Private Whispers in My Head

[Darth Feira]

Ordo.

A man, a god, a vessel for the Dark Lord...her father. She blinked, rising from the chair in the centre of the bridge, the chain links of her jewellery clinking gently as she moved close to the viewport, staring down at the shimmering ochre planet below. Handmaidens knelt in a circle around the edges of the room, the ships operators sunk unto the floor beneath them.

Ordo, a planet.

A planet from which a call had come, a plea for help, for civilians under attack, civilians that were irrelevant. Feira was not here for them, Feira was here to follow curiosity. The man who had sired her, who had been a vessel to the Dark Lord was supposed to be dead, but she had seen him. She had seen him in her dreams, Isolda had seen him in her visions. So when a planet called Ordo was whispered through the Malsheem...

Feira closed her eyes, reaching out across the planet, searching for the one who had called, for the one they called Malum. She passed over smaller towns, pausing to satiate her hunger, snatching souls, leaving unexplained husks as her mind swept over the sands. She could have had them all, but it was a distraction.

Malum...

Malum...​

Heir to the House of Marr.​

Whispers ran ahead of her rippling through the force as she found his mind, latching onto it with a barbed hook. "There you are." She vanished from the bridge. The sand was hot beneath her bare feet as she appeared in front of him, yet also behind each of his shoulders. "Lord Marr." The one in front spoke first.

"Are you sad for the dead?" the one at his right shoulder spoke.

"Or are you sad for your failure?" the one at his left spoke.

The one before him tilted her head, she was curious to know the answer.

Darth Malum of House Marr

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Malum sat kneeling on the ground.

He had spoken so often in the back of his mind, that he would never kneel again, that of all the three immortal tyrants he had kneeled to, one was dead.

And the other two were all that remained of his inferiority, of his servitude, of his subordination.

Yet here he was kneeling upon the dirty ground.

Around him, the corpses of Iron Wolves, Moridini- Mandalorian, and civilians alike were strung around, in death, all differences they held in power, in rank, in station, mattered little, and little else.

They all would be sentenced to the same eternity.

Here he was, upon his knees, a husk of a settlement.

There was none else, but the dead.

The civilians made refugees had been evacuated.

The Iron Wolves were gone.

The Moridini- Mandalorians had left, once their vengeance was complete.

Here he was, only alive because Jasper Ordo had not considered him a threat.

Because Mia Monroe had vouched for him.

Mia... they had made a pact that day on Zanbar, was it all null and void? What was the point of such a promise if one's own brother held the capability to turn his anger, not towards those that had burned your home...

...But to those who simply had made home here?

The burned-out husks of constructs were to be the constant reminder for him, as the sand and ash fell across all over him, Ali- Darth Strosius and Zachariah Conway had long since left, their concern had been palpable, but they had too succeeded at the goal, despite the casualties, most of the civilians had been able to be evacuated.

They did not know why his heart pained so.

In times like these, he would have turned to Elise Ahana-Gwyneira , yet... after what had happened on Moridin- Mandalore... after what he had almost done...

...After this confession...

...How could he face her?

It was easier to feel the cold winds, to allow time to pass, to be stuck within his own mind.

It was comfortable.

It hurt so much.

And in an instant, he was no longer alone with his thoughts.

A beautiful woman was before him, tall even taller than him by his estimation if barely, lithe, her skin was bare, pale, but adorned in darkness, tattoos or otherwise, all leading upwards to raven locks, and red eyes, not so dissimilar to his own.

Yet this was no Marr.

And she was not alone.

He was reminded of that day on Alvaria, when he had met with Gerwald Lechner and Srina Talon , he was no stranger to the use of doppelgangers.

From others, or even himself.

Surprise gave way to narrowed eyes.

And in a moment, waves of darkness flowed out, concealing the kneeling Darth Malum, the darkside made manifest and real pulsing out of the epicentre as if the beginning of an earthquake, the emotions of hatred, of loss, of depression, of anger, all made real and felt, as the street in which they stood became covered in the black of smog and ash.

Before it was all suddenly gone, and he was standing on both feet, gazing dangerously at all three women surrounding him, with three darkshears ready and waiting for an order, to strike right through those that dared approach him.

"The better question," He ground out, "Who are you?"

Darth Feira

 

[Darth Feira]

Feira let out a low throaty chuckle, the expulsuon of darkness from Malum reminding her of a startled octopus masking their escape from their predators. He might have been her prey... maybe, if she was less interested in whatvhad transpired here...

The thought of consuming his soul woke a yearning hunger in her, her eyes drinking in every inch of him as the darkness evaporated and he stood before her, his midnight spears glittering in their threat. She clicked her tongue. Had her hounds been here, they woild have attacked him for such a slight.

Each visage of her took two steps to their left, leaving two more doppelgangers in each of their wakes. Nine Feira's now surrounded him, each ilusion as perfect and pristine as the next, utterly indistinguishable from one another.

