Ask Cloud Nine

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan perked up immediately on hearing the excitement in Emryc's voice, smiling over at him. With a kiss he was gone, though the interrupted story of his favourite scene left the young prince bemused. He stared at the other man while he set things up, catching a few movie titles as they scrolled by on the screen.

Emryc came back to the couch and instantly Morgan was all over him, slipping into his lap and filling the space between them much like a particularly affectionate liquid. His lips found a spot beneath a pointed ear and lay a kiss there along with the touch of fangs before he whispered, "I like it when you talk about your favourite things," and then slid down into a more lounge-friendly position. His head borrowed Emryc's chest as a pillow, an arm curling beneath his shirt to lay across the warmth of his skin.

He let out a low and satisfied humming once he'd gotten himself comfortable, a small smile on his face. Here was a spot he was happy, laying with a treasured person and watching something they both liked. It wasn't exactly something he knew he'd wanted, or expected from this trip of theirs, but it was something he wanted to keep happening all the same.

"Mine is the last fight near the end."

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc grinned as Morgan quickly came back into his arms. He was getting used to this comfortable weight against him, the entire concept foreign and strange. Despite having been intimate with many others before, he had never bothered, or had interest in, simply holding the other person. He had certainly never let anyone use him as a pillow to rest against, and he never thought it was anything he could desire so much.

He felt Morgan’s lips just beneath his ear, his hot breath tickling against skin. The fangs dragging made Emryc shift slightly, Morgan knowing exactly what he was doing. Emryc’s ears were some of his greatest weaknesses and the fangs turned him to jelly. His arms were wrapped around the other man as he felt Morgan slip a hand up his shirt, savoring the touch.

As Morgan mentioned the fight, Emryc grinned, looking at the movie, “He never gives up no matter how kriffed up he gets,” His face scrunched up slightly to look more intense, changing his voice a little to imitate an older Shocky from one of the latter movies, “It ain’t about how hard you hit, it’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward.”

He grinned at his own impression, turning to glance back at Morgan, “What are some more of your favorite things?” He asked, finding himself genuinely curious. Emryc had gone years without asking people their names or where they came from. He couldn’t entirely explain why he suddenly wanted to know, but he knew he did.

His fingers slid up Morgan’s shirt now, casually trailing up along his spine and in between his shoulder blades. They trailed up to the nape of his neck before slowly sliding back down again and repeating.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

A laugh followed Emryc's goofy impression of Shocky, even more amusing since it was coming from the ordinarily stoic man. The prince quieted down after a moment, expression thoughtful. His hand wandered freely as it willed beneath the other man shirt, settling on a hip that his thumb idly traced the curves of.

"Rain when it's sunny," he said after a moment. "New experiences and old books. Fast ships and neon lights, the feeling of wind in my hair. The sheen of freshly sharpened knives." He paused, stopping himself before he went off on some kind of nostalgic tangent. Gold eyes glanced upwards at silvers and he smiled again. "You. Does that count?" Morgan finished before he turned back to the holoscreen.

He was immediately distracted from the opening credits by a gentle touch across his spine, something he still wasn't entirely used to be always seemed to send shivers down its length. Emryc was the only person permitted to exist in that space, and it had quickly become something the Firrerreo craved. The purring grew slightly in volume and his back arched a little on its own. Morgan curled his legs up to entwine them affectionately with Emryc's. Very casually the hand on a hip slipped a thumb beneath the waistband and stayed there.

"What are some of your favourite things?"

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc was pleased to invoke a laugh from his impression. It had actually been on purpose that time, and it brought him more elation than when Morgan did it without him knowing why. He could hardly pay attention to the Holo, focusing instead on that gentle and melodious song that was his laugh.

He looked back at the Holo when Morgan thought over the question. The trademark theme was playing, an older movie meaning that the credits at the beginning carried on for far too long. Emryc heard Morgan describe his favorite things and they were all oddly specific. He had to grin when he listed Emryc as one, glancing over to look at the goldens then.

