Dark Entanglements

Vytal Noctura · Jul 2, 2019

"You Witches are far from home. Can't imagine you having much we want. Even looking like that."

An unusually pale woman sat comfortably still on the other side of the table. Her golden eyes fixed on a well-enough kept man; his hair only slightly disheveled, but adorned in clean clothes. Not the most decrepit of the lot in the Abregado-Rae port. Far from handsome in Noctura's opinion, however. The leering glint cast by the worn lighting of the cantina left much to be desired. How much longer before the beast extended his hand forward? As though he had the right to even entertain the notion of physical contact.

Flanking Vytal to either side were two of her Sisters. Their gaze was fixed on those flanking their leader, but they remain vigilant for threats beyond the ones before them now. This was not their first encounter offworld or among the celestial bodies; there had been many lessons learned since they departed Dathomir.

Such a lesson resulted in each sister carrying a blaster pistol whenever they went. A strange and foreign tool of death, but surprisingly effective; if not as accurate as a good bow or spear. Vytal reminder her Sisters it was necessary to adapt to the offworlders' ways if they intended to survive among them. Adopt their strengths, but leave their opulence and complacency behind.

After a data pad was quietly set down, Vytal slowly slid it to the center of the table. Her fingers withdrew smoothly before the man's hand shot forward. "We have credits. Are you prepared to deliver?"

One corner of the man's lips turned up at the corner. "As ever. But perhaps you could sweeten the deal? It will be a long trip."

The quiet creak of leather followed a subtle move designed to loosen a blaster in its holster. One of Vytal's Sisters did not appreciate what was far too common a comment by the outsider. It drew a scant flick of the man's eyes, but did little to ease the smirk.

Vytal's gloved hand extended once more over the surface of the table and hung awaiting the man's response. A smile graced the dark lips of the Dathomiri woman that sought their services. Perhaps the Witch was enticed by the possibility of exotic people from far away worlds after all? It was the bait that drew the man to accept her hand and begin to lean forward to kiss her fingers -- the Captain was no barbarian, after all. Nonetheless, the woman he sought to woo as a naive waif of some 'backwater world' was not so genteel.

Razor sharp claws extended from the tips of her fingers as she curled her fingers, clasping his hands in hers. A hiss followed the tips pressing sharply into the captured flesh. Now the smile washed away. The glint of desire shattered. Now Vytal leaned forward as the muscles of her upper arm rippled to draw his hand closer to her side of the table. "I have already sweetened the deal, Cap-tan. You, and your crew, will wake in the morning without the voices of the dead begging you to join them in darkness. Is this not enough?"

It was the man's turn to gaze into the sharpened rings of gold that caught fire in the diffuse lighting. Each passing second the claws pressed ever so more insistently and would soon draw rivulets of blood. Streams of it should the good smuggler not be up the task of repenting for transgressing against a Nightsister. To be treated as some helpless girl swept up in a sea of exploitation wasn't demeaning -- it was insulting. If this was not a 'business meeting' Vytal would gladly have them flayed alive. Perhaps they could extract the smallest spiritual energy from them; likely hardly enough for the effort.

"My mistake," the Captain replied between clenched teeth, "I had forgotten... your generous offer."

With a hum of satisfaction, the claws withdrew from the man's flesh and his hand was released so they could take their comfort in their respective seats once more. "You will be compensated for your efforts. You will be punished for the rest of your very long lives if you fail." Death could often be too quick a release. Let some of your enemies live long, terrible lives as examples to everyone else.

The Captain rose from his seat with a grunt, swiped the pad from the table, and retreated before any further humiliation would result. There'd been enough credits on the table to compensate him for the trouble. At least, from what Vytal heard from her Sister far more knowledge about these 'finances' of outsiders this was true. Denominations of 'currency' seemed unusually complicated. Life back in the clan was far more straight forward. Honest.

Vytal drew in and released a calming breath before she stood. These... deals took considerable restraint. To think everyone out here believed themselves better than the Nightsisters. They possessed technology to lay waste to Dathomir, perhaps, but better? The cantina reeked -- not of the labor of survival, but of desperation and fear. Never sure who would slash your throat for a few credits. To what end, the Nightsisters wondered?

