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iatethepomegranate · 3 years

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We are not alone in the dark with our demons, Chapter 15

In which Caleb buys a house in Rexxentrum with Beau and Yasha, becomes a professor, and goes on cute dates with Essek while learning how to be a person. There's also the little matter of taking care of the other Volstrucker survivors, and the children coming up after him.

Content warnings: references to sex as a coping mechanism, Caleb's backstory, reference to institutionalisation

Chapter summary: Caleb and Essek have a nighttime beach date.

Chapter notes: This chapter gets a bit spicy but there is no actual smut because I don't feel like it. Despite the content warnings, it's a pretty chill chapter.

***

Chapter 15: The blue and green below is a masterpiece, but you are beautiful like I’ve never seen

Caleb and Essek, breathless from kissing, stripped naked and stored their clothes in Essek’s pocket plane. Then they waded into the moonlit water, hand-in-hand, until the sand threatened to dip away from them and Essek could barely keep his head above water. Caleb slid his arms around Essek’s waist, encouraging him to float with his support.

“I’ve never had time to do this,” Essek admitted quietly. “The longest I’ve spent here was… you know.” His face pinched, as it often did when he referenced his treason, and the fact he had betrayed his friends long before he had ever met them. “Not exactly, ah, conducive to recreation.”

“We’re here now,” Caleb said firmly; he would not let Essek spiral into self-loathing again. “And you have changed much since that time. As have I.”

Essek relaxed in his grip, just a fraction. “You’re right. Thank you. I’m… trying.”

“I am proud of you.” Caleb had heard this a lot of late, and passed that gift to Essek. He needed it as much as Caleb did. “Shall we try something?”

“I suppose.” Essek sounded nervous.

“Trust me.”

“I do.”

Caleb stepped back and kicked off the sandbank, propelling himself into deeper water. “Come here.” Essek followed him, a little clumsily. But the old muscle memory was there behind the rust; Essek had probably learned how to swim as a boy, and then rarely used the skill. “Float on your back.”

Essek raised an eyebrow; Caleb could only see it because of the stark contrast of white on dark purple. “All right.” This was also clumsy and awkward, and it took him a few tries. But Essek soon found his balance floating on his back on the surface of the water. Caleb took his hand, and floated onto his back beside him.

The water gently tugged them around, and Caleb was careful not to flinch and lose his equilibrium. He and Essek floated together in the deep, cool expanse of the sea. At this time of night, the water and the sky were almost indistinguishable from each other. Mirrors.

Caleb had a complicated history with mirrors; sometimes he would catch a feature in his reflection that reminded him of his mother or his father, and resisted the temptation to smash the glass. The shocks were less frequent these days, and the violent urges rarely emerged now. He and Essek, however, had been mirrors to each other for a long time. And that was a reflection that he could handle. It allowed him to reach out and help this man he cared about in a way that would’ve frightened him even a few months ago.

They couldn’t talk comfortably like this, but that was okay. Often the two of them didn’t need words. Right now, Caleb just wanted to float with him, tethered together by a single hand and the whims of the sea. He was dimly aware that Essek relaxed by inches, floating more easily as he became used to the sensation. Essek was a quick study, and familiar with how to float in the air. Water probably wasn’t that different, really, except a spell was unnecessary.

Caleb counted stars, traced constellations, followed the slow rolling of wispy clouds a shade lighter than the nighttime abyss. He could sense Essek do the same. They let the seconds and minutes tick by in serene quiet, a low rumble of the water over their ears.

Peace washed over them like the sea.

Caleb counted the passing of minutes. Once ten of them had passed, and he felt almost boneless with calm, he slowly let his legs dip back into the water, gently tugging Essek’s hand to request he do the same. They had floated further out by now, and Essek tensed as he took in the distance.

“It’s all right,” Caleb reassured him. “You and I are skilled enough that we will not drown.”

He kicked off, keeping an eye on Essek behind him. Essek paddled along in his wake, and soon they reached a point where Caleb could stand. Not Essek, though. But Caleb had an idea. He pulled Essek closer, dipping underwater for a second to get his hands under Essek’s buttocks. He lifted Essek so they were eye-to-eye, and Essek wrapped his legs around Caleb’s waist. The water took most of Essek’s weight.

“Is this all right?”

“I could get used to it,” Essek said, already more relaxed. He wound his arms around Caleb’s neck. “There are clear advantages to our position.” And he kissed Caleb, who had to step backwards before he could lose his balance and pitch them both into the ocean. That would have killed the mood.

