Private A Sith walks into a bar...

[Syala]

Nar Shaddaa. A wretched hive of villainy and scum. It wouldn't be a surprise if most people thought this was one of the worst places in the entire Galaxy to be, but for Syala? It was practically heaven! Violence, despair, distress! There was so many negative emotions for her to breathe in and feel, as she twirled through the streets with a smile on her face. She saw no need to hide herself with her regular disguise today, just walking through the streets as she normally would. Twisting and twirling, just enjoying the emotions running through the streets! Of course, there had been a few scally wags that thought they could try and pick a fight with her. They'd learned their mistake quite quickly, as they'd laid in an abandoned alleyway of the Moon, bleeding, broken or both! What could she say? She didn't like it when people tried to pick a fight with her, when she was clearly better than they were!

But that wasn't important to her. What was important was heading to a place she could get a good drink from. Today had already been a pretty busy day with all of the fighting she had done, and whilst she could go on, she really didn't want to. She had just wanted to spread her wings a little bit and explore more of Nar Shaddaa. It was a far cry from the various other planets she had visited, which had always seemed a bit more...diluted in their emotions. Dantooine was an example. People were content to be farmers, and just work in the fields all their lives, whereas here? People were ready to fight for their lives! It was the kind of thing Syala always wanted to see in people. Well, that's partially a thing she liked to see. She did also like to see weak people as well. It meant they'd respect her and were less likely to give her trouble.

Either way, she eventually came across a quaint looking bar, with the neon fixture for the bar's name having fallen down to the ground in disrepair. Just perfect! With a manic grin on her face, the woman skipped into the bar and headed right towards the counter where there was an Ithorian bartender. The Half-Nagai just asked for whatever was good, causing the Ithorian to just groan and head off to grab a drink, whilst Syala just leaned on her hand and took in the sights of the bar. Ruined chairs, stains of what appeared to be blood, or who knows maybe even wine...though it was probably blood. Ah. This place just seemed great as she kept the grin on her face, looking around.

Spek Zhio

 

[Spek Zhio]

"This place has really gone to poodoo." Spek Zhio commented to himself. "Somehow, it's even worse than before."

Even though you could not tell by looking at its busted up neon sign, the Zeltron male knew its name, The Misty Mynock. He was a regular of sorts, whenever work flew him by the ecumenopolis moon of Nal Hutta.

He rolled up the sleeves of his red jacket, taking care to turn off the pheromone suppressor effect of his bracelet. After all, there was a reason why he preferred the joint, and it was that the drinks were not served by droids. Allowing for his natural Zeltron charm, to always help with the bill.

Spek stepped inside and went for the only available seat at the counter. "Hey, handsome," he waved at the bartender. "One of your strongest and finest drinks, please." By the time that the alien approached him, the pheromones should already be kicking in on his system. "Say... What amazingly big, brown, round, eyes you got! They're mesmerizing! The color of..." do not say poodoo, do not say poodoo, do not say poodoo, "poooooools. Pools of... seaweed?" He smiled. The Ithorian laughed back, pleased with himself. Or what passed for a laugh, but seemed more like a bunch of kitchenware falling down a flight of stairs.

He then poured Zhio a drink. "How much do I owe you, handsome?" The Zeltron asked. To which the Ithorian shook his head and said 'it was on the house', or so Spek thought, since he could not understand Ithorese anyway.

Taking a gulp, Spek glanced at the redhead beside him. "Hi there, the name's Spek Zhio," he offered with a warm smile. "Zhio with a 'zh', like in treasure or pleasure."

Syala

 

[Syala]

Syala blinked at the strange smell seemed to make its way into the bar. What was it? She couldn't quite recall having experienced it before, but she watched as this stranger came in to sit at the counter. She raised an eyebrow as he managed to make the Ithorian give him his drink for free. Huh. Pretty neat. Syala was just going to threaten violence when it came to having to pay for her drink, but that was a much better idea as she sipped at her drink for a moment, before glancing over towards Spek as he spoke up to her.

