Private Doctor in the House?

[Darth Metus]

NETRA'YAIM, KRANT

The silence of morning had been broken.

Having devoted the underbelly of their family home to the housing of many critters, it was unsurprising that this space tended to be the loudest. If one listened intently during the wee hours of the night, the echoes of reptilian snores could faintly be heard. This...paled in comparison to the cacophony which roused Isley from his slumber. When the sable-skinned man first heard the thunderous echo, it reminded him of cannon fire. His dreams were immediately beset with old horrors which cast him into the waking word. With a start, he jolted up in bed, blinked, and pieced together what he was hearing.

"What the-?" he began, rising.

Pausing only to pull a pair of sweat pants onto his form, he descended into the underforge at once. He borrowed a torch from one of the scones upon entering the earthy space and squinted against the black. At a glance, all was in place. For the most part, the beasts which called this area home were free to roam without restraint. There were some sensical barriers put in place - mostly to prevent the carnivores from devouring the more defenseless occupants. But otherwise, they could stretch their legs as they saw fit.

This morning, most including the carnivores, were huddled towards the southernmost wall. Away from the source of the noise. Isley drew near, cautiously, until his sulfuric gaze saw what was transpiring. One of the beasts, a winged drake,was seemingly laying an egg. Yet...something was clearly amiss. His bare feet began to squish as he drew ever closer. A quick glance down told the story: blood. And lots of it. "Oh chit." he breathed.

His voice was enough to draw the beast's attention. Fangs and claws immediately snapped - and his quick movement prevented him from losing a limb. "Easy! Easy." he said, raising his offhand in a nonthreatening manner. "Let me help you."

The drake was clearly not having any of this.

And even if it was, Isley didn't even know where to start.

Damsy Callat​

 

[Damsy Callat]

Feth.

Similarly to her father, the screeches tearing through Drake Den reached Damsy outside of it, only much closer. In what used to be her quarters on the level, her squaloid hearing amplified the beast pain. From ear to ear, it threatened to burst her head until she found another, further-off noise to focus on: the steady ticking of a grandfather clock somewhere in the mansion proper. She could still hear her immediate surroundings, of course, but for now it was the audible equivalent of a blurry background and sharp foreground but switched around.

When she stepped back into the cobble cellar hall, she was holding a bucket of water and clutching a stack of clean rags under her arm. She hadn't seen the new Beastmaster in all the time she had been sneaking back into the bowels of Netra'yaim, and she didn't care to. It wasn't that she was jealous that House Verd had assumedly moved on—after all, she had first—but that she was content if all she saw of her former family forevermore were their pets.

She slipped through the tomb entrance to the catacombs on this side. A heavy stone rolled into place behind her, nudged by the Force rippling from her barely raised hand. She didn't need fire to light her way since her ocean eyes adjusted to the darkness as if it were a Kaminoan abyss. She knew exactly where she was, and it was a little too far for her liking, so she picked up her feet and began to run. Water sloshed up the sides of the bucket. Her trousers' waterproofed leather negated the risk of any droplets that landed on her. As she got closer, she noticed that even garbled the drake's cries were only intensifying.

Hold on, girlie, she thought. I'm almost there.

Two long bends away meant not really.

But she could do something in the time it took to round the right corner. Damsy barely opened her lips. A breathy song floated down the cavern ahead of her, having nothing to do with the state of oxygen in her lungs, as evidenced by the steadiness and length of each note.

It only took a few notes. The drake went quite, though not quite calm. Her fangs and claws were retracted at once as she folded herself closer to the wall. The poor bystanders all but pressed up against the opposite likewise stopped whimpering and began to lay down on dry ground. Isley himself? Well, that mattered. The song would be almost too easy for one such as him to ignore. In the Force, it had a signature similar to Mind Control; a trick easy to overtake the weak or else those who wanted to succumb.

Serenity came around all to rarely for most in this galaxy.

The inhuman voice itself might have been recognizable, though he might have only heard it once long ago in a particular Kaminoan science lab.

When Damsy finally stepped into the cave her father found himself in, she froze. Her sirensong faltered. Orange-red light cast over expressions momentarily empty as she tried to decide what to fill them with. Surprise? Anger? Urgency? Apathy?

