Private Hello, Throneworld

[Arris Windrun]

THRONEWORLD
Srina Talon
​

Arris had returned from Corellia - a little detour that didn't do her much good when Mercy was still recovering from Humbarine, because it meant one thing for Windrun:

Business.

Always.

More.

"Business," Arris breathed.

Through the glass, her eyes looked on the curve of the Coruscanti atmosphere, as the skylift carried her up to the gaudy, orbital monstrosity that Mercy called Throneworld.

When she stepped off the lift, the gargantuan skyhook responded to her presence immediately. Some sophisticated automation that Mercy reckoned would give her - and all those she wished - a certain level of impulsive control over the complex and its many, many systems; as if the technopath needed that in the first place. Though... It was all surface-level stuff. Millions of slaves still toiled to make it all work.

"Gross," all of it was gross. She was still just whispering to herself.

The cyborg marched down the grand concourse, which wrapped around the central structure, joining other massive corridors connecting the various wings and towers.

Oh yeah. Arris had changed since the last time Mercy (or anyone else, for that matter) had seen her. Traded blonde for black, ponytail for bob, and dropped the pretense of wearing flesh to hide the extensive modifications. How many times had someone asked, or just outright assumed, she was a fancy HRD? Too many. Still wore a face, though. Synthflesh and skin that ended where the jaw and neck met. Everything else? Black metal, fibers, and flexible armor plating. Might've looked like a battlesuit at a glance.

It took her a long time, too many steps, to reach the place where Mercy rested. Arris had passed trams and speeders, ignoring every insistence from the synaptic connection that the station could ease her journey if she just let it. As if it really, really wanted her to fall into the sand trap of Mercy's decadence.

But when Arris had nearly arrived, a woman was standing in the hall. It took her a few seconds to process who she was. "Oh. Hello..." Empress? Mercy's Friend? Just... Hello.

For now.

 

[Srina Talon]

LOCATION: Throneworld
TAG: Arris Windrun

For a moment, the pale woman didn't look up from the encrypted datapad that she held. It was her lifeline back to Jutrand while her Dark Councilors argued about the fate of the Order in her absence. They were remarkable in their opinions. Less forthcoming when it came to sensible decisions that benefited the whole rather than a sum of parts. Hawkish eyes lifted from the glowing screen and settled on the cybernetically enhanced creature for longer than what might have been socially appropriate.

It took Echani eyes longer than she wanted to admit to place the changed features.

"Hello, Arris."

Srina's presence seemed almost unreal against the polished corridor, soft as snowfall, and no less cold. The way she spoke the name of the dark-haired human implied some level of knowing that wouldn't necessarily make sense. They hadn't really spoken despite her twice-over efforts to secure victory for the Sith Covenant. Both on Coruscant—And now cursed Humbarine. "I was beginning to wonder how Mercy would recover without her favorite source of aggravation…"

The words might have seemed harsh, but there was something beneath them that resembled partiality. A ghostly smile pressed by the kiss of her mouth so swiftly it might have never existed at all.

"My sister is resting. Against her will, which means she is insufferable…But I can be very convincing."

There was something strangely gentle in the way she said it, despite the darkness that lingered beneath every word. She let the data bad close down on itself before folding it into the hidden pocket in her clothing, whilst turning slowly. "Come…", her tone was decisive, with long white hair spilling over her shoulder like moonlight. Golden eyes lingered on the black metal of Arris Windrun that was more pronounced than she remembered, without judgment or surprise.

Mercy was every bit the collector that she was, arranging things around herself, from monsters to warlords to broken things, trying very hard not to be. "Let us not wake her."

The last thing she wanted was for her battle-sister to rediscover an attitude problem while still attached to medical equipment. The Titan would rip it out just to prove a point. To show that she wasn't weak and didn't need any of it, to ensure that everyone knew the Core Empress was almighty and unstoppable. Only…That wasn't quite true. Even with the flippant and grandiose statements she made about the Field of Blades…They all had their limits. Humbarine had pressed her battle-sister as close to that limit as Srina had ever seen.

The Echani stepped softly to the side, then, confident and sure-footed.

