Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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A Little Night Music | Closed

skin, bone, and arrogance
Henry Finn-Camden didn't see whatever it was about Halm that captured the imagination of Natasi Fortan. He didn't know what it was that drove her to establish a city -- and a civilization -- on the desert world in record time. He couldn't sense what it was that made her seem so relaxed and even girlish when she was walking its streets or sailing its river. He didn't know, and he didn't care, but he was certainly enjoying the side effects. There was a distinct pep in her step as he walked with her along the boulevard in the Museum District, away from the museum gala they had attended together. She had three glasses of champagne in her and was starting to feel it -- she was sighing wistfully and giggling at nothing.

It was... charming.

They approached the docks, and Henry helped Natasi into her boat. It was a small yacht, suitable for an afternoon of sailing and entertaining, or travel on the river. The wealthiest and most fashionable of the First Order society that had come to New Heliopolis lived on or near the river, making travel by boat the thing to do. Henry didn't mind. It was better than walking, and gave them time to themselves. "Back to the villa," Henry told the pilot as Natasi kicked off her shoes and knelt on the padded bench at the front of the boat. She stared out over the water as if in a trance. Henry smirked apologetically at the pilot, then went over to sit opposite Natasi as the boat pulled away from the slip.

"It's a beautiful city you've built," he observed, casting his dark eyes across the river. In the distance, the Hanging Gardens sat proudly on an island in the middle of the river, a testament to the First Order's ingenuity. They had turned a dry, desert scrub into a jeweled garden. "When I first heard the Order was building a city on Halm I couldn't fathom it. But now that I've seen what can be done -- " He shrugged, palms up. " -- well, I stand corrected, Lady Natasi. By the way; please, don't fall in. It's not that I wouldn't dive in after you, but this is a new suit and I'd rather not."

[member="Carach"] | [member="Natasi Fortan"]​
skin, bone, and arrogance
"I won't," Natasi said calmly. The river looked close enough to touch, and even in the dark of the night she could see almost down to the bottom. The river had been nearly pristine before their arrival, and the introduction of state-of-the-art purification technology had turned the river into fresh, clean, potable water so clear that it was nearly turquoise in the daylight. It was perfection, in a word. She resisted the urge to lean over; the deck of the yacht was higher than it looked.

"I can't explain why I needed to build a city here, but I'm so glad I did. Look at it -- investors and workers came together to build this city out here, for us. For citizens of all walks of life to come and enjoy. It's... exotic. It's mysterious. It's -- well, all right, I'll just say it. It's a little sexy. Don't you think? The desert, the heat of the night, the ancient gods and their temples in the far distance. It makes for some kind of atmosphere. Like anything is possible. Like the war is far, far away." She sighed wistfully and turned so that she was seated properly on the bench. "Must be careful not to come here too much. Must be careful not to forget my other responsibilities. Oh, damn and blast, what is that on my dress?" Natasi looked down at the mark on her tan evening gown. "Is that brass polish for the rail? Oh, damn."

The mood was somewhat dampened by the sobering thoughts of war -- and a ruined evening gown worth a fortune -- that, by the time they got to the Villa, they had been sitting in silence for a few minutes. Natasi allowed Henry to help her onto the private dock that serviced her villa, whose gold dome was visible above the garden trees. "Thank you, Henry," she said pleasantly, trying to avoid looking up at him. It had become more and more difficult to pretend not to notice his fleeting glances and furtive looks. She knew that he had ideas about her, but she couldn't bring herself to encourage them. Paradoxically, she felt unable to fully push him back. "I can see myself in."

"Nonsense," said Henry. "I'll walk you in and see you get safely to bed. I'm the last one to be seen with you, they'll hold me responsible if you trip and break your little neck."

Natasi smirked and unlocked the gate, walking into the expansive rear garden. She walked around the pool towards the front of the house. "Don't be -- oh, all right, I suppose I have had a few drinks. I don't feel unsteady on my feet, but I imagine you only begin to feel unsteady when you're just about to fall over." She pushed the door open into the living room and shut it behind them. The house was still largely empty; Natasi hadn't yet been able to furnish it. Her office, bedroom, and two guest suites were entirely furnished, as was the kitchen and her maid's and cook's rooms, but other than that, the rooms were either empty or contained only the odd piece of furniture -- a side table there, an armchair here.