It took her a full minute to realize that nothing was worth Yrlas' life. She tossed the whole collection of rags at him. She wanted to throw choice words with it—"your new Beastmaster sucks arse" came immediately to mind—but she settled on, "Don't lose your chit." If Isley had any questions about why his daughter was here they'd have to wait but at least a related one was answered. Her blue bodysuit was stained across the front in the same deep crimson red splattering the floor. And she held the trappings of a makeshift midwife.

"She can smell it," she added before passing him by to get danger close to Yrlas. Opening and extending her free hand, Damsy inched towards the beast. She pet the drake's neck before craning hers back towards her father. "I can too. I know it's not...ideal alor stuff, but I could really use your help." Ylras shuttered. "We could."



**
Darth Metus

 

[Darth Metus]

NETRA'YAIM - UNDERFORGE

The Father knew.

Their relationship was nonexistent these days - and perhaps it was for the best. He could not exactly put a finger on the exact moment that Damsy had chosen to be done with them all, but since then there had been only silence. The closest he had been to his daughter since were those infrequent moments when she braved Netra'yaim. When first she began this habit, he debated meeting her in the Underforge. He considered reaching out - trying to mend the collosal damage that had been done between them. In the end, he decided against it. To give her space. To give her peace.

And since then, she never had to worry about the patrolling guards whenever she came "home." She could tend to her friends and be off as she saw fit. That was the very least he could do.

It was a good thing too, because she was far more equipped to deal with the horror unfolding before the sable-skinned man's eyes. With each passing moment, the crimson beneath his feet seemed to increase. And the drake was not growing any less discontent. Until she arrived. A haunting melody slithered across the cavern. It infected the man's hearing for but a moment - and a lifetime of experience dug in its heels. He defended himself from the sweet song, but recognized it as complete. As her own. A far cry from her fledgling steps when she was first born.

Damsy was a grown ass woman now.

Time waited for no man.

The Song did its work in pacifying the beast. Fangs and claws were retracted for tthe moment as she drew near. And soon, they met face-to-face. Surprise marked his expression. Nothing marked hers. She yeeted the rags towards him and his offhand quickly caught them against his chest. Don't lose your chit. She said. Oh yeah, like there wasn't a drake bleeding to death right in front of them. Easier said than done. He kept the quips to himself and nodded instead.

"Lead the way." he said, pausing only to stuff the torch in the nearest empty scone. With both hands at his disposal, he drew closer to the ailing beast - and to his daughter.

"What do you need me to do?"

Damsy Callat​

 

[Damsy Callat]

"Get in the water for me," she didn't bother to ask before ducking under Ylras' right wing.

What?

She probably didn't mean literal foot in the bucket, as she still carried that with her.

Then it became clear. As the drake moved, a wooden tub behind her would come into Isley's watchful view. It was filled with liquid that reflected the torchlight, but not blood. Water. Damsy kneeled next to the great oak cask and heaved up the pail, pouring more water into the pool. She must have been here for some time fetching water. Still, the amount that might make for a good soak for an oversized chicken would emphatically not do for a sqauloid. There was no way she would have been able to breathe through her gills in that.

Maybe it was serendipitous that he had come along when he had after all.

Damsy got up and began cooing at Ylras to get her into the tub. It took a few minutes of one step forward two steps back until she had settled into the warm, slightly salty water on unsteady haunches.

"Right, so be real careful," she told her father. "She's egg bound; has it literally stuck in her. An' it might seem counterintuitive, but trus' me when I say we really dun'wanna break it."

As she spoke, she flipped the bucket upside down and set it on the floor. She then stepped one foot onto it, the other floating in air as she extending her own wingspan to keep herself steady. She glanced down into the rippling water and swore a face red not with blood looked back at her. Syreni. She shook her head. "Try to keep 'er calm. I really ain't feelin' like gettin' wet." But Damsy leaned carefully forward, putting a great deal of faith uncharacteristically in her sire, and reached out a hand towards the beast's exposed belly.



**
Darth Metus

 

[Darth Metus]

NETRA'YAIM - UNDERFORGE

Get in the water for me.

Isley parted his lips as if to say what water when the beast moved. Guided by his daughter, he was able to see the tub behind the drake scarcely illuminated via torchlight. Silently, he offered a quick nod and stepped over - maneuvering himself carefully into the water. Immediately, the clear, cool liquid pooled with red as his feet splashed inside. He reached up, gingerly touching the beast as it reclined at Damsy's word.

