Time flowed, the sun set and the moon rose, days passed and the stars chased away the darkness. And still, things always hung in a state of potential. Potential love, hidden feelings, old grudges, pain not dealt with. Everything existing somewhere, something that would only take a hand, a word, and its manifestation would follow as natural as dawn on the heel of night. Some saw that potential as large as it was small. Either could be a handful of the purest love or a knife twisted expertly into the most vile jealousy.

For Scourge, it had started slowly, building for years without his notice, from a simple indifference to a grudging acceptance, even companionable tolerance, then a budding friendship that exploded into this all-consuming fire which threatened to devour him whole with the release of emotions long since buried by duty, logic, and necessity. Festering and ugly, and yet, beautiful. Like an affliction. And how did one approach this inevitable conclusion? How does one see the infection and not cut off their own arm to save themselves from its spread, fear the possibility of what their addiction to the one of their truest hearts desires could inflict upon them? Despite everything telling him it was not the Sith way, Scourge wanted it. It should've been wrong. And it very well could destroy him. But so would the eventual outcome where he didn't indulge this aching need. So long denied, never properly examined, for it had always been a forbidden fruit for a Sith.

He never had been like the rest though, having dabbled in the passions of romance once before as an acolyte, and perhaps even love, however brief, as an apprentice. How strange was it, he thought wryly as he listened to the wind caress the leaves of the tree he sat under in the dark. That one as cursed and cold as he, filled with so much darkness, could find the brightness that this Jedi's soul, no, more than just a Jedi... Someone he had sworn an oath to, one who had his back unerringly, fought beside him, respected him, the occasional laughs they had shared, the insults, the understanding of what it meant to sacrifice, to walk a line neither the light nor the dark. She had known, had understood even as his lightsaber blade lit up red in the midst of all the chaos of her descent from his former masters fortress, just before his betrayal to the Emperor he'd sworn fealty to three centuries before, that the Force had found their threads and weaved them upon a tapestry for reasons even he couldn't understand beyond the necessity of purging a cancer upon the galaxy. He was to her what she was to him: A catalyst of change.

"I hope I'm not interrupting you," said the voice of his salvation, his penance. He watched her approach silently, unable to summon the energy to answer her beyond a low, welcoming hum. "Thinking again?" Rhiasen guessed when he failed to vocalize his reply. Her words were the warmest breeze in the dark, wrapping around his mind with her calm and pleasant tenor, and suddenly the tree bark at his back felt more solid, grounding.

"Nothing that couldn't wait," he said dismissively when his Jedi settled next to him. Her robe-clad shoulder leaned against him, a delicate curve where her flesh met his. The heat of her body, a comfort he never quite could admit to seeking, and so did by sheer luck.

They sat together there, side by side. Silenced by the small gestures of comfort offered through the solace of quiet and companionship. Scourge liked these moments, he would call them tender, even, a rare quality not easily cultivated nor taken lightly in their world of peril.

There was tension there. Tension neither of them wanted. Uncomfortable questions hung in the air unanswered, desires half-voiced in the safety of dreams. Yet none moved, unwilling to break this little illusion of peace they'd managed to acquire. It had been a handful of days since their last moments. In which she'd questioned and he'd struggled to put his mind to words and lashed out in defense of it. They hadn't spoken more than a few sentences to each other beyond the requirements of their work together. Everything had been so busy and now...

The sky was clear tonight. No storms, nor the threat of one. Perfect clarity for all the stars in the sky to shimmer their eternal light down upon the surface, twinkling to mark their attendance to the affairs of mortals. His heart beat in a quickening pace. Each rise and fall of his chest a measure of his doubt.

He was sure that was not the way a Sith ought to feel. Insecurity did not suit him. And yet, there it was, seeping in, threatening to drown him. But her warmth was an anchor to reality, giving him the resolve to face his own. There would not be a future without her presence in it, now would there? How long did one fight an inevitability? And did he want to, even? No... No he did not. Even if it meant destruction, Scourge had reached his conclusion. Now all he had to do was follow through with it.
"The other day, I'd meant to spare you from... myself. This..."

"Then don't," the words rushed out, hot, feverish. Like they had been boiling just beneath her tongue, waiting for the right moment to unleash. A krayt dragon, its scales flashed with sparks. And a dragon Rhiasen was, beautiful and terrible. For a second, they just stared at each other. A quick flick of eyes from him to her. Both trying to understand the shift, the air becoming hot and oppressive, and then she looked away first. Not as an escape but-

"Let me finish," he interjected, a bark of a request for silence that could've earned him a baring of fangs. Rhiasen merely sucked in a breath and let it out. Obedient and resigned. All her attention, her regard, fell back onto him once more.
It had the desired effect.