"You can call me...Rayne." She decided to go with the false name that she had picked during the Ord Providence festival. After all, names still had power and she didn't like the idea of giving her name out to strangers. "Rhymes with pain." The Half-Nagai broke out into a small little giggle at that part, shaking her head afterwards however, before holding her hand out towards Spek, getting ready to give him a firm handshake. Just because she was lying about her name didn't mean she'd be rude! Do you think she's a savage?! Well...She can, but that's not the point right now. She knows how to have manners.

"What are you doing in this dump? You don't look like the kind of person who'd be in here if they didn't have to be." Syala rested her hand against her cheek as she leaned against the counter, staring up at Spek. She was curious, so she wanted to learn as much as she could from the stranger. It presumably wouldn't be too important for her but importance wasn't well...important to her. She was just bored and well, it was either ask questions, or start a fight. One of them was a lot easier than the other.

 

[Spek Zhio]

"Also rhymes with 'insane' and 'pulling my chain'!" He laughed, gladly taking her hand and gently shaking it.

"First time someone has said I look too good to be in here, and that's what I choose to believe you meant," he looked down at his clothes. He was not wearing anything out of the ordinary, which included an utility belt. "Maybe it's this gold-embroidered fancy red jacket," helping conceal the blaster holster, "don't let it fool you, this is something I found on my ship. It must've belong to the former captain.

"But what about you, ginger? You seem dressed for a night out, yet you're here all by your lonesome..." As if those were the oddest things about her.

Syala

 

[Syala]

"Insane? Pulling your chain? Me! Never. Well...Maybe the insane part..." Syala broke out into a little giggle at that, before wiping her hand against the counter after finishing the handshake. She was just trying to be polite at the end of the day, but didn't need to keep acting like that.

"Choose what you want to believe. I'm not going to force you to think a certain way. Shame you managed to get a cool jacket out of your ship. Mine is just covered in dust. Guess the person I took it from didn't look after it." She shrugged her shoulders, taking out her dagger from her side to start twirling around her hand whilst she spoke. The Half Nagai was mostly just trying to relaxbefore she looked back over towards Spek, keeping a grin on her face.

"Oh. I'm not alone. I have the voices in my head...Heh. Just a joke. In all seriousness, I have the Force. I am connected to everyone, everywhere! It's nice. I can bask in their emotions and not even have to do anything." It was specifically why she had came to Nar Shaddaa. To feel the suffering of the people. It helped to...enhance how she saw things.

 

[Spek Zhio]

"Don't get me wrong, those were just words with a 'zh' sound in it. You know? To better illustrate how to pronounce my name." The man explained, with a grin. It was true that there was no proper Aurebesh spelling for Spεc ƷIo. The Ʒ being the major offender. Nevertheless, it was not as if his choice of words had been completely naive.

"Mm-hmm, Mm-hmm," he acquiesced, "I pegged you for a Sith the moment I walked in. And I don't doubt for a second that you do hear voices inside your head." It was not the first, and probably would not be the last time, that Spek had come across people like that. "And I can even accept that - maybe - the voices are really there..."

He finished his drink and gestured towards the bashful Ithorian for a second round, for him and Syala.

"That's what makes this," Zhio motioned with his hand, back and forth between the two, "so interesting!

"For example, what makes you so certain, that you are indeed connected to everyone?" He winked.

Syala

 

[Syala]

"Oh no. I don't actually hear voices in my head. Except for my own, I suppose. And there is this one guy who can speak in my head as well...He's a bit weird. But he's also deadly. So I call him Silent and Deadly." Syala rambled on a little bit, though she kept the little manic grin on her face. She just shrugged her shoulders afterwards, tilting her head as Spek asked how she was so certain that she was connected to everyone.

