Private Enjoy the Silence

[Drifter]

|| Lethe Meadows Lakehouse
|| Naboo
Dissero

There was no doubt about the amount of security Dissero would have set to protect his family and valuables at the Naboo lakehouse homestead. Dissero, after all, lived a lifetime with all manner of individuals who either desired to secure their most precious possessions in quality vaults or had been involved in a hustle involving rumored unbreakable vaults.

However, in the night's dark, a slight trip would signal the man that someone had managed to find themselves in his home. Not in the family room, not the solar, or even the cellar. No, it was his kitchen.

A dark figure in what appeared to be full armor was presently raiding his pantry, at least what could be discerned as such from the holo-video feed. The stranger held in one hand fancy, Aldaranian mustard, and appeared to be contemplating appropriating Chandrillian Black Forest ham's slices that were left.

One would muse that breaking into Lord Dissero's home would prompt the burglar to search for far more exciting and valuable commodities; the Alchemist was well known for creating rare crafts and a vast collection of artifacts and intricacies. However, in this case, it was merely exceptional and expensive ham.

 

[Dissero]

Ironically, the security about Dissero's home was not as high-tech as one might come to expect from one of the most paranoid men in the galaxy. There were no laser turrets, no rotating guard, no security droids. There were cameras and motion sensors and a security hub, and measures made to bolt up the house, but nothing quite as outlandish as what he'd implemented back at the Castle on Vassek's moon. The man had found a sense of peace and serenity here on Naboo, amidst his fabled retirement and surrounded by family. Sometimes the best security was a heightened sense of awareness and a lifelong losing battle with insomnia.

Though it wasn't necessarily insomnia where his family was concerned.

Dissero had been awake, pouring over notes in his study with only the golden glow of the desk lamp to keep him company. At some point earlier in the evening little Saelia, now only four years old, had awaken from a fitful dream. He'd left Verie to sleep and gone to whisk up the wee lamb from her nightmare. She was presently dozing on his chest when the first alert to movement on the grounds pinged on his chronowatch.

A ship had landed in the open meadow just north of the estate - far enough away not to wake them. Heavy brows skimmed upwards along his brow in concern as his eyes flickered between the security readings and the tiny child in his arms. A hundred, thousand possibilities raced through his head as an immediate sense of alarm overcame the man. He carefully leaned forward and turned off the desk lamp.

In the dark the man blinked, allowing his eyes to adjust, and turned the somber glow of oceanic blue towards the northern windows.

"Privacy shading," he rumbled and the smart home obliged by shuttering the windows with a black shader.

Ever so carefully he rose from his chair and quietly padded, barefoot, over to the couch on the side of the study where he deposited Saelia and tucked a blanket over her tiny form. Coming back to his desk he leaned to press a hidden switch that released a drawer containing several options for which to protect, maim, and kill should the need arise. Ever prepared, he grabbed the lightsaber hilt and clipped it to the waistband of his sweatpants, then took up a dagger in his other hand.

It had been some time since he'd had to kill and many years since he swore off such dark and sinister things. But for the safety of his loved ones he would welcome the taste of darkside corruption if needs be. His chrono chimed softly again, indicating the back sliding door had been opened. The intruder was in the house.

"Phase 2 lockdown," he murmured as he stepped out of the study, closing the door behind him. A moment later the sound of mechanical clicking filled the air as the manor shuttered itself. No one would sleep through that, but no one would be leaving their rooms either as all the doors locked and sealed. It was just him and the person who made the woeful decision to invite themselves into his home. They weren't going anywhere either.

"Da- ?" he could hear Saelia waking up in the study, turning away from the sound of her voice was infinitely more difficult than he ever thought it would be, but he pressed on down the hall in a silent stalk towards the sounds coming from the kitchen.

 

[Drifter]

The jar of fancy Aldaranian was shoved under an armpit; the package of cold, sliced Chandrilan Black Forest ham quickly plucked along with a half loaf of yesterday's sourdough bread. The only thoughts that percolated through the intruder's head was a midnight snack. The trace the hunter had been trailing brought him to Naboo, and while the odds were that he was more than likely to try and avoid confrontations, his stomach forced the hunter to do otherwise.

