#f!snz

"Thank you, I suspect I'm going to need to concentrate." He flashed her a quick, charming grin and started to portion out powder into little cups as his power stirred. Waiting.

It was ever a pleasure to watch her husband work, and she lowered her book to admire the deft motions of his hands, the intensity in his gaze, the softness of his voice as he murmured to himself. Whatever he was doing was probably not dangerous — to her, specifically — but was best not to be interrupted.

Which was a tiny problem because she had a sudden itch in her sinuses. Normally, that would be a pleasure but… well. Brandt had asked for quiet, to concentrate on his active spellwork. And she was going to have to try not to sneeze.

Alaina breathed evenly, calmly, trying to figure out how bad a situation this really was. Right now it was just a fluttery little tickle, which in itself was not worrisome. The faint pressure in her sinuses, however, the depth of the itching, was concerning. That was what she liked to play with best, and she liked to play with it precisely because it was so easy to tip over into something stronger, something harder to get out of her system.

She really couldn’t afford that. Not without knowing how long Brandt would need her to be still for. Sniffling softly, she slowly curled in on herself, arms resting on her knees, and allowed herself a tiny sniff.

That was immediately evident as a mistake, as she could practically picture the little spark of irritation catching and spreading. She wrinkled her nose, worrying at her lip, and debated getting her book. It would be distracting, but would it be too distracting? She couldn’t afford not to notice if this escalated.

And it was sort of starting to. She took a short, sharp breath, and looked back to her husband’s workspace where he’d lit a small stone cup full of crushed herbs. A lovely scent, but not, it appeared, one her body was going to tolerate. The threat of moisture in the corner of her eyes betrayed the growing irritation and even though she was sure it was just in her head, it felt like the scent was getting heavier.

More intense.

More irritating.

“H’hh!” Alaina covered her mouth before she could gasp, and applied tight pressure under her nose. Her nostrils quivered, an agitated flick flick she could so easily make out against the side of her hand. She squeezed her eyes closed, feeling tears of irritation leak down the curve of her cheek. Her chest swelled with a deep, desperate breath.

Oh, this wasn’t going to last.

She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, hoping for any avenue of relief that might help her restrain herself. It was a very unpleasant sensation when her breath hitched anyway, one she didn’t want to repeat lest she choke.

So that didn’t work. Pressing under her nose was a temporary measure at best. Desperate, she pinched the lower bridge and tip of her nose both, rubbing it firmly between her fingers, feeling the subtle suction of a few trailing sniffles.

A supernatural wind, hot and scented with whatever Brandt was burning, swept around the room and Alaina’s long hair whipped around her, red strands wisping over her face and compounding the terrible tickling into something she just couldn’t —

“N’tch!” It was a tiny stifle and a watery-eyed glance said Brandt hadn’t noticed. Sniffling with mounting, irresistible need, she swiped her hair out of her face with a slightly vocal hitch. “H’hEEH—”

“Aaaaaaand done,” Brandt declared, a burst of air, thick with magic and heavy with heat, tingled over her.

Alaina didn’t have it in her to manage anything but the kind of desperate, vocal build that her husband often had. “Ihh— hiiyehh— IHH-ISSHIIH! tshCHIIH! ehhCHIHSHU!”

She was vaguely aware of footsteps, then of hands gently shooing hers away long enough to tuck a handkerchief between her fingers.

“Nks,” she murmured, rubbing her nose cautiously, very sure she was not at all done.

“Of course, my love,” Brandt said, stroking her hair back. “The herbs?”

“Something l-like… TSSHU!” She held up a hand before he could reply. “ESSHIHHHU! esstCHUu! Oh, pardon me.”

“Bless you, darling.” He leaned forward, kissing her forehead, “better?”

“Snf. For now, at least,” she said, smiling wryly. “Did you do what you wanted to?”

“Perhaps.” He shrugged. “More interestingly, I have found a fantastic way to induce you.”

She swatted his arm, blushing. “Trouble.”

Saphina made a small, displeased sound and took stock.

Slight headache — easy to blame on so much stifling at the archives.

Her throat was fine, though.

No pain or swelling under the jaw.

No cough, though there was a little irritation in her throat. Again with the stifles.

She wasn’t chilling, her cognitive abilities were fine, if she could just stop — 

Stop—!

