Private Amethyst Dreams

[Jhira Mereel]

POLITICAL REGION: Wild Space, The Enclave
LOCATION: Inuyahya'baar, Kestri’s Moon
Objective: safety.
Tag: [ Zlova Rue ]

The view from Inuyahy’baar was hued in amethyst, tonight. Kestri and kestri II both glowed violet in the magnification windows. The asteroid belt, too, drifted on the right hand side of the screen. Wonderful, to see necessary military tech adapted to a broader purpose. Yes, the observation post perched on the highest pinnacle of the Kestri Communications Net was also an auxiliary command post in the event of an attack, but those that created it had not felt shy about making this place both beautiful and comfortable.

And private, very private. A series of quiet requests had permitted Jhira into this exclusive place. An alcove held a gunnery station, currently configured as a comfortable, wrap around booth. The gel-filled, SmartFoam-filled booths worked as well as comfortable seats as they did a combat-ready, gyro-scopic gunner’s chair. The complex tac display was folded down, only a few critical tale-tales blinking. A soft, black mat was spread over most of it, displaying a warm flask, balanced over a blue flame, two Saki cups flanking it.

In case it was awful, a flask of Tihaar sat beside it .

Randomly chosen plates of Sushi decorated the rest of the table; a half-remembered conversation made Jhira think Zlova Rue enjoyed the odd meal. But at least it was fish; how bad could it be?

[/CENTER]

​

 

[Zlova Rue]

The Red Twi'lek slowly nodded her head from time to time as she occupied her hands checking one of her curved saber hilts. It wasn't a long ride to the observation post, but it was long enough. And Zlova wasn't alone. There was the pilot, of course. Pleasant enough Rodian that didn't bother trying the whole small-talk bit. That was something she missed from the Empire -- cabbies that didn't try chatting up a Sith Lord. Why tempt death?

This was a lesson the other occupant in the shuttle hadn't learned, and they were testing Zlova's restraint. One could argue the galaxy would be a better place if more people learned when someone wasn't listening to you you should be quiet. Likely a bad habit taught by Jedi. Talk to your adversary. Get them to open up. Share how you feel. Problem was, a Sith didn't care how you felt. By and large. There were exceptions obviously; they weren't droids, thank the gods.

When the shuttle finally landed and the pair exited the vehicle, Zlova's companion turned to her and asked a question. Probably something like 'do you understand' or 'were you listening.' Really didn't matter. "Who are you again?" The Twi'lek's golden eyes narrowed as she stared at the man for a moment. When they were suitably silent in that second and before they recovered, the Lethan turned to stride deeper into the facility in search of far better company.

What had they been saying that deserved such rebuke? They were going on about how Jhira might feel, and how Zlova might want to get her to open up, and talk about how she felt-- You saw the problem. Jedi influence.

The doors parted to allow Zlova admittence. Her boots didn't stop moving across the deck until she drew close to where Jhira had set up a meal. "Hey, Vixen." Nothing was ever humble with the crimson one, people should know that by now. "Glad to see you back." Zlova claimed a seat for herself with a smile. "It's nice seeing a friendly face again. All most others see is red when I'm around. Anyway, you doing alright?" What was said could be applied to Jhira herself, but why make it too apparent the Sith was already checking up on the other woman? Maybe Jhira didn't want to be checked up on. That was fine. Provided Jhira was herself. Part of why Zlova was there -- she knew the Sith playbook. Enclave might as well use her for something other than an excuse to rant about the evils of the Empire. Not that what the Enclave thought truly mattered. Zlova appreciated hearing Jhira was returning; the woman was good company and it would have been a shame if she died after getting caught.

Tag: Jhira Mereel

 

[Jhira Mereel]

​

POLITICAL REGION: Wild Space, The Enclave
LOCATION: Inuyahya'baar, Kestri’s Moon
Objective: safety.
Tag: [ Zlova Rue ]

Jhira’s helmet and gauntlets were perched behind the booth; interestingly, she bore only a single blaster as weaponry; not even a grenade as back up. No jet pack. Lines of tension, worry and fatigue had etched themselves into her face, which was noticeably more slender. Her recent hosts had not always understood her gentle hints about a meal.

Or decent alcohol. Bloody puritans, in some ways.

Dark eyes lightened at Zlova’s greeting, and a certain tension eased away. Zlova was not a Puritan. A smile flared, as her gaze ran over the sith tattoos on Zlova’s furiously red skin, the mythosaur skull in pride of place, near the heart. “You make red look good. I know of what I speak; I’ve been with people who think red and black are the only possible fashion choices.” Jhira slid into a seat opposite Zlova’s, relieved she’d had no compulsion to hurt her.

The captain knew words of reassurance were in order. Something about how the Vode would settle after Zlova had saved enough lives. That others made the title of Sith into something much more vile than it had to be. But she was at a loss how to convey that sincerely, and would not offer platitudes or lies.

Jhira failed small talk.

“You know, you are one of two people whose humor and wisdom saved my life.” A nod of thanks followed. “Allowed me to see shades of … red,” a brief spark of aching humor flared.

“Aside from a stunning lack of conversational partners,” Jhira had few illusions about how the average conversation between a sith and mando went, “and the bitter cold, how are you settling in?”

The question could have been rote courtesy, but wasn’t; Zlova’s unique wisdom and fearless irreverence struck a chord in the Captain. And she never lectured people about unnecessary risks.

Jhira nudged the Saki (bottle neatly balanced upon a frame with real, actual beeswax candle to keep it warm) closer to Zlova, inviting her partake, whilst listening to the answer, if any.

“Tihaar or Saki? I think Mia said Talohn said you favored sushi?” After serving whatever was asked for, Jhira downed her entire shot of the Tihaar, and poured a second.

“I am very glad you are here, Zlova.” The ever-so-practical Sith-alorian had both the skills to know what would be necessary, and the will to act upon it.

“I am in a place where I am not sure if my thoughts are my own.” a wry smile, an angle of the head. “ …and it seemed a bad idea to just hop back into my life without asking an expert’s advice.”

