#outlander!eirn

[badsithnocookie]

supreme chancellor rans: yea so we really appreciate odessen's support in helping defend us from the empire! it means a lot. and counts for a lot, too. as thanks for your continued support for the republic, we're willing to offer odessen full membership in the republic, and citizenship for any of your people who wish to join us.

supreme chancellor rans: [pointedly] -regardless- of any previous... misgivings. consider it a fresh start.

outlander!eirn, choking back tears:

[badsithnocookie]

also apropro of nothing in particular but regarding THe Showdown with valkoriate, i like to think that, at least in outlander!eirn and outlander!anya’s versus, aetrexis’s spirit showed up/broke free of valkoriate’s control. she died on ziost, but im an adult and i do what i want so [waves hands] she grasped at least a little of what had happened and used the connection between vitiate and his wrath to retain her sense of self. or re-attain it once vitiate moves into her daughter’s head about six months afterwards and it’s clear eirn needs someone in her corner

but there’s also this unpublished sidefic to fragmentation, where

'Oh, Rhan,' she retorted, 'You know I love your mother dearly. I was talking about me,' she added, sighing. 'Emperor only knows what Eir's said. Or hasn't said,' she mused, a worried expression settling back on her face.

'Only good things, I'm sure,' Irhan replied, without hesitation. 'I told you. Eirn loves you. It amazes me,' he added, 'That you can't see that yourself.'

'I love my own mother,' Aetrexis replied, sighing to herself again, 'And I'd still cut her down if she showed up here unannounced. Or at all,' she added, frowning, 'For that matter.'

'You're not her, Xi. For one thing,' he added, reaching to tuck a stray lock of his wife's hair behind her ear, 'You'd hunt down the Emperor himself if you thought he might hurt a child of yours. When Eirn told us about this... Wrath business, I honestly thought you might try just that.'

and i’ve always been amused by the thought of aetrexis, who would otherwise be fucking petrified of the emperor, tracking him down just to throw hands because he threatened one of her babies

(eirn absolutely gets her protective streak from her mother)

and while both the sidefic and this headcanon only coherently exist in my head (and the vagueries of largely uncollapsed waveforms) i’ve always liked the thought of aetrexis following through on that unintentional prophecy

that and, you know. valkoriate has his shitty family ganging up on him, while eirn has her family having her back. or parts of it, anyway.

(in the outlander!anya verse, vitiate also has to content with eirn’s pissy ghost hounding him the entire time. like you thought she was stubborn and angry while she was alive? while she was restrained by the laws of biology? and now all she has is time and anger and you expect her to just disappear like every other person on ziost? hoo boy.)

[badsithnocookie]

Dystopia for the meme

An imaginary place of total misery. A metaphor for hell. 

-

‘I’m not,’ Eirn repeated - hands clamped over her ears, a futile demonstration of rebellion, 'Listening to you.’

Even the Dread Masters had not focused on her like this - except Styrak, perhaps, but only because she’d focused her blade on him, in turn. They had simply infected her mind with fear, and let her own nightmares do the rest. But Vitiate had turned his attention to her the way he’d promised in Adasta, punishing his Wrath for her failures - to serve him, to protect Marr, to give in to the darkness that wanted to swallow her whole.

'My dear,’ he purred - and she heard him, as clearly as if she’d been a willing audience, 'whoever said anything about listening?’

[badsithnocookie]

Pouic maybe... Tarantism for the writing prompt ? For the character that it suits the most. 🎵

The urge to overcome melancholy by dancing

-

There was nothing formal to it; that was, it had no form, other than a gentle bobbing in time with the beat, accompanied by tuneless humming. Eirn didn’t know the song, but didn’t need to; she knew music enough to know what was coming next, an understanding that was natural to her as breathing.

Grief was never pretty, but this grief, at the very least, did not have to be tucked away; hers was not the only heart on Odessen which the Empire had demanded broken. Knowledge that stung as much as it soothed, yes, but here - making caf for one in an Alliance breakroom, her only company a radio tuned to a foreign station - it was a better bedfellow, too, than all the false promises in the galaxy.

[badsithnocookie]

ingame eirn is a saboteur (not least because i hold this hope bioware will let saboteurs Actually defect... it’s unlikely, but i can dream) but. i think ‘realistically’ if she did go back to the empire, it would... probably be as a loyal-ish reformist? like she. hates being capital-s Sith, but if she has to be then she at least wants to try to push for better treatment of imperials, abolishment of slavery, (more religious freedom for sith), etc

and, well. she would find being a saboteur being deeply stressful and unpleasant. she can play those games if she has to - she’s Sith, after all - but stabbing people in the back, wearing a false face and lying to someone to gain their trust only to fuck them over? she loathes that about sith politicking. betraying not just any given sith but the whole empire ramps the stakes up by a lot, and eirn is acutely aware of what the empire does to traitors. not least because, like. she used to do to traitors as her day job. (to say nothing of the way she was treated after ziost)

and, well. on a more selfish note, quinn would not forgive her in the slightest if she fucked the empire over like that. walking away from the empire would be one thing, but fucking it over from the inside, getting sith and imperials killed in the process? that’s quite another. he would despise her for it, and she would probably despise herself for it.

working to make the empire a better place, on the other hand? he could probably be sold on that. they’d probably still differ about what constitutes better, but, you know.

(which, yes, i know, the idea you can reform a fascist state from within is a liberal fantasy, etc etc, eirn is a problematic dumbass)

[badsithnocookie]

Defection (3/?)

Eirn knew better than to hope that this would be the end of Idair's objections to her presence - not least because of the this isn't over that the Jedi directed at Gnost-Dural as they were leaving. Whatever else Tau Idair was, though, she was utterly focused on her task, immediately turning to leave and barely waiting for Eirn to follow suit.

'Follow me, Sith. Keep up, and don't wander.' When Idair spoke, it was with the irritation of every exasperated commander assigned an underling they didn't want.

It made Eirn feel like a wayward acolyte, and her first impulse was to challenge it - to assert her strength, her right to be here, and it was an urge that took effort to suppress. Even here - especially here, trailing after a Jedi like a lost puppy.

Idair moved briskly and with purpose, and while Eirn wasn't certain of their purpose, she at least managed to keep pace. Brisk as the Jedi was, though, it still afforded Eirn the chance to glance over their surroundings more thoroughly than when she'd been trailing after Kyo. What she'd thought of as the communications hub seemed to actually be a converted farmyard. Amidst the chaos of alarms and patrols, labourers worked at rows of crops or tended to machinery. This wasn't a base of any kind, Eirn realised, but someone's farmyard, hastily half-converted after the Empire's attack.

Their first port of call was one of the outer buildings, guarded by an armed teenager who looked at Idair with admiration and Eirn with a sort of nervous curiosity, but at least had the sense to keep any comments to themselves. Inside of it, Eirn was less surprised than she might have been to see farming equipment alongside weapon racks, though she knew better than to think she had time to manage anything more than a cursory glance.

'So,' she began, though - trying to break that unpleasant silence with something at least halfway diplomatic, 'I-'

'Here,' Idair just interrupted, thrusting a satchel in Eirn's direction, 'Make yourself useful. Carry these. Don't drop them.'

Which made Eirn examine the satchel warily, of course - tug its fastenings open, and examine its contents, only to wish she hadn't.

'Explosives,' Eirn just managed, slightly stupidly. 'I thought you said there was a perimeter breach?'

Idair wasn't wasting any time - signed something off on a tech panel, before turning to leave, her Sith shadow in tow.

'Ossus is full of buried ruins,' Idair started, as they moved. 'The bugs like to use them to move undetected. We collapse a few tunnels, they have a harder time getting to our people, and the colonists get more time to evacuate.'

'You're evacuating?' Eirn repeated, not feeling any less stupid for it.

(It explained the chaotic energy of the place, though; the bustle of people, hurried and harried, weighed down with as much as they dared to carry. It wasn't the same terrified desperation as Adasta's, but it didn't need to be; there was still death in the air, and Eirn was still taking longer than she might have liked to catch up with it)

'Not my choice,' Idair snorted. 'But we don't have the people to put up the kind of fight the Empire's looking for.'

For a moment, Eirn wondered if that was another reason Idair was less than thrilled to see her; she'd been hoping for an army, and instead all she had was one Sith. One Sith who, at that, had left the Empire specifically to get away from the wars her people kept picking.

'...Which is why Kyo was requesting aid from the Republic,' Eirn realised - half thinking to herself, as she spoke.