They climbed the central stairway. "Come in," Natasi said. "I'll just ring for some coffee and get changed -- wait a minute, where are my shoes?"

"I think you took them off on the boat," Henry said with a chuckle. "You can have your maid collect them."

Natasi put her hand to her forehead. "By the Balance. I've never had my shoes off in public before, let alone left them there. I need to get back to Dosuun." She gave a disbelieving giggle and then pulled the cord near her bed, summoning the staff. "I'll just change and get Banks to see what she can do about that spot. Won't be a moment." Natasi was in the next room, changing out of her dress when the coffee was delivered, placed on a coffee table between two low sofas in the sitting area portion of her bedroom. She emerged in a white dressing gown and sat on the sofa across from Henry. "Shall I be mother?" she asked, picking up the coffee pot. Hopefully the drink would take the edge off her lightheadedness.

She reached over and handed a cup and sauce to @Henry Finn-Camden before sitting with her own, cradling it in her hand as she drew her legs up underneath her and settled in. "What did you think of the exhibition. Truly. If you don't like the culture as I do there's no point in you coming all this way."

"There is every reason, Natasi." Henry replied before looking away and lifting his cup to his lips. "But if that was a subtle hint..."
[member="Natasi Fortan"]


Friends and associates and lovers alike were always surprised for the first time when the Lord Carach displayed this in bounties. Something about his airs - uncontrolled and wild and focused intensity - made them think that the Lord of the Sith wanted everything in the there and then. But the truth was far from it, even if it would have been an easier and comprehensible answer to the mystery.

He sat silently in a chair at the far-end of Natasi's room.

His presence immersed and cloaked within the White Current to such a degree that the outside world was simply a haze for him. It was for this reason that it took him a moment, before Carach realized he was no longer alone in the room. There was a man in the room now, coffee next to him and his suit splendid..... yes, the Sith knew this individual. Henry? This seemed as likely a name as any and if Carach was not mistaken this was the same one who had been with her at the gala. Such a splendid gala, such fancies and joy was brought to him through it.


Then Natasi herself swept out of her dressing room and tucked herself in in a nearby seat.

It surprised him how easy she was with this man... so undignified, but perhaps that should not have surprised Carach that much. After all, the Sith had seen her in a very different light than most did.

Fingers curling into sheets, hair loose, teeth brushed past.

"My oh my." The heavy low voice - its tone lowered more to the baritone tone of an instrument - hummed softly through the room. At the same time the hold over the Current was released, first the eyes (amber intensity burning into fire) and the subtle grin that spoke of displeasure, then the rest of his large stature. "Perhaps I picked the wrong day to make my return, Natasi."

His entire focus seemed to be on Natasi.

Almost as if Hector was just an afterthought.
skin, bone, and arrogance
Though the stranger in the room seemed to be focused on Natasi, it was Hector that reacted first -- and swiftly. He leapt to his feet at the first sound of another voice in the room, hand diving beneath the jacket of his vest. His fingers wrapped around the butt and trigger of his blaster. By the time he appeared, as if from nowhere, Henry's gun was pointed at him, his grip firm and strong on the blaster, pointing it directly at [member="Carach"]'s chest.

It occurred to him in that moment that he was dealing with someone who had either a technological or physical advantage on Hector and Natasi. He had appeared from nowhere, because Hector had scanned the room on entry and was quite sure they had been alone. Surely no one could have entered while his back was turned -- and this was apparently after sneaking past the armed guards at the entrances to the estate. Security here wasn't what it was in Avalonia, but the men here were no pushovers, that was for sure.

Nevertheless, he couldn't let harm come to Natasi. He steeled his resolve and answered: "You picked the wrong day to break into her house," Hector said loudly. "Stand right there and identify yourself immediately. If you move -- if you even breathe wrong -- I'll put a hole in you."

[member="Carach"] | [member="Natasi Fortan"]​
[member="Hector Finn-Camden"]

His head cocked slightly, but now the grin turned from displeasure towards mild amusement.

