Lord Sinistra
Retired High Councilor 
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Post by Lord Sinistra on Oct 17, 2013 15:47:51 GMT -8
'Til Death Do Us Part
- Principal Authors: Jago and Sin
- Who can post on this thread: Jago and Sin
- I want to receive critical responses: N
- I will be using standard Universe rules here (e.g., canon-only, fleet limits, etc.): Y
Location: CoruscantTimeframe: After the fall of the Jedi Temple, before the rise of the Sith EmpireContinued from here.
The hours wiled away became days and those became weeks as they skirted destruction of their carefully crafted fantasy. He snuck in when he was supposed to be doing other things, their tryst picked up like the passage of time had been a dream. It was late afternoon now, the light stretching across the living room floor as she pushed herself up and down, form rigid, sweating dotting her forehead and drenching her back. She was restless with the apartment, tired of looking at the walls of her cage. Sometimes she would sit on the balcony and watch the traffic go by, her attention never failing to find the sharpshooters. She feigned obliviousness well, feigned content with the confines of a life she had outgrown.
Her elbows buckled, she collapsed down on the carpet, rolling to her back to gaze at the ceiling. Her muscles were screaming for rest but she liked the burn in them. It reminded her of what she was doing. Jago questioned her exercise routine once when he caught her racing up and down the stairs that lead to the landing pad on the roof. She had brushed him off about being bored and her pants getting too snug, an off hand comment that she was an older woman and his attentions might wander to another. He had chuckled at her remarks and wrapped her in kisses and arms.
He had spent nearly every night with her, ensconced in the routine. He would rise in the morning and report to the Temple and she would train and wait. Meditate and wait. Watch the new and wait. At night he would return and she would ask if there was news on when she would stand trial. But so far, nothing. She felt as though a day could become a thousand locked in the apartment and she felt as though the grip on her senses could uncurl like fingers on a trapeze to let her drop into madness.
She pulled her legs up over her head and launched herself into a kip up, heading for the treadmill Jago had delivered and put in the bedroom. Better to run on it than to look silly running a flight of stairs over and over. The shadows shifted across the bedroom floor as she ran, watching something mundane on television, the afternoon disappearing into night. It was not like him to be this late. Perhaps tonight she was to be alone. When the infernal machine had logged her running 15 kilometers, she shut it off and headed for the shower, guzzling water like a sugar junky with a pop.
When he did not return for dinner, Gaysa knew tonight was her only chance. She cooked a simple dinner, read a book and eventually drug herself to bed, the same thing she did every night for those watching. She slept for a hour or so, until it was well past midnight. She slipped out of bed quietly and went to the refresher. In the dark, she changed into black leggings and top, black gloves and pulled her hair back. Clinging to the shadows and darkness, she made her way to the maintenance panel of the elevator located in a small pantry off her kitchen. The panel pulled out with a couple screws to reveal a very narrow opening. She twisted herself in contortions that would have melted Jago's mind, finally hidden from view by the panel. She pulled it into the opening so that at a glance nothing would look amiss.
The flashlight was exactly where she had left it and she smiled. The hatch into the elevator shaft was right next to her. She pulled it open and looked down a hundred stories. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and jumped through the opening. She fell through the darkness only punctuated by small security lights here and there for what seemed forever. She counted the lights then balled herself up and braced for landing. She was a little off but she made it to the bottom, landing on a metal catwalk that surrounded the bottom of the elevator shaft. She shined the flashlight around and found the door she was looking for.
