Private After the Darkness

[Darth Metus]

H O M E​

He knew her fury.

Despite the most recent turn of events, time had not been easy for the alabaster woman. The Master knew this - for it was an impossibility for the pair to hide from one another. Betwixt them ran a river. Perpetual. All-encompassing. Within it flowed their innermost thoughts and feelings; even those they would sometimes wish to keep to themselves. When the Sith Empire fell, releasing a miasma of paranoia across the stars, Isley had been the victim. The machinations of the political world had unseated him from his mantle and sent him adrift. His final order to his faithful apprentice was to stay. To tarry as Exarch and to ensure that all they fought, bled, and died for remained whole.

He knew her fury.

The animosity was not directed at her Master for doing what was right. But rather, the nation which had turned its back upon him. It was an impossible thing to ask - to stand at the right hand of one's adversary and to follow their leadership. But, in doing so, Srina would act as the fortress which kept the armies at bay. The dam which kept the waters from flooding everything. And over the many months, he could feel her quiet wrath. It would never manifest upon her face. Never impede her ability to fulfill her role of Exarch, mentor, or friend. But the Bond spoke otherwise. When the Sun dipped beyond the horizon, Isley knew she wanted to kill that man. That only restraint and his wishes kept her from plunging a dagger into the man's heart.

He didn't blame her fury. He understood it.

But now...things were different. Or at least, on paper, they should be. The failures of his usurper had enabled Isley's return to the Confederacy. Things would change. Paranoia would never run rampant to the point of unseating him again. There was too much work to do - too much good work - to allow political schemes to get in the way. Yet, these ambitions aside...Isley still had to answer for it. He had promised Srina many things. Safety. Peace. To be at her side always. And one by one, those promises were cracked. She nearly perished so many times in following him. Her life was placed in danger so many times due to her role. And, with the usurpation, he wasn't at her side. In spirit? Yes. By their bond? Yes.

But this was the most time that had ever passed since seeing one another.

So, he beckoned her Home. Not to the gilded offices of Naboo. Not to his corporation's field offices, or his family's estate on Krant. Home. To the first place she laid her head upon becoming his apprentice. Sinner's Well had effectively remained unchanged over the years, save for a few upgrades to security here and there...and adding new space for the dragons she continually came to own...It was a sanctuary. A place to lick one's wounds and to come back stronger. A place to rest and to let down the walls.

Isley waited at the innermost landing bay, awaiting the descent of her vessel. He was like a father who had missed one too many birthdays - at least in his mind.

But he was here now. He hoped that would be enough.

Srina Talon​

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[Srina Talon]

R Y L O TH
Tag: Darth Metus
Dressed in: Silver
_________________________________________________________​

It had been too long since she had last set foot on Ryloth.

After the Agent Wars that tore through the hemispherical habitats that their people called home, truly, her memories were not what they were. She could scarcely visit the airspace without a nagging sense of disappointment no matter how they'd tried to rebuild what had been lost. Homes could be replaced. Livelihoods returned. Governmental support, from a behemoth such as the Confederacy, could be obtained to lessen the blow. Nothing could return the dead.

Not on such a grand scale.

In a twist of fate, though, not uncommon, her Master summoned. He beckoned.

The silvery Exarch had dropped her engagements immediately when the pull crossed her mind and breached the vastness of space that lay between them. It was always a point of unspoken conflict between herself and Darth Empyrean . He had nothing against the sable-skinned Isley Verd, however, he disliked how beholden she was. As if it made her less. Perhaps, as if she allowed herself to be less in order to remain unquestioningly at his side.

Perhaps it was true. Perhaps.

The ship that she had taken was one he would well recognize. The Ferocity had been her very first sanctuary from the fleeing torment of force visions that had nearly driven her to madness. Darth Metus had created the Well with her safety in mind, however, it had been on this very ship that she had learned the true meaning of loyalty. To love; Unbound—And not for that which he could teach her. Not for that which he could give her. Simply, for being who he was.

