Afterimage
Characters: Ben/Vestara
Rating: PG
Warnings: Shameless homage, cleavage.
Summary: an homage to a scene in a recent blockbuster movie (5 points to those who guess)... and possibly the start of a longer fic. I have ideas. This can't be good. [Spoilers for Allies: negligible.]
Jedi Master Ben Skywalker had taken after his mother in many respects, but he’d taken those natural abilities and made them his own, developed them further to acute points. So it wasn’t surprising that when he woke and smelled a curious perfume--one that certainly wasn’t normal for his room--he was awake enough to sit up and look around.
The tickle of another presence against his cautious probe, and the unmistakable sound of liquid being poured woke him up even further, particularly once he identified the presence.
“It’s rather dreary home on Kesh right now,” he heard. “We are currently in a winter cycle, and since I have the means now I much prefer to travel.”
Ben glared at the brunette woman sitting at the table in his little suite at the Temple. How Vestara had gotten in without waking him up he didn’t know, but he had a good idea that it involved some bit of shady technology she’d picked up along the way on her quest to humiliate powerful men in the galaxy.
“Not that I miss Kesh, of course. I like it here on Coruscant much more. The views, for example,” and she smiled at him with perfect white teeth, “Are more pleasing to me.”
“What are you doing here?” Ben asked, then berated himself mentally for speaking so soon after waking up. His voice was rough and crackly. Vestara’s eyes widened as if slightly hurt.
“I thought I’d come see someone I thought was a friend,” she replied. “That we might have morning tea together. I brought it with me, you know, all the way from Ansion. And these--” she picked up a plate of pastries “--from your favorite bakery here, two and a half klicks from the Temple.” She got up, going over to the small food processing unit. “And while I was preparing, I found a datacard with my name on it, full of downloaded articles from tawdry HoloNet ‘zines.”
“Studying your methods,” Ben said, swinging his legs over and standing up. Don’t pop, hip, don’t - a pop brought Vestara’s head up momentarily, then her attention went back down to the datapad she’d plugged the card into. “In case you ever do anything heinous enough to be brought in for.”
“None of these articles mention my name.”
“They don’t have to, Ves.”
She eyed him appreciatively, and Ben pulled a face, grabbing his cloak off its hook and pulling it around him. Even when he was clothed, her stare made him feel naked. Vestara sighed.
“Come on, sit down. I know you’ve got a busy day ahead of you, I looked at your schedule.”
Clearly life off of Kesh was suiting Vestara, Ben thought as he sat uncomfortably opposite her. Atop a black, skintight jumpsuit (unzipped to reveal the perfect amount of cleavage, he noted), she had a midnight blue wrap, scattered with what looked like cut corusca gems. Knowing the price of a single corusca gem of that size, Ben estimated that her wrap, if sold, could feed a poor city on an Outer Rim world for a year. The clip that held her hair back from her delicate face was embellished with rainbow gems from Gallinore, the belt that her lightsaber was clipped to was the finest animal hide leather that could be obtained legally or illegally anywhere in the galaxy... and the half-smile on her face, twisted slightly by the scar on her lip, was the same as ever. Disgusted by his own attention to the particulars of her wardrobe, Ben twitched one of his fingers, and a brilliant gem on a silver chain tugged itself up from between her breasts. “Is that the firegem necklace that was reported missing from the treasury of a wealthy bacta magnate on Thyferra?”
Vestara’s eyes became flinty, though her expression didn’t change. “Observant as ever, Ben.”
“I need to be, when Sithspawn drags itself in.”
“Oh please,” Vestara sat herself down, pouring a second cup and handing it to him. “That man was boring. Not like you, Ben.”
She took a sip of her tea. Ben brought it to his lips, then fixed her with his eyes and carefully sniffed the cup. Vestara rolled her eyes.
“How long will it take for you to realize I have only a nominal connection to my order anymore?”
“A really long time.”
“Then perhaps the offer of a task for your order will cement the goodwill?” She reached around to a pouch on her belt, but found her hands suddenly immobilized, Ben having grabbed her wrists. Their eyes met. When they could take no more tension, they both sat back, Ves tossing a datacard on the table. “In my completely innocent travels, unmotivated by greed, I learned how to listen to spacers in certain ports of ill repute. It’s where the most interesting conversation is, you see... and while I listen in, I commit to memory the more interesting tidbits, and record them on datacards like that. I believe you’ll be interested in what’s on it.”
“What makes you think there is anything of interest for me, on that datacard, at all?”
“Because I know you, Ben Skywalker.” Vestara smiled at him, that smile widening when he rose as she did, wary. “I know that when you review what’s on that, you won’t want to leave it be until you get to the bottom of it.”
She leaned over, and a wave of her perfume enveloped him when she stood on tiptoe to kiss him. It sent a jolt through Ben, from his mouth to his toes, and when they parted his hands had come to rest on her waist. With a patient look, Vestara extricated herself from his grasp and stepped around him, heading toward the door.
She paused, though, by the small desk in the living area, and thumbed the activation switch on a small holoprojector. An image of Vestara in a familiar marketplace, looking back over her shoulder with a broad smile, flickered into life. And the next moment, the real Vestara was gone, leaving only the afterimage.
