Faction Ascended Splendour - [Dark Court]

[Lyras Valein]

"Finding Footing..."

Tags - Objective 1 - Asaiah Celwik Mika Tai En Zyna Morthus Darth Virelia

Lyras had been doing a very good job of pretending to be composed.

The Queen's voice filled every corner of the Spire, heavy as the tide before a storm. It wasn't fear that made her heart race — it was something closer to awe. Pride, too, though she buried it beneath her calm exterior. The air itself felt alive, charged with purpose. Seven sigils burned like stars across the banners, and when the crimson one ignited — Wrath — Lyras felt it deep in her bones, like the echo of a drumbeat that belonged to her.

She swallowed. That, she thought, was the one.

It was ridiculous, wasn't it? She was only eighteen. Barely apprenticed, still more accustomed to water currents than Court politics. And yet… every instinct inside her whispered the same thing. You are not made to stand still, Lyras Valein. You command. You strike. You lead.

Her gills fluttered softly against her neck. The motion almost made her laugh — her body always betrayed her nerves before her face did. Around her, nobles and adepts murmured to one another, some already stepping forward to make their claims. The Matriarch of Xer'cys had spoken with elegance and power, and Lyras found herself quietly impressed. But it only made the pressure worse.

She turned slightly, glancing at Asaiah beside her. The scientist was watching everything with that strange, mercurial calm — half wonder, half analysis. The sight of her was grounding, somehow.

Lyras leaned closer, voice low enough to be swallowed by the music that had begun again in the distance. "Asaiah… if I told you I was thinking about putting my name forward, you wouldn't call me foolish, would you?"

Asaiah's brow arched, but she said nothing yet, so Lyras hurried on — a little too quickly, her usual composure giving way to nervous energy. "Not that I expect to be chosen, of course, it's just— Wrath, it's— I understand war. Not the kind with sabers and theatrics, but the kind with formations and fleets and discipline. I think—" She stopped herself, realizing she was rambling, and exhaled softly. "—I think I could serve her there. Truly serve her."

Her gaze drifted toward the throne, where Darth Virelia still stood in her radiance. The stormlight reflected off her armor like starlight on water. Lyras felt her throat tighten — pride, reverence, maybe a little fear.

"I just…" She laughed quietly, brushing a lock of crimson hair behind her ear. "I don't know if I'm ready to stand in front of all of them." She gestured subtly at the crowd of older, grander, far more intimidating Sith and nobles. "You're far better at not caring what people think. How do you do that?"

Her tone softened, half teasing, half sincere. "Do you think I should? Try, I mean?"

It was almost funny — the would-be Exarch of Wrath, whispering for reassurance like a nervous cadet. Her fingers fidgeted against her gauntlet, and then, catching herself, she smiled sheepishly.

"Just… tell me if I'm about to drown again."

 

[Asaiah Celwik]

Outfit
Tag: Lyras Valein

Unfortunately for Asaiah's scattered and somewhat twisted brain, she hadn't paid attention to most of the conversation. Whilst most eyes were on Virelia, Asaiah's eyes were on the others. Gauging how they reacted to the announcement. It was the best way to learn. To observe your surroundings as opposed to being focused on one key point. It was how she had survived for so long, even if she could get tunnel vision on a certain task in her mind. Yet she was brought out of her thoughts by the whispers from Lyras, turning her attention over towards the other woman, listening to her speak for a moment...As the light in Asaiah's eyes gently faded back to that cold, void sight.

"You're foolish for asking me."

Blunt. Cold. To the point. Yet at the same time, it wasn't the frigid type of cold. The kind that intended to hurt. Instead it was meant to be the uncomfortable kind of cold. The one you squirmed to try and get away from.

"You shouldn't be asking me, if you should try. You do not know me. But you know who you do know? Yourself. Far better than I could. Far better than anyone else could. Don't look to me. Look to yourself."

At that, she jabbed her finger forward to point at Lyras' heart. It was almost ironic in a way, the way that Asaiah was trying to be inspiring in a place filled with darkness, ambition and greed. But once again, she never really fit into her own surroundings. She followed her own current. Her own flow through life. It was hard to tie her down to anything. Which is exactly why she was against the idea of serving anyone, even herself. It was a trap. But she would let Lyras make her own choices.

