Wayward

[Meira]

The boy did not want to be found. Or so it seemed.

After her meeting with Lidah, Ylva found herself on the other end of service in the Exchange. Where she once only came in after the fact to tidy up any messes made in the Compeer's name, she would now be one of the ones making those messes. It was not an entirely unsavory arrangement. It would keep her largely away from the Eye and Circumtore while wounds healed and hearts softened. She'd likely even be working with Jayec more often. But it was still a demotion of sorts. The Jolly Janitors, while not disbanded, were absorbed into the larger body of the Exchange. She'd worked so hard to build that business up from nothing. It had been all she had in the galaxy. Now it was just another piece in the larger puzzle. It made sense, in a way. There was no way Ylva would enjoy the status and position she once held, even if a great many people forgave the things she'd done. This way, the boys stayed employed. They were even branching out, it seemed, finding it easier to play to their individual strengths within the larger and more diverse organization. Emilio was helping those who'd been infected reintegrate with the others. It was easier to see them, underlings, as victims in their own right. She was not so lucky. The few that had seen her return regarded her with wary curiosity at best. A few spat on the floor as she passed after receiving her first mission from the boss.

Find Forte. Bring him back to answer for his actions.

Ylva took to the task eagerly enough. She'd come back, she was dealing with the muttered curses and the sidelong glances. Why shouldn't he? Seeing as how Ylva was no longer in possession of the ability to move shit with her brain, it became apparent that someone with that magic mojo should come with her. Thel was... out of the question. Old wounds between those two had apparently become too raw. Putting those two on a ship together now would defeat the purpose. Io'an was a logical second choice, apparently having worked with Forte before.

It had taken the gremlins in their cyber pit nearly a day to finally track the once-called knife in the night to a small settlement on Formos. Ylva had to look the planet up. It was nothing, had nothing, and was only relevant as a jumping point for smugglers making the Kessel run. As far as places to go to not be seen, it wasn't a bad choice at all. No one there asked prying questions because everyone there had something to hide. But he'd been found all the same. Faine's holonet goblins were the best around.

She'd been given the use of a small transport ship, technically large enough to house six, but rarely used for parties of more than four. She'd also been allowed to gear up, though Lovelace kept a very precise count of every item Ylva claimed and told her it had better all come back in working order. Ylva had started to note how she'd be disappointed by the power cells but cut herself off when she saw the anger swell in Lovelace's cheeks.

That was getting harder and harder to do. Holding her tongue was not a skill that Ylva had ever counted as her own. Nor was taking orders from others. It was why she'd done so good running her own business. But now... well, if these assholes didn't get over their hurt feelings quickly, she'd lose it.

Speaking of hurt feelings, Ylva wondered at how Io'an would handle having to work with her while stowing her gear on the ship. A droid, programmed to help with the finer points of space travel, was in the cockpit preparing their launch sequence and subsequent jump to Formos. She and Io'an hadn't worked together much prior to the Archeri invasion. In fact, she'd had to look up a picture of him upon being told they'd go together just to remember who he was. With the recognition of his face came the memory of the last time she'd seen him and her shoulders slumped.

"Fuckin' great." she mumbled to herself.

[Rugs]

Io’an ambled into the small hangar, satchel hanging over his chest from one shoulder and a small bag of slicing equipment gripped in one hand. In his other hand, he held a slender metal collar, wide enough to snap around the neck of most humanoid species. A Force collar.

Holding the thing made him feel ill, but it was a necessity. Lidah’s orders had been clear; they were to bring Jazen — Forte, or whatever he might call himself these days — home, whether he cooperated or not. Io’an dearly hoped, as he walked toward the loading ramp, that Jazen would comply. As wary as he was of the Force, he couldn’t imagine having one of those horrible devices around his neck,as Lidah had for much of the Archeri Crisis. Even as the Chorus tormented him, day after long, miserable day, he couldn’t find the strength of will to take that step.

He’d as soon quit breathing than put one of those things on his neck.

Io’an boarded the ship, footsteps clanging on the grated metal ramp. The interior was utilitarian and a bit on the cramped size for its max passenger capacity. But there would only be two of them on the trip out to Formos. Three on the way back. He selected a small room near the ship’s middle as his own. The satchel, he placed on the narrow bed attached to the wall. The slicing equipment bag and Force collar, he put on a small metal shelf that unfolded and locked into place.

I hope he’ll see reason. It was obvious that he didn’t want to be found; that it took them a day’s work to track him down was testament to that. But who knew what might be going through Jazen’s head? Io’an hadn’t seen him since he fled after Ylva’s failed attack on the Eye.

Ylva... The spark of anger rose of its own accord. Io’an never thought himself one to hold grudges, at least not until the aftermath of the Battle of Nar Shaddaa. It was hard to find forgiveness to spare for Ylva. Even knowing that the infection wasn’t her fault, knowing that the Chorus compelled her to act outside her own desires...

That doesn’t change what she did, he thought, stuffing his hands sullenly in his jacket pockets as he stepped out of his room. Killing those men. Corrupting Jazen. Necessity put him on this job with her. Vance and Jazen were as likely to kill each other as come back peacefully, and Janus was... a wild card, from what little Io’an knew of him. Miss Faine had more important matters to tend to than chasing down a runaway--loose end or no--and so that left him to go with Ylva.

Who he’d nearly killed, last he saw her.

He could feel her before he saw her, as he turned to leave the room. Even without the Force there was a connection, of sorts, that lingered between the Archeri Plague’s survivors.

She was moving through the ship, presumably seeing to getting her gear loaded and everything ready for the trip. Io’an stopped in his doorway. His sea green eyes, now ringed by violet in the plague’s aftermath, narrowed slightly.

