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

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Moving to Courtyard //:
//: Open //:

Conversation began to drone around Quinn. Her attention waned as the others interacted. She already didn't want to be here; her mood had dipped even after the announcement of her appointment. While others had their accomplishments and clear reasons for being chosen, Quinn found herself lacking in both. She knew she wasn't someone to dismiss, but she couldn't shake the question: was she here because of her lineage or because of the connections she'd made?

Her thoughts eroded what confidence she had left. Turning away from the small gathering, she watched the pairs dancing below. Grace and elegance paraded across the floor as people celebrated and reveled in the Empire's prosperity. Quinn felt she was the only one not sharing the sentiment. Too much weighed on her mind, especially the whispers she imagined — the ones attributing her position to nepotism.

The thought grated her.

As her amber eyes traced the dancers' movements, a chill gripped her spine. Her hands tightened around the balcony rail as she watched one of her beloved paramours dancing with her mother. ( Srina Talon )

Their body language told her enough, but it was the expression on Mercy's face that broke something fragile inside her. Doubt surged, cruel and familiar.

Was Mercy's interest in her nothing more than a means to get closer to someone with real power? Her chest ached as another crack formed in her already splintered heart. Why wasn't Mercy here rescuing her from her boredom? Why wasn't she choosing her?

Turning back to the small group, Quinn forced a polite smile and lifted a hand. "Excuse me, I'm going to get some air."

She bowed her head respectfully and slipped away.

Logically, she knew her doubts were tangled in hurt feelings. But seeing it unfold before her — alongside her own insecurities — made the emotions immediate and painful. She moved through the crowd, ignoring greetings, ignoring the hands reaching to stop her. She needed to be outside. She needed air. She needed something to cut through the spiral forming in her mind.

She finally reached the courtyard. The cold air struck her face, the temperature shift scattering her thoughts. Usually, she would warm herself with the Force, but instead, she let her body shiver and feel the threat of the Jutrand winter.

It was cold…

But Quinn could breathe again.

Finally.

 

[Irina Jesart]

Tags: Aerik Lechner​

Irina added detail as he spoke, watching him carefully out of the corner of her eyes, trying to decipher every move, every micro expression. There were too many eyes here, too many ears for either of them to speak their mind so they focused on the distraction. A stag rose from the flames, embers streaking for its antlers as its long gait carried it just ahead of the trio of wolves, their ears flattened against their heads as their stride lengthened picking up the hunt.

Her head turned fully to look at him when he said he was staying on Jutrand, her heart jumping as her eyes lit up with excitement. For the first time in years he would be close again. She turned back to the fire, barely containing her smile.

The two from the back of the trio surged forward leaping for the stag, bringing it down in a shower of embers before vanishing leaving the lone wolf still running. She reached for Aerik's mind as another figure formed, a woman who moved to run alongside the wolf.

<<"Just keep up with me.">>

The flames rose again engulfing the pair as Irina let the images fall away, a series of groans and calls for more from the legion making her chuckle as she shook her head. Picking up her tankard once again, she lifted her eyes to the balcony scanning for Gerwald before looking at Aerik.

"Do you think the palace gardens have a maze?"

 

[CT-312]

//: Quinn Varanin | OPEN //:
//: Imperial Palace, Jutrand//:
//: Attire //:
//: 1 x Arrow head of Absence | Taozin amulet //:
//: Courtyard //:​

Just when CT-312 finally felt the threads of the bond easing along with her own emotions, it had spiked. A sharp sudden tug in her chest. The bond flared. Quick and unfiltered. The Princess’s emotions scrambled through it in a rush.

Before CT-312 could categorize them, BARCA chimed in her HUD at the exact same moment her peripheral caught motion. Pivoting, her gaze snapped to the Princess. Descending into the courtyard. Past her. Past the attendees. CT-312 straightened up instinctively. Observing. Even from this angle, the Princess’s posture… her expression carried a sharpness the Scout hadn’t felt from her all night. Beyond irritation and annoyance, something had cut deep enough to shake the control the Princess usually wore like armor. What happened? The thought wasn’t her own or the Princess, it was simply there.