For plucking a soaking wet street rat from the gutter.

For caring enough, on sight, to grant her peace when the stars of the galaxy had burnt out and left her in a state of darkness she couldn't begin to control. Her hatred for the usurper wasn't based simply on preference and bias as some might believe. It was because she believed the Demon of Thyferra had betrayed the heart of the Confederacy by removing the only thing that kept it safe.

Ambition had shot their beloved home in the heart. For months—She had watched it bleed out.

Slowly.

No matter his platitudes in the political sphere…Srina would never forgive Daegon for that.

Delicate footsteps brought her down the hydraulic ramp of the ship with little more than a whisper. She arrived without fanfare, without escort, in a grey embroidered brocade that held slender shoulders straight and square. A pale cloak fell from it that pulled across the metallic floor like water when she moved. Even with her darker proclivities she still wore white. She still dressed in the colors of her house, still chose shades of blue, and silver orbs still pierced through others as if they were little more than paper dolls. A soft presence pulled with her.

It was one of rolling ability, fluid power, coupled with a distant chill. She was more than what she appeared to be, though, she wore it with eternal grace. As if she had always been this way.

Pristine.

"Master…", the word fell from primrose lips as easily as rain fell from the sky. All at once—Everything stopped. She inclined her head, respectfully, and clasped her hands before her for a moment. It was the closest thing to a bow anyone would ever get from her. She prostrated herself before no one. Not for her lover and not for her beloved Dark Father. "…I hope I have not kept you waiting."

He called. She returned. He rose his metaphysical voice higher than the heavens and she could only hear that blinding chime calling her home. Once, that had been Eshan.

Once.

 

[Darth Metus]

H O M E​

The waiting.

Isley had witness docking procedures and landing protocols ten thousand times. The descent of the vessel before the final thud upon the metal landing pad. The dulling of the engines' roar until silence. The hiss of the ramp's hydrolics. All of which were infinitely familiar to the sable-skinned man. And, in truth, were this for any one different, they would not have bothered him at all. Yet, in this case...he felt like a father on the day of his heir's birth. A king pacing in the corridor whilst the screams heralded new life. He was anxious. Impatient. All of which mingled together into a cocktail of unease in his stomach.

Never once had the alabaster woman given him reason to feel this way. Not during their highest of days or their lowest. She did not address him with any less loyalty - any less of being who she was when the ashes of Coruscant caked her lungs. And logic dictated that this moment would be no different. It was oddly...human of the Vicelord to feel such regardless. He was a man with a reputation for moving mountains. For motivating the spirits of the dead to do his bidding. Yet, after months apart from his apprentice, he was nervous.

Human indeed.

After what felt like a small eternity, the ramp finally extended in full and out stepped Srina Talon . As per the usual, her attire was elegance personified. She moved with the utmost fluidity - a stark reflection of her upbringing on Eshan. He could see the similiarities between her and his former mentor, the monarch Spencer Jacobs. Theirs was a people that made motion into an artform. This moment was no different. Master... she breathed. The word was like a droplet of water onto a plant in the desert. A cool breeze against a blazing inferno. It brought relief - for it was not tinged with fury or pain.

She was excellent at hiding her emotions physically, for that was how the Echani people were molded. Yet from him? From each other? They were as open tomes.

And in that instant, nerves were conquered by excitement. A gift rarer than all the precious gems in the stars. She declined her head and clasped her hands before her - a gesture of supreme respect. For their understanding, his tutelage taught one truth: Bow to Nothing. Bow to No One. And he would never demand her to do such. This was the closest she would allow. This was the closest he would ever accept. For to do any more was not their way. I hope that I have not kept you waiting.

The sable-skinned man was silent in that moment, but stepped forward. She would notice the eagerness in his step. The energy which bubbled from underneath the surface. The electricity which hummed through their bond. He was delighted to see her, beyond anything that words could express. Ah, and so was it that he mimicked her peoples' way. Words were seldom used to confer the truest thoughts. Actions were they way. Briefly, his hands clasped before him and his head inclined in turn. Respectfully.

