Faction [GC/SO] The Golden Covenant

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

"Ah, you two are friends?"

"Friends... Acquaintances... Collaborators... Peers..." His smile was suddenly rapacious, straying in an instant, inches from her face, his eyes signalling to the golden lightsaber at his side, "Partners". Malum whispered, by her ear, before just as quickly returning to his correct position, swaying the Princess before him, his smile just as devious with the distance. Darth Nwul outwardly seemed uncaring of the game, though...

"You're being cute, stop it,"

...The fact he had to whisper as much into the back of his brain might imply that he inwardly cared.

So expand the game, drawing envy from one was the goal, it was the task he had set to accomplish.

Yet draw envy from two?

Well, that was a whole other ballgame.

He had always been an overachiever.

Her imagination would hopefully make a belief, that would be far more sacrilegious than the truth ever could be.

He felt a pang of guilt, certainly, Corazona von Ascania did not deserve this, after all, it was Nwul who was at fault. Yet, she was in the great game now, and the great game was terrifying. To come into the heart of the snakepit and not know that... well, that was her funeral already.

"You don't sound particularly enthused about the direction of those you've chosen to serve." Her head tilted to the side, a few stray wisps of blonde hair falling over her vision. "I can imagine that removing yourself from the Sith could be catastrophic to your House."

He naturally too tilted his head, though unnaturally tilted it in the opposite direction as her, as the music again demanded he twirl her dressed form around his fingers, allowing him a moment to consider her words and form an answer. It was a strange thing to note, but the fact she noted it all was deeply concerning. Was she speaking completely off-base? Well... he knew she was not, that is why he could not simply, honestly, laugh away the words as if they were nothing... but would anyone who listened to those words think them off-base?

Paranoid eyes flicked around them, dancing couples, none too focused on them, beyond the hidden jealousies and scorn which adorned all those of their titles and ranks.

Did she somehow know what they were about to do on Fiviune?

How could...

Was Nwul fool enough to TELL HER?

His grip grew accidentally tighter on her form, as for the barest of moments, panic took hold.

No... no... he would not do that.

Seducer or not, he would not have told a JEDI about what was about to happen.

He breathed out, a breath no different from others, but one that chained him to the material coil.

She must have meant the Covenant, this little celebration... nothing else.

Or so he hoped.

Otherwise, there was a very good chance that he was about to die in the next few seconds.

Darth Ophidia would not tolerate a traitor so far up in her ranks.

"The woman I have chosen to serve attempted to assassinate both an Emperor, and a former Emperor. Yet she still lives. I, as her former apprentice, walk freely amongst those gathered today, a known traitor to the Emperor. That should tell you more than enough about the one I follow, I think," Malum said simply, smiling a smile as false as an assassin's words, his motions betraying still the panic that bore within, where once fluid confident movements held vogue, now it was as if he was coiled, he marched in sync with the music, doing the motions, rather than feeling them.

"As for my House... yes, the House of Marr has been in lockstep with the Sith since our creation, since Emperor Darth Vitiate's time, we have served, and we have served loyally. Despite our moments of obscurity, despite our times of prominence, we have been here, always," It was a strange topic to bring up, the House of Marr was the Sith Order, the Sith Order was the House of Marr, both were bound to each other, without weakness or hesitan-

Oh.

Was this what she was doing?

His chuckle broke out of his lungs before he had an opportunity to stop it. The mask of feigned politeness that was expected by all in this gathering, gave up to the sheer absurdity of what she was trying.

He stepped forth again, far too close for her comfort, "Do you intend to bring me to the light, Lady Ascania?" A teasing fire burned in his eyes, and his lips quirked in a smirk, as he whispered.

Oh, it was too precious.

A Jedi bringing a Sith to the light, oh it was absurd.

So absurd that it happened too many times.

His chuckle stopped in its tracks, he might have claimed it a measure to turn away the eyes that had suddenly zeroed in on him. Yet, that would be a lie, the Jedi to him had long since ago stopped being the bogeymen that he had been told as a child would come to kill him, and all that he loved. The bogeymen in their enclave on Jutrand, had always been a constant threat to his family during his youth.

He had met many.

He had spoken to others.

He had long ago given up the shock... at the realisation, that they were... well, the shock that they were not in fact monsters.

Enemies, opponents, rivals.

But not monsters.

The latter was easier to contend with. Monsters could not be understood, could not be reasoned with, could not be communicated with.

Yet the Jedi, try as he might, whether hidden behind a disguise, or in the midst of a duel with life or death at stake... had proven unfortunately human.

People with hopes, dreams, people with their beliefs are born out of a lifetime of education and lived experience. People he could respect, on the battlefield, and off of it.

People he could speak with, people he could dance with.

A sad smile flickered upon his face then. To think in his youth, he would have looked at himself and been scorned. Dancing with a monster, one of an Order that had ruined everything for them, destroyed their Empire, stolen their home, and sent his family fleeing.

Yet the bleeding heart bled on, unfortunately, it was impossible to deny, that Corazona was as human as he was. So where did it leave things? He remembered a quote, from some text he had long since forgotten.

"Between two groups of people, who want to make inconsistent kinds of worlds, I see no remedy, but force."

So war, the self-perpetuating cycle. How lofty he had been in realising the cycle... but a fool in only now realising he was a willing participant in it.

He stepped back again, his face morphing into one of apologia, "Please forgive me, I went too far with the jest," Had he? Probably not, it was an unorthodox accusation certainly, but nobles threw about barbs and hidden verbal daggers at every moment. The ball was in her court... yet, the guilt had won out at the end.

"Some prefer for a woman to remain quiet, some prefer for her to have a voice." Cora murmured as they drifted closer to Nwul and Sophia. "He is a gentleman, but I wouldn't be able to help my concern if one of my little sisters found themselves on the arm of a Sith Lord."

It was not as if the guilt was unwarranted, for even with Corazona as a foe, she proved an able distraction to all else that was happening around them. Especially his... in his opinion, justified feelings of murder, killing, and stabbing that had phased right through him minutes before. In fact, her sapphire eyes had been enough of a distraction to keep his rubies from continually peaking nearby, where Nwul had attempted to cleave his claws into his sister.

"So tell me then, Lady Ascania, if we are so concerning, why exactly do you seem to always find yourselves in the arms of a Sith Lord?" He teased, where he should have been grinding his teeth, "Should it imply that he is... far from a gentle man?" Where his teasing had remit, curiosity did as well. Nwul was an intriguing individual... in more ways than he could truly emphasise, and still, he was uncertain how exactly these two had come to know each other.

He would be lying if he wasn't the slightest bit curious.

