Private Admiral Sow's Nuna

[Jonah]

WAITING
Yummy Garden Restaurant, Nar Shaddaa

Rain drenched the city streets.

For months now, the Hutt Moon of Nar Shaddaa had been Jonah's home. Yet, as time moved ever forward, it was becoming clear that there would be a grand departure on the horizon. He and his partner-in-crime were laying plans for branching out, specifically to explore Sith Space and to acquire some assets along the way. What's more, Jonah's newfound pupil was positively itching for new opportunities to sink her fangs in. It seemed as though the days of accepting jobs from the cartels and withstanding the persistent stench of the alleys were coming to a close.

But before Jonah could spread his wings and fly off, there were a couple matters of business to attend to.

For this reason, the man had sent an address to both Leven and Viviane with instructions to meet him as quickly as they could. It wasn't often that he sent such requests, especially with all three of them tying up loose ends on the Hutt Moon. Thus, he anticipated that they would be swift about making their way over. The location was deceptively mundane. There was a large square with numerous stalls and restaurants, all characterized by neon lights. The rain did nothing to impede business as there was a healthy crowd of people bouncing from spot to spot every moment.

Jonah waited inside one such restaurant. At a glance, the spot was the typical, hole-in-the-wall Atrisian restaurant. (Complete with a kid doing their homework at one of the tables.) He was seated close to the door, eyes wandering across the menu boards above the main counter. There wasn't anything particular leaping out at him, but he did have one item in particular in mind. A number that wasn't on the menu, but was sure to suit the need that was frequently pointed out by Leven.

Of course, his two favorite souls would have to arrive for him to move on it.
​

Tag: Seraphia + Leven Jeyd

 

[Leven Jeyd]

S U M M O N E D​

TAG: Jonah Seraphia

Leven's arrival at the restaurant was as inconspicuous as the shadow she slid through. Nar Shaddaa's ceaseless rain had soaked her cloak, the water dripping off in silent patterns. The city's grime and chaos was ingrained in her as the alchemy she practiced. But this moon where she was born was a far cry from the mountainous refuge she was crafting on Illyria. It did have its own merits—chief among them, the abundance of opportunities to engage in what she enjoyed most: the art of manipulation and the acquisition of knowledge.

For Leven, it was a reminder of how far she'd come, while she enjoyed it she had no longing for a simpler life of thieving—Leven could never desire such a thing. Simplicity was for those who lacked the will to shape the galaxy to their desires. Those mines were her sanctuary now, progressively beginning to teem with the droids she had painstakingly programmed to extract the volatile riches hidden deep within the earth. Progress was slow—intentionally so—but it was steady. The wealth she would accumulate there would one day fund far more than a few under-the-table deals on a scummy moon like this.

She moved through the crowd like a phantom, slipping between bodies with practiced ease. Her eyes scanned the scene with a predatory focus. The square was bustling despite the rain, but Leven was already aware of Jonah's presence before she even entered the restaurant. The connection between them was not unlike the silent, invisible threads that linked her to her creations back in the mines—strong, unspoken, and deadly if provoked.

Pushing the door open, Leven stepped inside, shaking off her cloak with a swift motion that sent a spray of water onto the floor. She took in the scene: the mundane restaurant, the kid doing homework, the aroma of Atrisian cuisine. Her eyes found Jonah immediately, and a faint smirk curled at the edges of her lips. She was here because Jonah had summoned her, and though they both played their own games, she knew when to be present.

"Jonah," she greeted, sliding into the seat across from him without hesitation. Her voice was calm, steady, with that undercurrent of knowing that only came with their shared history. The menu was glanced at, but dismissed just as quickly. Leven wasn't here for the food, and she doubted Jonah was either.

"I see you've chosen a place that blends in," she remarked, her tone amused but pointed. She knew him well enough to expect that there was more to this meeting than the location suggested. "What's the catch?"

Her thoughts briefly flicked to Illyria, deciding to intercede with her own announcement before whatever it was he was planning was put forth. The droids were coming along nicely, finally showing the potential she had envisioned when she first took control of that forsaken place. It was far from the chaotic streets of Nar Shaddaa, but it was no less ruthless.

"The mines are progressing," she said, her voice casual but laced with the satisfaction of hard-won success. "The droids are nearly ready to start reaping the real rewards. Maybe I'll let you take a look—when I'm done refining them."

