An Unfettered Rose

[Befallen]

Months had passed her by in a blur or rather a fog. In all her long years of life, she had never met with a problem she couldn’t overcome. Never come across an impasse she couldn’t cross, and yet, such a thing had happened. In a sense, she found it comically funny. Of course the humor of it all eluded her. Even now, as she dragged herself into the foyer of the Rishi Casino and Resort, home to her one night stand and one-time business partner, Jack Tamblyn. It was strange to stand in a place she once revelled in and despised. Now, as she crossed the threshold and felt the cooling blast of recycled, artificial air all she felt was revulsion and a little self-pity. Mostly revulsion. A grimace followed by an unnatural frown crossed her visage as she stood there, miffed. Why had she come? Was it to see Jack? To possibly explore something that could be between them?

Even as she thought of such things she couldn’t believe it. Long ago she had cast off any notion of romance or the fantasies that sprang from them. Pausing from her thoughts, she sighed heavily and brought a well manicured hand to her head in order to scratch a particularly irritating knot. Bah! This is bantha poodoo. She then frowned and scruched her face up in a manner of mock courage. Whatever her reasons for being there, she would uncover them. This she vowed as she made her way closer to the concierge desk further into the lobby. As she slunk between the gawking tourists, the rich, the corrupt, the political, she felt herself melt away. In a sense, it was as if she were returned. For the first time in months, she felt almost like her old self. As she passed by several tourists, the males among them turn to gaze upon her in all her fabricated beauty and charm.

They watch her slither passed them, watched her forced smile and she watched them swoon. Even as she felt like she did, it still brought her a measure of satisfaction to know she still had that indefinable quality. It brought a deliciously evil smirk to her lips that scared them off. She felt herself wanting pout, but could not muster the energy to do so. Even as she passed by a floor length mirror, she barely stopped to glance upon herself. Still in that moment, she saw herself properly done up - well, to the untrained eye that is. To the observant eye, they’d spot chinks in her armor. It was less polished, the veneer was gone. Still, she supposed it would suffice.

Approaching the counter, she stopped and smiled as someone approached. They made small-talk, quaint, but also annoying. It was funny how a few months could make people forget. “I’m here to see Jack Tamblyn,” she said when the female employee fell silent. After the pause came a quizzical look followed by uncertainty. Xora’s eyes narrowed at the young woman. She frowned. The help sure weren’t helpful. She thought of many and more spiteful, hurtful things to say to the woman, instead she just frowned. Hard.

“Its business, alright?” her hand thrummed atop the countertop impatiently. Another lengthy pause passed between them. She sighed exasperatedly. “Shoo! Go!” Her eyes rolled as the woman disappeared. Help! Always useless, unfortunately necessary.

(Sorry. Not my best. I'm rusty, I guess. >.>)

 

[Cassanova]

Goddamned finance reports.

Jack had a stack of datapads loaded with financial reports from the highest risk companies in his holding. It wasn't fun, but being the CEO of a company which spearheaded over twenty-five thousand companies, had its advantages. Jack's apartment, of course, valued at a not inconsiderable thirty five million, was one of many such advantages. After earmarking another company for liquidation Jack gave up, and tossed the datapad to the sofa, and rose, "I wish that I didn't employ so many idiots incapable of basic mathematics."

He took no time at all making his way to the bar, pouring a whiskey and corking the bottle. Just as he lifted his glass to his lips, his commlink buzzed with a text message from reception. Jack read it and frowned. Unannounced, unappointed guests; the worst kind. He frowned, reaching into one of the bar's drawers, and removed one of the many Hornbill blasters around the room, sliding it into a holster under his left arm. Sometimes the simplest precautions were the best.

Jack set off towards the front door of his apartment, buttoning his jacket as he moved. The door hissed open, and Jack moved swiftly to the elevator and punched in button to take him down to the lobby. Jack felt the blaster in his coat pocket and enjoyed its presence. It was slimline and didn't show to the outside, but it was handy all the same.

The doors opened, and Jack coasted out into the main lobby, his eyes searching around for who interrupted him. He spotted the green-skinned woman with ease, an air of impatience about her. Then he noted a few things that only close inspection would have revealed. And with a smile, Jack waved off the receptionist who simply up and left Xora at the desk.

"The last time you were here, you were planning to rob me." The tone was cold, but faked. With an audible smile, Jack greeted her, "Hello Miss Rzardi."

 

[Befallen]

Xora saw the receptionist flee and felt her impatience grow. Hot on its heels was an impetuous tidal wave that threatened to overturn the tiny vessel that was her being cast adrift at sea. Even as her aura and very body exuded her restlessness, she felt something else just below the surface. It was buried deep, behind that impetuous wave, buried deeper still than the surface restiveness. It was anxiety. It was also something she didn’t understand. Alone among throngs of many, she felt the weight of her musings and for a moment, her shoulders slumped. She sighed heavily and felt the true terror of being alone. Then, as if waking from a dream it vanished as the image of Jack Tamblyn appeared in his designer suit and mocking icy voice.

She returned his smile with a wry and coy one of her own. “Planning isn’t exactly the word I would use, but I suppose it does the job.” She retorted with a forced cheshire grin. “Hello Jack,” she began genuinely warmly. “You look divine.”

