The Shadow of Csilla
Mustafar was not the sort of world Shade would have chosen for a conversation. The observation occurred to her as Varin's shuttle settled against a landscape illuminated by molten rivers and distant volcanic fire, heat turning the horizon into a wavering distortion beyond the viewport. Then again, she doubted anyone came to Mustafar because they appreciated the climate. Varin had arranged the meeting and brought her here, which was reason enough for Shade to make the journey without demanding that every question be answered beforehand. Whatever he believed might come from putting her and Darth Strosius in the same room again, she trusted him enough to find out for herself.
Shade descended from the ship in dark armor, the long black and silver braid falling down her back while the oppressive heat found every weakness the climate controls couldn't entirely compensate for. She carried weapons because arriving unarmed on Mustafar to meet a Sith Lord seemed less like diplomacy and more like an unnecessarily elaborate form of optimism, but none were in her hands. The man waiting somewhere ahead was not entirely unknown to her. She remembered the Masked Lord from Kamino, when a collection of people with very different allegiances had converged upon the Box for the same reason. Varin had needed them. Strosius had been among those willing to go into that prison after him, and Shade had not forgotten it.
They had worked together more than they had actually spoken. They had had little opportunity for introductions while planning how to penetrate a prison, retrieve Varin, and leave before the entire installation became determined to prevent the latter. Shade had seen enough of Strosius to remember him, but not enough to pretend she understood him. That distinction mattered to her. Reputation could tell her what other people believed about the Sith Lord. Kamino had given her a glimpse of what he did when circumstances became dangerous. Neither answered why Varin had decided they ought to meet again.
Shade continued toward the arranged meeting place, crimson eyes taking in the volcanic surroundings with the same quiet attention she would have given somewhere considerably less hostile. Curiosity had ultimately outweighed any reservations she might have had about the invitation. Varin had apparently decided that rescuing him together constituted an introduction, and Mustafar was suitable for the conversation that should have followed. The faintest amusement touched her expression at the thought. "I suppose caf would have been too conventional." Shade murmured to herself before continuing on to meet the Masked Lord properly this time.
Darth Strosius
Shade descended from the ship in dark armor, the long black and silver braid falling down her back while the oppressive heat found every weakness the climate controls couldn't entirely compensate for. She carried weapons because arriving unarmed on Mustafar to meet a Sith Lord seemed less like diplomacy and more like an unnecessarily elaborate form of optimism, but none were in her hands. The man waiting somewhere ahead was not entirely unknown to her. She remembered the Masked Lord from Kamino, when a collection of people with very different allegiances had converged upon the Box for the same reason. Varin had needed them. Strosius had been among those willing to go into that prison after him, and Shade had not forgotten it.
They had worked together more than they had actually spoken. They had had little opportunity for introductions while planning how to penetrate a prison, retrieve Varin, and leave before the entire installation became determined to prevent the latter. Shade had seen enough of Strosius to remember him, but not enough to pretend she understood him. That distinction mattered to her. Reputation could tell her what other people believed about the Sith Lord. Kamino had given her a glimpse of what he did when circumstances became dangerous. Neither answered why Varin had decided they ought to meet again.
Shade continued toward the arranged meeting place, crimson eyes taking in the volcanic surroundings with the same quiet attention she would have given somewhere considerably less hostile. Curiosity had ultimately outweighed any reservations she might have had about the invitation. Varin had apparently decided that rescuing him together constituted an introduction, and Mustafar was suitable for the conversation that should have followed. The faintest amusement touched her expression at the thought. "I suppose caf would have been too conventional." Shade murmured to herself before continuing on to meet the Masked Lord properly this time.
Darth Strosius