Ask Let's go to the Beach, Beach

[Vossari Khaldun]

Immediately in the aftermath of this thread.

Theme

Vossari flew with the medical team to Thule's state-of-the-art military hospital. There, he was treated with the same favor of admirals and kin of the Sith Masters. Doctors assured Vossari that he was in the best hands possible, as the sleeping giant rested within a batch chamber. They assured him he could leave, and they would watch Karys. It took Vossari some time to leave the hospital, as guilt and fear raged within him. The fight had been his fault. And now, Karys suffered the results. He had defended Vossari, when he had zero reason to.

Most striking in his mind was Azar leaving. Voss hadn't spoken much with him since Tund, but now that felt in the distant past. He had barely heard what Azar said before he had stormed off with Trodai. Vossari thought back to Tund. Their mission had not ended at merely recruiting the Sanguine Sisters. They had been working together - the Sisters helping Vossari understand the mystery of the Blood Scroll, Vossari assisting them as they quietly amassed power across Tund. Since studying there, with the Sorcerers, his style had begun to take a flair for the dramatic. He slid himself out of his environmental suit and slipped into some heavy robes as he touched down on the resort world of Sesid.

Azar's EZphone would buzz with messages as Vossari began to incessantly text Azar.

Hey....
Long day yea?
I could use a break
Can you sneak out
Meet me at this spot

Vossari sent a set of coordinates that led deep into the arid city center. A hotel, luxurious enough for the wealthiest and grandest of Sesid's leaders. Being publicly acknowledged by the Dark Lord of the Sith granted more credits, and successful missions with Karys had built a small bounty. If the execution would pass nothing else positive to them, Vossari would still take this moment. He waited in the lobby, idly, hoping that Azar would show. Either way, he would step into that galaxy-class spa soon.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar may have put up a front, but he was a mess. After storming off from the palace on Tund, he promptly packed his bags and moved all his things out of the space he shared with Karys. He had tears streaming down his face the whole time, thinking back to the Dark Lord coiling the Force around him the moment she realized Karys was a weakness for Azar.

And that fucking child was a weakness for Karys.

Azar knew he made the right call walking away. Karys would forever be caged by his attachments and emotions, never learning to keep himself in check. It felt like a punch to the gut watching him fail to finish the fight. It crushed Azar to walk away from it when all he wanted was to hold Karys and be there for him. However, Sith romances were always complicated, and it was even more convoluted with a child in the mix.

He would distance himself from it all and found himself back in his nook in Umbara. Azar settled down with a huge assortment of desserts and put on his trashy Holoshows, sobbing to himself the entire time. He was a dramatic mess, canceling classes for a few days while he recuperated before he left for Korriban. He had little desire to present himself as an angsty mope factory on his journey to claim Korriban’s throne.

When he first received the messages from Vossari, Azar initially didn’t respond. He sniffed and returned to the late night runs of Genuine World: Coruscant, watching Tashina and Livy duke it out over Chad. Azar started bawling because Chad looked a little like Karys and he blew his nose and shoved a brownie into his mouth.

After Vossari blew up his EZPhone and realizing that he wore the same pajama pants for two days in a row - a crime in his book - he finally responded and agreed to meet.

Azar found himself at the resort in question, his face betraying that he had been miserable. His hair was slightly disheveled, a complete change from his normally immaculate appearance. He was also dressed in attire he normally wouldn’t be caught dead in. Azar’s piercings were still on, however, lining his ears and one in his nose. He gave Vossari a jut of his chin, bleary eyed and sad.

“Hey..” He said wistfully, pushing over a trolley with several suitcases of luggage sadly.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

Vossari looked him up-and-down as he approached despondently. Joggers, messy hair? Was he...missing an earring? In true Azar fashion, even his version of 'messily dressed down,' was a matching, freshly pressed outfit and freshly quaffed hair that smelled of his wonderful, herbal shampoo and conditioner. "Wow, Azar, you look like a wreck." Vossari had never known Azar to be anything less than perfectly prepared for every social interaction. His appearance was always a part of that - as calculated at any of his others choices. He pushed Azar's luggage cart into the hotel lobby - did Azar just own a luggage trolley? That was a discussion they would need to revisit.

For now, though, Vossari swept Azar up into a tight embrace. Sure, there was always a romantic subtext here, but Vossari felt less horny and more heartbroken on behalf of Azar, of Karys, of this whole complicated situation. Azar needed a break from being the Sith Master that the galaxy expected him to be. Today, more than anything, it seemed like he needed a friend to get pampered and watch some shitty movies with. Vossari knew he could be that friend.

Vossari eventually let go of the hug, rubbing Azar's shoulders genially. He didn't know how to address the topic of his breakup with any grace or dignity, so he chose not to. He imagined Azar would open up, in time. "I've got the perfect morning planned out." He gestured to the rest of the hotel - just in time for an attendant to walk by with a tray of champagne flutes, filled with fresh, pulpy mimosas. Vossari lifted one and offered it to Azar, saving another for himself.

"First, though, a toast. To you. For being you." Vossari would offer a glass to clink and then take a looooooong sip. "Let's have some fun, yeah?"