And Essek was very much in the mood. As was Caleb. Waiting for privacy these last few hours had been torture of the sweetest kind. Now they were alone in the vast expanse of sea, wearing nothing but saltwater and moonlight. And Essek was reliant on Caleb to keep his head above water. Essek seemed to quite like that, as he climbed all over Caleb while they kissed each other breathless once again.

Essek pulled back to run his tongue along the muscles of Caleb’s neck, catching droplets of seawater. “Tower?” he breathed against Caleb’s wet skin, making him shiver with cold and arousal.

“Ja. Let’s go.”

***

The time it had taken them to swim to shore and find a good spot to cast the tower had stretched like well-kneaded dough. It hadn’t helped that Essek had kept kissing his neck while Caleb tried to cast, making it take a little longer than usual. But then they were in.

They wound up on the third floor in the library, in front of the fireplace. The extra few floors to a bed had been far too distant, even for Essek, who had a whole thing about self-restraint. Not tonight, it would seem. This was not the first time they’d had sex in this spot, so Caleb was in the habit of ensuring a soft rug was in place, and other necessary supplies were stashed behind a nearby bookshelf, to be revealed upon speaking the password: Kätzchen. No other member of the Nein had a reason to use the word, and it was, on the surface, innocent enough. Even if the context of its use with Essek was most assuredly not.

Essek was in rare form on this night, shoving Caleb onto his back on the rug. “Let me spoil you tonight.” His voice had dropped in pitch, similar to how he used to speak when he had first met the Nein. Except this time it was entirely due to arousal instead of a façade.

“Sounds good to me,” Caleb replied, already breathless.

Later, Caleb lay bonelessly by the fire, eyes shut to enjoy the calm of the afterglow. Letting his heart and breath slow at their own pace. Essek’s fingers weaving patterns through the hair on Caleb’s chest. Quiet, for a time. Just soft crackles of flame and their breaths.

A hitch of Essek’s breath. Caleb opened his eyes, slowly turning his head to find Essek propped up on one elbow, drinking him in with his eyes, like a parched man throwing back a glass of cool water.

“Hallo.”

Essek smiled. “Hello.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. I…” He chuckled, sheepish. “I am enjoying the view.”

“Oh?”

“You look very… soft.”

“I am now, ja.”

Essek wrinkled his nose. “Shut up. I am trying to be romantic.”

“Then be romantic,” Caleb replied, because he rarely had the chance to stir Essek up like this.

Essek reached out to the far side of Caleb’s face, tracing his cheek. And then he tucked Caleb’s hair behind his ear. “Your hair… it looks like copper in the firelight. It’s… cute. And you look happy.”

“I am happy.” There were few things that made Caleb happier than a quiet night with Essek, who he loved very much. “Are you happy?”

“Very much so.” Essek leaned down, capturing his lips, draping himself over Caleb’s body in a much calmer mirror to their positions mere minutes ago. Under Caleb’s hands, Essek’s body was dewy with seawater and sweat. He traced the bumps of Essek’s spine with a finger and Essek shuddered above him.

Before they could get too wrapped up in this once again, Essek pulled back. They helped each other to their feet. And finally made it to Caleb’s bedroom. Their bedroom now. He had made some modifications now that they shared a room; the furniture was a blend of Zemnian and Kryn influences, and he had finally added a stained glass window, an amalgamation of their journeys together. Scenes from Rosohna such as Essek’s towers, the Xhorhouse, the Dungeon where Essek had crushed the Volstrucker who attacked Caleb; the Balleater where Essek had confessed to treason; various scenes from Eiselcross and Aeor including Essek’s chambers at the outpost, various archive rooms, the strange domes, the Immensus Gate, the T-Dock that Caleb had disintegrated. Caleb liked to tweak the glass a little every time they were here. He had already integrated the two beach trips, one in sunshine and one in moonlight.

Essek examined the changes to the glass for a few breaths, and then shoved Caleb against the nearest wall to kiss him again. “You.” Kiss. “Brilliant.” Kiss. “Brilliant.” Kiss. “Man.”

It was a rare treat to get Essek to push him around like this, so lost in passion that he stopped giving a fuck. Caleb was putty in his hands.

***

In a moment of downtime, when Caleb’s mind was clear enough for conversation, they picked up the thread of last night’s conversation.

“I’m not sure I would want to sleep with anyone else after tonight,” Caleb said, stretching his arms above his head while Essek lay his head on Caleb’s chest. “You are a hard act to follow, my friend.”