Then once more, like the flick of a switch, the warmth came back to Asaiah's eyes, as she broke out into a wide grin, turning her attention back towards the others around them. It was perhaps becoming more and more easy to figure out which side seemed to be serious and which seemed to be insane...though truth be told, there had to be some slight amount of insanity in both sides of Asaiah as she kept one arm linked with Lyras, and with the other, Asaiah fiddled with her own hand, picking at her nail.​

 

[Lyssa Cluada]

Darth Virelia Evangel

The most striking difference between an order and a court was culture. How strange this place was - a community crafted through careful considerations of power and discipleship, an entire ballroom of ambitious pawns blind to the leash around their necks. Lyssa watched as the nobles laughed and danced, as they forgot, for a moment, the weight of the presence that drew them here.

Lyssa could never forget. Virelia was everything to her. The queen's gaze defined her.

The mirialan stood close to the empty throne, her violent, red rimmed eyes calculating as they swept over the crowd. Her face was twisted into a disdainful scowl, which only deepened at the ridiculous display of flagrant disrespect from the violet haired woman. Being blessed with remarkably good looks did not grant you the audacity to make an event such as this about you. Lyssa's leather gloved fingers tightened around her wine glass, but she kept silent. It wasn't her place to call out the singer and ruin the evening for her master.

No, tonight her mission was clear. Dressed in a crisp black and grey suit jacket adorned with a red sash and silver chains, Lyssa scanned the crowd for cowards, usurpers and traitors. Her mistress had invited her here to "socialise", but the mirialan knew better than that. Months of undercover work in the sith order had led to critical gaps in her knowledge of the other members of the court. Tonight was her chance to remedy that.

So far, she wasn't impressed. The room reeked of stale ambition and conditional loyalty, there were few here who burned with the same bright, unwavering devotion that Lyssa held for her master. Too many of those gathered here put themselves before the crown, and that was ultimately what kept the mirialan here, dutifully guarding her mistress's throne, and not down below the palace where the force called out for her to investigate.

Lyssa knew that the greatest danger here stirred not in the depths of the dungeons but in the desires of the court's hearts.

Finally, Virelia arrived, and she was as beautiful as ever. When she stood to give her speech, Lyssa moved dutifully to the side, nestled comfortably in her master's shadow. A mandolorian took her place at the queen's other side, but the cyborg's attention was solely focused on the monarch. She did not bother to hide the way she looked up at her with adoring eyes, or the way she listened to each word with baited breath, as if the woman before her held dominion over the very air inside her lungs.

Seven flames, her mistress had announced, the banners behind her blazing with new emblems. The spine of the empire.

Though Lyssa listened to each of the chapters, her heart seemed to catch alight as her mistress spoke of the exarch of envy. Her defining trait - a new jealousy and lust stirred within her. To be a mere apprentice wasn't enough anymore. Lyssa wanted to feel used, to feel wanted - no, needed - as a valuable member of the court. Unbidden and instinctively, she felt her heart cry out to her master through the force, full of longing and devotion.

Let me be your guard dog. I will ensure betrayal dies unborn, for none shall match my loyalty to you.

No sooner had the desire been communicated to her mistress that she caught herself, ashamed. It was not her place to interrupt her master's concentration with her own selfishness. Guiltily, she let her finish, until her mistress had relaxed back upon her throne.

"Forgive me," Lyssa whispered to her, bowing her head reverently. "I was overly eager, for you know that I could never hide anything from you."

Her tone was measured, even, and mature. To anyone who had known her before, it was clear her master had already refined much of her raw anger into a blade worthy to wield. Lyssa knelt down on one knee before Virelia, her cybernetic legs as exposed as her desires.

"Let me be the first to name my position and request to prove myself worthy of it," she announced, pressing her leather gloved hand to her heart. "I desire to be the Exarch of envy. If I am unworthy, so be it. If I am worthy, I will carry out my duties with a zealous devotion unseen before in this court."

She waited for her queen's response patiently. Though she would be bitterly disappointed, she would understand if she was denied this position, as her undercover operation had yielded little results. Still, she could not help but burn with the thought of being known for her fierce jealousy of her saviour.

 

[Calyx Sundrift]

OBJECTIVE 1
TAG: Kyber | Vharra Theskar | Darth Virelia | OPEN

Calyx gave a contemplative nod, then let a small smile curve his lips. The grizzled elder was likely right. Darth Virelia, like so many rulers before her, lacked the ambition to see her empire outlast her. To her, the Dark Side was a tool, nothing more. Would an empire or a kingdom be any different?

His calculating gaze shifted to the horned woman who hadn’t bothered to voice her opinion. He understood silence all too well. In a court like this, every smile was a weapon, every offer of help a trap with polished edges.

