Am I going insane? // My blood is boiling inside of my veins
TITLE: Adrift
AUTHOR: Ashe;
promisethesun
FANDOM(S): Knights of the Old Republic
CHARACTER(S): Isolde and Kyp
PROMPT: #063 Waiting
RECIPIENT: Me
RATING: PG-13
WARNINGS: Nope
SPOILERS?: None
PREVIEW/SUMMARY:
Isolde hesitates, leaning up the few inches separating them, and she kisses him softly, gently, knowingly. He kisses her back, cupping her face, as if attempting to hold back from tethering himself to her, and she can feel it, how lost he is. As lost as herself. But she knows he has to find his way on his own.
WORD COUNT: 2000
It's only a small side trip back to Nar Shaddaa-Mira doesn't believe that she can feel the Force, but Isolde knows she can prove it, can show her the spot where she saw the planet come alive-and in an odd twist of fate, the bounty hunter opens herself up to the Force, to Isolde's teachings, and that makes it five out of six. Or just five for five, since she isn't sure a Mandalorian has ever become a Jedi.
The younger girl hugs her in a brief moment of affection, before abruptly pulling back and mouthing off about how she hasn't had a drink in forever.
She feels him the moment she steps into the cantina, quieter than usual as her ragtag group of misfits clamors around the bartender, ordering drinks, food, things they haven't been able to have while stuck on the Ebon Hawk. Bao-Dur looks at her, follows her line of sight.
“Isn't that Kyp Durron, General?”
As if he hears his own name, he looks up from his table, finds her gaze. He's older, looks more refined, hard. Unconsciously, a smile tugs at her lips, and she remembers a long ago memory of a boy and a girl who only had each other to hold on to. “So it would be, Bao-Dur.”
A ghost of a smile plays on his own, but she turns away from him, unsure. The memories she has feel as though they belong to another; she is not that same girl anymore. She isn't even the same one who fought beside him in the Wars. Bao-Dur rests a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently, feeling waves of concern for her through their bond, and she shakes her head.
“Isolde, here.” Atton fills her vision then, handing her a drink, and she happily accepts it. He smirks at her, and her stomach coils, but she can feel Kyp's eyes boring into her back, feel his presence push against hers. She takes a sip, smiles, and hands the drink back into the man's hands.
“I need some air.”
She knows he'll follow.
Her eyes close as she breathes in the stench of Nar Shaddaa, knowing that both of them would follow, both for entirely different reasons.
Atton's there first, standing as close to her as he dares. She stares up at him, sees the hesitation on his face, in his body, as he raises his hand, fingertips brushing her cheek before his mind change and he touches her arm instead. “What's wrong?”
Her head turns at the moment that Kyp steps out, and he saunters up to her, a familiar smirk on his face. “I probably have something to do with it.”
Atton tenses, and she feels his jealousy roll through their bond, and she wants to laugh. If he only knew. Her hand rests on her friend's arm. “Go inside, Atton. You deserve a drink, to rest.”
His dark eyes narrow as his head shakes. “You're not sending me away so that this guy can make you feel uncomfortable. And don't try to tell me that you're not,” he adds when she attempts to protest.
“Listen to her, kid, and go inside,” Kyp drawls, and Isolde stares at him.
“I don't take orders from Jedi,” Atton spits, shifting himself so that he's between her and Kyp.
“And what do you think she is, exactly? A Sith?” He laughs, as if the very idea is ridiculous to him, and she smiles sadly, because he's always known her so well.
Atton practically seethes. “She's neither.”
There's a pause, a look of confusion on his face as he turns his gaze on her.
“Atton...”
“Are you sure you want me to go?” He doesn't turn around to ask her, keeping his eyes on the other man, like any good man who had spent a long time hunting and torturing Jedi.
“It won't take long.”
He hesitates longer, before finally-reluctantly-accepting that this is what she wants. He gives one final glare to the man whose Force dwarfs the both of them, jaw squared as he looks back at her, stomping off back to the cantina with the others.
