Freak on a Leash

[Ibaris Varanin-Jacobs]

Something takes a part of me
Something lost and never seen
Everytime I start to believe
Something's raped and taken from me...from me
Life's gotta always be messing with me (You wanna see the light)
Can't they chill and let me be free (So do I)
Can't I take away all this pain (You wanna see the light)
I try to every night, all in vain...in vain

Sometimes I cannot take this place
Sometimes it's my life I can't taste
Sometimes I cannot feel my face
You'll never see me fall from grace

Something takes a part of me
You and I were meant to be
A cheap ---- for me to lay
Something takes a part of me

Feeling like a freak on a leash (You wanna see the light)
Feeling like I have no release (So do I)
How many times have I felt diseased (You wanna see the light)
Nothing in my life is free...is free

- Freak on a Leash : Korn


***

Frustration. Delusions. For months now, it came, it went. Which way was up, which way was down? Drifting side to side, place to place. A snack here, a gutting there, it all had little meaning - the pleasure of it was lost without him. The buried memories of the last separation had resurfaced once again, those first few weeks. Without the entanglements of her beloved's bestial rage, a part of her was very much absent...the part that narrowed her preferences in line with the driving desire to keep him all to herself. She was less discerning in her selections in times like this, and it made to change the look of her crimes, leaving any potential investigator befuddled and confused. The search she mounted had lessened as the months lagged by, the delusions were increasingly easy to cope with, until they were merely another part of her psyche, then no more, working out of her system. She had ceased being able to feel his presence at will - except in times when she was sure his pains were nigh-insurmountable, then it came by like a freighter in hyperspace, smack in the face, squeezing her heart to bits.

The frazzled, only-sometimes lucid state of mind she carried brought her to Coruscant. She had little control in it - something willed her here, and her mind and body conspired against the lobbying of better sense that knew there was no safe thing here for her. It had been since their 18th birthday, and the vow had been to never return. And yet, here she was, pain in the left hand, torment in the right. Coruscant's lowest levels were dirt. Not in the earthen sense, but one of filth. The trappings were easier here, far easier. Effortless, even. To the pair of them, it would have been so little challenge, the time would be wasted. But who had she to conspire with? None other than herself.

Bea-Jei's was one such establishment of filth. Shady deals, in many a sense, were agreed upon here. The liquor was often rough, but did its job well. Hard drinks for the hardened drinker. Liquor never factored in to the dealings of the pair - it interfered with the pleasure and efficiency of their work - but in times such as these, Keiran would be sorely tempted. Reckless abandon was her aim in these recent months, and entering into Bea-Jei's, she knew well that it would be achieved. Already, the barkeep was eyeing her up from across the dark, choke-smoke room, as if he could see into her soul and tell what she'd want - he was already pulling a drink, for crying out loud. She wasn't watching him, but she felt more than just his pair of eyes on her. Places like these made Keiran St. Maurelle appear as a shimmering jewel. In other words, she stood out - but many were afraid to touch her. Odd. What did they know?

Having worked through the mile high stench of the patrons and the tempted hands that hesitated to feel her milky soft skin, she had arrived at the bar counter, slipping her lithe form onto a stool, which had only became available after she had set eyes on it - causing the former occupant to move, no questions asked. Already there was a drink in front of her. Her dangerous eyes slid up the tall glass to pin upon the barkeep's inhuman face.

"I tot you sed you wasn't comin' bak." The barkeep returned the look she'd handed him. "You isn't safe hurr."

"Jei. So nice to know you care." She snarled, lightly, shrugging off the concern. "How's that poodoo wife of yours?"

[Trance Adelais]

He had to get out of central; the political drivel and paperwork had the uncanny ability to rub him the wrong way. Once the annoyance amplified into a steady stream of anger, Trance became most unfit for the position he had been awarded all those years ago. Leading a double life was not exactly the best solution to his long list of problems, but it dulled the roar in his ears and stopped the crimson sheath from encasing his vision completely. The feral side of him demanded that those base, primitive needs by fulfilled and expounded upon in gory detail; for far too long had the screams of pain been mistaken for pleasure, vice versa. In truth, every aspect of feeling had been horribly switched and at times, he didn’t mind at all. All he could remember was suffering, a descript lifestyle that was both bereft and welcome.

