Junction Feast of Iron and Flame || SO/ME Junction of Omwat & Malachor V

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Darth Strosius //:

Quinn raised a brow, she could feel that someone... somewhere was talking about her. Casually, she let her gaze wander the small gathering. One person, one fangless excuse of a Sangnir stood with a small gaggle.

As if her night could get any worse.

Darth Strosius himself was skulking in places he didn't belong.

Ew.

 

[Irina Jesart]

Tags: Aerik Lechner​

Irina cast him a sidelong glance at his words about not wanting her to go, something swelling in her chest. There were times when she wondered if things could have gone differently, but no matter how she played it out in her head, the result would have been the same. She still would have burned every one of them.

While he believed she hadn't changed, Irina wasn't yet sure about him. He was restrained, that much she could tell, though that probably had a lot to do with where they were rather than who he had become. Maybe, if they could escape the eyes of their Master's, he might relax.

When he asked for more, she obliged without hesitation, noting the way his shoulders relaxed just a little more. Again she reached for the fire and again it twisted and bent at her command, forming a wolf that ran in a great loop over their heads.

“A wolf never runs alone.” She said softly, adding two more.

 

[Aerik Lechner]

WEARING: xxx | TAG: Irina Jesart | OPEN
​

The fire rose again at her call, taking the shape of a wolf that moved across the sky with easy confidence. Aerik watched it with a small lift of his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth tugging upward before he could stop it. He had seen her angry. He had seen her focused. Seeing her playful again, even for a moment, caught him off guard.

When she added two more, the air warmed around them, the light brushing across her face. Aerik felt his shoulders loosen the same way they had earlier, an involuntary easing that came when he forgot where they were. For a few heartbeats he watched the fire circle above them, unsure what to say. She had always been quick to pull him into moments like this, and he had never known how to respond without feeling clumsy.

Irina sat beside him, her voice soft as she spoke.

A wolf never runs alone.

I have been til recently…

The words hung between them longer than he expected. He was not sure what she meant by it. She said it like a simple truth, but the way she glanced at him made something in his chest tighten in a way he did not completely understand.

Aerik cleared his throat lightly. "They move well together," he said, watching the fire wolves loop overhead. "And they're stronger than the first one you made."

The comment felt safe and neutral. It kept him from saying anything that might reveal how close her words had struck. The flames reflected in her eyes again, warm and bright. She looked at him the same way she had earlier, as if she saw something in him he had not yet figured out for himself.

He shifted on the bench, unsure where to place the feeling that rose under her gaze.

”If they mean we keep moving for a while, then that much is true."

The fire wolves arced above them once more, scattering sparks that drifted into the early light. Aerik watched them fade before speaking again.

"I am here on Jutrand for now," he said quietly. "Just don’t expect me to keep up with them."

The comment came out with a hint of dry humor, gentler than anything he had said earlier. It was the best he could manage, caught halfway between friendship and something he did not yet know how to name.

He looked her way again, then back to the sky, letting the moment stay light because it needed to be. Because anything heavier would force answers he wasn't sure he had. Aerik wasn't even sure he knew he understood the question.

 

[Mercy]

Location: Along the sidelines
Objective: Eat, drink, consume
Direct Tag: Srina Talon

The mountain drew the glacier with her onto the dancing floor. Cutting through the crowd with no hesitation. It had been a long time since Mercy had to dance in an environment like this. Usually she danced in rough bars, with a lot of drinks flowing and the dances being interspersed with actual fighting and chairs thrown.

“I assumed you’d like this forum of conversation, yes.” Mercy murmured as her arm went around her waist and slowly pulled her in closer to the rhythm of the song.

Where Srina didn’t move to lead, Mercy took the lead without a second guess. It was like breathing to her. Natural, necessary and with ease. “I grew up with the Echani… I know the way your people prefer their communication.”

She turned them both right as the beat hit again and then laughed. “I never waste time… but savoring the moment is never a waste, is it?” Mercy murmured with a smirk but then decided to get serious anyway.

“The Tsis Kaar is no more. That leaves your Empire without eyes and sharp blades in the shadows, ready to strike. I can forge a new weapon for you. One that is loyal to the Empire alone instead of any one specific Sith Lord, whose absence would leave the organization weak and ready to be wiped out.”

A smile there as they turned again.

“A favor, strings… barely attached.”

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Jutrand
Wearing: XoXo
Tag: Mercy

____________________________________________________

The first pressure of Mercy’s arm around her waist drew her in, light, as if she weighed nothing at all. She allowed it, not resisting, rather, melting into the dance as if she were part of the stage. There was an innate grace to her movements that would make it feel as if they had danced before. As if she knew this woman, how she moved, when in reality—She didn’t know her at all.

“I wondered...”, she trailed off, musing briefly about the admission of her youth. Most people wouldn’t take to a dance floor to discuss sensitive information. Too many eyes and ears might pull at invisible strings, threads, that the Empress would rather keep short and tidy. “But I assumed that it came from spending time with my daughter.”

That information tilted something behind her eyes. Her people were a particular sort. That...Explained much. The directness. The lack of flinching under scrutiny. The awareness that this exercise in distance, balance, and timing was more than just some social stunt. For a moment, she let herself read Mercy with the same care she might afford an opponent. She noted the certainty with which she led, the ease with which she claimed space. The lack of hesitation in drawing her close.

Unapologetic and unafraid.

Interesting.

“Savoring the moment...”, Srina murmured, tone soft, even as they turned and she was momentarily set free. Her lithe form turned on the balls of her toes, spinning, with her fingers just barely maintaining contact with Mercy. A moment later found her slipping right back into position with her hand landing neatly on the taller woman’s shoulder. “Savoring the moment is how most of my kind get killed. They get lost in speaking to their enemy—And they forget the moment is borrowed.”