At least she came back to face her sins. That didn’t make him any happier to see her. “Do you need help with anything?” He felt the frost on his voice as soon as the words left his mouth.

For once, he didn’t care.

[Meira]

“Do you need help with anything?”

"SHIT!" Ylva shouted in surprise, dropping the box of meal packs she'd been carrying toward what passed as this ship's galley. She'd not seen, nor heard Io'an boarding the ship. Then suddenly, there he was... with his pale skinny body and his stupid pointy ears. Just looking at him, she could taste soot and blood in her mouth. The details of that day were hazy, filled in mostly from what Jayec could tell her. But her body remembered, even if her mind couldn't. And he was looking at her like all the rest did, maybe worse.

"No." she growled, the fire in her voice matching the ice of his. She stared him down, noting the violet ring around his green eyes. Her own were already that color, so whatever marks the Archeri left on her remained below the surface. "Go help the droid. Its ready to lift off."

She quickly gathered the scattered food packs and shoved them back in the box. Shouldering past him, she went to the galley cabinet and stowed the packs away. Still fuming, she stomped back to her room, apparently across the short corridor from his, and upended her bag onto the small bed. Tangled into the single change of clothes she brought was her flask. She uncapped it, took a long pull, and breathed through the burn. She took another and then stowed the flask in an inside pocket of her jacket. Apparently, this wasn't going to be an easy trip.

The ship rumbled as it rose from the ground and Ylva left her room for the cockpit. She stood at the entrance, behind Io'an and the droid as the ship began to rise up through the atmosphere. The usual tremble of a ships engines suddenly turned into a violent shake as an alarm blared. Through the transparasteel, the large shape of another ship narrowly missing them at high speed came into, and then flew out of view. The alarm stopped a moment later.

"What the hell, man!?" Ylva shouted. "Do YOU need help with anything??"

[Rugs]

Io’an normally so quick to apologize for his own perceived slights, so sensitive to the disruptions he caused others, said not a word as Ylva yelped in surprise and dropped the packs she carried. He glanced briefly at the floor as they scattered. It was all the typical stuff; good enough to keep you kicking through a space voyage, but nothing particularly satisfying. He could have, if he wanted, have picked them up with the Force, without moving a hand and saved Ylva the work of gathering them herself.

It would have been the nice thing to do. The right thing to do. But Ylva was as happy to see him as he was her. Her displeasure grated against his senses. Though she could no longer touch it, the Force ached with the discord between them, like metal on metal.

“Fine,” he said bluntly as he walked off to the ship’s cockpit. “We’ll be off in a moment.”

Disharmony, he thought, flatly as he left her behind. So much for the Chorus’ influence.

The cockpit was as blandly utilitarian as the rest of the ship, all hard metal and sharp angles. A droid occupied the pilot’s seat. Io’an could fly a ship well enough to get from point A to B, and he assumed Ylva could, but he didn’t mind the extra help. He’d programmed flight directions into the ship’s nav computer earlier. All the droid had to do was follow them.

“Preliminary checks are complete,” the droid said, its voice as dull as the ship it piloted. “Preparing for takeoff.”

Io’an grunted absentmindedly. He barely paid any mind as the ship shuddered and rumbled skyward. What right does she have to be mad? He busied himself with strapping on the co-pilot seat’s restraint as the ship left the hangar and barged forward into to traffic. This is her fault to start wi-

A whine and alarm snapped his focus back to the here-and-now as a large ship whirred past and barely missed a collision with the cockpit.

Io’an swore, assuming control from the droid, and steered their ship up and away from the thickest traffic flow.

“I’m fine,” he said through grit teeth, and more forcefully than intended, to Ylva’s alarm. “Just need to get us out of the atmosphere before the droid takes over.”

Droids were fine for the long midpoints on point-to-point trips, but Io’an always preferred a living touch on the takeoffs and landings. Especially on crowded worlds like Nar Shaddaa or, to a lesser extent, Circumtore.

The ringworld’s curvature dominated the sky as the ship lumbered upwards and out of its artificial atmosphere. As the traffic below faded and the dull blue gave way to the dark of space, Io’an relented control to the droid, which began pointing the ship toward its jumping point.

It wasn’t a long trip to Formos. A day or two in hyperspace, then they’d see what Jazen had been up to. A day or two trapped on a ship with Ylva. The Force seemed so ready to spark that it was a wonder the air hadn’t ignited already.

“So,” he said as he unbuckled himself after a long pause, “you could have run away like he did, after what you pulled. But here you are.” He turned his head slightly, enough to watch Ylva from the corner of his eye over the back of his thinly-cushioned seat. “Why come back?”

[Meira]

Ylva held back a few strings of curses. The ringworld was a weird place. She didn't like it. She spent her whole life in crowded cities, polluted air and all. But there was something off about the artificial... everything on the ring world. And everyone there apparently didn't know how to drive. She was not sad to see it grow smaller as the ship moved away to its jump point.

“So, you could have run away like he did, after what you pulled. But here you are. Why come back?”

Ylva, who had plopped herself down in a seat directly behind the droid, glanced sideways at Io'an. She couldn't identify the tone behind his voice. She just didn't know him well enough for that. She'd already gotten the question a couple of times from others on the Blind Eye crew when she'd gone to gather equipment for this trip. But when they'd asked, it was something more of a challenge. Her responses to them were all along the lines of violating their mothers.

She wasn't doing a great job at mending fences.

Io'an didn't seem quite so aggressive in his asking, but that didn't mean Ylva was about to drop her guard. He could still do that force banthashit and he had one of those lightsword things like Thel. Even she knew that was punching a little too far up. She shrugged her shoulders, lifting and then dropping her booted foot onto what was maybe the comms dash. "Where the hell else was I supposed to go?" she replied, gesturing over her shoulder back toward the ring world. "It's my home. Well, not... you know what I mean." she waved her hand. She had no idea which direction Nar Shaddaa was.