Breaking in was not easy. Lord Dissero may not have high-tech security, but triggering it too early would have ruined the plan. The intent was to slip in and out, perhaps, if things turned sideways, try to make a quick getaway. That plan went out of the proverbial window when mechanical clicking's rolling sound resonated throughout the manor. From underneath the polarized helm, the food raiding burglar's eyes went wide and an audible, if mechanized sounding, ["Feth!"] fell from his lips.

The hunter turned his helm to the left then right, fully aware of what this meant. It was about to become a very deadly game of hiding and seek. Shoving the bread and package of sliced meat under his other armpit, the man immediately crouched low, activating his helm's HUD for the lifeform scanner. It was a reasonably large manor, which meant he had to tread carefully. He had not meant harm, just wanted to pilfer some food, but his luck ran out as the Force was wont to do.

No lifeforms within proximity, but there was a heat signature several meters away from him. Tall, fit, rugged. Oh hell.

Stuck between the open pantry and the kitchen island, the hunter shimmied over towards the table, where another large, farm-style island lay. If he could find a way towards the courtyard.... maybe he might be able to getaway.

Maybe.

The stories of Lord Dissero's combat skills were never personally verified. The last thing the hunter wanted was to have this turn into a fight.

Was Chandralian Black Forest Ham worth it?

The growl in the hunter's stomach was loud enough to answer and to pinpoint him out.

 

[Dissero]

Lord Dissero had a storied upbringing of rigid mentorship under some of the galaxy's most infamous darksiders. A lifetime spent training under the watchful eye of the deadly Honoghran Assassins, the Noghri, only to then be sent to train with Sith Lords and Ladies of yore - sufficed to say, those stories the Drifter hadn't personally verified were well and true. Sahti kept him on his toes with regular sparring sessions when the kids napped. The noghri priestess-turned-caretaker may have been old, but damn could she still kill.

"Da..?" louder now from Saelia. The girl wasn't afraid of the dark, but she'd fallen asleep on his chest and woken up on the couch without him. At four years old, that was enough to make one confused and scared. Dissero's jaw went tense as he pursued the sounds in the house.

Now the lockdown had finished it had fallen deathly silent.

GrooooOOooowl.

There.

He moved, a shadow shifting faster than a blink, and suddenly the intruder found the man of the house looming over him, blue eyes heatedly burning in the darkness.

"You have three seconds..." Dissero snarled, but didn't finish the sentence. Had to leave that up to their imagination.

 

[Drifter]

It was low, but even without the enhanced audio, the hunter could pick up the call of a little girl. The 'da' made it reasonably clear who she was looking for - her father. It was a direct strike to the heart. Even if he should follow his original plan to leave, he needed to have to deal with a little kid's cries. The hunter had been through some questionable antics, but this was not one of them. He had his lines, even if they had begun to blur.

With an exasperated sigh, and after confirming that Lord Dissero had discovered his whereabouts in his kitchen, the hunter dropped and hung his head.

The sound of crackling butcher paper and a jar's plop to the floor resonated throughout the tensioned filled silence.

[ I'm here. ] came the dejected admission, unrecognizable through the voice modulator that made the voice resonate with a metallic reverberation. It would confirm the intruder's location, who sat on the floor with his pilfered rations.

Crossing his legs, the hunter figured that there was little else he could do since he was caught. So he took the package of sliced, Chandrillian Black Forest ham, set it on his lap.

The crackling of the paper would reveal it all. He was opening it.

[Not here to harm anyone.] followed the quiet, almost metallic assurance. How well Lord Dissero would take to it was up to the man. After all, someone had broken into his home and raided his pantry.

[Just this sandwich.]

Terrible joke. Really, the hunter knew he should just come clean, but it had been so long that it was like pulling teeth. The voice was there, whispering in the shell of his ear. The temptation to push the envelope, to get up and face the former Prince of Kuat, a Sith Lord trained and mastered under Ashin Varanin, the late Sith Empress. To fight him and find out for himself if the old man still had it in him. To best him would be a most succulent, sweet high.

As tempting as this ham.

The struggle was real, but he instead focused on a more primitive craving.

The ham.

 

[Dissero]

Something clattered to the floor. Di's eyes followed the progress of a jar rolling freely across the kitchen tile.

I'm here.

Dissero's jaw clenched at the sound of the mechanical voice and the reaction shivered dully through his body, ending at his fingertips around the handle of the blade. Brows furrowing, the man stepped silently forward around the end of the island until his eyes found the figure slumped on the floor.

Not here to harm anyone.

