(Silly little scenes from the life of Meyali Cardani, a Jedi, and Darth Zash. Inquisitor spoilers.)

"Change it."

I stood back from the window, looking at the sign I'd just hung up. "Dealers in Art, Relics, Books. Private acquisition services available." it announced. Below that were our names, in clear block letters.

"I'm not going to change it," I said, though I wasn't really speaking. I still hadn't quite worked out how, but the two of us could converse without talking out loud. It was unnerving to say the least. "I put both of our names on the sign because you insisted, even though my mysterious partner is never going to show up in the flesh. Now that's not good enough for you?"

"It's the wrong name."

I looked at it again and sighed. "No, it isn't. That's your name."

"My birth name. I don't use it anymore. Haven't used it in years."

I put my hands over my eyes for a moment, as though that would block out the requests of the insane Sith woman who now shared my body. "So, you want me to put which name on the sign now?"

"Zash," she said, as though it were completely obvious.

"That's not even a real name."

Before I realized what was happening, I slapped myself across the face. That was something Zash had figured out how to do, and she liked to use it to get me to do things for her. She couldn't do it very hard, so it didn't hurt. But it was extremely annoying.

She was every bit my mental equal. She was strong enough to guard most of her memories, but I was able to catch fragments here and there. She had shown me little snatches of her memories, moments taken out of her past. Never enough context to give me the full story. The scent of hair singed by a lightsaber, the exhilaration at picking up a book for the first time. The feeling of a dry breeze on a dusty red planet and the sounds of echoes in old, dark hallways.

There was one memory she didn't try to hide, but rather drew me into again and again. She made me experience the horror and dread that descended over her the night she performed the ritual that destroyed her life. I felt her stumble in the darkness, felt pain coursing through her newly-frail body as she fumbled for a mirror. When she saw what she had become - a pretty young woman transformed into a dying hag - I felt her desperation.

A month ago I would have said that she deserved it for playing with the dark side. But since she'd made me experience her own anguish, I was no longer sure if I believed that. After years of trying to free myself from emotion, being forced to experience hers was making me question everything.

"Fine," I said, taking the sign down. I erased what I'd written and in its place wrote "Meyali Cardani & Zash Vireya" with an angry flourish. I hung it back up in the window of the dusty little shop we'd bought, and it swung a few times before settling against the glass. "You're exhausting, and awful," I said as I stalked into the back office, where I'd begun sorting through things to sell.

"Don't complain so much, Meyali," Zash told me. There was a vicious serenity in the way she said it. "You know that none of this would have happened if not for you. This is completely your own fault."

I still hadn't figured out what she meant by that. I didn't look forward to finding out.

Hehe, I saw this and said "YESSSSSS!!!!"

Both thrown out of their orders, the women face the reality that true power does not come from the Force, and cash rules everything around us. Already dealing with the worst possible midlife crisis, the two new "roommates" decide to start a business together, because nothing could possibly go wrong with that idea.

And this premise just promises loads of fun. Loads and loads.

Meyali still thought of herself as a Jedi, and it was maddening. Mostly because of her refusal to even consider how painful the loss of love could be.

When I was imprisoned in Meenah's Dashade servant and made to tag along with her, I left behind someone I cared for. Khem Val had mocked me mercilessly, ridiculed me, called me weak for missing him. He told me I deserved my pain, and maybe I did. What I intended to do to Meenah wasn't something she really deserved, but I was desperate. She had been a slave and a prostitute, and I really did believe that being my vessel would make her powerful, and that she should be grateful. In any case, it didn't seem to me to be worth a broken heart.

At first, I thought Meyali would understand. But she was bitter and detached, totally incapable of comprehending another person's pain.

"He probably doesn't even remember you," she told me.

It was a bright spring morning, the two of us talking before we got up, like we seemed to be making into a habit. When things were quiet and we weren't busy, one of us would invariably start an argument.

"He remembers," I said stubbornly.

"I doubt it," Meyali replied. "You just disappeared. As far as the Sith are concerned, you're dead. He's probably forgotten all about you."

I tried to force the idea out of my mind. How could he forget me?

I had met him when he was reassigned to Korriban - he was part of the Imperial military. He had just left a post serving a Sith Lord, but no one seemed to know why he'd left her. One of the inquisitors swore to me that he'd betrayed her, but it was little more than a rumor. He was quiet and kept to himself, but in the middle of all the acolytes and lords and military, we noticed each other. I think it was because I was growing so desperate, and if there was one thing he understood, it was desperation.

That was why he was the only one I told about what I planned to do to Meenah. He seemed to understand, and to think that if it saved my life it was worth it. I hoped it was.

"I should send him a message. Tell him I'm still alive."

"Are you?" Meyali asked me. "I don't know that you could say you're truly living. This isn't your body."

She had a point.

"Besides. Attachment is a disease. You should consider yourself lucky to be free of it."

"You idiot," I said. "Look at us. We are literally attached to each other. We couldn't be more attached if we tried. It's time for you to give up the Jedi Code. Maybe now you'll see how useless it is."

I could tell I'd hit a nerve. There were some things you couldn't hide when you're stuck in such close quarters.