She looked pristine among the Graspborn, out of place, but the Throneworld…Did not react as if she were merely a guest in foreign space. The Daughter of the Six Sisters had always owned any space she entered, head held high, a little warrior queen before any titles had ever been uttered.

One elegant hand raised and gestured toward a corridor that led to a sitting space and private kitchens where they might find some sort of refreshment. Srina had been on the floating palace long enough to know where all the good tea and treats were kept. "You have traveled far—Have you not?"

Her words were an invitation…But was there really an option? Delicate eyebrows drew together slightly before her face eased of any emotion and her wintry expression settled. There was a trace of exhaustion before it vanished with everything else...Leaving only perfection behind.

"Sit with me a while...I would…Enjoy the company."

 

[Arris Windrun]

Srina Talon
​

The Empress's response startled her, though Arris wasn't one to show the contents of her heart on the surface. Call it a lack of nerves; literally. But in the Force, she was a volatile cocktail: hate for herself, fear for others, and the kind of sadness that rendered one empty. Her presence in the Force... the way the Dark Side touched her... was more like it would an entity, or a Sithspawn, gorging on the wealth of her emotions, whether she wanted it or not. Had there been any organic flesh on the surface, the corruption would've been an ugly sight.

"I was beginning to wonder how Mercy would recover without her favorite source of aggravation…"

Her eyes flicked past the Empress for a moment.

Arris considered a response, but then the woman urged the cyborg to leave Mercy to her rest and beckoned her to follow. She hesitated for a moment, not even meeting the eyes that lingered on her, before finally acquiescing.

In contrast to her, Arris wasn't one to dominate spaces. She was more like soft lighting, shy to even cast a shadow, but there, present, all-consuming in its passivity. Something to be noticed by choice.

She followed the Empress into an area of Throneworld she hadn't been before. It was... quaint. Yes, that felt appropriate.

The question caught Arris on her back foot, unsure if it was pointed or just making small talk. "Not really - I just came from the Empty." Which wasn't strictly the truth, but she wasn't particularly inclined to discuss her recent detour in the aftermath of Humbarine.

The cyborg took a deep breath and sat at a small parlor table fit for two. "I'm not sure you'll appreciate my company..."

She paused for a moment. "Actually, what do I call you? I don't think I've heard Mercy refer to you as anything except sister and 'Blackwall Empress' when she's feeling fancy."

 

[Srina Talon]

LOCATION: Throneworld
TAG: Arris Windrun

The silvery woman moved fluidly to interact with the cabinets with precision, as if she knew exactly where everything was without looking. The area was made for comfort and functionality rather than sheer opulence, which seemed to be the exact opposite of everything Thronworld stood for. It was connected to another room with wooden doors that had opaque sheets covering a lattice framework. There was a painting on it in blank ink, depicting a sliver of moon, overlooking a large cliff with a lake and forest beneath it. It was tranquil...

Not at all like the Graspborn that had flooded the floating palace in droves the moment the Star-Arm returned. “Really. You return from the Empty...”, Srina breathed, light as a feather, but there was something within the Echani that seemed to express an overly exacting sense of awareness. As if she knew more than she let on, but respected the present company enough not to pry without necessity. She considered words to be an inferior form of communication that held about as much weight as sunlight...It was the young Sith Lord she watched.

Preferring to listen with her eyes rather than her ears.

"I'm not sure you'll appreciate my company..."

“No? Why would I not?”

It amused her that Mercy had given almost the same response, but there was no offense taken at the possible dismissal. Only, quiet curiosity. She pulled down two porcelain teacups and a manual kettle that she filled with water. Most would have simply made a drink with the shining auto-chef that sat nearby, but Arris would note that the pale woman gave it a wide berth. She set it on the burner before returning to the small table to begin to set it. It was methodical...First matching saucers, then teacups, then silverware on soft cloth napkins. The mention of “Blackwall Empress” drew a soft sigh from somewhere deep in her chest.

“I have accumulated far too many titles over the years. They are useful in council chambers. In war. Less so..over a cup of tea.”

For the first time since Arris had arrived, something genuinely warm, human, touched the kiss of her mouth. It was the slightest edge of a ghostly smile that was there and gone in an instant. It would almost seem as if she had forgotten how. She was so many things, to so many people, that she often forgot that some...Didn’t know her at all. “You may call me Srina.”

