Ask Aftermath

[Altair Din]

He was furious. He was hurt. He was everything in between. His cheeks were tear stained, and he didn’t even know when it happened. He hadn’t even called his family to tell them. His closest friends knew, and one of them was just as impacted. He wanted to unleash all his anger on Veles. He wanted to hurt the Sith Lord. He wanted Tiamat to end him. However, so many parts of him just felt devastated and crushed. So many parts of him remembered their ridiculous conversations, the absurd situations they had survived together, and the ways they had grown close.

Would Veles truly have done this to him on purpose? Would Veles do this to himself knowing it stripped him of the Force? Knowing it would ensure he could never do his specialty in the Force ever again? His head hurt from trying to think. His mouth was dry, sweat lined his skin and he had the chills. In one fell swoop his life was turned upside down.

His path was automatic, and he didn’t even think about it. He found himself directly in sight of Veles’ ship. The two had traveled several times together to where Altair knew it inside and out. He could sense Veles on the other side, emotions building up in him. There was tightness in his chest and a lump in his throat.

Altair quickly punched in the code, the door hissing open. The tiefling barged in, not caring that he was invading the man’s privacy. He strode down the hall, his eyes narrowed to slits.

“VELES!” He shouted at the top of his lungs, fingers curled into sweaty fists. Even then, he was visibly shaking. There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked slightly emaciated, "DID YOU FUCKING KNOW, VELES?"

@vamp

 

[Veles]

Taris, Imperial Palace hangar
14 hours after Ain't No Party like a Sith Party

Music​

His ship had never looked like this. Usually neat and organized, everything indexed and catalogued in its place, not a single crumb on the floor. Kept in pristine condition and decorated by all sorts of posters and paintings hanging on the walls, journals on the caf table, always the news on the holonet projector. Now?

Clothing, papers, documents, journals, books, blankets, towels, beakers, bags of herbs and spices, jars of strange body parts, and all sorts of objects cluttered the entire common area as far as the eye could see. It was hard to see the ground below, and the walls were covered in deep gorges of melted durasteel, the telltale marks of a lightsaber making contact. The holoprojector was wrecked, its pieces scattered throughout the ship. There were drops and splatters of blood, dried but also wet, on some of the surfaces, and a trail that lead to the bathroom was sprinkled with what appeared to be shards of glass that had been hit so hard it had been turned to a sand-like consistency.

Champion Veles. Champion Veles. Champion Veles. The phrase echoed in his head, bouncing off the walls of his mind as he lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Spit had pooled at the edge of his chapped lips, the saliva tinted and glowing with the lightest dash of purple. There were bags under his sunken eyes, his skin glazed over and clammy with cold sweat as tremors shook his entire body as they had for hours. He looked like a corpse, and if not for the trembling, anyone walking in would certainly mistake him for one.

I'm holding you personally responsible for wildfire in this Empire. Within, he felt torn. He felt as though his chest had been ripped open, his ribcage snapped, and then cast aside to die. It wasn't just physical, it wasn't just the withdrawal; Veles hurt deeply, on a fundamental level. He hurt for Altair, who did not deserve this. Altair, who deserved a responsible master. Altair, who should not have his life ruined because of the actions of someone that should have known better. He hurt for Cairo, too, the poor kid equally destroyed, their plans dashed. They'd been naive, not digging deeper. There should have been something somewhere that he could have read. There had to have been some slimy fuck in a cantina who'd whisper to him about the things he needed to hear for a price. If he'd done the due diligence, they wouldn't be here.

"AGH!" In the blink of an eye, he was on his feet. His entire body screamed with pain, the migraine incessantly pounding into his skull only growing more intense, his steps weak, Veles stumbling. It all poured into him, all the raw emotion, and the suffering, and the memories. He thought of his parents, who'd been so proud of him. He thought of his entire family going back generations, who have lived and died for him to be the one that fulfills their destiny. He'd desecrated his very blood. He was not just a traitor to his Empire--he was a traitor to his family. "FUCK!"

He'd screamed until no noise came out of his throat, torn everything apart in a rage every time he grew too weak to keep studying. Veles slammed his fist into the durasteel wall and the burn wounds flared up with pain, but he simply bit down, clenching his teeth as it subsided. Then, he took a seat in front of the caf table and gently grabbed a bottle of ro hypa venom and got back to work synthesizing.

---

Veles could barely hold the beakers and bottles in his ruined hands. He needed to let them heal, needed to rest up so that his body didn't break down. But it already was. The withdrawals had kicked in long ago, and though he still had some wildfire, he refused to take it. He'd let himself wither away alone in this hangar before he drank any more of that shit.

A poof of steam rose from the mixing bowl, smoke rising from the muckish, brackish substance he was stirring. He sighed, then set the bowl aside. Veles painfully shifted onto his right side and extended his arm, grabbing hold of the recipe book, his eyes scanning through it. He was surrounded by all sorts of tools and ingredients, an entire lab on top of the rubble that was his common area, all propped up in a matter of hours. He coughed purple bile into a cloth and threw it aside, wiping his bloody palm onto his shirt, which was torn, ruffled, and covered in similar stains. Truth be told, he had no idea where it was even coming from. Force knew how many wounds he had on his body.