Srina went silent when the conversation moved on to the Tsis’Kaar, and her expression seemed to cool by degrees. Not that it was ever all that warm in the first place. A new weapon? Loyal to the Empire alone? Who could promise such a thing so easily, without blinking, knowing who she was and what she would do to someone who casually lied to her? Her gaze changed, golden irises sharpening, while she focused fully on the massive woman before her. “Explain.”

The singular word held no emotion.

No anger, no desire, the simple requirement for answers. Having an organization not bound to a name or a throne, nor a cult of personality, that would inevitably burn out and take half the infrastructure with it. It was tempting, dangerous, to even entertain the conversation.

She let them complete another rotation before speaking again, giving time to watch how Mercy’s shoulders moved, how her grip shifted, or didn’t. “Nothing comes without strings...Nothing comes without cost. I have no intention of resurrecting the Tsis’Kaar as they were. If I were to consider a proposal from anyone, for any reason, it would not be for a replacement.”

She looked up fully then, letting the crowd blur into meaningless shapes, focusing on the offer and the woman making it.

“I want something new.”

No one survived by offering gifts to sovereigns without requesting something in return.

“Barely attached, is still attached. What do you want, Mercy?”

 

[Mercy]

​

Location: Along the sidelines
Objective: Eat, drink, consume
Direct Tag: Srina Talon

And as they danced Mercy assessed the Empress in her arms as an opponent in kind. To Mercy this was as natural as breathing, not something she turned on or off. Every breath she took, she assessed those around her in that capacity.

A predator on the prowl.

“I do not die easily, darling, so I have the luxury of savoring.”

What she felt of Srina was strength balled into a core so tight it might spill out into a black hole if no care was taken. It wouldn’t have surprised Mercy to find out it had happened in the past some times over. Patience and grace stretched to a breaking point, until the woman in front of her turned into a storm that wiped everything away.

For an adrenaline junkie like Mercy it was enticing to dance with her, to play the game and to discuss at the same time.

“When I smashed the skull open of the previous Queen Mother of Hapes and helped the new one onto the throne, I realized I could hardly stick around her pretty throne at all times of day. So, I offered her a similar service…” Her golden arm shifted behind Srina, unwinding into tendrils that stroked along the Empress’ spine.

It could have been perceived as a threat, but the Sith Lord in her arms would not have felt any ill-intent.

Thronegrasp, named by her followers, was the reason some referred to her as Star-Arm. A golden monstrosity for an arm. Few knew… what effects it could have on those around it. A passive corruption that seeped into the cracks in your mind. Until you bend into the direction of Mercy’s natural inclinations.

“I can reshape the minds of those I choose. I can forge sleeper cells for you. Individuals who carry on at every Sith court and household, until the time comes for them to act for the Throne. I can create an organization not made for the glory of one, but for the preservation of the many under your watchful eye.”

Then a soft shrug when Srina asked for her prize.

“Your ear, my Empress. For me to pour my words in, at any time I choose.” Which perhaps was a surprising ask from a fellow Sith Lord, who was ambitious enough to challenge the self-declared Sith’ari and Emperor.

But Mercy loved surprising people.

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Jutrand
Wearing: XoXo
Tag: Mercy

____________________________________________________

“I do not die easily, darling, so I have the luxury of savoring.”

Darling.

The word rolled off Mercy’s tongue with a careless lack of decorum that greater individuals had been drawn and quartered for. Srina did not outwardly object, but her eyes narrowed faintly as they continued through the current song. She wasn’t anyone’s “darling,” and it was only out of respect for her daughter that she swallowed the indignity. Of course, the mountain of a woman before her wasn’t a weakling. Not if she had won the Galactic Kaggath, let alone run roughshod through the Death Star that had been hellbent on blasting holes in the Blackwall.

They tuned, and the other dancers continued to adjust unconsciously, likely on pure survival instinct. There was nothing about the Sith Empress that suggested kindness or warmth. It wasn’t her merciful moments that were remembered, but those that were repeated as ghost stories to keep Sithlings in line—cautionary tales twined with blood-soaked nightmares. Srina followed the motion, still maintaining the appearance of lightness, but never giving up her own center of gravity.

It was likely artful for those who watched. Skilled. They wouldn’t notice that Srina never gave her partner the trust that usually came with dancing this way. They wouldn’t realize that the pale Echani kept an exact amount of distance between them, down to the centimeter, that was required for minimal distance to sense a sharper movement. To anticipate an attack, even though she didn’t sense any hostile intention.

This was what happened when two predators were caught in the trappings of civility.

When Mercy spoke of Hapes, of smashing skulls and installing queens, Srina listened, expression unchanging. It was familiar. Not the details, but the pattern. New thrones always needed someone to dig out the old roots. Was that why Mercy had come? Was that why her relationship with Quinn had suddenly been rekindled? To work and angle and purge her existence?

Metallic eyes remained still. Empty, of all things.

Mercy could try.​

The touch that followed that humble brag, however, was not familiar at all. The golden arm uncoiled behind her with tendrils ghosting across her spine, seeking, but not attacking. Srina understood that Mercy was giving a display of how she might conquer lesser minds, but something within her deeply disliked every inch of the abomination. The feeling was not fear, not hate, but something that left the taste of ash in the back of her throat. Ochre light began to pool beneath the surface of her skin, following her veins, and changing her eyes until they resembled lava with edges as black as pitch.

Her bones began to grind. Shifting internally, unnaturally.

“Put that away...”

Her breathy voice came with the quiet rumble of the beast she had taken in and refused to share space with. Something in Mercy’s arm had roused it from a coiled, inert state, and it turned its monstrous face toward the mere threat of intrusion. The creature did not speak, but Srina could feel scorching heat from beneath her skin. Very gently, very quietly, she let the presence unspool just enough to harden the edges of her mind. No.