She didn’t insist on Empress, Eternal Mother, Darth Omnia, Silver Dragon, Worldbreaker...Or any other long, long list that had unfortunately been burned into her memory. Instead, the white-haired woman turned toward the cooler and retrieved several items, only stopping to wash her hands. “...Do you eat?”

It might have seemed like a strange question, but in their world, some who seemed more automaton than flesh and bone actually had their stomachs removed. They received nutrition elsewhere or replaced it with power sources. Rather than waiting for a response, the cold woman began to slice bread and add meat, cheese, and a little leafy greens to it. Thoughtfully...After Mercy had nearly choked to death on how dry her sandwich was, she placed a few condiments to the side. Srina could do many things, but her culinary prowess was extremely limited. She had learned how to feed her children, as a mother should, but her repertoire was still regulated to cold dishes, raw, or burnt toast, and bland soup.

The moment she added fire to food, things tended to go terribly, terribly wrong.

Srina cut the sandwich diagonally before setting it down in front of Arris. It seemed plain...So she moved toward a basket to pick up an apple, and neat slices would eventually find their way onto a small plate nearby. “I haven’t been back to Jutrand since Humbarine...”

“The High Republic may soon come to my doors, but that has yet to pass. I did not want to be far from the Covenant if the Mandalorians chose to escalate after they were...Evicted. Not with Mercy...”

Hurt.

Metallic golden eyes swept the table for a moment, and her brow came together in silent thought. In a form of survivor's guilt that could never reach the surface. No Empress, no Echani, could afford to let the truth of their weakness show. Mercy had accidentally killed her on Coruscant and now did everything she could to make up for it. Essentially, dying for one another. She breathed in and, rather than dwell on her thoughts, returned focus to Arris.

“I trust that you have not neglected yourself entirely...In the Empty...Are you well?”

 

[Arris Windrun]

Srina Talon
​

The way the Empress questioned her... whether she would be good company, that is... amused Arris a little. The cyborg would be caught smiling. Just barely.

"Srina," she murmured the name as if committing it to memory.

Then, the Echani asked Arris if she ate. That earned a more noticeable smile than before, followed by a dry chuckle. "I do," she replied. "Many people mistake me for an android, but my stomach is organic. So is my brain... but not much else."

Her smile vanished. When had she explained herself so easily to anyone before? As small talk, no less! Were it not for the strange, disarming comfort in Srina's presence, Arris might have panicked and run off at this point. Hell, she wanted to. But something kept her seated in that chair.

With the sandwich placed before her, Arris collected one half and brought it to her mouth, taking a bite. She chewed slowly. And at no point did her expression indicate displeasure. Though it might've been said - whether or not Srina realized - that a cyborg had control over many things. At the end of the day, taste was a chemical process. Signals relayed to the mind. And Windrun's taste profile had been modified so she could stomach anything. Literally. Even spoiled meat wasn't off the table.

When Srina mentioned the High Republic, however, Arris leaned forward with a hint of hostility. "I hate the Republic." The declaration came easy to her. "If you need a gun..." Her words trailed off, replaced by consideration when Srina explained that she wanted to be there for Mercy, in case the stranger Mandalorians attacked again.

She knew the two shared close bonds, but it was odd to see someone who cared for Mercy. Actually cared. Even Arris, her 'best friend' as Mercy would put it, had very complicated feelings about the woman.

But then the cyborg had to double-take when that concern was levied against her. "I..."

She was already spinning a lie.

"I'm fine. I take care of myself." Liar.

"But really, Srina. I don't offer much, but if you need a fighter, I'm your gal."

She was selling herself short, of course. But it wasn't an act of humility. Despite being the one behind the Covenant's strategy in Tapani, the Core, and more recently Humbarine, she considered herself little more than a foot soldier. Sith Lord she may've been, Arris Windrun never stopped being a street rat from Talus. The thing that came most naturally to her was service. Violent service.

 

[Srina Talon]

LOCATION: Throneworld
TAG: Arris Windrun

"I hate the Republic."

