Private A Family Reunion

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Malum found himself abed below the solitary tree, his head laying snugly against the trunk, the grassy shoals providing limited comfort, as he closed his eyes, feeling the wind blow up against his face, the temperate coolness that he so enjoyed. Desolous was off in the distance, below the hill, he had a home there, given the moment he was made an acolyte, yet it did not feel like home. Where was his home? Well call him privileged, because it was in his family's manse, he remembered fondly the rich marbaline structure, away in the countryside, away from the industrialised heartland of Jutrand. A place where he had others to care for simple matters, and where he could simply read and study, train, and grow stronger. Here... it was expected for him to need to worry for such menial matters, the gathering of food, the preparations for making it edible, and of course the disappointment in knowing that whatever he made, would not befit one such as he. His stomach grumbled in a reminder of that fact. Yet all this was in fact, part of the punishment leveled against him by his House, was it not? Punishment for his expedition to Korriban, that for such danger that he put himself under, that those creature comforts so dear to him, would be taken away. His face morphed into a frown at the memory of the shouting match that had erupted after his return, after the embarrassingly thorough search of his person to make certain that he was healthy and safe by his female kin, his mother and sisters especially, it did not take long for his father to make his terms clear.

"We have coddled you too much, pack, tomorrow morning you are to report yourself to the Palace of Silver Rain, they will teach you to discipline there, so you can prove the heir to Marr we have trained you to be."

He growled at the unfairness of it all. Could not his father see that he might have perhaps missed his family, while out in space? That perhaps even in journeying to the ends of the galaxy to prove to all doubters that they were the heirs to the great Darth Marr, that it was the memory of them that kept him going? The memories of his mother caring for him as he lay low with sickness, the memories of his sisters and him running through fields of flowers and wheat in their early youth, the memories of his father as he grinned on proudly as he was able to disarm him through the force.

Now he was away from them all, without any opportunity to hold them close, to feel their warmth, to laugh and cry together all at once.

That, was why he was out at this isolated place, away from the noise and hubbub of the town below. Away from a town that had done no crime against him, but which he itched to commit justice against.

So, that is what he did.

In the rage of his exile, he tapped into an ability he did not understand and even less use, but in the vitriol of rage against his father, he felt something quite strange. He could feel his father's anger against him, and not just feel it, but be empowered by it. He could feel himself be brought further into the darkness, temptations that he had never felt, temptations that need not be spoken of, coming into the forefront of his mind, as his body betrayed him and he felt his hands approach his lightsabers.

"No!"

His mind had called out to him, as he stared limply back at his father. Had he noticed what he was about to do?

The contest of voices had ended then, he complied weakly, what else could he do?

When arriving at Saijo, after the formalities of enrollment were gone by, he had taken himself to the library. A rich place filled with great Sith lore from its origins, to the Old Sith Empire and beyond. The existence of which, for the first time had made him reconsider if this place was truly to be his prison or not. But regardless, after a few days of near-constant obsession, he had found what he was looking for.

"Consume Essence - also known as Feed on Dark Side, a Force power that allowed a dark side user to feed on the fear, hatred, or other negative emotions of others to make himself more powerful. It did not matter why the others were filled with dark emotions; the feelings alone would suffice."

And thus with this knowledge in hand, his mind buzzed with curiosity, had in his rage against his father... unlocked in a sense, some new understanding of the Force, and its secrets so powerful? Well, he was a scholar, self-proclaimed, it was no wonder then that the scientific method was to be his port of call. And so he was, away from the town, yet alongside the breeze on his face, he felt the cool passionate wave of the Dark side pass through him. This was to be his justice, for this was a Sith world after all, and thus from this far away, it was faint, but he could sense the dark side whirling among the citizens, even felt particular individuals, perhaps students, instructors, knights or masters, who had particularly honed their connection. He had learned so far that distance played a role, but even from here, he could feel himself growing stronger, it was marginal, but it was intoxicating.