"See they do not forget our agreement," Noctura instructed her Sisters. The delivery of supplies was important to them personally. IEach nodded before they departed in silence. It was not a jungle they knew from birth, but they knew how to stalk prey even in these foreign lands.

Now, perhaps, fresher air was in order.

Tag: [member='Scherezade deWinter']

Scherezade deWinter · Jul 10, 2019

Abregado-Rae. Scherezade's nose wrinkled as she inhaled the air of the manufacturing planet. It smelled all wrong to her. Like knock-off perfume, the scent she breathed here reminded her like an attempt to copy that of Coruscant, but with having gone wrong so many different ways before it even reached half point.

The way from where she had docked her Giggledust to where the spacedock's cantina was situated was a quick one. Scherezade already knew all the turns, twists, and elevator rides she needed to take in order to get there. Considering the amount of lewd business that happened in places like cantinas though, one would've thought that local authorities would've put extra guards on duty, keep a tighter leash. But one would've been wrong. It seemed to be that on almost all worlds, local governments thought that if they turned a blind eye, other parts would be graced from whatever harm could befall them from transactions made in such places. Millions of years of evolution for most sentient species, and they still got it entirely wrong.

Walking in, more than a few gazes were cast the way of the Sithling. It was hardly surprising; from her skin tight green armor to the fact that she was technically a walking armory, Scherezade stood out. Even without those things, the glow of her eyes would mark her almost anywhere in a crowd. It was a double game; on one hand, her position within the Ministry of Secrets stamped her behind as a spy. And yet, who would expect a spy to be so… Noticable? More than a few question marks had been raised at her ability to do her job as a result of this, yet when she returned to the HQ time after time with mission successes, people just let her be. Scherezade was good at what she did, and the rest was just fluff.

Scherezade took a seat at the bar, signaling the bartender for her usual; a tall glass of full fat cream with some ice cubes. In this part of the 'verse, the cream was oftentimes blue. She didn't mind it. The Crow spun, looking at the people of the cantina now, most of whom had the sense to look away before her spin was completed.

But now, there was an interesting sight. Dathomiri witches. Scherezade could recognize those almost anywhere, especially when they bore the markings. What were Dathomiri witches doing on this crappy planet? Taking her glass from the bartender, Scherezade sipped as her glowing eyes openly followed the Sisters, wondering if she should momentarily forget why she'd come here in the first place, and go play Follow with the witches instead.

Vytal Noctura · Jul 10, 2019

Vytal had lingered a short time after the pair had left to ensure their hired help didn't do anything stupid. Double crossing or even disrespecting a Nightsister -- on or off Dathomir -- was suitably rewarded. Why couldn't she trust these people? Because in their short time out in the galaxy the Fates of Midnight -- five Nightsisters in all -- had learned quite quickly no one was to be trusted. Everyone only looked out for themselves, and the few that mattered to them. A shame, really, Vytal had hoped to have an easier time corralling offworlders to give her everything she wanted. Flight of fancy that; an obvious miscalculation given this galaxy produced Sith that kept plaguing Dathomir with their incessant pursuit for 'ultimate' power. Well now it was the Nightsisters that would pursue those secrets.

As she got up from her seat, Vytal was mindful of the creatures occupying the bar. There was no need to look back at one in particular, as the woman had already caught Vytal's eye moments ago. The way she'd sifted through the crowd. Her many weapons and armor on display. Potentially an actual threat. For all Vytal knew a potential 'recruiter' for the slave market. Bounty Hunter was another possibility, but it was unlikely the Nightsisters had warranted such attention.

Outside, the air wasn't any better than the cantina. It smelled different, but she'd only traded one noxious odor for another. A soft click of disapproval sounded before Vytal moved down the street in the opposite direction of her sisters. If the woman back there had set her eyes on them better she follow Vytal than uncover the cargo they intended to ship.