Slowly then began to circle him, their chains clinking softly as they moved. Some of the watched the spears some of them watched him. All of the had a soft smile on their face, kike everything about this situation provided them some form of amusement.

"I am the daughter of the Dark Lord."

"Child to the Weaver of Nightmares."

"Raised by the Eye herself."

"An Ember of Vahl."

"The Seed of Rage."

"You, Lord Malum."

"Heir to the House of Marr."

"May call me Lady Feira."

They stopped moving, turning full to face him palms open towards him to show him the she bore him no ill will...

For now.

A blink, and the doppelgangers were gone, leaving only her, standing behind him.

"I ask again. Is it your failure, or their deaths that sadden you?"

Darth Malum of House Marr

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Her chuckles only incensed him further, making him ever so sorely tempted to launch his Darkshears straight through the... very beautiful woman before him... hesitation broke his brow, guilt came over him, bile rose in his throat, red eyes of two different bearers came over his sight, and the Darkshears almost dispelled all by themselves.

He was sick.

Unseasonably pale.

All the stress, all the injury, of the past few days, coming over him all at once, as the blood drained out of his face.

Yet.

He was a Sith, there was no opportunity for weakness.

Especially as she looked towards him... with eyes that may have intrigued him when he had been a younger, unattached, man.

The guilt whirled over him, for the fact some part of him was intrigued even after that fact.

It was as she took a step, as more doppelgangers appeared, that he was fully able to focus, his heart constricting, his eyes narrowing, the nerves before battle fading to the absolute certainty of battle present. As she took step, to make even another, nine beautiful women, of the same face surrounded him.

Malum eyed them all waringly.

Before as out of the present darkshears, darkness made full bloom.

Nine darkshears stood pointing, emerging out of three already present.

Her smile was as attractive as it was dangerous, her clinking chains, all about him, making eyes erratic, as he considered all angles.

Her near bare form, a distraction any other time... still a distraction now.

A low growl made what he considered of her amusement evident.

And then she spoke, her and eight copies.

Daughter of the Dark Lord? Which one?

Child to the Weaver of Nightmares? A title granted to many in their history.

Raised by the Eye herself? Narrower... but still many who had been called the Eye.

An Ember of Vahl? Had they not thrown in their lot with the Kainites?

The Seed of Rage? A title self-referential, and one he did not recognise.

A mystery quirked the lines of his forehead, a daughter of Darth Carnifex ? Yet... though he did not know of his consorts or concubines... had any been called the Eye? The Weaver of Nightmares?

He... did not know.

Yet what other Dark Lord fit?

He... also did not know.

Frustration was mounting by his brow, even as the last of her words struck him... Lady Feira?

That much settled it, he had no idea who this woman was.

And troubling, she knew exactly who he was.

And the one contained to the back of his mind, was morosely silent.

He narrowed his eyes at the one he faced, all of their palms opened, if she thought he would trust thi-.

The doppelgangers faded.

And her question asked again.

Nine darkshears coalesced, pointing towards the one left behind, as now curiosity, with much else, negative or not, burrowed within him.

"Impressive use of doppelgangers... for a novice," Malum sneered, cloak billowing in his wake as he turned away from the strange woman, off to where he knew the Lochris to be, "However, I have no interest in answering the questions of those who failed to arrive on time, begone, or stay to bare witness to your kind's failure to protect your own people, good day Lady Freia" If she was, in fact, a Kainite, he knew he should have been far more polite.

However, after these last few days.

For all the Kainites had done, and had not done.

He could not bring himself to care.

But he did know, he certainly would need to look into this woman.

She promised trouble.

Darth Feira

 

[Darth Feira]

Another sith might have become enraged at the insult he levelled at her, how ever petty, but Feira's smile only grew. For her it was like receiving an invitation to the most prestigious party of the year. Excitement ran up her spine and lifted goosebumps on her bare flesh. She was already in his mind, she'd dug her claws into it the moment she'd found him wallowing in his sorrow, securing her entrance. Now?

Now he gave her reason to play.

"So be it." She vanished from his view, as did the broken city around them giving way to a vast unending sea of nothing. It wasn't darkness, it wasn't light it was simply nothing. "You know, I had every intention of playing nicely with you Lord Malum." her voice echoed from everywhere around him. "I can pluck the answers I want from your brain with ease, but such invasion of privacy can leave one...missing pieces of themselves."

Another throaty chuckle.

Then she was everywhere, occupying every space he could look, her smile gone, black ichor swirling about her many forms, eyes glittering with malice.