"My sisters deserve the best, they are as fiery as they are beautiful, and they are not only simply allowed their voices... I want them to sing to their heart's content of whatever they wish, and I would dare anyone... anyone at all, to attempt to impede them," They were capable themselves, a fact he had not yet fully accepted, but was whether he liked it or not, the truth.

And after all, if anyone would attempt to put out their fire, they would find his lightsaber against their neck.

Yet it went beyond simple protection.

Frankly to Malum, no one was worthy of his sisters.

Especially not someone who seemed a womaniser... or at the very least far more libertine than Malum approved of.

Though maybe, in the end, that was simply an excuse. Find him the perfect man for his sisters, and the ruby eyes would find faults aplenty.

None were worthy of his sisters.

It was simply a fact.

"I am touched by your concern, Malum. But there is no need to worry - Lord Nwul is kind to me and I am here by choice."

There had been far too much head tilting in this conversation already, yet now he added the fourth. Perhaps it was that even to each other, even after having met so long ago, sharing the burden of a name greater than themselves, but still entirely defining them. They were still curiosities to each other, innately alien, innately unknown. In this interaction, they were not simply two nobles dancing, they were two explorers, venturing into an unknown void, hesitant, but inquisitive about what they would find.

He bowed his head, in acceptance of her answer, "As you say... Corazona," She used his first name, a slight surprise to be sure, but he oddly felt it a welcome one, it felt right then to use hers in response, "But please, if that should change, do not hesitate to contact me... it's too early in this war for a princess to die." Where at the beginning flagrant concern was plastered upon his face, it turned towards the pleasant, his smile back upon his face.

He had no real belief that Nwul would do her harm. To pick up a Jedi toy to simply break her, was likely the desire of some in the room, but at the very least he could say confidently that it was not Nwul's way. In that aspect, he could begrudgingly give him that virtue. Not that it made up for his sins.

Speaking of him, for all that Cora did to distract him, it was not enough to completely keep his eyes from glancing. He could at least breathe a sigh of relief, as he watched Sophia of House Marr break off from her dance with Nwul, into the arms of a man he neither knew nor cared to know.

Of course, that relief would quickly turn to concern, as his apprentice of all people, Romé , found herself in Nwul's arms, flashing him a devilish smirk before doing so.

She was playing a dangerous game, he knew it as soon as the music began anew.

He had the excuse to intervene, the music shifted, and he was almost expected to give away his current partner for another. It would be a pity to lose the attractive Jedi from his arms, and after all, there was still much he wished to drill her on.

However, the safety of his apprentice would come first, and knowing Nwul, she was certainly not safe in his arms.

Or so would have been the plan, before the arrival of a doozy.

"Brother! Dear brother Malum! Why don't you introduce me to your friend? I'd very much like to talk with her!"

TBA , his younger sister. Not the youngest, mind you. Though sometimes between Julia and Sophia, it was hard to say. Where Sophia had always been the rebellious youth, Julia had always been... reserved. Shy, cautious, and wary, were other words that were apt to describe her. Yet, where Sophia had grown out of her rebellion... to perhaps pursue another in demand of finding herself, Julia... had never truly grown out of her ways, not that Malum would have demanded her to.

However, he had not expected it to grow worse when they were growing up.

He had never learned why such a shift occurred. He had never asked either. He had always had Sophia, while Julia drifted away.

Not to say he did not love her, but there was no one better to spend a day in the library with, simply reading together in companionable silence. Or else talking of some matter of mutual interest.

He still remembered fondly of the days she asked him to reach for a book that was simply one step too far.

Caught in his reminiscing, it would be his dancing partner who would answer his sister's question before him.

"Corazona von Ascania," Offering her name to TBA , she tilted her head to the young woman in greeting, smiling cordially. "My, aren't you a lovely thing? A bold choice, but black certainly becomes you."

He coughed both somewhat in embarrassment at being caught flat-footed, and the fact so caught up in his thoughts he had simply remained still enough for someone else to answer a question directed at him.

He waved a hand between Corazona and Julia, "Corazona, this is Julia of House Marr, my beloved younger sister." He offered with a genuine smile, that cracked, just the tiniest bit as Corazona mentioned the dress.

Oh, the dress.

He did not regret the message he aimed to make.

But he did feel somewhat guilty for drawing his sisters into the game. He knew, even if she had not said anything, that wearing something that drew such attention to herself was not at all what she wanted.

He might have relented and allowed her to dress as she desired... but looking colourful amongst a sisterhood of black might have been even more attention-grabbing.

So he won out...

Still left him feeling guilty though. He knew she was not even a fan of these kinds of gatherings anyway. Yet if the House of Marr was invited somewhere, then it was expected that the Lord and all his direct family would be in attendance.

She had truly found herself saddled with a losing proposition right at the beginning, hadn't she?

That meant it was his duty to make sure she at least had some enjoyment out of these proceedings.

"How have you found this little celebration, Julia?" He spoke softly, gently, as he always did around the seemingly most delicate of his siblings.

It was at that moment he felt a pinprick at the back of his neck. As if someone was staring at him, turning to look.

He crossed his arms over his broad chest and made eye contract with Darth Malum of House Marr

Why was the old Jedi staring at hi-

That was when he felt it.

Glancing back at little Julia, he felt something he could not quite explain, flowing forth from his sister. He had no great talent for reading emotion through the Force like Nwul, but he was not blind to it, not totally. The revenant energy festered and burned hot.

And Malum realised her ruby eyes were centred upon Corazona.

Oh no.

Not sure what it was, he found himself unconsciously stepping forward, putting himself between his sister, and his dancing partner.

But just as that fire was being smothered, he could smell the smoke of another.

A miasma of darkness exuded out of Nwul, its picture of death one that made their black clothing suddenly apt. Yet... somehow, it was even more apt than he could have imagined. The cloud was not simply of blood, ash, and bone... it was of... bittersweetness. The moment you lowered your loved one into the grave, the moment you accepted they were gone, the moment your clothes of mourning finally... became mourning.

And that miasma was centring around Cillara's neck.

Time slowed around him.

His eyes widened.

He saw his apprentices' life flash before his.

Before he gave it conscious thought, he willed the Force to him, Mind Shard. If he could break Nwul's concentration, then he could save her.

Yet as he prepared his attack, as he would cross a line which there would be no returning from.

Time-shifted.

The darkness faded, and Nwul's attention went to two twins, which from the looks from this distance, he had some history with.

He felt his tense shoulders physically relax, almost giving up entirely. He could only breathe a sigh of relief, as Nwul turned away from Cillara entirely. He had but a moment, to turn back to the two women he had been conversing with before... and of course remind himself that this particular fire was very much not fully settled yet. Still, relief, relief was what filled him at the present.

"Julia... are you okay?"

Of course, that very quickly changed as within minutes, Sophia had returned to Nwul's presence and seemed to converse with him.