So taken by these sensations, it was the crinkle of leaves that alerted him to another presence in the clearing. One eye lazily opened, and he found himself staring at an olive-tanned figure, lightsaber at his side, perhaps slightly older than him, long raven black dreadlocks leading to a pair of nut brown eyes, who seemed to be considering him thoughtfully. It took yet a moment for Malum to find something inherently wrong in this situation, he had felt the presence of many some distance away, yet this man had made it this close to his person without any detection. Malum found his hands to his lightsabers, as he rose from the tree, his reddened eyes looking upon brown, and he felt something else off as well. There was something inherently familiar about the man, yet Malum was confident he had never seen him before, perhaps they had passed one another at the academy? If that was the case, why did the feeling of wrongness not dissipate?

"Address yourself, who are you?" Malum called out to the man, his grip not loosening over his lightsabers, ready at any moment to repel an attack.

Trayze Tesar

 

[Trayze Tesar]

This was not his home. He knew this, and Trayze prided himself on knowing things-not the knowing of things as so many other blue bloods would sneer and deride his bumpkin background. Not the knowing of the Force and the Dark Side, as the questionably sane and stable aspirants of the Sith Order prided themselves, hissing and whispering things that chafed at his mind and body.

No sir, Trayze Tesar was a man who knew things personally, in his capacity as a detective in a more rural area of Besberra and occasionally going off world to the less than urbanized locales of the Order's territory. He knew of the paperwork, the droll scrawling of details to find the right and damning piece of evidence, or a eureka overlooked by too many tired eyes. He knew of combat, the rhythmic pulse of his body and the all to familiar transition from smug to startled as though his lightsaber skills were "too sloppy, too much like using a carving knife", they would find that his hand to hand combat skills were more than adequate-especially compounded by the Dark Side.

Yes, he even knew of the Force - or rather, it knew of him. He'd spent most of his life ignoring what was in hindsight obvious signs. Being able to excel in physical feats, having the ability to dodge and weave through a flurry of blasterfire, his cool headedness, and of course, his psychometry. Even now, after all this time, he was still digesting what the Votarie had explained to him - about his exact powers of the Force, of his Kiffar Psychometry which had propelled him to being the foremost police detectives, and indeed his heritage.

Trayze Tesar knew many things personally, and he knew that this was not his home. Not yet. But it must be if he was able to reconcile the questions and doubts, all the secrets his grandfather hid from him. This was beyond his comfort zone in many regards, and he felt like he was back at the Precinct Academy, though he wasn't without his own experience and cards up his sleeve.

He had moved through the ever-misting swathes of Saijo with practiced grace, stepping on leaves once he realized that Malum was actually pondering and not taking a nap. Long had he sensed and seen others in the Force, his "gut instincts", but now he wasn't the only one with the capacity to sense. Despite being older than the young lad by a handful of years, he was still the subject of scorn and bullying (he had to laugh internally at that) due to his lack of experience in the Force. But he had kept quiet, and he learned to know things from personal experience. His raven dark dreadlocks were kept neatly braided underneath a stetson hat of his home, which came in handy for the weather. Dark eyes that didn't seem to decide whether they were nut brown or a mirror of the lad's own dark burgundy, and the barest of well brushed teeth poked out from a short, shaggered beard that he had allowed to grow over the course of his tenure.

"Trayze Tesar." he introduced himself with a tip of his hat, not fully doffing it as it was another light sprinkling of rain for today. "Badge forty-two sixty-six oh-one, don' worry, I'm not 'ere ta' cuff ya. Jus' wonderin' if you knew of a cozy spot to catch forty winks or so." He would gesture to the seated lad with a casual air of bemusement. "Seein' as this spot's occupied."

Trayze Tesar was a man who made himself known, and was a man who knew things. This was a polite, if somewhat genial and genuine inquiry, but he hardly suspected to pull the wool over Malum's eyes.

Darth Malum of House Marr

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

This was not his home. He knew this, and Trayze prided himself on knowing things-not the knowing of things as so many other blue bloods would sneer and deride his bumpkin background. Not the knowing of the Force and the Dark Side, as the questionably sane and stable aspirants of the Sith Order prided themselves, hissing and whispering things that chafed at his mind and body.