“ikkSHHUu! Nk’kiiIIHH-ihtCH! Kt’kHHEESHUu!” a shallow gasp, eyes squeezed shut and tears of sheer irritation leaking down her cheeks. She sniffled because she couldn’t help it, and aggressively scrubbed at the upturned tip of her nose. Ugh. Force, but it itched. If she didn’t have a faint sense of malaise she might have thought she had uncovered an allergy. But no, it couldn’t be so simple as something to remove from her area.

She had to be getting sick.

She did not have time for this; she had work to do, and was not going to slack just because her immune system was throwing a tantrum.

Saphina was no doctor and to call her a ‘healer’ was also misleading. She could heal, there was a difference. Likewise with the variety of curatives and adrenals she had created.

If she was a healer, she’d have had knowledge of traditional remedies with which to treat herself. If she was a doctor, she could have prescribed something.

However, she was a frustrated Sith in possession of immunity boosters and adrenaline shots with dwindling patience so that was what would have to do.

They weren’t hard to make, not at this point, and she swept off to the room adjacent to her office where she worked on such things. Every irritated sniffle threatened to set off more sneezing, and every sniffle that didn’t added to the brewing irritation. She should have been wary, she would recognize in hindsight, but at that moment she was just aiming to be faster than the irritation swelling in her sinuses.

Keen gold eyes watched the progress of the immunity booster — a set, in case someone came to see her; she was hoping not — then went to check her stock of adrenals. While normally used for combat, just using a fraction of it ought to help keep her sharp. She just…

Saphina’s eyes widened as the brewing irritation promptly boiled over, leaving her sinuses and all the way down her bridge alight with furious, insatiable itching. A staggered inhale was cool against the burn of irritation, and wildly provoking. Her lips parted on a gasp and she fumbled a bit, turning away and leaning against the wall for support. There was no build, no chance to stop herself, just — “k’tSCHHIIH! Iikky’iiSHHU! IIKKSH! Hhti— ikKiiIIHHSHHIU!”

She thought she might get a reprieve, but another breath, deep and shuddery, demanded a different kind of relief and it felt like the search for it lasted no small eternity before she could draw a clear breath, if somewhat thickened.

Sniffing a second time, she managed to locate the handkerchief, dabbing at her sensitive nose cautiously.

Then she remembered her brewing curative.

Frack.

She had seconds out of minutes left to get it out of the pot, and did so cautiously. The chemical scent wafted to her and she ducked her head against her shoulder with an itchy little double but thankfully no more.

This would help.

It had to help.

But it needed to cool and set so she poured it into a heavy mug, covered it, and left it while she went back… no. Her eyes drifted to the adrenal.

Just a little boost wouldn’t hurt, she did know that from experience. A whole adrenal would send her running on a high worthy of a lightsaber duel, and she didn’t need that. This would just be… a sight better than caffa, with fewer side effects.

She wasn’t stupid enough to just try to administer part of it when there were so many ways that could go wrong. Instead, she went back and found the reserves, taking a small amount into a fresh container to administer. She would have at most a fifteen minute boost of energy, during which she had several things she needed to set up and take care of before she could afford to work with what she feared might be a compromised intellect.

‘I shall make sure my schedule remains clear and that I am ready to serve!’ 

The Lieutenant’s words came back to her, cheerful and genuine, and she smiled ruefully. He was kind in a way Imperials simply weren’t. Oh, she’d been teased for walking in the Light now and then, or accused in some cases. She could be gentle. She could be fair. But she had never been accused of being kind.

He was, though. Kind and courteous, almost genteel without the baggage and darkness of nobility. Why he’d chosen to stay by her side past the duration of his mission was a mystery, but she was grateful for it.

She sniffed quietly, and eyed the handkerchief in her hand. She needed to launder that and get it back to him…

‘Your service is exemplary, but I think we can agree that was a bit above and beyond,’ she recalled saying when he’d passed it to her mid-fit.

‘I don’t feel so, no,’ he’d said, sounding as genuine as ever. Then, ‘Are you quite alright?’

She’d said she was fine. She’d wanted to be fine. She’d needed, in that moment, in public, to be fine.

“H’hhh! HnkKTCHIIH!”

… she was not fine.

Saphina sighed heavily and let her eyes close for a moment. Then she took the adrenal before she could think twice about it, feeling the rush immediately as her system kicked its pace into gear. Her mind sharpened and the adrenaline washed away the fatigue that had started to pull at her. She didn’t feel well, but she felt better, and that was the important part.

She set a timer for ten minutes, giving herself a little wiggle room to stop what she was doing before it wore off.

Then she got to work.

She had made two mistakes in this decision.