 

[Zlova Rue]

Zlova relaxed back with a smirk as Jhira remarked about an over abundance of red and black. Especially black. Or nearly-black blue, which was basically just black, but allowed you to claim your had an artistic flair and stood apart from the rest. These days, however, red and black... Everyone wanted to invoke blood and monsters that drug you into the dark corners of the galaxy. It was honestly surprising anyone was truly affair of that kind of thing any more. It was done so often you'd think people would think to themselves, 'Another one?'

As for the lack of reassurance from Jhira, Zlova thought nothing of it. It would have been novel, but her time among others hadn't dulled the Lethan's edge. Consequentially she hadn't made a great host of friends either, but she had made some. Must have been doing something right.

Laughter bubbled forth at Jhira's gratitude and whimsical remark. "There are many shades of red, of that there is no doubt. Most of them tend toward eye-gouging." People loved painting with broad brushes; reality of life was there were always shades, and some were definitely more pleasing than others.

"I'm settling in fine. Cold shoulders and threats against my life aren't foreign to me. Sith aren't a beloved people. I don't blame them. Certainly can't blame Mandalorians. I convince those I can, lay out those I can't convince, and live my life the way I see fit," Zlova replied to Jhira's question about how well she was fitting in. "Don't have my own place though. I bunk with the Atars. That feline and I understand one another."

"I'll try both, but let's start with the saki." Then tattooed brows lifted as golden rings lifted back to Jhira. "Oh, really, now? Well," she chuckled, "your banquet certainly looks like it'll hit the spot. No complaints here." Likewise, the Twi'lek down the poured saki in one go. Then held the dish aloft for more.

Then the other woman got down to 'business.' Not that there was a distinction to Zlova. Business. Pleasure. An arbitrary distinction to someone that didn't hold a 'job' but lived every moment in whatever way suited her most. A living flame with as much care about the scorch marks and soot left in its wake. "Yeah," Zlova nodded her head slightly, "I thought as much. You have a strong will, Jhira, but no one's perfect. Being held by people like that you never know what might have happened, and whether you truly remember everything." No attempt to terrorize her friend, of course, just the truth. "So, why don't we start with whether there's something that's caused you to question your reality. Thoughts you haven't had before? Impulses you barely control? Hearing voices or seeing things others don't?"

For tonight's affair, the Twi'lek had taken to wearing little as was her custom. A band to cover the breasts, and leggings to keep her lower body warm; enough no one could complain and not come off as a raging ass or a pervert. The sabers were present, but secured at her back as usual so they didn't offer eyes a distraction. Like Jhira, Zlova hadn't come sporting much else. Hadn't seen the need; material possessions really just got in the way. It was actually pleasant to find Jhira herself wasn't so encumbered. Provided the Sith hadn't screwed her up spiritually or mentally, it might turn out to be quite the pleasant homecoming.

Tag: Jhira Mereel

 

[Jhira Mereel]

POLITICAL REGION: Wild Space, The Enclave
LOCATION: Inuyahya'baar, Kestri’s Moon
Tag: [ Zlova Rue ]

Jhira’s smile flared to brilliant at Zlova’s smirk. It was so good, to be with someone who radiated life. Who got a joke and even understood the irony of it. Given that Jhira wore red, grey and black herself. She lifted a single finger, laughter still lingering in her haunted eyes. “Hey, no judging; my black and red is different…” Fighting to mimic the tones of the Clan Elder she’d learned the litany from, she intoned:

“Grey upon a warrior’s armor is for mourning; they fight for the dead, and cannot be bribed or reasoned with.”

“Red honors a parent, mentor or leader; such a warrior will face death before dishonor, for those whose hearts most matter can see all that occurs.”

“Black is for a seeker of Justice. One who has moved past the gold of Vengeance, and seeks out prey with logic and intent, not emotion.”

Laugh breaking free, she added, “Except when it’s just whim and will, with no reason beyond this looks cool.”

Zlova’s laughter pushed back the anger and fear, as laughter was meant to do, and Jhira’s grin was tugged out of hiding. Why were the sane sith so much easier to deal with than the sane Jedi? Jhira appreciated the gift, at this particular moment. Zlova wore a bare scarp of cloth across her breasts, and soft leggings. She looked for all the world like she was about to burst into dance. And Jhira well knew her style Dance was a Power to be reckoned with.

“Oya! You get’em girl. Every Mando has to chart to their own path. It’s one reason our Clans are pledge-clans, not by-blood-Clans. You find those who are yours, and hold on with both hands.” Jhira saluted the Twi’lek with her glass and let the Tihaar burn all the way down. Swallowing had, she angled her head to the side. “I like that Cathar, and he has money. Maybe ask if you can build you your own space in his demesne. Perhaps a mediation area?”

With a wink and wicked smile, Jhira poured Zlova both a tumble of Tihaar and a glass of Saki. “Shereshoy! Live life to the fullest.” The saki was the best that normal money could buy, in this exclusive local. But the Tihaar was made by @Sargeant Omen, on the wilds of Kasshyk and no one did it better than he did.

Zlova’s moment of surprise at how gossip worked won a rippling laughter. “Clans,” she said sympathetically. “They want you to be happy, so they will talk. I’m glad you like it; at least I need have no fear you would not speak up if they got it wrong. My little Falleen ate strawberry shakes for the first year he was with us, and he hates the things.” A moment’s hesitation.

“Talhon’s been a steadying influence upon Mia.” Unlike Alora, who brought out her nieces’ wild side. The thought summoned another smile.

Leaning forward she refilled the Saki. “I’ve found someone who knows how to drink at last. Those bloody Sith Lords were practically ascetic. It bothers the haran out of me. They spoke of passion but I never saw more than glimpses.”

Zlova understood. There was no false comfort, no lies about being too stubborn to be altered. Fingers scraped through her hair, as if to remove the contaminate physically.

“I know that I do not remember everything; I cannot say if that is my own defenses or their actions.” The amber liquid swirled in her tumbler; silence stretched as Jhira sought to words to explain the inexplicable.

“I feel things.”

“I hear and see and feel the Force Wraith, but I don’t know if that’s trauma or something more. But he’s … always there.”

“I hate, to a degree that terrifies me. I grow too angry, too swiftly.” Anther tumbler of tihaar failed to wash the tang of fear form her throat.