And then, of course, Darth Caedes too made his move. The King of Korriban, apparently. Unfortunately, Malum knew very little of him, there was the odd reference to him as a prominent figure decades ago and one who had seemingly regained his prominence during Malum's self-imposed exile on Alvaria.

He already was making a bad first impression, though they had not even met.

Moving to his sister's side, he was fast growing quickly annoyed with those who thought they were worthy to even approach her. Nwul, a libertine, Caedes, far too old... far too frail... a servant of Carnifex.

Oh, he was quickly resolving to make many enemies tonight.

Corazona von Ascania Sophia of House Marr TBA Romé Darth Nwul Darth Caedes Kadann

 

[Lady Venge]

As Venge surveyed the crowd around her, she felt an icy presence settle near her left shoulder, like some unseen specter leering down upon her from above. The smallest hint of a smile crossed her lips as she slowly threaded her way through the crowd, seeking a bit of privacy on the balcony outside.

<You've managed to undo everything I've strived for, Venge, Even in death, you remain a thorn in my side!> an all too familiar voice hissed in her mind.

<Ah, Lord Retsinis. I knew if I created enough waves, you'd show up...eventually> Venge replied. <So...let's cut to the chase, shall we? Why did you clone me over thirty some years ago without my knowledge or consent?>

<You were never meant to know of her existence.>

<Well, I do know of her existence, due to circumstances beyond my control. I want answers.>

<You'll have to discover the answers for yourself....>

<So be it, old man.>

Returning to the gala, Venge made her way towards Darth Amarok, grabbing another drink from a passing servant.

"You don't look particularly pleased," Lord Amarok observed. "I would have thought the prospect of becoming part of the Sith aristocracy would put you in a far better mood."

"No. The spirit of Lord Retsinis paid me a visit. He said I was never meant to know of Eve's existence. He's keeping secrets from me, even in death."

"What do you suppose he was up to, all those years ago," Amarok asked.

"I don't know," Venge replied, pausing for a sip of her drink. "But I believe it's in our best interest to find out."

TAGS- OPEN

 

[Elmindra Xitaar]

Elmindra allowed a wicked smile to grace her lips as Darth Caedes parried with a challenge of his own, her satisfaction palpable in the Force. The Falleen Marquess was not easily impressed but this man had not once disappointed her in the years they'd known each other, not once wavered in his loyalty to her, even when confronted with challenges such as the ones this gathering presented. Her gaze lingered on him a moment longer as he pulled away, parting the crowd before him with his presence as he made his way to the young Marr. Although she and her king no longer maintained a physical connection, the weight of Elmindra's mind and the lasting effects of her pheromones remained as she turned to hone in on her new target — Alina Trimeru.

The silver haired woman appeared to be caught up in conversation with a small group composed of a tall militant man, the Mirialan Jedi and… was that the Princess Varanin? Indeed, Elmindra confirmed her suspicions of the blonde woman's identity as she drew closer, picking up the tail end of the older man's brief recitation of Empress Varanin history. His height and battle-hardened build made him an imposing figure and he apparently knew his history but clearly not through the lens of nobility as much as experience. His aged features implied that he was comparable in years to Elmindra herself, though humans showed signs of deterioration more quickly than Falleen. It was apparent that his purpose was not to mingle so she presumed he must be working security, but for whom she did not know.

"I am surprised they don't teach you of that time, when even the leaders of the current Sith Empire were just learning their craft."

"Is it really so surprising? Surely teaching such important history would display a level of competency that would be grossly out of character for the Jedi Order," Elmindra added, a cordiality to her lofty tone despite the obvious insult, as she stepped into the circle of conversation.

"Pardon my intrusion. Lady Alina. Princess." She nodded to each of them in turn, adopting a friendly tone fit for idle conversation between nobility while displaying her recognition and making it clear who she deemed deserving of a direct address. She plucked a drink from the Jedi's preferred tray as if he was nothing more than a serving boy, her sharp obsidian fingernails tinking faintly against the fine glass.

"I am Marquess Elmindra Xitaar, First Lord of Korriban and Captain of The Omen," she began, looking to Alina as she continued. "I am glad for the opportunity to officially make your acquaintance and congratulate you in person on your appointment on Dromund Kaas." Her smile did not touch her eyes as she proffered her glass as if to toast their introduction.

Alina Tremiru | Quinn Varanin | Kadann | Shan Pavond

 

[TBA]

Electricity filled the air.

Literally. Little sparks danced across Julia's fingers as she kept the very not nice smile on her face as she glared down towards Corazona. She was a threat to the comfortable life Julia strived to maintain. That much was obvious now. She knew she was a threat, didn't she? That smug little smile on her face suggested as much. And yet she felt so weak. Did she think she was safe just because of the setting?

"How have you found this little celebration, Julia?"

"I think it needs to brighten up, just a little."

For a moment it looked like Malum was fully intending to stop her, stepped in between. And yet his attention slipped. And that was enough. Amidst the sudden rush of darkness around them Julia slipped close enough to reach out. Tap the conniving wench before she could truly threaten the great House of Marr. Just a short zap, to put her right in her place. "You don't belong here. Don't think you're safe."

"Julia... are you okay?"

Malum was back then, and Julia just smiled wide as ever. The mask she was long used to wearing came in full effect.

"I'm fine, dear brother. Are you fine? You seem quite shocked by something."

Darth Malum of House Marr | Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Partners?

A shiver trawled along her spine as the heat of Malum's breath drifted against her ear. Her gaze flicked to the gilded saber at his belt, then back to his face.

Oh. He was having fun with this, wasn't he?

But now, her dance partner appeared deep in thought. Though Cora could catch threads of feeling - curiosity, enjoyment, paranoia - she was not privy to his musings. Even if she could probe his mind undetected - she could not - that act was far too vulgar for this setting. That thought drifted away as he offered an explanation, his movements stiff and his hand tightening a notch at her waist.

Cora regarded the new information with wide eyes and rapt curiosity. Infighting, a doomed assassin, and ancient loyalties - all dreadfully fitting for an aristocrat of Malum's bearing. Then he drew in uncomfortably close, bearing a wolfish smile and teasing words.

"Do you intend to bring me to the light, Lady Ascania?"

Rather than shy away, Cora raised her face to meet Malum's own. It was a blunt gesture, one that kept them only centimeters apart.

"I intend to survive, Lord Marr. Do you?"

It had not been lost on her that, if the winds of war had shifted differently, Cora might've found herself at the academy on Korriban rather than the Jedi temple of Coruscant. She acknowledged his apology with a slight, forward tilt of her head.

"If one of my brothers teased their dance partner, I would have cross words for them."

She laughed, a light, airy sound as he twirled her. Every subtle interaction, every spoken word, right down to their tone, had been selected carefully.

"Always?"