She leaned back, her gaze never leaving Jonah's as she continued, "But that's a conversation for another time. I'm curious—what's so urgent that you'd drag me away from my work?" In truth the Jester wasn't bothered by it at all - that would not stop her from being dramatic.


​

 

[Seraphia]

NAR SHADDAA

I hated the rain.

It was the worst kind of weather. Anywhere, really, but especially here. On another planet, in another time, I would have been damp. At worst, soaked to the bone, but here? On this scummy planet? Even the rain felt filthy. Instead of washing away the sins of these wretched souls it seemed to cement them. Coat them in a slick, oily layer of grease and grime that made them impossible to scent. Until they were almost as invisible as I was. I grumbled about it as I walked, my heels click, click, clicking in time to the steady drip of some gutter somewhere.

I wasn't accustomed to being summoned like a dog to heel, but in these few short weeks since meeting him it hadn't happened. I had been left to my own devices. Just as he'd promised, as Jonah had promised. I was not a slave. I did not belong to anyone but myself. I did not bow or bend or scrape to his will like any baseless acolyte of the sith. I was my own person, my own god. Free to roam and hunt at will while he tied up whatever business he had on Nar Shaddaa, and much to my surprise and gratitude, he hadn't called on me. Not once.

So when the summons did come, and I read the subtle urgency between the lines, I thought it best to answer. Even if it was a journey from where I had been hunting. Even if it was raining.

The square was busy enough that I slipped through the crowd mostly unnoticed. Most eyes were invested in the bottom of their mugs, or on bowls of steaming street food that made my nose crinkle whenever I caught a whiff. Most minds were focused on conversation, or on their own private thoughts as they sipped, or ate, or walked. If nothing else, this wretched moon was good for that. For allowing even the most conspicuous of people to be invisible when they needed it most. I did not truly need it now, but I still clung to that cloak of shadow and darkness. At least until I reached my destination.

Stopping just at the edge of faded squares of neon light seeping through dusty windows, I cast my gaze up to the sign above a door. Sheets of thick rain blurred the writing enough that I had to stare at it for a moment longer than I'd have liked. A restaurant? I scoffed. Loudly. Of all the places to pick, this was the last thing on my list. Not only did my aversion towards what humans considered food make a restaurant more of a novelty than a dining experience, I was likely to stick out. Like a sore thumb. I pulled the blood-red edges of my cloak closer as the door swished open, bombarding me with a wave of warm air thick with the smells of a kitchen.

It was enough to make me gag. I drew my fingers up to my nose, blocking the scent as much as I could without making it too obvious. At the same time, I scanned the small space thick with tables, chairs and booths. The interior was exactly as I had assumed from the outside. It was… homely. The tables and chairs were well-loved, with dents and scratches along the floors where they had been pulled and pushed too many times to count. The walls were coated in holo-photography. Of distant scenery. Of the building itself. Of strangers' faces smiling out. Laughing. Unaware that they were trapped in a dank and dreary hole in the wall on this lonely, grim moon.

I could tell that someone had done their best to hide this place from the horrors that lay just beyond the door. To add to that effect, there was even a child. A small, innocent-looking thing with its head buried in the flickering lines of an ancient holopad. Equally unaware that at the table just a short walk away from their little slice of peace and safety sat not one but two beings of the dark side. Two beings that could have snapped their fingers and demolished that bit of peace and extinguished that safety in the blink of an eye. My focus finally drifted towards them.

I caught the tail end of their conversation. Carried on a voice that was sweet in its inflexion but hid beneath it, if you listened carefully enough, a world of darkness and decay. A world that I was all too familiar with. A world that I wanted to be a part of. I took two graceful steps towards the table, and with no announcement or greeting, I sat. "I was rather curious about that myself."​

Jonah || Leven Jeyd​

 

[Jonah]

The first to arrive was Leven.

She entered the establishment with little fanfare, pausing only to shake the water from her cloak. Jonah could feel the eyes of the Atrisian owners upon his partner-in-crime, for they were sensitive to such displays. Someone would have to mop up the water and he figured that it would end up being the kid in the back. Nonetheless, the Sithspawn slid into the seat across from him. Leven spared a single glance to the food menu before entirely dismissing it.