No sir, Trayze Tesar was a man who knew things personally, in his capacity as a detective in a more rural area of Besberra and occasionally going off world to the less than urbanized locales of the Order's territory. He knew of the paperwork, the droll scrawling of details to find the right and damning piece of evidence, or a eureka overlooked by too many tired eyes. He knew of combat, the rhythmic pulse of his body and the all to familiar transition from smug to startled as though his lightsaber skills were "too sloppy, too much like using a carving knife", they would find that his hand to hand combat skills were more than adequate-especially compounded by the Dark Side.

Yes, he even knew of the Force - or rather, it knew of him. He'd spent most of his life ignoring what was in hindsight obvious signs. Being able to excel in physical feats, having the ability to dodge and weave through a flurry of blasterfire, his cool headedness, and of course, his psychometry. Even now, after all this time, he was still digesting what the Votarie had explained to him - about his exact powers of the Force, of his Kiffar Psychometry which had propelled him to being the foremost police detectives, and indeed his heritage.

Trayze Tesar knew many things personally, and he knew that this was not his home. Not yet. But it must be if he was able to reconcile the questions and doubts, all the secrets his grandfather hid from him. This was beyond his comfort zone in many regards, and he felt like he was back at the Precinct Academy, though he wasn't without his own experience and cards up his sleeve.

He had moved through the ever-misting swathes of Saijo with practiced grace, stepping on leaves once he realized that Malum was actually pondering and not taking a nap. Long had he sensed and seen others in the Force, his "gut instincts", but now he wasn't the only one with the capacity to sense. Despite being older than the young lad by a handful of years, he was still the subject of scorn and bullying (he had to laugh internally at that) due to his lack of experience in the Force. But he had kept quiet, and he learned to know things from personal experience. His raven dark dreadlocks were kept neatly braided underneath a stetson hat of his home, which came in handy for the weather. Dark eyes that didn't seem to decide whether they were nut brown or a mirror of the lad's own dark burgundy, and the barest of well brushed teeth poked out from a short, shaggered beard that he had allowed to grow over the course of his tenure.

"Trayze Tesar." he introduced himself with a tip of his hat, not fully doffing it as it was another light sprinkling of rain for today. "Badge forty-two sixty-six oh-one, don' worry, I'm not 'ere ta' cuff ya. Jus' wonderin' if you knew of a cozy spot to catch forty winks or so." He would gesture to the seated lad with a casual air of bemusement. "Seein' as this spot's occupied."

Trayze Tesar was a man who made himself known, and was a man who knew things. This was a polite, if somewhat genial and genuine inquiry, but he hardly suspected to pull the wool over Malum's eyes.

Darth Malum of House Marr

The unease did not lift, but Malum could still not quite tell what exactly was sending off the warning bells, squinting down upon the figure only raised more questions, he was not incorrect in the initial assessment, he did look familiar. In fact... Malum's eyes widened, in sudden realisation, the familiarity was not born of having seen him before, it was born of similarity. There were differences, of course, this Trayze's face was more rugged, while Malum's more aristocratic, his hair in straight dreadlocks while Malum's parted to both sides, yet it was the eyes that were most distinct.

They were not brown, they were red, well, burgundy. It reminded him of a long-forgotten tale, more of a legend that was told to him in his youth.

"And thus, when the great Darth Marr was struck down by the Sith Emperor, he did not part the world, and instead became a force ghost, continuing the fight against Darth Vitiate, only in the latter's death did he become one with the Force, yet not all of him did, part of it detached itself and made its way to his heirs, and ever since, a true heir to the House of Marr is born with reddened eyes, signifying our eternal bond to the dark side, and to the grand Darth Marr."

It... could not be, right? How rare were red eyes regardless, especially among the Sith? Yet, his mind wandered to the least likely of options, he knew of the customs within his family, customs others would see as barbaric or cruel, sentiments that he would agree with, having seen true strength out in Space, but those customs had been seen as necessary for the continuation, growth, and even evolution of the House of Marr.

Abandonment was the kinder fate for those born without the essence of Marr, he had heard rumours from cousins, and horror stories, that much darker fates existed as well. His family had always been particular about those who truly were heirs to Marr, such that those who showed no force potential would share a similar fate, it was a potential destiny of his if he had not shown himself worthy. It just so aligned, so often, so much that though he wished it was just coincidence, he could not be so certain, that those without red eyes did not show force sensitivity, and thus, his family had long ago decided, perhaps centuries ago, that they were not worthy of the House of Marr.