"I'll give up my code," Meyali said, evenly and coldly, "when you give up on Malavai Quinn."

I would show her that passion was stronger. She would break first.

note:

Oh no! Lol!!! How does he end up in EVERYTHING?? Lmao!

I was drunk in the IRC channel and it seemed like a good idea.

I'm going to kill you in the most horrible ways imaginable.

That's not you.

It's a version of me and that is enough to offend. To arms!

Oh for the love of fu-

-n?

My old Master, and my brother-in-law?"

Yup, I think you broke his brain. I, on the other hand, am laughing hysterically.

Oh no! Lol!!! How does he end up in EVERYTHING?? Lmao!

Totally thinking the same thing.

I'm glad you decided to expand on this story, I enjoyed it very much in the Short Fic thread. Two minds in one body, owning a store. You're right, nothing could go wrong with this plan.

Ever see All of Me? Yeah, totally nothing could go wrong with this plan.

I was drunk in the IRC channel and it seemed like a good idea.

I am not ashamed to admit I was there.

Oh no! Lol!!! How does he end up in EVERYTHING?? Lmao!

It's that air of noble tragedy. It forces him to flit from universe to universe making women fall all over themselves to crack his code. ... Maybe bright_ephemera should be explaining this.

It's that air of noble tragedy. It forces him to flit from universe to universe making women fall all over themselves to crack his code. ... Maybe bright_ephemera should be explaining this.

Actually, the reason I ran with it here was

 

 

It basically comes down to them both having an attitude of "Well, I have to do this horrible thing, I have no choice" - when in reality they did have a choice and just didn't want to admit they made it.

I can't give this statement enough hearts. <3

It's that air of noble tragedy. It forces him to flit from universe to universe making women fall all over themselves to crack his code. ... Maybe bright_ephemera should be explaining this.

Oh, you nailed it. Nobody can resist the air of noble tragedy! Or kind of conflicted muddled but likely ignoble tragedy, depending on the continuity. In any case he's doomed to walk the planes of fanfic, radiating tormented sorrow.

It basically comes down to them both having an attitude of "Well, I have to do this horrible thing, I have no choice" - when in reality they did have a choice and just didn't want to admit they made it.

Very interesting reading of Zash. May she and Quinn enjoy many hours of self-inflicted misery.

It was rare that I woke up to the blinking light on my holoterminal informing me that I had mail. Every now and then I'd get a passive-aggressive note from my daughter or a message from the Order, but it didn't happen often. I made a cup of tea and knelt at my desk (I had furnished my home in the traditional Mirialan way, without chairs) to read my unexpected letter:

Your account at the HoloNet Public Encyclopedia has been suspended for a period of two (2) weeks. This suspension is due to repeated instances of the following infractions:

- Edits deemed uninformative and unsubstantiated

- Gratuitous misinformation added to existing articles

The articles affected have been reverted to their original condition. While our encyclopedia thrives on the contributions of the public, we ask that in future your contributions remain academic in nature.

I sighed. "Were you having too much fun playing with the HoloNet?"

She didn't answer. I took that as a yes.

I pulled up her account profile, where I could see what she'd written to get herself (and me) suspended. It was odd that she would have defaced something academic, seeing as she was the most boringly bookish person I'd ever met. I was sure if she hadn't been a Sith she'd have been a librarian or something equally boring.

There were two links on her profile that were marked with a red note, meaning they'd been flagged for abuse. I pulled up one of them, which showed me what exactly she'd done that constituted encyclopedic "abuse".

TULAK HORD was a notable male exotic dancer of renowned stupidity. He was made a Sith Lord only after providing certain services to bribe high-ranking Darths. He had a disgusting life-long affair with his Dashade companion and servant.

The article continued in this vein for pages. Zash had spun a lovely story of an idiot and sycophant who rose to power through dumb luck and a willingness to debase himself. In a perverse way, it was actually well-written and rather clever. She was a good writer.

"Why did you do this?" I asked her.

"If you had to spend a year hearing nothing but how wonderful Tulak Hord is, you'd do the same thing."

"Hmm." I pulled up the other offending article, which had been completely deleted and replaced with one line:

THE BATTLES OF YN AND CHABOSH were not that great.

"Well, that certainly gets the point across effectively," I said.

"I hate that Dashade," she said.

"I doubt he spends his time browsing the HoloNet looking for mentions of his beloved former master," I said dryly.

"Hmph," Zash said, and I could practically hear her roll her eyes at me. "You'd be surprised what he does in his free time."

I grimaced, and resolved to do my best not to think about it.

Zash is the best wiki-troll ever.

"Why did you do this?" I asked her.

 

"If you had to spend a year hearing nothing but how wonderful Tulak Hord is, you'd do the same thing."

Quoted for eternal truth. Heck, my little Sorcerer had heard her fill of Tulak Hord and Yn & Chabosh by the time I left Dromund Kaas; I can only imagine how nerve-wracking it must have been to share head-space with Khem while he was extolling the virtues of his ex-boyf... I mean, former master.

Awesome!

XD

How the mighty have fallen. Her epic revenge consists of...Wiki edits.

BAHAHAHAHA!