Jonah wasn't surprised...though he could have sworn that everyone in the Galaxy enjoyed greasy Atrisian food. Wasting no time, the woman asked what the catch was. This caused a smirk to form on the man's face, as she clearly had gotten to know how his mind worked. In truth, he hadn't asked for his partner and his newfound student to pause their various ambitions just to partake in street fare. "I have to give credit where it's due," he began. "A certain someone's lair gave me the bright idea of making sure I blended in with my surroundings. Keep folk guessing." He winked, borrowing the theatrics which she so often shared with him.

Given that Jonah did not immediately spill the beans, Leven shared a glimpse into her own efforts. Her mines were slowly coming online, which would give her the financial means to chase her ambitions all the more. Jonah's own contribution to their shared venture was coming along as well, but he held his cards close to his chest for the moment. "I would expect nothing less - you are quite motivated." Leven then asked directly what was sooo important that he'd call her away, but before Jonah could stall any further, the door opened.

And in stepped Viviane. She wore a look of absolute displeasure, which Jonah mentally attributed to the fact that she had been soaked by the rain. Like her compatriot, she slid into one of the open seats and Jonah acknowledged her with a nod. "Well, now that the gang's all here, I suppose I can reward your patience. Firstly." he began, before motioning towards Viviane. "Leven, this is Viviane. I think you'll find a kindred spirit in her - both of you make hunting an artform after all. We have an arrangement similar to the one we have."

He then motioned to Leven. "Viviane, this is Leven. She is my partner-in-crime in all things. She is also the source of many heart attacks, so please keep an eye on the vents when she's around." The man chuckled, fondly recalling the maiden voyage out to Ryloth. "Now then, the reason I called you here is simple: I've found something that will alter the trajectory of your training forever. Leven, if you thought the Gatekeeper was tough, well, this will make it look like a case of dandrum. However, the payoff will be worth it."

His voice lowered to a hush. "Imagine the power to sow madness across battlefields. Discord across cities. All. By. Your. Self. No need for toxins or armies - you are the epicenter of the havoc. This is what I've found, the key to such power." Jonah leaned back in his seat and looked to the menu. "Of course, securing such a thing will require that we bring our a-game, so I brought us here." The man then stood up and motioned for both to follow. He approached the front counter and casually placed an order. "Yes, may I have an order of Admiral Sow's Nuna please? For here."

The Atrisian woman at the counter looked him up and down before motioning him to come around. He oblige and stepped behind the counter, signaling for the ladies to once more keep pace with him. They moved past the fryers. Past the woks. Past the supplies and into the chest freezer in the back of the establishment. Once there, the Atrisian shoved aside some frozen greens to reveal a numberpad upon the wall. A code was hastily entered and the rearmost wall gave way. The hidden chamber was an armory, one which caused Jonah to release a low whistle. "Charge everything to my account Madam Fu-ong. We won't be long."

The woman nodded and skulked away back to the counter. Jonah stepped inside the brightly-lid room. Wall-to-wall were every flavor of weapon they could imagine. From Mandalorian armor to disruptors to archaic sonic weaponry. Jonah opened his arms wide. "Since someone insists I upgrade my own blades, I figure a shopping spree is in order. Help yourselves. Get anything you think would aide you in what's to come - because trust me. We'll need it."

Tag: Leven Jeyd + Seraphia

 

[Leven Jeyd]

S U M M O N E D​

TAG: Jonah Seraphia

Leven's eyes flickered to the door as Viviane entered, the slightest narrowing of her gaze betraying her curiosity. Jonah had mentioned nothing about another person joining their circle, let alone someone he was training. It was a surprise, and Leven was very particular about the kind of surprises she enjoyed. Especially when they came in the form of another being—one Jonah clearly trusted enough to bring into this intimate fold but had not mentioned before.

As Viviane slid into her seat with a grace that matched the quiet fury on her face, Leven's senses prickled. There was something about the newcomer that felt...familiar. Not in the way one recognized a face or a voice, but something deeper, something tied to the very essence of the Force that pulsed through her, to the planet she was slowly molding into her own domain, it was not easily ignored. And now, here, in the presence of this stranger, that same connection stirred, like a whisper of the wind through the mountain passes back home.

Illyrian.