Afterwards, she stepped back in order to better view him, slipping ever closer back to her old self as she did so. It was strange to think that there were moments where she would become the old Xora Rzardi again. That these moments were seemingly random and beyond her control. That between them, she was something else, something different and beyond her comprehension. The Falleenan woman didn’t like this person, but she was at a loss as to what to do. She clasped her hands before her and with a tilt of her head smiled softly. Yes, even if he hadn’t planned on it, Jack did look rather nice.

As for herself, well, she doubted she had donned her most dashing armor. In fact, she would be genuinely surprised if she had managed to come even close to that. Nevertheless, she looked as presentable as a woman of her station would. Dressed in a simple, modestly elegant violet summer shift. Her hair was draped in curls about her face. Her makeup, as ‘flawless’ as it ever was. Her manicured hands beguiling the blood and the grime that had been accumulated on them. Her painted nails, the pastel shades of blue, red and purple glimmering softly in the light were her pride and joy. Instead of heels that would have either been too stylish or too brutal, she chose flats. Yes, to the untrained eye, her ‘armor’ would appear as imperceptible as it always had. Yet, there was no mistaking it. The flaws were there. One just had to spot them.

It only took a quick glance for her to assess and assume that Jack saw through her paltry attempt to disguise the chinks in her armor. And, that annoyed her more than anything else. A slightly veiled smile crept across her lips as the momentary silence flickered between the two. There was no awkwardness on her end. In some way, shape or fashion she had come here hoping for something. Inspiration, help, aid, succor or something deeper, she did not know; it all eluded her. Still, despite this, she knew she needed to say something.

“Can we go somewhere more private to talk?” She began, attempting to remain even, aloof, and cool. If it wasn’t working, she hoped Jack would be decent enough to at least humor her. “It feels like its been ages since I’ve seen a welcomed face. It’d be nice to catch up.” There came a flash of a genuine smile, a drop of her tone toward something sultry, a hint of mischief and mystery followed, but it was all fleeting.

 

[Cassanova]

Jack wasn't one to invest emotion in things like nice dinners and passionate, drunken and lustful one-night stands, but he had some decency. Xora, for some reason or another, was in a bad way. The very least Jack could do was give her a private space to air her worries. "Come on," he offered a knowing smile, "You've not seen this apartment."

He took a step towards her, and scooped her arm into his leading the way to the elevator. Half guiding, half following, Jack took great pleasure in watching the Falleenan woman in front of him. It had been a joyous experience to do the same on Nar Shaddaa; sans clothing, of course. While he had drawn the conclusion that Xora was here with something on her mind, Jack saw no reason not to enjoy what she was outwardly giving - and he was certain Xora would have taken his glances as the compliments they were. Ever the gentlemen, he allowed Xora to enter the lift first and then, with a mischievous grin, pressed her against the wall with his chest as he reached for the buttons, keying in his floor's code. Once he did, he gave her a small amount of space, taking a half step backwards.

Privacy was only achieved in three places; Jack's ship, Jack's apartment on Nar Shaddaa, and Jack's apartment on Rishi. The Con Lorda had spent excessive amounts of money to ensure that they were not bugged, and performed continual checks to keep it that way. Privacy was a valuable thing. Despite the money he had spent, and the confidence he had in small spaces like the elevator and the restaurants, Jack preferred to keep things within the confines of the certain.

The elevator made short work of the trip to the highest level of the hotel, and Jack led the way and gently guided Xora out of the lift by her hand. For a man who spent all day handling data pads and business deals, Jack's hands were undeniably rough and calloused. The front door to his apartment opened automatically, revealing the apartment's stark, almost sterile interior. It may have seemed lifeless, but the white simplicity and curvaceous nature of the room seemed to only accentuate the stunning tropical views that were beyond its floor and ceiling windows. Bar, sunken living room, kitchen and dining space. The second floor, of course, laid home to Jack's office and the third; the bedrooms. Kitted out with both stairs and another elevator, it was a beauty to behold. Then again, the simplicity of the room did two things for Xora.

He smiled at Xora and gesturing to the sunken lounge area, "Go sit down."

The first was to be expected when you put something as stunning as her against the bland backdrop such as the apartment. The second was a little more intricate. Those chinks in her armour were more easily seen. Without the distraction of colour, other people or movement to draw Jack's gaze, he could clearly see the flaws that were there. Jack moved to the bar, pulling out two bottles of whiskey, Falleenan and Corellian, placing them atop the bar. He gently pulled two low-ball glasses from a shelf and placed them atop the bar also. Swooping up the bottles and glasses, Jack moved over to the lounge, and set down the bottles, and began to pour Xora a whiskey, followed by his own. Jack nodded to Xora and passed the Falleenan whiskey over to her. "You look like you need this, Xora."

He leaned back into the plush off-white leather couch, and sipped at his whiskey. Jack eyed off Xora with eyes that would have reminded her that he was no idiot. He knew how to read people, patterns, and the galaxy in a way that few others could ever hope to. You didn't get to where Jack was by missing out on the small things. "So what's going on?"