Kyp follows him with his eyes until they're as alone as they can be on a planet crammed with life. “Interesting company you find yourself in.”
“I thought you were dead,” she says in response, her voice soft, hollow. “Revan...”
He twitches, barely, and she smiles faintly. “What did he mean that you're not a Jedi?”
Her head tilts to the side as she regards him. “I was exiled, when I returned to them. A Jedi with no Force is no good to anybody, and I had...” She pauses, her smile fluttering. “I had followed Revan and was the only one to return. I was her example, to the Council.”
Kyp nods slowly, as if nothing she says is new to him, bothers him. But then again, they had all been together for so long, it was hard to not understand. “You have the Force now.”
“I don't really understand it myself.” The sole of her boot scuffs along the dirty street, her fingers twitching. “You look good, Kyp.” His name is foreign, brings old aches to her chest. “Dignified.”
He gives a sharp bark of laughter, self-deprecating. “You haven't quite lost that ability to be so nice, have you? It's no wonder...”
Her body stills, blue eyes turning icy, and he's sure he hasn't seen a look that in nearly a decade. Anger and hurt, rolled into one, smashed together. She carries too many insecurities inside of her, too much pain, and when he goes to feel her, there's an emptiness that makes his stomach hurt. She's more powerful, and yet more empty than he's ever felt in a person.
An echo of the old Order.
“No wonder that Revan easily tossed me aside? No wonder that she didn't feel the need to have me killed. It's fine. I was already dead to her, of no more use.” Her voice is calm, that look gone from her eyes, and there's a sense of peace settling over. “I understand that we all play our parts in Revan's schemes, but she's gone now.” She takes a step closer to him. “You know that everyone is...”
He moves closer to her. “It was hard to not feel it. I've been flitting around the galaxy since then. Waiting.”
Her arms cross over her chest. “For her?”
“For you.”
He smirks again when she stares at him, clearly taken back. She wants to ask why, because who has ever waited for her? Her head turns slightly, and she glances back at the cantina, where most of her people are waiting, opens herself so that she feels Kreia safe on the ship with the droids, and then she takes a step away from Kyp, realizing how close she was gravitating to him and his presence and her memories that no longer matter now. They will wait for her, she knows. They will die for her and love her, and it's unnatural in some ways, but she takes strength from it.
She hasn't needed Revan or Malak or Kyp for a long time. She faced the Council on her own, she stuck by their ideals-Revan's ideals-and took her punishment. Alone, she traveled, and she survived.
“Because of Revan,” she guesses correctly, unsure of how to feel about it. She has always loved Revan, but she knows that she has been nothing more than a pawn.
“Hey, Isolde!” Mira pops out of the cantina, hands on her prominent hips as she stares at the two of them. Her grin grows, hips swaying as she comes closer to them. “Who's your new friend?”
“This is-”
“Just ancient history,” Kyp interjects with a charming grin at the younger girl. She doesn't buy it, and Isolde's heart swells for it.
“Yeah, well. Maybe it's time to scoot along so we can get our fearless leader back. Mandalore's getting antsy in there, surprise surprise, and Atton is trying to get Mical a lap dance.” The red head pauses, eyes flickering over Kyp again, her smile a little bit more dangerous. “And I'd hate to think of what the old lady is going to be yapping about if we return in a worse state than now.”
Kyp's eyebrows raise, and the look on his face is almost amusement, and Isolde wants to laugh and cry all at once. Her heart is breaking all over again, and she knows that Mira would laugh at her if she knew. “You travel with Mandalorians, too.”
“Kyp...” She sighs, shaking her head. “Mira, will you try your best to round them up? At least get Mandalore out of there.”
The bounty hunter nods, salutes, and sways back. The exile laughs nervously, running her fingers through her hair. “This is not the best place to have a private conversation, you realize. Not one this serious.”
