A Deal with the Devil

[Saraya Arenais]

Haseria​

Durango, Sierra Blanca​

A Few Miles Outside Of Town​

The bright flicker of fire danced subtle shadows across the circle of light it created. Hunched over said fire, stirring a wondrous smelling concoction, was Alora. Her blood red mercenary leather cracked with the heat when she moved her arm in a slow, methodical circle to keeping whatever was in the pot from sticking to the bottom. The camp surrounding her was simple, containing the fire, a log fashioned into a bench and several thick furs of an nondescript animal.

It's true, she could have saved face and gone to stay in one of those awful looking rest stops, but she preferred it out here. Close to nature, close to the earth, close to home. It wasn't exactly like home mind you. The air smelt different out here and she had run out of the home comforts packed by her family before she left. There was a delicate spice she still had plenty of but other than that, most of it was just regular old food.

The strange sounds of different creatures carried on the wind and the unfamiliar sway of the fauna in the breeze held her attention as she cooked. Alora enjoyed the silence that wasn't really silence. She enjoyed the semi-loneliness of the stretch of land lacking any kind of civilisation. Working with the stone-faced resolve only an Ochota could possess she added the spices from home and a few strips of what looked to be bacon, though she couldn't be sure it was. It was a simple meal that suited her simple surroundings and her simple mannerisms.

Under the unfamiliar starlit sky, Alora began tucking into the first of what she assumed would be many lonely meals.

[member=Darth Metus]

 

[Malok]

Haseria.

As her bright and shining star dipped beyond the horizon, so too did the light of day draw to a close. Yet, despite the slumber of the sun, the night was warm. Summer had dug its talons into the distant world - and with its presence came a blanket of heat that even nightfall could not penetrate. Therefore, men who sought to wander under the stars created pyres of their own. Not for biting back against any cold, but to light their way and to charr the flesh of fallen prey. Such was the reality that [member="Alora Fae"] found herself in. Far, far away from all she knew, peacefully nestled under a blanket of stars.

But as she began to indulge in the succulent results of her labor, the fire began to waver. As if unseen hands had coiled themselves around the throat of the blaze, the light began to choke. The severance of oxygen from the lungs of the fire saw more than just the creeping darkness...but grey began to billow forth. Smoke rose and wafted into the air, carelessly dancing in the evening breeze.

But even the gentle caress of passing wind turned vicious. A biting chill slithered about the encampment, slicing through the clutches of summer. It sank its fangs into the flesh of the fire-haired woman, imparting more than just a rapid lowering of temperature. No, this wind carried with it the burden of Dread. Of Unease. Of a budding terror whose origin would be lost upon her accented tongue.

And as her gaze would likely discover, the smoke began to take form. Where once there was nothing distinguishable, now...faces. Many faces. New. Old. Family. Foreign. A cacophany of what she knew and what she did not began to billow before her face. And as the horrendous visage became ever more present, the rush of chilling wind hissed against her ears. It was as if the strings of a viola had been ravaged by an angry player, screeching a note wildly into her skull.

Music. The wind swirled about and hissed a somber melody. The wicked viola sang a song of woe. Of anger. Of things to come. Of things that have passed.

And at the center of it all...the beating heart of the smoky cacophany...was the man who offered the glass. The Devil of the Confederacy. Yet here, her gaze would find no malice. Here, the visage of man would provide a contradiction to the chaos swirling about her. When she looked upon the Sith, there was peace - and even the wicked viola strummed a gentler tone. But turning away saw the wrath of winter fall mightily upon her.

For minutes, the vision danced before her very eyes.

But in the span of a blink, it was all gone.

The fire breathed once more. The talons of summer reaffirmed their grasp. And Alora Fae was left alon-...no. No, she was not alone. Though Durango was far in her wake, the foreign warrior was the furthest thing from being in solitude any longer. The crunch of boots breaking dirt heralded his arrival. The Devil strode with a hum upon his lips and a smile upon his face.

"You're far from town, Alora. Is all well?"

 

[Saraya Arenais]

It began slowly. Alora barely noticed the dulling of the fire that banished away the darkness of night. Only when the thick of the smoke pushed by aggressive winds reached her eyes and lungs, making her cough violently, did she realise something was wrong. The hollow clatter of a wooden bowl hitting solid ground joined the mesh of noises stirring the camp.

Her first thought was to swat the air in a disappointing attempt to clear her vision. What was causing fire to behave in such a strange way? Was it just the way of the land? After all she was no stranger to violent winds. But wood here burned differently. Alora had never seen smoke so thick. Apparently the weather was different here too. Changing at a moments notice. Alora could have sworn she felt a chill in their air. Wasn't it warm and peaceful only moments ago?

She only stopped her futile attempts when the smoke seemingly began to form around the smouldering ruins of the fire-pit. Her heart thumped against the leather tied to her chest though the noise was lost in something she couldn't quite make out. Despite the constant stream of tears and the painful burning sensation in her eyes, she couldn't bring herself to close them. What's worse was the sound. The sound of someone playing an instrument all but new to her ears.

In ordinary circumstances Alora would have found herself blushing brighter than her armour. Music and singing to the Ochota was as love making is for the rest of the Galaxy. Private and personal. Something you would only share with family or a soul mate. But here and now Alora felt no embarrassment. Only fear and sorrow.

Frozen in place, helpless and unable to move or cover her ears even if she had wanted too, she sunk to her knees. A flicker of something familiar caught her eye. She stared into the grey, desperately attempting to see the shape through the wild billows of smoke. Through all of this it shocked her to feel some kind of surprise at who was nestled in the column of grey. The man from the bar. Upon finding his gaze she felt a calm of sorts wash over her. The fear that gripped her bones tight in place seemed to vanish and her head cleared itself of the muddy feeling left behind by confusion and sorrow.

In the middle of the madness she found herself at peace.

All too suddenly it had disappeared. The campsite returned to it's normal orange glow as the fire settled and the smoke cleared. It left her sat on the ground like a child, lost in confusion and amazement. In the middle of reflecting on the most weird, wonderful and terrifying moment of Alora's young life she felt a familiar embarrassment crawl up her cheeks and stain them scarlet red.

Her ears picked up on a gentle hum followed by the unmistakable crunch of gravel beneath boots. The sound carried itself across the soft breeze that had returned to the landscape. As quick as a flash she found herself standing on her feet, dusting dirt from the red leather. What she couldn't control was the burning that had spread from her cheeks, which had now turned from scarlet to crimson.

Even though she had been prepared, the sound of Darth Metus' voice startled her. Her pale green eyes, made paler by the orange glow of fire, seemed to widen as he approached.

'I...' She stopped to catch herself, finding more emotion in her voice than was necessary. She cleared her throat of the smoke that had gathered there and tried again. 'Town is not like home. Outside is like home. Everywhere fire, wind and water remain the same. It is nice to be remembering.' She paused for a moment, as if thinking hard on how she would speak next. 'You came to me in smoke.'

[member=Darth Metus]

 

[Malok]

With every step, there was...

Blood. Not a literal shedding of, but rather the taste. Of hot iron slithering over the Sith's tongue as he drew ever closer to the woman. With each step, the sensation heightened - as if his mouth had been drenched in the life of another. To a lesser being, the taste would be cause for alarm. To anyone besides He, the taste would be foreign. Anathema. A reason to be afraid. Yet the Devil knew full well the source of this phenomena. Intimately. This was the succulence of Darkness.

The presence of the Dark Side was strong.