 

[Befallen]

At the mention of his apartment memories of their last personal encounter filtered through her mind, raw and uncut. They filled her with a primal sense of satisfaction. She recalled the utter surrenderance of her body to him and the satisfaction of the reward that came from it. It brought a welcomed smirk to the corners of her lips as she both followed and lead the way toward the lift. It felt all too familiar. The way she moved through the floor, her hips sultry and swaying, tantalizing Jack and any whom stopped to gander. The way he both followed and lead her gently by the arm. The quickening of his pulse, his rough, calloused hand brushing against her smooth, lightly scaled arms. Unbeknownst to her as she was lead into the lift and pushed against its back, her coloration fluctuated almost imperceptibly, lightening by a hair. It would have been something Jack would have noticed were he not too busy gaining satisfaction from being roguish as well as mysterious.

The mischievous grin he’d proffered her was returned in equal measure. Ironically a wink accompanied her own grin. In the brief space created for her by Jack, she felt her more primal urges stirring. For that precious moment that she allowed it to happen, she forgot her pain and her woes and felt herself come alive again. Her gaze fell down toward her hands and watched them rotate before her, a perplexed look upon her visage. It was genuine, as if she didn’t recognize her hands.

The moment passed and her head rose in time for the lift’s arrival and the parting of the doors. As those doors parted, Jack led the way taking her gently in hand and once again, she was struck by how strange it was for a businessman, a CEO, a criminal kingpin to have the hard, calloused hands of a laborer. It intrigued her and annoyed her in the same breath. As they arrived at his apartment and the doors slid open, Xora didn’t know what to think. Taking a step inside, she saw the spacious, multi-floored layout, saw the makings of all the technological creature comforts she’d come to expect from him, but it struck her as odd. It was so sterile, his home. So stark and bland. In a strange way, it creeped her out a little, but she did her best to bury such odd feelings as she entered.

Following his gaze, she heeded his advice and sauntered over towards the sunken lounge and sat comfortably upon the sterile couch. Where once she would have felt at home here, now she could not. It bothered her. There was something about this place that made her uneasy, put her on edge. Even as she sat upon his couch, she could feel herself exposed. Exposed in ways she was not comfortable with. Xora didn’t like it, not one bit. Turning her head, she glanced at Jack who was busying himself at his minibar. Her gaze became hard as she watched him reach and bend for bottles and glasses. When he rose and began to walk towards her, her eyes softened and she smiled at him.

Taking the offered glass in her hands, she welcomed the relief that the whiskey would hopefully bring, but did not allow herself to drink it. His eyes held meaning and understanding. She read them along with his warm expression. He wouldn’t force her to talk, but she figured he’d wait her out for as long as his patience held. For a man as powerful as he, she wagered she would lose her patience before he did. So, instead of playing intricate games of cat and mouse, instead of dancing around the subject, instead of the myriad of ways she could have gone about it, she just simply began to sigh. It became a long and heavy sigh, filled with the release of burden, but that was it. Just a sigh followed by her eyes searching his. In the pause he asked her a question. A simple one, but it was also the only one that mattered. Her jaw clenched and relaxed, her gaze faltered from his and fell to look upon her hands. In the silence, she uncrossed and recrossed her legs.

Her mouth began to move, fidgeted, but remained silent. Inside herself, she ran through the motions. Prepared herself for all she hid from herself. It wasn’t enough. Then, something changed, both internally and externally. Her coloration shifted to her once normal russet and anger clouded her visage. Yet, it wasn’t targeted at Jack, but at herself.

“Y’know,” she began miffed, “that’s the billion credit question, isn’t it.” She shifted her weight and fell back into his comfortable couch. A low, guttural chuckle exited her maw as she rose the glass towards her lips and began to drink deeply.

She placed the glass back upon her lap and looked out the window. The wondrous view was overlooked. Instead, all she saw was an endless skyline. “Ah, but where to begin? Hm?” She asked her phantom audience and Jack. “I’m sure there are many people who would like the answer to that. Or, y’know, answers to other questions. Xora, what happened to that expedition to Öetrago? Where’s my Vornskyr? How’s intersystem conquest coming along?”

The woman chortled softly under her breath, her very countenance exuding derision.

“But, who am I kidding?” she asked rhetorically. “I doubt you’re actually concerned by my melodrama. Hell, I’m not even concerned by the pressures I’ve placed upon myself. I used to thrive on them. On the edge. Knowing that the wrong move could mean my death. Yet, I’ve never made the wrong move. I live so that others may die. I live for profit. Retribution. Power.”

This time she scoffed. Listening to the hot air and bluster that were her words was grating. Even now, she knew she was deflecting. Skirting the subject, avoiding the pain. She could feel it, the pain. It was bubbling within her and it offered no release. It gnawed at her like a festering wound. It hounded her at every turn. She couldn’t ignore it. Couldn’t outrun it. Doing just that had brought her here, out in the open. Out from hiding.

“You know what’s funny? I was raped once. It’s true. It happened a long time ago, long before you were even a twinkle in your mother’s eye. I was young and inexperienced. I didn’t understand how the galaxy worked. I was desperate and an amatuer criminal at best. I miscalculated and underestimated my mark,” she spoke casually about the ordeal, as if it were as commonplace as two people discussing what they had for dinner the night before.

