Sin & Sorrow

[Vhiran Antilles]

Oh, bloody hell.

There was a moment: just as you woke, just as your nocturnal state transitioned toward the waking, just as your mind lingered in the icy grip of your subconscious, where you just instinctively knew what kind of a day you were about to have. Some days, you awoke as if the power of the universe was coursing through your veins; a well rested mind, acheless muscles, eyes that opened willingly without protest. Other days, you felt as if you'd crawled up inside the accretion disk of the Maw Cluster, and nothing short of a full scale military intervention was going to drag your groggy-headed, itchy-eyed ass out of bed.

Some people dismissed it as lack of sleep, or called it getting up on the wrong side of bed, or just your imagination. Bunch of naive bastards. Vhiran knew there was more to it than that. Ebb and flow of the galactic will. Hidden powers at work. The Force, working in mysterious ways. All that junk. If you were going to believe in that stuff, if you were going to put your faith in luck, or pin your hope on farm boys in snubfighters; what was the point of being half-arsed about it? Believer, or skeptic. Do, or do not. Anything in between was just the sign of a man with piss-weak conviction.

Today, Vhiran understood that it was the worst of days. He knew this, because the Void had apparently been emptied, and the raging hordes of Korriban were currently pillaging their way across the inside of his skull. He could feel their spears, or pikes, or whatever the bloody hell they were called - force lances? - jabbing into the backs of his eyes. He could feel the fires of the carnage they had wrought left to burn away at the back of his parched throat. He felt the squeezing compression across his brow and temples, his head far too small, constricting against the too much contents that his horde-filled cavity now contained. It took all the energy he was willing to muster to force his lids to open; an unwilling extra mile to force the eyes beneath to focus. Bleary streaks of dried something-or-other were blinked away, but the clarity did little to bring any familiarity to the room surrounding him.

The room. Not his room. Not his cabin on the Aurelius. Not the crummy vermin breeding ground back on Nar Shaddaa that laughingly claimed to be his apartment. Not one of the familiar homes of people who regretted allowing Vhiran to consider them friends, whose sofas and hospitality he crashed upon with more regularity than society accepted. Not a sofa at all, in fact: a bed. A comfy one at that. Fancy. Nice sheets. Good mattress. Not some crummy motel room that he'd rented either, then. Not unless this planet was some sort of currency free utopia where a fancy suite like this could be rented with nothing more than a winning smile and a few beans.

What planet was this, anyway? Curiosity had more success piercing the veil of fatigue and confusion. Vhiran's legs swung out from beneath the sheets, ready to test the gravity of whatever world he was; gathering the clues that were readily available before he went and did anything proactive and stupid, like opening the shutters and letting the light of a million suns supernova it's way into his hungover eyes. Hungover: yes, he was definitely that; there'd been a party, or something. There'd been a bulk freighter's worth of damn good reasons that drinking had seemed like a good idea.

That thought almost led towards a half-decent approximation of a memory, but a hurdle went and deposited itself slightly off centre, completely unexpected, and slightly stuck to the inside of his leg. The hurdle came in the form of his unclothed lower half, emerging from beneath the expensive-feeling sheets as he swung his legs over the edge of the mattress and manoeuvred himself to sitting. For a moment, dread coursed through his body, preceding his actual memory like a bow wave in front of an invisible ship. Whatever he had forgotten, his gut insisted was deeply terrible; but his mind scrambled for some sort of possibility that would make it all benign. Maybe his clothes were wet, or damaged. Maybe they were bloodied, after heroically performing triage on a wounded nun that he'd just rescued from pirates. Maybe he'd just found some cheap date with expensive tastes; some heiress or actress or ego-centric woman of that ilk, who he'd made a game out of psychologically toying with to the point where she'd dragged him back to her penthouse for what was probably the night of her life, but apparently an utterly unmemorable one of his. Maybe -

He caught sight of the stirring behind him; first a shift of sheets, then an arm, then a flash of unnaturally coloured hair. In an instant he was on his feet, recoiling as if he'd just woken up next to a hungry Anzat. He backed away as far as the room would allow, which wound up being an impressive two feet before his bare arse bumped up against the edge of his dresser. He almost didn't want to look, and then couldn't look away as his eyes made contact with hers.

His hands slapping across his face before raking up into his ruffled hair, wishing he could somehow grind the heels into his eyes and scrub away the vision before him. There she was: Emelie Shadowstar, the devil incarnate. Sin and sorrow, all wrapped up in perky breasts and subtle skin. And here he was, stark bollock naked, waking up in her bed. Again.

"Oh," he grunted, his cracked morning voice barely even scratching the surface of his exasperated tone. "Bloody hell."

[Emelie Shadowstar]

"Never could hold your tovash," Emelie tutted softly in a voice half slurred with the last dregs of sleep that refused to let go until a suitable amount of caffa was consumed.

Her right eye squinted slightly as the edges of light tried to sneak their way in past the thick curtains of her penthouse, a slight moment of amusement felt as her lips couldn't help but curve into a smirk at the sight of the man in her room. Vhiran. It'd been a long time. Apparently too long as far as the galaxy was concerned. It seemed like time and time again their lives had crossed paths, usually never on the best of notes and ending on worse ones. When had it been last? A year or so after Alderaan went and got turned into chunky space mess, wasn't it? Just after she'd lost her misguided ideals and found that herself was a far better cause to fight for than any insane terrorists or rebellion or whatever you wanted to call it. That was hardly their first time becoming entangled, though. Considering the look on the spacer's face, however, he probably was wishing like hell it had been the last.

