“As you wish it.”
Feathery soft words, chilled, and concise brought an immediate acquiescence to the will of the Vicelord. She had no want to make already difficult proceedings more problematic by challenging the rules imposed by their host, however, it seemed that her worries were misplaced. Security watched with sharpness but Srina felt no immediate threat to her person. Nor his. The warmth of his smile was in direct contrast to the fluctuating moods that seemed to be
feeding an aura of hostility.
“…This feels…”
The white-clad woman did not have the appropriate word for the tension that made the air thick as smog. Srina was acclaimed when it came to combat and tactical decisions but navigating a room full of zealots and individuals that seemed
designed to loathe and distrust one another? It wasn’t exactly a skill set that was readily available in her wheelhouse.
“Volatile.”
Dangerous. Broken,
already.
“
Asaraa Vaashe
should be finished making her rounds shortly. She will keep an eye on the Magnaguard to ensure their compliance while we enter the hall.”, Srina provided lightly, though, without any further elaboration. Due to the cagey behavior of some of the more reticent individuals, the Confederacy had thoughtfully chosen their security. Droids hold no loyalty; save to those they are programmed. For organic personnel? The pale-skinned Exarch had chosen one of many Jedi that lived within the Southern Systems. Right or wrong she believed that one less practitioner of the Dark Side might ease tensions. At the very least, it couldn’t hurt.
<<Inform me when you are nearby Knight Vaashe.>>
That was the only conscious thought that she could provide to the pink-haired force-sensitive before the assembled parties began to explode with vitriol and rhetoric. This was the same breakdown that the Confederacy had experienced while trying to bring the Sith Empire and the Silver Jedi together to face the Bryn’adûl not so long ago. Both nations had suffered extreme losses, though still, religious ideals kept them at odds. There were more faces involved but it was still very much the same.
Srina knew that the sarcastic blunt edge that
Darth Empyrean
seemed to favor would appear. It was only a matter of time. Only, she hadn’t expected it this soon. Her hand moved and brushed the golden ring on her index finger in an invisible pull. She would never influence his decisions.
Could not. Even if she wanted to. He was not the Slave to the Sith Empire as he had once been—And he certainly wasn’t held in bondage by her presence.
Still.
This was not productive.
If the Light would turn their backs so swiftly? If the Imperials would not stay and at least listen?
What was the point?
She could feel her Master reigning in some of his thoughts in regards to the representative of the Sith Eternal and again she reached for his arm. Darth Metus never forgot they were bound—He knew she would see it. Feel the protective sphere he wished for her.
“…It cannot go on like this, Isley.”
His given name was something she usually only spoke when they were alone.
In confidence. In this busy meeting full of blaring, nigh howling adolescents, it would likely be missed entirely. The Confederacy had done its best to remain on peaceable terms. It wasn’t a perfect system but they had abstained from the battle between the Light and Dark long ago. The Force was a tool.
Pure and
simple. It should be treated as such and not some doctrine to invite
madness. Hate on both sides of the spectrum was still hate.
The Exarch did not want to be breathing the same air as the Empress of the Eternal Empire but even she seemed to have more sense, though only slightly, than the rest of the room. Srina could stow her hate for the nation responsible for the death of her unborn child, and so much more, but these people, these bastions of safety, and security for their people—Couldn’t be bothered to take a breath?
Were these not supposed to be the civilized?
The righteous? The pure and hardworking individuals that represented all that was
GOOD in the galaxy?
Srina had expected more. For all of their claims of sense and morality, she had expected
better.
For some foolish reason, that she now felt ashamed for, she had expected
ALL of them to act with the responsibility and dignity that went hand in hand with the roles their people trusted them with. Perhaps as the second to her Master, it was not her place to speak. She would accept any punishment he felt worthy—But how could she sit idle?
“Enough. Do you not see yourselves baiting one another while simultaneously chasing the same hook?”
There were so many things she wished to refute—Because they were entirely untrue. The Confederacy did not tolerate slavery, period, and they sure as hell didn’t perform mass rituals for their own power base. The Vicelord was an
elected official and regardless of the spread of their territory each system, unless uninhabited, was given the choice to join the nation or abstain. There was no yoke. No agenda for some unattainable Sith Throne that would undoubtedly be their undoing. Their crime, perhaps, had been to close their borders years ago in the wake of unchecked terrorism in their capital. That had changed. They were here,
now.
Silver eyes fixated on the back of the Grandmaster of the Silver Jedi Concord.
Had they not recently extended a hand in friendship that had been accepted?
And yet—Placing any amount of faith in a Sith, in her open, plain words,
was too much?
“You all have a choice. If the Bryn’adûl and the Maw have failed to inspire any level of concern in your hearts, perhaps, the echo of death in the Force does not ring loud enough. Perhaps you have yet to walk upon a world that has been torn asunder and terraformed so that it can no longer support human life. No nation present can claim that their hands are perfectly clean. The enemies we face will destroy us equally if given the chance. Sith, Jedi, Imperial, it matters not. There is us—And them. None in this room need to like one another. Hate, if you must. But we all arrived at the behest of the Chancellor of the Galatic Alliance for a reason.
We should at least listen to what she has to say. When will we stop placing our morals, our ego, over the lives of billions?”
Ego. It was a harsh term, yet, from her perspective, it rang
painfully true. Srina could stand before this forum and openly admit that her nation was far from perfect. She could sit plainly and point out the times that the Jedi had killed openly. She could say the same for the Sith Empire, for whom, she held little affection. Life was life.
The only option left if the Bryn’adûl and Maw were left unchecked while
they fought each other was death. It might not happen today or tomorrow, but the Bryn swelled with every attack, even when they lost. The Maw were a growing threat just above the borders of the Alliance.
Was that the fate they had consigned their people to? Was this the galaxy they had reopened their borders for?