This intrigued Darth Metus considerably, so much so that he almost missed the expression of the young woman. His thoughts went immediately to their first meeting only hours before - he did not recall feeling anything of note from her in the saloon. He did not recall feeling excessively impaired from imbibing his share of netra'gal and tihaar that afternoon either. No, [member="Alora Fae"], to the best of his knowledge, did not reek of the Force as he did. Nor did she harbor that quiet storm of power like his own Apprentice, Srina. She was silent - so much so that the Sith counted her among the insensitive initially.

But the Darkness cared not for those who could not wield its might. It would not descend from beyond to point the Devil in the direction of someone effectively useless.

And so, before the inferno did the Sith cease his steps. Descent gripped his form as he lowered himself to one knee. The light of the flame gave new life to the sulfuric depths of his eyes - as if Hell itself danced within each iris. And yet, there was not a hint of malice or vicious intent upon his face. The Devil was as he had been among the billowing smoke - at peace, despite the confusion around them. Still, despite the Darkness yet clinging to the air. It was at this point that he inspected the young woman's face and found flushed, vermillion cheeks. Her voice was alive with emotion - more so than he had heard earlier in the day.

At first she answered his question simply...but her words then put a reason to why she seemed as out of sorts as she did. The Darkness had come to her, in a rather unique way. It showed her his face among the flames. And it led the Devil to his next victim.

Darth Metus smiled.

"I completely understand." he admitted. "Home makes us feel safe, no matter where we are."

And even though Mandalore welcomed him not, the wastelands of any works brought him more comfort than anywhere else.

"Did I now..." he said, at last addressing the vision. "No doubt, the work of the Darkness. It tugged at my very soul and demanded that I come out here."

He motioned to the slumbering land all around them, before pointing a finger in her general direction. "The Darkness wanted me to find you. And...it seems that the Darkness wanted you to find me. What did you see in the smoke? What did you feel? Tell me."

[member="Alora Fae"]

 

[Saraya Arenais]

The break in conversation allowed Alora to gather her thoughts and come to her senses. While the general feeling of dread and fear had left her it still lingered in the space between them. She could feel it in the air, as tight as the belts that bound her armour to her skin. Despite this Alora was terrified that any sudden movement or sharp words would break the spell.

Her eyes watched Darth Metus, just as he watched her.

Curiosity crept over her face as she studied his, replacing some of the crimson colour in her cheeks. Nothing seemed amiss. He didn't stand out from the crowd in any way, apart from the sulphuric colour to his eyes. This confused her further as, on a usual day, she was very perceptive. So why had this man appeared to her in smoke and flame?

To Alora it seemed nothing more then a crazy, alcohol fuelled dream. After all, whatever stuff they were drinking here was a far stretch from the alcohol at home. It was subtly strong and had crept up on her as she enjoyed the company of two strangers in a bar. One of whom happened to be standing right in front of her. She felt as though in a few minutes she'd wake up. Buried in the furs she had brought from home and completely alone.

It seemed to be a few moments before Alora realised he had spoken. She was too entranced by the flickering life that glazed his captivating eyes. She was reminded of the feeling of peace that had brought her from the deranged vision.

Remaining firmly frozen in her place, standing beside the fire, she gathered up the strength to talk again.

'You say of darkness like it has life. How can darkness look with no eyes or want with no mind. Darkness will not live, only swallow life.' She paused mid-sentence, her full lips moving vaguely as she struggled to but her next sentence together.

'Do we speak of same darkness?' She motioned with her hand, capturing the dark edges of the flame with her finger tips and stretching them out to beyond, where the fire could not reach.

Her lips remained firmly pressed together as she took a moment to consider his question. What had she felt during all that time? What had prevented her from moving or closing her eyes or even covering her ears when the sound of music had drifted from the smoke? Fear, of course.

It wasn't in the Ochotan way to speak of emotions, but for some reason the passive calm Darth Metus oozed over the campsite seemed to ease her. 'I feel fear. And sadness. But also peace.' She paused. Taking a few moments to swallow her pride and shake the feeling of unease, caused by the display of emotion, from the corners of her mind.

'In flames I see all I know. All of Ochota. I also see things unknown to me and my people. I see so many faces, made from smoke. But most plain is you. You stand in smoke and fire, but not as those other things. Not wrapped in grey and confusion and broken vision. You stand clear and bright. As if made from smoke itself.'

It was the most she had spoken since arriving on Haseria. The words tumbled from her mouth in a flurry of broken Basic. Yet, her voice remained soft and quiet, passive almost. As if she didn't want anyone to hear what she was saying, including Darth Metus.

[member=Darth Metus]

 

[Malok]

You say the Darkness like it has Life...

As one who walked the dark road, the Devil knew nothing but the Dark Side. Every waking moment was spent with its presence at his side - ever waiting and ever watching. Every bond and experience was therefore undertaken with the unique perspective that the Black placed upon his existence. He did not see Jedi as stalwart defenders of truth and Justice, but as a very real and very literal threat to his longevity. He did not see other Sith as mindless beasts who had given into the madness of ambition, but rather as the Ruthless who chose themselves over the Galaxy. In every aspect of who Darth Metus was, the Dark Side was present. It had Life.

And through the will of every Darth, it had a Mind.

Through the sulfur which stained their gaze, it had Eyes.

But how was the Devil to make her understand just how blind she was? How was Darth Metus to open her eyes to see more than the roaring inferno beside them? To know as he did - that the Darkness was more than the absence of Sunlight. That the Darkness was more home than any wasteland for him or any starlight sky for her. The realization came as an icy chill down his spine. The very same which gave him pause all those months ago when Srina Talon first entered into his life. The very same the made him see beyond the rain-soaked appearance of a lost girl to see the Ferocity and Potential within her eyes.

Darth Metus reached out. The fingertips of his offhand gingerly graced Alora's cheek, whilst he parted his lips to speak.

"The Darkness I speak of Lives." he began. "It is the power that enables men to become Gods. It is the fury which decimates nations. It is the source...of the sulfur in my eyes."

His fingertips abandoned her face for a moment and lingered in the air. His sulfuric gaze never wavered from her expression. Darth Metus said nothing as he hearkened to ever word. The Darkness had blessed her with a vision...a dream among smoke. And in the center of the Chaos was a divine contradiction, Darth Metus was clear and Bright. The thought alone was interesting...but the Sith contemplated his words before uttering anything.

And his response came first with action. Silently, he thrust his offhand into the depths of the inferno - a move that would typically see the flesh of his body seared away. Yet here, in this moment, the Dark Side was with him. Here, in this moment, the very heat from the fire felt as nothing more than feathers, brushing upon his opened palm.

"I see..." he breathed. "I am...not the confusion. Not the faces. Not the chaos within the smoke. But I am the solution - the peace you will find. The Darkness has willed it, and I will make it so."

He closed his hand into a fist within the fire.

"I will make it so that the fire will never harm you. I will teach you how to use the Darkness that is within you to move mountains. I will guide you until the end of my days. I will make you Powerful. And in return..."

Darth Metus pulled his hand back from the fire and splayed his fingers before her gaze. His flesh was warmer than usual, but there was no blemish. Not even soot caked his skin. Reaching, his fingertips graced her chin.

"You. Are Mine."

The choice was hers - step back from the Darkness or accept a deal with the Devil.

[member="Alora Fae"]

 

[Saraya Arenais]

Her heart beat a fast tempo against her solid armour. Maybe it was just Alora, but it seemed to be timed perfectly to the crackling fire. It even stopped at some points to match the fleeting moments of darkness when the fire flickered away from her face. Her eyes seemed lost in the orange glow. In that brief instance she missed home more then she had ever done, she couldn't help but wonder if she'd made some mistake. Maybe her people were better off left alone in their little sector of the Galaxy.