"Da!" Saelia yelled from the study. He could hear movement upstairs - Ve was awake and likely in the start of a fluttering panic. Would she remember the blaster clipped to the back side of the nightstand?

Just this sandwich.

...

What in the fething Red Nebula was going on here?

"Lights," Dissero grunted, wincing as the kitchen lights suddenly blazed on, searing the glow from his eyes. There was no smell to discern of the intruder other than typical spacer-smog. No familiar armor or insignia. The voice was diluted in electronic translation. By all means, he had no reason to drop his guard, so he didn't.

Snap-hiss. A white blade sizzled to life - the very same blade Lady Silencia had wielded to blaze an empire across the stars for over 700 years. The end hovered several inches before the mask.

"Who are you?" came the demand. He could question the sandwhich later.

 

[Drifter]

Okay, so there were several ways the hunter could approach this. Of course, he had all of a few seconds to decide - Dissero would not be patient with any intruder who broke into his home and might threaten his family. Fair. All fair.

Ughh, but desire to be snarky and sarcastic combined with the tempting urge to push buttons, made the hunter's internal struggle to keep his mouth shut hard.

The lightsaber's white glow cast its sphere of light across the fully armored man—no discernable markings, just standard scuffs and marks from previous battles before. He did not make any sudden movements, both gloved fingers holding onto the edges of the sliced ham's opened package.

The polarized visor rose, staring up at the former Sith Lord. The hum of that saber and the deadly intent within Dissero's eyes told the hunter that he had mere seconds to answer. Lest he wanted to part with a few appendages - or his head. With time ticking, the choice was made before the voice overtook and made the hunter do something he'd regret.

Yup, no other choice. He then gave another exasperated, but dejected sigh.

[ I had no other place to go...The trail faded around this sector...] the unrecognizable voice would breathe out, hesitating but for the briefest second before adding with a slight grimace, understanding the severity of its use. Yet it was the only way to convey that he really wasn't here to harm anyone. Mr. Black was not right. Other familiar titles were, well, likely require more explanations. This was enough. [ Merovign.]

A pause. Then he followed with, to fully quash any doubt. [ It's Draith.]

 

[Dissero]

Merovign.

The glaring grimace instantly dissipated off the man's face, replaced with sudden shock and a fraction of disbelief.

Who was this that knew that name?

It's Draith.

Dissero's brows lofted high over buldging eyes. He stared at the listless faceplate staring back up at him, lips thin and jaw strung like a bow.

"DA!" Saelia yelled, she was crying.
"Mero?!" Ve yelled from upstairs.

"Draith," he hissed at the man on the floor, the sizzle of the lightsaber blade wilting away, leaving behind only the lingering scent of burnt plasma to remind the intruder just how close he'd come to a swift end. The hilt and the dagger were set aside on the counter and two hands reached to take the man by the front of his robes, "what's wrong with you. Get up." Those two hands lifted him off the floor with such ease he might have only been a sack of potatoes.

It was clear that Dissero was heatedly perturbed. The man may have his jovial nature otherwise, but he was anything but rude. Placing Draith on his feet, he smacked the man upside his helmet for good measure, "Fudge!" This isn't the expletive you're looking for. Living with twin 4 year olds and an 8 year old, all of whom listen with rapt attention for new words to try out, had its limits.

"I can't believe you, do you know how close I just came to..." hands wrung in the air. Saelia was crying from the study, distraught as any four year old could be. Verie called for him again. What a mess. He growled, lifting his chrono to speak into it, "Safe Haven 6."

The gears of the lockdown began whirring in reverse.

"A simple call. One call Draith, that's all it takes and you avoid -" the man gestured wildly around him to the commotion, "all of this!"

 

[Verie Lacroix]

It wasn't Saelia's fits that woke Verie, though it did register, and had her husband not elected to go when he did, she was mentally preparing herself to emerge from her rest and find out. It wasn't Mero leaving the bed, though she felt that, too, along with a rush of gratitude and a resolution to do something awfully nice for him at the next available opportunity.

It was the lowering of the shades that woke her.

A single brown eye opened, peering out from beneath tresses of golden-brown hair. Yes, the shades were definitely coming down.