Gratitude. Supreme gratitude was expressed in that moment.

He righted himself and reached out with his dominant hand. The rear of his fingers graced her arm gingerly, as they had countless times before. Reassurance. Relief. Happiness Comfort. All ebbed and thundered through their unspoken bond. His lips were unable to keep from smiling. "Far from it. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting all this time." It had been far too long. Even with the circumstances. Far too long.

Isley then motioned with his offhand behind him, towards the interior of the Well. Towards home. "Come. You must be famished." He led the way forward, striding damn near happily through the first door. And as soon as its metal form slid past, she would be graced by the aroma. It was a tradition they kept quiet. One that was reserved solely for the Well and solely for them. Whenever the days were long and the missions heavy, homecoming always meant one thing. Soup. Piping hot. As much as they could stomach.

"Now, this feels like home."

Because she was there.

Srina Talon​

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[/code]

 

[Srina Talon]

R Y L O TH
Tag: Darth Metus
Dressed in: Silver
_________________________________________________________​

Her pace was evenly measured, no matter, the dissonant sentiments that echoed throughout the Force Bond that she retained with her mentor. The thin golden threads that bound them so seamlessly to one another were strong and untenable. He felt uneasy. She knew, yet, it could not be helped. He was entitled to his own emotions despite the fact that she kept her own buried beneath a wintry chill that could not be broken. She was Echani.

She could be no other way.

Silver eyes traveled the length of the dusk-toned Sith Lord without an ounce of shame or hesitation. She learned more in those few moments, between heartbeats, than she learned from any Holo-Call or missive that had been passed along. Srina knew his anxiety. Beneath that, perhaps, the edgings of fear. Her greeting brought him temperance. Relief.

Her reception of him was, as always, the same as it had always been. The delicate inclination of her head. It was a sign that she had not forgotten his lessons and that she still used the knowledge that he had bestowed upon her when she had been nothing more than a mop of rainwater and confusion. Srina had come so far from the weak, shivering creature, that was nearly half-mad with Force visions and abilities that were growing beyond her comprehension.

She could still recall the first time she'd heard the voices of others, thoughts, in her head that didn't belong to her.

So many voices. So very many.

The mental effort of trying to retain her sanity throughout her development, plus, the strain on her mind had often left her feeling like she had a headache forming like a bulge on her brain. A tumor. He excised it. He let her live. Gave her a reason, to keep fighting, to go on. He opened the door to all that she could be without ever asking for anything in return.

Srina had not forgotten that. Could not, would not.

She could feel an ache that had knotted in her chest loosen when he returned her gesture. The young woman hadn't even known it to be there. Perhaps, it didn't belong to her at all. So often she felt his rage, pain, and passion as if it were her own. It was difficult to note the difference unless she focused inward and meditated. He was thankful to her. For her.

The Exarch, the Apprentice, did not understand why.

His touch left a ghostly trail along the exposed pale flesh of her arm and the emotions that flooded forward slowly began to find clarity. She would not comment, but instead, she reached up and let delicate fingers brush against his cheek. It was brief, but he would feel her essence press metaphysically back toward him in a watery image that was full of color. Images. Thoughts. Feelings. All that she kept locked away beneath the surface, hidden, in blood and stone… It all fleetingly flooded up.

Like water rising from earth that had been oversaturated. Then, it disappeared. Enough to leave one breathless from the intensity, but, nearly forlorn at the loss. The fact that she did indeed feel would have shocked many that knew her. It was by design. The Exarch felt nothing.

There were some people that could hear her speak a thousand words and still not understand her. Then—There was Darth Metus . He understood her even though she'd never said anything at all.

Her Master apologized and her head inclined again. He wasn't referring to this evening.