Cora had to dig back into her memories of Exegol, wondering if she'd found herself on Starfall's arm at one point or another. It had to be strange, to see a Jedi on the arm of a Sith Lord. It was strange.

"I knew Nwul before he was Nwul." She said simply. "He was…kind to me during a difficult period in my life." The lowest point, her marriage with Horace - she saw no need to furnish him with salacious details. "After I was captured during the ritual on Thule, he was kind to me again."

Over Malum's shoulder, Darth Nwul and his new dance partner swept into view. Cora didn't know who Romé was, but she did squint in the barest recognition at the pale wisps of mist coiling around her neck. Where had she seen that before? Ah-Ukatis. Nwul, known then as Wake Nayne, had nearly devoured the spirit of Darth Ukatis inhabiting an ancient lightsaber.

What had that woman done to eat such a - oh, the twins. Darya and Yjome arrived bedecked in their finery, stealing their father away for a dance.

To his point about caring for his sisters, Cora nodded empathetically. "I understand. I've four younger sisters and four younger brothers back home. I would kill for them."

She had.

"But please, if that should change, do not hesitate to contact me... it's too early in this war for a princess to die."

"Princesses die all the time." She murmured, a distant note of sorrow weighing her voice, painted lips pulling into a tight smile. "In one way or another. That is the way of war."

Darth Malum of House Marr was the second person to offer her safety tonight. Genuine as he appeared, she didn't trust him. She didn't trust any of them.

There was a subtle shift in the air, a hardened focus to Malum as his attention centered on the woman who'd stumbled into Nwul's deadly snare. The hairs at the back of Cora's neck stood in warning. And then-

"You don't belong here. Don't think you're safe."

Zap!

A spark leapt from Julia's fingertip, arcing to sizzle against Cora's hand. Startled, the blonde winced and cradled her injured hand before tugging her sleeve over the reddened welt at her wrist. Save for the fleeting grimace, her face maintained an eerily pleasant calm as if the younger Marr's little tantrum hadn't stung.

It had.

When Malum turned back to the pair, Julia's unpleasant demeanor evaporated as Cora looked on passively. Anger coiled tightly inside of the exiled princess, then dissipated beneath layers of decorum worn like a second skin. In the near distance, she could spy the youngest Marr - Sophia of House Marr - with a new dance partner. Did she have a cruel streak too?

"Your sisters are lovely, Lord Marr. I believe that this one-" She tilted her head toward TBA . "Would like a dance with her brother."

Objectively, it would do no good to instigate things further with the little witch. Instead, she passed Julia a small, folded cloth that had been tucked into her sleeve.

"For your hair- you've got some static, dear."

"Perhaps we will be in touch, Malum. Thank you for the dance."

His given name was used pointedly in place of his title. A step forward, and she pressed her lips to his cheek in a brief, chaste kiss.

With that, Cora tilted her head in parting and drifted away, soon to find herself in the arms of a faceless nobleman attempting to curry favor with the Covenant.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Alina Tremiru //: Kadann //: Shan Pavond //: Elmindra Xitaar //:​

She had heard Darth Moridin's name many times growing up. She learned of the story of his Empire and how Ashin was able to overthrow it. Not only was Darth Moridin a cautionary tale, but he was also responsible for several of the skills Quinn had learned from her birth mother, Spencer. Quinn wasn't quite fond of how Ashin had trained Spencer and used her as a living super weapon. Yet, it was a legacy she couldn't run from.

Being reminded of it and how little she lived up to her parents when they were her age always ate at her ego. The frustration etched in her brow, but with Alina's arrival, she relaxed. Having the woman close brought ease to her, and the smile that had begun to fade returned to her face. Looking at Alina, she smiled, "I didn't realize you were fond of old history. Maybe I'll have to take you home sooner than later."

The conversation was cut early as another joined them. Upon the woman's arrival, Quinn felt like a tiny feather scratched at the length of her throat. She quietly cleared her throat, trying to suppress the cough that would be unbecoming of a princess. The Falleen introduced herself and made a note to acknowledge the Echani. Quinn nodded and continued to smile, "Pleasure is mine."

As soon as introductions were over, it became apparent that the woman had only come over to speak with Alina. Quinn quieted and listened; she was curious about why the woman was so pointedly interested in Alina. Being appointed a planet in the Empire was an enormous undertaking, and the Echani beamed with pride. A spark of jealousy tightened in her chest as she linked her arm with Alina, then looked at the Jedi, who had stuttered his way through the conversation earlier. "Did the host hire Jedi to guard and pass drinks?" Quinn raised an eyebrow, "Does your Order know about this?" She pressed Shan slightly as she looked over his tray. "Not trying to poison the nobility here?" She asked, smirking.

 

[Kadann]

"I am Marquess Elmindra Xitaar, First Lord of Korriban and Captain of The Omen," she began, looking to Alina as she continued. "I am glad for the opportunity to officially make your acquaintance and congratulate you in person on your appointment on Dromund Kaas." Her smile did not touch her eyes as she proffered her glass as if to toast their introduction.

Kadann took this as his cue to back out of the conversation. He was not here to satisfy the curiosity of Lords and Ladies of this new order of Sith. Even if he had indulged Romé curiosity for a time. And decided to speak about the history of the Sith.

"Did the host hire Jedi to guard and pass drinks?" Quinn raised an eyebrow, "Does your Order know about this?" She pressed Shan slightly as she looked over his tray. "Not trying to poison the nobility here?" She asked, smirking.

Even as Kadann gave a subtle bow to indicate that he was taking his leave, he spoke.

"The young jedi is here as a protected guest of our host," Kadann said in a perfectly benign tone. There was no way it could be construed as a threat, but at least Quinn had a little context before she decided to start poking and prodding the padawan.

 

[Shan Pavond]

Shan held his tongue at Elmindra Xitaar 's comments towards the Order. Doing his best to be seen but not heard. This was a good way for him to learn as much information as he could. Making a mental note that the quite arrogant woman ahead of him was a Lord of Korriban apparently...and then the woman who had been sending chills down his spine. She was apparently appointed a place on Dromund Kaas? That was going to be quite useful to keep to himself. Lady Alina Tremiru ...That was going to be important to remember. Corazona was going to be finding out plenty of her own information, hopefully. Either way, the Padawan kept a polite smile on his face and tried his best to pretend he wasn't here. Which was going well, until the Princess seemed to talk directly at him. Blast it. At least Kadann seemed to attempt to try and answer the question before Shan spoke himself.