'Master Kyo was petitioning the Republic for aid, yes,' Idair replied, sharply. 'And until they get here,' she added, not missing a beat, 'I'm going to keep assuming they won't. Which means buying as much time as I can to get the civilians out of here.'

Which felt unpleasantly familiar, though that was a feeling Eirn decided not to dwell on. Besides which, there were more pressing matters, like the speeders Idair was marching towards. They were parked slightly haphazardly, scuffed and well-worn and likely hadn't seen a professional mechanic in years.

('Take the rear seat,' Idair began, not waiting for any input from the Sith, 'And hold on.' Which did not inspire confidence, and Eirn wondered for a long moment if it was too late to request she return to SIS custody)

-

When Idair finally set the speeder down, it was out at what Eirn had to assume was the furthest reaches of the colony - near the perimeter alarms the Geonosians had tripped. It kept occurring to her that, out here, nobody would ask too many questions if an accident happened - if Ossus's unwelcome ally fell to an untimely demise, and there would be no proof she hadn't brought it on herself. The brusque, impersonal distrust that Idair kept leaking wasn't helping, either; she didn't have the laser-focused hatred of the former Battlemaster, but Eirn wasn't optimistic enough about Jedi to hope this meant Idair wouldn't murder her, given provocation.

Which is why you need to stay on her good side. Or, at the very least, not on her bad one.

Being out on the edges of the colony, past the Republic-issue sentry guns and Jedi banners, didn't do anything to stop that nagging, almost-nostalgic familiarity that Ossus came with. Eirn knew that there was not a single person on this world - Jedi or Sith - who would appreciate the comparison, but it kept making itself, all the same. Craggy, reddish-orange deserts, dotted with the ruins of what had clearly once been a bustling urban centre, all under a wide blue sky. Bluer than Korriban's sky, yes - or at least, the Korriban that Eirn remembered - but that just made the contrast sharper, like an artist's rendition of the Sith homeworld.

(No, she realised, not- Korriban itself, but- the Korriban of her parents' romantic stories. The unexplored ruins and untamed deserts that had resisted all Republic comers on behalf of their children, driven into exile. It was a purely romantic notion, of course; Korriban cared no more for the Sith than it did for any other living creature, but Eirn was nothing if not a born romantic)

-

It wasn't long before they stumbled across the Geonosians.

Eirn had never seen one in person before, though she knew vaguely that they were aliens - insectile, and looked on poorly by the Empire, though that hardly set them apart from other non-humans - or non-Sith. These ones certainly lived up to all the ideas she had in her head about insectoid ugliness - thick, spiked carapaces over segmented bodies, and sharp, drooling mandibles that clicked and chittered in the Ossan sunlight. (Iridescent wings that sparkled in that sunlight, refracting tiny rainbows onto everything around them as they twitched and buzzed)

Idair, of course, did not hesitate - threw herself into battle with a wild abandon that would do any Sith proud, focusing her imposing presence on the enemy, carving through them with the ease that determination and a lightsaber allowed. Eirn, on the other hand, did no such thing, not least because she didn't fancy leaping headfirst into danger while clutching the satchel of explosives. That made her a target, though, and she ended up with her lightsaber drawn anyway - deflecting what shots she could, and attempting to dodge those she couldn't.

The encounter was violent, but brief; modified or no, the Geonosian's carapaces were no match for a lightsaber, and Idair was apparently not in the habit of dragging fights out. Which was fine by Eirn, for the most part, though it meant the moment that when Idair glanced back to her came far sooner than it might have with other Jedi.

'Didn't realise you had a lightsaber.' Idair hadn't extinguished hers, either; wasn't holding it offensively, but was keeping it ready, all the same.

'It's a little hard to be Sith without one,' Eirn just replied, defensively. Probably the wrong thing to say; both because of its tone, and the reminder that she was Sith. The reason, at that, she kept hers lit, in turn; not held defensively, not yet, but kept ready, all the same.

Idair took a moment to process that - glancing up and down over Eirn again, reassessing her. 'I see,' the Jedi replied, eventually - not easing up on Eirn in the slightest.

It went against every one of her instincts, but Eirn made herself extinguish her lightsaber - not least because of the way that keeping it out would have just made her task harder. It was a gesture, she hoped, that Idair would take as some sign of deference - and one that she wouldn't regret, at that.

'Over here,' Idair added, apparently letting the issue go, for now. 'You can see the tunnels they were using,' she added, gesturing with her own lightsaber. 'Couple of grenades should do the trick. Bring down enough rubble to block them, and we can move on.'

Which Eirn could do; which Eirn did, tossing the grenades one at a time, acutely aware of the way Idair watched her every movement. The part of her that was Sith kept insisting that the Jedi was simply watching her for weakness - that Eirn was being assessed, and not simply found wanting - that was a given, after all - but having those weaknesses mapped out, a plan of attack formed, a contingency prepared. It was difficult not to bristle defensively, as though such a thing wouldn't just have aggravated the Jedi, and no matter how she tried to push the feeling down, Eirn could feel the ridges on her neck and spine trying to stand on end, beneath her armour.

Breathe, Illte.

-

The next encounters with the bugs went similarly, Idair taking them apart with a practiced ease that spoke to her experience in dealing with the menace, while Eirn tried very hard not to let the bugs take them both out with a stray shot to the explosives. A part of her worried that Idair might resent it that Eirn was being less aggressive than she was - certainly, the Jedi wasn't above glancing at her sharply when she thought Eirn wouldn't see her, but if Idair had criticisms on that point, she kept them to herself. Indeed, when Idair finally did make conversation, during a particularly long stretch between fights, Eirn rapidly found herself wishing that they could go back to unpleasant silence.

'So tell me something.' It was a statement, not a question; an order, or as close as it seemed Idair would get to giving one. For now, at any rate.

Eirn struggled to repress the urge to sigh to herself; managed it, barely, though it was a contest she knew she'd lose eventually. Here we go.

'How exactly,' Idair added, not waiting for Eirn to respond, 'Does a Sith end up with the Republic? Never mind- here?'

A question for the ages, and one that Eirn hadn't satisfactorily answered for herself. Not for lack of trying, but her ego demanded one that didn't boil down to 'selfish cowardice', and was yet to supply any ideas as to how she might do that.

'That,' Eirn replied, though - sighing, finally, 'Is a long, classified, story.'

At least, the Empire probably considered it classified, and Eirn doubted the Republic felt much differently. Nobody would want to admit that the former Empire's Wrath was a heretic and a traitor - and a coward, attempting desperately to curry favour with Jedi in order to avoid her rightful fate.

'Right.' Idair did not sound convinced; in truth, Eirn didn't blame her. It wasn't an answer that sounded like anything but an excuse to avoid answering, and of the most obvious and cowardly kind.

'Your Warden and I,' Eirn added, 'Have known each other for… a long time.' Which was true, even if they hadn't exactly had common goals, in the beginning. 'She approached me, because she thought I might be able to help.'

Also true, at least if Kyo could be taken at her word. Everything else, Eirn was happy to leave ambiguous - to let Idair fill in the blanks, to fail to correct the Jedi on whatever assumptions she made. Idair did not seem like the kind of Jedi to make positive ones about Sith, but there was always a first time.

'I see,' Idair just replied, still not sounding either convinced or satisfied with the answer. It was all she was going to get, though; Eirn was not in the habit of volunteering her life story, and especially not to Jedi.

'If you don't believe me,' Eirn added, bravado demanding she at least make this addendum, 'You can ask her yourself when we get back.'

Which got her an amused snort from Idair, as though this were the punchline to some joke Eirn was not privy to. 'Trust me,' Idair replied, 'I intend to.'

Which said nothing positive about Idair's impression of Eirn, and the Sith couldn't help but bristle a little at it. It was an unsurprising attitude, given the circumstances, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

'But I wanted to hear it from you, first,' Idair added - giving Eirn another sharp look.

'Yeah, well,' Eirn replied - scowling defensively, even as she tried not to, 'You have.' Which as comebacks went was as childish as they got, and Eirn regretted every syllable of it.

-

'Alright. Last stop.' Idair sounded only marginally happier about their arrival at the final alarm site than Eirn felt, and Eirn suspected it had as much to do with the company as the enemy.

The alarm that had been tripped was visible, here, its mechanism half ripped out of the ground, half still buried in the sandy soil that made up the ground around here. It had been positioned in front of what looked less like a tunnel and more like a cave - a route that the Jedi had monitored, but not thought to close up until now. Or not been able to; if they hadn't been expecting organised assaults, it might be less of a spectacular tactical failure, though Eirn wasn't sure how charitable she was feeling about the Jedi's management of this place.