Then a lot more things happened. Verie reached into the Force, feeling the presence of her children, her husband -- alive, thank goodness -- but the alarm pouring of Saelia and Dissero made her heart race. She threw the blankets off her with great difficulty, having spent a good hour getting tangled in them, and scrambled across the still-warm bed where Mero's frame had been not long ago, knocking over the lamp in her haste to get the blaster from its hiding spot behind the nightstand. Pausing only to throw on her dressing gown over her flimsy pajamas, "Mero?!" she shouted as she emerged from the bedroom, holding the blaster pointing down, but ready to bring it to bear in a moment.

One of the girls was crying -- Saelia, she decided -- but despite her maternal instincts Verie needed to get to her husband first. "Mero?" she called again as she crept down the stairs. A moment later, the security lockdown began to lift, the mechanics of the smart house whirring in the effort. This, then, gave her a moment to check in on her daughter, who was wailing in the study. Verie flicked the safety on and tucked the blaster into the sash of her dressing gown, tied firmly around her midsection, and sat next to Saelia, gathering her up. "Are you hurt, darling? Just a bad dream? Oh, there, there. You're in your father's study, see?" She reached over and turned the lights onto full. "You're safe here. I'm going to see what's happened to your father. Wait here, dear one." She brushed the hair from Saelia's forehead and leaned in to kiss it softly before straightening and pulling the blanket over her.

The door shut behind her, she followed the muted sound of interactions to the kitchen, blaster once again in-hand and armed. She pointed the blaster over her husband's shoulder at the intruder in a firm, two-handed grip. "What in the hell is going on in here?" she demanded.

 

[Drifter]

He had to give it to the old man; he was fast! The abrupt lift off the ground by his armor's collar drew a, [ Whoa! ] in surprise, followed by the startled attempts of trying to catch the package of Chandralian Black Forest ham from falling to the floor. A most comical juggle act ensued to save the expensive sliced specialty meat.

[No, no no no -- OW!] the sudden smack right at the back of his helm distracted the typically deft hunter, grimacing more due to the clap at the back of his head than any real pain itself. One that turned into a beam of success as the hunter barely managed to grab hold of the package within his grasp, only a few slices of meat squished for his efforts.

[Saved it!] The pride in the unrecognizable voice-modulator was apparent even if it hid its owner's identity. Of course, Dissero was not going to let the small victory last long.

There was a notable amount of shame that the hunter felt hearing the exasperation in Dissero's voice and in his expression. He began to shift his weight from right foot to the left, feeling all of ten years old again and about to get in trouble for his antics. The way the little girl cried out for her father was enough to stab another stake of guilt through him.

Okay, so calling would have been good instead of sneaking...

[ Sorry. Well...] He began, the free hand coming up to rub his helm's back, [ What happened is...] Even with the helm, he had enough sense to give Dissero a sheepish appearance.

Where to begin?

Did it really matter? Was it Dissero's business? You can come and go as you please.

Ah, the voice. Lips tightened, and the hunter did his best to try and explain the situation. However, his stomach chose that moment to give a loud, reverberating rumble of hunger.

Yet before he could even follow up, Dissero's wife Verie Lacroix, came blazing into the room with a blaster in tow, aimed up and high ready as any momma bear protecting her cub.

Immediately, the hunter's hands came up, palm out. Sadly, the splat of the package of ham told a sad tale of one participant's demise.

[Whoa, whoa -- hey, no need to shoot! ] the voice-modulated cry went echoing out. Then, after an awkward pause, he rocked forward on his boots and said sheepishly, [ Hi. Sorry to wake everyone up...??]

Oh, this was not good...

 

[Dissero]

"Harry," Dissero intoned to the blaster just off his shoulder, "what the Harry is going on in here."

It was a game they played, catching one another's slip-ups. Gabe had picked up on swear words nigh instantly and it was all downhill after that. Two years to get the boy to stop calling people schutta after Dissero accidentally dropped a very heavy desk on his foot while moving things around in the study. Force, where was Saelia? Out of ear shot, hopefully.

Splat.

Di's gaze glanced down to the ham on the floor. The corner of his mouth twitched - he'd been meaning to eat that for lunch tomorrow. A sigh growled from his chest, "It's okay, Ve," he bent to pick up the lost lunch meat but made no effort to ask for his wife to lower her weapon, "it's Draith." He leaned next to pick up the jar of mustard.

"Sit down and for Oma's sake take your helmet off. If Magda sees that thing she'll have nightmares for weeks."