“Anyway, after it was over I promised myself I would never let it happen again. I made a vow, y’know? And it worked. No matter what kind of situation I’ve been in, I never allowed someone to take advantage of me like that. Never. That was until some assassin stole aboard my ship and tried to kill my unconscious body. That was until my droidservant, Nala, was briefly stolen from me. That was until I was nearly raped again by a strung out junkie in an old, semi derelict spacestation.

“Perspective is a bitch,” Xora flatly stated with a bitter laugh.

“There I was cut, scarred, battered, bruised, disorientated and naked as my nameday chasing after my bloody droid. Why? Because she is important to me. And because --” she paused briefly noticing his expression, “oh don’t look like that. I can be sentimental you know. I’m not an entirely heartless bitch.” Xora sneered at him before winking.

“Anyway, to make a pointless story shorter, that experience got me thinking. And unfortunately, it also opened up old wounds. Apparently, you never get over being raped. Which is news to me. There should have been some sort of memo about that. Something to share around the watercooler. At the very least it would have made the breaks more lively. Instead of a bunch of schmucks rehashing the latest celebrity gossip or the last episode of their favorite holo show. God, I despise the working class. Did I ever mention that?”

 

[Cassanova]

I'd like to preface this post by reinforcing that the thoughts and opinions stated herein are those of the character and do not mimic my own. I actually found this post a bit hard to write, but feel its importance to Jack/Xora's story is too great to omit.

---

Jack listened carefully to Xora's recounts, he dutifully took note of topics to either press or let go. But ultimately, he didn't feel sorry for her. He almost envied her in a way. The average person, who is one of the ninety-nine percent of people in the universe, goes through life without so much as a ping of luck, little more than grandparents and siblings dying. Jack knew that rape, in the arsenal of a predator was in a league of its own. So invasive. Even Jack's own notable event of when he was younger, merely being beaten to near death, resulting in being in the intensive care unit for six months. Considerable, more than the vast majority endured, but still nothing compared to Xora's own troubles.

It was for this reason, that Xora had been given the gift of an event so pivotal, that Jack offered no sympathy outwardly. If anything he was disappointed by the seeming lack of inner power that she once possessed. Jack, instead replied with simple phrase, "You got raped. So what?"

Jack let the silence of his quite, let's face it, controversial statement ring through the apartment for a moment as he locked eyes with her. "You used to be a person who was driven by that. You used to turn your past pains into modern victories. You used to want to open multi-planetary businesses. You seduced people. You killed people." Jack shrugged and sipped on his whiskey. "I know you're not here for sympathy, because you know that you'd never get it from me."

The Corellian rose, moved to the bar, grabbing the two bottles of whiskey, bringing them both back to the sunken lounge before continuing. "I'll ask you, what the kriff changed. You had a bad-- a horrible experience. That hasn't changed. It was that way when you were with me last, and its still the case," Jack poured his own glass up with Corellian whiskey, and offered the Falleenan whiskey to Xora.

"We've all had bad experiences. Well the successful ones of us do," Jack sipped "You don't see us bitching about it. You see us getting sweet revenge on the galaxy by making it our bitch. By making our bank accounts force the knees of others to quiver. By making our very shadows the most fearsome things on a planet's surface. By making our names equate to a rise in someone's heart beat and perspiration." Jack laughed as though he only just realised it himself, "We do it by becoming Kings and Gods in the eyes of the galaxy."

He sat back smugly. He had personally ticked all those boxes probably just this morning, and enjoyed the fact that technically in one fell swoop he was both a King and a God; the Godking of Rishi.

 

[Befallen]

The woman’s mirth mixed and congealed as the silence filled between them only to be replaced by her counterparts harsh words. Yet, despite the insensitive and skewed view that was his perspective on this matter, it nevertheless resonated with the woman she used to be. As she heard him so casually dismiss the horrors of her past, she felt herself grow coy and miffed. false and genuine emotions mixed and coalesced until she could not distinguish between them. She began to pout, at first it seemed genuine, horribly genuine, yet as she rose the low-balled glass to her lips, a dormant fire arose in her eyes as she stared back at Jack.

It was funny. She’d been telling herself the very same words for months now. So she was raped. So what? She’d exacted bloody, slow and unimaginably inhumane repayment upon the men who’d done the deed. She had made sure they had been truly sorry for their crimes, had made them sing any song she had so desired. As she recalled, nearly wistfully, it was also then, that ‘Llena’ had been born. The darker persona of her profession. The green-skinned spectre that charmed and murdered with artistry in a single breadth. Funny, that as the years waned, Llena became less and less useful as she matured. Funny, that the old skills flung to the forefront of her mind. It was odd that she imagined for, but, a picosecond of driving the glass into the bridge of Jack’s nose for speaking to her in such an insolent manner.

Strangely, though, the returned feeling began to fade, suppressed under the weight of past and present crimes erected upon her. The innate cold, calculating and malicious predator that most suspected her to be and others knew her to be retreated beneath the surface once again. Replaced, once more by the broken woman who sat before Jack. It was clear that he would not give her sympathy, but it was equally clear that she sought none. She was not repentant for the crimes she’d committed. She did not think that cosmic justice had been waylaid upon her. Her thoughts concerning her nearly second rape were more rational, more practical. The man who’d attempted the deed had been strung-out, desperate and out of his mind. And despite winning the ‘fight’ and stabbing the man to death with a broken bottle it still hardly seemed fair.