'The entrance here is bigger,' Idair added - unnecessarily, and Eirn wasn't sure which one of them she was saying this for. 'But there should be smaller tunnels further in. If we can collapse those, that should do it.'

Idair had already taken point, heading inside with a kind of brisk confidence that spoke more of wanting this over than anything else. It was a sentiment that Eirn could understand, and even shared, but that didn't mean she was any more eager to venture into a dark cave they already knew had played host to mutant bugs.

'Jedi,' Eirn murmured, as they walked - stuck for how else she should address Idair, and only certain that now was quite possibly the worst time to ask about it, 'Wait. Can you-'

Idair had paused at her words - seemed about to turn on Eirn when she paused, having sensed- if not exactly what Eirn had, then certainly enough to make her stop. After a moment, though, she just gestured for silence - before continuing down the tunnel, more cautiously than before.

What had caught Eirn's concern - what Eirn hoped Idair had picked up on - was the- presence up ahead, the formless, chaotic hostility that all of the mutated Geonosians had possessed. This, though, was different - was concentrated, as if to a knife point; as if it were poison, brewed in its most virulent form. It promised nothing good, especially when the floor of the tunnel dropped away, opening up to a larger cavern that was lit only by what ambient light made it in this far.

There were outcroppings of rock that offered cover from below, which was just as well - because it was already occupied, by quite possibly the biggest of the mutant Geonosians that Eirn had seen so far. It was mutated horribly, sagging a little under its own weight but no less insectile for its increased size. Eirn had no idea what Malora had hoped to gain by creating these monstrosities, and rather hoped she didn't have to find out.

'Holy mother of-,' Idair whispered, half to herself - some oath or another, cut short in wonder at the spectacle ahead of them. 'That's- a lot of bug.'

At least there only seemed to be the one of them, for now; Eirn didn't like the idea that thought prompted that there might be others of this size, hidden away for the right moment. (Or worse, perhaps, and not for the first time, she remembered other projects, made by other Sith, that she'd had the dubious honour of having to dispose of)

'I'll get its attention,' Eirn started, quietly - setting the explosives satchel down out of sight, for the moment. In a fight, it would only be a liability, and something this big was going to require them both. 'You… hit it while it's distracted.'

Which sounded an awful lot like she was issuing orders, and for a moment, Eirn had forgotten this wasn't her mission - that Idair was in charge, supposedly.

Idair shot her a sharp look for it, too - before considering the idea, and nodding sharply. 'Alright,' she began - apprehensively, as if she didn't trust the Sith not to turn against her, an idea that Eirn couldn't help but be insulted by.

(Because that's the only thing she has to be concerned about. Your ego is as inflated as it is unjustified, Illte.)

'Whenever you're ready,' Idair added - straightening her posture, after a moment, before focusing entirely on the Geonosian.

Right. Giant bugs. You've killed plenty of giant bugs before, Illte. Just be glad this one isn't infused with the Force.

Which wasn't a reassuring thought, and Eirn ended up having to push it firmly to one side. She stood, slowly - made herself stand, making herself a target, but- well, that was the whole idea, wasn't it?

'Hey! Ugly! Up here!' Eirn didn't just shout, either - but projected her voice, pulling on the Force and using it to grab the mutated insect's attention in a way that merely shouting would not have managed.

The insect, in return- roared, or something like it, spewing spittle from its mandibles before hocking something more deliberately in Eirn's direction. Eirn reached out to shield herself, instinctively - projecting a fragment of a shield, just enough to protect herself from the mucus that splattered against the invisible barrier, before dripping unceremoniously to the floor. It was disgusting, but it didn't hiss or spit, which was more than Eirn had been hoping for.

Her attention was all on the giant bug, though - it had to be, as the creature's attention was all on her, in turn. For a moment, it tried to fly - to buzz its wings uselessly, as though they could lift its oversized body off the ground the way its smaller ancestors could. It barely managed to clear the ground, flailing hopelessly for a moment, its legs splaying wildly as it failed to balance and it came crashing back down. None of this was a problem for Eirn - but it was for Idair, who'd looped around and tried to get to the creatures exposed rear.

Idair moved in time, barely - dodged the creature's legs, swiping at them with her lightsaber, expecting that this one would be as vulnerable to it as the smaller ones outside had been. To her surprise, though - and to Eirn's, as well - the creature's chitin resisted her blade, hissing and scoring but failing entirely to break. All it did was irritate the insect, which turned on Idair, swiping angrily with one of its front claws. Idair had her lightsaber up to block the blow before the creature even made it, and it glanced off harmlessly, but that did nothing to deter the mutant bug, and it lunged again for the Jedi, chittering and squealing all the way.

'I'm over here,' Eirn snarled, an attempt to divert the creature's attention back to herself, (the Force tearing at her throat with every word, the pain it caused looping back into the power it generated, self-sustaining at the cost of the Sith who used it the only way she knew how), 'Stupid.'

(the pain was why she used it sparingly; why she shouted, why her words were short and few, was the price she paid for these screams, every time. If there was some other way, she'd never found it; was reduced to her fourteen-year-old self, every time, scared and angry and unable to do anything but lash out at the monster in front of her)

It got the bug's attention, too - the creature whirling back around, not pausing for a moment - letting the momentum carry it as it struck at Eirn, its claws blunt enough that they just bounced off her armour even as they did it no real harm. The blow caught Eirn in the chest, though - hard enough to wind her, hard enough to knock her not just down but through the air, bouncing onto the floor hard enough to force out whatever breath she still had in her. For a moment, the world reeled and sagged, Eirn gasping uselessly for air as she struggled through the pain and shock to pull herself together. She managed it, though - staggered to her feet, forcing air back into her lungs and focus into her mind, grabbing her pain and using it to prop herself upright, if only for a moment.

The mutated Geonosian, though, had lost interest in her - had turned fully on Idair, swiping at the Jedi and succeeding only in catching its claws on her lightsaber again. Its shell resisted the plasma blades, all the same - a result, Eirn could only assume, of Malora's unholy tinkering, and all she could think of for a long moment was the creatures that Tagriss had stitched together in that rotten temple on Ilum.

Eirn tried to breathe in - tried to pull enough breath to shout and just ended up hissing in pain. Pain, though - she could use pain, draw power from it, the only way she knew how. Idair had the creature's attention again, but that just meant its rear was turned to Eirn - the delicate, oversized wings, the powerful arteries that supplied them, the cracks in the creature's unnaturally enhanced armour that gave way to soft, lightsaber-vulnerable flesh. Eirn seized the opportunity and launched herself at the Geonosian's exposed back, aiming to land herself somewhere on the creature's shoulders and missing when one of its oversized wings struck her mid jump, sending her tumbling to one side. She grabbed at the first thing that came to hand, and got a fistful of crushed wing for her trouble - apparently they were fragile enough to crumple under her grasp, even if they could still throw her off if they caught her by surprise.

The bug apparently felt that, too - screeched in pain, reeling backwards in an attempt to shake off its unwanted passenger. Eirn dangled awkwardly for a moment, trying to grapple for a better hold when the wing tore, pulled free by the weight of the Sith hanging from it. That got her another screech of pain from the creature, this one louder, and it spun back to face Eirn, swiping blindly at her in a mixture of pain and rage. Eirn dodged, barely - threw the severed wing at the creature as though it could serve as anything other than momentary distraction. That moment was all she needed, though, to respond with a blow of her own, this one from her lightsaber - enough to hold the insect's attention by itself, with or without the Force.

Idair took the opportunity with gusto, slicing first at the insect's remaining wings with her lightsaber, before leaping up for herself - not the same way Eirn had, but to plunge her lightsaber into the torn, ragged wound that losing its wing had left behind. The creature squealed and screamed again as Idair's lightsaber found its mark, buried in insectile flesh that could not resist it as its chitin could, before it finally began to collapse under its own weight and injuries. Idair extinguished her lightsaber to remove it, letting the creature drop away from underneath her as it slumped forward; Eirn dodged out of the way as best she could, careful as much to avoid being crushed as anything else.

Idair had already relit her saber, though, and wasted no time in jumping onto the half-vanquished insect's carapace, finding some spot near the head where that armour cracked, and drove her saber in - not satisfied until the bug's head was severed, the danger passed, and the last of its death rattles were over.