Rating: PG
Warnings: Shameless homage, cleavage.
Summary: an homage to a scene in a recent blockbuster movie (5 points to those who guess)... and possibly the start of a longer fic. I have ideas. This can't be good. [Spoilers for Allies: negligible.]
Jedi Master Ben Skywalker had taken after his mother in many respects, but he’d taken those natural abilities and made them his own, developed them further to acute points. So it wasn’t surprising that when he woke and smelled a curious perfume--one that certainly wasn’t normal for his room--he was awake enough to sit up and look around.
The tickle of another presence against his cautious probe, and the unmistakable sound of liquid being poured woke him up even further, particularly once he identified the presence.
“It’s rather dreary home on Kesh right now,” he heard. “We are currently in a winter cycle, and since I have the means now I much prefer to travel.”
Ben glared at the brunette woman sitting at the table in his little suite at the Temple. How Vestara had gotten in without waking him up he didn’t know, but he had a good idea that it involved some bit of shady technology she’d picked up along the way on her quest to humiliate powerful men in the galaxy.
“Not that I miss Kesh, of course. I like it here on Coruscant much more. The views, for example,” and she smiled at him with perfect white teeth, “Are more pleasing to me.”
“What are you doing here?” Ben asked, then berated himself mentally for speaking so soon after waking up. His voice was rough and crackly. Vestara’s eyes widened as if slightly hurt.
“I thought I’d come see someone I thought was a friend,” she replied. “That we might have morning tea together. I brought it with me, you know, all the way from Ansion. And these--” she picked up a plate of pastries “--from your favorite bakery here, two and a half klicks from the Temple.” She got up, going over to the small food processing unit. “And while I was preparing, I found a datacard with my name on it, full of downloaded articles from tawdry HoloNet ‘zines.”
“Studying your methods,” Ben said, swinging his legs over and standing up. Don’t pop, hip, don’t - a pop brought Vestara’s head up momentarily, then her attention went back down to the datapad she’d plugged the card into. “In case you ever do anything heinous enough to be brought in for.”
“None of these articles mention my name.”
“They don’t have to, Ves.”
She eyed him appreciatively, and Ben pulled a face, grabbing his cloak off its hook and pulling it around him. Even when he was clothed, her stare made him feel naked. Vestara sighed.
“Come on, sit down. I know you’ve got a busy day ahead of you, I looked at your schedule.”
Clearly life off of Kesh was suiting Vestara, Ben thought as he sat uncomfortably opposite her. Atop a black, skintight jumpsuit (unzipped to reveal the perfect amount of cleavage, he noted), she had a midnight blue wrap, scattered with what looked like cut corusca gems. Knowing the price of a single corusca gem of that size, Ben estimated that her wrap, if sold, could feed a poor city on an Outer Rim world for a year. The clip that held her hair back from her delicate face was embellished with rainbow gems from Gallinore, the belt that her lightsaber was clipped to was the finest animal hide leather that could be obtained legally or illegally anywhere in the galaxy... and the half-smile on her face, twisted slightly by the scar on her lip, was the same as ever. Disgusted by his own attention to the particulars of her wardrobe, Ben twitched one of his fingers, and a brilliant gem on a silver chain tugged itself up from between her breasts. “Is that the firegem necklace that was reported missing from the treasury of a wealthy bacta magnate on Thyferra?”
Vestara’s eyes became flinty, though her expression didn’t change. “Observant as ever, Ben.”
“I need to be, when Sithspawn drags itself in.”
“Oh please,” Vestara sat herself down, pouring a second cup and handing it to him. “That man was boring. Not like you, Ben.”
She took a sip of her tea. Ben brought it to his lips, then fixed her with his eyes and carefully sniffed the cup. Vestara rolled her eyes.
“How long will it take for you to realize I have only a nominal connection to my order anymore?”
“A really long time.”
“Then perhaps the offer of a task for your order will cement the goodwill?” She reached around to a pouch on her belt, but found her hands suddenly immobilized, Ben having grabbed her wrists. Their eyes met. When they could take no more tension, they both sat back, Ves tossing a datacard on the table. “In my completely innocent travels, unmotivated by greed, I learned how to listen to spacers in certain ports of ill repute. It’s where the most interesting conversation is, you see... and while I listen in, I commit to memory the more interesting tidbits, and record them on datacards like that. I believe you’ll be interested in what’s on it.”
“What makes you think there is anything of interest for me, on that datacard, at all?”
“Because I know you, Ben Skywalker.” Vestara smiled at him, that smile widening when he rose as she did, wary. “I know that when you review what’s on that, you won’t want to leave it be until you get to the bottom of it.”
She leaned over, and a wave of her perfume enveloped him when she stood on tiptoe to kiss him. It sent a jolt through Ben, from his mouth to his toes, and when they parted his hands had come to rest on her waist. With a patient look, Vestara extricated herself from his grasp and stepped around him, heading toward the door.
She paused, though, by the small desk in the living area, and thumbed the activation switch on a small holoprojector. An image of Vestara in a familiar marketplace, looking back over her shoulder with a broad smile, flickered into life. And the next moment, the real Vestara was gone, leaving only the afterimage.