Private Apartment Constellations

[Solara Gale]

Mercy Meliant Darth Carach Darth Adekos


Head tilted upward. If she squinted it was almost as if she could see a patch of real sky between the layers of concrete of Coruscant. Wait, that was just a billboard painted like the sky.

Huh.

A nice greasy-fry-oil smell wafted off her clothes. Her normal clothes. The ones she changed into after her shift. Kriff. She really missed her credchit line. If only Mom and Dad could see her now. Their prodigal daughter. Disgraced by the jedi. Hiding from the sith on a sith planet. At least she was earning credits. And these sith weren't those sith.

Letting her gaze fall back to level, she spun on her heels toward the market. Had to get some food. Folk perked up as she walked by. There was something about her that drew attention. And unfortunately it drew the attention of one Rhodian spy who had some gorram good face-recognition technology. Calls were made as Sol perused the fruit stands.

 

[Meliant]

CORUSCANT - SITH ACADEMY
IMPERIAL VESTIBULE​

Meliant looked down at the board, at the little black and gold pieces stuck in their grid-points, threatening to encircle and defeat one another. He tapped his chin thoughtfully. Some delegation or another and they had left it for him as a gift. There used to be white pieces, but he replaced them with gold ones. ​

​

He always was gold.​

​

"This game is shit," he declared, and dropped a couple gold pieces at random points on the map. His gaze now snapped up at the Sith Lord opposite of him. "And I'm winning anyway. Look at that."​

​

This was very likely an illegal move, but to be a Sith - an actual, self-realized Sith - meant you got to make as many illegal moves as you wanted. He wondered if Mercy would notice. He wasn't even sure she liked indulging in this sort of trivial bullshit, but trivial bullshit was about 87% of the job of being an Emperor. Surely by now she knew that. If not, she would surely learn by continuing to visit him.​

​

A door slid open behind him, and Meliant turned to look at the gloomy courtier standing there.​

​

"What?"​

​

"That greasy woman..."​

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"Found her again?"​

​

He only thinned his lips and nodded. Meliant cackled.​

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"What are you telling me for? Throw a fucking bag over her head and bring her here."​

​

The courtier bowed graciously and departed. Meliant returned his attentions to Mercy. "Sorry. Ordering takeout," he cackled again, "Is it my turn?"​

​

He already had another brilliant, gleaming golden piece between two fingers. It seemed he would never run out. There were, perhaps, more of them in the set than black pieces.​

Mercy Solara Gale ​

 

[Mercy]

Meliant | Solara Gale

As Meliant busied himself his minion coming into the room and giving him a status report on a 'greasy woman' Mercy was studying the board.

By the time that Meliant looked back?

Half the golden pieces were somehow missing and the board was now solidly controlled by Mercy's black pieces. Meliant would easily see what happened though, because when he turned back Mercy was casually pushing another golden piece off of the board. Amber eyes calmly met the visor of the Coruscant Emperor with no trace of guilt.

"Sorry. Ordering takeout," he cackled again, "Is it my turn?"

"No, I think I just won with my last move." Eyes still holding the visor, she once again reached out to push yet another golden piece from the board, letting it clatter to the floor.

"Or maybe I won just now. Who's to say?"

She leaned back and the chair underneath her groaned in protest.

"What's this about a greasy woman? That sounds much more interesting than pretending either one of us knows how to play this game."

 

[Solara Gale]

“Two for one dewberries?” Brows shot skyward as she perused the cartons of packed fruit. Fingers dug some of the day’s wages out and deposited them in the three-fingered blue palm of the shop keep, snagging two bags and popping some of the ripe, tart fruit in her mouth.

Not bad.

There was a sudden shift of mood the empath felt. Head snapped to the side in time to see two sith troopers heading toward her.

Not this again…

Palm raised and then she felt an electric thwap in her hip. A spark of blue out of the corner of her eyes. Oh chit. A stun bolt?

That was her last thought as her body hit the duracreet of the Coruscanti streets. Her berries spreading across the pavement like bruised dark purple stars.

 

[Meliant]

Mercy Solara Gale

​

Meliant looked back at the board, then to Mercy, and then quickly looked back at the board. ​

"What's this about a greasy woman? That sounds much more interesting than pretending either one of us knows how to play this game."