He’d learned long ago to read the eyes of liars. The ones who stayed on the sidelines were the most dangerous; they remembered everything and revealed nothing.

"Professor Kybon. Emberveil. I look forward to our conversations and the collaborations to come." He extended a hand, knowing full well neither would take it. First meetings were tests. Their reactions told more than words ever could.

But before he could draw any conclusions, the great doors of the hall thundered open.
Darth Virelia entered. Silence fell like a blade. Even the air seemed to hold its breath. Calyx kept his smile. Casual, unbothered, and perfectly measured.

The Dark Queen took her throne and spoke of law. Of structure. Of what would be the court’s supreme authority. The Exarchate. Seven seats, each one of the seven sins of sentience.

When she finished, the chamber stirred. Whispers slithered between the assembled Sith and scholars, but no one stepped forward. Claiming a sin meant painting a target on your back. Only two dared, for Gluttony and Envy. The rest waited, caution overruling ambition.

If this grand design of hers was to survive, Darth Virelia would need more.

And Calyx had already offered his service. He felt the pull of it now. This ambition, this structure of shadows. It wasn’t loyalty that drove him, but belief. A vision of the Court as something greater than the Queen herself.

He wasn’t the strongest. Or the wisest. Or the most faithful. But he was bold. Lusting after anarchy and contact. Saw the vision behind the court, and already took pride in his part. Calyx understood that the Dark Side favored those willing to step into danger and shape chaos with their own hands.
And if none would…

Calyx strode three deliberate steps forward. He raised a hand, voice carrying clear through the hall. "Unless contested, I will gladly stand as Lust or Pride, my Lady." The words hung in the air like a spark over dry fuel.

Then he smiled.

Let chaos rule.

 

[Darth Dreer]

Objective I
Tags: Iskera Valest / Darth Virelia ​

"Hmph, you're not wrong." Muttered the ragged man with an amused snort, setting his glass down after deciding the beverage was not quite to his taste. "I can see the charms of your art. A simple binary; function or nonfunction. You make it sound very appealing. Maybe I'll take up the study myself one day."

He was silent for a long moment as Valest gave her take on why they were waiting. "I met Virelia in a centuries-abandoned stronghold on Kohlma. A remote location on a remote moon of a remote planet. The odds of that meeting happening without prior calculation are slim. I don't believe in coincidences, Miss Valest. Not when Sith are involved, anyway. They're ugly little things that people use to brush away patterns they don't like."

"I think she thrives on being written off as lucky, rather than devious. It's possible to be both, of course." He let out that little grunt of mirth again, which seemed to be as close as he got to laughter in most cases. "Luck is a fickle benefactor by its nature, though. Pushing it by making so bloodthirsty a cohort wait is risky."

He had to admit he liked the cut of the alchemist's gib. Dreer very rarely liked most people. Too complex, too fickle, too unpredictable. A little nonsense-free straightforwardness was a rare treat.

"Well." He said in response to her cautionary words. "Antiquarianism is not exactly a safe pastime in a galaxy so full of forgotten, entombed terrors. People have short memories, so sometimes they forget naturally. Other times, forgotten things are forgotten for a reason. Maybe I've learned a few tricks in the interest of safety." He admitted. "Perhaps calling myself simple is false modesty. Not simple, then, but an antiquarian nonetheless, in mind and soul."

"Agreed." Another curt nod as he raised his glass in turn to answer the toast. "To the liars." He emptied the goblet right as Virelia finally showed up.

He was quiet as she listed the open positions. Sloth immediately took his notice. A chance to archive history on the Court's dime, and to keep valuable historical items out of the hands of the gormless masses was a tempting target. He waited a little while, patient in his attention, like a serpent stalking a rodent.

"I believe that solves the mystery of why Virelia went through so much trouble to hunt down a historian." He mused aloud. The position seemed tailored for his skillset. "One more shadowy coincidence unmasked as a conspiracy, it seems."

Finally, he raised his hand, not getting up from his chair. "I claim the Exarchy of Sloth." It was a curt, unceremonious announcement, but it was out there.

 

[Aaliyah]

Aaliyah guided her delightful and short companion through the crowd. She leaned over to whisper a name or a place for her benefit; to know which creature held which vice that might be used by someone with a pretty voice, a voluptuous figure, or a keen intellect. It was of interest to see if Qyssiyana was interested in taking advantage of such knowledge. Did she desire to mold and shape people to her will? Or was she a humble artist? Being in the Court suggested the former, but Aaliyah hadn't lived so long relying on a mere circumstance.