"Kadann is using the term "guest" quite loosely. I was one of two Jedi captured during the battle of Thule." Did the Jedi Order know he was even here? More than likely. There was a part of him that was quite happy that they weren't trying to get him and Cora back. Shan wasn't sure if he'd like people being in danger for him. Especially when Cora and himself could leave whenever they wanted. A more honest smile came to his face however when Quinn Varanin asked if he was trying to poison the Nobility, shaking his head ever so slightly. "I'm a healer. Not a killer. Although I suppose there's a few here who think the best way to deal with a problem is to kill it, instead of cure it. I have offered my healing skills to...Lord Nwul, to help anyone who was injured in the battle, but it appears I haven't been needed." Was it potentially foolish that Shan was willing to heal his enemies? Yes. But it's how he was as a person. Everyone deserved a chance to be treated.

 

[Alina Tremiru]

Oh, quite the shift in conversation. Alina turned her gaze to the newcomer, smiling ever so faintly in the process. Though her own smile mirrored the strangers. Never quite meeting her eyes, never quite seeming friendly or inviting. This was a Sith she didn't know, nor had she heard of. And yet, they seemed to know some about her. How one sided. Her eyes shifted down towards the Jedi shortly after.

Healing his foes? How foolish. If he was here to at least try to poison the long time foes of his order, it'd at least make more sense. Though if that was his intentions she doubted Shan would be allowed to serve such things. She reached a hand up, gently patting the hand that had taken her arm. Smiled far more warmly to Quinn. They'd have to talk more about her position on Dromund Kaas soon.

Ruling alone was boring, after all.

"First Lord seems like quite the statement, considering how many are just buried there alone. It speaks volumes." None of those other titles or names were the type she recognized. New Sith, if she had to take a guess, who've risen quite high in the time she spent dead. Her gaze returned to Elmindra with the same smile as before. Cold, judging.

"It is quite the pleasure to meet the Sith responsible for reclaiming my lost homes. You've all been quite busy in my absence."

Elmindra Xitaar | Quinn Varanin | Kadann | Shan Pavond

 

[Zal Aditi]

[ Z A L...A D I T I ]
[ Esstran Sector // Thule // The Restored Palace ]
[ Lord Nwul's Victory Gala ]​

Zal cocked her head in acknowledgement of Nwul's greeting, the gesture one that could be interpreted as either respect or simple curiosity. As the room darkened for the Steward's illusory theatrics, Zal reached out mental tendrils into the tangle of other minds doing the same, testing the waters.

A bright shimmer of light rippled through her feathers once again, a brilliant contrast to the shadows, and she heard murmurs rise from those around her. That would need to be remedied soon... though striking, her body's expressive reactivity to her use of the Force was hardly subtle, nor would it be conducive to stealth. For now, though, the effect spoke of strange power, and the wonder, curiosity, and admiration that arose from her onlookers simply added to the drama of their entrance. Beside her, Caedes' inner fire glowed, bestowing a molten red cast to all around him. Their group shone and shimmered in the dark like a strange planet, their light glinting a shifting constellation of reflections off the wine glasses and candelabra that surrounded them.

The speech concluded, and Zal was once again struck by Nwul's many contradictions. What was it about him that drew people to him so effectively? He called for rebellion against their emperor, the leader under whom the various fractured factions of the Sith Order had been bound; then a mere breath later, claimed to be working to build unity for that same order himself. He spun a dream of coddled acolytes and imperial partnership, but vowed to restore and protect Sith culture. She watched him move through the room, shifting from person to person, aiming his charisma at one individual, then another. The oddest part was that somehow, it worked. Guests smiled and engaged, pledged loyalty, each one feeling singled out, special. Was that enough to overlook the jumbled ideology? Did they merely hear the parts they agreed with, and ignore the rest? Was this the kind of magnetic leadership that had driven the Ashlan Crusaders into their fanatic ideals?

The party swirled on around her as she mused, a miasma of intrigue and competing personalities. She did not have the political skill of her companions - though, to be fair, few did. There were not many who could match the social dexterity of Elmindra Xitaar ; while Zal was a predator of the wilds, an event such as this was where the Falleen noblewoman could truly sharpen her claws. Her elegance, rapier cunning, and mastery of the nuance of conversation were only augmented by her racial pheromones, which slid insidiously through the crowds, spreading her subtle influence to all around her. She carried herself with a poise and a presence that commanded the respect of all around her. Zal had been meticulous in crafting her own appearance tonight, knowing the high standard set by the woman when it came to personal style.

And then there was Darth Caedes himself, surely a potent political force in his own right. He stood beside her, a beacon in the force, massive with power. Her master had come to embody the planet she served, moving as the hand of Korriban itself, and that felt right; she was the holy world's child, and now its apprentice. And like a planet, he drew those around him into his orbit, drawing select allies close, building his inner circle. Even Nwul saw him as a mentor; indeed, his guidance and skill had helped build the ritual that had taken Thule and launched the Steward into this prominence. And behind her stood Shaper, and his apprentice. Two ancient beings, one brimming with power, the other with fascination. Zal had felt Madrona A’Mia 's curious awareness sweep over her once or twice already this evening, and in truth, she shared the Neti's interest. There was much to be learned from these two newest members of their party.

Caedes and Elmindra took their leave, and Zal was at last drawn away from her thoughts and back to the present moment. With a brief sigh and a thought, she summoned one of her Tuk'ari and slipped her coat off of her shoulders. It was looking like they were going to be here for a while.

The rich fur dropped into her attendant's waiting hands to reveal a sleek, floor-length black evening gown. A long, jagged cutout snaked like lightning from neck to knee, where it opened into a slit in the skirt, which flared just below the knee. She'd used a dye derived from the bioluminescent moss from the former Thule on the lining fabric, and it flashed a brilliant blue as she moved. Her forearms were adorned with jewelled cuffs of the same elaborate set she wore on her neck and ears.

Her eyes swept across the crowd, seeking something to entertain herself with. She could feel boredom beginning to itch at the back of her mind, beginning to fan the flame of her more impulsive instincts. Her gaze lingered on the Jedi guests consideringly for a moment, and she smirked, wondering if they knew the brave little plaything she had scooped up in the chaos on Thule. Maybe they had even been friends with the young man... should she ask them? But no, they were already swarmed with too many eager hangers-on. Later, if things didn't pick up, perhaps it would be entertaining. For now, though, she would leave her options open, and see what the night had to offer.

[ Darth Caedes // Elmindra Xitaar // Madrona A’Mia ] ​

by Dax Fyre​

 

[Darth Nwul]

The atmosphere of the gala had begun to ease further into the enjoyment of the evening. Soon folk would drift into the conversation and camraderie, or they would plot against one another-and him. It was inevitable given the evaporation of patriotism and love of the Sith as a whole. Oh, for it to be a time when the Sith believed in something more than the individual. Nwul's expression shifted slightly and his daughter noticed, looking up into his face with an arched eyebrow.

"You're brooding, father," She whispered as they danced.

