Uilleand

Dirty Apocalypse
Everyone always assumed an apocalypse would be a dirty business. As it turned out, it was immaculate.
Not that anyone paid any attention to the whole thing at the time.
The dead street shone neon clean as Joe fumbled with the package. He was sweating lightly, even in the cool, conditioned air. He brought his other hand up to rub his receding chin, a nervous tic that annoyed him, even as his latex-covered fingers scratched again.
A woman's voice echoed benignly through the spaces between pastel cement and white walls. Please remain calm. Although the individual is not considered dangerous, he carries an item intended to cause distress to Society. Citizens are warned not to speak to the individual, but to terminate immediately or contact an officer of the Peace. The citizen who completes this act will be a Beloved of Society.
Joe considered spitting, but the irony of that death sentence would have been too much, even for him. Instead, he slid the delicate

The male was quite tall for a human, the woman only slightly less so. If her companion hadn't told her what to look for, Bowen would have never picked the slender woman out as Revan.
Revan.
The very thought had her fur standing on end. When a huge hand descended on her shoulder, she looked up with a snarl.
"Don't you lecture me on peace and serenity," she hissed. "You shouldn't be peeking into my mind anyway."
:I did not have to peek anywhere, little one. You look like you have licked the wrong end of a flare stick.:
"You are, perhaps, the only creature in the universe who could ever think to call me 'little one." It still disconcerted the Devaronian to have to look up at anyone. "You are certainly the only creature who could say it and remain breathing afterwards."
His low chuckle vibrated through the concrete beneath her feet and up through her spine. She clenched her teeth against a smile and only bared her fangs. It wouldn't do to let him see how pleased she was that he cou

Breathing in the red dust of the settlement's streets, Atton wondered if his old friend would warn his mark
Doubted it. Didn't matter anyway. They would both die.
She's one of us.
He pondered that thought from a distance. If V'loren Coltro was one of Revan's elite assassins, she'd be … difficult. If she and Tremen joined forces they might actually be dangerous.
His pulse accelerated with anticipation.
She would know poisons. She would most certainly know pain. Her mind would be a tangled mess of emotion, distraction and lies.
Had he been capable of it, Atton might have actually enjoyed the prospect.
As it was, he merely flipped one of the local coins to the ragged child who was selling skewers of unidentifiable meat. Too distracted to wait for his change, he chewed the stringy mess as he walked, grease dripping unheeded onto his chest.
He paid no attention to the child's gasp of joy, but only allowed the exhausted masses to swirl past him, jostling him, directing his footst

There was nothing to be afraid of.
And it was terrifying.
But she'd faced nothing before; had stood on the precipice of a yawning void of absence and leaped in.
Her nightmares were always about nothing. But something skittered in the empty, bumped and scuffled with an uneven step, injured but not weak. It slithered between her ears, waiting … waiting…
V'loren rested her bare foot on the shoulder of the young man kneeling in front of her. What was his name? She could reach for it … or ask … but it didn't matter. He was hers. As were all the young Sithlings scattered around the cavernous hall, reading, sparring, fighting, fawning.
Ah, such a pretty picture. How bucolic. How domestic!
All mine.
She could have hidden these daily gatherings from her 'superiors.' Sooner or later, someone was bound to get nervous. Sooner or later someone was going to take steps to remove her.
Oh, sooner! Please, let it be sooner…
Crazy bitch!
Ah, what will you

A fading shadow flitted through the hallways of the citadel station, hovering over the wounded planet, Telos. A multitude of souls filled the air around it, but all found a reason to look elsewhere, to see nothing, as it passed.
There were some perks to being the former Dark Lord of the Sith.
Aniki's sharp grin didn't hold any mirth. This was all too familiar. Why do we all stay in the ruts we've dug for ourselves?
She had not wept the last time. She was too sure. To stay meant the destruction of everything. She had been doing the right thing.
She didn't weep now, either. Tears could not push past the dead weight lodged in her chest. She knew, beyond any question, that there would be no forgiveness this time. A man could only be pushed so far. A heart could only be broken into so many pieces. And she had already been offered more forgiveness that she had ever deserved.
This path – this rut – laid down before her and tamped down by her own footsteps, this was her