The words were a sentiment that echoed through many of her Dark Councilors, but the wintry Echani had no visible reaction. Her elegant brow came together in thought for a moment before it melted into something frighteningly cold. It was impossible to tell if she was angry, happy, sad, or anything other than severe. For that flickering instant she appeared wrong. Too still. Barely human. "The High Republic appears to have become a successor state of the Galactic Alliance no matter what they initially intended. Either that…Or they've become all they tried to get away from. The same self-righteousness, hypocrisy, and politicking.", The words flowed easily, not with damnation, but consideration.

It was likely the same sentiments that many had toward the 11[SUP]th[/SUP] Sith Empire, even though they were known as the Sith Order. Srina was often blamed for the sins of the 10[SUP]th,[/SUP] even though she'd barely been more than a slip of a woman when the worst of it happened and on the other side of the galaxy. That didn't make her observation any less true, however. "I suppose that a Sith should not condemn for hypocrisy…"

She paused, and the ghost of a smile tugged at her lips. There and gone in an instant.

"But if they begin to pose a threat to my children…I will strike first. They have already tried to corner my daughter, despite legally acting on the interests of Eshan. They cannot be trusted. It is not a matter of if the Sith Order will go to war—But when."

The Echani filled the silence while Arris ate, offering words that should have chilled blood. The Empress of the Blackwall choosing to go on the offensive was no small thing. She was a creature of pragmatism and logic, who acted based on her own warped sense of justice rather than pure vengeance or hatred. She was her own form of law—believing that most couldn't be trusted to make necessary or correct choices.

Humbarine was a perfect example. She had brought the sky down on beskar-clad invaders without a second thought for the "civilians" that might get caught in the crossfire. Srina had come to root out Imperial-scum that were so deeply embedded in the populace that it was impossible to tell the difference. So—It became a fire sale. All must go…

So that Brosi did not burn a third time.

The Mandalorians….Well, they were just in the way.

"I'm fine. I take care of myself."

Srina did not openly challenge the lie.

She had spent enough of her life around soldiers to know when one had answered on instinct rather than truth. I'm fine. It was the simplest shield ever forged and one of the hardest to break without doing unnecessary harm. It was especially difficult because they barely knew one another outside of their base connections with Mercy. While that bridged many gaps…It did not solve all ills. With that in mind—She quietly let it be.

Graceful hands plucked up an ivory teacup when the kettle began to whine, and she moved swiftly to stifle the sound. Even though the Core Empress was resting far enough away that it shouldn't wake her, the giantess had a habit of hearing things she should not. It was already a game of how well Srina could realistically threaten with a homegrown side of guilt to keep the woman in bed and off her feet. "I have no doubt that you are capable…"

Mercy did not favor people who were anything less than gifted and talented in their chosen craft. All things had their place.

"But that was not quite what I asked."

But Arris already knew that, of course. Srina quietly filed away the information about the woman's cybernetically altered form, mostly for battlefield purposes. It wasn't an intentional habit, but her Echani mind had a way of parsing information, taking people, and turning them into a series of scenarios that directly related to their wartime potential. It was the tactical side of her, the strategist, but it was the mother in her that kept the rest.

The offer to fight for her cause…

"I may take you up on that…But what shall I provide you in return?"

Srina's head tilted while she started to pour boiling water into her cup and let the tea steep. There were other beverages, beer, for instance, that the Empress did not touch, but it wasn't for her, and she wasn't sure which thing Arris might prefer. Her hand moved lazily, and the cooler opened and out marched a few options that hung neatly in the air for her guest to choose from. When done, they put themselves away, but the pale woman was still contemplating the previous conversation. "If Throneworld is anything to go by, the Covenant does not want for credits…"

When her tea was cool enough, just barely, she lifted it and took a sip.

"...Or ships. I am afraid, I am at a loss."

 

[Arris Windrun]

Srina Talon
​

Arris visibly perked up when Srina mentioned her - albeit brief - thoughts on the High Republic. It was refreshing to get an opinion that wasn't so basic as: jedi = kill.

It was interesting to hear her describe the Sith as her children. She wondered if that meant all Sith, but she did not ask, and really she didn't feel the need to. Looking down at her plate, at the nearly finished second half of the sandwich now crumbling in her hand... Well, some things were just self-evident.

