f2020 | the d is for dark side

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the d is for dark side

WHO: Rey, Ronan, Kylo
WHERE: Sanctum Aurorae
WHEN: The night new imPorts Arrive
WHAT: A "diplomatic" visit
WARNINGS: Probably various shades of NSFW. Alcohol, sexual content, violence.

For Ronan

Recently Rey had been testing the limits of her teleportation. Yes, always in the vicinity of Kylo but more and more she pushes it. How far is too far? There's something so... passionless about just porting directly into his bedroom really. She had been the one to yield and come to him, and he can likely already sense her presence, so she needs to have her fun wandering around his domain while he's made to wait.

The halls are largely empty, but Rey still stalks carefully in the darkness. She's traded the heels and her gala dress for light-soled boots a cloak drawn tightly around her to conceal her body with her hood up. Really she's dressed more for an assassination than a personal visit.

Despite being an outsider, she knows these halls well and finds her first stop quickly.

"Hello Ronan," she knocks on his door. "I brought you a gift."

Logically, she knows that there is really no point in bringing a god items that he can manifest himself, but she has a certain sort of affection for the Greywaren. Or as much as someone whose lost sight of almost everything except others' utility as a tool, to which Ronan was near infinite.

It's also the least she can do for the number of planes he's had to dream up to account for her theft.

For Kylo

When Rey decides Kylo has been made to wait long enough, she bids farewell to Ronan (and then maybe makes a few extra laps for good measure). Her entrance to the Supreme Leader's bedroom is much less formal, making her way in with no knock or announcement.

She swings her cloak over the back of a chaise before making herself comfortable in it rather unceremoniously. Rey's strategies at seduction have always had a rather unconventional start to them...

"I could have brought you to the White City," it's slightly more than an idle threat, but there is a reason she didn't.

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Retiring to his private quarters means that Ronan is free from the ceremony of playing god. When he opens the door, he's maskless and clean of makeup, save the smudged eyeliner he couldn't be bothered to thoroughly scrub away. He's traded his religious garb for something much simpler, and if he'd thought there was even a remote possibility that a woman would be standing at his door, he wouldn't have answered. But here they are.

"Is it a knife?" he replies sardonically, though he knows perfectly well she isn't here to kill him.

"A much slower means of death, I'm afraid," she holds a bottle of champagne in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other, almost casually as if she isn't carrying a literal fortune with her given the price of each. "From our private collection."

If his getup bothers her, she doesn't show it. She just a closed-lipped smile before continuing, "It was a big day, you could probably use a nightcap."

Any other female would be swiftly turned away, but this is Rey Palpatine. He has no choice but to indulge her. Stepping aside, he opens the door wider to allow her entry. His bedroom lies beyond another few doors, with several locks to keep him or anything else from escaping in the middle of the night. This room is for entertainment, at least to the extent that Ronan entertains at all. It matches the same minimalist aesthetic as everything else in the Sanctum, only there's a tree growing from between the cracks of the concrete floor, blooming strange red flowers that emit a soft glow. They provide most of the lighting in the room.

An overlong divan is the only seat available, which she'll have to share with him if she intends to stay. He settles onto it and tugs his overcoat to cover himself as best as he can manage without a belt, an oddly modest gesture for someone who has no reason to cover himself at all.

"Is that what you came here for?" he asks. "To talk about my big day?"

"I came to visit." This might have been awkward once, but Rey has had years of practice walking into a room to be met with icy silence or open hostility. Really, this is probably mild among what she's encountered.

She places both bottles on the minimalist sideboard, searching for glasses. She is going to help herself to at least a taste of her gift even if he's not going to.

"We can talk about whatever you like," she smiles over her shoulder.

Ronan doesn't take his eyes off her. He doesn't think she's stupid enough to try drugging him, not close enough that Kylo might catch a whiff of the plot. Hell, she's powerful enough that poisoning would be completely unnecessary. No, he's just looking at her the way he looks at most things, studying the details.

"To your left," he says. The glasses. "If you're trying to make him jealous, it's not going to work."

She scoffs, amused, as she finds two glasses, "There are ten thousand easier ways to make Kylo jealous."

She's honestly not sure if that's an exaggeration or not, but if her only objective was making Kylo jealous she wouldn't have to make house calls only to figure out the logistics of hauling herself back thousands of miles. But just the existence of Stark and Dooku she thought were in an ever-raging competition for the top spot among all her strategies to accomplish that.

She deftly peals the seal off the whiskey and pours them each a glass. Not generous pours by any means, she isn't going to stay for that long. She hands him one of the glasses, "Cheers."

"Touché."

Ronan accepts the glass, clinks it against hers, then sips. It's tempting to knock the whole thing back like a shot, there's so little of it, but he can taste the quality. The savoring type. Why is she even wasting it on him?

"I had a dream about you the other night."

"Is that so."

She sips her drink, carefully guarding the true depth of her interest. Any curiosity should be natural anyway, she thinks, and Ronan remains one of the greatest mysteries in this world although less to her than almost anyone else.

"Tell me about it."

"You were stealing my books," Ronan says, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement as he considers his drink for a beat. Then his gaze returns to her. "Picking through my library like a greedy little thief."

Of course, he doesn't have a library. He can't remember the last time he had the freedom or will to read for pleasure. He shouldn't even be wasting his time with this, but it looks like Kylo's going to be occupied tonight, which gives Ronan ample time to dream.

