Dark Thoughts

[Xevek Nekonis]

Coruscant, Sith Temple​

Evening​

A single figure stood at one of the windows that lined the Sith Temple, a building that had been erected upon the same land as the former Jedi Temple when the Sith had conquered Coruscant, claiming it as their own, a building that served as a symbol of the dominance and power of both the Sith and the Darkness that they embodied. The Temple was built out of dark metal spires that reached up towards the upper atmosphere and the void beyond it.

The figure standing at the window was staring down at the sight of the city planet as evening began to descend on that time zone with an unblinking, orange gaze. Even as the sun that Coruscant rotated around began to dip beyond the horizon, casting harsh rays of low lying light across the building of the upper layers of the planet, the activity of the populous was not decreasing as it did on many of the other planets that filled the galaxy, instead the amount of streaks of lights that were the speeders rushing through the designated lanes was unchanging as the light pollution given off my the uncountable amount of buildings combated the oncoming blackness of night.

Shifting his weight slightly, the heavy robe that the figure wore also shifted, briefly exposing the interior of the hood to one o the sun's final rays, illuminating the face. During the brief moment that the face was exposed, a heavily scared face was revealed. The mess of scars ran across the entirety of the face, making it seems as if a blind man had attempted to carve a face out of wood but had instead created a mockery of one covered in the slips of the knife, however the majority of them were gathered around the right side of his face, particularly the empty right eye socket. Two black tattoos wound their way up from underneath the chin, following the arc of the cheekbones. Six tattoos crawled their way from the bridge of the nose, three on either side, one stopped bellow the eye sockets while the other two wove their way toward the temple. The top tattoo had a branch reach from it across the forehead, following the hair line. In the middle of the forehead, two tattoos formed an inverted triangle.

After turning on the spot to face the door behind him, the figure stood still once more waiting for the woman he was expecting to arrive and letting the heavy robe settle once more, concealing the revealed bare and claw tipped feet that were covered in only the smallest amount of cloth wraps. When the robe had shifted once more, the hands of the figure had been exposed. Both of them, one biological the other mechanical, were wrapped around the handle of a polished wooden cane, the biological hand gripping the wood hard enough that his knuckles had turned white.


[member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

The cloak of Darth Ophidia flowed a mere few centimetres over the stone floor as her soft-soled boots carried her through the hallway in a calm, but determined stride. Her hands were clasped behind her back and the hood of her robes was pulled up over her head. Eyes, burning orange in the shade thrown by her hood, peered out from under the hem of the cloth, and a small smile played on her dark grey lips. For once, she was not the one waiting, but rather the one being waited for. It was a rather amusing and freeing instance in her opinion.

As her apprentice came into sight, she raised her chin and slowed her pace. However, there was no reluctance in her steps. She observed him; the scarred mess of a face and the bionic arm clinging to the cane - it was far overdue that he got himself one of those-. He had seen a lot of fights, lost much, and survived more.

"[member="Xavka Duquo"], you look like you went through a meat-grinder."

This was most likely the least formal way she had ever greeted her Iridonian apprentice, then again this was not the way they usually met. Perhaps it was a good sign, proof that the stagnation could be broken.

 

[Xevek Nekonis]

Xavka's brow raised in a small twitch, the only evidence that hinted towards his surprise at how informally his Master had greeted him, however his expression soon smoothed out into the expressionless mask that he usually wore and rarely lowered as he regained control of his surprise. Stepping forwards to greet the Rattataki Sith Lord, Xavka's scarred visage once more twisted as a flinch of pain ran across his face, his right leg protesting against his step by sending white hot pain running throughout his nervous system. Growling mentally at his own lack of control over his expressions, Xavka lowered himself into a bow of respect to Ophidia.

"Volks, Master." Much like his features had been changed by the scars that now ran across his skin, so had his voice. One of the scars that wound its way across his neck had gone deep enough to cause scarring on the vocal fold and, as such, his voice, which had already possessed a gruff undertone, had become even more gravelly, the rough undertone worsening. "I may have gone through the meat-grinder, as you so put it, but I've become all the stronger for it. Well," he flinched slightly as another flare of pain ran through his leg after he had shifted is weight the wrong way, "maybe not physically."

Turning his back towards his Master, Xavka returned his gaze to the sight of the sprawling buildings as he reached up to pull back the hood of his robes, exposing the dark grey dreadlocks that he pulled his hair into and the large, jagged and sharp orat horns that lined his head and emerged from his hair. Looking out over the still active speeder lanes, Xavka felt an amount of relief at the fact that he was isolated from the populous within the Sith Temple. He was used to the dry winds of Iridonia that carried the scent of burnt sand and whenever he was on a new planet, the change always affected him in some manner, however Corusant was the worse. The scent of grime and pollution was spread throughout the city planet, even at the higher levels where sanitation was taken more seriously, and the acrid scent always burnt at Xavka's sensitive nose.

Shaking his head minutely to break himself from his thoughts, Xavka returned his mind to the here and now, focusing his attention on his Master even as he did not move his gaze from the view set before him. "My injuries wasn't why I ask to speak with you, of course. I am... curious, shall we say, about the mind and philosophies of my Master, what with the recent rebellion within the Sith. Are you willing to indulge me in this, Master?"


[member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

She observed acutely Xavka's expressions and ails. His injuries could lead to weaknesses, flaws that would have be eliminated, or could be used to eliminate him. She noted his change in voice, at least he still had the ability to speak. Though loss of his voice could have served as proper punishment for some of his more foolish decisions. Taking on someone greater than oneself was admirable, so was surviving with one's mind intact. Many went away from the battle of Lujo with minds shattered.

"You will heal, our medical personell will see to it. It will, however, take time to make a full recovery."

As he turned his eyes back on the sprawling city, she stepped up beside him. Her right hand detached itself from its clasp and touched the windowsill as she too peered out at the metropolitan planet of Coruscant. She did not care much for the people-heavy planet either. Her love was for the quiet of space, the singing dunes of the deserts, the barren rocks and the tall mountains. Here, she felt she stood in the nest of ants; ants in glowing vehicles. She had no distaste for it, but no love for it either. At the very least, she could appreciate the anonymity of the masses.

"Curious about my mind, my philosophies. Yes, I will indulge you, my apprentice."

She retracted her hand from the window and returned it to her back. Gesturing with her head, she urged for them to stroll or adopt a more suitable room for such discussion. Perhaps somewhere with a more comfortable seating arrangement.

"I lament the loss of our Dark Lord; our future is uncertain without his guidance. Yet, he was proven to be weak, and it was only a time before someone cut him down. A reach for power and internal struggles are imminent until a new hierarchy is established. This is a dangerous time, but also an opportunity. One I intend to exploit."

As usual, her voice was factual in tone. If she did in fact carry any sorrow for the loss of their previous leader, then she did not show it. Even if Mephirium had not struck down the Dark Lord, someone else would. It was inevitable.

"Rebellion is an inevitability among Sith. The only way of maintaining order is by having a head that is strong enough to make unquestionable decisions. This has come manifested in many forms, of course."

[member="Xavka Duquo"]