Mindful of potentially being followed, the pale woman kept an eye open for an alleyway to duck into. Best to turn around and wait to confront a pursuer in relative confinement and out of the public eye. Not that most would care here, but the fewer outsiders that found an interest to intrude the better. With an adequate five-woman wide passage found, the Nightsister made a calm turn and proceeded within. After twenty paces she would stop and see if anyone had an unhealthy interest in her business affairs.

Scherezade deWinter · Jul 11, 2019

Scherezade had to keep herself from laughing. The entire situation reminded her of day little over half a year ago. Again it was a case of it not being her own memories, but those of her sister, Madalena, who thought the elder twin might have need of it. But in those memories, it was Madalena that was being followed by someone who was pale beyond what was healthy, and the two later had become some form of allies.

She sincerely doubted that would be the case again. Or one, the pale one in this scenario was a Dathomiri. After being stabbed in the back by the woman who ran the Witches of Ryloth, Scherezade had developed a very healthy disgust from most forms of witches. Following a meeting with a distant aunt who happened to not only be a Witch, but one that had united all the clans in times that pre-dated the Gulag Virus, a woman who had promised Scherezade she would find her family and in return, Scherezade was to ruin and destroy Dathomir with all her great and wonderful blueprints… Word was slowly getting out. The Blood Hound had not been shy about her intentions with the planet, though after it had been sold to the Sith Empire like a common prostitute, she was more wary about who she spoke of regarding the plans. The Sith Empire did no scare her; but the knowledge that she might harm through her words the gentle NAP agreement it had with the Confederacy. Normally, she would not care, but as things were sort of sensitive right now between her and the Confederate leaders, and she was still technically on probation… Yeah, better not go there just yet.

So her she was now, on a stinky planet, following one Dathomiri witch who stuck out like a sore thumb, almost the way Scherezade herself did. She made no sound as she prowled after her through the streets, but, she didn't expect the Witch to not know she was there. After all, the Blood Hound was doing absolutely nothing to conceal her presence within the Force. Much like her exterior, it often stuck out like a peacock on the Great Web, full of contradictions and things that should not be.

As her target turned into an alley, Scherezade smiled and pulled a pack of popcorn from her pocket. Heating it up was a matter of seconds, and she opened it, allowing the aroma of freshly popped kernels and a ton of butter fill a small radius before she walked into the alley herself. The smile on her face as she approached the Dathomiri was friendly, and she took a handful before offering the bag to the woman.

"What is a Dathomiri doing on a planet like this?" she asked, her Paecian flowing out naturally and almost completely lacking in accent, only the s sound giving away that she just might not be from that planet as well.

Vytal Noctura · Jul 11, 2019

Unlike deWinter, the Witch she addressed did not smile. Dathomiri were perfectly capable of the act, but unlike so many offworlders they did not misrepresent how they felt. "Like this?" Vytal echoed. Why just like this planet? As relatively new to Basic as the Nightsisters from Dathomir were, they'd spent considerable time learning it. Foreigners to this wider galaxy they already held one tactical disadvantage, and had not needed another. It was strange this woman would be so specific since Nightsisters should only have been expected on a single planet anywhere in the galaxy. Far from here.

"Nightsisters hold their own council," she added pointedly. Why should Vytal explain herself to some stranger? "Unless you offer something in trade. Information, weapons, artifacts, or supplies." On the very unlikely chance this woman was in desperate search of a customer, the pale woman humored the question.

The strange scent of popcorn caused Vytal's nose to wrinkle a hair a moment before her eyes narrowed in kind. Such a pungent smell could mask far subtler ones. If this was an attempt to hide allies, Vytal would gladly disappoint Scherezade.

"Of the creatures in that den, you seemed interested in us. Why?" There was no reason only one of them should get to indulge their curiosity. The woman and get gear haunted this alleyway with purposes; Vytal would know what that was.

Tag: [member='Scherezade deWinter']

Scherezade deWinter · Jul 18, 2019

"Like this," Scherezade nodded, "smelly. Industrial. Nothing like the swamps or jungles of your home."

She eyed the Witch for a moment. There was no denying it; the markings showed what she was, and her demeanor only furthered to strengthen that understanding, even if she had not made mention of Nightsisters holding their own council. But why would a witch be so far from Dathomir, with how everything was going on up there?