It was then that she realized what it was that brought her to Jack’s doorstep. It was not to seek forgiveness or atonement for her sins - Jack was wholly the wrong individual for that. The mere thought of seeing him in a clergyman’s raiments bedecked in jewels and a tricorne hat upon his head made her giggle hysterically beside herself, entirely ignorant of whatever look Jack might have affixed upon her. The thought seized her with so much vigor that she began to tear up. Her wild imaginings continued as she envisioned him ministering over a flock of sheep in men's clothing. Proffering sermons and absolution. The whole thing caused her to double over as she laughed and heaved for breath.

“Ah, apologies, Jack,” she breathed, “I just thought of something funny. I’d tell you it, but you won’t even let a girl pout about her terribly horrid past.” she finished sarcastically.

Afterward, she leaned forward regardless of what Jack might have been thinking and grabbed the Falleenan whiskey, pouring herself a tall glass with little effort. Settling back into the couch her eyes fell upon the dark liquid that shimmered in the stark light of his home. They darkened as they gazed into the liquor, her thoughts a flurry and a barren, desolate wasteland. Where many sung and cried out, no single voice could be discerned. Xora scoffed then, wholly irritated.

“You know what’s the worst part about all of this?” She asked as her eyes reached his to skewer them. “The worst part about all of this? Its not that I was raped. Because you’re right. The Devil himself knows you’re right. It ‘sucked’ but it also forged me into who I was - no, am. No, the worst part is that now - now I want to burn. Burn it all. I’m filled with rage. A different sort of rage than what used to fuel me. It burns hot. Not cold. It boils my blood. Blinds me. Confuses me.”

She paused to cluck her tongue. Xora's head turned and she scoffed. Her eyes scanned the horizon, searching for something. Perhaps, she sought answers. The rage shone brightly in her eyes as she returned her gaze to him. “I’m not here for your sympathy. I don’t want it. I’m here to learn how to control this. This - this-” she waved her hand over herself, “this is not who I want to be. I am not a mad monster. This is not what I want and this is not what’s needed. If you can help me, say so. If not, I’ll leave and find another way.”

 

[Cassanova]

Jack nodded, understanding better than anyone else possibly could. Those gifted with the understanding and ability to wield the Force had a disgracefully simple solution for dealing with rage; The Dark Side. A Force user who felt the pain that Xora felt at this moment, the same pain that Jack embraces on a daily basis, simply could walk on over to the Sith and encapsulate their pain into outward bursts of omnipotent power, bending others to their will. Mere mortals, as Jack had to admit he was, were subject to a much greater difficulty. The difficulty of actually coming to terms with your own battles, harnessing them within yourself to drive your own actions. Sure, some people simply broke and became damaged and psychotic. Others walked a less positive path and found their own escapes through drugs, alcohol, or other, more permanent, vices. A non-user's pain was what drove them. It was what kept them moving. The challenge was to keep the fire burning hot enough to fuel the beast within, but keep it cool enough to remain in control. That was the challenge.

"Goals are key to harnessing what you've got," Jack leaned forward filling his whiskey again. "Let's look at me?" He took a sip of his whiskey and sunk back into his chair. "I stole a lot of money when I was younger, and it caught up to me. I ended up having twenty-two surgeries and was on life support for six months after the beating I got. Sure, they got what was coming to them," Jack recalled the incident involving the hole in his attacker's shoulder and the careful insertion of the radioactive isotopes. Radiation poisoning - a horrible, slow, painful way to die. "But the point was to prevent all further attacks. My goal became to be untouchable."

"I became a swindler, a lawyer, a businessman, a financier. I moved my way through the networks of others building my own network. Information broker, designer, banker. I became a CEO, a Kajidi. Hell," Jack chuckled as he said it for the first time. "I became the Godking of Rishi."

"I'm not done here," Jack eyed off Xora with the calculating eyes of a predator who had studied his prey so well that he could predict when the next breath would come. "No. The Galaxy is run by idiots. Idiots who fail to see opportunity where there is war and peace alike. My whole life is dedicated to teaching the galaxy that Jack Tamblyn is not to be trifled with."

Jack eyed off Xora with a knowing nod, "The same could be said of you, Miss Rzardi. The galaxy needs to shit itself when you speak, to kneel at your feet when you glare, and to crumble into dust at your touch." He offered a knowing smile, "I think you've got plans that haven't even been touched. Plans that require that same fire you seem to be so afraid of."

 

[Befallen]

Afraid.

Afraid? The word cut her deeply. It was a dull knife in a deep wound, gnashing and gnawing, ripping the wound wider so that it might never heal. In all her years of life, Xora had never consider herself afraid of anything. She’d done things that most never dreamed off. Sent men to fight to their deaths against all odds in games she’d rigged. It brought a smile to her. Another memory replaced the first to flash before her eyes. She recalled a quarren who’d slighted her. It was a trivial slight, to be honest, but Xora had taken exception to it. As she recalled, she’d been young at the time and eager to make a name for herself. A name for ‘Llena.’ She recalled the events with clear precision. How she spent years psychologically torturing him. She broke him this way, yet all the while she had made it plain who was harassing him. Had given him every opportunity to come exact repayment. When he broke, she collected his entire family. Some she fed to beasts before him. His wife, for instance was ripped apart and ingested whilst he was mere feet from her. At any point he could have saved her.