"'Cause of the Force and whatnot. I can feel other people's pain! It's super fun actually! I can also feel my own pain obviously, which helps to fuel the Force. At least the Dark Side of it and whatnot. I dunno that much about it. Ain't be a Sith for toooo long! But it's at least super fun. I get to sneak around in the shadows, and stab people whenever I want...Oopsie Daisies. Probably shouldn't have said that last part outloud?"

The Half Nagai snatched her hand out to take the drink from the Ithorian, chugging it empty before slamming the glass down onto the counter, breaking it, causing her to just blink down at the counter. "...Oh. Glass is weaker than I remember. Oopsie Daisies." Though either way, the Sith didn't seem to be that worried about it anyway, as she rested her chin on her fist, keeping her eyes on Spek whilst raising an eyebrow. "But I mean, the whole connection thing is how I see things. The Force is different for everyone I suppose."

Spek Zhio

 

[Spek Zhio]

"Silent and Deadly? Now that's what I call a bantha fart!"

Spek giggled while she shared more than she had intended to. "Actually, so far, you're the most Jedi-sounding Sith I've encountered. The Force is all around us, and all that jazz!" He took his own glass from the counter and played with it, sloshing the liquid inside. "Apart from the whole enjoying other people's pain and misery, of course. Oh! And the stabby-stabby bit, just then!"

Taking a sip, while watching her break the glass, Spek added, "Easy now, Syala. Please, don't let it happen again. Not even I can convince our Ithorian friend to look the other way, if you keep breaking his glassware!

"But tell me," he asked, while mirroring her posture, "how does that work, enjoying negative emotions? Is it some form of sadism? Just total lack of empathy? That can't be it, right? Since you feel what they're feeling... So it must be some sort of masochism by proxy, no?"

Syala

 

[Syala]

Syala's grin faded from her face as she was compared to a Jedi. A scowl slowly replaced the grin before she shook her head, shoving a more...unsincere grin on her face instead. "Oh?...Really. It just makes sense. The Force is all around us. Just only a few have the power to make it into a weapon though. Few have the power to turn their emotions into pure power. Into lightning. Into fire." A small glint passed through her face as she looked down at her dagger at the mentioning of fire...before shaking her head. No. No. That would be too much attention right now.

"It's fine. He has loads of glasses. What's breaking one? It's better than breaking a window. Or a knee cap." Syala shrugged her shoulders at that. It was true, at the very least. Easy to replace a broken glass, but breaking something else? Well. THat would require a lot more time, money and effort. She just rested her head against her hand, a rather bored expression coming over her face as Spek was trying to figure out how she enjoyed the emotions.

"It's siiiimple. It's all to do with power, respect, and strength. If they're in pain, it means they're weak, and I'm strong. If they're afraid, they're weak and I'm strong. The weak should respect the strong. They should do what the strong say. Any weakling that doesn't follow that natural rule needs to die. And if they manage to survive? That means they aren't weak. A warrior is better than a janitor. I can also use their own negative feelings to power myself." Syala explained rather simply, in her eyes as she yawned to herself.

Spek Zhio

 

[Spek Zhio]

-- Theme --​

"I have no intention - or right - to tell you what to feel or not to feel. But, from a purely logical standpoint, there's no need for you to become upset by my comparison."

Spek waved his hand casually, and the shards of broken glass atop the counter began to swirl into the air, towards it.

"What is more important to you? The individual or the group?" He posed the rhetorical question, all the while focusing his eyes on her, and not on the vortex of tiny shards of glass spiraling above his open palm. "Only if you place more importance in labeling tribes, rather than accepting idiosyncrasies, should comparing you to a Jedi be offensive. And on that note, let me stress it out again, I wasn't exactly saying you'd pass for a Jedi. Merely remarking that accepting that the Force surrounds all, is a Jedi mantra. That was all. Don't let your judgement be chained down by misinterpretation."

A pattern emerged from the chaos of the vortex of glass. Some shards spun faster, some shards spun wider. Some rose, some dropped.

"But, while still on the subject of chains - and incurring the risk of single-handedly ruin what was shaping out to become a pleasant conversation - allow me to point out the several flaws in your ideology.

