Private Chance Meeting in the Darkened Core

[Diarch Rellik]

The cantina wasn't much, but it was alive; laughter, arguments, the clatter of glasses. A good place to breathe for a moment.

Rellik stepped up to the bar beside Reign and lifted two fingers to the bartender.
"A Fiery Mustafarian," he said, then tipped his head toward his brother. "And a Corellian Whiskey."

The bartender nodded and got to work.

Rellik leaned his elbow against the counter, golden eyes catching the dim lights above the bar. Even in the haze of smoke and neon, they burned bright, unmistakable.

He glanced sideways at his brother, a faint smirk in his voice.
"See? I told you. Even if the Core has fallen, the Empire doesn't control it all yet. Why not walk among the people and get them see us with their own eyes. Know they need not feel fear in our presence."

Those eyes, once a sign of damnation to some, were a flare in the encroaching dark.
A reminder of what the Core might still become.
What they might still save.

Rellik accepted his drink when it slid across the bar, posture relaxed as he surveyed the room with a quiet confidence that didn't need to hide.

If anyone noticed them — good.
If someone approached — even better.

He took a slow sip, letting the heat settle in his chest, and simply existed there in the open, unbothered and unmasked.

Varon Jahordel Diarch Reign

 

[Varon Jahordel]

The ongoing events were concerning. The Empire's ongoing battle for galactic dominance had brought them here, which was an undeniable sign that Varon would have to leave. He knew better than to sit still in situations such as this. Ever seeking power, for no other purpose than seeking more of it. Ever unconcerned with what the galaxy could be, beyond merely being theirs. To some, the means might justify the end but to the SIth, the means justified the means themsevles! There was no order, no future to be found in these teachings.

History had shown how that had played out before...

The Jedi were kinder, but hardly better. To them, responsible use of the Dark Side seemed an impossibility. That they feel they cannot be trusted with it, implied that they didn't deserve to be trusted with anything further. No, this solution to this very sizable aspect of the reality in which they existed, was to ignore it. To forbid it, ignore it's existance, and then react with astonishment when force users inevitably reached for it.

Cretins on one side, louts on the other.

Varon had given up on them both.

What would happen to this place was a concern, but that would be a slow and gradual process. One that he hadn't cared to see. There was nothing here that he held dear enough to hold on to, let alone fight for. And he was far to wise to sit still within the deranged grasp of power-mad lunatics. What belongings he did need had been packed, his quarters abandoned, and his cred-stick loaded up.

With all that handled, he headed to the cantina for a few last drinks.

As soon as he'd entered, he'd sensed it. The familiar ping of a fellow force user. One that, given the situation was more likely than not Sith, and Empire affiliated. Ever alert, Varon took immediate survey of his surroundings. The atmosphere was a cacophony of conversation. In short order, he managed to locate the person of interest:

"See? I told you. Even if the Core has fallen, the Empire doesn't control it all yet. Why not walk among the people and get them see us with their own eyes. Know they need not feel fear in our presence."

Rellik had Varon's full attention, albeit discreetly. Motion was happening against the Empire, and beneath his own nose! Before even grabbing a drink, Varon made his way towards the table where they both sat.

"So what would I see?" He inquired, quite simply.

Diarch Reign Diarch Rellik