“Once, I lived for vengeance. For the hunt. I believed only in the strength to take that vengeance. But I grew wiser, or at least older. I got it under control, so it did not drive me. But now ...” A shudder rattled the ice in her empty tumbler.​

​

 

[Zlova Rue]

An exaggerated lift of a tattooed eyebrow over her smirk followed Jhira's comment about gray: cannot be reasoned with. Well if there were a romantic way to describe someone, she thought with mirthful sarcasm. The Twi'lek understood what the Mandalorian woman meant just fine, as she always did; but that never stopped a playful and occasionally sardonic woman from creative license.

No bribes, no dishonor, and no emotion. Sounded like another Clan that did their best to take all the fun out of things. Also a playful thought; as such virtues benefited Zlova while they were on her side. That was a nice change wasn't it? Having all these strong willed and able bodies willing to help her without needing to offer them the souls of an entire planet or keys to a relic that would end all life. It would take convincing though since she was the Face of Evil in their ranks.

Jhira, however, sounded like she wasn't drowning in tradition to keep up with those virtues. Made sense given their time together; the woman never came off as a stick in the mud. Which was why Zlova didn't mind a bit coming up here to check her out and just chat.

Laughter followed Jhira's remarks about Talohn then. "Too much and not enough credits. He built that insistent and annoying droid, after all." Naturally Zlova meant Madlad. "Yes, I think he plans to set aside an area for me to do my 'Sith things.'" A bark of a laugh followed. "You want to know a secret, Jhira?" The Lethan leaned in a bit with the saucer perched upon her fingertips. "Fancy meditation chambers full of glyphs and artifacts are just for show, or to make that Lord or Lady to compensate." A grin parted Zlova's lips after the 'revelation.' "Though, a place to conduct Sith Alchemy wouldn't hurt. Somewhere that insatiably curious Monari won't stumble across something... unique."

"Falleen?" Zlova hadn't dove into Jhira's personal life behinid her back, but she had heard about a few people in her orbit. Seemed the woman liked to keep things... eclectic.

A snort followed Jhira's reproach at her captors not being good drinking partners. "That is the sad state of Sith in this galaxy, my friend. Each one of them had the Code drilled into their heads and yet there are so few that actually bothered to learn what any of it meant. They feel powerful, so they believe they've acquired true power, but it's built upon a lie." Zlova sighed before she tipped the saucer back for another liquid hit.

With a calm bat of eyelids, Zlova listened to what Jhira said next about her time among Sith.

"Hate." Zlova set the dish down between them with a nod. "Sith are good at inspiring that in people. It's the easiest way to get people committing crimes, breaking bonds, and having no where else to go but into the loving embrace of darkness. Clouds your mind so you can't think about the repercussions of your actions, or to regret any choices you've made. You begin explaining away everything you did -- there is always a reason even if it makes no sense."

A smile touched the Twi'lek's lips. "Hate's a tool, Jhira. Like passion. As a Sith I certainly won't advocate you get rid of either, but before this Wraith fills your head with ideas of just surrendering so you stop feeling so weary -- from its prattling -- just remember it is a tool. You are the hand that wields it. Don't let The Force control you, you control it. Then when you see your 'friends' again you can savagely beat their heads in as a demonstration of your gratitude."

"Oh." Zlova leaned forward again. "This Wraith have a name, by the way?"

Tag: Jhira Mereel

 

[Jhira Mereel]

POLITICAL REGION: Wild Space, The Enclave
LOCATION: Inuyahya'baar, Kestri’s Moon
Objective: safety.
Tag: [ Zlova Rue ]

A grin flared, at the notion that someone as sweet as Talohn had built something as insanely terrifying as MadLad. It didn’t seem possible; here was Talohn as guilty of taking in strays and trying to do the right thing as Jhira herself. And then here was Ultimate Baby Sitter Madlad. Purveyor of mass-death on the battlefield and terror of vendors.

The conspiratorial lean drew Jhira in, curious what secret Zlova offered; she knew any number. A soft laugh ghosted out of Jhira when the Lethan insisted that ornate meditation chambers and walls full of glyphs were unnecessary to a proper practice of Sithery. The dual Darths seemed to feel much the same way. “Ah, you are an alchemist then. I may have something for you.” an odd collection, and one she’d be well rid of. “Keeping kids out of places like that is a nightmare; if you find a good answer, do let me know.”

Smile flared again, and Jhira refilled the drinks, though she’d only picked at the food so far. It was delightful, but knowledge of what was to come had a molten mass where her stomach ought to be.

“Just after the devastation of Mandalore, I had a few chances to rescue slave ships. Where possible, we re-united families; others became Foundlings. Zhul was just a child when we rescued him. Well; he’s Falleen; he’s still a child, now. He does not remember much about his home or how he came to be in that terrible place. He wants desperately to go home, but I have not been able to find his family.”

A shiver over came Jhira, as memories echoed the two or three parts of the Sith Code that the Darth Master had carved into her psyche. But a smile was simultaneously tugged into being, because Zlova’s words echoed her wider experience of Sith.

“They were so different from what I expected. Not merely rational and sane. But cool, cold, logical. Purpose driven. Utterly committed to their Way. Nearly Mandalorian, except for fearing love and the oddest definitions of loyalty and trust.”

“I was their personal prize, and they kept me from the MAW.” A measured breath. “They were careful not to injure me physically; they made no attempt to threaten or terrify me. But I doubt myself; as if my soul is shredded.”

“A friend told me that the cruelty - even the adherence to the Dark Side - are not inherent to the Sith Code. What do you think?”

A beat; a measured tone that spoke of how important this question was to her than wild theatrics would have been. “What is the lie?”

Jhira filled the saucer, the alcohol easing the tension of the conversation, rendering Zlova’s words into gentler terms. Which was good, because a cool breath of the despair the Sith Lords has so effortlessly inspired in her chilled her, body and mind. Zlova spoke as one who knew. Yet a flicker of despair coursed through her.

“It was close, Zlova. Closer than I like to think. None of you had reason to imagine I was alive.” A shudder swept through her. Denial. Fear. Her eyes closed. “The Force terrifies me. It seems to hate everyone equally.” but her real question was simpler. How could you control what you didn’t understand? Yet a smile escaped at Zlova’s phrasing. Prattling. Thinking of it in those terms was so much less terrifying.

“I’m not crazy, then. It’s … haunting me. Or he is, by proxy.”