Nothing had changed, the grimey basement floor of the building was damp and smelled of rot. She climbed down the metal grating stairs and stopped in front of a dirty door marked storage. She pulled the handle and it opened easily, the lock had been broken eons ago. She was glad to see most people forgot this area of the building. It afforded her a great luxury. In a dark corner sat a locked crate covered with a drop cloth. It was ancient looking and not really worthy of note. She pulled off the cover, dust swirling in eddies around her now. She pressed two fingers to the lock and spoke in a deep low voice."Pinecone." The lock fell away from its resting place and she hefted the lid open. Inside the crate was a portable communications station, the screens dark. She hit the power cell, praying it had some juice and it lit up with a slight whirring sound. She started looking for a signal to hijack, the search brief due to the number of people in the building and one nearby. She sent out a coded message using one their connections to the only person she knew she could trust. The message was code, a curl to her lip that the clandestine affairs had not been lost. When it was sent, she powered off the station and relocked the crate. She covered her tracks and slipped back out to the shafts. She was ready to start climbing when she noticed the couterweight start to move up. Time for Ataru practice as she ran off the catwalk, bounced off the wall and jumped up to the weight. She hung on, thanking the heavens that she had been working her arms. When it stopped halfway up, she reached over to grasp the metal rungs in the wall and started to climb. It was long and tiring but she eventually made it back to the top. A few minutes later she was slipping back into bed, changed back into her pajamas. It was out of her hands now. Hopefully they would get the message.
The next morning she was up early, showered and drinking caf on the balcony. Her attention was drawn to the finished towers of the Temple, wondering what they could possibly debating so long. She looked calm and well rested, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. She suppressed her hope, sticking to her well known behavior patterns. She would play the part for as long as she needed to. She wondered if she would ever tell Jago exactly what his Force Light had done to her but she dismissed the notion. Somethings are better left unsaid. Until she could be assured of her escape, he would have his Gaysa. With a forlorn smile, she sipped her caf.
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Jago
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Post by Jago on Oct 17, 2013 17:47:18 GMT -8
~ He had been delayed the night before. The work of a Jedi was never truly finished, but Jago didn't quite appreciate the fact that most of the "work" was now being centered on him. As the Sinistra-Debate drew out ever longer, he had found himself being questioned by both The Order and its secular contemporaries. The High Council was particularly concerned with whether or not Sinistra herself was truly gone, but feared that investigating the matter further would make The Senate assume they were intent on releasing the most high-profile criminal in Galactic History. The Chancellor, meanwhile, was almost too quick to accuse Jago Pulastra of being a Sith-collaborator, a traitor to the ideals of The Republic, and was asking for his title within The Order to be stripped.
Many agreed with him.
For the purpose of maintaining peace, Jago had voluntarily resigned his Council Seat until the matter could be settled, which only caused more of a stir. It lead to further musings in the Rotunda that Master Pulastra was planning on leaving The Order altogether, and taking the prisoner with him. A small part of him wondered if maybe, just maybe, that would be the right thing to do. To whisk Gaysa off of Coruscant, set her free out there to make her own path, and allow himself to suffer the repercussions back at home.
And then there was the consideration of what he had been doing with her in the night. Where nobody else could see or know. The affair they shared in the dark of the City of A Trillion Lights. It gnawed at the back of his mind constantly, knowing that he had her so close and yet she was impossibly beyond his reach. What about Ksandra? What about Ksandra? his thoughts seemed to shoot back with more defensiveness than he cared to admit. Already he had tried to justify his actions, his feelings, but words and thoughts in private were just that: silent words and empty thoughts. He killed a woman so he could be with a woman that was not his woman. What was it he had told her on Jabiim?
" Murder is not justice."
Why, then, did he feel so vindicated in knowing she was gone? That the greatest evil he had ever known would never again rear its head in The Galaxy? He had disposed of her like a coward, taking advantage of her defenseless state, but there was still that belief that what he had done had been the best thing for all involved. Best thing for Sinistra ... perhaps not. But mass-murderers never cared to listen to the cries of those they slaughtered, either.
He arrived in the morning that day, finally free to be on his own for a moment. Neither The Council nor The Senate wanted to hear another word from him after last night, and good riddance to both. Jago was tired of being judged, tired of questioning himself. He wanted only just a few moments of peace, of savoring quiet and warmth with his hidden love. It seemed almost insane that the only time he felt right anymore was in the arms of an Ex-Sith Master, but he had begun to doubt that development less and less. No, his hesitations centered on the turning of the world around him and her, not her herself.
He locked the speeder behind him after touching down on the personal landing pad of her apartment, enjoying the fact that he was going to surprise her by being early. A slight weight in his jacket slowed his pace, however, and Jago dipped his hand into the fabric to feel at the disturbance.
Paper.
The Letter.