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar was already mopey and Vossari’s comment about his appearance almost made him burst into tears. He cared about his appearance at all times and to have it punctuated like that was crushing. His nostrils flared and he huffed, glaring at the wrean. He was so sad he didn’t even have the energy to lash out angrily. Azar turned around and started to walk away in the direction he came, taking his luggage with him.

Vossari caught up with him in an embrace and he stood there rigidly for a moment. Azar pouted as he looked away, “I thought you liked me..” He muttered moodily. He didn’t feel like being the cool, confident Sith Master right now. He didn’t feel like putting on an image that was tougher than he felt. He wiped his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie after sniffling, snatching up one of the mimosas that were passing by before he downed it in one gulp.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

Oh no - had his words actually hurt Azar? Vossari was so used to saying the first bullshit that came to mind. But now, here was Azar, wrapped in his arms, gulping mimosas. Vossari reached into the pockets of Azar's hoodie and pulled him closer. He brushed a messy tendril of black hair out of his face, eyes softening as he looked at Azar. "Aww, princess. You know I... I care so much about you. About us." He took a hand of Azar's and placed in on his own chest. Azar would feel his fluttering heartbeat. He was nervous, delighted, to be here with him. Don't say anything too crazy here, Voss. "That's why I planned the perfect day for us. No students, none of those dumb meathead jocks that the Order is full of, just you and me..."

It was an expensive day ahead, but it would be worth it. Anything to make Azar happy again, to bring back the fire in his eyes. He wanted that fire now. Vossari lifted Azar's chin, wiping away his tears with a small flourish of the fingers in the Force, and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. "Today's all about you. No antics." It was a hard promise to make - antics were half of Vossari's core. But he could tell just how upset Azar was, and it was clear him acting like a callous jerk would only upset Azar more.

He spun Azar around, deeper into his arms, so Azar could look around the hotel. Space-piano music played gently in the corner, echoing across the room. "What do you say? Brunch, here?" Assuming that was a yes, Voss would slide his hand down to meet Azar's, tugging him towards the hotel restaurant. The smell of freshly cooked shakshouka wafted from out the kitchen as they neared.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar was tugged close and initially remained pouting. However, when he saw Vossari’s eyes soften, his own mood began to shift. For whatever reason, Azar adored being called princess by the Wrean. It reminded him of their journey to Tund and all the moments they had shared. Azar listened to Vossari admit to caring, seemingly hesitating from saying too much. The Pureblood had to chuckle a bit at the lack of jocks, wrapping his arms around Vossari’s neck, “All right, I forgive you, asshole,” He said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He was easily spun around, sinking against Vossari as he gazed out at the luxurious lobby. After bawling alone in a room for days, melting against the wrean like this felt incredible. Azar lingered there for a moment, actively working to keep his mind in the present.

“No antics?” Azar asked with a quirked brow, “I want the antics,” He admitted after a moment, allowing Vossari to lead him towards the restaurant. The food smelled delicious and Azar took a seat at the table across from Vossari.

“Where did you get the money for all this?” He asked, looking around himself, “And you’re blowing it on me instead of marcan herbs?” Azar asked with a sheepish grin.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

It was true, Vossari was not a wealthy wrean. But recent adventures had proven to have decent fortunes attached to them. Karys had given him a nice lil allowance after the last few missions. And that, he was willing to blow on Azar. Vossari stuffed a slice of warm, fluffy bread into the soft tomato and runny eggs, greedily devouring the yummy dish. Tomato and chickpea dribbled down his chin, which they quickly wiped away with a soft embroidered napkin of the hotel logo. A tiefling waitress in a suit also bearing the logo of the hotel. She refilled their mimosa cups diligently.

"Here and there. My pockets run deep baby." Vossari smirked at Azar as he spoke, meeting eyes from across the booth they were seated at. Vossari sipped another mimosa as he played footsies with Azar under the table. "All on you. And we're just getting started!" He took another bite of the breakfast spread in front of them, hungrily. The rich spices and warm flavors reminded him of home - even if this wasn't a Wrean dish, it was flavorful, powerful, and mood-alleviating. "Yo...this food?" He made an okay sign, nodding slowly. "Solid."

Voss rasped their knuckles on the table for a moment, thinking about topics of conversation. As he looked at his beautiful date for the day, he realized...he didn't know a ton about Azar. They had talked about Sith things, about each other, but not so much about their histories, their motives, who they were at the core. Curiosity burned. "So, princess..." Vossari loved rolling that word out his mouth. "You grew up on Korriban, yeah? I remember, on the ship to Tund, you told me about it. The castes, the history." It was a night he wouldn't forget, spent with Azar.

"But what was it like for you? Like, as a kid, and all that. Did you have a lot of friends back home? Any good memories?" It was time to peel past the veil of Vossari's romantic assumptions about Korriban. They hoped Azar would oblige their curiosity.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar’s good mood faded briefly when he realized he made a point not to bring the utensils that helped him eat - the ones Karys had made for him. He sat there in silence for a moment before recovering again, awkwardly fiddling with the standard fork and knife before he managed to get a few bites in. It took him far longer than necessary, but he was slowly getting the hang of it.