She recalled sending his daughters to slavers. She recalled showing him a holovid - a live recording of the first time his daughter had performed her slave ‘duties’ to ugly piggish gamorrean slobs. She wasn’t afraid then. She had been intoxicated by the thrill. And she couldn’t imagine that she was now. Her eyes shimmered as she wrankled under the weight of the word. And yet, those same eyes faltered as she continued to stare at Jack.

Here was a man who could read her. It was as exhilarating as it was troubling. Could he see something she could not? The maelstrom within her skull returned as she frowned. Her eyes downcast, she looked at her hands, deeply.

“You say the sweetest things,” she commented, not raising her eyes to meet his. “I’m afraid of this rage?” her eyes narrowed, searching inward for the truth. Was it actually possible? Could she even bring herself to admit it was a possibility? No. Xora shook her head. She would not admit that.

“I’ll let you in on a secret, Mr. Tamblyn. I want, no, demand power absolute. Money is transient. Its fickle and boring. At times, credits are useful, but any man who puts his faith in wealth is destined to live a hollow unfulfilled life.” She continued, a knowing and confident smile passing her lips as she recited words she held dear and knew to be true. In her heart of hearts, she knew it to be so.

“I want my name to be whispered in hushed tones in the darkest corners of the galaxy. I want people to conjure up hellish creatures when they think of it. I want Falleen to cower in fear of my name. I want a reckoning of this whole galaxy. To be Goddess and Death in a single utterance. Kriff those Force ‘enlightened’ cults. It is we without the gifts of the Force who are unburdened.” she stated frankly with a small sneer. With each word she uttered, the maelstrom lessened.

Her eyes rising, she looked to Jack, suddenly concerned that in her declaration, her point had been missed. “I don’t think you misunderstood, but in case you did, I don’t want this galaxy to cease to exist. No. That serves nothing. And is boring besides. Its so trite and cliched. Let the Sith dream a Nihilist dream. Let the Jedi so nobly defend us all. No, I want this galaxy to continue. To continue striving towards an impossible dream. I will be content to know that I am the true power behind it. Everyone and everything will be my playthings. Toys for me to use and cast aside at a whim.”

Again she paused, this time to sip from her whiskey and think wistfully upon a future she so desired. The maelstrom within her ceased and quiet returned as she held fast onto that wondrous thought. “To be untouchable would be nice, but I think I’d prefer to be touched. To taunt the brave and foolhardy. To declare to all, that if you want what I have, here I am. Take it if you dare. After all, life is meaningless without a little death.”

Suddenly, her eyes grew wide as recognition set in. “Wait. Nevermind me. Did you say you’d become Godking of Risih?” Her visage light up in envy and wonder. Envy that someone had beaten her to it and wonder that it could be done. Yet, there came a voice deep within her. Quiet at first. It almost mocked Jack’s accomplishments. It assumed his ‘glorified’ title only extended the length and breadth of one planet. Another thought chided the first. Perhaps, it was just a stepping stone towards something greater. In any respect, she needed answers.

“How did this happen?” She asked, captivated and interested. Her own problems cast aside in the face of Jack’s stark achievements. “When did this happen?”

 

[Cassanova]

Jack's prodding worked perfectly. He seemed to pour a smidgen of highly volatile fluid on the fire burning within her, and relished as she fired up a little. Jack enjoyed a more broad tampering of peoples' affairs, but he enjoyed the achievement that came from doing so on an individual level just as much. In the same way that Xora had found her calling dealing with the personal affairs of others, Jack had found his in a much wider scope, corporations, governments, planets - that was his playground.

It wasn't to belittle Xora's own expertise, mind you. Jack was happy to take second place to Xora's own skill set in that regard, and would concede as much to her in private. There was no questioning, however, that Jack was the undisputed King of Corruption when it came to the broader spectrum. The skillets complimented one another, of course. Xora could destabilise a person, Jack could then destabilise their entire network. It was a balance that Jack took dutiful mental notes on.

"Godking of Rishi," Jack chuckled, "Just the planet for now, but I'm working on some documents to annex the rest of the system within the next week or so." He smiled, sipping on his whiskey.

"You see, its all about the long play when getting what you want. Vero, may the worms devour his corpse, would never have given me my current position. Borga, our new leader, owed me a favour dating back to when he first joined the Cartel. It was me who fronted him his start up money, gave him the inside knowledge on where to buy and when. Without me, Borga wouldn't be where he was. He paid his debt, in full." He smiled, knowing that Xora wanted a piece of that action. "I'm the only non-Hutt in the history of their precious little circle to ever be the leader of one of their Kajidics, and I've literally been given a planet."

Jack smiled and leaned forward, "The key, Miss Rzardi, is to ensure that I don't stop here. No. Sure the Cartel knows I'm not to be trifled with, hell, even the people of Rishi know it. But the rest of the system? Ukio? Druckenwell? Christophsis? Falleen?" He smiled, prodding a little harder. Jack had put together that Xora wanted more, and was probably just beating herself up for not having made the headway she expected to. He had insulted her experience, proved he was more successful, and now he had to prove he was intelligent.