"Am I?" Nwul remarked, chuckling, "Thank you for the warning my dear, if I ever start turning down the lights in the throne room, give your father a good smack, will you?"

"I will never let you become like them, I'd sooner kill you and take over myself," Darya said sweetly, her smile filled with love even while her eyes were filled with ambition. "Not until I am your superior, though, father. No sooner."

"At least you understand," He said, turning left, then right, then left again, "If only Yjome was as ambitious."

The sweetest of the two, Darya, with her humble nature and diplomatic demeanor cracked an easy smile, "A warrior is a warrior."

He raised his eyebrows, "And a Princess is a Princess," He replied as the latest song drifted to its close. He released his daughter who curtsied to him. He gave her a nod of approval and she returned to the dance with another partner while Yjome watched from the side, her intense stare fixed on the man Darya had taken the hands of.

Nwul turned to take the next set of hands and blinked with surprise when Sophia of House Marr stepped into his field once again. Amusing. She fell back into the waltz as did he, his expression one of reserved mirth. Or perhaps it was of a spider watching a fly step onto it's web. His liquid gold gaze scanned her face, tasting her emotions.

"You seem a little too young to be curious," Nwul teased back, "Adopted, but mine, the last survivors of the Ashlan Crusade," Nwul said without a hint of coverage, rather he was quite blunt with his words. They continued the dance, easily moving through the rise and fall of a waltz known only to those from Sith nobility, the movements a bit more aggressive than the more common dances of the core.

Her question was one that surprised him even more, how funny, he smiled and tilted his head to examine her face again. "My my, Sophia Marr, you are a brave soul. Not many would address such a thing so openly," He reminded her, "But yes, what you felt was me."

Then she pressed, and he laughed, the music drawing down and their steps slowing. He stopped and he leaned in, "You aren't that special, not to me, not yet," He whispered and let go of her hands. "Just a necessary lesson taught on behalf of a friend, nothing more."

He turned away and shrugged, "I hope we talk again soon, Lady Marr," He said coyly and turned away only for the very person he intended to talk to next to materialize out of the crowd, his presence crashing down upon the two of them with a titanic wave as he cut in. Nwul blinked with a bit of surprise, unsure what to say here.

"Caedes, just the man I wanted to-"

But the waltz was ongoing. Nwul blinked a few times in amusement, he hadn't been cut off like that in a long time. He watched the pair step away, shrugging to himself and turning towards the crowd. He let the snub roll of of him and instead found himself a drink, having a sip before turning back to watch the waltz at it happened. His drifting movements landing him near Zal Aditi and @Madrona A'Mia. His eyes sparkled at the ambitious apprentice.

"Fancy seeing you again," He teased as if their telepathic interaction had never happened. He sipped at his drink, "Beastmaster," He inclined his head to the magnificent Zal Aditi. His gaze returned to Caedes again. Darth Caedes, King of Korriban. Who's presence here was no accident. The lord of Korriban had benefitted from Nwul's early research. The Shipyards he had formulated were within his domain and the star-iron he had postulated had been shared with Caedes freely.

"Your King..." Nwul said to the two of them using a bit of volume and his presence to draw a few extra eyes. A few nobles looked his way, curious as to what Nwul was going to talk about, "I said that we had lost our way in many ways. Our culture, our art, our dignity." Nwul said easily as a few nobles reacted, looking at one another, "But there is someone else who aims to restore it. I've been to the motherland, to the holy world, and I've seen the beauty of Caedes' domain."

"...it warms my heart," He offered, "If it weren't for him, I may have feared all was lost."

A murmur rose up around him as a few looked to the frighteningly awe inspiring visage of Darth Caedes with new consideration. Watching him dance a waltz with a Scion of House Marr. Many considered Korriban to be desolated by the Ashlan Scourge. Yet here there was confirmation from more than just the conquerors that the world was not just reviving, it was thriving.

He had another sip of his drink, "You have a good Master," He said thoughtfully, waiting for the dance to end.

 

[Sophia of House Marr]

​

Tag: Darth Nwul | Darth Caedes
Location: Thule
___________

Quote of the Moment:
"The universe wrote fiction in us. It's called fear."
___________​

Malum seemed to be temporarily accepting of her dance partners, though, it also might have been the contrast between TBA and Corazona von Ascania that allotted the raven-haired woman a temporary reprieve from his watchful eye. The tension between the two women that held him captive could have been considered delicate…If the comparison was with a Sarlacc. She felt for him. She felt for all three of them, however, she had her own concerns.

Darth Nwul.

The circular dancing ring had led them back to one another, almost, as if it were providence instead of an inevitable game of numbers. If they stayed on the ballroom floor for any length of time, they would eventually find their way back to one another at some point. This round…seemed a little different. He felt distant…Somehow. What had happened between one waltz and the next?

Crimson orbs touched burnished orange and she had the distinct sensation that he was drinking her in. Not in a necessarily licentious fashion…But it was definitely akin to the way a serpent let its tongue taste the air for food. Were she a bottle of wine? She would have likened it reading the label before daring to test the quality…Lest it taste of vinegar. Lips of rose-red formed a kittenish smile that lingered at the corner of her mouth in a way that was generally very, very distracting. "I must disagree with you, my kind host…"

"Having daughters that seem to be about our age is hardly a matronly curiosity."

The fact that they were adopted made partial sense. Unless, the Sith Lord was much older than he looked. Her views were slated with the touch of pedantic nobility but she accepted it easily enough. Of all the things that defied law and reason? Adopting survivors from the Ashlan Crusade was likely the least odd thing in the room. Her nose did scrunch, cutely, at the mention of them while she spun with purpose in his arms. She knew these dances, so well, that she could do them in her sleep.

It was mention of the Militant Light that annoyed her. A place where her family would likely have been destroyed on sight simply due to ancient lore about crimson eyed Sith warriors. Hypocrisy reigned supreme in cults that were driven by a misguided hope for redemption. How they were able to rationalize religious sanctity while bathing themselves in the blood of Sith… Sophia would never know. Regardless, she had no patience for it anyway. That this man thought her brave…

She laughed sweetly. It wasn't a mocking gesture, not in the slightest, but a demure response that rolled from her chest with a trill so beguiling that it trailed off into an almost feline hum. "My brother tells me that I can be quite headstrong…Should I fear you, then?", her question countered, but the host of the Gala swiftly justified the use of force as if it were something…Trivial. What almost caused her to step on his foot (Not on purpose of course. Sophia, would never do that. Right? Right.) enough to break a toe or two was the notion that in some world she wasn't special. Yet.

Even the "yet" that had been added did little to soothe her and she only watched him while trying to decide if she ought to call him on it. The song was already winding down, however, and it would soon be time to switch partners again. He let go of her hands so quickly that she wondered if Darth Nwul actually meant what he said in the end. That he hoped, they might speak soon. Did he?