For a long moment, neither of them said anything; both Jedi and Sith let their wounds catch up with them, wallowed in whatever passed for victory around here before attempting to move on. Idair was the first to move; the first to nudge the insect's corpse with her boot, cautiously watching for some kind of a reaction, and not seeming all that reassured when none came. The Force still hummed through it, of course; even if the creature itself was dead, all things carried bugs and parasites which had their own life, their own power.

'Have there been,' Eirn started, after that moment had passed - after her breath had steadied, 'Many like that?'

'Not this size,' Idair replied, her focus still on the mutated insect. 'Either we got lucky, or Malora's getting desperate.'

Lucky was not the word Eirn would have used, but she let it go; the idea that any Sith was getting desperate was a bad one, but a Sith this deep in alchemical studies would have worse things up their sleeves than giant mutant bugs.

'Besides,' Idair added, 'We still have a job to do here,' she finished, looking to Eirn, finally.

That, at least, Eirn could not argue with.

-

Bringing the tunnel entrance down, after that, felt almost like an afterthought, and Eirn wasn't sorry when Idair declared the task complete. For now, at any rate; Eirn could only assume that there would be further perimeter breaches between now and whenever this world released its grip on her, and that each one would have insects just as ugly and deadly. To say nothing else of whatever else the Empire had brought to Ossus.

What have you let yourself in for, Illte.

[badsithnocookie]

Exfiltration

Date: Approximately two months after the first Battle of Odessen.

Location: Geostationary orbit over Corellia.

-

'Hey. Picking up some interesting chatter…'

'I don't care about 'interesting',' Eirn muttered, wishing Theron would shut the hell up, 'I care about useful.'

She kicked a skytrooper leg out of the way as she said that, sending it crashing against the wall. Subtle, she was not, but they were long past the point of stealth. They'd set the alarms off as soon as they'd disembarked - deliberately, this time - and that had been three floors ago.

Eirnhaya Illte-Quinn had a lot of terrible coping methods, and throwing herself headfirst into danger was one of them. It distracted her from her problems - forced her to focus on the moment, caused problems of its own that she could focus on instead of the ones she was there to avoid, distracted others from those same problems and their attendant consequences. For all she hated war, fighting was an art she'd excelled at in her bid to seek out immediate problems in order to avoid ongoing ones.

'Got 'useful', too. Seems they're holding a prisoner aboard the station, here. I know we don't have much time, but-'

'Let me guess,' Eirn replied, sighing. 'You want me to spring them.'

Zakuul's not-an-Empire had installations like this all over the galaxy: Star Fortresses, though Eirn had no idea if that was the Zakuulan name and frankly, didn't care. They were glorified weapons platforms, hanging ominously in the skies over some obscene number of worlds, threatening Zakuul's idea of justice at a moment's notice. The Alliance had taken credit for destroying several, in the time since they'd made themselves publicly known - which hadn't done Zakuul's opinion of Odessen many favours. That, though, was the whole idea.

They were more than just weapons, of course. They housed scientific endeavours, skytrooper deployments, even prisoners - rebels, reactionaries, or even just random civilians with the poor luck to upset an Exarch.

'We can't just leave them. It'd be a death sentence…' Theron, on the other end of the comm, was continuing to be ever the Pub. His impulses and ideals ran counter to everything that Lana would have approved of - which was why, Eirn supposed, she let him run tactical on her operations at all.

'<Teeseven opinion=((prisoner:zakuulan)=possible ally). Teeseven recommendation = rescue.>'

Of course the droid had an opinion, too. Eirn disagreed with both of their assessments; it was equally probable that this was some kind of trap, and all she'd manage was to increase her own risk of being killed or captured. (And wouldn't Zakuul love that? The hated Outlander, brought low-)

'Do you have anything useful to add,' she said, picking her way over the chassis of another skytrooper, 'or can I have my silence back?'

'The detention level seems to be the next one down. Just- be careful, Commander…'

'I'm always careful. And stop calling me that.'

-

Between Eirn's lightsaber and Teeseven's technical wizardry, breaking into the holding area was less of an obstacle than it might have been otherwise. What wasn't made short work of by the Sith could generally be hacked or electrocuted by the Republic astromech; her adventures in kicking over Zakuul's sandcastles had shown Eirn firsthand why Lana had relied on the droid so much during her own rescue.

The captive wasn't hard to find, either; wasn't out for experimentation or interrogation, but left to linger in their cell, collared with one of those Force-suppressant devices that Eirn remembered from her own capture, at Arcann's hands - what felt like half a lifetime ago, now. It didn't take much to work out who they were, either, though Eirn was still guilty of staring in mute surprise for a long moment as she tried to reassure herself she wasn't jumping to a faulty conclusion.

'<Prisoner = Jedi Battlemaster! (Identity: Awenyth Loren, confirmed). Teeseven = Glad to see Jedi! Sith (identity:Wrath, younger) = Ally (Teeseven). Rescue = underway!>'

Which barrelled over anything that Eirn might have wanted to announce herself with, and instantly got the Jedi's attention - for any number of reasons. Awenyth's focus immediately snapped to Teeseven - and to Eirn, who was standing slightly stupidly on the free side of the forcefield, lightsaber in one hand.

'Hello, Awenyth,' Eirn just managed - pulling together the words as she tried to process the sight in front of her.

'Sith,' Awenyth replied, eventually - looking up at Eirn, her expression a mixture of hunted and haunted and very, very wary. She wasn't just thin, but gaunt - her clothing, little more than thin prison scrubs, hung on her in a way that spoke of a long, unpleasant captivity.

'What- happened to you?' Eirn could hear herself making stupid, pointless conversation while T7 interfaced with the computers; the droid could do a better, faster job of lowering forcefields and opening doors than even her lightsaber could, but that just meant she had no reason not to stand and stare.

'Sith,' Awenyth just repeated, though - fixing Eirn with a look that was somewhere between desperate and hostile.

(Listen, Theron was saying, I know you don't have much time, but you can't just leave her there. When this thing-)

(Shut up, Eirn hissed; she knew full well what would happen)

-

Feigning ignorance as to the collar's removal forceps was impossible, not least because the astromech - who apparently knew Eirn far too well - made a point of announcing where they were kept, and suggesting that Eirn fetch them. The hardest part was not kicking the droid as she returned, as thanks for its less than subtle ordering her about. Still, she tried to tell herself, this wasn't unsalvageable; the Jedi Battlemaster owing her was an idea that, in that other life Eirn daydreamed about, might have been cause for celebration instead of annoyance.

Awenyth watched her suspiciously the entire time - not even attempting to stand, though, until Eirn had removed the collar that the Zakuulans had placed on her. The Jedi was weak - sustained only through her stubbornness and hatred, and without the Force to draw on, that hadn't been much at all.

'Sith,' she just muttered, once she was on her feet - crossing her arms (hugging herself) defensively, her gaze flicking between Eirn and the Republic droid.

'I don't know what they did with your weapons,' Eirn said, 'And I don't have time to look for them. Stay, or follow me, it's your decision. Get in my way and I cut you down. Fall behind and I'm not coming back for you. Understand me?'

('<Sith = joking? Teeseven probability calculation lacks (knowledge: variables). Awenyth = Follow Teeseven. Shuttle = waiting for signal! Sith = combat expert. Awenyth = in good hands?>')

Awenyth just scrunched her nose, giving Eirn no more respect than she would a bad smell. 'Sith.'

Eirn took that to mean 'yes'.

-

In the chaos and the adrenaline crash after they jumped to hyperspace, Eirn was happy enough just to collapse - to pull off whatever bulky segments of her armour she could get at easily, before collapsing on the shuttle's uncomfortable passenger seats. A lifetime ago she might have held herself up with only her pride and pain to draw on, but Vitiate's presence only exacerbated the sleeplessness she'd struggled with for years, and left her with a sleep debt that even the Force had trouble meeting.

(He'd kept his threats and promises of silence, made when she'd rejected the helpful advice of his shades in the Odessen woods, but Eirn knew better than to trust that his silence meant his absence. He'd been silent to the Empire, after all, and yet she of all people knew that he'd still been present, still been yanking at the puppet strings of the Sith through his Hands and- well, his Wraths. She couldn't feel him, but that did not mean he was not present; moreover, she knew from personal experience that water brought to boiling around an unaware Sith would still kill them, before they'd even realised something was amiss. That thought was what scared her the most; that she'd acclimatised to his presence, become so used to it that she could no longer imagine herself without it, an idea which promised nothing pleasant about the things he plotted for her future)

When she slept, though, it was dreamlessly; when she woke, some hours into their journey back to Odessen, it was to see that someone had put a blanket over her while she'd slept, an idea which was simultaneously appreciated and nauseating. Awenyth had similarly passed out on one of the shuttle's tiny bunks - was, similarly, underneath one of Miot's emergency blankets, with Teeseven patiently monitoring her. There was a story as to how the two knew each other; Eirn knew that the astromech was of Republic origin, but had never imagined that it might once have been Awenyth's.