Mismatched organs, situated at random within his body, churned and begged for a torrent of alcohol to dull senses that had become far too keen after several specific modifications. It was always difficult, however, dealing with the everyday lot that stumbled across Coruscant’s cityscape; he could barely refrain from tearing into the stuttering personnel in Central, let alone the impudent rabble that passed him in the streets. They snapped and skittered away upon catching a glimpse of his fierce visage; thrilling visions of their untimely deaths flickering in their horrified gazes. Optical replacements were no rarity, but the crimson intensity and scarred flesh surrounding the modification was, at best, unsettling. If at ever a time he witnessed pity for the wound, he was bent upon taking part in the unfortunate creature’s utter destruction.

It was just one of those switches that ensured immediate results.

On one particular night, this very one in fact, he had decided that his thirst for flesh and copious amounts of alcohol had outweighed his violent distaste for the rest of the universe. Discarding his uniform in his sparsely decorated condo in High Town, he adorned himself with more casual attire; combat boots, khaki slacks, an ebony silk shirt, and a black leather duster. The shirt was unbuttoned to the center of his chest and the coat was parted completely. His stride was hard and long, causing the heel of his boots to smack aggressively against the ferrocrete walkways; he strode on like a man with a purpose but found that he really didn’t care what seedy establishment he landed himself in. As long as the booze were rough, the way he liked his women.

Pivoting sharply into a doorway that was clouded with smoke, Trance Adelais posed his forearm against the worn material of the door frame. Gazing inside with his bi-colored eyes, he lifted his other hand to brush a strand of mussed, auburn hair from his line of vision. A grotesque alien hurtled drunkenly toward the door; Trance’s frame became as hard as a boulder.

::: Out of the way, human… :::

The creature squawked in it’s primitive, uncouth language; which was easily translated by the implant attached to either side of his temporal lobes. The lumbering beast stumbled to a halt, bearing witness to the ferocity of his stare, accented by the scar stretched taut by his ire. Shoving himself from the doorway, he swaggered up to the alien and drew himself up to his full height of 6’6. The creature shrunk back and Trance passed him.

The bartender seemed to be caught up in conversation with a young woman seated at the bar, whom he didn’t acknowledge just yet. Dropping down onto the stool beside her, unabashed, he watched as the bartender fumbled with a tall glass which he promptly set before him.

“Whut’ll it b-”

The glass was all but smacked from the table, shattering into several pieces behind the bar; ever close to the on-edge tender. “Forget the glass. Gruvian Tovash, leave the bottle.” He growled, the crimson pupil of his left eye swirling.

[Ibaris Varanin-Jacobs]

Jei had uttered his species' rough equivalent of a sigh.

"Bea been dead sints naw lung afteh ya keds left." He didn't say much else on the matter, but Keiran knew well enough that it was more than likely because of her and her other that Bea had been taken from this existence. Bea and Jei had offered the pair sanctuary after their little 'misadventures' around Coruscant, when no one knew for sure what they were. Bea and Jei knew better. They had once lived the life of the undergrounds themselves. They knew the risks, and yet, there was little doubt that Jei still held some hard feelings. But he had always been significantly more timid than his wife, and these few years afterward, things had not changed. Like she cared. They could all burn in hell, this entire underground. It had done her no favours this time around. He was gone somewhere she didn't know, and it made the world around her a little less safer because of it. A little less safer, because he was not within arm's reach to sate her and dull her drive for a rest. Also because she was not within arms reach of him to calm his primitive instincts and soothe his burning soul. If the soulless had souls...

Because of it, she was almost always hungry.

Jei had drifted off, both vocally and physically, to attend a new patron at the bar. She frowned, her cold eyes dead set into the drink, each time it came down from her soft-lipped mouth. A hand in her hair, through it, then under her chin, elbow on the bartop. The liquor was barely starting to do its work and make her entirety more pliable, when crashing and growling erupted a few feet down toward the other end of the bar counter. Jei, soft as ever, was cowering, and the recently arrived patron was making his demands. Almost laughing at the typical occurence of Jei being set back a few steps, Keiran started to crack a small smile when something caught her attention - just barely - in the back of her tortured mind. Cocking her head to the side, it rested that way in her propped up hand. This man, this kind of demon was most interesting. The currents told her enough to pique her interests greatly - this one was much like the one she currently lacked, in certain respects - except for the bare wildness. That was the one thing - that untamed, bestial thing - that made her beloved hers, and hers alone. The thought of him being in an unfathomable and unsensed dark made her rage spike, her eyes ever on this newly acquired target.