"Lightspeed in 3...2...1" the droid's monotone voice was a strange background noise.

"I didn't have a choice in all that shit." Ylva continued as the blue-white streaks of hyperspace filled the viewport. "And I'll be damned if I let it all get taken away because of it."

---

The ship touched down on the dusty landing pad. The spaceport wasn't much to look at. Mostly landing docks with cantinas and cheap buildings sprawled out around them. It really was just a waypoint for Kessel. Where the buildings stopped, it was grasslands and rocky terrain as far as the eye could see. Supposedly there were other, smaller settlements scattered across the surface, but none were too far from the spaceport, and they were all meant mostly for getting out of sight.

"That's a damn lie and you know it." Ylva growled as she stomped down the lowering ramp. She had a pack slung over one shoulder, a blaster rifle hanging from a strap on the other, and a back up pistol strapped to her thigh. "I told you that the right side of the cooler was mine. I put that pack on the right side! I was saving it for the ride back!"

"Fifty per day. Up front." A Togruta man said, walking up to her with a datapad in hand.

"Fuck off, fifty!" Ylva said, her eyes looking around the landing pad, unimpressed. "You should be paying me!"

"It's fifty or you can leave." The Togruta repeated, squaring off to her. Behind him, two hulking guards stepped out from the shadows of an overhang. Ylva eyed them for a moment, and then spat in the dust before shoving her hand into her pocket, retrieving the credits and dropping onto the man's datapad.

"He'll sign." she said, gesturing behind her with her head before moving toward the exit. "I need a drink!" she shouted over her shoulder for Io'an to hear. She moved toward the first Cantina sing she saw on the street, The Rowdy Rathtar. It was a squat, shabby looking building but it was only a few paces away across the street... so it was perfect.

[Rugs]

“The pack was in the middle, if you wanted it, you should’ve put it further on your side of the cooler.” Io’an walked with hands in his armorweave coat’s pockets as he shuffled down the ramp after Ylva. His lightsaber was hidden away in an interior pocket. The disruptor pistol he’d carried ever since Ms. Faine gave it to him during the Archeri Crisis was in a holster at his hip. A satchel hung partly at the back of his side, with the strap crossing his chest from the opposite shoulder. “I told you that from the beginning, and I’m tired of arguing it with you.”

Io’an considered himself, generally, slow to anger. A few days in hyperspace cooped up on a ship with no one but Ylva for company was stretching him to the breaking point.

He missed Vance, Qiki, Reflex — anyone else.

The little spaceport town was as dry and unremarkable as the world it called home. The same was true of the spaceport, which seemed more a hastily thrown-together set of landing pads and hangars that something with a real sense of cohesion.

Unremarkable town, surrounded by nothing, on an unremarkable world that was notable only for its proximity to Kessel. Even the Archeri Crisis had bypassed this place. Perfect place to vanish, Io’an mused with a grunt as he signed for their landing pad and followed after Ylva.

The Rowdy Rathtar was as unimpressive, at first glance, as everything else in town around the spaceport. The doors squealed from lack of proper care as Ylva and Io’an ventured inside. The interior was dimly lit, with tables and chairs that were long beyond their prime. The fat man behind the bar looked bored, and the two staff cleaning up looked like they’d be doing just about anything else.

Other than a woman sitting alone at the far side of the building, Ylva and Io’an were the only customers present. They sat on the other side, where their voices might not carry to eavesdroppers.

As long as no one yells, he thought, watching Ylva as she sat.

He felt the Force as he followed suit, testing its currents. While his senses weren’t as overbearingly sharp as during the plague, Io’an still retained the vast talent he’d had for reading the Force before the infection. His newfound strength bolstered this, somewhat, though there wasn’t much to feel at present.

A hint of something, far beneath the surface. He’d have to follow up on it.

“So the way I see it,” he said quietly after he sat down, “is unless the plague changed his dressing habits, the armor he’s worn will have stood out like a sore thumb.” Not that they could go asking blindly after a man in imitation-Mandalorian armor that matched the description of Jazen’s; if he caught wind, he might flee.

“How do you think we should get started? You know him better than I do.”

[Jazen]

It began as a tingle at the back of his mind.

A feeling he couldn't quite place, but one he was familiar with all the same. One that he had felt time and again, both as a Jedi and as the wanderer he had become since leaving the Order. Or rather, forced from the Order. Locke would say it was the Force telling him that something was coming, to pay attention to that feeling and attune his senses, to reach out and wait. Something was coming and soon enough, Jazen knew his time here on Formos was coming to an end. Which, all in all, was about right. The Force, as he was always told, guided events beyond their understanding...and so, obviously it could tell when Jazen had been planning to leave.

The source of that feeling arrived a few days later; there was always people coming in and out of Formos, out of the spaceport that was near to his Uncle's getaway here. Since that feeling, Jazen had reached out gently to the people there whenever he could, feeling, sensing, looking for something that would explain the tingle that plagued the hairs on the back of his neck.

He felt them this morning; two signatures in the Force that he knew almost as well as himself. Not just because he knew the individuals, had interacted with them(and one was Force Sensitive as well). But the Archeri bond that had been ripped from them had left them with a lingering...sense, as it were. So when Ylva and Io'an both entered Formos's spaceport, maybe even before that, Jazen could feel them. Although it was doubtful that Io'an could sense him back, not after he closed himself off within the Force, becoming a shadow within it. True, he couldn't sense them back in kind after that, but with only one spaceport, finding them wouldn't be hard. And he was already pretty sure where they might start...

So, as there were no coincidences with the Force, it was no such thing or surprise that even as Ylva and Io'an took a seat in The Rowdy Rathar, did Jazen appear.