'Hey there, sleepyhead. Pleasant dreams?' Theron was awake, of course - working on some report or another. At least, that was Eirn's assumption, and the truth of it was that she didn't care enough to start contemplating otherwise.

Eirn made no reply to that - not verbally, anyway, but she flicked the air in his general direction, before standing up to stretch. What she really wanted was a fresher - and a comfortable bed, and maybe a long, stiff drink, but for now, stretches and paces would have to suffice.

Her relationship with Theron had always been uneasy, and not simply because he'd once been the enemy. Eirn had always been acutely aware of the warrants and bounties that the Republic had out for her - both for acts personally attributable to her, and for the more general quality she had of being Sith. His ultimate loyalties likely still lay with the Republic, but so long as this Alliance acted only against the Republic's enemies, he seemed willing and loyal enough. That, and- well, for all that Lana had been the one to pry Eirn out of carbonite, she disagreed with the other Sith far more than not.

'That'll be a no, then,' he sighed - made a show of sighing, before going back to attending to his datapad. 'Anything you want to add to the report?

'Depends,' Eirn replied - wishing, as she moved, that she'd found somewhere more comfortable to crash. 'Can I swear?'

-

Odessen meant fresh air, the first since they'd left; meant the opportunity for a long, hot shower in the privacy of the Pathcarver, still docked in one of Aygo's bays; meant Lana berating her for taking unnecessary risks, itself as much a ritual as it was genuine concern that Eirn would one day bite off more than she could chew. It meant, more than anything, not having to share that tiny space with someone who'd made repeated attempts to murder her, even if the Jedi hadn't exactly been in a state to do anything that wasn't collapse under the weight of all Zakuul had inflicted on her. Hours passed into days that Eirn spent first recovering from her trip, and then preparing for the next one; training, healing, avoiding interacting with Odessen's newest Jedi resident.

Of course, it couldn't last.

'She wants what.' Eirn, sitting in the cantina with her sister, had been half inclined to ignore the call from Lana, and was strongly considering hanging up.

'Look,' Lana began, 'it's up to you. But she's in no shape to start anything, and if she does, well, we can handle it.'

Eirn looked across at Anya, who was at least aware of some of her past with the Jedi; Anya just shrugged unhelpfully, looking for all the world as though she'd rather not be in this conversation at all.

'Fine,' Eirn sighed, though - she didn't have the energy to argue, and it wasn't as though she'd be doing this in enemy territory. 'But if this goes wrong,' she added, before Lana could interrupt, 'I'm blaming you.'

'Understood,' she replied, before abruptly cutting the call. It was difficult to tell when Lana was annoyed, and when she was simply being Sith; and if, at times, there was even a difference between the two.

'You're going?' Anya started - furrowing her brow a little in concern. (Her jaw tendrils were curling inwards, too; caution, of the kind worn by an animal aware it is being stalked by a predator, and it did nothing to reassure Eirn in the slightest)

'I'll- get it over with,' Eirn replied, shrugging - if the Jedi wanted to spit venom at her, well, she could always just leave.

'You… want some moral support?' Anya added - as much wary as she was anything else. Anya could hold her own in a fight, but for all they were Sith, Eirn had little desire to throw her sister into harm's way. Another of her failings, perhaps. But hers, regardless.

Eirn thought about it, for a long moment; looked at her mug of caf, half drunk and long gone cold. It had always been more of a prop than a drink - something to pay attention to that wasn't the places in her relationship with her little sister that she needed, desperately, to mend - to fill in with something that wasn't a lifetime of being somewhere else.

'I'll- be fine,' she sighed, though - besides, Awenyth was her enemy, not Anya's. Was her rescuee, her- prisoner, would Awenyth view herself that way? Her responsibility, and that was the worst thought of the lot.

-

Eirn had her lightsaber, as she always did; had her nails, her teeth, herself, and waved away any suggestion of an escort. If nothing else, she reasoned, an immediate presence would be more likely to exacerbate problems than deescalate them, and for once in her life, she had no desire to fight the one-time Battlemaster whatsoever.

Awenyth was in a side ward of the medical wing - unrestrained, uncollared, but not, Eirn noted, unguarded. Then again, the Jedi Battlemaster would have made a tempting target, and not just for Zakuul. There were plenty of Sith on Odessen who still followed Korriban's rules; stayed within the ones imposed by Eirn, yes, but were far more interested in their letter than their spirit.

'Sith.' The Jedi was the first to speak, too - had apparently been expecting Eirn, a thought that unsettled her.

Awenyth was sitting, albeit in a medical cot; hooked up to a drip of some kind, bandages in places on her arms that Eirn did not remember her being injured, and not looking any less uncharacteristically frail for wearing a medical gown, or being half-curled up under white sheets. If anything, the bright lighting threw her shadows into sharp relief - something Eirn suspected that the Jedi was unpleasantly aware of.

'Hello, Awenyth,' Eirn replied - repeated, really, and she wondered what, exactly, she'd agreed to.

Awenyth just looked at her for a long, hard moment - studied her, narrowing her gaze until it focused only on the Sith in front of her. It was a feeling Eirn disliked - from anyone, not just this old enemy of hers.

'So it was you,' Awenyth just added, after a long moment - before looking away, back to the blankets wrapped around her, as though they contained the key to some hidden mystery.

'Why wouldn't it be me?' Eirn replied - lost for what else she was supposed to respond with, and almost afraid of what the answer might be.

Awenyth fixed her with that glare, again - sharp and distant and almost contemptuous. 'Because you stink,' she snarled, 'of him.'

It took Eirn a long moment - a long, puzzled, wary moment, before the fear she still nursed of her Emperor's continued presence curled around those words, absorbing them into itself in a way that promised more sleepless nights. What other him would she mean, but-?

'You can… sense him?' Eirn began, cautiously - attempting to ignore the icy dread trying to form in her stomach, as though the Jedi wasn't apparently already well aware of other things she'd rather keep hidden.

'It amazes me,' Awenyth replied, her gaze fixed on something just out of focus, just to Eirn's side, 'That you can't.' She paused, at that - before swivelling her focus back to Eirn. 'Sith,' she began to add, 'If you still serve him…'

Eirn just snorted, to that - both to the notion that Awenyth could threaten her, in this state, and the idea that she might still serve Vitiate. 'My only goal,' she replied, 'Is to find some way to destroy him. Once and for all.' For everyone who ever suffered and died for his 'irrelevant ancient dogma'.

'You were there,' Eirn added, 'On Yavin. You heard what he said.' You are special. 'If you can sense him, it's because he enjoys tormenting me. But I promise you,' she added, 'I do not serve him, or the Empire.'

Awenyth just watched her, as she spoke - didn't lose that steel in her expression, even as it flickered between Eirn and something-just-out-of-focus.

'Be wary of him, Sith,' Awenyth replied, darkly - watching Eirn as though she thought the Sith might be taken by their enemy at any moment. 'He'll rot you from the inside out and wear you as a suit, given even a sliver of a chance.'

Eirn hadn't forgotten Ziost - or Master Surro, the just-as-broken Jedi that Lana had once wanted to study like a frog in a jar. But Awenyth's broken riddles, not to mention her sensitivity to him - something even Senya had missed - spoke of a far more personal history. For a moment - just a moment - Eirn remembered those boasts that had been made of Awenyth's raid on Dromund Kaas, and wondered if there was some awful price the Jedi had paid for what hadn't even truly been a victory.

'I don't intend to give him one,' she just replied, though - her words pointed at Vitiate as much as Awenyth. 'My goal is his destruction. Nothing else.'

'Then our goal is common, Sith,' Awenyth replied - the hostility not leaving her tone or posture, not for a single moment. 'For as long as it remains such, I will not strike you down. But do not think this makes us friends.'

Eirn just laughed humourlessly, at that. 'I would never dream of it, Jedi.'

'I don't want your pity, either, Sith.' Awenyth was suddenly furious- no, it wasn't that. There was a veneer of anger, but underneath it, she was in pain - she'd been humiliated, shattered, broken down to her constituent components and left scattered on the ground. It was still uncannily like looking in a mirror - a twisted fairground mirror, perhaps, but a mirror all the same.