He felt Morgan’s touch slide lower, his fingers resting along his hip as his thumb hooked in. Emryc had to fight to keep from shifting into the touch, keeping his gaze focused either on Morgan or the Holo.

He should have expected the question to be flipped, but it still caught him off guard. He had been asked it before and he returned it with an eye roll or blank stare. Yet those people weren’t Morgan. Emryc was silent for a while, fumbling internally over such a simple question that was entirely too difficult for him to process.

Emryc half considered simply watching the movie and hoping Morgan would forget. He knew he would move past it if Emryc chose not to answer, but he didn’t like the thought of not answering. Even that was new, and he struggled with it, “I like...training. Uh..Teras Kasi. Reading old books, collecting old things. I like Huttball and music,” He was randomly listing things off at this point, “..Steamed vegetables. Uh..did I mention training?” He had never realized how plain he was.

He turned to look at Morgan instead, “You. Your smile, your laugh, the way you look away when your face turns red. The way you pout when you don’t get your way, the way you tilt your head to appraise something, the way you get angry and express it, the way you take forever to get ready in the morning, the way you become terrifying when you haven’t had a meal, the way you sing, the way you play the hallikset, the way you have the same way of eating that I do which infuriates everyone else, the way you are when you work,” Emryc smiled at him then, “The way you look at me when you tell me you love me.”

The movie began by then, the world shockboxing champion announcing a title bout. Emryc’s hand continued to slide along Morgan’s spine, traveling down so the fingers traced down the small of his back. He traveled across the last few vertebrae, sliding down along the tailbone and dipping just lightly beneath the waistband of his pants.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan grinned at the mention of steamed vegetables. He'd known about those things for the most part, but it was still nice to hear Emryc actually want to tell him rather than just being details picked up by watching. A smile slipped onto his face and he settled in to watch the movie.

Then Emryc's words started up again and they painted gold across his skin and stopped the movement of his hands. Him noticing all those details was embarrassing and endearing at the same time and he wasn't quite sure the sort of face he was making, but he knew there was a wide smile there. It was so ridiculously mundane of a thing to say compared to the grand declarations in the cafe or Morgan's family history, but it somehow felt like it was just as important.

The prince lifted off from where he was, head rising up as he pulled himself up to eye level with Emryc, heat suffusing his cheeks and all the way down his neck. He smiled shamelessly and the golden eyes burned, a sight the other man had certainly come to know by now. He was so retrained in many ways, wild and free in others, and Morgan's love for Emryc was very much the latter.

"I love you, Emryc. I really, really do." Their lips met as the prince pressed his forward, insistent in his heartfelt affection for the other man. It didn't help that where Emryc had put his own hand was spurring him on, but Morgan didn't mind losing this game. They both won in the end, anyway.

Delicate fingers lifted up the other man's shirt and Morgan's lips dropped downward, laying a trail of kisses down his neck and further along his bare torso. His fingers followed along, taking in the details of his him as they moved back down to the waist of his pants. Fingers hooked again beneath the waistband, this time more insistently. Still he moved with exaggerated care, pressed a kiss laced with razor fangs over his navel, and pulled his hands downward.

They had quite a bit of movie and most of the day still left to them, so the prince had decided to make the most of their remaining time together. He looked up at Emryc and, with a grin, his hands were lifted up again and offered with both hands wrist up.

"Mind holding my hands? I like your couch the way it is."

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

There were a series of expressions and changes in color in Morgan from his words and Emryc paid attention to each one. There was a smile on Morgan’s face only he wanted to invoke, a smile unlike his usual confident grin that he flashed at most people he met. Emryc met his gaze as he shifted up to look into his eyes. When he spoke those words again, the effects were immediate - it made his heart beat just a bit faster like in those silly Holomovies.

He closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss, his hand sliding up Morgan’s back from where it had been to pull him closer. He felt Morgan lift up his clothing as they kissed, and Emryc helped push it off. His hands curled around Morgan’s shirt as well, sliding it up and tossing it aside.