Right, so be real careful, she then explained. She then shed some light on the situation. The egg was stuck - and breaking it would certainly be counterintuitive. For one, it would royally piss off Mama Fangs and Claws. For another, the remains of the egg could possibly do some internal damage. Neither was an ideal scenario. "Roger that." he said simply.

This was, more or less, the Damsy show. He was simply a supporting cast member. Try to keep 'er calm, I really ain't feelin' like gettin' wet. At this, the sable-skinned man lightly smirked. She was literally born on an oceanic world, and yet she didn't want to get wet. Nonetheless, he decided to borrow a play from the woman's own book. She used song, he used mere thought.

She'd feel the ebb of his power, manifesting as ripples of calm. Focus.
"Easy there mama, we've got you." he said.

It was almost like there was a Human standing next to her, and not a living nightmare.​

Damsy Callat​

 

[Damsy Callat]

Damsy caught a glimpse of that smirk.

It made for the one time that she had wanted to lash out at him and didn't.

She looked away almost at quickly as she had stolen a glimpse in the first place, losing track of wondering if her father either remembered or even knew how Ashladamned excruciating metamorphosis was for her even faster. She tucked all her pent-up emotions into the keratin valleys of the elder drake's beak as she locked the mother in a staring game of ocean and fire. Her fingers gently probed the soft plush of Ylras's mid-lower abdomen, first of one hand and then both.

"Yeah, we gotcha, girlie," she echoed her father's sentiment in slightly different words.

The Siren Shifter's slow massage went on for a few minutes, until she straightened from know being knelt on the buckettop and turned to Isley. "Can you take away some of her pain? I never learned Healing..."

As the beast's agony subsided, her great big eyes began to lid. Damsy managed to usher Ylras out of her makeshift bath, but the moment she was, she fell to sleep. Damsy sighed, picked up the towels she had thrown at her father, and darted about, carefully drying drake down. When she had finished, she returned to the bucket. She then stopped to fold each towel on top, only to pick back up the pile, flip up the bucket, and stuff the cloths inside.

She cleared her throat. "Thanks, Dad," she nearly whistled before picking up the container and moving towards the door.

Was that that then?

Hell yeah.

If she had anything to say, or not say actually, about it.



**
Darth Metus

 

[Darth Metus]

The Siren was quiet. Focused.

Whilst the sable-skinned man worked his "magic", Damsy set about massaging the beast's stomach. Slowly, but surely there was progress being made - and Isley quietly continued to do his job. Sans any additional smirks. There was relative quiet, save for the occasional slosh of water due to the drake's movements. Then, Damsy asked if Isley could take away some of her pain.

The Sith's expression grew thoughtful for a moment. He hadn't learned the Jedi-style of mending wounds, but he had something close. It was either that or attempting to patch her up via alchemy - which wouldn't exactly help given the circumstances. Finally, he gave a confident nod and adjusted his hands, splaying his fingers out a bit more. "Sure thing. Fair warning, it's going to be a little dark in here."

He wasn't referring to the dim lighting.

His power fluctuated once more, but there was a distinct edge. Aggression colored the might - but it did nothing but good for the beast. Isley closed his eyes, drawing in a breath between clenched teeth. He uttered not a word as Damsy moved yet again. She moved the drake out of the bath and dried her off.

In time, the drake was sound asleep. Crisis averted. Isley then released a pent up sigh. "Ow." he said, shaking his hands slightly. Suffice it to say, his "trick" was taking Damsy's question literally. Stepping out the bucket, Isley paused to shake his feet off when he saw Damsy heading towards the door. She thanked him, which caused him to blink. "Yeah. Anytime."

She took another step, his offhand reached out.

"Hey. Wait. Uhh." he walked after her. "After all that, you've got to be hungry right? Thirsty? Let me get us some lunch...or something."

Damsy Callat​

 

[Damsy Callat]

Damsy turned around, ever so slowly, when her hand was caught. She looked up from it to him, staring as she thought. And as she stared, flecks of burnt sulfur flickered over her deep blue irises. Food sounded real good, as much as she hated to admit it. Motina was a great chef, but even skills like those couldn't turn the flavor profile of a sewer rat or ogre into that of a freshly-caught, open-air fish.