"I am going to admit something that is very difficult for me; something only you could get me to confess." He started slow, feeling the prickle of his nerves along his arms, "For all my unnaturally long life, my focus was always singular. All consuming. Duty. Protect Vitiate. Destroy Vitiate. Always laboring towards one goal, for one person. But now Vitiate is gone, and I find myself at the start of many uncertain paths. Where do they lead? Where do I direct the power of these emotions that I have no felt for centuries?"

Scourge pointedly looked at her then, finally facing her. And with his will, summoned up the energy to let himself be seen, feel, vulnerable. Bare the hollow cavity where his soul resides, still empty, but not void anymore. Because she has filled the spaces, wove him anew from broken shards. They could heal together, even if the scars didn't fade, only ease with time and comfort. And oh how he craved it. To be loved. To be touched and wanted and trusted. And not just solely for the selfish reason of having a body to burn away the hunger of physical pleasure, but her warmth to combat the hollowness left behind by centuries of solitude, the reminder that he was needed and missed when gone. And not just as a Sith, not just a weapon for an Emperor, but as a being deserving of soft words whispered in his ears late at night, lips grazing the sharpness of his facial features, teasing smiles and indulgence of mutual desire. All these little things, a piling, amassing mountain of indulgences he never allowed himself. But would now.

"I find it difficult... to speak about my personal wants. The possibilites of the future," Scourge spoke quietly. If one wasn't trained in reading non-verbal cues, one wouldn't have seen her shoulders draw in and the widening of her pupils. This is an important moment and they both know it. She is listening, is hearing every word. "As it stands now... there is nothing else but the future. No past I can't go back and no other road to walk, only this one."

Rhiasen sat transfixed, gazing intently at his face. One look, one touch and she could probably read his mind. And even though his mental shielding was flawless, she seemed to get the idea and simply turned her body to mirror his. One knee touched his. A reminder he could move and take anything, more, deeper. That there was no rejection to be found. There was only trust and welcome. So Scourge decided, to trust, and welcome. And he carefully took her hand, lifted it, and placed her palm over his chest, where his beating heart lie beneath.

"The answer is you. I am nothing without you." Scourge squeezed, to try and ensure that she can feel the pounding beneath her fingertips, the rise and fall of breath from his lungs. As much a part of her as her skin and bones were. A devotion no other could match, "In this new life of mine, you are the one thing I would die to protect. You are the one thing I would destroy for.. you are the one thing I treasure. And knowing I have this one thing that is so..." He paused, finding no easy words that could articulate the depths of how this realization consumed him. "extraordinary.. it makes this new life worthwhile."

Scourge ended. No more words, because he had already said everything that was needed. Her gaze had softened, turning contemplative. How easy would it be to just sink into those molten amber depths, as bright and piercing as a lantern in a darkened tunnel. Warmth, acceptance. It made Scourge shiver and ache for so much more. But he would not push, no matter how strong his need to bridge the space between and swallow down those soft sighs and-

"You really are a closeted romantic," Rhiasen chided affectionately, voice thick and heady. Like sweet wine, to dizzy the mind and intoxicate. But he wasn't hearing the admonishment, not completely, instead picking up on the affection, and then the briefest tremor of her lower lip, how her brows drew together just enough, and before she could muster up the emotional defenses that she was building to hold back whatever her thoughts had conjured, Scourge closed the distance, pressed their foreheads together, and simply let the touch speak.

"I feel the same way, Scourge. Always. I promise." The Jedi had let down her walls in an instant and all her feelings came forth, as transparent as spring water and refreshing as a bath, but scorching as fire to the mind.
There were no grand gestures here, no attempts at seduction. Nothing, but them. A Jedi Knight with her head against a Sith Lord. They breathed, together. Nothing else seemed necessary as they existed in this moment. The great beast of emotion sated into purr with their closeness.

Scourge stroked her cheek. Reverence. That's what he felt with every pass of his thumb. Soft. Delicate. Precious. These feelings were meant for the people and things one truly loves, and never did they have an object until now. He had known companionship in all its myriad forms and shades. None ever elicited this aching joy, this fearful, pounding desire. Scourge didn't have any notion for when they parted ways from the tree or who drew back first to face each other. One moment, they were touching, and the next, sharing breaths as their foreheads separated. And before long, they shared a kiss. A press of lips, too chaste and short for him to explore as he wished. But as good a start as any to ease back into old memories of touching and sighing. Of chasing. Of letting instinct guide him in the language his heart so clearly yearned, so obvious yet buried underneath layers and layers of Sith trappings.

No more of that. His master was gone. Those trappings had all burnt with him on the sacrificial pyre to destroy a Sith spurned god. So he had no one to deny him the indulgence of running a thumb over her bottom lip, holding her gaze in silent entreat. And so under the remaining silence of night, they closed the distance once more to find the fire smouldering between. To savor its glow and invite its warmth closer. In the caress of soft lips and stifled breath.