But just at that moment, something made her look up. Just in time to see Darth Metus stretch his hand across to her. The feather light touch of his fingers against her cheek sent tingles all down her spine. She felt the warmth return to her face, bringing back some of the cherry colour that had all but drained away. In response, almost automatically, she titled her head to meet his fingers and her eyelids fluttered to a close. The same way a cat tilts their head and squints their eyes when they're enjoying a good stroke.

It seemed such a long time since anyone had been in close proximity to her. She missed the feeling sorely. Back on her home planet personal space was not considered a thing. All stood close enough to hear their soft voices and to better see the strange and complicated hand signals. Both man and woman, parent and child, teacher and student. Of course, there were appropriate amounts of space left in between, depending on rank, age, gender, ability, etc. But mostly it was closer than anyone else in the Galaxy would usually be comfortable with. It made her heart ache with longing despite the stock still expression on her face.

Her eyes remained shut, even after she felt the pressure of his fingers leave her rose coloured cheeks. The sound of his voice made her eardrums hum pleasantly, his words were as sweet as honey suckle. But they were still confusing. The instance she had opened her eyes to protest or at least disagree politely was the same instance that Darth Metus unceremoniously shoved his hand into the burning flame.

Almost by instinct her body jerked forward to try and remove his appendage from any harm it might have come too. She shouted something in Ochotan which sounded remarkably like how a parent would tell a child off for playing with a venomous snake. However, she stopped just a few inches short of grabbing his arm. Slowly and carefully Alora used her bright, clever eyes to inspect his face. There was no fear, no pain, not much of anything that Alora could see. He looked almost Ochotan in his placidity.

At his words her eyes widened. What could he possibly mean by all of that? She was no fool. She wouldn't dismiss what her own eyes could see. Darth Metus had his hand in the fire and there was no pain. No foul stench filling the air or dripping fat making the fire hiss and spit. But... how could she ever learn to do such a thing? In her own eyes she was nothing special, nothing more then Alora Fae. What did she possess that could allow her such power?

When he presented his hand to her she took the opportunity to remove her leather gloves and grasp it in her own. She could feel the warmth radiating off it, but apart from that, not a single blemish. No burns, black marks from the charcoals or even the smell of slightly charred skin. Her jaw dropped, making her lips part a fraction of an inch. As if she couldn't quite believe what she was seeing she flipped his hand in her own. Back and forth and back and forth. She let it drop, only to feel him raise again and rest against her chin.

It seemed the tension that had built up inside Alora during the few moments of madness released itself. Doing so in the form of a high, sugar sweet laugh. It carried on the wind, filling the silence and displaying more emotion than anything Alora had said or done thus far. For Ochotan people, laughter came from the stomach. The same as crying. She knew it would do her no good to hold it in, despite that she now looked like a mad woman. She laughed for rather longer than she would have liked, tears brimming in her pale green eyes.

Upon catching her breath she took one long step toward Dark Metus, closing the distance between them. With barely a hairs-width between them she took his hand in hers once again and turned it upwards to face the stars.

She splayed her hand out and pressed it against his, her wrist flickered slightly making her fingers display a delicate dance on his palm. From her place she looked up at him through thick, black eyelashes. Her voice returned to the familiar soft tone one would expect. 'In my language this is meaning respect.' An awkward smile spread across her lips and the sentence that followed was littered with laughter. 'I have never been seeing something so mad.'

'I cannot pretend to be understanding of all of what you are saying...' Alora stopped her hand leaving it to rest on his, palm against palm. 'But, how can I say no?'

[member=Darth Metus]

 

[Malok]

Shock. Concern. Laughter.

These were to be expected. How else was the mind to cope with exposure to something that challenged everything it knew? How else were they eyes to comprehend a divine contradiction to everything they had seen over a lifetime? By all accounts, Alora had every reason to respond as she did. From what little she did utter, it was clear that she did not have that intimate understanding of what was always around her. Her homeworld, most likely, had never been touched by the perpetual strife of Jedi and Sith. And for that reason, she had never once uttered "The Force" or some equivalent over the course of their encounter.

Instead, she responded exactly how she was meant to. Her body responded with seizing his appendage once it had left the flame. Her eyes sated their burning curiosity by inspecting his sable flesh over and over. And her mind coped by an outburst of laughter...and tears. Yet when she had settled...when the thunder of her heart had slowed ever so slightly, she splayed her fingers out upon his own. Her words identified this act as a symbol of respect to her people - the best display she could make to show some semblance of understanding his words.

And with her palm resting bare upon his, she made her deal with the Devil. ...How can I say no?

In that instant, her world would be changed evermore.

As silent as the grave, Darth Metus' fingers first responded to the presence of her own. They laced through and gripped her hand tight, whilst a genuine smile worked to claim his features. "You...will understand, Alora." he breathed. For the Darkness was at work. Perpetually. As he took her hand in his own, ice traversed the length of his spine once more. The presence of midnight fell mightily upon him...and upon the young woman as well. Darth Metus did not ask for this. He had not asked for this when his Sun and Stars - [member="Srina Talon"] - entered into his life; and he made no request now.

Yet still, the Darkness acted. Despite the relative clarity of the evening, the low rumble of thunder reached the Devil's ears. His eyes did not yet see a flash of lightning, nor could he make out clouds in the heavens above. Yet, there was thunder. As he pondered this, he remembered that on the day he had met his beloved Apprentice, Coruscant had been plagued by a deluge. Was that... coincidence? Or was it the Darkness at work all along?

Perhaps it was not for him to know.

And that...was the sum of the similarities that he could identify. Everything that followed the rolling thunder was unique - just as the day Srina arrived was unique. He felt...warmth...racing the length of his arm and instinctively inspected his flesh. Much to his surprise, what was concealed underneath his layer of clothing was now...alive with a crimson glow. The Marks of Darkness - Forcecrafted tattoos of onyx upon his sable flesh, now shone brightly underneath the fabrics, revealing them to the eyes of [member="Alora Fae"]. And, where the most far-reaching line ended...hers began. The final line resided on the rear of the hand which yet clutched hers.

And from this line did another form upon her flesh. The sensation would be warm and gentle. Much akin to a steaming stone being gingerly trailed upon the flesh at a spa. But, the advance of the mark ceased shortly after it began. The crimson, tribalesque visage stopped just shy of her elbow. And soon, the crimson light faded away.

In its wake...was a flood of understanding. Darth Metus was used to this by now. He was used to having his Apprentice in his mind. He was used to his Apprentice's innermost thoughts brushing against his own psyche. He was used to always knowing where she was and how she was feeling. He was...always used to understanding what he meant. But for Alora, the act of being bound would be as strange as it was demanding. For the first several hours, distance would be unacceptable. To be a mere stone's throw apart would be...nearly maddening.

She would know what thoughts he allowed to flow into their Bond. And he would know the cacophany of confusion which now plagued her mind. But as a first as her Master, the Devil leaned closer to the woman and gingerly touched his brow to hers. His smile never wavered. But now, an understanding flowed through him - he put it in words that she would be able to understand...by saying nothing at all. In that moment, she would feel what it meant to belong to the Sith. Her mind would instinctively begin to assign words of her native tongue to what all had transpired.

And when it was all said and done, Darth Metus relinquished her hand.

"Easy now...How do you feel?" he began. "Do you understand now?"