He had still not read it, even when left with plenty of time to do so in private, away from her, away from anyone else. There had been times where he had stared at the envelope as if it contained some secret that would unravel all he had been working and fighting towards for the past few weeks, but his fingers always went numb the second they tried to part the fold. It could wait, he told himself. It could wait just a little longer. Surely, sentiments from a decade ago would do very little to change his opinion now.
The balcony door was open, and there she was standing there, watching the skyline as the glint of orange streamed off the shimmering buildings and basked her figure in radiance. All the misgivings seemed to melt as he approached her, letting his footfalls be heard so as not to spook Gaysa. Then again, it wasn't as if she had any other visitors. Jago's fingers brushed up her back, lightly curling over her shoulders as he stood silent for a minute, simply watching the speeders go by with her.
He did not want to have their usual talk of what The Council was planning. In truth, he wasn't even sure The Council itself knew what it wanted to do at this juncture. Jago didn't want to consider how much longer this game would run, and where the end, if it came at all, would be. No. He wanted much different things entirely.
" I feel like going out," he said finally, a declarative tone strongly felt in his voice. He nodded to no one, as if affirming his own wants to himself.
" You and I should go out. Get out of this apartment. Go somewhere today."
A day to themselves. Just like they once had on this same spot.
Many, many years ago. ~
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Lord Sinistra
Retired High Councilor
VE Human Capital Management & Talent Acquisition
Posts: 1,474
Affiliation: The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Lord Sinistra on Oct 18, 2013 5:15:56 GMT -8
"Well that would be great except for this prickly little thing called house arrest. There are enough people clamoring for for my neck on this planet that I dare not give them another reason to believe that I am worthy of a death sentence. I will remain here. This is a cushier prison than I deserve for the things I have done. Go if you want to, I have another book I can read or more movies I can watch."
The acceptance of the future seemed to dull her eyes with each passing day. She knew the only way the Republic and the Jedi would let her leave this place would be to attend her trial. Her bright dark brown eyes were hollow now. A melancholy settled over her that only seemed to lift when he was near. She was well past stir crazy, she looked stoic now. She rose from the table, picking up her empty caf mug to take to the kitchen. She wore a long knit grey skirt and a purple tunic over it, her bare feet plodding across the floor. There was a swish to the skirt as it swept the floor, movement to her hips that sparked memory in her of better times.
They had not discussed what the eventuality was, they both knew it. She would pay for her crimes, one way or another. She didn't feel like hiding from that fate now. She turned on the water, rinsing out the cup and struck by how fruitless an endeavor it was to keep her surroundings neat and orderly. She wanted to break the cup on the floor, to shatter all the dishes in the cabinet, to launch the sofa through the glass doors and off the balcony. Instead she shook her head, and dried the mug. Putting it away, she retrieved a small highball glass and headed for the liquor cabinet, the bottle of Whyren's Reserve already out on top. She poured three fingers of the whiskey and turned to face him, leaning on the edge of the cabinet.
"We have to accept that I must pay for my crimes. You are throwing your life away for someone who has no future. I would not see bound to a dead woman. You should leave here now and never return."
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Jago
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Post by Jago on Oct 28, 2013 14:36:02 GMT -8
~ He sighed as he followed her inside slowly, her words daggers to his sensibilities. Then again, what was sensible in such an odd circumstance. Here they were, playing house for the past several weeks as if they were both younger and far more carefree, when the reality of it was that each day might be the last. Every word dripped with double-meaning, and Jago's head was filled with double-think. Was he a traitor to The Order? Or just holding to its ideals in a way more pure than the regimented mind might consider?
Leave now, she told him. Throwing his life away, she said. The words stung, cutting deeper than she could have understood. Or, conversely, she had chosen them very carefully: it was sentiments similar to those that she had shared with him shortly before she disappeared from his life altogether about a decade ago.
" You should know by now that you can't force me out of here, Gaysa."
His tone was ... defeated. Shouldn't she have understood that? She had swam in the depths of his emotions, surely she could not have come out so dry?
Jago moved to the countertop, resting his palms on it and leaning over slightly to bring himself closer to her. His eyes took her in, and already he could sense that part of her had actually given up. It was as if she wished for the soldiers to appear and stop this waiting game.