"If you're gonna hurl, have the kidness to at least take the few steps to the left to the 'fresher. Don't have everything quite together and maid service is pricey as frak here."

Emelie let the hand that had been holding her head up slip back under the pillow as she rolled just enough to prevent an entirely ungraceful return to her back. Her eyes took a few moments to get once again acquainted with the increasingly familiar patterns of the ceiling before she let out a heavy breath - not quite a sigh - and turned her head just enough to look back to Vhiran.

"Look, I get why you're miffed. I know we said this was going to be kept strictly casual this time but..." A small snort of a laugh left the woman and with a slight cringe of protest towards movement and waking up in general she sat up. "We both knew damn well that wasn't going to last once we got halfway through the bottle."

A brief look of confusion crossed her face before Emelie looked at the floor near the bed behind her. "Annnd it looks like we finished the kriffing thing off."

[Vhiran Antilles]

No. This wasn't happening. No, no, no.

Those legs. Those hips. That lopsided smirk. They were slippery slopes he had promised himself he'd never stumble down again. Sure, at first glance it didn't seem so bad. After all, who the hell wouldn't want to fall face-down into that, right? But looks could be deceiving; and when it came to Emelie Shadowstar, the looks weren't the only thing. What was it she was saying? That they'd spoken? Agreed? Corellian hells... where even were they? Half a bottle of tovash, and she honestly expected him to believe that he'd wind up like this?

Refresher.

Vhiran took her up on her suggested change of locale, but not for the reason she'd intended. His hands fumbled around for a light control, finding one above the mirror that stared back at you from over the sink. Usually Vhiran hated the damned things - especially the sullen, weary face they insisted on showing back at him - but for now he embraced it's presence: dragging down his eyelids to study the veins, staring at and feeling over his neck, his arms; probing for puncture marks, sluggish reflexes, discolourations; any sign of what the bloody hell she must have dosed him with.

You won't find anything, his subconscious contributed helpfully. The only illicit substance you've been dosed with is lying back in that bed.

The cloying, judgemental voice in his head was right, of course. Emelie Shadowstar was his addiction: a habit he'd managed to break for almost a straight decade. Like all the best drugs, it started out fantastic. The sensations, the highs; there wasn't a fix out there in the 'verse that hit quite like having those legs wrapped around you, and Force knows Vhiran had spent enough of the last few years sniffing 'fresher counters and rummaging through med canisters to know. Emelie was young; fiery; just the right amount of crazy to keep things fun without you waking up sans a kidney or two. But the high only lasted for so long, and then it was still there, lingering in your system, clutching at your chest and trying to seep out of your pours, making you desperate for something, anything more.

That was why he ran in the end. Oh sure, he'd wrapped it up in the deceptive package of pushing her away, but deep down he knew that he was the one doing the fleeing. He'd stayed away. Kept his distance. Kept track of where she was to make sure his path didn't stumble across hers. It was the only way for him to function, and she? She deserved better than that; deserved a life without some junkie hanging around. She'd moved on with her life. She was respectable now. A proper businesswoman. Look at this apartment she was living in: you could probably park the Aurelius right here in the refresher. She was living on Cloud City now, up with all those fancy rich people with all their casinos, and -

Cloud City.

Like the clouds of Bespin parting, tiny snippets of memory were starting to sneak through. That was right: he'd come to Cloud City on a job. A simple transport job. Against his better judgement all things considered, but you couldn't really be choosy; not with the way the galaxy was these days --

* * *

Yesterday

This was a bad idea. Not quite seduce the Mon Calamari heiress bad, but it was up there. Top four maybe. He'd been repeating the same thought over and over, so much that it had practically become a mantra.

You don't have to see her.

And it was true. There was absolutely no reason for Vhiran to get within twenty decks of Emelie. Hell, there wasn't much of a reason for him to even leave the landing bay truth be told; save for a need to replenish his ship's depleted alcohol stores. He could have stayed huddled down in the lower levels, never strayed beyond the limits of Port Town, and Emelie would have been none the wiser. She'd never need to know.

But then he'd seen it. Elysium. The hotly anticipated new night spot down here in Cloud City's lower levels, Emelie's name plastered all over it. She was branching out. Reaching down. Could almost be a sign from the galaxy, if you looked at it slantwise enough. Maybe there was something a little wrong with his head for him to embrace that sort of notion so readily. Maybe they hadn't quite fixed him as much as they claimed they had back at Kalresh. But dedication was his thing now. He picked a lifestyle, and he stuck to it. Picked a belief, and saw it through to the end. This, right now? The galaxy wanted him to see her. Maybe the galaxy wanted him to see how much he'd grown. Maybe everything would be fine. Maybe they'd just smile, and laugh, and be normal people around each other for a change.

Not bloody likely, mate.