The focus of the eyes were still on Natasi, of course.

This Hector was a nobody, a simple sentient with aspirations for things so far outside his scope it was simply laughable, but yet here they were. What was there to do in a situation such as this one? The old Carach would have killed him - few were allowed to speak to him in such fashion and live. The Irani of Natasi's memory would simply have ignored the brat, kept his pursuit up and locked his prey down, until it gave up.

But this was not the old and not the older.

"Very well." the Sith Lord retorted, his chin leaning lightly on one palm, but without letting his eyes off Natasi. "Shoot me please."

He was interested what the lad would actually do.
skin, bone, and arrogance
Natasi was not convinced that it was Darell Irani, in the flesh, appearing in the corner of her room. She had had a few glasses of champagne, and it wouldn't be the first time she saw the figures of loved ones lost when she had been in her cups. She had a whole library to choose from -- Frejrik, Reima, Mathes, Ludolf and Marzena, Irani, von Brinkerhoff; even Pierce wasn't much in her life these days -- but when Hector responded, Natasi soon same to the realization that he wasn't a spectre. And she couldn't let [member="Hector Finn-Camden"] shoot him, for heaven's sake.

She stood, awkwardly moving around the coffee table. "Henry, stop it," she exclaimed, putting a hand on his arm.

Henry reacted on instinct, pushing her hand away, not letting his focus on the intruder waver. "Natasi, push your panic button, if you please." He studied @Carach. Was he one of the Grand Moff's stalkers? Some kind of obsessive? One of the many who were the dark underbelly of the cult of personality built around the First Order's head of government? "I said identify yourself. I'll give you to the count of three. One... two..."

"Henry, stop this at once." Natasi said, grasping his arm and pulling it back. Henry grimaced and allowed his attention to split. He gave the Grand Moff a firm shove back into her seat.

"Your panic button, Natasi. Now, please." He swung his blaster back at Carach and readied himself to fire.
[member="Natasi Fortan"]

It surprised him how much Natasi allowed herself to be pushed around by this... gentleman.

But perhaps there were dynamics here at play that he wasn't privy to.

Regardless it amused him how the conflict arose between them from the very start. Clearly, this one wasn't entirely too sure how to handle her and was simply making it all up as he went - genuine, very genuine, but a foolish errand in his modest opinion. Carach watched with patience and interest as they squabbled....

Until the man shoved and send Natasi back into her seat.

"No." The Sith Lord cut through the number counting and rose up from his seat. Large posture, voice dripping with black and eyes burning more now.

"Touch her again and you will die."

This was not a promise. It was a statement of fact.

It was wholly possible that the simpleton would shoot him instead of listening, but that was not something that Carach truly worried about. The Darkside of the Force was a worthy ally and it would not fail him, simply because a little blaster was being fired in his direction.
skin, bone, and arrogance
Hector stared blankly at [member="Carach"], backing up instinctively without pointing the blaster away from the man. Why was Natasi protecting someone who broke into her house? Why did he seem to think he belonged here? His dark eyes narrowed as he flicked the safety off the blaster. "I find it hard to be threatened by someone who broke into her home, uninvited. Let me return the compliment: I will not let you touch her," Henry said firmly. "Now, kindly state your business here and leave before anyone has to get hurt." He glanced to one side briefly. "Natasi, your panic button!"

"Henry, please - calm down!" Natasi said impatiently from her seat.

"Did you invite him here?" Henry demanded, rearranging his grip on the butt of his blaster, getting comfortable with it as he stared down the sights at Carach. He was sweating now, anxious. "Were you expecting him? Do you know him?"

"Yes -- or, I used to," Natasi amended, once again getting to her feet, looking warily at [member="Carach"], her dark eyes reproachful as she brushed her dark hair behind her ears and shoulders. "What are you doing here? What do you -- " The Grand Moff broke off and made a noise of protest when Henry yanked the bracelet from her wrist, the bracelet containing her panic button. "Henry!"

