Private Echoes: Plucking the Red String

[Sigrid Adair]

Enroute to Indupar
Aboard the Mecetti yacht 'Evening Star'

No matter how much she knew she could take care of herself, even if her ailing Lord Father knew it, let alone her esteemed progenitor, she was always given accompaniments. Legs crossed, an appropriately long skirt draping past her knees, and her head tilted against the splay of her fingers from an elbow on the chair's armrest, she read an update from Lady Pawla Arsec of Grindera and the goings-on with her duties, and errata of a more personal nature. Both daughters of Mecetti's houses, they had more or less grown up together when Pawla came, as many of the houses' youths did, to Mecetti for their formative years of mentorship, the girls' paths starting to diverge to a significant degree when they attended separate institutions for their higher learning; of those that called themselves friend to the Mecetti heiress, Pawla was more genuine than most, and a more interesting (and intelligent) conversationalist by far. All in all, the correspondence was plenty welcome, though the mild irritation she sought to distract herself from still made itself faintly apparent from the delicate knit of her brow, and the minute purse of her lips.

"I know that look," came the idle musing of Bostri, but given the years, it was obvious he would, "my lady."

No matter how much she was used to the ever-present company, no matter how much she adored and respected the man who was her shadow, she bristled against it. It had little to do with being alone - though solitude, when won, was never squandered - but everything to do with independence, with her own self-determination. Her desire to make decisions about her life's path. She felt terribly about the continuing condition of her Lord Father, and fretted some about the potential of loss, but... a not-insignificant part of her psyche dwelled on what his absence could mean for her, on both sides of the coin. She blinked, her fire-maned head tilting just enough upward to look through lashes at the not so young assassin and guard, a father to her in his own ways. Her full lips curled, barely, but pleasantly.

"The same dance as always, Bostri," she lowered the datapad, and lifted her head more, her perched arm falling into her lap, "but I am ever thankful that it has been you doing this expected, unending waltz with me. I couldn't have asked for a better shadow."

A sheen crossed his eyes, a warmth shaded into his expression at the honest praise. The ship intercom gave a soft buzz - the co-pilot informing of their impending drop out of hyperspace, the imminent event clearing the dregs of her seemingly futile mood at her eternal circumstance, due to the reason for the trip: an invitation from a more recent acquaintance, one Xander Blackmoore , where after her initial meeting of the royal, she left with none of the expected dullery she came with, and a whole host of musings and wonderings about that meeting, including tangents of why... but the Lord Emeritus didn't show his hand, and it was hard to say if there was anything to show. Branching off of this, a new interest in the records of her predecessors revealed hardly anything unexpected, yet more questions, and subsequent meetings through yet more of the same predictable high society events as the first one didn't shed any further light - she had to wonder if this invitation had anything to do with what must have been her increasingly apparent curiosity. Rising from her seat, 'pad in one hand, the other tucking her now somewhat loosened hair back into place, she quelled the wild blossoming of her thoughts with one or two long, slow breaths.

"Lovely as ever, my lady."

She blew out a light, bemused sigh.

"I will go freshen up, then," Sigrid's gaze skirted to the dozing form of one of Bostri's most recent acolytes, whose sleep had doubtless been stolen from him by anxiety over this trip. They almost always had nerves to deal with on their first assignments, and just as much burning desire to prove themselves, "and wake Amos. It's not often that an acolyte is party to a visit to a monarch - I wouldn't want him to miss it."

Even if they would not be accompanying her once she was within the King's protection, visits to other worlds were always a treat, with the expectation to carry themselves properly. Bostri tipped his head in acceptance of her direction, and with that, she whisked away to fix her hair and straighten herself out, speculating on what she might have to say in response to her friend after this....

--------------------------

Arrival - Indupar
Mid-Morning

The Evening Star settled, landing smooth in its assigned place at the separate private dock of the palace's primary occupant, with Sigrid and her traveling party awaiting the lowering of the ramp, in the same way as they had done countless times - a brief glance at Amos found the younger man tense while trying not to look it. A light nip at the inner edge of her bottom lip was all she need to temper her amusement at the acolyte; it wouldn't be kind to laugh, but he was going to make himself sore like that, and a sore-bodied acolyte was only so much less of a concern than one who simply didn't care. A knowing glance at Bostri, her eyes flicking to Amos, then back to Bostri, said enough. His voice came low, to assuage her concern.

"Don't worry yourself, my lady - he'll sort himself out in time."

Her lips pursed briefly, and a short nod prefaced the return of her attention to the now-lowering ramp. They always did, adapting to each increase in responsibility, one way or another, within reason.