She was in control.

Always.

The subtle corruption that seeped from the golden monstrosity Mercy called an arm would find a barrier that did not behave like flesh. There were no cracks to find. No space to hide...Only the metaphysical barrier of something ancient watching through the glass.

Mercy meant no harm, at least, not with this.

The Noćna Mora didn’t know that.

The diminutive woman continued as if nothing had happened, never missing a beat, even while the unnatural brightness to her eyes faded away. “I understand.”, she murmured, referring to the reshaping of minds. Breaking, was perhaps more accurate. The mention of sleeper cells combined with Sith Houses with minds bent toward the Throne itself was...Interesting. It was, in its own way, a logical response to the vacuum left by the Tsis’kaar. Logical, efficient.

It was a pity that neither were enough.

“I have no objection to utilizing blades in the dark...”, Srina trailed off, pausing, when a half turn came up, sharp, because dances that Sith employed rarely held any gentleness. “But I will not approve an order of fractured minds, untested, stumbling toward whatever they believe my will to be in the moment. That is a recipe to burn this Empire to the ground...”

In no way, shape, or form did her Sith need help with that.

The request that Mercy made was...Strange. The corner of Srina’s mouth edged upward, not with amusement, exactly, but something adjacent to it. It was the closest she came to dry humor.

“At any time? My. You are ambitious.”

 

[Mercy]

​

Location: Along the sidelines
Objective: Eat, drink, consume
Direct Tag: Srina Talon

If Mercy had known of the creeping suspicion in Srina she would have laughed. Something told her that Quinn Varanin would not have thanked her, if she had tried to murder her surrogate mother just to help ease her way onto the throne she coveted. In fact, it might have irrevocably damaged their relationship in a way that could not be salvaged.

That, in itself, did not pause Mercy as much as it might most. After all, Mercy had come close to declaring a Kaggath against Empyrean. Simply because she could. Simply because she had been curious what a fight against him would have been like.

It was only chance that brought a different Emperor in front of her. One that had no links to Quinn, but had been resurrected by Ashin, her own Master.

Funny how those things went.

At any rate, Mercy was not interested in challenging Srina. Not for the throne or to the death, simply because she liked the cold-hearted warrior. As they danced, she was reminded of herself in some little ways. The way Srina assessed, the way she was sharp and committed to every move she made, it was a delight.

And then when Srina’s eyes deepened into fire, they were reflected by the dark amber in Mercy’s eyes as the large warrior leaned in a little more. To see more of it. “As you say…” The disparate tendrils merging back together into one whole golden monstrosity.

“There is something inside of you, isn’t there?” Mercy murmured quietly, just a thought shared between the two of them. “There is something inside of me as well. Does its presence right under your skin bother you? Or are you used to the flames merged with your flesh?”

As the conversation spun towards Mercy’s offer, she squinted at Srina’s description. “What I offer is not fractured minds, imbeciles working at random.” She said, calmly, or as calmly a fiery giant as Mercy could be.

“I offer loyalty and the retention of their faculties. As sharp as they were before, as sharp they will remain, but with the ideology of the Throne in their mind.”

Mercy licked her lips there, calming herself down, easier these days than in her impulsive youth.

“A demonstration then. Something to show you what I mean, rather than useless little words that can mean anything and nothing at once. My Graspborn will search for the right specimens… and I will show my offering in the flesh. Then you can decide… if they are an improvement over the cretins you have to rely on currently.”

Her hand settled against Srina’s back, attempting to bring her closer, forcing the Empress to either apply opposite pressure… or accept the mountain’s proximity towards her.

“Does that sound fair to you… Srina?” Murmured sweetly there as Mercy glanced down at her.

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Jutrand
Wearing: XoXo
Tag: Mercy

____________________________________________________

The shift in Mercy’s hold was less than subtle.

Her body answered the pressure instinctively, and she held her ground, oddly strong for a woman who seemed delicate as glass. Her head tilted while flame-ringed eyes peeled back the layers of her dance partner with the precision of a laser. There was purpose in everything, even the act of drawing her nearer, when survival instinct ought to tell any flesh and blood being to move far, far away.

Srina eventually adjusted, but only enough to keep the line of the dance unbroken. The difference was a hair’s breadth, but tangible, and Mercy would be free to sense the unmistakable presence of a woman who chose every inch of closeness she allowed—And with whom.

It was just one more instance of friction that would likely go unnoticed.

Music and conversation wove together in a rising din around them, but Srina only experienced it as texture. It was a backdrop, pulsing with color and sound. When Mercy let her arm close, and the tendrils sheathed themselves back where they belonged, some of the tightness left her shoulders, and she could imagine in her mind's eye the soul-eater beginning to retreat.

“There is something inside of you, isn’t there?”

The question dropped between them like a stone in still water. There was no recoil from Srina, no flash of emotion. Only an almost imperceptible stillness, impressive, because they were in a constant state of motion. The pale Empress let the moment breathe while she finished the half-turn they were already committed to, the skirts of her black and red dress sweeping quietly around her ankles. When she spoke... It was thoughtful. Considering, rather than being offended at being called out.

“There is.”

Her tone carried neither shame nor fear, and she admitted to it as one might own up to an old injury. Something long accepted, long mastered, but never forgotten. The Noćna Mora was woven into her somewhere deep, still wary of Mercy, irritated, from the earlier touch. The sensation had faded from faint pain into awareness, a low hum in her marrow, like a creature circling the perimeter of its cage.

“It doesn’t bother me...”, Srina offered quietly, eyes flickering down, as if she were trying to gauge what it did feel like before responding. She did not share space with it because it was a mindless and violent thing that was hellbent on destruction. “For better or worse...Every bit of flame and ash is part of me, now.”