It was too late now, though. He was already walking his way along the sweeping curves of the uncomfortably white corridor that led, a security guard had assured him - after insistently checking several times to make sure that the scruffy looking spacer wasn't lost - to the offices of Elysian Acquisitions. Perhaps he could just turn around and head back: but that guard hadn't even slightly bought the I have an appointment lie; and only barely accepted I wanted to surprise her; we're old friends - and that last one was technically true. Show up again too soon, and he'd find himself tossed in a cell, and then there would be questions, and people would want to check that permits and licences were still valid, and that would just create a whole lot of work and headache that absolutely no one involved wanted; especially not Vhiran.

"At least it's not a prison cell," he muttered - and hoped - as he reached the open doorway to the offices, shoved his head in, and peeked around.

[Emelie Shadowstar]

The day had been quiet all things considered. Actually, all things considered - it was a downright miracle things were as quiet as they had been. The wayward Jedi and his forgotten temple, the not-quite-as-grumpy bounty hunter, his permanent-mysterious-smile slicer partner, the club, Kira, The Black Sun, Nen, the Broker... somehow all of it was working like a finely crafted chrono. One of those things that looked like nothing was happening at all because it just went so right. Information flooded in and with enough credits it slipped back out. There wasn't a deal that went down, a shipment that passed through, a person that screwed someone else over, or a ship that arrived without the Broker knowing about it. Hells, she'd even managed to snag an invite to the rather exclusive little charity gala being held by the sector's Moff. True, the whole Sarlaac situation wasn't fixed, but it wasn't exactly actively sending out tentacles to drag them all down into it's guts either.

It was nice, a bit boring perhaps, but nice.

Of course, if rumors were to believed, the 'verse was always seeking some form of balance and Emelie had been waiting for it to frak her over any day now. She wondered if the rest of the crew felt that way; they all seemed to share their stories of life kicking them square on their arses just when they thought it would let up, after all.

It did lend for an individual to be prepared for the worst, though. The Worst, however, was not what happened - though Emelie might have made that argument in her younger days when she hadn't learned that jealousy and pettiness were giant wastes of time that could be better spent enjoying your life while you had it.

She was looking over a datapadd of the more choice information collected the past few days when it happened. A small alert popped up in the upper corner, letting her know the door to the offices had been opened. The modern style transparisteel walls didn't offer a lot of privacy but they could be tinted when the need arose. Given the rather familial atmosphere Elysian Acquisitions' employees seemed to have it was a rare necessity, however. As Emelie looked up to ask Nen if something was wrong - his reason for returning so quickly from an errand he was off running - the person who actually stood in her assistant's expected spot made her wish like hell that she had already been keying in the code to make the transition.

Vhiran Fraking Antilles.

Of all the faces she had ever expected to see enter her new offices he hadn't even registered as a remote possibility. He was a negative possibility. He was what happened when you divided by zero. He was... Vhiran. Fraking. Antilles.

Okay so that wasn't is middle name - at least not to Emelie's knowledge - but STILL.

She was on her feet before she even realized that sitting coolly in her chair would have had the more desired effect she usually went for. Usually graceful, Emelie was glad for the brief moment of being utterly stupefied and the resulting smashing of her knee into the edge of her desk. The sudden flare of pain let only one colorful curse leave her lips rather than the tirade of chaotically messy questions and insinuations that had been brewing. It was better that way.

[Vhiran Antilles]

Truth be told, Vhiran didn't know much about fancy business places. If he found himself in a place like this, he was usually here to pry information out of someone, or pry something out of their safe. He didn't get what was considered stylish, or fashionable, or impressive in corporate circles. But, to Vhiran's untrained eye, these offices looked swanky.

There was something inherently Emelie Shadowstar about them too, something faint and imperceptible. Maybe it was the modest little bar tucked away in the corner of the waiting area, so that if someone was going to have to sit around and wait, at least they wouldn't have to do it without a glass in their hand. But it was more than that. A lot of the styling seemed pretty much the same as the rest of Cloud City, and yet somehow not. It was like being at a bar with a hundred women wearing the same expensive dresses draped across the same kind of curves, and yet it was only Emelie Shadowstar who managed to catch your eye. These offices did that same thing: something subtle and unseen that somehow convinced you that here was where you wanted to stay.

That was probably a bad sign. That was only a few short steps away from succumbing to to addiction, locking the office doors, and getting nasty on every single surface in the whole damn place. You don't have to see her, his mantra repeated over again, but his legs apparently weren't paying attention to their inbox, already on autopilot leading him closer inside. The lack of a receptionist struck him as strange: there was clearly a desk where one was supposed to sit, but the chair had been abandoned half-askew, a half-drunk mug of caf left unattended. His hand reached for it, fingers wrapping around the metal surface. Luke warm. The office was definitely open, then; people had definitely been here; he wasn't just strolling in on a day off.

For a blissful moment, he allowed himself to entertain the notion that wherever the receptionist might have gone, Emelie might have gone as well. Ships in the night. The perfect excuse. He put the effort in; perhaps the galaxy was offering him an escape avenue, a way to overcome this ordeal one step at a time. Maybe -

"Ello?"

He heard his voice emerging from is throat before he even knew what was happening. His eyes screwed closed, mind swearing at himself internally. So much for escape avenues.

"Anyone home?"