He had always idly wondered if he had any siblings whom he had never known, brothers and other sisters equal in blood to him, yet without the eyes or without force sensitivity who were abandoned or worse, for not being worthy of the great Marr. He had asked his father, one day of idle curiosity, he had told him otherwise, that this era of the Marrs had been unusually blessed with worthy scions. Yet lingering doubt ever yet remained, was that the truth?

"I do not appreciate being sneaked up on... Officer Tesar was it?" Glancing him up and down, even with his rugged appearance, an experienced one, he was still remarkably young, was he truly law enforcement as he so claimed? A slight nervousness approached his spine, he had done nothing wrong... or at the very least, this man would not have sensed his experimentations with consuming essence. Yet, he had been approached by law enforcement before, in his adventure to Korriban, they differed greatly from place to place, yet something unified them, they were against his kind, and any breach in his shield of obscurity, would alert them to the threat he was, and then the hammer of the law would have come against him.

"If you wish for a place to sleep, I would suggest your barrack, or whatever other abode you reside in, the grounds are not much fit for sleep, nor comfort in general, no protection from the elements. Yet, if you insist on natural, I am sure you could find a canopy to sleep under, there are many around this area should you look." A subtle request for him to leave him be. The man's presence had opened questions that he would need to ponder on, yet the suspicion still remained, though he had not yet fully thought it through, this man, could have the blood of the Great Marr, perhaps a descendant of one of the many in past generations that had been abandoned, now back to fulfill his destiny as Sith. He likely did not know, perhaps should not know, if it was revealed to be the case, for though they may be kin, perhaps the sting of abandonment would turn him into foe.

Trayze Tesar

 

[Trayze Tesar]

"Well then I s'ppose I gotta get into brass tacks." Now was the time to deploy his second weapon, for he had indeed shadowed Malum-both in person and through rigorous inquries with the Votaries that had found and ultimately brought him into the Academy. He presented his sidebag, placing it down and opening it to indicate he didn't have a sidearm in there. That'd be silly, it was up his right sleeve. But what was in the bag was a databook, titled The Rise and Fall of the Sith Empires, Vol 3: Between the Lines; Revan, Kaan, Bane, Palpatine and Krayt - The Creeds of the Sith and their Histories. It was a thick text, densely packed, and it's prose droll. What was earmarked was the current assignment, concerning the ancient Empires of the Sith-the time when the Sith Purebloods still existed.

"Mrs. Marga wants us ta' do somethin' regardin' the Old Aristocracy." He explained. "Ya seemed ta' be the only one awake in the class, so I've come ta' bum notes off of ya...somethin' about the...the aristocratic...ties..."

He feigned ignorance, but he had hoped the curiosity was incensed enough. Perhaps Malum would see his meaning, his subtle hint that they were in fact kin, as well as coiling himself in case the Scion of Hosue Marr didn't take this as well as Trayze had hoped.

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

He started inquisitively at the book, squinting to make out its name, the cover helped immensely, the mask of Revan, the faces of Kaan, Bane, Palpatine, and Krayt, some of the most powerful Sith Lords that the galaxy had ever seen. His hands relaxed on his sabers, falling to the side. He personally believed that many were missing, Tulak Hord, Naga Sadow, Exar Kuun, Tenebrae, and of course, the great Darth Marr. It was their history textbook, it was considered droll and overly sterile by some, but no doubt it was an informative book, especially on a subject that was difficult enough already, in a galaxy that was against their kind almost by nature, the recording of history fell by the wayside, especially when dominated by such great figures.

He almost believed him when he gave his explanation, when he arrived at the Palace he would admit to having some slight excitement at the prospect of friendship, such was the only benefit he even saw in his forced enrollment here, well apart from the education, and perhaps the library, of course. Indeed perhaps he would find an individual with the same aptitude and liking for the scholarly arts as him.

Unfortunately, it seemed the people here were far more concerned with the matters of the blade, the matters of lightning and telekinesis, rather than of true knowledge, perhaps that discovery played a part in his current mood, his current pursuit of... "justice".

