bones itched. Helping Shillet escape Jorgan's overprotectiveness had been as much for her as it had been for the girl. As Zolah pointed out, Fynta had just done the impossible, she couldn't break with witnesses. Not even family.

Jorgan pulled Fynta's boot off, then switched to examine her prosthetic leg. It sparked when he shifted the foot, sending a jolt through both of them. Cursing, the Cathar snatched his hand back. "We need to have that looked at sooner than later."

"If we leave it alone, it can wait until later," Fynta replied with a poor attempt at levity. Jorgan didn't laugh.

"Some new dings in the armor." Jorgan was avoiding the main problem. The ticking bomb in Fynta's head. "Maybe—"

"You didn't take the shot." Fynta knew he had it. She remembered the pain in his voice, begging her forgiveness. Fynta had been too far gone in Valkorion's power to respond, but she'd known he was there. I forgive you, she'd tried to say. Being removed from the instance, Fynta realized Aric's voice was the only thing that had kept her grounded in reality while lightning raged around her.

Jorgan's hands slipped on the buckle of Fynta's leg plate, then he resumed unfastening it with more concentration that was required. "Couldn't." It was all he had to say. Fynta never expected Aric to put a bolt through her, but she didn't know how to convey that in words. She was so damn tired, so damn electrified.

Hooking a finger under Aric's chin, Fynta bent down to meet his lips to hers. He went rigid at first, then cupped her face to add a gentle sweep of his tongue. With their foreheads pressed together, Fynta felt some of the tension in her body ease. Jorgan closed his eyes. "I thought—"

"Me too." Fynta had been ready to die. She'd always known it was a likelihood of facing Vaylin. And when Kaeto and Kozen's bodies had been dumped before her, nothing else mattered apart from ripping the little bitch to pieces. And then, she'd lived.

Aric pressed another chaste kiss to Fynta's lips, then went back to removing her armor. While he was bent forward, she slipped her fingers into the catches on his chest and back plates, letting them fall away. They continued undressing one another in silence, until only the clingy under armour remained. Jorgan settled on the sofa behind Fynta and pulled her against him.

"We should bathe," Fynta suggested even while the warmth from his body soothed her aching muscles.

"In a minute." Aric's arms tightened. Fynta didn't struggle. She had a feeling there would be time for that later.

Odessen War Room 13:00 Hours

Theron's back slammed into the wall. He put one hand on the fist gripping the front of his shirt while holding the other palm out to show submission. "Okay—okay. Look, before you hit me, hear me out."

"Make this good, Shan." Fynta stood behind her husband, the one currently pinning Theron to the cool and impassable stone. The flatness with which she addressed him was almost as unsettling as the sharp teeth inches from his face.

Theron had known Jorgan for a long time. He'd been on the receiving end of one of the Cather's punches before. That was nothing compared to the feral rage emanating from him now. After all these years, Theron finally saw what had first attracted Fynta to the grumpy bastard. She'd always had a taste for danger.

Theron avoided looking into the unnaturally bright eyes in front of him and craned his neck to see Fynta. Her arms were folded, mouth set in an unfamiliar frown. He'd known her longer, hell, he was half the reason she was here. Not just out of carbonite, but captured in the first place. If Theron hadn't put Fynta's name up for Garza's special assignment more than a decade ago, well, she'd probably be dead. She'd been on a self destructive path, and the snarling Cathar had saved her. But, it had all come at a steep cost.

"I know what you're thinking," Theron began. Fynta lifted a brow, and Jorgan's grip tightened. Theron blew out a breath. "It's risky, I know. But Oggurrobb has ironed out the kinks that Garza couldn't."

"Well, if Oggurrobb says it's safe—" Fynta pinched the bridge of her nose, then waved one hand. "Let's hear what he has to say, Aric."

Jorgan gave a final shove that made Theron's sternum creak before stepping back. "You heard the woman. Make this good, Shan."

There had never been a kinship between Theron and Jorgan. They'd tolerated each other's presence because the mission required it. It might have something to do with Theron accusing Jorgan of fucking his commanding officer for the wild ride that she was. It had been a poor attempt and building trust in a shared misadventure. He hadn't known at the time they were married.

"If you're done threatening my spy," Zolah drawled. The holo in the center of the table came to life with a schematic that made Theron's pulse quicken. It wouldn't look like much to the average pair of eyes, but Theron thought it was pure beauty. A small device, no bigger than the palm of his hand, capable of harnessing the most deadly power in all the universe.

"Darth Kozen," there was a barely perceptible pause in Zolah's explanation. Theron doubted anyone other than him caught it. "Studied the prison that Major Jorgan brought with him from Nathema. He was convinced that the answers to containing Valkorion rested with the soul inside."

Jorgan folded his arms, scowl increasing, but Fynta looked intrigued. She'd been furious to learn that her husband had stolen the artifact until he'd explained the ingenious idea behind it. Unfortunately, being trapped for nearly a milenia hadn't softened Valkorion's sire's heart. He wanted to bargain, but Kozen and Lana had other plans. Then, they'd lost the Sith Lord, and with him, a large part of their advantage. That is where Theron came in.

"I know things didn't go well when Garza tried this." Theron ignored Jorgan's growl, but the betrayal was still there in Fynta's eyes. She still hadn't forgiven him for his part in the Eclipse Squad incident on Rishi. Theron supposed that was fair. "But, they didn't have Oggurrobb or access to Zakuulan tech."

Fynta held up one hand, and Theron paused. His pulse skittered while he waited for her to shut him down. To his surprise, she only tapped the side of her head. "Should I be hearing this?"

"No," Quinn stated plainly. He'd been against inviting Fynta to this meeting in the first place, but Theron refused to move forward without her permission. He was done keeping secrets from the people who mattered to him.

Steering the conversation away from the details, Theron switched off the holo. "You have to consent to the next part."

Fynta's single brow lifted, and Zolah picked up the line of conversation. "You're aware of the Castellan restraints that were imposed on me?" Now, their commander's eyes widened. Zolah nodded. "Something along those lines."

Huffing out a nervous laugh, Fynta braced both hands against the conference table behind her. "Well, I guess that explains why Vector isn't here."

Vector had been against the plan from the beginning. His trauma from breaking Zolah free went so deep that the man couldn't see the practical value anymore. This could work. "Do you get it now?"

"Enough." Fynta shared a look with her husband, and Theron watched an entire conversation happen in a matter of seconds. Her browns lifted, and Jorgan's mouth thinned into a narrow line. When he sighed, Theron knew the answer had been decided. Fynta nodded to the room and pushed away from the table. "I'll leave you to it, then."

Without a backward glance, Fynta left the room. Theron saw fear in the stiffness of her spine, the lift of her chin. The more composed Fynta appeared, the more out of sorts she was on the inside. Judging by Jorgan's glare, he knew it too.

When the door shut, the Cathar resumed his menacing scowl. "Fill me in, and Shan—make it good."

#swtor #blood in the breeze #meet me on that battlefield #fynta wolfe #aric jorgan #notiac carlo #barsen'thor #felix iresso #theron shan #lana beniko #zolah holran #cipher nice #malavai quinn #senya tirall #arcann #the aftermath of the battle #stratgies for going forward #still slogging towards that end #only two chapters left

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