A soft, deadly laugh rippled free, and her hands clenched at the notion of meeting them again. It was … complicated. “Oh, yes. But he is so clever. He knows how to get into your mind, your heart. The Apprentice is Darth Senthral. Clever, handsome as sin, silver tongued. Charming, Zlova. Nearly as much so as you. Honest, I would say; or at least neither one chose to lie to me. We were desperately honest with each other. He is principled, driven; was once a Jedi. And fully committed to doing anything at all to become more powerful. Even kill the only being he seems to care about.” Aching gaze met Zlova’s.

“They seemed to genuinely care for each other, Zlova. Insisted the need for the Apprentice to kill the Master was both to seek an honorable death, and to keep the Force itself from eliminating one or the other.”

A hesitance. “The Master never gave his name. He taught; he lectured. He was…he felt like the Darkness made flesh. It shrouded him, reached out from him.” she shuddered. “While utterly unmoved by the events at Rhand, they were not the insane minds behind it. He warned that those embrace the Darkside without care and self-control can go crazy.”​

​

 

[Zlova Rue]

"Oh?" Zlova tilted her head at Jhira saying it was hard to keep children out of dangerous places. "I find a Force Ghost works more often than not. At least until a 'helpful' Jedi comes along to banish it." Psychologically traumatizing children? Oh, please. Children traumatized themselves. Zlova knew full well little munchkins cried about monsters under their bed when they had no cause to do so. So, what if life showed them what a real monster looked like? Then they'd know shadows cast by light outside their room weren't anything to be afraid of -- and that it was far more dangerous outside than in their bed. Two valuable lessons! "I'd love anything you have to offer though."

As Jhira refilled the drinks, Zlova reached out to snag one of the sushi rolls and pop it into her mouth.

"Mmm." The Twi'lek nodded in understanding about Jhira's Falleen charge as she nearly finished chewing on another piece. Rescued slave, unknown familial location. Right, right. It was important to Mandalorians to return children to their family, or essentially adopt what might as well be an orphan as one of their own. What? Zlova listened to Talohn and every other Mandalorian that spoke about The Way even if she didn't look engaged. Wasn't her fault it wasn't all Orbital Drops and Galactic Conquest.

Then Jhira discussed the particulars of her time among her Sith captors. Zlova stopped eating anything at this point to give the recount her utmost attention.

"Cruelty is not part of the Sith Code," Zlova agreed. "It is, however, a natural byproduct." Then Jhira breathed an entirely different question that caused the Twi'lek's golden gaze to narrow slightly. "Peace is the lie. But you already know that. Everyone knows that, they just choose to ignore an inconvenient truth and adopt a convenient lie -- that peace is the natural state of existence. If that were true then why is there so much bloodshed? But that doesn't require a Sith to butcher countless people to cause more bloodshed. No, the Code is just a convenient excuse to most. Cause strife, discord, and chaos and feel like they've contributed to The Cause when -- sickeningly -- they've done the exact opposite."

Jhira spoke again and the Twi'lek listened. The despite, denial, and fear could be felt from where Zlova sat even if the Mandalorian did her best to control it -- involuntary shivers aside.

"The Force doesn't hate anyone, nor does it love anyone. Not that I want to bore you with a lecture," a quiet bark of a laugh punctuated the remark, "but The Force is just the energy all around us. Reality, if you like. Some know how to tap into it and change it. Usually localized effects such as moving a chair or electrocuting someone with a gesture. It resonates with the user and the intended purpose or emotional state behind the manipulation. That's where the Dark and Light Side of the Force come from. They're constructs to distill something vast down into a one-second sound byte to hate one and love another." Nexus were just massive pools of energy usually tainted one way or another by some event in the far distant past.

The clenching of Jhira's fists and laughter were difficult to miss. Seemed the woman braced herself to talk about the actual Sith captors themselves.

In the end, Zlova shrugged slightly. "First, Sith aren't special. They're people, but ones that have chosen a particular lifestyle -- as Mandalorians have. Though painfully attractive or dreadfully ugly are pretty much the two types of Sith. Most tend to end up as the latter because of the negative energy consuming them from within." Though Zlova wouldn't say it, she was far from immune to its influence. She'd just found ways to deal with it creatively. "Secondly, Sith lie. A lot. Especially when we're being truthful. That's what cuts so deep when we taunt Jedi to Fall -- they can feel the truth within themselves even if they tried so hard to ignore it. All it takes is for us to call attention to the darkness within and some of them spin out of control. Repression inevitably destroys the user." A paused followed before she continued, "How do we lie while telling the truth? Omission, mostly. We'll tell people that deep down they're evil and want to lash out and only delude themselves daily by chanting Codes and badmouthing Sith. The thing is, Jhira, they all have that darkness in them, but they have to choose to be consumed by it."

"Which is something these Sith and I do agree on. Those that lack discipline lose control. The Passion we champion so much will consume someone that uses the Dark Side; it will use them instead of them using it. Emotions dictating action while their reasoning is left to excuse their choices instead of guiding those actions in the first place." Zlova reached across the table to lay a hand upon Jhira's if she'd allow it. "You know this to be true. You've seen it, haven't you? A vod that gives in to their rage and hatred. One that flies into battle hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned only to get cut down before barely touching their foe. Harness your anger -- it's so much more powerful than despair -- but don't let it blind you." It seemed Jhira was trying to figure out how to control or respond to The Force and this wraith plaguing her. Perhaps it was trying to get her to 'let go' and 'embrace' the darkness? The good news was, the woman already had a solid foundation in how to deal with it -- Jhira just didn't know it yet. A great deal of her Mandalorian upbringing could be brought to bear in understanding how to live as a Force User. Sure, it wasn't everything she needed, but what people always needed was a firm foundation to stand on to get their bearings.

Tag: Jhira Mereel

 

[Jhira Mereel]

POLITICAL REGION: Wild Space, The Enclave
LOCATION: Inuyahya'baar, Kestri’s Moon
Objective: safety.
Tag: [ Zlova Rue ]

Jhira choked and coughed, swallowing wrong, as Zlova offered a Force Ghost as a way to keep curious children out of dangerous places. A Force Ghost. Argh. Her eyes closed and she tossed back the rest of her drink, letting it burn all the way down. It didn’t so much clear her mind of the dreadful images, as focus it; either way, she had too much sense to argue about mixing Force Ghosts and children, at least right now.