The realization settled in Leven's mind as her senses honed in on the unique aura that Viviane exuded. It was faint, subtle—likely due to the time spent away from their shared home—but unmistakable. The traces of Illyria were woven into Viviane's being, just as they were in Leven's own. This revelation piqued Leven's interest, though she masked it behind a calm exterior, her expression unreadable.

Leven offered Viviane a slow, deliberate nod as Jonah introduced them. The corner of her lips tugged upward in a semblance of a smile, though her mind was already calculating, assessing the implications of this new dynamic. Jonah's comment about keeping an eye on the vents was met with a quiet chuckle, her gaze momentarily softening with the memory of their past exploits. But beneath the surface, she was already weighing Viviane's presence against her own carefully laid plans.

"Well, well." Leven's voice was smooth, almost melodic. "It seems Jonah's been busy while I've been away." Her tone was light, but the underlying message was clear—Leven was marking her territory, poking at the boundaries of this new relationship. The Jester didn't enjoy sharing, nor was she one easily convinced to play nice. But if Jonah was vouching for this one, she would go along. For now, at least.

As Jonah revealed the reason for their meeting, Leven's attention shifted back to him, though she remained acutely aware of Viviane's presence. The mention of a power to sow madness and discord intrigued her, and a glimmer of excitement sparked in her eyes. She had heard of this, and could see the potential in such an ability, not just for herself, but for the grander schemes she had in mind. "Oh that old crook? That wasn't that bad, barely remember it." Her voice was nothing if not absolutely convincing, it was the glint she allowed to reach her white eyes that gave away the jest.

When Jonah motioned for them to follow, Leven rose smoothly from her seat, her wet cloak falling into place behind her. She moved with a fluid grace as she trailed behind him, casting a glance at Viviane as they navigated through the restaurant and into the hidden armory. The sight of the weapons arrayed before them drew an appreciative hum from her lips, but her mind was elsewhere. Her mind was advancing on the edges of Viviane's own, attempting to grasp at her thoughts and peek. Just as she had done to Jonah the day she met him.

The presence of another Illyrian had the potential to... complicate things. Ever since Xobos' disappearance Leven had taken the reigns at Garde Noir and she had done so with no blessings from anyone. She had done so subtly, secretly, and she was painstakingly careful that this remained as unnoticed and unstirred as possible. Yet, it did in other ways open new avenues for opportunity. The Jester would indulge her curiosity, for there was more to be learned, more to be understood about this woman who had suddenly appeared in her orbit.

For now, however, she would play along, claws patiently sheathed. After all, there was something exhilarating about the unknown. And Leven thrived on challenges.

"I guess 'fashionably late' doesn't apply to weapon upgrades, huh? What do we have in mind?" She grinned. The man better have been ready to make the move from boring to totally awesome because she was not going to miss this chance. To Leven nothing said "I've given up" like sticking to the regular and old school.

Her gaze flicked to Viviane once more, her grin still sharp. Her fingers deftly assessed the edges and balances of the weapons that caught her attention. She was a master artisan at this craft, and would not settle for anything that didn't meet her impossibly high standards. In truth, Leven had immediately known what she'd pick up upon entering the armory, she was simply savoring the opportunity to assess their choices.

​

 

[Seraphia]

NAR SHADDAA

It was immediately apparent that neither of us expected the other. I knew of her. Only vaguely, but being thrust into a meeting with no word or warning was an unwelcome surprise.

I couldn't speak for her, but I knew I was not accustomed to surprises. They were mean, nasty little instances that demonstrated pure ignorance on the receiver's behalf. With displeasure already reigning on my face, I did not have to work to hide it. Nor did I want to. Just for a moment, I trained that displeasure on Jonah. I let it run havoc on my face, twisting my features into something that could only ever partially reflect the true feeling. Neither my expression or my gaze shifted as he introduced us each in turn.

It was only when he waved a hand toward her that I deigned to look properly. Though the disgust melted before she could see it, my nostrils twitched obviously. Once, twice, several times as I did my best to draw in her scent. Beneath that sickening scent of cooked meat and charred vegetables, a second surprise awaited.