The sight of Vossari making a mess on his face drew out an amused chuckle. Azar, of course, ate like a proper prince, always covering his mouth or taking small bites. It took him a century to finish a meal, but he followed all the formal etiquettes. He was surprised when he felt Vossari’s foot nudge against his, quirking a brow at the Wrean as he felt the foot sliding up along his calf. He gave Vossari a sly grin, returning the gesture.

“This is exquisite,” He said about the food, enjoying the burst of flavors. And to top it off, there was a salty breeze from the open air lobby with an ocean not too far away. While Azar was terrified of open water, the constant breeze and the sight of it was always stunning to him.

Azar smiled again when Vossari called him princess. Why did that term make his face get hot every time? Vossari knew it too with the way he smoothly dropped it now and then. For a moment he simply stared at the Wrean, thinking of how far they had come along. He thought back to that first meeting where Vossari was an insufferable, loud pain in the ass. He was still a massive pain in the ass to everyone, but there were countless layers under that tough and coarse exterior.

He blinked in surprise at the question. He had been asked about his royal life and lineage, but never about the everyday nothings. Azar took a sip of water, dabbing his face with a napkin before he spoke, “I lived a sheltered life as a prince,” He said, “My neighbors growing up were names written in history such as Ragnos, Narat and others..” Azar trailed off, “My life was strict routine from how I dressed, how I ate, what I studied, who I would marry..every bit of it was mapped out,” He mused, “A lot of that changed when one day I was walking through the gardens and there was this girl.. Just singing loud and offkey,” Azar smiled at Vossari, reminded of that ridiculous boombox through the forest, “I yelled at her to leave my courtyard and she threw an onion at my head. I was not used to that kind of insolence so I chased her out of the courtyard and…for the first time I saw Dreshdae outside of the four walls of my fortress,” Azar said, his gaze drifting off for a long moment.

“It’s people that shape you most of all,” He said as he looked at Vossari, “The good and the bad. People that break you, people that love you, people that hate you, people that deceive you…all of them add a chapter to make the book that is you. And even if some of the chapters are bad, it does not shape the whole story because you don’t know the ending,” Azar swallowed the lump in his throat, taking another swig of the mimosa because he realized he was a rambling with an acolyte that was probably not prepared for any heavy chit chat.

“Forgive me..” He said, clearing his throat, “So, what else did you have planned?” He said quickly.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

Vossari listened with intention as Azar spoke. His feet continued to graze across Azar's red calves. Azar was still running from some demons back home. Perhaps he had always been. At the execution, he had noted Azar leaving with a Sith acolyte, muttering something about a return to Korriban. Perhaps the mighty Kressh was preparing to return home and reclaim his house, his throne. Vossari was overjoyed for his all-too-bright future, but he feared it was almost too bright. Azar was an important man. Would he still have room for a little fun with a big wrean in his mighty future? Would Vossari be able to accept always competing for Azar's attention and good graces? He let such questions flutter away into the breeze as he enjoyed the enormity of this singular moment. Azar was his for the week.

"So much planned. You wanna keep it moving? I'm not in any rush." It was an all-inclusive, thankfully, so there was no need to grab a check or pay for anything else at this point. Everything had been ironed out, paid for. They were on their own time. But Vossari couldn't get enough of Azar. It wasn't enough just to steal him away for a brunch. He wanted to steal him away to another excursion, and another, just to enjoy the thrill ride of emotions he felt around Azar. To see his princess smile.

A few drinks in, Vossari stumbled to his feet and whisked Azar into his arms. As in, totally whisked him. If allowed, Azar would be totally swept up into Vossari's slender, powerful arms as Vossari carried him out of the restaurants. While his strength was unfaltering, this affair caused quite a scene, and Vossari managed to knock about the cutlery off the table to the ground in his clumsiness.

That, too, was unimportant. All that mattered was literally within his hands. He gazed down, tenderly, to his raven-haired, red-skinned princess. "I was thinking the Museum of Art. There's this exhibition there - ancient Skakoan oil paints. It's supposed to be really beautiful." It was the works of one Nex Amadus, a Skakoan Gilded Renaissance painter and inventor who had captured the heart of the galaxy with his riveting portraits some millennia ago. A death of a rich collector on Sesid prompted a reexamination of Nex's work. Vossari had always loved a splash of color.

A smile tugged softly at his lips. Honestly, with Azar, he'd be fine to just go back to their room and watch TV. "What do you think?"

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar barely finished up his drink when Vossari abruptly rose up and quite literally scooped the Pureblood into his arms. Azar could only yelp, clinging on for dear life from the surprise before he was whisked away. His face turned a deeper red, and he couldn’t hold back the laugh that followed, both of them almost tumbling over because the Wrean was a little tipsy. Azar held them tightly, burying his face against the Wrean’s chest, “You’re stronger than you look,” He commented in between laughter. Thoughts of his grief began to melt away as he sank against Vossari, wondering if things had always been this way with him and Azar didn’t notice until just now. The Wrean was always elusive, holding things close to chest, outwardly abrasive and guarded. It was difficult to figure Vossari out, and that was exactly what made him so irresistible. The Order was full of simple fools, and Vossari managed to play the part of just that while hiding an entirely different, complex side of them.