[member="Alora Fae"]

 

[Saraya Arenais]

The firm grasp of his fingers against her own came as an unexpected surprise, yet there was no struggle. The air felt thick around them, like a warm blanket. In the middle of nowhere which happened to be the farthest away from home she had ever been there was something strange and inexpiable happening. There was a mysterious man with a firm grip on her hand and he had just pulled himself from a fire unscathed. Alora couldn't help but think about what her Mother would have said about all this. She had spent years taking care of her, feeding her, washing her, training her. But here she was in the middle of nowhere with a man she barely knew talking of queer magics. Every inch of the scene went against every single instinct she had carefully honed over the years of training.

The low roll of thunder chased across the sky followed by a brilliant flash of white lightning. Alora didn't flinch in the slightest. Not only was she preoccupied with the reddish glow bursting forth from his skin, but home had often been plagued with horrible thunder storms. The wind picked up around them, whipping hair and clothing alike into a frenzy. The already tense air felt alive with the electric energy of a coming storm.

Her green eyes watched, with look of horror in them, as the red markings began to crawl their way up slowly. Every inch of her screamed out to run. To leave and never look back. The only hint at the thought of her running was the swirl of dust her unsettled feet made against the ground. But the weight of his cool hand against hers prevented it. Not just his hand, but the man himself. This strange, wonderful, mysterious man that had swept her off her feet with a promise of power and fury.

The tingling sensation spread from the tip of her fingers up the length of her arm. It left it feeling numb and heavy. The same sensation you would get if your leg fell to sleep beneath you. Overhead the thunder and lightning increased in volume, deafening any sound the natural environment made. Her hand had tensed over his with the expectation of feeling pain, a burn, anything. But nothing of the sort came. Instead a strange sensation had bubbled up to the surface of her brain. She could feel everything. Every breath of wind, every clap of thunder, his pulse beating steadily against her hand. It sent a shudder of icy pain running down her spine.

Alora's mind felt cluttered. A million different thoughts and feelings attacked her senses leaving her quite stunned. Above it all was an intense desire to keep hold of him. Thought after thought streamed through her mind, unending and each different to the last. There was another feeling there. A sense of deep entrapment. No, not entrapment... Belonging. All of it put together smacked her with a terrible vertigo. The only support she had to keep herself from being thrown over against the violent winds and the sudden dizziness was his unwavering arm. A warm sensation spread over her forehead and she realised it was the touch of his own.

It was gone too soon.

At his release she sat heavily down onto the makeshift log. The wind around them only seemed to grow, matching something that was awfully familiar to home. Alora couldn't seem to put her thoughts in order, save for the clawing sensation that she needed him close once again. 'I hear you in my mind. And I understand... I understand everything. Is this what it feels like to have power?' Unaware, she had spoken in Ochotan. Her voice carried over the wind but it sounded thin, weak almost. Yet, without the thick accent and the severe lack of Basic, Alora sounded rather intelligent. It took her a few minutes to fully grasp what language she could hear him in. 'You're speaking my language. How?'

Without thinking, she was on her feet again. Her arms found his waist and tangled impossibly around it. The feeling was indescribable. The magnetic pull between them eased slowly. With her head pressed firmly against his chest, Alora vigorously shivered for a few seconds. Then a small wave of relief settled her enough to be still.

[member=Darth Metus]

 

[Malok]

The Urge would fade with time.

The Devil was certainly a servant of the Dark Side. His loyalty to its mighty commands unwavering at every turn. When the midnight enigma saw fit to bless his days with [member="Srina Talon"], he had opened his arms to receive her. Gladly. But that did not mean that he was without his questions. It did not mean that, when the bustle of the day had come and gone, that he pondered what he felt towards the woman. Just as the day he had met the Echani, Darth Metus was left with a tug upon his soul. He could only equate it to a perversion of paternal instinct - a spin upon what made a sire naturally want to defend his own. When his Apprentice entered his life, he could not bear to be more than a few paces away for days. But with time, this urge faded; and something new took its place.

To say that Darth Metus loved the alabaster woman was the understatement of the century. But, he once questioned if that affection was real or if it were the work of the Dark Side. Did he, truly, adore his Apprentice? Or was this but a persistent perversion of his instincts? If it were the latter, how would that bode for the woman who now clung fast to his waist?

But as a man with questions, Darth Metus sought answers. He found them in one of the few places that the Dark Side could not reach him. With Ysalamir surrounding him did he meditate. With the Force pushed back from his form did he truly ponder his feelings. And he found that they persisted - even when the Dark Side could not reach his heart. What the Sith felt for the alabaster woman, then, was real. She had become a fixture in his life. And more importantly, the perversion of his instincts would indeed pass. The same could be said for the young [member="Alora Fae"] who now understood what it meant to be bound. Though her tongue yet spoke the language of home, the Sith could comprehend as if she uttered Basic. The same could be said of her.

Yet, to the first of her questions, the Sith shook his head in the negative. This was not what it meant to have power. This was what it meant to be connected to a reservoir of might; to have boundless fury only an arm’s length away. But this was not what it felt like to own that power.

Reaching, the Sith gingerly trailed his fingertips upon her cheek. The Devil’s smile yet gleamed against the firelight. ”This is not what it feels like to have power.” he began. ”This is what it feels like to be bound to one with power.” It was the difference between He and Srina, epitomized in a single utterance. The Echani was strong, with a ruthless history and even sharper instincts. Yet her might in the Force was as wild as the lightning above their heads. Untamed. Spurned by emotion and need. Yet, through her Master, she knew what it was to have true power at her fingertips. But the might did not belong to her. She could access a wealth of arcane knowledge at a whim, create monstrosities in the Force, and even conjure literal Demons. But without the flow of thought and feeling between them, that power would be lost.

One day, she would own that power. They both would.

In that moment, the perversion of instinct demanded that the Sith lower his arms. They ensnared the waist of the young woman whilst he braced his back against the log. Comfortably.

”I speak your language because we are bound. Our thoughts and understandings are one.” He began. ”And, from here forward, your life belongs to me. I will protect you from all harm and show you how to wield power of your own. You will reside with me, battle alongside me - our enemies and ambitions will become one.”

He paused, the perpetual smile wavering for only a moment.

”But know this, oh Apprentice mine. There are two sins that will see my hand raised against you. Commit these...and I will extinguish the flame of your life.” His tone was severe and rumbled right along with the thunder above. ”If you bind yourself to another, or allow yourself to be bound as we are now, I will kill you. And if you betray my trust or command, I will kill you.”

His brow returned to hers, sulfuric gaze burning against the firelight. ”Do you understand?”

[member="Alora Fae"]

 

[Saraya Arenais]

The softness of his fingertips against her cheek grounded her partially. In the midst of the storm everything had felt quite hectic and had passed by in a complete blur. Shifting and sorting every recalled moment felt like trying to wade through quicksand. In the pit of her stomach, Alora could feel the spark of his intense power that was growing steadily into a blazing inferno. She understood it was his power now, she was just fortunate enough to be in the heart of it, and every nerve she had felt raw with it all. There was another loud crack of thunder followed by the blinding flash of lightning that lit up the sky.

His rough hands caught her waist, bringing her down with him in front of the fire. It was a miracle it was still burning considering the winds that whipped aggressively across the open landscape. It wasn't particularly cold, but she felt warm in his embrace all the same. With half a mind on the power that coursed through her veins, she listened to his silver words.

The notion of belonging to someone didn't settle easily. It felt like the pit of a cherry had been caught in her throat. There had been many times when she felt enthralled by someone. Perhaps by her master back home or by the duty she felt to her family. But never in her life had she imagined being owned by someone. Strangely enough, he had managed to weave the petrifying claim on her into something beautiful and captivating.

Under all the trepidation and confusion there was a feeling of exhilaration. It came partly from the powerful force that came without warning and partly from the excitement of her own potential. However, the most bewildering source of excitement for her was the idea of being his.