Plus, whatever she ate here—and maybe managed to take home as leftovers—meant less of the Reef's food storage had to go towards her. And she didn't eat much anyway these days, what with the refugee population growing and with in stress on the Vault...from the Spawn that needed that kind of sustenance anyway.

She said finally and simply, "Sure."

Then added, freeing her hand to gesture between them, "Just us."

She didn't want to see anyone else right now, former family top of the list.



**
Darth Metus

 

[Darth Metus]

Sure.

Even though the Siren qualified their lunch with a just us, the Sith's face lit up like it was his life day. Grinning, he stepped past the young woman and led the way upstairs. "You're going to love this, trust me." Though he and his daughter did not share the closest bond, he did know a little about her. Specifically, what she was fed and "preferred" back during her time on Kamino. If that held any weight now, the lunch today would be the cream of the crop.

Or he could crash and burn - either was fair game.

Isley led Damsy to one of the smaller kitchens. This was usually utilized by the staff for making their own meals later in the day. Just like the main kitchen, it was stocked with fresh, local ingredients - in combination with the cooks' favorite spices. He motioned for her to sit on one of the stools in front of the counter as he rummaged about.

"I don't mean to intrude," he began, placing a decent sized salmon on a cutting board. "And please, tell me to shut the fuck up if I am - but...are you okay and do you need anything?"

He didn't expect, nor have any illusions about her going into detail about her world. But if there was anything he could do to help her, he would. In the meantime, he broke down the salmon in record time, rolled rice, and presented the Siren with some fresh sushi. It wasn't straight outta Atrisia quality, but it was a solid 8/10.

Damsy Callat

 

[Damsy Callat]

Damsy tented her hands on the counter top and leaned her face into them. She didn't touch her sushi once her had slid it over. For a long few moments, she remained silent, staring now at a blank wall instead of her father. After some time, she spoke, though eyes remained glued and glossy. "Dad," she muttered into the side of her palm, "do you...'member Dagobah?"

Not the planet itself, but how she had gone to it to find a new beast from the Drake Den—only for it to get her.

And gave her another beast to take home altogether.

"You and Haas shouldda left me."



**
Darth Metus

 

[Darth Metus]

Isley had braced himself for a no.

The Siren was a fiercely independent woman - so the Sith figured she wouldn't exactly leap at the offer of support from her old man. Especially given how distant they had been in recent history. Yet, as he set the plate before her, he was met with silence. Damsy tented her hands and was quiet, long enough that Isley leaned against the counter across from her and waited. His eyebrow raised...and his heart sank.

"Of course I remember."

There wasn't a world where he'd abandon her in some swamp.

"Why do you say that...What happened?"

Translation: Whose ass am I beating?

Damsy Callat

 

[Damsy Callat]

Hers.

He'd have to beat her ass, seeing as Syreni didn't have her own.

A shiver ripped up Damsy's cartilage spine as she though of it. How devastating that would be, not just to her but to the galaxy.

It was so violent in fact that the Siren had to catch herself with hands on the bar and a foot extended further out on the floor. She looked directly at Isley for the first time since coming upstairs. Her eyes were wild with surprise and a splash of fear until a backdrop of fiery gold drew over them. Irises like his, without a hint of Damsy's.

If that wasn't enough to warn him of something truly wicked afoot, his daughter's body smiled at him.

"Your heir came home, Daddy Dearesssst."



**
Darth Metus

 

[Darth Metus]

The tremor was not lost upon the Father.

For but a moment, Isley waited on baited breath for the answer to his question. He expected words - an explanation - but what he received was action. The shudder was more than a pronounced chill racing down his daughter's spine. Amber burned into her irises - sulfuric eyes soon looked upon his own. He knew that Damsy was born of his own dark arts, but she was never ruled by them. This alone was cause for Isley to step closer.

When he heard the change in her voice. The demeanor. His heart froze. His mind raced.

The symptoms were identical to the ones he had suffered so long ago.

The voice. The change. He swallowed hard to keep his expression even. But his mind was a whirlwind - anger, confusion, sorrow. The phrase not my baby looped in his thoughts.

"My heir?" he finally managed to say. "And what is her name, oh daughter mine?"

If what he thought was happening was occurring, Damsy wasn't home.

Just like, so long ago, when Isley Verd wasn't home.

And there was only Darth Metus.