He smiled at Vossari when he excitedly talked about the museum. Azar saw the Wrean’s eyes light up as he talked about the different works and styles. When he turned to Azar for his opinion, he simply reached over to entwine their fingers, “I would love nothing more than to go there with you, little fish,” He said affectionately before leaning in to kiss their cheek.

The wound in his chest was far from gone, and it would linger for a long time. Azar wasn’t sure he would ever move on from Karys, but some time away allowed him to focus on his other relationships. Was that what this was? He cast a sideways glance at Vossari as they walked together. Did Vossari consider them dating? Did Azar? It always seemed silly to bring up, but he knew things had progressed far beyond just the occasional tumble in the bedroom when they ran across each other.

“Why don’t you create art anymore?” He asked. Even the graffiti which annoyed Azar to no ends was missing for a while now.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

Vossari cradled Azar as if holding him was the only thing keeping the two of them alive. He pulled in the pureblood's embrace, continuing to carry him throughout the halls of their resort. Azar's enthusiasm was refreshing. Vossari was typically so explosive himself...he was almost new at pleasing others. With most people, he knew where he stood straight-away. He could get there quicker, typically, by annoying or instigating a fight against whoever he was with. With Azar, he found himself in a rare position: He cared what Azar thought of him. He worried about Azar, even when he wasn't around. Azar saw right through him.

He had lost his muse for creativity a while ago. It was aimless, like him. He hadn't yet found a route to truly indulge his arts. Alone, to understand the Blood Scroll, he would practice faint drawings - Ur-Kittat runes on the bloodstained pages. Each word would ruminate with power, glowing from the scroll. Yet, he could not go further. It was as if he had hit a wall, no ideas on how t get through it. He tried to focus on his studies, and his bond with Azar sustained him. But his art was his first love. One he had neglected too long in the Order.

"I'm still the brilliant, mystery artist the galaxy is longing for." It had been a while since he had tagged anything. Was he growing...soft, uninteresting? That would be a fate worse than death, he thought, becoming one of those day-job Sith who were little more than creepy morons. He needed to recapture the parts of himself he loved, that had always kept him ahead of the curve. His edge, his bravery, his unwillingness to back down. He had toned all these things down to 'mature.' But, he wanted to do as Azar had once commanded: Keep that side of him alive, no matter what it cost. "I'm just...stuck in a rut. Graffiti's only fun when it pisses someone off. No one even cares anymore." The graffiti had always been an attention-grab for him. What did he create? Why did he do it? He couldn't answer those questions just yet.

"I've seen your creative side on display, though." Azar's potions, rituals, alchemy, and forgeworks served a practical purpose, certainly, but they were crafts. They showed his design eye, his attention to detail, and that perfectionist mind he had grown to care for. Azar's precision was unmatched. "You ever been in a rut? Not sure where to go, what to do next?"

Vossari carried him out towards a speeder bike. He thought fondly of Saleucami, of Azar hanging on while Vossari drove.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar listened to Vossari admit to being stuck in a rut. He could only smirk as he recalled being the person that got up in arms over the graffiti, having made Vossari clean it up on numerous occasions, “You didn’t have to go to such drastic measures to get my attention,” He said with a chuckle, wrapping his arms tightly around the Wrean as they kicked off. His mind wandered back to the ship when Vossari talked about rhyming and Azar put him on the spot then. As was often the case before Azar arrived, he did his research on the planet, local customs and other details.

“Let’s take a detour,” He said simply, pulling up his EZPhone and giving Vossari directions. Eventually they would find themselves away from the resort and into the local towns. Many of them glanced over curiously, but Azar pointed towards a particular shack. By now their tipsiness had worn off, which was particularly important. The Pureblood hopped off the speeder, pushing aside a wooden sliding door to reveal two old women. Azar commanded the Force gave a wave of his hand, “Sleep,” He said aloud, the women gently toppled over fast asleep. The Pureblood stepped right past them to the next room. The walls were covered in various designs and artwork, all local and symbolic.

On the floor were several tools - most prominently needled combs made from intricate mammalian bones. There were small mallets, single needles or rows of them, along with other hafted tools. Azar gazed at Vossari for a moment before he pulled his hoodie and shirt off, tossing it aside.

“Vossari,” He said simply, giving a faint grin, “This has to be the most erotic thing I’ve ever done with someone,” Azar said simply before he turned around and took a seat. There was an empty spot on the back of his shoulder blade, “Do you remember when I told you to write the chapters on your body so no one but you can speak for them?” He asked. That day felt like an eternity ago now.

“I want you to write a part of yourself onto me,” Azar said simply, “How you see me, what you consider me, what makes you angry, what makes you sad, whatever it is….I want it on me. I want a part of me to belong to you,” He said as he gazed ahead of himself, “No matter where we end up years from now. Whether I kill you or you kill me. Whether we fade away. I want you on me. And I want the pain.”