But yes… When it came to offering information, Scherezade had quite a bit of it, as well as weapons, artifacts, and supplies. But she had no intention of offering those just yet; she gave those as boons, as ways to shake hands on deals, as various different ways, many of them destructive too, but never just to get anyone to speak with her. That was too humiliating.

With a shrug, she tossed another handful of kernels into her mouth. "Because I rarely see any of Dathomir's Witches so far away from home," she said, her voice sounding genuinely sincere, for that was what she was, "you guys usually hole up on your planet. Especially now that the Mandalorians have changed your master and given you away like you were little more than slaves for sale. A shame, really. Those buttholes never learned how to properly harness what you could've given them."

Another handful of kernels.

"You're also dangerously close to Confederate space," she chatted on, "how goes the culture war between the Witches of Dathomir and the Witchesof Ryloth? Last I spoke to the Mother of all Clans she wanted to wipe both of you out, so it didn't really give me much to go on."

Vytal Noctura · Jul 18, 2019

A snort followed the woman's observation that the Nightsisters rarely left Dathomir. It was true. With reason, but no Sister would ever tell an outsider why. Their magick was strongest on that ball of dirt steeped in darkness. They communed with the Fang God whose Will was made manifest there. Others spoke of the Winged Goddess' hand upon the world; a creature of the most radiant beauty, but those that favored her were weak compared to the Nightsisters. Those that understood the Book of Shadows knew power unlike any seen elsewhere in the galaxy -- that was why the Sith came to Dathomir desperate to learn.

Scherezade was no pushover, so she'd easily hear the sound of Vytal's metal claws snapping into place at the tips of her fingers. It was the only sound the Nightsister made before she shot across the distance separating them. Her hand went for the woman's throat to hold her fast. Unless deWinter decided to humor Vytal, however, the grapple was unlikely to succeed. In which case the pale Witch would bound away and re-establish firm footing once more.

"Dathomir has no master," the hiss echoing down the alley. "No one would dare stand against all the clans and live." If there was one way to get under Vytal's skin it would be insulting her pride as a Nightsister. Suggesting they'd been enslaved -- were weak enough to be enslaved -- was insulting from where she stood. Not so much time had possibly passed... Not so little time had been left before... Beneath the prideful response was fear. Fear of failing to acquire what her family needed to defend themselves. Fear of not having a home for her and the other four Sisters to return to.

Eyes narrowed briefly as the woman then spoke of the Confederacy. Who cared for some Empire on the other side of the galaxy from Dathomir? Vytal gave them no thought how they viewed someone like her being so close to their precious space.

Then this stranger spoke of something equally strange. Vytal blinked and tilted her head a bit to the side. Culture war? "Mother of all Clans? Why would the Great Mother wipe out the Nightsisters; she is a Nightsister. The strongest and wisest of us." In truth, hardly a word of what Scherezade had said made any sense. Even with her grasp of Basic so far along as it was, it was as though the armed woman had spoken gibberish just now. Witches of Ryloth? Could her Clan Mother have known of all of this? It would not be unheard of for a Mother not to inform the rest of the Clan of something. What would it matter if there were some Witches on Ryloth? Where even was this Ryloth?

Tag: [member="Scherezade deWinter"]

Scherezade deWinter · Jul 28, 2019

She definitely decided to humor the witch. As the Dathomiri's claws went around her neck, the Blood Hound offered nothing but a smile, not making an inch of an attempt at escape. It was a calculated risk –she did not quite think the woman would attempt to kill her. She smelled like she had power beneath her skin, and she would probably be able to guess that Scherezade was no initiate either. The rest was… Diplomacy.

Yet when the Dathomiri suggested that Dathomir had no master… Scherezade's humor mingled somewhat with pity. To not know what was happening with the planet. To not know thatthose masters saw them as nothing but a pound of flesh.

"Until not too long ago, Dathomir was the property of the United Clans of Mandalore," she explained, not carrying whether the woman still had a hand against her throat or not, "The Mandalorians then gave the planet to the Sith Empire, in return for an alliance. While the Sith treat the Dathomiri with respect, it would do the Witches of Dathomir well to remember that they are owned. At the whim of the Dark Lord, you will count for less than your males count for you. That is the punishment for those who would bow to others."