"I am patient.", she replied, lightly, with silvery tones that were barely a whisper. He would hear her nonetheless and sense the truth of it. A week, a month, years, made no difference when Darth Metus was never all that far away. Just a thought. A dream. She could have waited an eternity and would have simply responded the same way. With patience.

He ushered her into the Well with a swing in his step and she couldn't help the small tinge of unbidden amusement that lingered in the back of her mind. The moonlit creature reached out to take his hand as they passed through the doorway and the scent of something delightful teased her nose. There was no sign of his black goddess, nor, did she sense her. It reminded her of quieter times.

Srina wrapped her fingers around his in correction. If—For just a moment.

"Now, this feels like home."

 

[Darth Metus]

H O M E​

​

This was their way.​

​

From the outside looking in, the trailing of fingertips was but a brief and fleeting gesture. One granted in passing - a step beyond professional familiarity. Especially when one half of the "conversation" was known for unfeeling. Such was the nature of her heritage. Such was the nature she embodied. Yet, as the alabaster woman placed her fingertips upon his cheek, a flood of emotion greeted the Sith. It had been so long since they had spoken that his breath almost caught. It was one thing to say that his eyes could see anything - it was another to truly see.​

​

For what she presented was a masterpiece. Color. Emotion. A whirlwind which captivated each of his senses at once. In the end, Isley was left with a wide grin upon his features. Though there had been so much time between them, things were very much the same. In but one moment - one exchange - the ash of what was was blown away. It felt as though the weeks and months apart had never happened. It felt as though normalcy had returned, even for a moment. Always of few words, she replied that she was patient.​

​

Srina was more than this - she was gracious as well. And Isley appreciated her immensely for it. He guided her forward, deeper into their home, and her fingers wrapped around his own. Instinctively, he gave a light squeeze and did not let go. Now, this feels like home.​

​

Truer words had never been spoken.​

​

Isley was content to live in the quiet for a few moments. That is, until they reached the source of the delicious aroma. She'd know the recipe - for she had helped perfect it over the years...by being the most patient taste tester in the Galaxy. (For, between his primordial lover and his alabaster daughter, his kitchen was always in peril of bursting into flames. One couldn't technology to save her eternal life, the other couldn't cook if a blaster was held to his head.) The soup suited the time of year - perfect for chasing away the chill and leaving one feeling satisfied. He motioned for her to have a seat upon one of the bar stools at the counter whilst he stepped over to the stock pot.​

​

"I hope you're hungry." he remarked, beaming.​

​

He began to fill two bowls whilst speaking with his back turned.​

"I've come to realize that work has gotten in the way of what's important. What brought us together. Teaching." He paused, setting her bowl down on the counter. "I'll never forget that rainy day on Coruscant. Nor will I forget how quickly you got back on your feet. You are strong. Wise. Patient. And above all else - ready."​

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He set his own bowl down in front of hers and took a seat across from her.​

​

"There comes a point in tutelage when the apprentice decides their path. My Master gave me many options - and I chose the way of the Dread Master. She then taught me accordingly. Thus far, you've learned what I have offered. But, you're ready to choose the path - and I will guide."​

​

He laid a spoon before her. "You can live up to the name Dread Queen and I will show you what being a Dread Master truly is."​

​

He set down a napkin. "You can walk the path of sorcery. The dragons of the underforge, the weapons of my armory - all would be yours to create."​

​

And finally, a plate of saltines. "Or...we can create a new path born just for you."​

​

Which would she grab first? No matter what she chose, home would always remain. The river betwixt them would always persist. And the sable-skinned man would always make pots of soup for his alabaster daughter.​

​

Srina Talon​

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[Srina Talon]

R Y L O TH
Tag: Darth Metus
Dressed in: Silver
_________________________________________________________​

She was reminded of the first time she had set full in the Well. Hidden, in the uninhabitable parts of Ryloth and surrounded by a habitation dome. They bothered none and kept their own in part of the planet few dared venture. It was a Sanctuary. Or—It had been. Now the tidally locked world only held disturbing memories. Acts of violence. Betrayal. Pain. It was only tolerable to visit when her Master was present. He was what made it what it was. Not her menagerie, not the building, and certainly not the dreams of fire, blood, and charred skin.