She glanced back up, careful, because such a statement might make someone like Mercy even more curious. “...a part that you should hope never to see...It does not like your arm.”, the light correction was followed by the mental image of the winged beast looking back at her with dead eyes, molten cores, that couldn’t understand why Srina kept it from protecting them. They were one. If she died—So did the monster.

It might have been possible to separate them...But some burdens were safer when kept close to the heart. The last thing she wanted was a soul-eater wandering, looking for a new host to infect, someone weaker, who couldn’t control it. It wasn’t flame so much as it was hunger shaped into a physical thought. It stayed caged within her, compliant, because it understood what would happen if it disobeyed. Srina chose when to let it out.

When to rein it in.

If she had struck a nerve by questioning the efficacy of the silent network Mercy was offering...The Empress would never know. Mercy spoke of loyalty, not puppets on a string. Of minds that had been guided rather than broken. Srina listened in the unnervingly quiet way she always did while her world reduced itself to the words of her dance partner. “I did not accuse you of creating imbeciles...”, she murmured softly, “But I must guard against those who claim to serve while making anarchy beneath my name. There can be no cult...”

A shadow passed through her expression, and the memory of Faithless of the Galactic Empire made her all the more wary. The zealotry she had witnessed had dulled their intellect. But even the Inquisition and the Tsis-Kaar had been bound too closely to one person. Without them...What was left? Blood and ash?

Empty seats of power?

“Not for me. Not for this throne...It must be something that can stand even if I fall.”

Another turn. Her fingers brushed up Mercy’s more human arm with impossible lightness, the movement deliberate, an Echani symbol for inquiry and consideration rather than affection. She was thinking it through. The demonstration Mercy had offered piqued her interest. It was the only way to tell if what the large woman offered was a weapon...Or a liability. Was it fair?

“No..."

Srina was never fair.

"I wouldn’t call it that. But it is...Acceptable.”

 

[Mercy]

​

Location: Along the sidelines
Objective: Eat, drink, consume
Direct Tag: Srina Talon

Her assurance that she wasn’t calling her creations imbeciles mollified Mercy plenty. Even if Srina hadn’t realized she pissed her off, it quieted down her eyes, the tension in her arms and perhaps that would be enough of a hint that something had been off for a moment.

“Mm, cults aren’t for everyone, darling, I understand.” Mercy murmured warmly. After all, the Graspborn was a cult dedicated to her glory.

But she understood that that wasn’t appealing to everyone.

Then again the Graspborn wasn’t like any other cult. Their intelligence didn’t take a hit, in the usual way, it was their greed and hunger for more that was magnified. Their desire to become stronger, fiercer, to compete and become more than what they had been. A cult dedicated not simply to Mercy, but to the betterment of self.

In a way it was the Sith creed distilled to its purest form, except for the fact that their highest ideal was serving Mercy instead of serving themselves.

It was still a cult after all, even if a different type of the usual.

“Well, if it is acceptable, then we have a date, don’t we?” Smirking lightly there. “My people will keep an eye out. Once I have found worthwhile candidates, I will let you know. WIth invitation in hand you can come and watch me work.”

Again a twirl, but slower now, until Srina’s back was against Mercy’s chest.

“Do you prefer to lead, Empress? Or do you not mind… following when the situation calls for it?” Practically whispered in her ear.

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Jutrand
Wearing: XoXo
Tag: Mercy

____________________________________________________

The larger woman murmured something warm and amused about cults not being for everyone, as if she were sharing a small joke, but Srina couldn’t have been more serious. There was something unhinged about funneling devotion in that way. It wasn’t a coat that people could shrug on and off at will, and the pale Empress had seen what it could do when left unchecked. She had seen how it could hollow the spine until the afflicted bent toward madness rather than purpose.

It was not a matter of preference. It was a matter of survival.

The line between devotion and insanity was just too thin with an Empire at stake.

Mercy’s next words about finding appropriate dates and candidates slid into place more easily because she did not disagree. A demonstration was the only way forward because while Srina would not agree blindly, she also wouldn’t turn away a potential resource. That was foolish. Still, she caught the smirk from the taller woman, the self-satisfaction that likely came from an individual who had rarely been told “no”.

That was fine. Mercy’s confidence did not trouble her.

It was the physical overstepping of boundaries that she took with her person that required correction.

As if on cue...Mercy took one more when she slowed the turn and drew Srina backward, aligning their bodies closely, so that her back pressed directly against the other woman’s chest. The move was fluid, practiced, but also exceedingly presumptive. Srina knew the step; she allowed the step. But allowing was not the same as inviting.

The moment their bodies touched and her displeasure became apparent, something inside her reacted. It was the very same something she had just warned Mercy about moments before. The Noćna Mora did not know etiquette, nor diplomacy, nor the subtleties of a crowded dance floor. It felt a stranger’s weight against its vessel and answered with a wordless, territorial warning. There was a tightening beneath her ribs and a surge of heat that crawled up her back. The fabric of her dress whispered under the strain, and for one sharp heartbeat, the air would taste of ash.

Mercy would feel it before she saw it.

A slow pulse of orange light that grew between them, enough to scorch the air, enough to painfully scald and burn the skin beneath Mercy’s clothing and armor.

It was both a warning and a boundary.

“I am not your darling.”

The wings of the soul-eater surged upward like a tide of molten stone breaking through fault lines. Impossible warmth flared brighter from beneath her skin in a sudden, visceral wave, curling further up her spine. The glow sharpened and then ignited, not fully enough to rend the air with its actual wings, but enough for the outline of flame to press unmistakably back against the taller woman—Forcing distance by physically pressing her back.

Mercy would feel it.