"First, yours is a very reductive reasoning, and actually opposed to what I believe constitutes a Sith dogma. Pain and strength are not diametric poles...

"Through passion I gain strength"​

He quoted the code. "Often does passion rides on pain. Many a Jedi turned to the Dark out of pain, and they drew their strength from it."

The broken glass was now shaping itself into a familiar form.

"Secondly, strength is arbitrary, never absolute. So the fulcrum for your whole thesis is precarious, at best." He paused to take a sip from his drink, finishing it and, with the free hand, gently placing the glass on the counter. "A rancor is physically stronger than a Mandalorian, but a Mando can beat it every time with their weapons. It's all subjective and circumstantial, as even an Ithorian razor shark out of water, becomes powerless." Spek gestured to the barkeep for another round. "It's survival of the fittest, not survival of the strongest." He was recalling a similar conversation he had, with a Jedi Master, regarding the same exact subject.

"Therefore, I'll put forth that adaptability is actually a better measure for power, than strength or weakness. As for respect, when it's born out of fear, it's not actually respect at all, merely dormant insurrection waiting to erupt."

By then, all the broken pieces were joined together in its previous shape, that of a cylindrical glass cup. The fractures still visible on its surface as it continued to spin, ever so faster.

"A warrior - which I assume you consider yourself to be - is no better than a janitor at cleaning toilets. And we would all be in deep poodoo, quite literally," he grinned, still ignoring the spiraling glass cylinder above his palm, "without the mighty power of janitorial cleanliness.

"But number three, is where the problem really lies. You see, Syala, going back to the Sith words of old...

"Through Power, I gain Victory."
The cup spun so fast it began to glow.

"Through Victory my chains are Broken."
It emitted a continuously increasing low-volume high-pitched frequency. ​

"The Force shall free me."
As it went from a burning red to a beaming yellow radiance.​

"You're just replacing one chain, with another heavier one. The constant pursuit of power. A Sith is not free at all, but a slave to their own unquenchable thirst." The Zeltron glanced at the Ithorian, to see if he was about done with their drinks. "And I can tell you a thing or two about thirst."

As the glass steadily began to slow down, and the glow and sound to die out, it came to a peaceful rest on top of Spek's hand. The heat having fused all the cracks together, the glass cup was completely restored to its former shape.

"Power is ultimately fickle. Therefore, power is ultimately futile. And those who know nothing but to rely on it, are ultimately weak." Spek gingerly placed the restored glass next to his own empty one, for the Ithorian to pick up. "Weaker than a janitor or a bartender, because they are chained to their misconception, that'll end up becoming their ruin."

Syala

 

[Syala]

Syala raised an eyebrow at Spek's comment, not bothering to answer the rhetorical question. It was obvious in her eyes that it was the individual that was important, not a group. That's why she had found it so insulting to be compared to a Jedi. People who believed in helping the weak, and using the Force as a friend, instead of a tool. It was just something for her to twist to her own will, with her own might. Though she also raised an eyebrow as Spek said he was going to point out the flaws in her logic, and the Half-Nagai just linked her hands together, patiently listening to the man strangely enough. Though at each point, she'd flick out a finger so that she'd be able to remember a talking point.

"First, I never said I don't use pain. It's why I enjoy negative emotions. I don't have to rely on my own pain. Or my own fear. I can use that of those around me instead. I'd argue that pain leads more to fear. Passion is more...enjoying the art around you. The pain, the suffering, the blood flowing. It's an emotion you can barely control, and when the blood gets flowing, I can barely control myself." Syala said rather simply, as the Ithorian was clearly starting to look concerned at the woman's words...but he was on Nar Shaddaa after all, and he knew better than to speak up about it. Though it was clear that the fear from the Ithorian was...entertaining Syala, as her face started to break out into a twisted grin.