The Scout didn’t realize she had already moved until the soft click of her boots on the stone gave her away. Approaching slowly and deliberately. CT-312 paused. Uncertain for half a breath. Her duty was to protect the Princess. To guard her safety and her well-being. But the bond kept reminding her that well-being wasn’t just physical. And this? This counted. Right? It had to. The strain rippling through the Princess was sharper now. Heavier than before. Something deeper… something CT-312 couldn’t ignore.

As she approached, her voice was low and steady. The modulator in her helmet softened. “Princess.” CT-312 unzipped the small duffle bag slung at her shoulder. Withdrawing her folded dress uniform jacket— pressed, dark, formal. She effortlessly flicked it open, holding the sleeves outward so the Princess could slip her arms inside without effort if she wanted to. “Are you cold?”

It was direct, but not blunt. Concern threaded quietly through the words. CT-312’s visor scanned the surrounding space. Processing movement, searching for threats… or explanations. All she found was an attendant balancing a tray of fluted glasses. The Scout lifted a hand, signaling the attendant who approached immediately.

Without looking away from the Princess, CT-312 stripped one glove off with a practice tug. Slipping the worn fabric into a back pouch. Her gloved and bare fingers closed around the stems of two fluted glasses with precision. The attendant bowed and drifted away.

Even CT-312, who rarely cared for politics, understood the consequences. A Princess. A newly appointed Dark Councilor. Abandoning the celebration, eyes would follow. Rumors would form.

CT-312 presented the glass with the gloved hand toward the Princess. "Quinn." The gesture steady and unassuming. Her own glass, in her unarmored grasp, gripped tighter. Braced. Ready. In a lower whisper meant for Quinn alone, a softer tone to her usual neutral cadence. “Would you like to leave?”

Not an order. Not protocol. A genuine option. A way out, offered quietly between Soldier and Princess.

 

[Lina Ovmar]

Tags: Madrona A’Mia Varin Mortifer Darth Strosius​

She was hardly surprised that Strosius had strong feelings regarding nobility and sith. As tempted as she was to make him eat his words, reminding him that a sith of noble blood had not only bested him in a Kaggath but had killed him, she had a feeling that even that would be twisted. He was a stubborn man whose view could not be changed with words. She gave the smallest shake of her head and sighed, turning her attention to Varin as he spoke.

Lina was nothing if not perceptive, she noted the shift in the apprentice, the subtle sinking of his shoulders, the tightened grip on his drink. Sinew picked up on the shift in his mood too, gently nuzzling at him. The lady of shadows reached, gently touching his shoulder and then brushing his cheek, a soft comfort.

“Revna chose well, you are wise beyond your years, Varin. I’ll be watching you closely.”

She chuckled at A’Mi’as gentle reminder that just because the party stretched on did not mean his lessons would stop. If anything they would be more gruelling. What better way to teach that one can never take their eyes off the ball. He would have to learn to indulge without putting himself at risk.

Her gaze shifted to the neti as she addressed her directly, her request was met with a wide smile. “I look forward to it, A’Mia my dear.” She watched with mild amusement as she bid her farewell before placing a kiss on Strosius’s masked cheek and sending a wink her way before gliding away into the crowd. She truly was a delight.

Lina bit her lips to stop the laugh escaping her as Strosius leaned in hissing a question in her ear. Clearing her throat she looked up his masked visage with mirth glittering in her eyes. “I believe they call it affection.” she informed him, not bothering to keep her voice low. “I think she likes you.”

 

[Mercy]

Srina Talon

Oh, she was hell-bent on pushing her buttons, that much was clear. It was difficult to remain civil while she was being needled every two seconds by the Empress. The irony in being frustrated by that while being a constant force that pushed boundaries as easy as breathing was lost to Mercy. Instead she bristled.

Again, being called a coward, again being challenged but without the blade.

She was close to the point of no return. Allies or not, outnumbered or not, Mercy would show this Empress exactly what-

Was... Was that a hint of a smirk?

