https://docs.google.com/document/d/1oULSRBvRmyscwUElfBk34tmmYQvaejGE1ae0BDWqHyE/edit

“Happy Life Day, Bentre.” A sweet voice rang through the scantily-decorated office. The Sith had always preferred it that way. He lifted his eyes from the flimsiplast and datapads strewn before him, knocking over a nearly empty and long-cold cup of stimcaf as he lifted a hand in slight surprise. Standing in the doorway to his office was the lithe and familiar form of his lover.

“Get out of here, Tash’,” the Corellian grunted, waving a stiff arm in her general direction. The motion drew little more than a playful smile from his fellow Equite. Her hands were behind her back, and there was a child-like bounce in her step as she approached his desk.

“Don’t be that way, *Benny.*” Her eyes sparkled as she used her pet-name for her former rival. His hazel eyes glared back, but her smile did not falter. “I brought you something *special* for the holidays!” Her words were so joy-filled they were practically lyrical. After a few moments of grumpy silence, Bentre’s expression softened ever-so-slightly.

“I get it, you aren’t going to leave me alone until you get to show me what it is.” Stahoes let out a weary sigh. “Look, I have lots of data to review to prepare for my report to the Summit. Not that you would know anything about that. You didn’t spend long enough in command of a Battle Team to do anything.” There was a bitter edge to his voice, which one might mistake for jealousy. It wasn’t only jealousy.

“Your office looks so drab and sad in this festive occasion, *Benny-boo*.” She stressed the last word, her tone becoming mischievous. Her smile grew the smallest bit larger as she brought her cupped hands in front of her. “It needs a little life day cheer!” She placed an object atop the pile of work materials, and stepped back. Now the desk contained datapads, lots of empty stimcaf cups, flimsiplast, and a very out-of-place looking wreath. Red flowers and green berries stood in stark contrast to the bare and utilitarian nature of the office. A matching red and green striped bow held the bottom center of the wreath together.

Letting out a slow sigh, Stahoes allowed himself to recline slightly in his chair. “Is there anything else you wanted as long as you are going to muck up my office space?”

These words seemed to disappoint the Twi’lek for a moment. There was a brief flash of hurt in her eyes. Still, her bubbly mood resurfaced quickly. The Marauder drew a breath, her smile becoming less evident. “I also came to give you something very special, Benny.” The joy in her voice was more subdued now, and there was a very tender untone to the words. As she had so many times before, Tasha’vel Versea drew a blade from the sheathe on her side.

The blade she withdrew was not Vishra’Reyal. Instead it was a more wicked-looking, slightly curved blade. The weapon lacked the exacting grace of the Twi’lek’s usual weapon. It was also decorated with cross-bands of blue and a number of blue gems along the hilt. Near the crossguard, the hilt had been branded with the Versea crest. The stylized profile of a wolf had been laid within the borders of the crest.

“To you, Bentre Stahoes, I want to impart Stavel’Adius. With this gift, I want to offer you a part and parcel to the estates of the esteemed Versea family, and with it a position as a peer and fellow in our clan.”

The Corellian’s eyes widened as the realization of what was going on finally dawned on him. “Wait, are you meaning-”

“Bentre, I want you to join in my clan, in my house, as well as my bed. For all your rough edges, you seem to be a good man. If anything, we cannot allow these little trysts to continue. If you and I are to be together, it must be done in a proper way.” Tasha’vel tenderly placed the weapon on the floor in front of the desk. “You will become the patriarch of the estate in place of my brother. We will be joined together in-”

“Marriage?” Stahoes seemed awed.

“Not exactly in the ways of Humans, but your feelings have already betrayed you.” Jumping across the desk, the Marauder scattered the desk’s contents, and threw her arms around the Shadow. Their lips met, and for the briefest moment, Bentre felt the closest thing to peace he had felt in months. When their lips parted, the Human looked deep into his fellow Sadowan’s emerald eyes.

“It won’t be the most stylish of relationships, I guess. However, I see no reason not to accept both gifts, with all the things they entail.” Bentre gave a rough attempt at a smile, but only ended up looking awkward. There was a long pause, almost stretching into an uncomfortable silence, before the Human spoke again. “So, who do we tell first?”

The Gift Come Midnight

The gift Ondur had always wanted more of was knowledge, wisdom, secrets, and forbidden artifacts older than living memory could recall. He wanted what only dead memory or nearly dead things could recall. His studies span so much time and mastered with such intensity it's almost as if he was there in the flesh. Ondur has become a scholar of sorts in his time at the Brotherhood. A killer scholar fairly literally. But a calling he never thought would call so powerfully in his heart if at all. The lust for the forbidden intangible secret which could do things even the Force might call impossible.

Maybe that's a start, the Force somehow speaking. At least as with a voice and clarity both of it's own. He heard it grants visions and sensory insight to those who have a certain strength in some power. Yet they always sound useless. What sort of gift is that? One could write four sentences nearly at random and become an instant Prophet. Though perhaps not as good as his Master and Teacher. Apparantly the very same whom had been known under the callsign 'Prophet', especially at piloting in the worst conditions, with the best results. So Ondur always put little care in any such ramblings, Force or not.

At first dark Ondur had warmed into his meditating routine. Alternation between feverish recollections of blood and gore. Sights into abysses so dark even he needed to be outside for the ultraviolet light to make due for his eyes. Then he'd take reins and see by choice. Umbara in total shrouded glory, triumphant darkness which turned the most homesick of his kind to sick delight. The very same that made humans paranoid, so horribly and instinctively terrified, for those of intelligence at the least, and every race but his own and few others blinded by shrouds.

What a gift that would be, a shroud-robe made in some way by the very darkness covering his homeworld. Perhaps there was a way with dark alchemy, or knowledge lost even if ever known. Irrelevant, the meditation had been stopped. The thought so tangible but impossible. He'd have to return to it later. Perhaps in the morning deeper in an isolation chamber unless that will make the dark seem comparable to the splendor of the true darkness he grew up in.

"I'll be damned to stare down the brightest star at my face.. if I forget Home and it's darkest places. Even the brightest there is nigh blindness to most.", he thought. He relished memories of ambushing foreigners and thrillseekers. He couldn't so much as poke them though. Unless they were targets. He forgot what blood looks like on Umbara. But the Brotherhood is his family, and this is is home now. And he has gained so much knowledge in his time here. Academia has been kind to him, and feeds his passions just as blood did and always will.

It was the darkest hour, "mid-night" some called it. Then the entrance door slid into the ground, opening, for an uninvited guest.

Ondur was ready to break this man. There was no sense of even a trace of untrained Force potential in him.

"Who are you?!" The Umbaran saw that the man was a Twi'lek loyalist. Bearing the sign of the couriers trusted with important deliveries. Very important ones.

The red 'man' responded in Ryl, the first pleasant surprise, though alarming somewhat.

"This package is a gift for the Knight Ondur Lkaetur. Along with a holovid.", it was set to play from the Twi'lek's palm.

It was his Master. "Hey. It's good your're back from studying. I got you a gift to commemorate it. It'll be good to see you, Lkaetur. I told the courier you could understand him and that you go out at about this hour. I hope you didn't make a mess of the good man. Obviously one of those two things I told him was a lie. Well, see you soon Lkaetur."

Ondur mumbled in Ryl for the courier to get out. The man ran out before told fully. As he finished mumbling he opened the package and inside were regal Scholar's robes. Things of beauty and marked plenty with the Shadow Academy Mark. Learning never looked so good.

Ondur was truly glad to be home again.