They spoke volumes without words. It suited her just fine. Spoken language conveyed so very little. It was inadequate in most scenarios, and yet, the majority of the galaxy relied on it so heavily that it pained her. She wished, often, that they could see with her eyes.

Then she became gladdened that they couldn't.

It made combat that much simpler. It was her arena—None could deny that. None would dare.

Because they knew, that she knew, how very blind they were.

The young woman took the seat that Darth Metus bid her without complaint, though, her small stature caused her to do a graceful lift with her arms supporting her mass against the chair. She settled back as her right leg crossed over her left. White fabric fell to the floor in waves, though, not a thread of it seemed to collect any dirt or grime. Her hands settled in her lap while she settled like some delicate flower—A bird on a perch. Pale pink lips twitched at his query, though, her stomach did pang a little bit at the armor that filled the air. Of course, she downplayed it. "I could eat."

"Duty is...all-encompassing."

Her words were spoken with multiple meanings. Srina was loyal, to a fault, but she also recognized that she had very little time for her own designs. Her training took place in the field. Her Master had been absent for so long that she wasn't even certain if he knew the heights she had achieved during his sabbatical. Srina did not crave power, for powers sake, but she took that which was required. There seemed to be an endless well within her. More, always more.

In moments of strife, duress, the Echani knew that she only scratched the surface. If she let go—If she released her iron will and let the darkness consume her? She knew, the result would be unfathomable. It would be something she couldn't rectify. Couldn't return, from. Her wrath was such that it filled her with a dreadful silence. Ice—So cold that it burned. She ceased to feel, ceased to empathize, and merely sought to atomize that which stood in her way with no more hesitation than one turned out the light.

His words caused silver eyes to shift in the light. "Echani, do not accept weakness. We adapt. We are strong and always will be. No matter what we lose…No matter how we tire…We will always stand up. Fight."

Those same eyes flickered down toward the bowl of soup he placed in front of her. It looked good. Certainly, more edible than anything she could make. It also brought her back to a sense of nostalgia. Of a time when things were far simpler. Golbah Games. Ghosts, on the Fortressa. Back to a time when the biggest threat they had to face was the Galactic Empire. It all seemed so small now. So long ago. She picked up the spoon with elegant fingers and merely listened while her Master spoke. He worried for her future. For her path. Or, was it something else?

Srina remained soundless. Staring, at the bowl of hot liquid.

Such striking, beautifully full, silence.

He could have heard a pin drop.

"…Do you wish to release me as your apprentice?"

 

[Darth Metus]

H O M E​

I could eat.

Oh she most certainly could. The Galaxy only saw the wintery Dread Queen. The pinnacle of grace. The epitome of deadly. But the Sith Lord knew Srina like a father knew his child. Part of this was due to the river which always ran betwixt them. The bond which had been forged at the very beginning, without either knowing what had transpired. It was helpful for discerning what the other was thinking. Feeling. Needed. But as time moved ever forward, Isley and Srina could tell what the other needed without the bond.

And right now, the sable-skinned man knew she would put down three bowls of the soup before the hour was done.

He then presented his thoughts to her. It was a shame that most of her development had occurred in the field. And as of late, the field had been away from him. Their moments together were fleeting - but Isley endeavored to change this. He listened, therefore, as she shared her thoughts. On duty. On the nature of her people. He waited as well. Breaking his silence only to blow on a spoonful of soup and to eat.

There was silence. Srina's gaze fell to the soup before her. He knew that the options he laid before her were quite a bit to consider, and therefore the silence did not bother him. The seconds rolled into minutes, however, and his eyebrow lofted ever so slightly. Finally, she spoke again - and his spoon settled upon the counter immediately with a clatter.

"No."