One, ten minutes was not nearly enough time to make tangible progress on this project.

Two, in pushing herself into a higher level of clarity, she was painfully, potently aware of her symptoms and not even a Hutt’s handful of minutes in did the itching return, both pervasive and intense. 

She had to set her stylus down, pinching just above the tip of her nose with a soft sound of frustration. Her lashes fluttered, lips parting on an irresistible catch of breath. Quiet but desperate, growing rapidly into an omnipresent and unavoidable presence.

“H’hh…” 

Force, it itched. She pressed her tongue hard against the roof of her mouth as if it could be enough to pressure the persistent itching in her bridge. It was not, as it turned out. Her eyes watered, nostrils twitching before she curled her fingers under them once more, applying pressure so firm it almost hurt.

And yet.

“H’ng’ehHSHIU!” a short, shallow breath, “ehn-KSHHIU! ekKTCH-HiiiSHU!”

She gave a little almost-cough and flopped back in her chair with a stuffy sniffle, rubbing the heels of her hands into her stinging, watery eyes.

This was not working.

She needed it to work.

She needed…

A sharp hitch almost led to a sneeze, but instead left her hanging without relief, and she swore softly. One hand was dropped to her lap, the other running back through her unbound hair. This was unbearable, but she didn’t want to leave this undone, nor did she care to pass it on to anyone else in her sphere. Umbral would, if she asked him.

She did not want to ask him. The man had softened of late and she wasn’t sure what to do with that, especially knowing why.

Or who, rather.

No, if she accepted help this would come from closer, and not another Sith, no matter the few she was… fond of.

She smiled ruefully at how that narrowed it down severely.

Someone who knew history.

Who knew Sith culture, and artifacts.

Who had a strong background in linguistics, and read Kittât fluently.

Who had the clearance, and would be discreet — not merely about the project but about her… unfortunate state of being.

Well. The only one who passed all those marks had to know already, though he’d been very gracious about it.

‘I shall await your call and rejoin you then.’

She reached for her datapad to drop Drellik a message, summoning him to the Citadel.

He responded promptly that he would be there in ‘seven to ten’ minutes; he must have been in the Citadel already. It was none of her business why he was there, but it did leave her curious.

…had he followed her there from the archives?

She shook her head as if she could dislodge the thought; they had people in this building who served her sphere, it could have been for one of his own projects, or a colleague. Not everything revolved around her.

He was there in eight minutes, smiling brightly as he stepped in and quietly closed her door. “Hello, my lord.”

She smiled faintly at how genuinely pleased he sounded to see her, leaning back in her chair a little as his gaze almost imperceptibly flicked over her face, taking her in. She was abruptly aware she had no idea if all that sneezing had flushed her skin pink, only that it did feel sensitive enough that it might well have.

Nothing she could do about it now. “Hello, Lieutenant. You said you would be game to assist further?”

“But of course! You do find the most fascinating projects,” he said brightly, and it belatedly occurred to her that that brightness outshone any other emotion he might have been feeling. Say, concern. She wasn’t so far into it to fear ‘disgust’ but whatever else there was, it was deftly hidden.

Clever man, she knew she liked him for a reason.

“Very well, come have a look at this, then. Take the chair,” she said, pointing to one of the two that sat in front of her desk — a rarity, for a Sith in her position; most liked to make their company stand at attention in their presence. Not that she was above that, but she actually used her office to work and sometimes that meant other people.

Drellik took a seat, wheeling it closer with an eager look, briefly tilting his head as if he could read her notes upside down.

…actually after all this time he probably could.

All the same, she rotated the datapad to let him have a proper look at it.

He brushed the corner of it with his fingertips, green eyes flicking back and forth over text before slowing to process the older text past the annotations she’d made. “My goodness… this is quite spectacular, my lord, I understand your persistence completely. What aspect may I assist with? Translation? Dictation? Perhaps something a bit more hands on? I— oh.”

Saphina winced, turning away from the desk entirely, breath catching high in her throat. “Hiii-TSCHIIiu!”

“Bless you, my lord,” Drellik said carefully.

“Save… save yourbreath— t’hhshiiCHU!” She sniffled unevenly, nose twitching delicately before a tiny gasp slipped past her unusually impeccable control, bringing with it a string of stifles she barely contained with aid of an increasingly useless handkerchief. If it wasn’t for the Force illusions she maintained — one of the few useful things Zash taught her — she was quite certain she’d be blushing horribly. Which wasn’t the worst of her problems, considering her nerves were alight with irritation.