[Emelie Shadowstar]

Thank The Force or gods or cosmic entities or fate or whatever that he hadn't heard her. Thank all that and more that the brief moments of walking to the actual door of her personal area of the office space was enough time to collect herself. It wasn't much, but it kept her from looking like the ghost of Life Day past hadn't just waltzed in. Emelie wanted to play this the right way - trouble was, she couldn't figure out exactly what was right in a situation like this. Had it been Xavier or D'Kor or Salvo or anyone else, she would have known exactly what to do, what was expected, how to act. Okay so maybe that first one would be a little troublesome what with her sudden leaving of Silenus and Synik's life but in Emelie's opinion that was nothing compared to this. How had he even gotten near Bespin without her knowing?? No doubt her eyes and ears around Cloud City hadn't thought him worth mentioning. That would need to be corrected.

Her feet were moving slow, but still somehow faster than her mind for a change and so the half concocted ideas that were trying to flesh themselves out came colliding together into a horrible jumbled mess when she finally opened the door and walked those few treacherous steps that would put her right into proper view.

The datapadd was still in her hand and that made all the difference. Emelie quickly looked down at it, as if it had held her attention the entire time as her voice found purchase.

"My Apologies. Usually my assistant is here to make a proper greeting. We weren't expecting anyone today and..." Perfectly timed look up from the padd and most of the surprise entirely gone from her gaze, Emelie let her eyes lock with Vhiran's.

"Oh," The simple utterance sounded more callous than she wanted. It didn't improve much on the next bit. "I never thought I would see you again."

[Vhiran Antilles]

Maybe it was ten seconds; maybe it was ten hours that Vhiran stood there in abject silence. She'd changed: and more than the few grainy holos he'd dredged up while half-drunk and alone had let on. Thinking of her as older felt wrong; less young, maybe. She'd grown into those cheek bones and that jawline. She dressed to impress rather than just entice. There was confidence in her stance and in her voice, less of a dependence on pure snark to see her through. Her eyes were different too: undeniably the same set that he'd forced himself to stop staring into or stop imagining so many times, but with a whole mix of different things ghosting across their surface. Emotions that weren't there before. New experiences. New hurts.

The tone in her voice though, that cutting accusation that stabbed from the tip of her sharp-edged tongue? That he knew all too well. He felt it stab into all the old wounds, piercing past the scar tissue like a knife through butter, and opening them all anew. I know you thought that. The muscles in his jaw bunched as his teeth clenched together, desperate to avoid uttering the words out loud. I made you think that. Drove you away on purpose.

"Yeah."

A good response, that. Deep. Honest. Not even slightly likely to piss her off even more by being the same clammed-shut arsehole he always was. What was he even supposed to say, though? What kind of apology or explanation could ever hope to make a damn of difference? Years ago, maybe. But this was half a life too late. Honesty was a ship that had sailed long ago. Sorry I hurt you on purpose. Sorry I abandoned you, even when I promised not to. Yeah. Like that was going to help. Ten years too late, mate.

"I know."

[Emelie Shadowstar]

With anyone else she would have been mad with that sort of short answer. It was the sort of bullshit spewed when you didn't actually have anything decent to say or couldn't come up with enough drivel to save your own ass. Vhiran, though? That was just the way he was and Emelie knew it. Prying for more would take time and effort and a lot of liquid courage. She could be like that at times too, probably had him to thank for it if she considered it all for long enough.

It seemed funny to her in that moment how time and events both changed a person and didn't. Vhiran looked more worn, not older necessarily, just well used like an old coat you had sentimental value of and couldn't stand to let go but the pockets had long since given out so it didn't get much use. That wasn't really a fair assessment, Emelie realized; not everyone could afford to reinvent themselves whenever they damn well pleased. Damn near a decade had passed. An entire war and carved it's path through the galaxy in that time and she couldn't even begin to regale all that had happened to herself. It didn't seem like such a long time when you really truly thought about it in the grand scheme but Emelie supposed they both were still of the age where it seemed like it was an entire lifetime ago. Kriff sake, she couldn't even remember what color she had her hair back then. Purple, maybe? Oh skrag it wasn't that awful shade of day-glow green she'd been obsessed with for about a month or two was it??

Why are you thinking about that?

The answer was simple. It was easier than actually thinking of the hows and whys of all the things that had lead to this particular moment. Emelie found her left hand fidgeting, fingers curling in anticipation of a glass that was sorely absent. It resulted in her thumb flicking against the nail of her little finger. Only nail that never had to be trimmed, the only - if not constant - reminder of a mistake that left her just a little more cyborg and a little less... whatever she was. Now wouldn't that be a fun tale to tell while catching up?

A few hasty yet delicate steps were taken to the bar to rectify the situation. Memories were best looked back at through a well poured drink, after all.

"Can I get you something?" Emelie asked, having the kindness to do so before taking the first sip from the lowball glass she gestured with. "I suppose we have some catching up to do. If you have the time, of course."

All in all she was doing a fabulous job of avoiding her real question; why are you here?

[Vhiran Antilles]

A stiff drink would be the best place to start. He'd never had much courage of his own, especially not when it came to her; always had to borrow it from a bottle. On the upside, the words always came easier that way. The downside was what usually happened after the words were all said. The same old spiral, round and round. He could feel himself checking out the desk, seeing how much would need to be cleared aside; felt his heart begin to quicken as the notion started creeping into his mind. Oh no you bloody don't.