'Pity is the last feeling you inspire in me, Jedi,' Eirn replied, dryly. She wondered if Awenyth saw the same thing she did, or if this introspection was entirely one-sided. 'You're here because if you weren't, Shan wouldn't let me hear the end of it.'

Which was definitely an attempt to save face, and not just to the Jedi. For all that there was no love lost between the two of them, the Jedi's concern on Ziost had been entirely genuine - as had the fleeting alliance they had made. For all the good it had done them, in the end.

Eirn's remark just made Awenyth blink in surprise, though, and her expression melted into something that was almost tinged with hope. 'The Grand Master?'

'The spy,' Eirn replied flatly. The last thing she needed was the Jedi Grandmaster oozing platitudes at her. She'd rather have Baras's ghost stalking her every failure, along with Vitiate; the pair of them criticising her at every turn, perhaps with the ghosts of her self-esteem and dignity egging them on.

Awenyth had no smart reply to that, though - just fell back into her contemptuous default state, snorting and turning her attention elsewhere. Eirn took that as meaning the conversation was over - and, rather grateful for that, left.

-

Meditation in the wilderness wasn't an activity commonly associated with Sith, especially when said wilderness was as green and full of life as Odessen's was - and if that Sith was Eirn. If Sith were not creatures found in nature, then nobody would look in the forests around the Alliance's camps when they wanted to pester her.

'If you're trying to be stealthy, Agent Shan, you might want to work harder on your force signature.'

Almost nobody.

'I wasn't,' the spy replied, sourly - and then, 'Believe it or not, Commander, I don't enjoy the prospect of a surprise lightsaber.'

Eirn opened her eyes, slowly - and smirked at the sight of the mildly irritated spy. 'What do you want, Theron?'

'That little... tiff with the Battlemaster.' he replied - leaning against the nearest tree, crossing his arms defensively, and studying Eirn as she stood. 'There's not going to be any problems with you two?'

Word apparently travelled fast. Then again, Eirn supposed she shouldn't be surprised; both Theron and Lana would be well aware of the animosity that existed between the once-Wrath and the former Battlemaster.

'I have no idea what you're talking about,' Eirn said - dusting herself down as she did so. That was a downside of communing with nature - it had a tendency to stick to your clothing afterwards. 'By Sith standards, that was practically a declaration of love.'

A slight overstatement of things, perhaps, but Eirn had traded far worse barbs with people who'd hated her far less. There were likely hundreds of reasons that Awenyth's efforts had been as half-hearted as they had been, but Eirn wasn't in the habit of speculating on the reasoning of broken Jedi.

What she didn't expect, though, was the stab of concern that the l-word prompted from Theron - and Eirn decided this was not a road she wanted to venture down.

'Believe it or not,' he said, scrambling for a response, 'That's what concerns me. She's not Sith.'

'No,' Eirn replied, 'She's a very broken Jedi, and despite appearances,' she sighed, crossing her arms and fixing him with a glare, 'I am not completely heartless.'

'I didn't-' Shan started to protest - before sighing, in apparent defeat. 'I can never tell when you're being serious. That's not a good thing, by the way.'

Which made it Eirn's turn to sigh again. 'As long as she doesn't start fights, I won't finish them. Is that good enough?'

'That's… going to have to do,' Theron replied - conceding defeat, or at least appearing to.

'Great,' Eirn said - dusting her hands off, at that, and making a show of being at least a little energised. 'So what Star Fortress are we hitting next?'

[badsithnocookie]

anyway i think i’ve alluded to this before but?? in the outlander!eirn continuity, she doesn’t get reunited with pierce on odessen/kaas - he’s not been relegated to a desk job, but is off serving the empire the way he knows best (blowing up pubs)

and i got hit last night with the idea of like

him volunteering (being volunteered) for her assassination once it becomes clear/confirmed that she’s defected to the republic and is (at the very least suspected of) actively working with the jedi

not because he is desperately loyal to the empire/angry about her defection, but because his own reputation is tarnished by association (she is his former co, after all) (plus lingering resentment over the shit she gave him for that stunt he pulled with lorant)

(hellbrain: okay but consider: he happens to be on ossus, already big mad about being subordinate to both a woman and an alien, when he happens to get a glimpse of the former Wrath at a distance---)

[badsithnocookie]

now if only she could actually do something about this.

[badsithnocookie]

[badsithnocookie]

22 for Eirn and Quinn??

hey charlie what did i ever do to you

-

22. things you said after it was over

The realisation hit Eirn like the speeder at full pelt, barrelling into her and leaving her winded and lightheaded. They’d had arguments - they’d hadpassionate disagreements- but this, the Empire’s offer of amnesty for its troops and Sith who’d called Odessen home-

‘That’s- why you’re here,’ she stammered - stammered, as though she was still a nervous acolyte, her - ‘isn’t it? That’s-’

And she paused, right there, not willing to go any further in voicing that thought, if only because of the ugly things it said about her so-called husband.

‘That’s- not true, Eihn,’ he started - pushed off-centre himself, staggering to regain his metaphorical footing.

(this confrontation was private, at the very least; the Pathcarver had served many purposes, and its current one was the only place on Odessen Eirn felt like she had any privacy. No Vitiate, no Lana, no Theron - no Empire, no Republic, no Alliance, just her and- until just now, Malavai)

‘I should have known,’ she added, half to herself - deflating, starting to pace the main hold in short circles in order to keep her legs from buckling underneath her. Things hadn’t been easy - she hadn’t expected them to be- but this-

'Eihn,’ he added, 'I- did not come here to- I did not know that the Empire would- make its offer of amnesty. I was as surprised as anyone else here. When I- left the Empire, I- did not think I would be welcomed back. It was not a decision I made lightly.’

Her name, like so much else about her, was Sith - was Tsis, the legacy of Korriban, and one that Malavai’s Kaasi accent had never quite mastered. What he’d made of it had always been theirs, but more and more it felt less like an endearment and more like proof that she had never quite been a fit to his Imperial sensibilities.

'But now they are,’ Eirn replied, 'And you’re- going. And that’s- that.’

There were any number of terrible implications here, and Eirn knew even without picking at them that she could lose herself for years in untangling them all. The fact he’d had to think so long and hard about returning to the Empire that had scarred and wounded both of them, or leaving it to join his so-called wife. The fact it had taken so little to make him leave her.

'It is- not as simple as you make it sound. I-’ He kept pausing - kept looking at her, studying her as she paced back and forth as though she were a puzzle to be solved, an equation to be balanced, a conundrum to be settled.

'I would like it very much,’ he added, quietly - taking a step back towards her and, when she didn’t resist, placing his hands on the outside of her arms - holding her, gently, as though if he pressed any harder she might evaporate under his touch. 'If you were to come with me.’

(Evaporate, or react violently, and the realisation that he still viewed her the way she viewed other Sith just made her remember the confession her mother had made.That insecurity never goes away, not truly-)

'After everything the Empire did to me,’ she hissed, though - after all the scars it had left her with, more of them from Sith than from Jedi, 'How can you eventhink of asking me that?’

He faltered, but didn’t reply - didn’t move, didn’t take his hands from where they rested on her bare skin, but didn’t acknowledge what she’d said, either.

'The Empire is- not the Empire you know,’ he began, eventually. 'It-’

'It isexactly the same. Malavai-’ Eirn started - pulling away from him, finally, breaking that contact - leaving him to stand there, hands out for an awkward moment until he pulled them in, not quite hugging himself in turn but not sure what he was supposed to do, either.

'The Empire,’ she added, 'Put you in a- labour camp for- trying to do the right thing. Why would you ever- go back to that-’

(but she already knew why; he’d served Baras even though the Sith had done nothing to help him, even after Baras had tried to kill him - or to kill her, while not worrying in the slightest about any collateral damage. He’d been a loose end, after all - knew too many of Baras’s secrets to ever live, a fact which had all the same done little to dispel his loyalty to the man)

'Moff Lorman was removed,’ he replied, 'And-’

'Fortrying to kill Acina,’ Eirn hissed, not letting him finish. 'It was nothing to do with you, or- anything resemblingjustice,’ she added - other than an attempt at salving Acina’s bruised ego.