" I spent all night arguing with the Council and Senate how the woman who committed those crimes was not you. How there's no connection between the two. You'd ask me to throw this all away?"
Hands ran through his thick mane with a frustrated sigh, fingers curling into the snow and tugging to send a shock of pain meant to clear his head.
It did not work.
" Why are you speaking like this ..?" he asked suddenly, his eyes slipping up quickly to find her own, a puzzled expression plastered across his raised brow.
" Not once since we got here have you said anything like that to me ..."
He crossed around the counter that separated them, his fingertips trailing across the polished surface as Jago stepped to her front, facing her directly. Something felt ... off. He wasn't quite sure what, but it was hard to see Gaysa ... resigned, to something. Anything. The days may have been getting to her, the hours seeming longer and every sunset foreboding in its descent of such mimicry to the fall of the hangman's noose, but for the life of him Jago had only ever heard her take this stance once. Only once.
... Twice, his mind whispered to him. In a candlelit room on Jabiim, where the Dark Lord Of Atrocity yielded to the Warrior from The Stars.
Only to elude his grasp not too long later, deceiving and leaving him for dead. Yet, she had not taken the killing shot. The blow well within her reach and more than justified in her thoughts, and it never came. It was the first hint to Jago that there was something more to the one called Sinistra, that behind the yellow eyes there was still a woman he remembered. A woman he loved.
So began a plot that still, after all this time, left him reeling from the implications of what he'd done. Part of his desire to see Gaysa set free and towards a normal life may have very well been selfishness on his part to ensure that his effort was worth something.
Then again, what of his actions were selfless in those past days after the devastation of the Coruscant Spires?
" I made the mistake of watching you walk out that door once already," he told her, gesturing towards the portal that had shut out a year of their lives together.
Another step forward. His hand found her hip, thumb caressing fondly through her thin top as he gave her a gentle tug to him, the desire to keep her safe felt in his touch as much as his words.
" I'm not going to repeat that. There is a way out of this, and I'm not giving up on that hope." ~
Optimistic.
To the last. ~
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Lord Sinistra
Retired High Councilor
VE Human Capital Management & Talent Acquisition
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Affiliation: The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Lord Sinistra on Nov 4, 2013 7:35:09 GMT -8
She reached up and laid her hands on his face, her eyes somber but carrying the weight of finality. She had given up, and accepted her death. It was the only explanation for her sudden willingness to meet the hangman's noose. Her voice was soft and forlorn, resigned to the end they both knew had to come.
"Jago, it's over. The Jedi aren't going to win this fight and I don't know that I would want them to. There is nowhere we can go where I won't be the monster that got away with genocide. Your career will be finished and it will erode support for the Jedi and Republic in systems where I have caused mayhem. I know you don't want this to end but don't you see? It has to."
She pulled herself from his touch, closing her eyes and looking for some menial task to occupy her mind as she straightened a stack of books next to the couch. She couldn't look at him right now. He was being blinded by emotion, he was being illogical and in the clarity of the moment she could see the grander scenes of the coming storm. The books taken care of, she marched out to the balcony and rearranged the chairs around the small table. Dragging them across the floor, making a horrendous noise and fighting against her own good sense. She finally stopped, her hands on the railing. She was tense, her struggles with the situation plain in her body language and tone. Her shoulders were scrunched up around her ears, her eyes cast down at the streets below.
"Get out." She turned back to him, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Walk out right now before I say things I will regret."
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Jago
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Post by Jago on Nov 4, 2013 17:08:20 GMT -8
~ There was supposed to be No Emotion. There was supposed to be Peace.
Jago felt no peace as he tried to get a word in to Gaysa as she busied herself around the apartment, every consoling sentiment and argument rolling off of his tongue falling onto deaf ears. He would have moved Stars themselves for her, and yet she would not have batted an eye at this point. When she finally moved out to the balcony, him in tow, Jago could feel his muscles almost in pain from how taut they had gotten. This was nothing he wanted to hear, nothing he wanted to resign himself to. He never gave up.
He never gave up.
But the sight of those tears ...
She had.
It was then that it struck him: he couldn't change this. He couldn't fix what Gaysa was feeling. She was pushing him out of her life. Again. This time with him on the verge of sacrificing everything he was for her. The last time it had been on the brink of handing the Universe to her.
