Location: Jutrand
Wearing: XoXo
Location: See Below - I didn't tag everyone within the post if you didn't look at Srina or talk to her directly, but everyone can hear the speech.
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Banners shaded in varying hues of bloody crimson flapped in the wind, raised high, above the obsidian towers of the Imperial Palace. The air was noticeably cleaner in this sector than it was on the lower levels, but there was still the faint scent of something inhuman that was hidden by soft incense. It was a city-planet, a synth world, manipulated to emulate the Sith that called it home…But it was not what most off-worlders would refer to as "
comfortable" given the inherent dangers that flourished. It was not her homeworld—
But it was part of the place she was duty-bound to protect.
The throne at the top of the terrace was carved from the same obsidian as the rest of the structures, though it was inlaid sparsely with red kyber crystals rather than threaded with gold. So much of Jutrand reminded her of a circuit board, lights flashing, and adorned with much metal. Greenery was a rarity—Even the trees were artificial. Srina sat, still as stone, watching with hawkish gold eyes while the crowd poured in and began to enjoy the amenities.
It was almost startling when she reached up to brush away tendrils of wayward platinum hair, held back with an intricate braid that went straight down her spine. The warming light from the braziers caught in her eyes, which made it seem like they burned, far too bright for a face so pale, too angelic for the inherent violence she carried. Everything about her seemed wrong, with a presence that was hard to bear. It was a painting without color—The sun and the moon hanging low in the same dark sky.
Tonight…
They celebrated. It was a rarity.
Below her, the courtyard churned. Laughter met her ears…
It felt so strange. She had grown used to the sound of battle, the thrum of war, and the sensation of the Darkside filling her until it could be contained no longer...But this was nothing like that. She was surrounded by the restless egotism and the drive of an Empire that survived with strength and treachery in equal measure. The feast was meant to feel triumphant, but instead, she felt the aching need to remain vigilant.
Always,
vigilant.
The intimate knowledge that this Empire was made of blades pointed not only outward, but inward, was something she would never forget. The memory of Alvaria and the fate of the Tsis-Kaar was just one more, recent, unfortunate lesson. The torchlight continued to move and the angular lines of her face remained unreadable, gold-hewn orbs hooded, but bright enough to catch what they needed to…So it was that her eyes found that of
Darth Carnifex
for a fleeting moment. The Butcher King had been hiding, from her. That was
aggravatingly new.
And
hopefully at an
end.
Her gaze ripped away when she noticed
Darth Prazutis
also glance in her direction. The echo of Atrisia still lingered in the marrow of her bones…The encounter with the creature that she was certain was some form of
Aryn Teth
left her both infuriated and with a bounty to place. Everything was still so fresh. The silence after the explosions, the ghosts of the dead. The weight of somehow ruling a populace that would sooner kill each other than kneel beside one another. The Sith Order devoured anyone foolish enough to believe they could "
lead" it.
She had long ago abandoned that notion. It could be endured, contained, but never controlled. It was the shepherding of feral wolf pups without expecting an ounce of gratitude. Merely, with enough skill to pull her fingers back before they were bitten off.
Her fathomless gaze slipped over the crowd, an ocean of danger, dressed in finery. She felt their hungers like heat on her skin
. Ambition. Pride. Fear. Desire. Their attention slid toward her in uneven waves,
curious, reverent, resentful, and wary. It was as if she existed to be both omen and answer, their mother, if ever such a thing could exist.
They were all pyres, burning with intensity, insisting they were stars.
It was her work to facilitate that.
Her focus was drawn toward her godson (
Aether Verd
) when he commented about the event. The kiss of her mouth twisted upward, ghostly, but with something that could have been a smile if that wouldn't have potentially broken her face.
"This is not a party…This is a pressure valve. A momentary release before I ask these people to bleed again…"
And she would.
Slowly, deliberately, Srina rose from the dark throne…Hating being placed there, more than anything. For a moment, she allowed herself to feel the exhaustion that threaded between her ribs, the attrition of years spent tempering a civilization that only understood might through destruction. She was highly aware that the presence of the Mandalorian Empire would cause a stir, but they acted accordingly. Srina was wary of them by and large…But
Aether Verd
made them palatable.
Tolerable.
If they were good enough to fight and bleed with them—They were good enough to share an evening with them. That was the Echani warrior speaking, expressing respect for a job well done.