"Actually, I -"

He tried for honesty and missed, badly. Whatever words he'd been intending to utter disappeared completely from his mind, leaving him floundering for something to fill the void and the rapidly approaching silence. He grabbed for the first thing that came to mind; slipped back into the welcoming embrace of lying, wrapping himself up in it like a cocoon.

"I gave up drinking."

His eyes had fallen away from Emelie for a moment, but now they met her gaze fully, deadpan and unwavering. He summoned all the conviction he could muster, straightening his posture, opening his lungs to add more authenticity to the words.

"Gave up a lot a' the other things, too. Went straight. Got me own place. Just got meself a kitten, to help make the place feel more like a home. Doin' legit work now, too. Cargo hauls. Private transit. All above board."

Basically, I'm the kind of man you deserve now.

That was the crux of it, the lie that the lies were leading up to; though he fought with all his might to prevent that sentiment from sneaking out aloud. A frown tugged at his brow, securing control over his expression so it wouldn't risk giving anything away. His hand delved into the pocket of his coat, tugging out a battered metal case and liberating a single deathstick to be perched between his lips.

"Even went and found religion, too," he continued, a moment spent wrestling with his lighter trying to spark the narcotic stick into life. "That's why I'm 'ere, in fact. Came to repent me sins, so that I can pass on from this life into the Great Bird a' the Galaxy's warm embrace."

[Emelie Shadowstar]

Emelie had been mid-drink as Vhiran had finished. The drink was necessary with what he was saying.

She regretted it immediately.

The choke started as something in the back of her head maybe before it reached her throat and rebelled against the alcohol coming down. The swallow that was forced was only just managed but 'verse be damned if some of it hadn't found it's way to burn the ever living love out of her sinuses just the same. Kriffing Vhiran.

Then it escaped. All the pent up emotions and reaction to his declaration. Emelie couldn't remember the last time she had laughed like that. She wasn't sure how long it went on for, only that it hurt to breathe when she finally managed to make it stop and at some point during it she had the sense to set her glass back down on the bar and was using her now empty hand to help keep her from collapsing. There were tears at the edge of her vision and each inhale still brought a slight burn of the remains of alcohol no matter how she took a breath.

"Kriffing hells, Vhi! Almost made me commit alcohol abuse," she gasped and a few coughs later forced herself to stand up straight again. "I could kill you for that, you know."

Another cough before she grasped her glass once more and took a far more successful swig. Her head shook slightly as she looked back to him, a coy smile spreading across her features in a way that was pleasantly familiar.

"Or I guess nowadays it'd be that I'd hire someone to do it for me. Not here, of course; that damned carpet was expensive."

Somewhere her mind played a scene of her walking over and hugging the bastard, but that was the sort of thing that happened in holovids and while he had managed to break through the ice she had insisted on layering between them, there was still one hell of a galaxy's worth of space to cross. Instead she set her mind towards pouring another glass and as she took another sip of her own held it out towards him.

"It's Tevraki. Not your favorite, I know, but the Corellian stuff is getting harder to get your hands on lately."

[Vhiran Antilles]

It was the kind of scene you were supposed to see painted on the ceiling of cathedrals: the hand of fate and opportunity reaching out towards you. The drink was an unusual touch, but as with so many other things in Vhiran's life, apparently even a brush with fate required some amount of alcohol to be involved.

Vhiran sucked in a breath of the smoke and vapour slowly seeping from the deathstick, relishing the soothing sensation that coursed through his body. It was his own blend: not quite as euphoric as the raw stuff that kids went and got themselves hooked on; but still enough to dull the cloying sensation of perception that whispered in the corners of his mind like breezes rattling through the corridors of a derelict old house. The stick was tugged away, held loosely in a hand by his side as the other reached out to accept the offered glass; and then it happened, the faintest brushing of his fingers against hers as his grip closed around her peace offering. Sensation slammed into him like a wave - though more of a gentle surge than a full on tsunami, the narcotics made sure of that - filling his mind with sentiments and impressions that didn't belong. He clenched his teeth, soldiering through it as the borrowed sense of hurt and anger lanced into his chest like a swarm of angry wasps; but he endured, he always did.

The instant Emelie's grip loosened and the glass was lifted away, the battering assault of emotion stopped; Vhiran was glad to have the glass there, relying on it's liquid-filled weight to steady his hand until he was able to take a swig that would steady his nerves.

"Probably for the best," he muttered, trying for his usual half-interested tone, but not quite managing to commit all the way. "Galaxy's got too much Corellian crap rattlin' about in it as it is."

[Emelie Shadowstar]

"Cheers to that," Em offered with a slight raise of her glass before she emptied the contents and went back for a refill.

This was strange. There should have been shouting and accusations and anger and all the frustrations of a decade gone by unleashed. Broken bottles and angry sex. That was how this was supposed to happen. Wasn't it? Maybe, but it certainly wasn't playing out as such. Funniest thing was that Emelie didn't even feel like yelling. It wasn't some sort of sense of betterment by not letting your emotions have a hissy fit when you were working on a reputation that suggested anything but. It wasn't even that it didn't feel like yelling wasn't worth it. She just... didn't want to.

She chose one of the small couches to neatly sit herself down at, the arm rest serving more as something to lean against as she crossed a leg under her. Emelie's free hand waved nondescriptly as possible, leaving the ultimate choice of if and where to Vhiran. "Sit?"