His hair, normally so well-kept and smooth as silk, was tangled and knotted and frayed, locks mingling with each other, some on his face. He paid them no mind. He paid nothing any mind, really, besides finding the fucking antidote. Veles' heart skipped a beat as he read, and he furrowed his brows. It hadn't been the recipe that had earned that reaction from him, and he could sense something approaching, but couldn't quite put his finger on it.

And then his door burst open. Veles' face rose from the book he was looking at and toward the doorway. He made no other move, save for his trembling hands and the occasional shudder that cut through his body. He was cold. He was so, so cold, and yet his body was covered in sweat.

His eyes fell on the tiefling, and there was no life in Veles' normally-glowing orange orbs. His body hung limply, as though he could barely keep himself propped up. As Altair came to a step, he opened his mouth.

"I--" He choked, drops of purple vomit once again finding their way through his pursed lips. He wiped his mouth with his tattered sleeve as though nothing happened. "I didn't know, Altair. I am so, so sorry."

His voice was so hoarse it was difficult to hear. "I am going to fix this. Don't worry, Altair, I'll fix it, I promise." Even if it meant driving himself into the ground.

@Sreeya

 

[Altair Din]

Altair saw Veles and emotions coursed over him like a tidal wave. Before he could stop himself, he charged at the other man, grabbing him and slamming him back into an adjacent wall. The tiefling gritted his pointed teeth, violet eyes burning with fury, “I trusted you!” He shouted in his face, his voice emotionally charged, “I fucking trusted you! I looked up to you! You were supposed to..” His voice cracked, tears beginning to well up in his eyes again. He wanted nothing more than to hit Veles repeatedly, his mind buzzing with a billion different things all at once. He drew back his fist for a punch, but it slammed into the wall next to Veles’ face by a few inches. It was hard enough to leave a dent, a reflection of the pent up rage he felt.

Altair was shaking, his grip finally loosening on Veles. He stepped back, trembling and shivering. He noticed the same was happening to Veles. He saw the faint purple traces along the man’s lips, “I need it,” The tiefling said hoarsely. He couldn’t believe his desperation and even that ridiculous urge to lick it right off the Sith Lord’s lips just for another hit. Just as he had been willing to lick it from the toilet, “I need it. I need it now. I can’t fucking take it anymore. Give me more,” He said weakly, tears now flowing freely. He knew what he was saying, he knew what it meant, but he couldn’t fight the overwhelming withdrawals. It felt as if he were being torn to shreds, his head swimming with thoughts of nothing but the purple liquid.

“Where is it?” Altair stepped away and began to frantically throw things apart, on a mad dash to find that elusive drug that ruined him for life, "I need it now, you fucking bastard!”

@vamp

 

[Veles]

He could sense the conflict within the Acolyte just like Altair would be able to feel the pit of energy in the Force around Veles. Still, it didn't take the Force to know the tiefling was upset.

When Altair charged him, he knew what was going to happen, his reflexes screaming out for him to move, to get out of the way or fight back. And though he probably could have, Veles didn't. He let the tiefling grab him, didn't even flinch as he was slammed in the wall hard enough to dent it a little, his back pounding onto a painting and shattering the glass that the frame contained. A slight hiss of pain was the only thing that showed Veles even felt as the shards found his skin.

"I--I know." There was nothing but regret etched on his face. If the tiefling had come expecting a fight, he would be leaving sorely disappointed because Veles would let the boy kill him and not move a finger. Why would he? "I know," he said again.

When Altair loosened his grip and Veles was again free to stand on his own, he took one step, then two, then stopped, trembling and clutching at his body. His eyes, however, were on Altair. "Do you think I've thought about anything else? Do you--" he choked on saliva as his mouth was filled with the sweet, chocolate-like taste of wildfire as it rose up in his throat, "--think I would have taken it if I knew? Do you think I would have given it to you?"

As the Acolyte began to tear into his already-torn apart ship, he let himself fall, landing on his arm and simply sitting there, back propped up against the couch, arms limp at his sides. "You can't. I can't. It's the drug or the Force. There is no compromise, Altair." His hand slid into the pocket of the sweatpants he was wearing and he tugged out a cigarette, the last one in the pack. Veles raised it weakly to his lips and stuck his finger out toward the tip. He tried to make a small flame, but not even a spark came out, his head instead wracked with an even stronger migraine as he tried to channel the Force. He was useless like this. "And I have no more left."

Veles, of course, still had about a crate of vials left, given by the Hutt out of her personal collection. He didn't tell Altair. He wouldn't give him any more, not even if the tiefling tore him apart with his bare hands. It was hidden away well, somewhere no one would find it but Veles. "I don't want to see you die, Altair." Tears welled up in his eyes and he shook his head frantically, then wiped them away. "I'm not going to let you."

He took a long drag from the cigarette, burning through a good quarter of it in one go, then exhaled. "There's..." He had to stop to recollect his energy for a moment. "Morphine. First aid kit in the bathroom. It's not much, but it will soothe some of the pain." It would mildly sedate Altair, wash a wave of warm sleepiness over him. It would make him forget the pain, temporarily, and it was likely what the medical center would give him. He didn't mention it was his last kit, and that it was only good enough for one. "Be careful, there's... there's glass everywhere."

The Dathomirian grabbed hold of the couch with his free hand and slowly lifted himself up. He followed Altair to the bathroom, bare feet stepping over the trail of blood. As the last working light flickered on in the bathroom, his eyes darted to the ruined mirror, the nothingness that was where it had once stood, the powdered glass on the ground. Then, they settled back onto Altair, and he simply pretended it wasn't there. He pretended his bathroom didn't look like the crime scene of a grisly murder.