Or was he only too pleased to get away from someone so plain, so typical, that it bordered on the profane?

Sophia was left with many curiosities in his coy tone but she didn't have time to dwell. She had wanted her freedom. She had required the attention of powerful Sith so that she might integrate into society and be taken as seriously as her brother but…littlest Marr bit her lip. She wasn't special?

As Darth Caedes approached…It was an entirely different sensation than what Darth Nwul had left her with. None of her other Sith on her dance card had held a candle to either of them, but she supposed that they were well aware of that fact. The King of Korriban seemed to carry a mixture of charm and predatory intensity, but, the crimson-eyed Marr refused to flinch. He held the ability to silence the crowd and make everything fade away…But she met his gaze with a calm confidence and an artful smile bloomed on previously pouting lips.

"I think our host wished to bend your ear, your grace."

She watched his extended hand for a moment to see if he might withdraw while watching the back of Darth Nwul's head disappear in the distance. People were staring. Would she spurn his unspoken request or would she be able to recover? The host kept his power buried, while this one, this King, let his presence creep through the crowd like a terrifying blanket. One could either fight to keep their head afloat or surrender and suffocate. Sophia did not know the meaning of the word surrender.

Realizing that his decision to dance with her had been made, regardless the reason, she fell into a delicate curtsey as decorum demanded. So. So, so, so. She was so ordinary that even a King might pause his political investments to weave poetic curiosity about her intentions? Well. That didn't sound so boring to the littlest Marr. (Because in no way, shape, or form could Darth Caedes have been interested in her because of Darth Nwul's proximity…That would be crazy. Yeah, totally.)

When she rose from her subservient position her eyes were like rubies in the dark. Glimmering from beneath waves of silken hair that was as dark as the space between stars. "I am honored by your attention to detail …But I assure you—House Marr is no stranger to storms, and I, too, am unafraid of uncharted skies."

She let her right-hand fall into his while she stepped into his space so that she might rest a hand on his shoulder. His would naturally fall to the small of her waist and she waited for the King to begin leading. Surely, he knew the steps. Sophia took the pause to collect her thoughts before a light smile touched her lips as the music began to soothe hidden nerves that had been left raw by the excitement of the evening. Rather than to shy away from the metaphor that had been offered she embraced it. Using his knowledge as a canvas to paint her own narrative.

"My wings are not clipped…but honed to withstand any crucible.", Sophia continued the conversation in earnest, as if, she wasn't dancing with someone she knew could crack her spine if she breathed the wrong word. He could have held her as a lifeless doll for all the Gala to see and she doubted that anyone but House Marr would protest. With that in mind she remained poised and proud despite the intensity of the encounter. She would not bend, nor break, under pressure. Instead, she flashed Darth Caedes one of her charming, disarming smiles, and twirled as elegantly as a lotus unfolding. None could say that House Marr did not raise it's Sithlings well.

"And as for the roughness of uncharted storms…", Sophia murmured boldly and perhaps, with a hint of challenge, lest her think her weak. "I daresay, my lord, that the winds of change can prove just as invigorating as they are tumultuous. Would you not agree?"

Her words were a delicate blend of respect for the power her current dance partner so openly wielded and a touch of playful banter. It was a quiet assertation of her own strength, resilience, and a spirit that was full of fire. Even in the face of what could have been certain death…She held her ground seamlessly. That in itself would give the higher echelon on Sith nobility something to gossip about for weeks on end. The absurdity of the Marr child—To think she might first monopolize the time of the host, then, dance freely with a King. Oh…How they would talk.

Good. Internally, she came to a simple conclusion about the vulgar crowd.

Let them.

 

[Zal Aditi]

[ Z A L...A D I T I ]
[ Esstran Sector // Thule // The Restored Palace ]
[ Lord Nwul's Victory Gala ]
​

Zal's eyes sparkled with interest and amusement as she watched Nwul surrender his dance partner to her master. She watched for a sign of aggression or annoyance from the Steward at the snub, but he seemed to control himself. Either he had gotten better at mastering his emotions, or he was on his best behavior for the occasion. Given how much more powerful he had become from when she had first encountered him on Korriban, she hoped it was the former.

He drifted closer to her and A'mia, his acknowledgement of the two of them pulling the trio into a group together - a group that turned to watch Darth Caedes consideringly.

"Your King..." Nwul said to the two of them using a bit of volume and his presence to draw a few extra eyes. A few nobles looked his way, curious as to what Nwul was going to talk about, "I said that we had lost our way in many ways. Our culture, our art, our dignity." Nwul said easily as a few nobles reacted, looking at one another, "But there is someone else who aims to restore it. I've been to the motherland, to the holy world, and I've seen the beauty of Caedes' domain."

"Perhaps that culture and dignity are not so very lost after all," Zal suggested, taking a small sip of her drink as she watched the dance floor. "There are those who still walk the ancient ways."

"...it warms my heart," He offered, "If it weren't for him, I may have feared all was lost."

At this she turned to look at the Steward, her piercing gaze searching his face. Caedes had made a point of attending this gathering, wanting to show solidarity and support for Nwul's rise to prominence. It seemed that Nwul shared her master's desire to bolster his allies. Caedes' move on the dance floor could easily have sparked a conflict or seething resentment. Instead, Nwul had used the moment to spotlight Caedes and reinforce the man's importance and power to those gathered here. Perhaps his words about unity were more than just rhetoric after all.

"Indeed. He has lead the charge to cleanse Korriban of the Light Side oppression... But we could never have had such rapid success without your collaboration." She inclined her head and raised her glass in a small gesture of appreciation.

He had another sip of his drink, "You have a good Master," He said thoughtfully, waiting for the dance to end.

"He has a skill for seeing potential," she replied, following his gaze back to the dance floor, "And knows better than to waste it. His guidance is an honor."

She paused briefly, watching the dancers, then looked back to the Steward, regarding him curiously. "Tell me, Lord Nwul... now that you have shaped Thule to your liking, what are your plans for this planet?"

[ Darth Caedes // Darth Nwul // Madrona A’Mia ] ​

by Dax Fyre​

 

[Madrona A’Mia]

​

The party churned, dance partners spun and broke apart only to recouple anew and A'Mia watched on. She drifted forward to keep pace with her fellow acolyte, but not before casting an acknowledging glance to Arctus Silmar on her way in a silent assurance that she would continue to gather observations. Although they were currently of the same rank, considering Zal Aditi her "peer" was not quite right. The woman was more akin to a force of nature, albiet a smaller one than Darth Caedes , and A'Mia had only just begun her journey as a student of the Sith way.