They’d already had this argument, though - or ones like it, about the freedom Eirn had found on Odessen and the ways it offended every one of the Empire’s sensibilities. They both knew it, too - and Eirn just gave up, at that, sitting back down on the couch abruptly enough that the stuffing creaked. She tried to find words, and just sniffed; she tried to blink, and found that there were tears she could do nothing about, except wipe away in the futile hope they wouldn’t collect in the places where her tendrils didn’t quite break the skin. She just ended up hugging herself, again; closed her eyes and tried to breathe and mostly just felt sick. Everything was unravelling, and there was nothing she could do-

Except sit there, as he sat near to her - not next to, but the seat opposite, as though that was supposed to be a reassurance.

'We would be together,’ he added, quietly. 'And you would- not have to run from the Empire - or the Sith.’

That, Eirn knew, was aimed at another argument they’d had - the what-comes-next that she supposed everyone had argued over in the wake of the events on Nathema. The Empire did not view its traitors kindly, and Eirn knew she was a traitor they would particularly hate; a heretic, a fallen Wrath, responsible for a whole Council’s worth of dead Darths. To say nothing of the Alliance’s own snubs of the Empire’s causes.

'And Anya?’ Eirn added, looking back to him - not bothering to wipe at the tears, this time, and not reassured by the fact he didn’t have any. 'What about her? Do I just- give up-’

'She could come with us,’ he replied, immediately - apparently having not put even the smallest thought into this. 'The amnesty extends to Sith-’

She interrupted him with a laugh that had nothing to do with humour. 'And you’re naïve enough to believe that? The same Sith who tortured me for surviving Ziost would just- welcome back traitors and heretics with open arms?’

He had no reply to that; fumbled for one, but apparently came up with nothing he felt worth saying. Either he did believe it, in which case he was an idiot - or he didn’t, in which case he was asking her - and Anya - to submit themselves to an Empire where their immediate execution would be the best they could hope for. Eirn wasn’t sure which idea she disliked more - that he was still so blind he only saw what he was ordered to, or that he knew what he was asking her to do and didn’t even care.

Eirn just snorted at his lack of response, before unfolding her arms, if only so she could lean her elbows on her knees and bury her face in her hands, close her eyes and not have to look at the one person in the galaxy who, not so long ago, she’d hoped she might get to see again each day for the rest of her life.

'Is there,’ he added, quietly - barely breaking the silence, the words catching in his throat, 'Anything that I can- say which will- make you reconsider?’

If you were any other Sith, a dark part of her mused, if you were Sith, you would not even give him the opportunity to leave.

Which was the problem, as it had always been. That dark part of her - the part that Korriban had forged, the part that had stared back at her in that cave on Tattooine - that part had always been a more obedient Sith. It wasn’t who she was, though - who she wanted to be, who she tried to be, and for a while, she’d even been able to kid herself that he’d loved her for that effort, not despite it.

She looked back up at him, though - studied him, for a long moment (wondered if he wasn’t crying because he didn’t care, or because she cared too much; because he had control over himself, or because she had too little), taking in that feeling once again of being a puzzle to be solved, and wondering if this could ever have ended any other way.

'Just- go, Malavai,’ she replied, eventually. She regretted the words immediately; wished she could unsay them, wished there was something she could do tomake him understand the pain he was asking her to relive, and saw the way he flinched and realised that no matter what else she said, all he’d ever hear was blame. 'Just… go.’

[badsithnocookie]

'Master Gnost-Dural,' Kyo just replied - still smiling, before offering a faint, polite, bow. 'I am glad to see you are still in one piece.'

Gnost-Dural. Eirn frowned to herself, puzzling at the name; she felt as though she should know it from somewhere, a feeling that never promised anything good.

'Master Kyo,' Dural replied, his attention shifting between Kyo and Eirn. 'I take it this is your friend?'

Which made Eirn bristle, if only because she loathed being talked about in the third person - and then pause, before wondering wildly what had been said about her outside of her presence, and what exactly these Jedi would be judging her by.

'It is,' Kyo replied, nodding, before Eirn could speak for herself. 'May I introduce Eirnhaya Illte, formerly of the Odessen Alliance.'

'And the Sith Empire,' Dural added, his own attention all on Eirn. 'I'll admit, I wasn't certain I believed Nisha when she said that you of all people might agree to aid us.'

'Not so loud,' Eirn grumbled - glancing around, half convinced that others were more interested in listening in than attending to their tasks. A paranoia born of a lifetime in the Empire, true, but one she felt justified nursing, especially in this place.

Dural apparently found this funny enough to chuckle at, though what was so funny, Eirn wasn't sure she wanted to know. Jedi humour was a test of her patience on the best of days, and today was not one of those.

continue @ ao3

[badsithnocookie]

(does my sw have a problem with him for that line? of course she does! she’s angry, she’s grieving, she’s not thinking straight, she’s terrified, she’s eleventy leagues out of her depth and she’s stuck in the company of the one person in the galaxy who doesn’t seem to hate vitiate on principle)

(but then she like. gets the fuck over it once she learns a little more about zakuul and about koth. she’s still angry and terrified and grieving, but he’s a better person than she feels she’ll ever be. not to mention that, you know. she’s acutely aware of just how good v was at pulling the wool over everyone’s eyes.)

(and is, well. trying to be a better person than she used to be.)

[badsithnocookie]

Defection (1/?)

'Captain Dorne. Thank you for coming.'

Which wasn't quite the right thing to say, somehow, if only for the way that Dorne tensed momentarily, and Eirn felt herself wince. It was hard enough trying to clumsily pick her way through a conversation with the Republic soldier as it was, and circumstances being what they were only made it worse.

Dorne, though, powered through it - sat herself down opposite Eirn, sitting almost as awkwardly in the cantina booth as Eirn was. At least the Nar Shaddaa cantinas were marginally less likely to go tattling to Lana about this conversation than the Odessen one was, though this didn't stop Eirn glancing nervously at every patron who so much as breathed in their direction.

Calm down, Illte. You'll fuck this up by yourself at this rate.

'Of course,' Dorne started - more uncertain than she was anything else, and hardly putting Eirn at ease. For different reasons, perhaps, but her nervousness was unhelpfully contagious, all the same. 'Was there something you needed to talk about?'

'Yeah, I-' Eirn started - stars, Force, Emperor- fuck, not him- but this was hard-

'I want,' she added, grabbing at the words and forcing them into the open before they could do the one thing she wanted to, and flee, 'to defect.'

-

Which was easier to say to Dorne than it had been to certain other technically-ex-Imperials, but this was a low bar to clear.

-

The downside of having been forced to face her fears so literally, figuratively, and frequently repeatedly, was that Eirn knew firsthand that reality both never measured up to what the mind could conjure, and yet was always somehow worse. There were no drugs, though, no threats - no overt ones, at least, though Eirn knew that if she proved uncooperative, her new hosts would start to remember that list of charges that they still publicly held against her.

(She even still had the Force - there were no restraints, no collars, no numbing auras. It was a test, she supposed, of her cooperation - a privilege that could be revoked, an unspoken threat that could yet snap shut around her ankles)

No, if anything, it was the tedium that got to her - the same faces asking the same questions about the same things, wringing every drop of useful information out of their newest turncoat Sith. Or perhaps just to make sure she wasn't lying; Eirn had tried explaining repeatedly that her information about the Empire was a good seven years out of date, and Odessen - well, last she'd heard, it was down to Lana, a couple of droids, and whatever refugees hadn't found somewhere more permanent to move on to.

(At least, she told herself, you're not on Tython.)

The arrival of the Barsen'thor changed that.

-

Eirnhaya Illte and Nisha Kyo had met before, of course - Kyo had been present on Marr's ship, that fateful day, there at the head of the Republic's token-seeming effort. More than a few Imperials had resented the fact that the Republic was risking so little, and Eirn had been among them - even if she'd saved most of her resentment for Marr, who grasped the leash that the Dark Council had forced around Eirn's neck far too eagerly. Marr had once had his sights on the Throne, of course - even before Ziost, even in the days when Vitiate was a Sith whom Eirn had served willingly.

That had been years ago, though, even for Eirn - who looked at Kyo across the forcefield in the interrogation room with as much irritated defiance as she could muster. It was part habit, and part deliberate; while Kyo had never been an enemy, other than in the strictest of technicalities, they'd never quite seen eye-to-eye, either.

'Master Kyo. Never expected to see you here.'

There were chairs, of course, and Eirn was slumped in hers - pushing her hair back irritably when it flopped out of place, but otherwise as much bored as she was anything else. She'd been trying to grow it out, and not just because she didn't trust anyone here to cut it; she hadn't had long hair since she was a teenager, but- well, she hadn't had a lot of things since she was a teenager.