But hey. Some things deserved to be said. To the eyes of Arris Windrun - Srina was a force of nature. A rule in the cosmos. Odd to her that it manifested as 'Mother of the Sith,' but then again, 'Mother' was an alien concept to Arris, who grew up on the streets of Talus, conscripted into the violent syndicate structure the day they declared she was old enough to carry her own weight.

She leaned back in her chair when Srina quietly called out her deflection.

Maybe Arris expected a lecture. Who knows. What she didn't expect was quid pro quo. The cyborg was suddenly less shy, revealing a toothy grin as suddenly the Empress spoke her native tongue.

She was right to say that the Covenant didn't need credits. Despoiling the Core Worlds had obvious benefits. She was right again to say they didn't need ships. Humbarine, Kuat, Fondor, Fresia, and N'Zoth provided the Covenant with a shipbuilding monopoly.

"Yeah - materiel doesn't interest us." She said.

Windrun had to think about it, though, even with an inkling of her ask. She always found it better to get a rolling start on things.

"So. I learned something ever since Mercy, and I started this little show. She was never the practical decision maker, but I'm sure that doesn't surprise you. She knew what she wanted, but I was the one who found the ways to get us there. Tapani... Sure, she might talk about it as some great project, killing nobles and replacing them with commoners, or whatever. But it was just a bank robbery, y'know? We had to pay for the war somehow."

And then even during the Core, while Mercy led the charge on Coruscant, it was Arris and Meliant that sealed the deal. Treachery of both kinds. One where a Dark Side Elite exchanged coats, throwing the gates open, and the other where Arris impersonated Solipsis, turning the Empire's cult-like obedience into a self-destruct switch.

Both campaigns - Tapani and the Core - rotted deep inside her. Crimes that could never quite be punished. Because even execution wouldn't change a thing.

There was a pause. Her smile faded. It may've been obvious in the Force and body language that Arris felt guilt. Though it wasn't as immense anymore.

Finally, she looked back up from the floor and made eye contact.

"But I said I learned something, yeah? None of this success made a genius of me. I'm incompetent. Truly," she chuckled again. "A girl from the gutter does not make a great general... But I think I got good instincts. And when I talk with you, when Mercy talks about you, my instincts are telling me one thing. Most people are incompetent. The whole machine runs on incompetency fuel... But you... You ain't incompetent, are you? Does it make you miserable? To realize the machine will always fight you, the one thing that actually makes it run better?"

She sighed and realized she sucked at making a point. But better than rambling on, she waited to hear what the Empress had to say first, because her actual answer to Srina's question hinged on it.

 

[Srina Talon]

LOCATION: Throneworld
TAG: Arris Windrun

Steam rose from her teacup, and the wintry woman let the porcelain settle and warm her hands. Her eyes drifted down to the table as her gaze grew distant, and thoughts began to percolate like translucent bubbles. It was a frequent occurrence that the Blackwall Empress remained silent because there was no value in rushing toward a conclusion.

When yellow-gold eyes pulled back toward the cybernetically enhanced woman, they would seem to see through her, rather than landing on her face. It wasn't dismissive, but the sight of someone following a memory. "It is a curious thing…", she began after a moment, with her voice carrying no more weight than it had before. It was then that her focus snapped back and Arris became the only thing real in the room, only she, and her interesting viewpoint. "…For some to believe that the galaxy is governed by exceptional people."

Not them, perhaps. Arris and Srina both seemed aware of that. The corner of her mouth softened almost imperceptibly.

"It is not."

Her fingers shifted on the delicate cup, drawing comfort from the heat more than its contents. She liked her tea so hot that most people would burn their tongue. It reminded her of Eshan and Geonosis—Two places she had called home before Jutrand. Srina occasionally had a hard time picking up certain social cues, but there was something in the way that Arris spoke about herself that rang a warning bell. It wasn't quite self-deprecation…Perhaps some form of loathing. Either way, she frowned. "Most governments, armies, and councils are built from ordinary beings attempting to solve extraordinary problems. Some rise to the occasion while others—"

She sighed, head shaking slightly…As if she spoke from experience. Srina had watched countless nations rise and fall over the years. It could be said that the Echani looked very, very good for her age. She was older than even Mercy - And not by a measly few years.