As the tiefling would open the kit, he'd draw a step closer, pointing to the syringe and little bottle inside, next to the bacta. He doubted Altair would be able to inject himself with the morphine, because he doubted the kid had ever injected himself with anything. Hell, he didn't even know if Altair's village had the necessary healthcare infrastructure for the citizens to get all their shots, but that was something to worry about another day.

He moved slowly, like someone approaching a stray cat, as though any misstep or wrong move would lead to something terrible. If the tiefling let him, he'd load the syringe up, flick the needle, then plunge it in Altair's arm surprisingly smoothly for someone who's hands were shaking so hard. As the liquid flowed through and into the Acolyte's veins, he looked at the tiefling's face, at the pain etched so clearly on it. The pain seemed to radiate off him, the suffering and feeling of betrayal tangible in the air.

"Please try to hold still," he mumbled weakly as the tiefling's arm trembled.

@Sreeya

 

[Altair Din]

A part of him wished Veles would shout back or fight or do anything. But the man looked just as broken as he felt. He looked sickly just as Altair felt. And he couldn’t help but believe it when he got across he didn’t mean for this. How could he? He prided himself in Sith Alchemy, one of the most specialized uses of the Dark Side that relied more heavily on the Force than any other branch of Sith. Why would he knowingly strip himself of the only path to his passion? It didn’t help the anger that welled up in his chest, however.

“You’re lying!” He said hoarsely, looking at the purple around Veles’ lips, “You’re..lying..” He said in a defeated tone as he clutched fistfuls of his hair, feeling hot tears continuously streaming down his face. It was the drug or the Force. The words echoed over and over again in his mind, and still he couldn’t fight the desire to want another hit.

“My family…” He said weakly, “My Matukai family….my siblings…ma…pa…they will never let me come home..” He felt himself beginning to collapse as he clutched at the ground, “I..won’t be Matukai anymore…I’d rather die…I’d rather die…I want to die..” Altair’s entire body shuddered, “I’d rather die than see the look on ma's face..see her cryin' cuz of me... see my pa look heartbroken.…” He squeezed his eyes shut, curling his hands into fists. He barely heard anything about the morphine and Veles would have to drag him to it. However, he was almost out of it and completely defeated, not protesting against anything Veles did.

Altair vacantly stared at his reflection as Veles injected him with the morphine. The tiefling closed his eyes, exhaling a shuddered breath. Within a few moments, he could feel the effects calming his nerves. The edge slowly began to ease off and he opened his eyes to look at his reflection again. He despised who looked back at him. He looked like a hollow version of himself. Was this his destiny? With things a bit calmer, his thoughts began to simmer down. But the pain never stopped. He thought about Tiamat and that invitation to Serenno.

“You just…you just handed me to someone else,” He didn’t look at Veles, wiping the tears from his eyes, “You don’t get to just quit on me…you don’t get to just dump me off to someone else,” Altair looked up at Veles, pain clear in his eyes, “....After all this you may be all I have left..” He buried his face in his hands, “And you’re kicking me to the curb too…you’re just fucking….fucking abandoning me when I need you most…" He took more shuddered breaths, "You don't...get to just..decide you don't want me anymore.."

@vamp

 

[Veles]

His already shattered heart broke only more when he saw the tears stream down the tiefling's face, and felt the despair that Altair felt. He knew it so well, had grown accustomed to this pit of suffering in a single day. Will it always be like this? he wondered, and a small sliver of his mind replied that yes, it would. And he had no one to blame but himself.

"No." He wasn't lying, and Altair knew that. The Acolyte was just too deep in the throes of a breakdown to respond to reason, much like Veles had been the night before. He self-consciously wiped his lips again. His sleeve was stained with a dull purple.

Veles shifted to his knees, crouched in front of Altair, and put his hand on the tiefling's shoulder. If the Acolyte wouldn't make eye contact, he wouldn't force him to. "Listen to me, Altair. They will. And you are going to become one of the best Matukai warriors this entire fucking Galaxy has ever seen." It was the first time his voice had held any sort of conviction in the past day, the first time it sounded like he meant every word of what he said, his gaze intense.

His mind drifted to his parents, and the look on his mother's face when they visited, the pride his parents had felt when they found out he was a Sith Lord. "We knew you had it in you! We knew it was you who had been chosen!" Her words echoed in his mind, and he bit down the inside of his lip hard enough to draw blood. Champion Veles.

He rose to his feet and took a drag of the cigarette, ashing it into a cup on the floor next to his foot. Veles, most of the strength sapped out of his body, struggled to hoist the massive tiefling up, his muscles straining, his face scrunched up as he felt the aches and the pangs throughout his body. The more he struggled, the more it hurt, but the closer he was to getting Altair onto his feet. He wrapped his right arm around him and wrapped Altair's left around himself and slowly helped him down the hall and into the bathroom, sweeping his bare foot in the path in front of them as they moved so Altair wouldn't step on the shards, the glass ripping dozens of minuscule cuts in his sole.

He let the Acolyte slide slowly into sitting on the closed toilet seat and opened the med kit himself to prepare the syringe. None of them said anything, the tense silence a welcome reprieve from the maelstorm of emotions. Veles could see as Altair's body language shifted, as his muscles relaxed and a sliver of light filtered into his teary eyes.