“You don't want my help.” It's not a question. He sighs loudly, shaking his head even as he reaches forward, tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear.
She takes his hand in both of hers, holding it tightly. “I appreciate that you have waited this long for whatever reason Revan might have given you, and I... I don't want to know what it is.” She kisses his knuckles softly before letting his hand go. “We are not the same people that we were twenty years ago. We're not even the same people that we were ten years ago, Kyp. I was abandoned. Even before the war was over, you all had left me. What I'm doing now... It's because I have people to support me, not lead me by the hand in case I trip and scrape my knee.” Her eyes close, and it's then that she realizes she's crying.
He doesn't say anything, just nods, jamming his hands into his pockets. “You're a lot stronger than we ever gave you credit for.”
She smiles through her tears. “I'm glad it only took you this long to see that. It's probably one of my favorite compliments.” Her hand brushes over his cheek. “I don't need you anymore, Kyp.”
It's wrong, she realizes. She's always going to need him. She just doesn't want to need him. He stares at her with dark eyes, and she knows he can see through her lie, can feel it from her, but he doesn't say anything.
Isolde hesitates, leaning up the few inches separating them, and she kisses him softly, gently, knowingly. He kisses her back, cupping her face, as if attempting to hold back from tethering himself to her, and she can feel it, how lost he is. As lost as herself. But she knows he has to find his way on his own.
This is her story.
-
He watches from the distance with a heavy heart and a niggling sense of failure as Isolde slides her arm around the waist of a younger blonde man, while that Atton of hers does the same, a clear look of irritation written all over his face. But then she turns her smile on him, and Kyp can see the pause on the other man's face, the smirk replacing his scowl as he holds her gaze a little too long to be merely friendly.
They love her, he can see that. Not in the way he, Alek, and Isolde had loved Revan, but something more fierce.
Kyp turns away from them, trying to not let himself feel like he's failed Revan's orders by not helping their old friend. He'll wait, until she also comes to seek him out. Maybe that's all he's good for these days.
AUTHOR: Ashe;
promisethesun
FANDOM(S): Knights of the Old Republic
CHARACTER(S): Isolde and Kyp
PROMPT: #063 Waiting
RECIPIENT: Me
RATING: PG-13
WARNINGS: Nope
SPOILERS?: None
PREVIEW/SUMMARY:
Isolde hesitates, leaning up the few inches separating them, and she kisses him softly, gently, knowingly. He kisses her back, cupping her face, as if attempting to hold back from tethering himself to her, and she can feel it, how lost he is. As lost as herself. But she knows he has to find his way on his own.
WORD COUNT: 2000
It's only a small side trip back to Nar Shaddaa-Mira doesn't believe that she can feel the Force, but Isolde knows she can prove it, can show her the spot where she saw the planet come alive-and in an odd twist of fate, the bounty hunter opens herself up to the Force, to Isolde's teachings, and that makes it five out of six. Or just five for five, since she isn't sure a Mandalorian has ever become a Jedi.
The younger girl hugs her in a brief moment of affection, before abruptly pulling back and mouthing off about how she hasn't had a drink in forever.
She feels him the moment she steps into the cantina, quieter than usual as her ragtag group of misfits clamors around the bartender, ordering drinks, food, things they haven't been able to have while stuck on the Ebon Hawk. Bao-Dur looks at her, follows her line of sight.
“Isn't that Kyp Durron, General?”
As if he hears his own name, he looks up from his table, finds her gaze. He's older, looks more refined, hard. Unconsciously, a smile tugs at her lips, and she remembers a long ago memory of a boy and a girl who only had each other to hold on to. “So it would be, Bao-Dur.”
A ghost of a smile plays on his own, but she turns away from him, unsure. The memories she has feel as though they belong to another; she is not that same girl anymore. She isn't even the same one who fought beside him in the Wars. Bao-Dur rests a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently, feeling waves of concern for her through their bond, and she shakes her head.