Emryc leaned back against the armrest as Morgan began to trail kisses, his gaze now fully focused on him. The movie continued to play in the background, the sounds of cheesy special effects and fighting noises resounding. Emryc could only focus on the feeling of Morgan’s lips and fangs grazing his skin, his eyes betraying his desire as he watched him. His hand slid up along Morgan’s shoulders, one of them curling into the back of his hair.

He watched Morgan push clothing down, his silvers still locked on goldens. When Morgan extended his hands and spoke those words while being where he was, Emryc could only exhale a sharp breath. He couldn’t help but give that same chuckle he had back at his room doorway again, “Kriff Morgan..” He had to glance up at the ceiling as his body reacted to the words and the gesture.

Emryc glanced back at Morgan and grasped his hands, planting them firmly against his sides and hips. It was a challenge of sorts for Morgan to try and limit himself to whatever he could inflict on Emryc instead of the couch.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Golden eyes looked up at Emryc over the plains of his chest, fixing him with a fiery look that smoldered with a mirror of that same desire. Just as the soldier boy wanted to be in control, the prince wanted to surrender it to him, and they both knew that by now. Morgan had the physical strength and ferocity to break free and tear him apart, and they both knew that too. It was their will and singular desire that kept his wrists bound close, though there was muscle in there too. Hopefully Emryc had a tight grip.

Morgan was glad he'd thought to pass a file across his nails again when he'd brushed his teeth.

The prince curled up against Emryc, body doing what it wanted and flushing with heat, attention turning to what he was doing. A long tongue and glinting fangs dragged their way across a thigh, mimicking what the other man had left him with earlier that morning. They wandered wherever they willed, lips soft touched against skin. Together they traveled across every curve, triggering every sensitive nerve he'd memorized. Hot breath brushed in silky waves, the only indicator of where the rest wandered next.

Morgan looked up at Emryc again, and in that moment he wasn't a prince. He was only a man before a great fortress, the silver-eyed man its sovereign lord. Walls were climbed carefully, delicately, need burning in every step. He was a humble supplicant before the steps of Babel, speaking in silent tongues to make his way. He climbed to the castle summit, the top of the world from where he could see. Gold met silver, and bound by the will of the crown, Morgan bowed before his king.

-------
​

Much of the rest of the day passed in the fashion the two of them had become fairly accustomed to. Morgan had wound up back in bed, proudly sporting a wide variety of colourful new markings and drifted to sleep to the feeling of Emryc's warmth. The couch had remained steadfastly undamaged, though the same could not be said for the skin across the half-Sephi's sides and hips, or anywhere else he'd allowed Morgan to reach. He was careful, but there was only so much the Firrerreo could do up until the rope had been involved again.


This was the final day before they arrived back at the station and they parted ways, but for now Morgan slept peacefully, skin lightly gilded beneath the sheets. He'd even set an alarm, taking work seriously as usual. The young prince wouldn't be able to sleep in and lounge this time. Still not exactly as early as Emryc tended wake, but not too far off.

Morgan also didn't want to sleep through their last few hours together after all.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc began his routine as usual with prayer, meditation and then training. He trained harder this morning, attempting to keep his mind away from the fact that it was their last day. They would be landing in mere hours and part ways. Old traumas began to creep up, nagging at the back of his mind. The conditioning he had been given when he was a child haunted his thoughts, reminding him that this entire experience had been set up to see Morgan torn from him.

As Emryc practiced with his saber, he had to shift his focus back to the present. He briefly thought of how angry Morgan had been and how passionate he was about no one taking him away. With how much the Firrerreo had risked by sharing his past, Emryc had little reason to believe this was part of a scheme. Nonetheless, old wounds throbbed painfully and training did little to settle his mind.

Unlike usual, he had to meditate once again to clear his mind. He was tense and angry, his muscles locked up and his thoughts buzzing. It took much longer to settle the tumultuous ocean back into a placid lake. He exhaled softly in the end before opening his eyes, lacking the yellow streaks they held the entire morning.

