Location: Jutrand
Wearing: XoXo
Tag:
Mercy
|
Hasuras Na-Gerra
(Direct Tags)
____________________________________________________
The wintry sovereign tried to disappear.
Why?
It wasn't her moment. Force willing…
It wouldn't be again anytime soon. For all the time she'd spent in the position of authority, commanding nations, she had never grown used to the feeling of
thousands of eyes lingering on her person. Only Echani knew the true power of sight…But that didn't mean others couldn't see beyond the distant and untouchable visage she provided. As much as she needed to know her people to predict their actions, they did not necessarily need to know her in return. She was not what many thought the Empress of the Sith ought to be. She had not the tenure of
Darth Carnifex
or
Darth Prazutis
nor the eldritch horror of
Darth Empyrean
—But she carried them. Their pride. Their ambition, their need for freedom in a galaxy where none were ever
truly free.
This was her decision, whether they liked it or not, whether they allowed it or not. There were so many that clawed, fought, and beat their way through the ranks that she saw rise and fall every day. That was not a struggle she could claim to know. Life had always been difficult, but power was not something she had ever struggled to obtain. She had watched for a decade as the good, relatively quiet wife, while her husband scrapped tooth and nail to take what he wanted.
Srina had assisted…But she had never felt that urgency. The alabaster-skinned woman had always found that the Force was there when she required it. That the Darkside answered, moved, exactly when and how she willed it. When the mystical failed…She relied on the practical. On herself. On the presence and history, the culture of being an Echani warrior before all else. It provided a place to stand tall…Even when the ground beneath her had been swept away.
She was…
Complete in her imperfection. That was why it became so easy to stand to the side, to let the focus shift, because it cost her nothing to do so. She wasn't sitting on their throne to prove herself or lord it over them—But because of them. For them. Not out of love or any dreamy notion that bordered on insanity, but because she was currently required. The flaxen-haired woman was a resource on the battlefield, and the government also required a prominent hand. A supply of knowledge, authority, and enough fear surrounding her name to make their collective enemies think twice...
Srina was not born to do it, not destined, nor anything close.
She was just…
There. A conqueror, a destroyer, a monster like all the rest, but with the ability to wield restraint when required. To think of more than blood and decay, of the work that would let the Sith surpass those who floundered and struggled for relevance.
Nothing more.
The assembled Sith didn't need to love her, let alone like her. She was not creative, well-spoken, or educated in political announcements or discussions. She spoke in her own way, with her own cadence, about what she knew to be true without thought for who might not think her investitures inventive enough.
For the moment…They all simply had to endure her.
Just as they would need to
endure her decisions for their Dark Councilors going forward, while the chosen were given very little choice. They had been called to both greatness and service in a public forum, and to act in opposition to that would gain little more than her wrath. It would destroy their individual power base before it ever began. She would speak with
Darth Caedes
,
Lirka Ka
, and
Quinn Varanin
at a later date…But for the moment?
It was done—Her word final.
The Empress was already attempting to drift toward the edges of the crowd when
Gerwald Lechner
continued the announcements in her stead. As promised, the Erinar Diamonds had not been wasted on the fanciful but on practical pursuits that benefited the Empire as a whole. Ships that could respond to their every need with a
thought were an asset to their military. It raised the success rate of the Sith she sent to war by at least eleven-point-two percent. It was a numerically sound offering, considering, math didn't lie.
This was a project easily approved.
Her eyes flickered over the Mandalorian guests who had most definitely taken note of the "trophies" some of her people, especially the Kainite, wore proudly. Her shoulders rose and fell in a less than delicate sigh at the offense that would likely be taken, especially, because unless she was mistaken it was entirely intended to be that way. Mandalorians didn't necessarily like being contracted to the Sith while Sith didn't like it either—But a contract, was a contract.
They were bound to the Empress. Not, to the Order. It was a small distinction to male but increasingly important given tensions that would no doubt rise. She had paid for their time in credit, ships, and honor that many would claim was undeserving. Her eyes flickered to
Aether Verd
from the area below the terrace in silent communication:
<<…Handle them.>>
And she would handle her own, for even if some were stronger than she, even they, knew better.
Srina planned to head back indoors, to the situation room, because as noted before—War never ended. This moment could have been sent by courier missive but it was time for the Sith to see themselves and what it was they bled and died for. To see beyond grandeur—To see faces.