Depositing the meat in the wastebin he moved to fridge, pulled it open and peered inside it with a grunt. Another butcher pack pulled free, he tossed it onto the counter in front of the man then moved to Ve's side and gently took her shoulders with a firm, massaging squeeze, "You want some tea?" he murmured to her before planting a kiss on the side of her head. Part of him wanted to apologize to her for rousing her in such a state, but the other part of him knew it wasn't his fault. Dissero wiped a hand down his face, internally willing his heart to stop racing before looking at their guest, "What's going on? You know you're welcome here any time but why in Varanin's name like this?"

 

[Verie Lacroix]

"I am holding a weapon," Verie reminded her husband. The adrenaline was starting to recede, leaving fatigue in its wake.

When the identity of the intruder had been explained, she lowered the weapon and turned on the safety again. "Hasn't anyone in your family ever heard of a doorbell? A comlink? A postcard, perhaps?" she asked waspishly. She leaned against the fridge and crossed her arms. It's Draith wasn't much of an explanation, but it was enough that the intruder wasn't about to be buried in the back garden. When Mero offered her tea, she said, "Decaf, please. I'm going to put Saelia back to bed."

She padded out of the room and went back to the study, where she scooped up the four-year-old girl who was either sleeping or doing a decent facsimile of it. In a few moments she had deposited her back in her room, checked on the other two, and gone into the bedroom to put the blaster back in its place and to change into something more modest than her pajamas. A few minutes had passed by the time she re-entered the kitchen in a dark blue turtleneck, black leggings and athletic shoes. She was up now, more's the pity.

"Well?" she said, though it wasn't clear if she was asking after her tea or for a full explanation or both. Boy was Verie a grumpy Gus when her beauty rest was interrupted.

 

[Drifter]

Yup, the man couldn't shake the feeling of being ten years old in front of his parents after getting caught being in trouble. Under helm, the hunter gave a wince and a grimace, guilt weighing heavily upon his shoulders. The rocking back and forth motion of his heels did not stop, an indication of a nervous twitch the main retained throughout the years since childhood.

[ Well... yeah, okay, calling ahead would have been better...] He began, shifting his weight nervously. At Dissero's bark to remove his helm, the hunter didn't hesitate, jerking up ramrod straight as if it were his own parents. He well aware which side his bread was buttered at the present time.

[Oh, right! Yeah!] he quickly complied, gloved fingers coming up to unlatch the bindings swiftly along his neck. A small hiss at the breaking of the seal and Draith shook his head, tugging the helm up and free. A tangled mop of shaggy dark brown hair in need of a haircut and a swarthy face in need of a shave revealed itself. He'd lost weight, the sharp angles of his features more pronounced, his orange eyes sunken within twin dark under eyes. He looked as if he'd battled a trash compactor for a few rounds and lost, then decided to take a few deathsticks to ease the pain.

Maybe keeping the helm on would have been the better option?

"Sorry... really didn't mean to cause a commotion." He attempted to apologize again, watching the alarm rescind, and the fatigue grow upon Verie's features. Another stab of guilt.

While he was prone to making some decisions that seemed to lack common sense, the voice made things complicated, and his desire to keep himself under wraps meant he was making more questionable decisions lately. He'd been playing an adult game of running away to keep the prodding questions at bay. It finally caught up to him.

There was visible relief etched upon his face when he determined he wasn't going to get an extra few holes in his hide from Verie Lacroix. The jab at propriety made Draith visibly grimace. Yes, he had. Yes, odds were if this situation reached particular ears, he would get another scolding.

"I -- well." Where to begin? There was too much really to go over in an hour, much less a night. He brought his hand up, fingers running through the damp strands to push them away from his eyes. The act revealed the pockmarks and burn scars along the left side of his face. They cut across from the temple, upper cheek, down along his jaw, and further still along his neck to the collar of his armored chest piece. A testament of an injury Dissero hadn't seen before.

Verie took that moment to depart, leaving him alone with Dissero. A draw of a chair and Draith sat himself down, helm sat on the kitchen island counter. A grumble of his stomach drew his attention back to the fresh packet of cold cuts. An exhausted sigh fell from his lips, his palm coming up to rub at his face. It took a minute or two to rev himself up to explaining the situation. He'd been running away so long from it that it was difficult to place into words.

Not to mention, the voice wasn't too happy about the situation.