“Isolde, here.” Atton fills her vision then, handing her a drink, and she happily accepts it. He smirks at her, and her stomach coils, but she can feel Kyp's eyes boring into her back, feel his presence push against hers. She takes a sip, smiles, and hands the drink back into the man's hands.
“I need some air.”
She knows he'll follow.
Her eyes close as she breathes in the stench of Nar Shaddaa, knowing that both of them would follow, both for entirely different reasons.
Atton's there first, standing as close to her as he dares. She stares up at him, sees the hesitation on his face, in his body, as he raises his hand, fingertips brushing her cheek before his mind change and he touches her arm instead. “What's wrong?”
Her head turns at the moment that Kyp steps out, and he saunters up to her, a familiar smirk on his face. “I probably have something to do with it.”
Atton tenses, and she feels his jealousy roll through their bond, and she wants to laugh. If he only knew. Her hand rests on her friend's arm. “Go inside, Atton. You deserve a drink, to rest.”
His dark eyes narrow as his head shakes. “You're not sending me away so that this guy can make you feel uncomfortable. And don't try to tell me that you're not,” he adds when she attempts to protest.
“Listen to her, kid, and go inside,” Kyp drawls, and Isolde stares at him.
“I don't take orders from Jedi,” Atton spits, shifting himself so that he's between her and Kyp.
“And what do you think she is, exactly? A Sith?” He laughs, as if the very idea is ridiculous to him, and she smiles sadly, because he's always known her so well.
Atton practically seethes. “She's neither.”
There's a pause, a look of confusion on his face as he turns his gaze on her.
“Atton...”
“Are you sure you want me to go?” He doesn't turn around to ask her, keeping his eyes on the other man, like any good man who had spent a long time hunting and torturing Jedi.
“It won't take long.”
He hesitates longer, before finally-reluctantly-accepting that this is what she wants. He gives one final glare to the man whose Force dwarfs the both of them, jaw squared as he looks back at her, stomping off back to the cantina with the others.
Kyp follows him with his eyes until they're as alone as they can be on a planet crammed with life. “Interesting company you find yourself in.”
“I thought you were dead,” she says in response, her voice soft, hollow. “Revan...”
He twitches, barely, and she smiles faintly. “What did he mean that you're not a Jedi?”
Her head tilts to the side as she regards him. “I was exiled, when I returned to them. A Jedi with no Force is no good to anybody, and I had...” She pauses, her smile fluttering. “I had followed Revan and was the only one to return. I was her example, to the Council.”
Kyp nods slowly, as if nothing she says is new to him, bothers him. But then again, they had all been together for so long, it was hard to not understand. “You have the Force now.”
“I don't really understand it myself.” The sole of her boot scuffs along the dirty street, her fingers twitching. “You look good, Kyp.” His name is foreign, brings old aches to her chest. “Dignified.”
He gives a sharp bark of laughter, self-deprecating. “You haven't quite lost that ability to be so nice, have you? It's no wonder...”
Her body stills, blue eyes turning icy, and he's sure he hasn't seen a look that in nearly a decade. Anger and hurt, rolled into one, smashed together. She carries too many insecurities inside of her, too much pain, and when he goes to feel her, there's an emptiness that makes his stomach hurt. She's more powerful, and yet more empty than he's ever felt in a person.
An echo of the old Order.
“No wonder that Revan easily tossed me aside? No wonder that she didn't feel the need to have me killed. It's fine. I was already dead to her, of no more use.” Her voice is calm, that look gone from her eyes, and there's a sense of peace settling over. “I understand that we all play our parts in Revan's schemes, but she's gone now.” She takes a step closer to him. “You know that everyone is...”
He moves closer to her. “It was hard to not feel it. I've been flitting around the galaxy since then. Waiting.”
Her arms cross over her chest. “For her?”
“For you.”
