no light, no light
FOR AVALI
about our Star Wars characters <3 Tritios is her smuggler; Relsiara is my Consular. Mild spoilers for the early Consular storyline (nothing very specific).
---
“I know what you’re trying to do,” Relsiara said. “and it’s not going to work.”
He smiled innocently as he refilled the cup. “I’m pouring you a drink, and I haven’t spilled a drop. I think that qualifies as a success.”
She took a sip and the wine—deceptively fruity and crisp—burned sweetly in her throat. She had already finished one glass, and she did not plan to go for two. Tritios watched her swallow with an eagerness that wanted her to drain the entire bottle.
“It’s good, isn’t it? Practically ancient vintage. Gift from a noblewoman on Alderaan, you know.”
He launched into a story, rich with his own peerless heroics, about how the noblewoman came to offer him such a rare prize. The tale ended with the wine and an invitation; he assured Relsiara that he had taken one and declined the other.
“You are a gentleman, as always,” Relsiara said. She rose from her seat and moved for the door, though she swayed a little as she walked. Alcohol wasn’t to blame; this was a bone-deep weakness, a slice cut from her spirit. The wound deepened after each mission she completed, and would eventually strike at her heart. She hoped that her work would end before she fell.
Tritios preferred the work to end before she opened the door. In service of this goal, he unhooked his blaster from his belt and fired at the key console. The console exploded obligingly, hissing and sparking as its front panel clattered to the floor.
“Now I can’t get out,” she said, which was her mild way of chastising him. Relsiara had a mild way about everything, at least in conversation. In action, she was overwhelming, willing to sacrifice her whole self for the Jedi Order without pause or question. Tritios couldn’t stand it.
He wouldn’t.
“I must go,” she said. “I am the only one.”
“You don’t even know these people! And, frankly, most of them are jerks.”
“They were plagued. The madness drove them to inflict pain, spread darkness,” Relsiara said. “If I don’t help the others, more people will die.”
“People die every day,” Tritios said. “It’s not your responsibility to look after the entire galaxy.”
“No,” she said. “But I agreed to this responsibility. It was my choice.”
She activated her holocom and punched in a sequence for the hotel’s front desk. Before the call even connected, Tritios snatched the holocom from her hands and threw it out of the window. He followed it with blaster shots, for good measure.
“Tritios,” Relsiara said.
“I love you,” he said. “Doesn’t that mean something? Don’t I get a say in this?”
She could use the Force to open the door, but between the anxiety and frustration pouring forth from Tritios and the sharp ache stabbing her temples, she wasn’t sure that she could manage it. She had flown to Nar Shaddaa from Taris, not one day after shielding a crazed Master there from the plague of madness. That Master had already committed terrible atrocities by the time she reached him, and the situation in Nar Shaddaa was no better. The knowledge of Relsiara’s healing ritual was lost; the holocrons that taught it to her destroyed by the Sith. The task was hers alone.
Relsiara sat down on the edge of the bed and breathed deeply. She could feel Tritios reaching for her; his desire was palpable, an object she could pick up and examine. Relsiara was grateful for the peculiarity of her species, an evolutionary trait that rendered their eye sockets empty and vestigial. She wore shades to hide them out of courtesy to those around her, and ‘saw’ instead through the Force, which included physical and spiritual details.
She could see, for instance, the shape of Tritios’s muscles as he leaned forward on the bed, the outline of the tattoos on his chin as he brought his mouth close to hers. She saw the heat rise in his body as he kissed her, a hard and desperate kiss that felt as deep and dark as a ravine. But her eyeless vision took in much more than that.
All things were immersed in the Force, and she could see its resonance within a soul.
Tritios held the kiss, his tongue seeking hers, his arms tight around her waist. The embrace was rough, and he reeked of need, of fear. These were feelings that Relsiara had been instructed to discard. She was fortunate, then, to have no eyes that betrayed her, to have a soft voice that revealed nothing, and a light step that suggested unshakeable calm. She was undefeated at chess, and thought she would do well at poker, too, if given the rules.
“Stay,” Tritios murmured against her neck, his breath like embers on her skin. “Stay with me. I love you …”
Relsiara could not waste any more time. A plague left unchecked becomes an epidemic. The Jedi touched by this madness were driven to paranoia and acts of horrific violence. People were suffering.
But she wanted to stay. She could see souls, and Tritios was full of light. That was why she had tried to leave him in the first place, because fear for her and rage over her circumstances would only dim that light. He was a kind man, a good man, and she loved him.
His teeth scraped her shoulder, and he bit down. Relsiara moaned, pushing against him, bracing her palms on his chest.
“No,” she said. “I can’t.”
“Please,” he said. She didn’t answer, and he pulled away.
Yes, she loved him. She was happy when they were together. She liked his ridiculous stories, and the warm, low voice that told them. She liked that he existed apart from the system, but not outside of morality. Tritios took care of people, and he was trying to take care of her. She wished that she could let him. But the choices she had made were irreversible.
Relsiara left the bed. She opened the door. She went back to work.
---
You want a revelation
You want to get right
Well it's a conversation
I just can't have tonight
You want a revelation
Some kind of resolution
Tell me what you want me to say