"Secondly. I never said strength was absolute. Like I said. Those who are weak should die if they try to fight the strong. But if they manage to defeat the strong, then they aren't weak. "Through power, I gain victory." So, through their own power, those who are weak have gained victory, and thus are no longer weak. I do not argue that janitors are not needed. Far from it. I am just saying that it is a job for the weak. Those who can not fight. There is no shame in that, if that is all they can live up to. It is shameful to have strength and not use it. I like to believe that my actions help to...awaken those with their true potential. Those who manage to survive me will end up being strong. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, after all."

However, at the third point, the woman seemed to tilt her head, almost in a look of pure confusion at the man in front of her. "Do I look like I am chained to anything? Do I look like I have an unquenchable thirst?...Perhaps for pain and suffering, but not for power. Knowledge, yes. Knowledge is useful. Knowledge is power, yes. But it is not power in itself. Strength and power are a moving scale. What it means, what it requires is always changing. I won't argue that a Jedi is not strong. I won't argue that a janitor is strong, in their own...disappointing way. Just...do not imply whatsoever, that I am chained to gaining power. Because I am not. I might be chained to something, but it is not a quest for power."

The woman finished her statement at that, just waiting for the Ithorian to give her another drink, and once he had, she'd just snatch it from his hands and chug it as fast as she could. Mostly because she really needed that drink right now.

Spek Zhio

 

[Spek Zhio]

-- Theme --
​

Zhio allowed Syala to speak uninterrupted. After all, he was just extending her the same courtesy that she had shown him. He was able to notice how she was taking mental notes, throughout, and counting them with her fingers. Despite how deranged she or some of the things she said might have seemed, she had demonstrated incredible patience and control. Another Jedi trait, uncommon for a Sith. But, this time, Zhio was not about to point it out to her.

Her drink had been waiting at her side, on the counter, for a while. When she finally grabbed it and gulped it down in one go, Spek took it as a sign that she was finished.

"Knowledge is ab-so-fraking-lutely the greatest power there is. Even extreme zealots such as the Sith, had brought down entire empires in pursuit of forgotten arcana and holocrons. The tragedy in you not fully recognizing that, is just further evidence of your chains and the weakness to break free from them. For ignorance is probably the heaviest chain of them all."

He took a sip from his new glass, admiring her audacity in already being finished with hers.

"I believe you've yet to understand what I meant. First, you're holding on to semantics. For example, I never said you literally worded that strength was absolute. But you certainly did imply it, when you've so clearly said that pain and fear equate to weakness. And, that weakness is the cornerstone of respect, towards the strong - which, by your definition, can only mean those not bogged down by pain or fear. Hence, absolutism.

"I was merely pointing out that pain and fear do not directly translate to neither strength nor weakness. So the strong, in your example, are not necessarily strong. But they are certainly deluded."

"And delusion is a form of weakness. Believing yourself to be what you're not. Just look at our Ithorian friend here."

Spek gestured towards the barkeep, who was far to the corner, cleaning their two previous cups. He giggled at the Zeltron. Once more, his laughter was uncannily reminiscent of silverware falling down a flight of stairs.

"Being incapable of controlling one's passions, is no different than being controlled by them. You're a puppet to your urges. And if you have power, in whatever form it comes, whatever scale or balance, and you let that power control you. Well, then you don't actually wield power, it wields you... Until you're broken and reduced to nothing but fuel for someone else's passion.

Spek was motioning towards the Ithorian, as he spoke. Hoping that his metaphor would be easily understood. Comparing the Ithorian who had succumbed to his lust, and fueled Zhio's own towards hard liquor.

"Hey! Brown-eyes! Another round, please!" Turning to face Syala, he added, "See what I mean?"

How many rounds deep were they? Who even cares?

"You can't even see how the Sith's entire ideology is flawed and foolish and, at the same time, needed in order to bring balance to the entropies of the universe - this shortsightedness, a flaw shared by the Jedi.

"Truly, hilarious if it wasn't so tragic."

Spek gulped down the remainder of his drink and put the cup down, just as the Ithorian was approaching the counter. He shook his head and showed him an open palm. "This time, make it a double!" Afterwards, throwing Syala a mischievous smile.