“When I was trying to design a Jet Pack that suited my purposes, I toyed with the notion of using a QQ-1C3/54V-4N Mark I Perpetual Fuel Cell. “They require some odd materials. Thaissen Crystals, “and things that held a certain … resonance. ‘Force Attuned,’ they called it.”

“And I happen to have some of each. For a time, I focused heavily upon hunting down the low-level Sith involved in the Omega Wars.” it had been a dark time, filled vengeance and rage, the result of the first impetus of her hatred for indiscriminate destruction. “I’d be glad to get them off of my hands.”

Another swallow of Tihaar, as she contemplated the golden eyes regarding her with such grave courage. The red-and-black hand settled upon Jhira’s with gentle strength, a welcome comfort. Her own hand turned over to return the clasp. Jhira leaned close, each word a Zlova spoke a lifeline. A way to pushback the despair and fear. Deep thought followed the learned discourse, as Jhira considered the wisdom offered.

With a blink, she surfaced from her thoughts, a slow smile forming. Offering a salute to Zlvoa with her tumbler, the amber liquid glinted in the soft lighting, seeming only a few shades darker than Zlova’s golden eyes. “Peace is a lie,” she repeated softly, a pained laugh escaping. “That’s nearly the basis of Mandalorian Society. That peace is a fleeting illusion, at best. That conflict and war will come, and we can either be a victim or a participant. That we must aggressively protect what is ours, and plan for disaster.” Jhira shook her head gently. “It haunts me, how well the Sith Code parallels my own, at least upon the surface.” Until meeting Kyyrk, she’d never thought deeply about the Coda.

And now she could not escape it.

Peace is a lie.

“So young hotheads think peace is the enemy, the first phrase a command to go slay and cause war, as opposed to being context for there is only Passion? Only what does that really mean? Mandalorians lead a terribly passionate life, but … passion cannot stand without a balancing measure of structure and control.” A Mandalorian’s life was brief, intense, glorious and bitter. They cared, deeply - the highs of passion and glory possible only by the depths of grief and loss they faced. If allowed to care enough, it kept them from becoming monsters. Perhaps that was why she could never quite trust Jedi?

The sharp bark of laughter around lecturing won a bright grin in return. “I’m good with lectures.” the topic, though stifled her smile; a frown crinkling her brow. “The Force seems to react, to make choices. To manifest how and when it wills?” The concept of the Force as a living, willful thing was fairly entrenched in many traditions; it surely seemed to make choices that had little to do with those who claimed to control it. Indeed, the Darths both felt confident that the Force defined reality in strange and terrible ways. But had they been speaking half-truths?

Another smile was tugged into existence, at Zlova’s definition of Dark and Light as a ‘one second sound bite.’ “Clearly, the Force needs to hire a new PR manager …” Despite the levity, careful consideration was given to Zlova’s point on both what the Force was, and the complex interaction between current reality, the goal and the emotional state of the sorcerer in question. Given most Mandalorian’s emotional state, the knowledge was not terribly comforting.

But eyebrows rose when Zlova suggested Sith weren’t special. It seemed so counter the prevailing notion of entitlement and pre-eminence she’d experienced from so many Force Users. But then … Zlova clearly understood that what made her special was encapsulated with in who she was, not what weapon she was currently wielding.

The Sith lie A lot. Especially when we’re being truthful, won ripple of laughter. “Lies of omission; much harder to spot than pure fabrication.” it both bothered and soothed Jhira to consider deeply what critical facts might have been left out of her indoctrination.

“There can be such a fine line, between self-control and repression,” Jhira murmured, yet she visibly relaxed. Framing the dilemma precisely as a warrior must face it made the unknowable suddenly easier to comprehend. “I have seen such a fall, Zlova; it’s why I feel the Canons of Honor and the SuperCommando Codex are so important to us. They help check that desperate dive into atrocity. We are bloodthirsty enough without allowing unchecked aggression to dominate us.”

“As you say - Harness the anger.” A fierce, predatory grin flared. Learning to turn fear into anger rather than paralysis was one of the first lessons most warriors had to master. “Yet do not surrender to it.”

Jhira slammed back another Tihaar, a soft “Oya!” accompanying the act. She finally felt like this was a battle she could understand.

“What does passion have to do with strength, though?”​

​

 

[Zlova Rue]

"Thaissen Crystals?" Zlova echoed with a slight nod. "I'd be happy to take them off your hands." Not exactly kyber, but then the unique properties might have surprising uses. Regardless of what came of it, if Zlova came across something that would be useful for Jhira she'd pass it along in return. Of course a Sith didn't need to 'balance the sheets' or care anything about 'karma;' that didn't mean they couldn't, only that most chose not to out of selfish convenience. For similar reasons why Zlova helped Talohn and Monari, she felt inclined to help Jhira survive.

Then Jhira expressed the beginnings of her thoughts on what had no doubt been drilled into her head by the Sith. It haunted her how similar the Sith and Mandalorian outlooks were did it? "Don't let it." Zlova calmly set the dish aside and then scooted the other glass forward for some of that Tihaar Jhira was hitting pretty heavily. "They're just words. All that matters is what's in here," the Twi'lek tapped her head, "and here," then her heart.

"Young hotheads?" Zlova tipped backwards as she crowed. "Oh, Jhira, there are Sith Lords that believe in wiping the entire galaxy clean to start over. Their reasoning isn't just for passion, however. Pride, ego, and a refusal to accept one crucial fact about their existence." It was necessary for a dramatic pause here, of course. Zlova was a performer, making people believe she was something she wasn't; it was only natural to tease that she might not continue. "It's not about them. The galaxy. Existence. It isn't about us, Jhira. Life is about us. They want to reshape reality to their whim, and in doing overlook what's right in front of them."