The glass crumbled in her hand, quivering to death from her feral feelings as she sat there. Her hand sliced in places and bled. The pain was a relief, a joy. The stinging, the throbbing cooled her head. It was a pleasure that made her teeth clench, as she watched this man, this quasi-man, not-quite-man, intently. Her gaze would burn into his skin if she could make such things happen.

[Trance Adelais]

Trance wrapped a hand, half shrouded by a finger-less glove, around the neck of the bottle he had demanded be left for him. Propping his elbow against the counter, he canted his wrist gracefully but then all but swung the bottle full force into his eager mouth. The potent liquor seeped into a recent knick on his lower lip and then made his tongue sizzle in the most delightful way. He chugged a good portion of it down, basking in the way it burned and then froze his throat. The hand not viciously clamped around the bottle impatiently riffled through the pockets of his duster, eventually pulling out a tin and solid black lighter.

The bottle smacked against the counter loudly, causing the two men a few stools over to jump nervously. Trance slanted them an animalistic grin and gaze, his nimble fingers coaxing a black stem from the tin and dragging it lazily to his lips. He lit the cigarette, his scarred brow arching away from the lengthy flame that emerged from the lighter. Exhaling a plume of slate colored smoke, reeking of something sweet and spicy, he idly pivoted his head in the direction of an audible ‘crunch’. The sound brought about by a young woman a stool away.

“That’s quite ah’grip you have there, lady.” He mumbled through the stem still locked between his lips, the crimson optical replacement rotating mischievously. There was a rich burr to his voice, the hint of a roguish accent not common to Coruscant. Finally, his bi-colored gaze strolled up to meet her own, which he found locked upon him.

“What…?” He asked gruffly, still wearing some semblance of a playful smirk.

[Ibaris Varanin-Jacobs]

When the not-quite-man took note of her, she was clearing the wounds in her hand of glass, picking out each bit and shard with her fingers, her entrancing eyes not leaving his face when it turned to her. The look in his eyes, the mischievous and playful look over his visage held her attention fully as she began to lick the blood from the multiple little wounds, each swipe of her tongue continuing to her mouth, down her throat. The taste was good, reminiscent of the endless nights and days other wounds were inflicted upon her by another. Her other. The thought of the reckless abandon applied to those sessions bloomed a mischievous smile of her own. This man would surely not be her equal, or the equal of her other, in that respect. The possibility of another such person would be slim, according to her. All others she had encountered succumbed to her charms and then her methods, afterward, with barely a breath of struggle. But her experience said nothing to this one she encountered now, this very moment. The unknown territory called to her desires. Keiran would lick her chops, were she an animal - though really, many doubted she was anything other than that.

“What…?” He'd queried. The self-cleansing of her multiple cuts halted. By this moment, the bleeding seemed to have eased, stopped. Jei was still cowering. She still didn't care, still, as she slid forward to the edge of her stool, her hands now poised on the one next to her, toward him. She was stretched somewhat like a feline after a lengthy snooze when leaning over the stool, her lithe form very much suggesting that. Her bottom remained in contact with the original seat, her jeweled eyes set into this stranger.

"What yourself." She purred, enticed by this unfamiliar. Interested in what the possible conquest would offer her for a thrill. Next, her voice lulled down to a whisper. "You really should be nicer to Jei."

Followed by a half-grin, spread out under her lipsticked lips. Like she gave a damn. Which she didn't. Keiran wondered if this one could tell the difference.

[Trance Adelais]

A single eyebrow, shot through with a long since healed scar, arched upward.

She was something else. That something part of him longed to determine, the inquisitive and suspicious side that whispered dark possibilities into the forefront of his mind. His two toned eyes rolled away from her cryptic stare, fastening with renewed ferocity upon the bottle he had commanded be left for him.