I sniffed again. Beneath the rain and the general stench of Nar Shaddaa that coated her like a second skin something smelled. Something familiar. Like rivers that I'd swum in. Like mountains I'd bowed before. Like trees I'd climbed, like grass I'd touched. She smelled like the warmth of a body embracing mine. The softness of a soothing voice. The love hidden carefully behind a dangerous smile. She smelled like home. The slow nod she offered shattered my silent revere, and as I sunk back into my body the tension that surprise had knotted into my shoulders sank with me.

But not for long.

There was ice in that smile she offered that stopped it from sinking entirely, and there was frost in my replying smile. In the answer I reeled off in High Illyrian without a second thought. A language that tasted strange on my tongue after so many months of gathering dust, but I spoke with no less confidence. "A pleasure." My eyes slid from Levan to Jonah again, and there was something in their gaze that made their eerie blue-white glow glimmer with iridescence.

"Busy is certainly one word for it." I painted another smile on my face with one elegant stroke. A rather cocky one that turned up one corner of my lip. One that I wasn't afraid to show openly. Leven might have been marking her territory and drawing boundaries, but that smile brazenly paraded the fact that I was already here. That those boundaries had already been crossed and that territory was well beyond mere invasion. That I was already in the process of making myself comfortable. Making myself at home. No threat, heavily veiled or otherwise, could make me leave now that I was here. She was going to have to like it or deal with it the way sensible creatures of the darkside dealt with irritations and nuisances.

With violence and bloodshed.

I was more than happy to oblige.

It was only when Jonah began to explain why he had forced us until such an unceremonious meeting that my attention finally fixed on him fully. Much like the speech he had offered when he was convincing me to join his cause, his every word was captivating. It sang to me. Like a god listening to their gospel. To their words of worship thrown up to the heavens in beautiful, moving melodies. Madness. Discord. Havoc. Choas. They were my words of praise. My words of devotion. The things that would guide me, give me power, raise me from nothing into something. I leaned forward in my seat just a little. The only flash of interest my face or body gave.

It waned almost immediately when the menu came into play. Nothing that was written on there was worth my interest, as far as I was aware. I was about to settle back in my own chair to pick at the long painted nails decorating my hands, but Jonah stood. As he stood, he took my attention with him, holding it firm with a simple motion from his hand. My teeth clenched tightly, but I still stood. I still followed.

Disinterest crept back in again as he reached the front counter and spoke to a rather plump-looking woman with greasy-looking skin. She gave him one long, assessing look from the top of his head to the tips of his boots. One that I had given myself many times before. I could only hope I looked far more impressive doing it than she did. We wound our way through the table-packed interior. Through a kitchen that had me drawing the edge of my cloak up towards my nose, and then into a storage room overflowing with damp boxes and a smell that was no more impressive than the previous room.

As we picked our way through oil-thick air and a maze of cardboard and cheap steel my attention was grabbed by something other than my surroundings. A presence lingering on the edges of my senses. Dancing around them, weaving between them, dodging and moving as if trying to find a way through them. At first, I tried to ignore it, but the harder I tried the more the feeling grew.

I swatted at it with a lazy caress of my own power. As if it was nothing more than an irritating fly buzzing too close for comfort. I went so far as to lift my hand to actually flap at my ear like the motion would put a stop to the white noise clouding my mind. When it remained, I sighed a private sigh and turned my head marginally to widen my peripheral vision, hoping to catch the presence in there. Hoping to end its life before my eye began to twitch. But there was nothing. Nothing but a gentle, encouraging buzz that was doing its best to nudge into my mind.

I had known this before. Felt it before. A long time ago, in a faraway place.

I narrowed my brows as I slunk behind Jonah and Leven towards whatever or wherever Admiral Sow's Nuna was. In a strange turn of events, and a last-ditch attempt to make it stop, I let the walls around my mind crumble. I let them break. Until there was no barrier between my mind and the outside world. I wasn't exactly an expert in mind reading or control, or whatever was being attempted, but I was aware enough to know that my mind wasn't a safe space anymore. Yet just as I was now burdened with an unwanted visitor, that unwanted visitor was equally trapped in the onslaught of my entire unguarded mind. Memories, images, sights, sounds, smells, thoughts. I had nothing to hide, but the sheer and sudden amount I had to share would be enough to put them off attempting it again for a while.

Hopefully.