Not in metaphor or suggestion but with a white-hot kiss of fire against her sternum. Srina let the heat roll out from her in a slow, controlled exhale, the warning rather precise than explosive. She let the creature unfurl just enough, because boundaries came in many forms, and this one spoke a language that no warrior could misinterpret. “If you keep taking liberties with me...I will make you suffer for it. No matter what you promise...”, her voice was winter, all ice, despite the heat that would make her desperately hard to hold on to.

“No matter what you mean to my daughter.”

Srina shifted her weight but deliberately pressed backward, sealing the fire between them, noting the smoke--Making her point while keeping the current conversation. Her actions weren’t fueled by anger or rage but by the simple requirement for a barrier. She was not a scarlet woman to be toyed with, nor was she so weak that she allowed herself to be degraded without consequence.

No matter how many Queen’s that Mercy had killed for sport or glory.

No matter how many skulls she had crushed.

“Now...If you are asking whether I can follow...”, she spoke, her voice low, and a touch contemplative...”You are asking the wrong question.”

She paused with the start of the next rotation, carefully, letting the heat in her back ebb away. Folding down the wings of the beast as if they had never been.

“The real question...Is whether you can.”

 

[Mercy]

​

Location: Along the sidelines
Objective: Eat, drink, consume
Direct Tag: Srina Talon

An animal would gnaw off its own limb to escape sudden piercing pain. For all that Mercy was; a monster, a nightmare, a creature that rolled over boundaries with little concern, she had animalistic reflexes but they ended there.

Pain did nothing to dissuade her.

In fact, when that burn started, Mercy smiled warmly… and pulled her in closer. Causing the infernal heat to burn her flesh beneath the armor even more. She hissed softly, but otherwise simply listened to the Empress in this close proximity.

“Mmm, but Empress…” She murmured, voice tight, but not entirely disagreeable. “Suffering is the only real path towards growth, strength, understanding- all the things we value.” Even as the infernal spirit within Srina burned Mercy, her own healing factor kicked in, starting a horrible feedback loop of pain, rejuvenation and pain again.

Each time her flesh knitted itself back together, the demonic spirit burned her again while they had this small, impromptu feedback session.

“That being said, I suppose I know more about you now than before.” Which meant that for all intents and purposes Mercy got exactly what she wanted.

Or at least enough of it that she let Srina slip out of her arms and resume the more respectful distance of the dance. That moment of introspection between them spanned no more than a handful of breaths, too fast for others to notice perhaps.

“Which is the most important part, isn’t it… Srina?”

She made no promises she wouldn’t call her darling again or step over bounds. It was not in Mercy’s nature to be cowed or accept a warning. It had gotten her into trouble more times than could be counted, but that very nature also brought her all of her successes.

“And I think you now know more about me too, so you don’t need me to answer that question, you already know.”

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Jutrand
Wearing: XoXo
Tag: Mercy

____________________________________________________

The moment Mercy pulled her in, closer than any sane creature should reach toward a burning star, the slender Echani understood several things with clarity. This person, whom her daughter had welcomed into her life, was partially insane and a masochist...With sadism and a goddess-complex not far behind. They were hallmark traits of many Sith, but Srina had yet to experience it, where it became both a personality and a calling card.

This woman...She drew her in tighter.

Not so much that it hindered her breathing, but it was close, treating the flame as an enticement rather than a deterrent.

The burn beneath Mercy’s armor deepened, the scent of heated fabric, smoldering leather, and torched skin causing some of the dancers to look around curiously. Perturbed. They couldn’t quite tell where it was coming from, and it made them both nervous and curious. Was it just the torchlight or the braziers in the courtyard? Srina...

Allowed the moment to exist for what it was. Raw, brutal, and dangerous in a way that most wouldn’t be capable of comprehending. Her gaze lifted, and her expression hadn’t changed. She did not appear triumphant or chastising. She looked as she always did—Composed, distant, and impossibly clear. Mercy’s comment about suffering brushed over her ears, the tone warm and almost pleased. Srina tilted her head...Speaking quietly, as if she weren’t causing the other woman’s skin to repeatedly deep fry. “Suffering has a place...”

“...But there are limits, a thin line, between pain for growth and your opponent putting you permanently in the ground.”

Mercy was incredibly close to crossing it.

Her voice lacked any sharpness that would convey the sensation of any threat, just the cold certainty that, at some point, this inclination would place Mercy in a position primed to pay the ultimate price. She wasn’t a fool...But her victories filled her with the notion of being right. When people kept praising and deferring to such strength, when a literal Emperor of the Sith was cowed, beaten by his own ineptitude at her hand—It created this.

It was only unfortunate for the taller woman that Srina was not one of the individuals Mercy had fought before. She was not a man returned from death, but a woman with one life. Mortal.

There was a difference there that mattered. A timed existence meant that she had to fight harder. Being a woman meant that she had to fight smarter, and being Echani meant that she would sooner die on the battlefield than allow anyone, or anything, make her small.

She was not at all like the others.

Mercy’s healing factor worked surprisingly quickly, almost as swiftly as what Srina had done on the Death Star. She could feel the cycle. Burn, sew, burn, sew—Happening against her back. It was a grisly thing, masked beneath the rhythm of the dance, a show of endurance and training.

Perhaps a bit of stubbornness.

Mercy eventually loosened the hold, giving Srina space to turn back into the flow of movement. The back of her dress was scorched at the top, but it was made out of alchemized material that stayed where it was. Rather than rely on a glamour, she merely let the Force pull at her long, long braid so that white hair unwound and fell about her form in gleaming waves. The Empress returned to dancing without ceremony, slipping into the next step as though nothing unnatural had just roared from beneath her skin. Her composure was so complete that it was almost eerie.

Nothing could be that still, that unmoved, with eyes that distant...Unless, of course, they were dead.