Essek’s eyeroll was so powerful that Caleb could sense it. “I appreciate the sentiment… friend.”

Caleb stroked Essek’s hair, smoothing it out after their exertions. “Forgive me. Force of habit. Would you like me to stop using that word for us?”

“No. We were friends before we were anything else.” Essek sighed. “I treasure everything I have with you, including our friendship. Apologies. You were saying?”

“I was saying I appreciate your offer from last night,” Caleb said, with a bit more clarity. “But I’m not sure I will take you up on it.”

“It’s an open offer,” Essek replied. “I know it’s not relevant at the moment, but I wanted to talk about it without the threat of my impending departure. When that time comes and I must be gone for months at a time, if sharing your bed with someone else makes you feel less lonely…”

“Essek, I understand why you are offering.” Caleb sat up, resting his back against the pillows. “I have a question.”

Essek sat cross-legged at his side. “Ask.”

“We both know this is largely for my benefit. Even if we say this offer goes both ways, for example, you are still far less likely to act on it than I am, purely based on our sexual interests as they are defined in language. I am more likely to find someone attractive than you are, and I am more likely to be comfortable having more than one partner.”

“That is all true,” Essek said warily. “What’s the question?”

“Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that we have been apart for months. And we miss each other terribly. For whatever reason, it is not practical to find a way to see each other even for one night. We are both, in theory, free to sleep with someone else to manage the sexual side of this. Let’s say I decide to do that. You do not. I find some measure of relief. You do not. That is not a fair arrangement. Are you sure this offer comes from a healthy place for you?”

Essek sighed deeply. “I have asked myself that question many times. And the fact is, this is a bigger issue for you than it is for me. You have far more feelings of this nature than I do.”

“Ja, I do. But having feelings and acting on them are two very different things. I have crushes on most of our friends, Essek. I am not about to sleep with all of them.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“No.” Caleb wasn’t resisting hard. If Essek started throwing out names, he would confirm or deny.

“Kingsley?”

“Ja,” Caleb conceded. “That’s an easy one. And very complicated given every inhabitant of his body has flirted with me on at least one occasion. And his late brother was… complicated.” Caleb wasn’t sure how to tell Essek that so much of how he had treated Essek when things had gone pear-shaped was because of Molly’s influence on him.

“Interesting. Who else?”

“Are we really going to sit here on this night of merciful privacy to gossip about my crushes?”

“I rarely have crushes myself,” Essek replied. “Present company excepted. It’s fascinating to me. And, of course, I like to know things about you. And, ah, the next time I make a joke, I would prefer not to make you uncomfortable, even by accident.”

“Well… perhaps you shouldn’t joke about Fjord and Jester in that way again.” Caleb cleared his throat. “Especially Jester.” The closest he’d come to admitting that about Jester had been during a watch with Yasha, a long time ago. And he’d handled it very poorly.

But Essek just chuckled. “I see. Your reaction to my rather poor joke makes sense now. And what of Veth?”

“Complicated.” Caleb had been possessive with Veth some time ago, before he had almost let a horrible cocktail of jealousy and self-loathing drag them apart in a way neither of them had truly wanted. “I love her. As I do the others, ja, but… for a long time all we had was each other. Just two pieces of shit watching each other’s backs because no one else would. Scamming people out of a few coins so we could eat, or find shelter. Sleeping together by the roadside. There is an… intimacy to that. And I have been jealous of Yeza in the past, but that was my problem, not theirs. We’re in a good place now. She will always be dear to me. I’m not sure I will ever truly understand my feelings. At a certain point it no longer matters. I love her, whatever that means. My feelings for you have far more clarity.”

“Good.” Essek leaned in, kissing under Caleb’s jawline. “I am a little possessive of you, myself.”

“Then why offer this?”

“I am possessive, not insecure.” Essek paused, for a split-second, before planting a kiss on Caleb’s neck. “Not anymore. You are a far more sexual person than I, and I am aware you are polyamorous. It is not a hard thing to offer you. I lose nothing from this arrangement.”

Something about that statement bothered Caleb a little, but he didn’t fault Essek for it. “Essek, you know I hadn’t had sex for pleasure in nearly two decades, right? You were the first in seventeen years. I am not about to die if I don’t stick my dick in someone for a few weeks. Or have someone’s dick stuck in me. Either way. Going without isn’t going to kill me.”