He reached across the table. His fingertips gingerly settled beneath her chin and lifted so that she could meet his gaze. "If my Master yet lived today, I would still be her Student. Our relationship would remain unchanged."

"And so shall we be. There are only two things in this life that would sever what we have. The first is obvious: Death. The second...is your choice. If you choose that your time at my side has come to an end, then I will not stop you. But I will will remain your Master, your friend, your..." He almost said father but shook his head. "What we have will remain unchanged, unless you decide to change it."

"What I offered was simply a choice in direction. When we were children, the courses we took in education were not made by us. But when we got older, we decided which courses to take. Which paths resonated with us. This is simply what I am offering you."

He smiled. Genuinely smiled.

"My life wouldn't be complete without you in it, Srina."

Srina Talon​

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[Srina Talon]

R Y L O TH
Tag: Darth Metus
Dressed in: Silver
_________________________________________________________​

Silver orbs took in the homemade dinner carefully, before, delicately tasting a small amount from the tip of the spoon. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her Master in the kitchen—It was in order to fully appreciate it. To savor something that for once hadn’t been made in an auto-chef. She was indeed lucky that Darth Empyrean knew of her ineptitude in that area. She surely would have starved over the last few months or at least survived on flash-frozen meals and instant tea.

Just because she ate slowly didn’t mean she wouldn’t tuck in her body weight in soup. Especially, if it was good. The young woman listened quietly, obediently, as she always did. Most would consider her the model student. She believed everything her mentor had to say, though, that wasn’t to imply that she didn’t speak her mind. She merely reacted with all of the information presented to bring forth the most logical conclusion. She was an adult, though, often deferred to Isley. She metaphorically held to his apron strings, even, when it wasn’t essential.

Not because she was weak or couldn’t take care of herself. It was because she wanted to. Because she cared for him. More, than any Apprentice had ever cared for their Master, she surmised. Father figure, family, were not strong enough terms. Words, as always, were a failed near-human concept. Unnecessary and short-sighted. His immediate rebuke of her assessment told her that logical assumption had brought her to the incorrect path. No, he did not wish to release her.

A small part of her experienced a sensation that she could only call relief. Accepted it, and then immediately pressed it away. It was an unnecessary emotional response to a problem that had never existed. “Our relationship is stronger.”, she responded, without thought, and followed the controversial words by continuing to eat like a bird.

She didn’t doubt the bond between Isley Verd and his former Master. She merely knew what their own connection was like. Nothing, could break it. Even if he wished to release her. Death had broken them. Srina withheld a snort at his assessment that death could also break them, but, accepted the rest of his words with grace. Silver eyes drew up from her meal to sweep over his features before returning back to the hot liquid. “I will never forsake you, Isley Verd.”

The rest of it gave her something to think about. Had her performance been insufficient? Was she not progressing as he would have hoped? The answer dawned a moment later, with, the mention of children. In some aspects, he was as much her Father as Raihane Talon. A parent could not, should not, hold their child back. It was their duty to push them forward. To encourage them to reach their full potential. This was that moment—Not a dissolution of their partnership.

“I understand, now.”, she admitted freely, with those words, also apologizing silently for her incorrect deduction. That was the reason AI occasionally got things wrong. They lacked an organic component. It was also the reason she occasionally got things wrong. She lacked that same component. Her brow furrowed, though. She acquired skill, after skill. Rather easily, these days. But as far as what direction her abilities might flow in? She was bemused. “…I learn what is required.”

“I do not know what path to take.”

Loss had driven her to the Darkside. Loss and pain had pressed her to forsake all notions in which an area of gray might have existed. Where light filtered the shadow. She had aligned herself with the more effective tool because it was swift, brutal, and effective. The Echani took another bite of the meal and thoughtfully leaned back in the chair, chewing. “I do not crave power and yet it seems that I always require more. I do not want it—Yet, I need it. I do not understand. Not fully.”

“But I do know that I have no choice. The more you hold on to…The more the universe seeks to take it away.”