"—Others confuse confidence for competence, tradition for wisdom, and convince themselves there is no difference between the two because admitting otherwise would require them to change. You are correct. I am not incompetent."

But…That was because she invited change. Her strength had not come from thin air, nor was it invincible. It had been born of suffering, of lesson after lesson, of learning to become more than she had been born to be because she had no other choice. Her gaze pulled away from Arris to offer a little relief from the intensity of it and landed on the moon painted on the paper-lattice door. Rather than answer the question immediately, she initially offered something else.

"Did you know that I was born entirely common?"

The question was met with a ghostly smile…The word meaningless to her. But to some? Especially the old Sith families on Jutrand? Blood was everything. "My daughter, Quinn, is technically my superior on our homeworld. My family pledged to serve her mother, and as a young woman, a child myself, yet still a soldier, I accepted the princess into my care."

"To protect her and all that I held dear…That Echani girl left home before she was ten and seven. She fought through bloody wars, killed mercilessly, and accepted a darkness into her core that would terrify even the most seasoned of Sith Lords…", her words cut softly, slowly, coming full circle back to the conversation at hand. "I was a foot soldier. My husband, a slave. Do not discount the girl from the gutter. She can be just as effective, if not more, than the brat with a silver spoon."

To the notion of it being frustrating that the entire religious institution of the Sith was basically designed to fight her tooth and nail? She eventually offered a whisper-soft chuckle. The irony was not lost on her. "I do find my position miserable. It is…Expected. When one spends years as I have, it becomes difficult to resent people for being limited by their own experience."

Someone had to lead. Someone had to rule with an iron fist and keep her Sithlings from murdering each other in the streets. There was no misery in the acceptance of duty in the wake of utter destabilization in her absence. Srina did not crave power the way some Sith did. She sought the success of those around her, the care of her children. All of them—

Whether they wanted her love or not. They could fight it or choke on it, but that didn't make it any less real. "But you…You speak oddly. As if you are somehow at fault for being imperfect…"

Her head tilted, and her eyes flickered at the flavor of guilt that rang in the back of her mind.

"I have yet to meet anyone who wasn't.", she paused, her expression seeming to flicker to something that was almost mischievous. "Do not tell Mercy."

 

[Arris Windrun]

Srina Talon
​

As Srina spoke, Arris returned to listening. She quite liked it, actually. This may very well have been the first real conversation she's had in a long time. Nothing driven by tension, or words preluding action. It was nice.

She leaned slightly in her chair, one oversized revolver clinking against the metal frame as the holster slouched.

Her attention only shifted meaningfully when the Echani brought up her past. Arris hadn't really thought about it; who the Empress must've been as a person. But it did surprise her, given the woman's demeanor. Everything from the way she moved and spoke, to that air of authority that seemed to swirl around her as if returning to the source.

Arris shifted even more when Quinn came up. Was the cyborg an ignorant fool? She didn't know Srina was her mother. So yeah, actually, Arris felt the fool. Catching a glimpse of her past, as a side effect of hearing Srina's, was an unexpected lens. In a small way... It felt like trespassing - like Arris wasn't supposed to have known.

But it was Srina's past that intrigued her more. It was relatable.

And somehow Srina found a way to bring it back around as a lesson for the 'girl in the gutter.' Arris smiled faintly. But her eyes were just sad.

Though the little jab at Mercy's expense managed a snicker.

But then she was just sad again.

Sighing, Arris tapped her fingers against the tabletop. "I'm at fault for a lot of things... dunno... it becomes easier to add more things to the list, y'know?" She replied.

"I was a soldier in a way, too, y'know. Grew up with the gangs in Corellia." She meant the system. Didn't want to say which world, but her Talusian touch wasn't hard to pick up on to a familiar ear. "Started as a runner... learned to climb, scramble, sneak. Then one day, when I was old enough, I guess, they gave me a blaster and taught me the ropes."

She stopped there because Arris did feel at fault.

Faces flooded her mind. Nilira, Kirie, Acier... now Lily and Vess... and finally, Vagabond.