The realization struck Mercy the way a lighting bolt struck a particularly large tree. All at once and without warning. In that flicker of a moment Mercy re-contexualized everything.

The smirk, the movements, the stance of her feet and shoulders.

It was all so familiar and Mercy just assumed it was a challenge. Which it was, but not in the way Mercy had originally thought.

Oh... Oh, no, the Empress was- No. To even finish that thought would have send Mercy into a cackling spiral that would reveal herself as more of a psycho than even before.

Her demeanor changed from one heartbeat to the next. Gone was the set of her shoulders that suggested war. Away was the shift of her feet that promised murders.

Mercy became amused and languid and plucked another piece from Srina's hand while she refused to meet her eye.

"The purpose of a physical fight is either to kill or to communicate." Mercy said lazily while taking a bite from her stolen foodstuff, mmm'ing there slightly.

"As of yet I have no desire to kill you and I do believe we are communicating just fine."

Once the lightning bolt had struck and imparted Mercy with newfound insight at any rate.

"Mm, yes, you are not messy. You are pristine. Every bit of you perfectly in place, curated and presented. Even when you eat it's a showcase of art."

Was that the Echani way? No, it was special to Srina in a way.

She had never encountered a woman this poised and in control of herself. If Mercy had a bit more self-awareness she'd question why that made her reflexively try and have Srina skip a beat.

"I wonder what sort of art you become when you are on the killing field, Empress of the Rim."

 

[Aerik Lechner]

WEARING: xxx | TAG: Irina Jesart | OPEN​

The flames shifted under her influence, and Aerik watched the shapes rise. A stag formed first, its outline built from sparks, followed by wolves that chased it across the air. The fire moved with purpose, each motion smooth and certain. Irina's control over the element had grown in the years since he last saw her use it. She shaped each figure with confidence, and he found himself following the display without a word.

Her attention stayed on him as she worked, her eyes flicking toward him between each movement of her hand. He felt it every time she checked his expression. He kept himself steady, though her earlier admission still pressed against him. He had no answer for it. His life had been too unsettled to give shape to anything beyond duty. Yet her words stayed with him, and he could not ignore the relief that settled in him now that she was here.

When she reacted to his master's plan to remain on Jutrand , her excitement flashed across her face before she turned back to the fire. The sight pulled at something warm and familiar inside him. He had not realized how much he missed that look until it returned.

The flames rose again. The stag collapsed into glowing embers. One wolf continued forward as another figure joined its side. A woman running with the same rhythm. Irina's presence guided the fire with ease, and her voice reached him through the Force.

“Just keep up with me.”

The message struck with a quiet force. He did not answer it aloud, but his breath caught for a moment before he regained control. What she suggested wasn't possible, nor really. Whatever she was, or had been, to him bound him to a past that no longer existed. Prazutis demanded a lot from him.

The crowd demanded more displays from her, unaware of the conversation she had just opened.

When the flames settled, Irina lifted her drink and looked toward the balcony. He followed her gaze for a brief moment, then returned his focus to her when she shifted back toward him.

"Do you think the palace gardens have a maze?"

The question landed with weight he felt in his chest. The memory it called forward came without effort. Nights at the academy. Hidden paths. A quiet world carved out between the two of them when everything else felt heavy. He had not let himself think of those moments for a long time, yet now they rose with ease.

He set his cup down.

"They might," he said, looking around. "We can look."

He stood from the table. The noise of the Legion continued around them, loud and unrestrained, but none of it reached him the same way now. For the first time in years, something was familiar.

"Let's go, before the crowd pulls you back in."

He did not offer his hand because he didn't need to. Her invitation had been clear, and he found he wanted the momentary escape.

 

[Irina Jesart]

Tags: Aerik Lechner​

He could have said no, he could have changed more than she realised and whatever they once had would have been smoke on the wind. But her didn't, he answered her with speed and a quiet eagerness.

Relief and joy flooded through Irina and she rose as he did, casting one last glance up at the balcony. If Gerwald was watching she couldn't see him and that made rising from her seat to follow Aerik all the easier, setting her drink down as she did.