Emryc was walking towards the refresher for his shower before his planned return to Morgan when he heard music. Eyebrows furrowed, he made his way back over to his room, hearing what sounded like a Leorna song playing on a loop. A loud and annoyed slam suggested it was an alarm and Emryc opened his door to gaze in. He had intended on slipping back in while Morgan was still asleep, and he couldn’t have predicted him waking up already.

He was dressed in a tank and pants, completely drenched in sweat, hair matted to his face. Emryc offered Morgan a smile, though it didn’t light up as much as usual. He made his way over, sitting on the edge of the bed near him, “I didn’t think you’d be up yet,” He muttered quietly.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan was already going through his shift from peaceful gold to tumultuous and deep silver by the time Emryc looked through the doorway. His expression was dark and almost vicious, though it passed after a few moments and settled back to the usual once again. He blinked and looked up as Emryc stepped closer and settled on the edge of the bed, smiling softly and sadly.

The alarm in question had originated from a bit of custom work that was, understandably, reinforced. It was essentially a smooth metal brick with other functions within, able to withstand the rush of fury that rose to the surface every time Morgan woke. Slender fingers placed the device, now switched off, on a nearby table and crawled over toward Emryc.

He stared at him for a moment, and his smile slipped away from his face into a particularly unhappy frown. Suddenly he darted forward and flung his arms around Emryc, the sweat that coated him unheeded. The scent was just more of Emryc, which was what Morgan wanted just then.

"I didn't want to sleep too long," he mumbled, squeezing tightly and possessively around the man he held dear, shameless in his affection. Unless he was stopped Morgan would end up practically wrapped around Emryc, as close as he could get, soaking in the familiar warmth. He didn't want to leave it, even if he knew he had to, and his voice came out through a tightness in his throat.

"I love you."

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc watched Morgan for a moment, observing as his smile faded and turned into a frown. It wasn’t something he liked seeing on the Firrerreo’s face, but he couldn’t think of anything to do to change it. Not when he was likely in the same boat. Emryc instead sat there in silence, his face impassive and with a blank stare that was his default expression at all times.

He didn’t resist as Morgan closed the distance, and there was no pause this time with Emryc considering the situation. He reacted almost at once, his arms coming up to tightly wrap around the other man to pull him closer. He held Morgan firmly against him, feeling his warmth and his smooth skin along his own. Emryc heard his words and closed his eyes, pressing his face into Morgan’s shoulder.

For a moment there was nothing but silence. There was nothing but the two of them, with Emryc holding someone that had come to mean so much to him. He hadn’t been allowed to have such things. He had been conditioned to avoid it at all costs, and here he was embracing it as if it would turn into thin air, as if Morgan would simply vanish or spill like water. His gut reaction was to let go, a deep seeded anxiety building up. However, he refused to do that this time. He met it head on, gripping Morgan closer and exhaling softly against his skin.

“Your soldier will always march home,” He murmured softly, eyes closed as he pushed his fears and demons away. He focused only on the present, only on Morgan and the smell and feel of him.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

He was very still, muscle tense in the other man's arms. They slowly relaxed, melting against the pressure of Emryc that closed around him. All except his arms, which held on as tight as he felt he could do so without actually being uncomfortable.

"I know you will. I'll be waiting," he murmured back, repeating his promise. He felt he had about to say something else, but instead of speaking his lips found skin that felt like it needed them. He planted soft kisses anywhere he could reach, across his shoulder and his neck and pressed into his cheek. It was a sudden rush of glowing affection, as if to store it for when they wouldn't be together. Morgan's lips parted above his shoulder and then he paused, freezing in place.

"I want to give you something," he whispered softly, trying to come up with the words to explain it. It was a cultural thing he wasn't sure would translate, but his hands had settled across the scars across Emryc's back and his thoughts followed suit. They held great meaning, the falling of the whip and the weight of imposed sin. He couldn't make them go away, nor would he ever choose such a thing, but he could leave a mark of his own. But only if Emryc chose to accept it. That was just how it worked.