Soon enough, the Dark Queen herself would arrive. Sultry minx glided unerringly down the chamber toward her throne. It was hers. Obviously, she'd made it and occupied it, but her swagger was of natural born claim. If anyone thought to challenge her they would have their hands full -- if not left without their hands by the end. To say nothing of that possessive Captain of the Guard that trailed her. And that shadow on the other side hadn't gone unnoticed no matter how unassuming they tried to be.

Difficult not to notice seeing how the crowd parted around Virelia and her entourage.

"The machinations, Love, are now in motion," Aaliyah said for Qyssiyana's benefit. And the Sangnir meant more than the party's agenda having advanced.

Curious, the Sangnir thought to use what mortals called 'telepathy' to speak to the other woman. [ Mortal Empires rise and fall as frequently as the rains on Kamino. So many are built around a person or a fleeting hunger. Now, an Idea -- an Idea can last well beyond any one person or their lineage. ] Did Darth Virelia or her Dark Court possess an Idea? That was something Aaliyah left unsaid. Of course, first she wanted to see if the pretty thing could even hear her telepathic voice. Nothing worse than monologuing at someone that literally couldn't understand you -- even a Sangnir was young once.

A soft chuckle escaped Aaliyah behind closed lips hidden by her hand as Virelia spoke of the Exarchs competing with one another. How peace was not to be sought after, but eschewed. Well, perhaps some people in here needed to hear that, but as a Sangnir such a thought was as obvious as saying they would wake tomorrow. It was only natural. How else were immortal creatures to elevate themselves, but to try and pull down the unworthy and take their place?

And so it began.

First was Matriarch Mor'zyna'thus of the Dark Chiss. A delicious thing Aaliyah wouldn't mind sampling at some point. Gluttony, was it? Intriguing.

Then the shadow. Nameless. Acquiescing. Subservient, but not because they were weak... Familiarity with Virelia? Noteworthy.

Next, a handsome enough fellow. Equally undeclared. Though Aaliyah knew of him. Not a great deal -- there were so many mortal, a woman couldn't be expected to remember them all -- but enough. Lust or Pride? Now, who was the glutton?

And then there was Dreer. Aaliyah smirked as he sought to lay claim to Sloth. That one she did know of, and his dreadfully succinct mannerisms and matter-of-fact attitude was known to her. His reputation preceded him. Fitting.

"Excuse me, a moment," she mused as the dark skinned Lady drifted through the crowds with little impediment. The lightest touch on a shoulder and a body would step aside without so much as a glance back at her.

She drifted up closer until she neared Calyx Sundrift . "Lust or Pride? Both requiring a degree of certainty, and the means to manage people -- often the sort that had no desire to listen. Pride, in particular, walks the knife's edge. My experience empowers me to issuing its decrees. So, with respect, if you seek to claim it, I, Aaliyah, Del'Roh of Alicanto, The Undying Light, do contest it." Lavender eyes shifted to the throne where Darth Virelia sat. "In what ever manner the Queen chooses to settle it." Though if the man chose to go with the 'or' for Lust then the entire matter was settled. Provided someone else didn't step forward, of course.

Aaliyah was intrigued to find out who else might one of these positions.

Darth Virelia | Calyx Sundrift | Qyssiyana | Zyna Morthus | Lyssa Cluada | Darth Dreer
Kyber | Vharra Theskar | Mika Tai En | Lyras Valein | Carisma Rostu | Asaiah Celwik​

 

[Calyx Sundrift]

OBJECTIVE 1
TAG: Aaliyah | Darth Virelia | OPEN

He'd made his declaration. Another followed right after, claiming the title of Sloth as a historian. Fitting indeed.

"Excuse me, a moment," she mused as the dark skinned Lady drifted through the crowds with little impediment. The lightest touch on a shoulder and a body would step aside without so much as a glance back at her.

Calyx recognized that voice instantly. The singer. The one whose performance had drawn every gaze in the hall, including his own, despite his better judgment. He’d taken care to avoid the beauty that commanded obedience since then. But as her words rang through the black hall, he found her gaze fixed on him.

The crowd seemed to ripple, unconsciously giving her room as she approached. A living tide of robed figures, parting for something both divine and perilous.