His not so subtle threats sent her mind into overdrive. They were made to sound like rules but they had the thinly veiled connotations of something far more than that. She felt the instinct of every bedtime story she had ever been told. All of them had one clear point: Making deals with demons regarding your soul was dangerous. It felt even sillier when she remembered how she had gasped and asked her Mother why the characters where stupid enough to make that kind of deal. Anyone with a sane mind would have left before he had even put his hand into the fire. Why was she still sat here then, nestled in the arms of the devil himself? Naturally, her sanity came into doubt as well. With the knowledge that he could explore her mind on a whim she didn't doubt he could sense her hesitation.

The trouble was it was difficult to decide what was coming from her own mind and what was a creation of the complicated bond there was between them now. Was the driving force of her desire to stay from the forceful faculty that claimed her now... or was it because she genuinely wanted too? Even so, her mind felt set on a decision. When she tried to reason with the instinct it shouted out and clawed for attention, refusing to remain quiet enough for any kind of concentration.

She settled herself against him and drew her eyes up toward the bright forks of lightning dancing across the sky. In the corner of her vision Alora could see the blazing fire of his own eyes studying her face.

'I understand.'

If it hadn't been before, it was definitely too late to change her mind now. Those two words felt like her grasp on reality had slipped from the tip of her fingers and shattered into a million pieces. She was diving into the complete unknown. Alora had never been more excited in her life.

[member=Darth Metus]

 

[Malok]

For but the briefest of moments, the Sith Lord’s brow creased against the silence. The precious seconds which rolled by...the expression of quiet wrath transfixed upon his features...all bore the severity of his commands. His two edicts were as the forbidden treasures of the fabled garden: to trespass against them would be to incur divine wrath. Yet, with but the utterance of two words, the storm began to break. The iron expression melted away, as if the firelight finally seeped through the cold exterior. His lips moved, beginning to restore the mirthful smile that had been presented for the duration of their experience. And, as if bid by the perversion of his instinct, his arms tightened slightly about her waist. ”Good.” he began - his voice now a soothing baritone as opposed to rolling thunder.

”Then gather your things, your new life begins tonight.”

The perversion of his instinct screamed in protest to the words which fell from his lips. Every fiber of his being ached to remain rooted in place. There was a collision of personal ambition and the corruption of his most basic urges. The mind demanded that he move - that he begin the immediate elevation of this young soul into her Final Shape. But the body demanded that he stay at the fireside. That he relax, breathe, and surrender to the thunder which boomed overhead. For but a moment, he teetered against his own mandate, silently willing himself to overcome the perversion of instinct. It took some doing, but the grit of his will saw him shuffle slightly against her form. The heels of his boots dug into the thirsty earth, aiding him in pushing his back up along the makeshift log.

His posterior eventually would come to rest upon the log, where he would offer his hand.

One would think that his intention would be a return to Durango. After all, there were - seemingly - no other places to go this evening. The nearest settlement was more than a comfortable speeder bike’s ride away, but a suitable rest awaited any weary traveler in Sierra Blanca. But, the Devil had cast not a single thought to the Mandalorian Haven. Rather, his mind was set upon what slumbered behind the thundering clouds. Eventually, [member="Alora Fae"] would accept his hand and the pair would rise to their feet together; at which point the Sith would cast a glance to his wrist. Mounted there was a micro-datapad, upon which he tapped a simple command.

A new thunder would reach their ears. Not of energy dancing between the clouds, but of engines roaring to life. It would take squinting against the darkness in the distance to make out the origin of the sound, for in the distance azure light had began to shine. Dimly at first. A single, Quill-class Shuttle awaited them - and had been the Devil’s transit to the planet in the first place. With this, he would whisk her away like a thief in the night. With this, he would take her to new heights. Motioning with his head, the Sith spoke: ”Come.” Yet he did not immediately take off in the direction of his vessel. He tarried, if only for a few moments, so that the fiery-haired woman could collect her personal effects. After all, it would not do to abandon everything in the dust of Haseria.

And once she was settled, the Devil would lead the way.

”I’m sure you’ve no end of questions, Alora.” he began, striding confidently against the black. ”Speak your mind. I will answer truthfully.” And in this, he was genuine. There was no reason under the stars to commence an apprenticeship with deception. Though the Galaxy would always look upon he and his ilk as the masters of lies, Darth Metus did not think it...necessary...to pull the wool over his Apprentice’s eyes. With truth came a marvellous gem called Trust. And from Trust, Loyalty. In time, if the Devil had his way, the Wildling would follow her Master into the fray without question. And, she would carry out his will gladly - having faith that he would always be there to prevent all harm.

Thus, with his question posed, the Sith came to a halt finally before the Shuttle. It was not his usual “ride”, but he opted to go with something a little more conservative for the evening’s excursion. To utilize one of the Scimitar-class Star Couriers would mean to alert his Knights Obsidian to his venture. And they - and by extension his other Apprentices - would demand that he bring some sort of additional protection along. Whether it be droids, an escort, or one of their own. Sometimes he wondered if they recalled just who he was. No matter. His fingertips found and tapped upon his datapad once more, prompting the vessel to extend its ramp to the dusty earth.

He motioned for her to step aboard first, before following in her wake.

There was certainly no turning back now.

[member="Alora Fae"]

 

[Saraya Arenais]

A deal with the Devil had been struck and the smooth silk of his voice returned once she had uttered the words that signed away her life.

One of the first things her people learnt during the wild adventures of growing up was that fear should always be heeded. Fear can guide a broken mind through the most dangerous of situations, without the need for logical steps or careful planning. Fear motivated you. It pushed you further into the depths of it. Once it had hold of you the only escape was to give in. Face it head on, let it take over you completely and become one with your instincts. She was, without a doubt, fearful of the dominating presence that had strode into her life. Even now when the thunder of his voice had been replaced with a softer, tender version she could still sense the terrible power he held coupled with the absolute ease he felt at putting it to use.

Fear was the whole reason she took his hand without any delay. It was the whole reason she said and did nothing when the magnetic force that pulled her unwillingly toward him returned.

The grumbling sound in her ears made a trumpeting declaration of the ship coming low into the atmosphere. In the far off distance, what first appeared to be a dimly lit star had begun creeping closer. As it broke through the clouds the Devil once again began to spin his eloquent words. Or rather, a single word.

'Come.'

Something about the way he spoke commanded her to obey him. It was never posed as a question. It was simply a demand. One that she would follow like a lost puppy despite the fact that she was far from submissive. She had give him her word now and she would keep it, through fear and through honour. It was more sacred than any trinkets or possessions she owned.

There wasn't much to pack up, save for the thick furs that she had been using as a makeshift bed, but in the grand scheme of things they seemed entirely trivial. Still, she did gather a few things. The bag she had brought containing small reminders of home was of prime importance. How long would it be before she saw home again or even got the chance to tell anyone where she was? Everything was packed rather quickly and unceremoniously in the space of a few minutes.

For every one step of his she took two. A stream of questions filled her curious mind. Some were whispered quietly in the background while others shouted to be heard above all. There were a few she was sure she knew the answer too. But the fog of confusion in her head refused to clear and illuminate them. So, with the language barrier completely broken and nothing to stop her from talking, Alora let them all tumble from her lips one by one in a torrent of words.

'What are you? What's the force? What were those weird markings? How did you do that with the fire?'

She stopped briefly to fill her lungs deeply with the fragrant air.

'Why could I see you in that vision? Did you do this-...'

Her hand motioned quickly between the two of them, indicating the resounding bond they shared. Even in her own language she couldn't pick a word to describe what it was.