"You just...you just handed me to someone else." Veles cringed softly, looking down at the Acolyte who refused to meet his gaze at first. He didn't interrupt him, waiting until he finished, the guilt burning like a hot brand on bare skin.

"I...I didn't. I would never do that to you. You two left and...I fucked up." He tore the bandage off one of his hands. The flesh was raw and blistered, cuts surrounded by dried blood on the burns. "She took you from me. And I--"

It all came crashing down. It wasn't just in his mind--he could physically feel the weight of his guilt, the heavy burden of his failure, as it slammed down on his shoulders, as it sent his body into a frenzy from the overwhelming emotions. He collapsed to the ground, falling down on his knees in front of Altair, the empty syringe bouncing off, the contents of the medkit scattered through the bathroom. Heaving, agonized sobs tore through him as he buried his face in his chest and clutched his sides. Veles knew this was not who he should be. Veles knew that this is not how a Sith Lord behaves. Veles knew that he has been doing nothing but showing weakness, and it only made him sob harder.

When he looked up to Altair, his eyes were bloodshot. Tears and snot trickled down his face, the paleness red from the blood that had rushed to it. His eyes set directly on the tiefling's, and he swallowed hard, his breathing coming out in shuddering pants.

"I was too weak. I couldn't beat her--" Another wave of sobs tore through him like a freighter. "And I knew you wanted nothing to do with me anyway. Please, forgive me, Altair."

@Sreeya

 

[Altair Din]

Altair’s face remained buried in his hands as he felt completely broken and shattered. He hadn’t felt like this since he had been a very small child. He hadn’t even felt like this all those times girls completely and ruthlessly stomped on his heart and broke it into a million pieces. None of that hurt like this did. Both from Veles and especially from Cairo. And from the thought of facing his family. All of it crashed on him at once and he didn’t have the strength to bear it.

He slowly removed his hands from his face as he heard Veles break down. Altair looked over then, seeing the ugly burns over his hand and the way the man sobbed uncontrollably. The tiefling had always only known Veles to be reserved and emotionally detached, and seeing him like this sent daggers through his chest. What man would choose to feel this willingly? How many times had Altair made mistakes? How many times had he been given the chance to come back from it?

Altair collapsed to the ground, his body feeling numb. He vacantly stared at a wall, hearing Veles speak and hearing the sobs that shook through the Dathomirian’s body. The tiefling’s eyes were bloodshot, and his face was covered in tears and snot, but he didn’t care. His mind raced with countless thoughts.

After a few seconds, Altair slowly turned to face Veles as the other man looked down in between his shuddering breaths. Without warning, the tiefling reached over with a hand and grabbed fistfuls of Veles’ hair, forcing the other man to look directly at him. His grip did not tremble, and fire burned in his eyes.

“You will fix me and you will fix yourself,” He said firmly, his voice no longer cracking, “And then you will do right by me,” Altair said flatly, “You will make me into one of the best fucking Sith the Empire will have ever seen. You will earn your place in Moraband after you are done with me,” Altair growled the words through gritted teeth, “Because no one else is fucking getting me there. Raze himself can’t take me away from you. I’m your apprentice and I ain’t going anywhere,” He stared deep into Veles’ eyes, “Do you hear me, Cinere?”

@vamp

 

[Veles]

Normally, Veles did not like it when someone intruded on his personal space. Worse yet, would be to touch him. However, when Altair did it, he felt no annoyance, no rage. He had started the fight in the bathroom because his personal space was intruded, which only proved how far he could go. And yet, as Altair grabbed him by the hair, he said nothing and did nothing, his eyes set on the tiefling.

The Acolyte could very well just impale him with his own lightsaber, and he'd just agree that it was the right course of action. It was likely one of very few rare moments in his life, but it was a humbling experience he would realize years after. But showing such weakness, to the Empire, sometimes entailed more than demotion. He'd been wondering whether the Empress had been right to make the choice, and he found himself agreeing. He'd been beaten far too much to get up and defend himself. Unsurprisingly, a vast majority of Sith would love to kick him for good measure.

There was a complete change in demeanor within the tiefling, who appeared to have much more resolve than him. Perhaps it was the innocence of a teenager, or perhaps it was simply the way someone who hadn't seen unspeakable horrors thought, but Veles did not share this feeling with him. Veles felt that the situation was bleak, and that he would sacrifice himself for Altair and then it would all be okay. He would be dead in a cave somewhere, but at least he would ensure the Acolyte got a couple of crates of antidote.

But the things Altair said went in direct contradiction with that. "Yes," he said, his mind racing as he processed the thoughts. The Acolyte had put the heaviest of conditions, and it upturned any plans of eternal slumber that Veles had. He couldn't leave the kid alone. He thought their connection had been severed, their relationship simply a sweet couple of weeks before they moved on with their lives. Instead, the tiefling actually cared for him. It wasn't unrequited.

His heart skipped a beat, the words actually filling him with warmth. It was a strange warmth that he had not felt in a very long time. Was this how caring for someone felt? Was this how it is to have people you would lay your life down for? Is this what love is like?

"Yes, I hear you." Normally, a Sith Lord would strike down absolutely anyone that refuses to use their Lord name, but then again, Veles was no longer a Lord. He was also no longer Cinere, and never would be again, and it was something he was still coming to terms with. Raze can turn me into powder with a tap, he thought, then discarded it just as fast because there was no way he would say that aloud. He would settle with the affirmation that Altair was right, and hope that it never came down to actually proving the statement.