He smirks again when she stares at him, clearly taken back. She wants to ask why, because who has ever waited for her? Her head turns slightly, and she glances back at the cantina, where most of her people are waiting, opens herself so that she feels Kreia safe on the ship with the droids, and then she takes a step away from Kyp, realizing how close she was gravitating to him and his presence and her memories that no longer matter now. They will wait for her, she knows. They will die for her and love her, and it's unnatural in some ways, but she takes strength from it.
She hasn't needed Revan or Malak or Kyp for a long time. She faced the Council on her own, she stuck by their ideals-Revan's ideals-and took her punishment. Alone, she traveled, and she survived.
“Because of Revan,” she guesses correctly, unsure of how to feel about it. She has always loved Revan, but she knows that she has been nothing more than a pawn.
“Hey, Isolde!” Mira pops out of the cantina, hands on her prominent hips as she stares at the two of them. Her grin grows, hips swaying as she comes closer to them. “Who's your new friend?”
“This is-”
“Just ancient history,” Kyp interjects with a charming grin at the younger girl. She doesn't buy it, and Isolde's heart swells for it.
“Yeah, well. Maybe it's time to scoot along so we can get our fearless leader back. Mandalore's getting antsy in there, surprise surprise, and Atton is trying to get Mical a lap dance.” The red head pauses, eyes flickering over Kyp again, her smile a little bit more dangerous. “And I'd hate to think of what the old lady is going to be yapping about if we return in a worse state than now.”
Kyp's eyebrows raise, and the look on his face is almost amusement, and Isolde wants to laugh and cry all at once. Her heart is breaking all over again, and she knows that Mira would laugh at her if she knew. “You travel with Mandalorians, too.”
“Kyp...” She sighs, shaking her head. “Mira, will you try your best to round them up? At least get Mandalore out of there.”
The bounty hunter nods, salutes, and sways back. The exile laughs nervously, running her fingers through her hair. “This is not the best place to have a private conversation, you realize. Not one this serious.”
“You don't want my help.” It's not a question. He sighs loudly, shaking his head even as he reaches forward, tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear.
She takes his hand in both of hers, holding it tightly. “I appreciate that you have waited this long for whatever reason Revan might have given you, and I... I don't want to know what it is.” She kisses his knuckles softly before letting his hand go. “We are not the same people that we were twenty years ago. We're not even the same people that we were ten years ago, Kyp. I was abandoned. Even before the war was over, you all had left me. What I'm doing now... It's because I have people to support me, not lead me by the hand in case I trip and scrape my knee.” Her eyes close, and it's then that she realizes she's crying.
He doesn't say anything, just nods, jamming his hands into his pockets. “You're a lot stronger than we ever gave you credit for.”
She smiles through her tears. “I'm glad it only took you this long to see that. It's probably one of my favorite compliments.” Her hand brushes over his cheek. “I don't need you anymore, Kyp.”
It's wrong, she realizes. She's always going to need him. She just doesn't want to need him. He stares at her with dark eyes, and she knows he can see through her lie, can feel it from her, but he doesn't say anything.
Isolde hesitates, leaning up the few inches separating them, and she kisses him softly, gently, knowingly. He kisses her back, cupping her face, as if attempting to hold back from tethering himself to her, and she can feel it, how lost he is. As lost as herself. But she knows he has to find his way on his own.
This is her story.
-
He watches from the distance with a heavy heart and a niggling sense of failure as Isolde slides her arm around the waist of a younger blonde man, while that Atton of hers does the same, a clear look of irritation written all over his face. But then she turns her smile on him, and Kyp can see the pause on the other man's face, the smirk replacing his scowl as he holds her gaze a little too long to be merely friendly.
They love her, he can see that. Not in the way he, Alek, and Isolde had loved Revan, but something more fierce.
Kyp turns away from them, trying to not let himself feel like he's failed Revan's orders by not helping their old friend. He'll wait, until she also comes to seek him out. Maybe that's all he's good for these days.