She watched the happenings of subtle political and interpersonal intrigue unfolding with an almost clinically detached air. Only when their host recaptured her attention and spoke of the King did she seem to refocus. A'Mia's mask like face remained serene as Darth Nwul deftly played to both the crowd and gave what appeared to be earnest praise. Her blue-green gaze shifted toward Zal as the keen Omwati spoke and she schooled her sight when she made to look back at Nwul with another small curtesy.

A'Mia considered responding to the back and forth between the pair but opted instead to practice meditative silence as she listened intently. Her living gown entirely stilled, she reigned in her presence within the Force as best she could, and made of herself a deferential living statue. She still cut a regal figure and her stillness did nothing to diminish her air of confidence.

 

[Darth Caedes]

• Esstran Sector
• Thule
• Rivobam Jungle | The Restored Palace
• Color Code: 028dc1
• Tags— Sophia of House Marr | Madrona A’Mia | Elmindra Xitaar | Zal Aditi

"I think our host wished to bend your ear, your grace."​

Then tonight, our host will learn patience.

"My, what have we here?" Caedes purred and pulled close.​

"A bird flung free from cages she seeks to leave forever behind; outgrown, though yet with wings untested against the roughness of uncharted storms."​

Sophia met the gaze of Caedes with an unerring confidence; so complete, in fact, as to betray any notions of the girl's bravery in favor of mere naivety and noble privilege. This creature had not yet seen the depths; was not yet well-acquainted with hopelessness and being broken, but she could learn.

"I am honored by your attention to detail," she said.​

"…But I assure you—House Marr is no stranger to storms, and I, too, am unafraid of uncharted skies."​

He took Sophia's hand into his own, and with his other, he let fingers glide like snake's-touch, sinking lower, lower into place across her hips. Caedes was no practiced dancer, and so his movements resembled those befitting a warrior rather than a courtier, though with artistry nevertheless. Bending to the sway of music, grip tight around her, he took Sophia into the thick of the sweaty crowds.

"Oh?" He whispered, breath hot against her neck.​

"Then perhaps not a bird at all, but a dragon."​

They pulled apart and his smile looked like daggers. Then he came plunging back into place, a lunging dune-cat, and threw her for a spin.

"And within which storms has this 'dauntless' dragon flown, to test her wings against such a wealth of trial and adversity as to make such claims?"​

​

 

[Sophia of House Marr]

​

Tag: Darth Caedes
Location: Thule
___________

Quote of the Moment:
"Her soul was too deep to explore by those who always swam in the shallow end."
___________​

Sophia's innate laugh was a melody that rose exquisitely above the crescendo of the live orchestra. It turned heads, honied and pleasing, but was easily as enigmatic as the shadowed halls of her fabled house. Her expression remained unwavering when taking in the words of a King who so comfortably took her hand. "…A dragon?", she echoed with glimmering ruby eyes, her cultured tones carrying the weight of her lineage. A slight smile curled into the corners of crimson lips as she found herself accepting the opinion. "Aye, your grace, a dragon indeed, but not the kind that lords ferociously over a desolate wasteland…That would be much too cliché."

(And House Marr would not be caught dead, with that.)

She twirled expertly under Caedes's lead, the act effortless, while her lavish gown became a swirl of blood and night against the blaze of the ballroom. As she returned to his waiting embrace, garnet eyes, alight with the fires of ambition and youth, locked onto his with an intensity he might find disarming. It was a response to an unspoken challenge, not, an effort in disrespect. "The storms I seek, King of Korriban, are those that change the very fabric of our world..."

But that wasn't what the much taller male had asked. He was seeking her history, her accomplishments, and perhaps, even the deeds that might have warranted her access to this event. (Part of her wanted to rebuke the idea that she needed to explain herself, but the rest, played the game. She hated being the hapless mouse in a room full of starving cats.) Her achievements would certainly not be as innumerable as those of her brother but she was still proud of where she stood. "What storms have I braved? Clearly, you've never attended a formal dinner with House Marr. Nor endured the snoring of my elder brother in transit…"

A touch of humor (Funny, yes, but it was also true. For force's sake Malum could snore…) to lighten the nervous energy that bounced around inside. She couldn't let him see that, behind her confidence, lay a wariness. She was different from most of the Sith in the room. Categorically younger, for one thing, but her mind wasn't pulled down by failure. Even if she had been unsuccessful in some ventures…She still had her eyes on the prize. Her expression settled for a moment so that she could answer him, truly, while leaving Marr Family anecdotes to the wayside. For now.

"It may seem trivial to someone so illustrious…But we survived. Without power, support, or even the security that we might see the next sunrise."

It was not a traditional fight. She hadn't held the strength then that she had now. Her eyes grew distant for a moment at the memory of being forced to flee their home, with her parents, for the fact that it and everything in the surrounding area would soon become ash. The fighting had spilled through Sith Space and beyond. The bad blood, the infighting, assassination attempts, and every hardship, every coup that a falling Empire might endure. It was a storm to be weathered like no other. It had changed her, allowing her drive, and passion to fight for her own future. Her parents had sheltered her as best they could. Malum had always tried to keep her safe—And far from the battlefield.

But no one could truly protect her when the sky was literally falling.

Sophia had learned to protect herself.

"You will find that my marks within the Academy of Jutrand were exemplary. My instructors…", she trailed off as she pulled back slightly, her hand gently brushing against his, a fleeting touch that was both a caress and laced with surety that the King wouldn't let her fall, "Don't even recall my final exam."

"It was a test of mental fortitude. I won." (As if that needed to be said. Please.)

With a daring step, Sophia pulled away, only to be drawn back into the circle of his arms, their dance a mimicry of a very dangerous game. He moved with precision. His footwork was exact in every way and she could almost predict where he would move when. It was a direct contrast to her own actions which seemed to be filled with life, desire, and a passion for what it represented. He was made of rock, strong and sturdy, while she seemed to be made of water. Blending and bending around him with fluidity that betrayed years of practice. Of knowing, exactly what this dance should be, both expressively and visually. "And you, your grace…", she questioned, her tone a soft purr that was laced with curiosity, "…What tempests have you braved? For a king must know the fury of the skies if he is to rule the land below."

Her smile was a silent, however, friendly gauntlet thrown at his feet. He would of course have far more experience than she did, at any rate, because of her captivity over protective kin. Sophia had understood the need to keep the family safe from harm but there was a point in which those very efforts had the opposite effect. It had driven her to be rebellious, vocal, and without an ounce of fear.

She should have cowered while within reach of Darth Caedes .

She should have held her tongue. (…That wasn't happening.)

Her rebellious spirit wasn't quelled by crowns or thrones, and in her eyes, lay the promise that she would willingly bend for no one. That her spirit was as wild as the storms they spoke of. She was not merely a noble daughter to be commanded, but, a tempest in the guise of a woman.