It would likely take them a moment to register he had, as he was not clad head to toe in armor this time. His clothing, for the most part, was much like that of a regular patron, a mercenary really, known to frequent these parts. His white hair loose, shoulder length, covering most of his face on the one side, only his deep purple eye exposed. A blaster on his hip, his lightsaber hidden at the small of his back, he entered just after they had, enough to hear them discussing how to begin their search.

"You start by turning around." He said simply as he joined them, a small wistful smile on his face. His presence was still masked, but now that he had appeared, he released it, letting the Force flow back in to fill his senses. "Hello Ylva. Io'an. I was wondering when she'd send someone looking for me; color me both surprised and happy to see you both. But...come on. We can talk when we get back to the house; it'll have better liquor then what they serve here."

Did he wait for them to answer or get over his surprise appearance? Not one bit. He was already turning, a pack hanging over his shoulder as he made for the door and out once again; they'd catch up. Them and their questions. Good; he had some of his own.

[Meira]

“So the way I see it, is unless the plague changed his dressing habits, the armor he’s worn will have stood out like a sore thumb.”

Ylva let out a chuckle as she waved over the bartender and pointed toward a dark bottle on display. That was true. She thought of Jayec, another person under Faine's employ that would have been a disaster pick for bringing Forte back. She didn't pretend to understand the finer points of why that beskar stuff was so important to him, or the other Mandalorians, but it was. And apparently Forte's adoption of even the appearance of Mandalorian armor was a grave insult suffered only because of Jayec's respect for Faine... and because Forte and Jayec were never in the same place at the same time. The bartender set out two glasses, but Ylva swiped the bottle from him as he began to pour. He glowered, but she dropped enough credits on the bar to make him go away. Finishing the pour into one of the glasses, she slid it toward Io'an, then began to drink her portion straight from the bottle.

“How do you think we should get started? You know him better than I do.”

She was about to say that was a load of shit. She hardly knew Forte at all. In fact, it was only because of the Archeri Chorus that she'd learned he had a different name entirely. But calling him Jazen just sounded weird in her own mind, and so she'd resolved to just stick with the first name she'd learned. That went for Thel too. But she didn't have the chance to say anything.

"You start by turning around."

Ylva whirled, her arm moving in an arc to smash the bottle against the bar, her other hand reaching for the blaster at her thigh, but both hands stopped when she saw who was standing there. It took a second to register. She'd almost always seen him in his armor, but the features were remembered and Ylva brought to bottle back to her lips for another swig.

"That's rude as shit, man." she said, settling her weight back onto her bar stool. "Sneakin' up on people..." she continued under her breath. But Forte was saying something about a house, and liquor, and then he just turned and walked back out the door. Ylva's brow furrowed for a moment as she watched him leave. She then turned her eyes on Io'an, the look conveying something along the lines of what the hell are you good for?

When it was clear Forte wasn't coming back immediately, she pushed back from the bar and followed out the door. Forte was a few paces down the street, not looking back. There were few people around and the dusty street was almost completely quiet. She took one last swig from the bottle and then threw it at Forte.

"HEY, ya shit! I'm not going anywhere. This ain't some house call. Now get your tiny ass back here!"

[Rugs]

Io’an took the glass as Ylva offered it. He didn’t have any plans on drinking heavily — definitely not seeing if he could keep up with Ylva — but he took a thoughtful sip as he considered their next steps.

Before Ylva could speak, a familiar voice called out from behind them. Ah, so that’s what it was, he thought, mind returning to that something he’d felt in the Force a few moments earlier.

Jazen stood behind them — and without his faux-beskar, to Io’an’s great surprise. It was the Sephi’s first time seeing Jazen’s face. White hair drew the Echani to Io’an’s mind, though he knew Jazen was not a member of the fair-skinned martial people. His eyes were dark enough blue to border on violet — Io’an suppressed a mirthless laugh at that — and were, other than some scarring, the only thing of note on an otherwise unremarkable face.

Jazen said some more, then turned to leave, inviting him to follow. Io’an frowned slightly, ignoring the look Ylva shot him. As Jazen turned to leave, and Ylva followed to hurl a bottle after him, Io’an remained where he was.

Jazen’s presence was a murky thing, hard to find and hold in the Force. Only knowing he was there, was Io’an able to even recognize its shadow, but trying to reach it felt like trying to hold a fish that kept slipping out of his grasp.

In better circumstances, he might have followed Jazen. They’d fought their way through that Force-forsaken fortress on Gamorr, after all. He’d trusted Jazen with his life there and, had it not been for his erstwhile companion’s betrayal during the height of the Archeri Chorus, the selfsame trust may still hold sway.

But bridges, once burned, could not be rebuilt overnight.

Io’an drank from his glass, for once grateful for Ylva. He suspected he could brute force a connection to Jazen through the Force if he really tried to, but he didn’t want to get their meeting off on a potentially-hostile footing. Trust or no, he wanted to bring Jazen back with as little threat of conflict as possible.

So he instead turned his probing in the Force to Ylva. She was easy to find, and open to the exertions of the Force. Io’an didn’t press so deep, didn’t look for any thoughts--surface or otherwise--that may come drifting by. He was focused only on communicating with her.

“Ylva,” he said, “this is Io’an.” Best to start slow; he suspected the mere act of speaking to her in that manner could trigger an outsized reaction. “Tell him to come back in here. I want to talk to him first. Then we might go with him to wherever it is he’s trying to take us.”

Another drink from the glass. The stuff was pretty good, he had to give Ylva that. “I don’t want to make this more difficult than it must be, but I’m not following him to an unfamiliar place.”