Srina remained silent despite the remarks about knowing one another better. Some might have offered a witty, pithy response, but it was mostly correct. She wouldn’t assume that she knew anyone perfectly after a single encounter, but she did know more. The notion that she already knew the answer about Mercy’s ability to follow drew an even longer pause from the wintry woman. Srina studied her, then. Truly. The way Echani warriors read the history of someone’s body in posture and breath. Subconscious, micro-movements.

She recognized that Mercy would always push.

Always.

Not necessarily out of deliberate disrespect, but because her nature demanded conflict, the way lungs demanded air. A divine need to be contrary, acerbic, and irreverent.

That was fine.

But nature did not excuse or justify trespass.

“I know enough.”

 

[Mercy]

​

Location: Along the sidelines
Objective: Eat, drink, consume
Direct Tag: Srina Talon

She was… correct. Mercy was a monster, through and through, and a monster needed conflict to feel the joy run through its veins. In kind, Mercy read Srina while being read. It was a give and take. You couldn’t take your opponent in and capture their truest essence without letting something of yourself loose at the same time.

Srina was more than just a point in time and space waiting to rupture into a black hole that would rip everything apart around her.

She was patience and grace. She was the frost, the glacier that stood the test of time, because it always had and always would. The rest of the dance floor fell away as those two creatures continued their dance but now read each other, true, honest.

No words, just action… exactly what Mercy enjoyed the most.

“Oh, there is always more to learn...” A cocky smirk there, the grin plastered as if her chest wasn’t still scalding from the pain inflicted by Srina’s back. Her eyes, amber bled into it, were studying the shape of her shoulders and remembered the intensity of the pain.

“Perhaps you will see even more in some time… when I show you what I can offer in exchange for your ear.”

The dance… slowly dying down, slowing, until they paused right in front of each other.

“Thank you for this dance, Empress, it was truly illuminating.” It might have surprised people that Mercy still had the capacity of grace after being burned to the core by Srina’s beast. But that was where she and others differed.

Pain, truly, was a reward unto itself.

It sharpened you, taught you lessons and in that moment Mercy underlined she truly believed that by not being offended by the scalding pain.

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Jutrand
Wearing: XoXo
Tag: Mercy

____________________________________________________

When Mercy finally released her after all that posturing, all that bravado, and all that insistence on proximity—The abrupt withdrawal was almost amusing.

Srina hadn't expected to laugh...But she did.

It wasn't loud and unrestrained, but quiet, barely more than a breaking of breath against the back of her teeth. It was another ghost of dry irony that slipped through her mask of stone before she could smooth it away. Of course, this woman, this strange, large creature, would weather bone-deep burns and then abandon the moment on a whim. The fearsome warrior was swiftly replaced in her mind by a Loth Cat thoughtlessly chasing a ball of yarn, only in this case, harmless woolen string?

It was power.

"After all this…You turn tail and run?"

The wintry sovereign allowed her words to linger on top of Mercy's society-polite nod toward enlightenment, completely, and entirely bypassing any sense of decorum. Her expression remained distant and sharp while she settled back into her own posture, rather, than amending for the placement of another figure during a dance. Srina reached up and brushed lengths of ivory hair behind one ear, aware, that the lack of perfection would annoy her minders.

She didn't bother to fully pull it back again.

The scent of something burned, ash and smoke, was already a telltale sign that something had not gone quite according to plan. The Sepulchral on Jutrand could be…Unremitting in their need for protocol and tradition to be observed. For the most part, Srina, let them nag and prattle on about expectation and appearance because the Sith had need of them. There were more than warriors in this nation…The everyday citizen needed guidance, instruction, and the half-dead zealots provided it in spades.

A less composed ruler might have just destroyed them as an irritant. But destroying the gears destroyed the clock—And Srina intended for it to keep ticking.

The grin that the other woman almost perpetually wore reminded her of many things. She had seen that expression on warlords who thought themselves invincible, on zealots, who mistook conviction for destiny. On those who disguised their deeds with purpose and rhetoric, claiming one thing while doing the opposite. Eyes of molten gold slid across Mercy with an almost electric hum before they shifted toward the refreshments. "Perhaps, the great Empress in the Core finds herself frightened…"

Srina raised a finger to silently correct the notion, before, the mountain-sized Sith could respond.

"Or…Perhaps the roasted meats and baked pastry hold more interest than I."

The aftermath of their initial conversation still lingered, but it seemed that Srina did not intend to let Mercy off so easily. She had taken her time, her daughter, and had pressed her luck with arguably, the strongest fighter on the grounds. "Farewell, then."

"…It is good…To know what truly commands attention."

Her voice wasn't accusing, merely stating as if it were fact versus assumption. The tone utilized was strangely empty, as if she wasn't offended that fried balls of dough could possibly be more worthwhile than she was. To be truthful…The food offered could have been synonymous with anything. Anyone. With consideration for the call that had demanded her children return home, who had made it, and all those who had obediently responded? The time and attention that Mercy had stolen was coveted.

Srina valued patterns as they often revealed more than outright questions.

Mercy was chaos, wrapped in confidence, but the Echani would know exactly who she was engaging with before striking any sort of agreement. She would find the pattern, the truth, of this woman, even if it took a thousand small moments like this. The pale Empress was quickly growing exhausted with those who acted against the interests of the Empire, against her, and she would not trust easily.

Perhaps…Not ever.

Srina turned away from the taller woman and headed toward the banquet that was laid out, dismissive and without offering similar "gratitude" because, thus far, Mercy had been the one to reap the reward. Pain. Information. Recognition—While all the glacier monarch had were pretty words. Such things did not fill the hole the Tsis'Kaar left in her Order. Nor did it end the hostility left from the upset of Alvaria and the shifting states of power.