He patted down his pockets before locating a clean, pressed, and neatly folded handkerchief in a pocket before listening again to try and pinpoint where she was. He took a few steps, knowing it was at least towards the eastern section. Older materials… perhaps the dust was bothering her? Sometimes you simply couldn’t get all that off, he knew from experience.

“H-hIih…”

Ah, there. Green eyes swept the area as he reoriented himself, walking quietly so as not to disturb anyone else here to research.

“H’hh… hih…. Iiih….”

Oh dear, that did not bode well for her success at keeping things quiet. Talos kept a mundane pace as he rounded a heavy shelf, floor to ceiling and glowing softly with the archive disks. At least, he thought optimistically, she wasn’t having this ordeal dealing with scrolls.

He finally spotted her as she slid towards the center of a row, lithe frame leaning into the sturdy shelving and a black glove pressed over her mouth and nose. Her chest expanded with breaths audible only by proximity, and for a moment he froze in indecision.

She paid for that.

“Ngkktch! Hiih—! hikktshhIH! HiiKSHHIH!” Her head bowed, white curls curtaining around her face as she took another deep, shuddery breath. Slim shoulders curved inward as she tried to physically stop what seemed to be unfortunately quite inevitable. “NkkSHIH! Iih… ihtSHHUH! IiiktSHII-tschu! IIH—”

Talos stepped closer, letting his steps become more audible than usual and hoping — ah yes. Watery gold eyes snapped open, narrowed and ready to be defensive.

Then she saw it was him, brows twitching briefly into an expression of helpless dismay with another deep breath, threatening something much, much more forceful however uncharacteristically.

Talos shook out the handkerchief and tucked a bit of it between her fingers. Blessedly, she was together enough to take the cue, bringing it to mask her face and mostly muffle a rapid fire fit that was quite possibly the most desperate he’d heard her without there being large quantities of blood or Force entities involved.

Hesitantly, he shifted to her other side to place her hand on her elbow — specifically not the hand that would be wielding her lightsaber should something have happened — bracing her a bit before she curled in too tightly. If she tipped and fell he was wary of what that level of mortification would do. Quite bad enough she was having such a time. He’d never seen her like this.

“Nk’tCHIIH! Hiih-hiiIIH-iigkKSHHUu!” She took a deep breath and for a moment he feared for more but no, it was just trying to get some oxygen after all that. Slowly, she straightened with a wet sniffle, her normally sharp gaze bleary until she’d blinked several times. “…you’ll have to excuse me.”

“Of course, my lord,” he said softly, and let his hand carefully move from her elbow to the small of her back. Incredibly daring but… ah.

Darth Kallig leaned into him, just enough to give a bit of pressure against his palm, and lowered the cloth as she worked on steadying her breathing. “Talos—”

“You certainly do not owe me an explanation,” he hurried to assure her. “I was simply happy to be of service.”

A small smile curved her lips, and she tucked her hair back on the side opposite where he stood. Where she still held the cloth, lightly balled.

In her lightsaber hand. Then again, she had always been confident in her ability to defend herself without, so long as he’d known her at least.

“Your service is exemplary, but I think we can agree that was a bit above and beyond,” she said dryly, wrinkling her nose.

“I don’t feel so, no,” he said mildly. Then, when she gave him an incredulous look he said instead, “Are you quite alright?”

The Sith made a little sound in her throat, amusement and dismissal all in one. “I’m fine, thank you.”

He really should have expected as much; if she was fine, she’d say she was fine, of course, but if she wasn’t fine, she wasn’t going to advertise it in an open library — she’d say she was fine.

He smiled ruefully, and didn’t try to press, lest he lose her good will. It was remarkable she hadn’t bristled at him seeing her so, honestly. Quite generous, her lordship.

“Lieutenant Drellik,” she said, catching his attention at once. “Do keep this to yourself, won’t you?”

He blinked at her, baffled. “Of course, my lord. Why— no, no I’d never breach your privacy so.”

She chuckled, patting his arm, then tucked the handkerchief into her bag, trading it for a datapad. “If you would find a few things for me, we can move on.”

“Of course!” he said cheerfully, checking his own datapad as she forwarded the list. “Alright, I’ll have that done as soon as possible and report back in!”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” She smiled, but didn’t watch him go.

He was about three lines of archive shelves away when he heard her breath catch, followed by a tightly contained pair of incredibly itchy sounding sneezes.