Alora rambled on with her never ending deluge of queries till they reached the ship's ramp. When his hand motioned her aboard she gingerly made her way up into its depths. Before disappearing completely into the bowels she turned on her heel and fixed her bright green eyes on his gaze. Out of all of the questions, this felt the most important. Important enough to warrant a small flicker of emotion to cross her usually serious complexion.

'Why me?'

[member=Darth Metus]

 

[Malok]

The Wildling obeyed.

With her flesh alive with his marking, the fiery-haired woman did as the Sith Lord bid. She wasted not a moment of his time in collecting the few belongings that she had brought for her evening under the stars. Then, she quietly followed in the wake of the Devil. But Darth Metus could feel her. Everything was happening so quickly. Everything that had transpired challenged the foundations of her world. Over the span of mere minutes, she had born witness to flesh that did not burn. To faces within an inferno. To a storm alive with the Dark Side. And thus, the Devil opened the door: he extended an olive branch so that she might sate her burning curiosity. So that she might begin to trust her Master.

And, as they arrived before the Quill-class Shuttle, the inquiries began to spill from her lips. Her words were as a flood - with each utterance flying forth quicker than the last. The sheer speed of her speech was enough that Darth Metus unleashed a booming chuckle into the nighttime air. But, as promised, he began to answer her questions. Truthfully.

”What am I?” he began, repeating her first question with amusement alive in his voice. ”I am a Sith - a faithful of the Dark Side. And my name is Darth Metus.” This was all that he had physically uttered in response to the first question, but what he shared was much more than that. For the Wildling, the words Sith and Dark Side would mean nothing; and thus he wordlessly bestowed upon her a...basic...understanding of what they meant. Through the ebb and flow of their Bond, he shared whispers of what the word Darth meant - that his name alone was a challenge to the very Galaxy. That the power he wielded was the might to fulfill his ambitions. That the Dark Side was not something to be feared, but to be revered. To be heard.

He continued.

”The Force is a divine gift. It is a connection that you are born with. A feature like your hair - it is apart of you. And it is the source of all of the wonders you have seen tonight.” This time, he did not impart a wordless understanding - as the mystery of the Force was something that she would comprehend over time. And, if the Sith was being honest, she would only have a fledgling understanding even at the height of her power. Why? Because the Force did not live and breathe as they did. It was mighty. Its dual nature shaping and twisting the Galaxy through its agents. To truly understand the Force would require many lifetimes...not several minutes.

”The Markings...are a physical symbol that we are one. You are bound to me - and any who looks upon you will see it. I can also use those marks to…” he paused, briefly selecting the best way to put it…”Well, suffice it to say, I will be with you. Always. Even if we are a Galaxy apart, those markings will bring me to you.” More or Less. ”Now, the Force was the tool that enabled me to plunge my hand into the flame. But...It was not I who placed my face into the smoke. The Dark Side willed it - and so it came to be.”

It was the final inquiry which gave the Sith pause. Why had the Wildling been chosen? In truth...Darth Metus now wondered why the Deep had seen fit to place the woman in his path as well. But...when he placed his mind upon this question, his thoughts immediately flew to the alabaster Echani. She came into his world lost, drenched, and pursued. She came into his world no stronger in the Force than a youngling. But over the months that she stood by his side, she became his greatest ally. His dearest friend. His Home. All of these things, because the Deep had willed for visions of his face to infect her mind. All of these things, because Darth Metus was receptive to the whims of the Dark Side.

And so he answered.

”The Dark Side has chosen you for me - and I for you. I do not know, nor do I question, the exact features or strengths that made you the choice to be my Apprentice. But, what I do know is that there is a mighty purpose in your being mine. Together, we will shake the Galaxy.”

He reached out, gingerly trailing the rear of his fingers upon her cheek. ”And while I do not know why you were chosen, know that I will care for you Alora.”

His arm then retreated from her face and they stepped aboard the vessel. The Quill-class Shuttle would be, initially, lit by only dim lights on either side of the floor. But the presence of bodies inside the vessel caused the overheads to kick on. Azure illumination bathed the interior of the ship, revealing a single, executive quarter, a cozy “living” area with a kitchen, and a cockpit. To their left would be the ladder to the cargo hold. ”You can settle into the quarters. There is a refresher as well. I will plot our course in the meantime.” With that said, he briefly strode past the woman in order to address the cockpit’s central cockpit. Deft movements of his fingers began to plot the course: an automated flight to a world he once called home.

Not Ryloth. Not Roon. But Krant.

[member="Alora Fae"]

 

[Saraya Arenais]

The Devil's laughter sank into the very core of her bones. It seemed there was a man under the mask after all. For a moment Alora forgot to be fearful. If she could make this half man half demon laugh maybe the situation wasn't as dire as it seemed. Even if she didn't quite know why he was laughing in the first place.

Alora wondered if she would eventually get used to the strange dizzying sensation of shared knowledge. Perhaps it might even disappear all together, with time. Even so, now she knew. She knew about dark and light, two sides of the same coin that fought the same battle against one another. She knew the fear the title of "Sith" held and the terrible power that could coincide with it. Technically speaking, she didn't need to know much about it to know Darth Metus could wipe an entire planet from the Galaxy in one glance if he pleased. His power needed no name for none could do it justice. Alora thought on what this meant for her. Was all of this in her future? Would she be made to walk the path of a Sith, just as he did?

It started with smoke, flame and a violent vision. Then the rumbling of a storm unlike any other. Finally, the unbreakable connection she now shared with a complete stranger. It had all come from force so indescribable the only words he had to offer on it seemed lacklustre.

It was all starting to feel a little unreal.

He continued on in his soothing baritone voice. It was a voice that gave you cause to listen, no matter what plagued your mind at that moment in time. So, standing on the ships ramp with her green eyes firmly fix in their steely gaze, she paid Darth Metus more attention than she'd ever give anyone before. The softness of his words and his touch gave rise to a subtle blush on her cheeks.

'Does all of this make you just as much mine as I am yours?'

It seemed an odd question, even for Alora herself, but it felt like a necessary one. She meant nothing by it except that if someone now held a claim over her life she would expect theirs back in kind. Not through the intense way he had claimed hers but in her own elusive way. If the dark side of this undefinable force chose them both for each other it only seemed logical.

The inside of the ship was way beyond anything she had ever seen before. Most of the time she made her way around as a passenger on whatever there was available. Unfortunately this method of travelling often meant she found herself in a decaying heap of metal that looked to be a thousand years old. It meant that in comparison the shuttle was luxurious. After a few moments of marvelling at it all she felt the familiar rush of disturbed air. At his words she set off to explore the corridors where the quarters and whatever the hell a refresher was lay waiting.

Alora sat herself heavily onto a chair placed against the back wall of her chosen room. Her thick red hair hung in damp clumps against her face. She'd had a fair amount of fun figuring out how to turn the shower on but in the end she felt better for it. Warm water had a way of cleaning your mind as well as your body and it was fair to say she could see things a little clearer now. After all, she had a firm belief that everything happened for a reason. No matter how confusing life got or which paths you found yourself on it all had a higher purpose. It wasn't her way to question it, so there was nothing left to do but return to the Devil.

Back in the cockpit she found him leaning over the confusing spread of flickering screens. She took two cautious steps toward them, enough so that she could see them properly.

'Where are we going?'

[member=Darth Metus]

 

[Malok]

Does all of this make you just as much mine as I am yours?