"I see--" he choked on bile, but gave a small, reassuring grin as though everything was okay and he wasn't actively dying. "I see you're brushing up on your divination." A joke. It was incredible. He never thought he'd make a joke again in his life.

"I'm glad to have you," he added at last, finally finding the words. "Thank you." He felt he would be indebted to Altair for his entire life from now on, as a result of him nearly destroying the Acolyte's life, but it was completely fitting.

Veles sunk down, slumped against the cabinet under the sink, unable to hold his body up any longer. While Altair may now feel better, the Dathomirian had had no such reprieve, and the withdrawal caught up no matter what. Still, he refused to redose. Never again. His head rested against the ebony wooden door, his eyes up toward Altair. There was a glazed over look on them, a stare as though he were looking off into space, his blinks slow and lazy. "D-do you want something to eat?"

 

[Altair Din]

Altair was silent as Veles weighed everything he said. He could see the wheels turning, and he could see Veles go through an entire journey that began with self doubt and defeat. The tiefling’s resolve never wavered, and he kept his grip on the other man and his violet eyes remained lock on Veles’. There was a fire in his eyes that spoke volumes far beyond anything Altair said aloud. They demanded a promise, loyalty and honesty from here on out. He would accept nothing less. In that moment, Altair had to grow up more than he ever had to before. This was for his family, this was for Cairo, this was for Veles, and most importantly it was for himself.

He couldn’t help the faint half grin that came when Veles cracked the divination joke. His grip on Veles finally loosened and he drew back, feeling weakness in his muscles again. The morphine relaxed him and the complete exhaustion he felt collapsed on him all at once. Altair stared at Veles as he continued speaking, hearing the genuine intent behind his tone. Truth be told, the tiefling couldn’t imagine being anyone else’s apprentice. Not today, not ever. At some point it had become Veles and he didn’t even realize when. At some point the man had come to mean a tremendous amount to Altair to where he was willing to face the galaxy with him even if everyone else abandoned them. To where he was willing to forgive him for doing the worst thing he could have done. Because he had faith in Veles, because he believed in the other man to get them all through this.

“I trust you,” Altair said after a long moment, very quietly. He stared at Veles for a moment, watching him collapse. Altair leaned his head back against the wall of the refresher, briefly closing his eyes. He opened them again when Veles mentioned food.

“...No tentacles,” He said with a lazy smile. Altair planted a hand against the wall and slowly helped himself up. Once he was standing, he extended a hand to Veles to hoist him up to his feet, “Come on, old man, let’s go.”

He let Veles lean on him as they walked through the hall, "....I get at least one facetime with Mrs. Autem for you putting me through this bullshit," Altair's voice would echo quietly as the two men walked through the ship.

@vamp

 

[Veles]

For some time, there was simply a silence between them, intense and meaningful. He could see the fire burning in the Acolyte's eyes, and practically feel the motivation emanate off the tiefling. Veles thought for a moment, his heart still racing. They'll be alright. They had each other. It seemed their understanding of each other only kept growing, and as the Dathomirian looked into those purple eyes, he could feel a bond start to develop. One that, if nurtured, would become unbreakable.

"No tentacles?"

I've seen your holonet search history, Altair, don't lie, he thought, taking the Acolyte's hand. He had to prop up his body against Altair's much as he had carried him into the bathroom, but at least his mind was silent for once. For now. "Oh, I'm old, but my mom isn't?"

As if he'd read his mind, Altair mumbled something about Veles' mom under his breath, which made him roll his eyes as hard as he could. "Altair, can you not leave some for the rest of us, too? I would think two is enough.” The 17 year old was getting more action than him. What did the tiefling have that he didn’t? A lot, probably. But there were niches for everyone.

”For dinner, we have…” He leaned against the wall as he opened the fridge. The shelves were lined with jars of things like gundark’s eye and mynock’s wing, but Veles ignored those, so casual it was like they were a normal part of any fridge, and instead reached in to pull out a plastic box. He opened the top and looked inside.

”Deep fried nuna leg with Ferroan spinach, and I think I have some soda or something back here.” He set the box on the only free spot on the caf table, right next to a book about midichlorians. Then, he got to rummaging around in there, though he could barely sift through whatever the hell was inside his fridge. ”You know, I’m pretty sure Tiamat is going to kill me,” he declared with his body half in, his head somewhere next to a bottle of bantha milk.

@Sreeya

 

[Altair Din]

Altair shrugged as he helped Veles through the hall, “Mrs. Autem is classy, refined, like a perfectly aged whiskey just waiting to be sampled at the right occasion,” He grinned, “You’re when someone ate all the pickles and left the jar of pickle juice in the fridge and forgot about it,” He snickered to himself. However, he paused and was caught off guard when Veles remarked about leaving ladies for everyone else.

“Hold up,” He eyed Veles curiously, “I thought you were only into dudes,” He said, his face appearing as if some lightbulbs began to switch on. Altair grimaced as he saw the sketchy assortment of shit Veles had in his fridge. It looked less like a fridge and more like a science museum. He was about to say no thanks when Veles opened a box and mentioned fried nuna leg. Altair’s mouth began to water instantly, “Hell yeah! Wait, how old is that?” He asked suspiciously. Veles seemed the type to be rather generous with expiration dates.