The prince's head settled against a shoulder, golden eyes looking over at Emryc with that same look that told him how important he was, how much he would miss his soldier boy. Morgan had other things to give him too, but this one thing was different and personal.

"It will hurt. If you allow it."

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc remained silent as Morgan traced kisses along his shoulder and neck. He was more reserved than he had been the past few days, closer to his usual demeanor. He didn’t process feelings like this well, and it made him withdraw into himself. Morgan’s words about wanting to give him something and subsequently brushing his hand against the scars clued him into his line of thinking. It was something Emryc himself had considered, and he gazed ahead as he opened his eyes.

He was silent for a moment after Morgan’s request, pondering it. His hand idly traced up and down Morgan’s back, the icy gaze fixed ahead. He turned his head after a long moment to meet Morgan's lips, placing a tender kiss against them. He never got tired of those lips, and he never got tired of Morgan’s warmth and weight against him.

“I will,” Emryc said after a moment as his other hand lowered to trace along Morgan’s thigh. His thumb grazed against the inside of it, where he had bitten many times, where he had left a mark each time, and yet it was flawless and unmarred, “The day I can give you something in return,” Emryc turned his head to meet Morgan’s gaze then.

He brought his hand up to grab one of Morgan's, bringing it around so his palm layered above his hand, pressing the man’s digits against his chest. His heart beat gently beneath his touch, “And I want it to be somewhere I will gaze upon each day.”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan froze, completely and utterly still. His eyes widened for a second, heat suffusing his entire face, then glanced down at where Emryc's hand was and relaxed again. A bright smile lit up his face and a joyful laugh followed. Of course that's what he'd meant, that made more sense.

"Okay. When you visit?" he asked, turning to run his tongue affectionately over a particular patch of shoulder. He straightened after another another moment to look into Emryc's eyes. Permanently marking Firrerreon skin required quite a bit of work and no small measure of pain, something Morgan and his brands knew very well. But the young prince was tougher than he looked and found himself looking forward to the experience more than he'd expected.

Silk and iron fingers lingered against the other man's chest, quietly feeling the steady rhythm of his heart. It was quickly becoming one of his favourite sounds, and his head slipped in close to listen for a while. Morgan wanted to remember until the next time.

"Where?" he followed up, straightening up and tilting his head slightly to regard Emryc's expression, sharp golden running over every feature and twitch of muscle. Morgan pouted for a moment, then it turned into something pensive before settling finally on a fanged grin.

"I have other things too, but they can wait." In fact he had several things, a small pile almost. He'd set some aside, while one or two were things he'd decided on the day before. In defiance of what Emryc had experienced, Morgan fully intended to offer reminders of his presence and that he would still be there waiting for him. His willingness to be bound by the half-Sephi had honestly surprised him, but it had meant the world. The soldier boy clearly cared dearly for his prince, and the prince wanted to offer the same in kind.

"Shower. May I join you? You can show me where, if you like."

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc’s normally five minute showers took far longer this time. He took his time with Morgan, savoring every moment they had together. Between Morgan’s absurdly long showers and this, his water supply was likely in the red. But of course none of that crossed his mind between the growls, purrs and gasps admixed with the hot water and steam. Citrus and herbs entwined with copper and iron, and even Emryc couldn’t stop himself from the few dents that resulted in his shower even while Morgan managed to control himself.

By the end of it, he had marked where he wanted his spot to be on Morgan, though it was already fading by the time he stepped out. Emryc’s routine was far quicker. He dried off, styled his hair, decided he needed a bit of a shave, tossed on a towel and was out the door. He had already brushed his teeth earlier and he had no claws to file. Emryc was methodical in his routine, and that didn’t change even with multiple new variables in the equation.

By the time Morgan was done with all his preening, Emryc was fully dressed and had the ship organized. Any clothing Morgan had strewn about was already cleaned, folded and placed near his crate. It was a very short period of time before they had to land and Emryc focused on preparing his ship for check in.