She was stopped, abruptly, by a massive shadow.
The evening air breathed around her while the diminutive woman stopped to study the creature that blocked her path. Large, immovable, and carved from muscle in the same way others thought she was carved from stone. A mountain, indeed. Her head tipped upward, just enough to meet the interruption with the same boundless poise she afforded to all present at the gathering. Eyes of pure gold seemed to shift in shade, perhaps, a trick of the light.
"It was not."
The speech was anything but impressive. Her duty required her to fight and lead…Not to be a wordsmith. The smirking smile that Mercy offered was a bright, living thing, and it existed in complete contrast to the glacial expression the Empress wore. There was nothing inside, nothing warm, nothing but the woman the Sith Order required…Except that the casual mention of House Marr caused something in her jaw to tighten. It would have been imperceptible to most.
"I also...Don't believe I spoke the word unity."
The kiss of her lips twitched, distant, while keeping the topic inconsequential. It was true that she had chosen her words very carefully, considering, many Sith ran for hills at the word "unity" even when it was required of them. They could have their little squabbles…But in the end? They were all part of the same nation. They could either be part of the problem or part of the solution, and the quiet Echani had offered them a palatable way to swallow it. Unity could only ever be an illusion in this Empire…Only a trick of the light. "
But…It can be useful in small doses."
Her head inclined to the much taller woman, swan-like neck bending in greeting, while the short-haired occasional paramour to her daughter offered an introduction. She didn't bow nor require it of others, but her eyes never slipped low in subservience, maintaining presence and composure. Her weight shifted delicately from one foot to the other in a way that would have made a ballerina turn green with envy. There was no imitating that kind of control. One either had it…Or they did not.
"I know who you are."
Not a threat or a boost to the ego—Simply true.
There was not a soul that neared
Quinn Varanin
that she didn't
eventually find out about. Period. It was wise that this "Mercy" chose not to indulge in speaking of the Princess of Eshan because the elder Echani would not entertain discussion with one of her lovers, about her, at an event in which the young one had just been appointed Dark Councils. She should have been surprised that someone was already asking about the state of the Tsis-Kaar, but…She wasn't. It was a power vacuum.
Someone would try and fill it.
Before she could answer about the offer for a drink or, discussion, they were joined by a flame-haired Vahla who seemed more than familiar with Mercy. She knew of this one, too. How could she not after the debacle on Alvaria? The pale Echani seemed to neither note nor care that she was surrounded by people who dwarfed her in size, with both, very literally, looking down on her. Hearing Mercy referred to as Empress made her head tilt for a moment…Ah, yes.
"Empress in the Core…That's right. I've heard it spoken before, but I doubt the Faithless would agree."
The Galactic Empire was almost fanatic about their supposedly unstoppable Dark Lord, though Srina, couldn't care less. There was nothing in the Core that called to her unless the Dark Council wanted to push their way into the pearl of the galaxy. If it was the will of her people, so be it. Her head inclined to
Hasuras Na-Gerra
just as it had for
Mercy
, with the same timing, the same respectful air. Most of her ilk would be appalled to be approached this way…But she wasn't them. Not normal, by any means.
"He came back from the dead, once."
Her thoughts turned to
Darth Empyrean
as they often did…Solipsis wasn't the only Sith to return from the Mists Beyond. The comparison between the two couldn't have been more fiercely made than by glimpsing the profile they made. One was horrifying, a decaying wolfs jaw for a face, while the other looked to be in mint condition.
"I suspect that even if he was vented into the sun when the Death Star blew…We would see him again. Some cult, some sect, would have the means of resurrection within a fortnight."
Endless eyes turned back to Mercy with what might have been an apologetic tone were it not covered in such soft ice.
"As to your question…I do not drink.", while true, it wasn't an outright decline to converse. It would be impossible to ply her while her brain was addled with drink and spice because she stringently didn't touch either. She didn't like the way it dulled her senses. It made her a target, vulnerable, and she was none of those things. Not, ever.
"It seems that you know each other…."
Never rude, strangely enough, almost gentle…Considering how much blood could never be washed from her hands. Two things could be true at the same time. Monster and mother.
"Shall I take my leave?" 
Naniti