"S-oo, got into some hot water. Someone died. Someone close. Ended up blown up, without an arm, and in a coma for several months. Woke up, and things were different. Too different." there was a haunting echo in his expression, the muscle in his jaw twitching. He was still trying to figure out what happened and where that placed him now. Footsteps along with the query alerted him that Verie had returned, a bit more refreshed and equally deserving of answers to questions Draith was still trying to figure out himself.

"You know how they are," Draith didn't have to name them, Dissero would know. "They mean well, but can be suffocating. I had to leave."

His attention was on the bag of sliced meat, carefully opening the protective packaging. It was easy to see; it was equally to keep his hands busy as it was to sate his hunger. Here came the admission that made him grimace to finally admit it out loud, "I didn't leave alone, though."

 

[Dissero]

"Decaf, please. I'm going to put Saelia back to bed."

"Yes, dear."

There was no dancing around this particular mood of his wife. Dissero knew where the safe-lane existed and he intended to stay within the lines until the first cup of tea was finished. He set about the job once she left to take care of Saelia and gave Draith his ear as he did so. Memories of numerous comm discussions flooded back to him as the man recounted in utterly vague details the incident that had put him out of commission for an extended period of time. Naturally the family had been very worried, but the family also had access to the best medical and Force aid you could find - the only thing left for them to do was to wait until things either got better or worse.

Luckily it had gone the way of the former. Dissero wasn't sure if he could take one more death in the family; his sister, her husband, his mother - that had been more than enough. He said nothing as he set the water kettle to boil and uncapped the jar of decaf chamomile tea leaves, scooping them into a diffuser and setting it aside. There was a proper way to making tea in this house and it was the way of the Noghri. Boil first, bring to simmer, set tea ingredients in the water, slowly bring to boil again, serve piping hot with a spoonful of ankarres honey.

He added that last part himself - really helped to calm the womanly wiles once they were all riled up.

Water coming to a boil now, he turned down the stove for the simmer and took up the diffuser in one hand to have it at the ready. Shifting to face Draith while he worked at making the galaxy's most depressing sandwich, the older man could offer only a nod. He tried not to think about the incident too much because it inevitably lead him back to thinking about his sister. The swell of grief still stung as painful today as it had the day she died on Kuat. Dissero cleared his throat to clear any inklings of it from physically manifesting and focused on the arrival of Verie.

"Almost ready for you," he murmured about the tea, checking the state of the water, dropping in the basket, and turning it back to boil.

At Draith's remark of getting away he nodded, wanting to comment on the familiarity of it all. The man was a lot like him in more than a few ways and he couldn't help but think if that was maybe somewhat his fault to begin with. Perhaps he shouldn't have taken him on those adventures when he was younger, or let him roam so freely about his collections and archives.

"It's not-"

"I didn't leave alone, though."

"I'm sorry," Dissero gave a fluttering blink of confusion, "what?"

 

[Verie Lacroix]

Verie hesitated in the doorway to the kitchen. The stranger -- Draith, apparently -- had removed his helmet now. Verie tried to determine whether she had ever seen him before, in person or in photos, but though she searched her memory she couldn't decide. She avoided his gaze, unwilling to show the hardness she was sure was there for the sake of her husband's family. Nevermind that someone had done a B&E on their home, it wouldn't do to be inhospitable.

Help yourself to some ham, Verie thought ironically as she came to stand next to her husband. She put a hand on his shoulder and leaned against him as he finished preparing her tea. What a man. I really shouldn't torture him about this... much. Heaven knows the only reason my family doesn't batter the doors down is because they're all dead. I wouldn't have thought that would stop mother, but... touch wood. She placed a finger on the wooden cutting board on the counter and smirked to herself.

The smirk died away at I didn't leave alone, though.

She looked up at her husband first, then over to Draith. "Is there someone else with you? Here?" She craned her neck to look towards the pantry door, as if an accomplice -- no, Verie, a fellow guest -- was rummaging through her cookie jar just on the other side of the thin wall between pantry and kitchen.

Drifter | Dissero​

 

[Drifter]

At Verie Lacroix 's reaction, Draith couldn't help but give a polite, subtle snort in amusement that didn't quite reach his eyes. He sent an outstretched hand for the half loaf of bread, bringing it closer to place it beside him.

"Haha, not quite," Draith admitted with satiric connotations, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards at the way she scrutinized the pantry as if expecting someone else to pop out with a jar in tow. A second later, he gave another grimace and paused the construction of his sandwich. The voice again. Ever lurking, ever commenting.