"You may indeed revel in someone else's anguish, but that's all you can do. I suspect you'd rather be dead than weak. Still, they're the ones who are capable of enduring day after day after day after day... Of pain and anguish, not succumbing to it and just ending their lives. Yet they're the weak ones, by your standards. Well, that's a load of Hutt slime! They struggle on, and get stronger every day, like you said, 'what doesn't kill you'...

"You, like all Sith, are chained to a broken dogma. Like that glass, before. Breaking it was easy, putting it back together took more effort.

"So, what is power?
	"Doing the easy...
		"Or the hard thing?
			"Surviving?
				"Or giving up?

"And why are you so obsessed with someone else's pain and suffering?

"Is it so you don't become one of the weak? ​
	"The ones who gets crushed by the strong?​
		"Is that fear? ​
			"Or jealousy?​

The Ithorian came back with the drinks and another crash of kitchenware from his throat sack. The ethanol vapors already reaching Spek's nostrils as he took them both into his hands.

"Because this is what you don't understand. Why do they struggle if they're weak? Why won't they just roll over and die or submit and obey? And I'm telling you, it's because they're the strong ones, through adversity. You're the weak one, for not understanding. Therefore - according to your own creed - you're the one who should die."

Zhio offered Syala a glass. He was not sure what near-human species she was, but she somewhat seemed Nagai... mixed with something else?

The Zeltron had nothing against mixology, au contraire in fact. Still, he doubted that, like him, she had two livers capable of such supreme efficiency at metabolizing alcohol.

"I'll take it one step further and put my credits where my mouth is. If I can outdrink you, does that make you weaker than me? And... therefore, should you obey me or die?"

He raised his cup in a toast.

"Wanna spar?"

Syala

 

[Syala]

"It is ignorance to say that it is not the act of gaining knowledge, but how you use it, that is power?" This time, Syala didn't wait for Spek to be finished. He was twisting her words in her eyes, and that was not something she'd sit by and listen to. Part of her wished she'd have more drink, so she didn't have to actually think about this kind of thing. She was an acter, a doer, not a thinker. She was not a philosopher or someone who overly cared about the mindset of these kind of things, but she felt challenged by Spek and felt like she had to say where she was coming from. "But power and knowledge always has a price. Not everyone is willing to pay that price. Is learning how to twist someone's soul to your own whims, worth the price of your own soul, for example."

The Half-Nagai let out a small grumble, running her hand through her hair, before digging her fingers into the locks of ginger for a moment. It wasn't worth it to snap right now. No point zapping out electricity or throwing out fire. Though the fact Spek was comparing to Syala to the foolish Ithorian was once again getting under her skin. A few crackles of lightning zapping off her fingers before she shook her head. Her emotions answered to her. Not the other way around. She was not going to prove him right as the Sith closed her eyes, focusing on something else. Repeating a set of thoughts in her head to calm herself down, before letting out a small sigh afterwards.

"Why do you like alcohol? The taste? The way it makes you forget about things? The way it loosens your inhibitions?" Syala just turned the question on Spek. It didn't matter why she liked others suffering. Why did anyone, like anything at the end of the day? Because it felt good. And seeing others in pain felt good to her. Being able to take in their agony, seeing how it makes them react. It also went into how she liked to test people, or well used to test people back when she lived on Dantooine. She hadn't been able to do anything like that since moving to her new base which was disappointing...Hm...Perhaps she should do something like that eventually...Either way, she just kept her attention on Spek, folding her arms along her front.

"Why do ants work in assigned roles? Why do rats scurry in the shadows instead of taking food directly? Why do birds nest? Because it is nature. Those are exactly the same questions as to why you're asking me why people don't just roll over and die. It is also natural for people to try and disobey, but it is also natural for those people to die if they're too weak. I do not believe for a moment, that I am the strongest being alive. Far from it. I just do what I do, very well."