"They're all on the map to fall under my control. How? When? Thats a plan to be worked on," Jack sipped on his drink, and shuffled closer to Xora along the couch's comfortable cushions. "The key to it is making the people want to have me there. To make it seem to everyone in the galaxy that giving Jack Tamblyn is the only sane choice in left to them."

"You suddenly become a King, a God, and a saviour," Jack smiled. "Or in your case, if you pursued such a thing… a Queen."

 

[Befallen]

Xora’s eyes widened as she listened to his answer. She knew there was more to Jack Tamblyn. That what he showed the world was a glamour. All part of his mystique to beguile and engender outcomes to designs he’d long put in motion. In this respect, even in her middling years of life, she knew she was a novice. She could, on a personal level, utterly destroy a person. Sometimes with very little effort thanks to the gifts of her people. Senators were most commonly broken in this regard. Jack, however, was on a wholly separate league. He spoke of the broader stroke. His net cast wide to encompass much more than just people. It intrigued her. Excited her. It filled her with awe.

And yet, as she thought further, her features fell. Her eyes narrowed and she leered at him. It had just dawned on her that he had played her like a fiddle. Prodding her to respond as she had to entice her with greater reward. Prodding her to dance upon a string to the song he played. Proffering up the gateway to a future she had longed for. Perhaps, and she hoped, it was to reawaken her purpose. Her desires had never left her, yet her purpose had fled. Until now, she had lacked the wherewithal to trudge on. Everything else was now an excuse. It did not matter if individually they aided in trapping her, sapping her of her will. Strangely, though, she felt no malice towards him. Instead, she began to chuckle softly beside herself as as her features softened. He then slid over and offered her more. With a soft cluck of her tongue and a shake of her head she sighed softly before bringing the glass to her lips to drink of the delicious nectar.

“You devilish bastard,” she commented with a genuine smirk. She was in awe of his powers. In awe of the feat he had just pulled off. Xora wasn’t fool enough to think herself infallible. She wasn’t fool enough to think that she couldn’t be duped. It was just difficult. More often than not, she saw the threads of the words and followed them back toward their origin. To the spider and its master plan. Saw the endgame before it was spelled out.

Ultimately, Xora didn’t know how to feel. And for that she chuckled again. The wool had been pulled over her eyes so precisely, so imperceptibly. Yet, she did not feel it held malicious intent. Which confused her, slightly. Again, she chuckled as she turned to glance at him. A knowing look in her eye. She pressed herself closer to him. Unwrapped a hand from her glass and draped it over his shoulder, pressing her bust against his arm. Her smile genuine and even slightly ravenous. Instead of harming him, she wanted to kiss him. It was strange. So very strange. Despite herself or because of herself, she began releasing her pheromones into the air. At this close proximity, she wondered how long it would take to addle him. Yet, it wasn’t entirely malicious. She was just happy.

“Why, Jack,” she began as a finger began to play with his locks, spooling itself around them. “You really do say the sweetest things.” She cooed in his ear, her eyes searching his profile. Her smile deepened, entirely genuine. “Are you offering me my own Queendom? Because, I would be a fool to turn that down.”

She chuckled softly as she leaned in closer to his neck, her breath a tantalizing breeze. “Perhaps, Falleen was too much to grasp so soon, and yet, now feels like the right time. I’ve lived for 146 years. Did you know that? Does that surprise you?” she breathed softly still into his ear. “I’ve amassed fortunes and lost them. I’ve had men profess their undying love to me, kill for me. Yet, in all my years none have offered me what I hope you are.”

She fell silent then, still searching his profile for some answer. A part of her wondered, secretly, if her powers of seduction would even work on him again or even if she wanted them to. Inwardly, she chortled softly. The extent to which was expressed as a blowing of air through her nostrils. Life truly was interesting. Slowly, the woman began to pull away, her thoughts a mystery. The dispersal of her pheromones quieted as she came to a decision. She would not have him this way. If she could have him at all. No. She realized she respected him too much. Perhaps, that would one day prove to be her folly, but she suspected it was not today.

Now situated, she smirked at him as she brought the glass to her lips to take a small drink. Unknown to her, that drink turned out to be the last few drops her glass held. A brief flash of a disappointed pout crossed her visage, but was quickly buried beneath a veneer that was coy and possibly even sultry. An eyebrow was cocked as she winked at him before she tipped her glass back to savor the last few drops. Resting the glass back upon her lap, she turned to face him, an honest smile present upon her lips.

“You have seemingly reawakened my purpose. I don’t think there is a finer gift you could have given.” She began, still smiling. “You tricked me beautifully and for that you have my deepest respects. You are a man among beasts and vermin. Truly.”

The esteem she felt towards him must have been blinding her, because never before had she been so generous with her compliments. Even now, she was beside herself. She should have been angry with him. She should have used every ounce of her wiles to make him jelly in her palm. It would have only been the beginning of his end. Yet, she felt no desire to do so. Life truly was strange. All she felt like doing was tipping her hat to him. Allow him to revel in his victory. After all the Devil must be paid his due.

“My,” she began beside herself, “I don’t know whether to punch you or kiss you.”