"When the Force finally caught up with me, I was fighting on Ruusan. It's how Mercy and I met, actually," but that was a story for another time. "There was this Sith Knight called Vagabond. Tough guy. Slugthrower in one hand, lightsaber in the other. He tried to kill me..." The memory brought up a whole heap of fear and excitement. Her tapping picked up quite a bit. "Almost did... so I killed him first."

When he died by her hand, Arris wondered if somehow his mantle became hers. But it wouldn't be the moment that defined her on Ruusan, though. That would come when she fought Allyson Locke, who did manage to kill Arris Windrun, in a way. But somehow death spat the cyborg back out, and the implant lodged in her head came alive, joined to her in the Force.

But that wasn't even where her mind went next. No, her mind went to Kattada and then Desevro, where the faults really began.

"I betrayed a friend... Killed some people he knew... Attacked a place he loved. Even Mercy was mad, because he was her friend, too." Didn't change what they did next, though, and Arris noted that in her memory.

She paused. Her fingers stopped tapping, too, and her silence was only broken by the greater of the two regrets.

"On Desevro..." She thought about backing out. Changing the subject. Or making it about something else that happened on that cold world. "On Desevro, there was this young woman. I tried to teach her a lesson. Hurt her because I thought it was the right thing to do." Actually, Nilira was the worst of it all, but how was Arris supposed to talk about that? "I came to see her after..."

Her eyes glanced up, making contact with Srina's. "Ever looked at someone and knew immediately - that they weren't gonna make it, that the galaxy would chew 'em up and spit 'em out? Like somehow they were just... doomed?" That's what Arris felt when Kirie came crawling out of her bunk, in those miserable pajamas and the nasty bruise courtesy of one cyborg.

"She reminded me of someone I once knew... I gave her shit advice." She quickly clarified, "Kir--this girl, not the someone I once knew." Arris was weary of revealing her connections to Srina. She caught herself realizing, too, because she chuckled dryly under her breath. On one hand, she was happy to spill snapshots of her life story, but on the other, she was still cautious. As if what she said might be used against her somehow.

"I'm rambling again."

 

[Srina Talon]

LOCATION: Throneworld
TAG: Arris Windrun

There was a peculiar stillness to Srina that made it difficult to tell whether she was simply listening or methodically committing every word to memory. Perhaps both. Arris let painful moments of her past unfold in fragments, not in order, nor with meticulous explanation, but that was how memories so often appeared. One thought leading to the next and tied together not by time—but by emotion. The wintry woman did not attempt to untangle these events.

She just listened and gave Arris the space she needed to get it off her chest.

When the younger woman apologized for rambling, the Echani lifted an elegant brow ever so slightly. “Have you done something wrong that requires an apology?”, The words slipped from her while her snowy head tilted, hair silvery beneath the lights, “I do not recall that.”

The Echani was the last person who would judge someone for being themselves, and the corners of her lips threatened the smallest smile before her face settled once more. Empty of all things. It sounded as if Arris were questioning something they had only scratched the surface of. Were she more skilled with sentiment, feelings, she might have been able to catch on a little sooner…But there had always been some kind of disconnect for her.

Something that made her seem less Echani, less near-human. More of a machine or a supercomputer crunching numbers.

She felt things deeply…But had no way to express it.

Her eyes flickered when she finally realized what it was that she saw in the woman across the table. Arris was sad. Feeling…Guilty—And sad. For blood on her hands, for bad advice, for making calls that didn’t pan out. It was the burden of a ruler, and it made her marble countenance soften. It was a weight she would not wish on anyone.

“We are all at fault for many things.”

From the story about her youth as a runner, the Echani could tell they had been raised to be very different types of soldiers. Thugs had given her a weapon and sent her out on the streets of Corellia. Her people taught combat from cradle to the grave, and her mother was the most difficult taskmaster Srina had ever known. Cruel in such a way that she had never left any of her children alone with her, nor would she allow the Talon Matriarch to train them.

Not even Quinn.