"Well, then... I trust you will all try to enjoy yourselves, but we are all representatives of our house; I have faith you will uphold our expectations well."

That wasn't a statement, not that Bostri needed the words. No, he would be making sure of it when it came to the rest of them. The need for disciplinary action was rare, and that spoke considerably to Bostri's skill as a leader and mentor.

"Yes, my lady."

Their words in almost complete unison. She smiled, and began descending the ramp once it settled, her retinue falling in with her, to see her delivered into the care of another...

 

[Xander Blackmoore]

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Sigrid Adair

Someone had been digging into history that had been long forgotten by many. There seemed to be curiosity around people and events Xander had been connected to, intimately. It did not take him long to determine the source of the intrusions into his past, and the answer only served to amuse him. Sigrid Adair was quite the young woman that reminded him too much of his late wife Dangereuse Von Balis. There were certain traits and qualities which made the monarch quite fascinated with the young woman, enough so that he would indulge her curiosities.​

​

Maybe she would figure it out at some point, but the deeper the woman searched, the more information Xander would allow to be leaked. It was just enough to lead her to the ultimate conclusion that someone did not want her digging around, or someone might have known she was. Finally an invitation was sent for her to join him at the palace on Indupar. It had not been his ancestral home, that was on Ec Pand. The King had made many maneuvers, most of them bloody, to secure the throne which he occupied then, and even more to reclaim the seat now. He wondered if the truth would be off-putting to the redhead, but only time would bring the answer to that question.​

​

He had been finishing a cup of tea when the word came the yacht carrying his guest and her party had arrived. It seemed she would not be traveling alone, part of the Sith had wished she would have been even though he understood why she was not. A slight smirk pulled at his lips thinking about how young he had been when he killed his father and left home without anyone other than the woman that would become his master. The Kiffar had proven to be just what Xander needed to temper his youth, but the red monster he had befriended, and even loved pulled something else out in him that he did not know was there.​

​

Xander loved combat, and because of Kazrah he learned he loved to kill.​

​

A wave of his hand would indicate to his servants that the table needed to be cleared and a small brunch set out. He did not know how long it had been since his guests ate, and a good host would certainly provide refreshments of some kind. Perhaps he was also showing of a little bit, but the monarch knew there would be some expectations the young noble would have in regards to the hospitality shown to someone of her status. As a noble himself, it would be expected that Xander would know. What would be a surprise perhaps would be certain delicacies of Tapani origin would be found on the table.​

​

The sound of his steps were muffled by the engines as the ship landed at the agreed location. Xander wore a bright smile on his face as the woman came into view, and could not help but chuckle at the awkwardness of one of her party. He seemed young and still unpolished. There would have been a time Xander would have found it unacceptable, and insult, but Chiara Viren had too much influence on him as of late. Darth Vizios was less prominent in his character and nature than the young seer and king that was Xander Blackmoore.​

​

"My lady," Xander said as he bowed in greeting. "I hope your trip was uneventful. Might I entice you to indulge in a small brunch? You must need a moment to refresh and gather yourself before rushing into the reasons for which you were invited. Come," he motioned toward the palace, "and enjoy some of Indupar's fine hospitality before our trip to the archives."​

 

[Sigrid Adair]

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Xander Blackmoore

AT the bottom of the ramp, she stopped to answer his bow with a graceful curtsey, the flow and precision of the movement drilled into her when she was but a child, the realms of order and poise becoming greater in her life than the innocent tortures she and her twin would subject each other to, her being older, and lording that fact over him. Such behaviour that was stamped out, if not turned into something more refined, and clever.

"Your grace," she replied, coming to her full stature once again, folding her hands in front of her, "Yes, I do find myself a touch famished..." she turned her head in a brief aside to her traveling companions, hazel eyes in particular landing on the greying man ever at her heel, "...I will call when I have need of you."

Bostri tipped his head, "Yes, my lady," and motioned for Amos to follow as he stepped off, approached the wall, and vaulted over it, taking the shortest route to the street below, with Amos following suit a moment or two later. Then, turning her gaze to the King, she smiled with just a touch of warmth - they were alone, and this was when the best conversations occurred, away from many eyes, ears, and pretence. Sigrid moved towards him, skirt swishing with her paces, and once alongside him, looped a pale, bare arm through one of his own, resting her other hand alongside it on his forearm. She looked up into his face, the seven inches difference between them making this... necessary.

"I do hope you haven't been too bored without my company..." this wasn't to say she was full of herself, but far be it for her to hold her tongue and not tease, "...shall we, then?"