Every movement she made was a whisper while she walked forward. Her clothing was appropriate and lightly armored as much as it could be, fitting her form, as if she had been poured into it. The firelight wavered suddenly, as if bowing in her direction, though it was only a subtle distortion of her power settling across the area like frost. She stepped off the edge of the terrace, away from the dais, and fell forward—Letting gravity take her as she ghosted down to the main level. Small feet found polished stone, and conversations began to choke, music, faltering. The vast gathering shifted instinctively, forming a path without needing to be commanded.
Her presence required no herald.
"…Thank you all for coming."
It was an odd opening.
Polite when considering she hadn't offered a choice. Soft and airy, but it carried over the gathering with absolute ease. Her eyes swept over the faces of the gathered warriors, nobles, acolytes, masters, and Mandalorians…And perhaps a few individuals who did not want to be seen at all.
"I have called you from your homes, from battle stations, because it has been too long since you've all been in one place without someone trying to take your heads for a trophy. Make no mistake…"
She breathed in, pausing for a moment, to consider what she might say next. Srina was not well-versed in speech giving, but she did so with common themes. With truth—In a world where everyone, everything lied.
"…The fight is eternal; death is our gift. We must never lose our sharpness…But I remind you that we must also never lose perspective."
Perspective was hard to find when half the galaxy was gunning for them. The Galactic Alliance wouldn't likely be long for this world because they were finally, after taking loss after loss, imploding on themselves…But there were still the Galactic Empire and the other Imperials.
The High Republic.
The war would never stop.
"I have fought with you—For you. I know what it is to stand on the edge of survival. I know what it is to arrive on the other side of that battle, stronger, for your suffering. You are all strong. More powerful than you realize. The Faithless eye of the Galactic Empire looked upon us and saw opportunity. Weakness in the Blackwall. A fracture to be exploited…They were wrong—"
She paused, moving through the crowd, preferring to speak here than from some lofty place on high.
The Sepulchral, minus one, would not be pleased.
"—They were wrong and we did not break. Our territory was largely untouched, and their ritual failed. We have indeed suffered losses through internal strife, but in the wake of it, we do not dwell. We willingly choose to become more. That is what we are meant to do, what many of us were created for. On that note…The Sith Order will recognize three tonight who have shown not only the potential to surpass those who came before us…But purpose.", Srina trailed off, hands coming together for a moment, before they opened to reveal black light that darted up high in the sky. The resulting effect was that of a mystical projector that placed the face of one of their own among barely present stars.
A pause, and the air tightened.
"
Lirka Ka
."
A symbol of might in the unknown, the warrior, whose propensity for wrath would strengthen the spine of the Order through iron resolve. They were a wild card, a gamble so to speak, for
greatness.
The image shifted to that of the King of Korriban.
"
Darth Caedes
."
A symbol of wisdom in knowledge
earned, fought for and maintained, through meticulous care of the Holy Worlds. He was a striking middle ground between two extreme opposites, something, many Sith could benefit from.
"And…
Quinn Varanin
."
The image melted into a likeness that was similar to her own, easily reflecting her daughter.
Quinn was a symbol of youth in the form of a bridge, joining old power and new purpose. She was a representation of the current ethos that proved their culture, built on ruin, might still produce something unbroken. Not a sinner, not a savior…She represented
possibility.
"As of this moment, they now join
Taeli Raaf
and
Gerwald Lechner
on the Dark Council. Understand that I do not give these positions lightly and without evaluation. They have claimed it through passion, strength, power, and victory. You need only remember battlefields from Brosi to Atrisia to know this is true."
Her hands closed, and their faces disappeared…Shrouding the area back in twilight. Srina remained silent for several long moments, letting the news settle, especially for those stepping into a new role. She had not asked. Merely chosen, based on what had taken place, regardless of familial ties or camaraderie. It was a decision made with the discerning eye of a general, a commander, who looked at all aspects of a battlefield before sending in troops. These three were more than capable.
Each decision process was as unique as the individuals who had been chosen.
"Now…I won't take any more of your time. Enjoy this night...Because you have all earned it. Because it may be the last night before we are forced to act again. Our enemies will not slumber…Neither will we."
And with that…Time that had stopped started again, and the music began to play. Light returned to where it had once been, and the deep darkness of her calling for attention faded. It encouraged conversation to begin anew, and the Empress slipped through moving bodies like a river curling around stone. There were other things that she might have liked to discuss; however, they could wait until the high of victory at Atrisia wore off naturally. She drew a deep breath…Slowly, exhaling.
Now—She only had to ensure her Sith didn't try to kill their Mandalorian guests.
Simple, right?