He sat up straight, “Now make some art,” He commanded.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

Vossari flatly chucked and Azar whisked the woman to sleep. "The man with the golden voice..." It was true. Azar had always been brilliant, but recently, his charm and leadership were beginning to take the lead. Vossari had always been under his spell, but now the rest of the galaxy saw it.

Vossari grinned like a devil when Azar exposed his back. He demanded pain from Vossari. He demanded art from Vossari. And Voss was more than happy to oblige. In his own way, of course. Vossari withdrew the leather-bound Blood Scroll, an item that signified their relationship. Its complexity, delicate and magical, borne out of shared ambition. The scroll became more - a testament for their willingness to endure for one another, to sacrifice to help each other. Vossari had healed Azar, on Saleucami. Azar returned the favor. In their volatile lives, Vossari recognized the importance of permanence. Azar was inviting him in, in his own way, to sketch a part of him that would remain forever.

He planted the scroll onto Azar's shoulder, playfully-yet-forcefully down, mounting the Sith's back as he prepared to write. He began to ramble as he thought through it. "Azar..." The name rolled out in his sing-songy tone. "How do you always know just the right thing to say?"

Each stroke of ink into the scroll took energy from Vossari, literally draining his life force. Azar, in turn, would feel his flesh burn as the image imprinted itself onto his body. The pain was almost blinding - like the two of them were sharing it. Vossari was addicted. Minutes turned to hours, as Vossari wound in intricate shading details, sharp corners, soft curves, into a design. As he continued, between grunting breaths, Vossari recounted a story he had heard in his childhood. A fable from Wrea, told to him by the sea witch.

"The carp swims upstream. Did you know that? The challenge makes it stronger." He could imagine a school of them, in his mind. Striking scales of many colors, deep in a rainforest. "He grows bigger, the longer he perseveres. Wiser, too. His scales toughen up. Eventually, the carp reaches an impasse - a mighty waterfall." Having come so far upstream, what can it do? Either make the sensible choice, return from whence it came, or do the impossible, and reach for something that no one has dreamed of doing. "So he decides to swim, go up it." It's an arduous journey. At many points he wants to quit, to retire, to return to his home out of fear. "When the carp reaches the top of the waterfall, he realizes: he has become a dragon." At the end of a long journey, the carp becomes powerful. It became a symbol of something far greater that itself. "The dragon spreads tail, roars, and leaps out of the river and into the sky. He flies so high, no one could ever bring him down." This is where the story typically ends - the Carp overcoming adversity to gain power. "And he makes its nest in a bed of roses." That part, an addition by Vossari himself. After all the dragon has experienced, all he has done to make it this far, didn't he deserve a break? A place where his scales could still be soft?

When all was said and done, an image remained. Crashing waves, soft floral petals, and at the center of it all, a mighty dragon with a powerful roar. Azar would always be his dragon. From the first moment of Saleucami, when he saw the glint of gold in Azar's eyes, Vossari knew the kind of man Azar was: Intelligent, ambitious, exacting. But beneath that tough exterior there was a softness. There was love. Those who had taken a potions class with him would understand why. Azar was completely devoted to those he cared for, those in his charge. One had to make compromises for their loves to succeed within the Sith Order, and Azar did just that. Again and again. Azar gave into his heart not because he was too weak to control his emotions, but because he was strong enough to love no matter what the future held. It was that that Vossari admired most in Azar. Behind his facade of cold, Sith royal decorum, there was a man brimming with passion that extended far beyond lust. Azar was passionate for his research, for his people's culture and history, and ultimately, for those he loved. Yet for many, all they would ever see of Azar was the dragon - the mighty being of avarice and destruction that Sith Masters and Lords had to be.

And Vossari, even if he could be a thorn in Azar's side, would always be that sweet, soft place that he could land. Vossari placed a hand on Azar's shoulder, careful not to disturb the irritated skin of the tattoo. He felt his own energy, his own life force, intermingled with Azar's, within the tattoo. It glowed at his touch - Azar would feel a tingle of electricity from it. He dropped the tools to the ground, now drained of energy that he had poured into Azar. "Now you're stuck with me. I'll always be a part of you." Forever.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

Azar wasn’t sure what he expected, but Vossari took the experience to heights he couldn’t have fathomed. It went far beyond any needles or ink, it went far beyond art. He hung onto the Wrean’s every word, feeling their Force signatures intertwined. Azar felt Vossari through that pain, through his words that echoed not just in the physical plane but through the Force as well. He felt Vossari in ways he never had before, not even when they were in the most intimate and deepest throes of passion.

His fingers curled into his thighs, teeth gritting through the agony and also the pleasure that came from rising to this exalted plane of the Force. Azar trembled, feeling blinding agony from the tattoo searing into his skin. But he held onto the words, held onto that feeling of mentally binding with Vossari. He felt Vossari’s energy siphon into him, felt it surge throughout every extremity, through his veins, his blood, focusing in on that spot on his back to manifest and imprint permanently.