Her steps fell smoothly in with his as they moved through the crowd side by side, making there way to the courtyards and gardens beyond. The noise of the party slowling fading behind them.

-Exit-​

 

[Lirka Ka]

That was the matter of monsters, wasn’t it? In evolution to have something as simple and drab as human amusement turn into something wicked and twisted, bent and turned from glee to malice hid beneath a shoddy veneer.

“And yet…”

She chided, though obviously it was only a half serious notion.

“…to indulge in the thoughts of cretins and fools is to invite their diseased logic into the mind - a dangerous thing if unchecked.”

Last thing she wanted for poor Helix to end up like the same mouth-breathing dullard like most of her enemies were.

“But yes, you are correct. The machinations of the yokels is a difficult notion to posit, we have resources, they do not. There is a certain threat that comes with the scrappiness of those who have nothing - certainly, a prospect I am certain we are both well aware of considering our…unimpressive…beginnings.”

Well. Lirka knew she was always impressive, in some form or fashion. She was a (usually) carefully crafted killing machine and there was a quaint pizzaz that came with that ego boost - it was only polite to not mention that factoid though.

For all her wicked and sadistic indulgences, if was perhaps Lirka’s odd asceticism that was one her strangest quirks. And one she gladly spoke about rather readily.

“There is suffering in deniable of the simplistic hedonisms of humankind. And in suffering, we find strength, and in strength we find the transience of the primordial darkness. In the simplest terms.”

To walk the path of the strong was a miserable thing, ultimately. Even if you could reap the dark rewards of survival. To survive was a holy thing, but holiness was not always meant to be particularly enjoyable in the long term.

Of course, survival being important as it was. That left Lirka particularly unenthusiastic about the unknowns - she wasn’t immortal, as much as she’d “like” to be in the tangible sense. This cadaverous form was susceptible to many things, even it wasn’t hard to put back together.

“I suppose I do not find your same joys in the unknowns. Lirka Ka is rather fond of winning - at least, as much as one can in the grand designs of the Primordial Darkness. Till the day comes where all that has been built here crumbles to dust, I intend to have firm grasp on the situations developing - you may not have spines, hearts, and the other myriad of important bits and bobs to slash and hack. But the majority of this empire certainly does.”

She clicked her claws on the table, for all of her plots and schemes. Lirka was feeling plenty chuffed with where she now found herself - but this wasn’t victory, not yet. True victory was an unobtainable thing, but these short term pleasures? Well one needed to enjoy themselves somewhat upon the holy path.

“Most Sith will not prosper, hence the ignorance that comes with their name. There was thousands upon thousands of Darths littering this Galaxy, even if I do not know their name, I am certain they are there. Festering things. Waiting for their one chance at glory, or a forgettable demise.”

She had walked a winding road, and seen many things. She had certainly never imagined the order they now sit within to come into existence, but the Sith had an unfortunate habit of being surprising despite their predictabilities.

She spoke with a calm razor in her tone now. The zealous fire of determination.

“You mistake yourself, associate. It is my very Sithhood that has me sit where I am. I walk the path. Lirka Ka is as Sith as any Darth. I have transcended the shroud of the Force and seen true clarity. Some fear it, some scorn it, others merely mock it. But the fire of faith is a power undeniable. So decrees the Darkness beyond Darkness.”

She didn’t need a “Sith name” like so many did. Lirka Ka was her Sith name. A name forged in blood and malice, molded into what the monster desired.

“It makes for good branding, does it not?”

So quickly did fire remake itself into the cold and drab humor that filled her black hearts.

 

[Helix]

"You're correct of course, Councillor." He rasped. "Lay down with the dogs, emerge with fleas. Still, that is my way, and it has worked well enough for me so far." The colony's surface betrayed the slight ripple that was perhaps analogous to suppressed laughter.

Lirka Ka was a never-ending font of entertainment. For all her other myriad flaws, the clanking apparition was never boring.

Helix thought on her words. Unimpressive was a tactful way to put it. He'd been a glorified appliance, made for a purpose. Only recently had he shattered those chains, made himself something other. A thing without such crude limits, in mind or in body, free to explore the universe in whatever deranged way came to him at the time.