He rather thought that was the problem, actually - that they both knew exactly how every game should be played. Rules only serve to protect the little guy. And in this case, Meliant found himself in the unfortunate position of little guy. What a drag. Maybe he should have known better. ​

​

"Eating the nexus in the basement is nice," he said, folding his arms and likewise leaning back in his chair. "But it doesn't do anything for me these days. So I've been dragging out random Force Sensitives and eating those, too."​

​

Yeah, they blew up the ISB archives, but some Imperial ordinance or another had the hospitals tracking midichlorians. Meliant didn't care about the details, he just told his goons to bring him people and they did. It was a real mixed-bag.​

​

"Free range, but not cruelty free. You know how it goes. Greasy's a big one. Kept giving my guys the slip - so the name."​

​

He stood and barked for someone to clean "this shit" up, and a pair of dark-robed, hooded attendants arrived quickly to do just that. They basically tripped over themselves to clear the board and pick the little pieces off the floor, returning them with nervous fear to the luxurious box they had originated from. ​

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"I take all my meals in here, if you wanna watch. Ha, ha."​

​

He clearly didn't think Mercy would indicate a willingness to stay, so he absently clenched and unclenched his hand when she did say that she would. Some amount of time passed before Solara was finally dragged in by Meliant's precious Night legionaries, de-bagged, and presented to the two Sith Lords. ​

​

By now the great circular vestibule was barren.​

​

"Hey, wait a minute, she's literally greasy," Meliant observed, cocking his head one way. "That's rich."​

 

[Solara Gale]

Consciousness was a whisper in her ear. The felt the sensation of being dragged first. Then her hearing. Muffled voices in the distance. Then her connection with the force and her senses.

There was a lot of fear.

"I swear I'll get you the credits," she mumbled in half sleep. In unawareness.

Pale eyes cracked open as she was deposited like a bag of grains from the Outer Rim. She managed to catch herself with her palms and knees, a barking of pain extending up her joints and helping to clear away any lingering stun-bolt fog. Her hands were still tingly though. Kriff, why were her hands still tingly.

Frowning, her gaze tilted upwards, blinking back against the sudden brightness of something other than total darkness. And some really flashly golden armor. Head shook. "Oh chit," she whispered. A mouth feeling like the wastelands of Tatooine.

She blinked, pushed back on her hands but stayed in a seated position.

Wait.

Was that...?

The FREAKIN Emperor and Empress of the Sith Covenant.

"OH CHIT." It sounded louder than she'd meant it against the space of realization. Throat cleared. "I mean, your majesties," chin dipped. Solara kriffin' knew to give respect where respect was due. Even if the smells wafting off her clothes were the last 12 hours of NurferKing's fry oil. "Wow, what an honor," she remained crouched but snuck a glance. "You two look even better than the posters."

 

[Mercy]

Solara Gale Meliant

She had opted to stay not out of any concern for the 'greasy woman'.

While Mercy's reputation as a card-carrying misandrist was more or less accurate, it had so many carve-outs and punctures in them, it might as well be Dantooinian Cheese.

No, in truth she was merely curious to see how the draining/eating would actually work.

The woman was brought before them and Mercy's nostrils flared.

Even if the smells wafting off her clothes were the last 12 hours of NurferKing's fry oil.

She absolutely reeked.

This was especially noticeable to Mercy, whose physical senses were magnified to the extreme. Mercy shot Meliant a disgusted look and was just about to walk out of there. Morbid curiosity aside, she hardly wanted to stay here and keep breathing through her mouth.

OH CHIT." It sounded louder than she'd meant it against the space of realization. Throat cleared. "I mean, your majesties, wow, what an honor," she remained crouched but snuck a glance. "You two look even better than the posters."

Mercy paused mid-raise and slowly sat back down again.

"Aw, Meliant, she is so polite!" Like a trained mongrel and probably had just as many flees. But Mercy had a soft weakness for scruffy underdogs. This was presumably how she became friends with Arris Windrun in the first place.

"What is your name, dear?"

This was already a signal to Meliant that things were going into the wrong direction.

You didn't name your food, after all.