You are no longer bound to the confines of your family. Is it foolishness that drifts around you like an enigmatic aura?

Draith brought two fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose as if suddenly overcome with a headache. For Dissero and Verie, both sensitive to the Force, there seemed to be a growing restlessness radiating from the man. It seemed to slither just beyond detection, but for Dissero, with some eerie familiarity.

The pair would observe the man bowing his head for a moment as if trying to gather his bearings. A muscle would twitch along his jaw, and he swallowed hard as if struggling with some sort of ache. In reality, the voice was doing his best to provoke the hunter into saying and doing things to escalate matters.

Like commenting on how Verie's passion was an attractive quality as was the grace with which she wielded that blaster earlier.

"I'm the only raider of your pantry," Draith finally added, voice edged in the strain as the hand fell away to reveal his forced, haggard grin.

Turning towards Dissero, those twin orange eyes seemed edged with a cold, silver-green -- seemingly observant, analytical.

"Cameron is just along for the ride." he finally admitted, bringing a forefinger to tap lightly at his temple. The implication likely lost to any other observers. Yet for Dissero, pieces of the puzzle would start to fall into place. His questionable actions. His appearance. The way Draith's Force presence seemed distorted, off. Equally familiar as it was unfamiliar as if layered with broken shards, each with a different facet etched in light and dark. Something dead but not quite.

Within Draith's head, that voice permitted a subtle chuckle.

Death is not a destination...not truly. You will come to realize that you can experience much in death, Draith...perhaps even more than you can in life.

 

[Dissero]

If he'd been working on a drink himself he might've spat it out at that last line. Shoot, he didn't even have anything in his hands to fumble or drop. Instead the man's eyes bugged, brows shot up into his hairline, and he stared for several long moments.

"Cameron? As in Cameron-Cameron? My late brother-in-law?"

The tall, dark, brooding Sith Lord who had fallen in love with his seraphic sister. Who had mourned her death with grievous pain. Who'd charged a blazing path across the stars for as long as his own mother, and died quite suddenly in the same explosion that had taken his guest's arm. Dissero's expression slowly shifted from one of bewilderment to something of deep concern. He glanced to his wife, thoughts lingering back on their reunion those many years ago where his own mind and body had been overcome by the presence of Jedi Master Brom Burnside.

The misuse of the Traveler's Locket had been a powerful lesson and he'd promised her the day they'd managed to break him free of the Jedi's hold that he'd never use it again.

"Draith ... are you certain?"

The implications of any piece of Cameron Centurion latching on to him was not good news. The kettle began to scream, causing him to startled slightly, and he turned with a quick jerking motion to pull it off the heat and pour Verie a cup. Now where was that honey...

 

[Verie Lacroix]

Verie relaxed, but only just a little, when she was reassured that Draith was the only one there. She still went into the pantry -- not to verify that he was telling the truth, but to get the container of shortbread cookies that were calling her name. They paired nicely with the tea. Plus there was something about being up in the middle of the night due to an intruder in one's home that simply demanded carbohydrates. She took a dry plate from the drying rack by the sink and set it on the counter, then opened the container and shook a pair of shortbread sticks onto the plate.

A moment passed. She looked down at the cookies. They looked back at her.

She shook again until there were half a dozen cookies on the plate, then offered the container to Dissero . "You want?" she asked simply.

When the disposition of the cookies had been settled, and the container returned to the pantry, Verie returned to the kitchen proper. The revelation didn't shock Verie as much as it appeared to surprise her husband; Verie was aware of the limitless potential for members of Mero's family to get into trouble and usually it was trouble with a capital T involving mystical artifacts, spirits, and the like. Rather, something like dread settled over her as she listened to the conversation. It reminded her of Dissero's struggles. It was a dark memory to stir, especially in the middle of the night.

"All right," Verie said. She wasn't sure it was her place; she felt a little like an outsider here, a realization that rankled her a little given that she was in her own home. "But how?" Dissero's struggles had been associated with the use of a powerful artifact, and while she wasn't aware that another existed, it would surprise her not at all to discover that there were others out there.

Drifter​

 

[Drifter]

Dissero Verie Lacroix


Are you certain?

The words were like a mockery that only served to elicit a rather cold bark of laughter from Draith.