The matter of passion would have to wait a bit longer, as they conversed about the Force itself next. The Twi'lek drew in a breath and considered Jhira's question. "Honestly, I don't believe in the 'Living' Force. I have never, once had a conversation with it. It has never made any 'Will' known to me. I've seen far off places, possible futures, and heard voices of spirits, certainly, but none of those tell me there's an intelligence behind it all. As far as I'm concerned, the Force is an ocean all around us full of currents that can sweep you in one direction or another. Was the current stirred up by someone deliberately knowing it would result in a particular outcome?" The Twi'lek shrugged slightly. "If I choose to do something it will be done. If I choose not to then this 'Will' of the Force better understand the concept of 'acceptance' because what it wants won't happen." Perhaps some day Zlova might be proven wrong, but until such time she operated on the presumption of being absolutely correct. Sith didn't have the luxury of being 'uncertain;' uncertainty -- hesitation -- got you killed.

A smirk graced dark red lips as Jhira seemed surprised at Zlova's remark concerning the Sith. Instigating reactions was always fun.

It then pleased Zlova to hear Jhira echo the danger of lies of omission. So far it appeared any indoctrination hadn't overrode her ability to question what had been fed to her. The world hadn't been made black and white with the Sith being on the side of righteousness. Though that didn't mean the Mandalorian woman was free of a time-bomb.

A soft chuckle of good humor followed the remark about Mandalorian thirst for blood. "That's why I've always liked your culture. Especially its ancient history with grand epics of descending on entire worlds -- for your people to test themselves against others. Sure, lots of people died, but in war that's inevitable." Beat the enemy until they surrendered then stop because there was no more fight left in their foe. Sure, arguably very Sith like at times, but not entirely -- different motivations and desired outcomes.

Jhira ended with a question about passion again, and how it led into the next stanza of the Code. "That is the trap. Where the Code starts leading people astray." Before she got into that, however, Zlova needed to lay a little ground work. "Jedi believe that emotion causes us to be reckless and make hasty decisions. They aren't wrong, but they go to absurd lengths to suppress their feelings -- and those that don't suppress them often end up falling victim to them, and so all the other Jedi claim it justifies why suppressing them is needed. Of course the fools don't see the cause of the problem -- they refuse to accept emotions are part of life."

"Sith dismiss the Way of the Jedi. We say embrace your emotions. Stoke them as you do a raging fire and let it burn brightly in the void," Zlova said exuberantly with a grin afterward. "And you should. To a point." The tip of her left index finger pressed down on the surface between them. "A point that almost no Master ever teaches. So, young Sith embrace their pain, suffering, anger, rage, and hatred. They build upon it day after day. They feel the Force being swept into them as they cling to this ball of darkness within their soul. They feel strong."

With a roll of one shoulder Zlova lifted her finger and dismissively waved off to the side. "And that's the trap. They feel strong. The Code goes on to say in being strong you then have power, and that power leads to victory, and through victory you are magically freed. If you don't feel free, then you haven't claimed sufficient victory because you aren't powerful enough, so Dark Lords throughout time scrounge and claw at whatever they can to acquire more 'strength,' more power. It's a drug -- power. You never have enough."

Zlova's eyes narrowed ever so before a soft sigh passed her lips. "I once thought I had enough." Sharing... wasn't really in Zlova's nature any more. "I was younger. Thought I understood True Balance from the writings of those that came before me. I felt I'd found someone that believed as I did; that we weren't bound to the wheel of power to rise and ultimately fall. Power only lasts so long as you use it. Once you reach the top it's a matter of time before the wheel begins to fall again, and someone new rises. I was," her eyes narrowed slightly once more, "wrong. Betrayed." A mirthless smile graced her lips. "I had reached the top without knowing it. Held myself back thinking myself wise. The wheel turned, and I fell. Here's an important lesson to learn about Sith, Jhira... Power is a drug. If you topple a Dark Lord, you best kill them. As sure as the wheel falls, it will rise again in time."

There was a conflict between embracing passion to a point (which according to the Code was needed for power) -- assuming unbridled passion led to self-destruction -- and the implied need and desire to acquire power in Zlova's story. One the Twi'lek had not addressed so far.

Tag: Jhira Mereel

 

[Jhira Mereel]

POLITICAL REGION: Wild Space, The Enclave
LOCATION: Inuyahya'baar, Kestri’s Moon
Objective: safety.
Tag: [ Zlova Rue ]

It was a relief that Zlova would take the Thaissen crystals. Jhira would be certain the creepy force relics were shoved in the box with them. She’d found them disturbing enough before; with her new, raw sensitivity she didn’t want to be anywhere near them.

Pouring more of the very fine Tihaar for Zlova, she considered simple fact the Lethan Sithalorian - Sith Lord, from the authority with which she spoke - reminded Jhira of. Words were words; it was actions that mattered. Heart and mind added context, the subtle difference between killing and murder often only existing subjectively, within the mind of the killer and observer.

The crowing, delighted laugh Zlova released won a warm, sparkling smile from Jhira. Tension eased from the battered Mereel. “It rather ruins the mystique to think of a Sith Lord wanting to wipe out the galaxy from overwhelming pride. I mean, it isn’t even original. At least all the Sith Lords in my life are original.” And she had collected a truly horrific number of them, especially if you counted the recovering Sith Lords. Was there a program for that? But the Tihaar was doing it’s job, and she didn’t fall into tense silence, but rather asked a rather tangential question, “How does it work? I mean the titles. It was so confusing to me for an Apprentice to be a Darth Lord. And is a Sith Lord a Darth Lord, or something different? And what’s a Dark Lord?”

And then she waited.

And waited!

Another laugh erupted, and Jhira flung her hands up in a ‘I surrender’ gesture. “What is this crucial fact of life they miss?” Her eyes widened as the subtle, beautiful fact Zlova laid it out for her. It’s not about them. Tilting her glass to Zlova, she answered the only way she could.

“Shereshoy!” The lust for life, for experience, living each day fully and holding onto it with both hands no matter what was thrown at you. The knowledge you could die at any point, yet the zeal and courage to not be paralyzed by that fact. Who could have predicted that it would be a subtle safeguard against becoming a crazy Sith, too?

Drawn in once more, Jhira leaned forward, eyes narrowed in thought. Zlova’s stance on the Living Force appealed, profoundly. The sense of self-determination and will a profoundly Mandalorian ideal. Zlova giving a verbal slap-down to any disembodied ‘Will of the Force’ that might be listening drew a lurking smile to her lips. The current analogy explained much of what she’d experienced with the Sith Lords, and was far less disturbing.