 

[Xander Blackmoore]

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Sigrid Adair

His lips curved into a smile as her traveling companions were dismissed. The action of the older man made Xander think they had been sent as protection. It was not wise of the woman to dismiss her guards so readily, not if she knew the kind of man the Sith whose arm she had taken was, or had been. Even this timeline knew of Darth Vizios the White Assassin. There had been a time where his name would have evoked fear on all those who had heard it. Now it seemed as though one could feel safe, alone, in his presence. It was daring, and yet insulting. Had he truly allowed his interest in a certain Jedi divert him so much?​

​

Since they were alone, he felt no need to hold back the chuckle which escaped from his lips at her querry.​

​

"Bored, without your company," a single brow raised as did the inflection of his voice, "As bored as you were without mine I would venture to say."​

​

Xander knew the art of this type of banter all too well. He had mastered it for the sake of his own purposes. There had been only one woman in his life which had not been charmed by his silver tongue.​

​

Kazrah.​

​

The red she devil was deeply missed and had been for some time. There was one altruistic truth which Xander could not escape. Despite the fact the two had been near opposites in anyway, the huntress had been the only woman to so wholly capture his heart and desire. Had she not disappeared his other infatuations and side fancies would have never been permitted to blossom. If she were to suddenly emerge from thin air, there would be no one who could stop him from returning to her.​

​

There was no telling the destruction and power they would have been capable of.​

​

Kazrah was not here, however, and Xander's current fascination was with the woman who now dangled off his arm. He led her to a room which he had just occupied, and as expected, the servants had managed a quick turnaround. Xander motioned with his hand as he offered for Sigrid to help herself to as much or as little as she desired. His arms would fall behind his back as he followed a short distance behind her. He remained close enough that the whisper of his next words would brush against her ear as he spoke them.​

​

"That was quite daring to send your protection away. Has Luc forgotten to tell you how dangerous I am?"​

 

[Sigrid Adair]

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Xander Blackmoore

Boredom wasn't something that fostered any cause for complaint in the gingered heiress; no, it was a welcome thing to ruminate, to let thoughts come and go, to let the mind wander... and she never truly found herself wanting for something to do, only to be confronted with the lack of anything. If anything, company was an enrichment to her days, not a rescue from them, such that when the man turned the suggestion back on her, Sigrid's expression became bemused, before her gaze turned forward, and they entered the room.

Glancing back at the royal to see his indication that she should help herself, she tipped her head in thanks, and turned back to the fare laid out on the long table, pacing slowly along its length, noting some familiar offerings amongst the new, fine fingers and their delicate touch plucking a bite-sized morsel of a savoury, glazed pastry for her first selection, along with a napkin. Giving it a sniff and finding the scent pleasant, Sigrid was just about to sample the pastry with her mouth when breath and words teased at her ear, the warmth and meaning at odds with one another. The pastry lowered, her expression going just a touch flat at being indirectly reminded of the invisible cage around her existence... despite the heat at her ear sharpening her awareness to a point, on the matter of just how close Xander really was. Heat that brought colour to her cheeks, but it did not fluster her. She swallowed gently after a moment, finding herself peculiarly dry of mouth.

"What, and insult my intelligence?"

She quarter-turned, sending her honeyed gaze back at the Sith, eyebrows lifting. She had been just as much protège, as charge, of her Shadow. Raised amongst power, and made not only to resist its influence on her mind, but to be keenly aware of its presence. Her gaze broke, and she lifted a spreading knife, blunt and unassuming, from a jar of mustard, and removed much of the excess on the edge of the jar, to add a thin layer to the pastry.

"The real question, your majesty," she began, spreading mustard on the morsel, "isn't whether you would betray my Lord Grandfather's trust," she paused glancing at Xander again, "but rather how much you trust me with this knife."

Sigrid let a scant moment hang, then slipped the knife back into the mustard and left it there, her gaze holding with an intensity, a weight that made lesser men distinctly uncomfortable at the supposed intimacy.

"Fortunately, I like your eyes right where they are..."

With that, the pastry disappeared, traces of crumb, glaze, and mustard cleared off fingertips, between lips, fingers not quite concealing the mild, cheeky bend of them, as she continued her slow trip along the table.