"Natasi, stay behind me." Henry stepped between Carach and Natasi again, raising his blaster to chest level as he eyed Carach menacingly. "Explain yourself -- now -- or we'll see what a squadron of stormtroopers -- and this planet's garrison after them -- have to say on your little parlor tricks," Henry snarled at Carach, his finger twitching on the trigger.
[member="Hector Finn-Camden"]

Sadly Hector did not get far with that approach.

Thoughts turned to intent turned to action and Carach was there with him.

Thoughts could not be hidden by a true mentalist, he who walked between the blurred lines of possibilities and action, and if there was one man in this Galaxy who could be considered a true master of the arts of mentalism it was Carach. Right before Hector could yank off the bracelet and touch Natasi again, a great and powerful force swept through the room and simply seized Hector and arrested him in his movement. All of a sudden it felt like multiple atmospheres had descended upon him and made it impossible for him to move.... even the barest flick of a finger or twitch of a shoulder.

In that moment Hector would be completely and utterly immobile.

"I tried." Carach responded to Natasi with a sad shrug, before his entire focus returned to the rude gentleman. "I did warn you, did I not?"

One step pushed forward and the Sith Lord pondered to himself what he would do to this affront. The emotions and thoughts of Natasi were swirling, as they always were, but deep within her... he could sense that she cared for this man. Was Carach jealous about that? It took a long introspective look for a conclusive answer, but a gut feeling told him that he was not.

"You would be dead by now, if I was not a changed man." A brief application of the Force - just the slightest - and Hector would suddenly feel the restriction of his airways for just a brief second.

In this moment you are mine and there is nothing you can do about that.
skin, bone, and arrogance
Natasi wrenched her arm away from Hector, dark eyes full of reproach and indignation at his presumption. Her panic button wasn't a toy; she knew when to use it. Now wasn't the time. Carach could kill them both before reinforcements could arrive, and could kill the reinforcements without breaking a sweat. An unnecessary and wasteful loss of life in Natasi's estimation. On the other hand, there was a distinct possibility that the Sith Lord didn't mean her any harm. They had had one semi-civil conversation before, and had intended to meet at the latest military gala, but somehow had managed not to connect. Maybe he wasn't there to slaughter her. Maybe he had just come to talk.


It took the Grand Moff a moment to understand what she was seeing when Hector froze in his tracks, and [member="Carach"] gave her an apologetic look. Her eyes widened in surprise and she stepped around [member="Hector Finn-Camden"], forming a triangle between the two men. "Darell," she said softly, looking first at the SIth Lord, then at the media magnate. "Henry -- stop this -- "

Henry struggled against whatever invisible force was holding him in place, glaring daggers at the intruder. Natasi called him Darell -- that could only mean Darell Irani. They had been seen together extensively for some time; according to the journals he had recovered from the late Sioux Chambers' apartment on Dosuun, there was a decent chance that they had been lovers and the Grand Moff had been contemplating marriage before they inexplicably parted ways. Even Sioux Chambers didn't know why.

He grunted with exertion as he struggled against the hold, his eyes cutting to Natasi. Why would she be defending this man, who broke into her home unannounced and was threatening a friend? He tried and struggled, fist clenching. His fingers flexed minimally, but that was enough; the blaster fired.

As the bolt of light erupted from the end of Henry's blaster, Natasi gave a shout and crouched, covering her head with both hands. If that didn't bring the security forces running, Natasi didn't know what would.
[member="Natasi Fortan"]

As the Force drifted lazily around Hector and kept him in place Carach was just about to reply.

But then all the alarm bells suddenly rang inside his head.

The Sith had just enough time to raise his hand - the blood inside his ears drummed out anything else, including Natasi's scream, but in that moment there was true rage behind those eyes. If Hector was wise enough he could see his own death reflecting in those burning eyes, the realization that for the man wielding the Force... his life was nothing more than a weak candle light to extinguish with a swift touch.

"Stupid." Carach commented finally before focusing on his connection with the gentleman. There were many things one could do with the Force and Mentalism was beautiful in that regard.

Within the span of a breath the man would suddenly drop to the ground unconscious.