The rolling thunder of his voice escaped his lips - that deviation from his Hellish persona would immediately fill her ears. His chuckle and the bemusement which claimed his features were evident as the mirth echoed throughout the Shuttle’s interior. Darth Metus turned, facing away from the direction of the cockpit so that he might once again level his sulfuric gaze upon the Wildling. ”You ask something that has such an obvious answer.” he began. The Sith’s head shook from side to side slightly, displaying his dreadlocks as the thunderous chuckles waned. ”I am your Master, and you my Apprentice.”

”Our lives and souls are bound, as the Dark Side willed. Therefore, yes, I am just as much yours as you are mine.”

He raised but a single finger, as if to denote an annotation to the fact. An asterisk. A disclaimer. A word of caution to the tale that was being written with each passing second. ”But know this, Alora.” he said. Darth Metus’ tone did not bear the severe, threatening edge of when he made his demands clear to the woman. But his voice was indeed serious, as he wanted to make a few things perfectly clear. The Wildling was now his apprentice, yes. She was now intimately tangled into the fabric of his life from henceforth. But. There were realities of the present that she needed to be made aware of. First and foremost…

”Know that you are not the first that the Dark Side chose for me. You are the second. And though the experiences have been vastly different, you both are apart of my life evermore. Bonded to my soul and essence. Apprentices to guide and to protect. First, know that you and Srina stand upon different pedestals. Where she stands, you will never. Where you stand, she will never.”

”Know, also, that I am a sire. And as a father, there are pedestals my children will stand upon that you will never. You are important, as are they. And finally, know that I am Vicelord of the Confederacy. The lives of trillions rest within the palm of my hand. There will come times when my hours are brief with you because the many demand it. This is the pedestal that Vicelord occupies. Where it stands, you will never. Where you stand, it will never.”

”Mark my words, oh Apprentice mine. I am yours. And you now have a pedestal of your own in my life.”

The final words were spoken with a smile - and for a few moments the pair separated. Darth Metus turned his attention to the cockpit and began plotting their journey. And, as his fingertips danced upon the console, the din of rushing water reached his ears. Alora was making use of the refresher; and so the Sith focused solely on the task at hand. The engines of the Quill-class Shuttle began to roar. Ascension would slowly grip the vessel so gingerly that the Wildling would not have even noticed; save for the gentle thud of the landing gear retracting. Once airborne, the vessel leisurely flew heavenward as to breach the atmosphere.

By the time [member="Alora Fae"] returned from the refresher, the view from the cockpit would not be that of Haseria, but of stars. He felt her long before he heard her steps. The blend of curiosity and awe which bubbled through their Bond returned the Devil’s smile to his lips. And, he turned when she quietly approached. ”We are going to a world called Krant. It is a...place of significance for me. I once called the planet home. We are going to see about making our home from this day forward.”

He patted the co-pilot’s chair and turned it around, bidding her to sit.

”Speaking of home, tell me about yours. I only got a glimpse at the tavern earlier. Help me…Understand.”

[member="Alora Fae"]

 

[Saraya Arenais]

Another booming laugh sounded through the confines of their temporary dwelling. What an earth she was saying to make him laugh so hard escaped her, but the more he did the more human he became. If it had been in her way to outwardly expression her confusion, she would have done so. There was once a time she would have agreed with him but considering her current circumstances she couldn't bring herself too. She used his waning laughter and the gentle shake of his head to add a statement of her own.

'There are no obvious answers, if there were there would be no questions. Someone somewhere would know the answer and so to them it would always be obvious.'

Though her odd question now had its 'obvious' answer, a lone finger was all it took to steal any kind of response from her lips.

He spoke of one other that was just like her. Not alike in looks or abilities but alike in situation. This man and his faculty had claimed them both, willing or unwilling. The prospect of a meeting between the two sparked some semblance of enthusiasm in Alora. Even if it never occurred just the idea of someone who had once felt as she felt now was a soothing notion.

The following words from his mouth told a short tale of his life. They slipped into her mind and fit snugly like a jigsaw piece. Only they belonged to a puzzle so vast it would never be completely finished. The dedication it would take to do so would take her many years, many attempts and patience beyond even her recognition. Yet it all felt like progress. In tandem with the demonic stranger she had met only hours ago there was now a devoted leader and Father. Slowly but surely the man behind the Devil would be revealed.

*​

The whole of space was still unexplored to her so the name Krant held little meaning. It did however hold significance for him and she could feel it like it was her own. All she replied with was a single knowing nod.

The fiery haired woman did as she was told and took her place beside him. In truth there was some comfort to the chair, it had a high back that overshadowed her small frame. When she spun it round to face the view her jaw dropped in astonishment. Having spent little to no time in cockpits there had been few chances for her to truly witness it. As wide and extravagant as the stories she'd heard, it stretched further than she could have ever imagined. The flickering light of a million different stars reflected back at themselves in her bright eyes. If there was anything that could make you feel incredibly small and insignificant it was the monumental blackness of space. Alora lent back in the chair and allowed the sensation to wash over every inch of her.

It was very nearly maddening.

His question broke her reverie and she came back to the world of sanity with thought of home on her mind. There were many ways to answer a question like that one. You could sit and talk about how it looks or smells or sounds. You could talk about how the people are, what they eat, what they wear or how they talk. But how could you make it all known in just a few words? How could she make him understand what it was truly like? How could she explain the aggressive winds so powerful they wore away great mountains till all they resembled were flat ridges on the horizon? How to talk about the ways of her people without jeopardising their entire lifestyle? The question was simple to ask but answering it was more complicated than he may have realised. Before she answered a heavy sigh escaped her throat.

'In truth I don't know how I can make you understand. I can describe it to you and tell you its history but what would you gain from that? None of its intricacies or the secrets it keeps. Just a picture.'

She drew her eyes away from the Galaxy and turned in the chair to face him.

'But I suppose a picture is better than nothing. It's in a system we call Thuis but I assume you have another name for it. Once upon a time it was filled to the brim with resources. Precious metals, gasses, gems... anything you can think of really.'

'We mined with profit as our motivation and without a care for the consequences. They came soon enough in the form of natural disasters so catastrophic they resulted in a great shift in nature. Before all of that it had great forests and bountiful land. Now it's practically barren. The only thing that grows is grass and one kind of tree. It changed the weather too. No matter the time of year there is always wind. Sometimes it's a light summer breeze and sometimes it's so violent it can rip you from the ground with such force there would be no chance of survival on the way back down.'

'Some of us left when it all changed but some of us stayed. We tried to make the best of it but over the years, with nothing to sell or trade, the Galaxy forgot about us. Save for a few trader ships that pass by once in a blue moon we all but disappeared.'

'Eventually all the modern comforts we knew from the past life broke or grew old and unusable. The tall structures of wood and metal that had been home to great cities had been destroyed. So we had to adapt. Now we make our homes deep in the mountains or underground where the wind can't reach. We keep animals in similar places so we have meat and milk and cheese. We feast on the fruit produced by the single surviving fauna and the mushrooms we grew in the caves.

'I suppose that's all I can say on it. It's not very impressive and you might even think it simple but... It's home.'

[member=Darth Metus]

 

[Malok]

The Wildling did not give herself enough credit.

As the Devil levied his sulfuric eyes upon her, a story formed and fell from her lips. Each syllable was as a paintbrush, dipped into a well of vibrant history. Each sentence was a bold stroke upon the canvas of his mind, painting a picture of a world that felt all too familiar. For but a moment, the Sith indulged himself in the sweet chime of her voice; even lulling his eyes to a close. And from the darkness of his own eyelids, Darth Metus saw a place that was not vastly different from the place he was born. Mandalore, the beating heart of a warrior race, could have been the sister world of Alora’s home.