Like usual he had his plate of fruits and had set out some ready made eggs and sausages for Morgan. He kept glancing at the other plate, thinking about how that wouldn’t be there tomorrow. His face was back to being an emotionless mask, and he had to actively seek tranquility. He hadn’t faced these kinds of emotions before and he decided he despised them.

Emryc exhaled slowly, pushing his untouched plate of food away and switching on the datapad given to him for this mission. He began to start writing up their briefing report.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Just as before the prince planted himself before the mirror, going through his hair and over his nails and every other little detail. He had a routine of his own, exacting and precise, though it definitely took longer than Emryc's. Eventually he stepped out, dry but quite without a towel, and shamelessly stepped across the ship to recover a clean set of the same clothing he wore for work.

Long sleeved fitted black shirt, high waisted black trousers, and black leather boots. The belt he kept off for the moment, and he went through the crate for a few more things, putting his heirlooms back inside their protective phrik box. The clean clothes were placed in their own containers along with any other things of his, until there were only a few things left sitting atop the crate.

A small durasteel box, a coil of black rope, an encrypted code cylinder, and a by now familiar case of audiocards. Morgan took the objects with him over to the table, placed them off to the side, and looked across it at Emryc. He pouted, stole a piece of fruit, and pushed the plate halfway back toward the other man. Then with truly military efficiency, with just a touch of princely grace, devoured the food on his own plate.

When he was done eating he ran a napkin over his lips and fingers and pushed the plate aside, replacing them with the objects. Gold eyes stared for several seconds at Emryc before a soft smile touched his lips.

"As promised," he began, sliding the Amelie Jeorna audiocards to the center of the table. "This is yours, if you accept it." Next came the coil of rope, meticulously folded and tied into a neat little bundle. Morgan owned other rope, but this one was special. The cylinder was laid carefully next to the audiocards. "That will let you contact my personal holonet address." Which no one else could do, practically speaking. It was private and wasn't filtered through other channels, whereas any contact information the station would have given Emryc would be. It was, essentially, a direct line to and from Morgan at any time he pleased.

"I'll send you messages whenever I can," Morgan promised, and he absolutely was going to. "So you know I'm alright," he added, struggling with the directness but moving on despite the golden heat that touched his neck. The last thing was the little box, which he turned around to face Emryc.

Morgan lifted it, and inside was a collection of seven multicoloured diamonds, of high quality but completely uncut. They had value on their own, but they would need to be cut and shaped before they could truly shine.

"These belong to you."

They had originally been part of the deal with Dorian, in fact. Seeing as Emryc had killed him, Morgan was counting them as loot.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc left his plate alone the entire time, focused on typing up the brief. He could hear Morgan getting ready and walking around, but his focus was entirely on what he was doing. He was easing back into the persona he had to adopt for the station. They were all Sith, and they would be able to sense variance in his emotions. There were no secrets on the station and every move was watched. He had to mentally prepare for it harder than he ever had to before.

He glanced up as Morgan brought over some items. Silver eyes flicked to each one, gazing from the audiocards, to the rope, to being able to contact him. None of it seemed close to what he desired - which was for Morgan to remain with him. He knew he couldn’t offer that himself either. Emryc remained silent, not rejecting any of the proffered items.

He looked back down at the datapad to keep typing at the brief. Emryc heard Morgan slide some more things over, and he paused to look at the diamonds. He knew they could be worth a fortune. He looked them over before finally speaking, “You want none for yourself?” Emryc glanced up and met his gaze for the first time since leaving the shower.

Morgan’s demeanor and attire were similar to when they had first met, and the same held true for Emryc. He only briefly looked at him before glancing back down to finish up the brief. He re-read it for any errors before switching off the datapad. As if on cue, the initial beeping began to signal the time to jump out of hyperspace.

Emryc stared at his plate of unfinished food for a moment. He silently rose from his seat and walked past Morgan and into the cockpit, strapping himself in. His gaze remained forward the entire time as they jumped out of hyperspace and he took over manual control. He could already see the station looming in the distance. Emryc’s jaw tightened, nostrils flaring just a bit, but he said nothing. A slow exhale and the blank face was back.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan's head tilted slightly as the other man looked up, bemusement crossing over what he'd suddenly realized was a fragment of the same face he wore while he was working. He didn't want it there. The prince ended up fixing Emryc with a look that was equal parts pensive and affectionate.