"No." He stated simply, flashing a withering glare in the direction of this Jei individual, whom she was clearly familiar with. The sniveling creature darted back, causing the various and a sundry bottles mounted on the wall behind him to quake. Trance sneered, clearly disgusted by the alien's cowardice, and sharply inhaled from the slim cheroot. His lungs clenched, but adapted, and the smoke billowed out from the narrow crack formed by his scarred mouth.

His eyes leisurely tripped back toward the woman, unabashedly drinking his fill of something possibly more addictive than drink; the shaky promise of violent, carnal pleasure wrapped into one nimble package. A soft chuckle escaped him, though he barely realized it.

He was not the kind of person who was fooled by cleverly affixed facades.

"I don't do nice, lady..."

[Ibaris Varanin-Jacobs]

"I don't do nice, lady..."

Those words, oh those words, they gave her a pleasure. She heard the tone under the tone. The thing it suggested made her eyes slide shut for a brief enjoyment of the bloodwashing it gave her imagination. It was something akin to sitting, jittering in anticipation, getting a certain physical excitement from knowing, or even seeing, what her beloved did to her lured prey after she had dulled its senses with her pheromones and more. Yes, a very synonymous feeling, one she lived to encounter the thrill of, to lose herself in it like a child drowning in the river, bubbling and choking and the ecstasy of riding the hard line between this awareness and the unknown domain always threatening to spill from death's door.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you to play nice?" She looked for any semblance of indication in his face. None. "No?"

She slid her fine bottom off the stool and looped around to behind the next stool, her fingers catching the underside of the seat, gripping it as she twisted toward him further. She leaned forward, being just that much closer. Very close, to breathe in his fumes and see the depth and pattern of his lines, in clothes and skin. She was very nearly in his face. Keiran canted her head to one side and watched him, eyes darting from one point on his face, to clothes, to hands, to face... licked a corner of her lips, and caught the lower one in her teeth, then let it bounce back. She could feel his interest like it was hot steam. Piqued. Her head set back straight.

"Did she ever teach you to share?" A glint in her eyes as she crossed her gaze between this man and the bottle at the end of his arm, and back again to his face. The words rolled off her tongue, a delicate purr accenting them. The dull roar of other patrons, the blubbering of the barkeep gave a chaotic undertone.

[Trance Adelais]

"Can't say that she did, lady..." Trance informed her with a gruff purr of his own, the sound resembling that of a lion's musings before it pounced upon its prey. Leaning back on his stool and sliding the large bottle against the glistening counter top, he canted his head slightly to the side.

There were many explanations for this woman's sudden interest; a spy who had somehow become aware of his position in the Empire, a hungry seductress with an eye for investment, or perhaps just a wolf in sheep's clothing catching the scent of the blood on his hands. Either way, he was quite certain he had found himself an abundant source of fun for the evening, no matter her motives.

His eyes had become transfixed upon the plump formation of her lips while she spoke and dallied but now they focused upon her own gaze. He held her gaze for a moment before releasing the bottle and canting his head toward it.

"There's a first time for everything. Wouldn't want to seem rude... to you, at least." He mumbled, propping his chin upon his palm and watching her; his lips twisted into a lopsided smirk.

[Ibaris Varanin-Jacobs]

"Good. Very good." She said, musing to herself. A sly grin, she settled herself up on the stool she had been hanging off of, leaning an elbow on the bartop with her head canted into her hand, her legs crossed and tipped. She glanced to the selection of liquors behind the bartop, then rolled her eyes back to her present point of interest. Then she brought the fingers of her right hand across to the bar counter and started lightly drumming her fingers, each nail creating a little tap.
<o></o>
“Seeing as the proprietor is… paralyzed with fear and utterly useless because of it, I don’t imagine I’ll be able to give him any more business.” Her silky voice was twinged with mild disappointment, topped off with a cherry of a sigh.
<o></o>
That being the case, what then? Something about this man told her she couldn’t just go off and torment some other useless individual that no one would shed a tear for just for kicks – especially since that torment usually ended with the victim in a permanent state of physical rest. The tone of conversation and the atmosphere between them gave her more than enough reason to believe she wouldn’t have to go looking very far for her thrills and pleasures… she was willing to bet he saw the same prospects in her, one way or another.
<o></o>
“What do you propose to do about it?” She queried, her eyes intently suggesting that the entire thing was his fault and he’d better make it worth her while. She would certainly make it worth his in return.