Altair was already munching into the nuna leg when Veles spoke again. But he only had Veles’ ass to talk to as the man was halfway in the fridge. The tiefling thoughtfully munched on the leg as he mused back to Tiamat.

“Maybe I’ll serenade her for you and she’ll lay off,” Altair remarked unhelpfully. He nibbled on some of the spinach before he spoke again, “How’re you gonna find an antidote? And is it gonna make you more uggo?” His gaze flicked down, "I can show you how to do some proper squats to get your ass on point if your face 'bout to look more busted, at least."

@vamp

 

[Veles]

In the past day without Altair, Veles had been far too wrapped up in the disaster to realize that it had been the first day in weeks where he didn’t have the Acolyte a few meters away from him at all times, eating his food and talking shit. Aside from nearly dying, it had been rather peaceful.

”Mrs. Autem is 48 years old and married,” he retorted, trying to turn toward the tiefling to flash him a look, but instead banging his nose into a transparisteel box containing a creature with many small tentacles and around 27 eyes dotted along its head. It blinked at him with every single one of its eyes simultaneously and slapped its entire body against the glass.

”And I—” he tugged himself out holding a can of some energy drink from Eric Thrawn or whatever that guy’s name was. Veles didn’t particularly care for non-Forceful “philanthropists.” ”—am about 6 years older than you, so I would watch my mouth if I were you. You’ll be there in the blink of an eye.”

He rolled his eyes at the Acolyte, crossing his arms and rising to his feet. The Dathomirian could feel his weakened knees barely supporting the weight of his body, the muscles already strained and aching. A cough built up in his lungs.

”Just because you’re too busy neck-deep in some fine—” A loud clanging sound from within the hangar covered Veles’ speech for a good few seconds, but he carried on, determined to get his point across. ”—so next time you should refrain from making assumptions. And no, it’s not expired, Altair—you know my stomach’s too fucked up from all the glitterstim for me to be eating spoiled food.”

Veles closed the fridge and hobbled to the couch next to Altair, almost missing it as he collapsed down on the cushion with a sigh. His body convulsed briefly, but he was too busy staring at a shattered painting of a stylized Darth Sidious to notice.

”I’m serious,” he sighed. ”The Empress made it clear that she’d have no problem with just executing me.” Did Altair even know about his demotion? Surely there was no way for him to know that fast. He doubted anyone but him and Andruil knew, but information would leak out over the next few days. Veles wasn’t looking forward to it. ”So if it’s not the Inquisition, it will be that—”

His body tensed up and he ducked forward just in time to vomit purple bile into the same cup he’d thrown the cigarette in. Veles wiped his mouth with his sleeve and then collapsed back down on the couch, too exhausted to move. His heart pounded in his chest and he felt very cold but was sweating, and he said nothing about it.

”But yes. I will find the antidote.” Even if he died as he finished it. ”No, it won’t make me any uglier. If you think nightsisters are so hot, I don’t see why you think shitting on a dude with the same face tattoos is right, Altair.” He shook his head and muttered under his breath. ”So culturally insensitive.”

@Sreeya

 

[Altair Din]

Altair finished his meal and heard Veles’ entire tirade. The smile wiped off his face, and he felt a surge of anger roil through him. He gingerly set the empty container of food down. He was silent the entire time, watching Veles hobble over, vomit, lecture him some more and then become a mess again. Altair’s nostrils flared, rage spiking through him like lightning that reached every bit of his extremities.

“Yeah, go ahead and fight me then instead of taking all your frustrations out on me, asshole,” He snapped at him as he rose to his feet, “Fight me when I’m the only one left in your fucking corner. When everyone else thinks you’re a goddamn joke because of what you did. When I’m the last one that still believes in you, someone you quit on like a wimp just 'cause some red headed chick said so.”

He narrowed his eyes, “It ain’t my fault you can’t get no pussy, so maybe try lookin’ less like a hot goth chick and more like an actual fucking dude then!” He shouted at Veles, overwhelmed with anger, “If the Empress wanted you dead, she woulda done it already. IN CASE YOU FORGOT, SHE CASUALLY WIPED OUT THE ENTIRE FUCKING COUNCIL AND I PROMISE THEY DID A FUCK TON MORE THAN YOU’VE EVER DONE!”

Altair rolled his eyes as he recalled Veles getting sensitive about his appearance, “You look like you do by choice, mother fucker. You looked like a fuckin’ model that coulda scored any chick he wanted, but you chose to go the creepy Palpy route and turn yourself into a bruised up ol’ daikon,” He paused for a moment, “THAT’S A VEGETABLE BY THE WAY, AN ACTUAL FOOD UNLIKE THE BUGS AND BULLSHIT YOU EAT,” He didn’t even know what the hell he was saying at this point, just that he was frustrated, “So don’t give someone that literally looks like a demon and is discriminated against every day a mope routine ‘cause you’re full of shit.”

The tiefling huffed and puffed as he paced around. It was clear his physiology allowed him to tolerate the drug and withdrawals far better than Veles did. After a moment, he paused and turned to glare at Veles.

“Do you want me to fuck off?” He asked flatly, preparing to leave.

@vamp

 

[Veles]

The air shifted the moment he closed his mouth, and Veles sensed the anger that lashed through the tiefling like the crack of a whip. Likewise, the realization that he had fucked up was instant, and he was just about to open his mouth to try to diffuse before Altair exploded.

