N A B O O
Tag:
Rann Thress
Objective: Crowning Ceremony
Location: Dance Floor
Dressed in: White
What Are You Doing: Watched Ceremony --> Dancing
_________________________________________________________
Srina let him be.
Rather than press him when it seemed like he was still lost in thought she merely focused on providing the illusion of their celebratory dancing. The young woman moved with such effortless grace that it easily could have turned any professional entertainer green with envy. It was innate, for her. Seemingly delicate feet wove around him without any difficulty. It made it seem as if they had danced together for years, versus, barely knowing one another.
Rann Thress held her gaze as if magnetized and the pale Exarch allowed it. He didn’t look where they moved, how they turned, nor did he seem to notice how she made inestimably small changes in how her meager weight balanced along with him so they did not bump into others. She made it seem so effortless. That, truly, was the point. To move and speak without alerting the crowd that they were a hair's breadth away from confessing vile sins.
He had grudgingly accepted her touch.
No one else would have noticed the split second of recoil.
“Do I repulse you so?”
A simple question, though, the answer could easily be confused with the danger of a loaded firearm. Her glacial expression would reveal nothing of how she expected him to respond. If she expected anything at all. Srina was strange, so to speak, and very different from most females. Even from those of her own species. It was a wonder that
Darth Empyrean
put up with her peculiarities. Almost as if the question had never been posed, it was washed away, and her thoughts returned to their discussion.
“We are very different, you and I. But I am not ignorant to the ways of the Sith. I know what should be. That I should seek to surpass my Master and decimate all that he has attained. To burn it to the ground—And make it mine. At least—”, she paused, gaze flickering, while his eyes remained steadfast to her own. There was a purity in watching him this way. Echani eyes were too keen to miss his emotions before he expertly tucked them away. It was odd. Almost, as if there were two people.
“—At least…Until some other acolyte chooses to do the same thing to me.”
There was a vaguely bitter note to that response. It wasn’t directed at present company nor was it actually in regards to herself. Srina had been raised to respect her mentors with the same equality that she would have given to her own father. The Vicelord had earned that from the very moment they’d met on Coruscant. It was a sad, sordid affair, that she had only survived because he had been kind enough to grant her shelter. Teach her; Train her—So that the Force did not ruin her life. Her loyalty was unorthodox for a Sith but it was firmly ingrained in her being. He treated his disciples far better than most. With
respect.
The young woman would not tolerate any of his apprentices choosing the ways of old. One such individual by the name of Mirvak had crossed the line. Srina had responded by swiftly sending the beast to hell for his transgressions. Technically, she should have sent him to the Petranaki Arena to face his demons on Geonosis but she had felt the chance to survive was too kind for the crime. Instead, she was a judge, jury, and executioner. She watched a portal swallow him whole, content, with the knowledge that such a rabid dog would never be able to escape from the bowels of The Netherworld. It was a most fitting end to his idiocy.
May he rot eternally. A perfect prison and grave—Especially, for a
halfwit.
When he spoke of pain the young woman took a careful breath. The memory that came with his admission was strong enough that she could feel it in phantom waves. She didn’t get any specific details, but for a brief moment, agony rolled up from his skin. The slender creature that danced in time so easily wasn’t reading his mind. He was projecting. As a star gave away light so did she absorb it akin to photosynthesis. It didn’t tell her everything.
How could it? It was just enough, to feel it.
“...There are worse things than physical pain...Of that—I can assure you...”
Their hands met once more and his eyes returned to her own. He truly couldn’t seem to keep from looking anywhere else. It was almost as if he hadn’t been able to see anyone else with corrupted eyes, just like his, up close. He claimed to know what was waiting for him and she shook her head slowly. He would never know the truth. Of how the darkness would leave him, feeling angelic and violently insane, before it happened. Before he no longer recognized anything, at all, that he had become.
“I am what you call unpleasant. What awaits, is far beyond that.”
The slight twitch to her lips was the only indication that she might have been attempting to tease him. Her humor was often dark and misunderstood. Perhaps, she sought to lighten the dire nature of what they discussed. He spoke of the lengths he was willing to go and concluded with the notion of a busy life. Burnished, tawny golden orbs peered into his for a long moment and ivory hair caught the light when she tilted her head.
“Don’t we all?”
When it came to his crystals she listened for a moment. It told her more than he thought that he knew not of the potential for cracking a crystal. Nor, had he could cause such an effect.
“At times when a crystal is bled...It also cracks. It is often dependent on the strength...”
“...and or depravity of the user. It boils down to the emotion that is poured into it. It is not enough to want it. To will it to be so. You must teach it your pain, anger, and birth within it a flood of darkness that matches that which lies within you.”
Srina knew a great deal about kyber crystals. Once, long ago, she had straddled the divide between light and dark. Rather, she had
tried to. It had nearly torn her to pieces and cost her everything. For many moons, she had been unable to bleed her crystal as
Darth Metus
had instructed. It wasn’t until she knew loss, true agony, that she had succeeded. Both bleeding and cracking had been done by accident.
In one moment.
Her crystal had become so shattered that it could not be used. Now, she kept it for a memory.
“You will know a lightsaber with a crystal like that when you see it. Often, the hilt will have vents to mitigate the unstable energy. Should you cross a Sith in opposition with a blade like that...Kill them quickly. Do not underestimate them.”
It wasn’t that the individual would inherently be more skilled. But, there was something else. Something untouchable that lay just beneath the surface. It was something that the Dark Side took advantage of and twisted. It often made the opponent unpredictable and blessed with raw ability if they hadn’t learned to refine it. Regardless, she nodded her head. It was a good thing that he hadn’t gone too far. It showed some level of finesse.
Control.
Elegant brows knit together for a moment. She wanted to ask...What had caused him to bleed his crystal? How he had learned to do it. When and what had given him the strength and fortitude to endure the process.
“Bleeding a crystal is no small feat. Some resist. Some can drive you insane during the process depending on what you try to imprint...”
A faint, ghostly smile touched pale lips.
“...I taught mine pain.”
And
regret.
Svana Neoma
||
Taryn Alvor
|| Aeson Rora 