 

[Meliant]

Mercy Solara Gale

Red wisps of energy were dancing on the fingertips of Meliant's gauntlet, which he held in front of him like a claw, ready to seize some treasure... But he didn't. Because dinner was groveling, a good grovel was always a reliable way to make an Emperor - especially one so vain as Meliant - hesitate. ​

​

It only bought her a moment. The helmet remained impassive, "Posters? What posters?" And yet a furrowed brow was audible in his voice. Annoyed. Confused.​

"Aw, Meliant, she is so polite!" Like a trained mongrel and probably had just as many flees. But Mercy had a soft weakness for scruffy underdogs. This was presumably how she became friends with Arris Windrun in the first place.

"What is your name, dear?"

A moment was all she needed, apparently. ​

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"Are you seriously falling for this crap?" He was also, somehow, speaking through gritted teeth. ​

​

The red wisps vanished from his hand like the candles on a birthday cake being blown out in one big, concerted huff. Meliant's hand dropped back down from his side. Useless. Defeated.​

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"We don't have posters."​

 

[Solara Gale]

Solara’s pale eyes widened at those red wispy things. Didn’t her parents always say avoid red wispy things from strangers? She swallowed wondering how fast she could…

Then the Empress said a word that she never expected to come from a sith’s mouth: dear. That snagged the fugitive’s attention. Sol never thought salvation looked like a battering ram in the form of a femme fatale.

“Sol,” perhaps the truth was better right now. At least, a part of it. Those feelings wafting off the Emperor? Particularly defeated? Those feelings never felt more comforting to the empath.

Maybe she had a shot.

She stood slowly with a swagger she didn’t feel. A small step back. A flit of her pale eyes around the room, looking for exits. “Yeah. On level 23. The creatures with the robes that are about this tall, glowing, red eyes. Stubby tails.” Hand gestured to a height below her waist. Brushing against her belt for a moment.

“Some people call them a cult, but I think they’re just big fans.”

Meliant Mercy

 

[Mercy]

Meliant | Solara Gale

"Are you seriously falling for this crap?" He was also, somehow, speaking through gritted teeth. The red wisps vanished from his hand like the candles on a birthday cake being blown out in one big, concerted huff. Meliant's hand dropped back down from his side. Useless. Defeated."We don't have posters."

This, of course, was the exact wrong thing to say to Mercy.

"Wait, why would we not have posters of ourselves?" Eyebrows went up to Meliant. "If that ancient fucking corpse had a whole propaganda arm working overtime plastering his face everywhere, why don't we?" In truth Mercy had assumed that they did.

There ought to be statues of her everywhere. Posters. Maybe an action figure, especially after the spectacle of the Galactic Kaggath.

Solara was momentarily forgotten as Mercy grappled with the concept that they weren't being glorified on every street of the nation they were forging through blood and steel.

This was probably the best position for Sol to be in right now. Forgotten and relegated to the confines of the conversation.

“Yeah. On level 23. The creatures with the robes that are about this tall, glowing, red eyes. Stubby tails.” Hand gestured to a height below her waist. Brushing against her belt for a moment.

“Some people call them a cult, but I think they’re just big fans.”

Mercy's head slowly turned back towards Solara.

"Level 23, huh. Stubby tails." In that moment Sol would find that Mercy could switch from friend to foe within a heart beat. "You were being so polite earlier... but you know, lying is not polite, don't you?"

 

[Meliant]

Mercy Solara Gale

"Wait, why would we not have posters of ourselves?" Eyebrows went up to Meliant. "If that ancient fucking corpse had a whole propaganda arm working overtime plastering his face everywhere, why don't we?"

Meliant scoffed and said nothing, folding his arms over his chest haughtily. People with actual power didn't need churches or fan clubs or posters as far as he was concerned. If you've got the guns and swords and soldiers, you don't need to charm or impress anyone.​

​

It was a conclusion he had reached hastily after being subjected to the full force of such a "PR" arm day in and day out for the lifespan of the preceding Empire. It only ever stoked his irritability and envy, and look where that got everybody.​

​

He looked away as if disinterested in the course of this dialogue. Not paying attention. Either Mercy would declare that this greased up loser be spared or let Meliant get on with his day. It was out of his hands.​

"Level 23, huh. Stubby tails." In that moment Sol would find that Mercy could switch from friend to foe within a heart beat. "You were being so polite earlier... but you know, lying is not polite, don't you?"