Jhira leaned a bit closer and this time she reached out to touch Zlova lightly on the arm, if she permited. “Our culture, ner vod.” She paused a moment to catch Zlova’s gaze, before releasing her light touch and sitting back once more. “The Crusaders sought out conflict, for fear of ease and decay. Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore*. I’m pretty sure that will never a risk in our lifetime.” Amusement danced in her gaze.

The take on the cold-hearted Jedi marched along with Jhira’s experiences of the matter. Suppression worked just fine short term; it would kill you long term. But her thoughts could not stay long with the Jedi, when Zlova painted an exquisite picture of a passionate young Sith, thinking power could defeat fear.

But even the Sith Code didn’t promise that.

A soft sigh escaped from the lovely red-and-black Twi’lek; the shift in demeanor and delight warned Jhira something unpleasant would follow. Topping off both tumblers, her dark, dark gaze rested gently upon Zlova as a story of trust, betrayal and lust for power unfolded. That a Sith Lord revealed any pain at all spoke of how deep that betrayal had cut. The warning was clear; part of Jhira was already wound up in these Sith Lords. There could be no half-measures. Cooperate, evade or destroy. A long, low sigh whispered out of her, mirroring Zlova’s own. There was much wisdom to be pulled from the bitter recital. Power was a drug, that allowed strength/victory/freedom … but that engendered more fear than it banished.

A delicate balancing act seemed needed.

“If you can’t keep chasing power, and yet can’t endlessly use unbridled emotion how do the Sith survive?” Yet Jhira was first and foremost a Mandalorian; she had not lost track of the key factor in all of this. Leaning forward, Jhira purred at Zlova, “Did you take care of it, or shall we go on a little Hunt?”

*Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore. - Pressure makes gems, ease makes decay.​

​

 

[Zlova Rue]

"The titles?" Zlova smirked as Jhira explained. "Well, how it normally works is you start as a Slave -- if you attend one of our Academies you'd understand the students are Slaves -- then become an Apprentice, then a Knight, and finally Dark Lord. Dark Lords are also known as Sith Lords or Lords of the Sith, whom you can refer to by a 'Darth' moniker. Don't get either confused with Dark Lords of the Sith because that can apply to a duo of Apprentice and Master under the Rule of Two. You see, it's all very straightforward." A brief chuckle followed, of course. "A Dark Lord can be an apprentice to another Dark Lord if a younger or weaker Lord feels there is something to be gained being subservient to another. Often -- and this will surprise you -- they're seeking power."

A little while later the Mandalorian woman reached out to touch Zlova's arm, which elicited no particular reaction from the Twi'lek. Zlova smiled as she was far from unaccustomed to physical contact. A long, storied life full of events that would shock even Jhira, she suspected.

Evidently the contact was made to stress a minor correction to what Zlova herself had said. 'Our culture' instead of 'your culture.' Interesting, Zlova hadn't realized she'd phrased it that way. Normally she would have been far more conscious about her choice in words. Such distancing might be taken the wrong way especially give her dark history and that of the Sith with Mandalorians.

"Well, I'm certainly going to advocate the Enclave build more things that literally fall out of orbit to crush an enemy's defenses before ravaging them from the inside," Zlova declared with cheer.

After a monologue about the Force, Jhira then had two pressing questions. To the first, Zlova replied, "Some of us learn how to govern our passions." The Twi'lek tilted her head slightly as she hummed in thought. "Imagine a fire in a circle of stone as one's passion. You can heap fuel on that fire to make it grow big and strong, but inevitably it will spill outside of the stones -- out of control. Now, imagine you build a stone enclosure around the flame with enough air flow so it doesn't starve, and you feed that fuel." Mandalorians understood fire and forges, which was quite handy. The number of similarities between their cultures was astounding. "It can grow incredibly hot -- incredibly powerful. It applies that power to shaping or reshaping the world introduced to it. Just like a forge. The best Sith go so far as to recognize that power alone is worthless. Why spend all that effort building a massive forge if you do nothing with it. A Sith shouldn't concentrate on making the fire larger -- they should concentrate on making the fire large enough to accomplish what they mean to."

Zlova shrugged slightly. "Not a perfect analogy. After all, some Sith want to burn the galaxy down, so there's practically no difference between that and acquiring power for power's sake. Though I maintain 'burn the galaxy down' is just an excuse for someone to acquire more power." The same was true for someone aspiring to become Emperor. Sure, set your sights on being Emperor, but then ask yourself why you wanted to be Emperor. If it was just to hold the throne you weren't worthy of sitting your ass in it.

As for the second... Zlova's bold smile diminished at the edges a bit. "She is still alive." The cup lifted so that a thirsty Twi'lek might quench a parched throat. She didn't need a moment before addressing this matter, certainly. "After she tried to kill me, I left the Empire. It was a while before I helped a street urchin on Nar Shadda, which got me caught up in some Obsidian Knight's quest. That's when I joined them to see if I had everything backwards." Zlova chuckled for a moment. "I didn't. At least no one there bothered to convince me otherwise. Then I found that Cat." Talohn.

"And he was courageous and yet an absolute social mess. He invited me to his ship where his daughter was -- someone he cares for above any other. Me, a Sith Lord." Had she said that aloud to Jhira (or anyone besides Talohn yet)? Probably not. "We killed slavers and had dinner a few times. Never once did he try to double-cross me. In fact the Cathar went out of his way not to upset me..."

"Anyway, I never had time to go hunt that dujikri dziaronira down." An edge shone in Zlova's eyes as tension crept into the corners of her mouth. "So, yeah, I guess a Hunt would be in order."

Zlova leaned forward again, one elbow on the table, and a wicked smirk upon her lips. "But now how did we get to talking about me, Darkling? We're here about you. What is it you desire? Don't tell me it's to find peace, Jhira. Everyone wishes for that. What was it they stirred up in you?"

Tag: Jhira Mereel

 

[Jhira Mereel]

POLITICAL REGION: Wild Space, The Enclave
LOCATION: Inuyahya'baar, Kestri's Moon
Objective: safety.
Tag: [ Zlova Rue ]

Somehow, it was not surprising that the path to obsessing over power started with a state of utter powerlessness. Slave all the way to Dark Lord. What was surprising to Jhira was the implication that the poised, self-confident lady before her had ever been in such a painfully vulnerable position. The final conclusion, that a Dark Lord who chose to also be an Apprentice was often seeking power won an answering smirk. Because of course they were! What else would they be after?