"I'm sure Jung has an explanation, but dream interpretation was never my thing."

That's... curious. As he describes it, it almost feels familiar. Like she can visualize it in a way more clearly than she should be able to from just the short description. She leans back, her expression mildly puzzled but hidden behind amusement.

"I was a scavenger. Before." Practically in another life now. She had never explicitly hidden that aspect of her past, but she wasn't sure if anything more than rumors had escaped the White Tower, from Kylo or otherwise. It had come up less and less as she climbed the ranks within her faction because while it once made for a good campaigning point, not it was more frequently sharpened as a tool to jab at her
apparent hypocrisy.

"Taking things was often just a means of survival rather than greed," she shrugs. Arguably it's not so different than what she does now although the markers of survival have drastically changed. She's not quite sure why books either, but she's not in a hurry to guess. "You'll have to let me know if you have any more."

Ronan's sure he knows more about her than she'd like. His eyebrows lift a touch at that confession, but it's an expression of acknowledgement rather than surprise. The scavenger girl, yes. Practically feral. From what he's seen in Kylo's mind, Ronan thinks he would've liked her more the way she was back then. This cleaner version bores him.

"If only you'd leave your White Tower," he sighs. "You could be in my dreams every night."

It's impossible to tell whether he's joking.

She chooses to take it as a joke.

"The Sanctum Aurorae would not survive," and although it's offered lightly it sincere. At best it would largely maintain its current form, but that would fly in the face of all the times Rey has publicly decried them.

And she is never going to abandon what she built anyway.

"Are you hoping that I'll whisk you away?" Her jokes are thankfully more obvious.

Ronan scoffs and takes another sip of his drink before answering, "It'd be fun to see you try."

What would Kylo do? That's the most intriguing question in this scenario. Ronan has no actual idea which one Kylo values more: his treasure or his woman. Fairytales with this premise don't end well.

"You'd be good bait," she almost laughs behind her drink as she finishes it. She had pulled Kylo to her a handful of times (which left him delightfully infuriated) and Rey hates to leave her kingdom, but ultimately the privacy that the Sanctum affords them is valuable. Especially now, when she really does have something concrete to discuss away from the ever listening, ever watching droids her husband seems content to deploy.

"I'm sure we could find something to keep you... fed."

Ronan hums vaguely in answer, maintaining a sort of amusement on his features even as a shadow passes over his eyes. He doesn't know just how much Rey knows about what he does, but even if she knows everything, he doesn't like to talk about the sacrifices. It's not something he enjoys, destroying one thing in order to create another.

"I doubt you need any bait."

"Perhaps," she replies, but it's clear that she doesn't really believe it. It's more honest than she really thought she would be with Ronan and she drums her fingers against the empty glass before placing it back on the sideboard. Proposals are a tricky subject for the pair, but then again they always seemed content to give each other options that might as well be rejected for spite alone. "He seems quite content here."

But ultimately this speaks more to the fact that she hasn't not thought about it.

"He is many things," Ronan says, "but content isn't one of them."

That can't be news to her, can it? Kylo is insatiable. He can only just mask it behind discipline and self-control, and even then, only for so long. Ronan imagines him growing more impatient with every second she spends here, avoiding her true destination. Hell, maybe she can sense it.

He nods toward her empty glass. "Finished with me already?" He's hardly drunk half of his own.

There's a little swell of pride and possessiveness in hearing that admission. She had never really counted Ronan as competition, but she'll always take an unprompted affirmation of the power she could hold in the form of opportunity. It's true, Kylo would never be content, and Rey would never aim to give that to him. He's no good to her content anyway.

"Are you lonely here?"

Incapable of lying, Ronan holds her eyes and answers, "Yes."

He expects her to be pleased by that, too. What a victory for her, walking into his home to gloat over fine whiskey before sweeping off to his master's bed, leaving Ronan alone behind his many locked doors.

She thought it would too, but there are moments when her former self shines through, and her mouth tugs to the side. It's strange to feel shades of empathy. Part of it feels like an unused muscle and part of it feels like it's been plucked right from the mind of that lonely scavenger -- like it's not even this Rey's at all.

Still, a lifetime of loneliness and the sting rejection are what set her down this path, forcing her to find a strength within herself and wrestle it into a destiny she could make for herself.

"Then why do you stay?"

Ronan laughs at the absurdity of the question. Why does he stay. He leaves that hanging in the air while he drains the rest of his glass, then casually tosses it over his shoulder, where it shatters against the stone floor.

"I stay for the same reason you keep coming back."

The shattered glass doesn't even faze her. She could hardly climb to the level she has without nerves of steel. She quirks an eyebrow in place of being startled.

Distantly, she thinks that maybe in another life she could have counted Ronan among her... not friends, if she even really remembered what those were like, but allies perhaps. Regardless, his loyalty to Kylo would be undoubtedly useful, and thankfully seems to be unwavering.

"Sweet dreams, Ronan."

Ronan doesn't pretend there's anything he could possibly do that would startle Rey Palpatine. He's as fragile as that glass, compared to her. She could end his life with a mere thought and a flick of her hand. Why she hasn't done it yet remains one of the greatest mysteries about her.

"A pleasure, as always," he utters as the smile slips from his mouth. He doesn't rise from the divan. She can see her way out.

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