Vossari surrendered himself just as Azar did, both laying themselves bare, both letting every wall down, all to become one even for those brief moments. The Wrean would feel a taste of that passion Azar carried at all times, that fire and chaos that could sweep through worlds, could bring planets to heel, the ambition and passion of kings. And yet also that gentle and tender side, the soft touches, the smiles, the fondness. All of it would come crashing through that bond that was unwittingly created as Vossari gave himself over.

When it was done, Azar wiped from his face tears he didn’t know spilled from both the agony and the onslaught of emotions. He exhaled, his entire body quivering for a moment. Azar slowly began to come down from the high and the pain at once, slowly turning to face Vossari.

He said nothing initially, pulling Vossari close and letting them bury their face against Azar’s bare shoulder. Azar’s arms still trembled a bit, but he held Vossari tight, his gaze fixed on the artwork on the wall past him.

“You’ve expressed it to me in every single way possible..” Azar murmured quietly, “And yet you still fear saying those words,” He whispered softly against Vossari’s ear.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

Theme

There. Azar had gone and put it out on the table. Vossari nuzzled deeply into Azar's shoulder, his heart pounding so fast Azar would be able to feel it through his skin. It was true. There were words Vossari wanted to say, needed to say. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to. He fluttered his eyes closed as his cheeks warmed, feelings of shame and hope contradictorily rising through his head.

"I've just never..." He trailed off as he pondered what to say next. Flashes of moments in life played back to him. Between his life on Wrea, on Nar Shadda, in the Academy, and across the Order, Vossari had never felt love before. Before they had met, Vossari held a love-shaped void in his chest. It was all-consuming.

Yet who would he be? What was his truth? He was caught between his ideals and his truth. In the story he told himself he wanted, Vossari longed for no one. He was a confident, individual loner, who needed no help, no aid, and no handouts on his road to success. He despised when that was threatened. Yet, with Azar, he felt different. The alchemist had always seen right through Vossari, right to his core. He hadn't known what that was like - he put up so many barriers to alienate the people around him. To keep them from seeing past this facade.

Beneath all the layers, all the evasiveness, all the defensiveness was just another Wrean. A wrean that had hopes and ambitions. One who craved love. One who filled the void of love with attention, one who saw the passionate ire of others as the closest thing to love he would ever taste. He was a wrean who was afraid of dying alone.

Vossari had never asked much about Azar and Karys, specifically. He wanted to offer them privacy, and in return, have a private relationship with Azar. Only there did he feel safe. Throughout his journeys on Azar's and Karys's ships, he had taken notice. Their things were intermingled. They would often speak when separated from one another for too long. The two of them had built a life together; even if Azar had walked away to preserve his own life, to cut away from Karys's emotional attachments, it was clear their story was not over.

Karys would go to Azar's side the moment he was able to walk. Not for nothing, Vossari's champion had an incredible amount of drive. He was practically an unstoppable force, an engine of constant pressure and momentum. Yet, it was in the unsaid that his softer side came through to Voss. Aprons, cooking utensils, recipe books. It was Karys's first assignment for himself and Vossari - cooking together. Vossari could not bury his feelings of resentment, of fear, towards their connection. He was not afraid of the prospect of Azar loving another, for that had always been the condition of their relationship. No, Voss feared himself. He was afraid that he did not measure up - in species, in lineage, or in personality. Vossari knew he was far from perfect.

He was brooding. He was mean. He was spiteful. He was supremely arrogant, with neither experience nor talent to back up his arrogance. Everyone else knew it. He was a pain in the ass.

Yet, Azar cared for him. He saw all of his flaws, his imperfections, his failures, and cared for him anyways. He had not yet understood that this was love, to embrace another as a whole person, even with their contradictions. Love was watering the tree of another's spirit, letting faith in another take root in the reaches of their heart. He did not understand that he could do this for himself, so ashamed was he of his inexperience, his fear. But he felt it. Even before this tattoo, he felt bonded to Azar, spiritually linked to him. He spent nights alone just wondering about Azar, reminiscing on their journey so far. Each moment with him was picturesque, frames he wanted to keep in his memory in this life or the next.

Yet he didn't know how to say it.

Just as Azar had placed his faith in him, he would return the favor. Now was the time to summon his courage. The words came out as a nervous whisper, a far cry from the outspoken, boisterous tone he used. It was this tender voice he felt safest using with Azar. "I'm in love with you." There it was. "You have my heart." He wanted Azar to be gentle with it. It was already so wounded.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

It was perhaps the first time he could put his pain regarding Karys aside. He had always told himself he could only invest in a single person, and anything beyond that would destroy him. Truth was that Azar wanted that destruction, he wanted that pain. From the first moment he laid eyes on Vossari, their journey had been one of pain, anguish, stubbornness, vulnerability and desire all in one. He could never put a name to it, but it existed between just the two of them. When they were alone and away from the galaxy.

Azar never talked about Vossari. Vossari never talked about Azar. They carried about their lives, their ambitions, their missions. And yet when they found one another again, it was a dissonance of chords that hit just perfectly to create the most imperfect harmony. It was painful, exquisite, raw, twisted, warm, fiery and everything and nothing at once. At the end of it, Vossari lingered on his mind and he thought about that boy that seldom smiled, that was so angry at the galaxy. And yet he had those honeyed eyes that betrayed his emotions. Azar saw those fissures and cracks in his bearing, the ones that revealed the vulnerability within, the work of art that he worked so hard to hide. Azar wanted to peel away the debris bit by bit to reveal that mural of a kaleidoscope of colors that represented his fleeting whims and emotions.