 

[Xander Blackmoore]

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Sigrid Adair

Their eyes met. Xander was ever aware of how close they were, even if the woman was not. Something about her made him certain she knew exactly how close they were. Everything about the moment was a reminder of Danger. She had long passed, not living beyond Xander's stasis, but through the woman in front of him, perhaps she did. The Sith nearly expected the knife to come to his throat as she made her idle threat. They both knew she would not dare to make an attempt on him without her protection, not so openly.​

​

A smirk pulled at Xander's mouth as he raised a finger to indicate that she had a point.​

​

"The knife is the least of my worries when it comes to you, my dear."​

​

His eyes took a moment to wash over her form and figure. Where he once did so to size her up, now he did so for an entirely different purpose. It was slow and methodical, obvious. Her cheeks matched the color of her hair, but yet she had kept her composure. Xander knew he had an effect on the woman, but the extent of how far it went was yet to be seen.​

​

He followed, plucking a single grape from its stem and popping it into his mouth as he did so. Once again his eyes dipped, taking her cadence and gait. One thing was more than apparent with the Sith. Lust was one of his many demons.​

​

"I would not change anything about the way you are arranged either. Tapani women have always had a certain... way... about them that has always been attractive to me."​

​

If banter was a game she wished to engage in, Sigrid would find a master in the nobleman. He closed the distance once more. The gap between them closed considerably. Once again he was close, this time too close for what propriety demanded.​

​

"You make one mistake, however. Never assume that I would do anything but act in my own best interest. You would not be the first thing I have stolen from him. At least this time he arranged the meeting."​

​

Xander let the words hang on the air. Perhaps it was enough to engage her curious mind. How much did she know about Dangereuse Von Balis? What did she truly know of the relationship between Xander and her esteemed patriarch? Darth Vizios gathered that she knew very little.​

​

"800 years would be a long time to carry a grudge, and even Luc does not have it in him to hate me for that long."​

 

[Sigrid Adair]

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Xander Blackmoore

The confirmation the he had worries about her at all caused Sigrid's lips to purse in consideration of the idea as she walked along with him trailing behind her, chasing her with his eyes - she knew the effect she had on men, and could swear she felt when eyes were pointedly upon her, even without the fact that she recognized his salacious, slow-paced gaze drinking of her body before she elected to continue her stroll; it was a thing that sustained the heat in her cheeks, when faced away from him again. Another note to file in her thoughts, on the matter of the royal in the room.

And oh, he was blunt. Lust in spades, with the bald-faced voicing of his thirst, bold enough to air it and not hide behind propriety; she supposed he was well versed enough in the management of his own burning to not manhandle her in one fell swoop, as if that lust had caused him to take leave of his senses, and yet, his boldness was further pressed, when the gap shrunk once more, the breadth tantamount to a single hair... but then there was that error. Again. And the suppression of a very new urge to strike him with an open palm. There wouldn't be room for it. She stiffened, whirling about to face him.

"And of mistakes, you've made a few." Scathing, incensed eyes of burning embers took in his full face from so very close; the air seemed abuzz, and it was from this distance that she became aware of the faint note of his scent, and its attached familiarity hearkening back to their first meeting, a memory that most certainly did nothing to drain the colour from her cheeks... but nevertheless: "I did not come here, your majesty, to be reminded at every turn that the gaze of man sees me as nothing but an object, a thing to be possessed and caged!"

In the next moment, one fine finger rose as if to prepare to accentuate an incoming point, but the remainder of his words gave pause to the sharp roll of her anger, not because they had any effect on the reason for it, no, but that they spoke to her enduring curiosity, and brought with them a worrying concern. Hesitation wormed its way in, her brow creasing, her anger stepping back, in check.

"If you are fool enough to think for one little moment..." her finger curled, "...that my progenitor would send anyone in his stead to express his anger..." a measure of pity worked into her face, a palm arising to slip into place with a delicate touch of fingers, first, upon the light roughness of his cheek, "...at so personal an offense..." her words became quiet, a near-whisper belied by the restrained anger, causing a faint tremor in her touch, even while her thumb stroked along the line of his jaw, "...then you are too blind to see the game that he may very well be playing, with the both of us as pawns."

She had her suspicions.

"His motives aren't clear," a thin sigh released from the minute part of her lips, her incensed feeling far from entirely deflated, her thoughts churning, eyes searching, "but whatever they are, a grudge it is not."

It didn't have the feel of one, in her mind. All that said, there was a gap in her knowledge when it came to the relationship between the man close enough to absorb her (in more than one manner of speaking...), and the ancestor himself, who, while on the one hand he had faith in her capabilities, on the other hand still sought to control the path of her life... but eight hundred years? Her eyes narrowed faintly. No, she would have known if he was by now, within moments, back in that ballroom, and that aside, he was far too handsome to have been sustained by the darkness for this long...