How times had changed.
His fist curled into a ball, knuckles white. Jago's anger was not at her, but at what they had both been subjected to. A whimsical flight of lust and love, a beautiful porcelain dream shattering on the ground and cutting their soles wherever they stepped. The worst part of it all was that she was right. She was completely right. There was no fairy tale ending to this story, there was no gallant knight carrying his lover off into the sunset.
Just a powerless man watching his heart die, and having prolonged the process that they might both suffer for it.
He choked back his own emotions, swallowing the sorrow as he started to back up from her. Those icy blues never left her dark eyes, his back never being brought to her sight. A hand went out to push the button for the turbolift: he did not need to look for its location, for he knew it by heart. When the door slid open, he stepped inside, refusing to look away from her even as he felt his body shake with the welling of regret and romance.
His lips moved, just barely perceptible but the sound impossible to miss in the quiet stillness that had settled over the abode.
" I love you."
The doors shut, and the Jedi Master that would have given it all for a Sith Lord was dropped from Heaven to his torment below. ~
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Lord Sinistra
Retired High Councilor
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Affiliation: The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Lord Sinistra on Nov 4, 2013 17:53:29 GMT -8
The doors closed, her face dropping into her hands while her shoulders shook from the intense sobbing. She moved into the apartment, headed for her refresher, slamming the door behind her. It was not sorrow that gripped her as she leaned against the door, her sobbing replaced with the sounds of laughter as she wiped her eyes. The tears were a nice touch, but then again she had been thinking horribly depressing thoughts all day. She stripped off her clothes quickly. The cipher in the window across from her balcony meant it wasn't long now. The signal had been given. She was going to be free.
She changed into some leggings, long crimson shirt and her old favorite black boots. The Sin boots she had sworn to Jago that she hated to even look at any more. Polished and stashed lovingly behind an access panel for the plumbing in the refresher, she had told him she threw them away. Too much blood on the souls. Or not enough yet. She left the clothes in the floor, heading out to the living room. Any minute now, her ride would be here. She just had to listen for the signal.
She flipped the TV on, setting it to seldom watched local movie channel. The films it showed were horrible B movies and stuff that was so old it would be unrecognized. She set the sound up, leaned on the couch arm and waited. There were 4 sniper stations watching her apartment. One from each of the corners of the building, stationed on buildings and balconies where they could see her movements, through her windows. A penthouse like this was nearly all glass, so the drapes were almost always open to the views.
Beep.
The movie station issued forth a sharp, high pitched sound but the movie played on. Her lips curled in a smile.
Beep.
Beep.
Two more signals, two more surveillance teams eliminated. One more to go.
Beep.
The smile was an ear to ear grin. She picked up her cloak and pulled it on. She did not run out to the balcony, she did not hurry. The eyes were off, her boys were here. The winds greeted her in the face as she stepped into the sun, her fingers outstretched to the streaming light through the skyscrapers of the eternal city. From her place on the balcony, she could see his speeder left atop the crown of her prison and she sneered. Shit. He would come back for that. Eventually. She looked over the balcony, but she couldn't see a ship yet. Come on, come on. The window here would be short. Already the Republic army would be sending people to check on her and investigate the coordinated attack.
She kept an eye on the turbolift and one on the skyline. This was going to cut it awful close.
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Jago
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Post by Jago on Nov 4, 2013 18:32:46 GMT -8
~ He departed the building with thoughts tumultuous and feet unguided, meandering through the streets of Coruscant aimlessly. It was a heavy blow to take, realizing how bad the situation actually was and that there was little way to get out. No possible escape plan. Jago almost felt as if he had left her there to die needlessly. Was that what a Jedi would do? What was the right answer here?
Turning a corner, he felt the weight in his jacket again. The letter. With a sigh as people passed him by, barely noticing him amongst the crowd, Jago toyed with the paper envelope between his fingers, not quite removing it yet. He wondered ...
His comm squawked. Repeatedly. The beeping sounded more like a drum roll than the normal staccato as tons of messages filtered in within the span of a picosecond, leaving him almost fumbling as he reached for the offending device to see what demanded his attention so incessantly.