His eyes rose, locked on the Acolyte as he rose to his feet, a wave of nausea washing over Veles again. He didn’t move, didn’t twitch a muscle, and didn’t open his mouth, instead watching with a blank expression. His apprentice lashed out at him, once again yelling and pacing around and this time, Veles felt irritation rise up in him. For a moment, his mind flashed back to everything he’d read in hundreds of tomes’ worth of Sith history, all the stories of masters executing their apprentices for things equivalent to not taking out the trash.

Then, he sighed, still staring at the tiefling. Altair kept going for some time, and Veles knew this had been building up for a long time. He also knew that he’d pushed him over the edge, and though he may later backpedal, the Acolyte was saying the quiet part out loud, externalizing the things he’d thought but never said. Veles’ jaw clenched and he could feel his face grow hot, but he still did nothing.

It hurt. It really did. He knew he’d fucked up and he knew he was in the wrong, but he was getting so sick and tired of all the abuse thrown his way that it was beginning to feel like an oppressive weight burdening him every waking moment. All the things he heard and saw he thought about later, and they consumed him when he was alone.

”I—” He started to say something when Altair was finally done, but instead closed his mouth and closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose. When he opened his eyes, Veles looked like there was no energy left in him. He was completely deflated, just a husk of a person still hanging on for some reason. The kid was just being an angsty teenager, but Veles was only a few years older and he couldn’t help but take it to heart.

He rose with some difficulty, felt hot flashes washing over him, his head light, but stayed up. "I fucked up." There was a long silence, and he simply stood there, staring at Altair. "But I'm fucking sick and tired of this. I'm not going to humor you. I'm not going to humor anyone else who just wants a punching bag to throw all their anger at. Me retorting to shit you said about me isn't me fighting you, but if you just wanted a reason to blow up on me, I'm glad you found it. I'll be here all night, so if you want a round 2 after you're done getting your ass kissed by every person you come in contact with, you know where to find me." He didn't raise his voice or shift his gaze away from the tiefling for another moment.

Veles turned on his heel. He shuffled down the corridor, bracing himself up against the wall. With every step he winced as the glass he’d stepped on embedded itself deeper. Every breath was a struggle, but he would not show Altair that. He'd lost control for a brief moment, but he'd reined it in. The Dathomirian didn’t trust himself to be rational when he opened his mouth, didn’t trust the emotion in him from spilling over and causing something that there really was no coming back from.

He got to the door of his bedroom and tapped the button. Veles turned his head to look at the tiefling standing in the common room. ”Do whatever you want, Altair,” he replied hoarsely, his voice cold. Then, he stepped into the room and the door slammed behind him.

@Sreeya

 

[Altair Din]

Altair knew he fucked up royally when Veles had no reaction at all. He stared, shocked, as Veles looked completely defeated. He was prepared to throw hands, he was prepared to have the man yell at him. He was prepared for anything other than the defeated silence that was far more crushing. The tiefling stood in silence as Veles spoke. The surprise was clear on the tiefling’s face, the anger replaced with shock and the look of someone that was caught stepping way out of line. Altair remained quiet as Veles spun on his heel and walked off to slam the door behind him.

For a long moment, the tiefling simply stood there, staring at the shut door. He was left standing there feeling like a monumental jackass. Like an impressive pile of turds expelled by the biggest rancor on Dathomir. He stared at the ground, chewing his lip and stewing in his own dumbassery. After a few seconds, he spun on his heel and disappeared from the common room.

Within half an hour, there was a bit of back and forth in the kitchen, but Veles would likely be clueless to all of it with his sulking. More time passed and there was more clattering and other noises coming, none of which Veles would hear. For all intents and purposes, he would be led to believe that Altair simply left.

A long while later, Altair emerged and appeared outside Veles’ door. He set his comlink inside a dome shaped bowl to amplify the noise. He put a music track on play, picking one of the sappiest things he could think of, one his father sometimes played jokingly for his mother when she was particularly moody. After the initial music riff finished, Altair began to sing. He sang passionately at the door with all the angst and drama he could muster. He was even swaying from side to side and making dramatic faces to belt the song out, his beautiful voice echoing throughout the ship and just for Veles. He would keep singing until the man came out and keep selecting sappy songs to sing to him until he did.

@vamp

 

[Veles]

There was silence from the door after it closed, which was all the better to him. If Altair had left, at least Veles knew he’d made his decision. He did what anyone would do and lit a cigarette, then opened a cupboard and got out the expensive Corellian whiskey. Like a grizzled Sector Ranger looking over a dusty backwash world, he sat on a stool and took long, drawn-out drags off his cigarette and knocked back glass after glass of whiskey.

He was staring off into space at the model of a Star Destroyer he had on a pedestal, the Sith completely inside his mind. He was ruminating, processing what happened in the past two days. He thought about what he said to Altair, and truthfully didn’t regret anything besides maybe the last part. He had just been defending himself, whereas any other master would have probably gone straight to the offensive. He wondered if he was too soft. Maybe that was why this had all happened.

Three cigarettes and six fingers of whiskey later, he heard a bit of commotion on the hallway, and rose from the table wondering if a womprat had gotten in before remembering his ship was inside a hangar on a city-planet. As he stepped forward, music erupted in front of the door, followed by Altair’s voice. It seemed Veles had been the one drinking but Altair had been the one who got drunk. Teenage hormones were strange.