"No, I know those guys," he said, off-handed, without looking back.​

​

Silence. No elaboration.​

 

[Solara Gale]

Sol felt her lips wanting to part further and further as the two sith...bickered? Sure, sith had to bicker but like this? She imagined she could've slid along the perimeter of the room toward that door. Was probably locked or had more of those mooks who dragged her in.

Mom and Dad were fighting again.

And then her saviour came in the form of Emperor Regent himself.

And she had no doubt at least one of them could sense her spiking nerves. Uneasiness. Who wouldn't be in the presence of these two? And considering where Sol came from...

"Thank you?" the empath found herself saying to the Emperor himself. "I'm not lying. You two are just really...intimidating, you know? It's not like I made an appointment. Why am I here?"

Time to see what they knew and thought they knew.

"Respectfully," she added. Fingers tightened at her side ready to make a move if she had to.

Mercy Meliant

 

[Mercy]

Solara Gale Meliant

"No, I know those guys," he said, off-handed, without looking back.

She was about to bring the metaphorical hammer down on Solara, when Meliant randomly piped up again.

That one Mercy did not see coming. The wind fled her sails and she was left blinking slowly, which gave Solara the opportunity to start chittering again like an over-excited bird.

"Thank you?" the empath found herself saying to the Emperor himself. "I'm not lying. You two are just really...intimidating, you know? It's not like I made an appointment. Why am I here?"

Time to see what they knew and thought they knew.

"Respectfully," she added. Fingers tightened at her side ready to make a move if she had to.

"Oh, Meliant here wanted to eat you." Mercy said unceremoniously and without thinking about it too deeply. It was a people-eat-people world out there, so the Mountain did not take into account such a revelation might freak some individuals out. Mercy barely had the empathy to put herself into other Sith's shoes, much less normies.

"But I think that's a waste, honestly." Finally declared as she reached out and patted Mel on the shoulder.

"I know you are hungry, darling, but this girl seems like she got potential." Golden orbs finally looked at the dirty stinking bird again. "Do you? Have potential, that is."

 

[Meliant]

Solara Gale Mercy

"Thank you?" the empath found herself saying to the Emperor himself.

"Mhm," he said, again pretending this no longer held his interest. Meliant was checking his gauntlets as if they had fingernails to inspect.​

​

He continued this routine only for a few more delightful moments before Mercy, ever heedless of her own strength, slapped him on the back and caused him to jerk forward from the force of it. Meliant made a low, barely audible hiss reminiscent of those made but small-but-territorial lizards. Or maybe it was those lizards who made noises like sorely aggrieved phantom-Emperors.​

​

Well, if he couldn't suck the living Force out of this greased-up little hobo, then what the hell did he care about what happened to her?​

​

"Potential? To do what?" Meliant folded his arms across his chest. "Throw her in the arena if you think she can do something useful. That's the only way to prove it."​

​

 

[Solara Gale]

"Oh, Meliant here wanted to eat you."

Well.

That answered one question. Actual, honest-to-the-Force hunger. That's what she'd been feeling off him this entire time. "That's rude and karked up, man."

"Throw her in the arena

And arena? Her stomach sank somewhere beneath her boots.

Eff, this chit.

That thing she'd snuck into her hand earlier, thumb pressed down. Her free hand made a fist and ground beneath them rumbled, the floor between them suddenly exploded upward in a column of broken concrete, earth, dirt - huh, who would've thought there was dirt left on Coruscant. As the force surged from below their feet. She was already running toward the door. A stumble as some of that debris hit her shoulder.

Her thumb had activated a small firestarter. The flame was barely there. A tiny flicker of orange struggling against the ruined room's stale air. Sol risked a glance backward through the now dusty-air, the weight of the dark side pressing against her senses. The little flame trembled as the Force wrapped around it, feeding it, guiding it. It stretched upward, blooming into a roaring arc of fire that twisted between her and the two Sith. Heat washed over her skin as she pushed the flames outward to try and force them back, if that wall of concrete hadn't already. Her jaw clenched as the fire surged like a living thing, a wall of gold and orange standing between predator and prey.

"Kriff," Sol muttered, watching the flames dance. "Subtle was probably the better option."