" What!?" he snapped with more hostility than he felt as the image of his friend, Dav Man'Sell, flickered into a holographic view in his palm. The older, wiser Jedi raised his brow nigh-imperceptibly at the outburst before quickly launching into the matter of his call.
:: There's no eyes on her apartment. ::
He felt a weight drop into his stomach. Breath slowed to a death-like rasp as his direction changed quickly back to whence he had came.
" What do you mean there's no eyes?"
:: Every sniper team just went down around the penthouse. Jago, we have no eyes on that building. ::
" I'm close now, I'm responding."
:: What? Jago, wai--! ::
The holocomm was stuffed back into his pocket as Jago bolted with drive back to the building. He knew the smarter thing was to not get involved, to let someone, anyone other than him handle it, but they wouldn't get there in time. His thoughts were centered on his own words to Gaysa before he had left.
" Not once since we got here have you said anything like that to me ..."
It struck him why that sounded so peculiar to his own ears to mention it. The last time this had happened, the last time she had left, it had not been because Gaysa's feelings had changed. She did not want to give him up, give away everything they had worked towards. It wasn't Gaysa that had shoved him out, no. It was ....
It was ...
Shit!
He burst through the doors on the lower level, knocking a businessman down to the floor as he clawed his way through people completely oblivious to the danger that was about to befall this tower. Jago catapulted his body through the closing doors of the turbolift, much to the irritation of its current occupants. Their protests were silenced, however, as the Jedi drew the hilt of darkened brass at his hip, all eyes slowly going to the weapon and then back to him as he casually pushed the button for the very next floor, bringing the lift to a rest.
" I think this is everyone's floor. Wouldn't you agree?"
Without a word, the crowd quickly took the implied suggestion and left as quickly as their feet would allow, leaving Jago alone as he sailed back up to the top floor.
His eyes shut throughout the tense ride, seconds bleeding away that he would not get back. Too much time, too much time ..! How could he have been so foolish!? Had his affections for Gaysa left him utterly blind to what he should have noticed?
She was gone. He had killed her.
How did she come back?!
Jago steeled himself, his body ready to spring into action as he drew upon energy, nursed his Force Signature into awakening. Power coursed through his bloodstream, his heart pounding heatedly upon his ribcage as he prepared for the ugly greeting he was sure he would receive.
A small tone sounded. The lift had reached the top floor.
His grip tightened around the rod in his hand. Eyelids slowly parted.
History Repeating ...
The door opened. ~
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Lord Sinistra
Retired High Councilor
VE Human Capital Management & Talent Acquisition
Posts: 1,474
Affiliation: The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Lord Sinistra on Nov 5, 2013 7:22:22 GMT -8
Two minutes and no ship. Damnit all, this was going to end badly for someone. Her hand slipped in the pocket of her cloak, fingers curled around a cold chrome cylinder. She had been gadgets and knickknacks from a home shopping channel the last few days. Boredom she claimed. A geode, a gadget for displaying star maps on the ceiling, a new shower head system for the bath. Innocuous enough but in the right hands, it was a makeshift kit. She had taken them apart this morning and assembled it in case she needed it. The construction was rough, and she had no idea what the blade would look like but it just had to work long enough to get her out of the apartment.
She could feel him ascending the turbolift and she sighed and shook her head. "Damnit, Jago. You never know when to leave things alone." She muttered to herself as she watched the skies. No ship. Whoever was flying that bird was getting beheaded but for right now, she needed to get out of there. She plunged herself in the current of the dark side, letting it unfurl in the face of the coming light. She could jump the balcony and dive to the street below but the bird would be scrambling worse. No she would have to fight him off long enough to escape. The turbolift dinged and the doors slid open.
She wasn't sure how he figured it out but the look on his face was altogether unfriendly. She stood on the balcony, her hands at her sides. It only took a flick of wrist, she knew him all too well. The hilt in his fingers slipped out of his grasp like it was greased. It sailed over the balcony railing and plummeted to the street level below. She smiled, sadly shaking her head at him. Her clothes had been changed, she looked less like his beloved and more like the monster who was supposed to have been dead. The sinister edge to her voice had returned as she greeted him.
"Hello, sweetie."
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