My focus finally returned to the path we were making. Only, there wasn't much of a path left. The back of the freezer we had wandered into at some point stood before us. A shimmering sold mass of metal coated in hoarfrost. I knew better than to be surprised when the rhythmic tap and beep of a code slid that back wall open in an impressive flurry of hissing and whooshing. Until we were looking at the inside of another room, decked floor to ceiling with every kind of weapon I could have ever imagined.

I wasn't accustomed to fighting with a weapon. There was such a wide range of them available that I was momentarily blindsided by it all. Frozen quietly on the spot as I drank it all in. Most of the things set in the racks and on the walls were completely foreign to me. I'd seen some of them of them before, even fought against a few of them. But wielding them? Being effective with them and not just a danger to myself and others? It was a different story altogether.

The only thing I did recognise was the dull grey sheen of a lightsaber hilt nestled between two grotesquely large-looking guns. It was arguably my best shot, I had some training with lightsabers. Not enough, but some. I cast an uncertain glance toward Jonah, coupled with a slow shake of my head. "I'd prefer not to fight with any of these." With my mind an open book to the presence that had poked and prodded til my patience crumbled, I chose not to lie. "I don't really have any worthwhile training with weapons. I'd no doubt be more of a hindrance than a help if you put one of these in my hands."​

Jonah || Leven Jeyd​

​

​

 

[Jonah]

"Of course I've been busy," came the man's response, "I'm sure you would have been sorely disappointed if I had been sitting on my hands this entire time. Given everything we both want to achieve."

Although Jonah was not cut from the same murderous cloth as the two souls before him, the man wasn't wholly ignorant to the temperature at the table. A new dynamic was being introduced, one that neither Leven nor Viviane were anticipating. Therefore, though the words were exchanged with pleasant tones, the man could all but feel the tension. On one hand, the Vampyre began by speaking in a tongue he had never heard before. On the other, the Sithspawn coolly poked at boundaries with but a single sentence.

The man chuckled ever so slightly watching them. This was a testament to his own commitment to the both of them. In more domineering agreements, where there was a Master taming Apprentices, forcing a pair to get along was the way. But here? In a world where Jonah was committed to seeing them as valuable partners? He had to let them figure each other out on their own. He had no reason to doubt that they wouldn't - after all, the group stood upon the same foundation with their goals.

Thus, he said nothing more as he led the way back towards the armory. His eyebrow did raise ever so slightly as he felt the Sithspawn and the Vampyre's presences in the Force. Boundaries were being poked, it seemed - and he chocked it up to them figuring each other out. Now, where Jonah did have thoughts was where it came to the arsenal before him. Thus far, he leaned into his strengths: he was comfortable wielding physical blades and had leaned into the cutting power of vibro-weaponry. He also enjoyed the flexibility of holdout blasters, as they were easily concealed. However, Jonah recognized that there were gaps in his approach.

Striding forward, his eyes fell upon a beefier looking blaster pistol. He was about to reach for it when Viviane spoke about her own skillset. "No." he said, with a firmness that was unlike him. Jonah was never the sort to demand anything from the two. He'd listen. He'd suggest. He'd compromise. Such was the nature of partners. But in this rare instance? He would not be denied. He turned to face both of them, arms briefly folding upon his chest.

"All three of us want to accomplish something that won't see us contesting the dregs of Nar Shaddaa forever. The day will come when we have to navigate the utter bullshit that's being used on the battlefield. I've been in this sector for mere months now, and I know that there are Mandalorians running rampant with force-neutralizing lizards. There are all sorts of gasses and toxins which can render both of your natural talents useless. That's not to mention the Vong, the Force Dead, or anything in-between. The day will come when your powers are gone and your natural strength is gone. In that moment, the only thing that will save you from death is how well you can fight as a mortal."

Jonah exhaled and motioned towards Viviane. "Apologies for getting preachy, but I don't want either of you to die. Not unless its of old age after every whim we could ever want is fulfilled. That all being said." The man strolled towards the opposing side of the room and pointed to a pistol with a domed barrel. "This is a sonic pistol. If your enemy has a weapon that can deflect blaster bolts, guess what? Doesn't matter anymore. This bad boy can go right through it and armor. He then motioned towards another shelf. "Every flavor of grenade you can think of is over there. Those are easy. Push the button and throw. You'll also find a selection of knives and poisons, if the subtler route is your thing in a pinch. Lastly." Jonah then returned to the weapon he was eyeing a moment prior.