"Then maybe you can regale me with how you found yourself in my little corner of the galaxy." It was as far from accusatory as possible and that surprised her. Her thoughts did chide her a bit for the whole my little corner - as if Bespin was her property. Not yet, at least.

A swirl of her glass was watched for a time, the lack of ice clinking against the glass somehow stood out to her and bothered her more than it should have. "It really has been a long time, hasn't it?"

[Vhiran Antilles]

This was probably some sort of test. Would he sit near her? Would he pick somewhere defensively far away? Would he pick the place that the old Vhiran would have chosen; a sign that he hadn't changed?

Vhiran opted for the edge of Emelie's desk, taking a moment to delve into another pocket and rummage around for a convenient scrap of packaging or flimsi. He tugged out an old crumpled cargo manifest, and carefully set it into place on the desk's corner, carefully positioning his deathstick so that any ask would fall onto the scrap instead of the carpet - she had said it was expensive, after all. Awkward posture adopted, Vhiran treated himself to the last of his drink and another narcotic hit, a frown forming as he sucked a hearty lungful of air past the burning chemicals.

"In't nothin' untoward," he assured, with a shrug of his shoulders and a cock of his head to one side. It was true enough. There wasn't anything particularly exceptional about a run out to Bespin, save for what Emelie had already mentioned about Corellia. The Eldest Brother was something of a hub as far as trade went, and between the current blockade and the shiny new Alliance border cocking up all the hyperlanes and trade routes, everything had shifted a bit.

"Customer out on Eriadu is somethin' of an art collector. Won a few pieces an' relics by proxy at an auction house on Alsakan, an' with the way the borders are drawn these days..." Another shrug. Another drag of mild Force suppression. "In't exactly a straight shot into Eriadu any more. Everythin' gets funnelled through some part a' the Greater Javin, and you know how I feel about spendin' time on Lutrillia."

Lesser of two evils. He was glad that particular idiom didn't manage to tumble out. Whole slew of mixed messages there, none of which needed sending.

"How about you, though, eh? Big shot businesswoman that you are now. What's -"

He caught what he was about to say, a slight half-sighed laugh escaping at his own expense.

"What's a girl like you doin' in a place like this?"

[Emelie Shadowstar]

"Oh I don't know about big shot," Emelie waved off with a slight laugh.

It wasn't entirely untrue, Elysian had really only just started getting it's hands on everything she wanted to. The club in Port Town was a start, a damned good one, but as far as the actual company went appearances had come first. It was another one of those things that Emelie wasn't quite sure was done the right way but somehow it certainly seemed to be working. She trusted her instinct on that as much as any advice Kira had thrown her way.

"And really it's probably a longer story than either of us have time for. Short short version - I got into the trade not too long after we parted ways, had a place on Coruscant for a bit, another near Ruusan after that."

It was over simplifying and she knew it. It wasn't like her position in Silenus was some grand secret that anyone with access to the holonet couldn't just look up. She made it sound like the two locations had been equal, but a dive bar on Coruscant was about as far away from a high tech shipping and research facility located in an asteroid belt as you could get. She had always preferred the bar, though. Missed it like a hole had been made in her heart when she had been forced to leave it. The same sort of hole that had been made when she had to walk away from Silenus - not the company, but all that it stood for.

"And then, out of sheer dumb luck I ended up here. Made the right connections and yeah, here I am." She half shrugged one shoulder before the glass in hand was brought back to her lip for a brief instant. "Sure there's a lot of mess between steps, but no need to bring up the ugly, right?"

And there was a lot of ugly. When she really stopped and thought about it, all bad self-inflicted mojo aside, Emelie felt like maybe she had paid her dues. Not quite as much as some people, as recent events had reminded her, but paid just the same. It was about time that things worked out.

Which, of course, brought her thoughts back to Vhiran.

"So... just a simple cargo run, huh? That's..." Boring. "Tame. Here I would have figured you would have done a big job and retired on Spira by now."

[Vhiran Antilles]

"Eh, retirement is -"

Lonely. That was the word he really wanted to say. All those dreams of scoring big, cashing out, and living out the rest of his days in luxury, they lacked a certain appeal when you realised you'd be spending them alone. Not that he was some old fool pining over the girl that got away: he'd just learned the hard way that solitude was his point of equilibrium; the default state he always found his way back to. A partner here, a misguided romance there; nothing stuck. Nothing clicked. Not the way that he and Emelie had, anyway.

"- overrated. Who the hell wants to spent the rest a' their life alone with their thoughts, eh?"

Another drag of deathstick came as he thought that notion over. Like the drugs in his hands helped prove, long term wasn't really a consideration for Vhiran any more. More risks. More cavalier solutions. He went around the galaxy like a man whose number was up, accepting - choosing - the jobs with the most danger, and taking the most self-destructive path. It had taken it's toll. A couple of years in a Corporate Sector prison. A few months in chains on some seedy backwater in Hutt space. Imperial entanglements. That narrowly dodged murder charge on Lothal. He didn't just walk into danger: he swaggered in, half-drunk and half-stoned, shooting his mouth off at the most dangerous people within earshot. Maybe on some level he was pushing his luck; testing it; probing to see just how badly the will of the Force and all that wanted him still alive. Maybe he just didn't care. Not about himself, at least. Or maybe it was some warped attempt at cosmic mathematics: the more peril he heaped upon himself, the less that'd be left for those who didn't deserve it.