 

[Darth Metus]

Wearing: Armor of Darth Metus​

SINNER'S WELL - RYLOTH

Our relationship is stronger.

The alabaster woman had undoubtedly seen the glimpses of lessons past. After all, the river of thought which raced between them did not discriminate. Emotion. Memory. All weaved freely betwixt the two without ceasing. Thus, when Srina claimed that their bond was stronger than what was shared with his mentor, it was coming from a place of experience. There was no malice - or hubris for that matter. It simply was fact. Rave knew Isley and tempered his ambition. But Srina was apart of him now. An integral part of what made the Sith himself.

"Couldn't agree more." he replied simply.

He met her gaze then - silver matching the sight of gold. She vowed to never forsake him, which meant quite a bit. The Echani was always brief when it came to words, for literal speaking was not the way of her people. They communicated through touch and action. Thus, any words spoke carried weight. She did not say this lightly - and he understood the quiet gravity of every syllable. "Nor will I forsake you."

Srina pondered then the choices which were laid before her. She understood where he was coming from, and admitted freely that she did not know what direction to take. She learned what was required. Mastered what enabled her to survive the onslaught that seemed to characterize their lives. Each moment of peace was simply a punctuation: a pause in the essay of loss. She indulged in a bite of her meal as she mulled his suggestions over, eventually acknowledging that she needed power but did not crave it.

A light huff escaped his nostrils. A smile began to form upon his lips.

"Those who do not crave power are the most deserving of it." he began, placing his palms flat upon the counter. "You are right. The universe is a cruel bastard who will seek to take everything we have. It takes power to withstand this hell. And so, power you will have. All of it."

His fingertips drummed upon the marble thoughtfully. "Though you are my apprentice, you easily rival some of the greatest Masters in the Galaxy. The very word apprentice carries different meaning for you and I. It does not mean subservience, but rather a place of learning. It does not mean ineptitude, weakness, or any other drivel that the other sects preach. So, I will teach you everything. Every trick, nook, and cranny."

"I hold the power and will grant it to you. You will perfect it. This will be our rule. A Rule of Two."

He could hear all but hear the Sith 'purists' hissing at the very words. The thought amused him greatly. "I've never thought to teach anyone everything. It bequeths far too much power, normally. Gives one an opportunity to easily betray the hand that reared them. But, you are different. We are. Once you've finished, we'll get started."

Satisfied, Darth Metus reached for a utensil of his own.

"Now then, what have I missed?"

Srina Talon​

 

[Srina Talon]

R Y L O TH
Tag: Darth Metus
Dressed in: Silver
_________________________________________________________​

He agreed with her.

Good.

It wasn't as if she had actually expected resistance, though, there were times when her peers seemed to simply wake up in the morning and choose to be difficult. It was a refreshing change of pace. The pale woman gifted him a ghostly smile over the rim of her glass that was neither warm nor cold. Nothing about such an expression held anything remarkable, save, for the fact that it came from her.

She rarely smiled.

"Those who do not crave power and success are also said to be unmotivated and uninspired.", the words that flowed from her held no certainty, merely, the cadence of one who had read it somewhere. Heard it before. She set down her drink and returned to her meal, delicately sipping, chewing thoughtfully—Mindful eating. It let her appreciate what she had been given versus simply making it disappear faster than light. "I assure you that I have not become lackadaisical in your absence."

Isley Verd reassured her that she would have what she required. Not what she wanted, but, the necessary tools to achieve her goals. Who would have ever thought that absolute power without contention was required to merely keep her family whole? To keep them alive? To ensure that Darth Empyrean could acquire what he wished; to be a fitting partner and confidant. He held the ichor of dark-stars in the staff he wielded. Srina assumed, with much thought, that in turn she required the might of spatial graviton distortions. Afterall, black holes were inescapable.

She needed to be that. A crushing, temporal, region of space that held the ability to collapse in on itself and destroy everything in its wake. Srina sought the pureness, the simplicity, of a divine singularity.