"Maybe one day," he replied, closing the box and scooting it over to the join the other things. A whistling tone summoned Dante from his sleep, the little droid whirring around a corner and plopping atop the crate and ready to get moving. Morgan kept his eyes on Emryc for a little while longer, then stood from the table to put on his belt and check the various pouches and pockets. Not a hair out of place.

The realspace transition alert sounded and he had the sudden sensation of hating the noise before he buried it. Morgan followed behind the other man into the cockpit, sinking into his seat and buckling his harness. He was in control and calm, just as always, sitting up straight just like the first time. His face was impassive, golden eyes looking straight ahead.

In a flash the ship dropped out of hyperspace and Emryc took control of the ship. Sharp hawk's eyes caught sight of the ship in the distance.

Morgan's entire body tensed up and his skin flushed silver in an effort to keep in control. Iron fingers wrapped around wrists to prevent from grabbing something else in what was clearly a spike of panic. He was really going to miss his soldier boy, and he didn't want to leave yet. It was a few seconds before he returned to somewhere adjacent to his usual colouration, though the tenseness remained in part.

His eyes turned to look at Emryc, watching him carefully. He recognized every little thing, as he always did, the flaring nostrils and the tenseness that he also shared. Words went through his head and out again, unsure of what to do in this kind of situation. Morgan just didn't know how, or even if, he could comfort the other man. But, maybe if he tried hard enough while they still had a little time, he could leave him a little extra something.

"Can you say something to me? Please." He paused a moment and took a breath, very deliberately unclenching his hands to return them to a normal resting position where they promptly clenched again. "You don't have to." Morgan turned to look at him, a burning look lit behind golden eyes. The same colour spread down his neck and across his shoulders, and his hands finally relaxed in his lap.

Morgan smiled, bright and joyous as the morning sun, and he spoke three stupid, silly, priceless little words in the same way he sang. They were a fiery look, and warm arms that held, and offered wrists in trust, and the sound of jazz and trilling laughter.

"Mwen damou w'."

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc piloted the ship back towards the docking bay they had left from. The beginning of the mission felt as if it were centuries ago. He was focused entirely on the task at hand, purposely ignoring whatever Morgan was doing. He could hear Morgan shifting and fidgeting, and his mind fought hard to regain the tranquility it held normally. He knew he had to be in a certain mental state to adjust back to life on the station. He had been preparing for several weeks onboard, but perhaps those diamonds could give him a reprieve. It would even allow him a chance to visit Morgan.

His thoughts were distracted when Morgan spoke again, and he had entered the bay by then. He slid the ship in until it came to a stop. Emryc powered down the engines and looked over at Morgan, hearing that singsong voice utter words in another language. The half Sephi sat there in silence, quietly surveying Morgan.

A sad smile graced his lips, “I will say it when I understand what the words mean,” He gazed into Morgan’s eyes for a moment then. Days ago he had believed himself to be incapable of human emotions. He had been conditioned to be one way his entire life, and those roots ran deep.

Emryc said nothing more, rising up to stand and walking through the ship. He had his bags as he walked past his bookshelves, past his room that would still smell of Morgan, past his refresher that had hints of Morgan, past the walls that still held the echoes of his hallikset. The prince had laid his claim and Emryc was the one left behind to stew in the remnants of it.

He walked all the way till before lowering the exit ramp before he paused. Emryc turned to look at Morgan. His gaze lowered to his lips, wanting nothing more than to taste them again. He wanted to shove Morgan against the wall behind him and kiss him like he would never be able to kiss him again. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop there. He would want to run back, rev up the engines and get the hell away from this station. He would want to go somewhere far away where it would be just them and the space station would fade into the distance. It would be nothing but the echoes of the Hallikset, that trilling laugh, the warm gaze and Emryc repeating any phrase in any language Morgan ever asked.