 

[Xander Blackmoore]

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Sigrid Adair

"You assume too much," Xander said with a coy grin. "Why would I desire to possess you as a thing. Dangereuse... you are too much like her for mer to make that mistake."​

​

The monarch wondered if she would recognize the name. This was not a game he would play with just anyone. Whatever it was Lucianus was up to, Xander had committed to seeing it though. Sigrid was either a pawn in the game, or she was something else entirely. Her words, or the bravado with which she spoke them, did nothing to back the man further from her.​

​

Her words whispered, breath crashing against his skin. Xander fought his more natural and baser instincts which were rather carnal in order to listen to what she was saying. The assessment made of her progenitor was accurate, more than she likely could know. He had known Luc well, and would know him better had it not been for the 800 years the force had taken from him. Then again, he would not have been here. Xander was not born to be over 800 years old.​

​

"He would face me himself, and it would be his knife in my heart, of that I have no doubt. I have known him for far too long to think he would send you to do what would only bring a smile to his face."​

​

He whispered, low. There was something in the tone of his voice which suggested he was amused with the bit of cat and mouse they were playing. Xander took one small intentional step forward. They were certainly far too close for comfort, and yet the Sith refused to touch the woman. His presence in her personal space was enough for him to make the statement he wished. There was something about her scent which reminded him of the woman she looked like as well. He would have to come clean soon enough, but there was one more observation to make before.​

​

"He is certainly playing us both for his own amusement. To what end is a mystery worth playing his game to discover is it not?"​

​

Xander finally stepped away.​

​

"If you are curious then you should follow me."​

 

[Sigrid Adair]

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Xander Blackmoore

Dangereuse... a name, a record that for her investigations only faded off to nothing. As if she hadn't died, so much as ceasing to exist. This was the portion of her thoughts that had the largest footprint out of what whirled about in her mind, a sketch that with drops of oil-paint hints began to gain colour: the implication that the man she had left herself alone with had known her, that he had stolen a thing, that he was eight hundred years out of his time. This all served to widen her eyes by a faint measure, though her realisation still begged for confirmation, but it was this man's further movement into the veil of her space, close enough that it became just a touch harder to breathe, her breath catching, that caused her hazel eyes to widen just that much more, her hand falling away from him, her vision full of the dark-toned anachronism who saw fit to do everything short of touching her on purpose.

"He is certainly playing us both for his own amusement."

It was arresting. It wasn't just blush on her fair cheeks, no - the room must have warmed several degrees, feeling his breath on her face, and the unwilled piquing of her body at the sheer proximity of him was something akin to fire. They hadn't even been this close dancing. It wasn't so much how close he got, she would later reflect, but rather, that it was him getting close in particular, and the manner in which he did. A thing that would would colour her cheeks over again when she would be alone, parsing the total sensation of these few moments in her thoughts. She swallowed, delicately, "Yes..." a word, breathed.

"To what end is a mystery worth playing his game to discover is it not?"

"...yes, it is," more bare, airy words as he stepped away, releasing her from the impact of his closeness, "your majesty."

And with words, she was implored to follow. After a scant moment or two, breaking her gaze away from him and regaining some modicum of composure, Sigrid looked to Xander again, and went with him, willingly, to sate what burned in her mind.

 

[Xander Blackmoore]

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Sigrid Adair

She would follow because she was cyurious, of that Xander had been certain. He wished he could say that she was not like other women her age, but for the moment, Xander had been able to play her need to know as well as any. The monarch had much practice in such things, and for all his words about her family member, Xander was playing at his own game as well.

It would not take them long to arrive where the Sith had been leading. A few steps down the main hall and off to the left only took them about ten minutes to traverse. The room was not an impressive size, nor was small. The studio had been the one place Xander felt connected to his past, the world which the force had stolen from him. An easel sat at the center with an older work that appeared to be in the middle of restoration. The image was unmistakable to him, however, Dangereuse... his lover.

The only question on Xander's mind was whether she would recognize her.

Another painting hung on the wall, one which saw Xander and Danger with Luc as well. There was much history depicted on the walls around them. How many of the scenes would the noblewoman recognize?

Xander said nothing as he walked through the doors. He simply picked up the pallet of paints and began to work on the areas which appeared to be weathered. The silence would allow Sigrid to come to her own natural conclusions, and perhaps even prompt her to put voice to them. If they were to be involved in anyway, then the girl needed to know some matter of the truth. Whether Xander would allow her to have it all at this juncture was yet to be seen.

"You like it, yes?"

His words finally came, but likely not with the words the woman had wished. For now this was all she would receive. Xander's game had only just gotten to the good parts.