One that had been divided by zero.

The seemingly young Echani that had grown wise in her travels listened to her Master speak as if she were a youngling seated at the feet of her combat instructor. She understood the premise of a Master and Apprentice. Maliphant did not enjoy her obsequiousness to Darth Metus if it meant that she was somehow less than he was. He would, at the very least, appreciate the new concept that the sable-skinned man suggested. A Rule of Two, however?

Had that not been done away with? Did her Master not have many Apprentices within the galaxy that had moved on from their humble beginnings to seek greener pastures? Children, that also referred to him as Master? How would his strange son Rann Thress feel about that? It could not truly be a rule of two simply because of the nature of the universe. Sithlings appeared like rabbits being born.

But—"…It could be our Rule of Two."

The difference was plain. It could be their philosophy. Not one meant to be shared with the galaxy at large. Srina seemed satisfied, for now, with that. Isley picked up his utensils and she kept quietly nibbling at her dinner. The Sith Lord asked her what he had missed and once again blessed silence returned to the table. Peace. Such a lie, that it did exist. "You have missed many things."

"Our enemies still yet live, however, they seem to have turned their eyes on each other."

That was expected.

She reached out to delicately pick up her drink once more and the fabric of her white clothing slipped over a milk-pale wrist like silk. Every movement deliberate and without fault.

"Maliphant wishes to remain in closer proximity to one another."

 

[Darth Metus]

Wearing: Armor of Darth Metus​

SINNER'S WELL

The alabaster woman smiled.

In these days especially, to witness such was as to see a flower blossoming in the height of winter. Or to see rain gracing desert sands. It was a rarity - and when it occurred, it was a gift. Such expressions were not the way of Srina's people. Echani were the furthest thing from expressive, especially those who had been raised as she. Plus, she had her own buffet of sorrow that could smother even the mightiest of smirks. But just this once, at the notion of their relationship being stronger, she graced him with a smile. It was immediately evident that such a small gesture was infectious.

The gift left just as quickly as it had arrived, replaced by a saying that seemed coldly academic in nature. It smelt militant by his estimation - perhaps she had heard it in boot camp a lifetime ago and it stuck. No matter. She paused only to enjoy her soup, ensuring her master that she had not become lazy in their time apart. "It'll be a cold day in Hell before I believe you could ever be anything but driven. There's a fine line between a Dark Side-fueled appetite for might and having direction."

It could be our Rule of Two.

Between their musings on their relationship - of the unique state of their Master and Apprentice - Srina made a suggestion and an observation all in one breath. A suggestion, that they carve out their own philosophy. Their own way, as they had for the whole of their time together. Since the very beginning, Darth Metus did not spare a thought for what the various Sith factions thought of how he reared his apprentice. Nor did Srina give a damn what any had to say about how close they were. Their lives were forever intertwined; did it not stand to reason that their philosophy should be the same? Intertwined. Unique. Theirs. "I like that. Our rule of two. One to hold power, the other to perfect it."

He then posed his question about what he had missed and dug in, listening intently to what she had to say. He had missed quite a bit since they were last together.

Their enemies yet lived. There were too many to count at this point - but their fangs were bared against one another. That was favorable. Remove the big fish from the field and suddenly the minnows are hunting each other. "It would be too much to hope that they eliminate each other." he remarked, keeping his expectations realistic. Most likely, the known Galaxy would crawl into a period of peace. A divine stalemate as ambitions slowed and democracies stagnated. This span, from first bite to stall would be invaluable for their futures. A time where they could move and work without those specific looming threats would be nice.

She paused once more, punctuating her news with a sip of her drink. Srina then mentioned her lover, and his desire to be in closer proximity.

Darth Metus' spoon began to orbit inside his soup, stirring slowly.

"Within your father's house, there are many rooms. He's more than welcome."

She could extrapolate his thoughts on the matter from that alone.

Srina Talon​