'Ms. Illte,' Kyo replied - smiling that serene, brickable smile of Jedi who know far more than they want to let on. 'I admit I never imagined you might defect.'

'Yeah, well,' Eirn harrumphed, 'I surprised us both, there.'

So Kyo knew about him, then; that, or she'd made an accurate guess. It wouldn't have taken much, Eirn reflected - she wasn't exactly residing in married quarters. Living quarters here in general were barely half a step up above imprisonment, though couples were permitted to remain together - that much she knew, and resented knowing.

'What do you want?' Eirn added, before the Jedi could direct the conversation somewhere unpleasant. 'I'm guessing you're not here for the conversation.'

Kyo's smile twitched in momentary amusement, and for that brief moment, Eirn felt a distinct sense of dread at the thought of impending Jedi humour. 'No,' Kyo replied. 'I came here to make you an offer.'

'I'm not converting,' Eirn replied, flatly - that had been something else she'd taken pains to impress upon the Republic, though it apparently hadn't sunk in. If they wanted her on Tython, though, she wasn't going to go without a fight.

'I don't expect you to,' Kyo replied, all the more amused for Eirn's irritation. 'SIS informed me you were... quite passionate, on that subject.'

Which Eirn could only assume was more Jedi humour, and which was thus responded to only with an irritated snort.

'They also tell me,' Kyo continued, 'That you're angling for Republic citizenship. There's... political resistance,' she half-mused, 'To granting it to someone with your... history. But the gratitude of the Jedi can go a long way to smoothing such things over.'

'And what exactly,' Eirn replied, 'Do the Jedi want in return?'

(And why are they asking in such a roundabout way? Is this a Jedi thing, or just a diplomat thing?)

'A new settlement on one of the ancient Jedi homeworlds,' Kyo began, finally getting to her point, 'Has caught the attention of the Empire. It's outside Republic space, so there are limits to how much they can help. I'm leaving in a few hours to render my own assistance. A mutual friend of ours suggested that you might be a candidate to join me.'

A Sith, defending a Jedi homeworld. This truly was a Jedi's idea of humour, and if it hadn't been for Kyo's aura, Eirn would have assumed an unpleasant laugh was in order. Kyo didn't seem to be lying, though - if anything, the concern when she spoke about the besieged world sounded genuine enough. And Eirn- well, Eirn knew that the Sith would never pass up a chance for what would be sold to them as avenging Korriban.

'A friend,' Eirn repeated, unimpressed. They had mutual acquaintances, of course, and Eirn could think of several people who might think of this as a favour.

'It's entirely up to you,' Kyo added - an attempt, Eirn could only assume, to reassure her she had a choice, here. Or pretend she did. One of the two, and Eirn wasn't sure, any longer, just how uncharitable an assessment the Jedi deserved.

'I understand,' Kyo continued, 'If you'd prefer not to face the Empire. Especially on behalf of the Jedi. But- I mean it when I say that you would earn the gratitude of a lot of people.'

A test, Eirn realised - a gamble, and Eirn wasn't sure what it said about her that Kyo would even suggest this. That the Republic would allow her to risk Eirn's loyalties, to risk Eirn, in facing the Empire.

(But what greater weapon, the memory of a voice from a historical holo mused, than to turn an enemy to your own cause?)

'Fine,' Eirn replied, though - sighing to herself, but- well, it would mean fresh air and sunshine and- being shot at and having to face Sith, having to- fight Imperial troops, and her stomach clenched at a thought she didn't even want to acknowledge having, and it took all her focus to push those worries away, especially while in the company of Jedi.

'One condition,' she added - one last pointed defiance, 'I want my lightsaber back.'

It had been confiscated, of course, along with a lot of her other belongings - to be looked after, she'd been assured, though Eirn had no doubt that they too were being scoured for clues and intel. It was precisely why Anya had advised her not to take any datapads or holos, as much as Eirn would have committed any number of heinous crimes to get her hands on something, anything, written in Imperial Basic. Not that she couldn't read Republic, but like most foreign scripts, it made her head hurt, and all the more so for the acute embarrassment that went with having the reading pace of a child.

'Of course,' Kyo replied, still smiling - still amused, and Eirn hated her for it. 'Your other gear will be returned to you, as well.'

Well, that was far too easy.

'Great,' Eirn replied - gesturing, slightly uselessly, in a sort of animated defeat. 'When do we get started?'

[badsithnocookie]

also while there is no way in Hell that outlander!eirn would go back to the empire, even as a saboteur (especially as a saboteur), because i am absolutely predictable trash my hellbrain spent the time entire time proposing a fic idea where outlander!eirn straight up defects and winds up defending ossus alongside sha (who is bemusedly wary of the entire prospect of.. eirn) and tau (who is only less amused by the whole affair the more time passes)

and i’m just here like no, brain. writing up iokath fic took what, six months? no.

[badsithnocookie]

unused words [unification/epilogue]

Iokath’s Throne was no easier to connect to than it had been before, and all the more so for Eirn's shattered, scattered concentration - Iokath's own systems pushing back against her just as much as she resisted Iokath, an unstoppable force meeting an uncooperative object.

Hello, Iokath. It's a pleasure to meet you.

The Jedi, though, apparently had no such problems - another stubborn embarrassment that Eirn had to swallow back before it tried to choke her. The chamber it displayed before them had changed - no longer Acina's throne room on Kaas, or Iokath's own, material, control rooms - but a grand library, constructed in ancient stone, its walls on one side set with tall windows framed in rich woods that let the sunlight stream in across polished desks and tiled floors. The far wall - the one, Eirn supposed, that in the real world would have been home to those half-repaired control panels - was lined with bookshelves, made from the same rich woods that framed the windows and formed the desks, and filled with- with books, with holocrons and datapads, all neatly filed away according to some unknown schema.

'What is this-?' Eirn started - slightly stupidly, as she looked around the vision that had greeted them.

'The Royal Library of Iziz,' Aemilia replied, smiling to herself - running her fingers along the wooden desks, before turning her attention to the shelves themselves. 'I spent much time here, before I left for Coruscant. Too much time,' she added, amused, 'According to my teachers.'

Onderon, Eirn realised - Aemilia's home planet, a place of comfort and familiarity to the Jedi. She looked back to the windows, gripped by wary curiosity - and while the view out through them was framed by hanging ivies, moving gently in some unseen breeze, the skyline and horizon were unmistakeably Iokath's.

What does it say, Eirn scowled, unhelpfully, that this place will reflect Acina's will, or Aemilia's - but never mine?

'Alliance,' a voice replied - or at least- the word was communicated, bypassing hearing and simply imprinting understanding. Iokath, or something close to it. 'Elaborate/Explain.'

'This- is Aemilia,' Eirn started - unnerved by talking to an empty library, but she had no idea how to go about demanding Iokath put a face to its voice, and wasn't sure that would improve things any. 'She will be taking charge of Alliance operations on Iokath while I am away.'

Iokath did not respond to that immediately; Eirn held her breath and listened (tried to still her mind and feel) but all she felt was the cold and distant hum of Iokath's alien mind.

'You are worthy,' Iokath responded - Eirn was Worthy, whatever Worthiness itself was supposed to mean. 'You command Iokath. No outsiders.'

'Aemilia's- not an outsider,' Eirn started - floundering, slightly, but pressing forward all the same. 'She's from the Alliance, like me. She is- as Worthy as I am.' More 'Worthy', whatever that was supposed to mean, but that was a thought that Eirn tried her best to quash.

'We are two parts of the same system,' Aemilia added - impressed upon Iokath, in turn, illustrating her meaning with the Force as much as the Sphere's system had. Two actors, working for a common goal. Two parts among hundreds, united under a single banner. 'Eirn [she who came before, who was recognised as Worthy, who commands Alliance forces here] will be absent [physically required elsewhere]. I will be her representative [for Iokath, for the Alliance, for the Republic. an intermediary. a place where will and action meet].'

There was silence, for a long moment, as Iokath seemed to contemplate this - and Eirn spent that moment half wondering just what they could do, exactly, if Iokath objected to this arrangement - and envying Aemilia's ability to express herself- not just with words, but- somehow with the Force itself, matching Iokath's own strange communication.

'Acceptable. Iokath greets and recognises the emissary.' A pause, and then, 'The Alliance requires/commands further?'

Which was less painful than Eirn had been anticipating, and she felt herself let out a long, relieved sigh, despite the fact that this wasn't even happening in the real world. 'Not for now,' she added, trying not to sigh again and failing, rather miserably. 'Just... wanted you two to meet each other.'