The Sith Lord's attention had already slipped back to his hand, which was blackened and broken at parts, from the absorption of the blaster shot. The pain was lacing through his skin, but it flickered away as he tuned it out for the moment. It was always difficult to be the only adult in the room.

"The guards will be here shortly, if I were you I'd take that blaster and claim you accidentally discharged it." Eyes flickered to the unconscious form of Hector.

"I will put sleeping beauty in the bathroom, I guess."
skin, bone, and arrogance
Natasi wasn't tipsy anymore.

Adrenaline burned away the fuzzy feeling of warmth, thundered in her ears for a few moments, and when it subsided, the room was silent. He had only fired one shot. The air smelled of scorch and ozone and char, and the hairs on the back of Natasi's neck stood up. By the time she got to her feet again, Henry was suspended in the air, limbs and head relaxed. "Is he -- " she began, but found that her mouth was too dry to get the words out. His commentary answered her question; [member="Hector Finn-Camden"] was not dead, only sleeping. If you could call someone who was likely abused by the Force to get in such a state sleeping. Natasi looked on in disbelief for a few moments, but there wasn't time. Already she heard footsteps on the stairs.

"Take him," she ordered. The confused and indecisive young woman was gone. She stooped to collect the discarded blaster, then collected a pillow from the nearby sofa and pressed the blaster to it, firing another shot. This one was muffled by the pillow, but left scorch-marks on the brocade fabric. It wouldn't hold up to a forensic analysis, but it should do for the immediate purpose. She went over to the 'fresher door and shut it after hissing: "And stay in there."

She sat on the bed and waited. It was only moments before the head of her security detail was knocking on her door. She went over and answered it, tugging her dressing gown closer around her, pulling the neckline higher for modesty's sake. She pulled the door open a fraction. "Yes -- terribly sorry about all the racket. I was -- I was cleaning my blaster and I accidentally fired it."

"Are you hurt, ma'am?" he asked.

Natasi forced a smile. "Not a bit."

He looked unconvinced. "May we look around?" Natasi relented, stepping back into the room and pulling the door open. "Mr. Finn-Camden is in the 'fresher, but I assure you, I'm unharmed." The security detail looked around. "Shall I dispose of the pillow for you?"

"Thank you," said Natasi. She set the blaster down on the table, noticing the security member's look at it. "Don't worry. I'm about to lock it in the safe and, as you can see, the safety lock is on." She smiled apologetically. "I am so sorry to have disturbed you all. Good night." She followed them to the door and threw the bolt before going back to the 'fresher door. "It's safe. Come out of there and tell me what the hell you want, coming here in the dead of night."

[member="Natasi Fortan"]

It was similar to putting a little feather on your shoulder.

What Natasi was doing with this lad was anyone's question. Stupid, prone to making idiotic decisions and possessing the weight class of a squirrel, how this one was supposed to guard the Grand Moff of the First Order was a mystery. Instead of thinking things through, he simply acted - discharging his blaster and trying so desperately his best to take charge of a situation he had no concept of. Even a monkey would have realized that if Carach had wanted to kill them all, they would already be dead and posturing wouldn't have been necessary.

Blackened hand brushed Hector's forehead and as Natasi chatted with the guard he focused on the consciousness of the man. It would have been so easily to simply extinguish the flame inside of him, but that would probably have upset Natasi for some reason.

So instead he set out to reinforce his sleep and ensure that Hector wouldn't suddenly wake up in the middle of their conversation. He would wake up with a killer headache in the morning, but there was little the Sith Lord could do about that when alcohol was involved.

Behind him the door latched open and her lovely voiced hissed through the door.

Carach swept out and closed the door behind him. His attention was still mostly on his blackened hand, while her questions swarmed over him. There was a certain certainty that the outer flesh was probably charred with skin broken and shattered in parts. There was a frown now as the pain dulled itself in the background of his mind, it wasn't as difficult as one thought it would be.

The Force was a powerful ally.

"I wished to see you." As if it was logical and clear. "To figure out if there was any chance of... reconciliation."

The frown grew heavier as his focus left his hand and he looked back at the refresher again.