Only then did she take a step back, offering the woman a comforting smile before taking another handful of kernels into her mouth.

"Perhaps she thinks, as I do, that you are but a shadow of your former glorious past, and it better to die out and be forgotten for the grandeur you owned instead of slip into nothing and be forgotten as though you've never even existed."

Vytal Noctura · Jul 28, 2019

"What Offworlders think of their 'territories' matter little to Nightsisters," Vytal growled. "Let them try to impose their will; even if they should slaughter every Sister their kind would weep for generations for their mistake." The Sith. Vytal heard of their visit to her world before. Always some 'Lord' eager to learn the secrets and leaving barely understanding the true depth of the power Dathomir offered. No, rather, some perhaps did and became enraged at how the splendor of their dark world did not carry to the Stars with them. It was a problem Vytal suffered as well, though she sought means to compensate and still draw forth considerable power.

The Nightsister looked no more pacified than she had a moment ago, but she let the woman step back. Obviously the hunter had let herself be captured. So far she had not earned death, or a fate worse than it. But it had been important the woman understand a Nightsister would not stand to be insulted, or her people looked down upon. The Sith were wise to humor the Mothers in their presence; even if they sneered at the 'backwards' Witches on their metal islands above the skies.

"Then perhaps I should remind this Mother of All Clans the Nightsisters will not die quietly. If she wishes for us to do so with our hands around her throat instead of that of our enemies, I will volunteer to provide her that opportunity." Vytal's eyes were defiant and razor sharp. There was no way the Great Mother of Dathomir would think so little of her children. They were not weak. They would not submit to the Sith. Vytal could never imagine such a future. She could not imagine such a future -- it spat in the face of everything she'd sought to accomplish coming to the stars.

Hands at her sides, Vytal flexed her fingers slowly. "And what relation do you have with us, or to these Witches of Ryloth I have never met." Since the woman desired to talk, then she was welcome to talk. Vytal would not turn away what information she imparted, nor would she believe it at face value. These were, however, matters that would need investigated for their veracity.

Tag: [member="Scherezade deWinter"]

Scherezade deWinter · Aug 7, 2019

"Is that why they've owned your planet for so many years now?" Scherezade asked with a careless shrug, "you're not much better than a highway to them, sought for your take on the Force and the Force Nexus that can be found there. The last time the Witches of Dathomir held any sort of power was so long ago that most people regard you girls as little more than children playing witchy dress up."

There was more that could be said. So much more. That had been but a small part of the reason she's allowed herself over a year ago to travel to Dathomir, and to massacre many of those who belonged to Spider Clan. It was a punishment, for being so weak. For being so willing. For giving in to Mandalorian overlords when they truly ought to have known better. It had been a wonderful afternoon. She had been there with… Well, nevermind that. No one cared about that other than her, it appeared.

"Why do Witches always talk so big but do so small?" she wondered out loud before shrugging again. The threats regarding the Mother of All Clans sounded more like the Witch in front of her hadn't actually met the woman – thousands of years old and still kicking. Often, Scherezade thought that she was going to make her hold her end of the bargain up regardless of whether or not she'd actually find her family.

"The 'verse is so much more than just Dathomir, Witchling," she finally said with a friendly smile, "My mother, grandmother, and many aunts were trained on Dathomir. Before the Gulag. One of those women imprinted my mind with the memories and knowledge so I sort of have some of that training too. And, I have training from the Ryloth witches. Their former leader adopted me, used me, stabbed me in the back, and then cast a spell over herself so she'd forget what she'd done to me."

Another handful of popcorn kernels. She hated thinking about that. She didn't want to think about that. The food was a good excuse to pause, to make it look like she didn't care. But didn't she? Oh no, she did. But no one else was supposed to know. Anything.