"This is a disruptor. There are a few like it in here - one shot reduces the target to a pile of ash. To muss, no fuss." The man quickly found the accompanying holster and added it to his belt. His gaze found Viviane - where she'd see consideration in his eyes. Jonah wanted her to live. To thrive. Nothing more. He then looked to Leven and smiled. "Well, I do enjoy the flexibility of my swords, but someone found them boring." His tone was clearly amused. He then pointed towards one of the lightsaber hilts hanging on the wall. "I figure its high time that I sport one of those. Can't go wrong with 'unlimited cutting power' right?"

Tag: Seraphia + Leven Jeyd

 

[Leven Jeyd]

S U M M O N E D​

TAG: Jonah Seraphia

The moment Leven entered Viviane’s mind, she was met with an unexpected deluge of memories, sensations, and experiences. Viviane hadn’t just opened a door; she had flung it wide open, inviting Leven to roam freely through the labyrinth of her consciousness. Leven’s mind swam through the currents of thoughts and memories, sifting through the chaos with an almost predatory hunger, seeking something of use, something telling. And then she found it — the unmistakable taste of blood.

It wasn’t just a memory; it was a craving, something that stirred deeply within Viviane's being. Leven could taste the metallic tang on her tongue, feel the pulse of life ebbing beneath her fangs. Bloodlust, but not precisely the same kind she felt. No, this was precise, elegant, even. It made sense now, the pale complexion, the aura of restrained power. Leven had never encountered one in person before, but she had heard of them enough. Her interest in Viviane only deepened.

A slow, serpentine smile curled across Leven’s lips as she retreated from Viviane’s mind, the sheer volume of information neatly filed away in her mind for future use. It took only moments for her to regain her composure, though the brief exposure to so much left a tingling aftertaste.

She met Viviane’s gaze, eyes gleaming with something more than curiosity. "Ah, you hide your nature well," Leven murmured, her voice slipping between words like silk through fingers, layered with subtle amusement. "But blood... that’s an appetite I understand."

There was something almost intimate in the way Leven said it, though her eyes remained sharp, always calculating. Yet, any intrigue she felt quickly soured as she turned her attention to the racks of weapons and noticed Viviane’s lack of familiarity with them, painful for her to watch. Leven suppressed a sigh of disapproval, though it bubbled beneath her skin.

Viviane, a creature of predatory grace, but without knowledge of the very tools of the craft. What a waste. Leven’s eyes flicked toward Jonah, her silent critique far sharper than anything she would say aloud.

She stepped closer to the weapon rack, her movements languid yet purposeful. Leven reached out and picked up some slugthrower pistols, she much preferred them to blasters. Limited ammo was only an issue if one didn't make the shots count. It was perfect for someone like Leven, who thrived in shadows and killed with precision.

Some of the grenades, a budnle of throwing knives, all were neatly stashed in her person. She inspected them closely, running her fingers along them, appreciating its craftsmanship even as her mind compared it to her own creations. Good, but not great. She was better. Nevertheless, she slid them to her back, safely put away beneath her robe and then selected another weapon. She wouldn't go anywhere near blades not of her own making, but this item had caught her eye. Made of cortosis wire, nearly unbreakable, and deadly. But this particular model had a touch of flare: blades affixed to each end of the cord, sharp and deadly, perfect for cutting a throat cleanly even as the garrote did its work.

Satisfied with her selections, she turned to face Jonah and Viviane again. Her smile was gone now, replaced with something colder, more clinical.

Leven would reach out to Jonah's mind. Her words weren’t meant to wound, but neither were they soft. There was no malice, just the bluntness of her disapproval. <<It would be wise to prepare her better for this environment, don’t you think?>> Usually she would have been far more decisive, but she trusted the man. If Viviane handled a blade like a child's toy then there must have been something else that would make her something other than ballast.

Her eyes flicked back to Viviane, and a small smirk played at the corners of her lips. "Perhaps in time, you’ll learn. If you don't get killed."

Leven turned away before either of them could respond, letting the weight of her words hang in the air as she moved toward the exit. She paused for a moment, her fingers tightening ever so slightly around the garrote in her hand, and she glanced back at Viviane one last time.

With that, Leven strode out of the armory, her movements fluid and composed, her mind already turning over the possibilities that had begun to unfurl.

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