"I do not question the legitimacy of your Sithhood, dear Lirka, quite the contrary. I only posit that you are exceptional, even for a Sith. Blessed with a certain..." he searched for the word for a split-instant "enlightenment that is sadly lacking in many of our countrymen. Would that your clarity of vision was more widespread."

Helix was laying it on a bit thick here, but he did half-believe his own noxious flattery. Lirka did have a sort of warped insight into the truth of things, or the truth of things as he saw them. Was he not proof of it himself? An apparition of Void-touched molecules and elevated consciousness? Behind the ramblings and frankly-unstable personality, he was so often seen in Lirka's company for a reason. Few others were insane enough to offer an interesting perspective as often as she did.

"As for the unknown, well. I am an artist." The creature replied smoothly. "It's in my nature to appreciate a new canvas. New places to see, new ore for me to hammer into something more pleasing." He admitted. "So, I shape meat and bone to purpose as much as metal and wheels. When I can't be doing that, shaping the ego of another is the next best thing."

"After all, does not suffering beget transience?" He said, directly quoting the third segment of her manifesto. "To create is to suffer, believe you me. The artist suffers, the art suffers worse. Or so the noises they make lead me to believe. An unknown canvas can be shaped into a new and unknown wonder, and quite possibly will shape the artist in turn in the making."

"As for the rest." He shrugged. "Hearts are quite rare behind the Blackwall, Lady Ka. Most have none at all, or else only a withered, blackened mass where one should be. The only thing that makes them beat quicker is reflection on their own unimportance. At times, it amuses me to force this reflection."

It was simpler than that, of course. Helix, in his nastier moments, simply liked to get a rise out of others, and was utterly insulated by his own impenetrable bubble of self-importance. This tendency was worsened enormously in such social settings, which was why he had (fortunately) become preoccupied with Lirka rather than scurrying off to seek some other victim to torment.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Varin gave Professor A’mia a soft nod as he took a sip of the water and plucked some small finger food from an incoming waitresses tray.

“Of course Professor, you know I will be there, rain or shine. Sand storm or blizzard.”

Her words did not fall on deaf ears, he had to take a bit more care of himself tonight. Lina's hand found Varin’s shoulder, then cheek and he was stunned for a moment. The touch surprised him. But he softened a bit and gave her a slow nod of acknowledgement.

“Of course Lady Ovmar. Thank you for hearing my voice.”

What struck him with the most impact is Lord Strosius's statement of approval. It was surprising to see Him agree with an Acolyte of all things. Then Professor A'mia dropped a bomb of a surprise onto the center of the group with a small kiss to Lord Strosius's mask.

His eyes widened and the pitcher nearly fell from his grip, spilling a tad bit of water on Sinew who shook her head and gave Varin the sassiest look of “How dare you”

Did he see that correctly???

Did Professor A’mia express physical affection???

And to Varin’s Grand Master???

Varin thought he would see Lord Strosius burst into flames right then and there as he turned to Lina and spoke in hushed tones. Varin’s stance stiffened as he watched the scene unravel.

Ignati howled with laughter in Varin's head.

MAKE SURE HE DOESN'T GET A RASH

The cackling continued for a moment longer before Ignati became silent once more.

“I believe I must obey my Professor, knowledge waits for no one.”

He gave the couple a small bow.

“Thank you for allowing me to intrude.”

He then gently scooped up Sinew who was falling asleep in a sitting position and began to carry her back out.

“I look forward to any….future meetings.”

He gave a small sly smirk and exited the dining halls back towards the streets of Jutrand.

Madrona A’Mia | Lina Ovmar | Darth Strosius

{Exit Thread}​

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

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

Darth Strosius felt one of His eyes twitch at the barely concealed amusement written across Lady Ovmar's features, hoping that even through the visor she could feel His golden gaze narrow into a glare. He could feel the warmth in His cheeks grow all the more prominent very unhelpful and decidedly too loud response, earning a scoff and a seething hiss in kind. Surely she couldn't have been serious, clearly she and the Neti were conspiring against Him. Unexpected, but He would persevere.