Talos frowned. Something was going on, and he didn’t like it. Still, he dutifully went to get the necessary files from the other section of the archive (he couldn’t help but notice how far it took him from her) which were in fact related to the project du jour, but were of a sort… well, no in the more recent past she had had him find such things for her. She’d had little choice during that chaos with Thanaton and that mess on Corellia; all hands on deck and all, and even if he’d been a warrior he wouldn’t have been able to help with that final fight. Even Khem Val, eager for Thanaton’s blood, had been unable.

Sometimes he wished he was a warrior. At least then he could be of aid in such times. He was a good shot, he just had no stomach for it, and for better or worse she understood.

Talos sighed and refocused on his task, which involved some checking of the database, followed by some time on ladders picking out exactly what she needed. And getting detoured by a question of verification and credibility of a source. Alas but that took a while and to his shame, as he returned back to her he was startled anew by the sound of a sharp little sneeze.

Still? His lips pursed as he grew uneasy with the situation. As far as he was aware, she had no allergies. The archives back here were not dusty, certainly not enough to provoke such an adamant response. There was no reason for her to be sneezing like this, in desperately staggered singles and terribly irritated fits, except…

Well.

“Hh’hnkKTCH!” A pause with a shuddery inhale, then— “ehKH’TSH-hnk!”

Credit where it was due, she was clearly trying to muffle the sound of it, but it reached him readily. Not allergies. Not sensitivities.

She was getting sick. Of a mundane sort, at least most likely, but this sort of dignity-stripping event might well see her holed up in her quarters for a while, and he couldn’t even say that was a bad idea. However, he was not so inclined to leave her to suffer with this… well. Assuming she let him near when it became too clear to deny what was happening.  Her Lordship would try, he felt. She’d evaded him once already.

He frowned thoughtfully. She had let him quietly assist her before… perhaps if he minded his tongue he’d earn another chance?

He approached where he had roughly determined she was, and once more walked heavier than his usual light and unobtrusive steps. A sharp sniff heralded her likely attempting to pull it all back into her usual, strict control. Unfortunately, he had the sinking feeling it really wasn’t going to work that smoothly, if at all.

She seemed determined to try, though, he’d give her credit for that. If only he could make her understand how unnecessary that was!

Baby steps… he could work with this. He just needed to be strategic about it. And Talos thrived on strategy.

A smile was as good a poker face as any and easier to maintain than utter seriousness, at least for him, and when he greeted Lord Kallig with one such cheerful smile she clearly thought nothing of it. Even if she knew better, she wanted to believe he wasn’t concerned, that he hadn’t noticed the clues to the obvious. She wanted to believe her facade had held.

It had not, but for now he would allow her to believe the falsehood he was projecting. He had to slip further inside her guard before he could act. “I have retrieved the necessary archival disks for your perusal, my lord.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly, accepting the files to look over.

While she did, Talos smiled and assessed: her smooth tones had not rusted, but there was a slight yet detectable thickness to them. The real question was if it was congestion from an ailment, or simply the couple dozen sneezes she’d been subjected to in such a short amount of time. He hoped for that latter, of course, but didn’t have enough data to make a concrete statement on the matter.

“Will those do?” He asked instead, more to make conversation than any doubt he had succeeded. He wouldn’t have brought them to her if he didn’t think they were correct, and locating them was a painfully simple assignment. More to get him temporarily out of the way, he feared, than actually requiring his particular skills. Khem Val could have found them, and he was not precisely technologically adept.

“Excellent work, as always,” she assured him, the line of her nose’s bridge wrinkling, creating the faintest little crease of irritation above the slightly upturned tip.

Again? If so, he could only think that she must be taking ill.

A tiny sniff was all that came of it, the tip of her tongue briefly passing between her lips. “I believe that’s all I need. Now, I think I shall retire to my office to look them over.”

Talos nodded. Many times, he knew she preferred to do some of the initial work herself, not to have her assessments biased in any way. Only when she had looked everything over once would she allow him, or perhaps one of the Sith under her command — Darth Umbral came to mind — to assist. It wasn’t at all unusual.

It was simply very unfortunate and thoroughly hindered his careful study of her condition. “Is there anything I might do in the interim, my lord?”

Darth Kallig smiled, shaking her head. “Not at this time. I may call on you as early as tomorrow, however, so do be prepared.”

“I shall make sure my schedule remains clear and that I am ready to serve!” He said brightly, grateful for that much. Tomorrow wasn’t so far away, but far enough perhaps to make certain situations evident no matter her efforts. He would be ready. “I shall await your call and rejoin you then.”