For all his chosen danger though, Emelie had plenty of her own. He'd kept tabs. Couldn't help it, really. Had a comfy little deal with an information broker from around these parts; cut a devil-deal with the guy, trading a job here and a favour there for updates on how Emelie was doing from time to time. He heard about the bars; the fancy job title at that R&D firm; the bounty hunter run-ins; the broad she'd helped rescue from Nar Shaddaa. Heard about the men too, whole precession of people nowhere near good enough; takes one to know one, in that case. She shrugged it off like it was nothing, brushed it aside as if he didn't need to know; and she was right to, it wasn't as if he deserved any kind of honesty from her, nor offered much of it himself.

It still hurt, though: a hurt he deserved mind you, but one he wished he could unearn.

His glass already drained, Vhiran shifted the deathstick in his grip instead, holding it out towards Emelie in salute. "Well here's hopin' that the bad's all behind, and it's plain sailin' from here on out. If anyone out deserves to have the galaxy cut 'em a little slack, I'm pretty sure you're one of 'em, love."

[Emelie Shadowstar]

Was this what small talk felt like between two old friends? Was this what normal people did? Not that she was opposed but it just felt so strange. Maybe it was the fact that most people who dared to share the lifestyles she'd gone with never really made it very far. Whoever came up with the saying about only the good kicking the bucket while they were still pretty was full of skag. Yeah good people could find themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time but trouble usually didn't come knocking unless you had passed by it a few times or were well acquainted. It wasn't always fair - good people did some messed up stuff every so often and paid for it heavily while the real frakkers of the galaxy seemed to get away totally free - but it was the truth. Mostly.

"Not bloody likely, but here's to hoping." Emelie fished off the second glass and let the empty lowball sit on her lap, balanced by a few fingers as the ones of her other hand found their way to her chin and cheek.

She didn't know whether to find this all terribly amusing or frustrating or something else. There was tension, and the far too bold casual use of the word love had set her insides squirming. Oh, it wasn't meant in any way that was worth getting in a twist over and Emelie knew that. It was the pure simple fact that no one else called her that. At least, if they did, it didn't stick to her like the way Vhiran said it. Maybe it was because he was the first one who had done it, way back when she had her hair in pigtails and refused to speak to anyone but him.

Maybe that was the sore spot of it. Despite all their... entanglements, Vhi had always looked out for her. Calling him a big brother figure was way too damn creepy considering all the stuff they'd gotten up to, but on some level whenever they were around each other she had depended on him. Now though? The reality was he could walk right back out her door and Bespin would just keep on turning. Things had irrevocably changed between them sometime since they had last seen one another and while Emelie could probably pinpoint the exact reasons, it still didn't help that it felt wrong. Of course, just having him sitting in her damn offices felt wrong. Past and present colliding and here they were just chatting like it all had only been a week or two.

"So how long you in port for? Don't suppose you at least want to have dinner or something? One last hurrah before you head back out to the black?"

[Vhiran Antilles]

No, I have to leave.

His mouth wasn't saying it. His mind wasn't thinking it. They should have been, should have been making the smart call. Quit while you're ahead, that was what people said - and it applied here as much as anywhere else. He'd avoided the slippery precipices without falling foul of the old bad habits - that was a win. That was more than he could ever have reasonably asked of himself.

But her words stuck in his head; one in particular. Last. He wondered if he'd really understood the finality of all this back then; the fact that pushing Emelie away meant she'd be gone for the rest of his life. Had he not cared? Had he not expected the rest of his life to equate to all that much time? If he'd known it would be never again, would he even have gone through with it; or at least gone through with it a different way?

He couldn't bring himself to walk away; not then, not now. That was the truth of it. He had pushed Emelie away because he didn't have the strength to walk away on his own; manipulated her into doing the work for him. There wasn't enough regret in the cosmos to balance that particular account; it was far too overdrawn for him to make the deficit any worse.

"Sure," he lied, offering up a casual shrug as if it was a simple thing; acting as if the notion of dinner didn't fill him with abject terror and anxiety. "For you? I'm sure I can find the time."

[Emelie Shadowstar]

Today

Emelie felt the starting of a frown try to tug at the edges of her lips. Vhiran falling back into her life - and her bed - weren't things she had ever planned for but the end result added up even worse. Maybe a slight laugh off of so much for casual, maybe some weird sentimentality that would result in another semi-permanent separation. Not the rather startling reaction he had when waking up. If she had been anyone else, Emelie may have been slightly offended by the first man in her life to ever act like he had woken up next to a rancor, but instead she was just perplexed. Vhiran didn't exactly seem entirely out of sorts the night before; in fact he had seemed very very aware of what he was doing. She was all for a good romp where both parties woke up wondering what the kriff had happened the night before but this was just... Okay, so she was a little hazy on some of the details if she was downright honest, but most of it was there.

They had gone to dinner, just as she had offered. Not any place super upscale but one of the nicer joints she was becoming familiar with. They had a few drinks, actually seemed to be patching things up decently while avoiding the subject, the bill had been paid... Did we stop by Elysium? She thought it over as the bridge of her nose crinkled a bit and she tried not to look towards the refresher. Yes. Yes they had. More drinks... and... The tovash. Well crap, that meant ryll had happened now didn't it? That explained a few things.