Arris spoke like someone far older and far younger, and it left Srina pensive. She did not like to lecture and refused to invalidate what had been expressed. “I have buried…Many. Friends who should have outlived me. Enemies who thought I was weak. I have sent others to their deaths, knowing they would not return because there was no better choice. Some faces still visit me when I close my eyes, no matter how much time has passed. “

Golden eyes stayed on Arris, still, sensing the weight of her sadness. It wasn’t just a moment of self-pity but something profound that clung to the bones. “I am responsible for the orbital bombardment of my homeworld. I was young, arrogant, and angered the wrong Mandalorian by refusing his hand in marriage. The battle to reclaim Eshan's sovereignty killed several of my sisters, and my mother still refers to me as the Avatar of Death.”

It didn’t matter that Srina had brought the entirety of several nations together to free them from the yoke of beskar-clad scum. All that mattered were those that died in the process.

“I am also responsible for the deaths of countless living things. I am responsible for the deaths of Sith, Jedi, and incalculable numbers of civilians, and the carnage will only grow in time. I am exactly the monster the High Republic and Iron Covenant fear, and will always be, because war is always on my horizon. I do not fight fair…But war is never fair. Life is never fair.”

She paused to pick up her teacup and took a sip, even though it was getting a little cold now. A refill from the kettle fixed that…But it was clear she wasn’t quite finished from the way her expression changed. It was small, slight changes, but it was what happened when she was thinking something over. She recognized some of the individuals mentioned (or not fully mentioned) because the world of Sith was not so large that her spies did not see.

Especially when it came to her distant nephew Acier Moonbound and Kirie whom had once been special to Quinn Varanin . Srina breathed in deeply, sighing, ever so softly. It was the exhale of someone who had accepted her fate as a “thing” rather than a person. She existed to protect her children—By any means necessary.

“…It is tempting to believe that if we carry enough guilt, we can repay our sins, or learn to stomach them…But I have never found that to be true. The nation I serve has no room for moral quandaries, and I must set myself aside. It is…the requirement of any leader…but the Sith are more exacting than most.”

Even Mercy was learning that she couldn’t avoid her duties forever. Her experiences were not the same as what Arris had expressed, but they were still failures, and her hands were still stained with oceans of blood. The events that took place since the Sith Covenant came to power paled in comparison to the last eighty years she had rolled through her enemies with the force of a hurricane. She had no sympathy for the dead. Slowly…She set down her teacup.

There was one story she hadn’t heard—And if she had, she hadn’t recognized.

“And…What of Vestra Tane ?”

 

[Arris Windrun]

Srina Talon
​

These further revelations surprised Arris. She couldn't imagine being responsible for bombing her own home, despite once threatening to burn Talus and the Corellian System to ash in outrage for never having been able to find and bury the body of her long-dead lover.

The Talusian held her head and sighed. Unbothered by the obvious melancholy she radiated... she didn't want to think about Rox.

Another stroke of familiarity crossed her mind when Srina mentioned being the monster the Southern Systems and Kestri Mandalorians feared. Arris wasn't a fair fighter either, and she had often described herself as a gun.

If only Arris could grasp the way Srina saw herself, because it might as well have been a mirror. Warped; smudged; cracked, maybe.

"I'll kill anyone - do anything - for my family."

The Sith Covenant gathered broken people. They lived as ghosts, walking corpses, as if their life was an expiration in motion rather than something to grow or celebrate. Arris hated it... as much as she hated anything these days. Which was quite a lot, for hatred was never far beneath her surface.

She found a sort of absolution - or was it acceptance? - in Srina's words. Though maybe Arris missed the point. Maybe she was deluding herself. Because the conclusion she flirted with was as simple as it was ugly: 'Maybe it's better to be the instrument.' A thing.

Vestra Tane.

That name snapped Arris out of her little trance. Even the Force stirred - a dark and vile impulse. The room chilled, and the air grew heavy. She took a deep breath, trying as she might to center herself and savor those feelings for when they were actually useful.

"You mean, why did I kill her?" Arris guessed, but she suspected that wasn't actually why Srina asked. Still, it was how she chose to answer. "She was too eager... she chased personal gratification above all else," her metal hand balled into a tight fist. "It brought the worst out of Mercy, and I didn't find it useful in a leader. In the end, she came to me looking for a fight, but I'll be honest - I would've killed her anyway."

Her confession, if you could call it that, was calm despite the storm inside.