Calyx turned toward her with effortless grace, his movements exaggerated just enough to toe the line between mockery and courtesy. He dipped low into a dramatic bow, every inch the charming rogue. The smile that followed was perfect, just wide enough to disarm and just hollow enough to unsettle. The Amulet of Many against his chest pulsed faintly, masking the storm that brewed beneath his calm exterior. No emotion slipped through the Force. To the metaphysical, he was a void draped in black and gold.

She drifted up closer until she neared Calyx Sundrift . "Lust or Pride? Both requiring a degree of certainty, and the means to manage people -- often the sort that had no desire to listen. Pride, in particular, walks the knife's edge. My experience empowers me to issuing its decrees. So, with respect, if you seek to claim it, I, Aaliyah, Del'Roh of Alicanto, The Undying Light, do contest it." Lavender eyes shifted to the throne where Darth Virelia sat. "In what ever manner the Queen chooses to settle it." Though if the man chose to go with the 'or' for Lust then the entire matter was settled. Provided someone else didn't step forward, of course.

The murmur in the room dimmed to a stillness that was almost reverent. Calyx’s blue eyes glinted, and the corner of his mouth curved upward. “You do not believe this court has the will to listen to its Queen?” he asked smoothly, rising from his bow with an air of exaggerated innocence. “Bold claim, standing amidst us all.” His smile turned sly. He met her gaze directly, unflinching and unreadable. Then, with a spark of mischief, he winked. “I renounce my claim on Pride,” he continued, turning toward the throne with a languid wave of one hand. “A truly suitable candidate has stepped forward.”

Then, with the ease of a man who lived for the edge between audacity and ruin, he let his tone dip to something lower. More dangerous. More intimate. “But my claim for Lust remains.” He took a single step toward the throne, the gesture measured and respectful. “I do hope my little display in drawing out your Pride through desire has demonstrated my suitability as your Lust.” His words hung in the air. Teasing, and with just enough contemplation beneath the charm to make it clear he was no fool.

Calyx pivoted gracefully back to Aaliyah once more, the faintest grin tugging at his lips. “Perhaps you’ll support my claim in turn?” he tried. “It would be a shame if Her Majesty’s chosen instruments began their service at odds. Discord would severely hamper our capabilities to carry out her will.” The golden-haired scoundrel stood poised, every inch the polished manipulato. Half performer, half predator. His smile a weapon as subtle as any lightsaber.

 

[Aaliyah]

Aaliyah smiled over at Calyx and his forked tongue. Oh, he sounded like quite the bite didn't he? While Aaliyah expected the world to bow at her feet, there was a little promise to having someone bold enough to stand up to her. Virelia had -- quite arrogantly, in fact -- but what sort of Queen would she be if she hadn't? Her underlings, on the other hand... nothing said they had any kind of backbone to them. Not until they had a chance to introduce themselves to one another. Yes, it should be quite the riveting performance.

"Don't confuse the Will of the Court for the ability of its followers, Dear. Law and Order applies to even the lowliest of souls in this Court's embrace. When the time comes for its judgment to be passed, rest assured," Aaliyah fanned her long, sharp nails beneath a dark smile, "those unworthy of this Court's bounty will reap everything they have sown." Those present already guilty might breathe easier thinking the Sangnir's words applied only to their lessers. Which was fine. They'd recognize the error of their ways after the first of lofty acclaim was brought to heel for their transgressions.

A soft purr grew in the back of Aaliyah's throat as Calyx renounced his claim. If it were possible, her lavender eyes might seem to grow all the brighter as he thought to take credit for coaxing her from the crowd. Oh, yes, she'd certainly given thought of taking the role of Lust, herself, but given the dichotomy available she felt Calyx was far better suited as Lust than Pride. That diminished her own hunger not one whit less, of course. Aaliyah hoped to corner the man somewhere dark and secluded some day. To see how nimble his tongue and sharp his intellect where in private as they were in public.

The dark beauty turned in toward Calyx and reached for his face with a quick, but fluid motion. If he stood his ground she'd stop short of contact, four fingers beneath his jaw and her thumb poised short of his lips. If he moved to avoid then she would fan them in the air as if grasping where he'd been and slowly draw her hand back. "Discord would be a crime, but our Regent commands rivalry -- growth. A travesty if we got along conspiratorially, but I look forward to our interactions. Pride and Lust can shape so much of our social sphere." They might iron out such details in private, but in public she wouldn't be goaded into denying the Queen's own words. What a sinful man he was. She hoped he wouldn't stop playing with her after the day's events.

Calyx Sundrift | Darth Virelia | Open​