"Never could take it easy when you should." Emelie mumbled to herself and sat up in bed.

An attempt was made to return the playful half smirk to her lips as she forced herself to look back towards where Vhiran would appear. "Come on, it wasn't that bad, was it?"

[Vhiran Antilles]

Bad?

Gods no, of course it wasn't. It was never bad, that was the bloody problem. He could already feel it: the tug in his chest, the urging to reverse the dozen or so paces he'd taken, crawl right back into that bed, and then - what? Go another few rounds? Part two of the night before, just to be sure he'd definitely remember it this time around? That wouldn't cut it: and while sure, that would sate the craving a little - maybe even enough for him to make a break for it and put a few lightyears of distance between them - it wasn't a cure. It wouldn't prevent the black depths of withdrawal that were waiting for him beyond this apartment's doors.

Finally he understood why he was here; why the flow of the Force had washed his ship all this way. This wasn't about closure, or growth: it was about finally coming to see the error of his ways. Force sake: look at what he'd done. He could see the tell-tale signs in his reflection: deathsticks, and alcohol, and spice made for a dangerous cocktail, and blending that with Emelie Shadowstar had been his undoing. He hadn't changed at all: he was the exact same man, making the exact same mistakes; he was just putting more effort into deceiving himself, that was all.

But the mistake wasn't Emelie. The mistake was never Emelie. The girl he'd found while he was at his lowest; the one who'd given him purpose; the one who'd become a friend, family even. The girl who'd put a crack in his defenses, and then grown into the woman who'd crawled through and got comfortable all coiled up with the core of his being. She'd worn down the calloused surfaces of his personality; massaged down his hackles; if he'd let her, she'd have probably opened him up like a lobster, and become the only person in the entire galaxy who got to know what he was like on the inside.

The mistake? The mistake was thinking that Emelie was a weakness; for thinking that by tearing her out of his life he was somehow making himself stronger, instead of just making him hollow.

He looked at his reflection once again; really looked at the lonely, weary, broken man that stared out from the polished glass. He peered at the faint grey sheen that his skin had adopted, and the way that it seemed to hang tiredly from his face, deepening the ageing cracks that canyoned across his features. He peered into his eyes, sullen and subdued; not dark and mysterious, just empty. He caught himself, hands balancing against either side of the sink; felt his shoulders sink and his head plummet. One last hurrah; of the fragments of memory that struggled to resolve into focus in his mind, that one stuck out. Perhaps that's what last night was; but it shouldn't have been.

His hand slapped the water control, soaking his palm before he smeared it across his face, hoping the cold and the damp would somehow rouse him to some semblance of approximate sobriety. One last look at the mirror, a glare of determination thrown at himself; and then he turned, returning back towards Emelie, halting in the doorway to lean heavily against the frame.

"Em."

It felt like a punch in the gut to say it; to address her in such a familiar way. His eyes struggled to look at her; perhaps worried at what they'd see, aimed towards Emelie Shadowstar in all her clothesless and waiting glory; perhaps more worried about what she would see, if he actually gave her the chance to look him in the eye.

"About last night."

He forced himself to do it; forced himself to look straight at her. More than that, he looked at her like he'd never allowed himself before: no attempt to hold anything back, no attempt to convey anything specific; just letting his eyes do what his eyes wanted. His throat felt parched all over again, words lodged against the back of his tongue, refusing to leave.

"I think it's time we had a talk, love."

[Emelie Shadowstar]

Yesterday

Well that escalated quickly. One moment they had been at her club and the next? Well, they were sorta blurry and fuzzy but currently a hallway wall brought an abrupt stop to the rather staggered footsteps of the pair. It probably would have been easier to walk if his hands hadn't been wandering so damned much or if she could remember how to undo his tie fast enough. Coat could stay though, the coat could always stay as far as Emelie was concerned at that moment. A breath was caught as the collision managed to pry their lips apart, probably more from the slight groan that left Vhiran that Emelie wasn't entirely sure was out of pain from the whole spine-meets-wall thing.

This was shameless, like two teenagers who didn't know enough but were too intoxicated on themselves to care. Of course the intoxication here was far more adult in nature... mostly. Some people started at an early age, after all. Emelie fumbled for the small clutch that hung at her side.

"Damn keycards..." Someone was going to pay for not using some sort of hand print or retina identification to open doors around here. Maybe she'd buy the apartments and fix that. Not right now, right now she had better things to do.

A glance up from her failed attempts at finding the card was just enough time for her eyes to meet Vhiran's again and within a second her arms were back around his neck and her lips were back to his. This whole thing could have been blamed on a number of factors, Emelie supposed somewhere in the back of her mind. After all, she had been rather chaste since coming to Cloud City. Since her last... whatever that had been with Xavier, and her almost with Captain Montegue, Emelie had reconsidered the fun behind the random liaison. Preoccupied was probably the right word for it since her morals hadn't really shifted, this probably proved that. But whatever, you only lived once, seize the day and other things and all that.

Not that this was random. This was a decade worth of frustration giving way if you wanted to be honest. Or maybe it wasn't. Whatever, Emelie couldn't have cared less just then. What she did care about was how much the rhyll had made undoing shirt buttons a giant pain in the arse.