Private Hello Darkness

[Zachariah Conway]

Location: Jutrand
Tags: Srina Talon
Equipment: Lightsaber
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Zachariah cast his eyes around.

He'd been on Jutrand a few months. In that time he had studied with numerous Sith and had met up with a group of people he still weren't sure were friends. He still didn't feel like he belonged anywhere though. He'd seen numerous Sith Acolytes be selected as students of Sith Lords and Sith Knights and still he remained, unchosen. He wanted to go home, ask Arcturus to teach him the ways of the force once again like old times. He wanted Arcturus to teach him like he did when he first adopted him.

The weapon that he'd taken from his ex slave master rattled at his belt as he walked. The lightsaber was a reminder of everything he had been through in captivity of Brunas Drace. It was a reminder of every sleepless night, every beating and punishment with lightning. It was a reminder of every lap he'd been forced to run by the Sith captor. It was a reminder of all of the abuse he had endured at the hands of the man who had taken so much of his life away from him.

It was also a reminder of freedom. It was a reminder of the time Zachariah had enough, in the grand hall in front of Arcturus and Rhiannon. It was a reminder of the time he freed himself by slaughtering his captor and taking his weapon as his own. It was a reminder of the day everything changed. The day he slaughtered Brunas Drace was the same day that Arcturus had adopted him and taken him on as his pupil.

He needed a new mentor now though. He hadn't seen Arcturus since Eliad. Zachariah had come to Jutrand to learn more about the force and the Sith and he felt like he'd made absolutely no progress towards learning anything. No-one had really taught him anything since he'd arrived on Jutrand. No-one had even really paid him a fleeting ounce of attention. All of the Knights and the Lords seemed more focused on everyone around him.

Silently, the young boy had wondered if they'd all be treating him like that if they knew of his relationship with the Sith Emperor. He had debated making the information public but he'd decided against it. He wanted to people to like him for him, not because of connections that came from the person who had chosen to adopt him. He wanted people to choose him because they saw potential in him, not just because of connections to people who had power and respect.

There was one person on Jutrand who he wanted to speak to. He'd debated speaking to Empyrean himself, but had decided against that. The Sith Emperor would likely tell him that it was all apart of being a Sith and use it to toughen it up in some sort of way. He didn't really expect the Sith Emperor to take his concerns seriously and understand them. There was a potential he would, but Zachariah wasn't about to find out.

However, his wife. She was likely to understand.

Zachariah had met Srina once, on Eliad at a family dinner. Arcturus had been there that time, as well as Marcus and Eloise Dinn. He hadn't seen any of the Dinn's since that day. He hadn't seen Srina since that day either, yet he was turning up on her doorstep with hope and a belief that she would listen to him and understand his concerns. She'd definitely seemed nice enough the last time he'd met her, however she was still a Sith and all Sith appeared to have a mean streak.

What he hadn't expected was to find his adopted grandmother in a garden at the back of her palace.

It had taken a while to explain who he was, what he wanted with the wife of the Sith Emperor and that they were related. The poor guard at the door had hardly believed she was technically his grandmother but they'd gotten there in the end and he had let the young boy through. He approached her quietly, watching her in what appeared to be her natural habitat for a few moments before he approached her and let out a soft smile.

"M'lady. It's been a while"

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Zachariah Conway
Location: Jutrand
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He was right.

She did have an exceedingly mean streak, cruel, were they being accurate. It appeared when her enemies least expected it and tended to rock them to their core. The Sith Empress had a way of seeing to the heart of others with pinpoint exactness. Her gilded orbs saw through them with a perception that she had no right to hold—And yet, they were oft made of glass in the end.

Transparent. Fragile—Breakable.

Weak.

But one Zachariah Conway had nothing at all to fear from the pale woman who was elbow-deep in dirt and weeds in a well-kept garden. He was not her enemy. She was clad in attire befitting her station yet incongruously graceful for her vibrant and humble surroundings. Her gown was crafted from fine silk weave that was reminiscent of a starless sky. It cascaded in elegant folds around her slender frame with the fabric pulling a gentle whisper with every subtle movement.

Thoughtfully, she had a dark apron on top of her that shielded her from the worst of her work.

Somewhere on Jutrand, a seamstress was weeping into her cups from the atrocities the wife of their Emperor so thoughtlessly put her clothing through. To Srina? It was just…cloth. Clean threadwork. Immaterial and unimportant save to make others feel better. She could have been just as happy in the loose-fitting training gear that her attendants so abhorred.

She did not look up from her cultivation but Zachariah's approach filled her with quiet curiosity. His presence was unexpected, not unwelcome. They were two very distinct things for her. Often, when Sith Lords came to visit her in her private gardens they only desired to disrupt the solitude she found solace in so that she might agree to their request. If only, to get them out of her hair faster.

They would be sadly disappointed. Her patience was a fickle thing but when it came to matters of state, she had a way of getting what she wanted regardless of her opposition. Slowly, Srina tucked a nurtured bulb into fertilized earth before adding the appropriate amount of water with a faint curve of her fingers. It floated from the decorative well to where she wanted it with minimal effort.

When it settled and his greeting met her ears golden eyes rose from the plot of earth. They were sharp. Assessing, while she met his gaze with a delicate tilt of her head. His smile, though soft, seemed to carry a certain level of uncertainty beneath the surface. Did he think she might attack?

Srina inclined her head and lengths of white-gold hair slipped over her shoulder as she acknowledged his greeting. No matter how casually she intended it to be the gesture was still tinged with a regal air that she effortlessly emanated. Her time at court kept her alert and formal in the best of times while her history as a soldier, and a warrior, kept the value of tradition and respect. Her shoulders straightened as she moved toward the well and began to take off her gloves and cleanse her hands.

"Do not do as I do…Do not touch, the flowers that bloom."

The seemingly young Echani had built up a tolerance to their poison over time but there were more than a few that would leave him convulsing and foaming at the mouth in seconds. Her warning would sound cold and waspish but in truth…She merely wanted no harm to come to him. When the water ran clear and her hands were pristine, she glanced back toward him again. Still, curious.

It was one of her failings. She was…ever so curious. It wasn't often that she was caught off guard.

"Indeed, it has been some time…", Srina replied gently, her voice carrying an almost melodic however commanding quality, betraying little of the complexities swirling within her mind. "What brings you to my domain? Your presence here suggests that…It is more than a social call."

Even if her frozen heart warmed to behold one of the younglings that Arcturus had taken in. She was very, very fond of Arcturus. Golden eyes swept over this young man again while she tried to discern what would have brought him to her doors without calling ahead. No doubt, it was difficult to get through security and convince her rather unnecessary guards of his connection to the eternal consort they protected so diligently. "Speak, dear one…Tell me of the shadows that linger around the depths of your heart Zachariah."

She dried her hands on a soft towel.

"…I can sense your unrest."

Her words, though polite held a subtle edge, in truth, it was a command for Zachariah to reveal the purpose of his visit. To give her his troubles so that she might bear them in his stead. There was no darkness she could not hold, no sin, she could not embrace and ease. Her gaze remains fixed upon her grandchild, piercing yet enigmatic, while waiting for a response. Regardless of her command…There was a sense of patience in her. Tranquility—That certainly shouldn't belong to the Empress of the Sith.

Perhaps, it was because she was his grandmother, first and foremost.

The chosen child of her chosen child.