Every hand was a claw, every supporter, a hungry vulture.

She picked up some sort of finger food and took a cursory bite, ignoring the surprised looks from those around her. Surely…The Empress would eat with the others at the head of the table.

Right?

 

[Mercy]

Srina Talon

Oh and that got Mercy's attention exactly the way Srina had hoped it would. She had been about to turn away from the Empress, but that put a stop to it.

Her eyes flaring in heat. Amber bleeding into her eyes as Mercy was... if not furious, at the very least angered.

But before Mercy could retort and cause a diplomatic incident, the Empress continued and put the wind out of her sails. Metaphorically at least.

Instead Mercy squinted at Srina.

"I do... enjoy my food." Mercy said slowly while watching her turn away now and walk off.

That was... a challenge, wasn't it? But not a regular one. Not one that Mercy was accustomed to. Not the blade or the fire or the storm.

It reminded her of Tion, a little.

But instead of being repulsed, the idea of being challenged was enough to draw Mercy along. Slowly following Srina as they carved a pathway through the crowd and ended up near one of the banquet tables.

"Have you ever done a food-off?" Mercy murmured in Srina's ear. "It is like a Kaggath, I guess, but instead of fighting on battlefields, we see who can eat the most amount of food in the least of time."

Mercy smirked because the idea of Srina in a food eating competition was absolutely and utterly hilarious.

She plucked one of the foodstuffs that Srina had picked up from out of her fingers.

"Good taste, Empress. Do you think you are as hungry as I am?"

 

[Varin Mortifer]

His gaze fell upon the three of them, he stayed silent for a moment. Deep inside though he was happy for the three of them seeing the affection given made him realise something felt hollow inside to him. He could have invited Nyara to the event but he was too much of a gutless coward to ask her.

He responded to Lady Ovmar.

“The pack alpha had issued me a challenge. My knowledge is rather limited on Tuk’ata especially at that time, but I know one thing about the wilds, when issued a challenge hesitance is death. I haven’t visited the pack since. Perhaps I should?”

Varin smiled as A’mia made her offer to Brosi and gave her a thankful bow.

“Thank you professor, I will certainly take you and Lady Ovmar on your offers. Anything to strengthen Sinew and my pack is an option I will look into.”

He then took a mental note on her lessons of time and place for apologies. Though he didn’t know much about politics he always just followed his common sense. It’s what kept his family thriving for so long on Carcosa.

He listened to them speak on the next question that was brought up. Varin had to take a moment to think about this one carefully. But the only answer he could come up with was rather simple.

“I don’t think you can truly know your enemies nor your allies. Everyone is capable of surprise, just as the galaxy is ever changing, if one is to survive a thriving changing cosmos one must change with it. Or turn to dust.”

The last few words trailed off as he spoke when he realised he was speaking on behalf of his family’s fate. His grip slightly tightened on his bottle as Sinew looked up at him and nuzzled his shin. He looked down at her and smiled.

“I’m fine. Just a bit too much to drink I suppose.”

He gave a half hearted chuckle as he listened to his higher ups, sipping from his beverage.

Easy, boy.

It was strange, it almost seemed as if Ignati gave a caution of sympathy.

Darth Strosius | Lina Ovmar | Madrona A’Mia​

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

Jutrand
Palace
Head Of The Table
Outfit
Theme

Tags: Darth Strosius | Lina Ovmar | Varin Mortifer

​

Alisteri's thoughts were scathing as usual, but it did enlighten her as to his thoughts on the flow of power. A "pawn" was not worth his time, supposedly only the master. A'Mia couldn't disagree more. Every titan thinks their footing sure until the soil shakes and crumbles beneath them. She believed that a pawn could be even more meaningful a target for persuasion or harm to befall. What is a despot without their many fawning or oppressed souls to bolster them and hold them high upon their pedestal after all?

She said nothing of this. Silence was sometimes a virtue.

Lina was of course the more moderated voice, more reasonable. A'Mia sighed happily, an expression of her inner workings so rare that it caught even her by surprise. Realizing that she was bereft of drink, A'Mia snaked one of her extra arms out far behind and to the side to snag herself something else so she could raise the glass in cheers.

"Hear, hear. To turning over stones."

Unusually active this night, the orchid core gave another faint twitch, as if drooping at the slightly morose and serious aura that appeared around Varin. While the words he spoke didn't fully let on, the neti couldn't help but focus in on the little rippling waves his inner turmoil was creating.

The other extra arm reached out then, to a different and closer tray, to fetch a pitcher of water. She brought it around and pushed it into Varin's hands, this time her voice was less full of clinical calculation and more ripe with wisdom.

"Water," she repeated, "And food, Mortifer. No use poisoning yourself further— I'm sure Darth Thaliax will still call for drill tomorrow, just because you're on Jutrand for a party doesn't mean training slows down."

That done, the woman squeezed the Prophet's arm and returned her attention to the two beside her.

"Lina dear, I would so enjoy a dance with you later," her visage became rather sly as she continued, "After Alisteri has had a chance of course. This has been lovely but I really should mingle. Lots of people I've yet to meet and so on."

She leaned to kiss the cheek of Alisteri's mask and gave Lina a little wink. Just as abruptly and elegantly as A'Mia had arrived, she left. The scent of new rain, spiced herbs, and freshly turned earth wafted in her wake.

[Exit]​

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

Tags: Lina Ovmar / Madrona A’Mia / Varin Mortifer / Open!
--------------------------------------------

"The most unique thing about Quinn Varanin is her hair color. And she's blonde." Darth Strosius clicked His tongue and shook His head. "There are a million bluebloods just like her, Lady Ovmar, the only difference is that she's wormed her way into the good graces of Raaf and the others haven't yet. Nobility are useless as Sith, let alone as a Dark Councilor. They have no concept of struggle or work, they simply exist to get waited upon hand and foot. It's disgusting. Entirely unbecoming of anyone that would call themselves Sith."