Damsy Callat

 

[Damsy Callat]

Oh, Damsy was damn well home. But like a kid locked in, watching her parent 'talking' with an 'old friend' out on the lawn from the living room:

Momentarily mute, deaf, but still sighted.

She saw Syreni cant their shared head. "Isssn't that what you wanted?" she asked, ignoring his own question for now. The disappointment was palpable.



**
Darth Metus

 

[Darth Metus]

A deep exhale escaped the man.

He had grown accustomed to the feeling of being whole. Of being normal. He felt akin to someone who had lost a limb in a freak accident - but somehow managed to be fully restored. Maimed, but now whole. Thus was how Isley felt after blurring the lines between himself and Darth Metus. They were one mind. One body. One soul.

And in this moment, he decided to put a momentary end to that wholeness.

"Well. I want many things but..." he began, upon hearing the Siren's question.

The fissure began. His fingers tightened for just a moment. His eyes changed - the left burning all the more with darkness. The right deepening to a rich, natural brown. Two voices erupted from one mouth. Metus and Isley speaking at the same time.

"It depends on which one of us you ask."

Damsy Callat

 

[Damsy Callat]

For the first time she her distinction in Damsy's mind, Syreni showed fear. True fear, unobstructed by anger—if just a little.

A small degree of widening in the eyes.

A step taken back from the barstool.

Personality fusing was possible?? Alright, okay. Note to herself: don't let Damsy figure out how to do it. Maybe Metus would not turn out to be the ally Syreni had hoped for.

Finally, she hissed and sauntered forward to gain back her ground. "Damsssy thought ssshe was alone knowing thisss trick." She leaned over the bar, to pick up a roll of sushi. "As for my name, I thought one of you would know it." The alter gently squeezed in on the small circle with her thumb and forefinger. The nori began to warp under the pressure, salmon spilling from its starchy confinement. "Sssyreni, if you're going to be disssappointing.

"One of you tried to create me on Kamino." She let out a trilly chuckle at something about that. Almost a song, but not. "The other got Damsssy instead. Naroh Ssse, that meddling long-neck." Looking up, Syreni grinned brokenly, showing incisors that had somehow sharpened despite Damsy's body having not metamorphosed: an empty attempt at empathy. But then again she had never intended for it to be even half full. "Now don't feel bad if she fooled you. Ssshe wass powerful enough to lock me in here." Syreni tapped a thickened fingernail to her temple. "Gave Damsssy-girl a good life and all. Almost noble, wouldn't you say?

"I was always there, lissstening, though, waiting. That's how I know at least one of you remembered me. That curiosssity sshop on Nantoon. I had losst faith, but, now, that? That was enough to keep me going."

Suddenly, the nori gave complete way to pressure, filling exploding over the countertop.

"By the time ssshe got bitten on Atrissia, I had enough power to sssave her. As an act of good faith. For you."

Evidently both of him now.



**
Darth Metus

 

[Darth Metus]

The two souls watched.

The dark child, who called herself Syreni, recoiled at the truth. Initially, that is. She mused - understanding that each man had a vision for the woman standing before them. One had wanted a daughter. One had wanted a successor. The difference was as evident as night and day - and in truth, they had gotten what they wanted. Isley had received his miracle baby: a daughter when he and his spouse believed they could have none. And Metus? He received the key to immortality. A successor to ferry his will, might, and skill to the next generation.

They watched together as Syreni made short work of their lunch. Ingredients splattered. The Dark Father uttered but a single request.

"Let me speak to my daughter. Alone."

"Be mindful of the time."

The sable-skinned man inhaled a deep breath. Eyes lulled to a close for only a moment. Upon reopening, both burned - alive with the Dark Side. Darth Metus took a moment to flex his fingers. "I had almost forgotten..." He thought aloud. He then settled his eyes upon Syreni. Pausing as heat erupted upon the bridge of his nose. An angry fissure began to form, burning and tearing his flesh. Embers flew forth - he sucked his teeth.

"Syreni...I couldn't have chosen a better name." he said, placing both hands flat upon the counter. "My time is brief, so I will tell you true and plain. You were born of my design. My vision. That one pined for children when he thought he could have none. I longed for a successor - one to pass on everything."

His hands lifted from the counter and folded behind his back.

"Our struggle for control over this vessel led us here." he said, pointing to the fissure. "The more we struggled against one another, the closer to a final death we marched. That is the curse we bear. That is the curse you bear. You are not as mighty as I - so your struggle will not yet kill you. But as you grow, the turmoil within will rip you apart."