Perhaps he might have found a kindred spirit today? One who too had an interest in that of the historical pursuit? Yet, no, if his peasant accent had not given it away, his question certainly did. Indeed, Lady Marga's class was one of the most interesting to Malum, and he had a thoroughly interesting correspondence with her thus far, it seems many of his peers disagreed. He could only place this one before him slightly above them, for though he had forgotten to take notes, at least he had not fallen into a disrespectful unconsciousness like the rest.

He was almost prepared to have just given him a copy of the notes on his holopad, for his bag was only some distance away, alongside his handwritten notes, if only to have the evidently lowborn individual leave him alone. Almost, if it was not for the end of the inquiry.

"the aristocratic... ties..."

That was too on the nose, it had to be. To have them bare such similarity was one thing, but to ask a question directly about aristocratic ties? He felt his hands reach back for a lightsaber. Was this to be a contest of arms, away from civilisation...

...Away from any witness?

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

His hand moved down to lay limply at his side.

It was just a coincidence, a series of coincides, a series of unlikely coincidences, but coincidences nonetheless.

"You should really have taken these notes yourself, yet as a sign of the good will to my fellow peer, of course, you may... "bum" my notes, as it were," Such crass language, he had encountered it before of course, on far-flung agricultural worlds on the way to Korriban, but to witness it again at the core of Sith territory was bewildering, to say the least.

Something prickled at the edge of his mind, and a question appeared before him, one in which he did not expect a real answer, yet felt strangely at that moment, would not be worrisome to ask.

"In exchange, tell me, what do you think of Darth Marr?"

A simple question, indeed, one which may not even result in an answer, to him the great Darth Marr reigned supreme, to others, what was he compared to the likes of Darth Revan, the vanquisher of Mandalorian, Jedi, and Sith alike, of Skere Kaan, the Dark One, leader of the Dark Brotherhood, of Darth Bane, instigator of the Rule of Two, of Palpatine, Emperor of the entire Galaxy, and Darth Krayt, the Dragon of the Sith, who brought the galaxy to its knees. Thus among them, where did this stranger deem the great Darth Marr to stand?

Trayze Tesar

 

[Trayze Tesar]

And now for the albino bantha in the room...

Trayze knew of many things, about himself, and slightly about his conversation partner. Mighty or no, the House of Marr was still a dynasty-one of the few remaining aristocratic families that fled Sith space prior to the Ashlan Crusade. These few spoke a fanatical loyalty, and connection, to any member of the current Triumvirate-Carnifex-Demiurge the most immediate that came to mind. He knew that twice Malum had prepared to strike him down, which spoke that either a closeness to members of his vaunted family, or a cornered womp-rat mindset. Twice Trayze had averted open confrontation, and he didn't want to kill kin-no matter how distant. Partially by the fact of said kin's aforementioned connections-irregardless if he was outright disowned, it would be a useful public move to either eliminate him if he managed to dispatch Trayze, or covertly induct him. He was here to serve the law for the welfare of the people, not to politick or scheme.

He knew also that the easiest way to further his own agenda, and to prevent a conflict, would be to essentially brown nose their alleged ancestor, the eponymous Darth Marr. Easiest did not necessarily mean the right way, and while Sith have the authority to be above the consequences of cutting corners, Peacekeepers could not.

Resolved, he gave a shrug. "Haven't met the man in person, so you'll hafta forgive me fer usin' second-an'-thirdhand accounts." He prefaced, indicating he wasn't one who gave a hoot about reputation, rather one's ability. A point for Marr, but not necessarily for his alleged scions. "Minister of the Sphere of Defense, enigmatic, the "mere" Regent of the Sith Empire, opponent of Valkorion..." The Kiffar continued "A man after my own heart; Rechristened th' Emperor's Hand to the Wrath of the Empire, when 'e could've jus' had another pawn. Didn't care much fer politickin' or arse-kissin'. Jus' got the job done no matter how dire th' circumstances were...even ta' his own death."

These last words hung in the air as Trayze's gaze bored into the more aristocratically inclined Scion of Marr.
"Life is the enemy. Death is our solace." he inquired ominously. "Do you agree with those words, Malum?"

The gauntlet was cast, and indeed, death may yet come.