"Lets get a few things straight." chains began to snake up malums legs as she spoke, the same chains that hung from her body, coiling rapidly up his body. "Firstly, I am not interested in the politics that seem to govern this pitiful nation of sith. You are all, as far as I am concerned, the most disappointing iteration I've seen. All of you so concerned with raising your own standing, with your internal bickering that the whole galaxy mocks you. The One Sith were exactly that. We were one. One people, one mind, one purpose. One true Dark Lord. So whatever preconceptions you seem to have about me and mine, I strongly suggest you re-evaluate them, less you find yourself in a less than favourable position than you are already in"

The doppelgänger the stood directly in front of him trailed fingers down Malums cheek, coming to rest beneath his chin, tipping it up to look directly into his red eyes. Her lips unmoving with the words that bounced around him.

"Secondly, I do not like to repeat myself, so when I ask you questions, I expect you to answer them. Failure to do so will result in a punishment of my choosing."

"Finally, I am not here to answer your desperate plea for help. That failure falls to the Malsheem and its ruler. I am here for one thing, and one thing only. To establish the truth of the rumours, that my father walks the land of the living once more."


Darth Malum of House Marr

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

He should have known matters would not have been so easy.

To some degree, he knew it very well.

When had he ever been allowed to simply leave when he desired?

Yet as the first of her words struck his back, he allowed himself to believe, believe that he might finally have some peace.

How naive he ever still was.

One blink, one step, he was still in the ruins of the colonial city, his feet feeling the gravel of what was left of the road.

Another step, another blink, there was nothing.

But a sigh.

And growing panic.

Red eyes narrowed, trying to identify the location of where her voice emerged, yet that much could certainly be considered impossible when the voice seemed to be coming from all directions. That much made a certain sense, if one of his theories was correct. For after all, as narrowed eyes gazed, the mind was in overdrive, picking up what pieces of her words could be used, and disregarding the rest.

She quickly confirmed many a thing.

This was no physical place, they were still upon Ordo.

He had simply and forcibly been transferred to another perspective entirely, all within his mind.

"You might certainly try witch, but my mind is a fortress, can you afford a war of attrition?" Malum snapped, trying to find the source of the laughter, with very little success.

He did not fear her, even as his hair stood to attention, even as his breathing grew heavier, yet he did not fear the threat. He who had fractured his own mind to keep secrets, he who had delved into the depths of the mind arts under his Mistress, he who had learned true wonders with his cousin, Lily Rhodes .

He who even now, in a world that was not real.

Was not alone, as she, Darth Ophidia finally stirred from her slumber, finally befitting that her presence was warranted. As an amulet burned hotly against his chest, ready, to respond to any intrusion that would cause any harm.

Malum let out a gasp, as cold chains travelled up his leg, his breathing growing erratic, as sweat emerged upon his brow.

Her words were hardly more comforting.

The One Sith?

...That narrowed things down, it seemed that his search of eligible Dark Lords had indeed been far too narrow.

Darth Sortis or Darth Molior...

Had either had children...?

He supposed it mattered little, the one before him certainly believed she was the daughter of one.

And he... they... she... had killed one of them.

It would not be something to mention, if he cared for his own wellbeing, clearly.

"Be far from I to look down upon the Sith of the past, but what did your singular purpose, singular mind, singular people, achieve? Say what you will with so many words, unlike us, the One Sith fell, the One Sith failed." Malum snarled, as he felt his eyes cloud over in an orange hue, emotions brimming, burning out of him, "And I, killed Darth Sortis."

Malum blinked.

The orange disappearing.

She had stirred... but...

...She had not moved...

The shock of what he had said, left him without resistance, as she appeared before him, his breath caught, as her fingers trailed his cheek, reaching his chin, his throat dry, rubies meeting amber. Her voice rang in his ears, even as she stood looking at him unmoving. It was impossible for the pink to not dust his cheeks, in this compromised position, in front of a beautiful, bare, woman.

The guilt of it all, of flashes of red eyes of two different bearers.

Was almost enough to bring him to his knees.

The last of her words was at least confirmation that she was not part of Kain- Darth Carnifex infinite brood.

Indeed.

That her father still walked among the land of the living.

Darth Sortis...

Jasper Ordo ...

The very same man that had brought ruin to a city of civilians, and no defences.

The man, that he should have killed upon Moridin- Mandalore.

His muscles became taut, as he struggled against the chains, gritting down on his teeth, as sense gave way to emotions.

Of course, it was his fault that he was here.

That she was here.

"It is both..." He finally admitted, gazing deeply into her eyes, barely more than a whisper, "That I failed to protect this city, and that I allowed so many to lose their lives." He continued, drawing her attention to his words...

...As his fingers snapped.

A great flash of light erupted out of his fingers, as his orbs closed themselves to the world, a distraction he hoped would catch her unawares.

As the inky invisible tendrils of his Consume Essence shot out of him, attempting to look for where her true form, perhaps not physically, but the essence of her was.

As he prepared Force Slow.

To bring her mental powers to their knees.

Darth Feira