[Jazen]

With the return of the Force to his senses, it didn't take much to feel the confusion that arose from the two of them as he spun on his heel and headed right back out the door. Coming directly to them, as opposed to waiting for them to track him down, was faster and likely better in the long run, but it also meant he had left his task unattended even for the moment. Time that could be critical if his Uncle hadn't covered his tracks as well as he thought. Or even worse; if his charges got other ideas and tried to head out on their own.

Of course, he should have realized they wouldn't follow so easily. Ylva, as charming as she was, he could sense like a raging beast in the Force. But angry at him? He wasn't entirely sure. And Io'an, from his sense, was the calmer of the two, yet there was an unease there when he thought of him. Understandable really; Jazen knew full well the bridges that had been burned hard from his act of willingly inhaling the fine dust that turned him into an Archeri pawn.

Without even looking her way, Jazen lifted a hand gently and stopped the bottle midflight, hovering it to his waiting hand before turning back to the angry Zabrak. "You could have just asked. No need for violence Ylva." A brief sigh before he considered his options quickly. He didn't wish to talk about his reason's to need to get back quick in the open, but would they come unless he gave them something otherwise? Probably not.

Very well. A little more lost time, but should make up for it in the long run. In quick steps, he turned and made his way towards her, past her as he headed back towards the bar. "Very well...but I'm not leaving. Not yet. And if we need to discuss it, I'll be brief." He said as he headed past her and back inside...and let his words ring out in the Force as well, so Io'an could already form the questions he needed. Clock was ticking.

[Meira]

Almost immediately after yelling, Ylva's mind reeled as Io'an's voice filled it. It was not an assault, overwhelming or invasive. But it was his voice unbidden in her mind. It triggered the full body memory of the Chorus, of the Song and of all those damn voices in her brain, singing and talking and insisting, pushing everything that was her away. Her neck twisted, chin tilting toward the sky as she squinted her eyes closed and ground her teeth together in every effort to keep a full scream from erupting out of her. She barely had it controlled and stamped back down when Forte turned and walked back past her, chastising her as if she were some child. As if he weren't the one that had run away and hid. She growled, staring the shorter man down as he moved past her, and then followed him back into the cantina.

Inside, she gestured for Forte to sit on the stool she'd vacated, snatching the bottle back from his hand and taking a good,, long swig before turning her eyes on Io'an. She kicked his stool, hard enough to scoot it an inch or two on the ground, but not so hard as to knock it out from under him. She was only slightly taller than him seated on the stool, but she leaned over him all the same.

"I'll say this once. Stay the hell outta my brain. That goes for the both of you!" she added, looking up at Forte. "Now, talk." she commanded of Forte as she stood. She placed on hand on her hip, the other bringing the bottle to her lips again. This time, she drink was barely a mouthful. Frustrated, she set the bottle forcefully down on the bar, loud enough for the bartender to notice. He looked up, seeing Ylva's tense posture and hopped up, retreating to the back in search of another bottle.

[Rugs]

Io’an felt a bit of remorse for reaching into Ylva’s mind, but only some. Though normally hesitant to invade another’s mental faculties, he needed a way to convey his wishes without yelling out the door or chasing Jazen off down the street.

And, selfishly, she hadn’t been the best traveling partner for the trip from Circumtore. Io’an knew that was poor excuse for what he did. That didn’t make the faintest hint of smug satisfaction any less real, though.

Jazen came back in, followed by a glowering Ylva. Once he was seated, Io’an glanced at him — until Ylva kicked at his stool and fussed at him for speaking into her mind. “My apologies,” he said sincerely. “I will refrain from doing so again.” He winced as she slammed the bottle down on the bar.

“As for you,” he said, looking to Jazen, “I’m afraid you don’t get to set terms here. Not after what you’ve pulled.” Rare was it that Io’an was so forceful, but after chasing Jasen across Hutt Space, he lacked the patience for his usual meek tact. In this case, it was easy to be firm; the anger he’d felt that day, when Ylva and Jazen struck at the Eye was a very real, very potent thing. Though Ylva was now serving some penance for her betrayal, Jazen was not yet, and some of that anger’s coals still burned at the white-haired boy.

“I do not wish to resort to coercion, but I will drag you back, if I must,” he said. “But I have to know, why did you do it?” He asked, watching Jazen carefully. His grip tightened don his now-empty glass. “She at least didn’t know what she was getting into.” Io’an motioned with his head toward Ylva. “You did — we even sent out an alert about it, to stay away from her. But you did it anyway.” Frustration rose in Io’an’s voice and expression seemed earnest as if truly trying to understand Jazen’s reasoning for joining Ylva. “Why? And even then, Ylva at least came home on her own.”

[Jazen]

If looks could literally kill, the one Ylva gave Io'an when she stomped into the cantina once again would have dropped him the instant her eyes were laid on him. Clearly, the two still had some semblance of an issue regarding their encounter at the Eye. Ylva he could understand; Io'an had almost killed her in his rage and if it hadn't drained him the way it did, it was likely she would not be here. At least he had broken the rage enough to given her the chance to leave, carted away by Jazen at the time. Why Io'an seemed at ends with her, though not to the same degree, Jazen had no idea. Questions for later, if they allowed them.

Silently he sat, silently he observed the two interact. Her reaction, was, not a surprise. Most beings didn't take kindly to having their thoughts intruded the way it seems Io'an had. And when her glare snapped to him about it, Jazen nodded simply. He wouldn't dare; unless it was absolutely necessary.

All too aware of Ylva's rumbling emotions, and his own time crunch, he turned to Io'an and gave him the answer he had been considering in the days he had been here. "The answer is simple." He said with a shrug. "Because she asked." He knew Io'an would be quick to question that likely, so he continued, hoping the other would wait entirely for his explanation. "You may not believe me, but I missed the alert. Just barely, but I did. And though I figured she was infected, I felt no danger in the Force from her. And when she asked me to infect myself, to understand why she couldn't figure out how to come to terms with her new abilities. Well..." Another shrug, although Io'an could tell he was aware he'd made a mistake.