Thought it seemed that this particular Dark Lord had at least learned that there was more than one type of power.

Zlova handled Jhira's gentle reassurance with utter calm, winning a small smile of relief from Jhira. For the Mandalorian Captain, touch was still a thing approached as carefully as one might unexplored ordinance. Both the caution in the contact and relief at how well received it might well confirm Zlova's suspicion that Jhira's life had been rather tightly focused, terribly sheltered compared to Zlova's trials and breadth of experience in the galaxy.

"Kinetic weapons are hard to defend against," Jhira said thoughtfully, considering Zlova's notion of how to protect their home.

The discussion returned to the ages-old trial of governing the passions that were so much a part of the Mandalorian spirit. Leaning close, sipping upon her Tihaar, Jhira tried to visualize both passion and fear as Zlova described them. A circle of stones; a deadly but necessary fire in the middle. Then turning it into a forge, where fear and passion were both fueled by and threat life. Pressed by the bellows into an inferno, yet contained by both the attentive smith and the thick bricks of the forge itself.

A Sith shouldn't concentrate on making the fire larger -- they should concentrate on making the fire large enough to accomplish what they mean to.

Such a practical, simple way to see it. No strange mysticism, just the balance between being true to yourself while still being true your principles. A soft breath eased out of Jhira, content and a breath of peace found in the vivid imagery Zlova had offered.

"The 'burn the galaxy down' philosophy has never made sense to me. It's so self-destructive. Is it that destruction feels powerful in the moment, and is not easily undone? A rather low-risk claim to power and effectiveness, as you have nothing left to protect or maintaining when you are done?"

Then the discussion turned serious indeed, and Jhira focused wholly upon Zlova. The bare bones of the story she sketched - the betrayal of trust, even of love. Leaving everything behind. Searching for a new meaning or way of seeing the world. An act of kindness, which led her to the Knights Obsidian, and then to Talhon. Her smile quirked, at Zlova's chuckle. It seemed odd, to Jhira, the conclusion that she hadn't had things backward.

"Your views haven't changed at all, after you left the Sith Empire?" Jhira asked with gentle amusement. The small smile softened at Zlova's amazement that Talhon trusted her with his daughter. Trusted a Sith Lord, however unique. Yet Jhira felt she could understand how it had happened. It seemed to Jhira that there was a core of integrity and courage to Zlova rare even amongst Mandalorians. "
Talohn is a good man, with good instincts. Fierce, too." As much as Jhira appreciated the Cathar, hearing he'd spent time hunting slavers only increased her respect for the man.

A change came over Zlova; a decision made. The violent strength at her core burning through the cheerful demeanor of the Lethan as she chose a Hunt.

"I would be honored to aid in your Hunt, Zlova." Expecting to pursue that farther, she'd even opened her tac-comp to begin planning a search grid when Zlove turned the topic back to Jhira.



Flashing a grin at the term of endearment (for so Jhira took being called Darkling), she settled back into the booth, simply contemplating her companion for several long moments.

It was such a relief, to be seen.

For all Jhira's strict code of honor and deep compassion, there was a core of bitter rage and casual violence to her which needed always to be caged. Caged, perhaps, in Zlova's soul-forge, refined and shaped to a greater purpose than mindless destruction.

"It is always my habit to learn of others, Zlova. Safer, I think to turn conversation and curiosity upon a companion than endure it myself. But you are not easily distracted from your task." a long moment followed, as Jhira considered the fear and passions, the hunger for safety and power the Sith Lords had stirred within her.


"Vengeance, Zlova. They have mightily stoked my burning need to avenge all sorts of pains. To strike back so bitterly no one dares to target my family and home."


"Vengeance should be a matter of practicality and honor, to avenge what you cannot prevent. To punish to just the precise degree that deters others yet does not devolve into an endless cycle of revenge killings." Her hand tightened upon the tumbler, but she did not sip it.

"Yet … this anger, the rage and fear awakened within is a thirst to punish and destroy that goes beyond those concerns."​

​

 

[Zlova Rue]

Zlova smirked as she shrugged. "Unlike most Lords or Ladies, I find talking about myself tedious and dull -- after all, I've lived every moment of it already." Much more interesting to learn about others and the Source of power in the galaxy (which you did by understanding its past). In that the two women had something deeply in common. Naturally this meant they'd need to take turns lest they grow bored of prattling on about things they rather not think of yet again.

"A noble belief -- to punish just enough to deter. To me that would involve the complete annihilation of the enemy's armed forces without razing civilian centers needlessly. They would have nothing with which to hit back with at that and unconditional surrender would be a given." Which might not be what Jhira herself felt was 'enough.' Likely it might be too far in most cases. There were, however, enemies that would never stop until every able bodied man or woman was laid to waste -- so why guess which enemy was that committed? Assume they all were.

"Anger. Rage." The Twi'lek nodded. "A Sith knows these things well. The thirst not to deter, but to destroy. Not to achieve victory, but dominance. To crush them beneath your heel and laugh as they stretch out their dying hand with fear or hatred in their eyes. Watch as the life oozes from them until everything is ever so quiet."

"Then you find a new target. One still living. Make up an excuse to attack them; something without an end. Terrorism, perhaps. Imperialism? Corporate subjugation of the masses! Yes, the less tangible the objective the more everlasting the war, and the more life you feel crunch under your boot." Zlova laughed loudly as though the thought was an absolute delight.

Then she sighed and relaxed back in the seat with her golden eyes on Jhira. "Sith are good at bringing that out in people. It's how they spread. Make your enemy hate you as much as you hate them. Perpetual the cycle, as you said. You need to learn to control that passion, Jhira. Don't ignore it. Don't fight it. It's there and maybe in time it'll lessen, but until then it. is. there. So use it, but don't let it use you. Draw upon the fervor when you fight the Sith; become a living nightmare to them. But stay your hand against the innocent along the way, and don't go seeking excuses to kill. There are more than enough villains in the galaxy you don't need to invent reasons."

Jhira Mereel