He didn’t want to open the door. He didn’t want anything else other than complete solitude for the next couple of weeks. He missed Dathomir, the months he’d spent in that shack without a care in the world. He hadn’t had anyone then, had been just a nameless faceless Sith in a sea of many, and he had been so content. He remembered Mustafar, as well, where he had simply been surrounded by professionals and could simply prowl the building assisting in its operation. There was no one telling him he was a terrible person then, no one telling him he looked like a corpse or whatever else they said. Maybe he had been better off then.

Veles had thought that after the song ended, Altair would turn around and leave, defeated. Instead, he was surprised to hear that the kid had a playlist, and another equally sappy song boomed through, scratching at the last bit of patience he had remaining.

The Sith turned back and downed the glass on the table, then grabbed his datapad, turning it on to the camera. He started recording a video, aiming toward the closed door. Altair’s voice mingled in with the music from outside, but he was so overwhelmingly loud that Veles could hear every single word so the video would also pick it up.

He walked to the door slowly, and then hovered his hand over the touchpad. It hissed open, revealing the tiefling standing outside singing. Veles tapped the button and ended the recording just as it opened and then stashed the datapad in his pocket before Altair could snatch it away.

”Better be on your best behavior,” he quipped cheerfully. Veles knew how embarrassed teenagers could get in front of their friends, and he had the perfect ammunition now.

@Sreeya

 

[Altair Din]

Altair was about to belt out another dramatic chorus when Veles opened the door. The tiefling’s eyes widened and he smiled at the sight, though his gaze briefly flicked over to listen to a recording of himself. Instead of being fazed, Altair improvised a chorus and sang at the top of his lungs, “I don’t caaaaare if you blast me on sociaaaal mediaaaa! I’ll show the galaxxyyyy what you meeean to meee!” He paused and did a little dance move to top off his singing before he finally reached over to stop the music from his datapad.

“Best behavior,” He promised before he spun on his heel and gestured for Veles to follow. Once the man came out, he would see a full spread of food on a table. There was garlic and herbs crusted bantha steak with a chili sambal, a freshly prepared salad with an assortment of fruits, vegetables and nuts, cheesy au gratin potatoes with diced nerf and chocolate mousse. The entire room smelled heavenly and the table was as perfectly set as he could get with whatever dishes Veles had around his ship.

“Think you can keep this down without hurling?” He asked with a smile before he walked over to take a seat. Cooking came second nature to him, just as it did for most members of his family.

@vamp

 

[Veles]

Truth be told, he had no idea why he had even thought that the tiefling had any shame. Altair had nearly pissed on Tiamat the other night and clearly had no qualms with it, and Veles was sure that wasn’t even his most embarrassing moment to date.

He walked slowly down the hall, but he made a dedicated effort to make his movements seem as casual and natural as possible. Now that Altair was staying some more, there would be no way for him to redose discreetly, and there was no way he was going to take a single vial out while the Acolyte was anywhere near. He’d just have to bite his cheek and wait a bit longer.

As he stepped into the common area, his eyes set on the table set, a hole in the chaos where the food had been placed and resembled a genuine dinner. It was the first nice thing someone had done for him in the past few days, and it made him feel a little better. As he took a seat, he was just saddened by the fact that he probably wouldn’t be able to keep anything down. Still, he’d try.

”Doubtful,” he declared. ”But no one abstains from drinking just because they won’t keep it down.” He grinned and grabbed a fork. From the moment the first piece of bantha steak made contact with his tongue, his mouth exploded in a plethora of flavors. The kid was good. Veles could certainly appreciate it—he’d seen chefs in Coruscanti fine dining that Altair would beat any day.

He chewed and swallowed, and that was when the turmoil began. The Dathomirian put a hand to his stomach subtly under the table. ”Good choice of spices,” he noted. Now that he was eating, he could truly sense his hunger. He’d barely consumed anything in the past few days. It was likely not a good idea to engage in overindulgence now, but Altair had cooked a lot of food, so it would be a shame for it to all go to waste. Even if it was thrown up later, at least it had been consumed.

Veles was silent for a bit as he kept eating, his thoughts drifting off elsewhere. ”Did they tell you about my demotion?” he asked, his eyes slowly moving from the plate to Altair. He wondered how secret it was, and who would be paying him a visit over the next few days as a result of his actions. Maybe he wouldn’t even get to finish the antidote because the Inquisition decided to rule his death a suicide with two shots to the back of the head. The thought was probably only amusing to him.

@Sreeya

 

[Altair Din]

Altair would have made this effort regardless of whether or not Veles could actually keep it down. He sat down and began to dig in, enjoying the flavors. He may have been flunking math, but he sure knew how to make a mean dinner. The tiefling was helping himself to some of the salad when Veles mentioned his demotion. The look of surprise was unmistakable as Altair looked at him, blinking a few times.

“No..” He said quietly, silence hanging between them for a few moments, “You ain’t a Sith Lord no more?” Altair asked in surprise. Could that even happen? He couldn’t even imagine how awful Veles felt. Stripping of rank usually meant stripping of the Sith Lord name. Did that mean he was once again Cinere? Altair would only call him Veles out of respect, of course, it was the name he had chosen after all.

“You’ll get it back,” The tiefling said hopefully, “This will get sorted and you’ll be right back to where you were,” Altair managed a smile as he looked at Veles, “How can I help?” He thought for a moment, “With the cure and all the stuff for it?”

@vamp