Vossari was difficult and that was what made him irresistible. Vossari was the chaos to Azar’s ice, surpassing the pureblood’s drama and theater, and also a quiet and controlled intelligence he harbored as a weapon. But Vossari used that weapon sparingly, drawing it out for precision strikes and keeping it hidden otherwise. Vossari was someone that Azar would consider a threat, and that hint of fear was exactly what made him so appealing.

Vossari’s words washed over him like summer rain on a blistering day, and he drank them in with his eyes closed. He didn’t realize how much he yearned for it, even after telling Vossari to keep his heart under lock and key. Truth was that they had both crossed lines long ago, both let their guards down, both took bites and drew the essence they desired. They craved one another in ways they couldn’t explain, in ways they were afraid to admit. In ways no one would ever understand, and no one ever needed to.

Azar didn’t say anything initially, closing the distance to kiss him. It was as if he kissed Vossari for the first time, passion burning in his gestures. He kissed him as if no one else existed in the galaxy, as if he would die the very next day, as if he would never kiss another again. His fingers fiddled with Vossari’s clothing, pulling away enough to reveal his torso. He traced kisses down his jawline and down his neck, “You didn’t heed my warning,” He whispered between kisses, amusement lacing his tone.

Without warning, Azar grasped Vossari and pushed him face down against the mat on the ground that was used for tattooing. He leaned down and kissed the back of his neck, tracing his way down along his shoulder as his hand traced over Vossari’s scarred back and the grooves and ridges that were mangled from that fateful day on Saleucami, “I marked you a long time ago,” Azar whispered as he traced kisses down, “Do you think I would have let you do the same to me if I did not feel the same as you do?” He admitted, finally dispelling the fears and anxieties Vossari had for some time now.

Azar craved Vossari then, and he would have him then. But it was different than any other time. This time he didn’t hold back, didn’t hide his emotions, didn't allow any distractions. It was just the two of them here.

“I want you to be mine once your training is complete,” Azar whispered against Vossari’s ear, binding Vossari's hands behind his back as his desires manifested. He would take his time here, allowing himself an emotionally charged time that wove pain, dominance, control, submission, love, ecstasy all at once.

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

This moment was all Vossari had longed for. Yet while their bodies became one, Vossari's mind lingered on the words Azar spoke to him. Moreover, they lingered on the words Azar had not said back to him, not yet: I love you. He swallowed his heart in his throat as he considered it, but he listened to the intention in Azar's words instead. With Azar, he felt desired in a way he had never felt before. To hold the interest of such an interesting, intelligent, and yes, powerful, man was exciting. But deeper than that was this kinship, this intensity, that Vossari held close to his chest.

Deep down, he knew he liked the game that Azar and him played. Clandestine, one-on-one meetings under the guise of business. This trip was the first time they had actually done something recreational together, and even it bore the intensity of an important mission, like the ones to Tund and Saleucami. Azar was a workaholic. In his private life, Azar could likely choose between any suitor at any moment. Voss had to distinguish himself on these missions. Moments like these were their moments of intimacy, stolen in the midst of chaos. Perhaps there still lingered some self-hatred in Vossari - the only time he found himself deserving of love was when he was helping Azar accomplish some task for their order. And in Azar's gentle speech, in his touch, in his burning eyes, he felt a peace that he knew words could not adequately capture.

"Yours? I'm a stallion, Azar. Can't be tamed." He chuckled, lightly, as they both knew that was a lie. Vossari was noticeably tempered around Azar. He had a way of calming his innate, chaotic curiosity. The two of them together was a symphony.

After the intense emotional and physical toll of the day, Vossari was drained. He reclined back, closing his eyes as he whispered to Azar. "I...I think I need to go home." Vossari thought about Azar's journey to Korriban, to confront the demons in his past that he had only alluded to. Yet, in Azar, Vossari witnessed the power of lineage made manifest. It was Azar's pride in his people, himself, and his connection to his ancestors that made him so appealing. He was unapologetically who he was, and he owned his history and his past. Voss wanted the same for himself. "To Wrea." As he looked out from the bungalow to Sesid's crashing waves on the shoreline, he could only think of the tides of Wrea and the great cities that sat in its oceanic depths. His mind traveled there, now.

His father had loomed over him when he had left. He was just a boy, then, with no idea what the future would hold. Vossari felt that his training would soon end - he would soon be a Champion. The thought terrified him. As an acolyte, his mistakes were always excused. As a Champion, he would again be alone, and have to answer for each decision he made alone. The thought gave him fear, fear so palpable Azar would sense it. Facing his father again would be the only way for him to step into his truth.