And that was without mentioning Quinn's utterly pointless specialty. Diplomacy. Who in their right mind engaged in diplomacy with the Sith? What Sith in their right mind bothered with diplomacy? That was simply admitting that one was unable to conquer properly and weakness within the Sith Order was simply not to be tolerated. Unless it was given a fancy title and a little throne to mind of course. Which happened all too often really, especially with the Dark Council it seemed.

At least Varin was reasonable with his remark of surprises and the need for suspicion, earning a nod from the masked man in kind. "Right you are Acolyte. The Sith in particular are a rapid and exceedingly deadly current in and of themselves, even without the wider galaxy taken into account. Stagnation is a resignment of death." He did idly wonder if the boy was even wiser when he was sober but of course that would be a question for another time.

Of course Lady Madrona agreed with Lady Ovmar, whether just to unnerve Him or in genuine sentiment He couldn't quite tell, but her scolding of Varin was similarly insistent. He was glad that she could offer him some guidance in the matters of inebriation, He'd all but forgotten such things Himself. The poor boy would undoubtedly be regretting his indulgence tomorrow even with some water and food in his system but any help was warranted if he had appearances to make.

His hidden gaze snapped back to the Neti when she squeezed His arm, rolling His eyes at the mention of dancing. Shame that she was moving on, He was rather enjoying the conversation in spite of the dual threat that she posed with Lady Ovmar. Whatever remark of well wishes or parting words He intended to say however was cut into a choked noise as she planted a kiss on His mask. He blinked, golden eyes narrowing and flickering to the side as His newly freed hand slowly reached to to touch the cheek of His mask where her lips had met it.

Brows furrowed and His mouth hung open slightly as He tried to form a question of just why Lady Madrona had done that but by the time He looked up she was gone into the crowd. His gaze trailed back to the other woman on His arm and for a moment He simply stared at her in what must have been disbelief before cocking His head to the side and speaking in a hushed tone so that the Acolyte hopefully couldn't hear Him. "Lina...what the feth just happened?"

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Jutrand
Wearing: XoXo
Tag: Mercy

____________________________________________________

There it was.

Srina pretended that she hadn't noticed the way Mercy's eyes bled at the slightest hint of an unanswered challenge. The insinuation that she was full of juvenile dread, intimidated, like the men she looked down on so thoroughly, was enough to pull anger from her in the way one drew poison from a wound. She gave the taller woman her back, expecting that she would want to put a knife in it, but the sheer number of loyalists to the crown would stay her hand. It wasn't fear…But she was intelligent enough to count. To know—She was outnumbered.

The diminutive Empress that parted the crowd did not turn to acknowledge Mercy at first, though she felt the shift in the air when she followed. Anger suited her far more than feigned manners, and Srina continued to face forward, mouth curved faintly, almost invisibly at the corner.

She had expected many things, but this bristling, was new. It was honest.

"Mm."

A soft note of acknowledgment as she finished the small morsel and swallowed, refusing to speak with her mouth full. "…You're still here? I thought you were all…Illuminated—"

Her eyes turned upward for a long moment, watching the taller woman, before she turned her attention back toward the offerings the kitchen had presented to their guests. There was always the concern of being poisoned, but there was a reason that Srina maintained one of the most horrendous greenhouses on this side of the galaxy. "Full of my presence—And leaving."

Mercy began to explain what a food-off was, and Srina carefully selected another small treat from the table. It was something sweet, fruit, but not quite as saccharine as some berries could be. Her expression remained glacially polite while she sampled the item, carefully and slowly. Taking the time to compare it to other things while her eyes took in the city skyline. The fires that moved in braziers, the banners that blew in the wind. "A contest of gluttony…How novel.", that same dry amusement glittered forward, hidden, behind a certain level of cold distance.

The taller woman leaned in, breath to her ear, and the Echani simply turned her head a fraction. Enough to make Mercy either pull back or feel the cool brush of white hair against her cheek. Srina did not retreat but she also gave no closeness, not the kind that Mercy kept pushing for, like a youngling testing the fences. "I will not be entertaining that absurdity. It sounds wasteful and messy…"

Srina paused while she picked out another pastry.

"Perfect, for you."

Before Srina could tell whether the comment pleased or insulted her, the larger woman plucked the cautiously chosen pastry from her fingertips. Srina stopped moving, but didn't stop her or try and take it back. It was a bold move that left guests staring harder, glancing between the pair, wondering when the wintry woman would react to being disrespected in her own home. Instead…They would find the Sith Empress watching, tilting her head, watching Mercy's profile just slightly, as if examining a curious creature who had just attempted a clever trick. "Is this how you test your opponents...By eating their food?"

Srina merely reached without looking, taking a new bite, as it pleased her. There was no competition…Just existing. With her hair down, long and loose, she scarcely seemed like the woman who had just addressed the entirety of the gathering. Somehow, the disarray made her seem colder. Less human, less soft. She sighed when Mercy questioned her appetite… The sound slow, long suffering.

"Our hungers differ vastly…There is no comparison."

She pressed the rest of the pastry past her lips, still, taking her time. It was never in her nature to hurry when it came to eating, or else it was just empty fuel. She had her favorite dishes, certainly, but the mountain of a woman beside her didn't need to know that. "So…The things we have learned. One…"

A pause, where she raised one finger.

"You use competitive eating as warfare…and two…"

She raised another finger, still, looking at the horizon rather than at the person she was speaking to. As if something Mercy had done, or not done, had cost her that privilege.

"You're afraid to fight me conventionally. Do I understand, correctly?"