"It matters little, I see I have come too late for any such thoughts."
skin, bone, and arrogance
Natasi returned to the coffee tray and picked up her coffee cup, lifting it to her lips as she watched [member="Carach"] come out of the 'fresher. Her eyes lingered on his injured hand, eyebrows lofting with a modicum of concern that she chose not to voice in this moment. To say that she was unhappy with him breaking into her home and maiming a close friend would have been an understatement. She set the coffee cup down on the saucer and carried it over to the French windows that opened onto a small balcony overlooking the city. She didn't go out onto the balcony, but stared out the windows at the city that was spreading out in front of her. "There's a medkit in the 'fresher, under the sink," Natasi told Carach without looking his way. "Don't get blood or... char ...on my carpet."

She took another sip of her coffee; how was it still so hot? It felt like an hour since it had been delivered; could it only have been a few minutes ago?

The Grand Moff looked finally turned from the window, resting the saucer on her left palm, running her finger along the rim of the fine bone china. "You couldn't pick up a communicator? I have five secretaries, which is to say nothing of the senior and junior undersecretaries of almost a dozen Cabinet Ministries. You couldn't call my office and say I'd like an appointment with Natasi?" She looked up from her coffee to Carach, her dark eyes glacial. "What gives you the right to break into my home in the dead of night?"

Her eyes followed his towards the 'fresher and she smirked. If he thought Henry was a lover -- if he was irritated by that thought -- then, well, more's the better. One small bit of payback for the distress he had caused today. "You seem curiously well-informed, Darell."
[member="Natasi Fortan"]

Carach snorted, before settling himself down on the chair and closing off any connection to his hand for now.

"I have little need for such crude methods."

Already the charred flesh was reduced in its intensity as the Force worked its magic and helped with the healing process. It would take a few days or a few hours of intense meditation, before it would be back to normal, but that was simply the price one had to take for not executing idiots immediately.

Instead of giving them the option to live.

"It seemed impersonal and after everything we have been through, I thought it would best to simply surprise you in person."

How strange that it was Carach who had been surprised, but perhaps he shouldn't have been. She was a beautiful woman, intelligent, sharp and fast on her feet.

Powerful as the Grand Moff.

Perhaps it shouldn't have surprised him she found herself somebody new.

Those large shoulders simply shrugged then, once the realization hit that there wasn't really a purpose to him being here. Not with her already being involved with another.

"At any rate, I apologize to have disturbed you two. I will take my leave and will ensure not to interfere with your new relationship anymore."

The Sith rose.
skin, bone, and arrogance
Natasi suppressed the roll of her eyes, her finger continuing to work around the rim of the coffee cup, eliciting some unearthly sound almost like music. "Rearrange the words in this sentence: door, stable, bolted, after, horse," she murmured, almost to herself. She sat on the arm of the sofa and crossed her ankles primly, finally stopping the movement of her finger along the rim of the cup, leaving the room in stifling silence for a few long moments. Finally, she let her eyes linger on [member="Carach"] for a few moments. It wasn't like him to be jealous -- but then again, she had never known him when he perceived some rival for her affections.

"I'm afraid, not for the first time," Natasi said dryly, "That you've got the wrong end of the stick as far as Henry is concerned. Our families have been friends since we were children. He knew my brother. He was in my bedroom because it's the only place in the house furnished to sit and chat. Not that it's any of your business," she said, raising her eyebrows in a silent challenge for him to dispute it as she lifted her coffee cup to her lips again, taking a long sip of the coffee.

After a moment, she cocked her head to one side, causing chestnut locks to tumble down over her shoulder. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter, slightly less chilly, but by no means warm. "I looked for you, you know." A beat of silence. "At the gala," she clarified. The question was there but she didn't voice it, instead letting her look of slight reproach from beneath her lashes do the heavy lifting.
[member="Natasi Fortan"]

In truth Carach was not jealous.

It was not an emotion that he could truly experience - after all, jealousy was born out of the consideration that he was less than the target of his jealousy, but the Sith Lord was wholly aware that he was simply superior to this Hector. No, it was not jealousy that moved him, it was simple acceptance of a fact. Why fight it, if she had moved on and wasn't interested anymore?