“Caleb, that’s not…” Essek sighed. “Look, if this arrangement makes you uncomfortable, you do not need to act on it.”

“I know. I just wanted you to know that, as much as I appreciate your understanding of my sexuality, this is not something I need. I have gone without before, and I would rather abstain than seek comfort in a way that I have found destructive in the past.”

“Astrid and Eadwulf?”

“Ja. There was love, but there was also codependency and using sex as a coping mechanism on the bad days. And then I murdered my parents, had a breakdown, and spent eleven years in a sanatorium while they remained under Trent’s thumb. Not the most auspicious end to a relationship.” He let the bitterness of it all come out in his voice, because he knew Essek would never judge him for that. “For us, it was survival. That’s how it began. Locked in a freezing cold tower that forced us to huddle together for warmth just to stay alive. We never had a chance to be anything else. I don’t want that to happen again.” Goosebumps had spread across his skin with the sensation of phantom cold.

Essek pulled the bedcovers over the both, curling up around Caleb, and the chill was not able to take root. “Thank you for telling me. I don’t… I don’t want you to fall into old patterns. You are getting better every day, and I want that to continue. If the offer of an open relationship bothers you, forget about it. I just… I don’t want to hurt you when I leave. Even if we both know I will always come back as long as there is still breath in my body.”

Caleb lifted his chin and kissed his mouth. “Danke. I appreciate the offer nonetheless. Maybe one day I will be in a good enough place to act on it. But not right now.”

“We have years ahead of us yet, Caleb Widogast.” Essek traded in another kiss. “Speaking of time, the night is still young. How are you feeling?”

***

Later, much later, when Essek had wrung from Caleb every last orgasm he could physically produce in one night, they cuddled in bed. Slowly, Caleb drifted asleep. Safe and warm and loved. This was becoming the norm., and he was learning that he deserved it

Waking with Essek was one of Caleb’s favourite things in the world. After nights like the one they’d just had, Essek preferred to sleep instead of trance, so he would not have to extract himself from Caleb’s grip too soon. That meant they woke at roughly the same time. Finding wakefulness by inches, slowly aware of little aches, and warmth, and points of contact, and Essek’s head on his chest as the man snored softly.

For Caleb, it was a rare treat to wake up first. To observe Essek at rest, especially when he chose to sleep. The tension gone from his muscles, his breathing slow and deep. Curled up like a cat, having claimed one of Caleb’s arms, and his chest for a pillow. Caleb’s arm was dead, but the discomfort was worth it. Essek would wake soon enough; Caleb would never rush this if he could help it.

Slowly, Essek began to stir. A flicker of eyelashes against Caleb’s skin, the tiniest shift of Essek’s cheek against his chest, a flexing of fingers. Sleep left Essek uncharacteristically groggy at first; he typically needed longer than Caleb did to find full wakefulness on the rare occasion he slept.

So when Essek grumbled and smushed his face against Caleb’s neck, Caleb gave him a little squeeze and let him wake in his own time. Even if Caleb needed a piss.

Essek snuggled closer for a few moments, before he rolled onto his back with a put-upon sigh. Caleb kissed his forehead and slid out of bed to take care of business while Essek came to terms with being awake. He also ran a bath while out of sight, because he was sore everywhere and imagined Essek felt similar. Essek was functionally much younger, and more limber, but they also didn’t have nights like that very often. Caleb was sore in places he had forgotten had muscles.

By the time he returned to the bedroom, Essek had grudgingly reached a sitting position with the blanket draped over his thighs, toes barely touching the floor as if expecting it to be cold. The floors were never cold in the tower, because cold floors were terrible.

“Guten morgen,” Caleb said, leaning against the doorframe.

Essek barely turned his head, but did rake his eyes over Caleb’s still-naked body. “The morning could be better.”

“Please eat something first.” Caleb crossed to a fruit bowl he had the cats keep stocked on a small round table in front of his fireplace, grabbing a handful of grapes. He plucked them from the stem, one-by-one, and slid them into his mouth, fully aware Essek was watching him with a rare hunger. “I am running a bath. Care to join me?” He held out the remaining grapes to Essek, who floated over, ducked his head, and pulled a grape from the stem with his teeth.

He slowly pushed the grape into his mouth, crushed it between his teeth, and swallowed it. “I can make time. Bring the grapes.”

They spent far longer in the bath than necessary, and definitely missed breakfast with the Nein. Essek was straddling Caleb’s lap, their hands between each other’s legs. And Essek had absolutely been on the verge of an orgasm.