"So why stick to yucky places like these, or go to Dathomir where your knowledge was constantly severely lacking," she offered, "when you can join a place that will let you not only learn about the 'verse, but also gain power, abilities, and connections? Imagine it. Never needing to want to meet at crappy cantinas like the one in this airport. Don't pretend it's a nice cantina."

Vytal Noctura · Aug 9, 2019

"Those fools from the stars think they learn our secrets. They hear but they do not listen," Vytal hissed. Though from the stories passed among Clans, the Nightsister standing before Scherezade did feel as though the offworlders were tolerated far too much. True, almost every Clan had some trial that must be passed to demonstrate worth... but was one trial truly enough? Sisters spent their entire lives honing their skills to tackle the very darkness of Dathomir. Then these Sith saunter onto their world, slay a beast with their 'Force,' and preen about. It did bother her. She did know her family was at risk.

A sharp snort flew from the pale woman's nose at Scherezade's comment. "Do not test me."

The Dathomiri angled her head down and to the side before flipping it slowly to the other side. All the while Vytal's gaze examined Scherezade's features. There was the obvious glow of the woman's eyes that could speak of Dathomiri heritage. This 'imprinting' sounded beneficial, but could it truly be the same as growing up steeped in it? Sounded just as bad as Sith learning secrets from a Mother without truly understanding what any of it meant, or appreciating the blessings of the Fanged God or Winged Goddess in granting such power. And again talk of 'Ryloth Witches'... where had these creatures come from? Were there more Witches in the galaxy? Other deities?

One barb after another was beginning to test Vytal's extremely generous patience as she stood there. Perhaps this woman wanted a demonstration of a Nightsister's power in this alleyway after all. What held her hand was the kernel of truth in the words, no matter how much that rubbed against her pride or that of Dathomir. She had come to the stars because their knowledge was lacking. It had been so obvious to Vytal, despite her elders disagreement. The Sith knew more than they shared, and what they shared only the Mother and her circle knew; and yet little changed among the clans. And so this 'balance' remained. Comfortable. Familiar. Tried. True. But limited all the same, with their knowledge of potential enemies truly lacking. How could they fight what they did not understand?

"And what would you ask in return for being introduced to such a place?" Was it so odd that Vytal would be cautious of such an offer? It would not be the first time strangers tried luring them into a trap for slavers, or for some Sith's experiments. Scherezade did not come off that way, but that made her even more dangerous. A wildcard not easily categorized like most offworlders. From all the words she had imparted, however, it sounded like the woman wanted to help. Not that Vytal understood why yet.

Tag: [member="Scherezade deWinter"]

Scherezade deWinter · Aug 10, 2019

"My mere breathing tests you time and time again," she said with a chuckle as she chomped down on another handful. Considering all the things she had blurbed not moments ago, she did have to admit that she was sort of surprised the woman had not attacked her. Or even tested her yet.

Yet it seemed her words had hit home. At least enough for the witch to be interested in knowing what it would cost her. But that was always how it was with the witches, wasn't it? Even if the help they offered was a mere connection, it always came with a price. But, unlike the politics of the galaxy at large, this was something that Scherezade actually knew about.

"I can't officially ask you for anything in return," she answered truthfully. There would be no point in lying about it – the witch in front of her didn't seem like she'd trust her blindly, and lying would only prove her right in that case. "So travel to Geonosis, where you will find the main offices of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. You'll find all those things, and more, right there. Use my name – Scherezade deWinter, and it will save you on lots of time. And might get you a few rolled eyes as well."

But did the advice come free? Well… It sort of did.

"And when the day comes that you comprehend what has happened here," she resumed, "I wish for a boon, to be extracted in the future. Fulfilling it will hurt neither you nor yours –the witches that are yours will remain untouched by your actions in completing it. I will take a vow on that and offer blood should you wish for it."

Vytal Noctura · Aug 10, 2019

It took considerable restraint not to lash out at the woman that stood there. Such a display of force, however, would draw attention. More importantly, it simply wasn't necessary. Scherezade already demonstrated she was willing to humor the Nightsister, much as her tone was like claws on a durasteel plate. Nightbrothers might let their emotions sway their hand, but Vytal had better control than that... or so she told herself in order to remain calm. She'd already struck physically against this strange woman. Unlikely she'd be as forthcoming with information if Vytal scared that pretty face.