"You know what makes you special, princess? You inspire others to act. You inspire me." Vossari had learned that on Saleucami. A good teacher was always teaching. But, there was something beyond it. Azar had a tendency to push people past their self-imposed barriers, to help them achieve what would be impossible alone. That, along with his diva tendencies, inspired the title. Princess. A natural charisma, a dangerous intelligence, and the confidence to always be himself even if others liked it. Vossari was addicted to it, to the endless, complicated charms of Azar. He almost needed the surge of confidence that time spent with him gave.

Vossari knew he needed that for himself, too. In the future, he would have to protect himself when Azar and Karys wouldn't be around. The duel on Thule had shown Vossari just how weak he was, and how strong he would need to be to keep his personality alive in the Order.

He would let those moments fade, though, as he enjoyed the sandy shores of Sesid. Eventually, after a long nap, he would throw on a pair of shorts and dive into the waters. Salty sea water would help rejuvenate him, after all the blood and energy he had given Azar.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

While Azar was still terrified of the ocean, Vossari managed to convince him to at least hang out on the beach. Even then, he demanded a cabana bed or outright refused to go. Arrangements would have to be made to kick out other people and their reservation just so Azar could have his cabana bed on the beach. The princess himself was dressed in white, flowy coverup, wearing something called a speedo underneath despite having zero plans of getting into the water.

Azar was drinking from a pineapple drink while reading a book on warfare and combat tactics. The Pureblood was the most relaxed he had been in a long time, savoring the ocean breeze kissing his skin and the sounds of seagulls that blended with the sounds of the waves crashing against shore. He was envious of Vossari and his ability to easily navigate in water, his own anxieties about open water preventing him from going out there.

After Vossari walked back into the sand from the ocean, Azar took a moment to marvel at his beautiful, bronze and painted body glinting in the sun. He drew from the straw of his drink, his gaze panning over his book as he considered what Vossari said earlier.

“What will you do on Wrea?” He asked. Inspiration was great, but he wondered if Vossari was going on a quest just to prove something that may not have been necessary.

“I’m going to be going to Korriban for a long time,” Azar said, “Perhaps I’ll be away for a year,” He said, a faint smirk appearing on his face, “Will you miss me, little fish?”

@Fine Dining Set

 

[Vossari Khaldun]

What would he do on Wrea? Return home like a king? Likely not. But there was an opportunity and a challenge that lay on his homeworld. "I haven't been home since before I came to the academy. You ever get a feeling in your stomach, you know you're avoiding something you have to do?" He crashed into another wave, joyfully. Azar would see a boundless smile on Vossari that he had likely never seen before - truly carefree, truly at peace. He walked back to shore and stole a sip of Azar's pineapple drink.

Vossari's face shrank to a pout as Azar mentioned how long he would be gone. "A whole year?" He laid down, curled up in the sand beside Azar. His finger ran small circles into the glistening, tan shoreline as he thought through an answer. "Of course I'm gonna miss my princess." He said, pouting lips slowly returning Azar's smirk. "But we can keep in touch. I'll write letters...." His eyes met Azar's. "Send pictures, maybe..."

A year would be enough time for him to finish his training, at least. He knew that, in Azar's mind, he was still just that temperamental student on Saleucami. Officially graduating to Champion would, hopefully, make them closer to peers. Though he knew no one was Azar's equal.

Something in his mind clicked. "There aren't many oceans on Korriban, huh?" Were there any? Azar wouldn't leave the beach side without touching the rejuvenating ocean waters. Vossari grabbed his hand, gently coaxing him out of his seat. "C'mon and sit by the ocean with me."

Seagulls cawed above their heads as Vossari guided Azar to the waves. The white foam head of sea blue-green waves gently tickled at their feet. "When I was a kid, I never came to the surface." The oceans were full of life and connection. He couldn't imagine a world without them. "You said earlier, when you were a kid on Korriban, your life as a prince was like a gilded cage. Why are you going back?"

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Arcanos]

“Write letters?” Azar asked, quirking a brow, “That’s awfully romantic of you. Are you going to seal them with a kiss?” He smirked, “I was planning on just facetiming you,” He remarked. After all, he wasn’t entirely inept with technology anymore.

“Korriban has long dried riverbed, but no oceans,” Azar said, “My grandmother always says the seas are poisoned and used to tell us all sorts of stories that haven’t quite left me yet,” He admitted with a grimace, gazing out at the vast seas. He didn’t understand the point of instilling fear about oceans when there were none on the planet, but perhaps it was yet another tactic to keep pureblood from leaving their homeworld.

Azar groaned in protest, but ultimately allowed Vossari to guide him towards the water. He stared at the waves, hastily stepping back whenever the water got close to his toes. That happened a few times until he finally braved letting it wash over his feet, gripping Vossari’s hand fiercely in terror as it happened.

“Life as a prince is caged,” Azar said, his lips slanted in a half grin, “Life as a King is not.”

He turned to regard Vossari, “Are you going to keep doing it even when you become a Champion?” Azar asked curiously, playfully swinging their entwined hands back and forth, “Hiding these sides of you? Making people believe you are a brochure when you are several volumes of a tome?”

Quite frankly it was sexy that Vossari was so guarded and mysterious to most, but Azar wouldn't admit that out loud.

@Fine Dining Set