Darth Malum of House Marr

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

He nodded along with the explanation, it was sloppily said, both in word and accent, yet he had long since gotten used to that by now, the former from his peers who clearly cared naught for the great things of the past, and the latter, well from this conversation, which had truly gone on longer than he had first expected. But regardless of it, it was accurate, Darth Marr had been the shield of the Empire, the ruler of the Empire when the Emperor had been absent, been opposed when that Emperor had proven to be a traitor. He chose allies well, not for political reasons, for when politics had long since departed, he knew when to draw blades and move for true victory.

As he spoke of the Emperor's Hand, in fact, it seemed the perfect moment to interject, "Indeed, and we can look to another of his allies, Darth Nox, his service to the Empire having Darth Marr raise him to his equal, if only the former had not disappeared and the latter not die... perhaps the Sith Empire would have triumphed over the Eternal Empire and the Old Republic." Malum looked down wistfully, he had not fully realised it yet, but it was these kinds of discussions that he had sorely wanted when he had been forced to come to Saijo... odd that it was coming from a country bumpkin.

That feeling quickly passed, as the end of his speech passed by his ears. Again the thought crossed his mind to bring out a lightsaber, but he suppressed it. If he wished ill feeling upon him, it would have happened by now. Whatever his reasoning, he only wished to talk.

"That famous mantra is one that has been drilled into my head since birth, do I agree with it? I could not quite say, I do enjoy living, and death... death is so final... why look to it, when it seems we live in an age of those who avoid death?" The fate of Emperor Carnifex came to mind, felled long ago, yet here again, one of the Triumvirs, Carnifex-Demiurge, "Look to the Sith code, our goal is to free ourselves from our physical limitation, reach perfections, take mastery of the Force, we cannot do that when we are dead." He had struggled with the two ideas, it could not be entirely helped, something which his family had long known but did not actively speak of was what had occurred after his death, his embracement of some aspects of the Light, accepting his place as becoming one with the Force, rather than taking mastery of it, it was a troubling contention, what did it mean for them?

"Now, I believe you owe me another explanation, Officer Tezar, how do you know my name? Answer now, and answer quickly, or I shall be forced to take action to make you speak." He had some idea, but could not be certain, he needed more information, could it truly be, that this man in front of him... could be kin?

Trayze Tesar

 

[Trayze Tesar]

"Through the Votaries o' the Church of Akos." Trayze began, his face slinking away form positivity to the cold stoicism of one facing duty, perhaps it was now that Malum would finally draw blade. He of course asked when he would eventually meet his kindred on Juthrand, though it was either by luck-or the Will of the Force-that kin came to him. He still held many grudges, and his anger against the Sith was not borne of a personal grudge as his grandfather had, but from someone who looked from the bottom up. From the unwashed masses, from slavery, from the most unlikely places did the heroes and villains of the galaxy come from.

While it would be a long time before Trayze's story was over, he was fairly optimistic that he could provide something that was both born of passion and very atypical of Sith - Trust. Trust between family members...or at the very least, friends.

"It's 'ow Ah was found, or rather, brought inta' the Sith Order." He continued, his tone soft but his visage remaining hard. "...Considerin' they watched the cast off fruits and branches of th' "Ancient and Illustrious House of Marr" with great interest..."

The nexu was out of the net, and Trayze explained his reasoning-and their relationship in earnest. "My grandfather is Zarrick of the House Marr...brother of Perdere of the House of Marr. Perdere Marr bein' your own grandfather." he concluded.

Wind brought forth the change, and a concealing mist for whatever would happen next.

"Ah cannot at this time correctly reckon how distant of cousins we may be," Trayze continued, his face softening, in hopes, in desperation that Malum too valued their friendship, and he wouldn't have to kill someone in self defense. "But we are kin by blood...and Ah hope, if you allow me, ta' be friends..."

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Malum's eyes softened, blood born and blood separated, after such a show how could he not be softened? Distrust abounded, of course it did, yet, he also felt it fall aside as quickly as it came. He was naive, a bleeding heart, and there had been proof enough, looking into Tesar's eyes, was it not clear that the truth was real and prevalent past any denial he could make out of more anger than sense?