When he thought about the distant planet, he always wondered if there was more than the wastes. Always dreamed if there was ever a time when the planet was truly vibrant. But the hunt for Beskar had turned Mandalore into a breeding ground of avarice over the centuries. Empires strip mined the planet - as did the natives. And then, in relatively recent history, every remotely volcanic spire had been made to erupt. A terrifying blow made by those once faithful to the culture resulted in fiery decimation plunging the world into Chaos. In that moment, the thirsty, desert planet became a Hellscape.

In that moment, the Devil met his demise.

”I see.” came the soft rumble of his voice. His eyes once more opened, and a quiet understanding gleamed within their depths. And with it, a newfound respect for the Wildling. From the moment they met in Sierra Blanca, the Sith knew there was something different about the woman of fiery hair. Something that went beyond her inability to speak proper Basic and her ignorance regarding Mandalorian beverages. But having witnessed just a snapshot of her world…”We are not so different, you and I.”

His fingertips found her cheek as his honied words slithered forth. ”I, too, come from a world blighted by Greed. Mandalore, as you heard at the saloon. And what I know about coming from a world whose vibrance was robbed...is that it cultivates strength her natives. You, undoubtedly, must be strong.”

He paused as the console chimed. The Hyperdrive had engaged and the Galaxy became a blur of stars, followed by swirling azure. The lurch of momentum was noticeable at first, but quickly evened out.

”Where we are headed, oh apprentice mine, is much different than either of our homeworlds. Where we are headed is a world...untouched by Avarice.” Turning, he briefly tapped upon the console. It responded to his command, immediately projecting an azure depiction of the place called Home. ”There was once a Temple devoted to my kind - the Sith. A place where the Darkness was studied and many grew in power. For centuries, it has remained untouched, but I intend to claim it for myself. You will help me in this task.”

”How good are you with a blade?”

[member="Alora Fae"]

 

[Saraya Arenais]

The words spilling from her mouth seemed to sooth the Devil to the point where his eyes fell shut to the lilting tone of her voice. It was odd to see him relaxed in such a away, despite their first meeting having been at a bar with no shortage of liquid courage, but the most strange thing about it all was that it was her words that seemed to bring the serene emotion to his face. After she had finished her short ramble he was silent for what felt like a long time.

When he finally spoke the words that followed put a genuine smile on her face.

'Maybe we aren't. One day I'll take you there, home I mean, so you can really understand.'

The invitation came from more than just the simple desire for him to truly know of Ochota. The bond she had with this relative stranger would need to be explained. She didn't have to go back, of course, but their ways were embedded in her deeply. Whether she felt differently or not he would be judged as an outsider by the council and the consequences of their shared knowledge would be severe, at least for her anyway. The call to go back and try to explain the complicated circumstances of how it all came to be was great. Not only that, but she felt she had a duty to prove he was worthy of all their secrets.

His warm touch caressed her cheek once again. When she found her voice it came out as soft as a summer breeze, completely dissimilar to his rolling thunder.

'You'll have to tell me more about it someday. And I wouldn't say we're strong. We just have a knack for surviving.'

The shrill sound of the console snapped her eyes away from his and back onto the Galaxy in front of them.

Alora's fingers gripped against the seat, turning her knuckles paper white from the effort she put behind it. The sensation of jumping into light-speed wasn't completely new but seeing it with her own eyes was a different thing entirely. The force of it shoved her backward into the seat, her stomach felt like it had been left a million miles away clawing to catch up with the rest of her body. Bright streaks of white light attacked her eyes through the glasteel window, it made her feel more than a little bit queasy. When the ship finally settled she released her death clutch on the arms of the chair and heaved out a sigh of relief.

Fortunately for her the sickly feeling of space travel slipped away into nothing with the sound of his thundering voice. The Devil lent forward to dance his fingers across the console. A few moments later a vivid blue light washed over Alora's pale complexion. It elicited a soft squeak of surprise, emanating from her slightly parted lips.

Projected in front of her was their target destination. Though the planet was covered in a soft cerulean tinge she could make out the lush green forests and thriving cities inhabiting its surface. The temptation was too great to resist, so Alora lent forward and poked a single finger into the depths of the projection. The blue orb she now knew as Krant fizzed and rippled around her outstretched arm, though there wasn't any physical sensation she did feel strange having her hand in the core of a planet, even if it wasn't real.

'I like it. I haven't seen a forest that big since... well, ever. Where is this temple?'

Alora traced her fingers along the boarders of each forest as the projection slowly turned. She almost expected to feel the bumps and ridges of each mountain range as she passed over them but there was nothing but empty air. The sound of his voice drifted into her ears and for a moment, just as the tip of her finger swept over a vast city, she left his question unanswered.

Her weight finally sank back into the chair, though her eyes refused to move from the spectral planet.

'I'm better than you think.'

[member=Darth Metus]

 

[Malok]

It was immediately evident that time bred experience when it came to Bonds of the Force. When it came to sensitive matters or times of utter weakness, the Devil was able to close the metaphorical doors to his heart. Though the ocean of thoughts and feelings yet persisted between he and his first apprentice, at times such as those, he could temporarily offer only silence. In this, he could hide how he was truly feeling. In this, he could stifle envious thoughts. However, [member="Alora Fae"] did not have as much experience as her Master. Having freshly been claimed by the Deep, their bond ran as fast and free as a river. Therefore, her feelings were a touch open to the Sith Lord. When she mentioned her home...mentioned bringing him to her home, there was more than innocence there.

Apprehension? Nerves? The Devil opted not to pry. Instead, he simply offered her that warm smile whilst his fingertips yet graced her skin. The Wildling, in his humble opinion, did not give her - or her people - enough credit. In his mind, the ability to weather a blighted world was indicative of tremendous strength. Most cultures would simply pack up their lives and move onto, literally, greener pastures. They would burden other civilized worlds with their pleads for charity, instead of using their own hands to cultivate what they had. Mandalorians understood what it meant to grow something out of ash. So too did her people. Therefore, they were strong. Alora was strong.

”You are no Jedi,” he began, ”You have no need to be so humble. Survival requires strength that many do not possess - do not sell yourself short.”

Shortly after uttering these words, the vessel dove into Hyperspace. The abyss before them transitioned into azure. The distant stars streaked past them in a dizzying blur. And the Wildling...responded as if she had never seen the spectacle before. For the Sith, this had become routine. It was something he witnessed several times a week; and therefore it had lost its luster. But for Alora, her entire body tensed as if she was holding one enormous breath in her chest. At this, the Devil lofted a single brow. Reaching, he placed his hand over hers - and afforded himself a bemused huff once he saw how his own hand engulfed her own. He did not know if the motion would give her any degree of comfort during her trial, but after a few moments everything settled down. The tension eased and was replaced with...curiosity it seemed.

She seemed to find no end of fascination with the projection of Krant, which was infinitely more appealing than “hyperspace shock.” When he had finished explaining his goal and their destination, her question was fitting. Opening his palm as if to seize the azure globe, the Sith turned his hand as if to rotate it. The projection responded immediately - turning until his hand ceased moving. He then pointed to one of the larger mountains that she had impaled with her arm. ”The Temple nestled within that mountain. It’s ingenious really - a natural defense against prying eyes and difficult to enter for the most part.”

This time, as he spoke, the Wildling moved from sitting to leaning over the console so that she might inspect the projection a little more. Her answer to his final question was simple - I’m better than you think. He allowed a stray thought to leak through their bond, a simple appreciation for how skewed her words could have been taken. What’s more, he let her know where his eyes wandered when she leaned over the console; but did not express disappointment when she settled back into the chair. ”I’ll be the judge of that.” he quipped.

”Do they have lightsabers where you are from?”

[member="Alora Fae"]