An Hour Before the Devil Fell

[Matsu Xiangu]

The Tower was a quiet place. The rest of The Unit - or at least, those levels that were open to the majority of employees, however high-level - bustled with a sort of intense orderliness that left it humming with the activity of daily life. Scientists and doctors talked in hushed tones to one another of potential discoveries, nurse’s shoes clicked over pristine tile as they moved between patients administering life and death in tiny needles, assistants to higher-up’s bustled through hallways collecting daily reports, and the hum of air-filtering machines pervaded over it all.

In the Tower, only the hum of machinery could be heard.

Of course, life and death continued the same way here. Within its secluded rooms doctors and scientists made discoveries, nurses went about their rounds, and assistants collected information. But they did it with none of the open excitement of the rest of the Unit. The majority of the facility created things that should never see the light of day, made poisons and weapons and diseases that would curl the toes of even the most diabolical war doctor. But the Tower was reserved for those things that not even the Unit wanted crawling within its walls. A feat indeed, but such a place had proved necessary.

It was in that terribly quiet place that Matsu walked, seemingly at home as she too was quiet.

Seeing Carach was always strange, fond, a sort of nostalgia that never ended. He was connected to days long past, and days forward. She wondered if there was any sort of pride in him - some ancient part of him, a part long gone from this galaxy - for the things she had accomplished. All she had built. An Empire of her own. Something that would leave an impact more lasting than planets glassed or entire peoples killed.

They met in a room outside the one in which the captive was set, glass allowing them to see him though he could not see them.

“Funny we keep meeting this way,” Matsu said, quiet humor drifting between her and the other Lord. “Now - tell me, who is this?”

[member="Carach"]​

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]

It had been a while since their last get-together.

Dosuun.

A gala.

A night that turned from simple amusement towards wider pleasure... a night that had set him on the path that he walked today, even if he hadn't realized it back then. His feelings for Matsu were complicated, but most things were complicated once Carach got himself involved. It was like a prerogative to interact with him. You need at least this much complication, before you can come on board. There was the ancient old hunger that never truly went away, no matter the distance or time that passed. The simple, silent affection that had none of the heat, but endured throughout their journey.

Pride.

It was the pride that burned strongest. Not the pride of a creator, no that implied that he had crafted something out of nothing and Matsu had always been something.

Something powerful, something strong, someone special.

"Full circle, shrimp, full circle." Carach retorted with calm amusement. It was in these little moments of privacy, that they could shed some of their... power and go back to the very basics. "He was plotting to sacrifice you on an altar, to wake an ancient God and bring forward the end of the Galaxy as we know it."

He looked back from the glass and the ritual to Matsu. "So a regular Taungday, really."

The humor was there, but now it turned slightly more... tense. As if the Sith Lord attempted it out of habit. Instead of actually experiencing the situation as particularly amusing.

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

Matsu wasn’t really a stranger to the concept of being on someone’s hit list. Even still, that was a rather elaborate plan that Carach outlined when it came to the stranger’s ambitions. She turned her head to gaze through the glass.

“Well, that’s novel,” she quipped back, sharp features settling to something like wry humor.

The important question however, presented itself: was this a crackpot who had latched on to an object of power to fuel his ideology...or did the things he believe in exist?

Considering the latter would, to some, indicate Matsu was just as bat-poodoo as the cultist sitting in the adjacent room. But Carach would not need convincing. He’d seen the same things Matsu had, or near enough that it made no difference. Neither of them was under the illusion that all things in this galaxy or those adjacent could be explained, or current knowledge taken for granted as almighty. Most likely their ‘guest’ was just grasping at straws. But the possibility that he wasn’t…

It was in silence that they entered the room, calm quiet that was soft enough to be lost under the hum of climate control. The man across from them was shackled to his seat, two empty chairs left for the Lords and their questions. Matsu took hers delicately, crossing her legs primly with her back straight against the seat. She might have looked carved from stone were it not for the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

“Tell me about your Gods,” she requested quietly, hoping to catch their guest off-guard with a genuinely curious question rather than slamming right in to interrogation.

[member="Carach"]​

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]

Instead of taking the seat next to her Carach settled himself down behind her to her shoulder.

Taking advantage of his height and increasing the projection of confidence Matsu was giving off. They hadn't discussed this, didn't have to either, it was as natural as breathing. They may not have worked together in some time, but once they started there was a simple rhythm to it.

Curiously he looked on as she asked the question and the old man woke.

Eyes shifting from dead silence to feverish life.

"My Gods?" Voice tired, broken, exhausted, but the more syllables it spoke the heavier with tension it became. "I would not dare to presume such."

Head tilted as he took in her features.

"The Spider... the Dragon..." He hummed to himself in apparent satisfaction. "What an honor, I did not think I was worthy of this amount of attention."

Mouth grinned.

Teeth broken.

"What would you like to know of the ancients, oh Spider?"

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

In truth, Matsu still clung to one of the very first lessons Ovmar had imparted: why bother wasting a world if there was a more efficient, and far more elegant way of achieving your ends? To burn a world was to burn yourself. And so she did not rise to the old man’s bait, even as he meandered around the question and played his games. She just smiled as if his joke was funny.

Though, she wished he wouldn’t smile.
His lack of dentistry pained her.

“I’m not sure you are, but you at least know enough about Gods you serve... whether or not they are your own... to warrant interest. For the moment.”

Threats of pain were barbaric, and rarely worked on men like this. Pain was base. They had experienced it before, a dozen if not a hundred times. What was a little more? No, he would require a more subtle hand. And so, ever so slightly, she opened her mental connection, holding it out to the dragon seated slightly behind her as if offering a rope she were waiting for him to take should he want it. Connected that way they would move as one, think as one, manipulate as one.

Creativity was needed where men like the one on the opposite side of the table were concerned. Not pain. Pain was boring.

“I would like to know what your people think to gain by sacrificing me to them,” she said bluntly, not playing in to his games.

[member="Jairus Starvald"]​