 

[Cassanova]

Jack smiled smugly. He had won this little bout of wits by miles. No small achievement, as Xora had a reputation for disembowelling those who attempted to best her. Considering he was still alive, Jack felt that he had won not only this victory but several others to come as well. There was the one point of her pheromones, of course. Jack felt their influence and breathed deeply. He could identify his own thoughts well enough, but in truth the chemical seduction wasn't particularly needed. Jack had fond memories of the night they shared on Nar Shaddaa.

Once her influence faltered, Jack inwardly gave Xora a token of respect, the same that she seemed to be showing him by not attempting to essentially administer a natural roofie to him. With a clear mind, its sharp edge dulled only slightly by the three glasses of whiskey consumed in the Falleen seductress' presence, Jack looked to her with a serious gaze in his eyes. "I wouldn't rule out offering you a Queendom as an opportunity to explore." Jack chuckled, pouring himself a fourth whiskey - this time going for the Falleenan, and pouring the same for Xora.

"If this is a path to walk down, you need to know that first and foremost, that I don't trust you," Jack's eyes pierced through any vulnerability that may have lingered in Xora's psyche. "You interrupt my plans, or seek answers to questions I don't deem you need to know about, and you'll be dead before you can realise the error of your ways." There are few people in the galaxy who understood precisely what that meant. Considering the mental acrobatics Jack had performed on her, Xora should have been one of them.

He leaned closer to her, his breath running down her neck from her ear, "If you can do that, you can have more than just a Queendom." Jack leaned back smiling, sipping on the Falleenan whiskey.

"If you can do that, Miss Rzardi, you can have so much more…"

 

[Befallen]

It was funny and mildly insulting in the same breath to listen to Jack threaten her. Ironically, it also diminished nothing. Her respect and gratitude for Jack hadn’t changed in the least, newfound that it was. To be honest she found it kind of comical, sweet even. She took meaning from the fact that he threatened and offered her more in the same breath. Meaning, that on some level, he thought of her as a threat himself. That alone brought an almost wicked smile to her visage. The smile came and went sure enough, but it wasn’t entirely wicked. Instead of speaking directly, she brought the freshly filled glass of whiskey to her lips and sipped from it softly. This was either her fourth or fifth. To be truthful, she hadn’t been counting. The warmth that spread through her body, only brought her comfort, which added to the satisfaction of his threat. Where Jack no doubt took victory over besting her, Xora found victory in his threat.

Of course the woman was no fool. She had no designs nor desires to cross him. Likewise, she did not doubt for an instance that she would die or worse disappear if she did. It brought her no small measure of discomfort and comfort in equal breaths as she thought back on it. That she’d dared to trust enough to confide in him to begin with. Because she knew that if he wanted to, he could use the information of her rape against her. How, remained a different question. Yet, instead of lingering on that thought. Instead of letting paranoia blossom and bloom, she cast it aside. She also made a mental note to dig up something on Jack that would keep her safe from his wrath, should that day come. Once again, she was reminded by the fact that she might one day regret this meeting. Until then, she would enjoy the journey and take as much advantage from it as she could.

She chuckled softly from behind her drink. Perhaps the liquor was starting to affect her more than she realized or perhaps, despite the knife-edged game of wits they were playing, Xora felt comfortable with him. Perhaps both. Perhaps none. Regardless, she smirked from behind the glass before speaking, “What are we? In third grade?” She goaded playfully.

“Jack, I understand.” Xora continued growing slightly more serious, yet no less colorful. “Playing with lions and dragons is what I do,” she cooed as she turned her head so that she faced him, her cheek brushing against his lips in the process. “I have no desire to interfere with your affairs or to cross you. I have been called a lot of things in my day. Rarely is ‘fool’ counted among them,” she paused then, dropping the glass back down on her lap and replacing it with her thumb and forefinger as she became lost in ponderings. Despite the amusement she got from him threatening her, her base instincts still called for her to do the same to him. It was a reckless of course. She was not in a position of leverage. Yet, out of pettiness, she felt justified.

After what felt like a long moment of consideration, she decided against the course of action. She doubted Jack would be unaware of her desire to return threats in kind. Instead she leaned in and planted a soft kiss under his jawline, right below his earlobe. Out of the myriad of ways she could respond, this, she felt, was the best course of action. For the moment, she was content to let Jack think whatever he did of her. Pulling away, she brought the glass of excellent whiskey to her lips and took a welcomed sip. Allthewhile, she proffered as innocent a wink and raise of her eyebrow as she could manage.

“I assume there are perks,” she teased questioningly. Neither of them had spelled out that they were entering into some sort of partnership, but Xora was very confident that this was where the conversation was leading. It excited her, if she were being honest. Excited her greatly. At last she would have a base to build upon.

A nagging feeling arose to bite her then, but she smashed it back down into the pit of her cold logic. Try as she might, she was finding it difficult not to jump to conclusions. Luckily for her the conclusions she jumped to were not far-fetched. Maybe she was starting to feel the effects of the Falleenan whiskey? The stuff was more potent than most human varieties. In the end, she cast such thoughts aside and turned her attention toward Jack. There she stared at him expectantly, enjoying whatever expression he wore and whatever shone in his eyes. The eyes, after all, were harder to fool.