"You can take the Order from the Jedi but it seems you can't take the Jedi part away entirely. IN any case, it was a gamble. A chance I wouldn't be infected at all, or be like you and Lidah. Unfortunately, I got stuck with the second worst option. You may not like the reasoning, but its the only one I've got. As for why I haven't returned, yet, is simple as well. I needed someplace to sort it out in my head. Find my balance, as it were. And I've more or less got it. However...before I can go back, I've got a task here that I have to finish first."

A pause, to let that sink in, before he nodded his head to the door. "The rest of today and the morning. Then we can leave, if that's not too much trouble. There's a home just a few minutes ride from here where I'm staying. I offer you both lodging there; it'll be better then anything here for certain, with food...and drink..." he said, turning to look at Ylva..."and I'll be blunt. You /both/ look like you could use the benefits of not being in cramped quarters with one another for just a little bit." He looked back to Io'an, the only one of the two who /could/ probably try and drag him back. "Is that a fair enough exchange? Your of course welcome to poke and prod me more at the house."

[Meira]

The bartender emerged with a full bottle and approached Ylva warily. She moved around to the other side of Io'an so that she could stand at the bar without being between him and Forte. She set more credits on the bar's surface, eyes locked on the man. He pushed the bottle toward her, and then scooped the credits back toward himself. As they were pocketed, Ylva held up more for him to see.

"Piss off." she said, and the bartender nodded.

He moved away, issuing a high pitched whistle for the two other staff and then jerking his head toward the back. They complied as the bartender spoke quietly to the woman at the far end of the bar. She glanced toward Ylva, obviously indignant. But, upon seeing the massive Zabrak glowering back at her, she promptly downed her drink and shuffled quickly out the door. The sound of the cork being popped out of the bottle echoed through the empty room as Io'an began to speak. Ylva walked through the bar opening, searching for more glasses.

“But I have to know, why did you do it?”

Ylva, stooped over and reaching for the last two clean glasses below the bar, froze for a moment. Io'an elaborated and Ylva straightened slowly, narrowed eyes moving back and forth between the two men. She set the two glasses on the bar, poured a measure into each, and then refilled Io'an's glass. She pushed the third glass across toward Forte, and her gaze fell onto her own glass as she pulled it toward herself. She could feel blood rising in her neck as he began to answer.

"Because she asked."

Ylva's jaw flexed as she glanced up sidelong at Forte, then to Io'an, and quickly back down to the glass. She picked it up, taking a long pull before setting it back down. Forte was giving his excuse. And he was telling the truth. She had gotten to him before he'd read the message. He hadn't detected any malice from her at the time. Because there hadn't been malice. She'd manipulated him, certainly, but she hadn't lied to him. She had struggled to control the connection to the force that the infection had given her. She had wanted his help. And in that state, under the influence of those damn mushrooms, she had truly believed infecting him was right... that it was good. If pressed now, she could never explain it. It didn't make sense. With a slight shake of her head, she pushed the uncomfortable thought away as Forte continued on.

"What part of 'you don't get to set the terms' didn't make it through your skull?" she asked.

[Jazen]

Although both Io'an and Jazen had been warned to stay out of Ylva's head, she hadn't said one couldn't read her in a different way. And for one versed in the Force, there were other ways to read a person without reaching into their mind, in a sense. Case in point; when Jazen had answered with "Because she asked", it wasn't hard to notice the change in Ylva's aura in the Force. Her emotions had twitched at that and Jazen turned a half glance to study her as a result.

Was the truth of his words hitting a unique nerve in her? Was it the truth of how she had convinced him to willingly take the infection onto himself touching something inside her that gave her reason to think? That matter was one of the reason's he had needed time to sort himself out...and he wondered briefly if Ylva still had yet to make peace with that part as well. Maybe it would make them consider too, his reason for still being here and his need to stay one more day.

"I heard every word. Fact is, there are no terms to set. I'm needed here, till at least midday tomorrow and I can't leave till then. I'm sorry if that's trouble for you both, for coming here to get me, but that fact remains and won't change." He looked to Io'an for a moment, taking them both in. "What I am asking for, however, is a compromise. Stay and let me finish this task and we leave tomorrow, no fuss. I don't want to have to resist but..." the said, looking to them both seriously. "For this, I would. Just like you would Ylva if one of the Janitors was in danger. Just like you did Io'an, every day the infection tried to take you." He shrugged but it was clear whatever was holding him here was truly serious to him. "You'll understand if you come see why I can't leave."

"If it helps, your welcome to ask me any questions you like. I swear I'll answer anything you want to know and not a lie will color it. Is that fair?" The question, of course, being for both of them to consider. Hopefully he had made his case well.

[Rugs]

Despite Jazen’s assertion that he might not, Io’an very much did believe the claim that he’d simply missed the warning about Ylva. For better or worse.

He said nothing, though; only listened as Jazen justified his decision. He narrowed his sea-green eyes slightly when Jazen admitted to basically rolling the dice and hoping he came up lucky.

“You could already touch the Force,” he said. “Regardless of what Ylva was going through, you already knew its call. Is that not what you learned from the Jedi?” Io’an tried to keep a level tone with Jazen, but it was hard to prevent incredulity from creeping in. “Do you think if you had reacted the same way I did, or Ms. Faine did, that it would have been any better?” Now, a hint of anger. His hands tightened on his empty glass.. “Do you know what that was like?”

Day after day of suffering. Every night wondering if he’d awaken after struggling to find peaceful sleep. Unable to hide from the Chorus’ prying unless he put a collar around his neck. Ms. Faine took that step. Io’an could never convince himself to do so. Now the same collar he’d kept in his rooms, the same one he’d turn to if the weight of the Chorus grew unbearable, was in the satchel resting across his shoulders. For Jazen’s neck, if things got out of hand.