Instead, the only sound was that of him punching the terminal to lower the ramp. Emryc looked away from Morgan, stepping down and walking back towards where they had been given their brief. They went through those same double doors where that same Taskmaster was waiting, in person this time.

Emryc gave his usual salute before walking over to hand over the datapad. There were some formalities exchanged.

“Other than the mess we had to clean up with that Dorian character, you boys did excellent work,” The Taskmaster said in a monotone voice, “Will be sure to recommend you for future missions. Dismissed.”

Emryc saluted again before turning to face Morgan and shaking his hand. He gave nothing more than a nod before stepping back. He turned on his heel and walked out of the room and back towards his quarters.

Morgan would realize that Emryc had passed something when he shook his hand. It was something small and unremarkable. And yet it had been his anchor for as long as he could remember. It had pushed him through his hardest times. It had forged him into the man he was today. It had spared him from dying along with every other child in his batch. He had turned to it in his darkest hours. It had seen him through Ajan Kloss and facing down the Jedi Grandmaster. It was the symbol of his devotion, the thing he had committed himself to, the thing he looked to every morning and every night for as long as he could remember. It was what guided him and drove his actions each day.

In his hand, Morgan would find the figurine of Andraste. In his hand, he would find the words he had been looking for, and then more, in every language that could have existed in the galaxy.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

He caught that little smile, the little movements of the other man's face and the look behind his eyes. The words were caught, turned over, and analyzed. Morgan's smile faded to something softer and sadder and then he turned away, the gilding over his skin beginning to fade to a cool, subtle silvering like it always was.

Emryc stood and Morgan moved to follow, two snaps of his fingers summoning Dante and the crate he carried to fly along behind. When the other man looked back at him his expression didn't change, but his eyes still burned. Bright, defiant, challenging, and now after everything, they were affectionate too. The prince knew what his soldier boy wanted, he recognized that look behind frosted silver eyes, and he wanted it too. Perhaps one day, but for now only forward. There was still work to do.

Morgan stepped off Emryc's ship, black boots clanking softly against the metal exit ramp. He turned the corner down a hallway, then into that same open set of double doors that led to a small briefing room with an inactive holoprojector in the center. His boot heals clacked sharpish as he slid smoothly into attention and offered a short bow to the taskmaster who had arranged for the mission. An older format for the gesture, but he was a Drast and kept to his old ways.

Words and greetings spokens, but no questions were asked. The report was on the datapad and that was all the man needed.

Emryc turned to shake his hand and the gesture was reciprocated amiably, if perhaps a little tighter than was entirely needed, though Morgan's face betrayed nothing of whatever had been left between his delicate fingers. The young Sith bowed again and turned on his heels to leave the briefing room and return to his ship after all his time away.

It was just as he'd left it and a signal from Dante, who was waiting for him, opened the vessel for him to step inside. While the astromech dropped off the crate in the storage area and then fluttered to the cockpit, Morgan sank slowly against a wall futon presently arranged as a couch.

The prince opened his fingers, looked down, and his entire face lit up with with a rush of emotion. Laying in his hand was a small, cracked figurine of Andraste, his most famous ancestor. He could Hear the echoes of his song still sunk into the tiny thing, See the fire of his anger embedded in the crack across its surface. Golden eyes stared at it, and in that unliving statue he saw a pair of silvers looking back at him.

Morgan laughed, the truest song of the nightingale, the sound reverberating along the walls of the ship as it left the station behind. Tears dripped from his eyes, falling down his face until a black sleeve came up to stifle. The prince sat there for a time, laughing and crying, until the ship finally hit lightspeed. He sniffled softly and wiped his eyes, looking again at the statue.

He stood from his couch and walked to his bedside table, where he gently placed the figurine so he could look at it easily. Morgan sat back down and smiled sadly at it, head tilting a little.

"I really do love you, soldier boy. Don't forget."

//End Thread

@Sreeya