Then, he froze. Braced both his hands on the edges of the tub, staring up at the ceiling with utter mortification. Before Caleb could ask (though he was sure he knew), Essek spoke:

“Yes, Jester.” He was audibly, and visibly, trying to keep the breathlessness out of his voice, and not doing a great job. “Caleb and I are fine. We will join you later. Please…” His voice became strained, “...do not message us for a while.”

Caleb let out a low whistle. “Bad move, Essek.”

“Shut up,” Essek groaned, shoving his face against Caleb’s shoulder. “Fuck.”

Caleb stroked his back. “It’s all right. She’ll only tease us a little. I can talk to her if she takes it too far.”

Essek let out a long sigh. “I will never recover from this. A traitor’s death would have caused far less suffering than this.”

“Essek? Shut up.” Caleb slid his hand beneath the water once again. “We have better things to do, remember?”

#shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #critical role #cr2 #fanfiction #my fics #the pomegranate's professor widogast fic

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inquisitorhotpants · 5 years

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Family Business

Kryn does not take it lightly when someone hurts one of her sisters, and no amount of time passed will lessen her ire.

The years-old recording of Lysch disappears, and Kryn sits back, tapping manicured nails in a slow, deliberate rhythm against the polished wood of her desk. After a long moment she reaches out, touching the glowing keys projected on the flat surface. She taps one last key with finality but doesn’t move from her chair, staring unseeing into the darkness outside her study window.

It is finally time.

It isn’t so much a sunny day as it is a slightly less rainy day with a valiant attempt at sunlight that finds five of the eight Sartoris sisters - all but Lysch, Raitlia, and Zal’shana - piled in a luxury speeder gracefully weaving its way through the traffic in the Capital District, bound for the Ministry of War.

“Can we get a mission brief?” Rafana asks, flicking a non-existent speck of dust off her pristine white boot. “I am entirely in the dark here.”

“Lysch fell in love, some time ago,” Kryn says, nodding at the several gasps that follow this pronouncement. “And he betrayed her. I’ve been waiting for the right time to deal with this, and that time has come.”

Rafana’s expression hardens. “I assume we’re killing him. I’m prepared, but I’d have preferred to do this at night; do keep that in mind for next time. I’ll doctor the holo feeds and no one will ever know we were here.” She checks a number of places on her clothing, then pulls a tiny datapad out of her pocket. “How long do I have to get these feeds down?”

Kryn shakes her head. “Sadly, that’s not why we’re here. Lysch’s orders from when she first told me. All we’re here to do is reiterate that this is his last reprieve.” She easily maneuvers to a landing pad near the large central doors of the Ministry.

“Majesty! My lords.” The attendant, dressed in an impeccable uniform, bows crisply. “Can I direct you?”

“I know where I’m going, Corporal. Thank you.” Kryn strides away, her cape billowing behind her and her sisters trailing in her wake. After leading them through what feels like a maze of hallways, she consults her datapad, then a map on the wall. “Ah, we’re close.” Four doors down the hallway, she stops. “Let me do the talking. You just stand behind me and look stern.”

She slaps a hand on the entry pad of the door, stopping at the desk positioned in the center of the room. “I would speak with Major Quinn.”

The secretary looks up, his eyes going wide. “Do you - that is, my lord, do you have an appointment? The major is currently speaking with -”

“Perhaps you are unaware of proper custom,” Kryn says, laying her palms flat on the desk, her multitude of rings twinkling in the overhead light. “But Imperials make time for me, not the other way around.” Before the sergeant can respond, Kryn straightens. “The major will see me now. Your assistance is not required. I am fully capable of announcing myself.”

With this, she breezes past the sergeant, now standing ramrod straight and staring at a point in the middle distance as the five stern women file past him.

The door slides open, and Quinn looks up from the diagrams he’s showing the minister of war, the only sign of irritation a furrow on his forehead and narrowed blue eyes. “Sergeant, I told you that I wasn’t to be -”

“Minister,” Kryn says, ignoring Quinn. “I have pressing business with the major. Do excuse us.” She folds her arms across her chest and raises one eyebrow.

The minister of war swivels in his chair, eyes widening when he sees Kryn. “Majesty! Yes, absolutely!” He picks up his datapad and marches smartly out of the office, closing the door behind him.