No, he wasn’t here for this. He wasn’t here to argue Jazen’s decision, whatever he thought of it. That damage was done, and the Chorus was broken. Scattered.

He was here to bring Jazen home, whatever that took. But still, Jazen pleaded for time for... something. He asked them to trust him, to let him handle whatever business it was that needed handling. Whatever it was, it was so important to him that he threatened a fight if they tried to pull him away.

“If you resist, I will drag you back, and you would not like that.” Io’an met Jazen’s gaze levelly. There was no boast to his tone; that was not his way. It was, to the Sephi, a simple statement of fact, but firmly spoken. Jazen had been there when Io’an brought the mountain down on Gamorr. They both knew what he was capable of and Io’an, at least, knew his connection to the Force outstripped Jazen’s. That was before bringing Ylva’s considerable support into account.

That was without accounting for the collar tucked away in his bag. “Neither of us wants that, but I will do what I must to complete the task that’s been assigned to me.” Io’an’s gaze -- always avoiding protracted eye contact when possible -- never wandered from Jazen’s face as he spoke He truly did not want to fight Jazen, and it was exceptionally rare for Io’an to make threats. But he refused to allow Jazen’s to go unanswered.

“Still, it is strange,” Io’an continued slowly, turning his gaze to his glass, “that your loyalty to this... task that is so dear to you outweighs that of your loyalty to the people who have welcomed you into their home, fed you, paid you. Clothed you.” He looked at Jazen again, this time from the side of his eye. “So much so that you would compare us to the Archeri. The very same Archeri that we fought blood and tooth and nail against, while you ran off and joined them.

“But fine, I’ll bite. What is this task, and why should we grant you what you’re asking?” Io’an tilted his head slightly. “Twice, we’ve told you the terms here aren’t yours to set. Why should we follow you to wherever and whatever this thing is. If it means so much to you, then out with it.”

[Jazen]

"I did. But nothing I tried to teach her seemed to work. And when she asked me to experience it so I could understand, to maybe help her not lose it completely." He trailed off, glancing to her, then back to Io'an. "I took a risk. A stupid, not well thought out risk, but one that I weighed to be...adequate." Again, he knew he had made a mistake...but he would not double back on it now. The past was the past; if one lingered there too long, they never moved forward.

He understood Io'an's anger though. He really did. In counter though, Jazen met his eyes evenly. "Do you know what it was like to have no chance to fight at all?" He said softly, just loud enough for him and Ylva to hear it. "To have no choice but to go against those you fought besides, those you cared about? And to be /happy/ to do it?" He gestured to Ylva with one hand. "If the Archeri had decided that the people she cared about were in the way, she would have slaughtered them happily, thinking it was for the greater good. I would have killed Locke without a second thought." There was no anger in his tone thought, no malice. Just cold, honest facts. "It may not have been easy Io'an...but at least you could fight it. Difficult as it was, you at least had your own will."

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been containing, shaking off those darker thoughts that had sent him here in the first place. Part of his reason for coming out here was to come to peace with that. Which, for the most part, he had.

"I doubt anyone within five blocks would like that. It would not be a pretty sight indeed." If there was one thing Jazen had learned to be good at, it was calm even in the face of a threat that would send most scuttling for the hills. A battle between him and Io'an? It wouldn't be easy for either of them and the outcome? Who could say; though with Ylva there assisting Io'an, the balance was skewered way more in Io'an's favor then it already was.

A slight shrug of his shoulders. "I never compared the Exchange to the Archeri. Not that way, anyway. Although I'm sure some might see it that way." Jazen paused for a moment, stretching out with the Force to touch the anyone near to the cantina at all. No one stood out and no one appeared to be lingering nearby waiting to get back in but the bartender. The risk was low. Still, if he didn't give them something they would drag him out of here by his ears if they had too. So...

His voice barely above a whisper(though Io'an would have no trouble hearing it, nor Ylva in the quiet of the bar), he gave them something. "My uncle left some...people under my protection while he's handling something. He'll be back tomorrow. Till then, they are under /my/ protection. Most of them are young, only a couple of near adults in the group. I can't leave them to fend for themselves. Especially not with..." he glanced about. "Circumstances they came from. I don't want to advertise where they are in case of not so friendly ears. Simply put, I gave my word I'd watch them till he got back and that's what I intend to do. As I said before, your welcome to stay there till tomorrow with me. Sure will beat any lodging's here."

He paused once more, then bowed his head. "Please. I know I haven't earned it, not after what happened. But this is something I have to finish."

[Meira]

She had her drink at her lips, bottom of the glass tilted upward so that she could drain it, when Forte mentioned the Jolly Janitors. It took every ounce of control she had not to break that glass across his face. She settled for slamming it onto the bar top and glaring at him. He had no right to speak about the Jolly Janitors. She was still considering it when Io'an cut in. Ylva settled for grinding her teeth. That was until Forte spoke again.

"Do you know what it was like to have no chance to fight at all?"

"It felt good." Ylva snapped back at him, the word conjuring an expression of exactly the opposite. All that power, and the song. There were still times that she felt empty without it, found herself wishing for it once again. But Forte didn't stop there. What came from him next, though, really took the cake.

"If?" she spat, incredulous. "The fuck you mean if? I did do that. But you don't see me hiding on some shithole to cry about it." Ylva said, swiping back the glass she'd poured for him. If he was just going to ignore it then she'd drink it herself. "Who the hell is Locke?" she interjected, but then waved her hand. "Never mind. I don't give a shit."