As she could plainly see.

Even when willing to allow him control, the disharmony was deadly.

"I tried to erase him. And succeeded once. The end result? I was diminished. Barely able to hold onto existence. There cannot be a Darth Metus without Isley Verd. So we adapted. Learn from this, oh child mine. So that your time on this world is not cut short."

Another fissure now ran down his neck. Darth Metus bared his fangs momentarily.

"Now then - my way is not one of giving. But I will make an exception this once. Tell me what you desire, my sweet child, and I will endeavor to make it so."

Damsy Callat​

 

[Damsy Callat]

"Now then - my way is not one of giving. But I will make an exception this once. Tell me what you desire, my sweet child, and I will endeavor to make it so."

Sickly sentimental for a Sith, but then again that was what she wanted: an offer, that was all. What's more, she'd keep it simple and straightforward. It wasn't that Syreni was not materialistic—she most certainly was—or she had simply gotten used to slumming it on the Coruscanti Underlevels. It was instead that despite her nature she retained a level of practicality.

The Sith triumvirate had long since fallen. The double-souled man before her was no longer Vicelord. His Mandalorian House was a non-starter. Any empire she could have hoped to inherit was broken beyond repair, leaving her only option to be a good old fashioned bootstrap. But she shuddered to think about pulling herself from the rotten factory rubble of the Reef, and she didn't want to show that kind of weakness, so she didn't think about it.

She still needed advice though, plan or not.

"Power," she said curly.

"I underssstand what you are sssaying, Father, so undersstand me now. Damsssy isss trying to fight her nature, the visssion in which you made her. In sso doing, sshe is trying to sssave others like her by bringing them asss closse to the Light as they can endure." That wasn't always close at all in the grand scheme of the Force, but they were making strides. Almost everyday. Sometimes back before forth again, but the net vectors forged ever ahead. Still, while progress seemed as slow as bedrock erosion to Damsy, it was a quick as kelp growth to her flipside.

And it hurt. Oh Bogan, how it hurt. Dehydration was still a very dangerous condition for the Siren, often caused by heat or exertion, but for the Alter all that was needed was a stray ray of heavenly Light.

Syreni straightened to wipe her hand off on her pants, then leaned over the counter. "What is a Sssithsspawn without the Darksside? Can I ssstop her?" She swallowed. "Can you?"



**
Darth Metus

 

[Darth Metus]

Darth Metus was silent.

When it came to matters of dire import, it was a good thing to carefully consider one's words. So it was that the Sith simply stroked his chin for a moment. His daughter's desire was as plain as day - but the circumstances surrounding it were loaded.

"There is a story - of a scorpion and a frog. The former needed to cross a river and asked the latter for a ride. The frog declined, saying it would be stung halfway and they would both drown. The scorpion convinced the frog that it was different - and so across the water they went."

"And halfway there, the scorpion stung the frog. Why? Because it was its nature."

He motions towards the dark child before his burning gaze. "The Light is the scorpion. So long as there is a 'great evil' to chase, the endeavors of your sibling will be loosely accepted. Tolerated. But when the great evil falls and the Jedi have nothing of Darkness to chase, their nature will emerge. They will hunt you. They will hunt her. They will hunt all like you. Such is their nature."

His warning hung in the air, but he continued.

"To your questions - what is a Sithspawn without the Darkness?" he chuckled slightly. "Power means relying on nothing, my child. If you are standing before a Ysalamir, you must still fight. What are you without the Dark? Whatever you choose to be. However strong you make yourself."

"Can I stop her? Easily. Can Isley stop you? Easily. But it is not our way to interfere in your lives to such degree. To do so would rob you of your path."

Finally, he took a step forward, ignoring the fresh fissure which erupted across his arms.

"You seek power? Then I will grant you a gift - the power that created you. Perfected. You can wield this might to create others like you. To create tools that can shatter reality. Or, if you so chose, to revert even the most far-gone Sithspawn into mere man. This power is called Alchemy, and it is the greatest art known to Sith."

"Will this suffice?

Damsy Callat​

 

[Damsy Callat]

Syreni didn't want their time to end, but she also wasn't going to push her luck, so she bowed her head. "Yesss, Father," she muttered. "Thank you, Father."



**
Darth Metus