At that, Syala pushed the drink away from her, raising an eyebrow at Spek as a small smirk grew across her face. She wasn't going to fall for his tricks. She wasn't like the Ithorian. She knew that meant he'd probably call her some form of coward, but it was more her playing to her own strengths. "Which is why I will not play this little challenge of yours. You clearly enjoy your liquor more than I do. Drinking is one of your talents. Same as the Ithorian's talent is making drinks. I would not challenge him to a drink making competition. Now, if it was a competition on who could endure the most pain, I'd challenge him. A competition on making the most accurate cut with a knife. Of course. But you should never put yourself in a position where you'd more than likely lose." She shrugged her shoulders afterwards and just went back to fiddling with her knife, spinning it around the counter.

Spek Zhio

 

[Spek Zhio]

"Well, of course it's what you do with it that counts. That was my whole point! Destroying something is easier than building something. All those negative emotions are like cheap fuel, that burn very hot but depletes very quickly as well.

"From my personal experience, those who draw from those emotions tend to burn out rather fast. And, the constant search for more hate, more pain, more power, becomes their crutch." Spek gulped down his drink. "It's that much easier to subjugate them after you see the crutch and remove it."

He motioned towards Syala's glass, as if asking for permission to take it, since she did not want it.

"As for myself, I drink because I can. My Zeltron physiology allows me to do it without impairing my other senses. So I admit, I was trying to pull a fast one on you but It was all in good fun!" He smirked. "I didn't think you'd fall for it, for even a second. It was a meager attempt at loosening you up."

The Zeltron was being honest, but maybe they were beyond trusting each other at that point. If they ever did.

Zhio grabbed the cup that was intended for her, and drank it as well.

"But, to better answer your question, I don't do it because I need it in order to function. I do it because I take pleasure from it and because I remain in control of that pleasure. It doesn't control me, I control it, and can stop whenever I want." A common belief amongst addicts. But he truly believed it was the truth in his case, for what it was worth.

"But it is a guilty pleasure, just the same. Same as yours I suspect."

He moved both empty glasses away. Clearing the counter.

"I think it's kinda dreadful that you basically believe we are slaves to our own nature. Don't you think we have a chance, even if very small, to transcend it?

"Aaaand, having said that, I won't fall for your trick as well," he said with a grin. "So maybe we can find something where neither of us has an unfair advantage?... If you still want to compete, that is. Just for the fun of it."

Syala

 

[Syala]

Syala pushed the glass over towards Spek, letting him take it. She had no interest in drinking the alcohol. Normally she'd be all up for it, but Spek made her feel more uncomfortable and distrustful than the actual Sith. She at least knew what they wanted, she had no clue what he wanted at the end of the day. She just rested her chin against her fist again, keeping her eyes on him, refusing to trust him at this point. It had felt like he had been specifically trying to make her mad. Make her snap at him and she wasn't going to give anyone the pleasure of doing that, except for herself.

"It may be a guilty pleasure, but are you sure you could give it up? Or at the very least, give it up and not resort to another addiction? I know myself well enough to know that even if I did give up on my enjoyment of suffering, I'd find something else to fill that hole. Fighting, robbing, killing. It is more common for people to find a new addiction, in the act of trying to give up an old one. But to answer your question, no. I don't think we have a chance to transcend our own nature. I might hate my people. I might hate their beliefs and tradition, but I still follow it in my own way. It is just...a corrupted way of how they view it. They believe there is no honour in killing the weak. I agree. I just don't care, because it's fun. They believe the only thing you should truly care about is family, which I agree with. It's why I left the planet. No matter what, a creature's nature will always be a part of them, no matter how much they try to escape."

The Sith took in a deep breath after all of the talking she had been doing, raising a hand to her chest for a moment and just trying to recover. That had been a lot more than she had been expecting to say. She shook her head however at the idea of competing. She wasn't the kind of person to compete for fun, unless she trusted the person and she did not trust Spek.

Spek Zhio