Quinn resists the urge to drum his gloved hand’s fingertips on the top of his desk, his features smoothing into neutrality with the ease of long practice. “How may I be of assistance, Majesty?” He scans the other four women, almost imperceptibly, taking note of blasters and lightsabers and signs of rank. One, a cyborg with a fondness for shocking fuschia lipstick, is all but bristling with a weapon collection a Mandalorian would envy. The Mirialan is only wearing one blaster, but he didn’t miss how she cracked her knuckles when they came in. The human with the long, glossy black hair hasn’t taken her hand off her lightsaber hilt since his office door opened. The Rattataki is the hardest to read; if she’s not in Intelligence, he’ll eat his dress cap.

He can think of only one reason a squad of angry, deadly women would be standing in his office, though he is nominally surprised the Wrath is not doing the honors herself. In truth, he’d hoped he’d fallen off her radar, even though he knows that’s nothing but a pipe dream. One does not betray the Wrath and then escape her notice.

“Did Lysch send you?”

Nox snaps her fingers. “Do not speak my sister’s name. You lost that privilege when you betrayed her.”

Quinn nods, betraying no surprise at Darth Nox calling the Wrath her sister. There have been stranger Sith customs. “Did the Wrath send you?”

“No.”

He waits; when Darth Nox doesn’t continue, he indicates the recently-vacated chair. “Please sit, Darth Nox. If you like, I can have Sergeant Traxio bring seats for your companions.”

“This is hardly a social call.”

“I suppose you want me to sit here and dutifully listen,” he says, a touch more acerbic than he intends, but Nox seems intent on dragging this out and he has an agenda to keep to.

“Want?” A soft, almost angelic smile graces Darth Nox’s face. “I want you to be drummed out of the military and left in disgrace in the undercity,” she says, her smile utterly at odds with the ice in her voice, “because I think death is too kind a repayment for betraying my sister after you told her you loved her. However, she placed you in a mission-critical posting and I value the Empire’s security more than the visceral satisfaction I would derive from seeing your entire life in ruins.”

“The Wrath is -” Quinn pales. Does she mean sister sister? Having the Wrath as an enemy is bad enough, but the Empress, too?

“My sister. Know with absolute certainty that it is only through her intercession that you are still breathing.”

He considers his words, inhales slowly. “Please convey -”

“I will convey nothing to her from you, and I might suggest,” she continues as though he hadn’t spoken, the smile falling off her face, “that you pray every day to any deity who might deign to acknowledge your existence that I forget about this by the time you retire.”

“Yes, my lord.” He pauses, then turns his attention to each of the other women. “Possibly against my better judgment, I would feel remiss in not asking if anyone else has anything to add?”

The other Sith - at least, Quinn thinks she’s a Sith, if only because no Jedi would dare set foot in Kaas City - shakes her head.

The Rattataki slides her datapad back into a pocket on her thigh, eyeing him in silence long enough that he can’t help but adjust in his chair.

The Mirialan and the cyborg exchange a long glance, then nod. “Nox may be all poetic and shit, being a Sith,” the cyborg says, red armor gleaming, “but we’re a lot more direct. You fuck up, and every bounty hunter in the galaxy will be after you for the price I put on your head, and their only real challenge will be to get to you before the two of us do.”

“Nothing personal,” the Mirialan says. “Just family business.”

Quinn had wondered in the past why Lysch had never told him anything about her family; looking at the group in front of him, it starts to make some sense. The Wrath represents the pinnacle of the Sith, chosen by the Emperor himself, and it wouldn’t do for the Empire to know her family appears to be a ragtag bunch of aliens who seem quite prone to violence.

“Duly noted.”

Darth Nox steps forward, bracing herself against the desk and leaning toward him. “Do continue to be a faithful, devoted servant of the Empire, Major Quinn. The Emperor and I will be watching your career most closely.”

As a child, already plotting the career path he wanted, he’d dreamed of being recognized by the Emperor. It was the daydream he turned to when the rest of his platoon went out carousing and he stayed back, the one he turned to as he watched Broysc torpedo his promotion chances, the one he turned to as he languished on Balmorra.

He never expected that if this daydream came true, it would send a frisson of fear down his spine.

Nox straightens, spinning sharply enough that her cape billows out around her. “Good day, Major. Ladies, shall we?”

#kryn is tiny but she's the muscle #multiple jerks who hurt her sisters found themselves on the receiving end of her ire #quinn you done fucked up #tbh by this point lysch doesn't care what he's doing lmao #but kryn likes to Make Sure #of course Traxio is Lysch's eyes and ears #so she finds out about 0.2 seconds after kryn leaves lmaooooo

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