Little reason and it would have been silly to attempt it.

There were other women, after all. They might not have been Natasi... but Carach was no longer in that state of mind, where he would pine after her for months on end in the hope that she would remember him.

He brushed past her and took her old place at the window.

A glint was there within his eyes as he studied the outside of the place. While she spoke and then finally asked him something, or suggested something, his thoughts went back to that gala again.

"I left early." The Sith responded after a while. "I saw you with him... you seemed to be enjoying yourself and I did not wish to intrude."

It was not the complete truth, of course, but just as it was not his business what Hector had been doing in her bedroom, it was not her business what he had been doing after the gala.

"We are one mess, are we not?" Now amusement colored his tone slightly, as he turned to study her again.
skin, bone, and arrogance
Natasi leaned down and set her coffee cup down on the tray, then straightened and studied him from behind for a few moments before looking down at her knees. "That's the difference between us, I suppose," she said. "I saw you with her and it didn't stop me wanting to talk to you one bit. Despite everything, I still care. I want to see you -- to know that you're well and happy." Natasi didn't know who her was, but whoever Carach had brought to the event had been quite chic and beautiful. The question lingered, but the Grand Moff knew Carach well enough to know it would not be answered. She walked over to him and looked past him out the window. The business district was beginning to darken, but the downtown areas were still going strong. There was a vibrant night life in this city, but Natasi was pleased that it was far away from her perch.

"If you could behave like a normal person," Natasi murmured quietly in response to his observation, "Perhaps we wouldn't be. You can't just -- appear -- in my bedroom." She gestured vaguely around the room, dark eyes scanning as if anticipating another bogeyman to appear from nowhere. "You have to fix Henry," she said sternly. "Make sure he's all right. Get rid of that memory if you can. He was only doing what he thought was best -- try not to take it personally."

She finally looked over at him, her eyebrow raised as she waited to hear if he would acquiesce to her request.

[member="Natasi Fortan"]



The Voice of the Dark Lord? A man who had walked thousands of battlefields, caused the direct deaths of thousands and the indirect deaths of scores more. One who could change the shape of reality simply by dreaming it so, who could change the heart of a being by thinking about it and who could break the spirits of men simply by whispering just so.

Was there anything really normal about him?

No, Carach did not consider it very likely that he would ever be normal, but that did not mean that he didn't wish to try... for her. Maybe. It was a difficult affair and in truth the Sith had not been expecting much in the way of this conversation in the first place.

"I have killed men for lesser offenses, Natasi." Carach reminded her gently, before looking at his hand with a frown again. "But I will wipe it away... for you, he will wake up tomorrow with a headache, but that will be the extent of it."

Though the Sith wondered if he could subtly place something more in his mind.

A wish for death that would activate in the next six weeks and would not be traceable to him, perhaps a sickness in his body that would catch everyone off-guard within the next three months.

It would be amusing to him.

"I cannot promise I can change." Darell Irani was a facet of himself he was tired of. Already that identity was slowly being retired, pulled away from the limelight and moved into the shadows. "But I can try for you."
skin, bone, and arrogance
Natasi sighed and drew away. At this level -- a Sith Lord and the effective leader of one of the galaxy's dominant superpowers -- the stakes were high and there was bound to be drama. Or was there?

They used to have fun. They used to talk and laugh. They smoked together. They drank together. He cooked. She ate. Things had been easy for awhile, until they weren't.

It had been fun, until it wasn't.

The Grand Moff turned away fully, inhaling slightly through her nose. "As you can see, the answer I gave you on Annaj no longer stands," she said, her lips twisting upward sardonically at the choice of words. "I am myself again, and Dr. Penneford tells me that there is nothing to suggest I won't have a normal life. A full life," she clarified, leaning over the coffee tray to pour herself another cup. Steam billowed out and she inhaled the scent deeply. She stirred in some cream, a touch of sugar, and lifted the cup, moving to sit at her dressing table, legs crossed at the knees.

"Which isn't to say ... anything," she said lightly before taking a sip of her coffee cup, her eyebrows lofting somewhat before she looked to one side demurely. "But there were... other things."

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