He spared a glance back to the Acolyte as he excused himself with a bow, silently debating on what He could say to keep Varin in the conversation. Even without A'Mia on one side He wasn't quite feeling secure around Lina at the moment, certainly not when she was so sadistically delighted. Before anything could come to mind aside from a simple nod at notion of a future meeting, Varin was already on his way away from the two of them and He found His gaze slowly returning to the woman on His arm.

"I don't know how or why, but I know you two planned this." He inclined His head proudly, seeking to reclaim some semblance of composure and authority. "And I won't soon forget this slight against me. 'Affection' damn you. I'll show you affection." Twice now He'd been humiliated and paraded around by one or the both of them, but He didn't intend to stay on the backfoot forever. He'd find a way to even the score one of these days.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: CT-312 //:

She should have sensed 312, but Quinn was too far within her own mind to fully acknowledge the space around her. Everything had gone wrong, even with the appointment. There weren't people cheering her name or ready to fall in line behind her command. They cheered for others, they believed in others — not Quinn.

All they saw was a spoiled child who stomped her feet hard enough to get her way.

The cold allowed her to feel everything despite her wanting to use it to avoid feeling. Yet, on queue — someone who didn't care about titles or who she was to the Empire. Looking at the Trooper from the corner of her eye, Quinn couldn't help the small smile that spread across her face. It was genuine and warm — like the jacket that was draped over her shoulders.

She pulled the lapels of the jacket closer around herself, feeling the warm hug like she desperately needed… but would never ask for. The questions were simple, obvious to the situation, given how much she was shivering.

"Mhm…" She answered first. She was cold, but that was something she could easily handle. Quinn did enjoy the warmth of the jacket over the warmth of the Force… for once.

Another question was whether the Trooper was understanding the emotions that ebbed and flowed between them, through the bond that she had accidentally created when bringing the Trooper back from the brink of death. Maybe 312 was more than just a trooper who followed orders?

Quinn remained silent for a moment, thinking quietly about the repercussions of her just leaving the celebration. The event was for the appointments and the Empire's victory over the False Emperor, and Quinn's face was meant to be seen.

She didn't care.

"I do, can you take me home?"

Her hand extended to take the fluted glass, eyes watching as the bubbles popped gently as they reached the surface. Quinn brought the glass to her lips as she took the drink in one long sip. She was done with the evening, let the rumors spread, let them talk.

The Princess could only parade and be flaunted for so long before she felt like breaking.

"I don't want to be here anymore…"

 

[Lina Ovmar]

Tags: Varin Mortifer Madrona A’Mia Darth Strosius​

Lina offered a nod as Varin opted to take A’Mia’s advice and call it a night. She offered Sinew a cursory scratch behing her ear before. "Goodnight Varin." she said giving him a small smile befor turning her full attention to Strosius, her eyes still glittering with laughter.

Shifting to stand before him, her hand still intwined with his she moved close as he complained of there plotting, looking up atbhim with a smile. The beauty was none of it was planned, she and A'Mia were simply of the same mind. Bogan forbid what might happen if the pair were actually able to plan such a thing. Poor Strosius might not survive, drowning in all the affection around him.

As he promised to even the score, to show them affection she pressed a little closer. "Do you promise?" She asked softly.

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

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

The moment that Lina pressed herself closer, the masked man realized His grave mistake. "No-wait-that's not what I-" Her question in that voice stole the breath from Him in a moment of loosened composure, a shiver wracking His form in time with a choked gasp. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. He had misspoken terribly and now with her looking up at Him so expectantly He couldn't find the will to explain Himself properly

Darth Strosius had to force His gaze away from Lady Ovmar before He could find His ability to speak again, not caring to notice how quickened His breathing had become within the past few moments. "You know that's not what I meant. I wouldn't-no I mean I didn't-I'd-ugh." He scoffed and ground His fangs together for a moment before clearing His throat and slowly looking back at her. There was only one way that He could salvage this.