Then, FINALLY, he got to the damn point. His big reason for not coming back that he'd been teasing for the past several minutes. Except he did so in a whisper, barely audible, even in this close proximity. Ylva had to lean in just to hear it. "The hell is wrong with your voice?" she demanded. "We're the only ones in here, Forte. And we don't give a shit about your uncle's slave trade. It ain't our problem. Those aren't you're people. We," Ylva gestured between herself and Io'an, "are supposed to be your people."

Ylva turned her gaze on Io'an. Was he going to go along with this? He was the one with the collar. Ylva was more than willing to break a bottle and go to town, but she knew that her efforts would be in vain if they didn't level the playing field.

[Rugs]

Io’an kept a carefully-blank expression as Jazen spoke. He spoke on and on about the Chorus, about the things he could have done. The things he did do.

He remembered well Jazen’s arrival at the Eye as the Battle of Nar Shadda raged. He remembered Ylva’s face, red with blood after she slaughtered a man, as she nearly killed Simone. Jazen had been there. That Vance held him off was of little consequence, for this discussion; the intent was there, just as it had been with Ylva, whether the actions were of his own choosing or not.

As for that Locke person? Io’an’s brows knit in temporary confusion. He didn’t know who that was, or what the significance of Jazen attacking him might be.

Ylva, at least, took care of that part. Io’an would not belabor the point she’d made so forcefully. Not all of it. One thing she said rang true above the others.

She had returned to face her sins. Jazen had not.

“None of that would have happened, Jazen, if you had listened to us and stayed away from Ylva. And for what you could control, once you were free from their grip,” he said, voice low not from desire to hide but in quiet anger, “you ran away. You could have returned, could have sent us a message, some communication — anything. But you ran from trouble and made us chase you down here.

“If that is what the ‘Jedi in you’ said to do, if fleeing hardship is what the Jedi Order teaches, then it’s no wonder the Sith control half the Galaxy.” The words stung as soon as they left his mouth. He’d always idolized the Jedi — he still did, in many ways. He’d wanted to be one, but his Force sensitivity was found too late, the door to the Order locked shut before he could ever open it. And it felt unfair to target that part of Jazen’s past.

Despite surprise at the venom in his own words, Io’an did not back down. “And now you ask us to grant you favors? Ylva is right. Those slaves, those people, whoever they are — they are not the Exchange’s business. You are.”

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to think. Jazen had made it clear that he’d fight to get the time he needed to see this task, whatever it was, through. Io’an and Ylva had, in turn, made it clear that Jazen’s return to the fold was not up for debate.

Io’an had no desire to fight Jazen — he didn’t fear him, by any stretch, but he detested conflict when it was avoidable. And so, after a long moment of thought, hands folded on the old bartop, he reached a potential compromise.

“You can have your night,” he said. “We’ll stay on the ship, or find somewhere else to sleep. Meet us in the morning and we’ll leave. That's as much leniency as I can offer, and it's probably more than I should.” The spaceport was the only way out of town; if Jazen tried to run away via starship, they’d know. That didn’t prevent him from trying to skip town and find another way off-world.

“And Jazen,” he added, voice firm with warning as he met the young man’s violet eyes, “if you run away, it won’t be us that come after you next time. It’ll be Vance and Janus.” He let the words linger. Vance, Io’an wagered, needed no explanation, and Janus was well known for his thorough methods and for being batshit crazy. “Please don’t make this any harder than it has to be. Take care of this business, and we’ll go home.”

[Jazen]

"It did feel good." He admitted, that sense of belonging to something greater a lingering memory in his mind. "But it was still wrong. Especially since, in most cases, the option wasn't given in whether you joined or not. It was forced upon us and if we were lucky, we lived. That's hardly something worth considering as good. As for coming here to cry about it? I had no intentions of staying here forever. I merely needed..." he paused, considering his words for a moment. "Time. Time to make sure I knew who I was once more. I couldn't do that with all the negatively that I'm bound to encounter upon my return. So I came here." He had to wonder truly though; was their arrival a day before he had intended to return of his own choice pure coincidence?

No. Not with the Force there was.

"You misread me Ylva." Jazen said simply as he focused his attention towards her for the moment. Was she looking a little off balance or was he just misreading her? Who could say. "My Uncle doesn't deal in slaves. The people I'm referring to are just normal people who had been on the "way" to becoming slaves at the hands of one of the Hutt's. My Uncle didn't appreciate that, considering most of them were just children so he freed them from that fate. He's making sure there's no trail of it, thus, why I'm watching them till his return tomorrow."

Now his attention turned back to Io'an and Jazen sighed softly. "I'm sorry it looked that way, and I'm sorry you had to come find me. For what its worth, I was planning on returning sooner, till this fell into my lap a few days ago." A silence from that jab from Io'an however, punctuated by the quiet of the empty room and the ire rising from the man's aura. Not heavily but..."The Jedi in me said to find someplace quiet to collect myself, before being surrounded by the hate of everyone else consumed me. I'd explain more, but it seems this conversation would not get us anywhere for the moment."

Getting to his feet, he tipped his head slightly to Io'an. "I'm not running. And I'll be perfectly honest; I'd rather face them then either of you. They would be filled with rage. That's easier to accept then disappointment." Turning, he headed towards the door, then paused before crossing it. "My Uncle's place is located at the coordinates I just sent you." He said, eyeing Io'an, the message sent via the Force. "It won't be hard to miss. And if, by chance, you wanted to talk more before we leave, or even simply wanted food and liquor that this place won't provide, his place has plenty of space for whatever ship you came in to land. Maybe in that way, you can enjoy my offer of hospitality, keep an eye on me and let me handle my business alone, all at the same time." A slight wave.

"I'll see you later." And now he headed off, intending to grab some extra supplies he had intended to grab anyway.

Would they come? Who could say; but if it helped any, his presence was there in the Force. No hiding there at all.