"Oh, trust me - Quite sure," he indicated, gracing them with another grimace as he drew a hunting knife from a sheath at his waist. It wasn't one Dissero would recognize; in fact, what would perhaps be a little more strange was that nothing the man wore was familiar. In his youth, the man would follow Dissero and scour his library, finding methods to forge materials that would become his weapons and armor. What Draith wore today was but a durasteel suit that could be bought from any armor shop.

Words would drift, knocking on the man's head as he took the bread to try and slice it. Memories came to him. An echo of spending time here with Dissero and Verie. Not him. But Lord Ashmedai.

Why? Can't we just drop in on good friends on a random morning?

I feel like having home-cooked meals on a regular basis might be better than any adventure among the stars.​

Another rub of his hand across his haggard face, feeling the thick bristle along his jaw. "Yeah, he's here. My weapons, armor, anything I've ever made before doesn't recognize me...Too dark" a pause, "no pun intended," The irony of crafting items to recognize only light siders. All that resulted in that endeavor were burns. It was a struggle enough already trying to deal with the Darkside tendencies as it was to try and detangle, which were his own thoughts and which were Cameron's.

Where were we again? Oh, right. Verie's question. How?

Turning towards Dissero and Verie, he shook his head, stating, "It is all still fuzzy, but I remember this. I remember it vividly." It was going to sound impossible, but by all accounts, Draith's expression was utterly genuine. This was important.

"Back at the FIS Kuragin. I was on a stupid mission to try and hijack it. He was there to stop me." A small chuckle of guilt-laden humor managed to slip as if Draith still wasn't quite sure how to come to terms with it. "I decided I rather have him home. He'd been gone for so long after..." her death. There was no need to go further with that. Cameron had taken Esme's death hard. They all had. So all Draith wanted was for Cameron to come home. To grieve together.

Why didn't you come home?

You have forgotten your training...Death is a part of life. Use it to move forward, dwelling on it does no good to anyone.

Death may be part of life but so is grief.​

What resulted was something Draith would never expect. Seeing her again.

I am here.​

"But, we saw her." A hand drew up as if to gesture the figure of a woman in front of him. She'd been so close. Her mere presence had struck both men into a cacophony of shock, grief, and bewilderment, breaking the fight. "We heard her. I felt her through my amulet." As if she were alive, that Force tracking trinket humming with energy. Logically, it wouldn't make sense. Esme was dead. Yet, both Cameron and Draith had seen her -- and the end result of the anguish of seeing her depart culminated into the disaster that followed.

"Then she disappeared and everything went to shit."

 

[Dissero]

A bit of Ankarres Honey stirred into the tea, cookies set on the table, Dissero pulled a stool over to his side of the island and took a seat, contemplating the idea of tea for himself. The cookies were left to Ve, he never having much of a sweet tooth excepting in the case where his wife could be considered sweet. Instead the man turned his attention to the youth in his kitchen and it struck him in that moment that Draith was much less of a youth than he thought.

What he always remembered as a vibrant, inquisitive boy now hunched before him looking all the galaxy much like he had about ten years ago, before he'd begun the journey to rectify all the dark choices of his life. As he listened, Dissero came to the conclusion that the Shamalain line seemed destined to share these passages of darkness in their lives. His mother, Desdemona, himself, Amorella, Rune, now Draith. It made him concerned for the future of his children. Could they possibly escape the fate of their dark-blooded ancestors?

A hand lifted to his wife's back, gently passing down and up the length of it in an idle motion of comfort. Reassurance. Possibly as much for himself as it was for her. Verie had a way of handling dreadful news.

The man sank into a deep mulling as Draith's story unfolded. How similar the young man's path was to his own; leading to consequences he understood on a deep, intimate level. He could help him with this, he might even be able to cure him of his attachment and if not him, than Ereza or Desdemona could certainly do the job. The thought of calling on Des to do the deed made him internally cringe. Her relations with the sith Ashmedai preceding his marriage to Amore were illicit. Perhaps not what one would call overtly friendly. The two had seemed attracted to one anothers lack of fear if nothing else. But perhaps her status as the new Matriarch and her duty to the family would win out.

Couldn't just leave Cameron stuck inside Draith's mind - much as Dissero and Cameron had gotten on, he wouldn't wish that fate on anyone.

And then he mentioned her.

Dissero blinked out of his musings, a sharp glint cast in his blue eyes as he set a level stare on their welcome intruder, "What do you mean you saw her? What exactly did you see?"