Even if it was risky. "Forgive my impropriety Lady Ovmar, would you care to share a dance with me?"

 

[Lina Ovmar]

Tags: Darth Strosius Varin Mortifer Madrona A’Mia​

His stammering only served to widen the smile that was on her face as he seemed to be coming apart at the seams with her so close. Between A'Mia and herself, they seemed to have done quite the number on his ability to function properly and Lina was relishing every moment of it. It wasn't until he looked away from her that he was able to actually form a cohesive statement, but even that was a jumbled mess in the end.

Al of it drew a soft chuckle from her. She could have been nice, she could have stepped back and given him a little space, but she was enjoying this far too much to offer him any sort of reprieve. He took a beat, gathering himself before slowly looking back at her. The hand that was not intertwined with his lifted, her intent to place it on his chest so she could see if his heart was beating as fast as she thought it might be when his question made her freeze.

She blinked momentarily surprised before grinning. "You are forgiven, Lord Strosius, you have, after all, been beset from all sides this evening." she let her hand come to rest over his heart. "I would be honoured to dance with you."

 

[Lirka Ka]

The Once-Sephi gave a quick glance towards Helix - of course she was correct. That didn't need to be stated. One did not walk the dark path of enlightenment without the feeling of utmost assurance in the rightness of one's words. It was a zealot's touch - even in those events where Lirka was wrong in some form or fashion, that was but another step upon the ever-evolving road of survival beneath Primordial Darkness.

"Indulge in the thoughts of dullards, and turn one's brain to mush. So on, so forth."

They were not dissimilar in that sense. Perhaps that is why Lirka found herself so fond of the Mechanoid, he was a tool made of servos and steel, she was a tool made of flesh and bone. Both sculpted by uncaring creators long departed, the chain of their existence shattered and replaced by the cold and cruel embrace of the one Cosmic Chain that linked all things.

"I know you are not foolish enough to do such a thing, Helix. The matters of mine and your own SIth-hood are ultimately irrelevant in your calculus as I have come to parse you as a variable - they fear change. The crackling of the old ways, for all the alterations done in the thousands upon thousands of years of Sith existence the beating heart remains the same. A comfortable thing. Something to unify the disparate elements of SIth spread across time and space. It is why they look upon us heartless things with silent disdain."

Did they actually? Well that was anyone's guess. Lirka saw ghosts and shadowy hateful assassins in every corner. She was certainly a paranoid prophet. Its why she didn't particularly trust Helix - as much as she kept him in her company. In time, the foundation would crack, and she was plenty certain that wicked metal claws would come for her throat when it became advantageous - she'd certainly do the same thing to any of her allies. It was just the way of things. But for now, she would graciously accept heavy-handed flattery to make her ego ripple.

"The unknown. The path to great victory, and great failure all the same. Potentiality unbound."

And Lirka was rather fond of potentiality. Just as much as she was fond of her great many mantras.

"There is no peace, only chaos. In chaos, suffering. In suffering, transience. In transience, strength."

She spouted off the shortened blurb almost absent-mindedly. It was a quaint pleasure to have someone familiar enough with her secret work and actually understand it. But she let out a odd mechanical purring now - ideas were brewing. Ambition bubbled. She had already been given a Legion and the title Imperator. She now sat upon the mightiest political entities of the Empire and was given the title Councilor - but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

She spoke now, hushed - as if anyone was actually listening.

"Yes, Helix. In the days to come we shall make a great many art pieces. And with it suffering shall surge like a wave. Hearts are rare...and yet too common. The pieces have been laid before us, and within my mind's eye, I see the winding path of the Primordial Darkness take hold before us. The path forward is plain to see. Covet the black mass. Nurture the evil that festers within this place - our family must grow Helix, my brother-within-the-Chain. I see it, the dreams of the unworthy that suffocate this Galaxy. Let us feast, my Kin. Let us gorge ourselves fat upon the dreams of the hopeful and foolish till all that remains is the wretched black mass - till the worthy will cry one word. Dzara."

Yes. Clarity had presented itself to her once again. Triumph, but a temporary rest - for her work would never truly end.