Pink Moon Rising

[Emelie Shadowstar]

"No," She replied quicker than expected.

A soft shake her head followed, along with her voice losing whatever edge it had tried to gain. "No, you don't need to feel sorry. Everyone in this galaxy has their pain. I suppose that's especially true for people our age who grew up during the wars."

She had caught it, barely. On the edges of her own emotions were ones that Emelie had known weren't her own. If she had more of her family's skills maybe she could have understood to what extent Aiden fully understood the feelings she had learned to live with. But just as he had expressed a bit of remorse at his questions, Emelie had no wish to pry, no real desire to uncover hurts that had her own admissions had apparently brought to the surface.

"You asked for an honest answer, and as much I make a habit of veiling truths in lies and secrets, you deserved this one. If for no other reason than to know it wasn't anything you had honestly done or said, or anything like that. Truth is, I find you an agreeable sort, Mr. Tahmores. I hate to let such a - " She didn't want to say trivial even if it felt like the right word - "Complicated thing make you think I don't look forward to further associations with you."

It sounded so unlike her, the real her, at least. It was the right thing to say, what Emelie had wanted to say, but just not how. Oh well, it wouldn't be the first time she had made such a mistake, nor would it be the last.

[Aiden Tahmores]

Aiden sat quietly for a moment, letting the sentiment of the conversation settle, letting the sincerity have the respect it was due before he opened his mouth to detract from it. It was a habit he'd forced himself to acquire, that important pause between sincerity and sarcasm. Too quick, and your defensive use of humour, your jovial deflection towards a less sombre subject or tone came of as callous, and uncaring. In the Pilot Corps, quick-witted snark was the order of the day: but everyone had been a pilot, everyone of the same mindset, the same reflexes, the same necessary detachment from anything that could drag you down. In a starfighter, dwelling on sadness or doubt or regret was a death sentence, a distracting weight that hung on the reflexes that were supposed to keep you alive.

Out here in the real world, however, or among the upper echelons that his affiliation with Tarkin and Rübezahl had allowed him to rub shoulders with, people weren't used to things moving so fast. Learning to slow down, to pay the kind of respect that others expected, was a hard-learned but necessary skill.

"A habit of veiling truths in lies and secrets," Aiden quoted, finally breaking the few seconds of silence he had allowed. "You make privacy sound so sexy, Miss Shadowstar."

He risked a brief sidelong glance towards her, a fleeting thought of that's probably not the only thing strolling casually across his mind.