"I know naught of any Zarrick of House Marr, but then of course... there would be no records of him in our family, would there?" Malum glanced away from him, shamed, shamed that this is what his family had done, for it all have been a waste, so many dead, so many abandoned, how many of those of the House of Marr had been put through such difficulty, such pain, so utterly needlessly. They may have had not been blessed by the essence of the great Darth Marr, not been sensitive to the Force to be true heirs, but their children? Those that both could be imbued with the blessing, with the essence and sensitivity, how many countless were there, across the galaxy, who did not even know their names, who died looking up, wondering who they were, kin to him, all of them, "My grandfather yet still lives, as does your grandfather I hope, two brothers, separate for so many years, decades now, he must hate us, while we did not even know he existed..." That hurt to imagine, that he had family unknown and unknowable, who may discover their reality, who would hate them for what they had done. Could he even truly blame them?

His eyes turned back, to face the red eyes that looked exactly like his. There was no mistaking it, they were kin, yet his family would not see it as so, not yet anyway. For every branch that had been cut away, there was a branch that yet lived, proclaiming themselves as rightful members of the House of Marr. All held nominal loyalty to the main branch, his branch, but who was to say this revelation would keep it so?

"We... would be cousins, second cousins, yes," Malum scrambled for time, the revelation dawning on him further with more intensity as every second went by, a tear appeared in his eye, trailing down his cheek, heh, he may have rationally accepted it, but when had emotions ever been rational? He idly noted how he had found out his heritage, the Votaries of the Church of Akos, they seemingly kept a better track of his family than his family did, perhaps he would have to pay them a visit one day, to find other cousins, abandoned and needing his help.

His heart broke at the end, so much that even more shame filled him, to think... to think he would have struck down kin. Shame filled him more, he was about to strike down his own father, hadn't he? What was a distant cousin to that? The other eye found a tear in it, trailing down further his cheek. It broke further when Tes- Trayze's eyes softened, the anguish so evident in his face, he felt weak in his knees, he felt his throat dry up.

"Of course, of course, cousin, we will be the best of friends, closer than brothers, in fact, together we will be unstoppable, all will fear us." He choked out, it was idealistic, it was naive, and he was a bleeding heart. He barely knew Tes- Trayze, but... hadn't he always wanted a brother? Let him dream, that he could bring a once kin home, not a brother by blood, even if they shared blood, but a brother by choice.

He would need to contact his family as soon as possible, perhaps fly back to Jutrand with Tes- Trayze in toe, he would be brought back to the family, with his parents, siblings, and cousins too, a branch of the ancient and illustrious House of Marr brought back, once lost and now found.

Trayze Tesar

 

[Trayze Tesar]

Trayze Tesar was a man who knew things, and knew many things...but he knew those feelings most of all.

The desire to do what was right, the desire to protect one's own...to protect the innocent, to bring forth the Rule of Law-to let Justice be Done though the Stars Fall. That was his motto, that was the motto of the Peacekeeping Corps and words he lived by though he may burn against his fellow Sith. But Malum would not be a fellow Sith, he would be kin...he would be a friend.

What would have been the correct course of action would be to stoically recount his own familial history, how to properly exploit the goodwill of the "Ancient and Illustrious House of Marr". Correct for the Sith, indeed, for Marr's bleeding heart would prove an ample sacrifice to someone else, more powerful and less scrupulous in the Order. But it would not be the right thing to do.

A slouch hat would be placed over the weeping lad's head, the badge-his badge, the badge of Trayze's precinct would be unfastened allowing the hat to slump into the fullness of its brim. If Malum were to look up, if he did not lean into the gentle placing of the Kiffar's hands upon his shoulders, he would find compassion and genuine warmth. Not the familial warmth of the prim and proper House of Marr, but the kinship of mere commoners, of perhaps the source of romantic view of simple living. Trayze looked a little unkempt, try as he might to keep his locks in a presentable fashion-the hat had a use after all.

"You need a minute?" He asked genuinely, the only break in that welcoming smile to posit a genuine question. It was just them and the rain out here, and he wouldn't rush this monumental revelation. He would give them time-the most precious commodity in the universe.

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Darth Malum of House Marr