"Our time among these metal cities and flying creations has taught us the words of offworlders are cheap." Vytal's eyes had narrowed at the woman in contemplation. "If there is anything more to comprehend here than what tis at face value, and it is worth your 'boon' and harms not the Nightsisters, you will have it." A flat blade slid free of Vytal's black dress. "And if you spoke true, then you know such deals with a Nightsister are not taken lightly." Nor betrayal weathered well.

What Scherezade asked in the future would not concern Vytal. Certainly not then. Likely not later. Her moral compass pointed straight toward the benefit of the Nightsisters and ensuring their survival. It was the one unwavering facet of her existence; that and her belief in the Fanged God (or whatever these offworlders absolutely had to call it/him). "Try not to get yourself killed before we meet again, Sister. I do not wish to tell you what I have taken from our talk over a fresh grave."

Tag: [member="Scherezade deWinter"]

Scherezade deWinter · Aug 11, 2019

@Vytal Noctura

There was always so much posturing with these people, though in that moment Scherezade wasn't sure if these referred just to witches, or to anyone inclined towards the dark side in general. Granted, she knew she was a darksider too, and her lack of people skills tended to often make things harder than they were meant to be.

Eying the flat blade, she still said nothing. She could not find anything within her memories, both branded and unique, that demanded a blade to strike a deal. Sure, her grandmother had loved taking people's blood in times like these, but her grandmother was also a mega drama queen. But if the blade meant to threaten her, Scherezades showed no signs of being any sort of intimidated by it. In the future, perhaps, the two women would be able to dance the dance of blades. Today, was not the day for that.

"I may have passed my Trial by Fire," she said, raising a finger, "but I am not a sister."

Her scarless back spoke volumes of it, though it was currently hidden beneath her clothes. Once, there had been a mark there, the mark of the Jart, which Scherezade had received not two hours out of the pebble, not even a day in which she breathed air as an adult, the very first thing she did off the planet on which she'd been born. She'd skinned herself alive to be rid of that mark, before dunking herself for days into bacta to help it heal. Her body had healed perfectly from it. Her soul had not.

"See you under the purple," she nodded, and turned to leave.

Vytal Noctura · Aug 17, 2019

Vytal's brow pinched together for a moment. What was the woman talking about? "You say many strange things," the Nightsister confessed at last, her tone guarded. Nightmother? Trial by Fire? How could this woman be of Dathomir and not a Sister? It bothered the woman so much of what Scherezade said did not mean anything, or sounded very similar, but also wrong to what Vytal knew. Almost as if there were Nightsisters that had formed their own rituals and means of living apart from Dathomir. A lost clan, perhaps. But how could this be?

A snort followed the woman's turn to depart. The blade flipped in Vytal's hand before it was slid back into place. No shedding of blood then. Honor was a foreign concept to these offworlders, or honor in a way that mattered to Vytal. Loyalty and trust. Not flowery exchanges or 'rules' on a battlefield. This was not desired, but perhaps it was for the best. They would see what the woman claimed would bring no harm to the few in the entire galaxy Vytal truly cared about.

"We will soon see if your Confederacy can withstand the Nightsisters. Until then," Vytal bid the woman farewell. She would not chance to hope these offworlders would somehow be different than the rest. They could try to exploit her for power. Believe her backwards and quaint in thought, relatively unexposed to what others took for granted. Whether they provided any authority or access to knowledge would remain to be seen. If, however, this worked to their advantage, the five Sisters might know relative safety among the stars at last. Somewhere to begin extending the reach of Dathomir, and not beset by criminal means to afford shelter and equipment.

Tag: [member="Scherezade deWinter"]

Dark Entanglements

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Vytal Noctura

N I G H T M O T H E R

Scherezade deWinter

The Blood Hound

Vytal Noctura

N I G H T M O T H E R

Scherezade deWinter

The Blood Hound

Vytal Noctura

N I G H T M O T H E R

Scherezade deWinter

The Blood Hound

Vytal Noctura

N I G H T M O T H E R

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